whether to run or try to confront Braddock who stood on the platform facing the Rastafarian, the dripping sheers now held in both hands.
‘Motherfucker,’ rasped the black man and lunged forward.
Braddock sidestepped and brought the razor sharp blades together once more.
They closed with ease around his opponent’s neck and, with a movement combining demonic force and seething anger, the politician snapped the blades together.
Two spurting crimson parabolas erupted from the Rastafarian’s neck as the shears bit through his carotid arteries, slicing through the thick muscles of his neck until they crushed his larynx and met against his spine.
Braddock roared triumphantly, exerting more force on the handles until the black man’s spinal column began to splinter and break. He was suspended in mid-air by the shears, held there by Braddock who seemed to have found reserves of strength he hadn’t formerly been aware of. Blood gushed madly forth, much of it covering the politician himself, but he ignored the crimson cascade, grunting loudly as he finally succeeded in severing his opponent’s head. It rose on a thick gout of blood as the body fell to the ground, twitching slightly.
The head rolled across the platform, sightless eyes gazing at the sky as torrents of red fluid poured from the stump of the neck.
Some of the crowd, by now, had scattered, others had surrounded the platform but, understandably, seemed reluctant to approach Braddock.
The politician had lowered the shears and his breathing seemed to have slowed.
He stood motionless, like a child lost in a supermarket. Those watching saw him raise one bloodied hand to his forehead and squeeze his eyes tightly shut.
When he opened them again his expression had changed from one of anger to utter horror. He looked at the headless corpse at his feet, then at Julian
Hayes who was rocking gently back and forth clutching at his torn belly.
Finally, Braddock lifted the shears before him, staring at the sticky red fluid which covered them. And him.
He dropped the weapon and staggered backward, his face pale and drained.
Somewhere in the distance he heard a police siren.
As the sun burned brightly in the sky, he shivered, his entire body enveloped by an icy chill, the like of which he had never experienced before.
Gerald Braddock took one more look at the carnage before him then vomited.
The dashboard clock showed 6.05 p.m. as Kelly pulled the Mini into Blake’s driveway. She tapped the wheel agitatedly, wondering, when she didn’t see his XJS, if he was out. She decided that he might have put it in the garage, hauled herself out of her own car and ran to his front door, clutching the two newspapers which she’d gathered from the back seat.
The sun was slowly sinking and the air was still warm from the daytime heatwave. Kelly felt her blouse sticking to her. The drive had been a long and tortuous one, especially once she’d reached inner London. Now she banged hard on Blake’s front door, almost relieved that she’d completed the trip.
She waited a moment but there was no answer.
Kelly banged again, this time hearing sounds of movement from inside. The door swung open and she saw Blake standing there.
“Kelly,’ he beamed. ‘What a great surprise. Come in.’ He ushered her inside, puzzled by her flustered appearance and look of anxiety.
is something wrong?’ he asked. She had still not smiled.
‘Have you seen the news today?’ she asked. ‘Or watched TV at all?’
Blake shook his head in bewilderment.
‘No. I had lunch with my publisher. I’ve been working since I got back. I haven’t had time to look at the papers. Why?’
She held two newspapers out before him, both were folded open to reveal headlines. He looked at one, then the other: ACTRESS KILLS BABY
Blake read it then looked at Kelly.
‘Read the other one,’ she told him. TELEVISION PERSONALITY CHARGED WITH MURDER
Below it was a photograph of Roger Carr.
The writer looked at the first article once more and noticed the name Toni Landers.
‘Jesus Christ,’ he murmured, sitting down on the edge of a chair. ‘When did this happen?’
‘Last night they found Roger Carr in his house with the body of a girl,’ said Kelly. ‘The night before, Toni Landers killed the baby. The article said it belonged to her friend.’
Blake frowned and skimmed the articles quickly.
‘That’s not all,’ Kelly told him. ‘When I was driving home from the Institute today, I had the radio on. Do you remember Gerald Braddock?’
Blake nodded.
‘According to the radio he went crazy this afternoon and killed two people,’
Kelly told him.
The writer hurriedly got to his feet and switched on the television.
‘There might be something on here about it,’ he said, punching buttons until he found the appropriate channel.
‘… Mr Braddock today. The Arts Minister is now in the Westminster Hospital, under police guard, where he was treated for shock prior to being charged.’
The newsreader droned on but Blake seemed not to hear the rest.
‘Treated for shock?’ said Kelly. ‘That’s a little unusual isn’t it? Do murderers usually go into a state of shock after committing the crime?’ She exhaled deeply.
i wish I knew,’ said BSake. ‘I know less than you do.’ He scanned the papers once more. ‘As far as I can make out Toni Landers and Roger Carr can remember nothing about the murders they committed. Yet they were both found with their victims.’
‘So was Gerald Braddock,’ Kelly added. ‘Only there were witnesses in his case.’
‘Three respected people suddenly commit murder for no apparent reason,’ Blake muttered. ‘They can’t remember doing it and nothing links them.’
‘There is a link, David,’ Kelly assured him. ‘They were all at the seance the other night.’
The two of them regarded each other warily for a moment then Blake got to his feet once more and picked up the phone. He jabbed the buttons and got a dial tone.
‘Can I speak to Phillip Campbell, please?” he asked when the phone was finally answered. He waited impatiently while the receptionist connected him.
“Hello, David,’ the Scot said. ‘You were lucky to catch me, I was just about to leave.’
‘Phil, listen to me, this is important. Do the names Toni Landers, Roger Carr and Gerald Braddock mean anything to you?’
“Of course. Toni Landers is an actress. Can’s an interviewer and Braddock’s a politician. Do F get a prize for getting them all right?’
‘In the past two days, each one of them has committed a murder.’
There was silence from Campbell’s end.
‘Phil, are you still there?’ Blake asked.
“Yes, look, what the hell are you talking about, David?’
‘It’s all over the papers, on the TV as well.’
‘But I know Braddock,’ Campbell said in surprise. ‘He couldn’t fart without help, let alone murder anyone.’
‘Well, all that changed today,” Blake said. He went on to explain what had happened to Toni Landers and Roger Carr. ‘None of them could remember what they’d done. It’s almost as if they were in some kind of trance. In my book I’ve discussed the possibility of some kind of unconscious reaction to an external stimulus …’
Campbell interrupted.
if you’re trying to use three random killings to justify what you’ve written, David. Forget it.” snapped the
