Oliver Stark - American Devil

‘Elizabeth Constantine moved in two weeks ago.’

‘Does that matter?’

‘I don’t know. He’s a careful bastard. We know he stalks them for a long time, sometimes years. If she’s just moved here, he’s not had long to get to know this building. I don’t know. And if she’s from out of town, how the hell has he been stalking her?’

‘Maybe he’s killed all the girls he’s been stalking,’ said Eddie.

‘Yeah, or it means he might be setting us up. Get across to Williamson and get him to call the SWAT teams, let them know we’re less than a hundred per cent on this. Tell them to be cautious. I don’t want anyone hurt. We need to be certain.’

‘Got you,’ said Eddie, and he ran towards the building.

Harper needed to check his thinking. He couldn’t afford to be wrong if he was going to get Williamson to back off. He called Denise Levene. ‘Listen up, Denise. I’ve got no time to explain but I’ve got a major situation here. Can you speak?’

Denise shook off her tiredness and sat up in bed. Fahrenheit, her spaniel, lay between Daniel and her on the big double, blissfully asleep. ‘Go ahead,’ she said as Daniel stirred in his sleep.

‘The killer called us. He identified himself as Sebastian. He said he’s going to kill a girl called Elizabeth and we traced the call to a building here full of wealthy residents. So we’ve got the killer located somewhere inside the building, except we’re not sure which apartment.’

‘Is this Elizabeth in the building?’

‘Well, there’s only one Elizabeth listed. We’re about to go in. Except this Elizabeth is new to the building. She moved in a couple of weeks ago. She’s maybe even new to the city. What do you make of it?’

Denise let it float around her mind for a moment. ‘He likes to know things inside out. I’d say it’s improbable if she’s new to the city, but I’m not sure it matters if she’s moved apartment.’

‘Except that we’re pretty sure all his locations have been thoroughly scoped and he wouldn’t have been able to get to know how this building works in two weeks. You can never be a hundred per cent, but if he doesn’t know this building, then this is high risk.’

‘You might be right, Tom. You got the residents’ list?’

‘Right here,’ said Harper. ‘But it doesn’t have any other Elizabeth on it.’

‘Okay, this isn’t absolute but his type is likely to be late teens to mid-twenties. She will live alone. She will probably work in a people profession. She’ll be fair or blonde. You got anyone else like that? Keep looking. Maybe it’s someone’s daughter.’

‘I’ll look into it. Thanks.’ Denise was about to reply but Harper had already switched off the phone and was sprinting towards the building.

The Laker Building

November 20, 11.27 p.m.

The hallway was pitch dark and the SWAT team wouldn’t switch the lights on. They put some patrol on the lift but scaled the stairs on foot, all seventeen storeys. It was quiet as hell in the building. The halls, exits, roof, lift and fire escapes had all been sealed and manned. They were the only way up or down. The rise up the stairs went quickly. They pushed through into the hall, three men arriving from each side. They kept in contact with hand gestures. Again, it was pitch dark in the hall at their request and the team felt their way along in torchlight. Then they were there at the apartment.

Down below, Williamson was listening on his headset. His heart was thumping. Through the headset, he could hear breathing and footsteps, but nothing else. Suddenly Harper appeared at his side. Eddie was already there with his arms out, palms upwards, pleading. ‘He’s not listening!’ he yelled to Tom.

‘Williamson, I’ve got to speak to you. This killer wouldn’t use an apartment building he doesn’t know. He wouldn’t make a mistake like that. He’s not going for Elizabeth Constantine. He’s set you up. You’ve got to call them off.’

‘The call located him in this building, her name’s Elizabeth, she’s blonde, I checked. Hey, Harper, I’m following the evidence, not you.’

‘They didn’t locate him in her apartment. Look at the detail. The only reason you think he’s up with Elizabeth Constantine is because of her name and he gave us the name. There might be another Elizabeth or another girl altogether. Do the math, Nate. If she’s been here for two weeks, then he can’t have worked out how to do this.’

For a moment, Williamson felt doubt well up in his chest. He looked at Harper and cocked his head. ‘What is it with you?’

‘Fuck that, this is about saving someone’s life. Call off the SWAT teams. He’s not after Elizabeth Constantine, so we’ve got to keep looking. Call them down.’

Williamson breathed into his mouthpiece. ‘Proceed,’ he said and turned his back on Harper.

Harper took Eddie by the shoulder and they ran to the small concierge office. They were going to have to work this out by themselves.

Outside Elizabeth Constantine’s apartment, the SWAT team could hear the TV going. One of the team pushed a tiny camera through the gap at the bottom of the door. He looked down on the monitor. The living area appeared to be empty, but there was no telling what was on the sofa. They could only see the back of it.

The lead gave the signal and they checked their weapons. The door had a shotgun, assault rifle and two pistols pointing at it. The rearguard moved in with the jamb spreader. They’d decided to go in quiet. Ramming the door would allow the killer the few seconds he might need.

The hydraulic jamb spreader was inserted against the door jambs and the rear guard started to gently crank the pump arm. The idea was simple. Up to three tons of pressure pushed the door jambs until the lock was no longer sitting in its carriage and the door could be quietly pushed open.

The team watched as the pressure began to build up.

Down in the concierge’s office, Harper was questioning the building manager over the phone. He’d already told Harper that Elizabeth Constantine had moved from another apartment on the Upper East Side. ‘Listen,’ Harper said. ‘We’re looking for a woman called Elizabeth, but we’ve got no one else registered in that name. You got any ideas?’

‘I don’t know all the residents,’ the manager said.

‘Well, this one will be a single woman in her early twenties. She’ll be pretty and blond-haired, slender build. Have you got anyone like that?’

‘I wouldn’t know. I don’t spy on them. Look, I’m sorry,’ said the manager.

Marvin had hung back during the conversation but he was nodding even before Harper had finished the call.

‘What is it, Marvin?’ Harper asked.

‘I know a girl like that up in 146. Miss Seale. She’s a real beauty.’

‘Her name’s not on the list,’ said Harper. ‘What’s her first name?’

‘I don’t know her name. It’s her father ’s apartment. Here it is.’ Marvin pointed to a name on the list.

Harper looked down at the name Seale. Miss Seale. He remembered the curious line the killer had used on the phone. ‘Sealed with a kiss.’ Could this be the one? He felt a surge of energy. ‘Describe her to me, Marvin.’

‘Beautiful, blonde, slim, just like you said.’

This had to be her. Harper was sure. He got back on the radio to Williamson.

‘I think her name’s Elizabeth Seale. He’s set us up with the wrong apartment. We should be going for 146.’

‘It’s too late, Harper, we’re going in,’ said Williamson.

Seventeen floors above the SWAT team held steady as the door loosened. The lead gently pushed the door open. The first officer crouched and moved into the room. In less than two seconds, he whispered ‘Room clear’ and pointed to the bedroom. The team of six black-suited officers moved forward into the room. They could hear faint noises from the bedroom. All six firearms were raised. The lead turned the handle and pushed the door.