The Hunt (Mike Greystone, Book 1) (18 page)

"I loved it too. Looking forward to your next visit. My door is always open for you," she said and added: "And how's your day?"

"I got a jet back to Philly so I got here quickly."

"Any new developments in your quest?" Jane asked. I’d taught her how to talk to me on the phone – without mentioning the details of any case I was working on. You never knew who was listening.

"Hoping for some good progress today."

We chatted for a while, she sent kisses over the phone, and I sent some back too, and we finished the call.

33.

In about an
hour Martin came in to my office saying that Harker was on the move, most likely back to his house. Maya and myself got ready and waited for info from Martin. After a while, he came in again.

"Mike," Martin said, "Philip Harker’s at home now. We're ready to take over the security system at his house. Just give me a call when you get there," he said, and gave me the address and some general directions about the layout of the house and surroundings.

"Maya, dress well, we'll be busy tonight," I teased her.

"Fuck you," she responded politely. She was sometimes forgetting who her boss was.

We got into the car, set up the sat-nav and headed for Harker's house.

He was living in one of the better suburbs, not super expensive, but leafy enough for upper middle-class. We parked our car a few hundred yards from the house in front of a grocery store and strolled towards the house.

Harker's car was in the front drive. A Mercedes E Class. A decent vehicle, especially once you’re over 65. But still, even though it was mainly for pensioners in my opinion, one could get a few chicks with a new Merc. But I didn't want to analyze other peoples’ tastes, especially on the day their fate was to be decided. Besides, beauty was in the eye of beholder. There was a market for any car, including Mercs.

I called Martin: "Martin, we're ready, can you take over the security at Harker's house?"

"Sure, give me two minutes," Martin confirmed.

We strolled down the street in a leisurely way trying not to arise any suspicion.

Martin called back to confirm everything was ready.

The plan was the following. Maya would knock on the door asking for directions. Simple and naive, but with Maya's looks, she could open any door that way. In situations like this, we usually used a nerve spray, courtesy of Dermot Clenaghan from Research & Execution. They, being a well-funded, contrary to Dermot's grumblings, government agency, always had the nicest and most up-to-date toys and gadgets. And these gadgets made our lives so much easier. That spray in particular worked through both the skin and lungs, and only took a few seconds from skin contact or inhalation to incapacitate the opponent.

Maya undid the uppermost button in her top and adjusted her breasts to make them even more presentable, which wasn't really necessary as they were one of the first things you noticed on seeing Maya, followed by her pretty face and perfect, slim body. She unfolded a map, approached the door, rang the bell and waited. I was standing beside her out of sight. The door opened and a man appeared.

"Hi, would you be able to help me?" Maya started the conversation smiling at the guy. "I think I'm lost. I'm looking for Juniper Lane. I’m sure it must be here somewhere."

The man smiled, but instead of bending over the map, he produced a gun and started aiming it at Maya. But Maya was as quick as lightning, and before he managed to point the gun, she wrenched his arm, possibly breaking it in the process, hit him in the nose, sprayed his face with the nerve gas and finally kicked him in the chest to throw him deeper into the lobby of the house. Upon which she moved away from the house to allow the fumes of the spray to disperse. I’d seen not entirely dissimilar scenarios already a few times before, and Harker was quite easy by comparison. He wasn't a pro, although to his credit he did spot Maya could be a threat to him. I suppose he wasn't expecting any visitors that day.

While Maya was neutralizing Harker, I was watching the surroundings. There were no neighbors or passers-by, so we were okay.

After a while we went into the house and trussed him up securely, yet not entirely comfortably. He lay on the floor while we scoured the rooms for other people and for other relevant evidence, on top of what we’d got from Martin already.

There didn't seem to be too much there on top of what Martin had found with Dermot's help. I just noticed quite a few girl's toys and dolls in various places around the house – probably from little girls he’d abducted and raped. Also, on some of the walls I noticed animal skins. I wouldn't be surprised if they were from the animals used for the zoophilic orgies he’d been organizing. Two looked like sheep, there was one monkey, possibly a chimp, one pig, and a few dogs I think. Golden Retrievers. Bastard.

Our captive started to wake up. He opened his eyes, still slightly paralyzed, but able to see, speak, and move a little. While he was waking up, I called Martin to organize the live streaming of events at Harker's house to Mr. Ivanov, using Harker's own surveillance camera. One of the cameras was actually a high resolution color cam.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asked sternly. His tone of voice didn’t fit in with the circumstances he was in.

"We want you to talk to somebody," I replied after a while.

Once everything was set up, we called Ivanov using a disposable phone and put it on loudspeaker.

"Mr. Ivanov, we have something for you. We are in your would-be son-in-law’s house. Mr. Harker, say hello," I encouraged him.

"Mr. Ivanov, I'm so glad to see you!" He thought Ivanov would be on his side. "This is a misunderstanding," Harker said, panicking nonetheless. "What's going on? I haven't done anything!"

I interrupted his pleas, switched on his computer and played a few short clips of the rape and orgy movies from Harker's collection. He was now visibly disturbed, knowing his secret was out.

Ivanov watched the little girls subjected to rape and beatings, as well as the animal orgies.

After the video footage ended, Ivanov said “Monster.” It sounded a little funny from his mouth, as he was a monster too, but at least a monster with principles and he didn’t rape children and animals.

"I know some scumbags are afflicted with pedophilia, which is regrettable in its own right. But animals? That's rare," I said to Harker.

"Fuck you," he wasn't in the mood for conversation.

"Do you fuck both female and male sheep and pigs?" I was curious.

"I'm not gay you sick fuck, would you fuck a male sheep yourself?"

"That's a theoretical and highly rhetorical question. I prefer traditional relationships with women," I laughed.

"Fuck you."

"Mr. Ivanov, this is a significant mitigating circumstance to consider. He's not gay, he fucks only female animals. Does that redeem him in any way in your eyes?" I joked, but putting on a solemn tone of voice.

I saw a ray of hope in Harker's eyes. Stupid creature.

"Yeah, that casts a completely new light on the whole situation," Ivanov joked picking up on my cues. "Let's get this thing done and catch up first thing tomorrow morning. If all goes well, I owe you something."

"That's what I want to hear. We'll talk soon."

I’d decided on Harker's fate even before we arrived. Maya was already making some preparations, while I gagged him. He was surprised at the turn of events. He must have genuinely believed that Ivanov wanted him alive. The gag in his mouth dispelled all those hopes instantly. He became, how you call it, fidgety, so Maya hit him gently, in her opinion, on the head, so that he lunged forward and sideways and I had to prop him up with my foot to keep him on the chair. And I had to wipe his saliva mixed with blood from my shoes. New shoes. I wasn't happy.

"Harker," I started, conveying a final message to him, "you are a scumbag. You don't deserve to live. We’re going to solve that problem right now."

His gaze froze. He was terrified.

"I'm going to remove the tape and gag from your mouth if you promise not to shout," I told him. "You have the option of dying in a quick and painless fashion if you behave and don't shout, or we'll take you away to our underground interrogation chamber, where our team of experts will deal with you piecemeal, literally. It won't be pleasant. Your choice."

I looked him in the eye. He seemed to understand and nodded. I removed the gag from his mouth.

"We've browsed some of the movies from your private collection. It was so convenient that you put the names of your victims as the file names. This allowed my team to run a search on the names and a good few of those girls you raped went missing and were never found."

"Have you searched the records for missing dogs too?" Harker said contemptuously.

"I think this attitude of yours is not appropriate. I might still take you to my interrogation room and treat every inch of your body with a blow torch. You won't die for a long time, but every second will be filled with excruciating pain until you black out. When you recover, we'll start again. And I have some medicines that will make you recover quickly, so that we have more time for our intimate one-on-one with the blow torch. Do you really want it that way? Think about it."

I paused for a minute and continued.

"We could theoretically hand you over to the justice system. But that would be a lengthy process. You would get life or death row more likely. See, what I’m offering you is for your own good. I tell you, inmates in jail don't like pedophiles, you wouldn't survive long there. And as the prisoner dwellers don't have access to the proper tools we have here, your demise would be anything but painless. This is a really good option for you."

I waited a moment or two for the words to sink into his brain.

"I want two things from you. Your bank account passwords for a start. You're not super rich, but you have a few bucks here and there, we checked your bank records. With enough time, we can access them without your help, but if you give them to us it’ll save us some hassle."

"Who the fuck are you guys? How do you have access to my computer, which was encrypted and secure, and my bank account? You’re violating bank secrecy laws!" he said. I was surprised by his attachment to law and order.

"I'm a freelancer who works for the government. We have access to the best private and government technologies, databases, and records. We can get nearly any information we want."

I paused again to allow my words to sink in.

"I'll distribute the money to the victims. That's the first condition."

He seemed resigned by now.

"Do you have any family?" I asked.

After a moment of hesitation he answered: "I have a daughter, but I haven't spoken to her for years, she's in foster care."

"We'll find her, I'll leave her a few grand from your estate," I said.

"I don't care," Harker answered.

"Second condition, I want to know where each of your victims was buried. I'll hand over that information to the police. The parents of those victims need certainty and truth, however painful it is."

I was waiting for his reply and added: "If you comply with these two requests, we can end it now, quickly. Here's a pentobarbital injection ready for you." I pointed at Maya, who was holding a syringe. "At high doses it paralyzes the body and shuts down the vital functions like the heart and breathing. An instant painless death. It’s used for euthanasia in Swiss clinics. And believe me, the Swiss know what they're doing. And it was recently introduced into our domestic penitentiary system as a single-dose lethal injection, so it must be good for you, so to speak." He didn't seem relieved to hear it was good for him, but he eventually started talking.

"Is it really painless?" he asked.

"It is, you'll just feel a prick on your skin when it’s injected. Nothing else," I confirmed.

"Okay then, I'll give you what you want."

I called Martin, who got one of our analysts on the phone. I put Harker on loudspeaker. Harker gave his bank account passwords and my team in the office checked that they were valid. Then Harker explained where to find the burial sites of his victims. It turned out to be not very well organized. He had the information in various files, but he told us more or less where to look for them. He said he didn't exactly remember all of the victims, but it should allow us to find most of them. My geeks were checking his laptop as we spoke and confirmed they'd found the information.

"Good, you've done your part, now our turn. As I said, this will be painless," I said. "Do you regret what you've done?"

"No, it was good fun." It seemed he really was serious. No remorse whatsoever.

"Man, your brain is all fucked up," I commented.

Maya approached Harker and asked: "Should I disinfect it first?"

I laughed: "No, skip that part, it doesn't matter."

"Disinfect it, I don't want some fucking dirty needle in my arm," Harker demanded, trying to be in control, like a two-year-old.

"Don't worry," Maya responded. "The needle is sterile, it's your arm that’s dirty. You don't need it disinfected. You're not going to fucking die from germs on your skin. That's at the bottom of your list of problems right now."

"Maya, clean his arm, please. Let it be his last wish," I said.

Maya took a swab with some surgical spirit and wiped the skin around the target vein, muttering in a low tone: "Pussy", most likely commenting on the softness of my heart.

"Ready now?" I asked Harker.

"He's ready," Maya interjected.

"I'm not ready, I want a smoke," he said.

"He's fucking ready," Maya said confidently, through clenched teeth, piercing Harker with her eyes.