Читать книгу DI Sean Corrigan Crime Series: 6-Book Collection: Cold Killing, Redemption of the Dead, The Keeper, The Network, The Toy Taker and The Jackdaw - Luke Delaney - Страница 13

If only you were capable of understanding the beauty and clarity of what I am doing. You see, my very being is testament to Nature. To her mercilessness. Her complete lack of compassion. Her violence. You have cast aside Nature’s rules and chosen to live by other laws. Morality. Restraint. Tolerance. I have not.

So here we stand, packed into this mechanical coffin, trundling under the streets of London. They humorously call this one the misery line. Look at you. None of you has the faintest idea of what I am. You look at me and see a reflection of yourselves. That is my necessary disguise.

Come closer and I’ll show you who I really am.

Damn, these trains can be unbearable in summer. All of us forced to breathe in each other’s filth. Six thirty in the evening − everybody trying to get home to anaesthetise their brains with alcohol, cocaine, television, whatever. Anything to black out the awfulness of their miserable, pointless lives. But before they can indulge those little pleasures they have to suffer this final torture.

I usually distract myself by picking a passenger at random and imagining what it would be like to cut their eyes out and then slit their throat. The stench of all these potential subjects is very stimulating to my imagination. Maybe I could introduce myself to someone before going home to my dutiful wife and well-behaved children? One day, when I work out how to get away with it, I’ll slit their throats too.

What about that passenger there? A nice-looking young lady. Well dressed, attractive haircut, good figure. No engagement or wedding ring. Interesting. Telltale signs like that give me all the information I need. The lack of rings could mean she lives alone or with some girlfriends. I could follow her back to her flat. Yes, I’m almost certain she lives in a flat. I’d pretend to be a neighbour who has just moved in. We would walk through the communal entrance together. I would be sure to jangle some keys so she wouldn’t suspect foul play. Then she might invite me in for a coffee: it’s happened before. A quick check to see if anyone else was in or expected soon and, if not, well then I could have some fun with the pretty girl with the nice haircut.

Not tonight though. I must get home on time and be the good husband. Disguises as successful as mine need a lot of maintaining. But I can’t wait much longer. Before the little queer it had been a couple of weeks since I visited anyone and that was nothing but a quickie. A mere sketch. Some lawyer-type with a briefcase. I made that one look like a robbery. Stabbed him twice through the heart and remembered to take the cash from his wallet.

He looked surprised. I asked him the time and as his lips parted to speak I stabbed him. I pulled the knife out of his chest, then stabbed him again. This time I left the blade in and held on to it as he slumped to the ground. He had the same look in his eyes as the others. More quizzical than afraid. He was trying to speak. As if he wanted to ask me, ‘Why?’ Always people want to know why. For money? For hate? For love? For sexual pleasure? No, not for any of these petty motivations.

So I whispered the true reason why in his ear. It was the last thing he would have heard. ‘Because I have to.’