Knife Edge

Knife Edge by Fergus McNeill Read Free Book Online

Book: Knife Edge by Fergus McNeill Read Free Book Online
Authors: Fergus McNeill
last moment, swinging the spanner down in a strong, graceful arc. He didn’t flinch from the impact of steel on skull, the dull crunching sound, the feeling as the bone cracked and gave way beneath his first blow. He struck hard, snapping the man’s head sideways, and the body briefly stiffened then slumped against the door panel, before toppling heavily to lie twitching on the tarmac.
    The ultimate high.
    He shuddered, staring down into the wide eyes of his feebly struggling victim, ignoring the desperate gurgling sounds, his muscles taut as he raised the spanner for a second, fatal strike. An acid taste in his mouth, his pulse thumping in his ears, he swung again, watching intently for the moment – that incredible moment – when the final choking breath sighed away and the last glimmer of life went out. The exultant moment that made him feel so utterly alive …
    The clang of the spanner as it hit the ground seemed to ring out across the car park. He was trembling. Clenching his gloved fists, he forced himself to exhale, to get his breathing under control. There would be time to savour this achievement later – right now, he needed to get it together. Frowning, he crouched down beside the body, eyes searching for something small, something personal …
    Not the wristwatch – somehow that just felt too obvious. His searching gaze moved on. Signet ring? He hesitated for a moment, then decided against it. Something that was personal, yes, but also something that wouldn’t stand out too much. He began to roll the body over, looking for a pocket that might contain a wallet, when a glint of gold caught his eye. The dead man had loosened his shirt collar when he set about changing his wheel, and a simple gold chain was visible around his neck.
    Rolling the body further onto its side to make it easier, he carefully worked the chain around, releasing it from where it was trapped in a fold of skin. Finding the catch, he unfastened it with some difficulty due to his gloves, then pulled it free and dropped it into his open palm. Simple gold links, like the souvenirs that connected his victims …
    Standing up, he pushed the chain deep into one of his pockets, then glanced around once more.
    Still nobody.
    He looked down to the sprawled figure at his feet. It would be getting dark soon, but the next train was due at 19.50 and the body would quickly be discovered by passengers if it was left here in the open – he wanted to be far from the scene when that happened. Dropping to a crouch again, he braced himself against the adjacent car before half rolling, half shoving the corpse under the jacked-up Range Rover. It was difficult work – not least when the victim’s shirtsleeve snagged something under the chassis – but finally the body was hidden, trailing limbs folded in under the shadowy space between the wheels.
    All that remained was the jack. At first it seemed as though it wouldn’t move, but he kicked it harder with his heel, again and again until it finally gave way, dropping the weight of the Range Rover to rest on its owner’s body.
    Satisfied, he stood up, slid the jack under the vehicle with his foot, and brushed himself down. Stooping to retrieve the spanner, he slipped it into the backpack, then made himself take a moment, checking the ground to ensure he’d left nothing behind, before turning and walking to the far end of the car park. He moved calmly, resisting the growing temptation to break into a run as he retraced his steps along the gravel track. Only now did he allow himself to take in the enormity of what he’d done, to revel in the incredible power that was his to wield. He closed his eyes for a second, drinking in the unique sensation that he felt only in these moments after a kill. It was never personal – the victims were random and their deaths irrelevant – power was the only thing that mattered.
    And yet …
    He paused as he came to the metal gate, his gloved hand hesitating

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