“No,” she said, sobbing quietly. “You’re distorting the truth. That charity is my life, and I thought it was yours, too.”
He shook his head and made a horrible screeching noise that was meant to imitate the electronic buzzer that TV game show contestants hear when they get the answer wrong. “Uhhh-uhhh.”
“Simon, I’m begging you, before it’s too late, please let me go. You won’t get away with this. How are you going to keep my disappearance a secret?”
He cocked his head to one side and stared at her in exasperation. “Why on earth would you think I want to keep it a secret?”
“Because the moment someone finds out, you’ll be done for,” she said, desperately trying to make him understand.
Pritchard bristled. He was so incredibly fed up with this interfering cow always thinking that she knew better, of her constant criticism of every idea and plan that he had ever come up with. Even now, as she cowered down before him, begging for her worthless life, she was still managing to find fault. Unbelievable! He knew he should wait until they were safely ensconced in his lair, but he couldn’t allow her to speak to him like that anymore – she needed a reality check, and he was going to give her one, right here and now.
“In a minute I’m going to make a phone call. If you scream, I will kill you on the spot. Do you believe me? It’s important that you do,” he said, and nodded towards a huge serrated hunting knife that had magically appeared in his left hand.
Sarah nodded, hesitantly at first and then more forcefully when she saw how angry her feeble response was making him. Releasing her hair, he reached into his jacket and removed a mobile phone. She watched in fearful fascination as he keyed the buttons.
“Now remember, no screaming,” he warned.
While watching his every move fearfully, Sarah rubbed the side of her face. Her jaw still ached terribly, but she no longer thought it was broken. By now, her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and she was confident that they were in the back of a van. She considered screaming for help but dismissed the idea almost at once. She had no way of knowing where they were. For all she knew they could be out in the middle of nowhere, a field or an abandoned building in which she could scream until she was blue in the face and still not be heard. Besides, there was no doubt in her mind that she would be dead before the first cry ended. The deranged man in front of her was a complete stranger, not the husband she had loved for so many years.
“Please,” she said, desperately trying not to let her fear show, “I’ve only ever loved you. Why are you doing this to me? Surely we can sort this out without you hurting me?” She tried to keep her voice calm and reasonable, appealing to his better nature. He was a doctor, for Christ’s sake. Weren’t they sworn to protect life?
The Disciple smiled indulgently and held a finger to his lips while making a shushing noise.
“We’ll talk after,” he promised.
A flicker of hope danced across her heart. Maybe there was a slim chance of surviving this after all.
And then he was through to the newspaper again.
“Get me Teresa Miller at once…”
◆◆◆
Miller was still at her desk in the main office, putting the finishing touches on her latest article covering the Ripper case. It was infuriating that Tyler had declined to confirm that the flesh delivered by the Ripper was human, as the killer had inferred, and not a pound of stewing steak from the local butcher’s shop, but she had managed to find a way around that.
As luck would have it, after being blanked by Tyler, she had spoken to a rather naive trainee lab technician who had been present when the ghoulish shoe box full of human flesh had been delivered for forensic examination. Claiming to be a police officer calling for an update on behalf of DCI Tyler, she had been told that the box contained a human kidney and a neatly severed mammary gland.
The article made splendid reading if she said so herself – and she did – and, as Tyler hadn’t asked her to withhold any of the details, she would print the story in all its glory.
Deakin suddenly ran out of his office and began jumping up and down like a Jack in the box. When she frowned at him quizzically, he began waving his arms frantically. “Terri, it’s him again. Get your arse over here now,” he bellowed across the room, causing heads to turn.
“Shit!” she exclaimed, as a jolt of adrenaline flooded through her.
“Miller speaking,” she said, a few seconds later, having sashayed her way through an obstacle course made of desks.
“Who was that?” the now familiar voice hissed suspiciously. “Who answered the phone?”
“It was my editor, Giles. He was manning the phone for me. It’s cool. You can
