In awe of his master’s powers and wisdom, the acolyte said, ‘As you command, so I will obey.’
With the conversation complete, the Sandman put down the phone and drew in a slow breath. He knew Jane Butterworth was up to something in her cell, but he wasn’t there to determine what it might be. She was doing things that most others hadn’t and had blinded him to her activities somehow.
There was a need to return to her location. He doubted she could do what no other ever had, but why risk it. He would go soon.
He checked his camera feed again. It was the same blackness it had been since just after he left her in the building more than an hour ago. Since leaving, every time he checked on her, he could hear grunting and straining. Oddly, she sounded more like a man than a woman as she fought to get free of her bindings, for that was what he felt certain she was doing.
Confused, he checked the feed to his second victim, the one he took as a precaution, but that one was still unconscious, the camera feed showing the still form lying on the bed. He shrugged, accepting that he overestimated the dose of etorphine to administer. It wasn’t a problem; there was plenty of time before the ceremony for the drug to work itself out of his body.
Jane was fighting to get free. The thought brought a smile to his face. How far would she be able to get? Taking her was the right thing to do, of course, no one could argue that.
He expected the Blue Moon team would pick up on their colleague’s absence and that in turn would make them look hard at his case. Ultimately, there was a purpose to their inclusion, and it was an important one. It exposed a danger they might uncover his identity, and that was why he planned to kill them all. However, they would give him that which he could not get for himself.
His foot soldiers were deployed to slow them down, the less important pieces anyway. That giant brute was supposed to end up in hospital and for his injuries to look like a random altercation. There were teams deployed to several obvious locations, Jane Butterworth’s house being just one of them. Had it been Tempest who arrived there, they would have left him alone. However, it hadn’t been and his instructions on the matter were simple. That they failed to remove the big one from the board was unacceptable.
However, the same acolyte leading the charge there, had earlier succeeded in placing the tracking device on Tempest Michaels. The Sandman switched to a different app, checking the Blue Moon’s lead investigator’s location.
A smile crept across his face because he was right about the biggest reason to take Jane Butterworth. She was an outlier – someone he would not normally have taken an interest in. Only when she denied him Karen Gilbert did he choose to save her.
It wasn’t really about saving Jane though; he took her to set in motion a series of events that would lead him back to Karen Gilbert.
Looking down at the map in his hand and the dot blinking away at its centre, he knew he had to postpone returning to check on his current captives. There could be only one reason why Tempest had gone out tonight – he was visiting Karen Gilbert.
Her disappearance had been most bothersome, yet in many ways, being made to wait made saving her more satisfying. His acolytes had already tracked Tempest to one address only to discover Karen wasn’t there. They were trailing him still, so perhaps Harrietsham, where the paranormal P.I. was currently shown to be, would reveal Karen’s secret location.
He would know soon enough.
Big Ben. More Bad News. Friday, December 23rd 1933hrs
Jan Van Doorn’s apartment is in a block of flats near Tovil. More accurately, it was near the dodgy end of Tovil just outside the city centre. One only had to travel about another mile to find wide open countryside and beautiful detached houses with swimming pools and expensive cars parked on the drive. On a drive in Tovil, one was more likely to find an old refrigerator with a couple of drunk fourteen-year-old kids sitting on it.
My car with its broken window was going to fit right in.
Sticking my head out of the hole where the glass should be, I scanned the ugly, square block of flats for a name to confirm I had the right building and stopped the car.
‘Dis it?’ asked Basic, happily playing a Gameboy in the passenger seat.
I squinted into the dark, looking for movement or signs that there might be anyone here waiting for us.
When I was content we were not going to find a fresh ambush awaiting us, I said, ‘Yes,’ and got out of the car.
Basic followed suit, pocketing his electronic toy and pushing his sleeves up to his elbows. I guess he had the sense that there might be more trouble too.
The building sat dark and quiet. On the Friday before Christmas there ought to be more noise and more people. There were lights in a lot of the windows, not just of the flats but also of the houses around us. There were very few decorations outside though, most likely because they would be stolen in seconds. Or already had been.
The main door was fitted with an electronic lock to keep unwanted people out. Surprisingly, it worked. They are easy enough to defeat, especially if you have someone like Basic around, but there was an easier way to get in than breaking the lock.
I jabbed a bunch of the buzzers, alerting the residents in about twenty different random apartments.
Several answered at once, to which I replied, ‘Pizza,’ and heard the pop and buzz as
