Feng Shui Assassin

  *

  'I called you as soon as I was sure,' Kirkwood said as he drove along the sodium-lit London roads. 'I got a call this morning of a gangland massacre in the East End. Walthamstow. Plenty of gunfire and no witnesses. First uniform on the scene starts gabbling on the radio about a bloodbath, bodies and drugs everywhere. Patrol cars are despatched and the uniform is told to call in the registrations of the cars on the scene. More to keep the young lad occupied and out of trouble than anything. Anyway, I'm woken by a nervous call from the radio operator talking the newbie through the car checks. Most of the cars have been reported stolen in the past day, day and a half. All except one. Seems that car belonged to the owner of the little mansion tucked into private grounds. But that car was flagged with a recent interest too. It's one of yours.'

  'Which one?' Amanda asked.

  'Daniel MacDonald. Owns a nice little motor and a fifteen mill piece of property.'

  'Yes. He's one of the trustees,' Amanda said. 'He's dead? But why call you? Why not contact me directly?'

  'CYA. Cover your arse. He's called me as I'm your direct line of report. But there's also the Military and Intelligence been called in. Seems your man Daniel is on a few other 'most wanted' databases.'

  Amanda stared out at the translucent white streets, the inch of snow already turning to slush and thinning out. Her mind spun with so many questions, none of them she asked because Kirkwood had no answers. She would have to get to the scene to start putting pieces of the puzzle into place. Or create more confusion.

  Kirkwood drove into Walthamstow and turned along a private road. They both listened to the radio intently.

  A policewoman was tying the end of a 'police caution' roll on a lamppost as Kirkwood pulled the car into a space opposite. They both jumped out of the car and headed toward the activity at the end of the road. Even in the dark, Amanda could see that all colour had left the young policewoman's face and flecks of vomit decorated her tunic.

  Kirkwood pulled his I.D. and flicked it at the policewoman. She pointed towards an open gateway and the lights beyond. Kirkwood strode up the drive, Amanda following closely behind.

  The mansion was lit by the headlights of two patrol cars, a third angled as a barricade on the drive. All three cars had the revolving blue emergency lights, hypnotising in a three pattern effect. To the side of the house Amanda recognised the flash and whir of pathology photographers recording the scene.

  'Kirkwood, you old reprobate,' a voice called out from beyond the lights. 'You smell this trouble all the way from Romford?'

  'It was you I was smelling, Codger.' Kirkwood walked past the cars and up to the man who had greeted him. 'Codger' Mason wore a donkey jacket like a boxer wears a robe, head down, all shoulders. He approached Kirkwood and they shook hands.

  'Are you looking for an angle into the case or just a tourist, here to catch a few sights?' Codger asked.

  'Amanda here met the owner of this place a few days ago. She may have some insight or at least identify anyone she recognises.'

  'You can view the remains,' Codger shrugged. 'But the owner is in no condition to be identified.'

  Amanda followed the two detectives into the house. A black tape outline of a man reclined on the steps, feet sprawled. The left hand door had been removed, the right hand door pitted with holes.

  'Welcome to Beirut, East End style,' Codger stepped through the ruined entrance.

  'Looks like they've had quite the little war,' Kirkwood said. The hallway and stairway was a ruin of wood and plaster. Large and small holes pockmarked the walls and splinters of hardwood were all that remained of the banisters.

  'I'll give you the full tour before the army boys arrive and stop all our fun,' Codger pulled at a piece of plaster flaking from the side.

  'The Army? What would they want?' Amanda asked.

  'This has military stamped all over it. It wasn't a random drugs bust up or even gangland retaliations. This was big boy's games. A small incursion team came into the house and systematically tore through each room,' Codger walked into the study. 'Now, I know you ain't squeamish. But this room contains MacDonald. Or at least most of him.'

  With curious fascination Amanda followed Kirkwood into the drawing room. The remains of Daniel MacDonald lay sprawled in a high back chair. Dried blood was evident on the walls, over a chessboard and as a pool spread beneath the chair. Amanda forced herself to view the body, though body was a poor description of what sat collected in the chair before her. No one piece of bodypart was identifiable except part of his face that clung crookedly to the back of the chair.

  'This sorry mess is MacDonald. Looks like they stood here for a good minute just pumping round after round into him. Must have enough lead in him to tile a church roof.' Codger turned through the room and stood over another body in the room. This one partly hidden by a curtain torn from its railings.

  'Looks like this bloke was part of the group that assaulted the place,' Kirkwood observed. 'Mr Snappy dresser. Along with Mr No Neck outside, makes two. How many bodies have you found?'

  'There are another four bodies. Two upstairs, two in the woods out back,' Codger said.

  'Any identification found? Any idea who these people were?'

  'That, my old mucker, remains a mystery. Military. Mercenary. Well organised. But all dead,' Codger said. 'I got a call five minutes ago said, the Military Police were inbound and that nothing was to be removed. Assholes. So we're photographing as much of the scene as we can before the soldier boys come in and put a stop to our fun.'

  Amanda remained at the door where the killers would have stood as they shot MacDonald and tried to imagine the length of time it would take to turn a human being into the pitiful remains before her. Not long, she guessed. Modern day weapons were capable of an enormous rate of fire.

  She moved around the chessboard and closer to the remains of Daniel MacDonald. A wave of nausea caught at the back of her throat as she passed, unknowingly, through the focus of negative energy caused by the playing pieces. She moved back, her eyes swimming.

  'So what happened next?' Kirkwood asked.

  'Doesn't make much sense in the timeline. There was Mr. No-Neck on the steps of the house. I think he was the first dead, shot through the letterbox, catching him just below his body armour. The rest of the troop move to the doors and blow the hinges away whilst he cools in the night. Professional and cold, leaving a comrade dead where he lay. They have a job to do. People to kill who are shooting back.'

  Codger walked around the drawing room, standing behind the chair with the remains of MacDonald and facing the large frame of Kirkwood. 'Noise is starting to happen. That concurs with the reports early this morning. But Daniel is sat here like he was oblivious to World War Three out in the hall.'

  'They've come in to the drawing room, all 'hut-hut-hut'.'

  'When MacDonald shoots one of them. Pow,' Codger mimicked a gunslinger and finger shot at Kirkwood. 'Then the others walk in and play dot to dot with MacDonald's body.'

  Amanda suppressed the urge to run. The sickly sweet stench hung heavy in the room, a palpable taste of death.

  'But here's where it gets interesting,' Codger remained oblivious to the dead bodies. 'I don't think that MacDonald was alone. Because these boys start walking through the house laying waste to all before them.'

  Codger walked through to the kitchen, holding the door open with his foot as he pointed in one direction, then another.

  The kitchen was in the same state as the drawing room and hallway. It looked as if someone had taken a chainsaw to every surface. Chairs and part of the table were splintered firewood on the floor, the other half of the table riddled with holes. The sideboards shattered, doors hanging from the units. The sink taps were missing and a fine spray of water arced onto work surfaces and the floor.

  'I've been on as many weapons courses as I could, and room clearing has very standard operating procedures. First there, then there. Buddy buddy as you cover each likely danger
spot in a number of seconds.' He clicked his fingers for effect. 'But these boys aren't on a budget. They absolutely let rip. Automatic weapons can lay down some serious cover, but they run dry quickly if you don't control your expenditure with short bursts. These guys didn't seem to bother. They tore into everything, but no amateurs these. These guys knew what they were doing, they just weren't taking any chances. Not one.'

  Amanda picked her way through the broken china and kitchen debris, following the path that Harvey had taken, chased by the bullets.

  Through the kitchen into the hallway and up the stairs, Codger led Kirkwood and Amanda to the master bedroom, pointing out his version of events to explain the two soldiers lying dead on the bedroom floor. He stood at the window where hours before Harvey had collapsed and stumbled to escape through the window.

  'I'll take you to the two final fellas, found them after a short hike into the woods.' They retraced their steps down through the house and outside into the cold day.

  'Christmas is a-coming,' Codger said idly. 'The kids will get a kick out of the snow if it lasts.'

  'If it lasts,' Amanda said absently as she wandered around the bottom of the bedroom window. The ground was hard and cold and scuffed up wedges of dirt marked the white snow. Clay pots lay smashed in and around a wheelbarrow at the base of the wall. The barrow leant at an angle, one of the struts had buckled and pieces of clay lay around.

  Amanda leant down and sifted a gloved hand amongst the pieces. A scrap of paper and a small black oblong piece caught her eye and she picked both items up. The stone was a short piece of dark marble, tapering to a blunt point on either side. A Chinese symbol was engraved on one side. The paper had a partial address which she recognised as a street in China town. The paper smelt faintly of tea.

  'Did you see many Far Eastern interests in the Manor?' she asked.

  'This MacDonald bloke seemed to have travelled extensively. Lots of stuff on his walls,' Codger wandered over.

  'I guess,' Amanda thumbed the shiny surface of the tablet.

  'Here they come.' Kirkwood looked up to the night sky. Three glimmers of light indicated helicopters approaching the manor house. Amanda stilled her breath and tilted her head to the sky. A faint thwop thwop drifted across the treetops.

  'Police cover?' Amanda asked.

  Codger shook his head. 'Army.'

  'Have you seen everything you want to?' Kirkwood asked Amanda.

  Amanda glanced to the trees. 'Can you show me where the other bodies are?'

  Codger glanced toward the road, as if judging the time it would take for the grounds to be overrun with military, then nodded. 'Follow me.'

  Their radios crackled with speech. Commander Phillips garbled commands to anyone who was listening. He was enroute to the manor and all personnel should remain where they were until he was at the scene. They could hear the siren through the radio and the screech of tyres as the driver raced through early morning traffic, so desperate was he to arrive before the military presence.

  'Hoping to hand over the reigns to the green suits. Make sure he's in line for the media and any commendations that may float up out of this mess.' Kirkwood remarked as he trudged up the gloomy path behind Codger.

  'Wanker,' Amanda and Codger muttered together.

  Codger stopped besides two dark lumps in the snow. The last of the bodies.

  'Not much to see,' Codger said. 'I'm not much for the fieldcraft, but it looks as if there were two walking up, a scuffle between first two of them, then another two. Two figures lie here, one hiding under this sheet, and the winner has run off through the woods. I followed those tracks as far as I could. Leads to a gate in the ground walls, where it comes out onto a street and into an estate about half a mile from here.'

  Amanda walked a few paces along the edge of the escapee's footprints. She turned toward Kirkwood and noticed strange dark patches in the air above where the bodies lay. She held her breath, wondering if she was watching a natural phenomenon, a woodland version of dust devils. But the swirling patterns didn't seem to have any substance to them. They drifted off the bodies like the last flickers of a fire and were gone.

  'You OK?' Kirkwood asked, concern apparent on his broad face. 'You fazed out there for a moment.'

  'I'm fine, Sarge,' Amanda said, shivering in the cold night.

  'So, does this match up with any of your theories?' Kirkwood asked as they walked back to the manor.

  'No,' Amanda replied, 'Which is par for the course. None of the deaths match a theory. But three people are dead inside a week of each other. All of whom sit on a board of Trustees.'

  'How many trustees are left?'

  'I don't know. I have three other names on my rapidly shrinking list and a law office which needs a shake up.'

  'I think we can officially escalate your investigation.' Kirkwood scuffed snow into a pile. 'Tread carefully, because Commander Phillips will have his orders. Last thing Intelligence will want is a curious copper showing them up.'