Title:
Lucked Out
Author:
coolbyrne
Rating:
Strong PG (dismemberment, death, the occasional obscenity)
Disclaimer:
Characters from Wire in the Blood are owned by Val McDermid. No
infringement is intended.
Feedback:
Constructive criticisms/compliments are always welcome.
A/N: I
normally don't post WIP fics; I worry that I'll see it as
pressure and never end up finishing it! But for this, I have a
really good idea where it's going and how it will get there, so I
thought I'd give it a go. (This is actually based on a CSI spec
script I wrote, so I'm not writing blind!) There's a lot I'd
like to say, but can't without getting into the heart of the story,
so I'll leave any further notes for future updates. My thanks to
romanmachine. For everything.
Summary: Just another case, but for Tony Hill, it becomes much more. Tony/Alex casefile.
-----
-Nothing happens by chance, my friend... No such thing as luck. A meaning behind every little thing, and such a meaning behind this. Part for you, part for me, may not see it all real clear right now, but we will, before long. (Richard Bach)
-----
"There are days I can honestly say I've had it with this job."
The words of resignation from DI Alex Fielding didn't register immediately in his brain. Neither did the sounds of DS Kevin Geoffries retching in the background. Tony Hill's primary focus was on the body the pathology team had lifted from the shallow grave that stood out in the small patch of woods. They had found the place quite easily as it was at the bottom of a sharp incline from the road, but only 30 feet in. Finding the body was even easier. The area had already been partially dug up by the dog of the person who had called the police about the discovery. Tony amended his description- it wasn't a body so much as a torso, a large piece with only stumps where it appeared the relevant appendage had been hacked off. The small fragment lay on the blue blanket that had been buried with it while a pair of helpers carefully brought down a gurney, and he once again reminded himself of the human condition; the reactions of those around him weren't necessarily in response to the gruesomeness of the find. God knew they had seen worse in their unenviable jobs. No, he was certain it had everything to do with the fact the torso was clearly that of a young child.
"Why go through all that trouble?" Tony mused aloud.
Alex met his question with a withering look. "You know something, Tony? I don't give a shit why they did it. I just want to find out who."
He nodded, understanding her need not only as a cop but as a mother to find the person responsible. But as his role as a psychologist, he couldn't help but want to know more. In fact, it was often his opinions and questions, initially unwanted, that helped the police fulfill their end of the deal. As was his nature, he plodded on, either oblivious to Alex's rebuttal, or pretending to be.
"Did the amputations happen before or after death?" he asked Ashley Vernon, the head of the pathology team.
The older man shrugged and wiped his brow with the back of his arm. "Hard to make any conclusions at this point, of course," he admitted, his breath curling into white wisps in the cool morning air. "The body's exsanguinated, but there did seem to be some bruising and clotting around the shoulders, which would indicate amputation before death. Once we cut open what we have and take a look at the organs, we'll know more." Having been Bradfield's pathologist for over 20 years, he had seen it all, and thus spoke as if reciting a shopping list. Alex turned her reproachful eye in his direction which he ignored.
"Is that all there is?" she asked flatly. "In the grave, I mean?"'
Vernon nodded. "As far as we could find. The criminalists and their collection of fancy gadgets assured us there was nothing more." He tilted his head in the direction of a duo who were clad head to foot in white jumpsuits, complete with booties and gloves. "They're waiting for me to leave so they can swoop down and pick the area apart. Don't leave any DNA behind," he warned as he made his way up the incline. "Come see me after lunch," he called back.
"Lunch," Alex muttered as her hand went to her stomach.
Tony looked up at Kevin who had made sure he was far enough away from the crime scene before emptying his stomach contents in the bushes on the opposite side of the narrow road. The young officer was still catching his breath in large gulps and had yet to turn his attention back to Tony, Alex, and the grave.
"Better not mention lunch to Kevin," Tony advised, which only got him another withering look in return.
--
The quiet hum of the Citroen was the only sound between them for several minutes as Alex navigated traffic and her thoughts.
"Fine," she said at last, glancing in his direction. "Why go through all that trouble? And where's the rest of it?"
Tony shifted in his seat to look at her. "If it had been an adult victim, I'd say the dismemberment was most likely done to prevent identification. Remove the face, the fingerprints, perhaps any identifying scars or tattoos. But that was just a child, barely old enough to have made a mark on the world let alone be identified in it. The exsanguination hints towards a cult-like killing." His attention briefly turned to the passing scenery. "It's certainly out of the way." When she said nothing in return, he surmised, "I suspect the answer to one of your questions will answer the other."
Alex blew a retort between her lips. "I could do with more leads and less speculation."
"I only give what I have."
She had heard the harshness in her tone and tempered it by asking, "Do you need a lift to the university?"
Recognizing the apology, he shook his head and opened his arms. "No. Today I'm all yours."
With feigned innocence, she asked, "They finally gave you your P-45, did they?"
He frowned at the idea and for the first time that day, she smiled.
--
The police station was in a usual state of constant movement and while Alex kept herself busy with paperwork that never seemed to end, Tony sat at an empty desk in the large office that had been the place of many years of brainstorming and breakthroughs. He spun the chair and lifted his feet, letting himself do several complete turns. His eyes took in everything. Had it really been years? The room had changed- the renovations made it bigger even as the huge computer screen that had replaced the whiteboard took up a large amount of space in the middle of the room. Some of the people had changed, too. There were faces he had only just recently been able to put names to. Yet it only seemed like yesterday Carol had approached his-
He abruptly planted his feet and stopped the chair.
--
"Bring the King down and put the nine its place. Then you can bring the other column over."
Tony's eyes shifted to the woman who had come up behind his chair and was now helpfully leaning over his shoulder. When he did as he was told, the computer began to file the cards in piles, recognizing the winning move.
Alex slapped his shoulder. "What did I tell you? I'm the FreeCell champion. What do you think I do in my office all day?" She slipped on her jacket and said, "You ready?"
Tony looked at the small clock in the lower right hand corner of the computer screen. "It's only fifteen past noon."
"It's after lunch," she replied. "If he meant later in the day, he should have said so."
He closed the program and stood up. "Remind me never to challenge your punctuality or your FreeCell skills."
--
The autopsy room was big and bright, a discovery that always threw Tony for a bit of a loop. He knew logistically that it wouldn't make sense for it to be small and dim, but he had always associated the act of an autopsy with hushed tones, close quarters and subdued lighting. For Tony, it seemed to be such an intimate act, even if that intimacy was strictly a clinical one. He never quite got past the humanity of the victim- to him, it was still a person, a person whose hopes and thoughts and potential had ended, often too abruptly. Certainly much too abruptly in the case of this fragment of a child who had been opened under florescent lights for all to see. Alex pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, steeled herself, then stepped forward. Tony quietly took his place to her left.
Vernon looked up from his task and through the thin paper mask covering his mouth, he muttered, "Remind me to give you a later time in the future."
She ignored his jab at her punctuality and got to the point. "What have you got so far?"
He stood up tall and cracked his neck. Pulling down the mask, he replied, "Based on the measurement of his pelvic bone, I'd say between 6 and 8 years of age."
Avoiding looking at the open torso on the table, Alex focussed on the grizzled pathologist. "And is there any indication of how he died?"
"I found bruising and congealing around the end of the left shoulder, as I mentioned at the scene. But during the incision, I also found this." He bent down to point out the discovery, and while Tony leaned in with him, Alex remained standing, her eyes ahead. Vernon noticed her resistance and stood up straight again. "A very dark bruise on the boy's left pectoral. I suspect it's from someone holding him down with their left and cutting with their right."
"Weapon?" Tony wondered.
"Whatever they used was extremely sharp. Minimal cuts on the bone indicate few sawing motions. Most likely more of a chop. A machete? An axe?"
"The congealing and bruising. So he was alive when he was dismembered," Alex said flatly.
With hands on hips, Vernon looked down at the body and shook his head sadly. "If there's any good news to be had, after the first sever, the body would have started shutting down systems to compensate for the blood loss."
Tony knew where the line of thinking was going. "Hypovolaemia."
The pathologist nodded. "The body then would induce tachycardia, or an excessive rapidity of the heart. When the blood work comes back, I expect an abnormal amount of acid in the fluids. A lot of fancy medical evidence pointing to a fairly uncomplicated end- the boy died of simple shock."
It was those words that moved her gaze down to the table. "There's nothing simple about this."
Vernon conceded the point with a shrug. "No, I suppose not. I'll do what I can to get the test results back quickly, but I'd still give it at least five days." Remembering her punctuality, he amended, "Make it six."
--
For the second time that day, they found themselves side-by-side in her car.
"You're awfully quiet," Alex said as she clicked her seatbelt into place. "It makes me nervous. What's up?"
"The fact that the victim was dismembered while alive changes the motive completely," Tony began without hesitation. "It's not to disguise the identity, because if that was the case, why risk someone hearing the victim? Even taking into account it was most likely done in a secluded private place, most people would kill first, dismember second."
Alex pulled out of the parking lot. "Unless they want the victim to suffer." Tony nodded. "Sick bastards."
"Stop by the university," he instructed. Seeing her inquisitive look, he said, "I knew there was something about this case that was sitting right here," he tapped the top of his head. "There was a case in London about six years ago."
She looked over and slowly nodded. "Right," she said as the details came to her. "A torso was pulled out of the Thames."
"They called him 'Adam', because they were never able to identify him. He was between the ages of 4 and 7."
The details continued to drop like puzzle pieces in her brain and as the final piece fell into place, she brought the car to a hard stop, much to the chagrin of the vehicle behind them. As an officer of the law, she felt it best to refrain from giving the driver a two finger gesture and instead waved her feigned apology and touched the accelerator. "Shit, Tony," she admonished. "They suspected some kind of voodoo ritual."
"That was the line of thinking, yes," he agreed.
She shook her head. "Not again. I'm not going through some voodoo crap again."
"It's all psychological, Alex. It doesn't really work."
"And I almost lost my son over something that doesn't really work," she reminded him.
In turn, he reminded her, "And someone has lost their son. At least two someones, in fact."
"I don't know if that makes me more or less likely to want to get involved, Tony."
The university came into sight, and as she made a turn to the steps that led up to the doors of the great building, he pointed towards the faculty parking. "Take my spot. I'd like you to come in with me."
Puzzled but admittedly curious, she did as she was told and followed him into the school.
--
Instead of making their way to his office, Tony turned left and ascended two flights of stairs. Halfway down the hallway, he stopped in front of an open door and glanced inside the office. The movement in the doorway caught the attention of the man sitting at a desk. He flashed a smile and waved the pair inside.
"Tony, come in, come in."
The desk disguised the height of the man, who, when standing, appeared to be at least six and a half feet tall. His skin was as smooth as polished ebony and his eyes were as hard as coal, but his wide generous smile made him completely disarming. Alex couldn't help but smile in return.
Tony shook his hand and said, "Enoc. Good to see you. This is a friend of mine, Alex Fielding. Alex, this is Enoc Mabi, professor of African studies."
The tall man gently took her hand between his. "It's a pleasure to meet any friend of Tony's. He doesn't have many." He softened his ribbing with a wink in Tony's direction. "Please, sit." He waited for them to take their seats in front of his desk before returning to his own.
"How's the family?" Tony asked.
Enoc laughed at the attempt at social expectations. ""Now, you're not one for social visits, Tony, so what can I do for you?"
"Don't say I never tried," he said before getting to the heart of the matter. "Alex works with the Bradfield police, and I'm sure you know I often assist in some of the more⦠unusual cases." Enoc nodded and encouraged him to continue. "There was a discovery of a body in Marden Woods this morning. A torso, in fact. That of a young boy."
When the professor waited for more, Alex said, "It reminded us of a case several years back. About a torso pulled out of the Thames."
Enoc's face lit up in recognition. "Ah, yes, I remember. They never found out who did it." There was a slight pause as he made the connection. "I see. You think these two cases are related."
"The suspicion in the first case has always been it may have been a ritualistic murder," Tony said.
"A medicine murder, or a muti killing, yes," Mabi replied. "I must confess, I was hard-pressed to believe it back then. The odds of two happening in England would be fairly astronomical."
"Muti killing," Alex repeated. "What is that?"
Enoc steepled his fingers and sat back in his chair. "First, it's important to know that it is primarily an African ritual, practiced more so in the south. What made the Thames case interesting were the incredible odds of it happening outside of Africa. Even though actual numbers are hard to pin down, it is believed there have been fewer than 300 muti killings in all of the last decade."
"Why hard to pin down?" Alex queried.
With a small smile, Enoc replied, "Africa has had much progress over the last decade, Miss Fielding, but it still bends under the weight of being a third world continent. Superstition and rituals have been the law of the land for many, many generations. Even if every village had a system of justice established- justice and law the way we know it to be here- there's always the fear of retribution. This applies to all who have been victims of such practices. And for those who have lost their livestock, their homes or even their family members, who wants to bring more tragedy to their lives?"
"Is there anything about the practitioners of this ritual you could tell us?" Tony asked.
"Nothing particular, no," Mabi answered. "People from all walks of life have been known to seek out the sangomas- the witch doctors. Lawyers, bankers, farmers, village elders." He looked at Alex and tilted his head. "Tell me, Miss Fielding, do you ever feel that some people are luckier than you?"
Alex frowned. "What do you mean?"
Enoc shrugged. "You worked hard to get where you are, was diligent in your studies as a student, stayed up late to study, went to every class. But there was always one student who missed more classes then attended, and if they stayed up late it was only to close the pubs." Alex smiled. "I see you already have a memory in mind!"
"Steven Atkinson."
"And Steven passed with flying colours, yes?"
"Yes, that bastard."
Mabi tossed his head back and laughed. Then he asked, "Would you consider him a lucky bastard?" As she pondered his point, he continued, "Muti practitioners believe there is only so much luck in the world. The quantity is finite. So, in order to obtain more luck, it must come at the expense of another. Someone must lose their luck, you see?" He turned to Tony. "Were the genitals removed?" Tony shook his head. "Interesting. Not a fertility ritual, then." He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the wide surface of his desk and explained, "The removal of certain parts or organs reflect the purpose of the ritual. Some are consumed for a specific gain, such as the genitals for fertility or the heart for strength. And some are consumed for the simple act of ingesting that person's luck."
"So it's not just a case of cutting off the limbs in the name of whatever and disposing of them when the sacrifice is over," Alex ventured, both repelled and intrigued at once.
"Oh, no," Enoc said. "It is a very tactile ritual. It's quite a personal exchange. You don't pay a sangoma to do the ritual then sit back and wait for it to 'kick in', as it were. You are a very active participant."
Alex took in all the information thoughtfully. "I suppose that explains why they never found the rest of Adam- the boy in the Thames. And by the same token, it doesn't look good for our chances either, if this really was a muti killing."
Enoc spread out his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Not everything is consumed. There are some bones that are more potent in their original form and are used for charms. Hands and skulls are placed in entranceways of businesses to attract profit. I've seen men with chains made of finger joints, or leather strings that hang the Atlas bone of their victim."
"Atlas bone?" she echoed.
"A vertebrae," he explained. "The first at the base of the neck."
"Where Atlas held the world," Tony added.
Mabi pointed to Tony. "Exactly. In such a ritual, the Atlas bone is believed to be the center of the body where the nerve and blood vessels meet."
"We have reason to believe our victim was dismembered while he was still alive," Tony informed. "Does this ring true?"
"Absolutely. The screams of the victim are believed to increase the potency of the ritual. You also mentioned he was a young boy?"
"Yes."
"Also a very basic yet integral part of the practice. Victims who have not reached puberty are thought to increase the potency even more."
Alex closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. She allowed herself a moment to think of her own son, well shy of puberty and full of life. It was a brief respite. "What are the chances these two murders are connected?"
Enoc's eyes widened at the possibility. "Astronomical, I'd say. I don't know what would defy the odds more- two muti killings in England, or two muti killings connected to each other, in England or no. Muti on its own is extremely rare. Of course, anything can happen, but I can't imagine such a thing becoming serial."
"I don't suppose I could just find a sangoma in the directory, could I?" Alex ventured facetiously.
Laughing, Mabi replied, "No, I would think not. It's a very hidden world, for obvious reasons. No, you're more likely to discover the person who required the task to be done is a sangoma himself, or at least has some knowledge of the practice. He must be able to perform the ritual properly in order for it to have the desired effect."
Alex frowned at his choice of words. "So you believe in all this?"
"It's not what I believe or don't believe, Miss Fielding. It's what your suspect believes."
Tony tapped his forehead. "See? It's all psychological, Alex."
"It's quite amazing what the mind can be convinced to believe," Enoc admitted, then nodded in Tony's direction and smiled at Alex. "Just keep this one around and you'll do fine. I once tried to hypnotize him at the faculty Christmas party- and he fell asleep!"
While the other two laughed, Tony feebly defended himself. "It was a dull party!"
--
