Chapter 17
‘Who gets justice?’ she asked, rising from her seat and anchoring herself in front of her audience.
‘They do,’ Josh and Don replied in unison.
‘Who deserves justice?’
‘They do.’
‘Who delivers justice?’
‘We do.’
‘That’s right. We do. We deliver justice and the deliverance of justice is sweet and gives final victory to those who’ve had justice denied.
’ She held the Ziplock bag aloft and walked towards the man on her right.
She twisted her wrist slowly so that the light caught the contents of the bag: a clump of dark blonde hair that was streaked with dried blood.
‘This was a job well done. You should have been there.’ She prised the bag apart and turned it upside down.
Josh yelped and jumped back in his seat, pushing the piece of Sian Fox-Carnell’s scalp off his lap as though it was a lump of hot coal.
‘What is that?’ Josh asked.
‘That belongs to her,’ the woman said. She bent down, picked up the scalp and placed it back in the bag. ‘Where were you, Josh?’ she asked.
‘I’m sorry, but … but last night,’ Josh stuttered as he looked down at the bloodied stain on his jeans. ‘My kid. I had … it was a family issue. I would have been there if I could, but my kid. You understand, don’t you?’
‘I understand that I’m questioning your commitment to us.
You can’t just pick and choose how you want to contribute to our mission to deliver justice,’ she told him.
‘You need to be with us every step of the way and you have to accept that you’re going to get blood on your hands.
Despite our name, you cannot exist in the shadows. ’
Josh licked his dry lips, trying to focus on something else in the room and avoid her gaze that bore into him. ‘I am with you. Of course I am,’ he grovelled. ‘I thought I’d proven that.’
The woman turned around, leaving the statement hanging in the air.
She walked over to the table in the middle of the room, on which sat her tote bag.
She put the Ziplock bag into the zipped compartment and then removed two green document wallets, each containing identical documents.
She lifted the flap and pulled out the top sheet and read through the ten names.
She nodded to herself, satisfied that she had chosen the right people.
‘I’m hoping that the system does the right thing, and the right decision is made. But, in the event that it’s not, I want us to be ready,’ she said, handing the wallet to Josh.
Josh cleared his throat and placed the wallet on the floor. ‘I think,’ he coughed and tried to dislodge the frog in his throat. ‘I think that maybe we’re going too far.’
She looked directly into Josh’s eyes and waited as the seconds ticked by. It was the simplest way to intimidate someone. To make them wait. To sweat.
‘Say that again Josh,’ her voice was calm and steady. There was no need for performative displays of authority – not with this group. She was the one in charge. She’d made that crystal clear from day one.
‘Say that again,’ she repeated.
Josh ran his hand across his hairline, wiping away the beads of sweat. He looked across at the man on his right. Searching for support. Looking for a saviour.
‘It … it wasn’t just me,’ Josh swallowed hard. ‘We were both—’
‘No, no,’ Don cut in forcefully. ‘I didn’t say a word. I promise you, that is not what I said.’
She sighed with disappointment as she watched the pair in front of her.
They used to be larger in numbers when the group was first formed.
They’d found each other in an online chatroom in the darker corners of the internet where each echoed the same mantra of ‘This is not justice’ after they trawled through the latest criminal court news.
Online meetings and the trolling of leftist, liberal supporters with their unrealistic notions of how the world should be, turned into meeting in person in shady pubs and now, finally, here, in a garden office in deepest South-East London.
The numbers dwindled from eight, to five, to four, to now three once the chatter changed from ‘This is what should be done’ to ‘This is what we’re going to do. ’
‘You’re bang out of order, Josh,’ said Don. ‘Why are you questioning things now when you knew that this was the plan?’
‘I didn’t know that killing her was part of the plan!’ Josh’s voice was rising and falling like disturbed waves in the ocean. ‘Just punish her. Scare her.’
Don laughed. ‘Oh, she was scared all right.’
‘She’s dead,’ Josh said. His eyes cast to the window as the lights in the house, at the opposite end of the garden, switched on.
‘And what exactly is the problem?’ Don asked. ‘What exactly is wrong with doing what those who call themselves the holders of justice have failed to do?’
‘Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with that. I mean that’s why we’re here. That’s why we’re doing what we’re doing. Making them accountable for their actions. But—’
‘But what, Josh?’
Josh looked away.
‘There’s no buts,’ Josh said unconvincingly. ‘I’m not saying that we shouldn’t have punished her. We—’
Don moved quickly for a man of his size.
Swift on his feet with a dangerous right hook was how they’d spoken about him at the boxing club when he was a kid, before life got in the way, before everything changed.
He kicked Josh hard in the chest. The metal folding chair collapsed and skidded across the floor.
Josh yelped as he fell hard on the floor and banged his head against the edge of the metal filing cabinet.
‘I’m sorry. I should have been there,’ said Josh. He pressed his hand against the back of his scalp. The flickering images from the TV screen briefly spotlighted the blood on his fingers.
The woman said nothing as Don grabbed Josh by the collar of his polo shirt and dragged him into the middle of the room.
Don straddled Josh, placing his full weight on his chest. ‘This is just a warning. You don’t want me to start making promises.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry,’ spluttered Josh. ‘I shouldn’t have questioned you. You were right. She deserved it. She deserved it all.’