Persona - A Disturbing Psychological Thriller (38 page)

Zen was too focused to notice how cold the night was. The train pulled into a station, so he lay on his front to avoid detection. As the train pulled away, he peered over the edge, looking for a fixed point. There were lamp posts which would be adequate, but he abandoned them in favour of the red light he observed two hundred metres ahead. That would be perfect – the banks either side of it were high, providing shielding from the houses above.

The train stopped at the red light. He would have to be fast, with spot-on timing. The train would be crawling forwards when the light drew level with McGrath’s carriage, the tenth one back from the front of the train. The light turned green and the train pulled away. Seconds later, the light crept by. Zen tossed one of the loops over it, watched it slide to the base, then scurried along the roof to the next carriage and lowered himself down onto its footstep. He knew the carriage was empty. He inched along to McGrath’s carriage, the wind lashing against his head as the train accelerated. Avoiding McGrath’s window, Zen gently turned the lock, pulled the door open then hastily backtracked to the other carriage and climbed onto the roof.

When the door swung open Andre shot forward and scanned around him. The door slammed against the carriage.
Zen,
he thought… It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t make a move here, it would be too dangerous. Their business would be settled at Knoll Wood. He was being paranoid - he had probably not shut the door properly, or its lock was faulty. He stood up, gripped the door frame with his left hand to support him, stuck his head out the carriage and checked it was safe to lean out, then partially swung his body round the outside of the carriage and reached for the far end of the door pull. A loop of rope passed over him - he looked up, saw Zen. Desperate to free himself, Andre retracted his right hand, took hold of the rope resting waist height on his left forearm and managed to lift it to his rib cage before it contracted viciously, binding both biceps to his ribs, then spun him around and yanked him from the train.

Zen watched McGrath fly from the train, momentarily stand suspended in the air, and then crash to the ground. Smiling, he climbed down the carriage, then slipped off his rucksack and tossed it onto the bank. He searched the bank for a safe place to land and then dived into the bushes, the momentum of the train dragging him through the branches. Zen waited till the train passed, and then, slightly dazed, got to his feet and searched for McGrath. It was pitch black, so Zen walked along the track towards the green light shimmering a hundred metres away. As he drew closer he could neither see nor hear McGrath and realised he must be hiding in the undergrowth. McGrath wouldn’t get far – he would have sustained injuries from the fall, and the bank was flat for a few metres before it rose into a steep hill. Hunting him down would take seconds. The wind howled, knocking Zen slightly off balance, but he grit his teeth and drove on, intent on torturing the cunt. He’d warned McGrath what would happen, but the prick had ignored him.

Andre’s leg and arm were broken. He’d heard the bones crack when he’d impacted the ground on his right side. The pain was agonising, but he had to ignore it in order to survive. He had forced himself not to scream. He felt concussed too – unable to break his fall with his arms, his head had connected with the gravel.

He’d loosened the rope and then dragged himself into the undergrowth, concentrating on controlling his breathing, and thankful for the darkness which concealed him. He resisted the impulse to curse himself for his stupidity, because he had to focus on surviving.

He heard gravel crunching beneath Zen.
So close
… Andre’s helplessness angered him. He had to fight the bastard! He had to pull himself together and attack the fucker. His left side was bruised but not unworkable. He grunted as he flexed his muscles and pulled himself up the hill. The gradient was steep, but he persevered until he reached a tree with a solid trunk. He pulled himself to his feet.

Zen picked up the loop. McGrath had freed himself and was trying to evade him. Zen heard a roar of pain and chuckled. McGrath was suffering and that was just the beginning. Zen made his way to the source, estimating it to be ten metres away…

Andre was grimacing, sweat pouring from his face. Holding the branch in position caused him considerable pain. It was thick and strong and provided the maximum resistance he could pull. He’d curled his injured elbow round the branch, gripped the bark with his hand, and using his left arm to create leverage by pulling against the huge trunk, had then bent the branch back. His left leg was wedged against the trunk, providing stability as he struggled to keep the branch in place and also keep himself from tumbling down the hill. It took all his strength, and he prayed Zen would walk into his trap…

‘I’m coming, McGrath. I’m coming to cut you up.’ Zen heard rustling up ahead and moved on. ‘I can hear you pant, cunt. Your pain is nothing next to what awaits you. Think about that, McGrath. It’s time for you to suffer…’

Andre winced and pretended to sob. Zen laughed, and as he climbed to within a few feet of his enemy, Andre released the branch. It smacked into Zen’s stomach, hurling him back down the hill. Andre grinned insanely and hurried down to him, willing away the pain in his limbs as he dragged his leg behind him. This was his chance to live. His chance to kill Zen.

Zen had been knocked a considerable distance. Andre heard him gasping for breath on the ground. Adrenaline surged through him as he listened to Zen writhing in agony. Andre was going to win. He was going to kill the bastard! He leapt on top of Zen and rammed his fist into his face. Zen choked, trying to break free.

‘Finding it hard to breathe, motherfucker? This’ll help!’ Andre drove his fist into Zen’s stomach and Zen became silent. Then Andre cupped his hands around Zen’s neck. ‘Now it’s time to die, you cunt!’ he shouted, summoning all his rage and hate and squeezing with all his might, his body shaking with the exertion and pain, his veins pumping furious blood.

Zen felt himself dying - there was no breath to inhale. He punched out at McGrath’s face and felt good connections, but the cunt wouldn’t budge, just growled as he wrung Zen’s neck. Zen rolled over, desperate to breathe, but McGrath stuck rigidly to him. Feeling his consciousness slipping, Zen reached deep into his pocket, gripped the pistol and then pressed the nozzle against McGrath’s temple. Andre released his grip, frantically reached for Zen’s arm, but was too slow – the bullet blew a hole in his skull and he crashed onto the earth…

The branch had winded Zen and his torso throbbed with pain. Short bursts of air struggled to pass through his windpipe. Several minutes passed before he could celebrate his kill.

He stood up, kicked Andre’s lifeless body. The cunt had broken Zen’s ribs, but now he was dead. Overconfidence again – McGrath had been certain that he’d eliminate Zen in America, so he’d not bothered making auxiliary plans. Whereas Zen had planted a rucksack full of gear - including the pistol and rope - near Gatwick Airport for when he returned, and had immediately retrieved it. The difference between them was that Zen was the ultimate killer, prepared and ready at all times. There was no peace or rest. McGrath had been good, but too unfocused. Attack could come at any time, especially when least expected, and McGrath had not been alert to that. Zen shook his head – underestimated again. Had McGrath
really
thought he could return home and arm himself before Zen made his move? Self-assurance was a killer.

‘A killer, eh, McGrath? It’s a real killer.’ He stuck his finger in the head wound. ‘You’re dead, cunt, and guess what happens now?’

46

‘I can’t
fucking
believe it!’ Ginger cried, pacing around Ryan’s room. ‘I would’ve staked my life on killing, my fucking life!’ He stood still, sucked on his joint and then stared dubiously at Ryan. ‘Are you sure there was nothing? Are you positive?’ Smoke clouded the room as he spoke.

‘All there was, was fucking hassle - hassle digging the hole, hassle filling it in, and now it’s hassle moving accommodation again.’ He unlocked his cupboard and stacked some guns on the floor.

‘You don’t have to move. They won’t find the bitch if you filled in the hole convincingly,’ Ginger told him.

Ryan shook his head. ‘Ginger, switch on. Someone broke into this shit hole. That means someone knows something. They broke open my drawer and fucked with my documents. Whether it’s about the bitch or not, someone’s looking for me and I’m no sitting target.’

‘So, what you gonna do after you’ve moved?’

‘You tell me, you’re my fucking life advisor.’

‘Hey, don’t get uptight with me. I’ve tried my fucking best.’

Ryan glared at him. ‘Yeah… I’ve killed Fay, taken Dave’s cock in my arse, and broken up with my girlfriend.’ He reached for the last weapon in his cupboard.

‘You what? Your fucking
girlfriend
? You’re confessing that?’

‘I just did.’ Ryan placed the guns in a nylon sausage bag and then pulled the drawstring top tight. ‘A Walther’s missing,’ he said. ‘That
really
pisses me off.’ He looked at Ginger. ‘Stop smoking that shit in my room, it fucking stinks.’

‘Not in my opinion.’

Ryan fixed his eyes on Ginger’s. ‘Put it out,’ he ordered.

Ginger chuckled. ‘Look at the big man - now he’s killed he wants to take on the world.’

‘Ginger, don’t be a cunt. Put it out before I do. I’m in a bad fucking mood and I don’t wanna take it out on you.’

Ginger tossed the joint in the bin. ‘What’s happening, Ryan?’ he asked, arms outstretched. ‘What’s happening to our friendship? We were great pals!’

‘Well, I realised you’ve taken over my life to a large extent, it’s got me nowhere and now someone’s found me.’

‘But, Ryan, listen. We knew it’d take time. I thought death would be your vocation, but apparently it isn’t. It just means we have to move on and tackle other mines.’

Ryan smiled at him. ‘What other mines are there, Ginger?’

‘I don’t fucking know. We’ll have to talk about it. There’s loads left to try. Something will set you up for life.’

‘You’re out of ideas, aren’t you? There’s only one mine left for me to try.’

‘What’s that?’

Ryan sighed. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’ He carried on packing.

47

Jen took the letter to her room and then slumped onto her bed. ‘Photos enclosed - please do not bend’ had been written on the large, brown envelope. She removed its contents. A piece of A4 sized paper had been folded over the photos. It read – ‘Told you I’d kill him. Regards - Andre’. She opened it and stared at the first photo…

An image of Andre’s decapitated head on a table…

Lips pinned back with elastic so he grinned at her…

The other photos revealed dismembered body parts - fingers, toes, a kneecap, testicles… She stared emptily at each one, then sat up and slid the package underneath the bed. She felt nothing, just numbness. She gazed at the walls for a moment, then stood up and checked her watch – Tuesday 27 November. Time to act. Time to face her problem.

Jen put on a jacket, hurried down the stairs, grabbed the car keys hanging on the letter rack, and then slipped into the garage. She flicked the light switch, picked up the stepladder resting against the wall, placed it in her father’s pick-up, and then climbed into the driver’s seat. She thumbed a button on the keys and the garage door rose. As Jen rolled the truck forwards, the police officers stopped her and urged her to stay inside where it was safe, but she ignored their advice, telling them it was the others who were in danger. Then she sped away.

Jen killed the engine in the parking area of Knoll Wood, retrieved the stepladder and then struggled through the trees with it. She knew she was being followed – she could hear him clearly and believed she would see him if she turned around, but she had no desire to do that.

Dusk had arrived. The evening was freezing, but her mind was focused on other things. She should have done this earlier. Delaying it had cost lives, including her father’s. There would be no more murders.

Jen walked with purpose, wriggling her fingers to keep them warm as she carried the ladder, because soon they’d need to function properly.

When the pick-up approached his hired Peugeot, Dave recognised it as the Edmunds’ truck from the photo of their driveway published in the papers. As it passed by, he saw Jenny driving and tailed her.

In addition to the armed officers guarding the house, police would have set up observation posts to detect suspicious vehicles or people in the area, so Dave had parked his vehicle well out of their range.

When Jenny pulled into the parking area, he drove on for thirty metres and then parked by the kerb.

Now, conscious of making too much noise during his foot pursuit, he waited behind a tree. Why was she carrying a stepladder? And why the hell was she trudging through Knoll Wood?
Straight into the lion’s den
. Zen had tortured her boyfriend
twice
in here. What were her intentions? Was she going to try to kill him? Was she luring Zen into a trap? Why else would she behave in such a way? Though terrified of Zen, she’d left a secure house to venture into these silent, darkening woods. By now she must know that Zen always evaded capture, and that worried Dave. To attempt to apprehend Zen after all that had happened suggested to Dave that her plan must be a strong one, one that Zen couldn’t possibly elude. A shiver prodded Dave’s spine. He wrapped his coat around his body. He’d not heard anyone else in the woods, but they could be waiting - a welcoming party for his beloved Ryan. If that was the case, Dave would go down with him…