Then he saw a dark figure move along the wall opposite. Straining to see more, he saw the figure crouch down. They both, it seemed, were watching and waiting. He could feel his heart rate quickening, and his breathing was shorter, sharper, louder — was it so loud as to be heard? And how fit was the figure on the other side? How quickly would they catch up if he made a run for it?

 

When the building plunged into darkness a few minutes earlier, he’d been sitting in his office, plotting against his wife. How dare she exclude him from her birthday party? Not only did it annoy him, but it hurt his inflated ego, he was no longer master of his own home, never mind a guest at a party. He suspected she might have a lover. The thought annoyed him immensely. He hadn’t been faithful for years, but how dare she?

 

Now he was homeless and had taken refuge in the office. It was hardly anything to brag about, so he lied about it. He told everyone he was staying at the most expensive country house hotel in the area, even though everyone, including colleagues, knew he slept on a camp bed at work. Everyone except his wife. He and his children kept it from her. He felt embarrassed that his children wouldn’t give him shelter.

 

So, when the lights went out in his small office, he presumed it was a fault. But then he distinctly heard movement. He heard something, most likely someone. The office didn’t provide a hiding place, so he slipped into the corridor and through a connecting door into the factory area, which is where he was now crouched, watching the figure on the other side.

 

Suddenly, the figure, dressed all in black, disappeared. He panicked and made a quick decision. There was no choice – he had to make a run for it. It was the wrong decision. Halfway across the factory floor, he collided with a stack of pallets. Winded, he fought desperately to control and quieten his breathing. Lying as still as he could, he kept his face towards the floor, hoping for a clear run to the door. He slowly pushed his body up and onto his knees. The way out was still some distance away. He was completely unaware – until it was too late - that the shadowy figure was now behind him.

 

The force of the heavy wrench smashing into his skull was enough to kill him instantly.

 

His assailant, who stood looking down at the dead man, pulled off a balaclava and casually tossed the wrench onto the floor. The noise echoed around the vast space.

‘Oh dear,’ she said faintly. ‘That was clumsy of me, wasn’t it?’ She crouched and checked for signs of life. Satisfied her victim was dead, she stood up and looked around her. There were no other sounds, and the security guard who patrolled the factories on the site wasn’t due for another hour.

‘

Make sure you lie still, Rupert, won’t you?’ His killer stood over him.

 

‘I mean, it’s not as though you’ve ever done as you’re told before, is it? It would be nice now, though; just for me, please.’

 

She checked him once more, just to be sure. She’d read online about people who were clinically and even legally dead but came back to life after a while – sometimes many minutes or hours. That was disconcerting, and she wanted to be certain.

​

'Are you gone, Rupert? Don’t let me down, will you, dear? Do as you’re told, for once, and don’t move. Someone will be along to see to you soon. Goodbye.’

 

And with that, she rather callously blew him a kiss, turned, and walked away, heading for the door that had been his intended escape route. A casual observer might even think she had a spring in her step as she walked away.

 

Before she left, she ransacked his office, but what she was looking for didn’t seem to be there. She also looked in the corner of the stores area, around where he’d been camping. She didn’t find what she was looking for their either and left.

 

Rupert did as he was told. He didn’t move and exactly 56 minutes after the assailant, or rather murderer, left the building, a rather hapless security guard nearly tripped over his lifeless body. It was by then 7.20pm.

The guard, hardly an experienced professional, especially with battered corpses, found a factory door open and the place in darkness. He had the gumption to check the mains; his father was an electrician, and he knew about fuses. He reinstated the power and then slowly and carefully made his tour of the building. As he walked, his young mind explored possibilities: who might have switched the power off?

 

Could it be the same person who left the door wide open? Whoever it was, they were stupid or lazy – or both. He would later ponder if it was the same person who killed the man in the machine area.

 

He found Rupert’s body lying just where it had fallen, and immediately panicked, vomited, and suffered a dizzy spell, before being able to call his supervisor and, subsequently, the police. The cycle then repeated: panic, vomit, dizzy.

 

Well before the security guard had arrived on the scene, the assailant was home and undressed, about to step into the shower. First, though, she put the black top, black leggings, and black sports shoes, together with her matching black underwear, into – appropriately - a black bin liner. She would throw it away later.

 

She stood under the shower for a few minutes, reflecting on what she’d done. There was no remorse. In fact, her adrenalin was still flowing and the effect of lathering herself intimately only increased all her senses. The effect eventually brought her shower time to a shuddering and, because of the evening’s murderous activity, exhausting climax.

 

Twenty minutes later, she had dressed and was sipping whisky. She stood looking at a photograph of her wedding day and raised her glass.

 

By now, the police were on their way to the murder scene and the security guard was being treated for shock by a colleague called in to assist and support the younger man. The treatment was wholly reliant on a mug of strong tea – and a bucket.

​