“I’m fine, just fine,” Terri said, sounding anything but.
◆◆◆
“Major Incident Room, DCI Tyler speaking,” he said into the receiver.
“Hello Chief Inspector, it’s Terri Miller here, from the Echo…”
Tyler grimaced. “What can I do for you?” he asked coldly.
“I’ve just had a call from the Ripper. We recorded it on the equipment Paul Evans had installed.”
Tyler sat up at that. “What did he say?” he asked, a little surprised that she had actually called this in so quickly.
“He told me he had made a delivery to you at Whitechapel police station and he ordered me to ask you about it. He threatened that something unpleasant would happen if I didn’t.”
Jack found himself wondering whether she’d added the last bit for effect, or as an excuse to phone him and sniff around, but he dismissed the idea almost at once. She wasn’t stupid. She wouldn’t say anything that could be easily disproved by listening to the tape.
But what should he tell her? Whatever he said, she would almost certainly publish it. He thought carefully before answering. “Miss Miller, I did receive a delivery this afternoon from someone claiming to be the Ripper. I’m not in a position to disclose what it contained. Suffice to say we are treating the matter as serious, and we’re exploring all avenues to prove or disprove its authenticity.” He made as bland a statement as he could, speaking without actually saying anything.
“I see,” she said, clearly disappointed.
“I’m sorry, Miss Miller. I appreciate your call and I’ll send someone straight over to collect the tape, but I can’t disclose any more details at the moment,” he explained, knowing he couldn’t ostracise her completely; they needed her continued co-operation too much.
“Will you be able to tell me more about this later?” she asked, hopefully. He rolled his eyes. Reporters! Didn’t they ever let things drop?
“We’ll have to see,” he informed her, noncommittally. “Now, if that’s all, I’ll say goodbye.”
“There’s one more thing,” Miller said, uneasily. “He told me he was going to call back later tonight, and that I should wait by the phone. I have a horrible feeling that he intends to do something terrible.”
Jack felt his pulse quicken. “What makes you think that?” he asked.
“Just the tone of his voice,” she said, knowing how corny that must sound. “There was something deeply unsettling about the way he told me to wait by the phone. It was as if he didn’t want me to miss out on whatever nastiness he had planned.”
“Thank you for letting me know,” Jack said. “I really hope you’re wrong about this feeling of yours, but in the meantime, I’ll make sure all our patrols are fully aware of the need to be extra vigilant. If I give you my job mobile, will you call me straight back if you hear anything more?”
“Of course,” she promised, and noted the number. “Good night, Chief Inspector,” she said, “and don’t take this the wrong way, but I really hope we don’t have to speak again tonight.”
“Me too,” Tyler said. Shaking his head, he put the phone down.
“Dean!” he shouted, as Fletcher walked past his office. “I’ve got a job for you.”
CHAPTER 34
The Disciple lingered on the corner opposite the lockup until he was completely sure that no one had followed him. When he was satisfied that it was safe to move, he crossed the road quickly, keeping his head tucked down and his face hidden by his collar.
With nimble fingers he unlocked the heavy wooden door and slipped inside, cursing his neighbour’s security lighting as he always did.
Re-locking the door from inside – you could never be too careful – he reached out into the cloying darkness, his fingers probing the cold wall for the lights, which were located just below an ancient fuse box that any self-respecting electrician would have condemned as lethal.
Once found, he flicked the small row of switches down, illuminating the centre of the cavernous arch in a weak beam of yellowish light. For a moment he stood perfectly still, soaking up the atmosphere of his lair.
The Disciple felt more at home here than he did anywhere else, including the house that he called home. Perhaps it was because everything in this crumbling place reflected the decay that festered in his soul. Perhaps it was just that here, unlike anywhere else, he didn’t need to wear theatrical props and cheap make-up to shield his identity from the rest of society.
And while most people would have found the interior sinister and oppressive, to him it was a warm and comfortable place, one in which he felt secure and protected from the outside world. He enjoyed spending as much time here as he could.
He crossed to the far side of the archway and sat down at the worktop he’d installed especially for his makeup and props. Switching on the small light mounted above his mirror, he studied his reflection thoughtfully. “Good evening, Jack,” he said to the image in the glass. “It’s time to go out hunting again.”
He had decided against wearing a disguise tonight. There was no need as his intended victim already knew his name. In fact, she knew everything about him – well, he smiled, almost everything.
He was about to head over to the van when he caught sight of the duffle bag resting against the old chest freezer. As eager as he was to get going, he couldn’t deny himself the few moments it would take to inspect its precious contents. Opening the drawstring, he reached inside, removing the panties he’d procured from his first four victims. For a moment he stared at them in reverence. Then, raising them to his face, one at a time, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. A fantastic explosion of light and colour filled his mind as the sight, smell and touch of the material recreated the intense feelings he associated with
