'I knew you'd come' Mark said quietly. 'I knew you wouldn't be able to resist destroying the plaque. After all, how could you let it stand there for posterity, celebrating the career of a man whose success you knew was based on lies?' He smiled 'You see I know the truth. I know what happened at Yale all those years ago. That Masters thesis that got David Summers' career on the fast track, he didn't write it did he? You did'.
Mark paused, taking a step closer 'You know right from the start I knew there had to be a reason those murders were carried out in the ways that they were'. He sighed 'Once I'd read the thesis, realised that you were re-enacting the revenge ritual, everything started falling into place. 'Revenge, you know that was the key to this whole thing. Once I'd gotten that it was easy, a photograph in a year book and a little digging and the answer was right there in front of me'.
He took another step 'David stole your thesis and passed it off as his own didn't he? You couldn't believe he'd gotten away with it, but he did. He was smart, popular, the golden boy. He knew how to convince people, how to play them, how to get them to do exactly what he wanted' Mark sighed, thinking of poor Vicky Harris, another victim of David's charms. 'When it came to the academic board' he continued 'you couldn't compete could you? You were labelled as the thief whilst David was the injured party. He was back at the top of the tree socially and academically, whilst you, well you were expelled in disgrace'.
Mark smiled ruefully 'You just couldn't bear the fact that David had gotten everything that should have been yours could you? Based on your work, he ended up a Professor before his 40th birthday, world renowned in his field and with the opportunity to head up a project the likes of which had never been seen before. And the irony is that it should have been you'.
Mark sighed as he came face to face with his adversary 'You know; he took your thesis, your career, he took your life'.
He paused, his tone grave 'And so you took his life didn't you, John?'
Not waiting for an answer Mark continued almost to himself 'The others, Peterson, Schwenck, they were incidental weren't they? You had to kill them to make up the numbers, to make the ritual complete'.
'You know' he said thoughtfully 'looking back I really didn't need the picture in the year book. The evidence was in front of me the whole time, if only I could have seen it. The first time we met in the corridor, the books you were carrying they were chemistry and archaeology texts. And then there was your manner. I thought you were just having a bad day, but there was more to it than that. You were bitter weren't you? You hated those academics, 'prima donnas' I think you called them. At first I dismissed it as a symptom of job dissatisfaction, but the more I've thought about it, the more it's struck me - you weren't just a disgruntled worker, you were a man driven by hate. Looking back, it's obvious now that something had to have happened to you, to make you feel so vehemently about academics.
Mark shook his head 'You know I still can't believe I didn't figure it out the second time we met, when I was with Jesse and Amanda. You remember John, we talked about archaeology. It was obvious then that you had a thorough knowledge of the subject. You recognised the artefact I dropped; in fact you knew everything about it. When I called you on it, you tried to pass it off as information you'd picked up over the years working as a porter. But something struck me about the way you spoke – you had a real passion for your subject and you discussed it in the way an academic would. You had an understanding and a love of your subject that no lay man would have. It was obvious you'd been academically trained'.
Mark chuckled softly 'All the time the police were trying to figure whether it was a chemist or an archaeologist who was committing the crimes. You know, they never thought about someone who worked across both sites, someone who could listen at doors, pick up snatches of conversations, someone who had keys to all the buildings, someone who was expected to be hanging around, who could pass unnoticed. That's how you knew about a project that was so secret even the police weren't informed. And that's why Schwenck didn't put up a struggle, he recognised you'.
Mark shook his head 'I'll bet if we look back you'll have been at every crime scene. It was you who reported Schwenk's body, after you'd implicated Vicky Harris of course. And I know you were there the night Steve and Tanis were attacked, I saw you as I was getting into the ambulance'. He shook his head. Really it's remarkable, you were under our noses the whole time and nobody noticed you at all!'
John Anderson laughed; the first response he'd made since Mark had stepped out of the shadows. It wasn't a pleasant sound; this was no laugh of joy, but a mirthless sound filled with bitterness and hate.
'You think it's remarkable that I passed unnoticed?' John said harshly 'well then Doctor Sloan you really don't understand anything, anything at all'.
Mark frowned, puzzled.
'I'm a porter Doctor Sloan' John said bitterly 'Amongst the highbrow academic elite I'm nothing; a nobody. I don't even exist'. He smiled a twisted smile 'It's what he's reduced me to you see. When I was booted out of Yale I lost everything, not just my career, but my reputation, my dignity, my honour. No other university would take me, not with plagiarism on my record. I became an outcast, isolated from the community I loved, the subject that was my passion. And I had talent Doctor Sloan, much more than David. You're right, he was a pretty boy, a smooth talker, but he was no archaeologist, not really'.
Anderson snorted 'He wouldn't have gotten this far if it hadn't been for Natasha. She saw how popular he was, knew where his popularity could get her and so she helped him to help herself'. He shook his head sadly 'Ya know she used to be mine too. Did you work that one out Doctor Sloan? Of course she ditched me right after the board, took up with him, but then that's Natasha, always after the main chance'.
'I couldn't go anywhere in academia after they threw me out' he continued angrily 'well who wants to take on a thief and a liar? Everywhere I tried doors slammed in my face, friends refused to take my calls. The academic community closed ranks and I was out in the cold'. He looked at Mark, eyes haunted with pain 'those first few years were terrible. As far as I was concerned my life was over. As the years passed I moved from one dead end job to another. It was a struggle just to get through the day, and all I heard about was David's meteoric rise. It tortured me Doctor Sloan. It seemed that the worse my life became, the better things got for him.
And then one day I couldn't take it any more, I didn't wanna live any more. I got the pills and the booze I was gonna do it, really I was. I sat there in the dark, with the bottle of pills in my hand and I thought about my life and I thought about his. And then it hit me. It didn't have to be that way. He'd taken away my life, so why couldn't I take away his? After all, it's only fair.'
The eyes that looked at Mark were now cold and hard with resolve. 'After that it was easy. I knew where David was working; I'd been following his career. I changed my name, got myself hired as a porter, became part of the furniture. You know I remember the first day I saw him. He didn't recognise me, but I knew him straight away. Sure he'd gained a little weight, the odd grey hair, but he was the same smooth talking play boy he'd always been. He had that poor kid Vicky hanging off his every word, just like the academic board did. He was so smug, so proud. He never even looked at me, just handed off a pile of books for me to carry and told me to be quick about it'.
Anderson's eyes flashed angrily 'I could've killed him right there and then. Almost did too, but I wanted him to know, I wanted everyone to know why he had to die. And so I recreated the ritual, the ritual that I discovered, the ritual he stole from me. As soon as Peterson was killed with a blow pipe, I knew David would recognise the ritual, would know it was me. But there was nothing he could do, not without giving himself away'.
Anderson smiled 'You know as I strangled him, he begged for his life, actually said he'd come clean, tell everyone the truth. But it was too late for that; I had to complete the ritual. I knew the police would figure it out eventually and I wanted to be sure that when they did, everyone would know, would understand.
He smiled ruefully 'You know you're good Doctor Sloan, too good in fact. You figured it out quicker than I expected, too quick. You see I haven't quite finished, not yet. Your son, he proved to be a real inconvenience'. He frowned irritably 'I still have Natasha to kill and I would have gotten her already, if it hadn't been for your son and that pesky woman he works with. I had no idea they were gonna turn up there that night. I had it all planned too. Dressing up as a mummy was a nice touch I thought. A little extra just for Natasha – she really believes in it all you see'. He smirked 'She really would've thought the pharaohs had returned'.
'You know' Mark said suddenly 'I still haven't figured out how you got rid of that mummy costume so quick. I mean you turned up at the scene barely 5 minutes later'.
Anderson smirked 'You forget Doctor Sloan, I move around this place day in day out. I keep storage lockers all over the building. Some people know about, others they don't. There's one on the second floor landing, it took all of 2 minutes to de-robe, leave the Egyptian costume and arrive in my street clothes. Sure I was a little breathless, but people just thought I was in shock.' He chuckled to himself 'Boy, that little girl sure was a wild cat, she clawed me in the neck, drew blood too - lucky this uniform has a high collar'.
'And where are the Egyptian clothes now?' Mark asked, his eyes suddenly alight 'Did you destroy them?'
Anderson looked aghast 'Destroy them, how could I? They're authentic garments Doctor Sloan; to destroy them would be sacrilege. They'll stay in the locker until I can smuggle them home.'
Mark grinned 'I was kinda hoping you'd say that. You know, that may just be the evidence we need to convict you. If Tanis drew blood, there's bound to be some of it on the clothes'.
Anderson smiled back, taking a step closer 'No doubt there is Doctor Sloan, but you won't be around to find it. I've killed three men already, one more isn't gonna make any difference'.
'Oh I don't think you're gonna kill me Mr. Anderson.' Mark said easily.
'Oh really' he replied menacingly 'And just who is gonna stop me'.
'That would be me' Steve said stepping out of the shadows, gun raised.
He moved forward, reaching for his cuffs 'John Anderson, you're under arrest for the murders of David …'
He got no further, as Anderson sprayed the aerosol can of acid at his hand. Yelping in pain Steve dropped the gun.
'Are you okay?' Mark asked in concern.
'I'll live' Steve groused, shaking his hand, desperate to calm the burning sensation where the fiery spray had found its mark. He'd been lucky, whilst his hand was smarting; the fine spray at that distance had resulted in what felt like little more than a bad nettle sting. Any closer and it would have been a completely different story.
'Stay here Dad' he shouted over his shoulder, as he took off after the fleeing man.
As he turned the first corner he could see that Anderson was already beginning to open up a gap. Steve sighed; this guy was still a pretty good athlete. Even at his peak he'd be hard pressed, but just coming off a concussion - he really wasn't sure he was gonna catch him. Already he could feel his muscles aching with the effort, his breathing becoming ragged, his head thumping. If Anderson reached the stairs he'd be home free.
In desperation, Steve launched himself forwards, tackling Anderson at the knees. The two men crashed to the floor, with Steve on top of his opponent. For a couple of minutes they struggled, each trying to get an opening. Steve was getting desperate; this guy was strong, he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold on. When his chance came he took it thankfully. Ruefully, he knew it was more luck than anything else that finally enabled him to gain the upper hand.
With his knee on Anderson's chest he reached for his cuffs with relief. But Anderson was no slouch and Steve, still weak from the concussion, wasn't completely in control. Too late he realised his mistake. A punch to the jaw and he was rocking backwards, seeing stars. A swift kick to the ribs and he lost his hold on the man completely.
Leaving Steve groaning in his wake, Anderson frantically made a break for it, reaching the end of the corridor whilst the Detective was still struggling to his knees. As he reached the stairs, the elevator doors opened.
'Freeze police' barked a familiar voice.
As Anderson turned, Tannis Archer stepped through the doors. Her left arm was still in a sling, but she used her right arm to good effect. A gun was pointed at his heart and her hand was remarkably steady. Behind her five uniformed officers, also armed, pointed their guns at his head.
Breathing hard and moving painfully, Steve came up behind Anderson; nursing ribs he suspected were broken. He reached for his cuffs, securing the man's hands behind his back. As the uniforms took Anderson, Steve leant back against the wall, suddenly in need of support. Tanis stepped towards him.
For a long moment he looked at her. Wordlessly she looked back.
'I didn't think you'd come' he said finally, his smile tentative, hopeful.
She smiled back, placing a hand on his arm 'Let's just say I decided it was time I took a risk' she said. Leaning forwards she kissed him, slowly, gently and then with increasing passion. Joyously he responded. When she pulled away, he was grateful for the wall behind his back, aware that his legs wouldn't hold him upright without it.
'We'll talk later?' she said
'Later' he replied eyes sparkling.
As he watched her leading Anderson away, he smiled. He was still smiling when his father came up behind him five minutes later.
'You okay?' Mark asked
'I am now' he replied
'You know, you look a little dazed' Mark said, peering closely at his son, 'are you sure you're okay? Did he hit you? Did you bump your head?'
Upon gaining no response, he stroked his chin thoughtfully 'You know just to be on the safe side I think I'll get Jesse to check you out at the hospital.'
'Sure' Steve said still smiling.
'Did you just say sure?' Mark said incredulously 'Oh now I know you've had a bump on the head'. As he reached up to feel Steve's forehead, his son's strong hand gripped his arm.
'Dad' he said 'I'm fine really. Everything is great, just great'. He paused and looked at Mark keenly 'You were right'.
Mark beamed 'Well I usually get there in the end, although I have to admit he had me stumped for a while. You know I wasn't sure he was gonna tell us where the clothes were hidden and …'
'Dad' Steve interrupted 'I'm not talking about the case'.
'You're not?' Mark said in confusion 'Then what ..'. As his son grinned happily, the penny dropped. Putting an arm round Steve's shoulders, Mark gave him an affectionate squeeze 'Oh I'm glad son, so very glad'.
Author's note: Well it's finally all over bar the epilogue (which will follow shortly). Thank you so much for persevering with what turned into a 40 chapter long monster! I never intended for it to be that long, but once I got going the story kind of took on a life of its own. I have to say I'm sorry to say goodbye to it! To all those who've reviewed as we've been going along, thank you once again for your encouragement and support - it has been much appreciated and I wouldn't have enjoyed the writing process half so much without you!
This was my first attempt at a 'whodunnit' but I do hope to write more. As such I would be really grateful for any comments on this final chapter, and more generally on the story as a whole. Thank you in advance and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.