D. Mitchell: The King of Terrors

‘Stop beating yourself up. There’s nothing you can do. Let’s face it, she’s had longer than most of us.’

‘And that’s supposed to make things alright? She’s been murdered!’

‘What else do you want me to say?’ she asked. ‘I did my best.’ She lowered her head, and then sat down with her back against the wall, the box of hair dye twirling in her hand. The radio hummed in the background. ‘I got a text from Pipistrelle early this morning,’ she admitted. ‘Doradus knows who he is now. You want to know what’s eating me? I’ll tell you: I’ve got to go help him, even though I know he would want me to stay here with you, to ensure both you and I are safe from them. But he’s my father, or the nearest I’ve ever got to having one. I can’t desert him when he needs me. I can’t let Doradus get to him. He’s as good as dead if he does.’

‘Then we’ll go to the police,’ he said animatedly. ‘The rot can’t be as bad as you make out. There’s still some good out there. And you can’t fight something this big all alone.’

She laughed. ‘You won’t accept it, will you? Going to the police simply isn’t an option.’

‘So you’re going to leave me behind with Erica here, is that your plan?’

‘I haven’t decided what I’m going to do, which is why I’m still here with you,’ she said, closing her eyes. ‘It was never intended to end like this. Get you and Erica out, ship you somewhere safe, job done. But now if Pipistrelle falls into Doradus’ hands sooner or later they’ll prise all manner of secrets from his head. I move up their most wanted list, and all the escape routes we’ve planned beforehand will be of no use. It’s not safe staying here either. They’ll know about this house soon enough.’ She glanced from under her brows at him. ‘We’ve got people wanting us both dead. All we have left is each other now.’

‘Surely someone somewhere can help us. Someone in authority.’

‘Yeah, there must be. If you know who to trust.’

‘DCI Stafford, I trust him. He’s clean, I can tell. The rot hasn’t extended to him.’

Instead of answering him she went over to the radio, looked at her watch and turned up the volume. ‘I’ve got bad news for you on that front,’ she said bleakly. The music finished and the six o’clock news came over the radio.

‘I say we go now and try to make contact with him.’

‘You can’t.’

‘What is it with you and orders?’ he snapped.

She pointed to the radio. ‘I heard this earlier today. Listen for yourself.’

He didn’t know what on earth she was getting at till he heard Stafford’s and Styles’ names mentioned at which point his ears pricked. Both officers had tragically died as the result of a gas explosion in a derelict house in Manchester. DI Styles killed outright, DCI Stafford dying from his injuries in hospital in the early hours of this morning. All evidence pointed to an accident waiting to happen. Fellow officers were mourning the loss of two respected police officers, said the radio reporter. Both Superintendent Maloney and the Chief Constable praised the two brave officers, who had been instrumental in the arrest of a man, who police have named Heniek Pawlowski, in connection with the murder of Ania Dabrowska in Manchester.

‘You say the rot hasn’t gone that far? It certainly reached Stafford and Styles.’

‘They said it was an accident…’

‘You really want to hang onto that?’ she said. ‘OK, you do that. You take that chance.’ She turned off the radio. ‘Face it, Davies, we’re all on our lonesome now. Just you and me against the world. And I for one ain’t about to stay here till Doradus comes sniffing around. Me, I’m going to help Pipistrelle and take things from there. I’m not going to let these bastards get hold of him. I owe him that much. So do you and Erica; without him she’d have been dead decades ago and you would have ended up in tiny pieces floating in a row of pickle jars. You can either choose to come along with me or go your own way. I guarantee that you won’t last too long on your own.’

‘Is that supposed to be a choice? Go with you and potentially end up dead, or stay here and end up dead?’ He shook his head slowly. ‘But what about Erica? I can’t just leave her here like this.’

Caroline went out of the room and came back in with a green plastic petrol can. ‘I brought spare fuel from the car.’

He was horrified as her intention sank in. ‘You’re suggesting we burn her?’

‘I think it’s called cremation in the trade,’

‘No, that’s not going to happen!’ he said. ‘That’s so fucking callous and I’m not being a part of any of it.’

‘You’re already a part of it, you idiot. OK, so what’s your answer? Go on, I’m all ears.’

‘Let me think, for Christ’s sake!’

‘Well think faster because we haven’t got the time.’

‘Maybe we could take her and bury her in woods somewhere,’ he said, and even as he said it he realised how outlandish and cruel it all sounded. ‘Or maybe leave her where she’ll be found, looked after properly.’

‘They’ll discover the bullet wound and know she’s been murdered. We have to destroy all evidence that could lead to finding out who she was or leads anyone directly to us. Look, I’ve got to be out of here tonight.’ Her expression softened fractionally at seeing him so upset. ‘It’s not as if she’s going to notice either way.’

‘But I’ll know!’ he stormed. ‘It’s not right, it’s not decent!’

‘Decency doesn’t even come into the equation now. It’s all about survival now, whatever it takes. We have to destroy all evidence, all trails, and that means taking care of Erica’s body.’

‘You intend to torch the entire house?’

She raised a thoughtful brow. ‘It’s due for demolition anyhow. If I remove the bullet beforehand we might just get away with people thinking she was an unknown homeless squatter who had a nasty accident with a primus.’

‘What kind of a mind have you got that allows you to think like this?’ he said, running a hand over his head.

‘An experienced one. Like I said right at the beginning, forget the person you are, the life you had, it doesn’t exist anymore. From here on in everything changes. It’s not only me who’s moved up people’s list. They have you very much in their sights now. I can help you; teach you how to survive, like your mother learned from de Bailleul. But there really is no one else you can safely turn to right now. That comfortable little world simply doesn’t exist for you. Face it, you’ve got me, the crazy redhead, and that’s it. So we can either pull together on this one or we can go our own sweet separate ways here and now. Either way I’m going to help my father, and if I can kick some Doradian arse in the process to make me feel better that suits me fine.’

Gareth peeled back the blanket from Erica’s face. She appeared so calm, finally at peace after so long. He stared at the handgun. ‘Can you teach me how to use this properly?’ he asked.

‘That’s an essential lesson,’ she said.

‘We can’t keep running forever,’ he said. ‘We’ve got to take the fight to them, got to find this Doradus, whoever the bastard is, and put an end to all this.’ He got to his feet and shoved the gun into his jeans’ waistband. ‘Offence is the best form of defence, right? If you’re going to kick some Doradian arse then I want to be right there with you.’

He went over to the army satchel and took out a roll of bandages from its plastic bag. Taking a pair of scissors he bent down to Erica, lifted a strand of shining hair and cut it off. He placed it tenderly into the plastic bag and sealed it, putting it into his pocket. He saw Caroline watching him closely.