My Heart Belongs To You: A Psycho Thriller (10 page)

‘Stephanie
,
I need you to read through all of these files to see if you can find any kind of link between the people mentioned in them, any common factor, any association that might help us
,
but…’  Hanson hesitated
,
his face reflecting an inner struggle, ‘
t
here
are photos in these files, facts that are not nice
, you see… the man who is doing these things is sick and…’  Hanson struggled to find the words that would prepare her for the horrors
that
he knew would be contained within those pages, sealed within photos that
had
captured the terror inflicted on six innocent couples.

‘I understand
,
John
,
’ whispered Stephanie
,
giving
John a quick three seconds of
eye contact.  ‘If it’s going to help Tom
,
then I… I don’t mind.’

John
picked up the first of the files marked
2007, led her over to the rest area,
and sat her down
.
Despite what his sister had said
,
he was concerned
.
She
was fragile and he hated putting her into this position
,
but he was convinced she could bring a dimension to their hunt that could be invaluable.
Hanson patted her knee and
moved
back to the large centre
worktable
.

‘Alright peop
le
,
this is how it is going to
go
.
W
e are not goin
g
to
find this creep by knocking on doors or searching down dark alleys.  We are going to bring this man out from under his stone by the work done here in this office.’  Hanson slapped his hand onto the surface of the table to emphasise the point.  ‘I will be on point on the streets following any leads you can uncover, plus any of my own, so you need to dig deep and feed me Intel
,
people.’

‘John’s right
,
’ backed up Donald, ‘
We
have to sift every clue, every scrap of information we have on this maniac.’

‘Yeah well
,
they’re pretty thin on the ground
,
’ added
Turner
, ‘I’ve been chasing this shadow for six years
.
’

‘Ju
st takes one break
,
’ snapped Hanson
.

Turner
blushed
,
not
sure,
if that was a swipe at his own efforts at producing none.  Hanson read the reaction, ‘No one is pointing fingers
,
Richard
,
’ he paused allowing the statement to sink in, ‘
We
need to start from ground zero, right here, right now is day one, hour
one of our investigation.’  Hanson
strode briskly over to where a large
rectangular double
-
faced
digital clock hung on the wall
.
One
half was the actual time
,
the other half was for counting down f
rom a set number of hours.  It
had
been used
many times
during missions that were tight on time
. He pulled back his sleeve to check his watch with the numbers also counting down.  Quickly setting the timer in sync to his watch, he set it on its downward count.  ‘In less than thirty two hours
,
this h
unt will
be over
, in one way or another. B
ut I shit you not
,
when I say that I will do anything in my power, anything,’ he repeated and catching each set of eyes as he hesitated, ‘to extend Tom and Karen’
s lives beyond thirty two hours
.
’

The room fell silent.  ‘Now hustle
,
Jane
.
Get
Blue Eagle on video link
,
please.’

‘On it
,
John
,
’ snapped Jane
,
moving to a keyboard below the big screen TV where Blue Eagle would appear.

‘When you’ve done
that
,
get on the net and pull up every newspaper article
,
and
every book,
ever
written on Cupid
.’

‘You got it
,
’ she replied
,
without taking her eyes from the keyboard she was working
,
as she attempted to contact Blue Eagle.

‘Richard
,
I want you to get together with Donald and start working through the police files, check, check and re-check.’

Stephanie walked to the table and placed down the file marked Cupid 2006
, picked up the one marked 2007,
and then
walked back to the coffee table.

Richard
Turner
frowned as he followed her travel.  ‘Thought she was going to read these files
,
’ he questioned picking up the 2006 file.

‘She is
,
’ replied John, ‘
She’s
read that one.’

Turner
’s lop sided grin and snort questioned that, ‘
No
… no way, I mean…’

Donald removed his jacket and slipped it around a stool, ‘
Come
on
,
Richard, give me a real quick précis of whatever you do have on this head case.’

Turner
walked to Donald’s side of the large centre table
,
but not before he had picked up the 2006 file
,
and looked between it and Stephanie several times
,
his features a mix of disbelief and awe.

‘
Hey people, give me the heads up
,
’
came a booming voice from the surround sound system linked to the flat screen TV.  All heads turned to see a black silhouette on the screen.  Only John Hanson knew the identity of Blue Eagle.  ‘Good of you to join the party
,
Sir
,
’ responded John.

‘
Would have been earlier
,
but I had to go to Tesco’s, lads were out of tea bags
.’

Turner
was about to say something
,
but a fleeting glance from Hanson killed the comment.

Blue Eagle moved swiftly on, ‘
T
ime
scale
,
John?
’
He used a
minimum of words
in
recognition of the situation.

Hanson checked digital display next to the wall clock, ‘
Thirty
one hours
,
thirty minutes
,
Sir.’

‘
Affirmative
,
John.  Send through relevant Intel
that
you presently have and anything you think I need to be aware of.  Short of a national emergency
,
I’m available for your input
at any time
.  Keep me in the loop
,
guys
.’  The screen went blank.

Donald and Richard put their heads back together.  Jane began gathering newspaper reports and available books.  Stephanie walked
with her
head down and placed the 2007 file on the centre table for the two men. 
Turner
’s jaw dropped o
pen as he watched her walk away with the 2008 file.

John smiled as he watched h
er settle back down with the
file
.
God
,
how he loved her.  Turning to the heavy steel door
,
the smile faded
,
as he punched in a number on the keypad that only he and Tom knew.  Stepping into the void beyond
,
an automatic sensor put on the lights on the
high-reinforced
roof above.  It needed to be strong
,
as did the walls and the floor
,
since
the items contained within could service a small war
.
As
always,
the smell of steel and gun oil set his heart racing
.  Moving quickly to a metal locker
,
he opened the door and pulled out a set of clothes
that
he used when in the field.  He quickly stripped to boxers and
began
putting on the items from the locker
.
A
lightweight strap harness with a soft leather sheaf that sat snuggly between his shoulder blades followed a black well-fitting sweatshirt
.  The sheaf contained a Venom Testudo Knife
,
with a forprene handle and an 18 centimetre serrated
double-edged
blade.  The knife and the
bespoke
sheaf weighed in at around 350 grams and sat snuggly between his shoulder blades. 
A lightweight black over shirt followed this
.  A second light strap harness provided an under arm holster for a
handgun
.  Next
came,
slim fitting black trousers that had a slightly elasticated quality
and no flapping materials to catch anywhere
,
which was
useful when using high kicks in combat situations.  On the right leg
,
at thigh height was a slim pocket
,
inside which he slipped a telescopic baton
,
held in place by a
Velcro
flap. 
Once removed, it took one
flick and it extended to
twenty-one
inches of hardened steel.  Black socks and rubber
-
soled Magnum shoes followed
,
with the final item being a bomber type jack
et that had multiple pockets with
elasticated cuffs.  Each item was checked
,
to assure they were
secure
.
Laces
were done up tight,
and
zips and flaps on pockets closed.  Amongst those
pockets,
John carried various other items that remained in place at all times
, ready for use, waiting for the opportunity to perform their function
.  In one
,
there were nylon wrist ties, in another
,
an emergency sti
tch kit for stitching wounds,
and
in another
,
a set of nylon
knuckle-dusters
for inflicting
them;
it was
the yin
g
and the yang of his trade.  Hanson’s motto was ‘better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it.’

Moving through the
storeroom,
Hanson began selecting
more
items from various shelves and cabinets.  Once satisfied, he placed them onto a small flat surface an
d did a quick check of each one
.  Lifting his right foot onto a
stool,
he pulled up
his
trouser leg and placed the ankle strap, containing a cold steel Braveheart boot knife with a
four-inch
double blade, around his ankle.  Special
Velcro
straps
that
John had fitted insured a secure fit if he had to jog or
flat out
run.  A small black
zippered
bag
,
around eight centimet
r
es long, four centimet
r
es wide and two deep, contained a set of picks and needles that Hanson could use to pick any number of locks.

Next,
he
snapped a full clip containing eight rounds into his Sig Sauer P230
handgun
.  At a little over 16 oz in weight and just over 6 inches
long,
it was an easy to conceal weapon.  Pulling down the
zipper
on his jacket
,
he slipped the
handgun
into the underarm holster
, then
he
pulled the
zipper
back up to conceal it.