‘What in the name of God, do you want?’ repeated Edna, mouthing each word as if she was addressing a foreign waiter.
‘You are such a party pooper Edna,’ goaded Black. The use of her Christian name had the desired effect. ‘Who are you? How do you know my name?’
‘My but you are the inquisitive one Edna. All in good time my girl but first let’s party. Some of you bitches are quite good looking. I’d like to see more.’
‘What?’ asked the whimpering girl.
‘I know you Paddies are thick but I find it hard to believe that you are complete imbeciles. Take your fucking clothes off,’ he snapped. Giving a startled jump, the girl began to comply.
‘Don’t you fuckin dare Jill Tammer. Fuck you, you perverted bastard,’ screamed another woman, seemingly the oldest of the group.
‘Well now, we appear to be having learning difficulties or is it deafness. I told you that I hate noise. It’s bad enough that you insult me, but to do it at the top of your voice is totally unacceptable,’ said Black matter of factly, before raising the gun and shooting the woman between the eyes. The others needed no further prompting, in record time the remaining women had complied without further argument. Forlornly, the group of terrified women stood shivering in various modes of underwear. ‘Don’t be modest ladies, you look wonderfully trim, I’d like to admire as nature intended. Furtively stealing glances at one another they removed the remaining garments and stood cowering embarrassed by their nakedness. ‘God what a shower,’ said Black cruelly, before reaching into his knapsack. ‘Two dead, four very much alive. If you wish to remain in that condition I advise you to comply with my wishes fully. Is that quite clear?’ Three of the women nodded timidly. Edna stepped forward. ‘Please don’t hurt them Mr., I’ll do anything you wish, just don’t hurt the others,’ she volunteered.
‘What a brave, kind little slut you are Edna.’ She bridled at the stranger’s insult but held her tongue. ‘What I want from you Mrs. Foster, is to tie the ladies up tightly. I have no interest in them I can assure you.’ Edna gave an involuntary shiver before taking the proffered rope from Black’s hand. Grudgingly she quickly did as she was ordered, apologising to her friends as she did so. ‘Very good, at last we are getting somewhere,’ said Black. After checking that the women were securely bound and gagged, the intruder’s attention returned to the host. ‘Now Edna, let’s you and I go upstairs and get acquainted shall we?’
Resigned to her fate she slowly turned and headed for the stairs, followed by Black. ‘Take me to the master bedroom Edna, you and I are going to have some serious fun.’ With a heavy heart; she advanced on tiptoe trying desperately not to disturb the children. Fearing the worst, she resolved that her innocents would not to be subjected to their mother’s assault. ‘That’s a good girl Edna and you can rest assured that you are in for a real birthday treat. I want you to lie on the bed spread-eagled, like the slut you are. With robot movements Edna did as she was told staring at the ceiling. In an instant her molester was upon her, binding her hands and feet to the bedposts. Brutally he slapped a strip of masking tape over her mouth. Edna stared at the ceiling, wondering what it would be like to be raped. Fearfully she awaited the beast to pounce on her, violate her, and slate his lust. Then what, what will he do when he has taken her dignity? Timorously she waited, listening intently for the rustle of clothing, which would confirm her fears. But no sound came; the monster had left the room. Tentatively she raised her head. The beast was nowhere to be seen. What was he up to? Oh God no, the children, he was going to harm the children. Realisation dawned. Dear sweet Jesus please let me be wrong. It can’t be the madman. Frantically she tugged at her bindings but it was no use, they merely tightened and cut deeper into her slender wrists. Edna lay perfectly still straining her ears, trying to pick out exactly where the murderer was what he was doing. It was no good she could hear nothing but the pounding of her own heart.
Nathan had tiptoed backward from the room, rapidly descending the stairs to re-enter the lounge. The remaining three ladies lay naked trussed like chickens, awaiting slaughter. There time had come. Black leaned over each in turn, kissed their foreheads and drew a blade across
their throats without uttering a word. Taking the stairs two at a time he hurried to infant’s room. ‘Are you ready Edna? Ready to party? She looked in horror as he stood in the doorway holding her little girl by the ankles. Frantically she wrestled with the rope pleading for a super human effort to help her break free. In horror she watched as the devil swung her child in an ark smashing her little skull against the wall. God this is some kind of nightmare please let me wake up. The thing, for that is how she thought of him now, cackled as he threw her little girl’s lifeless form across her naked legs. Edna Foster had no more doubts. The serial killer had come to her party. It was the madman on everyone’s lips. Here in her home, committing this wanton brutality. She relaxed accepting that her fate was sealed. ‘Please Lord let it be over quickly,’ she uttered a silent prayer. Edna from childhood could not take pain. So much as a pinprick had been enough to have her crying for hours. Silently she had to endure the same heinous scene three times as her tiny children’s hearts were so callously stopped from beating, by some anonymous monster. Finally it was over. Having neatly placed the corpses across their mothers’ legs, he knelt beside her, his mouth almost sensually caressing her ear. ‘You are the slut of a murderer Edna,’ he whispered. ‘I can’t allow the offspring of such an abomination to grow and produce future generations of scum. ‘He who sows the seeds of evil shall reap his harvest in hell. I want you to think about that as you slowly fade away Edna.’ With a slow steady motion Nathan Black drew the blade along her arm opening her main arteries, insuring her death. As the blood gushed from the wound he took a sponge from the bag. Deliberately he mopped the blood and used it to paint his grotesque warning on the Fosters’ bedroom wall.
The phone issued its annoying bleep, interrupting Walter Dane’s scrutiny of the evening news. Slyly he tried ignoring the intrusion hoping that his wife or daughter would answer. To his annoyance neither paid the instrument the slightest attention. With a resigned tut he arose to silence the unwanted agitation. ‘Dane’s home for infirm ladies, how may we help?’ he jibed. Both women glanced in his direction, smiled and returned to their television program. ‘Mr Dane,’ came the familiar hiss. ‘I was wondering if you would like to come to a party?’ whispered Black. Dane could hear him sniggering; a chill sent icy fingers down the journalist’s spine.
‘How did you get this number?’ asked Dane, the colour draining from his cheeks.
‘Please do not concern yourself with trivialities Mr. Dane. We have known each other for some time, I feel as if I am a friend of the family Walter. Do you mind if I call you Walter?Only I thought I could take the liberty seeing that I’m inviting you to a very special birthday bash.’
‘Yes, yes whatever you like,’ answered the journalist, regaining his composure. ‘And what do I call you sir?’ ‘Nice try Walter, we are not that close. Yet. You will come to know my title soon enough Walter, rest assured. By the way Walter, psychopath isn’t a very flattering address. I tend to think of myself as an avenging angel. Enough small talk Walter, you are missing out on the fun of the party. It’s young Edna Foster’s twenty-second birthday. She was bloody annoyed that you couldn’t make it,’ there it was again, that manic snigger. A constricting fear gripped the reporter, as the meaning of Black’s words hit home.
‘God no, not another massacre?’ he be-seeched but he already knew the futility of the prayer. Black recited the address.
‘And Mr. Dane, please give the story your usual professional touch.’ Dane stood, staring at his reflection in the mirror above the phone. ‘There is one last thing my friend, You asked earlier what my name is. Please refer to me as The Preacher. It has a certain ring don’t you think?’ The line went dead with the maniac’s laughter lingering long after the metallic
click. Slowly he dialled Kiever’s number.
‘Hello, is that you James? Bad news I’m afraid, our friend has struck again.
Black sat in his hired Honda Civic, watching the police round the corner, sirens blazing. He gave a smug grin as he observed the reporter’s little car arrive shortly after. With one final glance at an ambulance that was hurrying to the crime scene, he turned on the radio. Humming a familiar seventies tune he pulled away from the kerb. Edna Foster was already a fading memory.
News of the most recent atrocity broke on the breakfast bulletins of the BBC. and ITV. networks the following morning. ‘The beast has struck again,’ announced the saddened face of a local newscaster. ‘In the early hours of yesterday evening the horror that is terrorising the people of our already beleaguered province once more manifested itself on an unsuspecting household in Sydenham. Police have revealed that the serial killer, who has requested to be referred to as, ‘THE PREACHER,’ struck again with frenzied brutality. The naked bodies of six young women and three infants were discovered in the Belfast suburb of Sydenham after the murderer had made a phone call to a local journalist late last night. The names of the victims will be released after relatives have been informed.’
‘What’s the world coming to?’ said Starrett’s wife, as she observed the early morning broadcast. ‘If you ask me the RUC. haven’t an iota of a clue how to catch that wicked, wicked man.’
‘Do you know something dear? I believe you are one hundred percent correct,’ answered her husband. His wife smiled at her man obviously pleased that he agreed with her assessment. John wasn’t one to seek his wife’s advice on any subject and a show of tenderness cast in her direction gratefully accepted. ‘I shall have to go out today dear,’ he informed her. ‘Some urgent business has cropped up. Don’t worry about supper, I shall probably be away until tomorrow. I’ll call you as soon as I know exactly when I shall be home.’
‘Oh what a pity John I had hoped we could pop into town. We have to buy some odds and ends for your grandson’s birthday. You haven’t forgotten have you?’ she admonished gently.
‘Sorry dear, no I have it all recorded in my organiser. Tell you what. I’ll cancel all my appointments for Thursday, okay. We can go into Belfast then, and you can shop till you drop, promise.’
‘Very well love, Thursday it is,’ agreed his spouse happily. Starrett’s mind was not focused on presents or trips to town, he was troubled, and he was in a serious bind. This maniac was causing mammoth problems. He feared the worst when he heard the location of the Preacher’s latest visitation. Sydenham was a Protestant enclave and no doubt if the madman was true to form, the victims would be relatives of a volunteer. His leadership was in question and he felt that a threat to himself was a threat to the cause. Boasting an ego of gigantic proportion he really believed that he, John Starrett, was the only man capable of holding the organisation together. But lately there were rumblings in the ranks, questioning his ability to solve the present crisis. There was always some young pretender waiting to fill the shoes of one who has failed to fulfil expectations. A fear was eating into his core like a cancer. This bastard had to be caught and dealt with before he had time to set up another attack. Drastic situations required equally drastic solutions and Starrett was about to embark on a journey that would either make or break him. If he misjudged the situation, not only would his command be relinquished, he knew he in all probability that his life would be forfeit.
The commander’s first move was to call a meeting, inviting the major players to attend. To bring together the heads of the Derry, Belfast, Newry, Enniskillen and Ballymena commando was no easy task. Attending the meeting as representatives of his unit, would be Tommy Cairns and Billy Clements. Topic for discussion would be the Preacher. Solutions to the problem would be tabled but he felt that no one would contemplate what he had in mind.
The seven men gathered in Starrett’s safe house. Clements reflected on the many occasions that he had sat blindfolded in this very room, merely a bit player in the scheme of things. For years he was never permitted to see the face of his leader yet here he was in the presence of the most powerful men in the loyalist paramilitary fraternity. Billy sat in awe as introductions were made. Delegates viewed him suspiciously and the representative for Derry asked why he was present at all. Security was seemingly being thrown out the window. Clements bristled. Seeing the young man’s heckles rise his superior intervened, astutely answering the question. ‘Well now Brian, it seems to me that a man would weigh a situation up before making a comment. Young Clements here is my most trusted man. He was ordered by myself to attend this meeting. Exposed to strangers, people whom he knows nothing about save the fact that I have vouched for them. If he can trust you on my word then good taste dictates that you should extend to him the same courtesy.’
‘I suppose so, sorry Billy, things are a bit dodgy up my way at the minute. The man was referring to an undercover agent who had infiltrated the Derry organisation bringing about the arrest of several volunteers. Clements merely nodded. Satisfied that honour was restored, Starrett brought the meeting to order.
‘Gentlemen,’ he began. ‘I am about to table a suggestion, which will make me the most unpopular man in the room. Furthermore, what I am about to say will in some areas brand me a traitor. All I ask is that you hear me out. If you disagree with what I suggest, I shall have no alternative but to step down as commander of the Belfast battalion.’ There was a collective intake of breath as the impact of Starrett’s words hit home. Eagerly the group leaned forward giving John their fullest attention.’Firstly,’ he continued, ‘I suggest that we call a cease fire.’There was an instant rush of comment and disagreement. ‘Gentlemen please,’ shouted John, banging the table with open palms to bring them to order. ‘Please let me say what I have to say, then we can discuss the merits or pitfalls of my proposal.’ The gathering reluctantly quietened. Some delegates were seething but all were eager to hear more. ‘This killer, this maniac, the one they call the Preacher, is undermining our authority.How long do you think it will be before the people lose faith in our ability to protect them against the IRA? if we can not protect our own from one bloody psychopath?’ Heads nodded in agreement; at last Starrett felt that he was making headway.
‘How can a cease-fire help us to catch yer man,’ asked the delegate from Ballymena.
‘Good question and that brings me to the hard part. I know that you wont like my second proposal but bear with me.’ There was a nervous rustling as the men sat forward enthralled; hanging on John’s every word. I am seeking your agreement to a joint operation with the IRA. In order to snare the Preacher.’
‘Ye must be out of yer fuckin mind,’ was the reaction from the rear of the room. The venom was mouthed by a stocky man boasting a Newry accent that one could cut with a knife.
‘Fuckin right, we’ve spent a lifetime tryin to keep the bastards at bay and you’re askin us to go to bed with them. What is this, some kind of sick joke?’ added the representative from Enniskillen. John held both arms aloft palms outward, appealing for order.
‘Please gentlemen, I predicted what your reaction would be. Please let me finish what I have to say before discarding the idea out of hand. Believe me the idea is as repugnant to me as it must be to you but these are desperate times and must be solved by equally desperate measures. The killer is an Englishman, we are certain of that fact. He is indiscriminate in his choice of victim, catholic or prod to him is the same prey. In other words gentlemen, according to the Preacher, we are all tarred with the same brush, whether we like it or not. Starrett paused awaiting the impact of his words to take affect. His gamble paid off, he had judged correctly. Slowly but surely the inevitable hubbub began to subside. ‘The man has access to privileged information,’ he continued, raising his voice to counter the din. ‘He knows the names and addresses of the families and volunteers from both sides. I can not see any other way to catch
him. Every member of every family of the political prisoners is at risk while this maniac is at large, and although it pains me to say it, we have to put our differences aside in the interests of both communities. If we join forces we can put a dragnet throughout the whole of the UK which has at least a realistic chance of bringing about a result. We don’t have to be looking over our shoulders for the old enemy and we can pool our resources. It is our best chance of finding a solution to this problem, quickly and completely. I am asking for your support in this matter and am suggesting that we call a meeting with the IRA as soon as possible. With your backing I can put the idea to them and if they concur we shall issue a joint statement that a cease-fire will begin immediately. The statement to the press will be that we have called a cease to hostilities as a mark of respect to the families of victims of the killer known as the Preacher. The cease-fire shall remain in place until the murderer is apprehended or terminated. I see this as a way forward and that our political representatives should take this opportunity to bring about a permanent end to hostilities in the province. Thank-you gentlemen, that is all.’
Starrett’s final entreaty brought another cacophony from the seething crowd.
‘Please men this harangue is serving no useful purpose, I beg you to sit back and take stock of the situation and you will see that we have no alternative. When we volunteered to join the organisation, we vowed to protect the community. For God and Ulster, do you remember the oath we took to defend the province against the papist cause?’ His question had a calming effect and once more a hush descended as the crowd waited for him to explain his last words.
‘To defend Ulster has always been our mandate and at first, that is exactly what we did but look at us now. We have lost sight of our great endeavour and resorted to killing for killing’s sake. We are destroying the economy; the very fibre of our existence is threatened. I am referring to Ulster’s youth, surely you must see that we cannot afford another generation of death and destruction. A man would have to be blind to think that the British would not sell us down the river if they could think of a way to justify their actions. It is my firm belief that the only way for us to strike a fair deal with the Republic is to enter the political arena first. Hold out the hand of friendship and beat the bastards at their own game. Get world opinion on our side for a change. We must look to the future gentlemen and in it there is no place for the bomb and the gun.’ The shouting had ceased, being replaced by a subdued murmur. This had came as bombshell to the audience, it was not what they had expected to hear and they needed time to digest what had been proposed to them. Starrett was aware of their perplexity and took full advantage. Before they could raise any argument to his suggestions he called for a recess, informing them that he would leave them to mull over what he had said but adding that he knew that they were clever enough to come to the correct decision. With that said he rose quickly and rushed from view.
Seeds of Evil Page 24