Deadly Decisions

Deadly Decisions

Blackmail, murder, cannibalism and a Cult religion.

What more could a girl want in her life?

By

P.B.Thompson

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Cover Image by Lusikkolbaskin

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Copyright P.B.Thompson 2013

Published by Ferret Publishing Ltd at Smashwords

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual persons, organisations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1

The musty smelling leather chair creaked under his uneasy movements. This was a life changing decision made two weeks ago. It wasn't like planning a holiday. Lives would be at risk. Particularly his. But if everything went to plan he would be safe and with his wife would be very rich.

The office was in the heart of the city. In a listed building that hadn't been touched for at least seventy years apart from the usual internal maintenance and spruce up of the décor. It overlooked the hustle and bustle of Liverpool Street train station which, at times was an annoying distraction. Especially when the window was open and it was constantly in the summer due to the lack of air conditioning. It was now mid-September and an Indian summer meant the window was open once again and the ever present odours of the foods hung heavy in the air from the restaurants below.

The décor of the office was very much of a country gentleman’s study. The Dark wood was almost overwhelming to the uneducated eye. Bookshelves lined two walls. The rich, dark colour of the desk, that was at least one hundred and fifty years old, absorbed the light from the window it stood in front of. The solid wood door that led to the outer office was directly opposite. Rows and rows of law books lined the bookshelves which were constantly revised by the man working there in his capacity as the lawyer to one of the most legally trying men in Britain.

Roger Walters was in his early fifties with the usual greying hair for a man of his age. He was thankful he had hair at all as his father was completely bald by the time he was fifty. The loose skin around his chin gave away a time in his past when he was grossly overweight, which was only nine months ago, but the stresses of the job recently had an effect on his eating habits and his lifestyle became very unhealthy. He'd lost his appetite and suffered from migraines that kept him awake all night. Not, he thought, the ideal situation for someone who had planned to retire when he was fifty five. The job was getting to him and it was not surprising considering the man he worked for.

His wiry frame once again moved uneasily in his chair. He was cutting letters from some old newspapers and pasting them down onto a blank A4 sheet of paper. An anonymous blackmail letter was not something he had ever done before and he was always wary of someone coming in unexpectedly even though he had left instructions to be left alone. This was not an uncommon request due to the nature of his work so he didn't think he would be arousing any suspicions. He pasted the last letter to the paper and studied his handiwork. No one will ever know who it was from.

Looking in his briefcase he double checked its contents. Today was the day to take the documents home. About a week ago Roger Walters had meticulously planned a robbery of these same documents from this very office. Of course they were never taken off the premises, just moved to a secure place. He had arranged things so that it had looked like there had been a robbery. This was all part of the deception. He wanted to get this money without anyone knowing who it was going to. He didn't want to be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life. He would get the money transferred to an offshore account and through a myriad of other accounts, it would get lost in the system and be untraceable. But not to Roger who would be able to disperse it throughout the system and access it any time he wanted. His planned retirement which was at the end of this year would be seen out in luxury which was no more than he deserved after what he had been covering up for his employer. A victimless crime.

Roger put the blackmail note in the briefcase and started to get ready to go home. It was three thirty. He collected some work that he could do at home and left the office. Unbeknownst to him a camera had been watching him the whole time from directly above his desk in a light fitting. Watching from the comfort of his penthouse apartment just a few miles from the office, David Driscol, Rogers employer, tapped a pen on the side of his head.

So Roger, you think you can blackmail me do you, he said to himself. Let's see what you've got to say for yourself. He flipped open his phone and dialled a number. Dan! Go round to Roger Walter's house. He should be there in about an hour. Bring him and his briefcase to my apartment. I'd like a word with him. And Dan, the briefcase is very important so don't let anything happen to it or its contents. I suggest you get to his house before he does and stop him going inside. That way he won't be able to hide any of the contents. He flipped the phone shut and switched off the TV.

***

Roger made it to Hampstead station at about a quarter past four. Although it was still quite warm the clouds above had gotten thicker and darker. Looks like we're in for a downpour he thought. His house was about a twenty minute walk away so he picked up his pace although this was hampered slightly by the fact that he kept turning round to see if anyone was following him. His migraine had begun again, which was a bit earlier than normal and he stopped to see if it would ease up. It did after about a minute and he continued on his way. Always looking round, Roger was becoming more and more anxious. What if Mr Driscol had known what was going on? He'd send his two men Dan and Frank to collect him and then who knows what would happen he thought. No! It's all been planned! There's no way he could know! Every little detail had been taken care of. No clues had been left, not even DNA strands. Come on Roger! You need to calm down and get a grip. Another minute of pounding from his head halted him in his tracks once again. He fumbled around in his pocket for his pills and put two in his mouth and swallowed. He was five minutes from his house now. He decided to make one last push to get home through the pain that was trying to burst open his head.

***

Come on! shouted Dan at the stationary traffic in front of him. What time is it now?

Twenty past four, came the reply.

Come on! he shouted again.

***

Roger virtually fell through his front door slamming it shut behind him.

Is that you dear? Are you ok?

Celine Walters came out from the kitchen to find her husband bent over holding his head, pain drawn across his face. She rushed over to him and helped him into the lounge and onto the couch.

Have you taken any of your pills yet?

Roger gave a little nod.

How long have you been like this?

About fifteen minutes, he managed to get out between the painful throbs.

Right, I'm calling an ambulance. We'll get them to check you out in the hospital. Let me take that briefcase for you.

Roger reacted by clinging onto the briefcase even tighter.

No! he shouted.

Celine jumped back as his reaction startled her. She frowned and left to phone for the ambulance.

***

Dan turned into Roger Walters’s road just as he was being led by two Paramedics from the house. Still in his hand was the briefcase.

Bollocks! he shouted. He watched as Roger Walters was loaded into the ambulance.

What do we do now Dan?

Dan pondered on the question for a minute.

We'll follow them to the hospital. Maybe he'll only be in there for a short while. We need to get that briefcase whatever happens.

***

A dark cloudy sky released its unrelenting rain as though it was desperately trying to put out a fire that had engulfed the entire earth. Streams of water ran down the roads into the drains washing away the filth from the daytime crowds that had made their way to and from work. The night had descended with the rain making driving almost impossible even with the headlights on.

It was now six o’clock on a Tuesday evening. The football crowds were slowly filtering into the ground, expressions of hope for a much needed win which had eluded their team for the first few games of the season. Market stall holders had finally packed up and left the cobbled road as desolate as when they first arrived at six that morning. The evening was just beginning and none so more than for the Accident and Emergency department in the local hospital.

The hospital stood in its own grounds of some two acres, enclosed by a brick wall that ran the entire perimeter. It was a nineteen thirty’s building. Built to last, but in dire need of renovation. Windows rotting from neglect. The roof had tiles missing or broken. No money had been spent on the exterior for some time. We don’t have enough in our budget, was always the excuse that could be heard from the corridors of power that held the purse strings. Although it amazed the doctors and nurses how there was always enough money for redecoration of those same corridors and their rooms. Always enough money for new computers and printers. And always enough money for their bonuses.

Inside the A and E the place was alive with activity. An old lady wearing a moth eaten blue dress and wrinkled surgical stockings was stood at the entrance shouting.

May you all burn in this god forsaken hell hole.

Two orderlies quickly marched over to her and escorted her off the premises, expletives pouring from her mouth.

Flaking paint adorned the walls of the waiting room. The faded colour doing nothing for the spirits of the people seated there. Some thirty plastic chairs lined the edges of the room. Around 45 people were crammed into this same space. Many were friends or relatives of the injured parties. One young family, the mother, a six year old girl, and a three year old boy who was busy trying to repair the arm of the chair his mother was in with his plastic screwdriver, were waiting on the children's father. They had been there since three thirty. At that time there were about fifteen people ahead of them.

A nurse appeared, wearing an expression on her face that could only mean she would be finishing her shift shortly.

Mr James?

A six foot six man, skin as dark as coal and a body that Arnold Schwarzenegger would have been proud of when he was younger, stood up and acknowledged the nurse.

Please follow me, she said.

The crowd in front of him parted way as he followed the nurse through to the admissions area. The lights shone off of his bald head. A bandage covered his right eye and bloodstains covered his black jacket and white shirt. He walked with an air of authority. Intimidating, but not aggressive.

In the admissions area, just a smaller version of the waiting room with a few beds along the walls and portable curtains for privacy, a doctor was waiting.

Mr James?

Yes Doctor.

I’m Doctor Coxton. Would you like to follow me and we’ll take a look at that eye. Doctor Coxton was a thirty three year old single woman. Her brunette hair tied up in a pony tail exposing a pretty face. This and her svelte body any twenty three year old would be proud of. Under her white coat she wore a dark green blouse and black combat trousers.

Both of them walked off down a long corridor. On either side, cubicles were filled with the remnants of the daytime trade. Victims who were in need of beds, but due to a lack of funding, none could yet be found.

Doctor Georgina Coxton stopped by an empty cubicle and ushered Mr James in. She motioned him to the bed and closed the curtain. The bed groaned under the weight of Mr James bulk.

Now let’s have a look. Doctor Coxton carefully removed the bandage to reveal the deep gash going diagonally across the eye socket. What happened?

I’m a doorman at the Anchor, the pub outside of the football ground, and there was an altercation with one of the away supporters.

How did he do this?

Mr James winced as Doctor Coxton examined his eye.

The bastard used a broken bottle when one of his mates distracted me for a second. I brought him along with me though.

The Doctor looked a little confused. What do you mean?

He’s in intensive care. A broad grin stretched across the bouncers face.

Well luckily for you he missed your eye. You’ve just got a nasty cut that I will need to clean and stitch. The Doctor removed her gloves and threw them in the bin. If you’ll excuse me for a second, I’ll go and get a nurse to clean the cut for you and then I’ll return to put the stitches in.

Thanks Doc.

That’s ok. Just try not to let it happen again.

I’ll try, but I can’t promise.

No I don’t suppose you can. She turned, pulled back the curtain and left to get a nurse.

On her way back down the corridor she accidentally collided with Doctor Rees.

Whoops! Excuse me Georgie, Doctor Rees apologised.

You’re excused, she replied playfully.

I’ll catch you later for a coffee, he continued.

Sure. If I can stay awake ‘til then, she replied while continuing on her way.

Georgie came across a coffee machine in the hallway. She made her selection and took a mouthful of the black substance that was in the cup. Her face screwed up as she swallowed.

That’s disgusting, she moaned. The cup hit the bin and spewed its contents over the rubbish that was already in there. You’d have thought I would have learned from the last four times I’ve tried this machine, she told herself.

A staff nurse came bounding up to her.

Doctor Coxton, can you examine the man in cubicle four. She handed Georgie a folder with the patient’s details in it.

Sure can, she replied. While I'm doing that can you arrange for someone to clean and stitch Mr James cut?

Will do. The staff nurse disappeared leaving Georgie examining the contents of the folder.

Right cubicle four, here I come. Georgie made her way to the cubicle, reading as she walked. When she got there she found a tall skinny man with greying hair and sweat on his forehead that glistened in the hospital lighting. A vein could be clearly seen pulsating on the side of his head. He was holding on tightly to a black briefcase.

Mr Walters?

Yes, came the reply. A grimace of pain filled the man’s face and he grabbed at his head with his free hand.

Hi, I’m Doctor Coxton. I understand you are getting severe head pains. Mr Walters’s actions confirmed what Georgie had said.

My head feels like it’s going to explode. Another throb of pain had Mr Walters clutching at his head again.

Can you sit on the bed for me? Let me take this from you and put it out of the way. She tried to take the briefcase, but Mr Walters refused to let go.

"Mr Walters, I can’t examine you with this briefcase here. Let me put it on the floor. This time Mr Walters was in too much pain to protest and let go. He sat on the bed holding his head with both hands.

I’ve taken some pills for the pain, but it’s just not stopping.

Georgie grabbed his hand and started to take his pulse.

Have you had any other symptoms?

No. I’ve been having headaches for the last few weeks, but they’ve only lasted for an hour or so.

Suddenly Mr Walters head snapped backwards and his hand was ripped from Georgie’s grasp as he grabbed his head once again. A blood curdling cry leapt from his lips.

Mr Walters? Georgie raised her voice hoping he would compose himself when he heard it. He didn’t have time. Blood started gushing from his nose and his ears. His whole face was contorted in a hideously grotesque shape. His eyes looked as though they were going to pop out of their sockets. Georgie tried to control the now violent convulsions. She was thrown backwards knocking her head against the wall. Immediately she jumped back up and grabbed the blood stained man crying out Can somebody help me here?

Almost instantly two orderlies threw back the curtain revealing the scuffle inside.

What the... cried one of them. They jumped into action restraining Mr Walters on the bed. Georgie staggered back regaining her composure. A nurse had now joined them with a couple of patients looking on from their own cubicles.

Can you get Doctor Rees, she barked at the nurse who immediately turned and ran down the corridor.

Mr Walters was still convulsing, blood streaming down his face onto the bed sheets. He screamed as though this would ease his pain. Georgie’s coat was a smear of red along one side.

Doctor Matt Rees came skidding to a stop next to Georgie.

I thought this was a hospital not an abattoir, he said in response to the bloody mess before him.

***

The plush office was lit with soft