How fast things change. A year or so ago, he’d have described the footage contained on the USB stick as anything but vanilla. But now? How many wanks had it taken to dull the image of a five year old abused by her father? How many ejaculations diminished the impact of an infant having his sphincter split wide? These days there were few pleasures to be had in such videos; if anything it was the appropriation that tickled the adrenal glands, that sight of the progress bar as it was fed by a thousand other torrents, a thousand other like-minded pariahs. No, these days the videos that gave him wood were rarer fare.
“I can get you videos that are a little rougher?” he persisted, though Tetrazzini still kept his thoughts locked away behind a granite face. The admission hang between them. Harris had taken a risk, for even amongst paedophiles there were degrees of severity and morality that could easily be breached. “They’re good. You won’t see anything like it anywhere else.”
“No. Thank you,” Tetrazzini said, rising from his seat to leave. “These will be suitable.”
Embarrassment made anger flare up inside. Who the fuck did this guy think he was, looking down on him like that? He wasn’t the Pope for Christ’s sake!
All of a sudden, Harris wanted rid of Tetrazzini, but he was the only other person with even vaguely similar appetites, and Harris had one question he wanted to ask first. He reached out and grabbed the doctor’s arm, preventing him from passing.
“Do you ever… you know?”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re taking about,” Tetrazzini growled.
“Do you ever act out the videos? Do it for real, I mean?”
Tetrazzini smiled thinly, a smile that contained all Harris needed to know. It spoke of a secret satisfaction, an honour at experiencing what was forbidden to all. “What about you?”
“Yes,” whispered Harris. “Once.” It had occurred nine months ago, his sister’s kid. Jennie had left him alone with little Rachel for an hour whilst she popped out to buy credit for the gas meter. In that time he’d gotten… curious. He shivered at the recollection, the thrill of intrusion.
“Just once huh?”
And Harris almost believed it, except there had been that other time, that exquisite afternoon, when he’d indulged the fantasy fuelled by the other videos. But he wouldn’t talk about that. He’d never talk about it. Not while the police investigation was still on-going. Not while that girl’s parents still showed their tearful blotchy faces on TV, pleading for news of their daughter’s whereabouts.
“Well, be careful, huh?” Tetrazzini said as if reading Harris’ thoughts. “Restraint goes a long way,” and with a wink added, “Loose lips sink ships.” The doctor looked up as the bus came to a halt outside a small park, nestled amongst tall office blocks. “I’m going to take full advantage of this splendid weather and enjoy my sandwich. Have a good day, Rolf.”
Harris watched the doctor leave, envious of the man’s choice of destination. The park did look nice, bathed in bright light, despite being next to several tall office blocks. Perhaps he’d get out and have a stroll himself? Have a think about what to ask Tetrazzini next time?
He never got a chance to meet the doctor again. The world broke mere minutes later.
Harris looked at Grace with a mixture of sickness and want written across his features. His face twisted and turned, sometimes pulling apart as if in horror, but then curling together in lust. One hand was placed against his cheek, idly scratching, whilst the other gently rubbed the front of his trousers.
“Harris?”
His attention broke to McConnell and eyes were freed from their mist. “Christopher,” he stammered, “I’m sorry.” But McConnell shook his head.
“Oh, Harris, what have you done?” The reverend groaned, realising his mistake.
Tears grew heavy in the captain’s eyes. “It’s something I do. It’s just something I do.”
“But…” McConnell’s head was spinning. And behind him he could hear the sound of a child being raped. “But… the Mariner? Arthur? I thought it was Arthur…”
“I did that for us, for all of us,” the man pleaded. “That lunatic is dangerous, you know it. If we’d followed him to the Pope, we’d all be dead. Like Barnett and the rest… All of us!” Harris jabbered whilst his eyes kept flicking over McConnell’s shoulder, dragged towards the sight played out behind. “If I’d been caught, we’d all be dead. So you see? I was right wasn’t I? I was right. I was right. No-one was supposed to know. Loose lips sink ships! Loose lips sink ships!”
There was a sickening snap of bone as whatever play that was being enacted behind him ended in its grim climax. Harris’ attention dragged to it fully and he gave an involuntary gasp of pleasure at the sight.
Screaming with fury, McConnell threw himself forward, open palms hitting the monster’s chest. His eyes widened in almost comical surprise at the fantasy’s interruption, and in a blur of flailing arms and legs tumbled backwards, somersaulting overboard.
For a brief moment, he hung on the edge by the fingertips of his right hand, face upturned and pleading, but with a faint squeak his fingers skidded, and Harris fell into the depths.
And then, as if the magic had been dispelled, the image of Grace dropped back into the ocean. There was no need for the eels to continue their ploy. The mind they’d been trying to tempt was with them. Now they could finally feed.
McConnell placed his hands to his face as Harris gave his final gurgling screams. There wasn’t much, the boat was still moving and his protests would soon be beyond ear shot.
He stayed in that pose, curled up and alone, praying that he could undo everything in his life that had gone so terribly wrong. But wishes are never answered. What’s done cannot be undone.
Eventually, he rose and took hold of the steering. They had drifted off course, and now the Neptune was to the left, horrendously close to the squat waterfall.
They had come to the final chapter. It was time to find an end.
46. THE WASP
LIKE AN OLD NAG’S FINAL jaunt about the field, the Neptune sailed with a speed and dignity previously unseen. It sliced through the waters gracefully, drawn towards the cocoon’s tear like a spirit’s ascent. He was close, so close he could almost feel the eye of the Wasp upon him. How would it react? How could any creature cope with the rebellion of a cell?
Ahead was the Waterfall, shrunk in height, as if whatever strange faucet dispensing the endless torrent had been brought closer to the surface.
The Mariner, clutching the side of the Neptune and leaning out over the ocean below, looked up at the great plume of liquid. “I’m here!” he told the sky. “Look at me! Listen to me!”
Suddenly the ship lurched, dropping into the ocean as if pushed. Above, one of the masts splintered, and with a mighty crack, broke, dropping onto the decking, hitting the boards beneath like a cannon-ball. Splinters flew in a spiky cloud and the Mariner was thrown down, rolling uncontrollably as the ship lurched, a terrible rupturing sending vibrations through his back to his teeth.
The Neptune came to a halt.
With shaky legs, the Mariner got to his feet and dashed to the bow, peering over, trying to spot the rocks she must have hit. There was none, just the lapping of the waves, strangely higher than they should be upon the hull.
Finally he looked up, and saw the cause of the jolt.
A great groove cut into the sky, The mast had crumpled the light blue around it into piles of displaced matter, cutting into some barrier above that gave the illusion of depth, yet really as firm as the ceiling of a cave.