room; it seemed really familiar but I just couldn’t work out why. There were no doors – that was another thing that was strange – we had definitely come in through a door – of course, otherwise how would we have got in there – but I couldn’t see any opening at all, not even a faint line hiding a door. I was going to get up and look but something kept me back down on that chair, as if I’d been ordered to sit and not move; something also kept making me glance upwards towards the window, some occasional flicker of light, as if I was being watched. The guy never turned up again with a coffee, and I was becoming unsure what to do – even my phone didn’t get any signal, and there was no Wi-Fi, nothing. In fact, the battery seemed to be draining extremely quickly.
He sat thrashing wildly around, unable to move from his chair, though I couldn’t for the life of me work out what was keeping him there. I wondered whether he was struggling to breathe with that hood tied fast around his neck but for some reason I couldn’t say anything or make him aware of my presence. I was sure I’d recognised the person who brought him in – big, stocky lady, crew cut, tough, weathered face, she had glanced at me and nodded, then pulled him down, and left. I’ll be back, she’d said, and I wondered how as there didn’t seem to be any door, any opening in the metal walls of this cell. Did I call it a cell? Is that what it was and if so, what was I doing there? I was absolutely sure it wasn’t me who was being interrogated, I felt in fact that I was the one who would do the interrogation, and this really worried me. But then I was absolutely sure I knew who was underneath that mask, it all made perfect sense now. They had caught him, thank goodness really and they were going to make him pay for his crimes. I wondered if they had worked out exactly how many women he had killed – there was of course Angel Marston, he had very definitely killed her and dissolved her body in the hotel bath. I wondered if they had procedures for such things and whether the police would let them know that’s what happened. I wondered if the hotel manager’s manual covered such things. Do you need to replace a bathtub that has had a human body dissolved in it? Do you need to inform guests, does there need to be a little plaque or reminder somewhere? What would you do, what would you say if you took a bath in that bathtub and then found out later that someone had been dissolved in it by a serial killer? Could you sue the hotel? Damages for psychological distress? And what about the physical implications? I mean, if a body dissolves, surely some of it would be absorbed into the bathtub itself, but which part? If you ended up getting a terrible disease, could you try and prove that it was because of that, because you shared a bathtub with a dissolved corpse? I wondered whether there were any cases of that happening, and if not, whether it was something worth pursuing? Maybe I could go to the hotel and have a quick chat to them – not blackmail exactly, more being paid for giving them advice and for not letting other people know what had happened. It wasn’t a clear moral question, it was – “Maybe we could start now?” She was drumming her fingers on the table next to me, which to be frank was giving me a headache. I reached for my coffee but it had gone cold, which was especially annoying as it had only just arrived. Small swirls of undissolved powder were sitting on the top, making little beige whirlpools in the blackness. I really didn’t want to drink it, to be honest, but it would have seemed like an abuse of hospitality not to so I closed my eyes, swallowed a mouthful and put the cup back down. Yes. I do remember what happened, and yes, this is a full and fair reflection. Pay attention. The prisoner had stopped writhing so much but what I didn’t know was why; I hoped he wasn’t dying. Well, Mark, it’s your own stupid fault. How many other innocent women did you kill? How many were you planning to kill? Sylvia? Was she on your list? Lou? Were you going to kill your own wife? I shuddered at the thought, realising we had probably stopped him just in time.
Are we quite ready (and I looked at her properly for a second).
Beryl?
I was wondering if you recognised me (she smiled).
Beryl Makepeace?
At your service.
I heard you went off to work for someone else?
Ah, I’m just helping out some old friends for a bit.
But didn’t we frame you for the theft of the VDE?
Well. Perhaps. But I wasn’t enjoying my previous career, and that, you know – well, it helped – give me a push, if you like. Plus, I’d never seen Argentina before.
So it all worked out pretty well in the end, I have to say.
Yeah, you could say that. Surprised at you, though. Never took you for someone who was in security. I always thought you were an inventor. You know, that invisibility cloak thing that (and she nodded at the prisoner, a reference I didn’t quite understand).
Me? Well, maybe. But, you know, X, he was….
(She laughed). Say no more, which I didn’t really understand either, but I took her advice.
Now, she said, shall we deal with this? She reached over to the prisoner and very quickly his head was free of the mask, he was coughing and spluttering and generally gasping for breath, but it was a very strange thing. Because, in front of me, tied up and waiting to face justice like a prisoner, was not Mark. Not Mark at all, in fact. I must admit my initial reaction was one of anger, as I was sure they had made a mistake and had picked up the wrong man. And then I got confused, because as this man was trying to settle himself down, with some reasonably forceful help from Beryl, it dawned on me that I did actually recognise him, that I knew this man and that was altogether even more confusing. I glanced at Beryl to see if she was surprised, but no, she seemed to be completely calm and reassured by this man’s presence. What did worry me, though, was that he was staring at me.
Sylvain? (His first words after getting his breath back). Sylvain?
Beryl was looking at me now. You know him? Of course you know him, he works for you, doesn’t he?
No, he doesn’t. He just, works, you know, with people that I know. (I shook my head). I can’t even remember his name.
Sylvain! But it’s me, Justin! Sylvain, tell her! Tell them! I even warned you, when I found out! This is all a mistake! Jesus, Sylvain, help me! They want to kill me!
Justin! (Of course, it was Justin, I remembered now, how could I forget, Justin, who gave me the… Oh. This was actually quite bad).
Shut up Justin, (I snapped, and forgive me, but I reached over and smacked him across the face. Beryl nodded appreciatively).
Tell us (I snarled). Tell us what you did.
We know what he did. That’s not the question. The question is why, and who he gave them to, and how much they paid him. (Justin looked like he was going to cry, he gave me a beseeching look and his body started to shake, as if he could shake his way out of there).
Do you definitely know it was him? (I asked in vain hope).
She glanced at him. Look, Sylvain, I like you, you were always all right to me. Some of the others, they treated me like shit, when I was a cleaner, you know. Even in your department. G is fucking horrible, but even H was bad. Even people there thought they were a cut above the rest, used to leave some of the rooms in such a state, you know, couldn’t even be bothered to do the basics. G was worse, though. G, Jesus. We used to tell each other stories about it. The guys that used to have to clean the labs. Body parts. Blood everywhere. It was disgusting, and I think they even made it worse deliberately sometimes. But I liked you. You were all right. You always used to smile and talk to me, remember? Yeah, course you do. Let me let you in to a little secret. I used to have a book, write down the names of everyone that really pissed me off. Because someday. You know what I mean? But you, you were never in that book, so you don’t need to worry. They only reason I’m doing this is money, not love, you understand. They came back to me and they said Beryl, you were great, can you help us out with this little – issue – we’ve got. You know why I said yes? Two reasons. Cos I figured, got to be an inside job. That’s the first. And if it’s an inside job, chances are it’ll be one of those pricks that used to make my life hell, and wha
t I can do with a pair of pliers and half an hour to even the score. Second reason is money. Course it is, what else. They offer you that thing? (she smirked). Yeah. You know, bridge to a new world? Ha fucking ha. Like there’s any way in the world I would want to go and start a new universe with them? I mean, are they serious? I’d pay them to fuck off and go to some other universe, just so long as they leave me alone. I mean, you can go if you want to, you can have it. Listen, Sylvain, they offer it to one of us, you take it. As long as they give me the money. That’s fine by me, understand? I mean, I’d question your judgement and everything, but you never know, maybe you could find a peaceful hole and a nice girl and make something of it before they turn everything to a primeval swamp of shit. But listen, Sylvain, that’s fine, I won’t judge. I’d do that for you. But you’re shit at security, Sylvain. Honestly. Look. I looked through the data, l looked at the records, it’s this guy. No question about it. Thought he had his tracks covered but he wasn’t clever enough. G6, straight into his pocket, clear as day, I have the proof, if ever I needed it say, for a trial, not that that’s at all relevant, but you know what I’m saying? So, look Sylvain. They’re letting you sit here with me