Senator Stanhope’s House
November 28, 11.28 p.m.
This was their man, thought Harper. On the drive to the senator’s home, Eddie went through everything the psychologist had said on the phone. It seemed to fit, and what was more it fitted Denise Levene’s profile better than Redtop did. This wasn’t some loner simpleton; this was a white-collar Jekyll and Hyde with an inability to stop himself.
Eddie and Tom drove in silence for the next ten minutes as the car neared the home of Senator Stanhope. Harper took out his Glock and checked the magazine. Sebastian would not give himself up without a fight. He was dangerous and would be desperate.
They got to the entrance of the secure residential area and could see a line of street lights all the way up to Senator Stanhope’s house.
Tom was worried that if it was the American Devil, he might have killed already. Or would he? They’d never worked out how long he kept Jessica Pascal or Elizabeth Seale alive. But they knew he liked to torture his victims for a long time. He liked to see them weakening. They didn’t know how he got away, either. This guy was a chameleon, or a magician. Or perhaps he had a trick they hadn’t heard of yet.
They turned right and stopped at the huge steel-gated residence of Senator Stanhope. There were no security guys on duty and they didn’t want to alert anyone inside. Eddie parked the car up close to the high wall and they both jumped on top. Eddie threw his leather jacket over the razor wire and they hopped over the wall.
They dropped on to the ground on the other side and listened out for dogs. Nothing. The house ahead was bright with lights in all the windows. They could smell a log fire and see smoke twirling from a high chimney. Without a sound, Harper motioned to Eddie to flank left while he flanked right. Crouching low, they both sprinted towards the house, moving silently on the thick lawn.
At the front door, there was no sign of forced entry, but that wasn’t Sebastian’s style. He was too clever for that. He saved all his violence for those who could fear him. Harper pulled Eddie close.
‘We’ll stick together and do a circuit. When we get a picture of what’s inside, we can split.’
‘Okay,’ said Eddie. ‘Let’s do this.’
They crouched and circled the house, moving quickly under each window and checking for signs of people inside. They came to the windows of the largest reception room. Eddie looked, and pulled back sharply.
‘We got a single male suspect standing. There’s a girl in front of him in her underwear. The suspect has a sword of some kind.’
Harper leaned down into the grass, out of the pool of light, and looked up into the room. ‘There’s one woman and another girl on the far sofa. They look tied up somehow. Clasped together.’ He moved back close to Eddie. ‘Okay, this is it. We can’t wait for back-up. I’m going to move back into the darkness of the garden and line up a shot, you want to take the front door. You hear my shot, you bust the front door and go in quick.’
‘Make sure you get a good shot.’
‘I want him alive, remember. He might be the only key to Lucy James.’
‘Well, make sure he can’t get up.’
‘I will.’
Eddie and Tom clasped their hands together. ‘Get going,’ said Tom.
Inside the living room, the mother and father were in tears. The killer had brought the second daughter to stand before him. She was now taking her dress off. Then Harper noticed that the mother was holding her side and blood was pouring through her hands. She must’ve tried to stop him. The senator’s face was grey and he looked like the life had been drained out of him. He had cut marks across his face and blood down his shirt.
Tom knelt in the near darkness as the living room gleamed ahead. Inside, the tall black-suited figure stood before the senator. John Stanhope looked terrified. The other man was talking. He was still, but talking. Then he raised a long thin blade. Harper pulled his gun up to eye level. He lengthened his left arm and placed his grip in the palm of his right hand. He took aim and let his breathing still.
He could see the faces of the women. The two younger ones were staring in fear, their faces torn with pain. The other, the wife, did not flinch. Something had been said. Sebastian was raising his sword above the girls.
The killer was shouting now. It was the moment. Something was imminent. Tom moved his sight upwards. He couldn’t risk a shot that would just disarm him; he needed to drop this killer with one shot. His sight rose up the killer’s chest, up his neck, and stopped on his head. Single headshot. No other options.
The Glock 19 was rock-steady. There was an unearthly stillness. Even the wind seemed to drop for a brief second. Harper was praying. He squeezed the trigger. The silence of the garden was broken. The shot boomed and smashed its target instantaneously. Harper looked, the fear wide in his eyes. ‘No,’ he shouted. The glass had not shattered. It turned milky white in front of his eyes. Something he had not anticipated. Bulletproof glass.
‘Fuck!’ he shouted. He started to run towards the window. He heard Eddie’s shots take out the front door locks. He kept shooting the bulletproof glass as he approached, peppering it with holes, and then, with a yard to go, he launched himself through it. His body broke the glass and plastic mesh. He flew through the window, hit the floor, rolled and looked up to see Sebastian’s sword swirling above one of the girls. The other was already on the carpet, a stream of blood flowing from her neck. Harper let off a shot. It gave the girl a chance, and she threw herself to the sofa as the bullet hit the wall. The killer turned and kicked Harper hard in the face. Harper’s head jerked backwards, his Glock flew from his hand and his nose split open. Sebastian ran towards the broken window, running his sword right through Senator Stanhope. Harper scrambled for his Glock. Eddie arrived a moment later and ran to the Senator, throwing his cell phone at the girl on the sofa and yelling at her to call 911. As Eddie tried to staunch the bleeding, Harper was up and at the window. ‘I’m going after him.’
He ran out into the darkness, the sound of women screaming behind him.