by Jack Steele
Dark Secrets
By
Jack Steele
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious.
Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is
purely coincidental.
For my family
Chapter 1
Miranda Clements gradually opened her eyes and was confronted by a gruesome sight. On the blood stained concrete floor, just a few feet from where she was sitting, was a severed human limb. Instinctively she brought her outstretched legs into her body but when she tried to wrap her arms around them a painful jolt shot up her left arm.
A shudder of fear ran down her spine as she looked at her hands tethered to a thin metal pipe. There was a deep gash to her wrists caused by the tight grip of the metal handcuffs. Miranda prayed that this was a nightmare but the cold floor put paid to that idea. She was wide awake and had never felt this scared before.
Miranda nervously scanned the small windowless room stopping at a partially open door to her left which offered a source of light. Once again she felt scared at the prospect of her attacker being on the other side of the door.
Memories flooded back of the assault outside her home by someone wearing a mask. In the ensuing struggle she managed to pull it off and was horrified to see it was the Broadmoor psychopath Geb Blood.
Miranda shivered as she recalled it was her forensic evidence that had sent him to the high security psychiatric hospital.
It made her skin crawl as she recalled those images of his handiwork, both men and women cut up and left to rot. The worst of it was they had all been alive when he butchered them.
A thud from behind the door broke the silence then suddenly the door was flung wide open. The piercing light was so intense that she had to look away. The brick wall to her right was lit up by the silhouette of a large hulking figure. Miranda turned to look at him but immediately wished she hadn’t as her eyes focussed on his left hand in which was a meat cleaver dripping with blood. Panic took hold of her as the monster started walking towards her and the room echoed with her blood curdling screams.
Chapter 2
The rain was lashing down with such force that it sounded like small pebbles being thrown at the French doors. The sky was dark with varying shades of grey clouds that scudded past driven by the remnants of a hurricane. It had a name, of course, but the strength had diminished as it travelled over the Atlantic from Florida.
I heard the lift arriving at my floor. I flicked the switch on the kettle and then walked over to open the front door to greet my colleague. Carl stood there shaking his head, his clothes soaking wet.
‘Sometimes, you know, I wish I was back in my beloved Jamaica.’
I carefully removed his long overcoat, placing it on the back of a kitchen chair positioned next to a radiator. I threw a towel underneath to protect the laminate flooring. He kicked off his shoes and sat down at the dining room table while I made us a brew.
‘Sorry about this Carl.’
I used to curse our boss when he ‘invited’ us in on a Sunday to discuss our new investigation. Yet here I was doing exactly the same thing and on the foulest of days.
‘I don’t really mind so long as this tea is one of your better brews.’ He quipped taking the steaming mug from me with his large hands.
‘So what is the plan?’ he asked as I sat opposite him. He produced a tissue and wiped the raindrops from his forehead and thick neck. I recounted the call yesterday evening from the Police Commissioner George Drake.
‘He informed me that our next investigation was to track down patients who had escaped from Broadmoor during the recent rioting there.’
Carl’s eyes widened as I told him the worst possible news.
‘What’s not yet in the public domain is that a couple of them are extremely dangerous, one in particular is Geb Blood.’
‘That name rings a bell.’ He began to look at the ceiling for inspiration but would probably only see the dent in the plasterboard from his accident with the champagne cork last month.
‘Apparently he is nicknamed the Chameleon, so called because he is extremely good at disguising himself.’ I continued.
He winced as the hot beverage hit his lips then put his mug down on the coaster and muttered about it being wet - which wasn’t a reference to the weather. I reached over to the biscuit jar on the kitchen counter and placed it by his mug.
‘You know Joe Stone, it’s time you supplied a better selection!’ Carl joked as he rummaged in the contents of the jar. He was relaxed enough to remove three rich tea biscuits and began dunking one into his tea.
‘I remember now! That was one of our very first cases at the Strategic Investigation Unit. We had a large slice of good fortune on that one. Graham and Stella were waiting at some traffic lights when a boy racer shot through a red and ploughed into a white van opposite them.’
He put his arms out on the table, one straight and the other at an angle. Then with clenched fists, he proceeded to re-enact the collision.
‘The mangled wreckage made it impossible for the van to move. The more squad cars and paramedics that arrived on the scene apparently the more agitated the van driver became. That’s when Stella heard muffled screams from inside the van and she knew we had stumbled onto something.’
I watched as half his biscuit fell back into his mug of tea. He looked at me and shook his head. I went to fetch him a teaspoon from the kitchen drawer as he continued with the investigation.
‘CCTV was used to backtrack from the accident to where the van had first picked up the victim but then, more importantly, the building he had set off from in the first place. It was the old brickworks not far from St Alban’s and when we got there it resembled something of a warzone.’
I recalled the find was the lead story in most tabloids and the trial made shocking headlines for a quite a few days. Thankfully the woman in the van had been saved from such an ordeal.
‘Who was the person in the back of the van?’
‘I can’t remember now but I bet Stella can when we see her. My memory isn’t like it was.’ He winked removing more biscuits from the jar.
Carl was a rock and we had become great friends over this past year. He would take a bullet for me and I would for him. Just a few days ago he had been shot by a sniper but the bullet had definitely had my name etched on it. He had suffered a lot recently. Just a week ago we attended his mother’s funeral but Carl was one of those human beings that had to work through their grief so as not to dwell on bereavement.
I glanced at the television which was running pictures of Carl, Stella and I at the scene of our previous investigation. Carl leant across me to pick up the remote control which was on the counter behind me. He took off the mute so we could hear the reporter.
‘The final outcome of this drama is one of shock for the local community but once again the Strategic Investigation Unit has averted yet another crisis and proved they are one of our finest crime fighting organisations in the country. This is Shell Baker in a soaking wet Hackney handing you back to the studio.’
My team at the SIU were under considerable scrutiny by the media as well as the public to deliver results but we were responding well and thankfully we had our fair share of luck along the way. I was constantly worried that when that runs out then the tide of popular consensus would turn against us.
The possibility of the storm abating this morning was clearly more hope than judgement going by the live pictures from only a few miles away. I walked to the French doors in hopeful anticipation of localised downpours. No such luck.
The BBC News then reported on the continuing unrest at Broadmoor. The rioting was spreading like the fires which were now raging in another wing. The fire brigade had four pumps pouring water onto t
he roof tops from where the flames burned ferociously. The anti-riot police were poised to storm the building. It all made for intriguing viewing.
We were so wrapped up in our previous investigation that only now could we turn our attention to the breakout which happened four days ago. Four whole days for Geb Blood and the others on the run, to find a bolt hole and carry on from where they left off.
‘Come on Carl drink up. Let’s see what today brings us.’
Outside the rain was lashing down and we rushed to get into Carl’s car. We drove off to headquarters unaware that this investigation would be one of our most life-threatening to date with shocking consequences and one that would ultimately lead to a devastating tragedy.
Chapter 3
Carl and I sat down at the SIU briefing table drinking coffee dispensed from our vending machine. It wasn’t that bad, although I had taken on board his hilarious suggestion of moving the morning meeting to a coffee house.
Stella was next to arrive, pushing open the thick glass door balancing a large red handbag with her coffee which she put down next to Carl.
‘Morning guys, what foul weather outside.’ She was dressed casually wearing blue ripped jeans and a white tee-shirt on which the words ‘feisty bitch’ were written in pink. She shook off her blue leather jacket and placed it over the chair. It released her favourite perfume to drift over us like an aromatic candle. ‘I saw Graham in his cave! I will hurry him along.’ She immediately turned around, her red hair swished like an advertisement for a hair salon as she left the room but her image lingered.
‘Whirlwind!’ I whispered to Carl. I don’t know why I lowered my voice because we were the only ones in the room. He chuckled and whispered his thoughts in return.
‘I like these dress down days.’
‘Me too, maybe I can ask the Commander to bend the rules on dress code when he returns.’
‘Better wait until you’re in charge!’
The door opened and Stella had returned as promised with her colleague Graham Parker. He had an ever growing ginger beard which now reached his mustard coloured corduroy trousers. Carl had nicknamed them both Beauty and the Geek but last week their dynamic had changed since Graham revealed he was gay. What had upset Stella the most was he hadn’t told her or any of us? He apologised but maintained there was never the right moment to reveal his true sexuality to her. Despite this they still made a formidable team in charge of security and surveillance.
The empty seats were my first topic for conversation.
‘Stella, do you have any idea on the whereabouts of Miranda or Jasper?’
‘I don’t know about Jasper but I am surprised that Miranda hasn’t made it in. We had a few celebratory drinks last night so we caught the bus home together.’ She picked up her coffee and took a careful sip having learnt it retained the heat well.
Considering the amount of alcohol Stella could knock back I was impressed that she could still look amazing the morning after. She checked her mobile phone for a message but clearly there wasn’t anything to explain her absence. Even when she rang Miranda’s number the call went to answerphone.
‘I will drop by her house to check on her after the meeting.’
‘Thanks Stella, as for Jasper, I don’t think we will see him until our boss returns.’
Everyone knew the disdain I had for our ‘undercover agent’ who seriously believed he was living the dream as James Bond. Jasper abused his position to come and go as he pleased.
I passed a copy of our latest assignment to her. Carl had already been briefed on our drive to work but I was surprised to see Graham looking at Stella’s copy. I was informed by the Commissioner that he had sent him a copy of the file.
‘I was just checking my emails when Stella arrived.’ Graham looked suitably embarrassed but I decided to let it slide this time.
‘There is a press conference tomorrow afternoon outside headquarters so that is why I wanted to bring you up to speed with our new investigation.’
‘Are you delivering it?’ Stella asked. My stomach did a roll as I nodded that I was. The only way I would get used to handling press conferences would be to present them on a regular basis but it still turned my insides into a butterfly farm.
I realised that we all had places to go on a Sunday especially Carl and I, so I kept it brief. I outlined the investigation which centred on the recent riot and breakout at Broadmoor high security hospital.
‘So what is of particular interest to both of you is that one of the patients to have escaped is Geb Blood nicknamed the Chameleon.’
They both looked up sharply, the name ringing an alarm bell in their heads. It was pretty clear that Graham hadn’t even looked at the files sent over by the Police Commissioner last night otherwise he would have known this already.
Stella and Graham remembered the name as if stirring a nightmare from a dormant slumber. They looked at each other fearing the worst because they knew Geb Blood had attacked those that he felt had wronged him throughout his life.
Carl chipped in asking Stella for the name of the person found in his van. Stella still remembered the name despite it being two years ago.
‘Johanne Julious was her name. She was his secondary school drama teacher.’
‘Ok so we need to pay her a visit and offer her our protection until we can re-arrest him.’ I replied, impressed with Stella’s memory.
‘Graham, can you liaise with someone at the hospital to verify who is still missing. Apparently the fire there accounted for a few casualties but we don’t know whether they are patients or hospital staff.’
‘Yes I will get onto it.’ Graham paused and stroked his unkempt ginger beard. That was a sign that he was troubled by something on his mind. Obviously it could be the fugitives who are extremely dangerous but what he said was something that had severe implications for this investigation.
Chapter 4
‘I don’t know how true this is but last night rumours began circulating on the dark web that ransomware had infected the hospital’s computer system. Apparently a large bitcoin demand has been posted to return the system back to normal.’
Carl cleared his throat. ‘Sounds like a well-planned and co-ordinated attack.’
‘Yes and one that could get messy,’ Graham agreed, ‘I need to make a few calls to people who can give me more on the breakout.’
My mind began racing. There had been a riot to distract the guards so a breakout could occur. At the same time the hospital’s computer systems went down. So finding out exactly what happened in there wasn’t going to be easy. I asked Carl to add to our diary a visit to Broadmoor.
‘Our immediate target is finding Geb Blood and identifying the other fugitives. Seeing that his last hideout was the old brickworks, we must assume that he may have returned there. We will need the Metropolitan Police to search there and where he used to live, as well as any other disused factories or warehouses that have yet to be redeveloped. I find it surprising that in this day and age any available space is not immediately cleared and built on.’
Graham agreed to liaise with the relevant departments to get this moving immediately. We had lost too much time already.
Stella took a quick sip of her coffee and studied the file in front of her flicking the pages with an inquisitive mind. Graham looked up and his eyes met mine. He was clearly unsettled when he spoke.
‘Geb Blood is a nasty piece of work and the thought of him being out there again loose on the streets quite frankly gives me the creeps.’
Stella then added with a slight cracking in her voice.
‘When the judge sentenced him to life in Broadmoor he slowly turned to us with an icy stare that went right through to my core. It creeped me out! Now you can add our names to those who had caused him grief especially Miranda, whose forensic evidence was pivotal in securing a successful conviction.’
The empty seat next to Stella made me feel uneasy. As I called the briefing to a close I prayed that Miranda was safe at home if
not a little hungover.
Chapter 5
Miranda was terrified. The monster stood just inches in front of her with the meat cleaver by his side. The blood had stopped dripping and formed a pool near to her trembling body. The combination of having been strangled and screaming at the top of her voice had left her throat feeling like it was lined with coarse sandpaper. She was unable to shout anymore.
He just stood there for what seemed an age. Miranda couldn’t pull her legs in any tighter. The severed limb in the centre of the room was a reminder of what he would do to her, so she made herself into as tight a ball as possible. Her heart was pounding so hard that she thought any second it would stop. She screwed her eyes closed when his evil presence drew nearer making her whole body shake in fear. It was then that she felt his rancid breath on her face.
The thought of her dying here in this room was all too real. She felt her stomach churning and her head began thumping as her nostrils were filled by her captor’s foul stinking breath as his lips touched her left ear.
He must have felt elation when she lost control of her bladder. She was absolutely petrified and it wouldn’t have surprised her if she was going into cardiac arrest because of the pain across her chest and difficulty in breathing.
He grabbed at her hair and jerked her head forward so savagely that her whole body lurched and the handcuffs once again bit into her flesh. The sharp meat cleaver sliced her scalp and she saw hair fall at her feet.
Miranda was violently shaking and she prayed that her death would be swift and painless. Her life literally flashed across her mind. All her dreams, aspirations and broken promises flitted by. The yearning to find someone to share her life with and travel to the faraway places she had longed to visit. The dream of one day owning a dog, maybe two and taking them for walks in the countryside. Then the greatest wish of all which was to have children and experience life as a family. All seemed now unobtainable. She began to pray, certain that her time on earth was about to end.