The Girl Who Never Came Back (17 page)

"Her?" he says, raising an eyebrow. "You don't seriously think a woman could do this kind of thing, do you?"

"As a matter of fact," I reply flatly, "I do."

"So I have a protege?" he asks with a faint smile. "How fascinating. It's a shame I won't be able to stick around and watch his work, but at least I can take some comfort from the knowledge that my work will continue." He pauses. "I've come to terms with my imminent demise, Ms. Mason. I've been able to see it as merely a part of the way the natural world works. In fact, I was hoping I might bump into you sometime. I was meaning to ask if you had a similar epiphany all those years ago, when you thought you were about to die. Did you come to terms with your imminent death?" He pauses. "
Have
you come to terms with it? To know your death is coming? To know the end is here? To know it's all over?"

"It's my belief," I continue, carefully ignoring his attempts to get me riled, "that someone is copying your original murders, but with men this time instead of women. Someone's switching the genders."

"So that's why you think it might be a woman wielding the knives?" he asks, with a hint of curiosity in his voice. "How delightfully reductive."

"It's quite possibly," I reply. "I'm hoping that you might decide to help us find out for sure. Where did this person find your diary?"

"Where I left it, I imagine."

"And where was that?"

"Where do you think?"

"Cut the games," I reply firmly. "In case you've forgotten, you don't have a lot of time left."

"I don't?" he replies, pretending to be shocked for a moment. "Oh, of course. I almost forget."

"So where did you hide the diary?" I continue. "Where did this person find it?"

He smiles, before cutting off another piece of steak and placing it in his mouth. Once again, he chews slowly. "The most disappointing part of life in this prison," he says after a moment, "is that there are so many women working here. When they asked me what I'd like for my final meal, I said I didn't really care, but that I didn't want it cooked by the bitch who normally runs the kitchen. I told them to ditch her for the night and get her male assistant to take over. Can you believe that a man accepted the position of working beneath a woman? He must have some serious self-esteem issues. Either that, or he's after some pussy." He pauses. "Anyway, they accepted my request, and now I have a very well-prepared steak. Cooked by a man, of course. Die with a full stomach. Die satisfied. Die before my next bowel movement."

"Where did you hide your diary?" I ask again, already starting to tire of having to ask that same question so many times.

"I feel as if I'm being studied," he says eventually. "It's quite a compliment, in a way. I feel as if someone is taking an academic interest in my work. To be honest, all those years ago, it never occurred to me to kill a man. As you know, it was women I wanted, and it was women I took. The thought of cutting up a man's body is somewhat disturbing, but I guess it takes all sorts to make a world. If it's truly a woman who has started copying my actions, Detective Mason, you'll have no problem finding her. He'll, she'll probably fuck the whole thing up pretty quickly."

"I have cancer," I say suddenly, surprising myself with my honesty.

He stares at me.

"I'm having a double mastectomy soon," I continue, my voice trembling, "so in a way, twelve years later, the cancer is completing the work you started." I pause for a moment. "The scars
have
healed," I add eventually, "but they're still there. And now I guess they're going to get opened up again. And yes, sometimes I do have a slight limp, mainly when it's cold. Another reason to fucking hate snow."

He continues to stare at me, and slowly a smile spread across his lips. "How wonderful," he says eventually. "It's as if the world itself wants my work to continue. Perhaps your body was excited by the prospect of my knife, and has found... other, more respectable ways to get the job done. I assume the surgery is something you've chosen, Ms. Mason? No-one's going to tie you down and force it upon you, are they?"

"It's the only chance to stop the cancer spreading."

"And you
want
to stop the cancer spreading?"

"I'd rather not die."

"Everyone dies," he says with a smile. "As I'm very,
very
aware right now."

"Not of cancer," I point out. "Not rake-thin with yellow skin in a hospital bed, eaten away on the inside. I'd rather -"

He waits for me to finish. "Rather what?" he asks eventually.

"I'd rather find your diary," I say firmly.

"So the surgery
is
your choice," he says. "My God, do you realize what that means? If you'd just let me cut off your breasts twelve years ago, and
then
got free, I'd basically have saved your life. How's that for irony?" He pauses. "Damn it, I can't help wishing tonight's events could be postponed. If it were possible, would you have let me see them after they'd been removed? Your breasts, I mean. I'd like to see them on a slab. Would you have let me have that honor. I'd like to -"

"Where did you hide the diary?"

"What's wrong?" he replies. "Can't your female brain work it out? Bitch of a puzzle, huh? Bitch of a trick. Bitch of a game."

"Where did you hide the diary?"

"Are you okay, Detective Mason?" he asks, leaning a little closer. "You look rather green around the gills."

"I'm fine," I say firmly. "The point is..." I pause. Moments ago, I felt as if I had a perfectly good reason to tell Gazade about my cancer, and about my upcoming operation. Suddenly those reasons have dissipated and I feel as if I made a terrible mistake. I guess the pill I took is finally kicking in, but as well as taking away the pain, the drugs have also clouded my judgment. It's getting harder and harder to think straight. "The point is," I continue slowly, "I can't force you to help me, but I hope you might see that you have one final chance to show that you're sorry for everything happened."

"I'm
not
sorry," he replies. "This copycat, or whatever it is, doesn't interest me very much.
You
interest me, though, especially now that -"

"This isn't about me," I say firmly, interrupting him. I swore I wouldn't let him get under my skin, but right now I feel as if I'm losing control. The problem is, this fog in my mind is causing me to get frustrated, and I need to find some way to calm down. I should never have taken that pill. I was weak. I should have just accepted the pain and kept my mind clear. "This is about saving lives."

"Since when did I ever give a damn about saving lives?" he asks. "Face it. You can't give me one good reason to help you." He glances up at the clock. "I'm going to be taken out of here in a few minutes' time and executed, and there's nothing you can offer me that could ever make me give you any information. I want to die, Ms. Mason. I'm happy with it." He smiles. "What about you? You must be thinking about your own mortality, mustn't you? Have you achieved the comfort that I've achieved?" He stands up and walks over to me, stopping just a few inches away on the other side of the glass. "Do you envy me?"

"Please help me," I reply, aware that this meeting isn't going too well. Without the cancer drugs in my system, I'd be able to think better, but I feel as if I'm struggling to remain coherent. "You killed those women because you thought they were beneath you," I continue. "You killed them because you wanted to prove your superiority. Now there's a woman out there. A weak, pathetic woman, with
your
diary in her hands, and she's using it to kill men. Doesn't that make you sick, Sam? Doesn't it make you sick to your stomach to think that a woman is going around, killing men? It should be the other way, shouldn't it? It's an abomination of nature, so why don't you help me stop it?"

He stares at me, and for a moment it looks as if I'm getting through to him.

"What drugs have they got you on?" he asks eventually. "For the cancer, I mean. Your pupils are very small right now, Ms. Mason. Whatever you're taking, it looks to be affecting you mentally."

"It doesn't matter."

"Doesn't it?" He smiles. "You used to have such a strong reputation. I've kept up with your career, you know. I spotted your name in newspapers now and then, and I always got the impression that you were regarded by your peers as something of a genius. I doubt your faculties are able to withstand a generous dose of chemotherapy, though, and those pupils look awfully small."

"Help me stop this killer," I say firmly, trying to hide my anger. The truth is, he's right. I
am
struggling to keep my head together.

"You're on chemotherapy, aren't you?" He leans closer to the glass and sniffs at the small holes that are supposed to make it easier for us to hear one another. "Your breath smells pretty funky. Somewhat... chemical. You're on something to help keep the cancer from spreading until the operation. You've probably got some dull, jobsworth doctor who's promised you surgery in the next few weeks, and until then he wants to retard the spread of the cancer as much as possible. Am I right?"

"This isn't about me," I say firmly.

"Those drugs'll kill you if you give them long enough," he continues. "Just like the drugs they're gonna pump into me tonight. We're in kind of the same boat, except I assume your doctors are still claiming they can save your life." He smiles. "Is it worth it? Lose your tits, fill your body with poison, and... what? Live? Die? Are you so desperate to cling to life, that you'll let them hack away at you until there's nothing left? Even if it means that you're barely alive at all?"

"Help me stop -"

"The old Joanna Mason," he continues, interrupting me, "the woman I remember from twelve years ago, might have been able to persuade me. She was smart. She scared me, a little. I'd never met a truly intelligent woman before, and I have to admit, she made me question my beliefs." He pauses. "But now? The new Joanna Mason, the one doped up on cancer drugs, has lost her edge. You're just another dumb whore. I don't need to help you in this case. If some stupid bitch is trying to copy my murders, she'll soon fail. No woman has the mental capacity to operate at such a high level. The only exception to that rule, and I mean the
only
exception, was you. Once. But that was an aberration, and one that is clearly being corrected."

"You haven't changed," I reply. "Twelve years after I stopped you, you still think women are inferior to men. You still cling to that belief, like some kind of philosophical dinosaur."

"You might have tits and a pussy," he says with a smile, "but you've got the brain of a man, Ms. Mason. I recognized that right from the start. Are you quite sure there's not a cock hidden down there in your underwear?"

"You're an idiot," I tell him.

"An idiotic man is still better than the smartest woman," he sneers. "Ask any child who's ever seen his mother's weaknesses, or any man who's ever tried to talk rationally to a woman. They're all failures. The only women who've ever achieved anything have done so by sublimating their feminine sides and embracing masculinity."

"You're wrong," I reply. "The new killer -"

"Will fail," he says, taking a step back as footsteps approach the door. "If it's a woman, she'll fuck up sooner or later. I guarantee it. She'll get her monthly visit from the blood fairy and her anger'll get the better of her, or she'll let her hormones push her into a mistake."

Behind me, the door swings open and I hear several sets of footsteps entering the room.

"I'm sorry," Gazade says, with a sense of calm that I've never heard in his voice before. "Our time seems to be up, Ms. Mason. I'm afraid I have a pressing engagement. Just like you, I'm going to be pumped full of drugs. The only difference is, mine will kill me a lot faster than yours will kill you."

***

"Just a couple more minutes!" I say, hurrying along the corridor alongside Lockley. "You can wait a few minutes, can't you? No-one has to know. There's always a delay getting the news out anyway, so let me use that delay to ask him some more questions. I was just starting to get through to him."

"You really weren't," she replies sternly, "and there's no way I'm going to delay this execution by even a second." As we get to the door at the end of the corridor, she turns to me. "I gave you what you wanted, Ms. Mason. I'm sorry it wasn't enough, and I'm sorry you weren't able to pull a miracle out of your ass. From what I've heard, miracles used to be your specialty, but this is one miracle too far."

"Please -"

"He clearly didn't have any intention of helping you," she replies, interrupting me. "He was playing with you, Ms. Mason, and you were too blind to see the truth. I could let you spend all day, every day with that man for the rest of your life, and you'd never get a straight answer from him." She pauses. "It's pathetic, really. I expected someone with your reputation to be a little more focused."

"I can get through to him!" I insist, before suddenly realizing that there's only one way she could know for certain that I didn't have any luck. "You were listening," I say after a moment, shocked that in my drug-addled state I didn't consider the possibility - in fact, the
probability
- that someone would be keeping tabs on my conversation with Gazade. She must have heard everything, including the conversation about my cancer.