‘If I didn’t kill her…’ The words blurted out, sprayed like projectile vomit all over the table. ‘Kill her… then Fiona would, would kill me…’
‘So you killed her.’
He nodded, shoulders heaving with his tears.
‘And all the… mutilation?’
Turner grimaced. ‘She did that. Fiona did that. I wouldn’t, couldn’t…’
Mickey waited.
‘She got the Creeper and me to drop off the body, told us where to leave it, how to position it. Said you’d think there was a sex killer on the loose. Then she said…’ Another heavy sigh. ‘Said that I was hers now. Forever.’
Turner said nothing more. Just sat slumped.
Mickey sighed. Mopping up time. ‘She used you, Mark.’
‘No…’ He shook his head.
‘Yes, she did. Just like she used Ian Buchan.’
Turner frowned. ‘Who?’
‘The Creeper. Used you. Kept you under her control. She made the Creeper kidnap his own sister. She used him like she used you.’
‘But we were a partnership…’
‘No you weren’t. You were just like the Creeper to her. Someone to be controlled. Another experiment.’
Turner sighed. And the tears came again.
‘So where are they, Mark? The girls?’
He kept his head down, stared at the table.
‘You may as well tell me, Mark, I know everything else.’
Nothing.
‘Everything. Even the fact that the two quotes you threw at me when I came in here were from Schopenhauer and Nietzsche.’
Turner looked up, shock and surprise in his eyes.
‘Anyone can read a book, Mark. So tell me, where are they?’
Turner sighed, saw that he had nothing else left to hang on to.
‘At the Quay. The old Dock Transit Company building…’
Mickey was straight out of the door.
105
Suzanne screamed.
It was enough to startle the Creeper, divert his attention away from Phil.
Phil could only watch as Suzanne kept the momentum going. While the others were still staring, she got to her feet, grabbed one of the huge, chained hooks hanging from the runner along the ceiling and swung it towards the other three.
Phil, being on the ground already, didn’t have to duck. The other two did. Fiona Welch ducked to the side but she wasn’t quick enough and the hook swung at her, catching her on the side of the head. She fell, crumpling in a heap.
The Creeper was faster to react. The hook, which, having hit Fiona Welch, slowed its momentum, was much less of a threat by the time it reached him. He put up a great, solid hand, all muscle and gristle, and stopped it, the impact forcing him backwards, air huffing from him.
Phil knew what was coming next, shouted a warning.
‘Get out of the way, Suzanne…’
The Creeper pulled back the hook and, giving a roar of effort as he did so, let it fly towards her.
Phil pushed himself even further into the rusted metal of the walkway as it rattled along the track, gaining speed from the traction as it passed him. Suzanne however, couldn’t move. She just stood there, watching it come towards her.
‘Run!’ shouted Phil.
It broke the spell. Suzanne turned and ran.
Along the walkway and into the shadows. Phil lost her then. He turned back to the scene before him. Welch was still on the floor, eyes screwed up in pain, hand to the side of her head, blood seeping between fingers. The Creeper’s face had, if anything, turned even redder. Phil didn’t know much about burns and scarring but he was sure this wasn’t a positive development.
He was right. With an angry roar, he set off after Suzanne, his limping, shambling frame surprisingly fast, and was soon lost to sight in the shadows, the only sounds the heavy clang and clatter as his boots came down heavily on the metal floor.
Phil pulled himself to his feet, looked down at Fiona Welch. There was nothing he could do for her at the moment. He pulled at his wrists behind his back. But it was no good. The cuffs were tight. He needed something sharp, an edge to cut them with. He looked round. Couldn’t see one.
The Creeper had reached the ground and was bellowing once more.
Wrists tied or not, thought Phil, I’ve got to stop him.
Treading as carefully as he could and trying desperately to keep his balance and remain upright, Phil ran along the gantry into the same shadows that had claimed the other two.
Suzanne was getting out of breath. The sudden exertion after so much enforced stillness was beginning to take its toll. Her lungs were starting to burn, her legs shake. Her breathing was coming hard and fast and she was sure he would be able to track her just from that alone.
She had no idea where she was going. She was trying to find a way out but there didn’t seem to be one. The light from above cast faint rays on the ground, more than she had expected. Perhaps too much if he was following her.
And he was. She could hear him.
She ran.
The Creeper was angry. Very angry.
He didn’t know what was going on but he knew he didn’t like it. The husk had tried to hurt him. It was time for the husk to stop.
He reached the bottom of the steps, looked round. Listened. Heard movement to his left, breathing and fast footsteps. Bare feet slapping on the concrete floor.
He smiled.
Easy.
But just in case, he had something that would give him an advantage.
The night-vision goggles were still in his pocket. He had used them earlier when he came to meet Rani – or thought he was coming to meet Rani – to get into the building and dodge the police. He always used them at night. Something else he loved that gave him power.
He put them on, activated them. The world turned ghost-green and he could see.
And there she was. Almost to the far wall, by the boxes and beyond them, the water.
The electric water.
She disappeared from view. Hiding. Or so she thought.
He smiled.
Too easy.
106
