The Taken Girls

by G D Sanders

  As she stepped towards the laboratory bench, Ed’s foot caught an uneven flagstone and she fell heavily to one knee. There was a clatter as she dropped her torch and it rolled under the bench beyond the stool. Glancing upwards, she was aware of a faceless figure emerging from the darkness at the far end of the room. Both hands were clasped to its chest where something gleamed dimly. She got rapidly to her feet wondering if she’d misjudged the situation. Did the gleam come from a weapon? Was he more dangerous than she had estimated?

  ‘Stop! Stay where you are!’

  The distorted voice came from the figure but even as it spoke it continued to move out of the darkness towards her.

  Ed froze. Certain she’d be face to face with Drakes-Moulton, Grieves or Podzansky, she was now confronted by a very different prospect. The anonymous figure posed an unknown threat. Ed balanced herself on the balls of her feet. In the light which spilled from the bench, she could see the approaching figure was holding a glass jar. In the gloom, the figure had appeared faceless. Now she saw it wore a black hood with two slits through which eyes glinted at her accusingly. Whose eyes were they? Who was behind that mask? Ed couldn’t tell. A knee-length lab coat and stooped posture disguised the figure’s true stature.

  ‘You shouldn’t be here. Why have you come?’

  The voice was inhuman. For a moment, confusing images blocked Ed’s thoughts – sunlit beaches, ice-cream cones, striped awnings framing brightly painted puppets – then, above the sound of children’s excited laughter, she recognized the voice. It was Mr Punch.

  There was still no sound from Tyler. Were they too late? The contents of the glass jar appeared to be red and fleshy. Please God, don’t let him have done something to her.

  The figure braced itself, its left arm moving sideways for balance as the right reached out to place the glass jar on the laboratory bench. The eyes behind the slits in the black hood never left Ed’s face. In the silence, the only sound was the jar touching the surface of the bench. Still with its eyes on Ed, the figure released its grip but the distance had been misjudged, the jar had been placed too close to the edge. It toppled and fell to the floor, where it smashed.

  An acrid smell enveloped Ed’s nostrils, focusing her attention, but, before she could react, the hooded figure dropped to its knees with a strange distorted cry of despondency. It stayed for a moment close to the floor and then slowly rose to its feet with the light glinting on something in its right hand. From among the pieces of broken jar it had grabbed a long shard of glass, which now pointed towards Ed.

  ‘Stay back! Leave me alone.’ The command was tinged with panic. Then, all authority gone, the hooded figure addressed her accusingly in a voice of abject despair.

  ‘My adopted one! What have you done to my child? You’ve hurt my darling one!’

  The sight of the shard of glass reassured Ed. Now she knew what she was facing. This was a situation for which she’d trained. However, she still wanted to play it gently. He appeared deranged and she didn’t want to alarm him. Ed stood her ground and responded in a calm voice.

  ‘I’ll stay quietly here while you do what you have to do. But, before you start, first do something for me. Drop that piece of glass. We don’t need it and it’s already cutting your hand.’

  Ed wasn’t sure that was true. It seemed equally likely that the blood on the shard had come from the contents of the jar. However, her first task was to do everything to ensure she disarmed him as quickly as possible.

  ‘Do as I say, let that piece of glass fall to the floor.’

  The figure continued to point the shard towards Ed’s body. Then it began moving the improvised weapon from side to side, increasingly trapped by indecision. Finally, as Ed tensed her muscles ready to take evasive action, the figure released its grip and the shard fell to the floor. Blood trickled from the palm and fingers of the empty hand.

  ‘Good. That’s better. Now, one more thing, please take off the hood and speak more clearly.’

  ‘No, no!’ The previous note of despair was replaced by a new-found assurance. ‘First I must save him.’

  Once more the figure dropped to its knees. Ed moved forward to prevent him from rearming himself.

  ‘Stay back! Let me rehouse him.’

  There was a growing sense of desperation. On its knees in the dim light among the shards of glass, the figure struggled to gather something slimy in its hands. Ed could see the man was distraught and close to breaking point. She must stop him from picking up another shard. Putting out a hand she moved to urge the figure to its feet.

  The figure shook her hand from its shoulder and snapped the command ‘Stay back!’ before adopting a more civil tone. ‘You promised to let me do what I have to do.’

  It was still the same bizarre voice, surreal amid the scientific horror of the gleaming glassware and the thing in its hands. Ed stepped back and the figure slid bloody flesh from its cupped hands into a basin; the pound of flesh. She shifted her gaze from the twisted mass in the basin to the specimens on the shelves, suspended in their glass jars. Her eyes returned to the basin and the figure’s distorted voice echoed in her head: ‘My adopted one! What have you done to my child?’ Now she understood the pound of flesh and she knew who was behind the hood. Ed watched in revulsion as he reached for a new specimen jar and filled it with formalin. The sharp burning fumes stung her eyes and throat. Through the open door behind her she heard Mike and Jenny with Nat in the next room.

  Holding the specimen jar in its left hand, the figure used its right hand to pull the black hood from its head and to slip something from its mouth.

  ‘My apologies, Inspector, but we must be careful. These are the unloved for which I care. They’re lost children, abandoned by their mothers. They were unloved and discarded but I have saved them. They are my adopted ones.’

  Mr Punch had gone. It was Grieves, speaking in his normal voice, civilly and without the previous extremes of authority and despair. He paused, then added, ‘Thank you for your patience, for allowing me to continue.’

  Another wave of revulsion made Ed’s stomach heave as Grieves slid the bloody object from the basin into the new jar filled with fresh formalin. After carefully screwing the lid in place he sat heavily on the stool by the bench. Ed looked more closely at the rows of shiny bottles on neat shelves behind his abject figure. Ether on one shelf, formalin on another, and, at eye level, a line of specimen jars each with its preserved foetus. Which one of those had Grieves smuggled from the hospital in the bloody parcel that fell against the chain-link partition? Ed scanned the surface of the bench and was relieved to see that the glass Petri dishes and disposable syringes all looked clean and unused.

  The figure that was Grieves began to speak. He didn’t address Ed directly but appeared lost in his own thoughts. He spoke slowly as if contemplating a distant fading world, which he could see but dimly.

  ‘All I ever wanted was a child of my own. I had one once, a little girl. She must be ten now. I loved her from afar but they took her from me. They took her away. She was beautiful. I hope they’re looking after her. I would have treated her well. I hope she’s well. I know she’s a star.’ Cradling the freshly filled specimen jar in his arms, and rocking gently from side to side, Grieves began to sing:

  Star of wonder, ever bright,

  You should know I’ll treat you right,

  Ever growing, always knowing,

  Your loving father is in sight.

  Ed shuddered at the scene and at her realization of what this man had done. A wave of horror enveloped her as she felt a surge of pity for this poor deranged man, a man who was as much a lost soul himself as were his adopted children. She stepped closer, put an arm across his shoulders and unobtrusively searched him for weapons. There appeared to be none. It wasn’t a professional search but she didn’t want to spook him. She reasoned that, given his earlier move for the shard of glass, it was unlikely he was carrying other concealed weapons. Even so, she’d warn the others to search him late
r.

  Grieves stopped singing and, spaniel-like, he gazed at Ed.

  ‘Have you come to say goodnight?’

  Tears started in Ed’s eyes. That bloody formalin.

  ‘Don’t worry, Roger, we’ll look after you.’

  ‘And my sister, Reena, will you help her too?’

  ‘Someone will go to her.’

  Ed stepped to the door. Nat was two feet away looking directly at her.

  ‘Have you got the bastard?’

  ‘He’s here. It’s Grieves. He’s completely lost it. If we treat him gently he’ll not give us any trouble.’

  Looking beyond Nat, Ed could see Jenny trying to comfort a bewildered Tyler through the partition while Mike struggled with a padlock.

  ‘Leave that, Mike. I’ve got Grieves here. He must have a key. Give me a hand.’

  ‘And me?’ asked Nat.

  ‘Call back-up.’

  She turned back to Grieves who cringed as Mike approached.

  ‘Roger, we need your keys.’

  Grieves’s mouth opened but he remained silent.

  ‘It’s all right, Roger, you’re safe now. We’ll look after you, but first we need the keys so we’re going to check your pockets.’ Ed turned and nodded to Mike. ‘I don’t think he’s armed but check for weapons at the same time.’

  Before Mike could move, Ed stepped in front of him and half-knelt facing Grieves.

  ‘I’ll just take this jar and put your precious one safely on the bench.’

  He offered no resistance.

  ‘That’s better, Roger. Now I’ll help you to stand so that my colleague can check your pockets for the keys.’

  Mike searched Grieves carefully and extracted a small bunch of keys from the right pocket of the lab coat. He passed them to Ed.

  ‘Thanks. Stay with him while I help Jenny with Tyler.’

  In the central room Nat waved his mobile. ‘There’s no bloody signal.’

  ‘Give it a moment, Nat, while we release Tyler.’

  Ed unlocked the padlock and entered the room behind the chain-link partition.

  ‘It’s all over now,’ she said reassuringly to the handcuffed girl. ‘We’re police, I’m Ed Ogborne. As soon as I undo that chain, Jenny will get you out of here.’

  With an arm round her shoulders, Ed led Tyler out of her makeshift cell.

  ‘Jenny, take her down to a car. Wait there and ring the Station. Ask for the MO to be ready to examine Tyler when we return. And get someone to call Emily Hewitt to say her daughter’s been found and she’ll be taken to the Police Station within the hour. Get her to bring a change of clothes.’

  Nat looked enquiringly at his boss as Jenny nodded.

  ‘Nat, I want you to stick close to Jenny and Tyler. When you get to the cars, ring for back-up and then stay with them. Mike and I will look after Grieves until uniform arrive. As soon as we’ve handed him over we’ll come down to join you.’

  Ed lowered herself into a folding chair by the table and watched her two DCs lead Tyler from the building. As the door closed behind them she called to the other room.

  ‘Okay, Mike, cuff Grieves and bring him here.’

  67

  ‘I never understood people. Not just my mother or Reena, my sister, but other people, those I met when I was taken into care, at school, at university and here in Canterbury. The people we read about in the press and hear about on the radio and television. I could never understand the way they lived their lives. When I was young I saw life for what it is and I cultivated the strength to face it. I wasn’t fooled by what we were told at school, still less by what I heard in church when I was dragged there on Sundays by one of my foster mothers.’

  Sitting in the armchair, which had been turned away from the chain-link partition to face the table, Grieves looked confidently at the two detectives. The handcuffs were uncomfortable but, for the first time in years, he felt relaxed, knowing that a burden had been taken from him. He ignored the one called Potts and focused on the woman, Inspector Ogborne. She’d said they’d look after him; and Reena too. He mustn’t forget his adopted ones but first he must explain. She’d been sympathetic but he must make sure she understood.

  ‘I feel at ease with you, Inspector.’

  He paused and she held his gaze, nodding slightly, encouraging him to continue. Here was someone who cared about him, someone who had encircled him with her arms and helped him stand. He could still feel those arms, different, stronger, strange but comforting. At last, someone to look after him. Had she come to say goodnight? Buoyed by the warmth of that embrace, an embrace he had never before experienced, he seized this chance to talk, to explain. To his surprise, the words came hesitantly at first but these were thoughts he had held in check for far too long.

  ‘I know … that is, I sense … no, I’m sure … you, we, understand. We’re the same, Inspector, you and I. We know life has no spiritual meaning. The sole purpose of life is life itself.’

  He paused. Her eyes had not left his. She nodded for him to continue. At last he could share the thoughts which had filled his life.

  ‘Life exists to preserve the bloodline. Like you, Inspector, I’ve observed the world and I’ve studied the people who inhabit our planet. Those who can, strive for power and wealth while those who can’t destroy their bodies with drugs and rubbish food. They eat, drink and do goodness knows what else, growing older, uglier and obese, draining their bodies of strength and the nation of its resources. But those amassing power and wealth, are they the successful ones?’

  He paused and searched the Inspector’s face before smiling, reassured she was with him.

  ‘I can tell, Inspector; you’ve reached the same conclusion. Power and wealth don’t bring success. Power and wealth are false goals. When I first entertained this thought the words in my mind were “false gods” but there is no god save that conjured by the minds of the weak or by the machinations of those seeking power and wealth through the exercise of control over the weak.’

  ‘Have you shared these thoughts with other people, Roger?’

  ‘No!’

  For a moment he was aggrieved. Surely she realized theirs had become a special relationship. He looked at her face, the steady gaze. Of course she did. She was testing him. Wanting to be certain there was no one else.

  ‘No, I could never trust women and I have no need of men. I don’t need confirmation from others. My logic is sound, as I’m sure you’ll agree, Inspector.’

  She nodded her agreement, hanging on his words, waiting for him to continue.

  ‘I identified monarchs as a confirming example. Power and wealth put their line at risk. Prominence invites challenge and challenge brings threat; it could be the end of the line. Think of Edward II and Henry VI. The secret of a successful life is to thrive under the radar. You’ve seen nature films on television?’

  He waited for her to reply. She shook her head.

  ‘Distract an alpha male, Inspector, and a subordinate male inseminates the unguarded female. Under the radar the subordinate’s genes pass to the next generation; his bloodline is preserved.’

  ‘Where did these thoughts lead you, Roger?’

  ‘For the bloodline to be preserved the new life must be cherished; all new life should be cherished. When I realized this I saw what I must do. I had to atone for our mother, for her wantonness, for her abandonment of her children. On finding my sister Reena I saw she had gone the way of our mother and I had to atone for her too. I was obliged to atone for their acts of abandonment. The need to atone for their wantonness was paramount.’

  ‘If your goal was atonement, Roger, why did you abduct and inseminate your students?’

  ‘I came to understand that atonement was not sufficient. Caring for a child would not be enough. There was another reason to act. I knew what life should be; it was important my bloodline should be preserved for the sake of our species. The act would be for the greater good but, also, I deserved that reward, I deserved a child of my own. I saw the
light and combined the goals. I would devote my life to creating a child and atone for our mother by preserving my child from harm. My bloodline would continue. My genes would pass to the next generation.’

  ‘But things didn’t go quite as you’d planned, did they, Roger?’

  What was she thinking? For a moment he was bewildered and then he saw what she meant.

  ‘You mean Teresa, Inspector. The Mulhollands were clever and they had too much money. They took Teresa away. I didn’t understand but then they returned and there was a baby girl. My baby, my daughter! I was overjoyed. Then I lost her. They disappeared. I tried, Inspector, I really tried. For three years I searched but I couldn’t find her. My heart was broken.’

  ‘But you are strong, Roger, you are resilient, you resolved to try again.’

  She knew. She understood him. He felt a surge of strength.

  ‘Kimberley. You mean Kimberley, Inspector. Her family had little money. I thought they wouldn’t be able to cheat me in the way the Mulhollands had.’

  ‘And then what happened, Roger?’

  With his new-found strength, he could admit his mistake.

  ‘I was wrong, Inspector, but life is precious. It should be cherished and preserved.’

  He felt tears wetting his cheeks.

  ‘They killed my child! I was devastated. I no longer knew what to do. Then I realized this is the modern way. I had to counter this setback, find a solution to this wickedness in the world.’

  ‘Is that when you began volunteering at the hospital?’

  ‘I realized these unborn babies were a new generation of abandoned children. They were the poor lost souls I should care for. They would be my adopted ones.’

  ‘But what about the bloodline, Roger? Had you stopped caring about passing your genes to another generation?’

  ‘I knew my bloodline was preserved in the lovely daughter I had with Teresa. There was the child that Kimberley carried but I was cheated of that. It was then I realized I was free to perform a greater good for the world. Through my voluntary work at the hospital, I could preserve and care for some of the lost souls discarded by their mothers. In this way, I was able to augment the good I achieve as a dedicated teacher at the school.’