In a surprising burst of eloquence, he shrugged and said, ‘It’s not always easy having friends. If it were, you wouldn’t really know if dem people were friends or not. Besides, I hired a nurse for mum already.’
That he had strung a sentence together stunned all of us into silence until Jagjit spoke. ‘We can come too. If you need the numbers.’
I shook my head firmly and gripped his shoulder in a comradely fashion to show my thanks.
‘Amanda is right that we are about to break a bunch of laws. You should go home, open a bottle of something cold, and pretend you were never involved.’
‘Unless we get away with it,’ added Big Ben. ‘Then you’ll want to get your faces in the paper like the rest of us.’ He held up one hand and ran it through the air as if outlining a headline when he said, ‘Local Adonis saves Christmas from maniac. Small, less attractive people helped.’
Amanda smacked him in the groin. As he groaned and folded slightly at the waist, I started toward the storeroom in the back where we kept the weapons and the radios. It was time to get kitted up.
Tempest. No Need for Stealth. Friday, December 23rd 2109hrs
No one said much on the drive to New Ash Green. Partly that was nerves stopping us from chattering – I greeted my anxiety like an old friend, it would help to keep me sharp. The other reason we remained quiet was because there just wasn’t anything to say.
We had been over the plan, what there was of it, and accepted we were going to have to make it up as we went along.
Harry Hengist, or whatever his real name is, would be home or he wouldn’t. Jane and Jan would be there, or they wouldn’t, and they were either still alive or they were not. It was a grim business and no mistake.
Would the Sandman have weapons? Would there be booby traps in his house? What horrors would we face?
I suspected we were all … well, maybe not Basic, but the rest of us were for sure running the different unknowns through our heads and that was keeping us quiet too.
I was in the Lotus with Amanda. Big Ben was following behind in his giant utility truck thing. A lot of the journey was through the Kent countryside, passing through small villages and constantly slowing down, yet we reached our destination in under thirty minutes.
It was getting cold out, our breath forming clouds of vapour above our heads once we left the warmth of the cars. Not that Big Ben’s was all that warm with a missing window.
Choosing to park down the street so our arrival would not be so obvious, Basic and Amanda were going around the back, jumping fences and fighting through overgrown alleyways. Big Ben and I were going in through the front.
We would knock first; it was the sensible thing to do. Assuming the Sandman couldn’t see who was outside, he might just open the door. It was easier than kicking it in which, for some reason, Big Ben seemed reluctant to try.
Harry Hengist didn’t answer the door which came as no surprise, so we moved to full assault mode. Using my radio, I checked on Amanda and Basic.
‘We’re going in – forced entry. Any sign of movement at the back of the house?’
Amanda’s voice crackled over the airwaves. ‘No. The house looks dead. No sign of life at all.’
‘Is there a shed or something in the garden where he might have them stashed?’
‘Nothing that I can see. There is no sound either. It’s so quiet here I can tell what the people next door are watching on their TV.’
I let her know we were going in the next two seconds then jumped out of my skin as the bay window at the front of the house exploded.
‘What was that?’ blurted Amanda, her voice instantly filled with concern.
I was looking at what it was but struggling to believe it.
‘Um, Ben just made an entry point,’ I told her, uncertain how else I could describe it.
Big Ben was looking pleased with himself. ‘Much easier than kicking in a door,’ he commented as he pulled the large wooden picnic bench back out through the hole he made.
‘Where did you even find it?’ I had to know.
He threw the picnic bench to one side and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘It was in a garden across the street.’ Before I could say anything else, he cleared away the broken glass and hopped inside.
So much for stealth.
I clambered in after him, whispering into my radio, ‘Stand by, we are in the house.’
We moved swiftly, both carrying blunt weapons to be used only if necessary and checking what lay beyond each doorway before we stepped through it. There was no way anyone in the house could be oblivious to our entry and that meant the Sandman would be on high alert if he was here.
Thus the need for stealthy movement was largely eroded and swiftness became our ally.
It took seconds to check the ground floor of the house: kitchen, dining room, downstairs cloakroom, and living room, the last of which was now full of cold air and bits of glass. There was nothing to find and no sign that a serial killer lived here. Bookshelves contained books and a pile of neatly stacked mail lay beneath a small paperweight on a desk. Pans used for dinner were balanced on the drying rack next to the sink. It all looked so innocent and normal.
There was no door leading to a set of stairs down to a basement that we could find, and
