The dark side of my soul (7 page)

Although I genuinely had forgotten to take off the safety, to them my action must have seemed planned and it had an amazing consequence. The humour was suddenly wiped from their repulsive faces to be replaced by uncertainty and hesitation.

“Now you be careful with that boy,” Jonny said holding up a hand towards me. “You don’t wanna do anything you might regret.”

“Drop the bag” I became surprisingly calm, my voice rock solid.

“What is this?” asked the taller slim blackmailer.

“Drop it.” I demanded.

He let go of the holdall and it dropped at his feet.

“Now kick it towards me,” I instructed.

He kicked it nonchalantly but it only moved a yard or so. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Change of plan, I changed my mind.”

Jonny, the stockier man was watching me carefully, edging forward an inch at a time. “So you take the money back, is that the idea. Then we go to the police and that bitch of a wife of yours goes to prison for killing that poor innocent old lady and we’re all back where we started. Not much of a plan.”

“You’re not going to the police.”

He was still edging forward. He had almost reached the bag of money, barely six feet away. “And who says we’re not going, you?”

I had been holding the pistol hovering between the two of them. Recognising that the shorter one was getting close enough to possibly be able to make a lunge for the gun, I pointed it directly at him.

“Don’t come any closer, I WILL shoot you.” The emphasis was on the one word ‘will’. I wanted to add ‘go ahead, make my day,’ I wanted to be like Clint Eastwood in the film Dirty Harry. Christ I wanted to be Dirty Harry. I wanted to blow the sad bastard’s head off.

I was beginning to enjoy this. The feeling of control over these two scumbags, the feeling of power that the pistol gave me was immense but I knew I had to stay alert, be ready for when one of them lunged at me, as I was sure sooner or later they would.

I noticed them glance at each other, a furtive look and I sensed they were planning something.

“Nobody points a gun at me and gets away with it,” Jonny said, trying to hold my attention but I was aware of the others movement. He too was edging closer and was little more than six feet away. I took a step back and they both eased forward. Going backwards was not a good idea. It would be easy to trip or slip and fall. I stood still, holding my ground. After all I had the gun. The tall man started inching forward again. I swung the pistol in his direction and he stopped.

“It’s not easy to pull the trigger is it?” The taller one said. “Takes a man, takes balls and I don’t think you got what it takes.” The sadistic grin was back, he was gaining confidence once more. He knew I wasn’t going to shoot him.

They were crowding me, closing in, cornering me, calling my bluff, the pendulum was swinging in their favour. They kept coming forward, the bag of money now behind them.

“Hold it. Don’t come any closer,” I said but my resolve was beginning to fail. One at a time they edged forward. They were both less than five feet away and I realised what they were going to do. One of them would distract me and then the other would make a grab for the weapon. They were getting too close.

“I bet it’s not even a real gun. It’s one of those replicas you can buy down the sports shop. Only fires blanks.” Jonny said with a mocking grin.

“Yeah like its owner, no kids, only fires blanks,” added his partner as he took another step closer. They both gave a callous laugh.

I wondered how he knew that we had no children but I kept the gun on him. “Don’t move.”

The taller skinny one, with his long black hair, black eyes and large pointed beaky nose reminded me of a bird of prey, a hawk ready to pounce on its helpless victim but I wasn’t helpless, I had the gun. He was only four feet away and I couldn’t miss.

I was sweating, my hands were clammy and my heart was racing but I held the pistol firmly, kept it pointing at the centre of his chest.

He took another step closer, too close, and this time with sadistic pleasure I squeezed the trigger.

The sound was horrendous. It echoed off the trees and reverberated through the mist. The gun kicked as I fired and the bullet hit him a little high, just below the throat. The smile was wiped off his face and was replaced by surprise and pain. His left hand shot up and covered the wound as he staggered backward and collapsed in a heap with blood trickling from his mouth. I think I was almost as surprised as my target but I remained alert.

In the distance the dog barked.

“Fuck,” Was the only word that Jonny said as he gawked at me with a new look of fear in his eyes.

“You need more than balls, you need a good aim,” I said calmly, as I levelled the gun in his direction.

His eyes were wide with fear and all his colour had drained away. Now I was the aggressor.

“You crazy bastard,” were his last words as I pulled the trigger a second time. I had learned from the first shot to aim lower. The bullet hit him in the centre of his body and he lurched backwards before hitting the gravelled surface with a considerable thump.

I didn’t feel guilty, bad or ashamed, on the contrary I felt relieved, good, elated but I couldn’t leave them there, neither of them was dead. They were both moaning and the taller one, in spite of his wound was trying to sit up. I walked over to him and he rested back down looking up at me in horror.

I had always dreamed of being important, perhaps everybody does, but I wanted to be admired, respected and perhaps even feared. I had never expected to take up accountancy, it just happened that way. The profession provided a good living without too much sweat and toil but I wanted to be so much more, not just your average pen pusher and I guess that I always knew that in the deepest recesses of my heart, a place where only I could visit, there lurked another version of myself, a cold unsympathetic, uncompromising evil shadow.

Here in the dank forest, with the morning mist mysteriously moving between the skeletal trees and the butt of the gun sitting snugly in the palm of my hand, that shadow awakened and emerged from its slumber. The pistol endowed me with a sense of power, a feeling of supremacy and self-importance. I needed revenge for what these men had put me through. I wanted to kill them. The dark side of my soul was beginning to raise its ugly head.

“Was it worth it, your life for seventy five grand?” I asked.

He couldn’t speak. The blood was pumping out of his mouth. He was making a strange gurgling noise and his eyes were full of terror. I bent over, put the business end of the barrel of the gun to the front of his forehead and without thought of repercussions pulled the trigger. I saw the back of his head explode into the track. I had no need to check if he was dead.

I felt strangely calm and controlled as I walked over to where Jonny was lying on the ground. He was on his back with his eyes open, making a low moaning sound and I guessed he must be near to death but I couldn’t risk leaving him alive to be revived and testify against me, so I bent over once more and put a bullet in his forehead. Now there was no doubt. This had not been my plan but they had driven me to it by pressing me into a corner. I returned the pistol to my pocket.

The barking dog was closer and with the dog there was probably an owner. I had to move fast. I picked up the bag of money, opened my car door and threw the bag onto the passenger seat then I ran to the blackmailer’s pick-up that was blocking my escape route. Glad that they had left the engine running I jumped into the cab, slammed the gear stick into reverse and swung the wheel so that it backed into the trees. It bumped and crashed to a halt but it left sufficient space on the track for me to get by in the Ford. I switched off the engine but left the keys in the ignition.

Fingerprints.

I had never before committed a crime of any sort and my prints were not on record but there was no point in being careless. With a rag that was in a door side pocket I wiped the key, the steering wheel, the hand brake, the gear stick and the door handle. I got out of the truck and wiped the outer door handle before throwing the rag in the trees. I felt guiltier about littering the forest than killing two men. The dog sounded much closer. It was definitely coming this way and that spurred me on.

Even though I had shot them I could not bring myself to run over their bodies so I attempted to drag the slim one off the track and out of the way. I got hold of his ankles and pulled. He was much heavier than expected and only moved a few inches with each tug, leaving a bloody trail from his head.

I always had been a bit squeamish and the sight sickened me so when I had just about enough room to get by I dropped his legs and ran to my car. I leaped in and turned the key. The Ford always had been reliable, every day it started first time so I was amazed when the engine turned over but failed to start.

My heart was racing faster now, the blood surging through my veins but I tried to keep calm. The damned dog was barking continuously and getting nearer with each passing second. I turned the key once more, putting my foot on the gas. For some reason the car didn’t want to start. Maybe it was the damp conditions. Maybe in my haste to get away I had flooded the engine. Maybe my friend David was right after all, God pays you back for your sins. In the drivers mirror I saw a German Sheppard emerge from the trees about thirty yards behind me.

I turned the key so hard that I must have nearly broken it off in my hand but this time, thankfully the engine came to life. I slammed the car into gear, stamped on the gas, swung the Ford as best I could between the bodies, avoided the front of the pick-up that was sticking out onto the track and raced away. In the mirror I could see the dog standing in the centre of the trail, barking at the escaping vehicle and as I watched, its owner emerged out of the trees. As they receded they became shadows in the fog and I was sure the pet’s owner would not have been able to recognise my car but if he had a mobile and called the police the local constabulary could be here very soon.

At the end of the track, where it met the road I had to slam on the brakes and stop for a passing car. My nerves were jangling as I pulled out behind it but then I purposely dropped back so the driver ahead could not identify me. Once I was on the main thoroughfare, however, I was able to calm down a little and breathe a sigh of relief. I kept to thirty miles an hour, not wanting to catch the car in front and pleased that in the end the fog had aided my escape.

An inexplicable feeling of euphoria came over my whole being. I had done it, not perhaps in the way intended but I had achieved an even better result. I had got rid of the blackmailers once and for all and still got all of my money. I had killed two men but felt no remorse, no guilt, none of that feeling of sombre self-appraisal that I had heard some soldiers in the armed forces speak of after killing an enemy. Perhaps that would come later, or possibly I was missing some integral part of the human genome that caused most of the population to fret after committing an evil act. I did not know, nor at that moment did I care, my sole concern was getting away from the scene of the crime and safely home.

As long as I could get home without being apprehended there was nothing to connect me to the murders. The murder weapon often provided clues for the police to catch the killer but I had the pistol in my pocket and would not relinquish it. It was old and as far as I knew untraceable. I had no past record of violence or any other crime. I was a model citizen. Who would suspect me of such an act? I lived only a few miles away and I was already nearly halfway home. I had got away with it. Then I heard the police siren.

Seven

The police car was in front of me and coming my way fast. The first thing I saw was the blue flashing light as it materialised through the fog. The sound of the siren grew louder then faded with the familiar Doppler Effect as the car swept by at great speed. There may have been a road traffic accident further back along the road or on the motorway but on the other hand the man with the dog may have called the police. I could hear a second siren coming toward me and another police car raced by, blue lights flashing through the mist.

I convinced myself that the nasty morning conditions must have led to an accident. Surely the police would not have reacted so quickly to a call from the man in the forest. It hardly mattered anyway, I was well away from the scene but another blue flashing light lit up the road ahead. This one was not accompanied by a siren and was stationary; a road block. For a second my heart stopped beating.

I hit the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road. The light up ahead was pulsating and eerily illuminating the surrounding mist with a blue strobe like haze but the vehicle it was attached to was still lost in the fog. My heart started again but pounded in my chest as though it wanted to escape the confines of my body. I had to think quickly and clearly. I reasoned that, if at this distance the police vehicle was invisible then the officers would not be able to see me either, they may however be able to pick out my headlights. I switched off all the lights. Now I really had to make a decision fast, I was vulnerable to being hit from behind by the next passing vehicle.

Think, Think.

I could turn around and go back the way I had come, go into the golf club carpark and stay out of sight for a couple of hours. Surely the roadblock would have gone by then but that would take me back towards the murder scene and a little too close for comfort. I didn’t like that idea. The only alternative was to go on. Maybe I was worrying for nothing, it wasn’t a police checkpoint and they were only in place to slow down the traffic as the road traffic accident had been in that direction. Even if it was a police checkpoint and they were stopping every driver they were probably only asking questions. I didn’t think they would be physically searching every vehicle and occupant. But suppose they were? The gun was in my pocket, any search would reveal it instantly and I would be caught and spend God knows how many years in jail. I could throw it into the nearby hedgerow and drive on. It was the only evidence that could connect me to my crime.

I had to move fast before I was tail ended by another vehicle. I threw open the door and ran to the side of the road but as I was running I realised that the weapon was bound to be found. Even if the police didn’t search this far away someone would find it and the bullets and the shell casings at the crime scene would match the gun. It would be evidence that might in some way lead back to me. At that moment I couldn’t see how any connection could be made but I was unsure. I hesitated, still uncertain if I was doing the right thing. There were only milliseconds to decide.

In a stressful, hurried situation you don’t always have time to think things through properly or logically, you tend to go with a gut feeling, a knee jerk reaction. That is what I had; a sudden insight and on the spur of the moment I decided that it was extremely unlikely that the police at the roadblock were going to carry out a full body and vehicle search. It would only be a verbal check, a few questions and as long as I remained calm I could get through and keep the weapon so that it would never be found. There was also an ulterior motive I had for keeping it, although I would not admit it at the time, I enjoyed the feeling of power the gun had given me, I had enjoyed shooting those men. I wanted to keep it.

As I retraced my steps I put the pistol back in the deep pocket of the coat, then jumped back into the car, closed the door and switched on the lights. I was only just in time. A white van came along the road at speed and had to swerve to avoid me. Without the lights on it could easily have crashed into the back of my car and that was the last thing I needed. I waited a few seconds, partly to compose myself and partly to see what happened to the van up ahead but it faded from view, enveloped in the fog. That was a good thing I told myself. If I couldn’t see it then the police probably couldn’t see me stopped at the roadside either.

Very slowly I moved forward. The repetitive blue flashing lights became brighter and through the mist the ghostly shapes of the white van and the police car came into view. As I approached, a single policeman was standing in the road talking to the driver of the van through the vehicle’s open window. The police car was in front of the van and sideways on across the lane on which I was travelling. A sigh of relief escaped my lungs as the officer waved the van on its way. As I had hoped no searches were being made, only questions being asked.

As I approached, the police officer indicated for me to stop a little way in front of his vehicle. I opened the window as he stepped towards me and I immediately recognised him as the young round faced officer who had called at my home the previous week.

“Good morning, I’m sorry to have to stop you but I need to ask you a few questions. It won’t take long.” He still didn’t look old enough to be in the force.

“That’s okay,” I replied with a smile.

“Can you tell me where you have been this morning sir?”

“Sure, to the golf club just along the road.”

“A little early for golf isn’t it?”

“Well my friends and I often play early but today, in view of the conditions I was just checking it out to see if it would be playable later but I don’t think this fog is going to lift.”

“You golfers are crazy. And where are you going now sir?”

“Home to have a nice hot breakfast”

“Ah yes, I remember you now, we called at your house after that hit and run incident. Did your wife get home eventually? She had been to London to see her friend hadn’t she?”

“Her sister,” I was surprised he remembered. “Yes she got home but very late, I had to make my own dinner that night.”

“Tough, I have to make mine every night.” He laughed then continued with his questions. “Have you noticed anyone or anything suspicious this morning, like a car speeding or an abandoned vehicle?”

“No, I can’t say I have but you can’t see much in this stuff.” I waved my arm at the fog. “Why, what’s up?”

“There’s been an incident in the forest, only just occurred, it was fortunate that we had a couple of cars in the immediate vicinity, two people have been shot.”

The man with the dog must have called the police. It was amazing how quickly they had reacted. “What, here in Lyminge forest, a shooting?” I feigned surprise.

“Yeah, apparently it’s a real mess, two victims, both dead.” He was casting his eyes around the inside of my car. “What’s in the bag sir?” he said, indicating the holdall which was still on the passenger seat.

I froze and for the second time that morning my heart stopped beating. Worrying about the pistol I had forgotten all about the money.

“Er, oh, my golf shoes, you have to wear them when it’s damp like this even if you’re only walking up to the first tee, your feet get soaked in ordinary shoes.” It was the first thing that came into my head and I willed him not to want to look in the bag.

He nodded understandingly and stepped back a pace. “Okay, off you go, have a nice breakfast, sorry to have held you up.”

My heart started beating again with sheer relief but my elation was immediately dashed as a second officer, whom I recognised as the sour faced partner of the youngster, came over from the police car, holding up his hand. “Hold it,” he said to me then added to his colleague. “Mike’s been on the radio, the DI wants all vehicles searched.”

Hearing his comment my heart nearly stopped altogether. If I had been one second faster I would have been away. The older, more experienced officer joined his younger companion. “Would you mind stepping out of the car for a moment sir?”

I wanted to say no, I’ve already been processed, or is this really necessary, or I’m in a hurry but I couldn’t speak, the words wouldn’t form and instead I fumbled with my seat belt with a shaking hand and opened the door like a lamb going to the slaughter.

“Would you open the boot sir,” the sour faced one said as I got out of the car.

I kept my right hand in my coat pocket to hide the gun. If it came to it I could shoot both officers but I didn’t want to do that. Killing two scumbag blackmailers was one thing but two lawmen was something completely different. I opened the boot with my left hand and sour face inspected the inside. It was empty but he made a thorough search, removing the floor matting to look in the spare wheel compartment.

When he had finished he stood back. “That’s fine sir,” he said. He was standing on my left side so I was able to close the boot with both hands. Keeping my hand on the gun all the time looked suspicious. As I closed it I saw the young officer through the back window. He was leaning into the car and checking the glove compartment and under the seats. I casually slipped my hands in my pockets again as I came round to the driver’s door. “Okay sir,” the young policeman said with a smile as he finished inspecting the inside of the car.

Old sour face stepped in front of me and gave the inside of the vehicle a cursory glance. He leaned in, reaching towards the holdall. “What’s in the bag?”

If he looked inside and discovered seventy five thousand in ten and twenty pound notes the game would be up. No normal person drives around with that kind of cash in a carryall on the passenger seat at seven thirty in the morning. I knew I was caught and going to spend a very long time in prison and at that point I almost lost control of both my bladder and my bowels. It was a horrible feeling, something that I never wish to experience again but when his fingers were mere inches away from the bag his assistant came to my rescue.

“Golf shoes,” he said casually and the older man withdrew his arm, no doubt thinking that his partner had already inspected the bag. They both stood next to me by the side of the car.

“Sorry to have held you up and thank you for your co-operation. Have a pleasant journey,” sour face indicated that I could go but I couldn’t move. The muscles in my legs refused to work. They had lost all power. It was all I could do to remain standing in place. I felt dizzy and I just stood still, immobile.

“Are you okay sir?” sour face asked and I managed to nod.

A moment later my voice returned but it was without all its earlier boldness and sounded croaky and weak. “Yes, yes I’ m fine. It’s this weather, that’s all.” I got in the car and closed the door in a kind of trance but as I slipped the car into gear and was about to pull away the older officer leaned in the window once more. What now, I thought.

“Don’t forget your seat belt.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” I said, clicking the belt in place. “Thank you,” I replied, somehow managing to keep my hands steady on the steering wheel as I drove away.