The Hermaphrodite's Curse Ch. 07

PART ONE - LONDON

- 6 -

Gabe let out an audible sigh of relief as the taxi pulled away and left the two tall, angry men standing by the roadside far behind. It was only then that he was able to collect his thoughts and turn to his companion on the back seat. He suddenly realised that he was now basically alone with the woman he had considered dangerous and potentially violent. He had told nobody what he was doing. He could just disappear completely and nobody would know. Still, at least now was a chance to confront her, to understand finally what on earth was going on here. He opened his mouth to speak but she got in first.

"So," she turned to him, an edge of aggression in those precise, educated tones, "Who the hell are you? And why the fuck are you following me?"

The swearword sounded odd, out of place in her well-educated accent, giving it perhaps an extra edge. Gabe was shocked. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't figure out what on earth to say. It wasn't important anyway, as she seemed quite happy to carry on.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for you helping me out of that sticky situation back there, but I don't take kindly to being stalked. I can take care of myself pretty well, especially from the likes of you, pretty boy," she glared at him, a challenge obvious in her voice.

"I think you're the one who owes me an explanation," Gabe shot back, given courage by her aggressive delivery, "I've just saved your life, the least you could do is tell me who those guys were and what this is all about?"

"Me? How the fuck should I know?" she said, seeming genuinely surprised that he would expect her to be aware of the situation, "They just came out of fucking nowhere. I'm just minding my own bloody business and still I seem a target for any perv and sicko who fancies their chances."

She shot Gabe a glance to indicate that she didn't entirely consider him exempt from this categorisation. He decided to go on the offensive, to lay before her what he knew about her involvement in the murder that was plastered across all the papers.

"Hmm, maybe it's got something to do with the murder," he said, getting progressively angrier and red in the face, "You know, the one at the National Gallery that everybody's talking about. The one where you were seen fleeing the scene of the crime. The one where the victim drew the symbol on your tattoo onto the wall. Maybe, it's something to do with that."

"How the bloody hell do you know what's on my tattoos?" she said equally angrily, she was wearing a leather jacket today that completely covered her arms so the symbol was not visible, "Or that I witnessed the murder? How long have you been following me for, freak?"

Gabe hadn't been expecting this level of aggressive defensiveness or these counter accusations. Still, he knew that he had to keep up the pressure, he could be close to discovering the truth.

"So, you don't deny it then?" he countered, "That the symbol on your tattoo matches the one the victim drew on the wall?"

"Which tattoo? What are you talking about?"

He grabbed her jacket and yanked it open and half way down her arm, revealing the bare skin and some of her different tattoos. On her left upper arm, he saw the circle and the cross he was looking for. As he leaned in for a closer look, she hit him. It was a forceful punch that landed square on his jaw and sent him back to the other side of the taxi.

"Back off, creep," she said, both of them now as confrontational as each other.

"There!" he pointed at the inked design on her arm and demanded accusingly "That's the one. Just the same as the dead girl drew. What is it? What does it mean? Some sort of conspiracy? A secret order?"

"Ha!" she laughed loudly in his face, her anger seeming mixed with genuine mirth, "That!" she pointed at her arm, jabbing the symbol with her index finger, "That is the symbol for female, you idiot! It means womanhood. Feminism. That's your secret fucking society. The international conspiracy of womankind not to be molested by creeps in the back of cabs!"

Gabe backed off. His mind was spinning with thoughts. Now that he looked again at the completely uncovered tattoo, he could tell that it wasn't quite the same as the symbol drawn in blood. The circle with a cross beneath it was all there was, the dead woman's symbol had an arrow pointing from the other side of the circle. He didn't know what to think. The main reason for his suspicions over this woman had just been blown out of the water and yet she had just been attacked in public by a couple of thugs clearly after her for something.

"Look. I...I'm sorry," he said, his confrontational tone now replaced by a more conciliatory one, "I just saw the tattoo and the symbol in the blood and they just seemed similar and you, well you seemed out of place in a museum, so I just kind of thought that maybe there was a link or something."

"What symbol in the blood?" she replied, frustrated, not following his train of thought, "What are you talking about?"

Gabe sighed, he was beginning to realise that this woman was as clueless as he was about the murder. Either that or she was a very cunning and deceptive actress. He decided to let her in on his thinking, she was the only lead he had and he didn't intend to let it go even if it hadn't panned out as he had hoped.

"Look," he said, pulling out his laptop and bringing his photos up on the screen. Her aggression was now tempered with curiosity as she peered at the images, "There, this symbol here," he pointed at the close up on the blood drawing.

"Ha," she laughed again, "Not quite the same. Mine means womanhood. That's the transgender symbol."

"How do you know that?" he said, surprised and perhaps a little impressed.

"It's called an education," she said haughtily, her upper-class vowels becoming more pronounced with her patronising tone.

"OK, Miss Educated," Gabe replied, "That's what the symbol means, but what's it got to do with the murder? Or the National Gallery? The Rokeby Venus? Or those two thugs back there?"

"Now, you've got me there," she admitted, "I don't have the slightest bloody idea."

"Great, so it's the 'transgender symbol'," Gabe said, giving extra emphasis as he quoted her words as if they meant nothing to him, "That doesn't really bring us much closer to understanding."

"Us?" she said, now seeming genuinely quite amused rather than her previous threatened and threatening behaviour, "What us?"

"You're in this too now," Gabe said, seriously, "Our two ugly friends back there saw to that. The more we understand what's going on here, the more we can avoid ever having any contact with them again."

She seemed to consider this a valid point. She was beginning to relax a bit and put her guard down, beginning to trust that maybe Gabe wasn't a pervert or a stalker, that maybe he could be right.

"Fine," she shrugged acceptingly, "Well, I might not be able to figure out all this symbolism, but I know somebody who can." She turned to speak to the cabbie, "Can you take us to Cambridge, please?"

"Cambridge?!" said Gabe surprised.

"You gonna be able to afford that, love?" the driver asked.

"I have the money for it," the well-spoken punk said in her most aristocratic tones and the cab turned sharply around and headed away from the city.

"I'm Gabe, by the way," Gabe said, realising they hadn't introduced themselves, "Gabriel Herrison. I'm a photographer."

"Charmed," she said with a sharply ironic tone, "I'm Saphy."

END OF PART ONE