The Dark Web Murders

CHAPTER SIX

Tuesday, 14th August. Afternoon 

A golden Labrador lay on a hearth rug, his head resting on his two front paws. He wasn't asleep, however. One eye kept cocking, constantly observing his master who was seated in a nearby armchair reading a newspaper. Eventually the man closed the newspaper,folded it, and threw it on to a nearby sofa. He stared through the window beside him for some seconds and then grinned at the dog. "What do you think, Fred?" 

Fred's head came up and his body rolled to a sitting position. His tongue lolled out and he seemed to grin back. The man, grey-haired, paunchy, looked out through the window again. "Bit of a breeze out there, Fred." 

The dog got up, sidled over to the window and raised himself up so that his front paws were on the sill. He, too, looked out. He turned his head to his master, both eyebrows moving erratically.

 The man chuckled. "I declare to God, Fred, you understand my every thought." Rising from his chair, he added, "So it's a walk, is it?" 

At the mention of 'walk' the dog dropped back on to all fours, reversed a bit to face his master, and uttered a short, sharp bark. The man reached out, patted the dog's head and said as he opened the lounge door, "A walk it is, Fred. Just let me get my coat and my stick." 

Fred bounded into the hall and stood facing the front door, tail wagging furiously, small excited wheezes and whines emitting from his mouth. 

The man grinned again. "All right, Fred. All right. We're going. We're going." He buttoned his overcoat against the breeze he knew was out there and, taking a minute to attach a lead to the dog's collar, he opened the front door and headed out. Fred strained against the lead, dragging his master a few steps before the old man said calmly but firmly, "Heel, Fred." 

As man and dog emerged from the stone-fronted, L-shaped bungalow, two cold eyes stared at them from an inconspicuous black car parked about fifty yards away. The watcher experienced no surprise, no emotion, no relief, when he saw them. He had made a point of observing the man's behaviours over the past couple of weeks and soon learned that he could almost set his watch by the man's comings and goings. They had left the house precisely as anticipated. He continued to watch as they made their way to a small car parked on the drive. He watched the man open the back door of the car to let the dog jump in. He knew now their exact route and where it would take them, having already followed them on a number of occasions. They would drive to the Cave Hill Walk, leave the car in the parking area near Belfast Castle, and walk from there. He had studied their circuit in detail and had already selected the secluded spot where he would wait for them.Giving the oblivious pair a couple of minutes to get en route, he started his car and, a few minutes later, drove calmly past them. 

* * * 

Man and dog loved this walk. It offered a challenging route over rough paths, crossing moorland, heath and meadows where the trills, shrieks and screeches of buzzards, kestrel, and peregrines could be heard overhead. And the weather today was cooperating. The rain and squalls of the previous evening had given way to a slightly cloudy but occasionally sunny afternoon, with just a hint of a breeze. The early part of the walk took them through a woodland area containing many trees that had been planted at the latter end of the nineteenth century, the paths heading ever upwards towards a plateau. Breaks in the trees offered magnificent views of Strangford Lough, ScraboTower, and the Mourne Mountains far to the south. Away to the north,easily visible, was Slemish Mountain, the first known home of the legendary Saint Patrick, and beyond that, the coast of Scotland across the Irish Sea. 

The man never tired of these panoramic views and often stopped just to gaze and wonder. Fred, whose tastes were less aesthetic, would tend,when released from his lead, to bound along the paths and through the trees,following interesting smells. He seldom strayed too far, however, and invariably returned to check that his master was still behind him before scurrying off again.Some twenty or thirty yards ahead of the man, Fred came to a high grassy bank at an isolated corner of a path that ran through the trees.  A car was parked there with the bonnet raised and a man standing beside it. Seeing the dog, he reached out a hand and said cheerfully, "Hello, Fred. What are you doing all the way up here?"

 Fred acted puzzled to hear his name from the mouth of a stranger whose smell was unfamiliar to him. He stopped, tail wagging uncertainly, cocked his ears forward and held his head slightly to one side, trying to make sense of what was happening. 

The man smiled again. "Have I got a treat for you, Fred," he said and,opening his hand, he tossed some pieces of meat into the trees. 

Fred,catching the tempting aroma, was already salivating as he dived after the morsels. Two or three quick snaps of his head and the pieces were all gone. Fred licked his lips with a huge pink tongue and was coming back for more when he stopped, pawed his mouth, and reversed erratically, coughing,choking, whimpering at the sudden pain he was experiencing. Still reversing restlessly, his muscles started twitching, the twitching becoming more and more pronounced as convulsions began to manifest themselves. 

The dog began to stumble. His twitching became more and more pronounced as he began to convulse. He fell to the ground, gasping. His legs and body began to stretch outwards while his neck curved down into his chest. His pupils were now dilated, filled with panic and fear, as spasms followed one another with increased severity. The stranger watched impassively as the dog writhed and suffered,looking away only when he heard the footsteps of the dog's owner.