by Menon, David
‘Christ, is there no end to your twisting?’ he countered. ‘My parents were killed and that’s why I ended up in your evil hands’.
‘They would’ve touched you up and interfered with you if they’d lived’ said Mary, bristling with anger at what this idiot was putting her and George through. ‘You know it and so do we’.
‘No you don’t’.
‘Yes, we do’
‘No, you don’t!’
‘You’re deluding yourself. We just taught you some realities of life that you needed to know’.
‘You raped us, filmed it and then sold the films to make yourselves a fortune’.
‘Well wouldn’t you have done? We saw a way to make money and we took it’ Mary explained as if she was explaining how they’d taken the motorway instead of the main road. ‘We made you all part of something much bigger than any of your selves could’ve made. You should be grateful to us’.
He let out a roar of frustration. Her comments made him want to punch her from here to next week but he had to resist. He had to be strong enough to stop himself from fouling his own masterplan. And Mary Griffin would be trying. So would George. They’d do their level best to blow him off course and try and take control. It was what they always used to do when he was a kid. But he wasn’t a kid anymore. He was old enough to put things right once and for all. He was old enough to fight back and make them sorry for what they did.
‘What goes on inside your heads? What makes you think you can justify raping children?’
‘We taught them’ said George.
‘Taught us what?’
‘Taught you all about life’.
‘You taught us all to be afraid of our emotions. You taught us all that sex was about power and control and most of all, it was about a big, dirty secret imposed upon us by so-called grown- ups. You didn’t teach us anything that would’ve done us any good. We’ve all suffered. You ripped us all to shreds. Some have died because they couldn’t live with the pain anymore. They couldn’t live one more day with what you’d done to them. Some are still alive but they’re not living. I was lucky. I had people who could take care of me once I’d got away from you and they tried to help me get on my feet and look ahead in life and not let the past rule me. But even with their love and their kindness they couldn’t get through to those really dark places that you two have never let go of. And you’re sitting there telling me that what you did would’ve been done to me anyway? If that’s how you’ve managed to sleep at night all these years then I really wouldn’t want to get into your minds because they must be very strange places’.
‘You should’ve been grateful’ said Mary.
‘Grateful? Bloody grateful? Are you serious?’
‘We probably saved you from much worse’.
‘I’ve tried to tell you that my parents weren’t like that!’
‘How do you know they weren’t?’ George challenged. ‘Tell me that. How do you know your parents wouldn’t have done anything harmful to you?’
‘Because I knew them’
‘You only knew them until you were, what, twelve years old? Is that when you came to Pembroke?’
‘Yes’
‘Then how do you know you wouldn’t have suffered at the hands of your parents if they’d lived? You don’t know. You don’t know and yet you’re blaming us for taking you in and putting food on your table and a roof over your head’.
‘And raping me time and time again and filming it for the gratification of filthy perverts all over the world!’
‘Oh you’re sounding like a broken bloody record’.
He lunged forward so he was close to them. ‘Raped and raped and raped again. Sometimes I could barely walk straight because I’d been fucked so much. I used to have to hold my breath before sitting down. I used to have to do it gently. We all did. We all knew what each other was going through and the ones that weren’t chosen to make the films got off lightly but I dare bet you that their demons are as bad as those of us you turned into film stars because they got all the beatings’.
‘You didn’t finish off telling us how you found us?’
‘You don’t give a damn, do you?’
‘Not particularly, no. I’m an existentialist. I live in the moment. Both Mary and I do. If you and your little chums had learned that trick you might’ve been a bit happier’.
‘You really do redefine the word evil’.
‘Yeah, yeah, whatever. Throw your little stones if it makes you feel any better. I want to know how we got to be here’.
He took a deep breath to try and quell his mounting anger. He couldn’t lose it now. He couldn’t let them get the better of them.
‘You seem to know no fear. I mean there you both are, tied up and in my control and yet you don’t offer one word of apology or sorrow or regret’.
‘That’s because we don’t feel any of those things’ said Mary. ‘Those emotions are for idiots. We apologise for nothing’.
‘Very well’ he said, in measured tones. ‘Well let me answer your question. Your organization has got more holes in it than a piece of cheese. I found out that you lived in Spain but that your main business was carried out in Antwerp. So that’s where I concentrated my efforts. I made some enquiries there and it’s amazing what you can find out if you offer people some money. I found out your little plan to fake Mary’s death and to pocket all the cash so you could run off to Rio. I’ve been following you, George, since I arrived and I knew that you, Mary had managed to get over here on your false passport to meet up with George. I was there at the service station on the M6 when you had your touching little reunion, same as I was there when you tried to put your granddaughter through hell. I had to stop you. Nobody else was going to’.
‘You could’ve just called the police?’
‘But that wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun as we’re going to have’.
‘Spell it out! Mary demanded. ‘Tell us what fun we’ve got in store!’
‘Alright’ he said. He then produced two pieces of paper and placed them on the table in front of them. ‘They’re your statements’.
‘What?’ Mary demanded once more.
‘These are the statements that you’re both going to sign before you die. If you read them you’ll see that you’re both confessing to everything. You name names, dates, and you express your sincere sorrow and regret’.
‘You must be mad if you think we’re going to agree to this’ said George as he cast his eyes over his ‘statement’.
‘Oh well yours is a little longer than your wife’s, George’ he said. ‘To take into account your confession to the murders of Leroy Jackson, his son Ben, and your hiding of the body of your own grandson, Nathan’.
‘Well what are you going to do with these so-called statements?’ Mary asked with her lips curled up at each end in disgust.
‘They’re your suicide notes’.
‘Suicide?’ George questioned and then chortled. ‘Mary and I would never commit suicide’.
‘Oh well you see that’s where the fun part of our time together comes in’ he said. ‘You may think you’re smart but I’ve come across sheep with more intelligence than either of you. Now these statements are short but to the point and comprehensive. They explain all your actions to all of your victims, including your son Edward, Mary’.
‘What’s my son got to do with this?’
‘You’re apologizing for not believing him when he told you about George’s sexual abuse of him over many years’. He then produced a gun which he pointed straight at them. ‘Now you just need to sign these statements and I’ll loosen the cuffs around your wrists so you can do so. But if you try anything I will kill you’.
‘We we will never sign them’ said Mary, defiantly.
‘Oh you will’ he said. ‘You’re going to do exactly as you’re told and then this whole sordid piece of history will be over with’.
Jeff arranged to meet Alec Freeman of the Manchester Evening Chronicle in a pub just
outside Bolton and close to the Reebok stadium.
‘This must be interesting’ said Alec as he sat down at the table where he’d spotted Jeff sipping a pint. ‘I don’t come this far out of town for just anything or anyone’.
‘Then I’ll consider myself privileged’ said Jeff. He’d always liked Alec. He was one of the better journalists, certainly in Manchester. ‘Now go and get yourself a drink and then come back and sit down’.
Alec got himself a pint and sat down on the stool opposite from Jeff. Young members of staff who called themselves waiters and waitresses kept pushing through the swing doors from the kitchen with various enormous plates of food that had been prepared in a microwave and served up as cuisine. Alec couldn’t work out why all the waitresses were fat and all the waiters were thin but it didn’t seem like a particularly difficult job. Orders were taken at the bar and when they brought the food out all they had to ask was who had ordered what and whether or not anybody needed ‘sauces’ meaning ketchup, brown sauce, mayonnaise, or malt vinegar. They seemed to be offered even if someone had ordered a salad or an apple crumble. Alec sometimes hated being a journalist. His naturally inquisitive and enquiring mind meant that he noticed everything, even when the tastes of the masses were seen to be so bloody revolting. He missed the late and wonderful Michael Winner when it came to commenting on the standard of food served up in places like this. He was so truthful even if a little brutal at times. But he would say that in a place like this there’s no point serving massive portions to all these fat arsed, fat bellied northerners if it didn’t taste of anything worthwhile because it was the standard of so-called food in these places that led to all the fat arses and fat bellies. But he was here at the request of one of Manchester’s finest police officers. And he must have a story to tell.
‘I don’t want to hang about’ said Jeff. ‘So I’ll get to the point’.
‘You want the Griffins?’
‘Oh I want the Griffins more than I want anything at the moment’ Jeff replied. ‘Are your enquiries telling you anything at all?’
‘The discovery of the Griffins burned out car on the patch of wasteground in Salford is as far as we’ve got’.
‘Yes, I’m waiting for the fire officer’s report on that. I mean, there’s no doubt it will say that it was deliberately set on fire but the question is by whom?’
‘You sound frustrated?’
‘I am, Alec. I want the Griffins to stand trial and pay for their evil crimes but whoever rescued Gabby Lake may have got there first’.
‘You think it’s a former victim?’
‘I’d put money on it and I wouldn’t fucking blame them. If someone had done to me what the Griffins have done to all those victims then if I got the chance for revenge then I’d take it. Wouldn’t you?’
‘I think anybody would, Jeff. Do you have any idea who it might be?’
Jeff paused. ‘No’.
‘You do, don’t you?’
‘I said no, Alec’.
‘I know what you said, Jeff, but you didn’t give me the answer you could’ve done’.
‘I have an idea, a hunch, but it could be said to be so far- fetched that I really need to check it out before I can offer it to you for help’.
‘Fair enough’.
‘But there is something else, Alec’.
‘Oh?’
Jeff handed Alec a file containing all the details of Chief Superintendent Ian Hayward’s relationship with George Griffin. He couldn’t let him get away with it. He understood his initial actions to protect the son who was adopted but to take money from the Griffins for all the years since was a travesty. He’d painted himself with Griffins evil and now he had to pay.
‘Sweet Jesus’ said Alec as he read.
‘Yes, I thought you’d like it’.
‘You’ve left out the name of the son who was adopted?’
‘He’s a completely innocent party in all this and I don’t think it would be fair for him to hear about it all first in the press. But what is in the public interest is to expose the rest, particularly Griffins kidnapping of the son when he was a toddler and Hayward’s silence on the matter that’s been bought for the last twenty years by Griffins ill gotten gains through a Swiss bank account. I don’t care what happens to Hayward now. It’s time he got his just desserts’.
‘So what’s next in the current investigation?’
‘You tell me’ said Jeff. ‘No witnesses are coming forward, no tangible leads. I’ve got a squad of officers working on it and we’re coming up with a big, fat zero’.
‘So there’s just your far-fetched theory?’
‘Yes but boys like you shouldn’t be greedy. I’ve already given you enough to pay for your dinner for the next few months’.
Gabby went into Cameron’s Place for some lunch with Owen and her Aunt Jocelyn.
‘We won’t have long’ said Jocelyn. ‘We’ll need to be at the hospital for when they release your Dad. We don’t want to be late’.
‘We won’t be, Aunt Jocelyn’ said Owen. ‘They’re not releasing him until two-thirty. That gives us plenty of time’.
‘Hey, Gabby!’ said Cameron as he walked up to Gabby with open arms.
Gabby and Cameron threw their arms round each other in a big hug. ‘Oh Cameron it’s so good to see you’.
‘It’s good to see you, babe, after what happened. Are you fair dinkum now?’
‘I think Ned Kelly here means are you alright’ said Owen, smiling wryly. ‘I work with a couple of nurses from Australia. I can translate’.
‘Well with the support of my wonderful family here I’m fine thanks, Cameron’ said Gabby. ‘Definitely fair dinkum. How’s the little bloke?’
‘Well if you look down there’ said Cameron as he pointed towards the back of the café and the yard outside. ‘Can you see him?’
‘Oh yeah’ said Gabby. Cameron’s little son was in his buggy fast asleep with his head to one side and his dummy sitting on his chest. ‘He looks so sweet’.
‘Well he is when he’s like that’ said Cameron. ‘He’s going through the terrible two’s a few months early I reckon. When he’s awake he’s really bad tempered but he’s been so sweet natured so far that we knew it had to come’.
‘They all go through it, Cameron’ said Jocelyn. ‘No parent is immune’.
‘No, I know’.
‘Where’s Angie?’ asked Owen.
‘She’s gone to the dentist so the little bloke came down to make sure his father was looking after the family business. After all, he’ll inherit it one day’.
‘Can I pick him up when he wakes up?’ asked Gabby.
‘Sure you can’ said Cameron. ‘And look, whatever you guys want you can have on the house’.
‘That’s very generous, Cameron’ said Jocelyn. ‘And very kind’
‘Yeah, well don’t spread it around or I’ll lose my big macho image. We were all really worried back there, Gabby’.
‘Well it’s not something I’d want to live through again’ said Gabby. ‘I just thank God for whoever it was who saved me’.
‘Yeah, that was a bit weird, wasn’t it?’
‘It was a bit but I’m no less grateful’.
‘Oh no, strike me bloody pink, he’s a hero’.
‘Thanks for all your help, Cameron, on the day Gabby disappeared’ said Owen. ‘I’d have fallen apart if it hadn’t have been for you’.
Cameron lowered his voice into a deep low baritone. ‘Yeah, well don’t read too much into it, mate. I only did it because of all that male bonding shit, nothing more. I don’t want to stand in for Gabby on your wedding day, Owen. Ooh sorry Aunt Jocelyn for saying the word shit. Oh shit, I said it again’.
They all laughed and Jocelyn said ‘I think I can forgive you, Cameron’.
‘Sweet! Well listen, I’ll go and get some menus and organize you folks some tucker’.
They sat down at a table in the window and Cameron brought the menus. ‘There was a really weird girl in here ea
rlier. She left just before you guys came in’.
‘Weird how?’ asked Gabby.
‘Sort of spaced out and not quite all there’ Cameron explained. ‘She made a fuss of the little bloke though and that kept him quiet for a bit until he went to sleep’.
Cameron went back to the counter and before he did anything else he decided to check on the little bloke. He got the shock of his life when he saw he wasn’t there. He turned and called out anxiously to all his customers.
‘Has anybody seen my son? My son has gone! Somebody must’ve taken him!’
SORCERER EIGHTEEN
As soon as Jack heard a child crying in the room next to his where he’d put Anne Griffin since her return to Manchester to testify against her father, he knew that she was holding the toddler that everyone was talking about. He bribed the housekeeping woman to give him a key to the room which, seeing as he was there because of his security fears about being at home whilst George Griffin was on the loose, disturbed him somewhat but he put that aside for the moment. For one thing he was planning to move back home later today, with Mick’s help, and for another this child needed to be reunited with his parents who’d appeared on the BBC Northwest tonight programme the previous evening in an understandably totally distraught state.
He unlocked the door with the key the housekeeper had given him but Anne had put the chain lock on it.
‘Anne!’ he called out.
‘Go away!’
‘Anne, let me in now, please’.
‘I said go away!’
‘Anne, if you don’t let me in I’ll simply call the police and then you really will have no choice’.
After a pause which seemed like the longest minute of his life, Jack heard activity on the other side of the door and a second later Anne let him in. He walked past her and into the room. The toddler was lying on the bed, halfway between crying and laughing as little ones of that age usually are.
‘Anne, you have to hand him back’.