"Have you got a minute, Randall?" Helen Allen asked as he cursed himself for answering the phone.

Randall checked his watch and could see that he was already running significantly late for his meeting with Kim Croft. The police admin a.s.sistant was already walking around on cold feet and he didn't want to give her any excuse to run. "You'll have to make it quick, Helen. I'm in a hurry."

"No problem," she replied officiously. "I had the results of your medical back and I wanted to share a couple of things with you."

Randall's heart skipped a beat. He had known for as long as he could remember that there was a bright light rushing towards him at an increasing rate of knots. He always thought that he was ready for any diagnosis, but now that the words were about to be laid upon his shoulders they seemed so much heavier than he'd antic.i.p.ated. Even for a cold fish such as Helen Allen, it seemed a little harsh to be breaking such news over the phone, but then again at least he wouldn't have to risk shedding any tears in public.

He switched off the engine and prepared himself for the worst. In his mind, as long as he had enough time to finish this then that was all he wished for. "Okay, what is it?"

"The doctor that we use for the insurance medicals believes that you have IBS."

Randall struggled to place the initials. "What sort of cancer is that?"

"Its Irritable Bowel Syndrome, Randall. The docs say that it causes some stomach problems, but nothing too serious. By the look of you, I'd guess that it's been quite some time since your plate saw a green vegetable. You need to look after yourself better, Randall, and stop drinking so much. The doc says that it's a miracle that your liver isn't shot to pieces by now with the amount that you drink. You've got some vitamin deficiencies and a wheat intolerance, but nothing that can't be sorted by taking better care of yourself, Randall. We only get one go around, so stop wasting it."

Randall hung up the phone quickly, jabbing the end b.u.t.ton with a trembling finger. His whole life in the past few months had been guided by the notion that he was dying and dying quickly. Now he waited to see what emotions would replace the fear. Eventually, anger and stupidity rose to the fore and he tried to remember just how much he had told his ex-wife about his current windfall. The money was about to come rolling in and his family's needs suddenly took a back seat again.

St Joseph's Catholic School had stood for over 200 years. The school had originally been a central pillar of the community for as long as the foundations of Faircliff had been laid. The building itself had become a private Catholic school back in 1809 and still flourished today with a long waiting list. It housed young girls from around the country due to its exclusive nature and exuberant fees; nothing said cla.s.s like high prices.

The school sat in around 200 acres of lush green fields and woodland with multiple facilities that put most other schools to shame. The educational standards were second to none, with grades that bucked every national scale. The school normally housed over 150 students, but with term broken up for the summer holidays there were only 13 students left behind in residence.

The headmaster was Alexander Duran, a large conventional man in his late forties but with a wide open face that belied his position's reputation. He wore a conservative blue three-piece suit and seemed not to sweat in spite of the summer heat. His face was covered with a neatly trimmed beard and he wore large gla.s.ses that reflected the evening sunlight. His expression was one of welcome, but his blue eyes were ever watching and careful.

Danny tried to keep his patience under control as the headmaster took them on a slow tour of the grounds, the point of which seemed to be an a.s.surance of their security measures despite the police's reason for the visit.

They had all discussed at length on the drive over the best approach. Reese was a parent of a child at St Joseph's and his att.i.tude was understandably personal. He wanted to s.n.a.t.c.h his daughter from the school and take her far away, a decision that Danny could fully understand and wouldn't prevent. The main problem was, of course, that his police brain wanted to catch a murderer and evacuating the school would quickly put paid to that idea. Nothing that the Crucifier had ever done led them to believe that he was nothing but careful; a ma.s.s withdrawal of students would do nothing but delay the killer's intentions. The man would surely only reschedule and they couldn't close the school permanently. The problem was that they were woefully short on manpower, as while Chalmers could cover them for this operation, he couldn't call upon reinforcements.

"Avita Pro Fide," Duran said as Danny looked up at the large carved words in a wooden plaque hanging over the main entrance. "For the Faith of our Fathers," he translated.

"Very nice," Danny mused in reply, hating the metaphorical trip around the houses before they could get to the point.

"You know this school has stood for over two centuries now, Inspector? Whatever your concerns, I'm sure that it will continue to be here tomorrow."

Danny wanted to scream in the man's face, but he knew that it would be pointless. He could not convince the headmaster of the threat posed by a serial killer and discovered by a psychic. Even when he thought about it himself for too long, the notion seemed ridiculous. Normally, he would have simply taken charge of the school and forced the headmaster under his thumb, but their authority was severely limited now and they were lucky to be here at all.

"Mr Duran, I can see that you run a tight ship here - that is far beyond question," Chalmers smarmed. "All we are asking for is your permission to secrete a few officers on the premises, just in case. Obviously, the last thing that we want to do is upset your routine or your students. I am fully aware that many of your pupils come from..., influential families."

"Superintendant, your hurried presence here is a little disconcerting. Perhaps I should speak to a superior officer? I think that I have Commander Barrett's number here somewhere," Duran replied distrustfully. "Our alumni contains many people of significant weight and I'm sure that they would like to know more about this so-called threat."

"Oh, for f.u.c.k's sake," Danny muttered under his breath. "Look, Mr Duran, we have a solid reason to believe that a man is targeting your school tonight and I don't have time to p.i.s.s about with niceties. You can make all the calls you want to in the morning, but right now we're going nowhere and you'd be well advised not to get in the way. We don't have time to waste while you play politics."

The headmaster flinched at the aggressive manner and language while Chalmers wilted and shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably.

"I don't think that I much like your tone, Inspector," Duran growled.

"I don't much think that I give a s.h.i.t, Headmaster," Danny replied casually. "Tomorrow, you can pull all the strings that you want, but tonight you'll do as you're told."

Jane walked the grounds of the school with Bradshaw in one direction while Landing and Selleck checked the perimeter for possible entry points.

"You still think he's coming here?" Bradshaw asked in a neutral tone.

She thought about it for a moment. "Yes, he's coming soon, I'm sure about that."

"Well, okay then. Let's see how we're going to find the b.a.s.t.a.r.d then," Bradshaw replied firmly.

"Just like that? One word from a charlatan like me and you're in?"

"Well, Miss, you seem to be pretty certain and I know that Inspector Meyers believes in you and I guess that's good enough for me. Besides, if I waste a night here under the pretty stars, what have I lost? On the other hand, if someone dies here and I didn't listen, how would I live with myself?"

"Fair enough."

They continued their walk in silence for a while, each taking in the outstanding natural beauty of the school's ma.s.sive grounds. Even to an amateur like her, she could see that trying to police the place was going to be impossible. Their best hope was going to be that she could tap into the killer and find him before he took another victim. It was a heavy crown to wear.

"So, you really think that you're going to able to find him out here?" Bradshaw asked as if reading her thoughts.

"I've done it before, I'll do it again," she replied confidently. "Or at least I hope so."

"What does he want?"

"That part still eludes me," she admitted. "Each of his girls represents someone: someone that he's looking for but can never find. A wife, a sister, a mother, a daughter, I don't know. I can tell you that he sees a kind of glowing halo above each victim, but every time that he gets close enough he thinks that he's been lied to and takes out his frustration with b.l.o.o.d.y fists."

"And the symbol that he carves into their chests? The crucifix inside a pentagram?"

"That's probably more your department than mine. What do you think?"

"Well, common opinion would be that placing the crucifix inside an occult symbol would be a way of polluting the crucifix symbol, perverting its Christian roots. I would guess that he had suffered at what he perceives as 'G.o.d's hand'. Maybe he's lost someone close to him, so that would tie in if he has lost a loved one and blames G.o.d."

"Is there anything about him that bothers you?" Jane asked curiously.

"You mean other than the fact that he's murdering people?" he asked lightly and she appreciated the attempt at humour. "To be honest, he's not devolving the way that most serial killer would. You see, after you've killed for the very first time, no killing will ever quite live up to that feeling again. The murders will grow more elaborate, more theatrical or brutal as he seeks to quench that thirst but can never quite satisfy the itch. I would have expected this guy to have started to make mistakes, for the gaps between the killings to grow shorter, but he's not slipping, not at all."

"Why?"

"Maybe he's just got more control or maybe he's just more intelligent. Whatever the reason, I can't see him giving it away, not now, not this late in the game."

Jane listened as the FBI man spoke with almost admiration for the killer and wondered just what a job like his did to the soul. Was he jaded or was he polluted by his profession? "Maybe we should split up to cover more area?" she said, looking around.

"You really think that's wise? Haven't you ever seen a horror film?"

"We're safe, for now," she smiled back. "If there's one thing I'm sure of then it's that as soon as he steps foot on the grounds, I'll feel him."

Randall made his way quickly to the playground near the police station where he had agreed to meet Kim Croft. The aide was going to have an armful of details on Martin Kline, the young man that had apparently been obsessed with Lana Genovese, the old Crucifier's last victim and the new Crucifier's first.

He skirted his way surrept.i.tiously around the far side of the children's play area. Approaching from the field beyond gave him some cover, just in case Miss Croft had decided to report his less-than-courteous demands.

He approached the short wooden fence which was more decorative than security conscious. The area appeared deserted and yet he could still feel that someone was watching him. The light was fading and the grinning faces of the plastic animal characters seemed creepy rather than joyful. He edged his way closer to where he could see a large dark shadow on the ground. It was only as he moved in closer that he could see that the shape was moving; it rippled and squirmed as he approached with a sickness spreading in his guts. His foot snapped a twig on the ground and suddenly the shape exploded into life as an appropriately named murder of crows took flight. The mess underneath was clearly a body as fresh blood still seeped onto the gra.s.s and pale flesh had been cruelly torn at by hand, blade and by beak.

Randall's hand flew to his mouth as his stomach rolled and threatened to spill its contents. Up close he could see that the body was a woman and, despite the fact that her face was covered in blood and that the crows had managed to pluck a tender eyeball from its socket, he could still recognise Kim Croft.

He turned to run in guilt-ridden shock, but there was still the small matter of why she'd been there. He'd bullied her into the meeting because he'd known that something major was in the works. Word had it that Chalmers, Meyers and the rest of the team were on their way out of the door, scarred and forever tainted by Randall's article. It gave him no small pleasure to know that he had embarra.s.sed the police to such a degree that their whole house had come crashing down around their ears. The trouble now, though, was that he was dangerously out of the loop and Croft had been his only way back in.

He steeled himself and carefully leaned down to the body. He was only too aware about leaving any physical evidence around the scene but he still needed to know what the police aide had brought him.

He took a silver pen from his pocket and used it to lift open her jacket. Inside he could see a small envelope and plucked it out. He stepped back, making sure that he didn't leave a footprint in the drying blood. Once he was clear, he opened the envelope and pulled out the contents. Kim had managed to procure a driving licence photograph of Martin Kline, complete with address, and Randall saw the last piece of his puzzle slide into place. It was time to cash in.

"I can't believe that we're wasting our time on such a wild goose chase," Sergeant Landing barked at DC Selleck as she rattled the window, testing its lock.

"The boss doesn't seem to think so," the young man offered meekly in return.

"Well then, he's got his mind on what's under her skirt rather than on business," Landing scoffed. "Making us waste our time out here instead of catching that maniac."

"Well, what choice have we got?"

"Maybe we should be putting a call into Commander Barrett. I'm sure that he would appreciate the heads-up on the boss's little venture; maybe we could earn ourselves enough brownie points to get back in the service's good graces."

"Jesus, you'd really go behind the squad's back like that?"

"Wake up, boy. There is no squad, not anymore. Wilson's dead, that flash American b.a.s.t.a.r.d will be on a plane this time tomorrow, Chalmers will retire early with a fat pension and Meyers has got his girlfriend. It'll be you and me that will suffer Tim, you mark my words; all that's left now is for us to look out for ourselves. What do you say?"

"I'm really not comfortable with this," Selleck replied in a shaky voice. He was unused to voicing an opinion and even more awkward when it was a dissenting one. "I just want to do my job, Sarge. That's all I've ever wanted."

"I'm surrounded by f.u.c.king p.u.s.s.ies," Landing snapped, throwing her meaty arms up in exasperation. "Tell you what, Princess, why don't you p.i.s.s off out of my sight and do your b.l.o.o.d.y job somewhere else."

Selleck started to argue that they shouldn't split up, but her face gave him pause that nothing could be worse than her tirade if she blew. In the end, she made the decision for him by storming away, muttering obscenities under her breath at an alarming rate. He watched her walk away with a heavy heart. All he'd ever wanted was to find a family and belong, but now they were all falling apart and their last night appeared doomed to fail.

The radio on his shoulder crackled in and out with static and disembodied voices. The first thing that they'd found when they'd arrived was that there was a lot of interference at St Joseph's and several dead spots where even phones didn't work.

"...elleck?" An angry voice drifted out of the radio and he moved further away from the building to see if that improved the reception.

"h.e.l.lo?" he answered hopefully.

"Dammit, Selleck. I've been trying to reach you for several minutes!" Meyers' voice crackled.

"Sorry, Boss, I couldn't hear you."

"Where's Landing?"

"She's..., around," Selleck answered uncomfortably, not wanting to sow further dissension in the ranks.

"Dammit. I told you no splitting up. Have you seen Jane or Bradshaw?"

"They're not with you?"

"If they were, I wouldn't be asking!"

Selleck cringed at the rebuke and his own stupidity. "The perimeter check is almost done, Boss. Shall we meet you back at the main entrance?"

"Just make sure that you bring Landing with you."

The radio went quiet with a final rebellious spurt of static and Selleck found himself standing alone. He was working hard to not get spooked by the building, the impending nightfall and their purpose, but he wasn't a machine. He knew that the others must be as nervous. They were just better at hiding it than he was, but he was going to have to learn quickly and before the night was over.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

a.s.sUMPTIONS.

Danny watched on as the headmaster organised the remaining girls into a single dorm room amidst much protestation. There were only 13 girls and Duran had point blank refused to remove them from the premises for fear of damaging the school's incredibly valuable reputation, especially when Danny couldn't give him a solid reason as to why. Chalmers, to his credit, was smoothing the rippled waters as best he could, but Danny knew that after tonight, none of the politics would matter.

There were three other staff members, all of whom were in the dorm room next door to the girls. Danny wanted Landing in with the pupils - she was solid and reliable and could take on an intruder. He wanted Bradshaw and Selleck outside, watching and waiting for any approach. They were both athletic and in good shape if it came to a footrace. Chalmers was to stick by Duran's side at all costs to make sure that the headmaster didn't start calling anyone of influence. For himself, he was going to be by Jane's side. She was the key and she was going to find their man the second he showed up. Even if he had a hundred officers, they would struggle to cover the school's grounds so he needed to be laser accurate.

The building itself was ma.s.sive with a million dark corners to hide in. The gothic structure was slightly intimidating and he knew that, given the circ.u.mstances, it would be easy for a person to let their imagination run away with them.

He headed back to the main entrance and checked his watch. He saw that the sun would soon be down and, not for the first time, he wondered if he'd made a terrible mistake in coming here. Jane was sure that the killer was coming to St Joseph's and he believed her, but with such meagre resources did he really think that he was going to succeed? It felt like he was trapped between the biggest rock and the hardest place.

Just then, Jane and Bradshaw came around the corner. "Any joy?" he asked the FBI agent.

"Man, you'd need a battalion of agents to cover this place; there's just no way that we're going to see him coming," Bradshaw answered, shaking his head.

"You carrying?"

"Why, Inspector, don't you know that it's illegal for me to carry a firearm in this country?"

Danny only stared in reply.

"Well, I might have an itty-bitty piece on my person somewhere," Bradshaw finally said after a long pause. "You know, I've never understood just why it is that you fellas walk around unarmed. I'd feel positively naked."

"It's a cultural thing," Danny responded. "Once you open that stable door, you'll never be able to get the horse back in again."

Bradshaw only shook his head, demonstrating the ocean that lay between the two countries and Danny didn't want to get into a lengthy debate.

"Well, where do you want me?" Bradshaw asked.

"Mobile," Danny answered. "You and Selleck..." He held up a hand as the American's eyes rolled. "He's a good kid - he won't let you down."