He leans forward, his elbows digging into the table. "Dads do die. Sure. But most dads aren't killed," Simon states. "Most dads aren't killed by a serial killer."
The penny suddenly drops. Things, or at least some things, are beginning to make more sense. "Oh," I say. There is silence for a few moments. I search for the next appropriate question. "So how old were you when your dad died?"
"Fifteen," Simon says. "They say adolescence is a difficult time for the best of us. There was so much more division when you were kids, don't you think? There was a hierarchy in the school and a nerdy kid like me was most definitely on the lower end of the spectrum. I know these years were difficult for you, too. Well, try being fifteen when you get a knock on the door in the early hours of the morning and it is the police, and they tell you that your dad has been brutally murdered. Suddenly, examinations and acne become rather trivial, if you know what I mean?"
I'm definitely feeling bad for this guy now, and I'm aware this is his intention. I bow my head. I don't want to fall into his net. I try to work out just what it is Simon is saying to me. I was left for dead by a serial killer. His dad was killed by a serial killer. He thinks Spartacus is still out there. What is the logical conclusion?
"Did Spartacus kill your dad?"
His eyes open wide. Then he laughs. "No," he says. "Sorry, I've just realised why you came to that conclusion. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to mislead you."
"So why are you telling me all this then? Are you trying to explain why you've become a nut job? Trying to justify it to me? Make me understand?"
Simon's repulsed face makes me wince. I somehow know I am up against the clock. Spartacus set that clock. I don't have time for niceties.
"I'm not a nut job. That is what I've been trying to tell you," Simon says. "I became obsessed with the man - if you can call him that - who killed my father. I wanted to know every tiny detail about him. This was only a means to an end, though. Ultimately, I wanted to find him and I wanted to kill him. I was driven by this single, crystal clear goal. He dominated my every thought. This obsession with one man expanded. I became fascinated by other serial killers. Admittedly, it is a morbid, troubled fascination. But the key point is this: it isn't because I admire the killers. I hate them with every fibre in my body because of what one of them did to my dad. Don't you see?"
I think I already know the answer to the question I'm about to ask but regardless, I have to ask it anyway. "So why exactly have you been following me, Simon?"
He takes a slow, deliberate sip of his tea before answering. "Spartacus fascinates me more than any of the other serial killers, partly because he is the one that was never caught, but also because to him it is just a big game. We have no idea who he is. He has become a myth. But he is still out there. And the only way we are ever going to find him is to make your move before he makes his move on you..."
DAY TWENTY-ONE 21ST JUNE 2018
Clasping his large hands together, Richard leans forward in his chair. Pausing for a moment, he takes a deep breath before posing his question, as he always does. I watch, open-mouthed, admiring his poise. "So, Marcus, how have you been since our last meeting?"
Just where do I start? So much has happened. There has been so much temptation and, on the whole, I've resisted most of it. There have been moments when I could have self-destructed, but I didn't. Just. Yesterday was the closest I came to breaking. I thought I had my man, thought I had him caught, but it was a false trail. Realising it wasn't him was a heavy blow. But then I talked to Simon, and that gave me some hope again. It drained me physically and emotionally, but it did give me some hope.
Regardless, I decide to muster all the energy I can to take a rambling approach to answering his question.
"It's been my most challenging period since I've been coming to see you, Richard," I say. The raising of both eyebrows indicates he knows there is a 'but' coming. "But," I say, and he smiles, "I've risen to the challenge. My nerves have been ripped to shreds and, on occasions, I've been paranoid to the point I've doubted myself and everyone around me, but I've still come out the other side fighting. I'm still here, aren't I, sat opposite you, telling you this? That surely has to count for something, doesn't it? I'll be honest, the fact I'm still here kind of proves to me just how strong I actually am...”
Richard smiles. It truly is a wonderful sight to behold. He leans back in his chair and then decides against this and leans forward again. "That is fantastic, Marcus. I am proud of you. I'm fully aware that
