Neil White - Beyond Evil

Henry spoke again.

‘And something else has occurred to me,’ he said. ‘You’ve come a long way to rescue your office girl, but we know that she’s more than just an office girl, because she told us everything on the way up in the van. People do that when they are frightened. So I wonder how she is feeling right now? So off you go, Charlie Barker, I don’t mind. Run as fast as you can, I won’t chase you. I’ll be too busy enjoying myself in there with your beautiful young assistant. She’s very pretty. It’s such a shame.’ Henry began to laugh, although his eyes remained mean, his brow creased. Then he turned to one of the women behind him. ‘Get me a mask.’

Henry didn’t take his gaze from Charlie as a plain white mask was given to him. He just smiled and let the mask dangle from his finger.

Charlie wanted to rush him, to wrap his hands around his throat. He faltered, knowing that going in there wouldn’t guarantee Donia’s safety. It might even condemn her. Both of them. But Charlie knew that he couldn’t leave her, and so he walked towards the house. He held on to some vain hope that he might be able to grab Donia and make another run for it, but when he went into the hallway, Donia was at the other end, each arm splayed out, people holding on to her, the man in the vest holding a knife to her throat.

Adrenaline made his hands shake and his stomach turned cartwheels. There was a push to his back and he stumbled towards Donia, whose eyes had filled with tears.

They were outside the old man’s doorway and he heard a moan, but Charlie ignored it.

‘So what now?’ Charlie said.

‘What do you think, Arni?’ Henry said.

The man in the vest grinned. ‘A bit of fun,’ he said, squeezing Donia’s breast. She squirmed away, but Arni seemed to like that, his grin turning into a laugh.

Henry sidled up behind Charlie and whispered into his ear. ‘What do you think, Daddy?’ His breath was fetid. Poor diet and bad hygiene. ‘Are you going to let Arni enjoy himself with little Donia first, just to buy you some time, or shall we end it now?’

Henry threw the mask at Arni, who caught it with one hand and pressed it against Donia’s face. Her features were gone, rendered expressionless, a shop dummy, except for the whites of her eyes staring through the mask. Arni took the knife from her neck and pressed it against Donia’s forehead, the blade pushing in the skin, ready to make a perfect line along the top of the mask.

Charlie closed his eyes as the image of Amelia came back to him, her face gone. He knew now how it had happened. He couldn’t let it happen again.

Arni started to run the knife across her skin. A red line appeared as small flecks that jumped onto the white of the mask. Donia thrashed against her captors and screamed, but it was no good.

Charlie started towards them, unsure what he intended to do but knowing he had to stop it. Then there was another moan from the old man, louder this time. Charlie looked, just for a second, instinctively. When he saw what the old man was doing, he turned his gaze back to Donia, and saw Arni’s grin filled with spite.

Charlie had seen what the old man was doing. He tried to work out how it would end up, his mind working quickly, driven by panic. It could go really badly, but his chances were running out. Anything unusual was the only chance he had.

The old man had somehow moved himself to the edge of the bed nearest the window, where the petrol bombs were stored. His arm was hanging out of the bed, so that it almost trailed on the floor, limp and useless. Except that it wasn’t wholly useless. There was a cigarette lighter in his hand, and his thumb was flicking weakly at the wheel. Charlie’s eyes had caught a spark, a yellow flash, and it was right underneath one of the petrol-soaked cloths hanging from one of the bottles.

‘Stop now,’ Charlie said, stepping in front of Arni, keeping the focus on him. He had to stop the group looking into the bedroom. ‘If you think that Henry is your hero, then you’ve been smoking too much of what I’ve seen in your ashtrays.’ He raised his voice so that everyone knew that he was addressing the whole group.

‘Don’t think we will make it quicker if you annoy us, to make the pain shorter,’ Henry said.

‘It?’ Charlie said, and then looked at the rest of the group. ‘You mean torture, murder? Congratulations everyone, I hope you enjoy your brave new world, if this is what you want. I prefer the one we’ve got now.’

At the periphery of his vision, he could see the old man’s thumb flicking at the cigarette lighter again, with just the occasional spark as the result. Charlie willed him on, as the red line grew longer along Donia’s forehead.

‘You won’t have your world for much longer,’ Henry whispered in Charlie’s ear. ‘Come with us, Mr Barker. You might enjoy it.’

Charlie didn’t answer, because he knew that if Henry enjoyed their capture, he would prolong it.

Then the old man produced a flame.

His hand shook with the lighter as he held it under the cloth for a few seconds. The flames seemed to just dance around the rag at first, and the old man let out a long moan. Charlie didn’t know if it was from exertion or satisfaction. Then the flame seemed to almost jump from the lighter to the cloth.

Fire shot upwards, streaking towards the neck of the bottle. The sudden brightness made everyone turn towards the room. Someone gasped. The glass bottle exploded, shooting fuel and flames onto the floor.

There was a scream. The fire spread through the room, the petrol on the floor making a churning sea of flames, setting light to the other petrol-soaked rags and then rippling towards the peeling wallpaper, like fingers edging their way forward.

The curtains were soon alight, disintegrating quickly, sending burning embers towards the bed. The view was becoming obscured by smoke, but as Charlie looked, he thought he saw the old man smiling.

Chapter Sixty-Three

Sheldon sat in the back of the marked police car, commandeered from two uniformed officers who were now walking the streets rather than staying warm in their car. Lowther was driving. The blue lights bounced from the windows of the town centre, transforming the quiet streets into a stroboscope. As the shops faded, there were curtain twitches from the houses they passed.

Soon they were into open countryside, and the headlights became a beacon across the open fields.

‘So tell me about this group,’ Tracey said, turning round from the front.

Sheldon leaned forward so that he was perched between the seats. ‘Do you remember how Billy Privett’s friends said they didn’t get invited to the parties anymore?’

Tracey nodded.

‘Billy got involved with this group. Or rather, the group got involved with him. They wanted his money. They were involved in Alice’s death, and it seemed that Billy thought they were going after him, so he recorded a video, like a confession, and they found out. So they killed him. It’s as simple as that, except they didn’t know that the video was only to be made public if Billy died.’

‘What about Amelia?’

‘She made the video. Henry Mason was just getting rid of the witnesses.’

‘But why cut the faces off?’

Sheldon sighed. ‘Like most sick killers, Henry just likes the attention.’

‘Is that it?’

‘Can you think of a different reason? This group are attention seekers. You’ve seen them on the riot footage, those in white shop-dummy masks.’

Tracey shook her head. ‘I’ve seen them, but I didn’t think they were capable of that.’ Then she raised her eyebrows, shock on her face.

‘What is it?’

‘The masks,’ she said. ‘Remember how neatly the faces were cut away?’