The FACEBOOK KILLER: Part 2 (11 page)

Albert had reported the man overboard to be from the other side of the ship and now the propellers were sucking us in as she turned. It was pitch black. The apples were silent. Nowhere to be seen. No photograph, no cash, just a huge vortex of water pulling at us. Trying to drag us under the ship. Albert’s clown trousers were keeping us afloat but the suction of the propellers was overpowering. Albert through the life ring in the opposite direction to where he had last seen the apples. I have to admit at this point I could see the end coming. I had failed. I closed my eyes and thought about Anna and Laura. “Happy birthday little one. Don’t blow the candles out yet. Wait for me. I’m coming.” My tears were soon washed away by another crashing wave.

I didn’t even know that Albert had taken them, but thank god he had. I hadn’t noticed them in the jacket pockets. He had never been my favourite, Albert that is, but as we were tossed around in the darkness, as each wave battered us against that ship, I felt amazingly proud of him. The clunk of metal on metal, the feeling of security as the magnets held firmly to the hull and the relief that we hadn’t managed to book a better cabin, after all they would probably have modern slimline speakers. I thanked god for the world’s biggest stereo speakers.

The Florida Post (Online Edition)

Two Crew Members Feared Lost At Sea: British Pensioner Hailed A Hero By Authorities.

The search for two crewmembers missing from the Carnival Glory cruise ship has been abandoned, the Mexican Coastguard announced today. The rescue mission involved both US and Mexican coastguard helicopters 70 nautical miles off the island of Cozumel in the Gulf of Mexico. A nearby cruise liner, Royal Caribbean’s “Oasis Of The Seas”, diverted its course to assist in the search. The unnamed crewmembers are believed to have fallen overboard shortly before midnight yesterday.

A spokesman for the Mexican Authorities praised the valiant efforts of a 71-year-old passenger from England who witnessed the event.

“
An elderly passenger upon the Carnival Glory jumped overboard with a life ring in an attempt to save the lives of the two crewmembers. He was, however, unsuccessful. The gentleman was taken by helicopter to Mexico City Municipal Hospital, from where he was later discharged and has now returned to the United Kingdom.

The Police Authority say that there are no suspicious circumstances. A spokesperson for Carnival told The Post that they are trying to trace the next of kin and working closely with fellow crewmembers who have been traumatised by the incident.

And so the tree was bare. The harvest complete. Only one thing remained. The lumberjack named Death.

Chapter 19.

The Chief Purser had accompanied Albert in the helicopter. He brought our laptop and the few clothes that had remained in the cabin. He had also cashed out the ship’s card and gave him the remaining cash. Albert was upset to hear that I Made, his cabin steward, was about to be fired for failing to ensure that there was a life jacket in the cabin. So he handed back $200,000 for I Made and his family.

I hated London. I despised everything it had become; yet it felt good to be back. We had escaped the death penalty. Heathrow airport seemed like the light at the end of the tunnel.

As we left the aircraft, Abdul Hamid awoke to the knocking on his hotel room door. As the customs officer handed us back the laptop, Hamid received a package of his own. By the time Serge arrived to collect us, Hamid had thrown up three times. His fiancée’s severed hand had arrived. Their entwined initials slightly obscured by the decaying flesh.

*

“
How is his mother?” Albert asked Serge.

“
Whose mother?” He replied.

“
How many mothers do you have kidnapped each week?”

“
Oh, that journalist. She is good.”

“
You haven’t harmed her have you?”

Serge laughed from the depth of his belly. “My friend. We are not all animals. She is probably having...how do you call it...the times of her life.”

Albert glanced suspiciously at the still-chuckling Serge. “How do you mean?”

“
My friend, you pay us thirty thousand pounds for to make this kidnap. We see the woman. She is old. We have a meeting. We decide that we can tie her up like in the movies and make ten years in prison if we are caught or we can take her for a holiday.”

“
What are you trying to tell me?”

“
The old woman is in Greece. One of my cousins owns a villa there on a little island with no phones. He tell her that she won some competition or something. One month holiday. No expenses,” Serge turned to look at Albert, “My friend. We are not so stupid.”

We stopped by the lock up to check on Devoy. The doctor had done an excellent job; fed and watered as per instructions. Albert told him that it would only be another day or so. The UV lamps were all working perfectly and the freezers were at a constant minus five. Fuck it felt good to be home.

Albert drove the camper van back to the Epping Forest campsite. After several drinks in the bar we headed back through the woods to Laputa. We slept like babies that night.

*

“
Matthew Gerradine speaking.”

“
Is that with one R or two?”

“
Mr. Madison?”

“
Are your police friends still hanging around?”

“
No, I have relinquished all affiliation.”

“
Good boy. Now listen carefully. Your mother has not been hurt...yet, but it will only take one phone call, do you understand?”

“
Yes.”

“
Are you sure?”

“
Yes.”

“
So tell me Mr. Gerradine, WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU PLAYING AT?”

“
It was Pearson, the Assistant Chief Constable. He knows it’s you. He wanted me to get some evidence. He’s hell bent on discrediting the investigation.”

“
How close is he?”

“
What do you mean?”

“
Does he have any evidence?”

“
Nothing. He even lost track of Abdul Hamid. We know he was in Scotland but something seems to have spooked him and he fled.”

“
Don’t worry about that little bastard. I know exactly where he is. Tell me Matthew, you don’t mind if I call you Matthew, do you?”

“
Go right ahead Mr. Madison, Sir.”

“
So Matthew tell me. Do you think what we have been doing is wrong?”

Silence.

“
Hello? I asked you a question Matthew.”

“
How many?”

“
How many what?”

“
How many have you killed?”

“
Oh fuck knows? Maybe fourteen or fifteen.”

Silence.

“
And how many more?”

“
Tell me more about this character Pearson. Why has he got it in for me.”

“
No, no, it’s nothing personal Mr. Madison, he wants to make his boss out to be incompetent so he can step into his shoes.”

“
Nothing personal. Nothing fucking personal? Matthew. I am going to ask you a question and I want you to picture your mother when I ask it. Picture her bound and gagged in a rat-infested cellar somewhere, crying, begging for her life. Can you see her?”

“
Yes. Yes I can see her.”

“
Now tell me truthfully Matthew, is Pearson planning to offer a reward for me?”

A long pause, then “Yes.”

Meddling pig bastard. No one was going to stop us now. We were too close.

“
Is he corruptible?”

“
What? You mean money?”

“
Of course I mean money.”

“
I suppose you could try, but I think it’s more about power.”

“
I’ll need an address.”

“
No, no, I can’t.”

“
Who is more important to you Matthew? Your mother or your police friend.”

Silence.

“
54 Dennison Park Road, Hampstead.”

“
Good boy.”

Click.

*

Albert let himself in with the Sputnik lock-pick. The house was obviously a reflection of its owner’s mind. Everything was spick and span, verging on the compulsive. It was a shrine to William J. Pearson’s police career. The mantelpiece and walls were adorned with certificates, awards and photographs. This was obviously the sort of man who couldn’t wash off the uniform.

Albert had fastened the CS canisters to the back of the lounge door. He had attached the string to a handle on the sideboard, which would ensure they went off as soon as Pearson opened the door. Albert sat on an old rocking chair in the corner, wearing his gas mask, his bag of tricks resting at his feet.

It was the hiss of the gas that woke him up. Pearson was staggering around in the mist, choking, trying to wipe his eyes. Then he fell.

We were shocked at how quickly the armed response units turned up. They had the street sealed off within seconds of their arrival. There were four police cars at first, soon joined by an unmarked van, the six police marksmen fanned out behind the cars. Then a deathly silence ensued. The standoff had begun. The six red pinpricks of laser light reflected off Albert’s gas mask. The only thing that stood between those rounds of ammunition and that gas mask was the double-glazing in Pearson’s lounge window.

Albert could see the officer in charge; he was sitting in the driver’s seat of the van, his voice echoed down the street courtesy of the P.A. system.

“
Armed police. Lower your weapon and raise your hands in the air.”

Silence. The echo fizzled out.

“
I repeat. You are surrounded by armed police officers. We need you to put the gun down and raise your hands above your head.”

Silence.

The marksmen took cover as the shotgun broke through the glass.

“
Hold you fire,” the officer shouted to his men.

Another police car arrived. Two more lasers joined the dance on Albert’s gas mask.

He smashed another pane of glass with the shotgun. More sirens could be heard in the distance. Two officers were pushing the small crowd further back into the park across the street.

“
My name is Sergeant Jim Morris. I am unarmed. I want to approach the building.”

Another pane of glass shattered.

“
We know who you are and I am sure we can settle this peacefully.”

Not that peacefully, thought Albert, as he fired the first shotgun round towards the van. The windscreen exploded. There wasn’t any point in prolonged negotiations. The time had come. Death by cop. An ironic ending that made Albert chuckle. He could hear the marksmen shouting to each other. “Clear head shot.” “Roger.” “Clear chest.” “Hold.”

“
Sir,” the voice boomed again, “this is your last chance. Throw the weapon outside and raise your arms above your head.”

The gas mask defiantly shook from left to right. Albert raised the shotgun and aimed it at the nearest police car. As the trigger slowly pulled back, the red dots of light became holes. Five bullets to the head, one to the neck and two to the heart. He had no chance.

As the police smashed in the front door, they didn’t notice Albert saunter off across the park, the remote control would later be found in the lake. Forensic studies of the shotgun super glued to Pearson’s hands wouldn’t reveal anything, neither the duct tape over his mouth and strapping his legs to the stool, nor the nails holding his feet to the floorboards. The electronic body brace could probably be traced but it would take months. No, William J. Pearson’s career had just ended.

Chapter 20.

The time was fast approaching. I was finding it hard to sleep in Laputa. Maybe there were too many spirits. Maybe, somewhere deep down, I had feelings of guilt. Who knows? I knew one thing though; I needed closure. This had to be finished, and soon. Everything was in place. I just needed to say the word. Yet something was holding me back. I can’t describe it. It’s like when you are watching a great film and you don’t want it to end. The characters have become your friends. I had lost Norman and Kalif but Albert and I had become best mates. We didn’t want
this
film to end. But the rage would have the casting vote on that.

The money was starting to get low and we still had to pay Serge’s debt. Yes, the time had come. A natural conclusion of events. The worst part was that even after a year I still didn’t know who to blame, the man from New York the Tube strike, the jury or Hamid? Maybe it was all of them? Maybe it was me? I knew that I would eventually face my day of judgement, but that didn’t worry me, I would have accomplished my goal and by fuck, it felt good!

*

I had paid Serge an extra £35,000 to put two more men on Abdul Hamid. The last thing I wanted was to lose him now. He had fled Glasgow by train and was now holed up in Bradford. Apparently renting a bedsit for cash. Serge assured me he could be taken at any time, but I needed a few more days to prepare things.