A thought hits me and it isn’t one I care to have. As soon as I get out of here, I’ll have to rush home to verify the details before I pass the thought on to Alfonse and the chief.
‘If as I suspect he’s intelligent, doesn’t he realise that sooner or later someone will realise how he’s selecting his victims?’
‘Of course. It’s why he’s trying to mislead you with the various ways the bodies are arranged. The individual tableaus won’t hold any significance for him unless he’s replicating a hero’s actions. He may feel an element of smugness or self-satisfaction from his own cleverness, but I don’t believe there’s anything more to it. All he’s doing is buying time so he can claim more victims. He knows he will be caught or killed by the police but he won’t be worried about that. All he’ll care about is the next victim.’
‘You think he’s prepared to be caught or killed?’
‘Absolutely. He’ll keep going until he is stopped one way or the other. If there is an element of hero worship, he’ll be determined to match or surpass the number of kills his hero was credited with.’
The doctor’s theory collides with my earlier thought and chills my blood.
53
The Watcher pulls into a parking bay at Stanforth Lake Nature Reserve. A call to his boss claiming a bad reaction to the dentist’s anaesthetic has bought him time to observe Angus Oberton. In his rucksack he carries the Tanto and a short-handled woodsman’s axe along with his usual equipment.
He always enjoys stalking his prey, although he’s not sure of the best place to dump this body. It’s something he’s given a lot of thought to. The random choice of method has given him a glorious opportunity but also a problem as far as setting up a dump site.
The murder won’t take long, but it may have more of a noise element than the others and he doesn’t want to move this one. Seppuku has many traditions and he wants to observe as many as possible.
He enters the visitor centre and pays the admission fee. Seeing the newspaper headline in the gift shop, he buys a copy and scans the relevant pages.
The news of the police’s breakthrough in identifying his pattern doesn’t surprise him, but he’d hoped it would be another few days before they made the connection.
Scanning the page, he sees a special edition focusing on the serial killer is due to be published later in the day. Reading it will be fun. Educational even.
He pushes the news to the back of his mind and concentrates his brain on the matter at hand. This will be the last of the easy ones.
He waits for an opportunity as he walks around the public areas. When it comes he hops over a fence and hides in some of the bushes. After a short crawl through the underbrush he finds a well-worn trail.
Turning right will return him to the visitor centre with its tacky gift shop and overpriced cafeteria. Left will take him further into the reserve.
He turns left. The target is zealous about his work and had jabbered about the breeding pens hidden in a small cleft in one of the valleys. Knowing how involved Oberton is with the breeding programme, he’s sure he’ll either pass this way or visit the pens at some point during the day.
After a few yards the bushes thin out, allowing him to see a half mile along the trail. Someone dressed in a ranger’s outfit is walking away from the visitor centre.
A movement off to his right catches his eye. It’s human shaped so he locks onto the person with his eyes while fishing a pair of binoculars from his rucksack. As he does this, he takes a few steps to his right and several backwards until he is shrouded by a chokecherry bush.
He adjusts the focus, finds the man and takes a proper look. The guy is dressed in store-bought camouflage. It’s a desert pattern, which doesn’t quite match the local terrain.
Examining him in detail, he sees a pair of binoculars hanging from his neck and an unnatural bulge at the back of his waistband. When he wriggles into a more comfortable position the Watcher sees the glint of gunmetal.
The man settles himself and puts the binoculars to his eyes. Provided the Watcher’s memory of Oberton’s enthusiastic spiel is correct, the breeding pens are just beyond the corner the binoculars are aimed towards.
If the guy in the ranger’s uniform is Oberton, why is the guy on the hillside watching him?
He remembers the newspaper. The guy must be a cop trying to protect Oberton.
He smiles. The game just got interesting. Challenging. It’s what he’s been waiting for. Anticipating.
Now it has become a real battle of wits and skill between him and the police. Every successful kill will be a victory for him. Capture or death are the only ways he can now be defeated.
He packs away his binoculars and starts to move, his intended course a wide circle. The destination being the cop on the hillside.
It takes him an hour to get within a hundred feet of the cop. Every step is taken with care. No branches are trodden on or bushes rustled. His feet placed with gentle steps so as not to send loose stones tumbling downhill.
The one thing he has in his favour is the cop is an amateur at this kind of thing. He is observing Oberton from a position where the sun is in his face. Every look through the binoculars will send glints of sunlight flashing across the valley.
When he gets within fifty feet of the cop, he drops to a crawl. Foot by foot he closes the gap on hands and knees.
Now close enough to grab the prone cop’s boot, he wraps his fingers around a fist-sized rock.
Bracing his toes against a large rock for purchase he launches himself forward, his right hand swinging a powerful arc towards the cop’s temple.
He makes the perfect connection. The cop is out cold, his limp body easy to secure with the duct tape in his backpack. Binding the cop’s arms and legs takes less than a minute, gagging and blindfolding him seconds.
His old Marine drill sergeant would have found a number of faults with the takedown, but he’d been a hardass for a reason and the Watcher is content with his actions.
He steals the cop’s gun, binoculars and a knife shoved into the top of a boot. It’s tempting to kill him, but it doesn’t fit the pattern so he lets the man live.
When he looks down the valley, he sees he has a good view of the breeding pens. He pulls out his binoculars with the anti-flash lenses and watches Oberton.
The ranger works alone and is wrapped up in his task. Never once does he look around or bother with anything that isn’t part of his job.
The Watcher tweaks his plan and decides on a course of action.
He returns to the trail making regular checks on Oberton’s whereabouts as he goes.
Ten minutes later he’s a few yards from the breeding pens.
‘Hey, Angus. How ya doin’?’
‘Hi, Norm.’ The Watcher sees the surprise on Angus’s face. ‘You said to drop by sometime, so here I am.’
Angus recovers his composure. ‘Would you like to see round?’
‘Sure.’
Norm follows him round the breeding pens, feigning interest in Angus’s litany on each animal.
Once that part of the unofficial tour is complete, Angus leads him around some of the behind-the-scenes areas.
Norm is keen to get on with the kill before someone joins them or they reach the more public areas. Being introduced or recognised will result in him having to abandon Overton as a target. He points at a small building. ‘What’s that, Angus?’