Don't Fear the Reaper

by A. S. French

  ‘I was told it was a new security protocol issued by Director Davis.’

  ‘And the files for the five murders?’

  ‘They were still on the server before I was dragged away.’

  ‘That will have to do then.’

  Astrid sped up as the traffic cleared in front of them. She turned off the main road and headed to the retail park.

  ‘I thought we were going to Brighton?’

  Laurel sounded puzzled. Astrid kept on driving before pulling into the underground parking for their little diversion.

  ‘We are, but I can’t put up with you twisting and scratching in those clothes for much longer; it’s driving me crazy. We can get you some new apparel here, assuming you have cash on you?’ It was the one thing that might scupper her impetuous plan. Laurel frowned again before checking her pockets.

  ‘I’ve got a card and about fifty quid in notes.’

  ‘The card is no good. They’ll trace you with it. Fifty is enough for a cheap and cheerful outfit.’

  ‘You said we didn’t have the time.’

  ‘It can’t be helped.’ Astrid frowned. ‘You’re distracting me too much.’

  She’s distracting me in more ways than one.

  ‘Aren’t you worried someone might recognise us?’

  She parked the car in the first empty spot.

  ‘You’ll need to keep some cash for the parking charge on the way out,’ Astrid said before answering the question. ‘They’re looking for us, but they’re not looking for us; officially, anyway. They can’t have any photos in the media or with regular law enforcement in case an ordinary Joe or Josephine picks us up. They wouldn’t trust me not to blab. And I know a hell of a lot.’

  The Agency was the clandestine government organisation the public could never know about; the people who broke the strictest laws in the state’s name. Not that any government official could ever be connected to the work the Agency did. But Astrid knew enough to bring the government down and put many well-known high-profile public figures behind bars. Perhaps that’s why she’d been set-up as the Reaper.

  They got out of the car together, Astrid’s senses assaulted by the aroma of damp concrete and dried piss. It was dark, but Astrid found the parking machine, striding towards it without a care in the world. She came back and stuck the ticket up against the glass of the windscreen where even a myopic parking attendant wouldn’t miss it. The last thing they needed was Delaney’s car in the system because of some trivial parking fine.

  ‘How long are we here for?’ Laurel scowled at her.

  ‘An hour should do it. Unless you want to go for a coffee while we’re here?’

  ‘You’re taking this awfully casual.’ Laurel scratched at her leg.

  Astrid checked the parking lot to see if they were alone.

  ‘Nerves and excitement won’t do us any good; this isn’t a date.’ Though she was beginning to wish it was. ‘We treat this as if it was a normal day out.’ She tapped the side of her head. ‘As long as we stay cool, the rest is only a matter of detective work.’

  They strode towards the lift. Inside it, Astrid considered the last time the two of them had done this, back at Agency headquarters. Not the time squashed against the guards, but the time before when it was only the two of them, and Laurel had blushed so spectacularly at her suggestions. They went down three flights. She didn’t blush now.

  ‘How quickly things change.’

  ‘And yet still stay the same.’ Astrid stepped into the illuminated world of materialism. She grinned as she grabbed Laurel’s hand and dragged her towards the shiny new clothes adorning the multi-coloured plastic stands.

  19 Lost in the Supermarket

  Astrid had loved clothes from an early age, when she’d experimented with dressing up using her mother’s outfits, parading in front of the mirror before her parents convinced her she was ugly. This was when she was still young enough to believe adults would look after her. So she raided her mother’s wardrobe, wearing things which were far too big for her, and far too plain and dull. Her mother’s tastes in what to wear were like her views on the world: ultra-conservative, more utilitarian than fashionable. It was only when Astrid started shoplifting in her teenage years that she expressed her creativity.

  ‘Do you want underwear first, Laurel?’

  She dragged her new partner towards the lingerie department. A glittering infectious smile jumped from her face and on to Laurel, whose skin was warm against Astrid’s hand.

  Laurel laughed. ‘Always start at the bottom.’

  ‘Is this too fancy for you?’

  Astrid smirked; the accelerated beat of her thoughts fluttered between sorting clothes for Laurel and what they’d find at George’s house. She tried not to think of Olivia too much. Dwelling on whether her sister was in contact with their father was too distressing.

  ‘Too much choice,’ Laurel laughed.

  Supermarket music bounced off the walls, and Astrid cringed at the retail choice of dull pop tunes.

  ‘Just for once, I’d love to go into a shop and hear something decent coming from the speakers.’ She kept an eye out for security guards. ‘Anything by Bowie would do.’

  Music had got her through a traumatic childhood. When those memories crawled from the shadows in her head, of her mother holding her down while Lawrence whipped her, Astrid reached into her favourite jukebox to listen to Diamond Dogs or Station to Station. If the scars returned with too much intensity, she killed the pain with the Stooges or the Velvet Underground. Then his slobbering face and her manic glee disappeared into nothing. But nothing could erase the image of Courtney standing in the doorway watching her suffering. At first, Astrid assumed her sister had no choice, that their parents were punishing her as well by making Courtney watch, until she saw the smile on her sister’s face and realised how much she enjoyed Astrid’s pain. It wasn’t long afterwards she discovered the lies her sister told their parents to get her into trouble.

  ‘I had a job in a supermarket once.’ Laurel’s voice dragged her back from the abyss. ‘All the staff had to dress up in light blue uniforms like Smurfs.’ Astrid took the image and imprinted it over the one of Courtney’s grin. ‘I crept into the office one day and changed the piped music for something of my own.’

  Astrid smiled at her. ‘I’m betting you were a goth when you were younger.’ She imagined her all in black.

  Laurel laughed again. ‘Not quite, but I managed to clear the shop of customers and get fired because I changed the music to The Queen is Dead by the Smiths.’

  Astrid clutched on to her stomach to stop herself laughing too much; it would be foolish to draw attention to themselves now. She checked the rest of the store; afternoon shoppers and bored teenagers filled the place. She pushed through them all, dragging Laurel to the changing room to discard the clothes which infuriated them both.

  She touched Laurel’s wrist. ‘You go first.’ She expected a rebuttal, but received a tender smile instead.

  ‘You do know how to spoil a girl.’ Laurel slipped behind the curtain.

  ‘You don’t know the half of it.’

  Astrid considered how quickly things had changed between them, from Laurel locking her in an Agency cell only yesterday to waiting outside a changing room while the rookie selected new clothes.

  An old woman scowled at her before scurrying away to pay for some awful outfits she clutched underneath her arms. Astrid stared at the bottom of the changing booth, peering at Laurel’s delicate ankles as she removed her trousers. All the problems stacked up inside her head shifted to one side as she imagined Agent Laurel Lee slipping into her new underwear. It was a brief moment of imaginary joy swept away by the flickering red light of the security camera above her head.

  It’s worth the risk.

  She counted on Agency incompetence stopping them alerting local law enforcement about her escape.

  ‘I wonder what Frank would think of our little shopping spree,’ Laurel shouted from the other side
of the curtain.

  ‘He’d be fuming.’ Astrid grinned. ‘Upset because he wasn’t amongst the lingerie with us.’

  They burst out laughing in stereo, Astrid imaging a life beyond her current predicament where it could be like this all the time.

  ‘Are you waiting to use this cubicle?’

  The voice was close to her shoulder, its owner’s shadow falling over her head, providing an ominous creeping presence across the floor. She didn’t bother to stand, twisting her neck to one side to stare into the weather-beaten face of shop security. Just behind him lurked the scowling woman, shaking her head and pointing at Astrid.

  ‘There’s no hanky-panky going on if that’s what you’re thinking.’

  She gave him her widest smile, all flashing teeth and sparkling eyes. The temperature was cool in the shops, yet droplets of sweat ran down his forehead and into his eyes.

  ‘Oooffff course,’ he stuttered.

  ‘You must have filthy thoughts.’ She smiled at the offended woman.

  ‘No, no, I’m sor-sor, sorry,’ he stammered before turning away and barging past the flummoxed old bird.

  ‘What do you think?’ Laurel said as she stepped into the light and gave her a twirl.

  ‘You look divine.’ She took Laurel’s arm and pulled her towards the counter. ‘Let’s get these paid for and back on the road.’ Astrid searched for the security cameras.

  ‘Don’t you want to try your clothes on?’ Laurel said through flummoxed lips.

  ‘No time,’ Astrid said without explanation.

  They left five minutes later armed with new underwear for each of them, a couple of shirts and a trendy pair of trousers for Laurel. Astrid had worked it out, so they had enough to pay for the parking. As they entered the underground garage, they laughed like teenagers on a first date, striding arm in arm towards the car.

  She let go of Laurel, reached for the car keys and put her hand on the door. The hairs on the back of her head sprang to life: something was wrong. In the reflection of the window was a shadow with its arm around Laurel’s neck. She turned to see the nervous security guard with a large kitchen knife at Lee’s throat. It had a price sticker hanging off the blade.

  ‘We didn’t steal anything, so you might be overreacting here.’

  She tried to keep him calm. A trickle of blood slithered down Laurel’s skin.

  ‘Put your hands in the air and lean against the car,’ he said.

  Astrid dropped the shopping bag to the floor with a clatter. ‘Well, which is it? I can’t do both.’

  She stood motionless and stared at him. Any wrong move on her part, and there was no telling what he’d do. The grimace on Laurel’s face was enough to tell her he had the edge of the blade too close to her flesh.

  ‘Throw your keys on the floor.’

  ‘What’s this about?’ She ignored his command. ‘Is this some harsh store policy against women flirting with each other?’

  She grinned at him, wanting to keep the tone light until he made a mistake. He would, they always did, but she didn’t want to get Laurel killed in the process.

  He pulled her closer to him. ‘You’re that serial killer they’re looking for, the Reaper.’

  ‘They informed shop security about me?’

  I underestimated how desperate the Agency could get.

  ‘My girlfriend’s a cop,’ he said. ‘She got your details last night.’

  ‘Are you looking for a promotion?’

  She noticed the nerves creep out of him as he smirked at her. ‘They all laugh at me for what I do, her and the bastards she works with. But this will show them, me catching a psycho serial killer on my own.’

  ‘Are you going to kill my hostage first?’ She bent down to retrieve the shopping bag.

  ‘Wha-aat?’ His stammer returned.

  Astrid stuck her head inside the bag and pulled out the lace underwear she’d just bought. ‘The woman you’re holding; I was going to strangle her with these, but you go ahead. I don’t mind watching once in a while.’

  She blew him a kiss. It landed on his chin and made his legs buckle.

  ‘She’s not your partner?’

  ‘Of course not, silly boy.’ She pressed the button on the keys and opened the driver’s door. ‘I haven’t got all day, so if you don’t do it quickly, I’m going to have to love you and leave you.’

  She turned her head from him, watching his reaction in the reflection of the window. All she needed was Laurel to play her part.

  ‘Please don’t kill me.’ Laurel managed to sound like a traumatised teenage girl. It was enough for him to drop his guard for one split second. She pushed her back into his stomach with enough force to knock him back against the wall and ran to the car. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ Laurel grabbed hold of the door.

  ‘We can’t leave him here like this.’

  Astrid strode towards the security guard.

  ‘What?’ Laurel shouted.

  ‘Our car will be on the security cameras when we came in. They’ll have our registration and be able to track us from here. We have to silence him.’

  He steadied himself against the wall and thrust the blade towards her face. She dodged his lunge and grabbed hold of his wrist, twisting it to the side, so the bone snapped in one go.

  ‘Aaaaaaaa,’ he screamed. Laurel sprinted towards them as he collapsed to the floor. Astrid bent down and picked up the knife.

  ‘You’ve only got yourself to blame for this.’

  She tightened her grip on the blade.

  20 Brighton Rock

  ‘You can’t kill him,’ Laurel yelled as she reached for Astrid’s arm.

  ‘What do you take me for?’ Astrid shook her head. ‘Maybe you do think I’m this Reaper?’ She turned away from the groaning security guard and peered into Laurel’s eyes.

  ‘No, no, I was just worried…’

  ‘I know what you were worried about: you thought I was going to kill this bloke.’

  She reached down, grabbed his arm and pushed him into the wall.

  ‘What will you do with him?’

  Astrid kept him pressed against the concrete with one hand.

  ‘We got lucky. There are no witnesses, but if we leave him, he’ll go to the police, or at least cry into the arms of his unfortunate girlfriend.’

  ‘So, what’s the plan?’

  The security guard started to sob as Astrid dragged him towards the car.

  ‘We’ll take him with us for now. We don’t need long at George’s, and then we can let him go.’

  She opened the boot as she finished talking. Laurel didn’t look too convinced.

  ‘I… guess so.’

  Astrid reached into the shopping bag and pulled out a brand new pair of knickers.

  ‘What a lucky chap you are.’ She gagged him with the underwear. ‘If you make a sound, I’ll slit your throat, do you understand?’

  He nodded, and she dumped him into the boot. She slammed the lid and strode towards the driver’s side. Laurel’s wide eyes startled her.

  ‘This is risky, Astrid.’

  ‘That’s what makes it exciting.’ She climbed into the car, and Laurel slipped into the other side. ‘I was looking forward to wearing those as well. I guess I’ll have to go commando instead.’

  She grinned at Laurel as she drove out of the shopping centre and returned to the main road.

  ‘This is why many of us at the Agency admire you so much.’

  ‘Is it because of my great taste in clothes and impressive driving skills, or the fact I can lock dopey-looking blokes into the boot of a car?’

  She swerved past the vehicle in front and put her foot down. The man in the back rolled to one side and made a hefty thumping sound. Laurel laughed and shook her head at the same time.

  ‘It’s because of your strength in the most extreme situations.’

  ‘You’re too kind.’

  They weren’t far from their destination, coming off the main road and heading to the house. Right on
cue, Laurel asked the question.

  ‘How many times have you been here?’

  ‘About half a dozen visits.’

  ‘How do we get in; do you have a key?’

  She wondered what Laurel would look like in her new lace underwear, so didn’t hear the question as she pulled the car into the first free spot.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Do you have a key?’

  ‘You’ll see when we get there,’ Astrid said as they got out of the car.

  Laurel peered across the road at the row of houses. ‘Which one is it?’

  ‘It’s none of those. We’re a couple of streets away. Did you complete your Agency training?’

  ‘Of course.’ Laurel sounded offended by the question. ‘Why?’

  ‘Have you had any active assignments?’

  ‘You mean apart from this one?’

  ‘Do you know how to recognise when people are watching a building?’

  ‘Yes,’ Laurel said, still annoyed.

  ‘Great. I’m going to need you to check the front while I go around the back, okay?’

  ‘What about our friend in the boot?’

  ‘He’ll be okay in there for one night. It might do him some good to stew for a while and think about not playing the hero again.’

  ‘What’s next for us?’

  ‘Hold out your hand.’ Astrid was amused at the confused look on her face as Laurel did as requested. She took her hand, enjoying the touch of Laurel’s skin against her own, and removed a pen from her jacket and wrote on Laurel’s palm. ‘Here’s the address. It’s a couple of streets along here, right at the roundabout and then halfway down the road. Walk as casual as you can. Use those observational skills I know you have. There’s a pub on the left; if you think everything is okay, meet me by the side of it in fifteen minutes.’

  ‘And if everything isn’t okay?’

  ‘You’re on your own.’ She walked away in the opposite direction. Laurel scowled as she followed her orders. Astrid strode back to the car and opened the boot; the bloke peered at her through petrified eyes. ‘Any noise from you, and I’ll break your neck. Do you understand?’ He nodded, and she shut the boot.