Extract: Hartmann – Malicious Rules

A writing extract from ‘Hartmann – Malicious Rules‘, Book 1 of the ‘Hartmann Thriller’ series. Set in London in the swinging sixties, it chronicles Dr Julian Hartmann’s search for his missing son, Sam, who is missing against the backdrop of the Thames Butcher murders.

(Extract from CHAPTER 28)

It was daylight when Julian opened his eyes and he stared straight ahead. He saw a naked man tied spread-eagled to a large wooden rectangular platform. The man’s face was hidden behind a black hood that had slits for the eyes and mouth. It took time to realise he was looking at his own reflection through a mirror suspended above him.

After a few moments, he heard himself saying “sortez-moi de là”. He repeated the phrase twice more and in desperation yelled, ‘get me the fuck out of here.’ He listened, straining to hear a sound but there was nothing, not even London traffic.

He tried to see past the mirror, which covered the whole width and length of the platform and appeared to be suspended from a very high sloping ceiling. There was a skylight window in the ceiling giving him a view of clouds, spots of rain and a few lightning flashes that jarred his already strung out nerves. Sometime later after that, he heard a door open and footsteps coming towards him and behind him, out of his line of sight. When he heard a hoarse chuckle, he knew it was Erikson. He came into view, walking around the platform to stand by Julian’s feet with his arms spread out in a theatrical gesture.

‘Julian, you look magnificent.’

Julian swallowed hard to clear the vomit that had just hit the back of his throat.

‘What – no quick witted reply from our clever doctor? Makes me wish I’d thought of this a whole lot sooner.’ He ran his hand along Julian’s left leg up to his scrotum, giving his genitals a sharp slap with the flat of his hand before taking it higher to stroke and slap his chest and twist his nipples hard. He pulled the hood off Julian’s head and grinned down at him. ‘Now, that’s the look you had in the club – scared shitless – it suits you.’

‘Why are you doing this? I thought we were . . .’

‘Friends – is that what you were going to say? But you’re right I should explain.’ He sat down on the edge of the platform next to Julian. ‘Mm, now let me see – where to begin? Perhaps it has something to do with the flat being bugged – or perhaps I’m just PISSED OFF because you’re helping the fucking pigs?’

Julian had to swallow more vomit. ‘I’m just trying to find my son – surely you can understand that.’

‘Yes, I think I can and I have some good news for you.’ He was grinning insanely. ‘You’ve only gone and done it – you’ve found him – see what I did for you, I kept him safe.’ He slapped Julian’s face hard. ‘Come on, show some gratitude.’ He suddenly grinned and looked around the room. ‘By the way, you must have realised by now that we’re not in the flat, so there’ll be no-one listening in, recording every word. Your magic French words won’t work here but maybe you’re thinking the police followed us.’ He leant over to stare, with a look of pure evil, into Julian’s face. ‘Well, no-one is out there. Do you understand? There’ll be no rescue by our wonderful police force. You’re all mine.’

He stood up and checked his watch. ‘I’ll be back later and we’ll have a good old heart to heart, you know the kind of thing – I’ll tell you what’s going to happen and you’ll have a chance to plead and beg for mercy. This isn’t going to be all one way – my way – it will be something we have both contributed to. So, I’m going to tell you a little about it now because I’d like you to think about it and try to come up with some exciting scenes. Basically, you’re going to star in a film – I bet you never thought you would be a film star – and I think Sam could have a role in this film – you and Sam – Sam and you – the possibilities are endless.’

He walked over to a table on the right of the bed and came back with a needle and syringe which he held in front of Julian’s face. ‘Recognise this? I found it in your jacket. It’s an odd thing to carry around with you. Were you expecting to have an opportunity to use it – on me, perhaps?’

Julian had lost his power of speech.

‘Now, I wonder what the dose should be – let me see, there are ten millilitres of something in the syringe and I presume that is the dose you would have given me?’ He laughed. ‘This is fun.’ He examined Julian’s right arm. ‘I think intravenous would be the best way – works quicker, so I’m told.’ He looked at the blood vessels in Julian’s neck. ‘Some nice ones here as well.’

‘You can’t,’ Julian blurted out.

‘Sorry – I didn’t quite catch that. What did you say?’

‘You can’t give me all of that.’

‘Really? Why – what is it?’

‘It’s a sedative.’

‘And what dose would I give if I wanted to knock someone out for a few hours?’

‘Half that.’

Erikson laughed. ‘You really do think I’m stupid, don’t you.’ He stood up. ‘But – I’ve changed my mind. I’ve got something better than that.’ He went back to the table and came back a minute later with another loaded syringe.

Julian was alarmed by the glass syringe and rusty metal needle. It looked like something a junkie would use; old and definitely not sterile. ‘What’s that?’

‘Heroin – top quality.’ He grinned at Julian. ‘Feel better now you know?’ He waited for a response. ‘No, I didn’t think so.’ He looked at Julian’s right arm again. ‘Nice healthy veins – much better than your son’s. I can see you haven’t been shooting up in dark alleys.’

‘For fuck sake – John, you can’t . . .’

He chuckled. ‘Yes, I can.’ He tied a strip of thin rubber tubing around Julian’s arm above the elbow.

‘John, please – can’t we talk . . .’

‘The time for talking has long since passed.’

‘I’ve never used heroin – given IV it could be fatal.’

‘I know – it’s another first for you. Your life just keeps on getting better, doesn’t it?’ He slapped the vein that was starting to swell up.

‘If it’s to keep me quiet . . .’

‘It’s not to keep you quiet.’

‘Then why?’

Erikson grinned at him. ‘Because I want to.’ He pushed the needle through the skin and into the vein, releasing the strap with his other hand. ‘Any last requests?’

Julian’s fear was replaced by sheer panic . . . last requests? ‘For God’s sake – how much?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘How much – what dose, are you giving me?’

‘Enough,’ he said, as he pushed the plunger steadily home. ‘Enjoy the trip, dear boy.’

 

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