Mind to kill, p.44
Mind to Kill, page 44
‘That’s when I decided the Devil was more fun, all those years ago. That’s how I amused myself, when I got here. Used to pretend to all the Jesus jockeys and kneel among them and when they prayed to their God I prayed to mine for my father to burn in Hell in more agony than anyone else. Imagine that: I became a bigger, better hypocrite than Bishop Daddy, which is what he made me call him.
‘Think what I’ve done, Jennifer. Dawson was right. I really am the Devil incarnate. I left my blood and fingerprints and hair for DNA on purpose. I really did! I planned it. I’ve legally proved in a court of law that ghosts exist. I’ve fucked religion. When I’ve finished tonight there are going to be Devil cults all over the world, praying to me.
‘That’s the most brilliant part of everything I’ve done but it was fun torturing you like I tortured Bishop Daddy. You really believed you’d worked out the numbness, to tell you when I was with you, all by yourself, didn’t you! I did it on purpose, shit-for-brains: all of it. Made you numb when I wanted to, didn’t bother when I intended you and the idiots with you to imagine you were free. You’ve never been free. There hasn’t been a moment when I haven’t been there, knowing everything that’s been going on. Never will be. Christ I can’t believe how stupid you all were!’
Jennifer struggled to move but couldn’t. Her mouth was frozen half open but no sound came when she tried to scream: she couldn’t even move her tongue.
‘… Don’t tire yourself, honey. You’re not going to do or say anything for yourself any more. Just for me. What I want to do.
‘Your boyfriend’s not much good in the fuck stakes, is he? I’ve seen bigger dicks on newborn babies. Hardly knows how to use it, either. You did a good job, faking orgasms, Jennifer. Best supporting role in our own very special Oscar nominations, how about that! Not a bad lawyer, though. I was frightened no-one was going to pick up on the clues I’d left behind: thought I was going to have to have you do it. Wasn’t that phoney trial a scream! Another time I could hardly stop myself laughing. Interesting, what he found out though. Would have put Gerald in the gas chamber, where he belonged … And he got it right about why I’m doing this to you: nothing at all about my murder. Always knew you weren’t involved in that …’
Emily stirred, turning in her sleep and throwing an arm out as she did so. Jennifer could feel the warmth from the little hand.
‘… That book you’ve spent so much time on – not bad, by the way – is going to round it all off very nicely, isn’t it? I’m going to be the one to provide the ending you could not make up your mind about. One you never thought of … my very own Bible, for all my waiting worshippers …
‘Now here’s what we’re going to do, Jennifer. We’re going to kill Emily first. And then Jeremy: he’s expecting you, after all. After that we’ll just take them out as they come, simply wander down the corridor, helping ourselves: the priest and Cox and Lloyd and the psychiatrist. And those other fucking lawyers. Might as well include Annabelle while we’re about it. How many’s that? Eight and the brat. That’ll do.
‘And don’t think you’ll be able to stop me. Oh, and don’t think I’ll let you commit suicide, either. I’ll stop you ever doing that. You’re going to suffer until you’re a very old lady for taking Gerald away from me. That really was your crime, taking him from me. Mine was believing he was any different from all the other men. But then that was yours, too, wasn’t it?
‘Now just so you’ll understand everything you’re going to be able to move your head. Just your head, sideways, but not speak. See it! That’s a kitchen knife, just like the one you used on Gerald. You carried it up here tonight and you didn’t even know I’d made you, did you? Here we go then. I’m taking over now, Jennifer: taking over until I want you to realize what I’ve made you do … Emily’s got to know before you do it, of course … Hate her mother for the last few seconds of her life …
‘Emily, wake up Emily …’
THE END
A Biography of Brian Freemantle
Brian Freemantle (b. 1936) is one of Britain’s most prolific and accomplished authors of spy fiction. His novels have sold more than ten million copies worldwide, and have been optioned for numerous film and television adaptations.
Born in Southampton, on the southern coast of England, Freemantle began his career as a journalist. In 1975, as the foreign editor at the Daily Mail, he made headlines during the American evacuation of Saigon: As the North Vietnamese closed in on the city, Freemantle became worried about the future of the city’s orphans. He lobbied his superiors at the paper to take action, and they agreed to fund an evacuation for the children. In three days, Freemantle organized a thirty-six-hour helicopter airlift for ninety-nine children, who were transported to Britain. In a flash of dramatic inspiration, he changed nearly one hundred lives—and sold a bundle of newspapers.
Although he began writing espionage fiction in the late 1960s, he first won fame in 1977, with Charlie M. That book introduced the world to Charlie Muffin—a disheveled spy with a skill set more bureaucratic than Bond-like. The novel, which drew favorable comparisons to the work of John Le Carré, was a hit, and Freemantle began writing sequels. The sixth in the series, The Blind Run, was nominated for an Edgar Award for Best Novel. To date, Freemantle has penned fourteen titles in the Charlie Muffin series, the most recent of which is Red Star Rising (2010), which brought back the popular spy after a nine-year absence.
In addition to the stories of Charlie Muffin, Freemantle has written more than two dozen standalone novels, many of them under pseudonyms including Jonathan Evans and Andrea Hart. Freemantle’s other series include two books about Sebastian Holmes, an illegitimate son of Sherlock Holmes, and the four Cowley and Danilov books, which were written in the years after the end of the Cold War and follow an odd pair of detectives—an FBI operative and the head of Russia’s organized crime bureau.
Freemantle lives and works in London, England.
A school photograph of Brian Freemantle at age twelve.
Brian Freemantle, at age fourteen, with his mother, Violet, at the country estate of a family acquaintance, Major Mears.
Freemantle’s parents, Harold and Violet Freemantle, at the country estate of Major Mears.
Brian Freemantle and his wife, Maureen, on their wedding day. They were married on December 8, 1956, in Southampton, where both were born and spent their childhoods. Although they attended the same schools, they did not meet until after they had both left Southampton.
Brian Freemantle (right) with photographer Bob Lowry in 1959. Freemantle and Lowry opened a branch office of the Bristol Evening World together in Trowbridge, in Wiltshire, England.
A bearded Freemantle with his wife, Maureen, circa 1971. He grew the beard for an undercover newspaper assignment in what was then known as Czechoslovakia.
Freemantle (left) with Lady and Sir David English, the editors of the Daily Mail, on Freemantle’s fiftieth birthday. Freemantle was foreign editor of the Daily Mail, and with the backing of Sir David and the newspaper, he organized the airlift rescue of nearly one hundred Vietnamese orphans from Saigon in 1975.
Freemantle working on a novel before beginning his daily newspaper assignments. His wife, Maureen, looks over his shoulder.
Brian Freemantle says good-bye to Fleet Street and the Daily Mail to take up a fulltime career as a writer in 1975. The editor’s office was turned into a replica of a railway carriage to represent the fact that Freemantle had written eight books while commuting—when he wasn’t abroad as a foreign correspondent.
Many of the staff secretaries are dressed as Vietnamese hostesses to commemorate the many tours Freemantle carried out in Vietnam.
The Freemantle family on the grounds of the Winchester Cathedral in 1988. Back row: wife Maureen; eldest daughter, Victoria; and mother-in-law, Alice Tipney, a widow who lived with the Freemantle family for a total of forty-eight years until her death. Second row: middle daughter, Emma; granddaughter, Harriet; Freemantle; and third daughter, Charlotte.
Freemantle in 1999, in the Outer Close outside Winchester Cathedral. For thirty years, he lived with his family in the basement library of a fourteenth-century house with a tunnel connecting it to the cathedral. Priests used this tunnel to escape persecution during the English Reformation.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
copyright © 1998 by Andrea Hart
cover design by Mumtaz Mustafa
This edition published in 2011 by Open Road Integrated Media
180 Varick Street
New York, NY 10014
www.openroadmedia.com
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
A Biography of Brian Freemantle
Copyright Page
Brian Freemantle, Mind to Kill
