Read Online The Angels of Destiny by Haydn Jones - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Haydn Jones
Tags: Sci Fi & Fantasy
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racked with panic and her eyes became bulbous. He felt immense strength in his hands and his mind was swirling, out of control. This was not Samuel; this was a ruthless maniac.
"Die you stinking bitch. I want you to die." His face was red with anger as he slowly squeezed the life out of her young body. Her lips had turned blue and her eyes had partially closed. He began shaking her head violently backwards and forwards and her blood covered his face in long splashes. Then, as if a switch had been thrown, he stopped and looked at her purple contorted face and staring red eyes. Her tongue hung loosely from her mouth and her head dropped forward lifelessly. As if caring, he gently lowered her limp body onto the bed.
Samuel ’ s trembling hand lifted the receiver, "Room service?"
"Yes sir, can I help you?"
"I want a maid to change the bed sheets."
"Straight away, sir."
“ No, not now, in two hours please. In two hours time."
"Of course, sir."
Samuel replaced the receiver and walked to the bathroom. His whole body was shaking uncontrollably. After turning on the bath taps, he removed his bloodstained shirt, throwing it to the floor. His eyes were staring and unfocussed and in his hand was a penknife. Still shaking uncontrollably, he lowered himself into the filling bath. His hand moved to his neck, feeling for the vein that visibly pulsed. With one sideways slash the sharp blade cut deep into his neck, severing his jugular. Long spurts of blood hit the wall tiles and ran down into the bath turning the water bright red. Another slash severed the ligaments and veins in his left wrist. With his right hand he turned the taps off and dropped the knife into the bath. Slowly, with staring de-focussed eyes he lowered himself into the blood. His paling face showed no pain or emotion, he knew his torment would soon be over.
Hunter felt sick as he picked up the phone. He dialed a number and waited for the voice at the other end.
“ Yeah," came the response.
"Black has to go."
"When?"
"Tonight, from his place."
“ Yeah — Okay."
Replacing the receiver, he walked to the bathroom. He leaned into the toilet and spewed the contents of his stomach into the white enamel bowl.
Hunter was awakened by the phone at four-twenty. The man ’ s voice was tense and erratic.
"Well?" enquired Hunter.
"Black ’ s body has been found in a Houston hotel room. He committed suicide a few hours ago."
"Okay."
“ No, it ’ s not okay, the suicide was genuine."
"Oh fuck! Did he talk?"
"We ’ ve checked his outgoing calls, including his cellphone and network mail. It ’ s all clear. There ’ s no reason to suspect he blabbed. The reason for his suicide appears to be his wife, phoning to say she was leaving him, to live in England. ”
"When was this?" Hunter ’ s voice was agitated.
"The call was logged at 19:04 last night. After your call, we went straight to his place but Black was already out. We waited there for him to return, unaware he was picking up some hooker at the Paradise Club."
"What happened?"
"He took her to a hotel room off Westheimer and Richmond, strangled her and then cut his throat in the bath."
"Who found them?"
"Room service. One of our boys has checked the police report; there was no suicide note and no suspicious circumstances. The room was clean, apart from the blood I mean."
"Save it, you asshole. What about the Coroner ’ s report?"
"It ’ ll read suicide for Black, murder one for the whore."
"Can ’ t we keep the girl out of this?"
"No way. The press were there in minutes and both bodies were removed in full view of the cameras."
"Fuck! This is the last thing we want. A suicide, maybe but, not a murder as well. Okay, I ’ ll prepare the press statement for the morning," said Hunter, replacing the receiver. In a strange way, Hunter felt some relief. He wasn't responsible for Samuel ’ s death and there was no reason for Samuel to blab, but the unexpected events of last night disturbed
"Die you stinking bitch. I want you to die." His face was red with anger as he slowly squeezed the life out of her young body. Her lips had turned blue and her eyes had partially closed. He began shaking her head violently backwards and forwards and her blood covered his face in long splashes. Then, as if a switch had been thrown, he stopped and looked at her purple contorted face and staring red eyes. Her tongue hung loosely from her mouth and her head dropped forward lifelessly. As if caring, he gently lowered her limp body onto the bed.
Samuel ’ s trembling hand lifted the receiver, "Room service?"
"Yes sir, can I help you?"
"I want a maid to change the bed sheets."
"Straight away, sir."
“ No, not now, in two hours please. In two hours time."
"Of course, sir."
Samuel replaced the receiver and walked to the bathroom. His whole body was shaking uncontrollably. After turning on the bath taps, he removed his bloodstained shirt, throwing it to the floor. His eyes were staring and unfocussed and in his hand was a penknife. Still shaking uncontrollably, he lowered himself into the filling bath. His hand moved to his neck, feeling for the vein that visibly pulsed. With one sideways slash the sharp blade cut deep into his neck, severing his jugular. Long spurts of blood hit the wall tiles and ran down into the bath turning the water bright red. Another slash severed the ligaments and veins in his left wrist. With his right hand he turned the taps off and dropped the knife into the bath. Slowly, with staring de-focussed eyes he lowered himself into the blood. His paling face showed no pain or emotion, he knew his torment would soon be over.
Hunter felt sick as he picked up the phone. He dialed a number and waited for the voice at the other end.
“ Yeah," came the response.
"Black has to go."
"When?"
"Tonight, from his place."
“ Yeah — Okay."
Replacing the receiver, he walked to the bathroom. He leaned into the toilet and spewed the contents of his stomach into the white enamel bowl.
Hunter was awakened by the phone at four-twenty. The man ’ s voice was tense and erratic.
"Well?" enquired Hunter.
"Black ’ s body has been found in a Houston hotel room. He committed suicide a few hours ago."
"Okay."
“ No, it ’ s not okay, the suicide was genuine."
"Oh fuck! Did he talk?"
"We ’ ve checked his outgoing calls, including his cellphone and network mail. It ’ s all clear. There ’ s no reason to suspect he blabbed. The reason for his suicide appears to be his wife, phoning to say she was leaving him, to live in England. ”
"When was this?" Hunter ’ s voice was agitated.
"The call was logged at 19:04 last night. After your call, we went straight to his place but Black was already out. We waited there for him to return, unaware he was picking up some hooker at the Paradise Club."
"What happened?"
"He took her to a hotel room off Westheimer and Richmond, strangled her and then cut his throat in the bath."
"Who found them?"
"Room service. One of our boys has checked the police report; there was no suicide note and no suspicious circumstances. The room was clean, apart from the blood I mean."
"Save it, you asshole. What about the Coroner ’ s report?"
"It ’ ll read suicide for Black, murder one for the whore."
"Can ’ t we keep the girl out of this?"
"No way. The press were there in minutes and both bodies were removed in full view of the cameras."
"Fuck! This is the last thing we want. A suicide, maybe but, not a murder as well. Okay, I ’ ll prepare the press statement for the morning," said Hunter, replacing the receiver. In a strange way, Hunter felt some relief. He wasn't responsible for Samuel ’ s death and there was no reason for Samuel to blab, but the unexpected events of last night disturbed
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