Murder Path (Fallen Angels Book 3) (11 page)

Strange stood there listening with a look of utter surprise etched onto his features, his mouth agape, eyes wide and nostrils flared.  ‘Something more remarkable than that!’ he stated.

‘Yes.  The DNA from Jessica Seymour and Madame Evangeline are 99.999% the same.  There is only one chromosome different.’ Laurent relayed.

‘So does that mean they are identical twins?’  Cruickshank questioned.

‘Possibly, and one of them has had their DNA genetically modified.’

Chapter 14

The red light started a stuttering dance, revolving in time to the loud klaxon that burst into life with a piercing shriek, both pre-empting the opening of the tall metal gates at the entrance of The Fielding Institute.  Rebecca, wearing a grey bob wig, pristine tweed twin set and made up to look old, drove the people carrier into the holding area between the gates that had just opened, and a second set just in front of her.  The ones behind closed with a sturdy metallic thud, just as the ones in front opened.  She manoeuvred the car out of the holding area and into an empty car park in front of the contemporary reception entrance at the front of the Institute.

‘Now remember.  You are Dr Marsha Evans.’  Saul’s voice quietly echoed in her left ear, from the small receiver hidden deep within the canal.  One the left lapel of her tweed jacket was a small Scottie dog pin brooch, behind which was glued a minute microphone.

‘Got that DI Saul.  Sixty three year old spinster with a wee dog called Hamish, a cottage on the seafront at Amble and an uncontrollable craving for mint humbugs.’  Rebecca answered sarcastically, stepping out of the car and heading off towards the reception entrance, her shoulders stooped and her footfalls short and bustling.

The inside of the reception area was as contemporary and minimalist as the exterior, with large swathes of glass and exposed metal beams throughout. Sleek leather chairs lounged in the waiting area next to brushed chrome tables covered in upmarket magazines.  Rebecca bustled up to the solitary security guard sitting behind the glass and chrome reception desk, glancing for a second across to the large painting of an Angel with its wings stretched out, holding the palms of his hands upwards to show the stigmata in the centre of them.  With a bright, bubbly smile on her face, she turned back to the portly, ruddy cheeked guard and addressed him jovially.

‘Morning sonny.  It’s quiet in here today, that’ll leave you plenty of time for tea breaks I would imagine?  What’s your name son?’  Rebecca asked, her voice slightly high pitched with an exaggerated lisp to cover the speech impediments caused by the lack of her tongue.

‘Call me Henry, Dr Evans.  It is quiet today.  The last of the patients was moved on Friday.  Apart from the occasional visit from your crew, this place is like a morgue.  Could I see your ID please?’  Henry requested, returning Rebecca’s smile warmly.

‘There you go Henry.’  Rebecca answered, passing over the Northumbria police ID badge Saul had fashioned for her from his own.  ‘Plenty of opportunity for tea then.  If you happen to be making one, I like mine with milk and three sugars please, and I am partial to a Custard Cream, if you have any?’ she finished cheekily, leaning into the reception desk furtively.

Henry’s smile broadened as he handed her back the ID badge, hardly even giving it a cursory glance.  ‘I’ve got Custard Creams and Malted Milk.  I’ll go put the kettle on.  Where are you going first and I’ll bring a cuppa down to you?’

‘Down to the archives first, then a quick recce of Dr Ennis’s old office to pick a few files up.’  Rebecca relayed, dropping the ID badge back into her pocket.

‘Do you know the way?’  Henry asked, getting up from his seat ready to point her in the right direction.

‘Archives are down the main admin corridor, last on the right if I recall.  Are the doors on lockdown still?’  Rebecca responded.

‘That’s right, last on the right.  No, you’ll be fine getting in.  All of the security locks have been disabled.  No point in having them on when there’s no patients here.’  I’ll bring your tea down for you and please, just call zero from any phone if you need assistance.’  Henry answered helpfully before waddling off to a door to the right of the reception.

‘Thank you Henry, I’ll call if I need you.’  Rebecca finished, smiling pleasantly before scurrying off through a set of double doors into the main thoroughfare of the Institute.

‘Perfect misdirection.  Custard Creams will always do that.’  Saul crackled in Rebecca’s earpiece as she slowed her pace, straightened up slightly, walked past the side entrance to the Admin corridor and headed straight into the main secure area of the Institute.  The decor changed suddenly, from glass and metal to stark white tiled walls and ceilings, devoid of windows, the corridor ahead in darkness.  Automated lights flickered on as she passed underneath them, illuminating the side doors, all of which were closed. 

‘It wasn’t hard John.  This is a place I know.  It may sound strange, but it’s a place I am comfortable in.  For all the harm I caused myself here and the hundreds of suicide attempts, not to mention all of the sexual molestation, being in here probably saved my life.  If I had been put into a normal prison for killing Michael, I would have been dead within a day.’ Rebecca responded quietly, staring at a blank spot in the darkness ahead, purposefully walking towards it. 

‘Well, if the Angels hadn’t messed with your life, you wouldn’t have been in that position at all.  Are you near the archive yet?’

‘But then, I would never have met Madame Evangeline and been exposed to such exquisite ecstasy.  There’s somewhere I need to see before I go to the archive.’  Rebecca replied, slowing down as she approached a door the same as every other one down the corridor.  She paused outside, running a finger down the cold, white painted, solid metal door, letting it come to rest on the handle. 

‘What are you doing Rebecca?  There’s no time for anything other than checking the archive and Ennis’s office.  Just because you’ve hoodwinked the guard for now, doesn’t mean he won’t get suspicious if you go off plan?’  Saul crackled, his tone concerned.

‘I will only be a minute.  I just want to see home, one last time.’ she replied, before turning the handle, opening the door and walking into the room she had been incarcerated in for a year.

Sadness drew a veil over her emerald eyes, and floated over the disguised features of her face as she walked into the almost empty room and ran a slightly shaking hand along the solitary bed that sat in the centre of it.  Her fingers sketched a trail over the leather restraints tied to the metal frame of the bed.

‘It’s strange to think that weeks before I was imprisoned here, I had been tied up with restraints like these for pleasure: that I tied Michael up in something similar before letting him fuck my brains out.  I lay on that bed for a year, tortured not only by the thought of killing him, but more so by the thought that I had fucked my own son.  What kind of moral monster does that make me?  And yet, I stand here today, and that could be something my ancestors have been doing for centuries.  It makes the molestation by the staff here pale into insignificance.’

‘Rebecca, you shouldn’t be in there.  What the staff did to you was absolutely abhorrent.  You didn’t know that Michael was your son at the time.  They knew exactly what they were doing to you.  You have to get out of there, it can only bring back bad memories and you need to focus at the moment.  Don’t forget, you are a fugitive and you are inside a secure mental facility.’  Saul urged, a slight undertone of panic in his voice.

‘You sounded just like Doc Hanlon there.  It wasn’t my fault because I didn’t know it was Michael, that’s what he kept telling me.  I vaguely recall the first day I was here, the first time they strapped me to this bed.  I was dosed up with Diazepam but was subconsciously aware of what they were doing.  Two female orderlies, Janet and Dawn, were getting me out of my clothes and putting a hospital gown on me.  They decided to have a game of Toad in the Hole.  They started with my ears, each digging their thumbs deep into the canal, covering them in wax, then forcing them into my mouth, making me lick the wax off.  My nose was next, making me eat the dry snot they managed to pull out.  They thumbed my cunt after that, making me sniff my own stale, piss smelling juices before putting those into my mouth too.  All before the denouement, where in tandem, they both thrust their thumbs up my arsehole together, covered them in shit, and laughed as they made me suck it off.  Do you know what?  At that moment, I felt like I deserved every last bit of that, and so much more.’  Rebecca fell silent, looking down at the empty bed, one hand shaking, clasping one of the restraints tightly, the other hand circling its wrist, the thumb rubbing over the weals left from the last time she had been restrained.

‘Rebecca, that is tragic, let’s talk about those feelings later.  Sorry for being an insensitive dick, but right now, you have to get on and do what you need to do.  You’ve already been in there ten minutes more than planned.’ Saul crackled curtly, breaking Rebecca’s reflective reverie.

Her eyes refocused from the memory in time for her to hear echoing footfalls from the empty corridor outside.

‘Shit, I think Henry is coming with my tea.’ Rebecca whispered, stooping her back as she turned and shuffled out of the room and back into the corridor, sadness sailing from her face to be replaced by a broad, eager smile. 

‘Ah, you found me.’ Rebecca started before Henry could speak, taking the mug of tea out of his hands as she approached him.  ‘Just thought I would get a quick idea of where she was locked up.  It helps to visualise these things rather than just read about them.  Did you ever come across the Angus woman at all?’ she finished, hurrying off down the corridor, towards the Admin entrance. 

Henry looked quizzically at the open door to the cell she had just left, then fell in behind, quickly catching her short steps up.  ‘I only started here when they closed the place, but I read about her in the papers.  Some scary stuff that she did, killing and eating her son and, well, you know, the other thing: having sex with him.  All kinds of wrong going on there.  Here’s your Custard Creams.’ he added, now walking by her side.

‘Thanks Henry, I appreciate your help, and the Custard Creams.  Yes, you are right: definitely all kinds of wrong going on there.  I shouldn’t be too long in the archives, probably ten minutes or so.  I’ll bring the mug back with me.’  Rebecca responded, still smiling radiantly as she turned left and headed down the corridor to the Archive room.  She reached the door, quickly opened, entered and closed it, then leant with her back against it and let out a huge stuttering breath, her hands shaking slightly, her eyes taking in the row upon row of perfectly aligned, drab grey filing cabinets.

‘Sorry John.  That was stupid of me.  I could see him getting inquisitive.’  Rebecca whispered as she stood back up straight and headed over to the nearest filing cabinet, popping the mug of tea on top while checking the indexing on the top drawer.

‘Well, we are where we are, and you diffused his curiosity well.  Let’s focus on…’  Saul started, pausing mid-sentence.

‘Let’s focus on what?’ Rebecca queried, moving from the first to the second row of cabinets quickly, her eyes darting between the drawer labels.

‘Shit.  You need to hurry up.  There’s another visitor just been registered on the Group 4 scheduling system.  Detective Inspector Munro, one of my colleagues from Northumbria.  He’s due there at 12:30, which means you’ve got about twenty minutes before things get really complicated.’

‘Bollocks, sorry John.  Right, I am at the S’s now.’  Rebecca cursed, agitation animating her actions as she pulled the drawer open and started flicking through the records inside.  ‘Bugger, bugger, bugger.’ she added after a second, slamming it shut and hurriedly running around the end of the cabinets into the next row.

‘What’s wrong?’  Saul queried, concerned.

‘No records in the drawers for anyone at all called Seymour.’  Rebecca relayed curtly before pulling a drawer labelled ‘An-Ay’ open.  She flicked through the files quickly, her features and finger movements becoming furiously worried.  ‘Nothing in here for Angus either.  Fuck.’ she shouted, banging her palms off the top of the cabinet.

‘That’s okay.  Keep calm.  There was always the possibility that Ennis had them stowed away somewhere, that’s why Adam gave us the tube.  That somewhere is probably his office.  Now focus and remember the little tip about walls and pictures.  Fifteen minutes.’  Saul relayed with gentle, conciliatory undertones to his firm voice.

‘On it.’  Rebecca replied simply as she rushed around to the front of the cabinets, grabbed her mug of tea, slouched her shoulders, took a deep breath, opened the door and walked into the empty corridor wearing the mannerisms of an unconcerned old woman.  She jauntily sauntered half a dozen doors up the corridor and entered Ennis’s office, pushing the door closed behind her.  In contrast to the rest of the building, this office was decorated with paisley print wallpaper, a thick burgundy carpet and mahogany furniture. 

‘I can see you now.  We know that the front wall faces onto the corridor, the side walls into other rooms, so the likely location of any hidden cubby hole is on the back wall.  There’s an original Cezanne on there, where the camera is located, so try behind that first.’  Saul instructed.