IMPOSTURE: Hunters become the hunted in this gripping murder mystery by Ray Clark (good romance books to read txt) 📗

Reaching the end of the corridor, Anthony turned right into another corridor that headed left at the end. He tried to make sense of where he might be in the warehouse but he soon gave that up as a bad idea. The building was bloody massive. Even if he knew now, he probably wouldn’t by the time he’d finished the maze. If he finished it!

Anthony glanced behind, knowing that it would be nigh on impossible to creep up on him at the moment, unless Roger had followed him through the reception door.

Anthony scurried back to check. All was clear. He returned to his position and headed left. The panelling was still the same so he would have little choice but to go the way of the corridors.

The third corridor however, ended in a T-junction. So now he did have a choice.

Anthony wasn’t keen on that. What if he chose the wrong way? He supposed it didn’t really matter. He was here at Roger’s mercy so there wouldn’t really be any right way.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a coin. Heads he went right. Tails he went left. He placed the pepper spray and the syringe on the floor whilst he flipped. It landed heads up so he picked up his stuff and headed to the right.

At the end of that corridor he came up against a door. Anthony turned tail and slipped back the way he came so he could take the left turn, where he also came across a door at the end, so it mattered not which route he took. He suspected they would also be one-way doors again.

He was really pissed off with Roger’s games. Why the hell didn’t he simply come and finish him off like the others? What the fuck was the point of games and puzzles?

He was about to scream out in frustration but caught a grip of himself – bad idea.

Anthony grabbed the handle and twisted it. He decided that he would hold on to it so that he could return if he needed to.

That didn’t work. As soon as Anthony went through the door the lights went out and something brushed his face.

Anthony yelped like an injured dog, dropped the mace and the syringe and let go of the handle. The door slammed shut.

“For fuck’s sake,” shouted Anthony, all thoughts of not giving away his position having gone, like the lights.

But they came on again quite quickly.

Anthony picked his weapons up, stood up and turned, wishing he hadn’t. He was no longer in a corridor of wooden panels but a hall of mirrors.

Then the music started.

Chapter Sixty

Gardener slipped through the door and Reilly followed him. As it shut, Reilly turned and made a grab for the handle.

When it wouldn’t open he turned to his partner. “Good idea, that.”

“What is?”

“A one-way door. You can come through it but you can’t go back.”

“Doesn’t help us,” replied Gardener.

“Roger’s not after us. He wants to keep Palmer in here.”

Gardener turned and surveyed the corridor; it was long and narrow with smooth wood-panelled walls.

Reilly glanced upwards. “What the hell is that shit playing in the background?”

“No idea,” said Gardener, following his partner’s gaze, “but for some reason it sounds familiar.”

Reilly nodded to continue. “Let’s get moving, otherwise we’ll be here all night.”

Gardener nodded, walking to the end of the corridor before venturing the only way he could, to the right. The end of that corridor led him into turning left. When they reached the end of that one, they had a choice.

Gardener stopped. The music was still bothering him. He definitely had no idea of the song or the band but the familiarity was haunting.

“What now, boss?”

Gardener’s phone sprung into life. He pulled it out of his pocket and noticed Dave Rawson’s number.

“There’s a door at the back, boss and it’s open, do you want us to go inside?”

“I think not, Dave. You and Colin stay at the door and make sure no one leaves. We’re not sure yet if this place is booby trapped in any way and I don’t want either of you risking your lives.”

“Sure?” asked Rawson.

“Yes,” replied Gardener.

“Will do.”

Gardener put the phone back in his pocket. “Right, Sean, time to split up. You take the left and I’ll go to the right.”

Reilly nodded but before he set off, Gardener spoke to him.

“And, Sean? No heroics. If there’s anything you don’t like the look of, get on the phone.”

Reilly nodded.

Gardener figured he’d be better off talking to the wooden panels. He walked further down the corridor, took a right and came across a door. He wasn’t too happy about the situation but he suspected he knew Roger Hunter well enough not to have rigged the place with explosives or anything dangerous. Hunter was on a mission and Gardener and Reilly were not a part of it.

Gardener opened the door and stepped into the cavern of the warehouse. As the door closed it suddenly hit him why the music was familiar.

It was strange and haunting and the lyrics contained something about the night, and turning right. And when something clicked in his head there would be trouble ahead.

Chapter Sixty-one

Liverpool, 1992, the Big Top all over again.

Or it might as well have been.

He was surrounded by mirrors. Tall ones, short ones, wide ones; round mirrors, oval mirrors, square mirrors. Wooden frames, metal frames, gilt edged surrounds. Frames with different colours: black, gold, white, chrome. The whole place was filled with mirrors and it was a fucking mess, like Anthony’s mind.

The overhead lights were reflected in each and every one of them. Some of the mirrors were normal and others were fairground attractions. He had seen a dozen different