by Amy Cronin
Elise Taylor was grieving for David Gallagher.
Right now, Anna didn’t have time to figure out why or to process what that meant. She quickly weighed up her situation. She needed to stall Elise, to give the Gardaí time to get here. The only way would be to keep her talking. But first she needed to attend to Myles.
“Please!” Anna heard the desperation in her own voice. “Please let me help Myles. He’s losing a lot of blood!”
Elise’s face was now bright red with anger. Her lips were a thin, frustrated line as she turned her head to Myles, raised the gun, and shot twice more. One shot hit the leg of the large oak conference table. The second hit Myles in the upper thigh. He jerked where he lay and remained silent.
Anna’s hand flew to her mouth, stifling her shocked cry.
Elise’s smirk turned to laughter as she took in Anna’s expression. Her laugh was loud and frenzied, and Anna was aware her own mouth was hanging open in shock and horror. She had underestimated the woman. DS Taylor was totally unhinged – she was intent on killing them all.
As Elise wiped tears of laughter and continued to sneer, Anna’s shock and horror turned to anger. She could feel it coursing through her veins. She fought to quell it – her Taekwon-Do training had taught her that anger had to be controlled; it served no purpose. She knew most people lost all rational thought when angry. Jason had long ago taught her that anger allowed for quick mistakes and loss of control. She began to silently recount the tenets of Taekwon-Do and felt her heart rate slow down and her breathing return to normal.
Anna viewed her situation now with crystal clarity. She didn’t care why Elise was doing all this. Anna only cared that Myles was bleeding to death … if not already dead … and that if Janet had any chance of survival, time was critical. She was going to end this quickly.
“Like I said, and I hate to repeat myself, Anna – where is the memory key?”
Elise now had the gun pointed at Anna’s chest again, two hands gripping it tightly.
Anna wondered how many bullets she had left now that she had discharged five. It didn’t matter – one would be all it took. She met the detective’s eyes coolly.
“It’s on the desk at the back of the room, near Myles’ computer.”
Elise jerked the gun in that direction, directing her to get it. Anna moved forward, her legs shaky, stepping past Janet and Myles at the conference table, keeping her eyes focused in front of her. Elise was at her heels, the gun pressing into her back. She could feel the hard metal jutting into her flesh.
Stopping at Myles’ desk Anna made a show of searching the table, feeling around it with her hands, moving things here and there. The table was covered in printed documents, as well as two empty disposable coffee mugs and discarded paper bags bearing the Victus coffee shop logo. Anna fought a lump in her throat and blinked away tears that threatened to blind her. He was bleeding to death.
“Hurry up!” Elise barked, moving to stand in front of Anna, her eyes on the table and its contents.
Swiftly Anna pulled the spare memory key from her jeans pocket and tossed it at Elise.
As it soared towards her Elise momentarily lowered the gun, focused only on catching the small piece of metal. Anna snatched up the keyboard from the table with both hands and swung it wide and hard, striking Elise in the face.
Blood and spit flew through the air as Elise’s head whipped to the left. She staggered backward in shock and pain, and Anna seized her moment. She kicked the detective with all her force into the midriff, two jabbing kicks, and as Elise doubled over, Anna kicked at her wrist. The gun flew from Elise’s hand and skidded to a stop halfway across the carpeted floor.
Myles moaned from his position on the ground. The sound sent a jolt of happiness through Anna – he was alive!
Later – when the dust had settled – Anna would look back on this moment with huge regret. Without thinking, and forgetting everything her father and Jason had ever told her, she let her guard down. She turned and stepped towards Myles, her arms reaching for him.
Elise now stood upright again and took full advantage of the split-second distraction Myles had offered. With a scream of rage, she punched Anna in the face. The force of it was like a sledgehammer – Anna staggered and fell, striking her head hard on the edge of the conference table. She lay on the floor as stars danced in her field of vision, and tasted blood. The pain in her head was an intense pounding that brought bile into her throat. As she struggled to sit up, she felt herself pushed roughly back down, and became aware of a weight on her chest. Elise was sitting astride her, and she wrapped her hands around her throat.
Anna opened her eyes and, as her vision regained focus, she was seized by terror. Elise truly looked insane with rage. The older woman was heavier than Anna and had the upper hand. She squeezed Anna’s throat hard, blood pouring from her own mouth.
“Ruining everything!” Elise was breathing heavily as she pressed hard onto Anna’s throat, pushing down, determined to kill her.
Anna gasped and clawed at Elise’s hands with her fingers. It was useless. Elise was so furious, extending all her energy into punishing Anna. Anna’s head was pounding, and black spots appeared in her vision again. Time stood still, where the only thing Anna could do was struggle and gasp for breath. She was fighting to stay conscious. Her legs kicked and flailed, but everything was out of focus, all her efforts futile. She gasped, drawing precious air into her lungs, but it felt impossible.
Anna’s father’s voice rang loud in her ears. It felt like a physical push, and with it came the memory of their games in the small back garden, the ninja games he so loved to play. A film-reel of memories rolled through her mind. As Elise continued to squeeze and press on her throat, Anna felt that this was a game she had played before … memories tugged her back.
Alex sat on Anna’s stomach, his hands lightly around her throat, her own hands pushing at his shoulders but not strong enough to push him off. Her father smiling as he knelt beside them on the grass. “Good, Anna. Tuck your chin in, tuck your chin in! Now, put your hands over his, cross them over, your left hand on his left wrist, right on right … that’s it. Now jab down into the inner parts of his arms with your elbows – that’s it, hard as you like – Alex can take it, can’t you, son!” And then Alex’s laughter, as his younger sister jammed her pointy elbows into the soft flesh of his arms …
Anna opened her eyes, ready to replay the game. Only this time, there was no laughter.
She tucked her chin in and gripped Elise’s wrists – left hand on left wrist, right on right – and jammed her elbows into the soft flesh of Elise’s inner arms. Elise’s eyes widened in shock; she groaned in pain and, for a split second, lost her momentum, the force of her weight no longer crushing Anna. The tight grip of her hands slackened on Anna’s throat. She pulled the woman towards her and slammed her head upward into Elise’s, connecting her own forehead with the detective’s nose.
The crunching sound the bones made as they broke was sickening.
Anna pushed Elise off her and rolled to the side. She stood up and instantly regretted it. The conference room spun before her eyes and she heaved onto the floor, vomit and blood splashing onto her jeans and shoes, pooling at her feet. Anna became aware of Elise, crawling around the carpeted floor, feeling with her hands, left and right, moaning in agony. She was breathing heavily and in a lot of pain, and blood was pouring from her nose and mouth.
Anna, on her hands and knees on the floor, breathed deeply, her nausea easing. Her throat ached. She wiped vomit from her chin and straightened up again.
Elise was standing again and once more had the gun in her hands, pointed at Anna, a smirk contorting her bloodied face.
Then Myles rushed at Elise from behind with such force the gun flew from her hand and through the air. Striking her head on the conference table, Elise crumpled into a heap on the ground.
Myles managed to pull himself up again – now he staggered and gripped the edge of the conference table.
“Myles!” Anna rasped as she moved toward him, struggling to stay on her feet. “Nice of you to help out.”
43
William Ryan was having dinner with Gina in a very posh restaurant when the call came in. His eyes widened as he listened – a shooting in an office block near the Marina. In what he knew was the political conference briefing centre. He was within walking distance.
“Sorry, Gina!” he said, abandoning his fillet steak and pulling on his overcoat.
As he dashed from the restaurant, he heard Gina’s annoyance as she called out “I’ll just pay again this time, shall I?”
William winced – work had caused him to run out on too many dates lately. He doubted he could redeem himself this time.
He was at the building within minutes. The building’s security desk was unattended, the lobby deserted. He raced across the tiles to the bank of lifts. As the lift ascended he could hear the wail of sirens and ambulances on the way. He was aware hordes of his colleagues would be en route – it wasn’t every day a shooting was reported in Cork city. He knew that the Garda Emergency Response Unit would be on the way, and he knew he should hold back and let them go in first. He was first on the scene but, eager as he was to get inside the room, he decided it was best to wait.
Before he had time to reconsider, members of the Armed Support and Emergency Response Unit had arrived. He flashed his ID and was told to stay outside. In certain situations, William was good at doing what he was told. He stood back as they entered the room, weapons drawn, shouting for all inside to drop to their knees and put their hands in the air. He paced, his hands in his pockets, and waited. His phone vibrated in his pocket; Gina was calling, but William cut off her call and sent it to voicemail.
Very quickly, it seemed to him, he was given the go-ahead to step inside. The situation was under control. Walking into the conference room he was met by something resembling a scene from a Tarantino movie. A woman lay slumped over the large table in a pool of blood. She was clearly dead. A man sat on the floor, injured and bleeding heavily. A young woman knelt beside him. She had attempted to wrap makeshift tourniquets around his shoulder and thigh. She looked as though she’d been through two rounds with an MMA fighter. Her face was a mess. Both eye sockets were bruising, her lip was split and there were deep red marks on her neck where she had clearly been half-strangled. Somewhere deep in William’s mind he registered all three faces – he knew these people surely? Shock was not allowing him to process the simple act of recognition.
It was the unconscious woman on the floor that caused William to step back and grip the edge of the table behind him in shock. Elise Taylor, his colleague, lay apparently lifeless in a crumpled heap. Her nose was obviously broken, and her lips were swollen. Her shirt was spattered with blood.
What the hell was going on?
William looked around him and the rest of the faces in the room slowly shifted into focus. It was the young woman from clerical staff, Anna Clarke, who was kneeling on the floor. The woman who had pieced together the clues to nail Dean Harris. Wasn’t she at home resting from the events of the night before?
The man beside her winced in pain as he tried to move, his dark unruly hair even more unkempt than usual – Myles, wasn’t it? The detective from Dublin, here to help with security for the political conference. It looked like he had been shot. Twice. William physically recoiled as he realised the woman slumped over the conference table was his Chief Super – Janet McCarthy – blood was pooling around her head and neck. She was surely dead.
“Detective Sergeant Ryan, isn’t it?” Myles spoke from his position on the floor. The strength of his voice surprised William. “Myles Henderson, Special Detective Unit. On the table to your left you will find a weapon which was used by DS Elise Taylor to kill the Chief Superintendent,” he gestured with his hand, “and shoot me. You’ll find gunshot residue on Taylor’s right hand and the bullets will match those removed from Janet and myself. Anna here was also attacked by DS Taylor. I suggest you take Taylor into custody. And we’ll need that ambulance to hurry up!” He groaned and rolled back his head.
William was mute with shock. Elise was the shooter? He found that very hard to fathom. She was a respected member of the force. As far as he was concerned, everyone in this room, aside from his Chief Superintendent obviously, was a suspect. He attempted to swallow but his throat was bone-dry. He became aware of uniformed officers entering the room, standing behind him, taking in the scene. The ambulance had arrived.
He stood back while Myles was attended to by the ambulance personnel. Elise remained unconscious, and more medical staff moved towards her.
Anna became aware she was being gently pushed back on a stretcher. She refused and insisted she could walk. Her eyes followed Myles as he was stretchered from the room. She dared not look at Janet. The room was suddenly a hive of activity. Detective Sergeant Ryan was ordering no-one to touch anything and was now talking on his mobile phone. She could make out snippets of his conversation, heard the name Doherty, and a request for a forensics team. A Garda helped to keep her on her feet after she swayed a little. She wondered if she’d be able to walk out of here without vomiting again.
William stepped towards Anna as she stood unsteadily in the middle of the room. He noticed blood drying in her hair.
“Anna?”
She looked up at William quizzically, as if seeing him for the first time.
“I thought I told you to stay out of trouble?” he said.
44
Samantha cradled the mug of coffee in her hands for a moment and watched Alex and Chloe as they played on the floor. It was their daughter’s bedtime. Alex was finished work for the day. He had read the newspaper articles about Dean Harris’s crimes and arrest last night again and again. He now needed to spend time with his daughter, to immerse himself in her innocent play and laughter.
Alex lay on the soft carpet, propped up on one elbow, while Chloe lounged beside him. She was engrossed in a jigsaw puzzle. She carefully selected each small cardboard piece and looked at it closely, discarding some and choosing to work with others. Her tiny face was creased in concentration. Alex watched her with a smile playing on the edges of his mouth. Though he felt much more relaxed than earlier in the day, he was still troubled.
As she watched her little family, Samantha wondered if Alex ever really stopped worrying about other people. Especially his sister.
He looked up and smiled when he noticed her in the doorway. She held out the coffee mug and he stood up, moving towards her. Chloe seemed not to notice.
He sipped the hot coffee and rubbed Samantha’s arm. “You OK?”
“I was going to ask you the same question.”
Alex’s brown eyes met his wife’s. He was tired. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and he looked peaky, the shade of pale he sometimes was when he hadn’t slept enough.
Alex put his hand on her elbow and motioned to the kitchen. They sat at the table and he took Samantha’s hands in his own, resting them in the centre between them.
“She could have been raped, Sam. That keeps playing on my mind!”
“Thank God she wasn’t!”
“Yes, absolutely. Luckily she knows how to handle herself – my father taught her that.”
Alex put his head in his hands, unable to continue. He had been over and over the articles about the series of sexual assaults today, and it had struck him how close Anna had come to being a victim of such an attack. It was doing him no good to keep reading about it, but he had been unable to stop himself.
Samantha rubbed his arm, seeming to sense his thoughts.
“Not everyone is like Dean Harris. You’re not. There are always more good people than there are bad, Alex. Anna was just unlucky. Or lucky, really, depending on how you look at it.”
He nodded. He knew she was right. He smiled. “You know, small as she is, I’d hate to cross my sister!”
“Do you know if she met with the private investigator
yesterday?”
He shook his head – he had forgotten to ask Anna about it earlier. The events of Sunday evening had completely overshadowed her appointment with the man she hoped would shed some light on their parents’ disappearance.
“Maybe you should tell her the things you told me, you know, about your childhood. About how your parents moved around a lot in England, about how your dad had so many different jobs.”
“I don’t see how that makes a difference now.”
“Anna is searching for answers. And it seems that the two of you had very different childhoods.”
Alex stood up as he heard his mobile phone ring, moving to retrieve it from where it was charging on the countertop.
“Maybe,” he conceded.
He unplugged the charger as he brought the mobile phone to his ear.
“Alex Clarke.”
Samantha knew immediately the call wasn’t good news. Alex gripped the countertop beside him as he grew paler, his mouth hanging open. After a few seconds he seemed to rouse himself – he clicked off the call and sprang into action.
As he grabbed his keys and ran out the front door, his parting words shouted over his shoulder sent shivers down Samantha’s spine.
“Anna’s been attacked, she’s at the hospital!”
45
After having a set of staples put in the back of her head and two stitches in her lip, and a thorough inspection of the inside of her throat, Anna was told to lie back on her hospital bed and apply the ice pack she had been given to her eyes and forehead. Concussion had been ruled out but everything hurt. Even her wrists, which had had a set of handcuffs placed on them for a while. William Ryan had been apologetic, explaining it was procedure. Anna understood. A uniformed Garda sat outside her door. Until she was cleared as the shooter, she was under suspicion. She had given William the memory key and told him everything she knew about its contents. She tried to rest, as the doctor had advised.