by Max Hardy
Purves raised her hand. ‘Yes Ma’am. We’ve had a couple of bits of info back from Edinburgh Uni in the last hour. The animal DNA they found in the samples from Jessica Seymour and Madame Evangeline are from Ophiophagus Hannah, or the King Cobra. It is snake DNA. They seemed to be very excited about that and said they would call back later on today when they fully understand the implications of that type of genetic manipulation. There words, not mine.’ Purves added, looking bemusedly up at Cruickshank before continuing. ‘Also Professor Auld from Newcastle Uni remembered the name of the person who looked like Saul. He was called Robert Caldwell. We are looking into that name now. Nothing coming up on PNC so we are checking with other agencies. I’ll keep you up to date with progress Ma’am.’
‘Excellent work Purves. We have a name and useful forensic evidence. If we collectively keep that kind of hit rate up, we might start to make some headway. Right everyone. We cannot for one second take our eye of the ball on this case. There are far too many moving parts for us to get complacent. All of you need to be on your ‘A’ plus game. All of you need to deliver insight that will move this investigation to a conclusion. Dismissed.’ Cruickshank finished, the collected detectives dispersing dejectedly, and turned to Strange, who was shaking his head disconsolately.
‘I am not saying a thing Gaynor, other than people are noticing your bias.’ Strange pre-empted when he saw the look of thunder flash over Cruickshank’s features at his head shaking.
‘You don’t need to say anything Strange, your demeanour tells me exactly what you think about how I dealt with that. You are sailing close to a strike two, regardless of the fact we are now a joint task force. Just be warned. What’s your thoughts on the intel back from the University?’
‘I wouldn’t hold out much hope on the name. We’ve seen how the Angels can get into computer systems and add, change or delete anything they want to. Don’t get me wrong, we need to chase it up, let’s just not hold our breath. Snake DNA. Now that is interesting. The blood that was poured over Michael Angus at Featherstone Hall was from snakes. Jessica and Madame Evangeline had a snake tattooed on their abdomen. Adam and Eve. The Garden of Eden. The serpent of temptation. The emissary of sin. I don’t know how it helps us right now, but it is certainly starting to colour the picture of The Fallen Angels and what they may believe in.’ Strange reflected, ignoring Cruickshank’s indignant dig.
‘I agree. There’s nothing there at the moment that changes our course of action.’ Cruickshank answered with a cursory nod of acknowledgement before being distracted by DI Trentor walking excitedly back into the Incident room. ‘Don’t tell me Trentor, you’ve forgotten something?’ Cruickshank asked, admonishment in her tone.
‘No Ma’am. We’ve just heard back from the psychiatric liaison officer. Coleen Naismith now has full recollection of what happened in the cave, and who did what.’ Trentor started as he arrived beside Cruickshank and Strange.
‘And!’ Cruikshank demanded as he paused for breath.
‘Desiderata Bentley had Madame Evangeline bound to the metal bench in the cave and was dismembering and sexually abusing her. Pastor Bentley was watching. Saul, Angus and Fenny Bentley arrived and tried to stop her. Fenny managed to lock his father up in a cage, but then Desiderata tried to strangle him. Angus stabbed Desiderata in the back to stop her. Fenny knew nothing about what his father and sister were doing. According to Naismith, he said he didn’t want to live with that knowledge and threw himself on the knife sticking out of Desiderata’s chest. Fenny killed himself. Another man entered the room at that point, calling himself Adam. A man who looked exactly like John Saul. She also mentioned that Adam talked to Saul about someone called ‘The Man Who Makes Murderers’, in reference to someone in the photographs.’ Trentor blurted out in one long breath, his face flushing red both from excited anticipation and the lack of oxygen.
Strange was about to speak, but Cruickshank shushed him and responded. ‘Trentor, that is brilliant news. That’s the kind of lead that we need on this case. Now that she has talked to the psychiatric team, get yourself down there, we need an official statement. Start to probe a bit if she’s up to it. See if she recalls anything more specific about this Adam and Madame Evangeline. Well done.’ Cruickshank praised, forcing a broad smile awkwardly onto her face as she reached out a hand and shook Trentor’s, who looked down at his own shaking limb in obvious surprise.
‘Thank you Ma’am. I’ll get down to the hospital straight away.’ Trentor replied, his face unsure of how to react to the positive feedback as he turned and left the room.
‘Okay.’ Cruickshank started. ‘We now have an eye witness who can conclusively state Angus and Saul did not murder the Bentley’s. Angus may have killed Desiderata, but in trying to stop her killing Fenny. Crown Prosecution Service would see that as self defence and not give us the authority to press any charges. We can conclusively state that Saul has a twin, or perhaps a clone. Whichever, there are two of him, which backs up everything he was telling us not only about the Fallen Angels investigation, but also the Featherstone Hall investigation. We’ve also got another reference to this ‘man who makes murderers’ from another source. It looks like you could be right Jerry.’ Cruickshank offered openly, without a hint of sarcasm or bitterness, only excitement an admiration singing from her tone.
‘It doesn’t change our approach though. The facts still tell us John and Rebecca were involved in the McFetrich and Ettrick murders. As we discussed last night, regardless if they were responsible or being played, we need to bring them in. We need to bring them in because I have an unnerving feeling they may be very close to killing, I think that’s how far they are being pushed. What this does do is give us ammunition to use with Pastor Bentley. I think we might be able to break him now. We might be able to get him to tell us who Gabriel is. I think we have enough leverage to do that.’ Strange answered, concern dripping from every single word.
‘Gregory should have him in interview room four now, so let’s get on with it.’ Cruickshank stated simply and stomped off to the entrance of the Incident room.
Strange followed nonchalantly behind, cogitation emblazoned on his face as he hugged his files into his chest. Cruickshank didn’t wait for him and headed straight past the Interview room to the control room. Strange stopped outside door four, composed himself, popped his earpiece in, and entered the room. He said nothing as he sat in a hard grey plastic seat next to Gregory, not looking at Pastor Bentley who was watching his every movement in a similar chair at the opposite side of the table. He sighed heavily as he placed the brown Manila folder on the innocuous grey table in front of him, looking at it, not Pastor Bentley. He sat back in his seat, crossed his arms, shook his head disparagingly, tutted loudly, then looked directly into Pastor Bentley’s eyes, his gaze radiating disappointment.
‘For the benefit of the tape. DCI Jeremiah Strange has entered the Interview room.’ Strange stated, then asked simply, ‘Do you feel safe Edward?’
Bentley’s defiant glare twitched slightly, a fleeting glimpse of confusion entering his gaze. ‘Safe? From you?’ he queried.
‘From anyone. I mean, you are in a pretty secure cell in a locked down isolation facility in the middle of a police station with hundreds of officers here to keep you in, and anyone else out. Does that make you feel safe?’ Strange reiterated.
‘Safe isn’t a feeling I pay much attention to. I am here, that is all there is to it.’ Bentley answered.
‘I’m sure your son felt safe when he was locked up in here. Safely away from you and his sister. It must have been devastating for him to find out what the two of you had been up to. It must have destroyed him to find out that he had been unwittingly complicit in leading every one of those women to you: to their deaths. But he wasn’t safe here. We couldn’t protect him. We couldn’t stop the Fallen Angels getting in here and spiriting him away from right under our noses. I don’t think we can keep you safe either.’ Strange relayed without emotion.
Bentle
y rocked back in his seat and let out a sardonic guffaw. ‘Safe from the Fallen Angels? They put me in here, why would they want to get me back out?’
‘Oh, not from the Fallen Angels. From someone much worse. From Gabriel.’
Bentley’s seat shot forward as his body straightened up, the laughter dissipating in an instant, to be replaced by a silent, cold glare.
‘I’d like to think we can protect the four of you from him, but I don’t think we can. You see, he has already killed two of your cult in the last two days. I say killed. I am being disingenuous there. He has tortured, mutilated and flayed two of your cult to death in the last two days. He must be unhappy with you for some reason?’ Strange continued, calm and controlled.
‘Cult, what do you mean, cult?’ Bentley rumbled.
‘Oh we know who Gabriel is. He’s the man who makes murderers. Archbishop O’Driscoll has told us about him. Collen Naismith, who has now told us everything that happened in the cave under your house, also remembers Adam and Madame Evangeline talking about him. We know that he taught you how to murder. We know that he wanted you to radicalise your faith. We suspect that he is unhappy you have setup a religion of your own. The cult of Unas.’
Bentley stayed silent for a moment and a look of panic strayed into his eyes, before he spoke. ‘I do not fear death. If it is my time, it is my time. My god will judge my worth.’
‘It’s not death you need to fear, it is dying. To say that he killed McFetrich and Ettrick would be a gross understatement. It fills me with mortal dread to think of the suffering they must have gone through before they died. To have your skin flayed from your body, every single bone broken, and your internal organs removed while still alive. Well, if that doesn’t set the fear of God into you, nothing will. I don’t know if we can keep you safe from that. We will try, but I don’t know how successful we will be.’ Strange added, not an ounce of malice in the words.
Bentley looked at Strange with a calculating expression in his eyes, no other emotion present in his still features. ‘Whatever it is you think I can tell you, as you quite rightly point out, you can’t save me from him, so why would I tell you anything?’
‘Well, that’s the thing. At least we can try to stop him. You can’t. Perhaps you could tell us something that might help us find and capture him, before he comes for you: and he will come for you. What have you got to lose? If you don’t tell us, you could spend days in hellish torment dying. If you do tell us, we might be able to avert that. It’s your choice. I’ll leave you to think it over. Just let me know when you have decided.’ Strange finished nonchalantly as he stood up and headed for the door. Just as he placed his hand on the handle, Bentley spoke.
‘There were six of us in the cult. Ennis, McFetrich and Ettrick. They are dead, you have me and so that leaves only two. You will never find him if you go looking, but if you find the next one of them before he does, you might have a chance.’
‘The next one? There’s a sequence?’ Strange queried.
‘Oh yes, there is always an order to his chaos. You should always watch those closest to you DCI Strange, always. The next one is George Darrie.’
Chapter 26
My cheek explodes into a maelstrom of pain, the impact of the furious fist hitting it reverberating around my shaken skull, making me stagger, making me fall backwards onto the bed.
‘You fucking cunt! You lowlife bottom sucking piece of sewage?’ Rebecca spits furiously at me as she raises a foot and kicks me right in the bollocks. Electric stings singe up my veins, all the way to my aching skull, bursting the agony into my brain, causing me to double over and close my legs involuntarily: instinctive protection.
‘What the fucking hell possessed you! And they thought I was mad! You’ve fucking killed him, you murdering bastard!’
Her words fall with pummelling fists, each one hammering home into my torso, knocking the air out of my lungs, bending my ribs under the force of her furore.
‘Who the fuck do you think you are? God! You had no right. You had no right to play his life like that!’ she screams as she pummels, my whole body tensing under the impact, bathed in searing pain. The words falter, and stutter, tears interweaving with the fury as the punches ease and she collapses into a gibbering heap on my chest, raking her nails deep into the skin on my arms.
‘You’ve just got him back. Why have you killed him again?’ Rebecca cries into my throbbing ribs.
‘I haven’t killed him Becca. You said it yourself. What if this is about creating the pure child of an Angel? Who do you think that child is? It is Jacob. This has always been about Jacob. I haven’t killed him Becca, I’ve just played him. I’ve moved our king into check.’ I slur in abject agony.
‘Have you heard yourself John? Kings, check, fucking playing him. He’s a boy. A beautiful, gentle, ill little boy. He’s not a fucking toy. What gives you the right to use our son like that? What gives you the right to play god with his life.’
‘It wasn’t me who started to play him Becca, it was Adam and Eve, all the way back there in a crate in Featherstone Hall. Even before that. Even at the point of his inception. Just as they have been playing us all our lives. At some point, we had to start making moves.’
‘But you had the choice not to continue playing Jacob. We had him back, and we could have just kept him safe!’
‘How Becca. How could we keep him safe? For the second time in two days we have had to run. The police think we are murderers. We have a murderer after us and we have the fucking Fallen Angels ready to drop us into another whole heap of shit at any minute. No one is going to harm Jacob. For whatever reason, he is important. Not just to the Angels but possibly to Gabriel as well.’ I reply in frustrated pain, my whole body aching as Rebecca lies on top of me sobbing quietly. Suddenly the sobbing stops and she sits bolt upright beside me and wipes the tears from her puffy eyes with hands still shaking furiously.
‘You are a bastard John and you should have told me. I thought we were a team. Together, we might have thought of a plan. That’s too late now. Jacob is in someone else’s hands. What I need to understand now is, what the fuck else have you done, what’s next, and have you been playing me too?’ she asks, looking down on me accusingly, rabbit punching my arm to rid herself of the last vestiges of vexation. There it is again, flipping from emotional chaos to practicality in the sparkle of a tear. She’s right though, I am a bastard. Why didn’t I tell her what I had in mind? Do I still not trust her, is that it? Or is it a control thing? No time to reflect on that now, she just needs to know.
‘I’m not playing you Rebecca, please believe that. Yes, I am a bastard. Yes, I should have talked to you. But I didn’t. I can’t change that. I can change what I do moving forward. I will change what I do moving forward. As for what else I have done. Well. We are being led down a path. Adam has been steering us, with leaflets left about Chillingham Hall as an example. Gabriel has been steering us, by implicating us in the murders, by suggesting that we will find out more by delving into the world of BDSM. Our path is being plotted from two sides. What I have been doing is ensuring that when we get to the end of the path, we have a fighting chance of getting out alive.’ I answer, pushing my torso up on the bed into a sitting position beside Rebecca. She has stopped punching me but I can tell there is still an underlying insecurity, as much as she has switched to practical. One hand is circling the scar tissue on her other wrist.
‘I see that. I realise we aren’t here by chance. But what have you done?’
‘Nothing dramatic. Ian Bear didn’t go missing. I left him in the apartment for Strange to find. I left a message inside for him. We needed an ally inside the police. He was the only person I felt I could trust. Letting you use an open internet connection was deliberate as well. I wanted the police to see what we could see, so that they knew we are looking for the same things. I also expected them to throw a cordon around Morpeth, so signposted the fact we were here. It would have been easy to have changed your disguise and use a diff
erent car to throw them off the trail, but we need them. We know Eve is here. If she is here then Gabriel is here as well. I have a feeling Adam won’t be too far away either.’
‘When did you suspect that Eve was lying? I didn’t see it, I only saw someone as confused as us.’
‘Three things. When I saw her up on Scott Monument, she was talking, but there was no one with her. I think she was talking into an earpiece. That and the fact she didn’t ask any questions. All of this happens to a person in such a short space of time and yet she doesn’t have any questions? Even then I wasn’t sure and half of me still though she was genuine. In fact, I think her background probably is. But hearing what we have just heard, I’ve no doubt that she is with Gabriel and probably killed McFetrich and Ettrick. I’ve no doubt that Gabriel is teaching her to be a murderer.’
‘And you still thought it was okay to let her take Jacob?’ Rebecca throws in, full of barbs and recrimination.
‘It was a calculated play. Gabriel is after us because Adam put us into his line of sight. Think about it. All of the Fallen Angels involved in the reveals killed themselves. Who did Gabriel have to go after to find out why they were trying to expose him? The two people who walked away from it. The two people one of his prodigy’s claimed killed his children. Us. We are the bait. We are being played. But I don’t think Gabriel knows why yet either. If he did, we would be dead by now and he would have Jacob anyway.’
‘So what do we do next? We don’t know where Gabriel is. We don’t know where Adam is. Do we just sit and await our fate?’
‘That’s where the third thing that makes me suspicious about her comes in.’ I lean over to Rebecca and stroke her elbow, gripping the loose bit of skin there between my thumb and finger. ‘Do you know that this piece of skin is called?’
‘It has a name?’ she responds with incredulity ringing through the words, as she reaches around and cups my hand affectionately.