Page 105 of The Taskmaster
“Because the email was about someone you know quite well.”
I had no idea what he was on about. I assumed it was someone at Clivesdon House, but I urged him on, saying, “Go on. Tell me.”
He tapped the screen of his phone and said, “It’s Charles Quinn.”
My body stiffened at the mention of his name. Revulsion burning inside at the image of the man who I would drag from the depths of hell to kill all over again if I could.
“Why would I be interested in anything to do with him?”
“Because according to the email I received, there might be another potential victim. I know how much you like to enact your own style of revenge.”
“No more than you,” I shot back.
Adam paused, then asked, “Don’t you even want to know what it is?”
“Not really, but I can see you’re dying to tell me, so go ahead. I have two minutes to kill.” I widened my grin, and I knew he was about to walk away, so I added, “Talk.”
He stared at his phone, then said, “They weren’t sure whether to reach out. They saw the news about his death a few years ago, and spoke to the police about their case, but nothing was done.”
“Figures,” I remarked. My view of the British justice system was so far down the toilet, it was now wallowing in the sewers.
“The anniversary of the case brought it all back up for them, and they decided to reach out ‘cos they know we get shit done.”
Noble was blowing smoke so far up his own ass, he resembled a self-righteous chimney.
“Just read the damn email,” I snapped, and his jaw clenched before he relented.
“I’m writing to you as my last hope,” he announced, reading from his screen. “For years now, I’ve lived with the pain of what that doctor did. He’s never received justice, and no one seems to be listening to me. I’ve approached the police on numerous occasions, but all they do is tell me they’ll look into it, but they never do.
“I’ll start by explaining what happened to me, and if you think this is something you could help me with, I would be eternally grateful. I have no one else to turn to.
“I met Doctor Charles Quinn thirty years ago, when I attended the General for the routine delivery of my baby. What should’ve been the happiest day of my life turned into a nightmare. He butchered me, took pleasure in my pain, and when he told me my baby was born asleep, I didn’t believe him. I still don’t. A mother knows, and for the last thirty years, I’ve lived in a nightmare, convinced he did something to my baby.
“I’ve seen the news reports. I know he was involved in trafficking. I also know he was responsible for those murders. I just want justice for my baby. To find out what he did, if that’s at all possible. So, I can finally put this nightmare to bed, and get some closure.”
Noble kept reading but my mind had already gone. So, there were more. I knew there would be. More babies he stole, more families he tore apart, more victims of his sordid practises. And more reasons for me to keep doing what I do best. I could never change. I was blessed that Abigail would never expect me to.
I realised Noble had stopped talking and was staring at me.
“So?” he asked. “I wouldn’t normally invite you onto a job, but I think in this case, you might be able to help us. It would have to stay on the down-low though. Until I’ve had chance to talk to the others.”
“Fine,” I replied, and reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a card. “Here’s my email. Forward the details and I’ll think it over.”
He took the card, and I turned to walk away, but before I did, I asked, “What’s the woman’s name?”
“Tia,” he replied, stealing the air from my lungs. “Tia Bailey.”
Bonus Chapter
ISAIAH
Istood outside the small, terraced house in a street that was just like any other. Nothing remarkable. A typical English estate with kids playing in the street, and people chatting on their doorstep. They didn’t pay much attention to me. I was nothing special. But this day was a day I never thought I’d see.
I opened the small wooden gate, stepped onto the path, and closed it behind me. Then I took a moment to look at the house, before I approached the front door. I didn’t see anyone at the windows, and as I tried to keep my beating heart under control, I thought maybe she wouldn’t be here.
What if this was all a mistake?
My hands shook as I lifted my arm to ring the doorbell. But I did what I could to block the intrusive thoughts from my brain. I pressed the bell, heard the ringing coming from inside, and I stood back. I didn’t want to frighten her when she opened the door and saw a heavily tattooed stranger standing on her doorstep.
