The Book of Death by Anonymous

loud enough for Simmonds to
pick up on it.
    ‘This isn’t finished.’
    Simmonds’s face broke out into a
huge grin. ‘Yeah, good one,’ he called after them as they left his office
without closing the door behind them. ‘See ya, JD. What’s that stand for
anyway? Juvenile Dick?’
    JD didn’t answer. Simmonds got
up and closed the door behind them then sat back at his desk and congratulated
himself on wielding a little more of his newly acquired power. He turned back
to his computer to check on the local news to see if there was any announcement
about his appointment as the Museum’s new manager. The news mentioned the
demise of Bertram Cromwell but had no mention of Simmonds replacing him. As he
scoured through the article he came across some breaking news. It said:

 
    CCTV
footage of the Bourbon Kid found. Click here to see what he looks like.

 
    Simmonds clicked on the link
expecting to see the footage he had provided to Captain Dan Harker. Instead
what he saw was some different footage of the Bourbon Kid walking into the
local police station with two other guys dressed as cops. He recognised one of
the cops as Dante Vittori, a former employee at the museum. But that wasn’t
what really caught his eye. He recognised the face of the Bourbon Kid too. It
was JD, the man who had just left his office with Beth Lansbury.

 

 
    Twelve

 
    Even though the elevator doors
had closed before Ulrika Price got anywhere near him, Sanchez knew it was only
going to be a brief reprieve. Having pressed the button to take him down to the
basement he was now faced with two options. He could either get out when the
doors opened and make a run for it, or stay in the elevator and press one of
the shit covered buttons to head back up to one of the higher floors. Problem
was, if Ulrika had called the elevator back to the ground floor, the doors
would open when he got there and she’d be upon him. And all he had to defend
himself from any attack was a dirty mop. Time was not on his side, so when the
elevator doors opened he decided to head straight out. He was greeted by the
sight of a disused locker room. The place (much like the elevator) was covered
in blood, mostly on the floor, but there were also specks sprayed across the
walls and doors of the lockers.
    As the elevator doors closed
behind him he began retreating down through the rows of lockers, watching the
elevator to see if it went back up. He was backing himself into a corner with
only a damp mop covered in blood, shit and a touch of soapy water as
protection.
    After a few seconds he heard the
gears churn and the elevator started moving upwards. He continued edging back
from it, keeping one eye on the door in the wall next to the elevator in case
Ulrika charged through it. He couldn’t see a single decent hiding place either.
His options seemed limited to the lockers or the benches in front of them. And
Sanchez was in no kind of shape to be fitting himself into a locker, or under a
bench for that matter.
    Glancing behind him he saw that
he was heading towards a communal shower area. This had potential. Maybe if he
turned on all the showers he could create some steam to hide in? If Ulrika
showed up and followed him in, he could catch her with his mop and make a break
for it. It was lame. Not a plan that even Sanchez was proud of, but what else
did he have? And why was Ulrika taking so long to get down to the basement?
Maybe she was killing Flake?
    Damn , Sanchez had forgotten all
about Flake in his haste to escape from Ulrika. If Flake perished at the hands
of Ulrika, he’d have to find another ride home if he made it out of the station
in one piece. Flake made a pretty damn good breakfast too. Sanchez hated the
thought that he might have to get his early morning fry up from somewhere other
than the Ole Au Lait.
    As he pondered every trivial
matter that came to mind, he backed into one of the shower switches. What
followed was a grinding sound from behind. He spun