Lisa Stone - Stalker

Matt nodded. ‘I wonder why he fell out with Paul?’

‘No idea, but I’m going to bring Paul in for questioning, and Flint back for further questioning. I’ve briefed the Serg and the DCI, and she said you should come with me.’

‘Suits me, I could do with some proper action.’

Matt went to his desk to collect his jacket from the chair back and as he did the telephone on Beth’s desk rang.

‘Just let me get this first,’ she called. ‘It might be digital forensics with something new.’ Then speaking into the handset: ‘Mayes here… Oh, I see… OK. Yes… I’ll deal with it. Thank you.’

She replaced the handset and looked at Matt. ‘That was the duty sergeant. Derek Flint’s mother has telephoned and reported him missing. She said she hasn’t seen him for four days.’

‘He’s made a run for it?’

‘Looks like it.’

‘We’ll visit Mrs Flint first and then bring Paul in.’

Derek lay on his back on the hard floor, narrowing his eyes and trying to focus. The cave swam unsteadily around him but he could see it was empty and the computer was off. One of the lenses in his glasses had been broken during the last beating but he thought most of his lack of vision was due to the drug they kept injecting him with. Every night before they left him or if he made a fuss, the ghoul gave him a shot in the arm to keep him quiet. He doubted his mind or body could take much more. He felt constantly sick and shivery and had begun hallucinating as reality steadily retreated.

The flat seemed to be empty at night, although he couldn’t be completely sure. They left him with his arms and legs securely tied behind his back, even during the day, except when Paul took him to the toilet or brought him food, when he untied his hands so he could eat or take a piss. It was Paul’s job to take care of him. Zombie issued the instructions and Ghoul and Paul followed his orders. Derek still didn’t know who Zombie and Ghoul really were. They always wore their masks in the room. As well as concealing their identities he’d come to learn it was part of the online game they were playing on the dark web – devil-like creatures who committed evil acts in an Internet underworld.

He’d tried talking to Paul when he took him to the bathroom – the only time he was alone with him. He’d tried appealing to his better nature but Paul had told him to shut the fuck up. He thought Paul might be the weak link and possibly his only hope of survival. Ghoul and Zombie were completely cruel and heartless and took pleasure in goading and humiliating him and watching him suffer. If he could get to Paul, then perhaps he could persuade him to help him escape. Perhaps. Although he didn’t have a plan and hope was fast running out. He was finding it increasingly difficult to think logically – from weakness, the beatings and the drugs. He stank too; he was still in the same clothes he’d arrived in and the urine from when he’d wet himself had dried, making his pants stiff and rancid. ‘Smells like a rat’s died in there,’ Zombie had laughed, poking his crotch with the toe of his boot.

Derek had no idea what day or time it was and it hardly mattered. Time and the life he used to have had blurred and receded. He knew he was quickly reaching the point where nothing would matter and he would give up and die. They were going to kill him anyway, Zombie had said so. He just hoped it would be quick and painless, although from what Zombie had said that wasn’t likely. ‘Do you know what they used to do with queers in Medieval times?’ he’d asked him, dropping his trousers and shoving his bum in Derek’s face. ‘Ramrod them up the arse with a really sharp pole. It takes three days to die, and no one will hear you scream in here.’

The flat seemed very quiet at present, as though it could be empty, but they only usually left him alone at night, injecting him before they left. It was impossible to separate night from day with no natural light but his body clock seemed to think it was afternoon or early evening. Yet there was no sound. Usually when they were in he could hear them moving around. A door opening or closing, the toilet flushing, water running, even the kettle boiling. It was strange listening to these little noises of domesticity – reminders of a normal life – when everything around him was abnormal. Surreal.

He’d given up trying to get out of the room when he thought they’d left him during the day, bound but not drugged. He’d tried a number of times, hauling himself painfully across the floor but the door was always locked. If they heard him, Ghoul or Zombie came in and gave him another beating. His whole body was cut and bruised and he thought some of his ribs were broken. His hands were lacerated from where he’d tried to defend himself from the whip, and he knew his face was a mess. Paul hadn’t been in the room during the last beating and had winced when he’d seen him. Now Derek kept very quiet and still so he didn’t attract attention.

Sometimes they seemed to forget he was there when they were completely engrossed in their macabre online game. He had some idea of what they were doing on the dark web from snatches of conversation and glimpses of the screen. It was an interactive game but instead of using avatars they were using real people to act out their evil fantasies. Members of their online community were the hunters and their targets were innocent victims whom they assaulted, terrorized, kidnapped, even stabbed and raped to build up points and move to different levels. They were committing real crimes in real life, some of which he recognized from the list of incidents the police were blaming him for. He knew extremely violent games existed on the dark web but these people had taken it to a whole new level, hacking into computers, CCTV and phones in search of their prey.

He heard a movement, so the flat wasn’t empty, then a hand on the door. He raised his head and Paul came into the room carrying a sandwich and glass of water.

‘What time is it?’ Derek rasped, his throat sore.

‘Two o’clock.’

‘In the afternoon?’

‘Of course,’ Paul laughed.

Derek knew the routine: Paul set the plate and glass on the floor by the door while he closed and locked the door, then he came over and placed them beside him. He untied his hands and left them free for the length of time it took Derek to eat and drink and then retied them before leaving. Derek cooperated fully now and did as he was told; he knew that if he didn’t, the food and water would be taken away again, and despite everything he was hungry. He’d once tried jumping Paul but Ghoul had heard the commotion and had rushed in and beat him senseless.

‘Thank you,’ Derek said politely, struggling into a sitting position. He drank the water first before picking up the sandwich.

Paul always stayed in the room while he ate – the glass and plate could have been smashed and used as a weapon – either watching him or wandering around, or as he was doing now, sitting in Zombie’s chair at the computer.

‘It’s quiet here tonight,’ Derek said, trying to engage Paul. ‘Are they on a mission?’ Paul nodded. A mission was the term they used when they were out committing one of their evil acts. Sometimes they went alone and at other times in pairs. As far as Derek knew, Paul hadn’t gone with them since he’d been here but had been left to guard him, and Derek sensed he was starting to resent it.

‘And they might have gone too far this time,’ Paul added quietly, his gaze remaining on the screen.

Derek stopped eating and looked at Paul’s profile from across the room. Was this the first sign of dissension? A chink in his armour that he could exploit? He needed to handle it carefully. He shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts.