Assassin (33 page)

'Shouldn't we tell Frank we're here?' asked Joe Duggan from the back seat.

Carter didn't answer. He merely glanced into the rear view mirror at Duggan.

'We'll call him if we find anything,' Billy said.

'Amongst all that rubbish,' said Carter, nodding towards the mountains of debris, a note of desperation in his voice.

'And what the hell are we supposed to do even if we do find Ross's body? Take it back to his fiat?'

Billy reached for the packet of cigarettes lying on the parcel shelf. It was empty. He swore and screwed it up.

'Fuck this,' said Carter finally, starting the engine of the car. 'Let's go and get a cup of tea. We'll come back when the site's quiet.' He put it into first gear. 'If Ross is there he's not going to go far anyway, is he?'

The other two men chuckled as Carter spun the wheel and drove away.

Behind them, the destruction continued.

The sun sank lower in the sky.

It would be dark in three hours.

The skies above London were mottled grey with cloud, the approaching rain combining with the night to make the gloom totally impenetrable.

Thousands of lights glowed like grounded stars in the buildings which surrounded the derelict site. Across the water the lights of the City itself seemed to cast a glow up towards the lowering heavens as if trying to keep the darkness at bay.

But, on the wreckage of Langley Towers, there was only blackness.

Except for the spear-like shafts of torch-light which swept back and forth over the rubble like hand-held searchlights.

Carter, Billy Stripes and Joe Duggan moved down the steep incline from where they had parked the car, picking their way over piles of shattered masonry, endeavouring to keep their balance. Duggan cursed as he slipped and twisted his ankle on a piece of rock.

Carter gave him only a cursory glance as he kicked the offending stone to one side, hissing once more as he stubbed his toe on the lump of concrete. The torch beam waved erratically through the air as he struggled to prevent himself falling.

The earth movers now stood unattended, metal carcasses amongst the carnage they had wrought. The wind moved the bucket of a JCB and it squeaked rhythmically, adding a background to the steady crunching sound made by the men's feet as they continued to struggle over the bricks and concrete.

`Where the hell do we start?' said Duggan, surveying the huge expanse of desolation. 'We could be here all night.'

'The bodies were buried in concrete weren't they?' Billy added. 'How deep?'

Carter could only shrug.

'Christ knows,' he grunted. 'Even if we find them we'll probably need a bloody JCB to dig them out.'

'I reckon Harrison's gone mental,' Billy added.

'You mean it's taken this long for you to notice,' Carter muttered cryptically. 'He's always been a fucking headcase.'

'We must be pretty bloody stupid, wandering around a demolition site looking for blokes who've been dead for two years,' Duggan added.

'Tell Harrison that.'

The three men came to a halt, gazing around them.

'We might as well split up,' said Carter. 'I'll look around here, you two try over by the other blocks.'

'How long are we going to look?' Duggan wanted to know. 'Until we find something?'

'Bollocks,' snapped Carter. 'We'll meet back at the car in three hours.'

'But what if we don't find anything?' Duggan protested. 'Frank isn't going to be very happy.'

'Then let him come down here with a shovel and look for his bloody self,' Carter snapped.

The men stood in the silence of the night for a moment and then Billy and Duggan picked their way over the rubble, visible only by their torch beams. Carter turned and began shining his own torch over the pockmarked ground, picking out pieces of broken glass and masses of pulverized rock in the process. It was like walking through a huge quarry. As he moved about he shivered, saw his breath clouding in the air. He would pause occasionally, overturning large lumps of concrete as if expecting to find Ross or one of his men beneath it.

His search continued.

On the other side of the site Duggan and Billy were having no luck either. They, like Carter, weren't even sure what they were looking for but, nevertheless, they continued their vigil, moving amongst mounds of rubble.

'I feel a right prat doing this,' said Duggan.

'Join the club,' Billy added wearily. He nodded in the direction of the half-demolished second block. 'I'm going to try in there. You stay here, have a scout round through the crap.'

Duggan nodded and shone his torch over the ground while Billy headed off towards the second of the towers. As he walked a fine shroud of dust rose up around his feet, settling like mist as he moved towards the building. The place was thick with dust and Billy coughed as he entered, waving a hand in front of him. Dust particles swirled and danced in the torch-light and he moved slowly across what had once been the lobby, avoiding cracks in the floor as best he could, stopping to peer down into them every now and then. Maybe Ross or one of his men would be down there waiting to be discovered, he thought and chuckled to himself.

Unknown to him, his every movement was being watched.

Carter traced the outline of what he took to be the foundations of the first block with the torch, pausing once to light a cigarette. He sucked hard on it, the end glowing red in the darkness as he walked. What a waste of time, he thought irritably. Wandering around freezing his nuts off just to satisfy his idiot boss. Harrison was cracking up, his outburst earlier in the day had convinced Carter of that. Sending them out to hunt for dead men. Jesus, the bastard was ready for a straitjacket. Carter shook his head and walked on, his thoughts turning to Tina. She was alone with Harrison. What if he got impatient? Roughed her up? Carter gritted his teeth and tried to push the thoughts to the back of his mind. If Harrison dared to hurt her again...

The weight of the automatic beneath his left armpit felt comforting.

He paused by a particularly large hole in the foundations and shone his torch into it, scanning the cracked concrete for anything vaguely human. Bones, clothes, anything.

The hole was empty.

He walked on, taking another suck on his cigarette.

He turned and headed back in the direction he'd seen Billy and Duggan take, wondering if they'd had any joy in what he was convinced was a fruitless search.

It was as he was climbing over a mound of debris that he saw something move.

A figure?

It was difficult to tell in the gloom.

Carter shone his torch in its direction but picked out only more bricks.

'Billy,' he called, his voice echoing in the stillness. 'Joe.'

Silence.

Carter shook his head and continued scrambling over the ruins.

More movement, to his right this time.

He spun round, torch cutting through the gloom.

Nothing.

'If either of you two silly sods are having a joke ...' he called, allowing the sentence to trail off.

Ahead of him a pile of bricks fell, slowly at first then with a dull thud.

Carter sprinted forward towards the rubble. Dust was still rising from it. It had been only recently disturbed.

If one of his colleagues was pissing about he'd be mad. It was bad enough trekking about in the cold looking for the remains of dead men without them playing tricks on him.

Carter advanced towards the supermarket.

He was within fifty yards when he saw the figure slip through one of the open doors.

`Right, you bastard,' Carter muttered under his breath.

He'd get his own back now. See how the other two liked a bloody joke. Ducking low, hidden by the shadows, he flicked off his torch and scuttled towards the supermarket, pausing at the door, listening.

There was no sound from inside.

He pushed the door with one hand and stepped in.

The smell which hit him was like an invisible wall. So rank and putrid in its intensity that he was forced to put a hand over his mouth. All thoughts of the figure vanished as he concentrated on trying not to vomit. The smell was incredible. He took a step inside, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to cover his nose and mouth.

Broken glass crackled beneath his feet, dust swirled up around his shoes.

Carter played the beam of the torch over the huge empty shelves which seemed to stretch for miles, so far that the beam could not reach the end of the aisles. The check-outs stood long abandoned, covered by dust nearly an inch thick. He stood motionless, torchlight bouncing off the dirty shelves, squinting to catch any movement in the gloom.

He saw nothing.

It was then that the hand closed on his shoulder.

Carter's heart raced madly as he felt the hand touch him and he spun round, reaching for the automatic.

His torchlight illuminated the face of Joe Duggan.

`Jesus Christ,' gasped Carter, sucking in a deep breath. `What the hell are you playing at? I nearly shit a brick.' He raised the torch in mock anger, as if to hit Duggan who recoiled momentarily.

'Sorry, Ray,' his colleague said.

'I saw you come in here. I followed you. I thought it might have been someone ...'

'What are you on about?
I
followed
you
in here,' Duggan

explained.

'But I saw someone come in.'

'It wasn't me.'

'Where's Billy?' Carter wanted to know, glancing now not at Duggan but around him, up and down the endless aisles of the supermarket.

'He was having a look round the other block. It might have been him you saw come in here.'

Carter nodded slowly. He hoped Duggan was right. For some unexplainable reason he felt a shiver run down his spine and, now his initial shock had subsided, he was once more aware of the vile stench which filled the building.

'Smells like something
died
in here,' said Duggan wrinkling his nose.

'There've been reports of packs of wild dogs and cats around this area. Maybe they've been in here.' Carter shone his torch over the dusty floor noting that the thick covering had been disturbed in many places up and down several of the aisles. 'It looks as if someone's been in here.'

Duggan advanced towards the closest aisle, his torch beam lighting an object in the dust.

He bent to touch it.

A broken bottle.

`Somebody's been in here recently,' he observed, noting that there was hardly any dust on the top surface of the bottle.

`Brilliant work, Sherlock,' Carter said sarcastically. He was still shining his torch over the aisles. 'Let's check this place out, find Billy and fuck off. It's getting too cold to be poncing around here for much longer.' So saying, he moved briskly up the first aisle, shining his torch to the right and left. Still the beam wouldn't reach the end of the shelf, but disappeared into the inky blackness beyond.

Duggan moved up the adjacent aisle, hidden from Carter's view by the blackness and the height of the shelves.

Neither of them saw the figure approaching from the opposite direction.

Carter was in aisle three, Duggan in four.

The man who, in life, had been known as Liam Kelly was moving slowly and purposefully down the fifth aisle, Ian Massey behind him. Both carried shotguns.

'You see anything?' Carter called, his voice lancing through the darkness.

'No,' came the reply.

Carter shone his torch over the dusty floor and paused.

There was a dark stain in the thick carpet of dust and grime.

He knelt quickly and pressed one index finger into it.

'Blood,' he whispered, wiping the sticky red fluid on his jeans. He shone the torch ahead, realizing that he was coming to the end of the shelves.

In aisle two Charles Ross eased back the bolt on the Ingram, priming it. Beside him Peter Burton hefted the .45 automatic in one gloved fist.

'Ray, there's something up ahead,' called Duggan from aisle four.

'I see it,' Carter replied, his eyes now fixed on the sight before him. His torch beam wavered slightly as it illuminated the apparitions ahead of him. If only they had been apparitions.

'Oh Jesus,' murmured Duggan, emerging from aisle four level with Carter.

The stench was now quite intolerable.

The sight which met them, even more so.

The bodies of Danny Weller, Adam Giles and Nikki Jones, nailed to the wall of the supermarket, were in advanced stages of decomposition, particularly their faces from which every last trace of skin had been stripped away.

Carter shone his torch slowly up and down the hanging body of Weller, noticing that other parts of his body had been flayed but not as expertly as his face. Lumps of muscle had been gouged from his lower body, particularly the stomach where the cuts were so deep that portions of shrivelled intestine poked through the rents.

Nikki Jones' breasts had been slashed repeatedly, the left one hacked off completely. It lay in the dust beneath her like a punctured, fleshy balloon.

Adam Giles' scrotum had been carefully opened with one single knife cut, his testicles removed. His shrivelled penis too had been ripped away. Carter was sure there were bite marks around the dead boy's thighs.

'What the fuck is this?' gasped Duggan.

Carter had no answer.

There was a movement to his right, from a doorway.

A man emerged, or at least what had once been a man.

His face was covered in a mask of flesh, ill-fitting but still stretched tautly enough over his own rotting features to give him some semblance of humanity.

He was holding an Uzi 9mm machine pistol in his ravaged hands, the barrel levelled at Carter and Duggan.

He was smiling.

'Where's Harrison?'

The question came from Carter's left and he looked to one side, still aware of the other man.

The man who had once been Charles Ross stepped into view, the Ingram pointing at his two living adversaries.