The Girl Must Die: A Suspense Thriller With a Supernatural Twist

by Peter Repton

  ‘I was thinking it would be five or six at the least,’ Ravi admitted. Then he drove Andrew through the chaotic traffic towards his designated residential compound. After twenty minutes of driving through madness on wheels, with suicidal pick-up trucks coming at him from all directions. Ravi pulled up outside a large complex with a fifteen-foot high concrete wall around it. There was a checkpoint at the entrance and a red and white barrier pole blocked the entrance. Ravi waved at the two guards on duty and one came out to the old white Toyota Corolla. Smiling at Ravi, the guard put his head inside the open driver’s side window saying.

  ‘Hello, Sir, welcome to the apartments, may I see your papers please?’

  Andrew gave the big guard his passport and a few moments later received it back.

  ‘Thank you Mister Andrew, we have you registered and were expecting you. Ravi will take you to your apartment, number thirty-six. Here is your key, for your information breakfast is available in the restaurant from 4 a.m. I hope you enjoy your stay her sir.’

  Ravi left after carrying Andrew’s luggage in for him. Andrew gave him a tip of ten Saudi Riyals, only about two pounds. The little man with the huge black moustache whooped with delight and said.

  ‘I am thinking that you have made Ravi the happiest person in the world with your generosity Mister Andrew. God bless you and your family,’ Ravi did not notice the expression on Andrew’s face that his reference to family caused. Ravi made his way out.

  After taking a long soothing shower and freshening up, Andrew walked up to the coffee area, making himself a strong cup of coffee. Only eight or nine other men were in the lounge watching the television. Most of the other all-male residents were in bed. Work starts early in the morning out in the Gulf, because of the heat. As Andrew sugared his coffee, a balding man, with grey hair and a red face walked up to refill his cup with coffee. He nodded towards Andrew, remarking as he did so.

  ‘I haven’t seen you here before, have you just moved in today?’

  ‘Yes, I landed at the airport just a few hours ago. I am Andrew Wilson, pleased to meet you,’ and he offered the man his hand. The red-faced man introduced himself as Ryan Dempsey. He was Irish and shook his hand saying.

  ‘I have been out here for five bloody long years. I am happy to say that I am leaving next Wednesday. I am going back home to my Dublin and I am never coming back!’

  ‘Why are you so happy to be going now, if you have stayed here for five years it can’t have been so bad?’ Andrew inquired with curiosity.

  ‘Because this place is driving me crazy, the first two years everything was a novelty to me as I have never worked abroad before. The next two years I stuck it out because the money was just so good and I needed to replace the money that my wife got awarded by the courts when she left me for another man back home in Dublin.’

  Ryan continued with a hurt expression on his red face.

  ‘That bitch I married said we would always be together, forever. Then the minute my bloody backs turned she’s shagging my best friend...’ Ryan paused again for reflection a moment and Andrew said.

  ‘That’s a real shame; you lost the two closest people in your life, yeah?’ knowing exactly just how that felt. Ryan added.

  ‘Yeah, and I am really going to miss him... we shared a lot of laughs together! As I was saying, this place has pissed me off this last year in particular, as most of my pals have all gone home already. The Saudis are hell bent on replacing all us ex-pats with Saudi nationals, who can’t do the job. Everything is fucking up all the time. It’s happened before and they replace us all with locals. Then the fucking country falls to pieces. Then five years further on they invite everyone back again to fix it.’ Andrew smiled at Ryan saying.

  ‘I am sure I have a lot to learn. But I’ll give it a shot. I have a three month Visa and things weren’t too good for me back at home lately, so I guess I have nothing to lose.’

  ‘That’s the same thing I once said, but it will get to you my lad; I can promise you that. The fucking Jinglie's will never change, and they will drive you nuts after a while.’

  ‘The Jinglie's what on earth are they?’ Andrew asked while rubbing his chin, thinking they must be a type of insect.

  ‘The bloody Indians and Pakistani’s, everyone calls them Jinglie's because of their musical voices,’ Ryan said.

  ‘They fuck everything up, but are still so damned happy all the time!’

  ‘It does seem as if it is time for you to go back to Dublin,’ Andrew laughed out aloud. This mad Irishman amused him. He sensed this man’s comic frustration even if he did not appreciate the racist comments.

  ‘Aye, it is for sure,’ Ryan agreed.

  ‘Just to be able to sit in a public place next to a woman whose face I can see will do me a power of good I can tell you. I’ll also be all the better for a pint of the black stuff in my right hand too, I miss my bloody Guinness, so I do,’ Eddie Springer told Andrew Saudi law states that no man can be in public in the company of any woman he could marry. That meant any woman other than his wife, or relatives. It is treated as adultery and attracts the most severe punishment. The religious police known as the Muttawa have the power to arrest and incarcerate anyone who breaks this law.

  Men and women have different seating areas in hospitals and all other public places. They are never permitted to mix. Even all the restaurants have two completely different dining areas, one for the men on their own, the other for married people with families.

  The married areas get segregated further into small, screened cubicles. So each couple or family may dine in private allowing the woman to eat with her face uncovered so no one else but her husband can see it.

  Andrew expected Saudi Arabia to be a bit different, but nothing could have prepared him for any of this. Five times a day was Salah or prayer time. From the Minarets of all the Mosques came the sound of the Muezzin, facing towards the Holy City of Mecca, calling the faithful to prayer. Everything stopped, shops closed, restaurants ceased serving. Most of the men wore white robes with either a white or red chequered headdress. The women wore a long black gown with their face and hair covered.

  Many women covered their full face. Except for a letter box shaped strip through which only their eyes were visible. Andrew stuck this out for the full three months. Then he deemed it was long enough off the whisky. He flew back to England where applied to join the police force in North Lincolnshire. One of the bottles of Bell’s had gone by the time Andrew had related his tale. After a few minutes silence, Ford murmured.

  ‘So then, this Lucy lassie reminds you of your dear departed wife Andrew? You feel somehow if you can help Lucy that in some fucked up way, it will help make up for your inability to save your wife, Inga?’ The question hung in the air.

  ‘That’s sounds about right,’ Andrew replied his voice without any trace of emotion whatsoever, the whisky dulling his senses.

  ‘But how are we going to find this evil Sammy bastard within the next twelve hours?’ Wilson asked his inspector.

  49

  David was unconscious for sixteen hours after he collapsed in the interview room. When he came round, he looked surprised to be back in the prison hospital ward. The same guard who had laughed at him was sitting on a chair in the corner. David sat up on the bed, and the guard grunted.

  ‘You are back in the land of the living then are you? I will arrange for someone to fetch you your lunch now,’ he stood and left the room and less than a minute later the door opened one again. It wasn’t the returning guard this time, it was Detective Constable Paul Roberts who had visited him before. Paul was holding a finger to his lips as he approached David and whispered.

  ‘Look lively mate, I am getting you out of here,’ David opened his mouth to ask a dozen questions. But Robert’s held the finger back to his lips and mouthed.

  ‘Later OK, now put these clothes on.’ David nodded to show his understanding and dressing fast he followed Roberts out of the room. Robert’s took a route leading them
towards the interview room. When they passed by a desk, another guard started to rise up to challenge them. Then he recognised the young policeman who said.

  ‘I am just taking this prisoner for some more interrogation mate.’ They passed through without further incident. When they reached as far as the main gate, the dozy guard on duty checked Paul’s warrant card. Paul, coming and going for days on end was now well known. His companion’s ID stated Andrew Wilson. The photo appeared near enough, and he too looked very familiar, so he let them both go.

  The transatlantic trio had spent the Friday night in a London hotel, taking three separate rooms. Lisa did not want Staples to think that she was a loose woman. They boarded the East Coast main line train from Kings Cross to Peterborough, setting off northbound on a Virgin train and planning to rendezvous with Kempston at the prison. Not knowing he was now a fugitive aided in his escape by the young policeman. Robert's still had his Sergeants wallet tucked in his pocket.

  Fifteen minutes after noon the peace was shattered by the shrill wailing of the prison siren. It echoed around the City of Lincoln and people in the streets all stopped dead in their tracks. It hadn’t ever sounded out before. Some people panicked thinking it was an air raid siren. One person was running down the high street shouting.

  ‘The Russians are coming, the bloody Russians are coming.’ Ford and Wilson were both shaken by the news of Kempston’s escape. Wilson was more so when he learned of Robert’s audacity at using his ID to aid the plot. The guard who opened the gate sounded very sheepish when he said he recognised Wilson as someone known to him. He was confused with the man whose face had appeared in the newspapers for weeks. Kempston had escaped ages ago, and both men were now drunk and it was only just after midday on a Saturday afternoon.

  PC Danny Quill announced that there were visitors from America who would like to see the Police officer in charge. Ford went to the toilets and winced when he saw his swollen half closed eyes in the wall mirror.

  ‘Who the hell could these Yanks be?’ he asked himself and pulling up his zipper he made it his business to find out.

  They were waiting for him in a bright reception area so much different to the gloomy décor of the old prison.

  Jack noticed the young woman first, a real stunner he thought even if she was the wrong colour. He gazed next at the older black man. Finally, his eyes rested upon a trendy looking suntanned man with bright blue eyes like his own.

  ‘Hi there,’ the blue-eyed guy said. Ford just nodded, sullen and dumbstruck by the odd trio in front of him.

  ‘I am Professor Nick West from Denver Colorado. This gentleman is my good friend Professor Bob Staples. He's a geologist based in the Cascades observatory. This young Lady is Lisa Cutan one of my students accompanying us on this field trip. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?’ Nick inquired.

  ‘So what the hell do you all want then?’ Ford replied aggressively.

  ‘We were hoping to have a word with David Kempston. The gentleman you are holding here,’ Bob Staples asked courteously. His nose quivered as he detected the alcohol on the unpleasant policeman’s face. Bob took an immediate dislike to him as soon as he had entered the room.

  ‘Well, I am afraid you are out of luck as he did a bunk from this place just over two hours ago. Assisted I should add by one of my men who is going to get the toe of my boot up his fat arse the next time that I see him,’ he thrust out his chin and turned stomping out of the room. Nick looked at Bob who was speechless. They could hear him shouting at someone else now out in the corridor.

  ‘What do you mean your fucking police car is missing? The witness saw who was in it when it drove off? You are not making any bloody sense Quill, explain.’

  Walking into the corridor, they saw the drunken inspector was holding a young uniformed constable and shaking him by his shoulders.

  ‘A man walking his dog saw two men get into my car and drive off. He recognised the guy on the TV, the Kempston fellow,’ Quill said.

  ‘So another bloody man and his dog again. Why am I only finding this out now?’ Ford yelled. Danny swallowed and he somehow found the courage to answer.

  ‘I tried to tell you earlier. But when I came into your room you and Wilson were sipping whisky. You told me to piss off out of it!’ Danny almost spat out the last few words and stared at his boss with defiance bright in his eyes. Danny instinctively knew that Ford would have lashed out at him if it was not for the three witnesses.

  ‘Fuck me,’ Ford shouted, ‘They could be anywhere by now,’ then he stormed off in disgust.

  Where they were was northeast of Lincoln in a bypass just off the A46 above Market Rasen. Robert’s had taken Quill's car keys before picking up Wilson’s wallet off the floor. Now they were clear of Lincoln in the police car; Paul suggested going to the Grimsby area. There David had witnessed Lucy on the back of Sammy’s chopper. Paul reasoned it unlikely they would have taken Lucy very far. David agreed unable to think of a better idea.

  Hearing a loud roaring in the sky both men looked upwards. A giant plane looking like a Jumbo Jet with four engines slung under its wings, had what resembled a mushroom mounted on top of its fuselage. It passed low overhead. Black smoke trailed as it descended and headed towards the Lincoln area. David said.

  ‘I saw one of those pass overhead when I was in Grimsby near the docks. What on earth is it?’

  ‘That is a Boing E-3 an AWAC,’ Paul said, ‘It’s short for airborne early warning and control aircraft. There has been a lot more activity this last few week as the global situation is very tense. The Russian’s have been massing troops near the Polish border and they have been monitoring the build-up. Their base is at RAF Waddington about four miles south of Lincoln. Several of them are in the air at any time.’

  The big plane slowly disappeared into the distance. Paul informed David of the new Sammy YouTube video, and he passed David his new I-phone to see it. David paled when he saw Lucy’s predicament, bringing back painful memories of Sarah. David did not doubt what Lucy’s fate would be unless they located her before midnight. Paul’s phone rang, looking at the caller ID he noticed it was his mate Danny Quill calling him. So he hit the answer button.

  ‘Hello, Danny before you say anything let me apologise for taking your car mate. I am sorry but there was no alternative,’ he sounded sincere. Danny replied.

  ‘Oh don’t worry you about that you Scouse twat, the chief has already chewed my arse off about it. But I am calling because three Yanks have flown all the way from America to see Kempston. He appears to be innocent, and I think he may want to speak to them.’ Paul’s phone was on speaker. David looked confused and said.

  ‘Ask who they are,’ Paul responded by passing him the phone and saying, ‘You do it yourself.’

  David took the phone and asked Danny.

  ‘PC Quill who are these people?’ Danny replied.

  ‘I am sitting in a reception room with them. They have been here a while, and I am just trying to help. I will put one on his name is Bob Staples. I hope Paul has turned his GPS off.’ Roberts nodded to David asserting that he had.

  ‘Hello, David, my friend. You continue to surprise me,’ the deep friendly voice of Bob Staples filled the car.

  ‘Hello Bob I am stunned you have travelled all this way, but why have you come?’ David asked.

  ‘Well, I knew you were innocent and I wanted to help. I have selfish reasons as well. I need to ask you questions…lots of questions.’ David heard the warmth in his voice.

  ‘I am grateful and I am also flattered. We are running short of time to find the maniac that killed my wife. Sammy is planning the same fate for another young woman, and that has to take priority now. Who are your companions?’ David asked curious now.

  ‘Nick West a good friend of mine and his young student Lisa. Listen five is more than two in every case. We could hire a car and rendezvous with you somewhere. I could speak with you later then. Perhaps we could all help in the search?’ he sounded so hopeful that
David could not refuse. After all, they travelled over five thousand miles to be here.

  ‘We are heading up to the Grimsby area and will stop to eat when we get near so if you sort a car, come up here. Give Paul your number, and he will let you know where to meet. We are only half way there, but it will not take more than thirty minutes,’ David said goodbye and handed the phone back to Paul who said.

  ‘You freaked me out with your Dark Energy story. I remember a documentary about how it was first discovered back in the nineties. I was shocked to learn that it makes up more than two thirds of the universe, but we cannot detect it with our current instruments. We know it is there but not where it comes from. I suppose at least you have a theory.’

  ‘It is not a theory I assure you,’ David said then his nose started bleeding and he passed out again.

  50

  Ford and Wilson decided to get a few hours’ sleep in an empty cell to let some of the whisky wear off. The correctional officers were only too happy to oblige as they felt partly responsible for letting Kempston go, although technically he may now be innocent. When the original video posted by Roberts went viral, it had been easy for Sammy to post another with Kempston in the search title and knew that someone would pick up on it. The guards felt more comfortable when the three Americans had left, but missed the young cutie with the long legs.

  Paul was driving David up the A46 towards Grimsby when he got a text from Staples saying that they were on their way. They passed through Laceby, and Paul spotted a pub advertising good food, and as he swung the car around and pulled into the car park, he said to David.