Stuart MacBride - A Dark So Deadly

‘Oh, no, no, no. All I’m asking is that you sit down and watch my video with me. Me and the Boy Who Got Away, watching .’

‘OK, that’s it, I’m going to kill him.’

Shannon tightened his grip. Leaned in close and whispered into Callum’s ear. ‘He puts on the video, you do him for possession of indecent images of children, or whatever they’re calling it these days. It’s not an illegal search, because he’s shown you it voluntarily.’

‘Well, my once-pretty-little-blond-haired-boy?’

Grab the greasy fat slug by the throat and squeeze. Dig both thumbs into his windpipe and squeeze till his eyes bulge and his face goes purple. Squeeze till he judders and gurgles and dies.

And never find out what happened.

Callum uncurled his fists. Forced it all back down again. ‘Go on then.’

Pike clapped his hands. ‘Oh how jolly!’ He knelt in front of the video player and ejected Simon Cowell. Replaced him with a tape in a grey cassette. Collapsed back in his seat and grinned. ‘You see, I was so angry when those ruffians burst into the toilets and spoiled everything I was going to slash their tyres. Serve them right.’ He dug a remote control out from between his seat cushion and the arm of the chair. Pointed it at the TV and pressed play. ‘But when I got out, another pretty little blond boy was right there . I thought it was you for a moment, but he was wearing a different T-shirt.’

A wall of flickering pink filled the screen.

‘So I thought, well, today’s going to end delightfully after all. Look what the baby Jesus has sent me.’

Callum turned his face away from the TV. Tried not to listen to the muffled sobs and pleas.

‘“But,” said I to myself, “where are this delicious little offering’s parents?” Here’s a lovely boy, on his own, in a car park. Surely Mummy and Daddy can’t be far away.’

Shannon had his teeth bared, a look of utter disgust slithering its way across his face.

‘And then I saw them. Mummy and Daddy. And... Have you ever seen a wildlife programme when a lion meets the hyenas? Here’s this magnificent apex predator, with his beautiful blond mane, king of all he surveys, and there’s the hyenas. Dirty, squat, and evil. They’re not noble like he is, but there’s more of them than there are of him so they can chase him off and steal his prey.’

The Slug pouted, eyes fixed on the screen. ‘I always thought I was the lion. The noble apex predator. But standing in the car park — watching him beat that man and woman with an iron bar, bind them with duct tape, and bundle them into the boot of his beautiful white Range Rover — I realised I was never the lion. I was the hyena. And there was only one of me.’

Callum cleared his throat. ‘Who was he?’

‘So I hid in the shadows and watched him take his prey. I watched him scoop up the pretty little blond boy, lower him gently onto the back seat, ruffle his hair, and strap him in. Then I watched the Lion drive away.’

‘Who — was — he?’

A dark, slithery smile. ‘Oh, you’d know him if you saw him. He’s famous .’ Pike leaned forward, trembling, the images on screen reflected in his bloodshot eyes. ‘Isn’t it magnificent?’

‘I want a sodding name!’

‘Shut up. Don’t spoil it. This is the best bit.’

Callum grabbed the TV, wrenched it off its stand, and hurled it to the filthy floor. The cathode ray tube popped and crackled, sparks flickered inside the casing, smoke curled up through the vents in the back.

Shannon just stared at him.

‘Gareth Pike, I’m arresting you for violation of Section Fifty-Two-A of the Civic Government Scotland Act, as I believe you to be in possession of indecent images of children. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention something that you later rely on in court.’

Pike grinned. ‘ Finally . I thought you’d never ask.’

‘Interview recommenced at twenty-three fifteen.’ Callum held up the evidence bag. ‘I am now showing Mr Pike “Exhibit A”. Do you recognise this video cassette, Gareth?’

Sitting on the other side of the interview room table, Pike smiled his slug-like smile. ‘Of course I do. It’s the video I bought from a lovely man in Doncaster, who, I’m afraid, shall have to remain nameless.’ Pike raised a hand. ‘Oh, I know, I know, but honour among pederasts, Detective Constable. I’d hate to disappoint the brethren of my... shall we say distinctive congregation.’

Interview Room Two stank of fresh paint, the walls, door, and skirting remarkably clean and blemish free. Even the carpet tiles looked new. Bright-white vertical blinds shut out the night, swaying above the pinging radiator. All very clean and hygienic. Which somehow made the stench rolling off Pike all the more cloying.

The uniformed PC sitting next to Callum had her chair pushed as far back as it would go, putting as much distance as possible between herself and the man opposite. She had the same look of revulsion on her face as Shannon had, back at the flat. As if she’d trodden on something she couldn’t wipe off. She wouldn’t even rest her notebook on the same table Pike leaned on, holding it in her lap instead as she wrote down everything he said.

Just the three of them, steeping in the smell of fresh paint and stale BO.

Callum stuck the evidence bag in front of him, the dirty cast on his right hand clunking against the clean Formica tabletop. ‘And you are aware of the contents of this video cassette, Gareth?’

‘Oh indeed I am. Very much so.’ Pike leaned forward. ‘I’ve watched it many, many times. My favourite bit has worn almost through, but that just adds to the mystique, don’t you think? The mind’s eye is so much more powerful than reality.’ He looked up, stretching out his chins, staring straight into the camera mounted in the corner. ‘It’s a pornographic video involving two pretty young blond boys and one very lucky man.’

Callum stared at him. ‘Why?’

‘Oh, because who doesn’t dream of having two—’

‘No, Gareth: why did you show us the video? Why didn’t you hide it? Why did you choose not to have a solicitor present? Why aren’t you sitting there saying, “no comment” to everything?’

He curled his shoulders forward, hunching over the table. ‘You’ve seen my home, Detective Constable, would you want to live there? I miss my lovely cell, with its regular meals and its working radiator. I miss my friends. Out here, if I talk to someone with... similar interests, I’m breaking the law, but inside? Ah, the joy of discussing my passions and past triumphs without being spat at!’ He winked at the PC. ‘How I long to never see another face contorted in ignorance like yours, young lady.’

She glared back, but kept her mouth shut. Wrote it all down instead.

‘You want to go back to prison?’

‘Who wouldn’t? Out here I get excrement posted through my letterbox; in there I can spend time with kindred souls and live in peace. Unmolested.’ He spread his chubby fingers wide. ‘Perhaps I could finally work on my novel?’

‘So you’re confessing to the charges.’

‘It’s about a little boy whose wicked stepfather beats him every night and locks him in the attic. But the stepfather doesn’t know that there’s a portal to a magical world up there, hidden in an old wooden chest from the First World War. And the little boy goes on adventures with his best friends — a talking cat and a world-weary teddy bear — to save Wunderwelt from the Darkening armies of King Dunkelheit.’

‘Are you confessing to the charges , Mr Pike?’