The Facebook Killer Read Online Free PDF

the fact that a GPS was now mounted on his
dashboard and a very expensive piece of engineering under the
bonnet. I kid you not, for the right price these Russians can get
you anything.
    When I was in the army, we had called it a
reverse positioning system. It was in its early days back then and
much bigger than now. Basically instead of a GPS system telling you
where to go, it took you there, whether you wanted to go or not. It
controlled the steering, distance and speed. It was also fitted
with brake sensors. We used it to send empty jeeps into areas we
thought might be ambush zones.
    Kalif checked the time on his new mobile
phone. 2:35pm. He would have to give it another couple of minutes.
He walked off towards the old brick factory taking a last look at
Chapel’s house.
    When Chapel answered his phone he was
screaming.
    “What the fuck have you done to my car?”
    “We’re just taking you on a little journey
Mr. Chapel.”
    “The doors have locked you bastard!”
    “Yes I know and they won’t be released until
you reach your final destination. All you have to do Mr. Chapel is
stay calm and everything will be OK.”
    “Who the fuck is this?”
    “It’s Kalif.”
    “You don’t sound like him. Where are you
taking me you bastard?”
    “Turning left onto Lovaine Avenue,” said the
metallic female voice from the dashboard.
    Kalif got into the switched BMW.
    “I’ll meet you there, Mr. Chapel,” he
said.
    “Where?” he screamed.
    “You’ll see soon enough,” Kalif replied, “I
know a short cut. Race you,” he laughed.
    Kalif had been waiting for five minutes when
he saw Chapel’s car turn the corner at the far end of the street.
He had kept the phoneline open all the time so he couldn’t call for
help.
    “Mr. Chapel, you are almost at your journey’s
end,” Kalif whispered into the phone.
    The car was crawling at a snail’s pace up the
street.
    “I hope you have enjoyed your little tour.
It’s almost over, don’t worry. If you would care to look to your
left, you’ll see a large space. There once stood a happy family
house in that gap. The house that the “little slut” lived in until
you helped your friends burn it to the ground.”
    “What the fuck is this all about? I had
nothing to do with those two crazies!” he was screaming, almost
crying now.
    His car slowed to a stop opposite the fenced
off pile of ashes.
    “Who the fuck is this?” he yelled.
    “Look to your right Mr. Chapel.”
    He turned to look me in the eyes. Kalif was
gone. Robert Chapel looked horrified.
    “I’m London’s most wanted, Mr. Chapel,
remember.”
    I waved the apple goodbye as his car
accelerated at break neck speed. I will always remember that look
of fear in his eyes. Banging desperately to try and break the
window.
    By my calculations his car should have made
impact with the wall at 92 mph.
    Status: Deceased.
     

Chapter 5
    Renee Walton
     
    I had decided to give myself a cooling off
period of three days between each apple. I figured this would allow
me time to see what the papers made of things, refocus and make
sure the plans for the next one were as foolproof as possible.
    As I locked Kalif back under the floorboards
for the night, I actually wished him sweet dreams. I knew then, for
my own sake that, I had to concentrate on what was actually going
on. I couldn’t afford to lose the plot. Not yet.
    Renee was proving a little more difficult to
track down, probably due to the fact that she was forty years old
and a touch wiser, but still not wise enough.
    Nothing in her picture gave away any facts. I
couldn’t work out why, what looked a decent, middle-aged woman
would be a friend of Hamid.
    I worked on the assumption that she was
single. I spent that afternoon calling every R. Walton in the
London area. I then moved onto the Home Counties. Nothing. No one
knew of a Renee. I was wasting my time. Who’s to say that was her
real name anyway? I felt liked I’d hit my first barrier. Her
profile was