Lethal Ties

by Christmas, Helen

  “Sorry?” Pressing my eyes shut to stem my tears, I could not look at him.

  “I mean it, Maisie. These last few weeks have been fun, and I truly enjoyed getting to know you. Shame that autistic kid had to come along and disrupt things, but as soon as you mentioned the authorities checking me out... well, you must realise how upset I was. They’d have blown my cover. That’s what put me in a bad mood, and I hoped after that you’d back off. But then you threatened to go back to Bognor! I could have wept when you said that, thinking I’d lost you, so I had to turn the tables. Anything to stop you from leaving me...”

  Waves of hate spread like flames through my heart, but muddled up in his speech, he had drawn someone else into my thoughts. Connor.

  I kept my eyes shut, fearing any emotion would betray me.

  Or was it hope? Connor had not been in the house or the garden when I’d got home, and going by what Sarah hinted, had probably gone wandering off somewhere. Wherever he was, I just prayed the police would find him. But with my life dangling on a thread, I had to forget about him for now.

  “These last days have been hell,” Duncan persisted, “and I don’t like where it’s going but I’m in too deep...”

  “You m-might as well k-kill me then and have done with it,” I said, struggling to breath between my sobs. “Joe and Sam were the only boys I-I ever trusted and if they’re dead, then what have I got to live for?”

  “Oh, Maisie,” he murmured. “I can’t kill you.”

  Dropping to his haunches, he stroked a tear from my face. The gesture seemed tender but I cringed from his touch, his next words making my skin crawl.

  “Cornelius has to be the one to do it.”

  “What?” I whimpered.

  “It’s time to put his plan into action, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Sacrificing you was his ultimate goal and this, I’m afraid, is how it must end.”

  Sacrifice. A cold sick feeling rose from the pit of my stomach.

  “No,” I gasped, “you can’t let him do this!”

  My mind raced as I wondered if there was anything I could say to change his mind; but before I had a chance, I saw him reach into his top pocket. He withdrew a syringe, his eyes dark with threat as he took my arm.

  “I don’t have a choice,” he said. “At least this will sedate you. But I’m going to have to leave you for a while, so you might as well drift off to sleep...”

  I felt the scratch of a needle in the crook of my elbow before his voice faded away; the last thing I heard, before the darkness took me again.

  “Cornelius is waiting.”

  Chapter Seventy

  “Finally,” Cornelius murmured with unrestrained pleasure. “I do hope you’re calling to say that everything is ready.”

  “Oh yes,” his ally purred. “After all my efforts trying to lure her here, did you think I was going to let you down?”

  “You’ve done well,” Cornelius indulged him, “and you’ll be pleased to know your father has arrived to congratulate you...”

  He felt a smile cross his face. Two hours earlier, a sleek, cross-terrain vehicle had swept through the village undetected. Following the winding road into the countryside, the driver had pulled over by a concealed forest opening, the trees dividing into a narrow, leafy track.

  With the metal gate left open, he had carved his way through the woods, seeking out the exact co-ordinates where Cornelius had been hiding.

  “Now before we proceed, tell me what you’ve been doing.”

  “I laid her out in the basement as you instructed,” Duncan whispered, “locked her car in the barn. Right now she is out cold, which gives you about an hour.”

  “Good,” Cornelius croaked. “Very good.”

  With a sigh of ecstasy, he imagined her anchored to the pentagram in her beautiful red gown, auburn hair like a flame against her flawless white skin.

  How could he forget the night they had stolen her virginity? An innocent twelve-year-old on the cusp of puberty. Pity she hadn’t been fully unconscious, though, her frantic shrieks as Alistair clambered on top of her a flaw in an otherwise perfect night.

  ‘Silence her!’

  He remembered severing her scream with the palm of his hand, one speedy injection all it took to paralyse her... and for the rest of the ritual she had been theirs. It was the same night he swore vengeance on Joe Winterton, given his attempts to disrupt their gathering; but Joe no longer mattered. Joe was history. One of three prying children, whose inevitable fate had caught up with him.

  That left only Maisie...

  Twenty years he had waited for this, and as his eyes sprung open, he saw his dearest and closest ally gazing back at him. Cornelius sighed again. With his head rolling back, he took a last look at his surroundings. The trees stretched overhead like a canopy and as the sun gleamed through the leaves, they formed an intricate mosaic against the sky.

  “Are you alright, Cornelius?” Alistair frowned.

  “Just thinking about what lies ahead... Heard from Schiller, have you?” he muttered into his mobile.

  “Not yet,” Duncan answered. “I suspect he’s lying low after that knife attack but we can touch base when this is over. You need to start making your way through the forest if you intend to be here by six. Let yourselves in through the patio and I’ll be waiting for you in the basement.”

  ******

  By the time Sussex Police had formulated their tactics, Joe was beginning to fear they would be too late. With early evening approaching, Maisie could be dead soon if the premonition gnawing inside him proved correct. Two turbulent days had passed since he had recognised Mortimer and the shock had not worn off.

  Yet still the police had failed to apprehend him.

  “Anything happening?” he dared to whisper.

  Faced with initial resistance from his superiors, Mark had doggedly persuaded them to let him accompany them on this operation. Perhaps they didn’t fully trust him, but seated in the back of an unmarked car, he was an additional asset. He could still tune in to their radio alerts, where any information would be useful.

  “Well?”

  “I’m not sure,” Mark muttered. “As far as I know the specialist unit has set up distance surveillance in the woods but...”

  His words were cut short as a volley of shouts erupted from the speaker.

  “The house appears empty and there are no signs of activity - over.”

  “Any vehicles parked near the property? Over.”

  “Just one car parked in the driveway... A turquoise Audi S3 - over.”

  “Sam’s car!” Joe blurted before he could stop himself.

  “But no sign of Maisie’s,” Mark frowned to his colleague. “I thought she went home early.”

  “According to her manager, she left at about three-thirty,” he muttered darkly, “so what do you reckon, Mark, is it worth a quick circuit to check this out?”

  Five minutes later, having finally been granted clearance from OPS1, Tony started the engine. Joe watched with a pounding heart as they entered the heart of the village; the mossy flint walls just as he remembered, bursting with a tapestry of flowers. Vehicles clogged the lane, reducing traffic to single file; given they were in the height of summer, progress was bound to be sluggish.

  Once released into the open countryside, however, they sped up, Tony’s foot firm on the accelerator as the road twisted, merging into an area of woodland. With the trees in full leaf, Joe felt the touch of a shiver, unnerved by the thickening forests. The trees sapped out the sunlight, plunging them into shade.

  “The house is coming up,” he said. “It’s around the next bend.”

  Dread hung in his voice as the boundary hedge rose ahead of them. But he was already picturing the house in its seclusion, the thought of Maisie trapped in there sending a chill through his blood.

  “Can you slow down a bit?” Mark mumbled.

  Tony kissed the brake, enough to steal a glance towards the house. There wasn’t much to see beyond
the hedge, apart from the driveway, the house mostly hidden from view.

  Sure enough though, the Kingfisher blue gleam of Sam’s Audi peered out of the shadows.

  “If Sam’s there, then where the hell is Maisie?” Joe spluttered. “She drives a silver Toyota but I can’t see it!”

  He kept his head low, hands twisting in his lap as he considered their options, and with his fear for her safety spiralling, it took every ounce of willpower not to jump from the car and kick the door down.

  He had to heed Mark’s advice, though.

  Any rash heroics could wreck the entire operation, and until they knew what they were dealing with, there was nothing he could do.

  Tony, meanwhile, kept driving. Passing the house, he followed the lane to the junction where it joined Goodwood Estate, but with no wish to travel any further, he stopped in the nearest lay by.

  The next phase was a waiting game, the wooded countryside around Goodwood Estate sufficiently remote for them to linger in the area without detection.

  Twenty minutes passed in unbearable tension, an eternity before the radio hissed into life again.

  Joe held his breath.

  “We’ve tried calling the occupants,” a voice crackled. “Still no reply from either mobile but the surveillance team have touched base. There appears to be some suspicious activity in the woods surrounding the property...”

  “Where?” Joe exploded.

  “Shh,” Mark hissed. “Just listen... Can you repeat that? Over.”

  The interior of the car buckled into silence as the report continued. But the gist of their findings turned him cold with shock.

  Two figures had been spotted sneaking through the forest on foot. Quick to slip into the garden, they had let themselves into the house via the patio doors at the rear.

  “Shit,” Joe whispered.

  He could visualise it in his mind. A solitary oak tree towering above the hedge, and the hint of a hidden track. Nudging his head close to listen, every breath began to race faster.

  From the descriptions given, both men looked to be in their senior years, although it was the frailer of the two who drew attention; a man who matched the appearance of their suspect, Richard Lacey.

  Joe felt a lurch of panic.

  “Mortimer! So why haven’t they gone round there to arrest the fucker?”

  “Calm down, Joe,” Mark counselled him softly. “I told you what the Force Commander Control said: any proceedings must be handled with caution. Now consider what we know so far...”

  Joe sat up sharply, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Spears of pain ripped through his middle, reminding him of the wound Schiller had inflicted.

  “No one can be certain if Maisie is in the house,” Mark continued. “Her car is missing and she’s not answering her phone, so we need to find out.”

  Turning his head, he met Joe’s eye with a look of despair.

  “Given what we know about Mortimer, though, the police are seeking his arrest for a number of crimes. But if your theory is correct and a hostage situation is imminent, they need to act with extreme stealth. Panic makes people react badly.”

  “What are you saying?” Joe breathed. “That until they know the state of play, they ain’t gonna do nothing?”

  “Just hear me out,” Mark pressed. “Any form of dynamic entry is risky, so in order to avoid a life threatening situation, it has to be slow and methodical.”

  “Then what?”

  “There is one other clue to consider. Where does Sam fit into all this? For all we know, he could be in as much danger as she is. Maybe the best approach would be simply to knock on the door. See if he answers...”

  “And if he doesn’t?” Joe interrupted.

  “They may have to consider a forced entry,” he finished gravely.

  Joe took a moment to absorb this. The revelations conveyed by the surveillance team brought him out in a cold sweat, but he still had one more roll of the dice to play; something none of them had thought of.

  “Then why not use me? Let me be the one to knock on the door. That’ll shit ‘em up, especially if they think I’m dead.”

  “Are you serious?” Mark gasped. “If your enemies are in that house, there’s no way you can put yourself at risk. You’ve already narrowly escaped death!”

  “Yeah,” Joe sighed, “but it’s worth a shot, and I’m guessing there’s other police officers on standby?”

  The more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

  If his theory was correct, the sight of him turning up at the door would spring a surprise not one of those bastards would be expecting.

  Chapter Seventy-One

  I woke to find myself immersed in the same evil world. Flickers of light danced behind my eyelids, my bare arms crawling with goose pimples. Staked out on the floorboards, I was dimly aware of the cramp in my shoulders, but only when I tried to move did reality strike hard.

  This was no nightmare.

  Trapped in this hellish place, I started trembling. I heard whispers. Hissing through the darkness, they sent shivers racing over my skin - but as I focused on the sound, those short sharp breaths began to form consonants.

  “Morf su revi led tub-no itat-met otni...”

  My eyelids fluttered open, my senses sharp enough to realise I was not alone down here. The first thing to register were the torches on the walls. Only this time, those glowing flames illuminated the shapes of three hooded men.

  A gasp tore my throat as I squirmed under their gaze. As the chanting receded, a sinister silence replaced it. I held my breath, dreading what was to come as somewhere from the fog of memories arose the concept of a final ritual.

  Sacrifice.

  Twisting my head sideways, I cringed as one of the figures approached me. He rolled back his hood.

  “Hello again, Maisie,” Duncan murmured.

  My heart thumped, a sense of dizziness overwhelming me.

  But I had no words left to say to him. I hated him.

  “I don’t believe you’ve been properly introduced to my father.”

  The next man to step forward was taller, and as he pushed back his hood, I clocked the resemblance. The square-jawed face was similar, the high forehead, but there the resemblance ended. With receding white hair, a glossy complexion threaded with broken capillaries that gave it a slightly red flush, he scrutinised me through eyes like chips of black lead.

  “So you’re the great Maisie Bell,” he taunted. “I gather my son was quite infatuated with you...”

  The unctuous drawl of his voice turned me sick with loathing, his eyes crawling over me from my bare feet to my throat. But it took one sharp flinch to remind me of the ribbon secured around my neck.

  “Very well done, Duncan. I can tell how much you liked her and you’ve excelled yourself in fulfilling your end of the pact...”

  His Scottish accent echoed with a chilling resonance as I remembered Sam’s fate.

  “You’re a murderer!” I hissed. “Sam was one of the sweetest boys I ever met and you snatched him away! Killed him in cold blood just because he witnessed one of your sick rituals!”

  “Ah, she has spirit,” Alistair laughed. “I like that, but allow me to enlighten you, dear girl, because whatever you think, Sam didn’t have a bad life!”

  “It was cruel to cut him off from the outside world,” I protested, “separating him from his friends, keeping him locked up...”

  “Maybe. But in all the years he was under my care, I gave him books to read and board games to entertain him, finer food than he’d ever tasted. I installed Sky TV. Got him watching the History Channel, the Discovery Channel, opened his eyes to the big wide world all around him. At least we gave him an education, which is more than can be said for that whore of a mother, Stephanie, too busy earning a living on her back to help him with his school work!”

  Hate narrowed my eyes as I flung a glare in Duncan’s direction. “What the hell did it matter if you were planning to kill him?”

  �
��He didn’t know that though, did he?” Duncan said.

  “Sam had to die,” his father intervened harshly. “We did consider using him as bait to entrap you, but it would never have worked. Whereas Duncan here...” His smile was calculating as he turned to him. “With the same good looks and charm, we created a perfect pawn to replace him when the time was right.”

  “And that time has come,” rasped a different voice.

  Raising my head, I could barely breath as the third hooded figure crept towards me.

  Mortimer was nothing like I had expected. Shadows masked his face as he inched a little closer, thin to the point of cadaverous.

  For some reason I had imagined a larger man, but then, all adults seem huge when you’re a child, too small to defend yourself.

  “Finally we meet again, my dear,” his voice slithered through the darkness. “You don’t recognise me, do you? Though I’ve kept a very close eye on you.”

  I fought back a shudder, appalled by the things Duncan had told me. But that voice... There was a sinister ring to it that sent my mind hurtling into the past.

  Then slowly he peeled back his hood. I didn’t relish gazing at his face, but I knew I had to, and it was truly the face from hell. Not only did I recognise his tanned, heavily lined complexion, but his eyes, splinters of ice, glinting under bushy brows. For all this time, the leathery folds of loose skin had concealed them.

  “No,” I burst out. “It can’t be...”

  I knew in a flash where I’d seen his face now, a face that had haunted me since my last therapy appointment. And he had been living right on my doorstep.

  “Mr Lacey?”

  “Sweet naive little Maisie. I tried to keep my distance, wary you might identify me...” His voice oozed with pleasure.

  “But you look so different!”

  “Yes,” he sighed, “but I’ve been ill for years. It began in the Far East, some dreadful disease, and I shed several stone, but the weight kept on dropping, until I was diagnosed with cancer. I’ve endured surgery and chemotherapy but my illness is incurable. My hair grew back white, so I dyed it gold. Grew a beard, a moustache to enhance the disguise and last of all, I invested in solid brown contact lenses.”