Steven Dunne - The Reaper

He continued to wander round, stopping at his overcoat to pick out Noble’s mobile. He turned it on. There were no messages so he returned it to the coat. The music played on.

Brook arrived at one of the bookshelves and examined its contents. A book caught his eye- Empathic Depths of the Mind. He browsed through it.

‘Keep it,’ said Sorenson over Brook’s shoulder. ‘A gift. You’re going to need it.’ He returned to his armchair and arranged the blankets around his legs.

Brook made a show of replacing the book but Sorenson had closed his eyes. Brook stepped back to his chair and sat down.

‘One thing Vicky didn’t explain was why she latched onto me.’ Sorenson didn’t respond so Brook pressed on. ‘She said she saw me on the news, at the Wallis Murders press conference, but if she had no idea you were involved why would she even be interested in The Reaper?’

‘Vicky thinks he’s still alive.’

‘Who?’

‘Her father. She’s terrified of him, of the memory of him. She thinks he’s The Reaper.’

‘But she knew her father was dead.’

‘Not at first. She was very young. I couldn’t tell her. Not after killing him. I said he went away.’

‘But she’s not young any more.’

‘I know. When she was old enough to understand we told her, Sonja and I. Said he was killed by a burglar. But it was too late. It had taken root. Her father was a monster-a beast, preying on his family. Do you see? Families. That’s how she connected to The Reaper. She fears the monster coming in the night, killing without mercy, destroying families then melting into the darkness. And to confront those fears she has to seek him out, to find him. It’s not rational, I know. But our nightmares rarely are.’

Brook nodded. ‘And your brother?’

No response. Finally Sorenson’s eyelids parted slightly. Already he looked like a corpse. He opened his eyes and contemplated Brook.

‘Sonja was home for the weekend. She’d been in care for a year, driven out of her mind by Steffi’s cruelty. But he wouldn’t allow her proper treatment. I’m sure he wanted her to go mad in that glorified country club he put her in, just to save himself the bother of dealing with her. He never visited. I did-without his knowledge. And that’s when she told me about Vicky. That’s when I first heard of the Dentist Game. She couldn’t be absolutely sure. We’re talking about a little girl. Her own father. But I was sure. I knew what he was like.

‘One day, I waited for Steffi to go out and called round to see Vicky and Petr. I hadn’t seen much of them that year. Steffi had hired a housekeeper to keep people away. Especially me. He knew better than to let me near them. He must have known I’d sense the truth at once. But Sonja warned me about her so I pretended to be Steffi. We were so alike. How could she have known? I’d forgotten my key, I said. It was easy.

‘Poor Vicky. I didn’t need to hold her tiny hand to know. It was so strong. Just seeing her, imagining her and Petr alone with that monster. And Sonja, going mad with guilt, powerless to protect her own children. I decided then to kill him.

‘I left the house but before I went, I fired the housekeeper. I told her I’d made a mistake hiring her. I offered her a thousand pounds in cash if she left immediately. Steffi never knew.

‘Sonja was coming home for a visit the next day so I called round unexpectedly to see them. I took flowers.

‘She opened the door. She was crying, her blouse was torn. Steffi was in the living room. Drunk. He had an old cutthroat razor, a coming-of-age gift from my father, and he was waving it about in front of the children. They were terrified. Howling the place down. Sonja had finally got up the courage to tell Steffi she was leaving him and taking the children and he’d gone berserk.

‘Strange. He couldn’t have cared less about them. But his ego was bruised. The thought that his power was no longer taken seriously, no longer feared, mortified him. So he’d decided. Told them he was going to tie them up and cut their throats one at a time.’

Brook looked up-another reason for Vicky to connect with The Reaper. ‘What happened?’

‘I managed to distract him long enough to get the children out. Sonja brought them back here. When I came home the children were asleep. I made Sonja take a taxi back to the hospital, her alibi, you see. Then I went straight back to Steffi’s.

‘He was even drunker by now. The violence in his eyes was savage. He attacked me, verbally, then physically. It all came out. All his poison. And then I saw. He’d wasted his life. He didn’t deserve to live. It was easy. He was too drunk to stand. I tied him to a chair. I needed to make it look like a frenzied attack by a burglar so I beat his brains out with a poker. Afterwards I put a few antiques in a bin bag to suggest a burglary and left.’

‘Just like that?’

Sorenson smiled. ‘Not quite. Something happened. Something terrible, something amazing, something few people can understand. Even murderers don’t get to see it. Most of them.’

‘What was that?’

‘I think you know. You’ve seen it in Harlesden, in Brixton, in Derby. Those last few moments of life when people realise what’s happening and beg for a little longer-a few minutes, a few seconds more. Everything changes in those moments.

‘I saw that in Steffi. Those final seconds of his life he lived more than he’d ever lived before. Because suddenly he knew. He knew it was right. He knew he was about to die and every breath, every sight, became urgent, precious. He looked around the room at all the beautiful things and saw them as if for the first time. They were different, wonderful. He asked me to put on some music so I played him our song. La Wally He cried. We both did.

‘And to die, to give up your wasted life surrounded by the apex of human achievement, to end your time seeing such beauty and listening to the breath of Heaven, instead of gaping at a hospital ceiling or the bonnet of a car or a back street puddle…

‘By the time I’d crashed the poker into his skull the first time, I’d changed him. I had changed him. He was different to the Steffi I’d always known. Better. At ease with himself, with his fate. I envied him for once. No more worry. No more having to hide the pain, the guilt. He was in the terminal ward. In rapture. If it were possible, I would have untied him so he could do the same for me. But I couldn’t let him down. He was depending on me.’

Sorenson had to take a pause now. His head slumped.

‘There’s something I don’t understand.’

‘What don’t you understand, Damen? The urge to kill those who don’t deserve to live. To destroy those who can’t appreciate the beauty there is in the world-a painting, a piece of music, a glass of wine. To end the lives of those who, in deadening their own pain, spray their vile scent over others. To show them how precious life is by removing it. What don’t you understand? Tell me.’

‘I understand the picture-Fleur de Lis-I understand the music, the wine. I even understand the arrogance which demands that only people who can’t appreciate the things you take for granted should be slaughtered, people without your advantages, people that the wealthy, the well educated like you should be trying to help.’

Sorenson turned to Brook with a look of such scorn and disgust that Brook worried that he may have gone too far and be disqualified from the endgame. But then Sorenson laughed as if realising he was being teased. ‘You don’t believe that liberal nonsense for a second, any more than Charlie did. It’s tried and failed. We live in a jungle, Damen. In the jungle, if you hold out a hand to help a suffering animal, it will be ripped to pieces. You understand that much.’