by Mark Stewart
HALETON WAS quickly marched down a short corridor that boasted four doors, two on each side and herded into the first room. The jab of a rock-hard fist to the left shoulder blade helped him to sit on a chair. The door remained open. A tall well-shaven Detective guarded the entrance. His square jaw line and dark beady eyes showed he wasn't in the mood for games.
"Have you been through a rough night?"
The cop sitting opposite Haleton snorted, extracted a cigarette, lighting the end. "I suppose you want one?"
"No thanks. Smoking is bad for one's health. Before you begin the interrogation, I'd like to take this opportunity to say thanks for agreeing to my odd request of having the lights in the corridor and to this room turned off well in advance of our arrival."
The cop snorted again. Clearing his throat, he started. "What's your game?"
"I'm not playing a game."
"Playing dead is an offense."
"Is it?"
"Don't waste my time. Admit your guilt so we can move on. You have already stated on the way here the lights in this building hurt your eyes. If I were you, I'd spill my guts and quick. The senior Detective will be here in five minutes. He won't be as understanding as me. For one thing, he prefers to have the lights on." The bloke exhaled a lung full of smoke into Haleton's face.
"I apologize," said Haleton.
"For what?" the Detective asked, leaning forward in his chair. "Speak up I want the recording to be crystal clear."
"I'm sorry for faking my death."
"What's your name?"
"I've been called lots of names over the years. Which one would you prefer?"
"The name recorded on your birth certificate. It's the one your mother gave you."
"William Haleton."
"Middle name?" the Detective spat in a droll voice.
"I don't have one."
"Let's say I believe you. What are some of the other names you go by?"
"Is there a need to know them?"
"I might want the computer to cross reference any other names."
"I have been called the Hunter; Vamps; Hunter of the night; Hunter by day shadow by night; the man who never sleeps or eats."
The Detective signaled a stop. "Let's back-track. You say you're a hunter?"
"Correct."
"What do you hunt?"
"I can see where this is leading. You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Haleton handed over the handcuffs that tethered his wrists. "They're a present. The cuffs were digging into my flesh. Let's move on to more exciting questions like, where did the ambulance take Amber Cantala?"
"The hospital I guess," the Detective answered.
"Which one?" Haleton probed.
"The closest hospital from where we picked her up. What's the Goss on the attack?"
"I happened to be in the right place at the right time."
"I'd say wrong place at the wrong time," suggested the Detective. "Tell me something, what is the girl to you?"
Haleton shook his head. "She's nobody special."
"If you're telling the truth why are you so interested in the young lady?"
"She has an aura around her."
The Detective inhaled more of the cigarette and again blew smoke into the air. "Tell me something intelligent," he urged, leaning back in the chair.
"Like what?"
"Who is she to you?"
"I told you, she's nobody special."
"Why are you dressed in a seventeenth-century costume? Did you and the girl come from a fancy-dress party? Is it where you two met?"
"Nothing could be further from the truth."
"I'll give you a few minutes alone to think through your answers. I'm sure when I return, and the senior detective walks into the room behind me your story will have changed. Keep this warning in mind. If your answers stay the same, there's going to be a lot of trouble." The Detective stood glaring at Haleton for a few moments before marching towards the door.
"Please, before you go, I need you to tell me the name of the hospital."
"Don't go away. I'll be right back."
"I won't be here when you return."
At the door, the Detective collected the second Detective on guard duty and both stepped into the corridor at the same time. A rookie cop walking past was stopped.
"I need you to stand guard. I don't want anyone in or out of this room except me."
The rookie cop closed the door and stood at attention in the middle of the doorway facing the corridor.
Haleton quietly walked to the window, pushing it open slightly before walking across the room to the door. He casually flicked the light switch on. His body instantly dematerialized into a shadow. Floating across the room to the window, he easily drifted between the bars and into the world outside.
CHAPTER NINE