High Moor 2: Moonstruck Read Free

to screw her way to the moonstruck?”
    Daniel laughed. “And how would you handle the situation, Connie? With your trademark tact and diplomacy? I suppose you would have us attack the police station head on and simply kill everyone inside?”
    Connie shrugged. “What’s wrong with that? Simple, effective and no witnesses.”
    Daniel nodded to Gregorz. “See, Connie can be subtle when she feels like it. If you ignore the pile of half−eaten corpses, no one would ever know that we’d been there.”
    Gregorz shook his head and let out a sigh, very much aware of the nervous glances they were getting from the other people in the coffee shop. He lowered his voice so that it was barely above a whisper. “That’s enough. Both of you. We need to focus on the task before us. Marie died over twelve hours ago. While I doubt that an autopsy would have been performed yet, they may have taken blood samples for analysis. Connie and I will retrieve Marie’s body from the morgue. Arrangements are in place to ship it back to Russia. Daniel, you will make sure that any evidence is destroyed.”
    Connie folded her arms. “Does it not make more sense for Daniel to help shift the dead bitch’s body? Ah’ll take care of the evidence. It’s not like ah haven’t done it before.”
    Gregorz sighed. “Okay, Connie. If you are adverse to a little heavy lifting, then Daniel and I will deal with Marie, while you take care of the evidence. But please, no killing. We need to be in and out of this hospital without arousing any kind of suspicion. Can you do that for me?”
    Connie took a sip from her coffee and gave Gregorz her sweetest smile. “Why of course. Didn’t you know? Subtle is ma middle name.”
    ***
    15th November 2008. High Moor Police Station. 13.00.

    John wished that he were dead. White hot lances of agony burned into his nerve endings, despite the painkillers. Worse than this though, was the realisation of what he’d lost, and what was going to happen next.
    He closed his eyes and held his head in his hands, seeing the same image play across his mind, over and over again. Marie, lying dead on the cold concrete paving slabs, riddled with silver bullets from Steven’s Mac−10. A wave of grief surged up from his stomach, and he fought to hold back the tears.
    Oh God, Marie, you stupid cow. If you’d just told me, then we could have avoided all this. You’d still be alive. Malcolm and the others, too. Deep down, John knew that wasn’t true. He realised it as soon as the thought flashed through his mind. Marie might have tried to draw him out, but he was the one that took the bait, infected Malcolm and killed Billy, Simon and Lawrence. He deserved everything that was coming.
    John opened his eyes again, unable to bear the memories, and looked around the room. Its floor, ceiling and walls were solid concrete, walls painted a dull olive green and the floor covered with threadbare green carpet tiles. A table was bolted to the floor, as were the chairs, and the only way in or out of the room was through a heavy steel door. The thick floral stench of cheap disinfectant hung in the air like a cloud.
    The door opened, and two people, a slightly overweight man in his mid forties, and a younger blonde woman with a severe expression on her face, stepped inside. The man placed an ancient tape recorder on the end of the desk and pressed the record button.
    “Interview with John Simpson, tape 1. 15th November 2008. 13.10hrs. DI Fletcher and DC Garner are present in the room, along with the suspect.”
    They both sat down, and the man leaned back in the chair. “Good afternoon, John. I’m Detective Inspector Phil Fletcher, and this is my colleague, Detective Constable Olivia Garner. Can I get you anything before we start? Tea? Coffee?”
    John shook his head.
    “No? Alright, then I suppose we should get down to it. My colleague and I were wondering if you’d like to tell us about what happened last night?”
    John raised his head and