by Ian Williams
’She’s moving.....’whispered Steve almost to himself. Then the realisation set in ‘Ian, Steve, everybody, she’s on the move…SHE’s ON THE MOVE’.
Ian stirred from his slumber. He had nodded off a few times. The drool on his left shoulder confirmed as much, he roused himself belatedly as all around him mayhem and voices ensued. He had a flashback to what he had been dreaming about, he had been playing a round with Keira Knightley…not around, a round, disappointingly they were playing golf and she had been fully clothed, what kind of bloody dream was that. Ian’s fuzziness and the thought of a naked Keira Knightley subsided as he realised the gravity of the situation he was in.
‘Quiet everyone’ stated Ian matter-of-factly over the radio. ‘Confirm status lads, we ready to rock and roll….Jacob, Joseph, be ready to assist.’
‘Roger that guv’
‘Mark you and your chaps still in position?’
‘Of course, haven’t moved in three hours….ready to go, you give the word and we’ll take her out’
‘Doug, Robert, you there?’ there was silence. ‘Doug, Robert, come in over, repeat, Doug, Robert, come in over, OI DICKHEADS WAKE UP!!’
‘In the other car Doug and Robert awoke with a start….the car was cold, the chain smoking duo had meant the car smelt stale and dry. The two of them kicked the empty sausage roll, pastie wrapper, crisp and chocolate wrappers…the clunk as the empty cans of bitter rattled into each other was voluminous in the quiet of the night. Everybody could hear the two of them grunting and swearing, it sounded like two hippos with tourettes were having a wrestling match.
‘Sorry guv, must have dozed off there…we’re ready, willing and able’ stated Doug apologetically.
‘About fucking time, Jesus Christ lads were you having a party in there or something. Anyway listen everybody she is stirring. Be ready; if I shout go three times then its game on Mark. But remember we must wait…nobody dies tonight, okay…nobody.’
‘Right she’s definitely going to do something. Okay she is standing up now, just getting to her feet….she’s reaching down again…picking up a bag….she’s reaching for the door handle of the walk in wardrobe…she’s pausing’ Ian could see on the screen that she was taking a few deep breaths.
‘Doesn’t look like she’s got anything in her hands. Okay, door is being opened…very slowly….she’s taking her first step, just coming out of the wardrobe now….she’s closing the door behind her’ Ian could see she was doing her best not to make any noise. The white shape was moving very slowly. Move straight for the door Jane, please, thought Ian, no more deaths.
‘She’s standing in the room…no movement….okay she’s moving towards the girl….standby everyone, standby.’
‘She’s moving closer, about six feet away from the bed now, two more feet and we’re gonna do this.
‘Standing by’, stated Mark calmly. He took the safety off his gun, moved ever so slightly, a couple of centimetres at a time. It took a few seconds before he was in the right position. As soon as he heard Go Go Go he would be up. He knew exactly where she would be. He had seen in the room earlier on and and mentally marked his target. If anybody had to die tonight it was not going to be the little girl….no way.
‘Okay she’s moving closer, one more step needed….hang on, hang on….she’s stopped, I repeat she’s stopped.’ Ian stared at the screen intently. Everything seemed to have stopped, Jane, the noise from the equipment, the air outside, time itself even. His heart was pounding. He was about to give the order to kill someone and he just could not take this in. He had never been in this situation before. The nearest he had ever got was way back in ninety five when he was a regular policeman at a football match. He had the unenviable task of policing a Millwall game. They were playing Cardiff…nutters versus madmen it was called. Trouble had flared up after the match. It had been an evening kick off in December. It was cold, wet and the atmosphere was filled with hatred. There were pockets of disturbances all around the ground outside. The game had been fairly boring….it was petering out into a dull 0-0, both sets of fans were happy for the final whistle to end proceedings so they could sink a few more jars in the pub and get out of the cold and back home. Then well into injury time the referee gave a penalty to Cardiff, who duly despatched it with the last kick of the game. All of a sudden the atmosphere turned evil as the Millwall fans spat vitriolic abuse at the referee as the Cardiff fans repeatedly gave ‘V’ signs to the home fans and danced around in mocking conspiratorial happiness.
The police knew what was coming. They had been well organised and managed to quell most of the violence but him and a few others had ended up battling with twenty odd Millwall fans. It was close quarters stuff; he could remember the smell of alcohol and cigarettes on the man’s face as he screamed abuse at Ian….his body odour, almost over powering. PIG, PIG, PIG, FUCKING PIG’. Ian had tried to keep him at arms length but it was no good. He had produced a knife and suddenly and without warning just plunged it into Ian’s leg. He had given out a scream and fell to his knees. His fellow officers had seen what happened and poured in to protect him. The mounted policeman had arrived just in time to wade through the Millwall fans and knock them all flying to the ground. Officer down, backup needed had been screamed over the radios and within second’s ten highly armoured officers with batons and shields had come storming round the corner. Anything that moved got hit, arms, legs, heads, all of them were left battered, bruised and bleeding as they were restrained on the floor and handcuffed. Numerous vans, their sirens wailing and their lights blazing had arrived to transpose the so called fans down to the police station for charging. The one who had knifed Ian in the leg got a few accidental kicks and punches on the way to the van, and on the way to the station.
He had recovered from that with no issues. Two weeks off work was enough. But that had been it, and here he was, the lead investigator tracking down a serial killer, and they had found her. She was now one step away from getting multiple bullet injuries and probably death. The little girl would have nightmares for months, the mother would be a mess, this was all going to get very complicated, there would be inquests, the Police complaints commission would step in….how did she die ? Who gave the order? What were the alternatives? His mind was racing. All sorts of thoughts were going through his head…he needed a holiday, he needed some sun, he loved his wife, he wondered what she was doing, he was going to quit the force, be something else, move away, anywhere but here, where he was right now, why couldn’t it be someone else.
And then she stopped….No movement, nothing. Jane was stood, absolutely still, not a single movement. ‘She’s stopped, I repeat she has stopped. No movement, she is still just standing there’
Mark who had been crouched ready and waiting was shaking. He had been ready to move, set himself, aim and fire. Another minute and he was going to have to move. His left leg began to shake under the strain as sweat began to gather at his brow.
In the bedroom Jane stood there. She just stared at Sally. The nightlight was casting half of Sally’s face in pale light, the other half like the dark side of the moon. She could see Sally breathing, her nostrils flaring up and down, her chest rising and falling ever so gently. Jane put her hand to her heart. She wasn’t even sure she was breathing. She felt her heart beat under her sweaty palm. Her emotions were a maelstrom of sadness, unhappiness, fear, loneliness. It felt as if for the last six months she had been rushing round at the speed of light, the world struggling to catch up with her. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten. Sleep had come in fits and starts. Her watch never seemed to move and then she would blink and it would be an hour later, a day later, a week later. She caught a glimpse of herself in the full length mirror, the light from the street lights and Sally’s nightlight gave her a ghostly presence, as if half of her had already disappeared. The clothes she was wearing were simple, just a pair of jeans, a t shirt and an old fleece jacket, no, correction, Nicks fleece jacket. If she concentrated and put her nose into the mat
erial she could still smell him, still see him.
Her hair was a mess. She had cut it short so as not to be recognised during her ‘mission’. The days of her long blonde hair, always clean, always shiny, always styled to perfection were long gone. What had she become? She had been kidding herself for a long time. She looked in the mirror and all she saw was a stranger, as if there was no mirror and she was actually looking at another person. She had to get out of here. Get out of the house get out of London, out of the country. The weight of everything she had endured the people she had hurt, mentally, physically. Loved ones and strangers alike each death was meant to make her feel better, meant to help put right what had gone horribly wrong. But if she was honest with herself it never had. Her shoulders slumped as if the last two years had metamorphosed into a physical object which had been placed on her shoulders.
Jane shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She took one last look at Sally and turned towards the door…..
Chapter 21 – ‘GO GO GO GO GO’