Trying To Run In Prison Part 7

Address: Flat 14b Darlington Rd, Tooting Previous Offences: Speeding caught on camera doing 42mph in a 30 zone. 3 points on license and 80 fine. Caught in possession of a small amount of cannabis a.s.sumed for personal use.

Additional Notes: McCann was a teacher until about 3 years ago. Thomas was suspended as a teacher for suspected s.e.xual a.s.sault of a minor. The incident allegedly took place on a field trip to Euro Disney in France. A 14 year old girl accused McCann of sneaking into her room and attempting to have s.e.x with her while she was sleeping. McCann was spotted in the room by another student, but the evidence was not strong enough to convict him. The alleged incident formed a string of events involving inappropriate behavior around young girls that the school had on record. McCann was caught by police attempting to break into the school, some suspected that he was attempting to access the schools central records, but for what purpose is unknown. Although the evidence was not strong enough to take McCann through the court system, there was enough doubt for the General Teaching Council to rule that McCann was not safe to work with children and his teaching license was officially revoked.

Since leaving the teaching profession McCann has been doing odd jobs: bar work, shop a.s.sistant in a hardware store and even in the local library. He doesn't seem to be able to hold down a job in the long term, which may be related to reports we have received that McCann has started to drink quite heavily.

McCann divorced from his wife Emily shortly after losing his job and has been single since.

McCann's medical records show that he was recently diagnosed with a stomach ulcer, most likely caused by excessive alcohol intake. He has also been referred by his GP to receive psychiatric help having recently experienced a number of panic attacks and palpitations.

McCann has been on and off the dole for a number of years. For the last 6 months or so he has been working for a removal company and it appears that he was just about to move out of the address above and into the address where we discovered his body.

The house where McCann was discovered belongs to his grandfather who is 94 and lives in a home for the elderly (see attached details). We have informed McCann's grandfather of his pa.s.sing. McCann's parents live in North London, they have also been notified of their sons pa.s.sing.

Stevens tidied the notes away and pulled a second file towards him, located the summary sheet, took a sip of the cooling coffee and began to read.

Craig Mandeville DOB: 30/6/85.

Address: 57a Farrell Drive, Tooting Previous Offences: Lots of juvenile minor offences anti social behavior, possession of cannabis, drunk and disorderly behavior, minor vandalism and possession of amphetamine sulfate.

Additional Notes: Mandeville is a confirmed alcoholic. Up until about 2 years ago Mandeville worked for his Father selling cars at a local showroom. His father bought the car selling business with the insurance money he collected after the death of Mandeville's mother. Mandeville's mothers death deeply affected him, most likely leading to his alcoholism. As a child he was rarely in school, often getting himself caught up in trouble and dabbling with a range of drugs. Mandeville has recently started attending an alcoholics support group in an attempt to kick the habit.

We managed to contact Mandeville's father and gave him the news of his sons pa.s.sing, the response was unexpectedly very negative. His father explained that they were already dead to each other. He went on to explain that his son was a mess and getting more and more into drinking and drugs. He also stated that he had heard rumors that his son had also started to deal drugs in an attempt to help him feed his habit but that this had not really worked out as he was taking far too much of his supply, leaving him significantly in the red to some undesirable characters. He dad closed by saying that at least his son was at peace and n.o.body could harm him now.

Mandeville had been admitted to hospital on several occasions, most recently on New Year's Eve, where he had to have his stomach pumped with charcoal after drinking 2 bottles of vodka.

Mandeville was a competent guitarist and has played in a number of bands over the years including a Pink Floyd cover band that used to tour the UK.

Neighbors of Mandeville have informed us that they also believe that he has recently started dealing drugs. This does in fact look to be true as a search of his flat revealed a few kilograms of cannabis and a few large sheets of LSD tabs with smiley faces printed on them. The quant.i.ties we discovered at the property were larger than we would expect for 'normal' personal use, so it is highly likely that he has been dealing.

Mandeville has never married and we have no reports of any previous partners at this stage.

Stevens sat in silence and reflected upon what he had read. He reached forwards, picked up the coffee and took a sip. It was stone cold. Stevens tidied the contents of the file away, got up from his desk, stretched and left his office to make a fresh cup of coffee in the staff room. He returned, set the coffee down and pulled the final file towards him, took out the summary sheet, took a large sip of his bland coffee, winced as the molten liquid scorched as it ran down his neck and began to read.

Howard Phillips DOB: 23/2/85.

Address: 167 Bellingham St, Tooting Previous Offences: None Additional Notes: Phillips was an orphan, both of his parents were killed in a car accident on the A3. Phillips was 2 at the time and suffered a broken pelvis and fractured skull in the accident. Phillips also suffered some irreparable nerve damage and his injuries left him requiring constant pain relief.

The only relatives we have managed to locate are an Aunt and Uncle who live in Manchester. They claim that they only met him once when he came to visit following his GCSE's.

Phillips lived in a bedsit at the above address, other residents describe him as a bit of a loner. They state that that he does occasionally have visitors, but not often. They also say that Phillips was into recreational drugs in a big way. They would often come across him in a variety of unusual states in the communal areas in the house. Officers have done a sweep of his bedsit and found a small quant.i.ty of a range of different recreational drugs: cannabis, amphetamine sulfate, cocaine and a small sheet of LSD tabs on smiley face blotting paper. Some of the tabs were missing. The small quant.i.ties found do suggest they were solely for personal use. Along with the recreational drugs they also found a large supply of different pain relief which has been confirmed as his treatment for his nerve damage.

Phillips seemed to spend the majority of his time listening to records, the bedsit he was living in was stacked with 1000's of vinyl records and some quite expensive audio equipment. Phillips has worked at a small record store in Balham since he left school. The owner of the store was positive about Phillips and explained that he had been saving for the last 5 years or so in an effort to open up his own record store in Mitcham, he had recently visited a number of properties in the area and was looking specifically for one with a flat above it. His bank statements would confirm this to be the case as he had savings in excess if 15,000 at the time of his death.

One of Phillips' housemates has informed us that Phillips was jumped recently by a gang of teenagers in hoodies. He had a few pounds stolen from his wallet and a few b.u.mps and sc.r.a.pes but nothing too serious. The incident was not reported to the police and he did not seek medical attention. His flat mates did state that since the attack he had been in a 'bit of a trance' and wandered around the house asking why everyone had yellow eyes. Some were considering seeking medical help for him.

Two Ouija boards were found at the property along with a large number of texts about the occult.

'That's a little harsh.' Stevens thought to himself. 'Looks like this fella pa.s.sed away on his birthday.'

Stevens placed the last file on top of the other 2 and clicked open his email for one last check before he set off home. There was 1 new message, he clicked it open, it was from Taylor.

Just 1 final thing sir, we did some more poking around this afternoon and it turns out the 3 are in fact close friends, all having gone to the same high school, McCann being a few years younger and joining in the second year after moving to the area from North London. We also have a confirmed sighting of the 3 of them drinking heavily and laughing and joking at The Old Railway (a public house situated halfway between Tooting and Earlsfield) 2 days before we discovered the bodies. The punters we spoke to seemed to think that the 3 men were out celebrating the birthday of 1 of the 3, that must have been Phillips.

Let me know if you need anything else. See you in the morning sir.

Regards, Taylor Stevens turned the monitor off and stood to leave, as he started to pull his coat on Taylor walked into the office, he looked fl.u.s.tered and his breathing was slightly labored as if he had jogged to the office and broke into a walk just at the last minute to retain an air of aloofness.

"Sir, I have the lab reports back. You are going to want to look at this immediately, it makes very interesting reading." Said Taylor.

Stevens took his coat back off and beckoned Taylor to pull up a chair.

"Pull up a seat son, it doesn't look like either of us are going to be going home at any point soon." Said Stevens.

He looked at his watch, 8:05pm was the time. Stevens had been at his desk ploughing through case after case since 7:00am and was tired. He desperately wanted to get home, eat and then get off to his local for a pint or 2. But this was important and he was desperate to know how the 3 men in the lounge pa.s.sed away.

"Ok Taylor, what have you got?" Asked Stevens.

Chapter 26.

Thomas gingerly got out of bed still clutching the bottle of scotch, pulled off his pajamas and dressed himself, occasionally taking another swig, occasionally setting the bottle down momentarily to use both hands.

Thomas finished dressing. Jeans, his old level 42 T-shirt with its fresh black charcoal stain and a thick hoody over the top. Thomas checked the time, "Ok guys, 16:32, school day over, cla.s.s dismissed." He said to himself.

He walked to the kitchen and forced himself to eat a couple of cereal bars which he washed down with more gulps of scotch. He opened the kitchen draw and pulled out the huge chef's knife. He spent a few minutes sharpening it before wrapping the blade carefully in kitchen roll to avoid cutting himself. He retrieved his moped keys, threw the knife in his backpack, threw the empty bottle of scotch on the sofa, grabbed his mobile phone and walked outside.

It was dry outside, but very cold and Thomas considered going back in to collect a coat. Instead he chose to press on and began his routine to fire the moped to life. It started on 5. 'must be my lucky day.' Thought Thomas.

The traffic on the roads was as busy as ever and it too Thomas over half an hour to arrive at his school. He had made one stop on the way as the knife in his ruck sack was joined by a bottle of vodka, packet of cigarettes and a lighter.

The car park at the school was already pretty empty when he arrived, but not empty enough for his liking. He locked up his bike and walked a few steps until he arrived at the boiler room. He opened the door and went in. The boiler room was a regular place for the teachers who smoked to hang out. But school had finished for the day and Thomas guessed that he would be undisturbed and warm if he waited here. He settle down in one of the few old chairs that had been dragged in and pulled out the vodka, cigarettes and lighter. As he drank and smoked, he examined the chair. It was an old brown leather armchair. It had acquired a bit of a sticky texture after years of having things spilt on it. There were holes from cigarette burns and areas that were starting to go bald where naughty fingers and picked away at the leather. But the chair was comfortable and Thomas soon found himself drifting off.

Thomas woke with a jump. The boiler room was pitch black. The phone in his front right jean pocket was buzzing. He pulled out the phone and stared blurry eyed at the screen which illuminated the darkness around him. The first thing he noticed was the time,10:24pm. Then he moved his eyes to the display. Janet was calling him, he could also see that he had a further 7 missed calls, all from Janet. The buzzing stopped and a message popped up on the screen confirming he had 8 missed calls. He also had a message. He opened it and a photo appeared of Billy dressed as an elf, the message below the photo read: hope you are in better elf! Speak later, love you Janet x Thomas held up the phone as a torch and used its light to help retrieve his vodka, cigarettes and lighter before making his way out of the boiler room. Thomas began walking around the school building as quietly as he could. He had walked half way around before he noticed a window left slightly ajar on the ground floor. He popped the catch up, lowered the rucksack to the cla.s.sroom floor and hauled himself in.

He was stood inside a languages room, which by day was occupied by the French teacher Mrs. Jones. Mrs. Jones had the biggest b.r.e.a.s.t.s that Thomas had ever seen. She was a tiny lady, probably not much bigger that 5 foot, but Thomas guessed that she was nearer 6 foot when she laid down. Right now Thomas was not interested in the contents of Mrs. Jones's bra, he was however very interested in the contents of Mrs. Jones's computer. He located it, sat in the chair behind it and turned it on.

The computer fired up and started making a series of beeping and whirring noises as it went through its various loading cycles. The familiar blue of the windows operating system came into view closely followed by the message: 'Locked.' Thomas cursed the French teacher for not logging off and held his finger down on the power switch, a few seconds pa.s.sed and the computer powered off. He tried again. The same loading cycle ensued, but this time the result was the school log in screen that he hoped to see. He entered his school log in details and clicked the return key.

'User not identified' was the reply on screen. Thomas feared that this may happen, it had only been a couple of days, but already they had frozen him out of the schools information system. He sat and thought, drumming his fingers on the desk. 'What about Parris? I'm sure I can guess that t.o.s.s.e.rs pa.s.sword.'

He entered Parris's user name in the correct format and began trying different pa.s.swords.

smurf nothing papa nothing papasmurf nothing ryan (his first name) nothing ryandavies (his middle name) nothing daviesryan nothing ryanparris nothing Thomas was beginning to realise that perhaps it was not going to be that easy after all. He began drumming again and thought about Ryan Parris, he placed himself back in his office and looked around.

Tap tap tap An idea hit him as he remembered the picture on the wall in Parris's office. He started to type.

corduroy he was in.

Thomas quickly opened up the schools data management system and began navigating his way around. A final click of the mouse and the screen displayed what Thomas was looking for. Carl Donnelly's file.

Thomas scrolled down through the pages of negative behavior incidents and arrived at the section he was seeking. He took out his phone, selected the camera and took a picture of Carl's address: 24b Carnegie court, Putney, London. Thomas grabbed up his belongings, logged off and climbed back out of the window and back into the fresh night air.

Howard got back on his moped, reached in his bag and took 2 swigs of vodka before getting the bike started. It took Thomas just 7 minutes to reach Carl's address. Carl lived in a flat which occupied part of the ground and first floor of a large Victorian house. Thomas opened the ruck sac, placed the knife on the seat and treated himself to a few hearty swigs of vodka and a cigarette. The street was pitch black apart from the 3 street lights that provided an eerie orange glow. Thomas blew smoke upwards and watched it dance and form a mult.i.tude of shapes before vanishing into the crisp night air.

Thomas finished his cigarette and flicked it high into the air, watching it loop then fall to the floor. He watched as it fizzed and crackled until its final embers faded to nothing. Thomas stood and unsheafed the knife from its tissue holster. He advanced towards the door.

2 Heavy knocks announced Thomas's arrival. The hall light went on and Thomas saw a female figure approach. The door opened.

"Can I help?" asked the woman.

"Sorry to disturb you this evening, but I'm one of Carl's teachers, he left a sheet behind that he really must get finished for tomorrow. So sorry that it's so late, but it is important. Is he in?" asked Thomas with the knife held behind his back.

"Yes, he upstairs. Bu..." The lady was interrupted by a well-placed and solid punch that struck her on the temple, just left of her eye. She lost consciousness immediately and fell backwards. .h.i.tting the floor with a thud. Thomas ran forwards towards the stairs absently stepping straight on her chest as he went. He reached the staircase and strode up at speed, 2 steps at a time.

Thomas reached the top of the stairs and saw 3 doors, he guessed correctly that 1 of the 3 would be the bathroom and that would most likely be placed at the rear of the property. He also guessed correctly that the room at the front of the house would be Carl's parents' bedroom. That left the middle room and the flickering light emanating from under the door confirmed Carl's whereabouts. A door slammed shut below him and he heard a male voice. Thomas guessed correctly yet again that Carl's dad had just walked back into the house from the garden after just having had a cigarette. Thomas walked towards the door.

Thomas extended a hand and turned the handle. The light that Thomas had seen was emanating from the TV screen at the far end of the room. A male voice screamed loudly from downstairs. Thomas walked into the room. Carl didn't notice the intrusion, he was busy playing a computer game while listening to music through a pair of headphones. Thomas heard loud footsteps on the stairs. Thomas steadied the knife in his hand, lunged forwards and thrust it straight through Carl's neck. The blade protruded from a second on the opposite side of Carl's neck before Thomas ripped it back towards him spraying the room with blood.

Carl spun in horror and panic to see his teacher stood smiling as blood gushed from the 2 holes in his neck. He collapsed.

Carl turned to see Carl's father enter the bedroom. He dropped the knife and closed his eyes. Carl's father was screaming in a combination of rage and despair. Thomas felt the first blow land on his left cheek, he felt dizzy from the strength of it but remained upright. The next blow knocked Thomas off balance and he fell. Carl's father was on him in an instance, blow after blow rained down on Thomas's face. Thomas could feel himself fading out of consciousness. Hands circled around Thomas's neck and began to close in. Thomas could not breathe, Thomas did not want to breathe. He let his mind float.

The boy with the knife and the blood and the flickering TV. The vodka and the scotch and the cigarettes and the lighter. The scooter and the brown leather chair and the painting of the lady. Janet and Billy.

Two shadowy figures stood before him with outstretched hands.

Black.

Chapter 27.

Craig woke up from his first dreamless sleep of many years and into a complete nightmare.

Craig found himself laying completely naked and chained to an old work bench. The room he was in appeared to be in some kind of cellar. He could not move his arms or legs, but he could turn his head side to side. He had a terrible headache from where the large man's metal bar had struck him full force on the forehead. The pain in his head reminded him of his brief affair with alcoholism.

Above him gently swung a light bulb which glowed orange and flickered occasionally. It was crudely connected by a thick grey electrical wire that hung over one of the cobweb lined beams above. He turned his head to the left, following the beams to a crumbled brick wall. Against the wall were a number of regular household tools: a brush, a spade, a garden fork, a hoe, a rake and a small bundle of runner bean sticks. He turned his head to the right, following the beams until they met an equivalent brick wall to that discovered on the left. The only thing that Craig could see were 3 boxes, 2 wooden crates and what appeared to be a tool box although Craig could not be sure as it was slightly obscured by the large vice on this side of the work bench. Looking down towards his feet Craig saw very little due to the darkness in that area, although he could just about see a guitar resting against what he guessed was a coffee table, the guitar appeared to be red.

Craig's heart was beating at 2000 miles an hour. He had no idea where he was and no idea what was going to happen to him. He remembered the punch, his head and jaw ached badly as a result of it. But why have they brought him here? It seemed like a normal bas.e.m.e.nt, not the sort of place gangsters take you. 'Maybe they are just going to try and scare me.' He thought, 'if they wanted me dead they would have surely done that by now.'

A door above him opened and slammed throwing dust down from the ceiling and into Craig's eyes and lungs, he coughed.

"Help!" Shouted Craig, "I'm' down here, I need help!" Craig stopped and listened unsure if he was going to get a response. Footsteps walked away from the door directly above where Craig lay imprisoned. The footsteps stopped and another door opened, the footsteps faded out of ear shot as they entered. Craig lay, heart racing in silence once more. He could feel the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, the soft p.r.i.c.kle and sting twinkled across his brow as the tiny droplets squeezed out and joined together. Time pa.s.sed, drop merged with drop with drop. Craig turned his head to the left allowing the sweat to run free. A huge metallic clang ringing out from the room above shocked Craig right through to his core, adrenalin raced around his body and his fingers and toes shook uncontrollably.

A sc.r.a.ping sound, metal on metal, a chain being dragged then the sound of the door being opened. 'This was it.' Thought Craig, he would soon discover his fate.

The footsteps emerged, the door carefully and methodically closed, the footsteps walked once more directly above. The orange light flickered and swung, dust fell.

The footsteps stopped, the sound of an old rust handle filled Craig's head. His eyes widened and searched to his feet in the gathered gloom, waiting.

The door burst open and the footsteps fell hard with intent upon steps. Upon steps leading to the bas.e.m.e.nt. Upon steps leading to the bas.e.m.e.nt where Craig lay chained, naked and shaking. Ever down, ever closer. Craig held his breath.

The footsteps had arrived.

The door burst open, light flood in illuminating the stuffy dark. The cold air flowed in and caressed Craig's naked flesh, gooseb.u.mps sprang out in a combination of fear and chill. Craig exhaled and closed his eyes, scared to face his fate.

A towering figure walked forth into the room carrying a leather bag in each hand. The figure walked down the room, pa.s.sed the red guitar leaning against the coffee table and stopped on Craig's left, just in front of the collection of household tools. The figure released the 2 bags and they crashed to the floor, Craig's eyes sprang open.

Craig locked eyes with the towering figure. The eyes belonged to a tall man, around 6 foot 2. Blue eyes, hair cut into a basin around his thin pinched face. The basin haired man more a black shirt and black corduroy trousers all covered over by a thick black rubber overall.

"Well Mr. Mandeville, here you are." Said the tall man.

"Where the f.u.c.k am I what are you going to do to me?" Replied Craig still shaking uncontrollably.

"You have been gifted to me Mr. Mandeville. You may call me Albert Mr. Mandeville. I am in the employ of our mutual acquaintance. In answer to your question, 'where the f.u.c.k am I?' You are in my bas.e.m.e.nt Mr. Mandeville. You are in my bas.e.m.e.nt chained naked to a work bench. In answer to your second question, 'What are you going to do to me?' I am sure you have already guessed Mr. Mandeville, just by looking at what I am wearing. I am going to kill you Mr. Mandeville."

"Oh f.u.c.king h.e.l.l no, you don't have to, you don't have to. Just let me go I won't tell anyone. I've not done anything to you, why would you want to kill me?" Craig wriggled uselessly against his restraints but knew even before he tried that his efforts would be futile. Craig began crying uncontrollably.

"Mr. Mandeville, please understand that I will not be letting you go. I do know that it must be difficult to hear, but I am afraid that this is the end of the line for you. You can say what you wish, you can plead, beg and cry which I am sure you will, but know that I have stood here many times above many people. I have no mercy, I have no compa.s.sion, and this is something that will happen. Shall we begin?"

Craig could not speak with fear, he felt light headed and his head swam. Albert bent down and began rummaging around in one of his bags, retrieved a club hammer and stood back up.

"Brace yourself Mr. Mandeville. This may sting a little." Said Albert calmly.

Craig whimpered, closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. Albert retracted the hammer and swung it with brutal force straight through Craig's lower jaw with clinical accuracy. Flesh ripped and teeth broke as the left side of Craig's jaw lifted up and flapped across his face where it hung on the other side. Blood began flooding out of the gaping wound and Craig felt the warm thick liquid creep its way across his bare neck and chest. He gurgled a scream and opened his eyes. Albert was not there.

He moved his eyes right, Albert was there holding a large hacksaw. "Hold still Mr. Mandeville." Said Albert as he reached forward and roughly grabbed the remains of Craig's jaw. Craig wriggled uselessly against Albert's incredible strength. Albert raised the hacksaw and within 3 rough strokes completely removed Craig's jaw. Albert dipped his hand into his bag and retrieved a pair of pliers which he clamped onto Craig's swollen, blood drenched and flailing tongue. He pulled hard and the pliers sank deep into the tender tissue as the tongue stretched out of Craig's face. 2 pulls of the sharp hack saw made light work of the muscle which Albert tossed dismissively to his left.

Craig's throat and nasal filled with blood, his chest pulled hard to desperately grab a handful of oxygen, his head swam, and blood vessels burst in his eyes as he began to fade out of consciousness.

"You have done very well Mr. Mandeville and I thank you for indulging me thus far. This will not take much longer and then you may be at rest." Albert took out a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and methodically dabbed at his forehead, removing the few tiny beads of sweat that had started to gather there.

Albert's words echoed as if from a faraway dream. Craig exhaled and bubbles of blood flowed from his mutilated face. His sight was no more than a fading blur of swirling colours, so much so that he did not see Albert stood over him with a large meat cleaver. Albert raised the cleaver behind his head and with both hands clasped firmly around the old wooden handle closed his eyes, pursed his lips and exhaled a long thin jet of air across the room. He reached out his tongue and wet his drying lips and brought the blade down with amazing force on Craig's ribcage. Through skin, then bone, then sinew, then lung and heart until it reached the other side of Craig's ribcage where it wedged solid.

Craig's mind burst into vivid colour. He saw the car lot, the flat, the brown sofa, the swimming pool and the hooks.

The colour flickered, flooded with orange for a moment. He saw a photo of a boy with a basin cut wearing corduroys, he saw the Guinness, the ash trays, the swimming pool and the hooks.

The orange dimmed and flickered. He saw his dads face, his mums face, the floral wallpaper, the cliffs edge and the woman in white, the body on the hook, the surface of the pool.