puny little trap like some mental defective? There was no anger in the man's thinking. He was just surprised that they could be so stupid. Talk about bolting the stable door…
A bus loomed up from his right and pulled to a halt in front of him. He pulled up his collar and got on board. He would concentrate on other things this evening and the fact that the police would be out all night in the cold made the prospect all the more pleasant. Anyone who protected these filthy creatures deserved all the discomfort that was coming to them.
The bus stopped on the far side of the circle and the man got off, carrying his briefcase and pressing his hat a little more firmly on to his head. It had started to rain but it was only a short walk back to the basement flat and then he could get on with the evening's work. He turned into the lane that separated the main road from the street where the flat was situated and passed along it, carefully avoiding the piles of cartons and waste paper that had been bundled out for collection on the following morning.
The location of the flat was ideal for his purpose because all the surrounding buildings were in use as offices. At night there was rarely anyone about. The windows of the entire street were in darkness save for one upstairs light in the surveyor's office across the road from the flat. This was so unusual that it made him stop briefly in the shadows at the end of the lane and look up at it. He was curious. No one had ever worked late there before. His natural caution made him consider all possible implications.
As he watched, a young woman appeared at the window. She was laughing and, as she reached up to the cord for the blinds, a man came up behind her and slid his arm round her waist. The man in the shadows watched as the man in the window slid his hands up on to the woman's breasts and buried his face against the side of her neck. 'Fool!' he hissed, his eyes burning with anger as he watched the woman laugh again and reach up her hand to stroke her companion's hair. 'Can't you see she's trying to trap you?'
The venetian blinds snapped shut and the two figures were eclipsed leaving the man at the corner of the lane still staring up at the window. He swallowed twice and regained his composure. There was work to be done. He descended the basement steps and opened the door extra quietly. He did not want to give the couple across the street any occasion to look out of the window, not that that was likely he conceded. That poor fool would have other things on his mind. But, as ever, caution was of the essence.
He closed the door silently and pulled the curtains across the window before switching on the light. A spider scuttled up the lifeline of its web having been exposed against the whitewash of the walls but the man ignored it. He opened the door of a small metal cupboard and examined what was inside. Excellent, he thought, it was all going well. When the time came for a change he would be ready and it could begin all over again.
He closed the door of the cupboard and went through to the kitchen to switch on a small metal-shaded lamp that sat in the middle of the kitchen table. A dull, purple glow came from the lamp at first but it grew brighter as the minutes passed. The man returned from the bedroom wearing white overalls and a full plastic face visor. He checked that his gloves were fitting properly, that the cuffs of his overalls overlapped them and the tunic was fastened up to his neck. There were to be no more slip ups. After more checking and preening he seemed satisfied with the state of his protection and got to work.
Two hours passed before he decided that he had done enough for one evening. He switched off the lamp and removed his visor. The cold air of the basement felt damp against the thin film of sweat on his forehead and made him shiver slightly as he got to his feet and started clearing up. With everything safely away inside the metal cupboard he sighed in satisfaction and looked at his watch. A last check on the thermometer protruding from the top of the cupboard and there was no more to be done this evening.
As he switched off the room light before opening the outside door he became aware of voices in the street above and stopped in the darkness behind the door to listen. A man and a woman were talking but he could not make out what was being said. As the minutes passed he became more and more impatient. Standing motionless was making him acutely aware of the cold and damp. Very slowly he turned the Yale lock on the back of the door, keeping his full weight against it in case it should move against the jamb and make a noise. With painful slowness he inched the door open until he could hear what was being said.
As he listened, he came to realise that the voices belonged to the man and woman he had seen in the window across the street. Their illicit liaison in the office was over and they were now leaving. Where had they done it in the office? Across a desk? Writhing on the floor like animals? Against a wall perhaps with the bitch egging him on. There was no limit to the ingenuity of the sluts. That was why he himself had to be equally devious if he were to redress the balance.
The woman was insisting that there was no need for the man to run her home. He was late already and that would only cause more trouble at home. She was quite happy to get the bus; the stop was only round the corner and she would be home in fifteen minutes.
'If you're sure,' said the man.
'Absolutely,' said the woman.
There was a long silence and the man in the basement deduced that the pair must be embracing. A look of disgust crossed his face in the dim yellow light that filtered down from the street.
There were a few whispered good-nights and then the click of high heeled shoes on the pavement that said they had parted. A car moving off a few seconds later said that it was now safe for him to leave. But the seeds of an idea had been planted inside his head. He had not planned it but could he turn a chance like this down?
Care! He must take care! There was always danger in unplanned action. Spontaneity could spell disaster but on the other hand, if the opportunity should present itself he must not turn down the chance of ridding society of another of these creatures. He closed the door again and once more shut the curtains before switching on the light. He went to the bathroom and took down the rubber apron from the line across the bath and folded it quickly before stuffing it into his briefcase. The instruments were ready on the side of the sink. He wrapped them up quickly in the velvet cloth.
This would be the first test, he thought as he closed the basement door quietly behind him. If the bitch was standing at the bus stop when he got there it would be a sign that fate was on his side. If she was not, he would return to the flat and abandon the entire notion.
He caught his foot against the edge of a cardboard box in the lane as he hurried along it and almost went sprawling but recovered his balance in time to remind himself to take more care. He paused at the end of the lane to compose himself, smoothing the front of his coat and adjusting the angle of his hat, before rounding the corner to approach the bus stop.
She was still there! The bitch was standing there, her skirt hugging the line of her buttocks, the slit in the back revealing a triangle of white underskirt, the line of her jacket designed specifically to enhance the curve of her breasts. She turned to look at him as he joined her at the stop but her face registered nothing. That was the way the bitches always looked at him, as if he weren't there. He stared at the back of her neck and then at the slight haughtiness of her profile as she turned slightly. Who did she think she was kidding with her air of respectability? Did she really imagine that he could not see through the sham! Through to the dirt and the evil!
The bus arrived and the woman climbed aboard. She had difficulty in mounting the high first step due to the tightness of her skirt and had to reach down to hitch it up a few inches. Behind her the man felt the pressure behind his eyes increase as he realised that this must be for his benefit. She was trying to distract him from his task by flaunting her evil charms. She was using the very weapons that had caught him out before! He felt the hardness stir and tiny beads of perspiration broke out along his upper lip. He fought the feeling. He must not be swayed.
The woman asked for a thirty-five pence fare and the man, after a suitable delay while he pretended to search for change in his pocket, asked for the same. He collected his ticket from the dispenser but, as he did so, he banged his briefcase against the base of the machine and the instruments inside rattled free from their wrapping.
'What you got in there mate?' asked the driver. 'The Crown jewels?'
The man managed a smile but it was strained and unnatural. With an outward air of calm he moved into a seat at the back of the bus. There, he would be free from curious eyes. He was four rows behind the woman and inside his head he was furious with himself. He had thrown away his chance! He could not now go ahead with the plan. The driver would remember him getting on the bus at the same time as the deceased. The incident with the instruments rattling free would ensure that he wasn't forgotten. Why hadn't he taken the time to pack the instruments properly!
The bus turned into a brightly lit street where the local pubs were turning out their clientele in compliance with the law. It was noisy and disorderly and the man grimaced involuntarily as he saw a crowd of youths respond
