Part 2 (1/2)

Chapter Five.

Jack's telephone rang. He picked it up.

'It's the doctor you asked to call on Bruno, Jack,' Alice announced.

'Put him through.'

'Jack?'

'Peter, how are you?'

'Fine. And so's your chef.'

'Bruno's not dying?'

'A couple of days' rest and he'll be back to normal. I've given him a leaflet on alcohol abuse and left a couple of aspirins for his headache.'

'Thanks, Peter. I owe you one.'

'Next round of golf at the club is on you. Wednesday at three?'

'I'll be there.'

'Do you want to speak to Bruno?'

'Not until Monday. I intend to enjoy my weekend.' Jack replaced the receiver and saw Alice watching him. 'Save me from over-dramatic chefs.'

'Is there any other kind?' Alice returned to her own desk.

Lamplight flooded the back of the van.

'Stand back, Zee. I don't want anyone to see what I'm about to show you.'

'You're being very mysterious.' Zee forced a smile. It was ridiculous to be afraid of someone she knew so well.

The light was strong. Zee blinked, opened her eyes, and saw it.

Black, larger than a mobile phone, it touched her shoulder and she instantly felt weak. Too sick to move or think. She slumped to the metal floor. Her muscles hardened to stone. All she could think about was her baby.

Zee opened her mouth to scream but her lips refused to part. The pain was so intense that the cry she'd intended was a weak groan. Hands closed around her neck. She tumbled headfirst into darkness.

Zee struggled to open her eyes. Or, rather, she thought she had, but she couldn't be certain. Everything was black. She was aware of agonising pain in every muscle. Pain that prevented her from moving. Was she having a nightmare?

She tried to lift her arms and failed. Then she realised that they, like her legs, neck and head, were fastened to a cold, hard surface. There was a foul taste in her mouth. Something had been pushed between her teeth. Something dry, hard and nasty. No matter how she tried to push it aside with her tongue, she couldn't.

She'd never been afraid of the dark. Now she was. There was a buzzing. A sense of movement.

Zee remembered stopping on the pavement. Entering the van. The door closing. The noise was it the engine of the van? Was she being taken somewhere? Had she been kidnapped?

The buzzing stopped. There was stillness and silence.

What could have been one or five minutes later, metal slammed against metal. The sound sent s.h.i.+vers crawling down her spine. Footsteps drew nearer ... The side door opened. She'd heard the driver's door of the van closing.

Someone stepped inside the back of the van. The door closed. A light was switched on. It burned her eyes. She closed them tightly.

'A little pain. The last, I promise. Then it will stop hurting.' The voice was soft, kind. But Zee was terrified. Not for herself. Her baby ... Jack ... She fought against the straps that pinned her down. She couldn't move more than a fraction of an inch.

Bracing herself for the pain of the light, she forced her eyes open. A black figure leaned over her. A cap covered the hair, a mask the face. All she could see was the eyes. Dark and glittering.

Light reflected from hands that were covered in white latex. She saw a blade. She made one last effort ...

Too late. The edge of the chopper sliced through her jacket and continued plunging downwards. She felt warm, wet blood gush from her chest, soaking her skin.

Then she heard it. Metal sc.r.a.ping bone. The pain got worse.

She gasped for breath. She couldn't breathe. She heard a loud crack ... followed by another ... and another ...

Chapter Six.

It came to Zee in a burst of sickening knowledge. The cracks were her ribs breaking one by one. Then one crack, louder than all the others, brought a pain too great to bear.

The killer stood over Zee. The straps only allowed small movements, but that didn't stop Zee fighting. Slowly, so slowly that the killer couldn't be certain it was really happening, Zee's eyes dulled. Gradually, they lost the brightness of life. Zee's eyelids flickered but they did not close. A bubble of pink froth escaped from her mouth. Blood welled from her opened chest, staining her cream jacket crimson.

Zee sighed. A last sigh. Her eyes opened wide.

They were blind and dead.

The killer looked from Zee's face to the opening in her chest. The handle of the chopping knife stuck out. The killer thrust it down and turned it, pus.h.i.+ng Zee's broken ribs apart. A loud 'snap' startled the killer, who listened for an outside noise.

There was none.

Working quickly, the killer pushed aside the ragged remains of clothing and freed Zee's ribs from her breast plate until a gap was exposed in her chest. The chopper was exchanged for the filleting knife. A few delicate probing movements exposed Zee's heart.

Holding the carving knife in one hand, the filleting knife in the other, the killer cut through the blood vessels and tissue that held the heart in place. The filleting knife had a fine blade. The carving knife was sharp. It took only two minutes to prise Zee's heart free.

Changing the latex gloves for a clean pair, the killer picked up the two-p.r.o.nged fork and speared Zee's heart. A few seconds later it was in the plastic box. It proved difficult to scratch the initials on to the surface. The knives were sharp but the heart was slippery. Eventually the letters could be read just.

The flag was already prepared. The printed note was secured to the top. The killer jabbed it into the heart and changed gloves before closing the lid on the plastic box.