Jack leant heavily on the rim of the basin watching the swirling water from the running tap take the contents of his stomach down into the drain. He felt so lightheaded he thought he was going to pass out. He lowered himself onto his haunches, still hanging onto the rim of the basin to stop himself from sliding all the way to the floor. He could feel something in his front trouser pocket pressing into him. Jack knelt on the floor, put his hand into his pocket and pulled out the diamond bracelet. Glancing round, Jack could see a dark shadow inside the shower cubicle. He opened the door and there, tucked into the corner, was the small black rucksack.
*
The conversation on the way to the hospital was one-sided, with Ridley filling Jack in on everything that had happened while he was chasing down Alberto Barro.
‘You were right about all of the burglaries being decoys. The real target was a house belonging to an Emil Borreson and his wife. He’s a bitcoin dealer. A very successful one.’
‘Charlotte . . .’ Jack was so tired that he couldn’t get any more words out. His whole body felt as if he’d been kicked through a hedge and then trampled on, but he was still trying his best not to let the wound in his arm bleed onto Ridley’s pale leather seat.
‘She delivers their fruit and veg. Betina gave up Borreson’s name and address as soon as she realised that we knew everything. She wanted us to know that she’d not hurt anyone, and never would. When Gifford got to Borreson’s house, he was sitting at his desk in a puddle of urine, staring at a camera that wasn’t even turned on, waiting for his wife to walk through the door. He’d been told that if he moved, she’d die. She’s OK. Tied up in a disused barn on a neighbour’s property.’
Jack let his head fall back and closed his eyes. He had so much still to think about.
First and foremost was the fact that with the man he respected most in the world sat next to him, between his feet, part hidden underneath his jacket, he had the small black rucksack with the stolen diamond bracelet in it along with a large amount of cash, although he didn’t yet know how much.
‘We got them all,’ Ridley concluded. ‘You got them all, Jack. Well done. I’ve got a meeting with DCI Hearst tomorrow where I intend to tell her about the protection I promised Charlotte Miles.’
‘You promised?’ Jack said.
Ridley shrugged. ‘It sounds less insubordinate than my DS doing it behind my back.’
Jack didn’t say his next thought out loud: And she likes you, so she’ll forgive you. Instead, he thanked Ridley for trusting him that Charlotte was an unwilling participant.
‘DCI Hearst is a pragmatist, Jack. She’ll be lenient with Charlotte, in the service of the greater good. Gifford will retire on a high, Oxford will get their killer and we . . . well, I’m not sure what we get other than a firm handshake and a warm feeling inside for having done an amazing job. But isn’t that always the way?’
Ridley’s genuine contentment at having done his job was written all over his face. It was admirable. Enviable. Ridley was a copper through and through. Jack started from the same place, had all of the same intentions and relished the wins just as much as Ridley; but he needed more.
Jack squeezed his ankles together, gripping the small black rucksack to make sure that taking it hadn’t been some sort of hallucination brought on by the pain spreading through his body. It hadn’t. The rucksack was definitely there.
Jack hadn’t taken it because it contained a huge amount of money; he’d taken it because the world was wrong in the way it worked. The legal system would take this money and put it on a shelf in a police evidence room for the next God-knows-how-many years. It would probably never be needed as evidence, because they’d nailed everyone on so much else. And when the cash was finally released, it couldn’t be used as victim compensation, because they would all have received their insurance pay-outs. It’d either be returned to the bank to be destroyed or end up in the Met’s bank account and fed back into police services. Jack couldn’t see the justice in any of those options when there were so many people in the world, who worked all the hours that God sent painting other people’s nurseries, and still couldn’t earn enough money to keep their own baby alive.
Life was unfair, and although Ridley would never bend the rules to put any of that right, Jack would. Life was not about settling for the firm handshake and a warm feeling inside; and it certainly wasn’t about sitting back and waiting for your reward in heaven. Jack wanted his rewards now. But only the ones he’d earned.
CHAPTER 25
As Jack was pushed swiftly down the hospital corridor, the wheelchair pulled naturally to the left, and he could feel the paramedic pulling on the right handle and pushing on the left one, just to keep the decrepit heap of junk in a straight line. This twisting motion moved Jack in his seat and made him feel even sicker than he did already, as did the bump and click on each rotation of the back wheel, while strip-lights on the ceiling were so bright that Jack kept his eyes almost closed, just to cope with the pain inside his head.
He tried to ignore it by listening to Ridley’s handover to the ED doctor.
‘He was hit in the head with a crowbar about five hours ago. He was checked by paramedics who said he had concussion and they couldn’t rule out a fracture. Then he jumped in a helicopter and flew to London where he was in a physical, one-on-one confrontation with a suspect that resulted in his head injury re-opening, a stab wound to his forearm and, well, I don’t know what else.’
Jack couldn’t see the doctor’s face, but he heard his heavy sigh.
In resus, Jack was helped onto a bed and his rucksack, which had been hanging on the back of the wheelchair, was put into a transparent property bag and placed underneath. He was then cut out of his clothes, while nurses attached various machines to his body. The doctor came out with a slew of letters that meant very little to Jack. He understood ‘ECG’ and ‘BP’, and he’d heard ‘GCS’, ‘FBCs’, and ‘U&Es’ said numerous times whilst watching Casualty with Maggie, but he had no clue what any of it actually meant. He wished she was here.
A male nurse wearing John Lennon glasses, who looked to Jack to be about 13 years old, leant in close by the side of Jack’s head, as everyone else worked above him and around him. ‘My name’s Noah. So, what we’re doing is we’re making sure there are no obvious worries, such as internal bleeding. Then, we’ll take you to CT to get a scan of your head. I need to ask you some questions, Jack. You up for that? Can I call you Jack?’
Jack had no idea how many hands were on him, but it felt like dozens. Someone was definitely pressing his abdomen and saying there was ‘guarding on the left’ and someone else was trying for a third time to insert a needle into the crook of his arm. He looked over Noah’s head to Ridley who was wiggling his mobile in the air and mouthing ‘Maggie’. Jack gave him the thumbs-up and Ridley left resus to make the call. Jack then heard Noah ask him if there was any history of medical problems in his family and Jack realised that he didn’t know. He could hear himself saying, ‘My dad died of cancer . . . no, no he was shot. My old mum was killed by a brain tumour. But my new mum’s alive.’
At this point, Noah gave up. ‘The morphine’s kicked in. I’ll get his notes instead.’
Ridley spoke so quietly and calmly that Maggie didn’t feel worried, because he wasn’t. ‘Take your time, Maggie. He’s in resus at the moment, and needs to go to CT before anyone will be allowed to see him, so . . . sorry, I forgot you work here. All you need to know is that he’s fine and I’ll not leave his side until you arrive.’ Maggie asked nothing about Jack’s injuries or how he acquired them. She didn’t want to burden Ridley with the responsibility of trying to explain.
An hour later, Jack’s bed was parked in an ED cubicle, where he was told he’d stay until the results of his CT scan had come back. He wore nothing but an open-backed gown and Noah, who was folding his ruined clothes into the transparent property bag on top of the small black rucksack, had an inexplicable smirk on his face. Jack, now on
strong pain medication, was more comfortable. His head and body felt like lead, but there was far less pain. Noah couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer. ‘We’ve all been admiring your tan, Detective.’ Jack breathed out a weak laugh, which Noah took as permission to continue. ‘Your head, hands and feet look like they’ve been on holiday!’ Noah giggled as he put the property bag back underneath Jack’s bed. ‘OK, Jack, you’ve got a bit of a wait now till we get your results, but – sneak preview – Dr Okoya, our bang-on-the-head specialist, isn’t unduly worried. I mean, you look like you’ve fallen down a mine shaft but, all things considered, you’re in good nick.’ Noah leant in close to Jack again and lowered his voice. ‘That straight-lace in a suit who came in with you? That your boss?’ Jack immediately recognised the description as being Ridley. ‘Only I’m hearing all sorts of good things about that man from the nurses! Something about singing to babies?’
At that exact moment, Ridley approached. Noah stood bolt upright, put Jack’s buzzer within reach and then walked away singing the same lullaby Ridley sang at Hannah’s naming ceremony, the only difference being that Noah got all of the words right!
‘I’ve just arrested Alberto for, amongst other things, your attempted murder,’ Ridley announced. Now that he was sure Jack was going to live, Ridley had reverted to his official persona. ‘I’ll escort him to the station as soon as he’s fit to move.’
‘Don’t let him see Betina,’ Jack told him. ‘She makes him strong. And wind him up, ’cos he’s got a short fuse. But have someone in the room with you when you do.’ Ridley nodded his understanding. Jack had never actually seen Ridley in a physical confrontation but imagined that most villains would probably underestimate him. Most people, in fact.
Jack then asked how Maggie took the news of him being in hospital. ‘I didn’t go into detail,’ Ridley replied. ‘I said you’d been injured but were OK. I mentioned the CT. You can tell her the rest when she gets here. I didn’t want her overly worried while she was driving.’
‘Did we get Adidas Man?’ Jack asked.
Ridley chuckled. ‘Oaks did. He can’t wait to tell you all about it. Tomorrow, I’m going to head back to Chipping Norton to debrief with DCI Hearst.’
Jack smirked at the words ‘debrief with DCI Hearst’. Ridley noticed but didn’t seem to understand. He put Jack’s grin down to the morphine and continued: ‘I’ll also talk to Hearst about setting your Judas Horse free.’ Jack’s smirk disappeared and, although he said nothing, his eyes betrayed his heartfelt gratitude. ‘Charlotte won’t get away scot free, I’m afraid. I’ll do my best for her but . . . she gave target names to De Voe. I promise you this, though, Jack: the only person Charlotte will have to explain herself to is Annie. I’ll protect her from any community backlash.’
Jack nodded. ‘Thank you.’ Life’s moral grey area wasn’t a natural or satisfying place for Ridley to be, but he’d go there for Jack.
The next thirty minutes were taken up by Jack talking Ridley through the events that had taken place in De Voe’s office. It certainly wasn’t an official statement, but Ridley knew that Jack might recall now something he could later forget. Especially if he ended up having full sedation for any reason. This conversation was brought to an end by Maggie arriving. She hugged Ridley for longer than she’d ever hugged him before.
‘Thank you for looking after my Jack,’ she said simply.
He nodded, then left them together.
Maggie’s eyes explored Jack’s body, taking in every cut and bruise, every dressing that hid an injury, every cannula sticking into him. By the time her eyes came to rest on his bruised and tired face, she knew all she needed to know. She lowered the bed rail, kissed his forehead, sat down on the low plastic chair next to him and held his hand. ‘Want to see a video of Hannah smiling?’
With that image firmly in his mind, all of the pressure, stress and fear from the day disappeared, and Jack felt the overwhelming relief of being alive. The tears came quickly from both of them.
Two hours later, Noah arrived to take Jack up to a ward. As predicted, his CT scan had revealed nothing concerning – but Dr Okoya had admitted him for one night’s observation. Maggie opened her shoulder bag and handed Noah a carrier bag filled with toiletries and a brand-new pair of pyjamas. Noah smiled to Maggie. ‘Are you coming up with us, Doctor? Jack’s on the same floor as Regina’s poor little baby.’
CHAPTER 26
Jack swam in and out of sleep all night. There were so many sounds in the air, he didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t: buzzers, nurses whispering, doors creaking, shoe soles squeaking across vinyl floors. Every two hours, the patient in the bed next to him had his BP taken, and the humming noise made by the cuff inflating made Jack dream of Bjarne’s ‘quiet as a mouse’ EC120 Colibri helicopter. And every four hours, Jack’s own BP was taken. Every time, he part-woke and asked what time it was. And every time, the nurse would say, ‘Too early for you to be awake, Jack.’ Then he’d close his eyes and listen to her humming something gentle and soothing.
When Jack woke fully for the first time, Maggie was standing at the foot of his bed talking to Mario. ‘Hey, there he is!’ Mario beamed down at Jack. ‘Mags told me what happened. Mate, I could never be Old Bill. Mad job! But a ride in a chopper. Nice!’ Mario then gibbered on for a while longer about a bungie jump he’d chickened out of when he and Regina went to Victoria Falls. ‘She was strapped to me, so couldn’t jump either. Heights man! Turns out I don’t like them.’
Jack, not thinking clearly, interpreted Mario’s talkative mood as a good sign and tried to ask about Regina and the baby. But Mario was purposefully talking so much that nobody could get a word in and ask him any questions he didn’t want to answer. Jack saw his mistake the instant Maggie put her hand gently on Mario’s shoulder and the combination of Jack’s clumsiness and Maggie’s kindness made Mario cry.
‘The name Princess has stuck,’ he said through his tears. ‘Her first operation is this afternoon, so we’ve got a meeting with the consultant this morning.’ Mario looked at Maggie, knowing she would understand what he was talking about. ‘By the time she’s three months old, she’ll have had two more operations. And that’s if everything goes well! She’s so tiny, Mags. But she smiles now, did Regina tell you? She smiles at everything, imagine that . . . I hear parents on the maternity ward saying things like, “I hope our baby is smart,” or, “I hope she takes after her mum,” or, “I hope he’s tall.” I just hope my baby lives. She doesn’t have to be smart, or tall. She just has to stay with us.’
Mario wiped his face on his sleeve and, once again, beamed at Jack. ‘Sorry, mate, sorry. I came here to ask how you are and listen to me, blubbing away. It’s just the stress of today, you know. It’s gonna be fine. It’s just hard right now, ’cos we don’t know stuff. I researched this amazing new treatment in the US that helps stimulate the parts of the brain that don’t work. Brings them back to life. It costs six zeros! The medics may as well have said, “In order to cure your daughter, you need the still-beating heart of a unicorn.”’ Again, the tears welled up in Mario’s eyes. ‘It feels like it’s that impossible. But not trying is more impossible. So, we’re gonna sell everything we own.’
Mario, trying to joke, smiled at Jack and tapped the side of his nose. ‘Maybe some things we don’t own. Only joking, DS Warr. I’m on the internet every night learning physio for her arms ’cos . . .’ Mario sucked air in through his teeth. ‘You seen how much it costs, Mags? We’ll need 24-hour support when Princess comes home. Regina’s sister will move in with us and they’ll do shifts. She’s bought one of them camping beds so she can kip in the lounge, bless her.’
Jack was listening but he was miles away. He was with Hannah. Bathing her and fibbing about the noise an octopus makes. He imagined his baby girl not floating in his arms, not smiling up at him, not hanging on his every word. A tear rolled down Jack’s cheek and onto his pillow. Neither Maggie nor Mario saw it.
‘Anyway . . .’ Mario
took Maggie’s hand. ‘Now I’ve depressed you both, I’ll head to the meeting. Say a little prayer for us, yeah?’
As Mario bounced out of the ward, waving furiously, Jack looked at Maggie. ‘Is she going to die?’
‘I don’t know. Right now it’s about keeping her alive this year, this month, this week. Actually, Jack, if you don’t mind, I’d like to catch them before their meeting and wish them both good luck.’
‘Go,’ Jack said.
As Maggie left, the humming nurse appeared at Jack’s side with the obs stand and announced that, for the final time this shift, she needed to take his BP. But before that job could be completed, Ridley appeared. The nurse looked at him with mock disapproval. ‘And how did you get past the gatekeeper? might I ask. This is your third illegal visitor, Jack!’ she began wheeling the obs stand away. ‘Five minutes, Mr Singing Detective, then you’re out.’
Ridley had walked down one long corridor and up two flights of stairs to get to Jack’s ward, and this was the fourth ‘Singing Detective’ comment he’d heard. As the humming nurse gave him a wink and walked away with a smirk on her face, Ridley swore blind that he was never drinking Pimm’s again.
Ridley remained standing as he explained that he’d signed Jack off work on medical grounds for one week. When he did come back, he’d be on desk duty for a minimum of one more week, at which point he’d have a fitness evaluation, before being allowed back to active duty. Jack, who knew all of this was coming, agreed without argument.
Then a memory suddenly surfaced, making Jack’s skin go cold. He’d forgotten about the diamond necklace! If he wasn’t allowed in the station for a week, there would be no way for him to return it to the evidence room.
Ridley squinted at him. ‘You OK, Jack? You’ve gone very pale.’
Jack frantically tried to gather his thoughts. ‘Sir . . .’ Ridley sat down to show that he was listening. ‘Sir, when I was going undercover with De Voe, I needed a way in. I needed him to trust me. And I managed to do that. That’s why he invited me to an all-expenses-paid trip to the races. Remember?’ Jack then got to the crux of the matter, before he lost his bottle. ‘I gained De Voe’s trust by offering to sell him a stolen diamond bracelet.’ Ridley’s eyebrows shot up and his mouth opened slightly. ‘I didn’t steal a bracelet specifically for that purpose, of course,’ Jack added quickly, ‘but I did borrow one that I knew was stolen.’
Judas Horse Page 26