Souls At Zero (A Dark Psychological Thriller) (30 page)

"I will."

Even if it kills me.

"And Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Please, be careful."

It was approaching evening when he crossed the border from County Fermanagh over into Donegal. Edger stopped in the seaside town of Killybegs in order to refuel the car and pick up some supplies. He went to a hardware store and bought a spade, a pick and a shovel, which he slid onto the back seat of the Fiesta. Then he visited an off licence where he purchased a bottle of Glennfiddich and a pouch of rolling tobacco. He considered buying some things from the supermarket as well, food and such, but then decided there was no need. He didn't plan on staying at the cottage for that long. A day or two at the most, just until he figured out a plan of attack. If he needed anything, he would just drive into the little town near the cottage. In the meantime, he walked into a chippy and bought himself a quarter pounder, which he ate in the car, before leaving Killybegs and driving towards the cottage, which was another half hour away. Maybe longer if he couldn't remember how to get there.

As it turned out, he got lost only once, which set him back about fifteen minutes. Before long, he was driving up the long winding road which cut through the surrounding fields and led straight to the cottage. He slowed when he came to the bungalow a quarter mile back from the cottage. It wasn't like he remembered it. A few extensions had been put on it and it seemed to be a holiday home for someone now. There were no lights on however, and he couldn't see any cars parked around it. Which was good. He didn't need any unwanted disturbances during his short stay.

The cottage itself was even smaller than he remembered it to be. It was a sad little whitewashed building with a thatched roof. The front door and two tiny windows at the front had been replaced with modern UPVC, which he remembered paying for several years ago. Apart from that the cottage still looked the same.

Edger parked the car at the front of the cottage and got out, standing for a minute while he looked around, a sense of nostalgia flooding into him as he remembered the excitement he felt when him and Declan used to pile out of their father's battered Ford Cortina all those years ago when they were kids, both of them eager to go exploring in the fields. As he looked around, Edger noticed a few houses here and there that were not there the last time he was here, but none of the houses were any closer than a mile away, for which he was glad, considering what he had to do.

The key to the front door was under the welcome mat as the estate agent said it would be. Edger stepped inside to the tiny hallway to find an oil lamp sitting on the carpeted floor. He lit the oil lamp, checking the bathroom to his left, which held a toilet and a sink, before turning into the kitchen and living area. Again, the space was small, the room being dominated by a stone fireplace in the centre. To his left was the gas cooker that had always been there, and besides that, there was a large Belfast sink. He went to the sink and turned one of the taps on. Brown water ran out of the faucet which eventually turned clear. He carried on through the living area to the bedroom at the back, which was just big enough to hold a double bed and an old chest of drawers. The whole place smelt of aged lime plaster and old straw. The blocks of turf piled up next to the fireplace added their own sweet aroma.

Edger finished looking around and went and sat in one of the old armchairs by the fireplace, the chair creaking so much under his weight he feared it would break and fall to pieces. But as he sat back, the chair held his weight, and turned out to be as comfortable as he remembered it to be. The whole experience was like stepping into a time warp. Nothing had changed, even the smell of the place. His body began to relax as he sat in the chair. Within five minutes he had fallen asleep.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

In the dream he was back in the barracks at Aubagne, going through Gestapo, sitting in a chair in an empty room, while two Legion interrogators went at him like attack dogs, merciless in their interrogation, tearing apart his life bit by agonising bit, even the things he had done after joining the Legion. "You killed a boy in Sarajevo," they barked, seemingly in unison. "Are you a child killer, Edger? Is that the type of scum you are?"

"No," he answered in the dream, sweat pouring off his face. "He was shooting at us. I didn't know he was a boy…"

"You enjoy shooting children, is that it?"

"He shot my friend!"

"Why did you survive that ambush in Iraq, when everyone else was killed? Did you hide? Did you run?"

"No! I fought! I survived! I tried to save—"

"Why'd you leave your own brother to be abducted? Are you a coward, Edger?"

"I didn't—"

"You didn't run?"

"I did, but—"

"Then you're a coward, Edger! Only filthy cowards run!"

"I was afraid! I panicked!"

"Coward!"

"No!"

When he looked at the interrogators again they both looked like Declan, with bullet holes in their foreheads, parts of their skulls lying open, blood dripping down their face. "You fucking left me!" they screamed in unison. "You're a worthless coward, Harry!"

"Declan, no—"

"It's your fault I'm dead! Your fault I was a monster!"

"No—"

"Fucking coward! Fucking useless coward!"

Edger awoke from the dream with a start, unsure at first of where he was. His eyes went to the burning oil lamp on the floor, and then he looked around the room, finally realising he was in the cottage in Donegal. He looked at his watch. 9:57 p.m. Closing his eyes again for a moment, he took a few deep breaths, the memory of the dream still fresh in his mind, the emotions driving it all too raw. He wiped cold sweat from his face.

Then he heard a noise outside. He sat forward in the armchair, his hand going inside his coat, closing around the butt of the Beretta. Outside, there was a crunch of gravel.

Someone was out there.

Edger got to his feet and took the Beretta out of its holster. Moving out of the living room, he went to the hallway and then to the back door. Quietly, he unlocked the door with the key that was in the lock, then he opened the door, wincing as it creaked on its hinges. He opened the door just enough to slide himself through and get outside. Aiming the 9mm out in front of him, he crept over the stony ground, around the side of the cottage where he peeked around the corner.

There was a car parked behind his own. Too dark to see exactly what kind of car. He shook his head. How the hell did he not hear a car approaching? Or maybe that was what woke him out of his dream. It didn't matter now.

There was a dark figure hovering around the front of the cottage, trying to peer through the living room window, the light from the oil lamp inside barely penetrating the curtains over the glass.

Edger stepped around the corner and moved quickly towards the figure. "Don't fucking move!" he shouted, stopping a few feet from the figure, who stood with their back to him. "Hands in the air! Now!"

The figure raised their hands slowly. "Easy there, Mr Edger."

Edger frowned. He recognised the voice. "Black?"

Detective Inspector Black turned around, his face barely visible in the darkness. "We need to talk, Edger," he said.

"I could have shot you." Edger was sitting in one of the armchairs in the living room of the cottage. Black sat opposite him, dressed in a suit and a long dark overcoat. His clothes seemed to hang on him, like they didn't fit him anymore, and his face was pale and drawn, a thick growth of stubble covering half of it.

"Lucky for you, you didn't," Black said, reaching into his jacket for a packet of cigarettes.

"You do know you can't arrest me. We're over the border."

"I'm well aware of that. That's not why I'm here."

"How'd you even find me?"

"A bit of sterling detective work." Black popped a cigarette in his mouth and offered one to Edger, who declined and took his tobacco tin out of his jacket, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. "It's what I do. What happened your shoulder?"

"I got shot," Edger said, as he rolled himself a cigarette. "It tends to hurt when that happens."

"Who shot you? You're brother?" Black lit his cigarette. "Where is your brother anyway?"

Edger lit his own cigarette and stared at Black. "Why are you here, Detective?"

Black crossed his legs and flicked ash from his cigarette into the cold grate of the fire. "I'm dying, Edger," he said with barely a trace of sadness in his voice. "Lung cancer. Riddled with it apparently. I've a couple of months left in this shitty world of ours before I drop out for good."

"I'm sorry to hear that. It still doesn't explain why you're here instead of spending the remainder of your time with your family. You said you had daughters."

"I do. But I'm not going to burden them with this until I really have to. I've caused them enough pain over the years. I'm sure you understand."

Edger nodded. He did understand. If it was him dying, he wouldn't expect Kaitlin to suffer along with him for months either. "So you're here instead. Are you even still a cop?"

"I am, for the time being. Until I can't hide the fact that I'm sick anymore, which won't be long." He leaned forward in the chair, rested his elbows on his knees. "That's why I want to help you while I still can, Edger."

"Who says I need help?" Edger asked, blowing a stream of smoke towards the fireplace.

Black smiled. "Let's not fuck about here, eh? Thanks to your brother, I think you're mixed up in something. Dark and dangerous shit that I just might know something about."

Edger narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean? What do you think I'm mixed up in?"

Sitting back in his chair, Black said, "It started with that vile prick, McGinty. You see, I know what he's all about, what he's into. I just couldn't understand why you were sent there to kill him. I figured it was because of just who he is, being the Lord Mayor and all." He laughed, then stopped when he had to suppress a cough. "A fucking joke, him being the Lord Mayor of Belfast. A paedophile visiting schools." He laughed again, shook his head. "Anyway, then I arrest you, even though I wouldn't have minded if you'd blown that cunts head off. But I'm a copper, so I couldn't let you do that.

"So then I'm about to charge you at the station and my boss, he calls me into his office and tells me I have to release you without charge. Orders from on high, he says. You can imagine my frustration."

"I noticed," Edger said.

"Thing is, Harry, you're not the first guilty man to be mysteriously set free. There have been others over the years, others that I know are all connected to something that I've never been able to penetrate. A club or a cult of some kind. I thought for a while that maybe you were part of that."

"What changed your mind?"

"You did," Black said, reaching for his cigarettes again, making Edger think it was no surprise the man had lung cancer given the amount he seemed to smoke. "You didn't strike me as the type to belong to a cult. You were a soldier for a start, and you've only been back in this country for a year or so. That made it unlikely you were part of anything. Besides, the men I'm talking about, their all high up types. Rich. Privileged. Arrogant bastards to a man. Then of course, I find out it was your supposedly dead brother who kidnapped your daughter."

"That still doesn't explain why you think that had anything to do with this secret club or cult you keep mentioning."

"Like I said, I don't know that much about these people, but I've heard rumours. Terrible rumours that involve child abduction, torture and abuse." He stared at Edger as if to see if anything was registering. "I had a hunch your brother was abducted years ago by these people. Maybe that's why he wanted McGinty killed. I still can't figure out why he kidnapped your daughter, though."

"That was personal, Detective," Edger said. "But you're right about the other stuff. My brother
was
taken by these people. He was tortured, abused. Brainwashed apparently. Turned into some kind of assassin."

Black's eyes widened. "Brainwashed?"

Edger nodded. "Sounds far fetched, but I believed him when he told me."

"Jesus Christ. The cunts are even sicker than I thought. Did your brother tell you anything else?"

Edger stared at Black, still not sure if the man was on the level with him or not. Was he just here to fish for information, or did he genuinely want to help? "You should know that these people are after me. They want me dead. Why do you think they had me released from police custody? McGinty told me himself the second time I paid him a visit."

"Are you trying to scare me off?" Black laughed. "I'm dead anyway. At this point, a bullet to the head would be a blessing for me."

"Fair enough, I suppose."

"Like I said, I'm here to help. These bastards have been getting away with their evil deeds for too long. Before I leave this world, I want to stop them for good. Leave this place less of a shit hole than when I came into it, you know what I mean? My kids are still going to be around when I go, Edger."