Sangre De Toro (Old Draft - Now Published!)

Chapter 8 - Trolls

Henry's Surrey country mansion, worth over ten million, was owned through a series of complex financial arrangements. He sat at a desk in his study, the walls covered with vintage posters advertising the great corridas of the past. Although electronic wizardry could never replicate the real thing, he often rewatched the most electrifying spectacles from his extensive video collection.

He had not looked at any news since arriving home for the Taurine Club's Anniversary Dinner, but curiosity now seized him. He had to know. He opened the Tor browser on his computer and searched for Caroline McKenzie.

Had they found her yet?

They had.

'Appliances2U director found murdered in Spanish hotel' from the Guardian. He clicked on it, hoping the lefty rag would provide salacious details. None were forthcoming; maybe they thought giving descriptions of the modus operandi would trigger their readers. Just how old she was, a bit about her job and a statement from her family – 'gutted', obviously.

He went down the list of articles. Then he saw one from the BBC. 'Murdered director planned to open dog rescue.' The license fee was working well!

Of course she did, he thought, laughing to himself. Her sons spoke of her passionate love for man's best friend, and how, with her small fortune, they were going to set up a foundation to look after abandoned dogs as it was what she would have wanted. Dogs! Sometimes it seemed to Henry that he was witnessing the decay of Western civilisation. Doubtless, all this woman's idiotic friends and family would congratulate them on such a 'lovely thing to do'.

Maybe the Daily Telegraph could give a more balanced perspective. But even here the coverage was strangely biased, with a statement from the CEO of the company she worked for on how she was 'not just a colleague but a friend.' As if the writer was trying to indoctrinate him into thinking this supposed CEO was a model of good business sense.

He closed the tab hastily at his housekeeper’s footsteps upstairs. An Englishman’s home was his castle. But the authoritarian reach of the nanny state extended everywhere. Many jealous members of ‘the lower orders’ simply wanted to tear down people like him, and constantly looked for dirt. He didn’t want to give the peasants any ammunition. Thus, the Caroline McKenzie searches were erased. Without Javier’s opponent, her destiny may have been rather different.

What had become of that bull, anyway? Henry had been inches from the ill-bred creature's face as it barged up the steps, snorting and panting rather than willingly facing its elegant end. He had given it a good shove, grabbed its tail and kicked it hard in an effort to slow it down, but nothing had. The bull was utterly unworthy of Javier's genius and delicate grace. Henry had known that as soon as it emerged.

'Mystery of Spanish bull's disappearance deepens,' said one article. At the top of the page was a photo of the offending animal, its black shoulders dripping with blood. Someone must have seen where it went. Surely. The Spanish police were even more useless than their reputation suggested. The hot weather obviously made them lazy.

'This is an unfortunate event for fans of our national fiesta, and rest assured we are doing everything we can. But two brutal murders have taken place in the city in the last two days, plus numerous domestic violence cases, firearms offences, a break-in at a school and a suspicious fire, so as the bull is not loose and there appears to be no further danger to the public, serious crimes have to take priority,' said Superintendent Gabriel Sanchez of the Policia Nacional. To Gabriel Sanchez, harbouring an escaped fighting bull – from one of Spain's top ranches, no less – obviously wasn't a serious crime!

High time for Henry to do some investigation of his own.

He went onto YouTube and searched for 'Escaped bull in Valladolid full video'. Within seconds he had found it. An inspired aficionado had put the whole thing online. It was 45 minutes long. Henry leaned back and watched the first bull, an altogether better-quality beast. How enjoyable that had been! Castella had treated the audience to a fine show. He watched the performance several more times. If only all six could have ended so superbly.