Hellbound: The Tally Man (26 page)

‘The resolution to avoid an evil is seldom framed till the evil is so far advanced as to make avoidance impossible,’

Thomas Hardy

Chapter Twenty-Two

October 4th
19:12

Tearaght Island (An Tiarcht)

County Kerry, Ireland

OBADIAH heard a soft burst of child’s laughter echoing in the distance as he came to. He didn’t know how much time had passed since his confrontation with Tommy, but the room he was in which appeared to be hanging somewhere between darkness and light told him he was now somewhere different. He found himself blinking rapidly as he attempted to adjust to the contrasting spectrum.

The air felt warm and musty, the smell of his own body odour suggesting that he had been here for a while. Trying to sit up he found he could only raise himself up a few inches, his body securely bound. He tried to speak but found his throat sore and dry, the words coming out somewhere just above a croak.

“Where am I?”

He heard no reply.

“Where the fuck am I?” Obadiah demanded, his tone stronger.

His eyes began to slowly focus, revealing the vast expanse he found himself in. High ceilings emblazed with bright strip lights, the rear of the room so distant it was enveloped in darkness.

He looked down to see he was strapped to a trolley, wearing linen trousers and shirt similar in design to the ones he had found himself in the day of his execution. Equipment surrounded him, some of which he recognised as infusion devices and syringe drivers, attached to him via cannulae in his brachial arteries. Some of it was less familiar, almost futuristic in its design, sleek and chrome.

“This is Hell, Obadiah,” a mechanical sounding female voice announced from behind him. “Your Hell to be more precise.”

* * *

Fenit (An Fhianait)

County Kerry, Ireland

Joe felt bereft during the journey home. Dunwall’s reveal regarding The Brethren and Vicky’s part in it had forcibly removed something from him. The extent of their actions was greater than he could have imagined. And now he was left with the confusion as to why and how she fit into the mosaic he found himself piecing together.

Stepping into the house Joe dropped into the nearest chair, his legs suddenly unsteady, stomach queasy. Not only did he now have to consider Vicky involved in the conspiracy surrounding Obadiah Stark, but that everything she had told him was a lie. When he had started this investigation for his book, he had wanted to uncover details and depth which would have set his work above all the others about serial killers and their motivations. Instead, he had ended up with suspicion, murder attempts and a conspiracy involving a seemingly altruistic organisation and one of the most secure prisons in the world.

He rubbed his eyes and rose from the chair to make a drink. The knock at the front door came as he popped ice-cubes into the half full glass, swirling the Jack Daniels around as he opened it.

“Hey you,” Vicky said, greeting him with a smile.

“Hey,” Joe acknowledged with more surprise than he would have liked.

An uncomfortable moment passed between them. “Can I come in?” she asked.

“Sorry, of course,” he replied, opening the door wider to allow her passage.

Moving into the living room she sat down, straightening the hem of her long coat beneath her. “I haven’t disturbed you, have I?”

“Not at all. Was just working myself up to a mood that involved getting drunk actually. Fancy one?”

“I like your thinking,” she replied with a chuckle. “That would be great, thank you.”

Joe stepped into the kitchen and held up the bottle towards her. She nodded her approval. Half filling another glass, he took a deep breath and returned to the living room, handing her the drink before sitting down opposite.

“So,” Joe asked as naturally as he could. “What have you been up to?”

“Not much…thinking about you mostly.”

“Oh,” Joe replied.

“That’s all you can manage?”

‘I’m sorry,’ Joe responded. ‘You just caught me off guard, that’s all. To be honest, I was thinking about you too.”

Not actually a lie.

“That’s good, because I was also thinking that you need to be careful about where you’re going to take your Stark theory.”

“I’m worried about you. Last night was wonderful, Joe. But I can’t help thinking your letting all of this get to you.” She sat forward, her coat slipping open slightly allowing Joe to see she was naked underneath. “The things you were saying last night, conspiracies and cover-ups…you sounded a little crazy. So I thought you might need something to still your mind for a while.” She finished the drink in one mouthful and moved to kneel in front of him, placing the glass on the floor. Rising up, she kissed him passionately, biting his lip as she pulled away.

Joe felt himself become quickly aroused. “Crazy?” He asked in a low tone. “I might have been a little agitated, what with someone having tried to kill me, but I’m not crazy, Vick. I didn’t just fall off a turnip truck, you know. I’ve been doing this journalism stuff a while and trust me when I say someone is trying to cover something up about Stark’s execution.”

“Such as?” Vicky asked firmly, slowly undoing the belt on his jeans.

“Does it really matter? Someone doesn’t try to kill you unless you’re on to something, wouldn’t you say?”

“Perhaps. But maybe it was just a coincidence. Wrong time, wrong place.”

She began working on his shirt buttons.

“Do I look like John McClane?” Joe asked wryly. “It wasn’t random…he knew my name and happened to be there to help me change a tire that had suspiciously gone flat. Give me a break.”

Vicky slowly reached into his loosened jeans and took hold of him. “It must have been terrible for you. And that’s the other reason I came, to try and take your mind off it.”

She moved his right hand and placed it beneath her coat, allowing him to feel her warm body beneath. “Please, Joe. Let it go.”

“Why?”

Vicky gripped him harder, causing him to moan softly. “Because I care about you.”

“No, why did you come here, Vicky?”

“To get naked with you.”

“I mean here, to Ireland?”

Vicky leaned into his ear, breathing heavily as he moved his hand down between her legs. “Because you asked me for help. Why else would I have come?”

Joe moved his hand, making her moan loudly and push against him. “I think you came because you were invested in something. Though why you would need The Brethren’s help is beyond me.”

Vicky stopped gyrating against him and dropped her head to his chest. “Oh, Joe. Why did you have to keep digging? Let me guess, Dunwall?”

Joe pushed her back gently and cupped her face in his hands. “You know I can’t tell you my source. But please try to understand it’s my job. I just couldn’t let it go.”

“Trust me, I understand more than you know.” Vicky stroked his cheek gently before reaching into her pocket. “Which is why I need to do this.”

He saw the Taser in her hand moments before it touched his neck, his body tensing up as he experienced one huge cramp. Joe rose onto his tiptoes, his arms being pulled into his body as though suddenly magnetised. As he collapsed to the floor, Vicky knelt beside him and stroked his head, tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Joe. But it’s for your own good.”

She pulled the phone from her pocket and dialled a number.

“It’s me. You were right, he’s knows…No, I took care of it. I’m at his house…just hurry.”

She hung the phone up and sat down beside Joe, kissing him on the forehead before placing his head in her lap. Tears began to well in her eyes as she stroked his hair again.

“Damn you, Joe O’Connell. Damn you.”

* * *

Tearaght Island (An Tiarcht)

County Kerry, Ireland

“How much longer are you going to keep me waiting before someone tells me what the fuck is going on?” Obadiah insisted.

“You will find out soon enough,” the woman replied, still behind him and out of sight. Her voice sounded metallic, almost comical. Obadiah looked around the empty, sterile expanse once again. “I assume we’re waiting for something, or someone?”

“In the assumption we’re waiting for someone, you are correct. Then we will be ready to begin.”

“Begin what?”

“What has been in preparation for so long, Obadiah.”

He pushed against his restraints again, but found there was virtually no give. “I want to know what this is all about.”

“You are in a position to demand nothing,” the woman replied in a robotic tone. “I, on the other hand am in a position to grant nothing. Therefore I suggest you calm down and wait.”

He heard a phone ring behind him, followed by the woman’s footsteps as she approached it. There was a slight pause, before she spoke. “Excellent.” He heard the phone placed back in its cradle.

“You’re in luck, Obadiah,” the voice stated. “Your wait is over.”

He heard a door open to his left and footsteps before two men moved into his periphery. They stood on either side of his trolley and spun it around before wheeling it back in the direction they had just come. Obadiah closed his eyes and tried to make sense of his sudden change of circumstances. Was this another part of his death cycle, which had started with him returning home? He needed to know what had happened to Ellie’s body after Tommy had stabbed her. He needed to know what had happened to Tommy. Maybe this was more of his games to torture him.

Moving through a large double doorway, they entered a smaller room that again held numerous pieces of equipment along either side of the walls. He was placed directly in front of a large opaque window, the men who had brought in him securing the trolley in place before moving away. Moments later he sensed someone behind him again.

“At some point are you planning to introduce yourself? You seem to have gone to a lot of effort to get me here.”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Getting no reply, Obadiah heard the doors open again and was able to turn his head enough to see the that man wheeled in next to him was still unconscious, strapped to a trolley similar to his.

The window before him slowly began to lose its opaque tint revealing people on the other side. He saw at least three rows with a dozen chairs in each, occupied with a mixture of men, women and children.

“And this is?” Obadiah asked sternly.

“Your execution,” the woman announced still out of sight. “Your actual execution, not the showcase you went through in Absolom. Tonight, Obadiah Stark, is the night you die.”

He pushed hard against his restraints. “Who are you?”

He only realised the person who moved to stand in front of him was a woman from the curvature of her figure, accentuated by the tight white shirt and knee-length skirt she was wearing. Her face had very little in the way of feminine features, with the lower half of it below the jaw appearing to have been reconstructed. The procedure had worked in the sense that rather than an actual jaw there was a veil of skin starting from just below her nose that rolled around to the top of her neck. It gave her an appearance akin to a Cabbage Patch doll whose face had been melted. In the middle of her neck was a circular, metal disc to which she placed an electrolarynx.

“You don’t recognise me, do you?” The reverberation of her voice was jarring.

“Miss World?”

“A sense of humour…brave considering your circumstances. I’d forgotten how arrogant you could be. I wouldn’t expect you to remember me of course. I looked a lot prettier in 1993. Well, before you left me in a ditch on Highway 80 that is. Ringing any bells now, Tally Man?”

Obadiah stared at her, eyes unblinking. “You’re the charming individual who provided the world with my travelling name. The Tally Man was quite inventive I have to say. Though I never expected to see you again.”

“That makes two of us.”

“What was the name of the firecracker again?” he continued. “Thunderking, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You’re not,” she replied. “And for the sake of completion, my name is Sara Jayne Morgan.”

Obadiah remained outwardly impassive, trying desperately to hide the feelings of confusion and loss he felt at his new circumstances. The man who had tried to take her life was not the man before her now. But he knew it was something he could never expect her to understand. He wasn’t sure he understood himself.

Sara had moved beside the other trolley. She opened some smelling salts and waved them under the unconscious man’s nose, before standing back. His face wrinkled briefly before he came too, his expression immediately one of anxiety at his situation.

“Where am I?” he demanded loudly. “What the fuck is this?”

Sara moved in front of him. “Please try to remain calm, Joe. We have no intention of hurting you. That’s not your purpose here.”

“Here?” Joe asked, wrestling against his restraints. “Where is here exactly?”

“Somewhere we can proceed uninterrupted. It’s for everyone’s safety, I’m sure you can understand.”

“No, I don’t fucking understand. I was just tasered by someone who I thought I knew, and now I wake up to find myself being confronted by someone who sounds like a Dalek. I want to know what’s fucking going on. Where’s Vicky?”

“Be patient, you will see her soon enough. But in the meantime, Joe O’Connell,” Sara announced. “Meet Obadiah Stark aka The Tally Man. One of the world’s most prolific serial killers and sentenced to death at Absolom Maximum Security prison. Tonight, you will perform an interview before he dies. His last interview and the one you have wanted for a long time.

Joe, still feeling stung by Vicky’s betrayal looked to his left at Obadiah. “I’ll be damned. You are alive.

Sara made a coughing sound that Joe guessed would have been a laugh if she had had a mouth. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“I suspected there was something going on…hadn’t quite got to this scenario though thinking back about the taser, I guess I was on the right track. So, his execution at Absolom?”

“What we intended you and the world to see.”

“And ‘we’ is…?”

“I’m sorry, how rude of me to not have introduced ourselves. We are The Brethren that you have been so diligently honing in on. The company is more than what you see here of course, but we represent its core values.”