by Peter Repton
The Hell’s Angel removed his helmet, it was very distinctive now as it displayed an SS painted on it. He placed it over the top of the pointed seat rail, almost daring anyone to steal it; he mouthed the words.
‘Stay here,’ to the other riders. The biker, taking a couple of steps across the pavement, pushed open the door of the restaurant. The tallest man remaining outside lit up a cigarette. Unlike the other two, he did not wear a helmet as the law did not require it for three wheelers. David saw how long and drawn his thin face was. He also noticed his moustache and a long goatee beard. This guy sported many face piercings.
The other shorter, bald, fat guy owned a rounder face and snake tattoos wrapped around his neck. Both wore black leathers. The black-eyed biker came down the central aisle. Taking an empty table two rows in front of where David sat. The new waitress picked up her order pad and instinctively, turned around to attend to the latest visitor. She appeared to spot the man right away and her face lit up with delight.
David remembered her at the same time. It was the cook from the boarding house, the one in the mini - skirt he saw changing the light bulb that morning. Like the girl who left a few minutes earlier, this one also wore the same bright blue tunic with a white lace apron. David assumed this busy young lady took two jobs for the summer, cooking at the boarding house during the day, waiting on tables during the late shift at night. She ambled over to the biker, whose broad back faced David. She chatted for a few minutes, in a flirty kind of way, before going back into the kitchen.
A little kid started crying over at the far end of the room near the kitchen. David surprised the child was still out this late. But he decided to use this convenient distraction to leave unnoticed as the biker seemed to have recognised him earlier. David didn’t want to take the risk he would remember where believing he may have seen him on the television report.
As David rose from his seat and started to walk the few paces to the door. The stranger turned around, looking right into David’s eyes again. Then a slow smile spread across his face. The smile was more of a grimace, like the one depicted on his denim jacket. His eyes, blacker than a dark, moonless night in October bored deep into David, fixing him dead in his tracks, like a rabbit caught in a cars headlights.
‘I am surprised how skinny and frail you are, do you think you could be a match for me?’ The voice of the black-eyed man rasped out of his cruel slit of a mouth. David stunned, but his mind raced. Was this man challenging him, a total stranger, to a fight right here in the restaurant? He could not know about his martial arts ability. David would have a good chance even with his two cronies outside. This scary man now sneered, he said.
‘You have no idea who I am?’ He paused for a few seconds. David shook his head and replied.
‘I have no idea who you are you must have confused me with someone else.’
‘Well, you soon will. My name is Sammy and I don’t think you are any real competition for me. The game is on I will ensure you find out what it feels like when someone you love gets killed.’ David’s mind reeled. Did this person know him? What the hell was going on? What game did he mean? Who was he going to kill? He has got to be on drugs. Once again, after what seemed like ages, the strange biker laughed at him then looked away.
David took this cue, leaving the restaurant fast. His mind was still racing, unable to comprehend what it was he felt inside. David felt fear but was unable to justify it. He had never seen the biker in his life before this morning, yet he felt that he knew him. The biker appeared to know him too. David took a backwards look at the impressive Harley Davidson, then a furtive glance at the two other bikers. The thin-faced one was staring at him. David raced off down the main promenade.
Sounds of a heavy beat came from a nearby nightclub just opening to try and catch some early trade. It was offering two drinks for one as a happy hour until ten thirty. David did not know where he was going next, but felt afraid. The biker watched Kempston walk away from the restaurant, chuckling to himself.
‘It’s going to be a whole lot more fun than I ever imagined,’ before turning his attention to the waitress. It was clear Kempston still did not know him. The biker loved the look of anguish and total despair he saw in David's eyes. The cute red head with the freckled nose came back to his table with his double burger and chips. He noted her name badge. Lucy, as she set his meal down, looked at him coyly and said.
‘I bet you are a real bad boy aren’t you?’ He smiled at her and replied.
‘How bad would you want me to be Lucy?’
Tossing her long red hair over her left shoulder, she warmed to the challenge.
‘Well, I guess you would not have to be dreadful at all to be a whole lot worse than the geeks I see at college. I have returned as a mature student, just completing my first year. Just about all the guys, I have met on my course are younger than me. They seem to be only into how much beer and drugs they can get into themselves. No time to indulge in intelligent conversations with girls like me. They only want to use their dicks on women like us, not have real fun with them.’
‘That’s real sad but understandable,’ he said with feigned sympathy, as he looked her up and down, surprised at how white her legs were.
‘But I bet you have never ridden on a Harley before, let alone a wicked chopped rig like mine?’
‘Ooh no! I have never ridden on any motorcycle before. That would be a real buzz,’ Lucy said.
‘Well just to brighten up your evening if you let me know what time you get off work. I will lose my mates and come back to pick you up and take you for a blast. Then drop you back off at that boarding house where I first saw you this morning.’ Lucy frowned, and that made her nose crinkle.
‘I’m not sure I should,’ looking into his eyes, she said with innocent honesty.
‘My mother told me not to go anywhere near strange men.’
He met her gaze and said.
‘Well Lucy honey I am a hells angel and a real mad dog, men just don’t get any stranger than me, are you sure you are up for it. Not the sort of thing your young college girlfriends could brag about next term is it?’ His last remark swung it, and she took the bait and said.
‘OK, I finish up at one-thirty what is your name?’
‘Just call me Sammy,’ he said, his black eyes sparkling.
25
Jack Ford arranged a meeting later in the day with Barrie Smith the forensic psychiatrist recommended by Sir Charles Marlborough. Jack was desperate for any help he could get, from any source. He needed to know what motivated Kempston to change from a mild mannered man who cherished life. To one who could take it. It may just give him a head start if Kempston were to repeat his terrible deed.
Information provided by Sarah to Wilson indicated David began the wild dreams a week ago. Kempston was frantic to act upon them, trying to minimise the fatalities from the foreseen tragedies. The added stress might have been a factor in what made him flip. Ford also noticed that Wilson seemed real keen to go back to see Sarah Kempston again. Women were such suckers for his rugged, rough and ready appearance. Wilson used them for sex but showed no respect for them at all. Ford suspected there might be more to this repeat visit than just police work.
Ford overheard Wilson and Roberts in conversation once when they did not know he was listening. Roberts sounded incredulous when a young woman phoned Andrew on his mobile, Andrew said to her.
‘Look, Jane, if I want to see you again I will call you, if not then I won’t. Don’t ever call me on this number again. Not ever OK,’ Wilson said and just switched the phone off, Roberts commented.
‘Why were you so rude to her Andrew? I think Jane is gorgeous. You just don’t know how lucky you are to have her chasing after you. I can only dream of having a girl like her chasing after me. I just don’t understand why all the prettiest women are so attracted to men like you, who are always such shits and are rotten to them.’
Wilson just shrugged his massive shoulders saying,
‘That is your problem, if you are sensitive and respectful to women it turns them off. It really does. They know they have got you right where they want you as soon as you start behaving sweet. Then the thrill of the chase just evaporates for them. They love rejection; they love it because it makes them much more competitive. Me? Well, I just like to pump them, and dump them,’ he said laughing out loud at his rhyming comment. Roberts expressed his disgust.
‘You are real big prick Wilson, one day you will regret your arrogance.’
‘Well, you are right about one thing at least Paul. The real big prick is what they want; they can’t get enough of it.’ Wilson laughed out loud again. Neither of them saw Jack Ford exit through the front door of the building.
When Wilson returned with the prophetic dream information, he also brought in Kempston’s desktop computer. The police had already analysed his personal laptop, left in the boot of his abandoned Mercedes, finding nothing. They hoped to find something on his home desktop PC, to provide incriminating details or clues to what happened to him. Upon checking the sent emails file retained in the mailbox.
Wilson discovered hidden away amongst many medical notes and documents relating to his profession, a single message Kempston had sent to news agencies and government officials. Both in the UK and the USA about an impending tidal wave in the Pacific, the one he claimed to see in his vision. Wilson read this email out aloud in Jack Ford’s office in the presence of both Paul Robert’s and Danny Quill.
Danny despite the immense mental trauma he experienced when he found the dead girl. Found deep within him further resolve to remain in the police force, to try and help. Even in a small way, to pursue and bring to justice the monster that was the cause his distress.
Andrew commenced reading out the contents of the Hawaii warning email. He read it all, the final few paragraphs created rising incredulity in his voice.
‘In my dream, or vision, or premonition or whatever, you wish to name it. This Tsunami will wreak death and destruction across most of the Hawaiian Islands. The Tsunami will cause severe damage right through the island chain, as far away as Midway. I can even tell you the name of one of the ships pulverised under this massive wall of water, the Dependable. I saw her name and two of her crew as clear as I see this keyboard in front of me. She will moor up in Hilo, as I heard saw the crewmen talking while docked there. Somebody, anybody, must do something and act upon my insight. It will happen, I know it.’ Robert’s shattered the eerie silence in the room when he burst out.
‘Wow, now that is fucking amazing! It did happen the day after he sent the note to this rock doctor. I saw footage of that ship on TV it got smashed to pieces with lots of other boats and buildings for miles around. Someone in a helicopter filming the damage from the Kilauea eruption the day before was in the air again, catching the whole deal on video. This powerful wave sucked the ship in under it, crushing it like a beer can. Then it rose again onto the crest. The ship was surfing this massive wave for four miles inland on a sea of debris before smashing into the mountains. The guy with the camera even zoomed in on the name of the wreck; it was the Dependable. Over sixty thousand fucking people died that day.’
‘Robert’s I insist that you moderate your language, I will not have you swearing like that in my office. Swearing in here is reserved for senior officers like me,’ Ford barked.
‘I am surprised you even watched the news; you never seem to take any interest in current affairs.’
‘That’s because it’s usually all about dodgy politicians and other shit that does not interest me. The media are obsessed with a lot of shallow celebrities. Or pessimists full of doom and gloom about the effects of global warming. If it’s not that, it is all about terrorists. If it’s not about terrorists, then it’s about the bloody Russians. I prefer the Discovery channel and documentaries. But I always check the sports news to keep up to speed with the football results. I just happened to see this on CNN; it was just terrifying. But how could Kempston have foreseen this? I think it is spooky.’
‘Spooky or not, just because he was right about something, it does not exclude him from also being a murderer. It is our job to nick him and nick him we will. My reputation is at stake on this one. I am looking forward to seeing Barrie Smith more than ever now. People who claim to be psychics are invariably part insane. They just have something wrong with the wiring in their brains,’ Ford said and then as an afterthought he added.
‘Just like all filthy gays and the fucking communists they all need dealing with.’ Standing up and scratching the back of his neck, with his solid gold special edition Mont Blanc pen. Jack issued his new instructions.
‘I will try to get authorisation from our opposite numbers in Special Branch. We need to put a trace on his Internet service provider and email account. Perhaps we will get lucky; maybe he will connect from a mobile phone. That will narrow down his location to the nearest cell mast. Quill, you come with me.’ Ford hooked his thumbs around his bright red braces, striding out of his office with Danny Quill following like an obedient puppy might.
Danny glanced across at his pal Paul on the way out. He saw him jerking his hand in front of his genitals, giving the chief the wanker gesture behind his back. Danny just shook his head. He smiled, following his boss down the bright magnolia painted corridor.
26
Andrew chided Paul when they left by saying.
‘I think you ought to give the chief a little more respect Paul. I know he is doing a great job here; you should support him more.’
‘Support him you must be bloody joking Andy. Did you hear what he just said about gays and communists? He is a rabid fascist. I bet he even has a swastika tattooed on his fat arse. Did you notice his new Armani suit? That’s the one he bought for six hundred pounds.’
‘Quite fabulous isn’t it?’ Wilson said.
‘But why would he or anyone want to wear clothes made by a long-dead fashion designer? It’s pathetic.’ Robert's ignored him, complaining.
‘It doesn’t help that he picks on me, he punishes me at every opportunity.’
‘You do bring a lot of it upon yourself though Paul,’ Wilson admonished him.
‘You know he hates bad language from subordinates, yet you are foul-mouthed most of the time. It isn’t necessary to inject an expletive into every sentence. You are intelligent and articulate enough when you want to be. I think you just get off on displaying loutish behaviour in front of him just to wind him up. So you are giving him a stick to beat you with.’ This critical observation by his Sergeant annoyed Robert's.
‘So what are you now then? A pimp-basher turned psychoanalyst? I know your politics align with his. If they are black, socialist or gay, then they need a kicking, right? Police officers like you give the race relations people a lot of ammunition. I think you should add the word tolerance to your vocabulary before you criticise mine.’
‘Okay, I don’t want an argument now Paul. We have work to do. I just don’t know why you swear all the time, even if I do find it amusing sometimes.’Andrew raised his palms as a gesture, smiling at the serious expression on Paul’s red face. On occasions, his face flushed this way. It was a frequent occurrence with redheads their freckles often disappearing in front of your eyes and then as soon as the anger or embarrassment passed, they would come right back again. Paul sighed his anger disappeared as fast as it came. A few moments later he confided to Andrew in a softer voice.
‘I guess all the swearing started way back in school. Most of the other kids picked on me because of my red hair. There were one hundred and twenty-two kids at that Roman Catholic, primary school. I was the only one with red hair. How unlikely is that? Half of them were Irish as well. They gave me hell. Kids are so cruel and spiteful, even without any real malice intended. I got into lots of fights most of which I lost.’ Paul paused as if remembering.
‘Then one day a kid called Eddie Fisher who bullied me for months called me Carrot-top. Eddie was a lot bigger than me and called me a lot of
horrible names. That day I lost it. Instead of trying to commit suicide by fighting him again, I gave him one hell of a torrent of the filthiest abuse I could. I laid it into him. I said some awful stuff about his mother and the sexual things she did with farm animals.
The playground was deathly silent, this big bully just staring right at me. Eddie’s eyes bulged so much I thought they must burst; then I watched his face turn a dark red. Then in an instant, his expression changed, he burst out laughing. In fact, Eddie laughed so much he doubled up holding his stomach, having to sit down. The other kids followed his lead, starting to laugh too, nervously at first then they were all in an uproar.
When Eddie Fisher the thug recovered, he spoke to me in such a way that I would have never imagined saying.’
‘Hey, Roberts you are okay you know. That was the wildest, funniest thing anyone has ever said to me. You may be ugly, but you have got a lot of guts and I respect that.’
‘Then he held out his hand. Since that day I became his mate, the class clown, the joker in the pack, it has worked ever since. Although I was the odd one out, the kids seemed won over by my mischief and gift for verbal abuse.
It got me into trouble with the teachers, though. They used to force me to learn all the Roman Catholic Saints and their own Saint's days of the year. I also used to learn all the demons names as well just to wind them up. I have never been able to deal with control freaks and egomaniacs like Ford. I cannot abide anyone telling me what to do. I will do anything I consider reasonable.’
‘That’s quite a story; I suppose it makes some sense. I never realised you got such a rough time just because of your red hair. That may be because I personally find redheads very attractive,’ Andrew confessed, adding.