Down Among the Dead Men (29 page)

Nicky's talking fast in the car. Total shit coming out of his mouth. Terry's in the back leaning forward and stroking the boy's hair from time to time. Nicky doesn't mind but Noone notices he inclines his head away from Terry's palm more than once. There's an electric crackle in the atmosphere, a sense that this unfolding story is building to a climax. Noone remembers them in the car, the feeling of it all, the summer night sky still holding on to the light, the mostly empty coast road between the dunes, and his own black desires.

By the time they reach Birkdale around ten-thirty, Noone's made up his mind.

Whatever happens, he's going to kill someone tonight. He has to.

'Nice place,' says Noone as they pull up in front of Nicky's house.

He sees the dead end of the street up ahead.

Handy.

There are lights on in the house. It looks warm, inviting. A family home. Noone can feel it building in him, his blood rushing around his body. He'll kill Terry and Nicky. Later, once they've had fun. Set it up like a murder-suicide – Terry, the evil uncle, kills himself in a fit of remorse – and leave the bodies for Nicky's parents to find. If he's careful he can avoid leaving traces of himself. Once Terry's tastes come out the case would be closed.

Yes, it'll work.

Jesus, he's horny. The thought of what he's going to do afterwards gives Noone a desire beyond anything he'd experienced before. Inside, time passes, Noone's anticipation building.

More coke and they're naked in Nicky's room. Noone does some things but, to his surprise after the throbbing arousal, his heart's not in it. This isn't him. And he's conscious of where his hands have been, of leaving prints, DNA, hair.

He leaves Terry and Nicky and heads for the bathroom. Soon, soon. Maybe now.

He's in the bathroom when he senses the change in the house. There are footsteps on the stairs and voices.

'Nicky?' A woman's voice.

'Quiet, Mads. He must be asleep.' The man's voice is slurred.

The parents back home early.

Noone changes his plans.

Fifty-Nine

Frank dresses quickly and quietly in tracksuit and trainers. Even so, it's enough to wake Em, who wanders into the living room just as Frank finishes tying his shoes. She's naked, rubbing sleep from her eyes, and as Frank looks up he catches his breath. This woman is something else.

'What's going on?' Her voice is lazy, unguarded, before she's had a chance to bolt on her street armour. Frank wants to hear more of it and is stricken by the thought that this might be the last time he ever hears her – or sees her – like this. Suddenly his early morning plan feels like the most ridiculous nonsense.

Being Frank, that won't change what he's going to do. Now it's in his head it has to be checked.

He stands and holds her and kisses her softly. He thinks about telling her what he's doing but doesn't. If this is wrong he wants it to be kept quiet. His obsession with all things Noone means Frank has no choice, at least to his way of thinking.

'I can't sleep,' he says. 'I'll go for a run.'

She makes a face. 'Really?' Frank gets the feeling that if Em were more fully awake her cop senses would pick holes in his excuse in an instant. As it is, she looks confused.

'Can you be here when I get back?' says Frank. She hesitates for a split second.

'Please?' It's not a word he uses often. 'I'd like you to be.'

Em nods and wanders back into the bedroom. Frank watches her go.

With an effort he leaves.

It's cold out and he jogs across to the Albert Dock where he'd left the car last night. He turns the key in the ignition and heads
up through the mostly empty city towards the Williamson tunnels. There's light just coming into the sky as Frank pulls up opposite the police station in Smithdown Road. At least the car will be safe. Probably.

Frank lifts a torch from the boot, locks the car and walks to the entrance to the Tunnels Heritage Centre. He turns into the cobbled yard and hesitates. He should be doing this properly but the idea of going back in to persuade Searle to pay for it is too much to contemplate. At least this way he can live with himself.

The door to the centre is locked. Frank lifts a small black case from his pocket and takes out a set of picks. He's very rusty so it takes almost ten minutes to slip the lock.

Frank steps through and closes the door behind him.

He's in.

Sixty

When his flight is called, Noone's thinking about the moment when he heard Nicky's parents in the house.

Until then, he realises now, despite his bravado about killing Nicky and Terry, he could still have gone either way. The moment Paul and Maddy Peters arrive home early, the course of events is set as decisively as someone pushing him off the edge of a cliff.

There is no going back.

He recalls clearly the gut-punch electric shock of hearing voices and movement outside the bathroom, and the thrilling realisation of the unalterable, immutable course of action they have set in motion. He is going to kill. It's been coming all night. It's been coming all his life.

In the tiled bathroom his own shallow breathing seems loud and he forces himself to be calm. It's a clear night outside but Noone could swear he can hear the rumble of a storm building in the distance. His nerve endings are primed and his senses wide open.

He cracks the door and sees two people paused outside Nicky's room. There's a whispered conference going on and then Nicky's parents move away towards their own bedroom.

As soon as they are out of sight, Noone darts across the landing to where his jacket is draped over the banister rail of the stairs. Neither of Nicky's parents seems to have noticed it, perhaps assuming it belongs to their son. Naked, Noone fumbles for the taser, which sticks momentarily in the pocket, caught in a fold of fabric.

Motherfucker! Come on!

There are sounds from the main bedroom. He'll be caught. There'll be a fight.
It won't be as he wants it to be!

Then, just as panic starts to clutch him, the stubborn taser jerks free. His heart pounding, Noone slips silently into Nicky's room.

Neither the boy nor Terry has heard a thing. Both look up as Noone comes in and Terry's got that lazy post-coital grin on his face. Nicky looks fucking gone, his white face coated in a sheen of coke sweat, his carefully tended black hair wild. He's too young to be doing this. Terry's beyond hope but Noone feels a flicker of shame at his part in the teenager's dissolution. He feels unclean and Noone feels a powerful surge of anger towards Terry Peters.

Something of his thoughts must be showing on his face because Terry speaks. 'What's up?' he says. His eyes stray to the taser in Noone's hand.

And then it happens. Behind Noone the door to Nicky's room opens again and Nicky's father steps inside.

As he struggles to take in the scene in front of him, the man physically recoils.

'What?' he manages to say. He looks at Noone and then back towards Terry and Nicky, naked on the bed, his eyes wide, his face stricken.
'Terry?'

Terry tries to say something but he looks like he's going to be sick.

Noone takes two steps forward and tasers Paul Peters in the chest.

The connection isn't perfect, but it's enough to send him jerking onto the floor, confused, disoriented. Convulsing, his eyes lock on Noone and he opens his mouth.

'Dad!' yells Nicky. Noone bends down and tasers him again, this time in the neck. Peters flings his head backwards, hitting the carpet hard. Noone thinks the man might be dead. If he isn't then he won't be waking up any time soon. The jolts he'd taken are extreme.

Now the boy stumbles up from the bed and lurches towards Noone. Although furious, he's slow and uncoordinated and much smaller than the American. Noone steps back and, stiff-armed, lets Nicky run onto the taser. Nicky twitches and gives a short yelp before folding. He drops beside his father.

'For fuck's sake, Ben!' says Terry. He's still sitting in bed, holding the duvet to his chin like a Victorian chambermaid. Noone ignores him. There's no time for him now.

From outside, there's movement. 'Get dressed,' Noone says to Terry and opens the door. To his right, three or four paces from him, is Maddy Peters, naked except for her bra, standing uncertainly in the frame of her bedroom door. She looks at Noone, fear and shock etched on her face, and makes a small sound as, naked too, he walks towards her.

His face is friendly.
Don't worry, this can all be explained
.

'It's OK, Mrs Peters,' he says. 'I'm a friend of Nicky's. I know what this must look like.'

In the bedroom she freezes as Noone comes through the door. Noone notices that she isn't covering up her nakedness. She knows this is bad, he thinks. Him seeing her like this isn't her main concern. At some level, she understands things have moved beyond that.

'Nicky,' she says, her voice quavering. 'Where's Nicky? Paul?' She looks past Noone's shoulder towards the open door. 'Paul!' she calls, her voice just hovering below a shout.

Behind Noone, Terry appears at the bedroom door. 'Terry?' says Maddy. Her voice forms the name as if it's a foreign word. She looks at him, trying to make sense of something that can't make sense. 'What's happened? What's going on?'

'Mads,' says Terry. 'I . . .'

'Nicky's fine,' says Noone, interrupting. He holds the taser behind him and sees Maddy Peters' eyes dart in that direction.

The house is detached but that doesn't mean he wants her screaming.

And then she
is
screaming, and Noone hurls himself at her. He punches her hard, catching her high on the temple. Maddy Peters groans and flops backwards onto the bed.

'No!' yelps Terry Peters. He darts forward but stops without doing anything. 'Christ Almighty, Ben!'

'Shut the fuck up!' Noone puts the taser to Maddy Peters' neck. She twitches spastically and then is still. He keeps the taser applied longer than he needs to, until he's certain that the woman is dead, or close to. Terry Peters drops into a ball and begins moaning, his hands beside his head.

Noone stands panting at the side of the bed. His heart is banging but he can't tell if it's the effort, the adrenaline or the coke. All
three, most likely. After a moment he moves to the bay window and peeks through the curtains.

The street outside shows no signs of life. The houses are detached, sprawling Victorian mansions with solid walls and double-glazed windows. No one's heard a thing.

'Get up,' he tells Terry.

He considers killing the useless bastard but the thought of dealing with all of this at once is beginning to overwhelm him. He feels tired and his mind, quick and sharp in the previous few adrenaline-fuelled minutes, is slowing down. This has all got to be taken care of and, for now, he needs Terry.

Terry is still curled up on the floor. Noone pulls his head up by the hair and slaps him hard across the face.

'Get moving!' He slaps Terry again but now he stands. The two naked men face each other, breathing hard. Terry looks beaten.

Noone gets Terry's clothes from Nicky's bedroom. Nicky and Paul Peters lie on the floor. Nicky has an arm draped over his father's chest. One last embrace.

Noone returns to the main bedroom and guides Terry into his clothes. He leaves his own off. It'll be easier later, when it gets messy.

'We've got to get rid of them all,' says Noone. 'You know that, right?'

Noone doesn't believe in hell but Terry Peters' face is a snapshot of what it would be like.

'I'll take Nicky somewhere.' Peters' voice is thick. 'We can . . .'

'Go,' says Noone. 'Take him somewhere.' He wants Peters out of the house. They can deal with Nicky later. He can deal with Terry later. He has no energy spare to argue with Terry about what should happen with Nicky. A vision of what needs to be done
right now
is coming into focus. Noone feels a little dizzy and sits on the edge of the bed for a few moments, trying to think clearly. It's hard.

'Ben?' says Terry Peters. 'Not Nicky. He's just a kid, man.'

'Didn't stop you fucking him, did it, Terry?'
Jesus
. 'Bit late for a conscience now.'

Noone stands. Someone's got to get this thing done.

'This is what we do.'

In the hallway the keys to the family cars are sitting in a glass bowl on a side table. The two of them get the unconscious boy into the boot of the BMW in the garage. In darkness they open the garage door.

'Get rid of him,' says Noone and Terry drives away.

Once he's gone Noone finds that everything becomes simpler. Hanging on a peg on the garage wall are a pair of overalls. Noone gets an image of the dentist working on household jobs at the weekend. He slips the overalls on and opens the garage door again. After a quick glance up and down the street, Noone walks out to his car and drives it into the garage. Then, staying in the black shadow of the hedge, he goes into the garden and picks up two handfuls of damp earth. Back in the garage he places the dirt on the concrete floor and closes the door. Thanks to a thick bank of vegetation that circles the garden, Noone's confident that no one has observed anything.

In the garage Noone takes the earth from the floor and smears it across both numberplates on his own car. The numbers are just about readable but in dim light, or on CCTV, they won't be.

He feels pleased with himself for thinking this way.

Back in the house, he spends five full minutes wandering around quietly, just getting the lie of the land. It's almost half-past-twelve and the only sound he can hear is the soft ticking of a clock.

He sits down in an armchair and waits another ten minutes, thinking things through. If any of the neighbours had heard anything they'd have shrugged it off by now. He's broken into houses before and quickly discovered that panic is the most dangerous element. You can achieve a lot by simply waiting.

And there's something else. He wants to savour the moment. He was right: tonight had turned out to be the night.

Seeing the log burner he strips off the overalls and stuffs them inside. He lights a fire and watches the overalls burn. Noone turns the lever to cut the oxygen and lets the fire die down.