Phobia Page 26

  ‘That’s what bothers me,’ Mitchell said. ‘He keeps changing his MO. I think you’re wrong, Honor. I agree that this is a calculated campaign, but he’s starting to reveal himself for what he really is. He’s a coward, a man who likes nothing more than to revel in the suffering of others weaker than he is. He’s getting off on this, and watching us squirm as we try to find these victims before they die.’

  Honor nodded, staring at the screen as she thought for a moment.

  ‘This isn’t an elaborate set–up, and it’s live, so he must know that we’ll identify the woman and the location before long.’

  ‘What makes you think that?’ DI Harper asked. ‘We can only see the bed; her face is covered.’

  ‘Somebody must know her and recognise the bed, the sheets, perhaps even her body. He’s risking too much, making it too easy for us. It’s a distraction,’ Honor said, letting the hunter’s instinct run free within her. ‘He’s up to something else, and this is to keep us occupied while he goes about it.’

  Now the rest of the MIT team were listening in, Danny included.

  ‘We can’t split resources, he knows that, so maybe he’s playing on it,’ he suggested, ‘keeping us running and chasing our tails while he sets up something new, something bigger.’

  Honor knew that they had to get ahead of this guy for once and for all, and DI Harper was clearly thinking the same thing.

  ‘Bring MIT 3 off the Ismael Sheridan case and into the Incident Room, and call the MET and SO15, let them know we’ve got another one,’ she ordered. ‘We need bodies on the street and more hands to take calls. How long before this is on the main networks?’

  ‘Minutes,’ Danny replied. ‘They’ll be running the footage by ten o–clock.’

  ‘Keep cross–referencing members of the Face Fear forum with females who have a fear of rats,’ Honor said, and then added; ‘And focus on addresses with east–facing bedrooms, the sun’s coming through the window to her right, you can see the light moving.’

  DCI Mitchell’s eyes widened as he shot her a sideways glance. ‘You keep surprising me like that, as much as you like.’

  Honor felt her stomach plunge into a warm pool of bliss and somehow managed to smile and turn away from him before the colour rose in her cheeks and she flushed a vibrant shade of red. Danny didn’t miss either the exchange or the high colour on her cheeks, but he said nothing as he averted his gaze back to his computer.

  ‘Samir,’ she said, suddenly remembering. ‘Has he still not come in?’

  21

  Emily lay on her bed and pulled at the cuffs binding her to the bedposts, while trying to ignore the writhing sack of creatures propped between her legs. Whoever had put her there had been careful to make sure that the cuffs on her wrists were attached to a point where they could not simply be pulled over the top of the posts, a horizontal cross– member preventing them from moving. Her ankles, however, were restricted only by how far her legs were stretched, and they were stretched just about as far as they could be, with little room for manoeuvre.

  Think! What would Alex do?

  Alex. My God, where the hell is he? Did something happen to him? Why was he not here when she got home? Random thoughts fluttered through her mind, fears that he had run away with another woman, sent a man to kill her to take the inheritance he would get from their home. But they had been happy, hadn’t they? They had only recently enjoyed a week in the Mediterranean, sangria and sun and sex and dozing on the beach. Everything had been fine.

  The sack between her legs brushed against her inner thigh and she smelled the putrid odour of rotting food once more, was reminded that everything certainly wasn’t bloody fine now. She could hear them, inside the bag, screeching, breathing, predatory bodies fighting to get out, to get to her. She felt herself shaking as the canvass sack surged toward her, as the animals within fought to reach the food just beyond their grasp. The sack touched her genitals as she felt tiny claws poking through the canvass.

  ‘Shit, get off!’

  Her voice was muffled behind the gag as she tried to pull herself further up the bed, but her legs were taut and there was no way she would be able to escape the horrible creatures within when they swarmed over her body, a gigantic feast upon which they would gorge themselves. An image flashed through her mind of police officers rushing into the room to find her deceased body, her skin long gone, rats burrowing into her corpse as they gorged on…

  Emily stomped the image out of her mind as she tried to focus on how she could escape. Her heart was battering at the walls of her chest and her breath was coming in short gasps, sweat beading on her skin despite the cool room. She was going to die here, unless she managed to do something about it.

  Fight back. That’s what Alex would have done. What was it he always said? I wasn’t put on this earth to take shit from anyone. The only way out of this was to face her fear, to conquer it. She had to push down the bed, to give her legs enough room to try to hook the ankle cuffs off the bedposts.

  Emily took a few deep breaths, tried to control her panic as she prepared herself. Then, with every ounce of her will, she began extending her arms, pushing herself down the bed, shuffling along and pressing her most sensitive organ right up against the swarming bag of rats.

  She cried out in horror, flinched away as the creatures within the bag went haywire, scrambling this way and that. Tiny claws gouged at her groin and thighs, lances of pain as the animals scratched her soft skin. Emily, her breath clawing at her throat, pushed again and shuffled down the bed. The sack was now pressed hard against her, and she was sure the animals within could smell her body, her skin, her organs, so close to them now. Their tiny claws scrambled in a frenzy but the canvas sack held as Emily pushed herself down the bed until her arms were now outstretched as far as they could go.

  Emily immediately pulled back a little, getting herself clear of the sack and denying the animals within their chance to taste her. Her skin pulsed with little pinpricks of pain as she fought to control her breathing. Her heart actually ached within her, felt as though it was going to burst as she looked down. The sack was still between her thighs, but her legs were now bent a little at the knee.

  With some effort, her limbs trembling, fear running like acid through her veins, Emily picked up her right leg and began trying to hook the other end of the cuff over the top of the bedpost.

  ‘She’s trying to get free.’

  Danny spotted it first, saw what the woman was trying to do. Honor turned from her computer screen, where footage of their suspect was being fed to her as MIT detectives back–traced the man’s movements from the Hoop and Grapes pub, trying to identify from where he had travelled.

  Honor stood as she saw the trapped woman try to pull the ankle cuffs off the bedposts, and wondered how the poor girl must be feeling. Honor could see at once that freeing her legs wasn’t going to save her, but it might give her enough movement to fight against the rats if they broke free.

  The phones were ringing off the hook, calls from concerned citizens who had seen the footage and were sure that they knew who was strapped to the bed. The trouble was that the calls were coming in from all over the country, nobody having of course any idea where in the country the woman was being held.

  ‘Anything solid yet on the calls?’ she asked.

  ‘We’ve got officers from multiple forces chasing their tails following up on them,’ DCI Mitchell said from one of the desks, where he had commandeered a telephone and was helping out. ‘It’ll take days for them all to be checked out, and we know that Whitechapel is the only area of real interest – nothing so far from there.’

  Other detectives and constables were also manning the phones, the public now their only real chance of getting to the mystery woman before she was eaten alive on television. Honor glanced across at Danny, who was holding a phone to one ear and using a mouse with the other. He caught the glance and shook his head, placing one hand over the receiver.

  ‘Nothing on Face Fea
r yet, but we can’t access all of the profiles, some people are better at hiding their data than others.’

  Honor knew that they wouldn’t have time to get a court injunction to allow access to user’s private data, even in a life–and–death case such as this one, and there was nothing else that they could do but keep looking for the killer they sought and hope that somebody, somewhere, would see the footage and call in.

  Honor glanced at the screen, and spotted something. ‘She’s got an ankle tattoo, right leg, outside!’

  Her voice carried across the Incident Room as every detective looked up and saw what looked like an esoteric, flowery mural winding its way from the woman’s ankle up to the lower calf. The angle of the camera on her body had denied them that knowledge until she had started trying to free her leg.

  DCI Mitchell shut off his current conversation on the phone and immediately began dialling news networks to inform them of the new information. Honor got out of her seat and began pacing back and forth, primal fight–or–flight energy firing through her synapses. This was the worst part – the anticipation, the chase, the desire to locate and free the victim. It consumed a detective’s being, the rest of the world blurring into the distance like a hunter seeking its prey.

  Honor realised in that moment that this was precisely how their killer felt, but for the entirely opposite reason: anticipating the kill, the pain, the bloodshed. Yet, this was the opposite of the path that his previous abductions had taken – there had been no blood, no gore. Honor was struck by a realisation so terrible that she could barely bring herself to confront it.

  ‘He’s reacting to what I said.’

  A few heads looked up at her, Danny Green’s one of them. ‘What?’

  Honor swallowed, her throat thick with loathing. ‘I said that he wasn’t a slasher– killer like the Ripper, that he didn’t do blood.’

  Danny glanced at the screen, got it immediately. ‘It’s not on you. He’s working with phobias, that hasn’t changed. He had this one planned long before we showed up.’

  Honor shook her head slowly.

  ‘That’s not what I mean. I know it’s not on me, but he’s changed his plans because of what I said, I’m sure of it.’

  Danny opened his mouth to answer, but a female constable’s trembling voice broke in before he could say anything.

  ‘Oh Jesus, the bag’s opening.’

  Emily turned her ankle this way and that as she tried to unhook the cuff from the bedpost. She’d managed to shuffle it to the top, but it was catching there and she couldn’t quite free it. Her thigh ached with the effort of keeping her leg in the air, her vision starring as a volatile toxic of fear, nausea and adrenaline surged through her body. The canvas sack tumbled and shifted just inches from her, and she sensed a new and terrible odour coming from within. Blood.

  The animals were fighting, tearing at each other’s bodies as they tried to escape. The knowledge that these animals were cannibalising each other sent a fresh wave of loathsome terror through her and she fought again to release the handcuff from the bedpost. The light coming through the bedroom window was brighter now, and she could hear cars driving past on the road outside. She tried to scream through the gag, but her voice was muffled sufficiently that nobody would be able to hear her, even though the bedroom window was open.

  Emily let her leg rest for a moment, her ankle hanging painfully as she caught her breath for another try.

  And then the sack ripped a little. A twitching nose and sharp little white teeth poked through, tiny claws ripping and tearing in a frenzy at the opening.

  Panic pulsed like lightning through Emily’s spine and she frantically lifted her leg again and began unhooking the cuff. She had no idea what she was going to do with her legs when the sack finally tore open, but she was sure as fucking hell she’d be better off with them freed. Kick the sack off the bed. Deny the little bastards their breakfast and put one in the eye of the sadistic bastard who had put her here.

  Emily shoved herself as far down the bed as was humanly possible, her groin bumping against the writhing sack to a squealing crescendo from the contents, and she ignored the pain of their claws as she unhooked her right leg and the metal cuff slipped over the bedpost and her leg broke free.

  Emily screamed around her gag as the canvas sack began to split and tear. Raw terror poisoned her veins as she saw dozens of rats swarming within, their fur dirty, smeared with something that smelled like sewage, their bodies emaciated, blood streaming from open wounds and staining white teeth.

  The opening widened and one of the creatures poked its head out, black eyes staring at her as it fought to escape from the ragged hole. Three more tried to scramble free at the same time, blocking each other’s progress.

  Emily screamed, swung her right foot down and shoved it under the roiling sack. With a heave of effort, she pushed the sack over her left leg and then kicked hard. The glistening black bodies of the first rats poked out of the sack and then the whole thing slid off the side of the bed and thumped to the floor.

  Emily pushed herself down the bed and lifted her left leg, was able to unhook the other cuff as she heard rats scurrying en masse from the sack, swarming across the room. The sheets were on the bedroom floor, bundled out of sight of the camera, so the rats could not climb up them to reach the bed, but she felt certain that if she didn’t somehow free herself, it would be but moments before they found a way to her.

  A noise to her right caught her attention and she turned in time to see a rat the size of a small cat as it scrambled up the curtains nearby and onto the windowsill. Her heart rattled dangerously as she saw the creature turn, sniffing the air, and then it pivoted around, its tail stiff to balance itself as it turned to look straight at her.

  Another joined it, and then they were climbing the bedside table on the other side of the bed, scrambling up the front of it, their claws using the gaps between draws to haul themselves up with hellish speed.

  Emily squirmed against her handcuffs, fighting in the hopes that she could slip her slim wrists through them before the rats made it to the bed, but the cuffs were tight and there was no time to break free.

  The rat on the windowsill coiled itself and then leaped into the air to land with a thump on the bed beside Emily. Emily screamed and rolled over to crush the rat beneath her weight before it could bite into her. Another jumped and landed this time on her belly, razor sharp claws plunging into her flesh with pangs of fearsome white pain. Emily screamed and rolled away in time to pin two more rats beneath her back as others flooded onto the bed and then they overwhelmed her, a dirty black flood of fur and claws pouring across her body.

  Emily screamed at the top of her lungs through her gag as she writhed and fought for her life, teeth and claws tearing into the food on her body and with it, her flesh and blood.

  Honor stared, stricken with horror, at the screen as she saw at least twenty large rats swarm onto the woman’s bed and begin devouring her. The phones were ringing all around in the Incident Room but it was as though she could not hear them, her entire being focused on the poor woman now suffering such a hellish demise and…

  ‘We’ve got her!’ Katy Harper shouted. ‘Newark Street, Whitechapel! The mother’s called it in! Her name’s Emily!’

  ‘Despatch all available units!’ DCI Mitchell yelled as he grabbed his jacket. ‘McVey, with me! Green, you too! Where the bloody hell is Raaya?’

  Honor grabbed her bag as the three of them rushed from the Incident Room and ran down the stairwells to the street outside. This time there would be no sprint to Whitechapel, as a CID car was waiting for them outside the station for just this purpose. Mitchell got into the driver’s seat, Honor beside him and Green in the back as Mitchell started the engine, switched on the “blues” and promptly hit the accelerator.

  The CID car lurched out into the street, traffic parting before them as Mitchell slammed the car through the gears and thundered south toward the water. Within two minutes they were east–
bound on Aldgate and into Whitechapel, joined by a screaming procession of ambulances and patrol cars all converging on Newark Street.

  ‘We’ve got the number,’ Honor said as she consulted the car’s internal computer screen. ‘Paramedics are on their way, uniforms are already breaking in, it’s an upstairs flat.’

  Mitchell did not respond, his eyes fixed on the road as they pulled hard right into Newark Street. Narrow, rows of old Victorian three–stories, built from the same bricks the Ripper would have seen as he stalked their confines. Two ambulances blocked the street along with three patrol cars as Mitchell screeched to a halt and the three of them tumbled out and ran to the front door, where four uniformed constables were waiting.

  ‘Is she alive?’

  Honor’s voice was twisted up, high–pitched, filled with far more passion than she would have thought possible, as though she herself were strapped to the bed.

  ‘I don’t know,’ came the officer’s reply, ‘the paramedics are up there and…’

  Honor barged past him and tore into the flats, rushed up the stairs with DCI Mitchell and Danny right behind her. She turned onto the third–floor landing to see one of the apartment doors busted open, a “big red key” leaning against the wall outside, the police officer’s affectionate name for a heavy, hand–held battering ram. Honor hurried to the doorway and immediately saw a rat looking up at her, its nose twitching and its black eyes sparkling. Though she knew the animal was blameless, she drove her heel down onto its neck and heard its spine snap like a dry twig as she stormed into the bedroom and saw the room littered with rat corpses, officers stamping on them as two paramedics fought to save Emily’s life.

  ‘Clear!’

  Honor heard a familiar whine as a defibrillator wound up, and to her horror she saw Emily laying on her back, naked, her body smothered in red claw marks, bites and streams of dark blood that ran like tiger stripes down her flanks. Her eyes were open, one looking up at the ceiling, the other staring sideways, her tongue hanging limp from her mouth.