Kaleidoscope (15 page)

Lewis stopped twisting the glass and froze perfectly still, as if paralysed by the sight of him. He barely took a breath as he stared at the reflection of the man who stood less than five feet from where he was sitting. He watched as the man reached up again and dragged his left hand back through his hair, removing the several strands which had fallen down over his face as he spoke enthusiastically with the barman. Lewis focused in on the hand and saw that half of his little finger was missing; as if surgically removed just after the second joint.

It was him. Craig Blaine
had
seen him
–
he
did
exist.

Lewis ripped the bindings of his gaze away and stared straight ahead, feeling the ice cold tip of a blade shoot down the length of his spine. He focused himself and began to listen to the conversation the man was having with the barman.

"...and when the bitch left, she took the cat," the man said, still smirking. "As if I'd care about that little shit; it just pissed and shat everywhere, never used the litter tray at all."

The barman smiled and nodded as he changed one of the empty bottles behind the bar. "How long were you together?"

The man glanced over in Lewis's direction but paid him no mind then ran his hand through his hair yet again before turning back to the barman. "I dunno, over a year. I never really liked her anyway. I knew she was sleeping around and I had a few girls on the go at the same time. She was just someone to help pay the fucking rent!" He snorted with laughter as if he had just made the funniest joke anyone was likely to hear for several decades.

"You had other girls? Yeah right, you're no Casanova, Jonah," the barman said, chuckling to himself. "In spite of what you think about your mane."

"You don't know shit. I have plenty of women after me pal." Jonah picked up the glass of liquor in front of him and gulped down the last drop. "Get me another drink will you. Do your job and stop insulting your customers."

The barman took the glass and turned to fill it. Jonah turned to Lewis and leaned in closer.

"You believe the shit this bloke is giving me?" he said jovially, prodding Lewis on the shoulder.

Lewis turned and looked at him. He guessed Jonah was in his mid-to-late thirties, although his skin was heavily wrinkled around the eyes and forehead. His long, thin face stretched out and he had a pointed chin which appeared to be freshly shaved. His cheek bones were sharp, like small razors just beneath the surface of the skin. Lewis could smell the faint aroma of expensive aftershave drifting over from the man as he looked at him, unable to move.

"You believe it?" Jonah repeated after Lewis denied him a response.

Lewis stared at him for a moment longer before raising one corner of his mouth in acknowledgement then turned back to the mirror. Jonah leaned back up with a confused frown and when the barman returned with his drink, Lewis glanced over and saw him make a face to his friend and nod over as if to say,
what's his problem?

Lewis sat in his chair and barely moved. He could actually feel the sensation of blood being pushed through his veins and arteries as his heart pounded inside his chest. His hands felt as if they were throbbing from the force of the racing blood. But he didn't dwell on these sensations and turned his attention back to the conversation that was taking place a few feet away.

"So what are you going to do about the rent now she's gone?" the barman asked, leaning on the opposite side of the bar.

Jonah shrugged, "I'll manage. I'm still getting quite a bit of work."

"What is it you do again?"

Jonah smirked again and slurped on his drink. "This and that, I'm freelance you see."

"Freelance what?" the barman asked, placing a hand behind his neck and leaning back as if to stretch out a knot in his muscle.

Jonah snorted. "Whatever comes my way, you know. I'm not too fussy as long as the pay is right... and it usually is."

The barman shook his head dismissively; he had obviously had this conversation with Jonah before and didn't look as though he wanted to pursue it any further.

Lewis glanced across occasionally and absorbed the features of the man sitting just feet away. As the time passed, he began to memorise the minute details of his face and could feel himself beginning to hate them all. Finally, he pushed his empty glass away, stood up and walked out of the bar.

 
When he stepped outside, Lewis walked briskly along the street, turned the corner and leaned with his back to the cool bricks of a terrace house. He took several long, deep breaths as he tilted his head back against the wall and gazed up at the sky. He wanted to stare up and see the stars but they were hidden. Thick, black clouds hung overhead and concealed the vista.

He began to feel his heart slow and the pounding sensation subsided as he continued to breathe long and deep. After a few moments, he heard the door to The Golden Anchor slam shut and raised voices. He hesitated before moving to edge of the corner and peering round.

It was the couple who had been arguing earlier in the evening. They walked down the street and the woman began shouting something as she pushed the man away, who kept trying to block her path. Lewis watched as they walked away from him and their voices became faint.

He was about to turn away when the door to the bar opened again and Jonah stepped outside. Lewis moved back so only a single eye was observing and watched as Jonah pulled some chewing gum from his pocket, threw it into his mouth and began to walk in his direction. Lewis ducked back away from the corner and ran across the deserted road, making his footsteps as quiet as possible. He saw a small gap between an off-license and a row of houses and stepped into the narrow alleyway. He was in almost total darkness and craned his neck to look back to the corner.

Jonah chewed his gum with large movements of his jaw as he turned the corner and continued to walk along the street. He took brisk strides and moved quickly as he continually brushed his long blonde hair away from his face with his incomplete left hand - it was obviously a persistent habit of his. When he had got far enough away, Lewis stepped out from the alley, pushed his hands into his jacket pockets and began to follow.

It started to rain and Lewis saw Jonah, fifty feet ahead of him, begin to increase his pace to a slow jog. Lewis did the same, not taking his eyes off the brown jacket. Jonah took another couple of turns before stopping outside a house, half way down a narrow road lined with dying trees. Lewis walked by the road, glancing at Jonah as he spat the gum out onto the pavement.

Lewis slowed his pace when he reached the other side of the street and paused behind one of the trees, certain that Jonah hadn't seen him. He peered round and watched as the gangly man went through a broken wooden gate and made the three steps up to the front door of the house. Lewis wiped the rain from his forehead with the back of his sleeve as he saw Jonah disappear inside and a light flick on in the window.

Lewis stood motionless behind the tree, his eyes focused on the house for a few moments as the rain fell harder. The dead branches above his head did nothing to shelter him from the drops as they fell, soaking into his jacket. But he didn't notice how wet he was getting; his mind was roaming somewhere else completely. It was a place that was unlike the one he had inhabited recently; it was a place where things were beginning to make sense - or at least broken fragments of something which closely resembled coherence.

Eventually Lewis turned away from the house and began to walk home. He strode on automatic pilot, not thinking of the route he was taking, but focused on something else. He gazed at the pavement before him and kept repeating a set of words in his head.

Jonah.

Jonah.

Jonah.

Joe.

***

The skin around Craig Blaine's eye was tender. He winced involuntarily as he touched the dark purple patch of skin that surrounded it while staring into the mirror. He turned around and hobbled over to the bottom bunk, limping on his bruised right leg. He sat down slowly on the steel frame which creaked from the burden of his weight.

He had been moved to the cell only the day before in an attempt to prevent any further 'accidents'. He had the entirety of the ten by six feet room to himself, but the walls continued to close in. When he had left the cell that morning, he had felt just as vulnerable as when he shared; threats being constantly whispered in his ears as he walked through the corridors. One of the guards had told him that the other inmates can spot an easy target from a mile away and that Craig needed to toughen up.

But Craig didn't know how; he could barely understand why he was there in the first place - he hadn't hurt that girl next door, why had they picked on him? His situation hadn't been helped when the other inmates had found out that he was suspected of murdering a young woman in cold blood. In the unspoken echelons of command in the prison, such a crime placed him towards the bottom, with only paedophiles and child murderers residing below.

Craig knew he wasn't a clever man - his mother told him so often enough - and he realised that this was why he was such an easy target for the others. They wanted anyone they could dominate and have power over. Now that he had his own cell, they seemed to be after him even more.

He felt a sting in his eyes as he sat on the bottom bunk and began to mutter to himself in a voice that was barely audible.

"I didn't do it, I didn't do it..."

He repeated the words in one continual stream as tears fell. He raised his hands to wipe them away and his face contorted with pain when he accidentally brushed against the bruised eye, but he continued to mumble the words with increasing volume.

He looked down at the light grey prison uniform he was wearing. He was on remand and had the option to wear his own clothes if he wished, but Craig just wanted to fit in with the others. He stood up slowly and turned to the bunk bed behind him. He pulled the frame but it didn't move; it had been bolted to the wall. He wiped the tears away again, ignoring the pain and took off his shoes. He lowered his trousers and began to tie one of the fabric legs around the angled steel frame of the top bunk as he continued his ominous chant.

“
I didn
’
t do it, I didn
’
t do it, I didn
’
t
…”

Chapter 16

Hellam

The ambient lighting in Jannson's cast long shadows along the walls from the ornate decorative sculptures which were located around the room. It had been a favourite location of Hellam's for many years and he had come to know Henrik Jannson, the owner of the bar, very well. Henrik even allowed Hellam to use the small function room at the back of the building for occasional business meetings free of charge.

Hellam took off his suit jacket and brushed it down before placing it beside him on the cushioned seat of the booth. He saw a member of staff spot him and disappear through a doorway behind the bar. Henrik came out a few seconds later, smiling, and Hellam gestured a drinking motion. Henrik nodded and said something to the staff member and she immediately began to prepare Hellam's drink.

Hellam looked at his watch. He had arrived a little early but that didn't matter; waiting in Jannson's wasn't a chore, even on a relatively busy night like tonight.

"There you go sir."

Hellam looked up and saw Henrik
’
s wrinkled, smiling face staring down at him. He was holding a tray containing a single glass.

"Thank you Henrik." Hellam took the glass and sipped.

"Are you here alone tonight?"

Hellam shook his head. "No, I'm meeting Kelser; just a discussion about business."

He noticed Henrik's expression change by the most subtle degree. His eyes had darkened and the smile faded by a fraction. Hellam thought about how just the mention of Kelser's name appeared to send a wave of fear through the man and this pleased him immensely.

"Would you like the function room?" Henrik asked, restoring his smile.

"No, that won't be necessary tonight thank you."

Henrik nodded. "Well, if there is anything you require then don't hesitate to ask for me."

He turned and walked away and Hellam pulled out his mobile phone from his pocket. He flicked through his calendar on the screen and made a mental note of the various meetings he had to attend the following day. There was a meeting listed that Langton had not briefed him on that afternoon and he felt a slight annoyance at this. Langton had not been performing up to his usual standard and Hellam thought quietly to himself about this slip in quality for a moment.

He replaced his phone and looked up to see Kelser walk through the door. He raised his hand and Kelser approached him, removing a wet jacket.

"Take a seat," Hellam said, turning to the bar.

The barmaid walked over. "What can I get you?"

Kelser looked up at the woman and Hellam noticed that she was trying not to focus in on the scar.

Hellam had never asked his employee about the injury or how it had happened; their relationship didn't seem to permit such a question which felt a little strange to Hellam who would never stop himself from asking a question if he was curious about something.

"Just water, no ice," Kelser replied, resting his elbows on the table and the woman walked away.

Hellam had never seen Kelser drink anything other than water in the five years he had known him.

"Thank you for coming tonight," Hellam said. "I just wanted to have a word with you about a couple of things."

The barmaid returned with a tray and placed the glass of water on the table in front of Kelser who said nothing. Hellam turned and watched her walk away and then glanced around. The booth was set against the wall and had high backed seats; no one in the adjacent areas would be able to hear their conversation easily.

Kelser drank half of the glass in one go and stared back at his boss.

Hellam continued, "I have been extremely impressed with the work you have performed for me over the past few months." He paused, waiting for a reaction from his employee, but there was none. "Especially the way you handled the Richards situation. That, I believe, was your finest hour. You dealt with it in a professional manner that I was very pleased with. There have been no further developments or repercussions so far and I think we can safely say that the matter is closed for the time being."

Kelser nodded slowly, his expression devoid of any emotion.

"There will always be interest from the authorities in my various businesses. They have suspected me of certain dealings for years, but as long as I'm... as long as
we're
vigilant then I don't see them becoming a serious threat in the near future. The Richards situation was unfortunate and I don
’
t want the same thing to happen again. I am going to scrutinise future employees with a much finer comb and I expect you to help me with regards to that side of things."

Kelser nodded again but still remained silent.

Hellam glanced around again. "But there are a number of people in my employment that I do trust completely. That is why I want to offer you a position in a new section of the business. If you're interested that is?"

"Of course," Kelser said, draining the last of the water.

Hellam smiled, "Good. I want to show you something. Come with me to the office and I'll explain there."

***

The light from the corridor penetrated Hellam's office and provided enough illumination for him not to turn on the lamp. Kelser was leaning back in a chair while Hellam walked over to the cabinet in the corner of the room and unlocked the door. He glanced round before tapping in the code to the electronic safe and saw Kelser staring absently out of the window into the dark night. When the safe door opened, he lifted out the laptop and returned to his desk where he turned it on.

"Tell me, what did it feel like to kill Richards?" he asked casually as they waited for the laptop to boot up.

Kelser turned his attention from the window, as if awoken from some dream, and stared at Hellam in silence for a few moments. "What do you mean?" he asked finally, his voice quiet - almost menacing.

Hellam was taken aback by the tone Kelser was using and suddenly felt a shiver roll through his muscles. This subtle atmosphere of threat that appeared to emanate from Kelser was unnerving, but it wasn't the first time Hellam had felt it. He had witnessed Kelser use a similar technique when intimidating someone on Hellam's own instructions.

"Did you enjoy it? Did you enjoy killing him?" Hellam asked, leaning forward.

Kelser stared through him for a moment and appeared to consider the question; dissecting it in his mind as if the answer was deeply elusive. Finally he answered in a barely audible whisper.

"Yes."

 
Hellam smiled and leaned back in his chair as a sense of immense satisfaction flowed through him. "I thought so, because..." He paused and flicked his hand between the two of them. "...Because you and I are the same Kelser. I can see it in you and that is why you are the perfect person for the task I have in mind."

He turned to the laptop and clicked on a folder, typed in a password and a number of video files were displayed, each one named with a date. "I've never killed anyone with my own hands; a situation for that to happen has never arisen and I have people who take care of those less dignified aspects of my business." He leaned towards Kelser again and dropped his voice low. "But that doesn't mean I haven't thought about it; what it would be like to take someone's life, in the same way you took Richards
’
. But more, much more than that, I want to see the agony in their eyes when they know they're going to die. I want to see them lose all hope and finally give in to the inevitability of their own demise.
”
He paused, wondering if he had already gone too far.
“
Do you understand?"

He could feel the excitement rising inside him. He was finally sharing his darkest secret with someone who he suspected would understand, but he knew he was taking a big risk in spite of this suspicion. He waited for Kelser's reply for what felt like aeons, but when it finally came, he felt only relief.

"Yes," Kelser said in the same, low whisper.

Hellam broadened his smile and turned back to his laptop as he spoke.

"There are people who share our passions Kelser - lots of people, and some of them need this passion
…
this craving, to be satisfied. Not that they want to actually get their hands dirty and perform the task themselves you understand - that would be far too risky. But they do want to witness it even through second hand methods."

Hellam rotated the laptop so Kelser could see and clicked on one of the video files. As it began to play, he moved his eyes between the screen and Kelser, monitoring his response, and continued to do so as they both watched the entire 45-minute film in silence.

When the victim had finally been killed, Hellam closed the lid of the laptop and pushed it to one side. "I have a contact in
Sweden
who has been making these films for a number of years. He sends them to me and I sell them on to my clients. My clients are
very
wealthy men Kelser, and these films can make huge amounts of money."

Hellam stopped for a moment and tried to analyse the man sitting before him. What he had just shown Kelser would have shocked almost anyone else into outrage - he was absolutely certain of that - yet Kelser seemed to have no reaction whatsoever. It was as if he had seen this kind of brutal torture and murder thousands of times before
–
as if it was old news.

Kelser scratched his cheek, rubbing a finger slowly along his scar. "These are snuff films," he said quietly. "Who buys these?"

"There are hundreds of people around the world who are willing to pay thousands for these films. There are numerous underground internet forums filled with potential customers. It's simply a matter of being intelligent and careful when making the transactions. You don't need to concern yourself with that side of things, I have that part organised and there are systems in place. But my contact charges me thousands for each of these films, and because of this, profits are not what they have the potential to be."

Kelser gazed at Hellam.
“
Who is your contact?
”

“
That doesn
’
t concern you either. Everything is set up.
”
He tapped the top of laptop gently.
“
Everything I need to run this business is stored in here; supplier and customer contact details are all heavily encrypted of course and only I will ever have access. But the important part of all this is that I want to cut the middle-man out of this operation.
”
His eyes became wide with excitement. "That is why I want to start making my own films and that is where you come in. You have the qualities that I require in order to make these videos; I saw it in your eyes as you killed Richards. You are someone who can do this for me and I will make you a very rich man. Do you think you could do what we have just seen?"

"Of course." Kelser's answer came without hesitation.

Hellam looked at him, a little surprised at how readily he accepted. He had expected to have to convince him, but he already seemed accustomed to the idea.

"Are you certain?"

"Absolutely. But, I need assurances from you regarding certain things."

"Go ahead."

Kelser slowly twisted a silver ring on his right hand as his eyes narrowed. "Who are the victims and where will you source them from?"

"I have two trustworthy men who are responsible for that side of the operations. They have been told to find people who won't be missed - they have already acquired the first victim, a prostitute with no ties, nobody will even know she has gone for at least a few days
…
perhaps weeks."

Kelser considered this for a few moments. "What about the filming location?"

Hellam smirked. "I
’
ve been working on that for some time. Come, I
’
ll show you."

***

As they drove, Hellam phoned Hal and told him to call
Tyler
then for them both to meet him at the farm in twenty minutes. Silence filled the space between Hellam and Kelser on the drive, but it felt natural and comfortable. There had been doubts in Hellam's mind about including Kelser in his latest project - he had doubts about including anyone new in that side of his life - but they were very minor compared to some others. He had far more confidence in including Kelser than he had been in the initial meetings with Hal and Tyler.

Hal and Tyler were professional killers but they had never been involved in anything of this nature and Hellam had wondered how they might react. What he did know, however, was that they were greedy and could be easily paid off. Not only that, but he also had far more on them than they could prove against him if they were to get cold feet on the deal for some reason. Hellam hadn't been so sure that Kelser could be bought off quite so easily, but he
had
been far more confident that Kelser would be willing to be included. After all, Hellam had said it to him earlier that evening;
you and I are the same Kelser.