Rapture Falls Read online

  Baine pulled the car into the underground parking beneath his apartment block; the building was a behemoth standing over the city seemingly in judgement, offering its superiority to those who could afford it and scorn to those who could not. He parked the Micra in one of his two spaces, the modest car was shamed by those that surrounded it, Porsches, Mercs and Beamers on all sides, sitting in Baine’s other parking space was a new Dodge SRT-10, the UK incarnation of the Dodge Viper, the latest model of the SRT-10, SRT standing for Street Racing Technology, packs a 8.3-litre V10 engine and had set him back a little over £70,000, but hey business was good and business paid cash. Baine had amassed a small fortune in the last eight years, he killed people for a living, he felt no pleasure in the taking of lives, but he felt no remorse either, this wasn’t what he did it was simply who he was. The clients who found themselves led to his path all had one thing in common, hate, Baine did not find himself troubled by any sense of morality, it was as though his DNA was missing some vital ingredient of humanity. In some of the movies that he watched alone in darkened cinemas mid-afternoon he often saw tales of heroic assassins struggling with ideals of moral philosophy’s but he could never feel the same tug of empathy with the Hollywood characters. Of his victims some were men and some were women, he had yet to be presented with a child target but felt no surge of horror at the thought. The ages varied greatly but Baine had never refused a contract, for some unknown reason all of the clients that had sought him out did so with great conviction and ease. Baine did not consider himself an evil man, perhaps not a sociopath or even a clinical psychopath; he merely had a faith and understanding that he was fulfilling his purpose. He lived a solitary life and although the financial trappings of his profession allowed him unlimited opportunities, he found that he had little imagination with which to take full advantage. The expensive luxury sports car in his garage was purchased out of a need to explore the depths and levels of his own happiness, but yielded little success. At first he found that he took some pleasure in sex but found that he preferred to buy his female affections, finding that he had no desire for relationships or intimacy, he was essentially alone but not lonely.

  Baine stepped out of the car, he closed and locked the door behind him taking the money case with him, his footsteps strangely did not echo throughout the parking bay as he walked toward the lifts. He reached out and pressed the lift button, his fingertips were smooth and carried no fingerprints, the doors opened and he stepped inside, the bright harsh light of the interior dimmed slightly as he stepped inside, he pushed the nineteenth button and the doors closed across him.

  The three occupants of the silver VW Golf had been waiting outside of the apartment block for around an hour; none of them spoke nor fidgeted amidst the confines of the cars cabin, merely stared ahead with fixed gazes. All at once their heads swiveled to the right in perfect unison; their eyes tracked the diminutive black car and its driver as it rounded the corner and pulled in under the building, swallowed into the dark gloom. The woman looked toward her companions their eyes burning brightly with a naked greed and hunger, their impatience was radiating in cascading waves, despite their desperation they both held themselves under full control and only their eyes gave away any sign of eagerness. The woman turned her attention to Gerald Wilkes’ package, inside was a simple A4 photograph with a name and address, she looked back to the building,

  “Soon” she whispered.

  Baine stepped out onto his floor, he paused on the corridor’s rich plush carpet, his head tilted to the right as his face processed and pondered. The long corridor stretching in front of him was deserted but Baine knew that it was not empty; his apartment was at the end, tasteful artworks hung from the delicately decorated walls and expensive brass light fittings hung overhead. The light at the very end suddenly went out, the far end of the corridor went black, bang, one by one the lights snapped out, the wall of blackness rapidly raced along the corridor toward him engulfing the corridor and devouring everything within. Baine felt no fear merely a sense of intrigue at first as the approaching darkness tore up to meet him, suddenly the shadows took on a solid form, Baine only had time to realise that he had to duck but not time enough to carry through on his realisation. Baine was struck in the chest, the force threw him sailing through the air, the doors of the lift had already closed behind him and he smashed full throttle into them. The initial shock had worn off in the split second that he had been airborne, immediately after he collided with the lift’s doors he rolled and sprang back onto his feet assuming a warriors stance, legs splayed for balance and fists cocked for damage. The dark swirled around him like a furious tornado, shadow branches lashed out at him from seemingly every angle, Baine ducked, swooped and twisted away from most but not all despite his best efforts. The strikes were hard and painful, some were solid blows whilst others were slashing and sharp tearing at his skin, all the while Baine studied his opponent. The blows were emanating from a spinning darker nucleus that seemed to control the attacks, Baine ducked low under one swipe as he moved in close, a raking dark claw split the skin above his eyes as he rose and stepped inside, he had to blink the blood away that ran into his eyes and impaired his vision. Baine feigned left and with a startling speed moved to his right and put everything he had into his right arm, he thrust his hand through the twisting shadows, his fingers snagged a throat, he pushed through the darkness ignoring the blows reigning down upon him and slammed the figure into the wall. The lights began to brighten as the figure’s struggles began to weaken, the impenetrable dark started to clear, Baine found himself holding a smallish man by the throat, he blinked through the blood that was already starting to stem its own flow. The small man was apoplectic with rage, his eyes were wild and spittle flew from his lips, Baine could not understand the language that the small man spat at him but the meanings were aggressively clear. Baine could immediately see that any interrogation was pointless, the small man continued to spit venom in a strange and exotic tongue, the whirling darkness had now completely dissipated leaving a small angry man struggling for air. Baine brought the man up and level with his own eyes and stared directly into them for a few seconds, his own head cocked to one side and eyes squinted, his gaze absent in puzzled thought, eventually he grew tired of this and snapped the small man’s neck releasing the body as the figure ran through his fingers like smoky sand and disappeared completely before it ever touched the ground. Baine retrieved the money case from the hallway and took a final puzzled look back at where the small man had dissipated; he mentally shrugged to himself and headed for home.

  DI Brendon McCullum stood amongst the filth and tried to firmly button his coat of detachment, he was a man who stood apart from his surroundings and his colleagues. An educated man who took pride in his appearance and held himself with a pride that was more often than not taken for an aloofness and arrogance amongst his subordinates and superiors. A police detective who was happy in his own company and who had no desire to spend he evenings watching his paycheck being spewed out of both ends behind nameless, faceless bars in the city centre. These are characteristics that are not conducive for a transferred detective to settling in and being accepted within the close knit bosom of a new station. Transferred as part of his promotion to Detective Inspector, McCullum had little in common with his new surroundings, he did not drink heavily, he was not divorced, he was not interested in socializing and he committed the cardinal sin in the Welsh capital, he was not interested in sport especially rugby. He had only been in Cardiff for a little over three weeks and was already regarded with suspicion and scorn in equal measures. He stood at around six foot three with broad shoulders and a thick chest that seemed to strain even the most personally tailored suits; he was a powerful man with a stare that seemed to deter more trouble that his sheer powerful bulk ever did. At thirty six McCullum considered himself to be an amalgamation of policemen, he liked to think that he combined the aggression and hardness of a lost era with the intelligence and detective skill
s of the modern day. He now found himself stood amongst the dirt and decay of a deserted warehouse in a less than reputable area of the city staring at a naked and ruined male body sprawled across a ratty old desk, his watch read 9.36am and his stomach informed him that it was way too early for this type of activity.

  “Hey Mac”, McCullum cringed at the nickname, a voice echoed toward him emanating from a short and spotty PC who’s name he had not registered and remembered yet. McCullum walked across the large room toward the prone body and the eager officer, the scene had been secured and forensics were awaited, the flashbulbs of the photographers bounced off of the walls as the gruesome image was imortalised. PC Eager was positively bouncing with excitement, oblivious to the reality of the situation, McCullum knew that this was a man, probably a husband and a father, this was no video game or Hollywood movie, the burrowing flies testified to that.

  “Son, calm down and step back before you contaminate the scene” McCullum’s voice was hard and stern, the young PC’s enthusiasm was suitably punctured.

  McCullum leaned in closer, the body had been severely beaten, the swelling was horrendous, the figure’s face was distorted to such a grotesque degree that he could immediately tell that ID was going to be difficult without relying on either fingerprints or DNA. The size and shape of the blows did not seem to indicate that any sort of weapon had been used, McCullum found this deeply puzzling as the force that had been inflicted was such that the use of bare hands could not possibly have been the root cause as it would have taken an extraordinary amount of strength. The sound of the forensic vans arriving outside bringing the procedural investigation pulled McCullum from his thoughts; he took a last look at the dead man,

  “For your sake my friend, I hope you deserved it” he muttered under his breath.

  Baine entered his sanctuary, the expensive penthouse was minimally furnished, the floor of the main living area was a dark hardwood, and three large hand woven Egyptian rugs punctuated the hardwood sea. The walls were a neutral coffee colour; the right hand wall was dominated by an expansive bespoke bookcase that spread over the long walls expanse. The far end of the room was almost entirely glass holding views over the cities landscape; Baine threw the money case onto a plush ivory sofa in the middle of the room as he passed. He walked into the perfectly formed Italian kitchen, he took a small imported lager from a mini bar secreted inside a cabinet on the small kitchen’s breakfast bar and walked toward the large glass windows. He paused and bathed closed eyed amongst the filtering sunlight, he breathed deeply and released the tension of the hallway battle, each exhale slowed his heartbeat and relaxed his muscles. He opened his eyes and surveyed the window’s scene, the height and breadth of the view always drew him closer and not for the first time he examined the heavens for explanations, he had always instinctively felt that to offer questions as to his nature would have been a mistake, but there was no denying that his curiosity was growing ever more acute. He knew that he was stronger and faster than normal men and he healed scarily quickly, he wasn’t trained in any conventional sense but he moved with a fluidity and a purpose during conflicts that made him far more dangerous for anyone who had had the misfortune to stand in front of him. The broken arm that he had suffered the night before at the hands of Sinclair’s heavies had fused and mended within three hours leaving him feeling slightly tired and a little light headed, to date this was probably the worst injury that he had suffered and he wasn’t sure just how much damage he could take and still completely regenerate. He nursed the cold beer deep in thought as the city stared impassively back, he had no idea how the clients seemed to continuously find him, but a steady flow always did and he knew that he must always fulfill his obligations. Just lately however he had begun to wonder more and more about the secrets that eluded him, the answers that danced beyond his comprehension about his origins, his background and his future, the lack of independence that existed in his life was beginning to tug away at his thoughts and mind. The doorbell clanged waking Baine from his thoughts, he spun around uncharacteristically startled and a momentary flash of fear tore at his stomach, he always knew in advance when ever anyone had previously approached his door, he felt their presence before anybody had ever got anywhere near him. He stood rock still, his indecision rooted him to the spot, the very sound of the doorbell and the implications of the surprise chilled him, he shook off the feeling, anger replaced the uncertainty and as always whenever faced with the rare occasion of not being 100% sure of his next move he ploughed in headfirst. He strode purposefully across the room and deliberately refused himself permission to view his unknown visitor through the door’s peephole, he would not feel fear, he did not feel fear. He flung open the door with way too much force, the door handle punched into the inside wall sending a puff of plaster into the air in surrender, a tall man stood before him, faster than even Baine could move the tall man raised his right hand, his long slim fingers out stretched, he wiped his hand in a downward motion in front of Baine’s face,

  “Sleep” the tall man whispered.

  Baine sank to the floor, effortlessly the tall man scooped him up and carried him inside the apartment, the door swung slowly in compliance and closed behind them.

  CHAPTER III

  TALL TALES

  “And the angel answering said unto him, I am Gabriel,

  that stand in the presence of God; and am sent to speak unto thee,

  and to show thee these glad tidings”.

  Luke 1:19

  The room swam and struggled to regain focus, Baine closed his eyes again, he tried to reboot and start again, this time when he reopened them the room gave up its spinning merry go round with some reluctance. Baine began to adjust to his surroundings and situation, he was led on his sofa staring at the ceiling, all at once he remembered the man at the door, he sat bolt upright ignoring his blurring vision that threatened to reacquaint him with last nights dinner.

  “You’re awake”, the deep dark voice emanated from the armchair located to Baine’s right.

  Baine swung his legs onto the floor and prepared to launch himself at the unknown figure, he neither knew the man nor cared to, the temper of a calm man is difficult to raise and near impossible to subdue.

  “Stay”, the man raised one hand with a tired withering look.

  Only Baine’s anger prevented him from laughing out loud, but anger soon turned to disbelief as his body refused its instructions and he remained seated, only his mouth remained his own, “Let me the fuck up” he growled still unable to grasp or acknowledge the presence of a superior.

  “Judging by your demeanor my son I probably think it best that you remain incapacitated for the time being”, the man’s tone was both soothing and hypnotic. “I do regret this I assure you, but unfortunately one with your temperament cannot be relied upon to behave in your own best interest”.

  “What do you want with me” Baine hoped that he struck the right tone of submission, he eyes darted and his brain raced for any advantage or opportunity.

  The man stood, he towered across the room and seemed to occupy the environment effortlessly, and the light seemed to draw into him dimming the surroundings. “I am here my child, for you”, he covered the rooms space toward the rear wall with a fluid ease and leaned toward the window, hands drawn behind his back in a stately fashion, “I bring you answers and salvation” he turned back toward the prone Baine eyes blazing, “All you have do is believe”.

  DI McCullum sat buried amongst an ever growing paperwork mountain, as well as the man’s broken body laid upon the oak desk alter, subsequent searches of the warehouse had turned up a further two bodies. McCullum had been in this business long enough to recognise a couple of hired thugs when he fell across them, this revelation had thrown the first victims status into question. He had been pondering this when a colleague, in his head McCullum always used air quotes whenever he thought of his surrounding peers as colleagues, brought over a thick yellowing file on the dead man whose primary offences
had predated the computerization era. His name was Jon Sinclair, a nasty piece of work in a nasty business, his record held many prosecutions but few convictions, the few charges that had stuck related mainly back to his early days as a young thug in the city, petty theft and shoplifting graduating to dealing and various assaults. Sinclair had run various legitimate business that the serious crimes squad suspected of laundering the profits from Sinclair’s more shady operations. The two thugs were low rent criminals who were linked to Sinclair for several years, a check through the Inland Revenue showed that they were both employed as door staff at one of Sinclair’s clubs. Added to all of this a mans body had been pulled out of the dark water at Cardiff Bay, it looked an obvious suicide as a note had been found in a car registered to a Tony Beck left by the side of the bay, a search of the body had turned up an empty sodden wallet save only for two items, a Tony Beck photo ID drivers license and a white business card, damaged from the water but the name “Baine” and mobile number were still just about legible.