Текст книги "Taste of Fear"

Автор книги: Jadran Hawke

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 7 страниц)

17

Gérard Bourdot lived in Anthony, outside Paris. His house was located in a very quiet and nice residential area. The neighborhood was mostly white and upper middle class. There was a wall all around his house and a metallic gate. A car sat in the driveway – a white BMW 5 Series. There was also light inside, coming from a screen. A TV or a computer.

A group of four cops was positioned in the backyard, ready to intercept Bourdot in case he tried to run away from behind. Eight men were in the front. Four at the front door, four at the windows. They were waiting for everybody to get in position and for Francis Lefort, leader of the backup team, to give them instructions.

Lefort was a man in his late forties, with gray hair and a mustache. He listened to his radio and nodded. “We’re ready,” he said.

Sovann pulled his semi-automatic pistol from his holster and checked it for the third time. It was cocked and locked. He turned the safety off. “Let’s kick his ass,” he said. “I want to see him naked and on his stomach when we handcuff this son of a bitch. I’ll drop the wax on his back myself.”

John was looking in front of him, his gaze empty. He was holding his gun along his thigh, reviewing everything in his mind one more time. Gérard Bourdot was on both lists of consultants from the two banks and he had also worked in each and every city where similar murders had been reported – but not resolved. He lived in a nice area, had a beautiful house and his car was expensive. He had the right profile. He was the type of man Liliane Genet and Charlotte Bois would date. Everything matched.

“Yeah,” John said. “Let’s drop the whole burning candle on his ass and see if he appreciates it. Let’s go.”

“Go! Go! Go!” Lefort screamed in his radio.

One of the four men at the front door took a step back and then swung forward, thrusting the portable battering ram into the door. One time. Two times. Three times. Four times, before the lock gave in and the door swung open. The cops rushed inside.

John, Sovann and Lefort followed them inside the house, their guns pointing in front of them, ready to shoot. John quickly scanned the living room. There was a dining table with four chairs, a sofa and a TV. Nobody. He quickly walked to the kitchen and saw the backyard team through the window. Nobody in here either. Sovann was checking the toilets and the laundry room. He looked at John and shook his head.

He must be upstairs, John thought. God, please tell me he’s upstairs!

He didn’t hope for very long. A voice coming from above yelled to the whole team, “He’s not here. It’s clear, we checked all the rooms. He left his computer turned on but he’s not here. I repeat, the target is not here.”

Damn it!

“Alright, guys,” John said. “I want you to turn the place upside down. We’re looking for evidence. Anything that can prove he’s a sexual pervert and a murderer. Come on guys, this man is killing our women. We’ve got to stop him!”

John tried to stay calm but deep inside, he was furious. Once again, they were close. Very close. But they were still looking for him. The Dark Stallion lived here but he was outside, on the loose. Maybe he was hunting at this very moment. Maybe somebody was about to die tonight…

The whole team spread out through the house and started looking everywhere. They were in every single room, checking every single corner. But John couldn’t do it. He was boiling inside. Frustrated and helpless. He went outside and took a deep breath. He planted his fists on his hips and looked at the sky.

Shit!

His eyes were closed and he combed his hair with his hand. He grabbed the back of his neck and squeezed hard. He was tense. Pissed. What else could he do? What else was he supposed to do to catch him?

“Hey, man,” Sovann said behind him. He put his hand on his shoulder and handed him a small glass. “Take this. And relax. You did your best, John.”

John opened his eyes and looked at the glass. It was a shot glass. “What is it?” he asked.

“Tequila,” Sovann said.

“Compliments of the house, huh?” John said. He drank the shot of tequila in one go and threw the glass in the garden. It felt hot in his throat and his chest. But it felt good.

“How is it going inside?” John asked.

“Not much,” Sovann said. “I don’t think we’re going to find anything, to be honest. The man is organized and meticulous. He doesn’t leave any clue on the crime scenes. He won’t leave anything at home.”

John nodded. He knew it. He knew that their only chance was to catch the man and confront him.

“We don’t have any solid proof,” John said. “A prosecutor wouldn’t send him to court with what we have.”

“We wait for him to come back?” Sovann said.

“I want to stop him. Now. He’s about to kill someone else and we’re here waiting for him,” John said, clenching his fists. “We can’t let this happen. Jesus, I can’t believe it!”

Lefort and the rest of the team got out of the house after half an hour – empty-handed. The house wasn’t huge and they couldn’t find what didn’t exist. The Dark Stallion had left nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing any normal citizen wouldn’t have.

“We’re done,” John said. “Let’s go.”

They got into an unmarked police car and left. Back to Paris. As soon as they got out of the city, they were stuck in traffic jams.

“What the hell?” Sovann asked. “I thought everybody was out of town.”

“The alert,” Lefort said. He was the one driving. “They’ve announced a storm for tomorrow. People are coming home earlier so they can go to work on Monday.”

“Put the siren on,” Sovann said, impatiently. “These people are back from holiday. We’re back from work.”

Lefort looked at him and pursed his lips. His mustache wiggled. “You aren’t serious, are you?” he said. He seemed like a man with a strong sense of ethics.

“Are we hurting anybody?” Sovann asked. “It’s okay, we just want to go home.”

“But that’s not right, there’s no emergency,” Lefort said.

“Who gives a –” Sovann said before shaking his head and looking at the window. “Alright, whatever, man.”

John said nothing. Siren or no siren, he didn’t care. He was in the back of a police car. A Saturday night. He missed his little daughter. He had failed to catch a murderer. The Dark Stallion would kill another innocent woman. Probably tonight.

John couldn’t prevent it. There was no hope.

18

“So tell me more about your ex-husband,” the Dark Stallion said to the woman sitting in front of him. She was wearing a simple but very elegant black dress, with a pearl necklace. Her skin was white, the kind of white that turns into orange or caramel under the sun. A beautiful skin that felt soft even to the eyes. Her nails were long and red, and the color matched her lipstick. A passionate woman with character and ambition.

“Why would you want to talk about him?” she said, looking down. She blushed slightly, the Dark Stallion noticed. As if she was embarrassed or shy. As if the question was too personal and still triggered some kind of strong emotions.

“Because I’m truly curious,” he said. “You intrigue me and I want to know as much as possible about you. Including your past.”

She swept the air with her hand and smiled. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s leave the past behind.”

“You didn’t really let go, did you?” he said, looking at her with intensity. “You’re denying that it still matters to you. I can see it.”

She paused, looked at him from under her eyelashes and smiled. “How do you know?” she asked.

“I can read you like an open book,” he said, laughing internally. How cheesy, he thought.

“You’re very sharp,” she said. “I’m impressed.”

“I’m equally impressed by your beauty,” he said, raising his glass of wine to his lips.

She smiled.

Another cheesy pickup line, he thought. Unbelievable how often that kind of bullshit can work, if delivered at the right time.

“And I’m determined to understand you and accept your past to get what I want,” he said after a short pause. He was half lying this time. He truly wanted her. Offered to him. And dead.

She cocked her head to the side and squinted at him. “And what is it that you want?” she said, teasing him.

You like to play, don’t you? he thought. You’re going to enjoy your night. Trust me…

The Dark Stallion took another sip of wine and ignored her question. That was his way of keeping things interesting. To keep her guessing. And ultimately, to make her so intrigued by him that she wouldn’t even realize he was slipping into her bed at the end of the night.

“Tell me about your daughter,” he said. “Claire, is that right?”

She lightened up and smiled. The Dark Stallion had pushed the right button.

“She’s an angel. Really. And I don’t say that because I’m her mother,” Julie said.

“Of course,” the Dark Stallion said with a smile. Even if your daughter looked like a pig you’d still think of her as a beauty, he thought sarcastically.

The Dark Stallion had already disconnected. His ears weren’t registering anything. He watched her getting excited, talking about her daughter again and again. Women used to say he was a good listener. Wrong. He was a terrible listener. In fact he almost never listened to the meaningless crap all these women had to say. But he knew how to look like a good listener, and that was the key. He only had to pretend. Women felt understood. Respected. Appreciated. They loved him even more. He was so different, they all said.

You bet I’m different! I’ll be the last orgasm of your life…

The Dark Stallion insisted on paying the bill. Pretended, actually. Of course, he already knew that VBO Sabirap – the bank where Julie worked – would cover the dinner in their business expenses budget.

International banks paying their employees to have dinner with their murderer – that would be an excellent headline, he thought. He chuckled to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Julie asked.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, snapping back to reality. “I’ll tell you later.”

She looked at him, puzzled.

“I promise,” he said with a grin. I’ll tell you before you die, he thought.

They walked out of the restaurant and strolled down the street. At one point, she took his hand, rested her head on his shoulder and smiled.

That one is really into me, he thought. Maybe I should spare her?

He shook his head, discreetly. No, he thought. He had planned everything in advance. He couldn’t diverge from his plan. If she had feelings for him, it was her problem. Feelings or not, she wouldn’t feel anything at the end of the night, as long as he followed his plan.

“You know,” she said. “It’s really something else with you. I don’t know how to explain but I think you’re special. You’re very different from John.”

“John?” he said, amused. Confession time, he thought. A step closer to her bedroom.

“My ex-husband,” she said. “He… he’s a cop.”

Whoa, the Dark Stallion thought. A cop! Interesting… Exciting! He was about to kill a cop’s ex-wife and the police would have no idea how to catch him. Couldn’t be better.

“A cop?” he said, keeping his voice neutral.

“Yeah. I mean, he’s a Detective. Lieutenant,” she said.

Lieutenant, he thought. Not a small guy! Not that high either, but still good, very good in fact. I’m honored, really.

“And?” he said.

“Well, he’s a great man. He’s thoughtful, smart and everything. But he’s not a good example for our daughter. His lifestyle is completely wild, unpredictable, so… uncertain. Dangerous. I can’t stand it. That’s not how I envision family life,” she said.

“I understand,” he lied.

“But with you, it’s different. You’re smart and funny. You understand me. You asked about my daughter. You have a great career with a lot of opportunities ahead. You’re the kind of man women dream about,” she said, squeezing his hand.

The Dark Stallion nodded. It’s getting boring now, he thought. He didn’t want to hear any of this crap anymore. Enough words, time for action.

“Want to come up?” she asked, as if she was reading his mind.

“I’d love to,” he said, smiling.

He followed her upstairs, into her apartment. Everything happened as he had expected. The hugs, the kiss and finally the sex. It was great. She had lots of energy. Her ex-husband cop was missing out, big time.

After their first orgasm, he let her rest and he reached for his messenger bag. It was small but big enough to contain all his equipment, including a video camera. He took it out, put it on a table across the room and press the REC button. It was now recording. Show time…

“Can we turn on the light?” he asked. “I want to see your beautiful face.”

“Sure,” she said, unaware of the camera.

He joined her in bed. They had sex one more time, when he asked her to turn around, on her stomach.

“Let’s play a little game,” he said, his voice as sensual and mysterious as possible.

“Okay,” she whispered, eyes closed.

He bent over and grabbed the handcuffs. At the same time, he discreetly took a hunting knife and slid it under her pillow. He had also brought a needle and some thread. When he was done with her, he’d planned to sew her vagina. That way, he would truly be her last. Forever.

“Do you trust me?” he said, grabbing her wrists behind her back.

“Yes,” she said.

“Good…”

With a devilish grin on his face, he handcuffed her, thinking that her ex-husband would never do the same to him.

Ever.

He would never be caught.

He sighed with pleasure as he heard the metallic sound of the handcuffs.

Click!

19

They were going nowhere. They were stuck in the unmarked police car, bumper to bumper on the highway. Lefort was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Sovann was texting his girlfriend. John was looking out the window. None of them talked about the failure they’d just encountered at Bourdot’s house.

“Want to take a look at this?” Lefort said, handing his cell-phone to John. “Pictures we took inside the house.”

John leaned forward. “I’ll have a look,” he said, grabbing the phone. He didn’t check it right away. Not ready for it. What could they possibly do with pictures of the house anyway?

He took his own cell-phone and called home. John had left without telling Claire that he had to go to work. She was still sleeping when Cécile had arrived. And she would wake up next to someone she had never seen before, a beautiful stranger, but still a stranger.

“Hello,” Cécile said.

“Hey, it’s John. How’s Claire? Did she wake up?”

“She did.”

“And? Was she scared?”

“No. She just looked at me and asked me who I was.”

“What did you say?”

“That I was your friend. She asked me if I was your friend from the restaurant.”

“What restaurant?”

“When you took her for lunch and I called you.”

“Oh yeah, right.”

“She even remembered my name. She asked me if I was Cécile. She’s smart.”

John smiled. Cécile told him not to worry. She had brought food and a few Disney movies.

“Thank you,” John said.

He hung up and finally took a look at the pictures from Lefort’s cell-phone. He quickly browsed until he stopped before the portrait of a man: good-looking, in his late thirties, very elegant, charismatic. Gérard Bourdot was definitely a gentleman, and John instantly knew why women fell for him. His physique was deceptive. Behind the mask of the perfect man was a hardcore murderer.

John kept looking at him. For some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off the picture. There was something different about him. Nothing wrong really, but something… unusual. John zoomed in and squinted at the photo. And then, he saw Bourdot’s eyes and knew why he looked so outstanding. His eyes didn’t have the same color. He had one brown eye… and one blue eye. It sounded like déjà vu.

He has only one blue eye, John repeated to himself, trying to remember why he thought he had heard that before.

He has only one blue eye…

Then, the rest of the sentence flashed into his mind. “Like a pirate?” he had said to Claire.

Everything became crystal clear. John’s heartbeat accelerated and he started sweating. Claire. The man she didn’t like. One blue eye, Julie’s date, Julie’s new friend, Julie’s job, fund manager, big bank, divorced, attractive. This meant target and death.

Oh my God, John thought. Julie is having a date with the Dark Stallion right now! She’s the next victim!

“Son of a bitch!” John screamed.

20

Sovann turned around. “What’s wrong, John?” he said.

“Lefort!” John said. “I know where he is! I know where to find Bourdot!”

“What?” Sovann said.

Lefort looked at him in the rear-view mirror. “Are you sure?” he said. “We don’t need another fiasco for tonight. I’ll look like an idiot if I have to report two failed attempts in one night.”

“I’m telling you, it’s him,” John said. “He’s having a fucking date with my ex-wife right now! Put the siren on!”

“How do you know?” Lefort said.

“Shut up, Lefort, and just do it!” Sovann yelled at him.

“I just know it, now get us out of here,” John said. “If you don’t move your ass right now, my daughter will lose her mother. Go!”

“Come on, Lefort!” Sovann said. “Sounds like an emergency to me. Is it right enough for you this time?”

Lefort glared at Sovann and shook his head. “Don’t push me, kid,” he said as he put the siren on.

A blue light flashed in the night and the cars on the highway started to pull over to create a way for the unmarked police car. Lefort called his men on the radio, telling them they had a new lead.

John called Julie’s cell phone. He waited, feeling his heart beat in his chest. Then a female voice told him to leave a message. He hung up and tried again. Same result. She was probably too busy with the Dark Stallion.

Within fifteen minutes, they were in Paris. They stopped their cars in the middle of the street and rushed to the massive wooden doors of Julie’s building.

“What’s the code?” a police officer asked John.

“25A44,” John said.

The man typed the code and they heard a beep.

“Doesn’t work,” he said.

“Shit, they changed it,” John said, knocking his fingers on the doors to measure their density by the sound. “These doors are huge. The battering ram will be useless.”

“Come on!” Sovann said in frustration. He went to the trunk of the car and came back with a shotgun. “Guys, out of the way!”

He pulled the trigger once. Twice. The sound of the explosions was terrible. Dust and pieces of wood flew in the air. People in the streets were running, screaming, scared and calling for the police. But the door of the building was open.

Sovann looked at Lefort. “Don’t start lecturing me,” he said. “I know this isn’t right. But it works.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Lefort said, suppressing a smile.

“Come on, guys!” John said. “Fifth floor, stairs on your left!”

The group of cops climbed up the stairs four by four. First floor. The blood was pumping in their veins. Second floor. Their muscles tensed, ready for action. Third floor. They were going so fast that John started to feel dizzy. Fourth floor. Almost there.

“Wait,” John said, raising his fist in the air to signal his team-mates to stop. “No more noise. We have to take him by surprise.”

Everybody nodded. They kept walking as fast as possible, in silence. Discretion was key.

Fifth floor.

John drew his weapon.

“Which door?” the man with the battering ram whispered.

John motioned to his right. The man nodded, took position and slammed the door open.

A woman screamed inside and a man yelled in surprise. “What the fuck!”

Everything was dark except for a room in back. Then there was a commotion and they were in total darkness. Someone had turned off the light.

But John knew his way in the apartment. He didn’t need to have light. He rushed to Julie’s bedroom and carefully twisted the knob of the door. Slowly, he stepped into the room and heard a crashing noise. Then, almost immediately, he started to feel an intense pain at the back of his skull. He felt like his head was about to explode. He dropped his gun, fell to his knees and grabbed his head with his hands. He had been hit by the Dark Stallion.

He quickly recovered and ran his hand over the wall, looking for the light switch. He found it and suddenly, everything was bright in the room.

Julie was entirely naked and her hands were handcuffed. She couldn’t move. She was wearing a blindfold, moaning and jerking in her bed, trying to break free.

But he couldn’t see the Dark Stallion.

Where is he?

“Julie!” John said. “It’s me, John! You’re in dange –”

John couldn’t finish his sentence. He tried but no sound came out. No air came out. No air came in. He felt a strong arm around his neck. The grip was tighter and tighter. The Dark Stallion was tall and strong. John had very little chance to escape his deadly headlock.

“I’m going to kill you,” the Dark Stallion said.

Sovann and Lefort arrived in the room, ready to shoot. But John was between them and the Dark Stallion. Like a shield. They couldn’t afford to fire.

“Freeze!” Lefort said.

The Dark Stallion ignored him.

“Dear John,” he said. “You came to see me fuck your ex-wife, you little perv!”

John was jerking and thrashing, desperately trying for air. The Dark Stallion was standing behind him, holding him tight.

“Freeze, motherfucker,” Sovann screamed. “Let him go! Now!”

Sovann was trying to aim but John couldn’t stop moving. It was impossible to shoot without hurting him.

“You bastards have ruined everything!” the Dark Stallion said.

“John, what’s going on?” Julie screamed in panic.

Lefort ran to her, covered her with the bed sheet and carried her out of the room.

“Last chance,” Sovann said. “Let him go immediately! This is an order!”

John was now drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness, but a part of him was still there. Fighting to stay alive. His instinct. The killer instinct. The Dark Stallion was naked. John was aware of that and used it to his advantage. He stopped trying to get away from his grip and instead, grabbed his testicles. Hard. He squeezed as hard as he could, planting his nails into the Dark Stallion’s skin, and he yanked his balls.

The Dark Stallion screamed. The pain could be heard in his voice and he slightly released his grip. John then dropped to his knees, suddenly lowering his center of gravity and threw him over his shoulder. The Dark Stallion’s body flew in the air and landed on his back, completely flat. The bedroom shook under the impact. Sovann immediately pointed his gun at him, making sure there was no escape for him.

John quickly filled his lungs with air and rushed to the man on the floor. The Dark Stallion looked puzzled and didn’t react. In a second, John was on top of him, punching him in the face. Left, right, left, right, left, right… He punched again and again and again, tireless. Shaking from the adrenaline.

“You tried to kill the mother of my child!” John screamed, still punching. “You tried to kill me!”

Blood shot through the nose of the Dark Stallion. The crack of broken bones and cartilage resonated in the room. A tooth flew in the air. John kept punching mindlessly.

“Montclair, that’s enough!” Lefort said, taking John by the arms from behind. Three men were needed to stop him.

John stepped back. He was panting. His eyes were red. His shoulders were heaving up and down. His knuckles were white. His shirt was covered with blood.

“John, are you okay?” Sovann said.

John took a moment to answer. “Yeah,” he finally said.

The Dark Stallion was now on his stomach and a police officer was holding his hands behind his back. He looked at John. “You want to do it, Lieutenant?” he said.

John nodded and stood up. He squatted next to the Dark Stallion. “Gérard Bourdot, you’re under arrest for the murder of Liliane Genet and Charlotte Bois.”

Sovann was standing next to them, holding a lit candle in his hand. Then, he slowly dropped the hot wax on the Dark Stallion’s back.

“How does it feel, huh?” he said with a smile.

Gérard Bourdot screamed.

John smiled and handcuffed him.

Click!