‘I only wanted what was best for you,’ she whimpered. ‘What was best for us all.’
The man’s expression darkened with each word. His eyes flashed bright green as she spoke, and he knew that she could not be allowed to win. Not again.
‘What’s best for us all,’ he whispered with venom, ‘is a world without you.’
He thrust his hidden knife towards the breast pocket of her jacket, and pierced her right in the heart.
The woman clutched the invading weapon and fell to her knees, then to the floor. Her final words ‘This is not for the greater good. This is…’
But a stab in the heart was not enough. For this to work and for her evil to truly be eradicated, she must be symbolically thrown to the wolves. Hence their location on the roof garden of a trendy office block. He dragged her still-alive body to the edge wall and hauled it to rest on the thick glass security pane. Into her pocket he placed a carefully folded piece of paper, then with a final energetic spasm, heaved her body over the glass.
‘Goodbye Mother,’ he said, and immediately began his brisk walk back to the office block’s ground floor. If he kept his speed up and used the emergency stairs, he knew he would be unseen and out of the door in less than five minutes. It took just under three minutes, and with latex-clad hands he opened the rear door and made his way out.
Fortunately for Ben, his black hooded sweatshirt and black joggers – the uniform of house-breakers and car-thieves everywhere – provided sufficient anonymity. Add to that the additional padding he’d sewn into the clothes, a fake blonde beard, a shoulder length blonde wig and tinted contact lenses, and he’d ensured that his own mother hadn’t recognised him till her final moment.
Ben thought back to the events of earlier that day, and what had been required to ensure his own peace and the peace of mankind. Truly, he was working for the greater good. Holy Wars had proved that any act, even murder, could be justified providing one’s motives were true and were for the greater good.
Ben’s mission to kill his mother had been four months in the planning. Four months of scheming and sucking up to the people around him. Four months of ensuring that each and every piece of the puzzle fitted. Of secreting items away, of careful observation and, in the end, of targeted violence.
All because he finally realised that his estranged mother had been responsible for the death of his wife, for the smuggling and distribution of illegal firearms, and for the most blatant of benefit scams which defrauded the government of millions. Those misdemeanours were bad enough, but what of the innocent lives who’d taken a wrong turn and been sucked into her drug trafficking and provision?
Well away from the back entrance, Ben stopped behind a large van to remove his wig, beard, hoodie and tracksuit bottoms, stashing them into his rucksack. The person who emerged was an anonymous-looking dark-haired man who had barely broken into a sweat during his mission. He strolled around the corner, feigned dismay at the growing crowd who had already gathered around the fallen woman, and disappeared into the crowd. He stood behind two indistinguishable young women.
‘I’ve just been out to get my lunch,’ the slightly taller girl said. ‘And then I get back to the front door and this sound happens behind me. I turn around and there’s my boss on the pavement, covered in blood. And she was dead!’
Her friend shook her head. ‘I know! I was only a few steps behind you. Are you sure it’s Joyce? Why would anyone kill Joyce? She’s just the sweetest and kindest…’
‘I know. Proper old school. Very real.’
‘Does Joyce, I mean, did Joyce have a family?’
The young woman shrugged. ‘Her husband died. She just had a son, Ben, but he’s been in a mental home since he was a teenager. He was always seeing things that weren’t there, and thinking the world was out to get him. A proper uncurable headcase if you ask me, but Joyce didn’t give up hope for him. He was why she started working in mental health.’
‘Is he the next of kin?’
‘Yeah, but I don’t know how they’ll tell him the news. He broke out from his ward a couple of days back, killed two of the nurses and set fire to everything. Proper psycho, I reckon. He even raided the creative room’s dressing up box on his way out!’
The other girl mouthed ‘Wow’ and both fell silent as they watched the body of Joyce Mackenzie,founder of the charity, Mental Health Support UK, being removed from the scene and taken away in the waiting ambulance.
And Ben watched too, delighted that Mission Stage 1 was now accomplished. He wished he could have been there when the police found the paper in Joyce’s pocket. Never mind, the deed was done, and it was all for the greater good. Stage 2 next.
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