Rise of a Phoenix: Rise of a Phoenix (4 page)

FOUR

It was another warm cloudless night and the stars in the heavens glistened like the millions of lights of the city below them, and the moon was full and massive, its brightness beamed upon the city, giving it a shade of icy blue. People went on their way to-ing and fro-ing, cars easing their way down the busy streets, but all had the same agenda: going home. A shadow passed down the street and slipped unnoticed into an alleyway. Silent as a whisper the man made it to a point in the darkness of the passage. He knelt down and scanned the area. Suddenly he rose up with the same ease as before, and moved to the row of large, heavy-looking garbage dumpsters. Something caught his eye and, slipping his hand between two of them, he grasped something; it was two dirty pairs of gloves, perhaps once owned by a homeless person. He examined them for a brief moment and slipped them into his jacket pocket.

From down the far end near the entrance, two beat cops with flashlights approached the white coloured outline of a figure on the ground. The pair were discussing how in a couple of years they would be detectives, busting heads and getting rid of scumbags like the fella who did this murder. All of a sudden, they looked up to see a shadowy figure in front of them.

“What the?” one of them yelled.

“Hey you aint meant to be down here, buddy!” He reached for his pistol. Right at that moment the moon’s minimal light faded as a cloud covered it, rendering the alley pitch dark for a few seconds. The cloud passed and the alleyway was once more lit up like a winter’s morning. However the policemen were alone, the shadow of a man had disappeared.

“Frank, let’s not tell anybody about this, right?”The larger of the two men said. His colleague just nodded and they both got out of there as if they had seen the Devil himself.

FIVE

The morning brought a red sunrise that blazed across the sky as if the heavens themselves were on fire, and a multitude of colours filled the canvas of the early morning sky. Sam rose and started her normal morning routine as if it were ritual: get up, make coffee and hit the shower. As she sat and had her usual large bowl of sugary cereal, McCall scanned the news for what the media were giving away on this case. Luckily they had nothing, just some babble about a serial killer.
Fine
, she thought, the less that these vultures knew the better, for the moment at least; there were too many times when the press had messed up a case because they were too eager to put out information. She dressed and headed for work.

The main hall of the precinct was full of people, some waiting to report something, others to get booked. McCall passed the desk sergeant, who waved to draw her attention.

“Hey, Sam,” the large white-haired officer said, handing her a post-it note,

“The Doc says she wants to see you.”

“Thanks, Sarge,” she replied, then headed for the elevator.

“Morning, Tina,” McCall greeted her friend.

Tina Franks was slightly shorter than McCall but had more of an hourglass build. Where McCall had a more athletic look about her, Tina had more the build of a cheerleader. Her father was a marine whose family had come from the Jamaica’s and her mother had been a Brazilian law student studying in New York; her parents had met at a mutual friend’s party many moons ago.

“Well it’s about time, girlfriend,” Tina replied jokily.

“So what we got?” asked McCall, eager to get some news.

“Well the blood was drained from both vics so we couldn’t get a tox screen but we have other ways, don’t worry, the guy’s just making me earn my money,” she mumbled. “We got nothing from prints, so looks like they were all good little girls. We’re waiting for dental records on this one.” She used her pen to point to the slab behind her.

“I wish I could tell you more, Sam, but we are backed up at the moment. Soon as I get something you’ll know.”

Sam thanked her friend then left to go upstairs.
God, I need coffee
, she thought. McCall was soon back at her desk in the bustling chaos of the homicide department. Phones were ringing madly, there was the sound of computer keys rattling, certainly it was a maddening melee of noise and confusion, but to her ears it was a perfect melody.

The rest of the morning was spent going through personal records and walking round the buildings surrounding the crime scene to try to get some sort of idea of where the latest victim came from. From what they could gather, she had plenty of money, judging by her almost perfect appearance, with her manicured nails, flawless teeth, and stylish dyed hair, all indicating wealth. Unable to find anything from the neighbourhood, Sam returned exhausted from the walking round.

She sat on the edge of her desk, and one arm crossed her waist, while the other was bent upwards at the elbow. In her hand she held a black white-board marker, with which she was tapping her bottom lip in thought.

The large shiny white board was filled with photos and scribbles of ideas and information on the vics. It had two thick black strips of tape running down, dividing the area into three parts, each of them allotted to one of the victims. McCall stared at the board intently, her eyes scanning to try to pick up something they all had in common, but the harder she looked, the more she worried that she might be missing something.

Tooms joined her, while Tony Marinelli was busy on the phone.

“We checked database for prints, came up nada, we also checked FBI, got nothing there either,” Tooms announced.

Suddenly Tony put the phone down and quickly scribbled something on a bit of paper as he stood up and came over.

“Well we may have a lead on the first vic,” Tony announced, sitting down on the edge of McCall’s desk, beside her. “It appears a young lawyer in the Brookman building never showed up for a big meeting the other day and they haven’t been able to reach her.”

“Good, it may be our first lead, you two go there first thing in the morning,” she answered, still looking at the puzzling information board. “OK, guys, go home, get some rest, God knows we could use some,” she said, standing up and stretching.

“See you all tomorrow,” Tooms announced as he headed for the elevator. Marinelli said his goodnights, and left, flinging his jacket over his shoulder, as if he was some kind of superstar.

She finished her paperwork, swigged back the remains of her coffee and prepared to leave. Entering the elevator, all she could think about was going home and having a nice hot bath, and a large glass of the red wine she’d bought the other day.

SIX

The parking lot was dark with just a few hints of light dotted here and there.

She had parked here for years; in fact, it was the only one in walking distance of the station. The collection of cars scattered all over looked more abandoned than parked, but it was cheap and secure so who gave a damn. In the distance she saw her car, it’s strange faded paintwork glinting under the light of the spot lamp, which gave it an almost welcoming glow. Walking towards her beloved 1966 Mustang, her mind was focused on the case, not on the darkness of the lot; hell she knew she could take care of herself and she was armed, so if anyone screwed with her, she could sort it.

Stopping at the door of her car Sam reached inside her jacket pocket for the keys. Suddenly she felt cold steel of an automatic being pressed up against the back of her neck as she was pushed forwards against the car. There was a slam as her face met the glass of the door. She heard laughter from behind her.

“Well boys, lookie what we got here, my, ain’t you a purdie little thang!” said the vile-smelling man behind her. She was overwhelmed by the rank smell of his sweat, and it made her want to gag.

“OK, darling, put your purdie little hands on the car and spread ‘em.”

She heard other men giggling like school kids, assessing that there were possibly two others behind her but precisely where they were, she had no idea. McCall stood rigid, refusing to budge. She got a smack at the side of the head with his large fatty elbow for her disobedience.

“I said, put your goddamn hands on the car and spread ‘em, bitch!”

Under duress she obeyed, then she felt his hands moving slowly up her legs towards her crotch.

“Now we gotta search ya just in case yer packin.”

He jammed his hand between her legs and moved it back and forth. Sam kicked backwards and caught the man in the face. She heard him let out an agonizing, “Oomph,” then, turning quickly, McCall took aim with another blow, only to receive a belt to the head. She was thrown head-first against the car’s roof. Despite seeing stars, she forced herself to stay standing.

“Listen, I’m a police officer,” she yelled. “So I know you don’t want to do anything rash, so if you all leave now we can avoid a situation. So now just put down the gun and—”

She was answered by a punch to the kidneys.

“So we got us a cop, well that just sweetens the deal, don’t it?”

 Sam tried to lash out again, but, once again he banged her head against the car.

“Well boys, we got a feisty one here, I’m gunna luv breakin’ her in,” he said, laughing.

But his was the only laughter to be heard.

“Hey, where you fuckers gone too?” He turned round to look. “What the?” His voice betrayed his surprise and shock.She felt the pressure from the gun loosen, so she span round. As she moved, she punched with the heel of her hand, catching him full in the stomach. He grunted in pain and, as his large frame bent double from the impact, McCall delivered another mighty upwards kick, sending a fountain of teeth and blood into the air. Before her lay three unconscious hillbillies and in the distance there was a figure masked by a bright light. All she could make out was a long coat that carried in the wind like a ship’s flag.

McCall called the precinct, and assistance soon came, in the shape of five burly officers. But all the while, she was thinking,
Oh I can’t wait to explain this
.

Thinking of all the shit she would get from her colleagues at the department, at least the three morons would spend the night in lockup until morning, and then she would show them that it is not wise to mess with this gal.

McCall climbed into her car and drove home, the thought of that bath becoming ever more blissful. When she arrived at her apartment Sam threw off her jacket and shoes, went to the bathroom and drew a bath, ensuring that the water was laced with plenty of foam. She slipped into the deeply filled tub as she listened to the sounds of jazz emanating from her stereo system.

SEVEN

The sun rose in a blaze of colour, the city was ravaged by hordes of commuters heading off to work and the streets heaved with the morning traffic, and subway stations were packed with jostling inpatient people. Men and women moved in a long processions, going in their different directions whilst carrying coffee cups with logos plastered on them or cell phones pressed hard against their ears, as they pushed through the chaos to get to the safety of their offices or other places of work, keen to escape the mayhem of Manhattan in the morning.

Marie-Ann Talbot was a businessperson who bought and sold real estate and had various fingers in many other pies. For her pursuing her business interests was not so much for the money as for the thrill of it all. After she finished her ‘daily shock’ workout at the gym, she was ready to get to work. Coffee in hand she waited at the side of the road for a cab, when at that moment her cell phone rang. She pressed the activation button on her earpiece to answer the call.

“Hello?” she said. Her voice was soft but had a slight gravelly tone to it.

She wore grey sweat-suit bottoms and a white t-shirt that clung to her ample breasts, and her tall athletic figure cast a pleasing shadow in the morning sun. Her secretary, Jenna, was on the other end of the line, and they spoke for a while about a property that had just come on the market. A yellow cab came screeching to a halt next to her, she climbed into its rear, and the lock clicked as she pulled the heavy door shut, engaging the dead bolt.

“Forty-second, please,” she instructed, and the cabbie just raised a hand to confirm he had heard her and proceeded to drive. Marie-Ann continued her conversation and flicked through a magazine she had purchased earlier that morning.

“I tell you, Jenna, the place was huge and the view was,” she broke off her conversation to call to the driver. “Hey, buddy, where the hell you taking me?”

She looked up and saw that they were going over the Brooklyn Bridge. Fear set her heart racing.

“Hey, fella, I am not some tourist, I live here! Take me back, you asshole!” She pounded her fists on the security glass between them till they were red raw with pain. Mary-Ann grasped at the door handles and banged on the window in the hope that someone would see her plight, but no one came. After a while she stopped. She felt so tired, so very tired.

A new fear swept over her as she realized that her tiredness was not natural, but before she could work out what had happened, she fell into blackness like no other, a sleep from which she felt as if she’d never wake from.

Marie-Ann woke up; she blinked several times so that her eyes could adjust to the brightness or lack of light. She tried to move but, to her horror, she was unable to. What was wrong, she wondered? Where was she?

She struggled but found she had been bound: her arms, legs, and her head were all tied up. Why was her head secured? From somewhere in the room Marie-Ann could hear a faint sound, something distant; no not distant,
small
. She strained to hear what it was and where it was coming from.

The noise got louder; it was music, a kind of chiming, from ... maybe from a music box or watch, she concluded.

“Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?” she called out, not so much for help, for she realized that nobody was likely to hear her. Calling was a way of ascertaining if there was someone else in the room, she didn’t care who it was.