Fingers crossed Black dialled his number. The phone rang for four excruciating pulses before Kieran’s silky voice purred on the other end. ‘Dornan’s residence for unemployed lumberjacks, only men with large choppers need apply. I hope I can accommodate you.’
‘My dearest Kieran, you support the most worthy of causes.’
‘Oh Dilly darling, how are you?’ gushed Dornan excitedly. ‘When did you breeze into town? I hope you did not delay too long before calling, you know how much I miss you.’ Black had used the alias Denis Gillingham on their first encounter. Dornan had wrinkled his nose with displeasure denouncing the name out of hand. ‘How absolutely ghastly, I could not possibly be seen around town with someone burdened with such a disability. I shall call you Dilly,’ Black faked indignation but reluctantly consented to the new title when Kieran pouted, ‘Please do this one little thing for me and I shall be eternally grateful. I simply refuse to become involved with someone named Denis and I do very much want to be involved with you,’ he added coyly. Nathan had burst into a genuine fit of laughter and the rest was plain sailing. ‘Believe me Kieran you are always the first in my thoughts as I step from the plane. I’m in town for a few days and I thought we could spend them together. If you are free perhaps you could pop over this evening and we can plan the weekend over a spot of dinner. How does that sound?’
‘Sounds incredible, I had planned to meet a few of gang at the Dive but there was nothing definite. Okay darling; crack a bottle of Chianti. I am feeling positively Latin tonight. I’ll be over at nine,’ assented Dornan.
‘Perfecto grande, my pet, don’t be late,’ cooed Black wickedly. Exhaling a satisfied sigh, he busied himself for Dornan’s lethal surprise. How fitting that my next extermination should be half-Irish, thought Nathan.
Dornan arrived at precisely nine o’clock. He was a stickler for proprieties and prided himself on his punctuality. One of his idiosyncrasies was to throw tantrums when subordinates lapsed into tardiness in the work place. Everything was as how he imagined it would be. Black had planned an Italian evening and the aroma of oregano permeated the apartment. A bottle took pride of place as it stood decanting on the table. Great care had been taken to present the ambience of a Roman repast. ‘You have outdone yourself Dilly, I could be standing in a restaurant in Venice,’ complimented Kieran, planting a theatrical kiss on Black’s cheek. To put Dornan at ease had been Black’s intent. As the evening progressed his guest would become inebriated enough to make killing him a simple task. As he thrilled at the thought of the other’s murder, the
familiar stirring was threatening to burst from his pants.
‘God but you are a lovely creature,’ he murmured breathlessly. ‘Dinner can wait,’ he whispered as he lowered his companion unto the settee. Dornan insisted on washing his lover, which gave Black a pang of remorse but this quickly faded, as the other’s incessant chatter became an irritant. Dinner was perfect and Black’s plan was working to perfection.
‘Adore Ruffino,’ enthused Dornan as Nathan plied him with the contents of a second bottle. ‘As do I darling but it reeks havoc with my digestive tract,’ lied Nathan. ‘Just lie and relax on the sofa whilst I fetch another bottle.’
‘Oh Dilly darling I couldn’t possibly. You know how I suffer after a night on the plonk. I want to be in supreme fettle for tomorrow’s festivities. By the way, what did you have in mind for tomorrow?’
‘Oh don’t be such a wimp, I have already uncorked it especially for you. It has been breathing through dessert.’
‘If you insist but my condition in the light of day is your responsibility. Don’t go off on a tangent if I am laid up with a head like an over ripe tomato,’ chided Dornan, already the worse for wear from the previous two bottles.
‘Come on Kier, you’re only young once. Giggling uncontrollably his companion slurped wine from the glass. The drink had at last brought about the desired result and Dornan had difficulty finding his lips.’God Dilly my head is spinning and itsh all your fault,’ he slurred. ‘Sorry darling but I feel really tired, my resistance to drink must be on the wane. Would you mind awfully if I lie down for a tick?’ he was beginning to slump sideways even as he spoke.
‘My word Kieran but you look terrible, here let me put your feet up,’ said Black in sham sympathy. ‘Just lie there for a while. It will pass presently I’m sure. In the meantime I’ll just wash up.’ Dornan was fast asleep before he had finished speaking.
Quickly and quietly Nathan cleared away the evidence. He manually washed one set of dishes, placing the other in the dishwasher. Stealthily he stole through the apartment clearing away all trace of his friend Dornan. When he was finished it was as if the other had never been present. Satisfied he set the second stage of his fake death into motion. Donning a pair of lightweight overalls Black proceeded to the cupboard under the sink where he had secreted a ball peon hammer. He removed it from it’s hiding place and retraced his steps. Kieran lay oblivious to the peril he had placed himself in on the day he had befriended Black. The murderer stood for a second surveying the scene. His intended victim lay sleeping like a baby. Deliberately Nathan raised the hammer above his head and brought it smashing down on Kieran’s forehead. His skull caved in
under the blow. Again and again he rained blow after murderous blow on his helpless victim. All movement had ceased. Dornan was dead. His plan was nearing completion. There was still the problem of dental records so once again Black began pulverising the already unrecognisable face. Cruelly he drew the body’s mouth open shining a pencil torch inside. Not the hint of a tooth remained; the jawbone was mangled to a pulp. Black shook his head sorrowfully, before scoring the letters NF. across Dornan’s brow, wincing as the blade scraped into bone. ‘Almost over,’ he remarked as he went to fetch the petrol. Liberally he drenched it’s contents on the body and across the furniture. He completed the task by pouring the remainder of the container on the carpet. Taking a can of paint spray, which he had purchased months earlier, he went to the front door. After making certain that he would not be disturbed he sprayed the message, ‘Death to all fucking queers NF,’ across the hallway. Doors were fully opened, the French windows leading to the veranda, were left ajar. Nathan had booked into a hotel in the city centre. Taking one fleeting glance at the prostrate body of Kieran Dornan, he lit a match and casually tossed it unto the petrol soaked carpet. The liquid ignited with a whoosh. Flames rushed around the room devouring everything in it’s path. Black watched gleefully for a few moments before making his escape. ‘Rest in peace Nathan,’ he sniggered as he exited the building. From the park across the street he watched as the flames licked out through the French windows seeking nourishment on the veranda. Greedily it gulped in the night air feeding it’s hunger and becoming a raging conflagration in the process. With Kieran Dornan now a memory, Nathan smiled and disappeared into the gathering crowd. He was strolling in excess of a mile from the scene of his crime as the first scream of a fire tender’s siren disturbed the night’s silence. ‘Too late, too late shall be the cry,’ he smirked.
An incredulous Carter Fairchilds listened as Starrett informed him of the killer’s suspected identity. ‘Hold your horses John. Nathan Black, you did say Nathan Black?’
‘Yes,’ spat Starrett irritably.’
‘And you want me to follow him wherever he goes?’ Tiny dread began to nibble at the commander’s confidence. ‘Why do you ask, are you acquainted with the man?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘No not really but tailing him will prove an impossible task. Unless of course you want me to go to hell.’
‘Let’s stop all this bullshit right now. I’m not in the mood for games. Tell me what you know about him,’ exploded Starrett.
‘Nathan Black died in a fire at his home last night. Seems some National Front people didn’t take kindly to having a queen in residence on his manor.’ His joke was greeted by silence. ‘Are you there John?
’ Starrett had let the arm holding the receiver drop to his side. All colour had drained from his face as he stood, staring at the instrument’s cradle. Deep in thought he returned the phone to his ear.
‘Did you manage to get some good prints of Clements’ friend?’
‘That was a wee bit easier than the other request. As a matter of fact you would think he posed for a photo session.’
‘Well study them well for you and he have an appointment in the very near future.’
News of Black’s demise filtered back to Clements. ‘Christ would ye credit it,’ growled Billy. ‘All these fuckin months runnin around like blue assed flies tryin to track the bastard down. When we finally do, what happens? He does a fuckin Joan of Ark. His timmin’s impeccable, why could they not have barbecued him before he had time to murder another family?’
‘Bit of a lucky break if ye ask me. Yer man gettin te Fallen before us saved us a bullet,’ quipped Cairns. ‘That’s just fuckin great, we’re into cheerin for the murder of women and children now.’
‘Take it easy, I was only jokin. Anyway what’s it te ye? I think yon taig’s turnin yer fuckin head, yer gettin too friendly if ye ask me.’
‘Well nobody’s fuckin askin ye,’ scowled Billy.
‘Quiet now the pair of you. I’m trying to make sense of this,’ interjected Starrett.
‘What do ye mean boss?’ asked Tommy.
‘What I mean is that it is bloody convenient, The Preacher dying like that. Almost too convenient’
‘I don’t understand,’ said a confused Clements.
‘Hell of a coincidence. Billy and you both know how I hate coincidences. Take a good look at the situation son. Yourself and the popehead go over to England and ask a few questions about the wee soldier and two days later his friend becomes a target of the NF. It all seems a bit too contrived for my liking. Cast your mind back Billy boy. How did the peeler Maurice Scott meet his maker?’ Starrett pointed out smugly. ‘Fuck me, ye mean he’s topped some other punter and done a Lord Lucan.’
‘It certainly looks that way Billy. Question is, does he know if it was us or the branch that was asking the questions? Secondly is he daft enough to carry on as The Preacher or will he cut his losses and run? Let us leave it for a few days, I want to have another word with the shrink. Put some hypothetical questions to him. In the mean time you and your buddy can go your separate ways. It will do you good to take a break, he is beginning to have a bad influence on you son.’
‘Aye yer right enough John. Billy’s eyes are comin closer together,’ chuckled Cairns in reference to the old wife’s tale that one can always tell a Catholic because their eyes are too close together.
‘Fuck you too Tommy,’ replied Billy. ‘Think I’ll do a spot of fishin. Haven’t had the rod out for ages.’ ‘Now you’re talking Billy, that sounds just the ticket. We shall be in touch,’ concluded Starrett. He waited for Billy to leave before addressing Cairns. ‘Make arrangements for Fairchilds to come over Tommy. Next month will be grand, be sure to let me know the exact date well in advance. Oh, not a word to Clements now, let’s keep it between you and I okay.’
‘No problem John, anything you want me to tell Carter?’
‘No nothing as yet. Give him a few days notice. Around the middle of the month should do fine,’ answered Starrett.
‘She’s in some state Con,’ Tullen was informed by his friend Gerry. ‘Just sits there starin at the wall. Every now and then she lets out an ungodly scream and starts sobbin fit te die,’ he added, with a shake of the head.
‘Will she see me Ger?’ asked Connor anxiously.
‘Hard te say what she wants. Hasn’t spoke two words since it happened. You can try talkin te her but God only knows what her reaction is gonna be,’ replied Gerry sadly. ‘Fuck if I ever get me hands on the bastard,’ snarled Gerry, through gritted teeth.
‘Wishful thinkin Ger, people have been tryin te catch up with him for more than a year now.’
‘Ach fuck it,’ shouted Graves in frustration. Tullen sympathetically patted him on the shoulder saying, ‘I know exactly what yer goin through pal, I feel the same way.’
Connor was unprepared for the sight before him. She sat on a hard dining room chair. Her eyes were blood red, her hair bedraggled and unkempt. His heart was breaking for her. He wanted to share in her pain and his guilt was almost unbearable. He edged closer to the chair, as if she would up and bolt like a frightened deer. Moira did not stir, if she had any idea of his presence she gave no indication. Tullen was afraid. With great patience he slowly lowered himself in front of her. Her legs were splayed in a wanton pose. He shuffled between her open thighs and taking her hands in his, he slowly began to unfold them. They were locked solid as if petrified by some ancient curse. Moira attempted a timid smile for him but it was fleeting as she relapsed into her inner turmoil. ‘Please be strong darlin,’ he began. ‘I would love te be able to say somethin te ease yer pain but anythin I would say would be hypocrisy. I love you darlin. I love you with every beat of my heart. My soul is yours for the askin, please come back te me. Glistening orbs formed and spilled from her eyes. She threw her arms around his neck dragging his head to her breast. So tightly did she hold him that his breathing was restricted. At that moment Connor did not care if she crushed the last breath from his lungs. He could hear her heart beating, feel her relax into his arms. Tullen was ecstatic because at that moment he was certain of her love for him. Tenderly he unfolded her arms from around his neck. Taking her cheeks between his palms he gently placed a kiss upon each eyelid.
‘Will ye not speak te me love? Tell me what I can do te ease the pain. Please darlin it is killin me to see ye like this.’ Without warning she broke down completely. An ear-shattering wail threatened to rend his eardrums.
‘Oh God why? My poor sister,’ she bubbled. ‘It was like walking into a nightmare, and those poor innocent children.’ She was inconsolable as the floodgates disintegrated. Her sobbing threatened to tear her asunder. Tullen held on to her tightly allowing her grief to manifest itself in a torrent of tears.
‘Moira please be still, you’re scarin me te death. We’ll make it through this, I promise. We must both be strong in order to cope with the future,’ he pleaded. His words had a profound affect upon her. The change was dramatic. Gone was the bewildered doe, only to be replaced by a tigress.
‘Thanks for bein here when I needed ye the most,’ she spat. ‘Love, love is just a word te you. Ye have no time for it, have ye Con? Not you, sure you’re one of the big fellas. One of the bastards who’s supposed to help us gain our self respect. Gina was married to a big man too. A lot of fuckin good he was to her. That demented bastard was able to walk into my sister’s home and murder, no butcher them all. You should have seen it Con. The children were cast aside like so much offal ye’d find in a butcher’s bin. There was no dignity in their last moments on earth. They were naked and hacked to pieces. I tread on one of their hands for fuck sake. I was in a daze, wandering around trying to see which bit belonged where, like some grotesque human gig-saw puzzle. Where were the big men when my sister and her children needed them, answer me that Con? And as for that fuckin lazy bastard of a husband, he was fuckin drunk. Did ye know that Con? He was the only one in tact. Oh his throat was slit but-… ‘
‘Stop it darlin, I beg ye for the love of God stop this,’ pleaded Tullen distraught.
‘Why Con? Haven’t ye the stomach for it?’
‘Please Moira don’t do this, Yer upset, ye don’t know what yer sayin darlin.’
‘Oh but that’s where ye’re wrong,’ she contradicted him calmly. ‘I know exactly what I am sayin Con.’
‘What is it Moira, what do you want me te say, I quit? Okay I quit, I’ll do whatever it takes.’
‘God almighty man, don’t ye realise, there is no quitting now. It’s too late for that. You are gonna stay in the g
ame until that monster is caught Con. I want to hear from your lips that ye watched him die. Do ye understand?’ she screamed.
‘We think that he may already be dead,’ he told her quietly.
‘What, what did ye say?’
‘We were unto the likely suspect, tracked him to London. Well there was a fire and it looks like he was burned to death.’
‘Oh no, that man is gonna burn in hell and you’re gonna send him there. I can feel it in me heart Con. He is alive and laughin at us all, I’m sure of it.
Dealing with nationalists was abhorrent to Starrett. He regarded them with the same distaste as one has for dog dirt but he was a prudent man, therefore he arranged a meeting. Daley although not as venomous as the UDA. commander held loyalists in equal disdain. He acquiesced to his enemy’s request and a date was set for the following week. Both factions waited with bated breath for the slightest indication that the Preacher was still at large. Nothing suggested to the metropolitan police force that the charred remains found in the burned out apartment were not those of Nathan Black. Their enquiries had established that he was a homosexual and the motive for his killing was bigotry. Starrett had full access to Black’s file, via a contact in Scotland Yard but remained sceptical. He aired his misgivings to Daley who agreed that Black’s death was too coincidental. Having accepted that there was an overwhelming possibility that Black had faked his own death; it was decided that he, the Preacher, would be treated as still alive. Reluctantly both parties agreed to keep the Tullen, Clements partnership in tact for the time being.
Seeds of Evil Page 34