They walk for twenty minutes. In a straight line. Deeper and deeper into the woods. There is no path to follow. There are leaves on the floor that are undisturbed. Nobody comes here.

Both men are silent for that twenty minutes.

Then they come to a stop.

And Pace talks.

‘This will do. Now I get to do some of the talking.’ He takes the spare set of handcuffs and clips one side onto 255’s left wrist. ‘It was at the end of our fourth session, I think. You said to me “You could Google weird deaths and you’d be surprised at what comes up”. Well, I did that. As you know. Because you put that idea into my head.’ He pulls at the cuffs to drag his ex-shrink towards one of the trees. ‘One of them really stayed with me.’

He anticipates some resistance at the next part because he has to unlock the first set of handcuffs.

255 does not resist.

Pace takes his captive’s hands from behind his back and places them out in front. Both arms held up either side of the tree trunk. He then fastens them back together with the cuffs he took from the boot of his car and removes his police-issued set.

‘The lonely death. That’s what it was called.’

Then Pace takes a folded piece of paper from his pocket. He holds it up and tells the world’s most prolific serial killer that it is the mantra of The People of Choice. That he took it from the front of the manifesto that was so kindly left on the chair in the ERMA office. That the rest of the words are still in the seat pocket of the car they travelled in.

He folds the piece of paper once more so that it is small enough to be tucked into the lonely man’s trouser pocket.

255 – Leader is making noise behind his tape now.

Detective Sergeant Pace does not care.

Everywhere is shadow.

‘The part I don’t understand is that you think so little of people. That we are disposable if we don’t live up to your personal idea of decency and worthiness. Yet you trusted that I would take you back to the station for questioning. That I would let you sit in a protected cell and subject you to the British legal system. So that you could share your story and then kill yourself.’

Pace takes the key to Artaud’s handcuffs, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, which are covered by the sleeve of his jacket, and he throws it just out of reach.

‘You tried to kill me, Doc.’

Artaud is screaming behind his gag. He tries to kick out at the detective.

‘It’s over now.’ He walks around to face the Leader. He wants to look him in the eyes. Artaud stops moving. He stops screaming. He adopts his usual stance as the attentive listener.

‘Fuck your legacy.’