The Brighton Warrior

By Tony Cheetham-Hudson

He was a loner, a lonely but dangerous killer who despised gay men. He was a trained killer by the best people too. After being removed from Her Majestys service for indiscretions, he became a well-paid mercenary. Returning to Brighton after retirement to discover secrets from his past, he decided to carry on the work his father had begun all those years ago. He also wanted to find what had happened to his mother who had disappeared when he was little, but his desire for revenge after discovering the policemans son who had been responsible for his fathers life sentence overcame everything he had set out to do, with devastating results. His obsession with gay men ran alongside his obsession with revenge as he slowly lost his mind.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Oct 31, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477239452

Tony Cheetham-Hudson

I am sixty-five this year and have dabbled with short stories and poetry for years and decided three years ago to write a thriller, a violent thriller, a violent sexy thriller, and a really violent, sexy, and controversial one too. I have had some good reviews from colleagues and friends, and now it is time to take the plunge and publish. I work as a teaching assistant at Bradford College, and I assist dyslexic students with their assignments, etc. I play saxophone very badly, but I aspire. I have run a karate club (twenty-four years), and I am second Dan. I have worked in the security industry for many years too, and I am an engineer by trade but have not worked in that field for many years. I am divorced and currently live alone in Thackley, a leafy semirural area between Bradford and Leeds. I see the publishing of my book, The Brighton Warrior, as a culmination of years of playing with ideas of the plot and having worked extensively in the area for forty years or so. I thought it would be good to place it there. I love the Brighton area and have had many good times while holidaying and working in the area. It is a unique place, but like any other city, it has a dark side to its nature. Simon and Sally would recognize the pubs and clubs in The Brighton Warrior as would Paul and Alishia. Some of the characters are recognizable as real people too, and I hope they like themselves in the book. Paul is totally fictional as most of my characters are, but there are some parts of the characters I have included from the characters of real people. I hope they will forgive me if they recognize them.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The report in the Evening Standard:

A female aged 14 has been reported missing from the Piccadilly Circus area of London on Saturday afternoon. Katie Foulds was last seen by her Mother and four school friends when she became separated from them on the Piccadilly tube station. She was later seen on CCTV alone and walking in the opposite direction from where her companions were. She was then seen, a few minutes later accompanied by a man in a black sweat shirt with a hood obscuring his face and wearing faded jeans, they left the station together. Nothing has been seen or heard of her since. The police have issued a description of her and her companion and a recent photograph of Katie will soon be issued. She has short auburn hair and is of slim build, she was wearing blue jeans and a white top with a Hot Chilli Peppers motif on the front. Anyone with any information of the whereabouts of Katie, please contact the Police.

Tuesday 00:55 July 01 2010.

He stood rigidly to attention, staring fixedly down and across to the beach from the location of the old promenade. His tall, muscular frame suggested strength and power as he stood alone like a sentinel. He peered out from half-closed eyes; his expression was set hard and he appeared unemotional. His prominent forehead and his short cropped black hair lent him a military bearing.

The promenade at Dukes Mound, where he was stood had been used by locals and tourists alike for many years. It had been used since Edwardian times to stroll along and to admire the sea views. The temple like structure at the rear was in some disrepair and foul graffiti covered every available space. The promenade was still used pretty much for what it was designed for but after dark it descended into something else. It was used for illicit meetings by some members of the large gay community of Brighton and by drug abusers. He’d walked from the Brighton pier and along Madeira Drive recalling fondly his boyhood memories; he’d enjoyed the familiar smells and sights of his old seaside home. As it got later and when the sun had slipped away he’d observed the flotsam and jetsam of Brighton life emerge. He gazed out to sea and wondered what those people of a hundred or so years ago would have made of Brighton now. It had been a wonderful place only 35 years ago when he’d been a boy, now though this particular place represented all that was bad and evil. He pondered over the last four months of his life as he looked further out to sea tracking a lone tanker making its way down the channel to some foreign port. The bushy, wooded nature reserve that was Dukes Mound boasted trees and shrubbery and snake-like paths which wound around the area and were spread out below him. The waves washed up and down the pebbled beach beyond and he could hear that peculiar slewing and sucking sound they made as they ran up the beach and then hurriedly back down to the waiting sea. A full Moon cast a ghostly, surreal light across the beach and it reflected off the calm, mirror like water. The moon also highlighted the surf, giving off an almost phosphorous glow. The surf itself seemed to struggle unsuccessfully to stay where the sea had thrown it but eventually it too relented and was thrown back.

He recounted when he was a boy playing on this stretch of beach just across from where he stood now, he remembered enjoying the long summers of the seaside town. The elected powers then had decided that his stretch of beach would become a place where people would walk and bathe in the sun without clothing. His Father had campaigned against the proposal, he and others like him stated that it would attract all sorts of perverts and he felt the anger now that his Father had felt then. However, the decision had been made and his beach of memories was now being used by evil people just like his Father had predicted. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth in anger and desperation,

Why didn’t anyone listen, why was everyone intent on nurturing evil? he muttered to himself. He felt the warm breeze caress his face invoking another memory as he recalled his father taking him to this very place at this very hour 35 years ago in 1975. His 14th birthday it was and his father told him that it was time that he was shown the depths of degradation that people could sink to; it had been one in the morning. He’d been woken and taken here to observe from this very vantage point strange men acting in peculiar ways. He’d observed them disappearing into the shrubbery below him, he’d heard sounds, strange sounds he’d not heard before, his father had whispered in his ear,

This is the way to hell my boy and we have to try and stop it. His Father had bid him to sit by the wall of the parapet with his back to the sea as they heard someone approaching. Two men had then stepped out of the shadows and stopped, they’d appeared furtive at first but then as they stepped closer one of the men asked his Father.

Your boy? his father had slowly nodded as the two men said nothing more, he then saw his father take out from his pocket what looked like a revolver. A loud crack and heard a cry from one of the men and he remembered how his father had then half turned to the second of the two men and drove a piece of lead piping with a backward motion into the man’s groin. The man had gone down gasping in pain as his father proceeded to systematically beat both men around the head with both weapons whilst they were both on their knees. The first man had sustained a bullet wound in his leg and could not stand, his father had continued the attack as blood began to run from the men’s mouths and with splintered teeth and broken bones they’d eventually lay prone and silent. His father had then paused for a moment to get his breath back and then proceeded to kick each of them around the head; the sound of breaking bone was the one sound he vividly remembered.

His father had then suddenly stopped and staggering backwards exhausted he held on to the parapet, he remembered hearing his father’s laboured breath rasping through his open mouth as he’d struggled to compose him-self. He’d watched him stoop forward to breathe deeply whilst with sweat pouring down his face he’d hurriedly put the weapons away. His Father had reached down to pick him up from the ground and as he’d held him close he remembered his Fathers trembling body as he brought him nearer to the dead men to let him see at close quarters the work he’d carried out.

Justice my boy, this is justice his Father had whispered into his ear. He remembered then whilst they stood there looking at the carnage he was able to make out one outstretched hand which held out a wallet with a coloured card in it, he’d been sure the card had the word Police printed on the top. He’d also been aware of the sound coming from the paths below of men scurrying away to escape the horrors of the promenade above them. His father had then led him to the path which led up to Marine Parade and they’d made their way back to the car. He’d remembered that it was parked outside the Sea View hotel.

It had been the last time that he’d been alone with his father because he’d been arrested soon afterwards and charged with the wilful murder of two plain clothes policemen. Apparently they’d been patrolling Dukes Mound on a regular basis to investigate complaints from local residents as to the behaviour of the people who were gathering there after dark. The evidence was overwhelming of course, the weapons were found and his Fathers bloody clothes too. The countless letters which threatened drastic action if the council didn’t reconsider their decision were also considered damning. He was given a life sentence and his own testimony in the witness box didn’t do him any good either.

He was alone after his Fathers incarceration; his mother’s disappearance some time before the murders was a mystery then and still was. He’d been eventually taken to live in Scotland with foster parents and there he grew into a quiet, introverted young man. He’d joined the Scots Guards and then the Parachute regiment where with distinguished service in the Falklands a successful entry into the S.A.S. was ensured. His demise in this noble regiment was caused by an indiscretion. The killing of a terrorist was one thing, the torture and mutilation of three was quite another. He was quietly got rid of and from then on he became a well-paid mercenary serving in Africa, where his particular skills were appreciated, even encouraged. He sometimes acquired work in Europe too; specialities, as they were called and they were something he excelled in. Recently retired and reasonably wealthy from investments made with money he’d earned and acquired from his mercenary activities, he was able to take things easy but taking things easy for a killer is not at all easy. He’d regularly tried to visit his father in prison but permission was always refused; he’d not seen him since just after the trial either. His attempts to find his mother had proved fruitless too and he’d all but given up finding out what had happened to her. She’d left them both some months before the murders and she’d never been seen since despite extensive searches and investigations by the police and she was now presumed dead. He’d recently come back to live on the outskirts of the town of his birth for a very specific purpose. The work his Father had begun all those years ago was now to be carried out by his son; it was going to be the warrior’s time now.

Chapter 2

S ally Frobisher was worried; she knew that she’d have to think of something to avoid the fix she was in with her parents.

I should’ve got this sorted before now, she thought as she glanced at her newly done nails, denying the temptation to bite one she decided on plan A.

Mainly because, she thought with a grin there was no plan B. Ignoring her nails again she looked at her watch and decided that this was the night to tackle it once and for all. She showered, changed and put on her black robe then began to make his tea.

At 19, Sally had come to Brighton University to study for a Maths degree; she had a slim, almost skinny frame and big, blue expressive eyes. She had a pretty face and a winning smile, taking after her mother. She had natural blond hair cut in a short, spiky fashion.

Come on Simon, where are you? She said to herself whilst preparing the food. As she was muttering to herself she heard the door open and then the familiar shuffling and mumbling as he checked his post.

Something smells nice, she heard him say as he popped his head around the corner of the large kitchen. The big smile and bushy red hair gave Simon Richardson a surprising, almost alarming image. He was tall and muscular and he had the most enormous hands. She looked up at him, gave her best, sweetest smile and said,

I thought I’d surprise you,

Mmm, steak eh? He returned to his mail then, not waiting for a response and sat down in the lounge whilst Sally finished.

After they’d eaten and discussed the day she asked him if they could talk about something before he went to his table tennis game. He agreed, nodded and smiled revealing those big but perfect teeth, his angular features, together with the shock of unkempt hair made him very unusual to look at.

Shall we go into the lounge then? She said, getting up to walk from the dining room into the large, tastefully furnished room which overlooked the exclusive avenue where Simon lived. At 36, Simon was a success in the city; he was a very wealthy man due to his natural expertise and the inheritance from his family. A big man at 6' 4, his size made him look cumbersome but in truth Simon was very fit and agile, he only looked clumsy and gangly. They got up from the dining table and walked through to the lounge again and sat down. Sally glanced at her nails and gathered her thoughts, she’d come to be quite fond of Simon in an odd sort of way although they hadn’t known each very long. The arrangement that they had was a mutually satisfying one, one which on the outside would have seemed unusual but it worked for them nonetheless. Her Father was an Engineer, her Mother, a part time secretary and they lived in Leeds. They’d scrimped and saved to send Sally to the best schools and it had paid off because she was a gifted student. When she got her chance to come to the University in Brighton she knew it was going to be a golden opportunity. Her parents however, had found it difficult to finance her, Mum had to work longer hours and Sally knew it wasn’t right to heap that burden on them for any longer than was wholly necessary. So, after all of the sacrifices her parents had made she’d decided to try to earn money in Brighton to give her some independence, and her parents some respite. Her friend Lucy who’d preceded her to Brighton by a year suggested that she meet Simon whom she herself had met through an exclusive agency. Sally herself had never joined the agency but Lucy had told her what to expect if she did. She’d declined to do that but had agreed to meet Simon when Lucy insisted. They’d met at a party and she’d decided that she liked him enough to jump at the chance to work for him with what he offered in return. Whilst she knew she would have to perform some service" for him (explained by Lucy) it did not include full sex. Simon preferred oral sex and that was the agreement. Lucy had lived with Simon briefly before getting a better offer from another client who was recently retired and going on a year-long cruise. He’d required a companion and Lucy had taken a year off her studies to accompany him. So Sally had met Simon and agreed to become his housekeeper and the arrangement proved convenient and well paid. She enjoyed the cooking she did for him in the fabulous kitchen too and the freedom she had was agreeable, he was never demanding in any way. In truth, she’d become reasonably close to him and one of her ambitions was to modernise him. She wanted to make him a little trendier and she encouraged him to develop a more adventurous outlook to life because she felt he was a bit stuffy. Simon always dressed in expensive but boring suits all of the time and she was going to change that. There was of course the other condition to the relationship, it was wholly necessary but one she hated, nevertheless it had to be done whenever the need arose which fortunately wasn’t often. She’d made it clear that she would not be his cleaner but would cook for him and generally look after him. The occasional evenings out and even over-night stopovers when he was on business were part of the deal too, when she was available of course. He liked her company and strangely, she liked his, she received an allowance, a room of her own in his big Regency house in Hove and security. She also had the run of the house, the only condition being was that she would not bring boy-friends back and she readily agreed to this condition. She was now able to send money home to her beleaguered parents saying she was earning through private tutoring in her spare time.

Simon had asked her to perform another service recently which had surprised her and one she had refused outright. She knew though in reality that it could happen if she wanted something special, today that something special had arrived.

Simon, she whispered, looking back up at him whilst still fiddling with her nails.

Yes sweetheart? He replied leaning back whilst clasping his hands in front of him, What is it?

Well, you know that my parents aren’t well off, don’t you?

Yes, he replied.

Well, I’ve told a sort of, well, I’ve told them a little white lie you see.

He frowned at this in that peculiar way when he was worried, or if he was pondering something. His 6 foot 4 frame seem to collapse each time he did it and it never ceased to fascinate her that a frown could somehow make him look somehow smaller, she went on,

Well, I’ve told them that I live here renting from you with money I earn in my spare time. They think you’re away mostly and I’m here on my own you see. He looked quizzically at her as she smiled coyly and went on.

They don’t know about our arrangement you see.

Simon licked his lips, grinned and said,

I would hope not. It would be very unwise I would’ve thought. She smacked his wrist playfully saying,

I meant the living arrangements not that bit, well, the trouble is Simon they’re coming here week end after next to stay for a few days. I kind of hoped they could stay here you see. I just can’t afford the hotel bill right now which I said I would pay. To be honest, I think they’d suspect something if they saw you here too.

Simon was way ahead of her; he possessed a very sharp mind, it was his job to think and plan ahead, although he was a little naïve when it came to personal relationships, he was still at the top of his game when it came to his job. His looks of course belied that, which took some of his competitors by surprise. He hadn’t told her yet of his intention to be away that very weekend anyway. He’d still have the other two or three days to kill but he could stay in his Chelsea apartment for that time so, there wasn’t a problem. In truth, he would’ve gone away anyway; he would’ve done pretty much anything for this girl.

He looked again at Sally, her eyes and her smile had made him fall in love with her from the start. The knowledge also that she tried to surprise him sometimes when they were socialising made him happy. The little pecks on the cheek, advice on his dress sense and linking his arm in hers when they were out walking. All of these things had convinced him that she had some affection for him and she possessed another skill of course, one which made his groin tighten and his heart beat faster when he thought of it.

You’re not listening are you? She said grinning at the far-away look in his eyes.

Coming back to the present, he replied.

No, I wasn’t but carry on, I’ll catch up.

I said that I’m going to do something that you’ve always wanted, it isn’t a condition and I’m going to do it anyway. You can tell me later if you go along with my little white lie or not, ok?

Simon didn’t move, he just looked puzzled, not knowing what she was going to do.

I want you to lean back and enjoy, with that she got up and positioned him in the centre of the five seat sofa and then walked around the back of it. Looking up at the ceiling and closing her eyes she slipped off her robe and slowly walked around to face him; he took a sharp intake of breath when he saw her. She was wearing a short grey skirt, white crisp shirt and a school tie half fastened. He gulped and tried to speak lifting up a hand to her as Sally put one finger to her lips and gently shook her head. The silence in the room was palpable as she stepped to one side of him and slowly draped herself over his knees. She wriggled, got herself comfortable and rested her head on a cushion she then closed her eyes. Simon watched as the skirt rode up to reveal her underwear, he placed his hand gently on the perfect white skin of her thighs.

Chapter 3

M rs Freemantle was in her garden, at seventy two years old she’d lived in Hove for all of her life and she’d often thought that living anywhere else would be quite impossible. She was a kind but fussy woman, unmarried and devoted to the local church. She kept herself busy by looking after the old ladies of the church, some of whom were actually younger than herself. She lived next door to Simon and his niece, she’d sometimes wondered about his rather odd family though. It seemed to consist of a lot of nieces and absolutely no nephews and apart from him; no males at all.

They are all so nice though, all of them, she often thought to herself. She had a basket and some secateurs at the ready when she suddenly espied Mrs Brooke approaching her garden from the other side of the avenue.

Good afternoon Mrs Freemantle, such a lovely day, she said.

Mrs Freemantle agreed saying,

It is, so sunny and warm, I’m just cutting some roses for the coffee morning tomorrow, for the ladies of the church you know, she said this with a sniff.

Mrs Brooke smiled at this familiar mannerism; Mrs Freemantle had that peculiar way of saying things that made her sound as if she was in an exalted position in what-ever subject was being discussed. The sniff did it every time, however, Mrs Brooke knew that she was a kind, helpful person and would assist anyone if she could. She could be found pottering away and helping out with church functions or charitable events all of the time.

The roses are heavenly aren’t they, that lovely deep red and oh, the perfume is so strong, Mrs Brooke said as she stooped down to sniff them. Mrs Freemantle was never really sure about Mrs Brooke, she knew that she’d been an airhostess at Gatwick before marrying and now a widow she led a very active social life (it had been noted on several occasions that she had a lot of men friends visiting her). At 39 Mrs Brooke was tall, willowy and very attractive, looking at least 10 years younger.

Yes, they are rather beautiful, Mrs Freemantle agreed beaming, always pleased when her roses were complimented.

The coffee morning is very worthwhile, I’m sure it’ll be a success, Mrs Brooke replied. I’m sure the roses will be appreciated too.

Mrs Freemantle, still smiling and very and pleased with herself applied her secateurs to a thick rose stem and cut it. It was then that something quite extraordinary occurred. A loud yelp was heard by both women. Mrs Freemantle’s hearing was reasonable but it wasn’t as acute as Mrs Brooke’s and Mrs Freemantle immediately looked at the rose she’d just cut in total amazement whilst Mrs Brooke looked directly at an open window in the house next door.

Neither woman said anything; Mrs Freemantle put the rose into her basket and still looking puzzled began to cut another just as a second yelp was heard. With that, Mrs Freemantle dropped the rose, the basket and the secateurs and they all fell into the rose bush with petals flying off in all directions accompanied by high pitched yelps. What Mrs Brooke had noticed however was that a resounding slapping sound could be heard before each of the yelps and it was coming from that open window next door.

Oh dear God no, Mrs Freemantle exclaimed and she staggered back, holding herself up against the garden wall.

What is it, are you alright Mrs Freemantle? Mrs Brooke said in alarm, her attention now taken from the open window. She quickly came to stand beside the older woman and gently took her arm and slipped her other one around her shoulders. She led her to the garden seat situated below her bay window and sat her down. Mrs Brooke then returned to the now depleted rose bush to gather up the basket, the secateurs and the cut roses. She brought them back to Mrs Freemantle and sat down beside her.

Are you alright dear, can I get you anything? She said quietly.

No, I’m alright now thank-you, it looks as though its true about some gardens though doesn’t it?

Mrs Brooke looked upwards to the open window next door and noted that the noise had just stopped and taking the old ladies hand again she asked.

What do you mean dear?

Mrs Freemantle looked at her basket and the two roses, then back to Mrs Brooke.

Well, you must have read about that poor man in Guildford? He’s been committed by the courts you know, he went to the local garden centre in Hove and tried to set fire to it last month, didn’t you read it? Mrs Brooke admitted that she’d not seen the local news for a while as she’d been away in France.

What was it then she said, why did he want to do that?

Mrs Freemantle was now in her element, the colour was coming back to her face and she dropped her voice into a conspiratorial whisper and went on.

Well you see, when he was cutting the grass one day, he swore to a neighbour that he could hear every single blade of grass scream in agony as it was cut. She glanced guiltily at the roses she’d just cut. I do hope that I haven’t caused any pain to those lovely roses because that poor man told his neighbour that he’d developed an ability to hear the plants pain when they were damaged or cut. Well, you just heard that scream when I cut the roses, didn’t you?

Mrs Brooke tried to hide her smile.

Yes she said, I did, but I’m not sure it came from the rose though.

Oh I do hope you’re right, I hope I haven’t harmed them or caused them any pain.

Just then they glanced up to see Simon slamming the front door to his house and hurrying out to his car which was parked on the road side. He opened the door, retrieved something from the glove compartment and quickly locked up the car again; both women privately noted how upset he seemed to be as he walked stiffly down the avenue.

Look, wait here and see if you can hear anything now, Mrs Brooke said to the older lady. She got up, armed herself with the secateurs and cut ten more roses from the nearest bush and placed them in the basket, and then, with a smile she handed them over to the older lady.

Well, no screaming then was there? Mrs Brooke asked with a smile.

No dear, you’re right, I didn’t hear a thing then so it must’ve been something else before, I do hope so.

Maybe it was a crying child Mrs Brooke remarked.

Mrs Freemantle didn’t look convinced but looked the other lady right in the eye and said,

Yes, it could have been I suppose but you know I do wish you hadn’t cut those roses dear, I was saving that bush you see; they weren’t quite ready to cut yet. With that, Mrs Freemantle got up from her garden seat, said her goodbyes and scurried back into her home whilst closing the door behind her. Mrs Brooke stared after her as she left; smiling in mild amusement and with a twinkle in her eye she looked toward the still open window next door.

Niece, eh, she thought as she walked slowly back over the road to her home. She opened the gate and walked down the garden path to her patio and sat to watch the world go by deep in thought.

Chapter 4

S ally had watched him go, still quite shocked at the remarks he’d made before he slammed the door and left.

I’m fucking fed up with not being normal he’d shouted at her.

She got up to run a bath whilst taking off her remaining clothes; she then immersed herself in the hot soapy water and thought over what had happened again. After he’d stopped and laid his hand on her legs she’d gently slipped off his lap and tried to attend to him in the usual way. He’d gently pushed her away from him and she’d got up to go to the bathroom. On returning she’d smiled at him hoping for a favourable response but she’d been surprised to find him just staring into space as if she wasn’t there. She’d walked quickly over to him trying to make him look at her but he wouldn’t.

Simon, she’d said, it’s all right, you didn’t hurt me I was only acting, please tell me what wrong?

He’d turned to her then and sitting straight up he’d looked down at his hands before saying.

Thank-you Sal, I’m ok now but this has not, will not, ever happen again, do you hear? I won’t demand anything from you ever again and our arrangement comes to an end right now do you understand? He’d said it all in a very quiet voice, almost whispering to her. Sally had looked away from him then and resigned herself to the truth; she’d lost her lucrative position.

Oh, I see. She’d said equally quietly, how long have I got before I have to go Simon? I’ve got to find somewhere to live you see, I don’t have anywhere to go right now but don’t worry I’ll be out of here in no time and I’ll be ok. Strangely, even though she was worried about her future now she’d found this vulnerable side to Simon quite unsettling, she couldn’t understand why she felt these unfamiliar feelings.

No, no, no, you daft bitch, he’d said. I don’t want you to go I want you here safe and happy with no more of what has just happened ever again. Your parents can come here because I won’t even be here that weekend anyway so you didn’t have to go through all of what you’ve just done, I was selfish. His voice had cracked then and he’d looked down at his hands again. It was then that he’d jumped up to rush into his bedroom and slamming the door behind him. She’d sat on the sofa and breathed a great sigh of relief but when he came out again he’d walked swiftly toward the elegant regency door whilst looking back at her clearly angry, then he’d said.

I won’t be back until Saturday morning.

Simon! she’d said getting up, please, don’t go like this, let’s talk, please.

He’d stopped her then with a raised hand,

Sally, I can’t right now, I can’t talk, I have to go away for a while. Can’t you see Sally I’m in love with you and I’m fucking fed up with not being normal? He’d turned away then and slammed out. Coming back to the present Sally lay back in the hot soapy water thinking to herself,

I know he loves me, of course I do but for him to say it? Well, I can’t love him back, I just can’t and that’s that. She shrugged and resigned herself to the facts.

The warrior had stood at the same spot for 7 hours, it was in the early hours of the morning now and he’d noticed the youth walking slowly around the shrubbery among the narrow paths. He’d smiled at the warrior once whilst opening his track suit to reveal his naked torso making it clear what his intentions were. The young man then turned away and entered a gap in the shrubbery after waving to him. It was then that the warrior had stepped back to draw in a long, deep breath.

This is it, he whispered, he knew almost for certain that they were the only people around now so he began to walk slowly down to the lower terrace. A few moments later he was walking along the path which led to the gap in the shrubbery where he’d last seen the young man. When he glanced through the gap he saw a clearing concealed by trees and the naked boy. The bile began to rise up in his throat at the evil he felt was here and he suddenly became cold; he waited until the cold enveloped him and felt its protection, relishing the suit of cold armour, his white, shining suit of cold armour. It would protect him from this evil and so he entered the gap to where the now nude boy stood.

Its £30 love, and you get all this the young man said holding his arms out. He looked the boy up and down and managed to smile,

Yes, you’re all ready for me aren’t you? So nice he murmured. The boy smiled and slowly turned around looking over his shoulder and watched his client take out some money from his jacket pocket. The moon was shining and it shed its half-light over the pale white skin of the boy. It emphasised the unhealthy pallor of his body, the warrior guessed he was no older than seventeen then suddenly they heard a voice from the path.

Sean, Sean where are you, you there? The still naked boy stepped passed him and out of the clearing and whispering in the direction of the voice he said.

"Yeah, its ok Liam, I’m busy though, see you back there.

Ok, see you when you’re done, the voice replied.

He could see the other boy clearly now, his face was partially covered by a hood and a scarf but he could still see some of his features. The boy pulled the hood further over his head and turning on his heels he walked quickly away. The naked boy returned and was handed the money, the warrior watched as he squatted down to his clothes to stuff the cash into a pocket.

There, that’s . . . That was all the boy had chance to say as the strong adhesive tape was slapped across his mouth.

Yes my boy, you were saying that’s it were you? Well yes, it is for you in a manner of speaking, he whispered in his ear. He held the naked boy close to him and stopped him from struggling, feeling the heat from his body as it seeped through his own clothes he realised that this was the nearest physical contact he’d had with a human being for some time. The boy’s body heat vitalised him and he reacted as he felt himself becoming aroused but it was only the excitement of the kill he told him-self.

It’s always happened like this, he thought, the kill’s the thing, not the boy,

He held the terrified youth closer as he slipped the point of a knife held in his other hand into the boy’s lower stomach. He cut into the gut to about 15 mm and then sliced slowly upward to the sternum. He knew the blood was covering the leaves in front of him and it ran on to the ground below him too. The boy stiffened and wriggled weakly as he sank to the ground making a mewing sound through the gag.

I so wish I could hear you scream Sean, you would scream so loudly wouldn’t you? he whispered to him as the slick entrails of the boy’s intestines fell out onto the wet ground then the boy collapsed sideways.

Not so excited now are we Sean? He said to the dying boy, he looked down at the trembling, twitching body with cold hard eyes. Turning him over to observe the boy’s insides which were now covering his lower body he made a quick slice across the exposed white throat and watched dispassionately as Sean’s life bled out. The young, wide bright eyes died and became quite dull, taking back his money from the boy’s jacket he said,

You won’t need this after all son, will you? he then quietly left.

Chapter 5

S imon booked himself into a hotel in central Brighton, it overlooked the sea and it seemed smart and lively. It sported a modern bar and a sauna in the basement which he hadn’t visited yet. He’d decided to take time out to think things through and to do some overdue shopping. He was now wearing a multi coloured shirt and the first pair of jeans he’d ever owned together with a trendy pair of long, odd shaped shoes that made his feet look as though his toes had been cut off. He’d had his hair cut in one of those trendy salons too and whilst he nursed his drink he watched the mix of locals and tourists strolling along the front of the Hotel and along Marine Parade. He felt relaxed now, it was one of those rare moments in his life that he didn’t really know what was going to happen next. He’d always been predictable because he was something of a planner and that permeated down into his private life too but for now he didn’t quite know what was going to happen next.

He recapped on what he’d done today though, the shopping, the hairdresser and the visit to his solicitor was the important things. He smiled when he recalled the encounter with his solicitor and the instructions he’d given him. The changing of his will had been difficult if only because his solicitor thought he was mad. John Fortiscue-James’s firm of solicitors had been with Simon’s family for three generations and he’d known Simon since he’d been a boy. Now virtually retired at 68, he’d kept on some personal clients and allowed his nephew to run the other side of the business. Simon was on John Fortiscue-James’s personal portfolio.

You’re fucking mad, he’d told Simon, you’ve lost your mind Simon and you should be certified. You cannot do this; it’s stupid and very irresponsible. It’s dangerous even and why in heavens name are you wearing those ridiculous clothes?

The recriminations went on in a tirade of emotion rarely seen from the normally unflappable solicitor.

Just the reaction I wanted old man, Simon had replied

What on earth do you mean? The solicitor had asked, regaining some of his composure.

Look John, Simon had said starting off calmly but steadily raising his voice. You’ve lived your life just as your father did and his father before him. You’re rich and successful but you’ve lived the most boring fucking life imaginable. You’re 68 and you’re fucking boring, now will you act for me or do I have to take everything out of this firm and find a solicitor who’s only got legal aid to make his salary with and who could do with the business? Simon remembered his solicitor turning almost puce when he’d said that. John Fortiscue-James had sat in the antique leather chair and stared at Simon with incredulity; he’d taken a deep breath and with trembling hands tried to speak. Controlling his voice he’d stood up and walked across the study to stare out of the window.

I’ve never in all my life been spoken to like that Simon I’ve always acted in your best interests and indeed your family’s interests too. I’ve spent most of my working life looking after your fucking interests, he’d said.

Simon remembered that he’d started to feel sorry for him at that point so, apologising and relenting a little he’d said.

All right, all right, I’m sorry John but I’m a big boy now and this is what I want and you did say I was out of my mind you know, you can’t say things like that to people and not expect them to object to it. His solicitor had then interrupted; and turned from the window to say,

Let me advise you Simon, now I would . . . .

Simon had then stood up abruptly, picked up his coat and shouted.

Stop right there John, I’m going, I’m sure there are other Solicitors in Brighton, he’d then made his way toward the door.

Simon, don’t do this, his