Page 164 of The Mysterious Case of the Alperton Angels
There must be a thing. A primeval reflex when you see blood, innards. I remember when a colleague on the New York Times recounted watching a kidney transplant. Big story he was super interested in. Soon as the surgeon made the first cut, he saw the red flesh, smelled the burning cauterisation and passed out cold. Medical team were diverted to help the stricken journalist on the floor of the operating theatre. He told the story for years. I laughed so hard. What a dork. It was routine surgery. How could he have been so squeamish?
Makes sense now. If you see a body torn apart then you’re in danger too. That wild animal could get you next. I suddenly understood the tangle of red on the floor, the bodies. Three men, mutilated guts, throats cut … I lost my legs, sank down … and that’s the last I remember for, I don’t know how long.
‘Wake up, Mark.’ JC slaps me on the cheek, hisses in my ear. ‘Get the fuck up, mate.’
I come to, shaking. Almost pass out again when I realise I’m still in the room.
‘Ssh. Get up. Come on.’
He hauls me up by my arm, bundles me outside. ‘You nearlygave me a fucking heart attack,’ he says, outside, where we weave through a jumble of parked police vehicles. JC lights up a cigarette, offers me one.
‘What is this place?’ I whisper.
‘Old baby food warehouse.’
‘Who were those people and what did they take out your trunk?’
He blows smoke from the corner of his mouth. ‘Best you don’t know, Mark. Forget you saw it.’
‘Forget I saw a dead human being in the trunk of a patrol car, dragged into the scene of … of …’
JC scoffs between puffs. He gets in close, whispers, ‘Human being? He just killed the nicest guy you could hope to meet. In cold blood. Great guy and a great officer. Friend of mine, young Sikh fella. We trained together in Hendon.’ JC shakes his head. I see real emotion, tears in his eyes. ‘So don’t be losing any sleep over that piece. The guys who kicked his head in won’t.’
My hands shake as adrenalin disperses through my bloodstream. Delayed shock. Finally …
‘Did you know this was going to happen tonight?’
‘D’ya think I’d have let you in the car if I had?’ He laughs. ‘Look, you got to visit a multiple-murder scene. You got some exciting stuff for your book, eh?’
‘I can’t write about it or I’ll be the next one in the trunk of the car.’
He laughed. ‘Yeah. Them, they don’t give a shit about you.’
‘They don’t give a shit about anyone.’ I nod towards the building.
‘Oh, the others,’ JC scoffs. ‘Just some cult, offed ’emselves.’
Got back to the hotel at gone 2 a.m. Packed my case, took a taxi to Heathrow. A few hours later, here I am. As far away as possible from four dead men whose lives just crossed with mine.
WhatsApp messages between me and Oliver Menzies, 25 August 2021:
Amanda Bailey
Christopher Shenk or Shenky. There are links between the other angels: prison links, work links. But not him. Said to be a petty criminal and drug dealer, although he’d never been sent down.
Oliver Menzies
Raphael. The angel of healing for Jews and Christians. Angel of the resurrection in Islam.
Amanda Bailey
He doesn’t appear in any of the fictional accounts from the time – not as himself or as Raphael.
Oliver Menzies
Fiction. FICTIONAL ACCOUNTS. Do you know what ‘fiction’ means?
Amanda Bailey
