Spider

898989

The numberplate is the same as the code that BRK had given to Daher to access the video footage. Jack pumps his memory. What does it remind him of?

That's what it reminds him of. H is the eighth letter of the alphabet, but the ninth is not A. And then Jack has it.

Hi, Hi, Hi.

BRK was saying hello. Another of his fucking sick jokes.

Jack calls Howie with what he's just discovered and learns it will take another half an hour for the Strike Team to be fully mobilized and in position at Marine Park. He hopes the delay won't prove fatal.

Yoana Grinsberg talks all the time, as she guides him upstairs to her front bedroom, from where he hopes to be able to keep a watch on number 15. The room, full of old clothes and magazines, is far too warm. A bowl of stale pot pourri that should have been replaced months ago makes the place smell earthy. Jack notices double locks on the windows and guesses that the ultra-cautious Mrs Grinsberg hasn't opened them since her husband died years back. He pushes his face to the glass. Even if he unlocked one the view would be useless. A cluster of overgrown trees on both corners blocks the line of sight, there's no way he could get even a half-decent view of the target house.

'It's no good,' he says, heading out of the room and back down the stairs, 'but thanks anyway, Ma'am. Your cooperation has been appreciated.'

As she shuts the door, Jack thinks how he might have to use Howie's car to block the road if it turns out BRK is in the house, gets spooked and suddenly makes a run for it. While he's working out this endgame scenario, his cell phone rings again.

Nancy's cell number flashes on the display.

Jack's in trouble and he knows it. She's going to go crazy if it turns out that it's her calls he's been ignoring.

'Hello,' he says, frowning as he braces himself for the eruption.

'Hello, Jack,' says a male voice, drawing out the words slowly.

'Who is this?' He checks the caller display again.

Spider lets out a short laugh. 'Oh, I think you know who it is, don't you?'

A bomb of white-hot pain detonates in Jack's head. He struggles to think the unthinkable.

'Your wife's here with me. Would you like to talk to her?' Spider rips the sticky tape from Nancy's mouth, and she gasps loudly for breath. 'Jack!' she says weakly. 'Jack, he's got Zack and…'

Spider puts his hand across her lips. 'I'm sorry, Mr King, but your wife's not at her best at the moment. I've shot her full of drugs, so she finds it a little difficult to talk.' He traps the phone between his ear and shoulder, and replaces the tape around Nancy's mouth. 'You know, Jack, you really should take better care of your young family. Shouldn't you?'

Jack says nothing. His head is pounding and he feels sick. Don't upset him, one wrong word and they're both dead. Stay detached, be professional, not emotional.

'Answer my question!' demands Spider. 'I said: shouldn't you take better care of your family?'

Jack understands the game, and he knows he has no choice but to play along. 'Yes,' he says, feigning humility. 'I should have taken more care of them. My family's very precious to me. I'll do whatever you want, but you have to promise me you're not going to hurt them.'

'No promises,' says Spider, 'but it is good for me to hear that you and I share the same sense of family values.'

Jack squeezes his eyes shut and prays his mind will clear, that he will be able to stay sharp and cope with whatever is about to happen.

'I see you're in the road near my house in Brooklyn,' says Spider, looking at the laptop and its exterior camera views. 'Well done, you're a little earlier than I expected. I had planned to lead you there myself, when the time was right. When the world had witnessed another murder that Jack King was powerless to stop.'

Jack's thrown. He glances across to the nearby house, searching for a camera.

'In the trees, King. The cameras are wired up in the trees and powered by my outdoor security lights.' Spider gazes at Nancy and Zack, then back to the image of Jack on his laptop. 'My plan was that in twenty-four hours' time that nice Arab news channel would be showing some new material; something of a double scoop. First I would have given them the final fatal instalment in the story of the wretched little Russian hooker that you and the fools in the FBI couldn't save. And then, Jack, then I had something even juicier in mind.' Spider laughs darkly and fixes his eyes on Jack's face, before adding, 'I thought the next exclusive footage could be the death of your lovely wife.'

Jack's self-restraint snaps. 'If you so much as harm…'

'Tut, tut, Jacky boy. Don't ruin all your good work, all your professional restraint, by being abusive. You must know that I'm going to kill her, otherwise there would have been no point in bringing you all the way to America, and me coming all the way here to Italy, would there?'

Jack's heart is beating double-quick time, as he realizes now that he has been the victim of BRK's carefully orchestrated plan to lure him away from his family and have him stand impotently by as they are slaughtered. But why?

Spider smiles as he watches Jack painfully putting the pieces together. 'You've been played like a sucker, King. The murder in Italy was merely a ruse to drag you out from your cowardly hiding place, and of course you came, like an obedient, scalded dog. Then poor, sweet Sugar needed to rise from her grave just so I could be certain that your dumb-ass buddies in the FBI would have no doubts that I was back at work. And finally, I added some live bait to bring you skulking back to the city you ran away from. So here we are, a little sooner than I anticipated, but almost exactly as I planned.'

'Why are you doing this?' asks Jack, fighting back another wave of nausea. 'I don't understand why my family is of any interest to you.'

'Aaah, Jack. If only you knew how long I have waited for you to ask that question.' Again the long pause fizzes out, before Spider continues, 'Does the name Richard Jones mean anything to you?'

Jack can't place it. His brain Googles 'Richard Jones'; maybe 'Dick Jones' or 'Dickie Jones'? Nothing comes back. 'I'm sorry. The name means nothing to me.'

'I didn't think it would,' says Spider. 'But it means everything to me. And I mean everything. Thirty years ago, Richard Jones was killed in a car accident. He was run over by a police cruiser turning out on a false 911. Can you imagine that? The cops killed him, chasing a crime that hadn't even happened.'

The name begins to ring a dim and discordant bell in Jack's aching memory.

'Richard Jones,' says Spider, his voice starting to break with emotion, 'was my father. He was killed just weeks after his wife, my mother, died from cancer. That murdering fucking cop left me an orphan, stranded me in this stinking life without any parents and forced me to live in a flea-pit orphanage. Have you worked it all out yet, Mr FBI man? That killer behind the steering wheel, that moron cop who never even had his knuckles rapped for murdering my father, was your old man. Do you understand now?'

Jack slowly starts to make sense of it all. Fragments of his family history flicker through his mind, but he can't form the full picture. Another bomb explodes in his brain. He covers his face with his hands and leans against Howie's car. The pain is unbearable and he is frightened of passing out.

'My father,' sobs Spider, 'was hit so hard by that police cruiser, that by the time his body stopped rolling across the highway, and the traffic had stopped running over him, his head was completely detached from his body. Can you imagine that? Can you?'

Jack is speechless, his mind frozen in shock, his nerves blistering from old pains, his senses overwhelmed and close to shut-down.

Spider wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and looks again at Nancy and Zack. She's now fully unconscious and the boy has pressed his body tight against her. Even though he's still gagged, Spider can see the child is whimpering like a frightened dog. He turns his attention back to the phone. 'I know you're stupid, King, so I'll fill in the rest for you. I saw your old man's retirement feature in the newspaper. At first I thought it was something about you. I'm sure you guessed that I read all your clippings and follow all the nonsense you spout about getting close to catching me, which by the way is horse shit. And then I looked again. And even though you're in the picture along with lots of other cops, I see it's about your father.'

Spider watches Jack on the monitor, pleased that he's visibly distressed. 'What you probably don't know, Jackie boy, is that the NYPD never publicly named the driver of the car that killed my father. So, imagine how I felt to read this piece, in which your old man goes on and on about the wonderful career he'd had, but how he'd trade all his commendations and promotions to have been able to have avoided just one traffic accident thirty years ago in Brooklyn, an accident that had killed a young pedestrian.'

Slowly, Jack remembers his father's retirement day and how his dad had mentioned that he felt guilty even though it had clearly been an accident. He had still wanted to say sorry publicly to wipe the slate clean.

'I'm sorry for your loss,' says Jack, with no hint of sincerity.

'Thank you,' says Spider, sarcastically. 'That means a lot to me, because I know you lost your own father in a similarly tragic accident. How long ago is it now? About five years, right?'

Jack's face shows the shock he just felt.

'Oh, how I'd love to be standing in front of you right now,' says Spider, leaning closer to the laptop. 'I really wish I could look you in the eyes and tell you exactly what it felt like to hear your old pa bump under my car's wheels, and hear his skull pop like a watermelon.'

Jack's head buzzes with static, his knees shake as the shock sinks in.

Spider holds the computer screen, determined to enjoy the power of the moment. He drums the fingers of his uninjured hand on the side of the screen. 'And Brenda, your mother, tell me, do you still think about her?'

Jack looks confused.

'Oh, come on, Mr Policeman. Did you really think she died in her sleep of a heart attack? P-leeeease.' Spider watches Jack clutch his head with both hands, overwhelmed by confusion and anguish. 'Afraid not. That was me again. You should never have left her alone in that big old house, now should you? Any caring son would have moved her inwith you and your lovely wife here.' Spider pauses, so the full impact of his words can be felt. 'No matter. You have other worries now. Because shortly, I am going to kill your wife. And then I'll tell you what fate awaits your son.'

Rage roars inside Jack, and the anger triggers a surge of adrenaline through his body. His mind clears a little. Stay professional – keep him talking. As soon as he stops talking, he's going to start killing. Ask him something – anything!

'Why?' Jack says. The nausea dies back, he feels back in control. 'I don't understand why you want to hurt my wife and child.'

Spider rubs a bead of sweat from his face. 'Let me tell you something. Your father took everything from me. He left me orphaned, and probably made me what I am today. He ruined my past, present and future. Now I'm going to do that to your family.' Spider glances down at Zack and sees the child's head still buried beneath the protection of his mother's arm. 'I've killed your parents, now I'm going to kill your wife, and then you are going to die, trying to save your son. A fitting end for you. And this little boy here, well, his future is going to be filled with all the anguish, all the pain and loss that I suffered. He's going to wake every morning without any parents, and he's going to wonder why such a thing should ever have happened to him.'

Jack's temper snaps. 'You fucking monster!' His head is as clear as a bell now. He steps towards a remote camera fixed in the tree above him. 'I promise you, I will track you down to the ends of the fucking earth and I will kill you.'

Spider snorts out a shallow laugh. 'You fool, don't you realize, your earth ends today. You're out of time.'

A noise down the street distracts Jack and a second later the first of the NYPD cruisers slides around the corner.

'Does your wife love you, Jack? All those women, they all loved me. They loved me so much that they gave their very lives for me. What man could ever ask for anything more than that? And now yours is going to die for you.'

The first car screeches to a stop and Jack raises a halting hand as Howie's big frame emerges from the passenger side.

Spider's eyes flick back to the laptop monitor. 'I see your friends are here already. That's good; it means we can start the party. We're done talking now, and we can finish all this.'

Howie walks up to Jack, staying quiet and looking worried.

Jack covers the mouthpiece of his phone. 'It's him. He has Nancy and Zack, and he's going to kill them. Back off!'

Howie walks back to the others. Jack knows he'll notify the command vehicle and that everything will be put on hold until the situation becomes clearer and hopefully less risky.

'Inside my house you'll find the little hooker you've been looking for. And because you've been surprisingly clever in finding your way here, I'm going to reward you. I'm going to let you kill her. I'm going to let you put your hands around her throat and squeeze the last breath out of her body.'

'You're crazy,' says Jack. 'This isn't going to happen.'

'No, no, I'm not crazy, not at all. A trifle cruel perhaps, but certainly not mad. And it is going to happen, because if you don't kill her, then I'll mutilate your son as well as kill your wife. Maybe I'll let him see his mother die first, but then I'll cut him up a little, certainly enough to give him a personal, visible reminder of our time together. Perhaps you can imagine which parts of him I'm thinking of taking away?'

Jack's heart bangs in his chest. He smashes a clenched fist against the wing of Howie's car.

Spider smiles as he watches on the computer link. 'Temper, temper, Jacky boy. Now let's get on with this. You only have five minutes to carry out the kill. Take any longer and I'll start using my knife and saw on your wife and child. You'll be able to see it all on the Internet a little later in the day. Technology is amazing, isn't it? What a shame I don't have time to tell you all the tale of the Spider and his Web.'

Jack stumbles around the car, pure rage and hate firing his determination.

'Oh, and a few last rules. Leave your phone on; you know I'm going to want to talk to you. To make it a little more interesting, I should tell you there are booby traps in the house. I can trigger them from here, or you can trigger them, accidentally, from there. And finally, remember, if you don't make it to the girl and kill her, I'll blow you both up and then I'll finish my business here. Is that clear?'

'Yes. Yes, it's clear,' says Jack, spitting out the words.

'Good,' says Spider. 'My mother always told me to take a ten count before doing anything really big. So, here we go. Ten!'

Jack frantically tries to work out the situation.

'Nine.'

Ludmila may already be dead.

'Eight.'

If she isn't, BRK is hardly likely to let us both leave the house alive.

'Seven.'

It's possible that she isn't even in there, and this is another one of his sick stunts.

'Six.'

She may be in there, and the house may not be rigged with explosives; he might just be bluffing.

'Five.'

The house may be rigged with explosives and he may blow the whole damn thing up as soon as I step inside.

'Four.'

Will he really maim Zack? Is there any chance at all I can save my son from the agony and injuries that he says he'll inflict?

'Three.'

Whatever happens, he says he's going to kill Nancy.

'Two.'

My family is my world, my life, my everything.

'One.'

Please God don't let me fail them.

'Zero.'