Feng Shui Assassin
Chapter five
Harvey watched cars pull into the grounds of David Masters' Manor House from a hillside overlooking the country residence. Headlights snaked through the winding road in the clear night, sometimes partially obscured by the tree cover, until they lit up the dull, grey mansion. The cars parked in a makeshift car park, a tennis court in the warmer months, and the occupants strolled to the entrance of the house. Harvey swapped to the infra-red scope to watch the warm bodies make their way from the cars to the house. Dull green ghosts in the viewfinder. A pale haze flared as they approached the building. Harvey totted another two to his estimate of the number of people invited to this exclusive party.
Forty-six guests. Plus a guesstimate of six hired staff and the main man himself. Masters.
Harvey watched the roads for another half an hour, breath steaming in the winter air, stamping his feet against the cold, until he was satisfied that all intended partygoers were inside the mansion. He walked back to the stolen car and placed the binoculars in the boot.
Sitting in the driver's seat Harvey checked the identification he had lifted from the one invited guest that had an unlucky accident earlier that day, care of a well-placed alignment of ill fortune. The embossed invitation should get him inside the mansion house without a problem. The assassination would be more impromptu.
Placing the papers into his jacket pocket, he placed his hands on the steering wheel and stared out into the clear night sky. He took an ageing photograph from the passenger seat and studied it under the dim light. A shy seventeen-year-old girl stared back. Curls of brown hair under a woollen hat, the zipper of her coat pulled up self-consciously, and wide hazel eyes that implored secrecy. The same hazel eyes Harvey saw every time he looked in the mirror. He placed the photo back onto the seat, fired up the ignition, reversed from the outcrop and sped out into the night.
Harvey drove down the hillside road that swept into the valley and pulled into the private entrance of Masters' residence. He crept along the uneven lane, headlights casting random shadows amongst the pale grey trees. The mansion loomed from the darkness, a drab square of a building, pitted eyes for windows, a yellow glow from the single black tooth in front of a porch opening. Ivy ran from ground to second floor lintel like a fracture wound.
A figure mulled around the entrance, startled by the light of the late arrival. Harvey parked alongside a long bonnet car in the converted tennis court and walked to the house along a gravel path. Heavy black out curtains succeeded in smothering any light that may have been blazing inside the house.
Santa Claus stood outside the porch, smoking a roll-up cigarette between cupped hands. He discreetly blew smoke from the side of his mouth and tucked one hand behind his back as Harvey emerged from the gloom.
'Ho, ho, ho', Santa said, slapping his stomach with his other hand. 'Welcome to the Masters' Annual Christmas Party. Please make your way inside and help yourself to a drink. If you've been here before, you'll know what it's all about. If this is your first time, then you'll soon get into the swing of things.'
Santa stepped back and allowed Harvey to enter the porchway leading to the black front door. A security camera tracked him to the door, the anonymous lens tightening as it focused on his features.
A raven-haired woman in a scarlet dress, the cut slashed to her hip, opened the door. A black mask in the style of a crow hid her features, but not her emerald green eyes.
'Good evening,' she said behind the mask.
'Hope I'm not too late, I had some difficulty finding the place.'
'First timer? Don't worry, you won't have missed much, this party goes on all night.' She beckoned him into a small enclosed room with coats hung on a rail to one side and a table with a variety of cameras and phones to the other.
'There are a few house rules, which I'm sure you will understand. The first is no electronic devices. So if you wouldn't mind placing any phones, mobiles, mp3 players on the table please. Discretion is paramount, as I'm sure you are aware.' She placed an immaculate nail on his lapel. 'So absolutely no photographic or recording devices of any kind.'
Harvey placed a stolen phone on the table and removed his lambskin overcoat, hanging it up on the opposite wall. He was dressed in a dinner suit, sharp white shirt and collars contrasting against the deep black jacket and trousers.
The hostess opened up a box with a selection of masks.
'Tonight is a general night, no dress requirements, only that you keep your mask on at all times. They are lightweight and quite comfortable, but if you feel the need to remove them then please do so in one of the dark rooms.'
Harvey smiled. 'But you've seen me,' he said, taking a mask from the box and fitting it over his face. He deftly tied the ribbon behind his head and turned to a mirror. A grinning red fox stared back at him.
'But you haven't seen me,' she said. 'Now, if there are no more questions you can walk through and play it by ear.'
She opened the door and ushered Harvey through. The large open hallway was decorated for Christmas with thick green garlands strung along the ceiling. Rich red drapes and gold baubles hung from the walls and a large pine tree stood in the corner of the open hall, thick strands of silver and gold tinsel interwoven between the lush branches, small gifts dangled from the tree and from within fairy lights twinkled with an alternating rhythm.
A scream sounded from an open door halfway down the hall and Harvey gripped a nearby ornament, ready for a descending mob that had determined his invitation was false. Instead, a naked blonde woman with a grey rabbit mask ran from the doorway, followed a few feet behind by two naked masked men, older by twenty years, chasing her with leather shackles in their hands. She darted upstairs, shouting obscenities at her pursuers, who huffed and puffed behind her.
Harvey tread softly through the hall, peering into open doorways as he went. Rooms were poorly lit, but there was the undeniable presence of people. Shapes glistened and stretched and sighed and shuddered. In the gloom it was difficult to tell where one body ended and the other began.
People in various states of undress moved through the rooms and into or out of the hall, animal masks worn to obscure their identity. A woman in a deer mask, heavyset and in her forties, ran past Harvey, chasing after a muscular young man, also naked, shrieking and threatening him with a leather paddle that she thwacked on her own body.
Harvey hesitated, unsure of where to start, or even where to look. Masters hosted this party, but where would the host most likely be? In the thick of the action - or on the fringes?
He headed into a large room with a two-metre fireplace and a low, squat Christmas tree to one side. Three men sat in wingback leather chairs, smoking cigars, each cupping a brandy glass and talking in low tones to each other. They wore identical dog masks. Two women sat on a stool before a grand piano at the far end. They played a festive melody whilst kissing each other, their heads angled to prevent their masks clashing.
Harvey sniffed carefully. The smell of pine mixed curiously with other scents in the house, pungent cigar smoke, the wet wood smell of cannabis and the sharp scent of oils. He glanced at movement under the low branches of the Christmas tree and a copper-haired wolf hound looked mournfully up at him.
He made his way into each of the downstairs rooms, vigilantly looking for his prey while keeping an inane grin on his face. A sombre man would look out of place in this Gomorrah.
In the library room a huddle of people stood with their backs to Harvey. He couldn't see what kept their attention, but guessed it was an improvised show from the soft moans and grunts. He couldn't see the distinctive broad shoulders of Masters either, so he picked up a cocktail glass from the tray of a nearby blindfolded waiter and continued his search.
Moving into the kitchen, past a table where three bodies writhed amidst broken egg shells and flour, Harvey recognised the tall frame and oiled grey hair of David Masters. Of course, the host of a party can always be found in the kitchen.
He stood at
a butchers block in a pig mask, chopping at a rack of lamb, separating the ribs as he chatted to a woman by his side. They spoke about the necessity to tenderise meat before cooking. The woman, in a bird mask, spoke with a thick East European accent, perhaps Hungarian.
Harvey studied the man. The confident strike of cleaver into dead meat. The dominating stance he took when talking directly to the woman. The interruption of her sentence so he could hear the sound of his own voice yet again.
Harvey looked about at the array of sharp knives hanging from the walls. How easy it would be to pick one up and plunge it into his back. But that was not his way.
'Quite a party you're throwing,' Harvey stepped between the two, purposely standing uncomfortably close to the large man.
'Ahem, yes it is, isn't it,' Masters said. 'I'm sorry, do I know you?'
'No. You don't know me,' Harvey let the pause stretch, keeping the inane grin fixed whilst he looked through the man. 'You know of me though. Big investor in your construction campaigns when you were a back seat MP. Lined up a hotel and golf course in Sussex. You creamed a little off the top, remember?'
'Ha, no, I don't remember. But sounds like something I would do. Did we make a killing?'
'Of sorts.' Harvey almost lost it. Almost reached up to break his neck and watch him flop around the kitchen floor like a freshly snapped hen. But he remained in control, letting the hatred burn through his unfocused eyes and endless smile. 'There were a few protestors, but we rolled right over them. It was sweet as murder.'
Masters stepped back. 'A strange expression,' he said, concentrating on Harvey for the first time since the conversation began.
'Old family saying. Nothing so sweet as the murder you get away with.' Harvey sensed the uneasy sway in Masters. Despite the party atmosphere or the meat cleaver he gripped in his hand, he began to look about for a friendlier mask.
'I do hope you enjoy yourself,' Masters dismissed him with the phrase. 'Please explore the house and all its play rooms. Perhaps Anya here could show you around?' He resumed pounding the cleaver into the ribs of meat. Harvey hovered at the block, ensuring his presence remained unwelcome for a few moments, then turned and left the kitchen.
Harvey forced himself to relax in the hallway. The party was in full flow and he needed a plan. Confronting Masters was always the idea, but now he had to get rid of everyone so he could lay down his revenge. Glancing upwards, he decided to start at the top and work his way down.
He made his way up the stairs, zigzagging past small clusters of people up to the first floor. He was almost at the top of the stairs when a lady in a white dress and red fur stole intercepted him with ease born of a professional dilettante.
'Well, hello.' She tinkled her own glass against Harvey's undrunk cocktail. Her eyes blazed behind her white doe mask. 'How come you haven't been ravished?'
'I'm one of David's associates,' Harvey replied. 'More of a watcher, after the accident.' He nodded down to his crotch.
'Accident?' She leant back, trying to look him up and down whilst keeping her arm tucked in the crook of his. 'Oh please don't say.'
'I'm afraid so,' Harvey shrugged. 'Angola. Land mine.'
'Oh dear, you poor thing,' she feigned sympathy, 'So, are you having a good time?'
'Absolutely terrific. This is my first time, and I enjoy the spectacle of it all. I mean, just look at the size of this house, it's a rambling warren of a place.'
'Hmmm, yes. By the way, my name is Mandy. I am so going to have to provide you with some entertainment. How do you know the host? Through his political machinations or as an unwilling devotee to the arts?'
'Neither, I'm afraid,' Harvey lied. 'Quite boring really, old school buddy. Rugby, don't you know.'
'Well-bred and well-pickled? Just the sort daddy warned me of.'
'But whoever listened to their daddy? Now, why don't you show me around?' Harvey smiled and led her down the hallway.
Mandy played dutiful hostess, chatting Harvey through the rest of the house. Most of the rooms were empty, with just a few dedicated to particular perversions. Harvey recognised the blonde in the rabbit mask, shackled to a large bed whilst her two elderly captors knelt over her. A dwarf knelt in the ensuite bathroom; he wore a sign around his neck and begged anyone within listening distance to urinate on him.
'The south wing holds two guestrooms and a billiards room. Now wait until you see the size of that place.' Mandy opened up a set of double doors and walked into a large games room, a billiard table set in the middle allowed for plenty of elbow room. Two men were playing at the table, one chalking his cue as they entered. Two women in cocktail dresses lounged on a club sofa, smoking cigarettes beneath their masks. Mandy knew the men and, disengaging from Harvey, drifted between the two of them, chatting animatedly.
Harvey retreated to a club chair and sank into the worn leather. He watched as Mandy leant into one man, then the other, kissing them both. She looked over to Harvey and winked.
Harvey surreptitiously checked his watch. Almost midnight. He idly played around with a statue on a nearby bookshelf, twisting it into alignment with the pool table. A puddle of grey karma formed around Mandy and the two men.
The impromptu orgy did not last long, as Mandy grew frustrated with the arousal problems of the two men. Of course, they didn't see the pale slugs trailing over the area, emerging from the dire karma, induced to dampen ardour.
With an exaggerated sigh Mandy slipped the straps of her dress back onto her shoulders. 'Who's for a refill?' she said, knocking her drink back in one long gulp. The two men quietly dressed and left the room, dutifully trailed by the two women who had been reclining on the sofa.
'See ya around, sweetie.' Mandy waved her empty glass at Harvey and closed the door behind her. Finally, Harvey sat alone in the billiard room.
'Yeah, sure,' Harvey said to himself. He paced around the snooker table, studying the flow of chi.
From his inside pocket he removed a flat box, the size and shape of a cigar case. Sliding open the lid revealed a small compass with fine lines etched into black wood. A razor thin needle waivered lazily in the central pool of liquid. The heaven pool. The outer ring of the compass was dissected into 34 trigrams, surrounded by eight concentric rings. The bevelled edges were worn and smooth to the touch.
The needle drifted from one trigram to another as Harvey turned the compass around the room.
This was a Pa Kua compass. The divining tool of the feng shui practitioner. It measured the location, direction and power of chi.
As Harvey positioned himself next to the pool table, already blighted with karma, the needle swam between two blemished trigrams. Well, he thought, this is as good a place as any.
And so to work.
He edged a bookshelf from the wall until it aligned with a murky patch of stagnant karma in the alcove. He twisted ornaments and figurines until secret arrows of misfortune shot throughout the room in a laser show of grey chi. All the while consulting the Pa Kua to ensure precise measurement, aligning furniture and shifting objects in an arrangement predicted to cause dire effect.
Harvey completed the billiards room within minutes. At the doorway he turned to see the rancid web of negative karma throughout the room.
Harvey then moved around the top floor of the house, priming other rooms with bad feng shui. First the empty ones, where he could move freely, then the occupied ones, where he would drive the occupants out with feelings of doubt, inadequacy and unfulfillment.
Some rooms he could afford to be more adventurous, loading the misfortune so that he could taste it in the air. Like an abscess at the back of the throat. The bondage room took extra work, where people fed on the negative feelings of worthlessness. Instead, he briefly empowered them with inspiration and resolve, then moved them out with motivation.
He built on the feng shui carefully, subtly, so that no one piece drew attention, but so the sum of the parts interlaced together to create a threatening, encompassing whole.
r /> Moving to the ground floor, Harvey carefully spaced the feng shui between activities of people. But already the negative karma upstairs was having the desired effect. People were leaving the party, finding David Masters and giving their thanks, or just slipping out quietly. The woman in red smiled as each left, the consummate hostess, whilst Harvey stalked through the rooms like a ghost, priming the rooms with karma traps and snares.
Black webs of chi gathered in the corners of each room, slowly spreading under the influence of shui.
In the hallway he rearranged some of the decorations on the pine tree whilst three old men stumped out their cigars and complained about the bitter cold. Harvey could often work undisturbed.
The dour effects of stagnant karma were having the desired influence. People were deserting the partying in their herds, leaving the mansion for the sharp, chill night.
Masters stood in the hallway, wrapped in a pink bath towel, trying to hold onto the reluctant hand of the Hungarian girl as she pulled a fur coat about her shoulders. Harvey excused himself along with the last half dozen revellers, hesitant as they were to leave once free of the influence of the house and refreshed by the fresh night breeze. But the party atmosphere was broken and even the staff were preparing to depart. Harvey counted all the staff in the background, as well as any hangers on, diehards from the party that may have been willing to continue despite the black karma. No one was in the party mood. A small crowd gathered on the steps of the porch, making idle chit chat and avoiding the disapproving gaze of Masters.
Three taxis pulled up to the house and Harvey slipped away to his car as the revellers stumbled around. He pulled out of the driveway between the two lead cabs and turned left as they turned right. He drove along the deserted road and up to the hillside behind the mansion, parking at the same layby as he had when watching the guests arrive. The promise of snow held in the cold air though the sky was cloudless and pinprick bright.