Manchester Vice

Chapter 4

4 EXTRACT FROM JIM’S JOURNAL:

JULY 10

I caught the eye of a young man and smiled at him. He came over to my table, took hold of my hands with his, and pulled me to my feet. I went with him willingly and he led me onto the dance floor, where he gyrated his hips in front of me.

“I’m going to the bar,” I said. “Would you like a drink?”

“Yes please,” he replied. “A bottle of Peroni.”

I bought his Peroni and a glass of tonic water for myself. Before leaving the bar area, I operated the dispensing device strapped to my wrist and discharged a small amount of GHB into his drink. Then I quickly located my new friend.

He grinned as I handed him his Peroni.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

That was a question to which I couldn’t give an honest answer. I can imagine the reaction if I did: “I’m Gabriel, strong man of God, one of the seven archangels.” No, that wouldn’t go down at all well.

“Terry,” I lied. “But I like to be called Tel. What’s yours?”

“Tel. That’s a nice name. I’m Simon. Call me Si.”

I nibbled at his ear.

“What are you up to?” he asked, with a big grin on his face.

“I think you can guess,” I said. “Would you like to go somewhere quieter – my place for example?”

“You don’t waste any time. Go on then.”

I led him outside. Night had fallen, but the air was still warm and the street was no less crowded than it had been an hour or so before when I’d wandered into the gay village.

“Where are we going?” He asked.

“To my car. I’m parked just round the corner.”

“Are you driving me to your plaish?”

He was beginning to slur his speech because of the combination of alcohol and GHB.

“That’s right.”

“And what will you do with me when we get there?”

“I’ll f**k your brains out.”

By the time we got to the Old Chapel, Simon was fast asleep. With the aid of my specially adapted sack cart I wheeled him into the house and down the cellar steps. Then I got him strapped into the chair and turned the handle of the vice, locking his head into an upright position in its jaws.

JULY 11

I paid him a visit.

“What is this?” He demanded. “Some sick sado-masochistic game or something? I’m not into anything like that!”

“I have something here for you to drink,” I answered calmly.

I put a bottle on the table next to him with a long straw in it that he could just reach with his tongue. He used his tongue to get the end of the straw in his mouth and gulped the fluid down eagerly. Then he looked at me with rage and fear in his eyes.

“f*****g let me out now!” He demanded. “Right f*****g now!”

“If it was up to me, I would,” I replied. “But you are in God’s hands. I am His Instrument and He has given me signs to tell me that you must be purified.”

He tried to wriggle his arms and legs free but soon gave up.

JULY 18

I tightened the vice. The massive jaws at either side of his head moved fractionally closer together.

“What are you doing?” He asked. His voice became shrill. “What the f**k are you doing?”

I ignored him and carried on with my work.

I took my razor and shaved the top of his head. Then, using a sharp knife, I cut the shape of a cross in the bare skin I’d just exposed and peeled it back to reveal the bone beneath it. When I was satisfied I’d done a good job, I got my brace and bit from the table and began drilling a good-sized hole in the top of his head. His screams as I did this were enough to wake the dead. When the hole was sufficiently deep, I lit my incense burner and paced around the cellar swinging it gently, as I chanted the Holy words that would put his Demon to flight.

It was time for the spatula. I used it to scoop out the area of brain tissue in which the Demon had made his home. During this part of the ceremony, Simon somehow found the strength to scream even more loudly than he had done before.

After that, I tightened the jaws of the vice until I heard his skull c***k.

Later, I took his body through the tunnel and laid him to rest in the catacombs.”

END OF EXTRACT FROM JIM’S JOURNAL