Authors: Julian Page
With their objective accomplished, Alexis walks across the hallway to signal to Eddie that he's got the name, but before getting even halfway across he's hit by the disgusting smell of burning flesh. Only by pinching his nose is he able to walk further forward so he can tap Eddie on the shoulder and give him a thumbs-up signal. Despite the cacophony of noise, his bodyguard understands Alexis has got his information so he immediately smothers the flames. With the deafeningly screeching continuing unabated, Alexis retreats to the other side of the bungalow to get away from the noise and the awful smell. Moving to the other end of the radiator, Eddie crouches down behind the man's head and putting him in a choke hold he squeezes down hard.
The screams are immediately replaced by a muffled gurgling. For a few moments the young man momentarily scuffles, writhes and bucks his body whilst Eddie's face reddens as he exerts a devastating force to crush the man's windpipe flat. A few more moments of ineffective struggling and his victim's muscles suddenly relax. At this stage his limp body is just the result of his brain shutting down through lack of oxygen, but by maintaining the choke hold for a further 20 seconds he guarantees the kill. Certain that the task is done, Eddie at last releases his grip and rises to his feet.
The scent of charred human flesh fills the house. It's a smell like nothing else; nauseating and sweet, like rotting leather scorched over a flame, a stench so rich and thick it can be tasted.
Leaving the dead man slumped on the floor, Eddie calls for a âteam meeting' in the kitchen at the very back of the house. As soon as they're assembled he shuts the door so they can talk in private.
To kick things off Alexis puts his hand deep into his overcoat pocket and pulls out two wads of cash. He hands the two accomplices their pay, coolly commenting “That's five grand a-piece, as agreed.” Then he adds nonchalantly “I'm sure I can rely on your discretion about tonight. Can't I?”
It's clear from his tone that it's an instruction and not a question.
Eddie speaks next. “Tell you what fella'sâ¦once I've finished the job off by disposing of the scum through there, I want you to ensure that all four bodies are never found and there's ten grand a-piece in it for both of you. They've just confessed to being the terrorists we was after, so it'd be wrong of us to allow them to live so they can go on to endanger the lives of more innocent civilians, now wouldn't it?”
The two ex-servicemen pass vexed glances between each other. They know they can do it, after all they're trained men.
“Well, what do you say?”
There's no real choice in the matter, they simply have to agree. They're desperate for the money and simply can't risk making an enemy of Eddie by refusing the work.
When serving alongside Eddie Slater in their army regiment, they knew him to be a loner with homicidal tendencies, but tonight they've seen him for what he truly is: a cold hearted, violent murderer. If they don't agree, there's every likelihood they'll get an uninvited visit in the middle of the night from him sometime in the very near future.
“Ok, it's a deal.”
Eddie tells them to go out to the Range Rover and bring back everything that's in the boot, whilst he deals with choking the life out of the three remaining captives.
His men bring in several dozen flat-packed cardboard boxes as well as lots of heavy-duty black plastic sacks. Disappearing for a second time, one returns with armfuls of folded-up plastic sheeting and several rolls of packing tape whilst the other brings back a plastic box containing bleach, various bits of cleaning equipment, a serious-looking 12”-long butchers knife and a heavy duty hacksaw.
“Jesus Eddie, you DID come prepared didn't you?”
The bodyguard hears the comment but chooses to ignore it. Instead, he begins handing out his meticulous instructions. “As soon as we've left, get to work. Don't waste time. Be quick and be thorough. And make sure you get yourselves clear from here before sun-up.” Eddie can see in their faces that he has their undivided attention.
“Use the sheeting to cover the floor and walls around the bath-tub, -take care not to tear it. Do it right and it'll save a lot of unnecessary time cleaning up the mess you'll otherwise make. Get one man at a time into the bath and cut the body into 7 roughly equal pieces.” He notices one of his men flinching, “
Seven, got it?
One head, two arms, two legs and you cut the torso into two equal halves. Then put each piece into one of these heavy duty plastic sacks. Seal it with tape then double bag it and seal the outer bag just as good. Make sure you seal âem properly so there's no leakage. Then box-up the bags. This makes them look less suspicious should anyone see you moving them.”
They nod to show they fully understand. “When you've got 28 neatly taped-up boxes, get them out of here and into the transit van. Clean the saw and knife over the bath-tub. I want them returned to me spotless. Gather-up all their clothing and gear and again use cardboard boxes to transport it all away.
It needs to look like they was never here. Next, clean this place with bleach, especially the bathtub and the surrounding surfaces. There should be plenty of bags and boxes. Don't leave anything behind, including anything of ours such as the spent flash-bangs. One of you needs to drive their vehicle away after making sure it's got none of their stuff inside, then dump it somewhere far away from here. If you leave the keys in the ignition and park-up near some rough-arsed council estate the local delinquents will soon torch it once they've had their fun. That'll make it look like it was a bunch of kids who stole it in the first place.
Then sometime after lunch tomorrow, call this guy.” Eddie hands them a plain white business card, blank except for a single handwritten name and phone number.
“He works nights in a hospital in Berkshire. I'll phone him as soon as I get back to London to let him know he can expect your call. Arrange with him where and when you'll hand over the boxes, and then he'll incinerate them for us. I'll pay him up-front for his services so you don't have to worry about that.”
“How do you know this guy? Who is he and how do we know we can we trust him?”
“That's none of your business. You can trust him âcos I say you can trust him. He's helped me on a number of occasions over the years. All you need to know is he's a professional, so there won't be any problems.”
Eddie walks over to the cupboard under the kitchen sink where he retrieves the Kalashnikovs, the spare magazines and the two Browning hand-guns. Putting everything into the bottom of the black holdall with its hidden GPS device he zips it up and swings it over his shoulder.
Eddie nonchalantly signs off with his boys “Get to work fella's, I'll meet up with you and pay you £10k a piece when my man says he's disposed of all your boxes.” And without further discussion he and Alexis leave the bungalow.
Once they're both sat in the comfort of the Range Rover, Slater decides to tactfully talk with his boss. “You do know that if you want me to protect you it's best you tell me who it was who sent those men to kidnap you?”
“It's complicated. You wouldn't understand.”
“I don't need to understand, but I do need to know who might be sending more men after you.”
“Ok, ok. I'll tell you on the condition that you don't do anything about it, and you don't ask me any more questions. Do we have a deal?”
Though puzzled, he has to accept Alexis's terms. “Sure, we have a deal.”
“It was my Father.”
Bamboozled by the statement, Eddie is deeply intrigued to learn more but as promised he keeps his mouth shut. No comments are made and no questions are asked. They drive back to London in silence.
Leaving Rebecca at the Islington hotel, DS Gibson decides the best course of action is for him to drop into work for an hour or so before going home to wait for the tradesmen to turn up at the flat. He'll get the initial crime-scene findings from CSI and he'll use the rest of his time in the office to sound-out some opinions from both his boss, DCI Jenkins and his CID partner, Bill Warren.
Until the locks are changed he figures Becc's is safer staying away from the flat. Additionally, it's best that John goes back there first just to make sure the blood and mess has been cleaned-up before she returns home.
The official CSI report might take several days before it's released, but John can't wait that long. When he gets into work his first priority is to call the Met's forensic team leader who attended last night for an informal summary of what they've found.
“Hi Phil, it's DS John Gibson at Bishopsgate Station. I'm hoping you can tell me something about the crime scene you attended last night at Ark House?”
“Ah yesâ¦you're the copper whose flat it is, aren't you?”
“Yeah, that's right. I'm not quite sure what's been going on but if you can help enlighten me in any way, I'd be very grateful.”
“Of course, of course. Ghastly thing to happen. You've got my full sympathies. Rightâ¦where shall I start? -No sign of a break-in, nothing forced, no damage. And there were no fingerprints found except for your own and Rebecca's, so we have to assume that whoever broke in was wearing gloves.
The cat had clearly been alive when it was stabbed, but there was no sign of a frenzied attack. One wound, straight through the thorax. No obvious evidence of blood or flesh under its claws, indicating it hadn't done anything to defend itself, but nevertheless we've swabbed them just in case. The DNA results will take at least a week to come through, so don't hold your breath. The only thing the cat seems to have scratched is the chopping board that it'd been pinned to. We've removed its body and when I get the autopsy report back it'll include an estimate for time of death.
I can however tell you that the tip of the knife pierced the wooden board by about half an inch. The force used to get it to stuck into the bread board like that would have required someone of considerable strength, so indications are that we're dealing with a particularly strong man. Oh, and the knife he used was one of a set you have in your cutlery drawer.”
“Phil, can I stop you there for a momentâ¦If he used a knife that he found in the kitchen, does that mean he acted on impulse?”
“I see what you're getting at, but no. This looks to have been the work of a professional, not some kid mucking around. Let me explain. Nothing smashed up, no fingerprints, expensive valuables left untouched. And because killing the cat was the only thing the intruder did it looks like this was a well-planned crime. Everyone knows a kitchen's going to contain sharp knives so it's my opinion he knew exactly what he wanted to do and knew that bringing a knife of his own to use would just be giving us additional evidence. Even though this is âa family pet' and not a person, it's still the act of a very cruel and ruthless individual.
Anyway, what else was there? Oh yes, because the knife wasn't pulled out, there was none of the usual blood spatter one might expect. The perpetrator probably didn't even get a single droplet on himself. That's backed up by the absence of blood smear on any surfaces. The cat's entire blood loss came from the exit wound and ran straight down the draining board. We checked for fibres in the sink and in the u-bend trap and we've taken samples away for analysis.
That's about it really. Sorry there's not much to go on. Listen, I'll fast-track the initial report, it'll be typed this morning and I'll copy you at Bishopsgate when it gets sent out this afternoon. In the mean time, take my adviceâ¦you need to be very, very careful. Whoever did this is an extremely dangerous man and if I were you I'd be taking every precaution possible.”
“Sure Phil, appreciate your honesty, and I'm totally with you on that last bit. I think this was done to scare the missus and its working.”
*
Ending the brief call, John goes over to knock on the door to the guvnor's office to talk about what's happened to him and Rebecca. His boss listens very carefully, mentally assessing each point as they are explained to him before giving his feedback.
“John, from everything you've just said, it's clear that two crimes have been committed here. Firstly killing the cat and secondly the breaking and entering. You say that forensics have produced nothing so unless you or your girlfriend know who did this I can see this being just another unsolvable crime statistic.
Of course, I'm very sorry about this horrible business, it must be very upsetting. But there's bound to be some simple explanation for what's happened. I'm sure you'll figure it out. Let me give you two pieces of advice. Firstly, start talking a bit more to your other half. Perhaps something's happened and she's not letting on.”
“What sort of things?”
“Something she's keeping secret from you. If the intruder made a copy of Rebecca's keys to get in without any damage then it's most likely someone she knows. It's quite possibly someone at work who is hassling her, maybe some bloke with a grudge. Try talking to the little lady if you want to find out who's behind this. Then again there's a chance it's not about either of you. Perhaps it's just some neighbour who hates your cat and has decided to do something about it.”
“Ok Guv. Any other advice?”
“Whatever you find out, don't take it personally. Just because you're a copper it doesn't mean you can avoid becoming a victim yourself at some point. Crime can happen just as easily to policemen as it does to everyday members of the public.”
After thanking his boss for listening, John goes and finds Bill for a quick chin-wag before leaving to meet-up with the locksmith.
“Alright Billy-boy⦔
“Alright kid. How's Beccs?”
“Yesterday wasn't the best. She's pretty freaked all told. To be honest I'm more than a bit freaked myself. And angry and concerned and confused, all rolled-up into one.”
“Saw you talking to the Guv. Did he have anything useful to say?”
“Wellâ¦he's playing it down. Thinks it's someone Rebecca works with, but Forensic Phil thinks it's a professional criminal with psychotic tendencies. And the missus thinks it can only connect back to Alexis Vasilakos at Kronos. Everyone's got their own theory, so come-on, what's your take on it?”
“It seems to distil down to a few key points. The person didn't have to force his way in and nothing was stolen. The cat being killed was the only thing done but how the cat was killed seems to me to be equally important. No note being left, -well that's got to mean that either you or Rebecca knows what this is about, but from the blank look on your face I reckon it's your girl. And finally, turning the alarm back on and locking the door as he left the flat in my mind is almost like he's saying he can come and go as he pleases. He's saying there's no hiding place. He's saying he's prepared to kill over whatever this about, so it's certainly not about something trivial. This guy's not doing it for laughs either, to do what he did required him to take risks, it shows he's got guts, he's resourceful and yeah, I think Forensic Phil is right, it shows he's a professional. The fact it was the cat that was killed means he's giving either Rebecca another chance.
If it is about Kronos then for pities sake, talk it through with her and understand exactly what's been going on. If she's not careful, there might not be a second warning. Whatever it is she's doing, she needs to back-off immediately.”
“You're right, I'll have that conversation. But it just doesn't sit right. We're the police. It's our duty to ensure laws are upheld and crime is prevented. Telling her to quit investigating criminal activity seems hypocritical to me. You can see the conflict can't you?”
“Figure something out then. If you and Rebecca can determine for sure that Kronos is behind this thing then I'll back you up all the way. We'll get our heads together and find a way to stop Vasilakos. Even smart criminals make mistakes. Even powerful people have weaknesses.”
“Thanks Bill. I really appreciate that, but I'm going to have to dash. Got to get home to see that the locks are changed. See you tomorrow morning.”
“John, give me a call if you need anything, okay?
“Sure thing.”
*
Behind Ark House, linked to the main Severn Sisters Road by a small access lane is a residents parking area. It's comprised of two large concrete quadrangles, around each of which sit rows of lock-up garages. To one side of this area, tucked discretely out of the way sits a small white van. This tired, weathered Ford Escort contains a single male occupant.
In Eddie's opinion these little vans are the perfect vehicles for a bit of casual surveillance. Anonymous and reliable, their boarded-out insides are ideal for storing whatever equipment he needs and their outdated âeveryday look' allows him to blend into London's street scene so well it's as good as being camouflaged.
And being the pro he is, Eddie knows just how to make such vehicles become truly âinvisible'. Having seen this old banger for sale a couple of months ago, he cruised the streets until he found a doppelganger vehicle, another white van, same age, same spec, totally legit and owned by some unsuspecting member of the public. He'd then taken several photos of it, including close-ups of the tax disc and immediately went back to buy this one for cash. He'd then changed its identity by fitting it with copies of the other van's tax disc and licence plates. The finishing touch is to carry a fake EU driving licence named as the registered owner of the legitimate van, but with Eddie's mugshot superimposed on it.
Now that police across the UK are using automatic number plate recognition technology, using an untaxed, unlicensed or stolen car for any length of time is asking for trouble. Attention to detail and knowing all the wrong people is what prevents Eddie Slater from ever getting caught.
Exhausted after only getting an hour's shut-eye, he's struggling to stay awake and focussed. It's now a waiting game until the FSA girl returns and begins yapping away to someone about how upset she is and what she's going to do about it. And when she does, he'll be listening to her every word via an ear-piece connected to the radio receiver. The range of the device he'd planted was just about right for these circumstances. Weak enough not to be picked up by any of those annoying amateur radio people, yet strong enough to carry close to a hundred yards, allowing him to keep a comfortable distance away.
As he sits there waiting, listening only to the silence, he tries to recall the FSA woman's attractive âgirl-next-door' features. Smartly dressed with quite an athletic physique. The smell of her scent as he brushed-up against her. In different circumstances, he could almost imagine being attracted to her.
But Eddie knows who he is and more importantly he knows what he is. Love, lust or compassion are alien concepts. He judges people solely on their potential to become a victim. Snuffing-out some petty criminal is nowhere near as satisfying as taking the life of someone like the Kavanagh girl.
People are mere objects upon which he can inflict pain, upon which he can assert his control. And ultimately people are there for him to destroy. Sitting outside her block of flats he's getting impatient. He longs to see her walk past, hoping that her body-language will betray signs of vulnerability. When he hears her speak via the ear-piece he craves to hear some anxiety and fear in her voice.
He'd correctly predicted that she'd choose to sleep somewhere else the first night after having been broken in to. Wishing to be back in her house as quickly as possible she'd probably try and get the locks changed as soon as possible, maybe even as early as today.
In hindsight, the cat had been the perfect way to warn-off the FSA analyst. Bullets in a jiffy bag were a bit too benign for Eddie. A dead pet was a far better demonstration of his power and threat. She'll be in no state of uncertainty that she can be âgot at' if she continues to transgress. She'd soon figure it to be in her best interest for her to drop this obsessive fascination into Kronos's affairs, just like her wimp of a boss had figured it out.
A sudden noise from within the flat alerts Eddie to the fact that someone has at last entered the apartment.
*
The first thing John checks on is the state of the kitchen. He's relieved to see that the cat, along with the knife and chopping board have indeed been removed. And the forensics team have also cleaned up the draining board and sink pretty well, wiping away all traces of blood. Becc's is going to be jittery enough without needing to see visual reminders of the gore and torture that taken place. Taking a quick look inside the other rooms confirms that the rest of the flat has been left as it should be.
Moving into the living room, John sits down on the sofa by the front window. Whilst waiting for the tradesmen to arrive, he checks his mobile for any missed calls and also checks on the timeâ¦the locksmith is due in something like half an hour, so he phones Rebecca to tell her that it's ok for her to come home again whenever she's ready. Slouching deeper into the cushions he ponders on Bill Warren's advice.
*
John wakes with a start at the sound of heavy footsteps coming up the stairwell just outside. He doesn't wait for the doorbell to ring, rising to his feet he goes straight over to open the front door.
The locksmith is just finishing his cigarette outside in the communal hallway.
“Alright mate? Danny from Secure Locks. You want your locks replacing, yeah?”
With his bag still on the doorstep, the chirpy young man's eyes switch from John to the front door. He examines its locks closely and tests the soundness of the wood before giving his professional opinion. “The latch is a bit naff, but there's nuffink wrong with yer five lever deadlock. You sure you want âem changed?”