A delinquent, sadistic and brutal maniac discovers a new way of killing. With his deadly method, his victims die in silence: none has breath to spare to cry for help. All energies are devoted to one more gasp, one more breath and to one inner thought: the hope that it is only a horrible dream.
MURDER BY TOUCH
By
Karim Jorephani
SMASHWORDS EDITION
*****
PUBLISHED BY:
Karim Jorephani at Smashwords
Murder By Touch
Copyright©1988 by Karim Jorephani
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.
Please note: The novel is set in the United Kingdom, so the spelling used is that of United Kingdom's English.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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 recipient. 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.
*****
MURDER BY TOUCH
Chapter One
It was a quarter to five when Colin excused himself and hurried down the stairs to the basement where the animal section was housed. He had waited hours for an occasion like this, a chance to find out the mystery, meaning, and above all the value of FORMULA Z100, TOP SECRET. He entered the brightly lit, foul-smelling basement and placed the Formula's fragile tube on the work table just inside the door, while a white New Zealand rabbit looked on curiously from its cage.
Colin took out a pair of surgical gloves and slipped them on. He checked the corridor outside once more, fearful of being caught inside without permission: quietly, he eased the door open just enough to peer into the silent corridor, listening for any sound that might disturb his experiment. Assured of safety for the moment, he closed the door and headed to the first cage in the row.
He knew how important it was to remember all he'd learned on the training course for this job as a laboratory assistant: check before you touch or smell, and so on. It had been drummed into his head from the very first day he joined the company. Soon, his curiosity would be satisfied, but Colin wasn't sure whether his find would be a blessing or a curse. A new window to the unknown, or just another disappointment among many? With this in mind, he lifted the top flap of the cage. The helpless animal must have sensed another dreaded ordeal. With nowhere to escape, the rabbit whizzed around the cage with a speed that baffled and worried Colin.
He was fascinated by the agility of this furry white creature and of its ability to turn corners at high speed. "Easy boy, easy," Colin murmured as he waited for the animal to settle down.
Colin positioned his hovering hand over the circling rabbit, and with a deep breath swooped over and grabbed it by the scruff of its neck, only for it to slip through his rubber-gloved fingers. Losing his patience and most of his nerve he paused for a moment, turning his ears to the door and the corridor beyond. It was nearly five o'clock. The caretaker would soon be on his routine round, and Colin knew he could be locked, not only inside the building, but inside the basement.
He checked his watch: thirteen minutes to catch the rabbit and apply the test. He took off his rubber gloves, leaned over the cage as the rabbit crouched in the corner and grabbed the skin of its neck in one swift motion. The animal let out a piercing shriek, similar to that of a frightened young girl, which could have alerted anyone outside. Colin, holding the rabbit close to his chest, moved to the work table. He put the animal in a small, open-topped rectangular box, and positioned its head in the cut-out section. Then he placed two straps across its back.
Colin checked his watch again. Twelve minutes to go. His mind leapt between the possibility of being caught and the excitement of a new discovery. Facing the helpless animal, he slipped on the rubber gloves and lifted the small Formula tube. Hand stretched forward to avoid the unknown vapour; he used his thumb to push open the rubber cap. Colin concentrated on the colourless, odourless liquid as it swayed in its little container, still holding the tube with his arm fully stretched. Carefully, he took one step back, fearing any spillage or accident. He knew he couldn't take chances. He'd seen many dangerous compounds and chemicals here that he never thought existed. He also conceded that Formula Z100 could turn out to be just another polymer agent like so many listed, or another dye, or a drug, which would be very difficult for him to make use of.
With these thoughts on his mind, he presented the tube and positioned it under the rabbit's nose. "Go on boy, have a sniff," he whispered. Colin kept the container close to the animal for a whole minute, then replaced the cap and waited anxiously for something to happen. One, two, three minutes ticked away, but the rabbit didn't show any reaction. Colin looked closely into the rabbit's eyes. They stayed bright and alert. "Oh God," he sighed, "did I take a risk for nothing?" Colin decided to expose the animal for a longer period. He uncapped the tube and let the rabbit breathe another dose, as he commenced another watch. His eyes shifted between the rabbit and his wrist-watch. Two minutes to five and still no reaction.
Quickly, he unstrapped the animal and rushed it back to its cage and secured the flap. He pocketed the Formula Z100 tube and hurried upstairs to his desk. His consolation so far was that he hadn't been caught in the act. There'd be another day and another test. His worry now centred on whether he would be caught trying to smuggle the Formula out of the building. Were there any sensors at the exit that could detect chemicals? Could the long, narrow entrance be a security trap?
Colin had no way of knowing just yet, but he surely would find out soon. He must think of a way to check the security arrangements but for today the small secret tube must be left behind. He wrapped it in tissue paper and looked around the room for a place to hide the Formula, then glanced out of the window and saw Judy, his girlfriend, crossing the road on her way to meet him for her usual lift home.
Colin decided to hide the Formula at the back of his desk drawer. He was sure no one would look there, not during the night in any case. His newness, the mere few weeks he had been with the company, had already shown his insignificance among the many scientists and highly qualified technicians employed there. His five 'O' Levels including chemistry couldn't have impressed anyone, not even among the junior staff, many of whom already performed real work in research and data gathering, compared to his glorified tea-boy function, dressed up as Laboratory Assistant.
Colin ignored the lift, rushing down the stairs and into the lobby.
"You're still here?" shouted Bill Turnball, the caretaker.
"Sorry, mate. One forgets the time when writing a letter," Colin replied deceitfully.
"You know, I can't remember your name. Is it Kevin?"
"Colin. Colin Ransome."
"Oh yes," nodded Bill, "it takes time for a new name to sink in." He ticked Colin's name on the register, then went on to say, "Your lady is waiting."
"See you tomorrow," said Colin, hurrying through the glass swing doors and into the corridor. Without attracting Bill's attention he glanced around, surveying the walls and ceiling for hidden probes or lenses, but he couldn't distinguish between the variety of vents and holes that festooned the ceiling right up to the door. Any of these could hide a sensor or a lens, and he knew that he couldn't ask questions about security. He didn't want to attract attention or plant suspicion in anyone's mind. His police record had taught him to keep his eyes open and his mouth shut. He had tonight and tomorrow to think of a safe way to smuggle the Formula out, but first he had to find out if it was worth smuggling at all.
"You look fed up," Colin greeted Judy. "Had a bad day?"
Judy, a modestly attractive girl of nineteen, dragged herself towards her boyfriend. She was wearing the dull pink overall that she had to wear as a shop assistant.
"What do you expect? I've been on my feet all day." The words struggled past her lips, "You're late coming out."
Colin seated himself on his ageing motorbike and fiddled and twisted the bike's throttle bar. "Get on," he ordered.
"You must be kidding," hesitated Judy. "Honestly, I haven't the energy to go through the starting-up ritual."
Colin kicked the starter pedal a few times. He pumped the carburettor and tried again, but all the old bike could manage was a faint sneeze and a whiff of smoke.
"You see," shouted Judy. "Why don't you get a car, any car to start with?"
"You know why," snapped Colin. "There's only one car for me and one day I'm going to get it."
"Sure," said Judy. "Thirty thousand quid just for the car and goodness knows what the other things cost. I suppose you're going to save the money out of this job?"
"Don't be stupid," he replied, desperately kicking at the starter. "You wait and see. This job holds more promise that I first thought."
"Been promoted already, have you?" asked Judy as she slipped a bar of chewing gum into her mouth.
"Better than that," Colin replied, the noise from his reluctant engine drowning his words. "Come on. Let's go," he shouted.
Judy pulled up her skirt and overall and straddled the bike's rear seat. She handed Colin his helmet as she slipped on her own.
The ageing bike seemed rejuvenated by its own combustion, leaping and jerking through the car park in anticipation of a long, hard and fast burn to the council estate in Staines where Colin lived with his parents. Judy lived in the same street, a few doors away. He'd known her for most of his nineteen troublesome years. He couldn't remember for sure when he first met her, she had always been there. They'd played together in the back garden and on the street since they were very young and had developed a love-hate relationship that neither was eager to change. Judy's modest ambition of marriage and a home of her own contrasted sharply with Colin's love of money - the easy type - and with his passionate love for fast cars, although he had never owned or driven such a car. He'd promised himself many years ago that the first car he'd buy would be his dream one, a Ferrari.
Judy's arms locked around Colin's waist as he drove out of the car park and on to the road. His love of speed outweighed his road sense. With contemptuous ease he weaved through the heavy, slow traffic as Judy rested her head on his back. Nothing she could say or do would make any difference to the way he rode. She could only close her eyes and endure the thirty-minute drive to Rotherham Road. Only then could she thank her luck, to have survived another ride.
"What was it you said earlier," asked Judy as she took off her helmet, "about the job I mean?"
"I don't know whether I should tell you," replied Colin, "not yet anyway."
"Come on, Colin. Don't keep secrets from me," pleaded Judy. "Tell me what's happened."
"Nothing's happened," replied Colin as he pushed his motorbike up the short garden path and into a wooden shed at the back of the house. "I'll tell you later. Coming in?"
Judy followed and put her hands around Colin's neck, stroking his wavy, and collar-length hair. "Why don't you come to my place tonight?" she asked. "It's bingo night for mum and dad."
"Oh, I forgot, it's Thursday," Colin said as his face lit up with anticipation. "All right, you go on and I'll see you later."
"They'll be back at ten," remarked Judy, as she walked away from Colin. "Don't be late."
"Not Thursdays," Colin shouted back.
It was eight-thirty that evening when Colin walked into Judy's house. She was sitting in an easy chair wearing a pyjama top. One leg flung over the chair arm revealed her brief black panties. She looked at Colin angrily as he stood by the living-room door admiring her slender body.
"What kept you?" she snapped. "You shouldn't have bothered."
"What's got into you? We've got over an hour," replied Colin as he moved towards her. "I had to have a bath, didn't I?" He leaned over the chair and kissed Judy's neck, slowly and passionately moving up to her lips, as she leaned back against the chair. Colin hand's roamed over her curves and caressed her body expertly.
"Come over to the settee," he said.
"I won't until you tell me what happened at work."
"I don't understand you women," remarked Colin, easing himself away from her, "the way you turn yourselves off and on."
"We women have a switch," said Judy with a smile.
"I bet you have."
"Well?" she demanded.
Colin moved across the room and switched on the television set. He realised that if he told her his real motive, she wouldn't approve. He thought for a few moments as Judy's eyes followed him across the room. He knew that he had made a mistake by mentioning the subject in the first place, so he must tell her something, just to satisfy her curiosity.
"Something interesting happened today," said Colin, as he sat on the settee opposite her.
Judy leapt from her chair and settled beside him. "Go on, the suspense is killing me," she urged.
"Don't get excited," Colin continued, "it's just that I was allowed to enter a very restricted room today."
"Is that all?" she said, disappointed.
"Listen," Colin pointed a finger, "that's a big thing with them. Only a handful of people with security clearance are allowed in."
"They trust you, then?" she sighed, relaxing and stretched herself. "I thought it was something more. A rise or something more interesting."
"It was something," murmured Colin, his eyes glued to the television set and wondering whether he should reveal more.
"Did they give you a special pass?" she enquired.
"No chance of that."
"How did you get in then?"
"It was during the lunch hour," Colin explained. "I was sitting by my desk just before going to the canteen, and this man, he is very senior there, a scientist I think, was struggling with two trays full of tubes, bottles and goodness knows what. His hands were shaking as he passed me and I thought he was going to drop them over my head."
"Why didn't you help him?" asked Judy.
"I'll come to that if you just let me finish," he snapped.
"Sorry."
"So I called out to him, 'Excuse me,' I said, 'can I give you a hand?' The old man turned round and said, 'You're very kind,' and handed me one of the trays. 'I'll carry both if you want,' I told him. 'Thank you very much,' he replied, 'I see you have noticed my clumsy hands. Please follow me', so I followed him."
"To that room?" asked Judy, showing more interest.
"Yes," he said, then went on, "Right at the end of the corridor there's a door which is always kept locked. The old man took a key out of his pocket and opened the door. I followed him through to another door marked 'Very Restricted - Authorised Personnel Only'. This time the old man fiddled with two sets of keys. It took him ages to get the door open."
"So what was in there anyway?" asked Judy.
"The room we went in had stacks of shelves. It was full of containers, bottles of all shapes and sizes, test tubes. Then I followed him to a large safe at the far end of the room. He opened the safe and started sorting and storing the trays. Suddenly he said: 'Oh my God, I've forgotten the file in the lab. It's a very important file', then he rushed out, telling me to wait a minute."
"So you were alone in there?"
"Yes. But the good bit's still to come," Colin said.
"I thought as much."
"Well, as soon as the man left, I put the trays on the floor and had a good look inside the safe, and there on the top shelf was this large container about the size of a milk bottle marked 'Formula Z100 - Top Secret'."
"Getting more exciting by the minute," remarked Judy, "just like spying. What was inside it?"
"Clear liquid, just like water," replied Colin, "so I couldn't resist pinching some."
"What on earth for?" asked Judy. She sat up and looked at Colin, amazed. "Won't you get caught doing that? How about your probation?"
"Calm down. No one is going to miss a few drops."
"If it's that secret, they're bound to know how much was there in the first place," she reasoned.
"Don't worry about it. I know they won't," he insisted. "Anyway, soon I'll find out if it's worth keeping."
"And how are you going to do that?" she asked.
"I know how. I tried today, but I ran out of time."
"You be careful, for God's sake. You don't want to break your probation."
"I said don't worry," Colin assured her. He looked at his watch, and then gasped. "Half past nine." He grabbed Judy's arm and rushed her up the stairs, "Just a quickly, before ten?" he whispered in her ear.
Chapter Two
Colin was bright and cheerful when he arrived at work the next day. The first thing on his mind was to check on the hidden Formula. He sat down at his desk and turned his back on Simon, humming an indistinguishable tune that irritated his colleague.
"You sound cheerful this morning," said Simon. "Getting married or something?"
'Me?" replied Colin. "No fear. I just feel okay today. I wouldn't mind doing anything. I ..."
"Don't say that," Simon interrupted, "they change the duties today."
"What duties?"
"Work. The daily rotas for next week."
"I've never had one!" Colin shrugged his shoulders.
"I think your days of just helping around are over," Simon assured him.
"How's that?"
"Well, you don't expect just to continue messing around," Simon explained. "They usually give you six weeks to familiarise yourself with the place, and then 'bang'."
Simon's words worried Colin. "You've spoilt my day," he remarked. Could that mean, he thought, losing the chance to try his experiment again? He was thoughtful for a while, and then he turned to Simon, "What do you have to do today?"
Simon didn't hear Colin's question. He was busy collating information from a pile of sheets in front of him.
Colin asked the question again but louder, "What's your duty today, Simon?"
"The one I hate most," he replied. "Have a look at this."
Colin pulled his chair next to Simon's and looked at the large chart that covered the desk. "What are all these dots for?" he asked.
"That's my duty until one o'clock," explained Simon. "I have to chart on separate sheets all the different-coloured dots. Boring, isn't it?"
"What's it about?" asked Colin as he scanned the sheets in front of him.
"God knows. They don't tell you what you're working on. Just a number on the top," Simon lifted one sheet and showed Colin. "You see this? It's the code number. All research."
"Not a single word," remarked Colin.
"That's what I mean," agreed Simon. "They never give you a clue. It could be nice to know what we are working on. It might give us a sense of pride."
"Of course it would," nodded Colin.
"Such a secretive place. Sometimes it gives me the creeps."
"Keep your voice down," Colin warned.
"Well," Simon banged the sheet on the desk, "what I really hate is this afternoon's work."
"Doing what?"
"Mopping up shit," said Simon, twisting his lips in disgust. "Would you mind doing it for me?" he pleaded. "Just for today?"
"Hold on a minute," replied Colin, I'm not mopping any toilets
Simon let out a peculiar chuckle, an even and continuous high-pitched noise that amused Colin. "I don't mean the toilets," he explained as he gathered his composure, "I mean the animal shit down in the basement."
"Oh, that," exclaimed Colin. His face lit up and his expectation rocketed as he tried to conceal his enthusiasm. "Why do you hate it?" he asked.
"It turns my stomach over every time I go there," said Simon. "I think it's the smell. Ugh." Simon shivered a little. "You haven't smelt monkey shit before, have you?"
"No I haven't."
"Take it from me, mate, it's the ultimate," Simon emphasised. "But some people don't mind it." Little did he realise how important his offer was to Colin's plan.
"Before I say 'yes'," probed Colin, "what do I have to do? Just mop up?"
"Mainly, yes," Simon replied, "but after that you have to top up each cage's drinking bottle. It's simple really, but I don't like it."
Colin's thoughts raced fast and furious. An unexpected opportunity - he must offer to help. Poor Simon, if only he knew how desperate and eager Colin was! "I don't think I'm allowed down there," he said.
"Don't worry about that, I'll fix it with the chief, Mr Lowell," Simon assured him.
"What if he refuses?"
"Why should he? I just have to say I've got a bad stomach and you'll be doing it on my behalf," said Simon. "It's done all the time. You just say yes and leave the rest to me."
"All right, then," Colin agreed, "but you'll owe me one, mind!"
"You name it," replied Simon. "Thanks."
Colin returned to his desk thanking his lucky stars. It couldn't have turned out better if he'd planned the whole thing. All he had to do now was to wait until he got the okay from Mr Lowell. His attention turned to the hidden Formula. Should he carry it around in his pocket, or would it be safer to leave it where it was for the time being? He decided to leave it, pushed the small tube to the back of the drawer and covered it with sheets of paper. He now turned his thoughts to another matter: the security inside the building. He had to think of a way to find out if there were any detectors.
As he'd had no instructions for his day's work, Colin leaned back, precariously balancing his chair on two legs. Hands clasped behind his head, he sank into a world of his own, a world only Colin knew and understood.
The safest way to test the system, he thought, would be with something quite innocent and worthless. He couldn't place a bottle full of chemicals in his pocket and try to leave; if he was caught that would endanger everything. Colin dreaded the ordeal of facing a magistrate again.
His delinquency had started very early in life. At seven his favourite pastime was to run to the railway line behind the estate and throw stones at the windows of passing trains. He was caught often by the police and delivered to his home and into the punishing hands of his stepfather. Colin's criminal record stretched back to his early teens, when he was caught shoplifting a bar of chocolate. The embarrassment he and his parents suffered for the sake of a few pennies had stayed with him, and he'd never forgiven the system.
"Well, well," Mr Lowell's voice interrupted Colin's thoughts, "is this what you do all day?" he enquired.
Colin straightened himself up; as Mr Lowell examined a file he was carrying.
"Let me see," said Mr Lovell, "you've been with us two months now."
"Yes, sir," answered Colin.
"I think," Lowell paused a little as he flipped a few pages, "you should start doing some practical work, don't you?"
"It would be a change," replied Colin.
"That's the spirit," Lowell remarked as he placed the file on Colin's desk and leafed through the work sheets.
Colin, fearing an all-day duty, gestured to Simon with his head to approach Lowell.
Simon took the hint and moved to Lowell's side. "Excuse me, Mr Lowell," said Simon.
"Yes, Simon, what can I do for you?"
"I have a terrible stomach today," he said, running his hand over the afflicted area, "and I wonder if I could be excused from cleaning the basement?"
"That's your afternoon duty, isn't it?" asked Lowell, pausing to look at Simon with concern.
"It is, but I think the smell would make me worse."
"I think we could manage that," said Lowell, and looked at Colin. "Colin could relieve you for today. You tell him what to do." Then he turned to Colin and said, "Is that all right, young man?"
"Yes, sir," Colin replied enthusiastically. "I don't mind doing anything."
Impressed by Colin's readiness to work, Lowell thumbed again through his sheets, mumbling a few words to himself. "Ah," he said, turning to Colin, "you're supposed to be in Room 206 this morning. You'll be useful there."
"Shall I go now?"
"Yes," answered Lowell. "It's on the next floor."
Colin wasn't concerned with what he had to do in Room 206 as he walked down the corridor to the lift. He knew he'd get some answers in the afternoon on whether this job held any promise of quick and easy money. His conversation with Judy the previous night had made him think twice about what he'd tell her in the future. Judy loved money as much as he did, but she preferred to get it the honest way.
Such sentiment had never bothered Colin. His way was any way as long as he wasn't caught. He saw the whole economy as one big pot full of cash. Some had more than others, and like blowing sand it constantly changed and shifted position. As far as he was concerned any money he acquired, by whatever means, would ultimately be channelled and merged into that same mighty big pot. To Colin any other consideration was merely superficial.
For months he'd concentrated his mind and energies into realising his expensive dream of unlimited riches and expensive cars, and made up his mind not to allow anyone or anything to distract him from that dream.
Colin opened the door numbered 206 and scanned the long, silent room. The presence of a few staff in white overalls manning the instruments encouraging him to walk through and approach the operator nearest the door.
"Excuse me," he said, "I was sent here by Mr Lowell. Can you tell me who to see?"
The operator, concentrating on the complicated dials in front of him, just pointed his pencil sideways.
Colin looked in the direction of the pencil, unimpressed by the manner in which he had been greeted, and walked to the end of laboratory. There the reception was more welcoming as Mr Lucas, the head technician, approached him. "Hello," said Lucas, who in contrast to the majority of the staff there seemed to have an easy-going manner, "I'm David." He thrust his hand forward, "You must be Colin."
"That's me," replied Colin in relief at being recognised.
"Come on. I'll show you round first," said Lucas.
Colin followed Lucas as he moved from one bench to another.
"If you're interested in chemistry," said Lucas, "this is the place to be."
Colin was impressed by what he saw and by David Lucas's friendly reception. "What do you do here?" he enquired.
"This is the analysis unit," Lucas answered. "We can analyse any substance, we're world-famous for this sort of thing. Every machine you see here is specifically designed to detect and identify the minutest trace of any substance, gas or element known to man." Lucas paused a little and in a lower voice told Colin, "These are very expensive and highly sophisticated instruments, precisely set." He put his hand on Colin's shoulder, "So don't you go around touching things. Okay?"
"Of course not."
"Come on. I'll introduce you to Harvey."
Harvey, a well-built man in his forties, had a week-old beard shaded grey in patches. He was the man responsible for cataloguing specimens sent to the unit. He was not classified as a technician, but as an administrative clerk.
Colin stood by Harvey's desk and watched him carefully unwrap and catalogue one parcel after another.
David Lucas introduced the two and left them alone.
"Can I help?" Colin offered.
"It's almost coffee time," replied Harvey. "Come on, let's go to the canteen."
The fright Simon had given Colin about the duties in store didn't materialise. Harvey seemed a pleasant enough chap to work with. With these thoughts, Colin settled down with a cup of coffee, accompanied by Harvey.
"Have you worked here long?" Colin asked.
"Twenty-two years."
"That's longer than I've lived."
"Believe me," said Harvey, "it feels like a lifetime too. It's secure but a dead-end job. You have to be a degree man to progress here."
"You must have joined straight from school?" said Colin.
"That's right, but 'O' Levels don't count for much here."
Realising he was in the company of a bored and unhappy man; Colin stirred his cup and waited for Harvey to reveal more of his thoughts.
Harvey drank his coffee slowly, supplementing each sip with a deep-drawn breath on his cigarette, and every few moments he directed a cloud of smoke upwards as he bent his head back, pausing and following the smoke as it raced towards the open window.
"From what you say," Colin broke the silence, "there isn't much to look forward to in this place?"
"It depends on what you're looking for. For me it pays the bills and keeps the wife happy. It all depends on what you want out of life, my friend," Harvey said, as he stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray.
"Is that what you want?" asked Colin.
"Finish your coffee, we ought to get back," replied Harvey, ignoring Colin's question.
Colin didn't want to press the question any more, but as he followed he realised he must have touched a tender nerve in his companion. A nerve that hid disappointments and unfulfilled ambition.
Back at the laboratory Colin settled beside Harvey to sort and catalogue a pile of parcels, while Harvey leaned over and attentively checked every entry Colin made.
"I wanted to be a professional golfer, if you must know," Harvey suddenly answered.
"Why didn't you, then?"
Again, Harvey paused for a while. He seemed reluctant to go into detail. He disliked talking to others about himself. His life revolved around his home, work and wife. A cycle that had repeated itself many thousands of times before.
"I couldn't afford the lessons," replied Harvey, "that's why."
"I know the feeling," said Colin, nodding his head in agreement. "I'll probably stick this job for a while and see how it goes."
"You're lucky, mate, you're still young," Harvey opened up. "You can shift and change, but for me at forty, there is no choice.''
Harvey gathered up the opened specimens and filled the trolley beside him. "I have to leave you for a while," he said. "You've got the hang of it now; just leave the sorted ones on the desk."
"When will you be back?"
"Not before lunch. I have to do my round now." Harvey pushed his trolley through the laboratory and disappeared out of the door.
Left alone, Colin turned his mind to the problem of testing the security system of the company. He thought deep and hard as he read and copied the labels of the parcels. Then suddenly an idea came to him - of course, why not splash a harmless chemical on his clothes and see what happens?
He knew if there were any detectors at the exit, they would pick up the chemical as he passed through, and what could be more innocent than an accidental splash on his trousers. Clumsy, yes, but a thief, no.
Colin wanted to have some free time before the lunch hour, to find a harmless substance that he could use. His limited knowledge of chemistry would serve him well in this respect. All he had to do was to have a few minutes alone in the unit so that he could look around undisturbed. His knowledge of chemistry should enable him to recognise a harmless chemical.
He had to revise his plan a little. He slowed his work rate considerably. Now he wanted the sorting operation to last until the lunch hour, so that he could hang around in peace while the rest of the staff left for lunch.
The morning went extremely well for Colin, as he found his harmless chemical within moments of trying. Just a few feet away, by the very first instrument, he saw a glass container marked Ethyl Alcohol. He remembered the name because it was used in his school as a solvent or an antiseptic, an ideal liquid. Clear and harmless, a specification that at least in appearance matched his hidden Formula.
Colin held a thumb on the top of the bottle and splashed the side of his trousers, until he felt the liquid on his skin, now he must skip the canteen and try his luck through the main exit. He'd already formulated an excuse should he get caught. With nothing more to do, he hurried down and approached the way out. Hesitantly, he took short and slow steps forward. He wanted to give the system - if it existed -every chance to succeed. This test must be conclusive he decided as he leaned on the entrance wall, turning from side to side to offer as much exposure as possible.
He didn't know where the warning bells - if there were any - would sound. He looked casually through the glass door towards the reception desk, waiting in anticipation of someone rushing out to apprehend him. Colin took two full minutes to cover the five-metre-long corridor. Suddenly his fear disappeared and his confidence was boosted as he pushed open the exit door. He was sure now that if the system couldn't sniff a chemical out of soaking wet trousers, it couldn't do better against one secured inside a container.
Feeling pleased with himself he had a snack in a nearby cafe and then returned to his department. He slipped the secret Formula into his pocket and waited for Simon.
Colin was more convinced now than ever before that he didn't want to end up like Harvey. He had no intention of looking forward to that annual ritual of two weeks' holiday in the sun. Colin's sun didn't begin and end during the brief summer season. It was there all the year round and it was up to him to make the most of it at the time of his choosing.
Chapter Three
A sense of power and satisfaction engulfed Colin as he followed Simon, surveying the rows of cages and pursued by the inquisitive eyes of the marmoset monkeys.
There were a dozen monkeys; each had a cage to itself. Deprived of touch and the company of their kind, they seemed to have lost their usual gameness and agility; like old, frail creatures, they sat around, eyes wide open in a permanent gaze. The sun, trees and fresh air had all been replaced by the endless neon lights and air ducts.
The same environment had also reduced the mice, the guinea pigs and the rabbits to mere sniffing machines. From side to side, they sniffed repeatedly at the cage wire, hoping in vain to find something new or different. None had seen the colour of a leaf, or tasted the smell of the warm earth. Their days in the basement were numbered just as it had been for those before them. The confinement in the company's cells seldom exceeded a few days before extinction, and they perished not in the hope of a better life for their kind, but for that of their masters. Unlike martyrs, they were born for no reason, and would die for a cause they didn't know.
Sentiment didn't bother or even cross Colin's mind as he walked between the cages whistling, poking and wiggling a finger into the mouse cage. He was satisfied that his choice of a rabbit for the experiment was the right one, for it appeared from what he saw here that they were the largest animals in the compound.
The mixture of ammonia and disinfectant upset Simon's stomach as he hurried around showing Colin the water supply. He also pointed out the small cupboard where Colin could find a hard brush, buckets and the small spade he would have to use to scrape any faeces that had stuck to the deflector plates underneath the cages.
"That's the disinfectant," Simon pointed out. "You splash it on the floor last. Mix it with water first."
"I know," replied Colin. "I'm not an idiot."
"Well, I'll leave you to it then," Simon said, rushing out as he resisted the urge to throw up.
The rabbit section was located at the entrance to the animal house. Colin checked the rabbit he had used earlier for the smell test, for any change. There was none. But Colin's confidence in the secret Formula had not lessened. Anything as secret as this must have a value, he thought. Soon he would know, but first he must get on with the job of cleaning. His official presence there would give him all the time he needed for the experiment.
Like a child anticipating a reward for a job well done, he picked up the spade, bent his knees and scraped through the row of plates, oblivious of the strong smell that filled his nostrils. Now and then he would feel the Formula tube in his pocket to assure himself of its safety.
Line after line Colin cleaned, and then hosed the concrete floor, sending a torrent of greyish-brown liquid into the recessed drains. Mr Lowell would have been very pleased with Colin's thorough and enthusiastic work.
Two hours had passed by the time Colin had finished and rinsed his hands clean. He'd already found out that there was no danger from the Formula through the air, but still he must guard against touch. Standing in front of his chosen rabbit, he slipped on a pair of rubber gloves. He locked the door in case of an unwelcome visitor and returned to the rabbit cage. Once again, as his hand approached the flap, it sparked a frenzied panic in the animal. The rabbit sprinted around the cage as if it was held by centrifugal force. "Hell" snapped Colin, "not again." The rabbit's claws could tear his thin rubber gloves in one strike and that would make the handling of the Formula very dangerous. Colin peeled the gloves off and slipped them into his pocket.
With the previous day's experience in mind, Colin didn't hesitate in grabbing the animal by the scruff of its neck and held it at arm's length to avoid scratches. He expected yet another scream from the helpless animal, but the rabbit remained quiet apart from a few futile kicks in the air. "You trust me this time, eh?" Colin murmured to the animal as he stroked its ears. He placed the rabbit in the open-top box and fastened the leather straps over its back. "Now we'll try something different," he murmured.
Colin had a whole hour before five o'clock - a far cry from the frantic rush of yesterday. There was enough time on his hands to think and observe, to be deliberate and exact. He knew that today he couldn't administer the liquid to the animal intravenously, but he could apply the contact test, and, if necessary, force a few drops into the rabbit's mouth.
He slipped his gloves back on, and placed the Formula tube in front of him. The animal's fast rate of breathing didn't alarm him; he knew it was normal for rabbits. He peeled open the rubber top of the tube and paused to think. He needed to bring a sensitive part of the rabbit in contact with the liquid. The ears or the tip of the nose were the most suitable, he thought. Looking closely and fondling the rabbit's ear, he realised the impossibility of dipping the tip of the ear through the tube's narrow opening. Nor was it advisable to tip the liquid over the animal's nose. Colin searched through his pockets for a piece of paper. A bank statement he'd received in the morning post was all he could find. One glance at the last figure convinced him that it wasn't worth keeping, so he rolled the paper and transformed it into a long, thin tube.
He dipped the end of the paper tube into the Formula and let it soak a little while with his left hand he pressed the back of the rabbit's ear to expose its tender pinkish interior, a maze of fine reddish veins. With a steady hand he applied a smear of the liquid to the smooth exposed skin, then replaced the rubber cap and looked round for something to sit on. There were no chairs, so he stood restlessly, gazing at the animal and timing its reaction.
Colin didn't have to wait long. A mere two minutes passed before he noticed a reaction from the rabbit. The animal fidgeted within its prison. Its hind legs stretched. A sneeze, followed by another and another. The rabbit twisted and turned its head from side to side. It arched its back in a convulsion, straining and pushing against the leather straps. Its heartbeat quickened and its belly thumped and pumped as if it had swallowed its own heart. Every few seconds, the violent motion subsided a little, only to appear again as the animal gasped for breath once more. The wretched animal arched and strained its back one last time, and remained arched until all signs of life ceased. In agony, it had died as it had always been destined to, but this time it was for Colin's sake.
"My God," sighed Colin, surprised and amazed by what he'd observed. He picked up the Formula and gazed at it. "Did you do that?" he asked the clear, deadly liquid. Not knowing what to do next, he pondered on the experience. What if the rabbit had died of fright? Rabbits are known to die from stress and if that was the case, he would be back to square one. Only a repeat experiment could dispel such a doubt, but could he afford to kill another animal without attracting attention? Colin felt confused and tormented as he reviewed the situation in his mind.
It was out of the question, he decided, to place two dead animals in the bin at the same time. If he did, questions would be asked. The integrity of the supplier would be put in doubt, and a post mortem would certainly follow to clear the quality of the stock. Colin contemplated the possibilities as he faced the lifeless animal. It was safe enough, he decided, to throw one dead rabbit in the bin and not mention it at all. He could rely on the fact that no one had instructed him to do otherwise.
Having decided on his course of action, Colin dumped the dead animal in the bin nearby, and found a better way to dispose of the paper tube. He turned on the water tap, and flooded the open drains as he watched his rolled bank statement float and disappear into the sewer.
It was almost five o'clock and time for Colin to leave. He pocketed the Formula together with his rubber gloves and paused uncertainly, holding the basement door half open. Did the Formula really kill the animal? And if it did what possible use could he make of it? These thoughts and many more stirred Colin's imagination. Rarely was he as reluctant to leave work at the end of the day as he was today. His mind engrossed by the experience, he wanted to sit down and think, but the knowledge of Judy waiting outside made him close the door and leave the building with the Formula safely in his pocket.
Judy noticed an unusual silence and calm about Colin. "Hello" is all he managed to say when he greeted her.
"You not only look different," said Judy, "but you smell different."
"Its disinfectant," he replied, without going into details.
There was no rush in starting his motorbike. For the first time, he kicked at the starter pedal without seating himself first, and the most peculiar thing of all was that Colin didn't race the traffic as he drove home.
Judy watched and tried to understand Colin's strange behaviour. Miracle after miracle took place before her eyes as Colin drove steadily behind the traffic without overtaking, or gesturing insults to other drivers. She feared the worst.
"Did you get the sack?" she yelled.
"No."
Judy, not satisfied with the dry answer she got on the road, needed to reassure herself before she left Colin. "Are you feeling all right?" she asked.
"Of course I am," Colin replied as he pushed his bike down the drive. "What makes you think otherwise?"
"You certainly don't look yourself today."
"I feel fine," he said, pausing a little, and then said, "Judy, before you ask, I'm staying in tonight."
"That's new," she said with concern. "And you say there's nothing wrong?"
"What do you want me to do?" snapped Colin. "Show you a doctor's certificate?"
Colin's harsh words upset Judy. Without saying a word, she walked away, leaving him pushing the motorbike into the shed.
The three-bed roomed house, where Colin was born nineteen years earlier, had had lavished on it his stepfather's do-it-yourself devotion. James Ransome married Colin's mother, Joyce, after her husband died, when Colin was only five years old. For Colin, the loss of his father at such an early age, and the intrusion of the strange man who competed with him for his mother's love and attention, was the root of all his early troubles.
To his parents, Colin was not the most talkative of children. They longed to hear of his aspirations and his experiences at work. They were very grateful to the probation officer for the effort he made in getting Colin his latest job. Time and again, they'd hoped to share his confidence and feel the joy of togetherness. They had long since forgotten about their dreams of seeing him through college and into a well paid job. All they hoped nowadays was that he stayed out of trouble and held his present job.
Colin's early signs of independence had filled them with pride and satisfaction but little did they know that it was a sign of jealousy and resentment, and Colin's aloofness and isolation of late made his stepfather constantly wonder how to break through Colin's stubbornness.
"Is anything wrong, Colin?" his father asked.
"No," Colin replied, as he poked and patted the plate of cottage pie in front of him.
"Something wrong with the food?"
"What's the matter with everyone today?" he sighed. "Judy thinks I should be in hospital, and you think there is something wrong with the food," Colin looked at his parents amazed.
"It's rare for you to lose your appetite, Colin," interrupted his mother. "Never mind, you don't have to eat it if you don't want to."
Mr Ransome sought to change the subject. "How is the job anyway?"
"All right," came the short reply.
Mr Ransome, lost for words, looked in vain for a cue from his wife, but all he received was a 'leave it alone' gesture from her.
"I'm going to see what's on the telly tonight," he said, as he picked up his dinner plate and placed it in the sink, and left Colin and his mother alone in the kitchen.
"I'm making a cup of tea," said Joyce. "Would you like one?"
"Yes, mum, I'll have one." Colin pushed his plate to the centre of the table, and still seated he eased himself away a little.
"Did you hear about your Uncle Len?" asked his mother as she filled the kettle with water. "He's emigrating to Australia."
"No, I didn't know that."
"Yes, it's all fixed. I think Olive can't wait to pack her bags and go," said Joyce.
"I don't blame him," Colin said. "If I lost my job after twenty-five years, and no hope of getting another, I'd do the same."
"I don't think he tried hard enough, if you asked me," said Joyce as she placed a cup of tea in front of Colin. "I think she put him up to it."
"Oh?"
"Well you know her, always talking about the sea and the sun," snapped Joyce. "Well, she'll have enough of both down there, won't she?"
"I think you're jealous, mum," observed Colin.
"Rubbish, I wouldn't change a fortnight in Blackpool, for all. ..."
"They haven't got tea in Australia, mum," Colin interrupted.
"Tea? What tea?"
"You were going to say for all the tea in Australia, weren't you?" Colin teased his mother.
"Rubbish." She paused a little. "I forget what I was going to say now," she said, scratching her head.
"Never mind, mum. I'm going up," he said.
Colin left his mother as she stood congratulating herself on her small success in getting Colin in a talkative mood. Colin had said more words to her in the last few minutes than during the whole of the month. That was progress, she thought, nodding her head in satisfaction.
As patient as she was, Joyce had all the time she needed to win the confidence of her only child. She asked no more than to share the occasional chat or joke with him. Joyce turned around and saw her husband watching her silent contemplation.
"Did you get anything out of him?" asked James.
"No. We just talked about Len."
"Oh. He remembered he has an uncle then?"
"Don't keep on at him, Jim. He'll come round," said Joyce as she cleared the kitchen table. "All kids go through this phase. It'll pass."
"Not all kids go to Borstal, though," remarked her husband.
"Give him time, Jim. He's stayed in this job, hasn't he?"
"All I ask of him is just to show a little consideration. That's not asking for much, is it?" James Ransome walked out disgruntled.
In his small, disorganised bedroom, Colin stretched himself on the bed, fully clothed, and tapping his chest to the rhythm of the music of Queen. He was alone now, free to contemplate and reflect in peace on today's discovery.
What he could do with Formula Z100, he wondered. Did it really cause the rabbit's death? He knew he could repeat the experiment at home to confirm this. There would be no problem in buying a rabbit from a pet shop. Colin stretched out his hand to feel the Formula in his pocket. He needed to keep it in a safe place away from his mother's inquisitive fingers. He knew that the only thing his mother didn't touch was his music centre. A two-year-old gift from his mother, for good behaviour. A secure place to hide the Formula thought Colin as he unclipped the rear of one speaker and hid the forbidden tube inside it.
Returning to his bed, Colin tried to think of a possible use for the lethal liquid. His aim all along was to acquire as much money as he could. His first target was his dream car that had a £30,000 price tag. Colin didn't bother at this stage to come up with an explanation, should his dream come true, to justify such an expensive possession. Sure, many eyebrows would be raised, sure he had to come up with an explanation, but all in good time. Colin's most urgent and pressing problem was to find a way to use Formula ZIOO's deadly effect. Just how, that was the big question which was taxing his brain.
Suppose it did kill the rabbit, he thought, it would mean the Formula was a very toxic chemical. So is arsenic, he thought, and paraquat and dozens of other chemicals on the market that could be bought by the gallon, against his small possession. No, Colin assured himself, there had to be something special about the Formula. One thing seemed to distinguish Formula Z100 from other toxic agents he could recall - it actually killed the rabbit. If that proved to be the case, it did it by mere contact. This, Colin thought, was most unusual. He began to think that the liquid was absorbed through the skin and into the blood stream. That, thought Colin, and the speed with which it penetrated the skin must set it in a class of its own. Could that be its secret? He wasn't sure. Even so, he continued his evaluation. What use could it be to others? It kills animals, yes, but what of it? Rat extermination perhaps? Not likely.
Colin's dreams receded further and further as he tried to think of a profitable use for the Formula. The thoughts engaged Colin's mind so intensely that he didn't notice the quietness and the stillness that settled around him once his record had come to an end.
He played the same rock music once again as he undressed and, as usual, he wore only the bottom half of his pyjamas. Uncharacteristically, he turned down the volume on the speakers and retired to bed at only eight in the evening. It must have been a long time since he'd gone to bed that early. Colin was certain that if his mother saw him now, another enquiry regarding his health would ensue.
Colin rested his head on the pillow, staring at the plain white ceiling. The dim light from the stereo hardly reached his face. His imagination took him far and wide. He considered many situations and possibilities in which he could put the Formula into meaningful use, but alas, none seem to steer him in the direction of his coveted dream target. A visible despair showed in the way he twisted and turned under the bed cover. The music ceased as tiredness hugged his eyelids, flickering and longing for a deep rest, his night dreams knocking at the gate waiting and willing to take over, only to be disappointed by Colin's sudden gasp. "Of course!" he exulted. He flung the bed cover off and sat up, pondering over the sudden thought that had engulfed him. "If it kills animals so easily, silently," he said, "then it can kill people in the same way." His face brightened, an excitement shot through his bones, he put his head in his hands, and thought of the possibility of becoming a contract killer.
Chapter Four
Colin's realisation the previous night, that to be a hitman would offer the quickest route to achieve his dream, seemed not only to have cleared all his past anxiety, but also to have opened an unknown horizon for his turbulent young career. His mind was now so fixed on the idea that he could almost begin to think of the colour of his dream car.
Young and obsessed as he was, Colin didn't underestimate the risks involved. From now on, he vowed, every move must be calculated, every plan must have a purpose, and every action must not leave a trace. Three words were to stick in his mind throughout: Normality, Safety, and Action.
With the new rules firmly pledged, Colin jumped out of bed on a fine Saturday morning. September hadn't managed to completely strangle the warmth of the receding summer. Colin looked out of his bedroom window and watched his father as he gathered the last of the runner beans.
He heard his mother's voice penetrate through the floor, calling him for breakfast. Relaxed and contented with his decision, he dressed and went down to join his mother in the kitchen.
He ate his meal of fried eggs, bacon and toast with speed and an appetite that prompted his mother to remark, "You should've eaten your dinner last night."
Colin just nodded back with a smile.
"Are you seeing Judy today?" Joyce asked.
"I might. After she finishes work. She works up to twelve on Saturdays," he said, with the word 'normality' still ringing in his ear, then he went on, "Did dad ask me something last night? I can't remember?"
"He just wondered how you're getting on at work," said his mother.
"And what did I say?"
"All right. That's all," Joyce said, walking round the table and placing her hand on Colin's shoulder. "Why don't you have a chat with your dad? He loves you as if you were his own and he loves to know what you're doing." Joyce continued pleading, "It's no good, for him getting to know things only through me, second-hand, so to speak. Would you, love?"
"I'll talk to him later," Colin assured his mother.
Colin picked up the Daily Mirror and sat down browsing through its pages. He scanned the television programmes for the day, his mind drifting into Hollywood fantasies and the stars he idolised. He couldn't resist imagining himself in Branson's or Eastwood's shoes, cunningly stalking his prey. He wondered what the reaction of his old Borstal mates would be if they knew about his new invisible power.
"You're up then?" James Ransome interrupted Colin's dreams, as he entered the kitchen carrying a carton full of his prized vegetables and placed them on the draining board.
"Oh," Joyce exulted, "aren't they lovely." She picked up some ripe, red tomatoes. "Look at these, Colin, don't they look delicious?"
Colin moved over to the sink and examined the vegetables, to the barely disguised surprise of his stepfather.
"What do you think, son? They must be the best lot in the street."
"They look nice," replied Colin. "How do you get them so big?"
"How?" exclaimed James. "With all the muck I bring home, they'd better be.''