Murder Path (Fallen Angels Book 3)

by Max Hardy

  ‘That might be a noble aspiration, if not for the death, destruction, torture, agony and horror you have inflicted on all of these women, on us, on everyone you have used, in the name of your religion, all along wearing a mask of sadistic pleasure. You are no better than any of the men you exposed, no better than any of the murders Gabriel made. In fact, just as I said, you are worse than a monster, because there isn’t an ounce of compassion in any single thing that you have done. I can understand why Gabriel went extreme, if this is what you asked him to believe.’ Rebecca seethes, her fists clenching and her whole body shaking with fury.

  I take one hand off the gun and reach down into my pocket, tapping the screen on my phone. Just as I do, I feel my arm vibrate again, six sharp blasts from the place where the tracker is implanted. ‘Why is the tracker vibrating Adam?’

  For the first time in all of his warped revelations, his face changes, filling with furrows of concern. ‘How many vibrations!’ he demands agitatedly, feeling his own arm.

  ‘Six blasts. It’s the second time today. What is it?’ I ask, watching the panic rise through his features.

  ‘Six blasts is a catastrophic emergency. A call for all Angels to return to base, to be briefed. A call that only I can instigate, and I haven’t instigated it?’ he answers, his words filled with a panicked urgency.

  From the other room, Eve laughs, the noise echoing around the dungeon ominously.

  ‘I told you earlier Adam, you didn’t need to murder anyone to find Gabriel. All you had to do was go home. Now he has Jacob, all the remaining Fallen Angels, and now he knows exactly what your plans are.’

  Chapter 35

  Cruickshank’s Fiesta swerved around the tight corner at the junction of Main Street and New Market, heading down the road at speed, three police cars, their lights flashing and sirens blaring, following her. She turned the car quickly into the large, full car park to the right, opposite the Swimming Baths, and jumped out of the car, her eyes scanning the parked vehicles around her.

  Strange was at her side a second later, the two of them walking up the first row of the car park, eyes darting from side to side. ‘Over there.’ Strange shouted, pointing to a red Land Rover Evoque in the back row.

  Cruickshank broke into a controlled trot, darting between the cars until she was beside the vehicle, Strange arriving a second later. The three other police cars were now parked up and a gaggle of officers had jumped out and were approaching the car as well.

  ‘Right gentlemen.’ Strange started as the officers arrived. ‘We have reason to believe that our suspects, Gabriel and Eve, were using this car. It parked up here about an hour ago so what I would like you to do is fan out from here and visit every shop, restaurant, building, house and flat in the immediate vicinity and see if you can find them. They are extremely dangerous, so do not try and be heroes. If you see them, call for backup immediately. Now, go!’ he instructed firmly. The officers paired up, turned, and headed off in a drilled, organised arc away from the car park.

  ‘Impressive co-ordination Strange. The troops certainly have more about them than the detectives in your team.’ she dug, scathingly, before raising an elbow and banging it straight into the driver’s window of the Evoque, smashing it instantly, setting off the alarm.

  ‘Well, we can do methodical efficiency just like the best of them, when it’s required. The trick is knowing when it’s required.’ Strange baited back as he opened the passenger door and started searching around in the storage compartments in the car. Cruickshank did likewise from the driver’s side, avoiding the broken glass on the seat.

  ‘Any beeps yet?’ she queried enigmatically as she looked up at Strange.

  ‘Nothing yet.’ he responded, just as Mr Boombastic started ringing from his jacket pocket. He took the phone out and tapped the answer button. ‘Jeremiah Strange.’ he introduced.

  Cruickshank looked over at him expectantly, his features intently listening.

  ‘When did it come up? Five minutes ago. Repeat that please. Robert Caldwell, house name is ‘Gihon’, on Waterside Road. Got it. Thanks.’ Strange relayed, hanging up the call. He looked over to Cruickshank’s inquisitively expectant gaze. ‘A hit has just come up on PNC for Robert Caldwell. An address, as you heard. It’s just around the corner from here. If that’s what John has put onto PNC, then Adam is the sixth member of the cult.’ Strange finished with a tinge of trepidation in his tone.

  ‘And here we are in a car driven by the woman we expect to try and kill him. How convenient. As we said, who is trying to play us Jerry? Regardless, let’s get around there sharpish.’ Cruickshank answered cynically, then stood up out of the car.

  Strange did the same, grabbing a walkie-talkie from his pocket and speaking into it as the two of them set off towards the river. ‘ARO team one, make your way down to Waterside Road immediately, wait next to the Chantry Footbridge and await my instructions. Door to door Officers, set up a fifty yard perimeter around a building called ‘Gihon’ on Waterside Road. Don’t let anyone in or out.’ he ordered as they reached to bottom of the car park and headed left down the road next to the river.

  ‘Worse case here, we have another murderer murdered, John and Rebecca are dead and Eve and Gabriel have flown the coop. Best case, John has somehow managed to capture them in the act and has them restrained rather than killed.’ Strange mused as they trotted together along the side of the river, Cruickshank scanning the windows of the buildings lining the road to their left.

  ‘Best doesn’t come into this, we are working on degrees of worse now.’ Cruickshank answered dryly, observing a handful of uniformed officers sprinting onto the road in front of them, forming a cordon. They both ran past them, Strange shouting out orders. ‘Remember, no one in and if anyone tries to get out, detain them.’ They slowed slightly on approach to a large sandstone building up ahead, noting the name sign on the wall. Strange grabbed Cruickshank’s arm gently and angled her to the side of the road, behind a bush in front of the last house before ‘Gihon’.

  ‘ARO’s. We are at the building now. It’s about fifty yards from where you are. Head down Chantry Place, then past the old boathouse and it’s the next building. Four around the back, two each side and six at the front. We are just past the front of the building in front of the next house along. Stay in position until you here from me. Go.’ Strange ordered, then looked down the road, expectantly. A few seconds later, the sound of hobnail boots echoed off the black tarmac, a stream of ARO’s angling down the road, some heading directly towards them, others peeling off around the back of the building.

  ‘Right, let’s get in there.’ Strange said, stepping out from behind the bush, Cruickshank following, both approaching the six ARO’s coming the other way. They convened outside the entrance.

  ‘Right gents. We expect our suspects to be in there, but we don’t know where or doing what, so caution is the byword. It’s a big building with three stories. I want one left and right first floor, the same second and third floors. Sound off if you find anything at all. You have permission to shoot, but no kill shots, just injure, unless your life is in danger. Is that clear?’ Strange ordered efficiently, looking anxiously into their masked faces, which all nodded. ‘Right, ram that door in now!’

  Two of the ARO’s peeled off and the first hoisted a battering ram off the second ones back, lined it up between them in one stealthy movement, ran straight at the door, thumping the ram with force into the blue painted wood. The door burst open, splinters of wood flying off the frame, the loud bang shaking the timber. All six ARO’s streamed into the building, the first two splitting to the left and right on the ground floor, immediately dipping into open rooms. The other four bounded up the stairwell in the middle of the hallway directly ahead of the busted in door.

  Cruickshank and Strange stepped through the damaged frame, Cruickshank stepping to the left, staying close to the wall as she slowly started to survey the hallway, watching the ARO up ahead dart in and out of rooms, shouting ‘Clear�
�� as he did. Echoes of ‘Clear’ rang out from the upper floors.

  Strange walked past Cruickshank and into the first room on the left, a dining room, noting the laid out table with half eaten meals and empty wine glasses. ‘Someone was entertaining. Just two people. There’s a stiletto kicked off under the table and lipstick on one of the wine glasses, so one of them was definitely a woman.’ he relayed, stepping back out into the hallway, his attention caught by a second stiletto at the far end of the hallway, beside a door slightly ajar, the ARO just about to open it. ‘Stop!’ Strange shouted toward him, sprinting down the passage. Cruickshank strode sternly behind him and reached down to pick the shoe up.

  Strange looked into the ARO’s masked face. ‘Right, there’s at least two people in here. One woman. Probably behind that door, so go careful.’ he relayed as the other ARO’s jogged down the hallway from the upper floors and the right of the ground floor. ‘All clear’, they sounded off as they arrived.

  The first ARO nodded, then poked the barrel of his rifle around the open door, pulling it open to reveal a stairway downwards, light emanating from the foot of the stairwell. He entered through the door and stealthily stepped down to the bottom of the stairs, furtively, yet precisely angling his gun through the opening into the room beyond. He looked back up the stairs, signalling an ‘OK’ with his fingers. Strange and Cruickshank descended quickly and followed the ARO into a large BDSM dungeon, the walls and ceiling mirrored, the floor tiled in black marble and covered in the accoutrements and instruments of sexual torture.

  ‘More clothes.’ Strange stated as they walked over the room, stepping over a pair of underpants strewn on the floor. Cruickshank walked past him, following the ARO to an open panel in the far wall. The ARO thrust his rifle into the opening and arced it around the perimeter of the room, shouting ‘Clear’ in a hoarse, gagging voice, before he turned back out of the space, thrusting a hand over his mouth. Cruickshank shook her head at him dismally, walking past him into the sandstone room.

  Strange cocked an ear, catching a slight squeaking above the noise they were making. His gaze focused on the source, a pair of manacles dangling on the crossbar of a metal pillory that were moving slightly. He approached the pillory, looking at the head hoop, seeing the sheen of blood on its edge, his gaze drawn to the floor and a small pool of glistening redness. He bent down, dipping a finger into the viscose substance. ‘Still warm.’ he whispered to himself, lifting a finger to his mouth and tasting the liquid. ‘Blood.’ he said, before standing and walking toward the sandstone room to join Cruickshank.

  ‘There’s warm blood out here and a swinging manacle. Whoever they are, they haven’t been gone long, minutes at the most. To be honest, I don’t know…’ Strange started, words stopped in his throat as he entered the sandstone room and saw the hieroglyphics, the tubes and the floating torsos within them.

  ‘What don’t you know Strange? Which degree of worse this could possibly be. We have another room full of dead women. We have no Saul, no Angus, no Eve and no Gabriel. More innocent people killed and their murderers having us running around like bloody amateurs.’ Cruickshank seethed, standing in front of a tube containing the dismembered remains of Sheila Warren.

  Strange looked around the room incredulously, his jaw dropped in disbelief. ‘I don’t know how they got out. I don’t know how they got past us. Someone was in that pillory not a minute ago, so if they didn’t go past us, how on earth did they manage to get out of this room.’

  Chapter 36

  When I looked into Jacob’s eyes, before he was able to dilate his pupils, I just saw emptiness. The emptiness of forever. I didn’t see any indication that he could sense things, feel things or even understand things. I just saw emptiness, for an eternity. It’s an immortality, of sorts. Now I know he feels, and he senses, and he understands, and he fears. He fears the pain of a condition that has been genetically bred into him by a religion that doesn’t seem to feel or sense or understand and definitely doesn’t fear. A religion that feels empty to me, bereft of the one thing that gets you through the emptiness, the one thing that would make forever bearable. Love. Where is that, in a single thing they have done? Where is that in any religion? Understanding why they have done this to us doesn’t help my emptiness. It doesn’t take away the ache of an empty childhood, a loveless upbringing with no heart to call home. I still don’t know who I am, even though I now know what I am.

  The tunnel is dark, devoid of any ambient light, the way ahead illuminated by the torch on the barrel of Adam’s rifle. Water drips incessantly from the rough hewn roof millimetres above my head, into a stream that runs along the tunnel floor. For my sins, I let Adam loose. He is possibly the only person that can take on Gabriel. He is definitely the only person who should take on Gabriel. Eve walks behind him, her hands now cuffed behind her back, a gag in her mouth, her blouse now over her top. Rebecca is after that, her eyes not leaving either of them. It’s hard to see her face in the darkness, but I feel her emptiness as well, currently being filled with anger and animosity toward Adam and Eve. I take up the rear, my Nagant ready in my hand for the slightest hint of either of them trying anything untoward.

  The darting beam ahead illuminates some steps carved out of the stone. Adam slows, raising a hand for us to do the same. He turns around to face us.

  ‘In an emergency, we all convene in the main hall, around the long dining table. That’s where they will be. I have no idea where Gabriel will be. We have to keep eyes and ears open and focus. This isn’t a play now John. This is life and death. I know you hate me and that is fine. But you need to follow my lead if we are to find Jacob. These steps lead up into the old kitchen of the Castle. The main hall is through the door on the left.’ Adam relays, perceptive about the hate at least.

  He heads up the narrow slippery stairs and reaches an old, rotting wooden door with rusting metal hinges and a large key in an antiquated lock. He turns the key easily, without it even making a small rusty squeak. That suggests it has been used recently. He pulls the door open, to reveal a blank sandstone wall. He then reaches to his left and pulls a metal lever, the wall moving, the stone grating as it trundles to the right. Adam steps surreptitiously into the kitchen, listening keenly for sounds of life. He signals us to follow, and we all enter a high ceilinged, recently used modern kitchen. The nearby surfaces are filled with chopping boards, pans, pots and crockery, freshly prepared food in abundance.

  Adam turns to Eve, and looks at her in obvious frustration. ‘Was he bringing them here for a supper?’ Eve shrugs her shoulders, staring at him with a gagged, lopsided grin. He sneers at her lividly, then turns and walks quickly toward the large double doors into the hall, placing his ear against them.

  Rebecca sidles up to me and slides her hand into mine, squeezing it tight, fear etched into the old face she is wearing. I reciprocate, then bend down and whisper into her ear. ‘Stay close. As much as he said it isn’t, this still feels like a play. I’m just not sure who’s.’ We walk over to Adam. I see confusion in his eyes.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.

  ‘There’s not a sound coming from the room. There should be twelve people in there. There’s no way he could have incapacitated them all, they are much to savvy for that. Only one way to find out.’ he answers, his features concerned as he slowly opens the door.

  The hall is vast, with high vaulted ceilings, large stained glass windows in between wood panelled walls. Flags and banners hang from the walls, motionless in the still, silent air. Only the slight crackle from an open fire in a huge inglenook at the far end of the room breaking the disquiet. Above the inglenook is a large tapestry of The Last Supper. In the middle of the room, a long old oak table fills the floor, its chairs haphazard, each filled with a person and each person slumped over the table. Adam stealthily steps toward the table, rifle out in front of him, eyes scanning every alcove in the room. I follow a few steps behind, Rebecca staying at the kitchen door, holding on to Eve. There are pewter goblets lying o
n the floor, red wine spilt from them. More are tipped on the table, the wine soaked into and staining a white tablecloth covered in an abundance of uneaten food. I head for the nearest person, a middle age man with black, slightly greying hair, his green eyes open and lifelessly staring in agony up at the ceiling. I know he is dead, but I still check for a pulse. None. His body is cold, the flesh starting to tighten. He has been dead for at least a few hours. I set off clockwise around the table, checking each body, Adam doing likewise the other way, my gut an aching emptiness as one after one, I feel no pulse, only the cold cloak of death. I reach the last person just as Adam stands up from checking her negative vital signs. He looks at me in a visible rage.

  ‘If you ever wondered what Gabriel is capable of, then now you know. He has killed a faith and killed a family. All because he could. Do you doubt that he wouldn’t do the same to you, or Rebecca, or even Jacob.’ Adam finishes, striding over the short distance back to where Eve is standing, her façade reflecting astonished horror. He grabs her short hair, pulling her head right into his face with one hand, spittle forming in the corners of his lips, as his other hand grabs her throat.

  ‘Did you know about this? Did you know he was going to kill my family? Your family?’ he snarls into her terrified face while squeezing her windpipe.

  She shakes her head, mumbling ‘No’ through her gag. Rebecca jumps in and tries to pull his hand off her throat, as I step up behind him and do the same, not even budging his bulging, tense bicep.

  ‘Adam, stop. We’ve just lost twelve of us. We are the only ones left. We are the only family you have. We shouldn’t be trying to kill each other. We should be trying to help each other. Right now we’ve got a common enemy, and that isn’t any of us. That’s Gabriel. And right now, Gabriel has Jacob.’ Rebecca hisses into his ear, pummelling his constricting hand with hers. Adam’s gaze darts furiously between the bulging emerald eyes of Eve, and the beseeching tears of Rebecca as I ineffectually thump his ribs, his body not even baulking under the pummelling. He screams in frustrated fury, a gut wrenching roar, and releases Eve, who falls to the floor, coughing, choking on her gag. Adam steps to one side and kicks the kitchen door. I kneel down at the same time as Rebecca, both of us reaching for Eve’s gag, and pull it from her mouth. She breathes in deep and hard, welcoming the elixir of air into her lungs.