Chapter 4
I made a tearful Max thread the nylon rope around the bolt which held the hanging wicker chair, I put the noose around his neck, then tossed the chair into the corner of the room. The slipknot was tight against Blackman’s spinal column and he had to stand precariously on tiptoes to stop the rope strangling him. Tears ran down his face and he shook uncontrollably.
“Do you know who I am?” I asked him.
“No,” he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.
“Do you remember a policeman being murdered in Warrington last year by an author who had apparently gone on a murder spree?” I cocked my head and assessed his reaction. His eyes widened as the incident came back to him.
“Yes,” he grimaced.
“He was a member of the Order of Nine Angels,” I watched his face tighten at the name. “So was your boyfriend Critchley.”
“I didn’t know that,” Max whimpered.
“You’re a liar.”
“I’m not.”
“A lot of niners have lied to me before they died.”
“I’ve read about it,” he nodded and closed his eyes. “I didn’t know that he was one of them. Please don’t hurt me.”
“Good, I can tell that you know who I am now.”
“I remember your face from the papers.”
“Do you know why I killed that policeman and the other scumbags?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
“Don’t talk, just nod yes or no.”
Max bit his lip and nodded his head quickly. “Please don’t hurt me.”
“I killed them because they were members of a nexion,” I watched his face for a reaction. He understood the meaning of the word. “You know what a nexion is don’t you, Max?”
He nodded yes and a sob escaped his lips. He was going to speak again. “Shut up and listen,” I held up my finger and put it to my lips. “I am going to ask you some questions. You will answer them quickly and you will answer truthfully or I will kick that table away and leave you to hang. Do you understand?”
He nodded and tried to reply but I raised my finger again. “Don’t speak or you are dead. Just nod yes or no, understand?”
He nodded yes and closed his eyes again.
“You had a relationship with Critchley for a number of years, didn’t you?”
He nodded yes.
“You went to the farmhouse that day for sex, didn’t you?”
He nodded again.
“It was his thing, bondage and treating you rough wasn’t it?”
He nodded yes.
“He didn’t try to kill you did he?”
No this time.
“You went to the rituals in the cellar willingly, didn’t you?”
He squeezed his eyes tightly and nodded yes.
“Were you a member?”
Max closed his eyes tightly to avoid the question so I nudged the table with my foot. He wobbled and nodded yes in a panic.
“Did you go every full moon?”
Yes.
“The other men who attended the sinister,” I put my foot against the table and wobbled it. “Do you know their names?”
Yes.
“Do you have their contact details?”
Yes.
“Are they in your mobile phone?”
Yes.
I reached into his jeans pocket and took out the phone. I scrolled through the list of contacts, thirty people in all and read out their names. He nodded yes to four of the men who were listed in his contacts.
“Are they local?”
Yes.
“Now think carefully,” I wobbled the table again. Tears were streaming from his face and a deep red welt was swelling on the soft skin beneath the noose. “Did you ever meet a black woman called Jennifer Booth or Baphomet?”
He tried to swallow but couldn’t. He nodded yes.
“Recently?”
Yes.
“Was she pregnant?”
Yes.
“Was her face scarred?”
Yes.
“Did she visit this nexion often?”
No.
“Did Critchley invite her?”
No.
“Was it one of the other men on this list?”
Yes.
“So Critchley wasn’t the Temple Master?”
No.
“Which one of them is?” I flicked through the four names in turn. “David Harris?”
No.
“Gwillam Hughes?”
No.
“Glynn Gaskin?”
Yes.
“And he is in touch with Jennifer Booth?”
Yes.
I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. I had found someone who knew where she was and how to contact her. I looked at Blackman with contempt and thought of one more question. “Did you take the young boy you were accused of molesting to the cellar?”
He sobbed loudly and shook his head, no. “Please!” he whined.
“Shut your face!” I snarled. All sympathy had gone from my being months ago. “But you took him to Critchley didn’t you?”
Yes. Tears dripped from his chin onto the table.
“Were you there when he murdered the other men?”
“Please,” he whined. “He was frightening.”
“Where you there when he killed them?”
He nodded yes.
“Where you involved in the abuse and murders?”
“Please,” he jabbered. Snot and dribble mixed with his tears now, dangling from his chin like jelly stalactites. “He got so involved with it all that he became a monster. I was frightened of him!”
“So you were scared?”
Yes.
“How do you think those men felt?”
He dribbled like a baby, his face twisted in self loathing. He was as guilty as Critchley was.
“Have you got any porn films?”
He looked confused and nodded yes.
“Are any of them from the farm?”
Yes.
“Is there one in the DVD player now?”
Yes.
I grabbed the remote and pressed play with the butt of the gun, careful not to touch it with my hands. The sound of panting and moaning, mixed with the disturbing voice of a man begging for the torment to stop, drifted from the screen. I pushed the barrels of the gun under his chin with one hand and unfastened his trousers with the other, pulling his jeans and boxer shorts down to his knees with one tug.
“The police will love this DVD when they find you, Max.”
His face was a mask of confusion and fear. I stepped back and kicked the table from beneath him and watched his face turn purple as he choked to death. His eyes bulged and turned deep red as the blood vessels burst. The slipknot hadn’t worked. It didn’t break his neck but to be honest, I didn’t think that it mattered. Watching the little pervert swing, his legs kicking out in thin air was more satisfying than hearing his neck snap. When the twitching had stopped, I picked up my holdall and headed back onto Caer-glas Road. Max Blackman was on his way to hell, where he belonged.