by Tony Butler
“Nooo,” Sharon moaned. “Please, no!”
“I got it from my niece. Well, she’s not really my niece. My dad found her when she was three,”
the doctor said.
“When?”
“About Nineteen-ninety. In the spring. She was tied up in a bin liner, the chip was in her ear and she gave it to me three days ago, after my father died.” He looked at Russell as though expecting him to start in on his wife again, but Russell knew that he was telling the truth. Shit! Jeremy had been right. The Williams girl was one of the monsters! He’d have to find the girl again and this time he would make sure that she was dead.
“What’s her name?” he asked, even though he knew the answer. It never hurt to get a confirmation.
“Jay-be-free Williams, she’s twenty one now and living in Nottingham. It’s the truth! Please, you’ve got to believe me!”
“Oh, I do, doctor, I do,” Russell said and drew the blade of the stiletto across the man’s throat. The doctor’s eyes opened in shock and then the thin red line opened in a gaping wound. Blood erupted all over the doctor’s shirt and he made a coughing noise as he slumped down onto the floor. He turned back to Sharon, who was screaming again.
On the flight back to New York, Russell leaned back in his chair and smiled. He could picture Jay Williams’ smooth and naked flesh. He thought about what he would do to her before he started in on her with his knives, and found himself getting aroused.
* * * *
Jay hung up the telephone feeling numb; Uncle Peter and Aunty Sharon, murdered by burglars?
She couldn’t believe it. Three members of her family had been murdered within days of each other. Scott had sounded bewildered and hurt on the phone, and she could still hear the horror in his voice.
“They raped my mom, Jay! Raped and tortured her, cut off all her fingers and—I’m sorry, you don’t want to know the details. Dad was lucky they just slit his throat. Jesus, Jay, their blood was all over the dining room. I’ve seen the police photographs. Fortunately, our attorney had the place professionally cleaned before Mary and I got home. Look, their internment’s on Friday and I hope you don’t mind but I’ve booked a ticket for you for Wednesday on the eleven am flight to New York. Mary and I will be waiting for you and then we’ll catch a plane home from there.”
“Scott, I…I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry but I just can’t take it in. Look, I’ll see you and Mary in a couple of days. Okay? Oh God, I’m so sorry!”
She sat on the bed for a while then she remembered the microchip that she’d given her uncle at Tom’s funeral just a few days ago and wondered if he’d ever found out what it meant. A motorbike pulled up outside the cottage and, after dismounting from his bike, the courier retrieved a clipboard from his pannier and hurried up to the front door. Jay signed for the envelope that was addressed to her and, after closing the door, she carried the envelope into the kitchen. Opening it, she found two-hundred-and-fifty-pounds worth of gift vouchers from a large department store in Nottingham, and a small card that was obviously written by the store on Scott’s behalf.
Dear Jay,
You may need a new flight bag and some other things.
See you soon. Love from Mary & Scott.
PS: When you’ve finished shopping, go to the Saracen Casino in Trinity Square at about 7pm. Ask for the manager, Spencer. He’s a family friend.
Nottingham was nearly a one hour drive, but at least it would give her something to do, and would take her mind off things for a few hours. Despite his grief, Scott was really thoughtful.
Jay parked on the lower level of a multi-storey car park in Nottingham’s City Centre and entered the busy indoor shopping centre. It was late in the afternoon by the time she had eaten, bought a new flight bag, and all of the other things she’d need. She decided to pass away a couple of hours by getting herself a tan before going to the casino.
* * * *
Russell, disguised as The Death Dancer, walked on the opposite side of the road to the casino. Four white neon scimitars flashed on and off in sequence, giving the illusion that the scimitar was sweeping down to point at the red fluorescent letters that made the name, Saracen Casino appear to have been written in blood. He casually looked at the windows above the sign without slowing his pace.
To a casual observer, all of the office windows on the first floor looked identical, but the one he was seeking glowed faintly behind the drawn blinds like the others, however, this window had a security grill over it. It was in this room he’d find Spencer, Janine’s brother. The casino was a threestorey building and, according to Janine, the ground floor housed the gaming rooms, the first floor the offices, the second floor small partitioned-off bedrooms where the call girls who worked for Spencer took the punters for sex. As soon as Jay Williams had left for Nottingham with the gift vouchers that Janine had sent in Scott’s name, Janine had rung Spencer and told him that she was sending him a girl to train as a hooker. By the time he realized that he’d been set up, it would be too late for both him and the girl. Once the freak and Spencer were together, Russell planned to kill them both. Crossing the road, he slipped into the narrow service road that ran along the back of the club. Removing the Berretta from his pocket, he checked the clip, which held a full seven rounds. He’d checked it earlier but he didn’t take chances. From another pocket he removed the new stainless steel silencer and secured it to the pistol. Checking that the safety catch was on, he pushed it into the special holster that he’d made. Satisfied that when he reached under his jacket the weapon drew smoothly without catching upon anything, he crept into the shadows. The rear fire doors of the club took him about five minutes to open and he stepped inside the stairwell with his pistol at the ready.
It was deserted but the thumping of the disco from the Oasis Club, next door, made him frown in irritation, but still the row should mask any noise that he made. Taking a battery-powered high speed modeller’s drill from his pocket, he drilled a small hole through the door, just above the steel release bar.
He crept upstairs to the first floor and stopped before emerging into view. Silently, he removed from his pocket a black telescopic car aerial, onto the end of which a small convex mirror, the type sold as blind spot mirrors, was attached. He inched the mirror around the corner and could see one of the bodyguards leaning against the wall smoking, the other one was standing with his back to the door, behind which Spencer Schroeder would be working. Russell withdrew the mirror and, after retracting it, he put it away. There was no way he could take out both bodyguards. Someone was coming down the steps behind him and he turned his hand, reaching inside his jacket for the gun.
It was the freak! She stopped and shrugged apologetically. “Sorry!” she said. “I’m looking for the manager’s office. It must be the other way.” Before he could react, she was walking away from him and down the hall towards Spencer’s Office.
Through the mirror, he saw her talking to the bodyguards and then, after knocking on the door, she went inside. The bodyguards remained outside and Russell swore silently, because he wouldn’t be able to get anywhere near them without being seen. The girl and Spencer’s angry voices reached him, and Russell grinned as he imagined the look on the girl’s face when Spencer had explained what her new job entailed. She’d be out of there pretty damned quick.
He ran silently back down the stone steps to the fire doors and quickly threaded a thin black cord though the hole in the door so that it hung down on the outside. Hurrying now, he left through the fire doors and ran through the shadows, then stepped into the street and walked towards the Saracen’s main doors. The girl had been holding some car keys in her hand and he couldn’t afford to miss her because she had to die, but before he killed her he intended using her to distract Spencer’s minders.
The freak emerged from the club and headed towards the car park. Russell, making no noise in his thick rubber-soled shoes, kept close to the darkened shop doorways, ready to dart out of sight should she sense
him following her.
* * * *
Jay’s mind was in turmoil as she left the casino after her confrontation with the manager. His reaction to her visit replayed through her mind over again and again. He’d leaned back in his chair and smiled at her before standing and beckoning for her to stand beside him so that she could look through a window that looked down onto the casino tables and fruit machines.
“You see that girl by the Black Jack table, the one with that high roller?” The girl he meant was about her own age, very attractive and her arm linked through that of a man about fifty who had a huge pile of poker chips in front of him.
“That’s Jackie, one of our hostesses. She earns about three hundred a night by being nice to guys like him in our executive bedrooms upstairs.” He grinned and cupped his hand over her buttock.
“How about getting your kit off and showing me what you can do?”
She shoved him away from her and headed for the door. “Get your fucking hand off of me. I’m no prostitute, and I’m going to tell Scott about you!” Before he could reply, Jay snatched open the door, strode out of his office and slammed the door shut behind her. Pushing her way past the two amused looking bodyguards, she hurried towards the stairs leading to the exit. She could hardly believe that Spencer had actually groped her. Obviously, Scott didn’t know him very well at all. She left the club and headed for the car park. She planned to go back home and have an early night.
She was about to unlock the car door when a hand clamped over her mouth and the steel blade of a knife pricked the skin of her throat.
“Make a sound and I’ll kill you,” a voice hissed into her ear, and she was pulled around to face him. The man was about fifty and taller than her. He had plump features, curly brown hair and his eyes were so dark that they appeared to be as black as his clothes. She was forced away from her car into the dark shadows of a wall. He’s going to kill me, she thought as he shoved her so that her back was pressed against the rough brickwork. Please, she prayed silently, don’t let him kill me! She wanted to knee him between the legs but the knife had disappeared and she was staring at a gun that had a silencer fitted to its muzzle. She’d only ever seen a silencer in the movies and this one looked a lot bigger and fatter than those.
He jammed the gun into her stomach and slapped her hard across the face. “If you want to live, keep quiet and listen. What’s your name?”
Jay, her cheek stinging and half blinded by the tears that had sprang into her eyes, was shaken by the mundane question and she had to moisten her mouth with saliva before she could speak. “Jay—
Jay Williams! Please don’t kill me!” Her voice broke into a sob, but she made a tremendous effort to regain control. “I’ll let you do anything you want!”
“Then you might just stay alive. You’re coming with me and I’m warning you, one sound, or just a second’s hesitation, and you’re dead. There’ll be no more warnings. I’ll just kill you. Now move!”
Jay felt the smooth black leather of his glove clamp around her neck and he pushed her forward. She tried not to stumble as they reached the exit of the car park. She was suddenly desperate to stay alive.
He snatched her handbag off her and hurled it into the shadows of the car park. “You can find that later,” he said.
She nodded. He might let her go! She had to believe that!
“We’re going back into the casino but by the back door. I intend to relieve it of some cash, and you’re going to help me.”
So that was it, he was going to rob the casino, but why did he need her?
“You’re going to help me distract the two bodyguards outside his office. I have to get close enough to them to discourage them from going for their guns. I’d hate to have to kill them, because then you will be next.”
He threw her car keys in the same direction as her handbag then led her back out of the car park and into the street. Putting the gun inside his coat, he pulled out the stiletto and pressed the release button. The double edged blade that shot out glinted wickedly in the light of the street lamps.
“Pretend I’m your lover,” he said as he slid an arm around her waist. Through the thin material of her dress, she could feel the tip of the blade pressing into her flesh. But at least now she knew that he wanted to avoid killing anyone.
Chapter Sixteen
Satisfied that the girl was sufficiently intimidated to play her part, Russell led her to the rear of the club and up the steps to a fire exit. He grasped the thin black cord that was hanging from the top of the door and pulled. With a click, the doors swung open and he pushed the girl inside then quietly closed the doors.
She was still too shocked to resist when he pulled her up the stairs and onto the first floor, where again he used his mirror to check around the corner where Spencer’s office and the bodyguards were. Satisfied that everything was as he expected, he turned to the girl and put the blade of the knife against her throat.
“If you don’t want me to slit your throat, put your arms around my neck, wrap your legs around me and start acting as if you want to fuck me.”
She only hesitated for a second before putting her arms around his neck and then she pulled herself up him in order to wrap her legs around his waist. When he kissed her, she opened her mouth and responded with a desperation that could have easily been mistaken for passion instead of fear. Russell slid his hands along her thighs and cupped her firm buttocks; the bitch was actually turning him on. Perhaps he’d have time to fuck her first before he killed her. She’d really move her ass for him with a knife held at her throat.
Russell carried her up another flight of stairs instead of turning onto the landing that led to Schroeder’s office. The two men would have been instantly suspicious if they’d emerged from down by the fire doors, but on this floor where he and the girl were now, were the executive bedrooms. He was willing to bet that more than one drunken couple had staggered down the steps to the fire exit by mistake.
“When we go back down I want you to start laughing as though you’re having the time of your life,” he whispered into the girl’s ear. “Right, it’s time to pay the manager a visit.”
She started to make giggling sounds as he carried her back down the steps with his hands still clasping her buttocks to support her weight. When they turned onto the landing, with the girl’s back facing towards the bodyguards, Russell lifted the back of her dress to give them a good view of the girl’s butt.
As if on cue, the girl laughed again. He wondered if she’d have been so compliant if he knew what he really intended to do to her before he finally killed her. The stupid bitch wasn’t even aware of the two grinning men watching them – one of whom looked at Russell and winked. Russell winked right back and, moving his hand from her buttocks, slid it in front of his chest just as though he was going to grope one the girl’s breasts, but instead his hand went inside his jacket and gripped the butt of the Beretta.
They were staggering down the hall less than six feet away from the bodyguards when he stopped. Russell released the girl and as she struggled to retain her balance, he fired over her head. The pistol coughed twice and the bodyguards fell to the floor. Striding past the girl, Russell pumped another bullet into each of them. He turned to see the girl running back towards the fire escape. Shit!
He shot from the hip and saw the bullet bury itself in the plaster an inch from her head, and then she was gone, running down the stairs.
Swearing, he turned away from her, stepped over the bodies and flung open the office door. Spencer Schroeder was at a computer and he looked in horror at the silenced gun in Russell’s hand. Russell shot the bastard once in the throat and once between the eyes. The girl had less than a twenty second start on him so he went after her.
* * * *
Jay heard the pistol fire and could see that the man was looking behind her. Turning, she saw the two bodyguards who’d been in the manager’s office slumped down onto the carpet. The pistol fired twice more and she saw both bodies
twitch as the bullets penetrated them. Terrified, she leapt to her feet and flung herself towards the steps that led down to the fire doors. A piece of plaster seemed to leap out of the wall just in front of her. Then, she was running down the steps and the fire doors were in reach. She pressed down the release bars and nothing happened! Frantic now, she pressed down
with all her strength but still the doors refused to budge. Please! Jay screamed silently, please! She threw her whole weight at the door, but they remained firmly shut, and then she saw him walking down the steps towards her. Jay held out her hands in front of her as though trying to ward off the bullets that would kill her.
He slapped her across the face, making her cheek sting and her eyes run. He hit her twice more, quickly on either side of her face, knocking her to the floor. He grabbed her hair and, pulling her to her feet, opened the fire door. He led her out into the darkness of the alley. Slamming the door shut, Russell pushed her behind a huge metal rubbish skip. Jay could hear the throb of music coming from the Oasis, a club frequented by those who were into heavy metal type bands. He backed her against the side of the cold orange metal of the skip and kissed her, the steel blade of the knife slicing through first one shoulder strap of her dress and then the other. He was going to rape her, she realised, and then he’d kill her and throw her body in the skip. Jay was paralysed with fear, as unable to move as a rabbit trapped in the headlights of a car.
His hand explored her breasts before moving down between her legs and penetrating her with his finger. She saw that he was aroused and his erect penis brushed against her. She parted her legs, compliant now. It was almost as though she was watching it happen to someone else. A prisoner, knowing she was helpless to resist becoming docile, reconciled to the inevitable of being raped before she was killed.
It occurred to her, as the man’s penis parted her labia, that she’d often wondered why none of the people massacred in Kosovlow had fought for their lives – and now she knew. They hadn’t wanted to die one second before they had to and neither did she!