First and Only (25 page)

Should he wait?

No, the pawns might remove the
witness to a more secure place.

Should he leave?

The chorus would not hear of it.

He must take the witness tonight.

He must take the witness now.

Lucifer crouched in the shadows
but the noise coming from the house next door made it difficult to think, the
sounds of debauchery flooding out into the street. He looked across at the
bikes packed onto the drive and lined up along the kerb. A row of bikes and
then the angel’s car.

A row of bikes and then the
angel’s car.

That might just do it. Yes, that
should be enough.

Lucifer checked to see that the
road was clear. Then, leaving the shadows, he approached the bikes.

*

‘How did you know the latest
victim had been crucified?’ asked DI Hunt. ‘No one knows about that.’

They were back in Psimon’s living
room, only now the mood had changed. Where before there had been apathy and
impatience now there was heightened interest and something that Steve should
have anticipated… suspicion.

‘I’ve already told you,’ he said,
nodding towards Psimon. ‘It’s Psimon. He sees things.’

Still the inspectors hesitated.

‘He experiences the deaths.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked DI
Hunt.

‘He feels what the victims are
feeling,’ said Steve, thinking back to those harrowing attacks. ‘He has done
for sixteen years.’

The inspectors looked back at
Psimon’s huddled form.

‘He’s coming… he’s coming… he’s
coming…’ Psimon continued to whisper over and over.

Steve could see that they were
struggling to accept what he was telling them, who would not. But they no longer
gave him the impression that he was wasting police time.

They turned back to Steve.

‘Where were you on the night of
Wednesday the 4th of March?’ asked DI Regan.

‘
Oh for fuck’s sake
,’
thought Steve putting his head in his hands.

‘Last Wednesday night,’ said DI
Hunt. ‘Where were you?’

‘Flying out to Florida,’ growled
Steve with growing annoyance. ‘With him!’ He stabbed his finger at Psimon as he
got to his feet.

‘There’s no reason to get angry,
Mr Brennus,’ said DI Regan.

‘There is every reason to get angry,
you pompous twat,’ stormed Steve. ‘I called you guys for help; to help you
catch a psychopathic serial killer. And all you can do is…’

Steve reigned in his temper and
turned away from the inspectors.

‘Do you really think I would call
the police if I had anything to do with these murders,’ he said.

‘Wouldn’t be the first time,’
said DI Regan.

Steve rounded on the annoying
police officer but before he could say anything else he was interrupted by the
sound of a car alarm; a very familiar car alarm.

DI Hunt moved to the window.

‘Is that your BMW?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ said Steve crossing
quickly to the window.

DI Hunt nodded down to the car
and the row of bikes that had fallen like dominoes towards it.

‘Aw, shit!’ cursed Steve.

The last bike in the row had fallen
heavily against his car, the handlebars wedged firmly in the BMW’s radiator
grill.

‘I think you’d better move it
before your neighbours hear the alarm,’ said DI Hunt. ‘Unless you want to knock
on their door and ask for their insurance details.’

‘It’s not my sodding fault,’
protested Steve but he knew the inspector was right.

A hoard of drunken bikers might
not be the most rational of folk, especially when their beloved bikes had just
been trashed. He strode towards the stairs but stopped when the two inspectors
made to follow him.

‘Someone needs to stay with
Psimon,’ he said.

‘I’ll stay,’ said DI Regan but
Steve was not happy about that.

‘No offence,’ he said. ‘But this
guy is twice your size. I’d rather you stayed.’

Steve looked at DI Hunt, who was
a heavy-set man a fraction taller than Steve’s six-foot two, a far more
formidable prospect than the diminutive DI Regan.

DI Hunt gave Regan a nod to send
him on his way and Steve ran down the stairs.

Back in Psimon’s living room DI
Hunt looked down through the large bay window, a mobile phone held to his ear.

‘Control, this is DI Hunt, at
seventy-four, Freshfield Road, Altrincham.’

There was a pause.

‘Do you have any uniforms in the
area? I’ve got a feeling we’re going to need them.’

Another pause.

‘Good,’ said DI Hunt. ‘Quick as
you can, control.’

He hung up.

*

Lucifer watched as the angel
appeared with one of the pawns. That would do. That left just one of the pawns
between him and the witness. It was the bigger one of the two, although still
far smaller than he, and besides, he held the lightning in his fist.

*

Steve killed the alarm while he
was still on the driveway and after the briefest examination of the damage to
his car he went straight for the driver’s door. The radiator grill was smashed
but the bike should pull free easily enough. He climbed into the car but as he
did so the sound of music and raucous laughter from the house next-door grew
suddenly louder as the front door opened. One of the revellers stumbled
outside, fumbling with his flies and heading towards a row of bushes. Steve
started the car and put it into reverse.

*

Lucifer moved quickly round to
the rear of the house; to the fire escape that climbed up the back of the
building. He took the metal steps three at a time until he stood at the fire
exit door. He tried his crowbar between the door and the frame but the lock was
solid. He would need to give it some force; the glass would probably break. It
could not be helped. Besides, the racket from the bacchanals next door might be
enough to cover the sound.

Lucifer set the point of his
crowbar and leaned his weight against it. The door resisted, he gave it a
wrench. There was the sound of breaking glass and Lucifer passed within.

*

Standing on the pavement, DI
Regan winced at the unpleasant sound of screeching metal as the bike was
dragged for several feet before coming free.

‘What the fuck is going on here?’
cried a slurred voice from the driveway next-door.

DI Regan took out his ID and went
to intercept the drunken biker who seemed to be sobering up rapidly as he
surveyed the row of toppled bikes. He turned back to the house and before DI
Regan could stop him he had called out in a night-splitting shout.

‘Hey guys… someone’s been fucking
with the bikes.’

Bodies appeared in the doorway,
faces peered out from windows and as Steve got out of the car the din of heavy
metal music ceased.

*

DI Hunt turned away from the
window.

Was that the sound of glass
breaking?

He started to cross the room,
drawing level with Psimon who was still sitting hunched in the chair.

A spasm of trepidation gripped
the inspector’s bowels, a sudden feeling of fear not helped by Psimon’s
chanting…

‘He’s coming… he’s coming… he’s
coming…’

He stared at the doorway,
straining for any further sounds, sounds of an intruder.

Nothing.

Still he had better take a look,
just in case.

‘I’m just going to…’ he turned
back to Psimon but Psimon was no longer in his chair.

DI Hunt jumped with fright.
Psimon was standing beside him.

‘Jesus,’ said DI Hunt. ‘You
frightened the shit out of me.’

But Psimon did not respond. He
was looking straight through the inspector to the gaping doorway of his living
room. Psimon had stopped his chanting but DI Hunt found the silence even more
unnerving. Then Psimon spoke again.

‘He’s here.’

DI Hunt spun round as a huge
shape loomed like a demon in the doorway. He reached for his mobile phone,
turned to look for a weapon, another exit, anything…

Too late.

The vast demon ducked into the
room, the black sheen of a pistol held level at his waist.

DI Hunt had chance for a single
word…

‘Police,’ he gasped as the
lightening struck him down.

*

Everything happened so quickly.

Steve got out of the car and
started back towards the house. He did not want to leave Psimon for a moment
longer than was necessary. But the bikers had different ideas. The one who had
raised the alarm walked round DI Regan to confront Steve just as seven or eight
more came striding down the drive.

‘What the hell!’ came the common
response when they saw their bikes sprawling across the road.

‘Let’s just stay calm,’ said DI
Regan but his voice lacked any real conviction.

The bikers began to converge on
Steve and a police car appeared at the end of the road, its flashing blue
lights illuminating the trees as it came quickly towards them.

‘Where the fuck do you think
you’re going?’ asked the first biker stepping directly in front of Steve. ‘

‘Back inside,’ said Steve making
an attempt to move past the biker but the biker would not let him pass.

The biker grabbed his arm and
Steve punched him squarely on the nose. He slumped to his knees as the police
car pulled up beside the line of fallen bikes. Steve braced himself as the rest
of the bikers started towards him. DI Regan did his best to slow the advancing
bikers but only succeeded in tackling one of them.

‘It’s him from yesterday,’ the
man said as two uniformed officers leapt out of the police car and rushed to
intervene. ‘The one with the smart mouth.’

A second police car turned into
the road.

Fists, feet and angry faces
lunged at Steve. He backed away parrying anything that came too close. All the
while trying to back away towards the house.

‘You trashed our bikes,’ one of
the bikers said.

‘If I’d hit them they would have
fallen the other way, brainiac,’ said Steve.

The uniformed policemen were
trying to get between Steve and the angry bikers. The adrenaline was rising;
this was about to descend into a full-scale scrap. One of the bikers succeeded
in grabbing hold of Steve. Steve grabbed the man’s hand, twisted his wrist and
thrust him down to the floor.

‘That’s enough,’ said an
authoritative voice and Steve found himself being restrained by one of the new
policemen who had just arrived on the scene.

Chaos reigned, the tension
mounted.

Steve had to get back to Psimon.

*

Lying on the floor, DI Hunt peered
out through the pain in his skull. His entire body ached and he could barely
move. His muscles kept twitching with uncontrollable spasms and his heart was
racing fit to burst. He turned on his side, peering around the room. But there
was no one there; not the man called Psimon nor the demon in the doorway. He
fumbled for his mobile phone but could not extricate it from the folds of his
jacket. He tried to call out but he could manage little more than a harsh
whisper.

Regan was out front with the man,
Steve Brennus. He had to warn them, he had to let them know. But the smallest
movement was painful and he could feel that he was about to faint. He looked
around the floor for some way of alerting them. As his vision started to fade
his eyes settled on a mug of tea sitting on the floor beside a nearby seat.

DI Hunt reached out towards it.
His trembling fist closed around it, the warm liquid sloshing over his hand.
Then with one last desperate act he launched it towards the window.

*

The policeman’s forearm was
across his throat and Steve’s right arm was twisted up behind his back. One of
the bikers took advantage of Steve’s predicament and punched him in the face.
Steve kicked the biker in the groin and the man went down with a grunt.

Scuffles broke out all along the
pavement as the uniformed police officers struggled to control the escalating
violence. More bikers were emerging from the house and Steve could hear the
sound of approaching police sirens as additional units were called in to attend
the scene.

Then the sudden sound of breaking
glass made everyone look up. Something had smashed into the bay window of
Psimon’s flat. Steve watched as a large shard of glass fell out of the frame
and shattered noisily on the driveway.

‘Psimon!’

‘Just calm down,’ said the
policeman holding Steve.

But there was no time for a
rational explanation. Steve slammed his head back into the officer’s face and
as the man relaxed his grip Steve broke away and sprinted up the drive.

DI Regan followed in his wake.

*

Lucifer was elated.

It had been easier than expected.
The pawn had dropped into a twitching heap and the witness did not even
struggle. He looked too frightened to call out, too frightened to move, too
frightened to even think. He just stood there, staring at the doorway as if he
had been expecting him.

Lucifer had stepped up to him and
felled him with a slap, a massive slap with his massive hand. Then he had tied
the witness, and gagged the witness, and slung him over his shoulder. He seemed
to weigh nothing at all as Lucifer carried him down the fire escape and off
into the night.

The chorus was singing in
anticipation of a new confession.

The night’s devotions had only
just begun.

*

Steve charged up the stairs to
Psimon’s flat and turned in to the living room. DI Hunt was lying unconscious
on the floor, two thin wires trailing from his chest.

Steve looked up at Psimon’s
chair.

But the chair was empty.

Psimon was gone.

Chapter 29

Steve raced through to the back of the house, to the
door at the head of the fire escape. The door hung open, the frame splintered,
the glass broken. He darted through and stood at the top of the fire escape,
staring down into the dark expanse of the garden.