Chapter Five

Greg had not slept very well for obvious reasons. Despite her age, Trace was a bit of a whore in bed and had managed to zap Greg’s energy reserves. The sleep he did have was alcohol-induced. He was feeling rough. His focus would not allow him to think about anything other than Brian.

As Greg was drinking the last of his second cup of tea, he decided that he would send Karen a quick text. He picked up his mobile phone and began to type.

Good morning. Hope u had a great night and your reunion went OK? We must go out sometime. Talk 2 u soon. Greg. X

Greg hit the send option and put his mobile phone down. As it was Saturday, he went into the bathroom and had a shower. Once he had finished, he shaved, brushed his teeth and got dressed. Greg then made himself another cup of tea. As he sat down on his leather settee, his mobile phone bleeped. He picked up his mobile phone. It was Karen answering the message that Greg had sent her earlier.

It must be a good morning! Good 2 c u again. School friend OK! Luv 2 go out sumtime SOON! Will talk 2 u anytime. Karen. XXX

Greg smiled to himself. He thought that he might text Karen again later and find out how keen she really was.

Today was going to be a busy day. Firstly, he would have to go through his plan in his head and roughly work out timescales. He would have to find out which day would be best. People’s routines intermingle with other people’s daily life. So he did not want anything that he did to set off any alarm bells. He needed to get himself away from there as quickly as possible. He also had to get rid of anything that could link him to the crime. He would have to formulate a plan that was foolproof. Greg’s mind was racing now.

‘I must not leave any evidence. Those forensic scientists are clever bastards,’ he reminded himself.

He needed to get himself a special outfit, something that would cling to him from top to bottom; made of a material that would be easily wiped clean. He would need to be able to simply wipe away any debris should any blood or bone fragments land on him. Greg gave careful attention to what he was going to wear on his feet.

‘Boxing boots,’ he said to himself.

The great thing about boxing boots is that the soles do not have any tread so it would not leave a patterned indentation – only a plain footprint.

Greg thought that was a brilliant idea. He would get himself some cheap, plain, dark jogging bottoms and one of those hooded tops that the young skateboarders wore. They did a great job of concealing your face and would hide the fact that Greg was wearing a mask. Greg would wear his outfit under his loose overgarments. The mask would require a lot of thought. It would have to be a mask that was both easy for Greg to put on and take off, though difficult for anyone else to try to pull off. The internet was a great source of information. Greg started to think about what he would wear on his hands. Gloves were the obvious choice. The only thing about wearing run of the mill gloves is that the forensic scientists were very clever in pinpointing a particular make of gloves from a single fibre. There was also the choice of surgical gloves. Or maybe the internet would supply him with an alternative.

Greg had to think of ways to make it as difficult as possible for the authorities to track him down and catch him. He would have to stagger his purchases of all the tools and weapons of his new-found trade.

He knew that he would have to overpower his victims so that they would not question his authority. He would have to take control and maintain that control throughout the ordeal. Fear would be his stealth.

Greg decided to drive to Brent Cross, a large shopping centre near Colindale, North London, which was next to the beginning of the M1. Brent Cross was a good place for Greg to buy the things he needed without sticking out from the crowd. Greg knew that he would have to be willing to travel and even alter his appearance as he may be caught on CCTV in the various shops and stores that he would have to visit. Greg would also have to visit some DIY stores as tools made very good weapons. He needed rope and some strong tape. He had heard that type of tape called duct tape, though that must have been from a film he had seen. He purchased a simple knife set for the kitchen. He would be able to use the various knifes, or at least his victims would use them.

Whilst at Brent Cross, Greg decided to have his hair cut – just a trim.

Greg was sitting in the barber’s chair when he overheard a couple of guys talking about going to a fancy dress shop as they needed some costumes for a birthday party. Greg thought that the fancy dress shop could hold the answer for a couple of ideas that Greg had. He needed a mask and some props to help him change his appearance. Greg also planned to visit a few of the charity shops. You could find all kinds of great things in those kinds of shops, the kinds of things that Greg could use and the people that worked in those kinds of shops were all volunteers, semi-retired or even retired. He was confident that they would not remember him, though he still had to remember that more or less all shops now had CCTV installed.

Once the hairdresser had finished cutting Greg’s hair, he brushed Greg’s neck, took away the gown and gave Greg a tissue. This was all done in a single well-rehearsed move.

‘That’ll be twelve pounds please, sir!’

Greg gave the guy fifteen pounds.

‘Keep the change. Buy yourself a beer tonight!’ Greg said with a flashy tone in his voice.

The hairdresser looked at Greg. ‘Thank you, sir. Enjoy the rest of your day!’ and, without pausing for breath, the hairdresser turned away. ‘Who’s next?’

Once Greg was outside the hairdresser’s he paused to get his bearings. After a few moments, Greg made his way to the fancy dress shop to research what they had to offer and the layout of the shop. Greg did not plan on purchasing anything else today; he wanted to know exactly where he was going to get his tools of the trade from. He needed to know the layout of each shop, so that he could pin point where the security cameras were, and conceal his true identity.

After a couple of hours, Greg returned to where he had parked his van. He had one more stop. It was on the way home anyway, so it was not out of his way. The place he wanted to visit was a very big DIY superstore. By this time, Greg was feeling very hungry, so he thought that he would also call in at McDonald’s, though he never went through the drive-through as he felt they would tamper with your food. Greg always sat down and ate inside the restaurant.

Greg ordered his food, the young girl asked for payment, Greg obliged and the girl then gave him his order.

‘Please enjoy your meal,’ the young girl said.

The girl serving him looked and sounded as though she had missed her last couple years at school. Deep down, she must have regretted her stupidity and her deepest wish must be to turn the clock back.

Greg did not answer her. He just felt sorry for her. She was obviously working very hard and trying her best. Greg thought that she could not be any older than seventeen and she was on the minimum wage. That was what wound Greg up the most. All the money that the McDonald’s Empire was making in pure profit and the way it showed appreciation to its loyal, hard-working staff was ripping them off! At least his job was well-paid and he did not have to work as hard as that poor young girl did – at least she was trying to contribute something back to society.

Greg sat down; his thoughts quickly changed to the journey of the day. He thought about the places he had been and then, all of a sudden, he began to laugh quietly to himself. He was thinking about the hairdresser that had cut his hair and how Greg had given him a three pound tip, and how the smile and thanks that Greg had received seemed to be false. Greg could not help thinking that the hairdresser was also unhappy in his job – maybe not unhappy in his job, unhappy in constantly having to chase the pound.

‘How many haircuts would the hairdresser need to do before he started to make a profit?’ he asked himself.

Greg thought that the next time he went there he would not give the guy a tip, though he would give him the same false smile and false gestures. Greg got pleasure from taking the piss out of ungrateful dickheads, as he liked to label them. He thought that people like that should be happy with what they had got because there were people out there with a hell of a lot less. Most people could only ever dream of working for themselves, having their own business.

‘You never know what you’ve got till it’s gone,’ Greg thought to himself.

Once Greg had finished his meal, he cleared his own mess away, got back into his van and drove home.

As he was walking up the stairs to his flat his mobile phone beeped.

‘Ah a message,’ Greg said out loud, both his hangover and Trace now a distant memory.

As he got inside his flat, he took his phone from his pocket and selected to read his message.

Hello u! Wen we gonna av this drink then? Finkin bout u. K. xx

Greg decided that he would amuse himself by answering a question with a question; play a little game.

He selected the reply option and began to type.

Well then! Wenz OK 4 u 2 buy me this drink then? Who r ya? XX

Greg giggled to himself, as he pressed the send button on his phone because he knew what Karen’s response was going to be. Karen liked the fact that Greg was always joking, though he never treated her as anything less than a goddess. Karen knew that Greg respected her and that was why she could not understand him ending the relationship.

Greg’s phone bleeped very soon after he’d sent his message.

‘Wow you’re on the ball!’ he said.

R u going 2 b thirsty L8er? xx Karen’s message read.

Always thirsty on a Sat nite! Why? XX Greg replied.

Greg did not get a reply from Karen so he assumed that Karen had got bored with the game. Then, out of the blue, his phone rang. Greg picked it up and looked at the caller display to see if it was someone he knew.

The display read ‘HOT KAREN calling.’ Greg had not changed the caller I.D. Greg smiled, and then answered the phone.

‘Hello?’

‘Who are ya?’ the voice at the other end asked.

‘Who’s that?’ Greg asked, pretending not to know who it was.

‘You know who it is, you cheeky sod!’ the voice snapped back.

‘If you are planning to buy me a drink tonight that’s not the way to greet me, is it?’ Greg laughed down the phone.

Karen thought that he seemed very relaxed compared to when they had bumped in to each other on the train. Then, Greg had seemed as though he wanted to be anywhere else but on that train with Karen.

‘Who said I wanted to buy you a drink?’

‘You seem very keen!’ Greg replied.

‘What makes you think that?’ Karen asked, as she giggled.

‘I’m the one who was supposed to phone you, not the other way round,’ Greg said answering Karen’s question for the first time.

‘Wow, you actually answered one of my questions! Anyway, if I waited for you, I’d be waiting forever,’ Karen giggled.

‘How keen are you?’ Greg asked.

‘Not overly keen. Just at a loose end,’ Karen replied. Her tone suggested that she was toying with Greg.

‘Well, this call must be costing you a bomb… mobile to mobile… across networks,’ Greg stated with a sarcastic, juvenile tone to his voice.

‘How do you know I haven’t changed networks and kept my number?’ Karen answered.

‘Maybe you have. But it still doesn’t hide the fact that you’re keen,’ Greg replied.

The conversation seemed to be going full circle.

‘How do you know that?’ Karen asked, trying to make Greg play her game.

‘I know you, that’s why,’ Greg felt on the back foot, ‘How do you know I’m still with the same network? I may have changed networks and kept my number,’ Greg said quickly trying to turn Karen’s earlier question back on her.

‘Cos I know you. Anyway, enough of the games. Are we going for a drink tonight or what?’ Karen asked. She was beginning to think about how much this phone call was going to cost her if Greg really had changed mobile phone networks.

‘I don’t know… Hmm, let me think…’ Greg was still trying to continue the game.

‘Greg!’ Karen said, abruptly, ‘this call is costing me an absolute bomb! It’s a simple question.’ She paused, thinking that she might scare him off, coming on too strong or maybe rushing things. But they had been here before and he knew her well enough. ‘Where and what time shall we meet?’

‘How about the Punch and Judy?’ Greg replied knowing that Karen was being serious.

‘New Covent Garden?’ Karen replied, wondering why they could not meet somewhere nearer to home.

‘Why not? It’s nice there,’ Greg tried to explain his choice.

‘It’ll be packed and we live close to each other, why not meet up nearer to home?’ Karen said wanting not to travel too far. The truth was that she was feeling tired but it was Saturday night and she wanted to see Greg.

‘OK, where then?’ Greg asked.

‘How about… The Broadway?’ Karen replied once again answering a question with a question.

‘Yeah,’ Greg answered, ‘we like it in there.’

‘At least we’ll be able to hear each other talk in there?’ Karen replied.

The Broadway was a very nice pub located in Kingsbury, close to Wembley Park. Greg would catch a train from Wembley Park and be at Kingsbury Station ten minutes later.

‘What time do you want me there?’ Greg asked.

‘Is half eight OK?’ Karen replied.

‘Sounds good to me… see you then.’ Greg was now bored with the conversation and wanted to concentrate on other things.

‘OK. Don’t be late,’ Karen said sounding cheerful.

‘See you later – eight-thirty on the dot!’ Greg confirmed, before terminating their telephone conversation.

***

Greg found himself consumed with Brian, Sharon and their baby. Greg had thought that there must be questions that he still needed to find answers to, though at the moment he was unable to think of any.

Greg’s plan was to gain entry into the house when Brian was not at home. He knew that Brian went to the pub every night and did not get back until midnight. So Greg had decided that he would get to Brian’s house at around ten o’clock and simply knock the front door. As Sharon opened the front door, Greg would barge his way in.

Greg had made a mental note that the front door did not have a spy-hole so there was no way that Sharon could see who was outside without opening the door. Greg knew that before then, he would have to visit the house to have a look at the local layout. He would need to make a detailed escape route in order to make his departure without being noticed.

He would also need to think of a way to overpower Sharon very quickly, and with the minimum of commotion. He decided on using a tactic that has been used many times by the police. He would simply go for a surprise attack, using his strength to force her back in to the house. The surprise element would be enough to get the fear factor he wanted. Deciding where to hold both Sharon and the baby until Brian got home from the pub was another quandary. He thought that playing this by ear was the best tactic. Then he would need to overpower and control Brian; brute force would be the way. Once Greg had achieved all this, he would then have to force Sharon to kill Brian. ‘That,’ Greg thought, ‘would be the easy part.’ He would simply place Sharon in a predicament. If she did not kill Brian, the consequences would outweigh the alternative. The path was already laid out for her – not for her, for her baby. Her maternal instincts would ensure that she put her baby first.

Greg had not planned further than that. He knew that he would have to see how events went and adapt.

His getaway plan was simple: to slip away into the shadows.

Greg did not plan on killing anyone. Both Sharon and the baby would be left alive. It would take Sharon a considerable amount of time before she mentally returned back to normal. Her mind would not be able to concentrate in a rational manner. Her focus would be lost – though her maternal instincts, along with her newfound ability for survival, would suck her back to reality. What she would do then would be any one’s guess.

Greg did not intend to kill any of his victims. His victims would kill each other and there had to be survivors. It would be the survivors who would be the common link between Greg and the authorities. He needed to be careful. It would be those survivors who committed the murders, not Greg. With the lack of evidence, along with an almost invisible trail, the link between Greg, the survivors and their victims would be untraceable. Greg would need to remain anonymous.

His anonymity would always be intact – the costume and mask would ensure that his features were never revealed. Once in character, his voice would be that of his alter ego, as if the two people within him had come from completely different back grounds.

Greg thought that, in this case, the young baby would have a better start in life if its mother and father had no input in its upbringing. The father would be deceased and the mother would be safely locked away, at Her Majesty’s Pleasure.

If the child were raised by either, or both, parents the child would end up a clone-like version of them. All the bad, inbred antisocial behaviour, neglect and turbulence would continue to fester and the cycle would continue. The poor child would not have a chance to integrate with modern society. After all, we do not choose our parents, they chose us. We have to work and make the best hand from the cards we are dealt. If we are dealt a bum hand, why not fold and demand a re-deal?