Bloody Valentine Part 2

Chapter Five.

Jack's telephone rang. He picked it up.

'It's the doctor you asked to call on Bruno, Jack,' Alice announced.

'Put him through.'

'Jack?'

'Peter, how are you?'

'Fine. And so's your chef.'

'Bruno's not dying?'

'A couple of days' rest and he'll be back to normal. I've given him a leaflet on alcohol abuse and left a couple of aspirins for his headache.'

'Thanks, Peter. I owe you one.'

'Next round of golf at the club is on you. Wednesday at three?'

'I'll be there.'

'Do you want to speak to Bruno?'

'Not until Monday. I intend to enjoy my weekend.' Jack replaced the receiver and saw Alice watching him. 'Save me from over-dramatic chefs.'

'Is there any other kind?' Alice returned to her own desk.

Lamplight flooded the back of the van.

'Stand back, Zee. I don't want anyone to see what I'm about to show you.'

'You're being very mysterious.' Zee forced a smile. It was ridiculous to be afraid of someone she knew so well.

The light was strong. Zee blinked, opened her eyes, and saw it.

Black, larger than a mobile phone, it touched her shoulder and she instantly felt weak. Too sick to move or think. She slumped to the metal floor. Her muscles hardened to stone. All she could think about was her baby.

Zee opened her mouth to scream but her lips refused to part. The pain was so intense that the cry she'd intended was a weak groan. Hands closed around her neck. She tumbled headfirst into darkness.

Zee struggled to open her eyes. Or, rather, she thought she had, but she couldn't be certain. Everything was black. She was aware of agonising pain in every muscle. Pain that prevented her from moving. Was she having a nightmare?

She tried to lift her arms and failed. Then she realised that they, like her legs, neck and head, were fastened to a cold, hard surface. There was a foul taste in her mouth. Something had been pushed between her teeth. Something dry, hard and nasty. No matter how she tried to push it aside with her tongue, she couldn't.

She'd never been afraid of the dark. Now she was. There was a buzzing. A sense of movement.

Zee remembered stopping on the pavement. Entering the van. The door closing. The noise was it the engine of the van? Was she being taken somewhere? Had she been kidnapped?

The buzzing stopped. There was stillness and silence.

What could have been one or five minutes later, metal slammed against metal. The sound sent s.h.i.+vers crawling down her spine. Footsteps drew nearer ... The side door opened. She'd heard the driver's door of the van closing.

Someone stepped inside the back of the van. The door closed. A light was switched on. It burned her eyes. She closed them tightly.

'A little pain. The last, I promise. Then it will stop hurting.' The voice was soft, kind. But Zee was terrified. Not for herself. Her baby ... Jack ... She fought against the straps that pinned her down. She couldn't move more than a fraction of an inch.

Bracing herself for the pain of the light, she forced her eyes open. A black figure leaned over her. A cap covered the hair, a mask the face. All she could see was the eyes. Dark and glittering.

Light reflected from hands that were covered in white latex. She saw a blade. She made one last effort ...

Too late. The edge of the chopper sliced through her jacket and continued plunging downwards. She felt warm, wet blood gush from her chest, soaking her skin.

Then she heard it. Metal sc.r.a.ping bone. The pain got worse.

She gasped for breath. She couldn't breathe. She heard a loud crack ... followed by another ... and another ...

Chapter Six.

It came to Zee in a burst of sickening knowledge. The cracks were her ribs breaking one by one. Then one crack, louder than all the others, brought a pain too great to bear.

The killer stood over Zee. The straps only allowed small movements, but that didn't stop Zee fighting. Slowly, so slowly that the killer couldn't be certain it was really happening, Zee's eyes dulled. Gradually, they lost the brightness of life. Zee's eyelids flickered but they did not close. A bubble of pink froth escaped from her mouth. Blood welled from her opened chest, staining her cream jacket crimson.

Zee sighed. A last sigh. Her eyes opened wide.

They were blind and dead.

The killer looked from Zee's face to the opening in her chest. The handle of the chopping knife stuck out. The killer thrust it down and turned it, pus.h.i.+ng Zee's broken ribs apart. A loud 'snap' startled the killer, who listened for an outside noise.

There was none.

Working quickly, the killer pushed aside the ragged remains of clothing and freed Zee's ribs from her breast plate until a gap was exposed in her chest. The chopper was exchanged for the filleting knife. A few delicate probing movements exposed Zee's heart.

Holding the carving knife in one hand, the filleting knife in the other, the killer cut through the blood vessels and tissue that held the heart in place. The filleting knife had a fine blade. The carving knife was sharp. It took only two minutes to prise Zee's heart free.

Changing the latex gloves for a clean pair, the killer picked up the two-p.r.o.nged fork and speared Zee's heart. A few seconds later it was in the plastic box. It proved difficult to scratch the initials on to the surface. The knives were sharp but the heart was slippery. Eventually the letters could be read just.

The flag was already prepared. The printed note was secured to the top. The killer jabbed it into the heart and changed gloves before closing the lid on the plastic box.

A swift examination confirmed there was no blood on the outside of the container.

Changing gloves yet again, the clean plastic box was placed in the centre of the sheet of wrapping paper. The killer tucked in the ends of paper and secured it around the plastic box with the red ribbon, tying the ends into a neat bow.

When the plastic box was wrapped, it was placed inside the cardboard box. Then the lid was closed and fastened. The pre-printed address label was placed on top.

The box was left on the end of the shelf, away from the bloodied knives.

Clean-up time. The killer had entered the secret place fully clothed. Hair had always been covered. Fibres may have been shed but, once the clothes had been burned in the incinerator, there would be nothing for the police to match the fibres to.

There were no fingerprints, only smudges from the latex gloves.

The floor was sticky with blood. There were footprints, but the rubber-soled shoes would also be placed in the incinerator. And the killer had taken the precaution of buying footwear two sizes too large.

The bloodied knives were packed into the plastic bag that had been used to carry them into the van. The gloves went into another clean plastic bag along with the stun gun, scissors, leftover ribbon and wrapping paper. Zee's handbag lay on the floor where she'd dropped it. The killer opened it, switched off the mobile phone and left it. There was another bag in the corner. One that held clean clothes.

It was cold in the van. It would be colder outside. The killer opened the van cautiously. No one was about. Before leaving the van the b.l.o.o.d.y-soled shoes were removed and packed into a clean bag. Then the killer locked the van door and moved swiftly to the incinerator room. There was no CCTV there.

The killer stripped off, removed mask, socks, clothes and underclothes, and placed them in the bag with the shoes. All the contents of that bag were pushed into the flames followed by the leftover ribbon, scissors, wrapping paper, gloves and van keys. The last object burned was the stun gun. The knives were still needed. Dressed in street clothes and wearing a clean pair of gloves, the killer left the room and climbed the stairs once more. There was no CCTV on the bas.e.m.e.nt floor that housed the porters' studio apartments either.

There was the sound of music. Damian was awake and writing.

The killer used the master key code to enter Ted's apartment. A dirty s.h.i.+rt was in the linen basket in the bathroom. The killer wiped the b.l.o.o.d.y knives and fork on the s.h.i.+rt but was careful to leave a little blood on the blades. The knives were replaced in the bag. Just as the killer was placing the s.h.i.+rt at the bottom of the basket and piling the rest of the dirty linen on top, the sound of key code b.u.t.tons being pressed was followed by the door opening.

Chapter Seven.

There was no time to close the bathroom door. The killer stepped behind it and watched the studio through the crack.

Damian was in the kitchen area. He opened a cupboard, took out a jar of coffee, scribbled a note on a pad and left. The door closed behind him.

The killer let out a deep breath, then, crept from the bathroom and read the note.

RAN OUT OF COFFEE. TOOK YOURS. WILL REPLACE, DAMIAN.

The killer listened at the door before creeping out of Ted's apartment. All was quiet.

There was a gla.s.s panel in the door that opened from the back stairs into the foyer. The CCTV screens were playing to an empty room. As planned, Ted was working on the plumbing in the studio. A minute to place the box with its printed message on the porter's desk.

URGENT DELIVERY FOR MR JACK BARNES TO BE SENT IMMEDIATELY.

Up two flights of stairs, avoiding the cameras. Use the key code. Enter the apartment. Close the door.

'What the h.e.l.l ...?'

Bruno was in the hall.

No time to think. The killer pulled one of the knives from the bag and stabbed him.

Chapter Eight.

'Urgent delivery for Mr Barnes.' The messenger, with his motorbike helmet under his arm, dropped a cardboard box on to Alice's desk. He handed her an electronic pad.

Alice scribbled her signature. 'I never get this right. It looks as though a spider has crawled across the gla.s.s.'

'Beats me how they read them,' the courier agreed. 'See you.'

Alice picked up the box and glanced at the clock. The meat suppliers had been in with Jack for an hour, which was the time limit he set on business meetings. She knocked on his door.

'Come in.' Jack was standing shaking hands with his visitors.

'You won't regret increasing your order, Mr Barnes.'

'I hope I won't. Alice, would you see my visitors out please?'

'This way,' Alice smiled at them before ushering them out of Jack's office.

Jack saw the parcel Alice had left on his desk. He'd seen a small box in a Harrod's bag in Zee's handbag when she'd left it open, but he'd thought she'd give him her Valentine gift at lunch.

He took a pair of scissors from his desk drawer and cut through the strip that fastened the box. Inside was a beautifully wrapped package.

'It's a shame to untie that bow.' Alice was in the open doorway.

'Zee's good at presentation,' Jack commented.

'It's wonderful to see two people so in love.'

'Enough of your teasing, Alice.'

'I wasn't teasing. Just jealous.' She waited while Jack cut through the ribbon.

'This is like the children's game, pa.s.s the parcel.' Jack removed the heart-strewn wrapping paper to reveal a plastic box.

'Zee's making sure you receive whatever it is in one piece.'

Jack prised the lid from the box. His eyes widened. He stepped back and crashed into the wall.

Alice moved closer, turned pale and retched.