He stood there, watching her. He smiled as she stifled a gasp. Seemingly drawn in by her fear he took a step forward, passing into the orange glow of the street light above. His dark hair fell almost to his eyes and a faded green jacket hid most of his body from sight but even in these conditions Claire was in no doubt as to the well built frame that lay beneath, dangerously capable of over powering her.
"A hundred," she stammered, trying to maintain some control over the situation.
He just shrugged. He didn't intend to pay any way. Claire was suddenly starting to appreciate all the factors she hadn't fully considered in the briefing. The others might be close, but it was just the two of them here on the street: her and Finchly, and some how, she needed to incriminate him without ending up the next corpse in the Sun Hill morgue.
"Come here," His voice was low and gravely. Barely above a whisper, he signalled for her to follow. Left without any real alternative, Claire strolled towards him, bravely attempting to maintain her cool, promiscuous exterior. "Don't worry," Finchly stroked her bare arm and Claire saw her hairs were standing on end. "I'm not going to hurt you. Unless you want me to that is." With this statement, he pulled her closer, slipping his arm around her shoulders and resting his hand on her breast.
Claire concentrated all her efforts on remaining calm. She was frankly surprised he hadn't guessed something was up yet; her heart was beating so fast the hidden wire must be picking it up. Her whole body was stiff with terror and she was still following this maniac into some deserted alley.
For what seemed like ages, the two of them walked down backstreet after backstreet and with each turn they seemed to find themselves in a place more dark and desolate than the one before. At last, Claire, tired of this never ending journey and completely lost stopped.
"Where are we going?"
"I told you, there's n reason to be afraid."
"That's not what I asked. My time costs money you know. Doesn't matter what you do with it." Her short stand of defiance was brought to an abrupt end as Finchly grabbed her shoulders, shoving her up against the nearest wall. Claire felt a searing pain stab through her back as it hit some protruding brick or piece of metal.
"What do you think you're doing?" she half screamed, hoping her colleagues would hear, and then it hit her. Where were they? Could they have followed all this way on foot, or didn't they see Finchly in the dark. Hysteria was threatening to over take her. She didn't even know where she was, let alone the others.
Meanwhile, Finchly in front of her had pulled out a knife. "I thought you might be different, but you're just like all the others." There were tears running down his face and he looked like some overgrown deformed child, terrified of its own brutality.
"What do you mean the others?" Claire grasped at what seemed like her only chance – talking her way out of the situation.
"The other girls, they're everywhere. They wait here late at night and they tell me they love me, but they don't, not really." Even through her fear, Claire felt a distant stab of pity for this creature, to feel so unloved you killed girls who offered you their bodies.
"What did you do to the others?" Praying that this would work she tried to face her attacker.
"I punished them. I made them feel how I do and when they screamed, they understood." He pushed his own body up against Claire's so she couldn't move. Despite the pain in her back she tried to sink further into the wall, but the bricks were unyielding and she was powerless as he pressed his lips against hers. She felt his tongue in her mouth and tried to swallow the bile rising up her stomach and throat.
He hadn't kissed any of the previous victims. Claire's memory strained trying to recall the details of the previous attacks. It had been purely sexual or violent. Then again, none of the others had had any sustained dialogue with him either. Perhaps there was a chance she could still get away. Then she felt his hand sliding up between her thighs and she bit her tongue to stop the scream of terror that wanted to consume her. The point of his blade was pricking the skin of her neck.
Silently Claire prayed that somehow the others would make it in time.