by steve higgs
I dismissed the notion of even asking and set off to see if I could find him myself. If I was a drug baron, chemical expert, stalker and fake voodoo priest, where would I be? I decided I would just have to go through a process of elimination and hope for the best. Reluctantly, I pointed the car in the direction of the Magdalene Estate and set off.
Terrance and Trevor. Thursday, November 3rd 1032hrs
Wishing I had a different car because I was worried mine would be easily spotted, I cruised by Mason's house looking for Bartholomew, or at least for Bartholomew's car. I was once again keeping my eyes peeled for Terrance and Trevor and any of their friends.
There were a few people on the street, but the light drizzle had turned into a more persistent rain, typical of this time of year and it was keeping most people inside.
I drove around for a bit, checking the area, but decided I was probably safe so found a place to park that afforded me a good view of Mason's house. I didn't have much of a plan, I admitted. I was going to watch Mason's house for a while and if nothing happened I would drive to Bearsted and see if Bartholomew turned up there. Sooner or later he had to show up somewhere. I got the impression that he was not afraid of being caught, that he considered it unlikely and that his parents would swiftly deploy the legal team to get him out of trouble anyway.
Ten minutes went by, which slowly turned into twenty and my bum began to get numb from the lack of movement. I had to keep flicking the wipers on so that I could see the house. I worried it would draw attention to the stationary car but kept telling myself I was just being paranoid.
At 1053hrs, according to the little clock in my Mini I heard the familiar rumble of a tuned car. A few seconds later, Bartholomew's Japanese low-slung beast came into view. It parked in the street right outside Mason's house. I had never seen Mason, but a second person got out of the car from the passenger's side with keys to open the house. Bartholomew levered the back seat forward so that an elegant young woman with coffee-coloured skin could exit. He held her hand as she went with him to the house, trailing behind Mason.
I continued watching. One hand hovering over the ignition switch so I was ready to go when he came back out.
I was so focused on the front of the house that I missed Terrance and Trevor sneaking up on me. Just as the front door of the house opened again, so did my car door.
‘Hey, bitch. All alone?’ Trevor asked as he reached into my car and grabbed a handful of my hair. Bartholomew was just getting back into his car and I needed to go. This is what I had been waiting for.
Rather than follow the instinctive move and pull against the hand in my hair, I threw myself toward it. It sent Trevor off balance, but he didn't let go of my hair. He was still off balance and not in control though as he stumbled, so I grabbed his wrist and twisted it against itself. Terrance was moving in to kick me, but with Trevor's right arm now mine to control, I pulled him into Terrance's path and the swinging boot hit Trevor in the head.
There was a string of swear words from both of them and I spotted blood on the pavement. It was coming from Trevor’s eyebrow. He was holding his head. Terrance’s attention was on his friend. I could just dive in my car and get after Bartholomew. He had only just pulled away, I would catch up to him in no time.
I went for it, but as I grabbed the roof of my car to swing into my car seat I changed my mind. I was bored with Trevor and Terrance. Trevor had his back to me, he was bent over, and Terrance was looking at his face where he had kicked it. I lined up and kicked Trevor square in the balls from behind. His head shot forward and up, connecting with Terrance's nose, which exploded across his face. Trevor was in shock, but the pain did not appear to have hit him yet. I kicked him again, this time in the arse and he tumbled to the ground.
Now I was done.
The House on the Green, Bearsted. Thursday, November 3rd 1121hrs
I caught up with Bartholomew's Nissan GTR before he made it out of the Magdalene Estate. He was heading for Bearsted. I kept myself two cars back as we weaved through Maidstone, but when he turned off the main road and into Bearsted, I had to guess where he was going and drop back for fear of being seen. Way ahead of me, he turned again, this time taking a side turn just after the Green. He was going to his parent's house.
Then it hit me. His parents were in on it.
I checked my thinking. Did it make sense? They were so nice, so placid, but what if they had been criminals all along?
OMFG! What if Mr King was the original Magdalene King? The time line made perfect sense. They were chemical experts, he was old enough to have created the legend thirty or more years back and now Bartholomew was growing up to… What? To take over? To be the new face of the criminal empire?
But was I wholly wrong? Maybe the parents were just chemists. I couldn’t take my suspicions to the Police. CI Quinn would laugh me out of the station. Then, as I was trying to tell myself that I was probably wrong I remembered the door in the corner of their office. The one with stairs going down. I had thought at the time that it might be a wine cellar, but now I was willing to bet that it was a meth lab. Dozens of worker bees down there sweating in the heat as they cooked up drugs to sell to weak-willed individuals.
Suddenly, I was convinced that they were cooking the crystal meth in the lab at their house. I had seen a chemical delivery van leaving their place. They could use their business, fake or otherwise, as a front. I parked my car adjacent to the Green and went on foot.
Tracking across the grass, but sticking to the buildings that bordered the Green, I thought about the house I was heading for. It was massive, with a large extension on the back that they had designed. I needed to find a way to get a look inside the bits of the house I had not seen, especially the bit at the back.
I slunk along the wall of the property next door to sidle up next to the fence that was the edge of their property. I was trying to not be noticed by the persons inside the Kings' house, while at the same time hoping that I did not look like I was conspicuously sidling along the pavement trying to not be noticed by any casual observers looking out of their windows anywhere else in the village. I would need to slip inside the grounds and get a look through some windows. I was hoping I would find somewhere around the back where there was a way to see into the underground lab I was convinced existed.
I stopped at the edge of the property and searched for CCTV cameras that might be monitored inside. The rain was still a steady drizzle that had already soaked my hair and was now beginning to drip down my neck.
For a full minute, I watched the property for signs of movement.
Nothing.
Bartholomew's car was visible, its back end sticking out beyond a wall at the back of the house where I presumed he had parked near to a door. I clambered over the fence and hugged the tree line that bordered their property, then dashed across the open expanse of the driveway to reach the brickwork of the house. The gravel was noisy beneath my feet, but the rain created background noise to lessen the starkness of my movement. The rain was gurgling in gutters and downpipes and dripping in several places where it overflowed to drip, drip, drip onto the gravel many feet below.
I checked behind me once more and set off toward the back of the building. When I had gone inside the first time, Mrs. King had taken me all the way to the lab which I believed was at the back of the building. I had become quite disorientated, so it was hard to tell, but she had said it was in the new part of the house they had added, and I hoped it would be obvious which bit that was when I got there.
At the corner of the house, I peered around carefully, not wanting to be seen by anyone that might be outside. There was no one there but along the back of the house, there were lots of windows. If anyone was inside the rooms at the back, they would see me. I checked behind me yet again, my heartbeat demanding I prove to it that I was not about to get caught, then I got on my hands and knees to crawl along the back of the house beneath the windows. My clothes were soaked and possibly wrecked from my efforts.
It wouldn’t matter if I was right.
Jutting out perpendicular from the original house, was an extension that must have been almost one hundred feet long. I could not see how wide it was, but it stretched at least a third of the width of the house and was about one and a half floors tall. I imagined inside it had a vaulted ceiling, so it housed the office Mrs. King had taken me to and inside would be the staircase that led down.
There were windows all along this side of the extension where the corridor inside ran along the wall and all the rooms came off the other side of it. I could not see anything that indicated a cellar though, no ventilation outlet or window in the floor to let in light. Maybe there would be around the other side as I could also not see where a delivery van would collect and deliver goods/products. There was no way I could get along the extension without people in the house seeing me run down the garden. I would have to go back and try to get to the other side of the extension by going all the way around the front of the house.
I turned around and my heart almost came out of my chest. Bartholomew was behind me. He was pointing a taser gun at me. My brain raced as I tried to think of something to say. I didn't have to though because he smiled and pulled the trigger.
Wonderful Diversity. Thursday, November 3rd (I Hope) No Idea What Time It Is.
Someone was touching me. No, something was touching me. It was an object, not a person. It felt more like a wet brush than skin. It was cold rather than warm.
I slowly forced my heavy eyes open and my head up. Why did I have to lift my head up? It took a second before all the information that was being relayed to my brain sorted itself into order. I was in a darkened room lit by candles and I was tied to an upright gurney of some kind. It felt like it was made of wood as it was not cold against my skin like metal would be. I glanced down to confirm I was right. It looked to be hewn from the branches of a tree and lashed together with string. This wasn't the most alarming concern though.
I was naked.
The fact that all my clothes had been removed ought to be alarming enough, but it was entirely secondary in my list of worries to the half-dozen other naked women in the room. All African or Caribbean descent, their skin was painted with odd patterns from head to toe. They all looked to be in a trance-like state and they were using the same paint on me – the wet brush had woken me.
The two women that were painting me moved to the side as two more stepped up with different paint. One of them was Patience!
‘Patience!' I hissed to get her to look at me. She was focused on the task of painting me and didn't even react. ‘Patience.' I tried again. My arms were restrained so I couldn't touch her or grab her. I could barely move at all and the bonds dug into my skin painfully as I tried to struggle against them.
Patience had the same faraway look as the other five women. Whether they were drugged or hypnotised or something else I could not tell but they were all non-responsive. Patience finished painting my left arm and was replaced by the next woman in line. It seemed they were done with the painting as the next two had long necklaces made of bone to place over my head. The bones looked like they might be human finger bones and they didn't look clean - like there might still be scraps of flesh stuck to them.
It was quite horrific, my senses almost at overload point and threatening to send me into a tailspin of panic that would render me incapable of rational thought. I needed to be able to think if I was going to escape this. I thought back to my earlier annoyance over weak thoughts of having someone rescue me. Rescue, though, was looking like a favourable outcome now.
The women turned away and began filing from the room.
‘Patience.' I called after her before she could leave the room. ‘Patience.' The last one I shouted out loud, but there was no reaction from her at all.
As the last woman left the room, Bartholomew appeared in the doorway. He was wearing a robe that had no arms and a pair of loose-fitting trousers that matched the material of the robe. Both garments were colourfully embroidered. His body was painted in a different pattern to the women that had just left and looked more like his skeleton was sitting outside his skin. It was the same effect I had seen on Halloween.
‘I did say I would make her my slave.’ He laughed deeply as if it was really funny then stood and stared at my naked body, taking it all in.
‘You won’t get away with this.’ It was all I could think of to say. It sounded so cliched to my ears. He simply smiled at me. ‘People know where I was heading today.’ I lied, trying to keep my voice from cracking. ‘They will come for me soon enough.’ I was trying to sound confident, but he laughed again.
‘Do you mean your big friend? He turned up a while ago looking for you. He clearly didn’t know all that much about our operation, although I will say that he displayed a fairly iron will in resisting our torture methods.’
Oh no! They had Big Ben!
‘In the end, it was clear that he didn't know anything, but I had them carry on for a while just in case.'
‘What did you do to him?’ I demanded, anger replacing my fear now.
‘Oh, I don’t think you should worry too much about him. He will be dead soon enough. You should worry about your own limited future. Soon the ladies will return for you and you will join me at my wedding. You see, you are to be a glorious honour sacrifice. Your blood will make me more powerful yet.’
He was planning to murder me. I was beyond terrified. Without ropes to hold me up I swear I would have collapsed.
He took a step forward and leaned in, so his face was mere inches from mine, ‘The ceremony also requires a ritualistic rape before the victim is murdered.’ My breath caught with the horror of what I was hearing. ‘Don’t worry though, we have someone else for that. No such indignity for you. You get to die from dozens of venomous snake bites.’
He spun on his feet and went back out the door. ‘See you soon, Miss Harper.' His voice echoed back down the hallway outside.
I was alone. I was utterly terrified, and I was alone. No one knew where I was, and I could not see how anyone would find me. For that matter, I didn't know where I was either. Had I been transported somewhere while I was unconscious? Or was I somewhere in the basement of the Kings' house? Would my body ever be found?
I struggled against the ropes that held me again. I could feel them tearing at my skin. They didn’t give though. Not one little bit.
I looked around the room wondering if I could find something, a tool I could reach. I tried rocking the gurney I was strapped to. It moved a little. If I could just wobble my way across the room to the shelf I could see, maybe there would be something there I could use.
The thought died on my brow though as the catatonic ladies filed back into the room followed by Mrs. King. She wore a dress and robe that exposed huge amounts of her flesh. It was split down the centre to reveal her breasts which wobbled rhythmically with each stride.
‘So good of you to join us, Miss Harper. We would have found someone to fulfil your role easily enough, but to volunteer in the manner that you did was truly inspiring.'
‘Why are you doing this?’ I managed to stammer out.
‘Why?’ she asked as if it should be obvious. ‘Because practising voodoo is the source of our power. My husband and I rose from nothing through a campaign of utter terror. Why work hard for a living when you can trap the souls of your rivals or control them through fear? You think we could have afforded all this by being chemists?’
‘You make crystal meth, don’t you?’
‘Among other things, yes. Why wouldn’t we? Voodoo makes us strong and crystal meth makes others weak. They are so dependent upon us, so ready to obey our demands. Come now, enough chatter.’ She clapped her hands and the six women, Patience included, surrounded the gurney, tilted it backward so I faced the ceiling and lifted it from the floor.
‘Patience what are you doing? Get me out of here.’ I wailed. I worried I might lose control of my bladder I was that scared of what was
coming.
Patience did not respond though. Neither did anyone else as they carried me out of the room and down the dark corridor. We turned a corner and the tone of noise changed just before we entered a huge chamber. It must have been three stories high, like being inside a cathedral. I was straining my head to see where I was being taken and what was around me. It was hard to make much out, the chamber was lit by thousands of candles which created shadows everywhere, but ahead of me, as I stared through my feet, there was an altar of sorts. The noise I had heard before, which had started out as nothing more than a quiet susurration in the background turned out to be chanting from dozens of people. They were wearing scraps of clothing and were swaying as they chanted.
Mr. King was stood next to the altar. In contrast to everyone around him, his skin was not painted. He had on a top hat and tails, plus trousers, but no shirt, leaving his chest exposed. In his right hand, he held a cane, the ball on top was a small human skull. I suspected it was real. Around his neck was a large black snake. I could see it moving.
On the floor, by Mr. King's feet was the bloody and naked body of Big Ben. I couldn't tell if he was alive or dead, but he was not moving and looked to have taken a beating. How many of them had it taken to capture him I wondered?
My gurney stopped moving and was stood upright again. Mr. King descended steps that led down from the altar. He had the snake’s head in his hand.
‘Welcome, Miss Harper.' He said as if I was just arriving for a cocktail party. He brushed the snakes head against my face. One side then the other then held it in front of my face. If he was trying to terrify me he needn't have bothered. The snake's tongue flicked out kissing the tip of my nose. Mr. King laughed a deep belly laugh.
‘Come now.’ he called to the audience. ‘Let us begin.’
Something was pressed into my hand. The movement came from behind me and was urgent as if the person doing it had to be quick about what they were doing. I was still strapped onto my gurney and could not see who it had been. I risked a glance down.