Burning Ambition (DCS Palmer and the Serial Murder Squad Book 7)

by B. L. Faulkner

  ‘But how are they going to get inside the compound, sir?’ Gheeta asked. ‘Knoble won’t just open the gate and let them in, will he? Especially when he sees Kershaw.’

  ‘No, not unless he is in on the job and his wife doesn’t know.’

  He turned to Rees-Jones.

  ‘Get your AC to divert the armoured van and Special Branch lads to the nearest secure police pound; we don’t need them here in case it all goes off. I’m assuming East has still got the gun, and we know he won’t hesitate to use it.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Rees-Jones moved back as Palmer got out of the car, keeping a crouched position and wincing as his sciatica let him know he’d been sitting for too long. Gheeta followed him out.

  ‘We will move up with your lads, and you join us when you’ve made the call,’ Palmer told Rees-Jones, who disappeared away into the night.

  CHAPTER 14

  Fred Knoble raised his eyes from the crossword he was trying to master. A figure was approaching the gate out of the gloom.

  Shouldn’t be anybody around at this time of night… Could be one of the day shift come back for something they’d forgotten… Well, tough luck. Nobody gets in unless authorised, they should know that.

  Once the figure was in the glare of the security arc lights, he recognised it. Robert Kershaw, the brother-in-law from Hell. His surprise soon gave way to anger; what was he doing here? Kershaw had been told in no uncertain terms by Julie that he was not welcome anywhere near the family. What was the bastard up to now?

  Fred stood and pulled on his hi-visibility jacket. This was the last thing he wanted tonight; there was a secure delivery coming in soon, and he couldn’t open the gate if any unauthorised person was around. Even the security staff at the Mint were never made aware of bullion shipments arriving; that information was on a very short ‘need to know’ staff list, so as far as they were aware it was a stationery delivery.

  ‘What do you want, Robert?’

  Knoble left the gatehouse, approached the gate and spat the words out.

  ‘You are not welcome here or at the house.’

  Kershaw stood ten feet from the gate on the other side.

  ‘Hello Fred, nice to see you too. I want to come in for a chat, try to patch things up.’

  ‘You’ve got no chance of getting in here, and even less of a chance of patching things up. Go away, before I call the police to remove you.’

  ‘You don’t want to do that, Fred. You really don’t.’

  ‘Don’t I? Give me one good reason why not.’

  East appeared into view from the side of the gate, pulling Sharon with him. She was obviously in distress.

  ‘Is this a good enough reason, Mr Knoble?’ East said in a menacing tone. ‘Open the gate and your daughter is free.’

  ‘What are you doing with Sharon? Robert, what’s going on you bastard? Let her go now, or I’ll rip your fucking head off you bastard!’

  ‘Much easier to just open the gate, and then you do what you want Fred,’ said East. ‘Much easier.’

  ‘I’m calling the police.’

  Knoble turned half back towards the gate house.

  ‘No you are not, Fred. Oh no.’

  East kicked Sharon’s legs away from behind and she fell to the ground screaming, as he pulled the gun from his pocket and aimed at her head.

  ‘Open the fucking gate. NOW!’

  Kershaw’s mind was a jumble of surprise, shock, and anger all mixed in a whirlpool of emotions. The anger at seeing his niece in such a state took over.

  ‘For fuck’s sake George, have you gone mad? You can’t do that!’

  He lunged at East to wrestle the gun from him, but was not strong enough. East pushed him sprawling to the ground beside Sharon.

  ‘You bastard!’

  Kershaw tried to scramble to his feet and East hit him hard with the gun knocking him back down, unconscious. Behind them the van door burst open as their gang of helpers heard the rumpus and panicked, spilling out onto the road like commuters from a packed rush hour tube train.

  From the darkness between the parked cars and the hedge, Palmer had seen enough. He stepped out with the TSG in line behind him and shouted loudly: ‘This is the police armed response unit. Stay where you are and put down the gun, East. Everybody put your hands in the air where we can see them. I repeat, this is a police armed response unit.’

  The gang in the van who had been coming out fast froze, and their hands slowly went up as they saw a line of ten dark figures with rifles aimed at them. East had other ideas. No way was he going to give up, no way! He’d been inside, and he wasn’t going back. He grabbed Sharon and hauled her up off the road, holding her in front of him, the gun at her head as he backed towards his car.

  ‘Stay away, or the girl gets hurt!’ he shouted back.

  Rees-Jones whispered in Palmer’s ear.

  ‘I could take him down with one to the leg, or put him out permanently with a head shot, sir?’

  ‘Christ no,’ Palmer replied. ‘Don’t do anything until we have the girl well away from him.’

  He shouted to East.

  ‘East, you are making it worse for yourself, don’t be stupid. You can’t get away, so let the girl go and put the weapon on the ground.’

  A sudden movement from the gate attracted everybody’s attention. Fred Knoble, incensed by his daughter’s terrified position, had come out through the small Judas gate used for gatehouse staff and was running at East. He got to within a few yards before East shot him in the leg and brought him down writhing in pain on the road.

  ‘Don’t anybody else try anything, or you get the same!’ East shouted as he opened the car driver’s door on the side away from everybody and pushed Sharon in, telling her to get over to the passenger seat which put her between him and the TSG weapons. The car started and sped off into the darkness.

  Palmer was the first to get to Knoble.

  ‘Where does this road lead to?’ he shouted at Knoble, who moaned and groaned on the ground. Palmer hadn’t time for sentiment. ‘Oh come on Fred, you aren’t going to die; but your daughter might if you don’t liven up. Where does it go?’

  ‘Back to the main road,’ Knoble managed to splutter out as a TSG man wrapped a tourniquet round his shot leg. ‘It joins the main road to the motorway.’

  ‘Right.’

  Palmer looked around. All was under control, with the gang members from the van seated on the ground with their hands cuffed behind them and watched over by TSG men. He hurried over to Rees-Jones.

  ‘You take this lot in and find them cells for the night. I’m going after East.’

  ‘Okay sir, no problem. Do you want any of my men with you?’

  Palmer thought for a moment.

  ‘No, I don’t think so. East is a Londoner, so I’ll bet he’s on his way there to go under cover as quick as he can. Get a call out to the Motorway boys with a description of him, the girl and the car, they should be able to pick him up. But don’t try to stop him, just report and follow.’

  ‘Okay, sir. Good luck, and take care.’

  ‘And get the operators of any surveillance cameras on the M4 or the bridge to watch too,’ added Palmer as he made his way back to his car. ‘Come along, Sergeant,’ he said, beckoning to Gheeta. ‘We’ve got an armed robber with a child hostage who has just shot a security guard and probably murdered four others, and he’s got a start on us.’

  He rolled his eyes.

  ‘Going well so far, eh?’

  They got into the squad car and raced off in pursuit. Gheeta tapped away at her laptop keyboard.

  ‘We’ve got eyes on him, sir.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘As long as he keeps his phone on, I can trace the signal. Give me a minute and I’ll overlap it onto a map.’

  Her fingers worked the keyboard.

  ‘There he is.’

  She showed the screen to Palmer, which showed a road map with a flashing dot moving along a road.

  ‘He�
�s crossed over the motorway and is heading into Cardiff.’

  ‘Cardiff? Why would he go there?’

  CHAPTER 15

  Frank Alexander was at home in his mock Tudor mansion that backed onto Blackheath golf course, and was about to watch a film on TV with his wife Gail as he waited for news.

  ‘Shouldn’t he have phoned by now?’ Gail said. She was getting agitated. She looked at her ladies Rolex. ‘It’s getting on a bit.’

  ‘He’ll phone, be patient.’

  ‘He might have done the job and buggered off with the loot. I wouldn’t trust your mate East with a pound coin, let alone a van full of gold.’

  This was all rubbish. Gail Alexander, ex-reality television star and ‘no knickers’ paparazzi magnet had seen the pound signs flashing when Frank Alexander had fallen for her. He was twice her age and twice divorced, and liked to have a nice ‘bit of eye candy’ on his arm at social events, most of which were held by the charities he supported in his quest to drop the gangster tag and become Frank Alexander respected businessman. So it worked for both of them for a few years, but then the rot had gradually set in; Frank became more subdued as the years passed and liked evenings in and the quiet life, while Gail still wanted the attention of her peers, the media and the false respect that money can buy. So more and more Frank asked George East to chaperone Gail on her ‘girls’ nights out’.

  ‘Just keep an eye on her, make sure no toe-rag tries to step in.’

  The toe rag who did step in was George East himself, fifteen years younger than Frank and on Gail’s radar from day one. Their relationship blossomed into a full affair which George thought was love and Gail knew was just occasional sex. But it suited her; she could control East and the more he had become infatuated with her, the more she held out the false promise of a life together: ‘If only I could get away from Frank.’ And this Mint job had thrown up that opportunity.

  Trouble was, she and East didn’t know it, but Frank knew all about them. Frank also knew it was no good waiting by the phone biting your fingernails when a job was going down; nothing you could do now, and if the planning had been right the only call would be one telling him it had been successful, and he was now a much richer man. The mobile rang. He smiled at Gail confidently, picked it up from the coffee table and looked at the caller’s ID. It was East.

  ‘Good news I hope, George.’

  The panic in East’s voice set alarm bells ringing in Frank’s head.

  ‘Fucking joking aren’t you? The law was waiting for us. Somebody grassed.’

  ‘What? What happened?’

  East ran through the evening’s events. Alexander couldn’t believe it.

  ‘Jesus, George. You shot a guard, and now you’re in a car with the girl hostage with every copper in Wales looking for you.’

  ‘That’s about it, yes.’

  ‘Dump the girl, for fuck’s sake get her out of the car. On your own you stand a chance of getting away, with her you’ve no chance.’

  ‘Okay, but how did they know, Frank? How did the law know about it? Whoever the grass is, he’s on borrowed time.’

  ‘Nobody grassed, George. Freddy Doorman told you about Palmer’s visit, he’s traced that fucking gun to you and had you – and probably me – under surveillance. Ditch the girl in a town and get rid of the phone too; they’ve probably got the number somehow and can see where you are by its signal.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll get to your place as soon as I can.’

  ‘Christ no, don’t come here – this is the first place they’ll stake out. And keep out of London. Ring me on the landline when you settle.’

  ‘Okay.’

  The phone went dead.

  Frank looked at Gail.

  ‘Shit!’

  CHAPTER 16

  George East turned off the mobile and put it in the glove box. He looked across at Sharon who sat hunched as far away from him as she could on the passenger seat, fear in her wet eyes.

  ‘Right then kid, looks like we have to part company.’

  He pulled up alongside a row of closed shops and brightly lit open take-aways.

  ‘Out you get.’

  Sharon didn’t need telling twice, but she got out of the car slowly, watching East like frightened prey watching its attacker.

  ‘Shut the bloody door.’

  As soon as she did he was off, all the time checking his mirrors for flashing blue lights. He took the back road from Cardiff to Newport and headed up onto the motorway, pulling into the services. He had a plan. Parking the car, he retrieved the mobile from the glove compartment and walked slowly to the lorry park. He walked along behind a row of HGVs until he saw one with its side lights on, the driver getting ready to depart. Turning the mobile back on, East slipped his arm under the side tarpaulin and threw the mobile as hard as he could into the lorry, and then quickly went back to his car as the lorry roared into life and left the services, joining the M4 bound for London.

  East also left and took the motorway to the second Severn crossing; he intended to get into Bristol and then to London on the A4 through Bath. He thought the police would be watching the cameras on the M4 motorway, so best keep off that.

  CHAPTER 17

  ‘He’s back on, guv.’

  Gheeta pointed to the flashing dot on her laptop screen. They had been worried when it went dead, but now it was flashing away going south on the M4.

  ‘He must have been in a bad reception area. Looks like he’s off to London.’

  ‘Yes, that makes sense; home turf, that’s where he can disappear fast,’ Palmer agreed. He turned to the driver. ‘Foot down, blues on, we need to catch him up.’

  He flicked the comms on.

  ‘DS Rees-Jones, are you still there?’

  ‘Yes, sir. We’ve handed the prisoners over to uniformed branch, sir; they’ll be split into two groups and banged up for the night in separate cells, in two different police stations.’

  ‘And Mr Knoble?’

  ‘He’s on his way to hospital sir, and his wife is joining him there.’

  ‘Good, just need to get their daughter back in one piece now. Just one more thing Sergeant, make sure we get the bullet from Knoble’s leg; we can tie it to the gun and the gun to East, and no doubt it will match the bullets taken from the other bodies, which will put him in the frame for them all.’

  ‘Will do, sir.’

  ‘Good man.’

  He turned to Gheeta.

  ‘Now all we need to do is catch up with the bastard before he vanishes in London.’

  Gheeta was thinking ahead.

  ‘Do you want a couple of pursuit cars to join us on the motorway, guv? If we catch him and do a box-stop we’ll need them.’

  ‘Yes, good thinking Sergeant, and make sure they include armed officers and a dog handler. I’m not really worried if they shoot him if he uses that gun again; we’ve enough to make a copper-bottomed case on him dead or alive.’

  ‘Tut tut, sir,’ Gheeta said, feigning shock. ‘Everybody has the right to a fair trial.’

  ‘Save the taxpayer a lot of money on court costs if he gets one between the eyes though, wouldn’t it.’

  Gheeta gave a false sigh.

  ‘But think of the paperwork, sir: referring ourselves to the PCP, triple reports and witness statements, you and I suspended until the PCP finished their investigation. Much easier to hand him over to the CP lawyers and let them do it all.’

  ‘Yes,’ Palmer said, resigning himself to the way of things. ‘I know, but then he gets life and the taxpayer has to cough up seven hundred quid a week for the prison costs.’

  ‘Dead or alive, the taxpayer loses, guv.’

  She called up Claire to arrange for the pursuit cars to come on behind them at the Swindon exit. They crossed the Severn on the old bridge, and were soon speeding past Bristol.

  ‘How far ahead is he now?’ asked Palmer.

  ‘Fifteen miles, sir; he had quite a start on us. I reckon we will be on him coming up to Reading.’


  ‘Good. I’m getting hungry, are you?’

  ‘Not really, guv. Peas, pud, and gammon calling you from afar?’

  Palmer laughed.

  ‘Probably in the dog by now. I think Daisy Dog likes it when I miss an evening meal; if it’s not freezeable, she gets it.’

  They picked up the two marked pursuit cars after Swindon, made radio contact and sped on. Five minutes later, Gheeta called an alert.

  ‘We shall be on him any time now, guv.’

  She pointed to the green flashing dot.

  ‘That’s him, and…’

  She tapped at the keys and a red dot flashed behind it.

  ‘That’s us.’

  ‘We are right behind him, aren’t we?’

  He radioed the pursuit cars.

  ‘Looks like we are about to catch him, gentlemen: black BMW, male driver and a girl. He’s using her as a hostage, so be aware that we don’t want any accidents.’

  Palmer peered ahead through the windscreen.

  ‘Right then East, where are you?’

  They raced on another three miles.

  ‘Guv,’ Gheeta said, sounding worried. ‘He’s showing behind us now.’

  ‘Behind us? We haven’t passed a BMW. He can’t be behind us.’

  ‘He could be if he changed cars.’

  ‘Damn, I didn’t think of that. Okay, all cars pull onto the hard shoulder and stop, hazard lights on.’

  The three cars pulled off and waited as Gheeta watched the flashing dot approaching.

  ‘Now! He’s level with us now!’

  Palmer watched the traffic; it was a lone lorry that was passing.

  ‘He’s in that lorry. He must have got a lift.’

  ‘Or stowed away in the back, guv. Do we stop it or follow it to its destination?’