by Ellis, Tim
He held his hands up in mock surrender, but she knew that was the last thing on his mind. The knife was still in his right hand.
‘Drop the knife, and kick it over here,’ she told him.
‘I can’t hurt you with a knife when you’ve got a gun.’
‘If you don’t drop the knife I’ll shoot you.’
He took a pace forward. ‘That’s a big gun. I’m beginning to wonder if you have any bullets in it.’
‘Move again and I’ll show you. Drop the knife.’
Just then, the door swung open. It smashed into the back of her and knocked her forwards.
‘We’re home,’ Duffy called as she came through the door carrying Lily Rose and half a dozen bags of shopping. ‘You’ll never guess where we’ve . . .’
Lucy saw the man pull his hand back to throw the knife. She was off balance, but she pulled the trigger anyway.
The bullet hit him in the right arm and spun him round, but he’d managed to throw the knife as he turned.
The blade flew past her ear.
She heard a scream behind her.
‘Oh God, no,’ Duffy cried. ‘Not my baby . . . please, not my baby.’
Lucy turned.
Duffy collapsed with the handle of the knife sticking out of her distended abdomen.
Ruth rushed in through the open door holding Dylan. ‘What is happening? Oh my God!’
The man regained his balance and ran forward. He crunched into the back of Lucy as she began to stand and rammed her against the door.
The door banged shut.
He wrenched the gun from her hand and threw her on the floor.
Both the twins were screaming.
Duffy was sobbing uncontrollably. ‘My baby, you’ve killed my baby.’
The man waved the gun towards Ruth and Duffy. ‘I’m getting a headache,’ he said. ‘So everybody had better shut the fuck up before I start firing.’
Ruth took Lily Rose out of Duffy’s arms and tried to quiet both the wailing children. ‘They want feeding,’ she said. ‘I need to get their bottles from the kitchen if you want them to be quiet.’
‘Sergeant Jones,’ Duffy said. ‘What are you doing? Somebody call for an ambulance.’
Jones pointed the gun at Ruth, ‘You, go and shut them up. If you do anything stupid I’ll kill everybody.’
Ruth took the twins into the kitchen.
‘Hello, Duffy,’ he said, checking the flesh wound in his arm. ‘I’m afraid nobody will be calling for an ambulance. It’s just us now.’
‘But what about . . . ? You’re going to kill us all, aren’t you?’
He grimaced as he pulled his shirt sleeve down and turned to Lucy. ‘That very much depends on you, bitch.’
Lucy started to get up.
‘Stay where you are,’ Jones said. ‘You’re too fucking slippery for my liking.’
‘Why does it depend on me?’ she asked, sitting back down.
‘What are you doing in there?’ Jones shouted through to Ruth.
‘Feeding the twins as I said I would,’ Ruth called back.
‘Where’s your mobile phone?’
‘In my bag by the front door.’
‘Hurry up then.’
‘I can only go as fast as the twins can drink.’
‘Tell them to drink faster.’
Ruth didn’t respond. The twins weren’t even six months old yet.
Jones pointed the gun at Lucy. ‘Get everyone’s mobile phone and throw them in that pot.’ He indicated a large colourful Nicole Kennedy urn to the left side of the corridor leading to the chapel. ‘And just remember, I’ll kill Duffy first if you do anything stupid.’
She collected up Ruth and Duffy’s phone, and squeezed Duffy’s hand as she knelt down next to her. ‘It’ll be all right.’
‘What about your phone?’
She pulled it out of her back pocket and tossed it in the urn with the other two.
‘There’s a utility room off the kitchen with a lock on the door,’ Jones said to her. ‘Drag Duffy in there.’
‘Why are you doing this, Sergeant Jones?’ Duffy asked him.
‘Stop calling me “Sergeant”, Duffy. Quigg put paid to that. Now it’s his turn to lose the things that matter in his life.’
Lucy hooked her hands under Duffy’s armpits and began dragging her along the terracotta tiled floor.
‘It hurts,’ Duffy yelled. ‘Oh it hurts. Please, my baby.’
‘Stop screaming, Duffy,’ Jones said. ‘I can leave you out here, but I’ll have to kill you.’
Eventually, Lucy managed to drag Duffy to the utility room.
Jones told Ruth to take the twins in there as well, then he locked the door.
‘What about me?’ Lucy asked, but she had an idea what he wanted and how she could stop him from killing them all.
‘You and I have some unfinished business,’ he said pushing the muzzle of the gun between her legs. Get into the bedroom on the left and take your clothes off.’
***
She’d seen two security guards trying to follow her earlier. Three times during the day she’d caught sight of them, but had shaken them off. Now, here were a different two. What was going on? It was as if someone had put the word out.
The one thing she couldn’t do was lead them back to Sanchez, Count Orlok’s Labyrinth, and the others. Wasn’t it today that Dunkin and Wingnut were going to see what was going on in Slaughterhouse 8?
She headed in that direction. Jinking and weaving, ducking and diving. If she could lose them before she got there all the better. It was a bit early, but what choice did she have? If they followed her in there she could lose them easily. And if she couldn’t, well Dunkin and Wingnut would help her lose them once they got there.
She helped herself to a woman’s purse as she bumped into her. ‘Sorry, lady,’ she said.
‘That’s all right, love.’
Moving quickly, she was already out of sight.
The guards were still following her.
A half beaker of lukewarm tea off a table – yuk, no sugar. A lonely hotdog with onions and mustard – Mmmm.’
‘Hey?’
‘Sorry,’ but she wasn’t giving it back.
A gold Rolex wristwatch. She checked the time. It was quarter to eleven.
‘Hey, anybody seen my watch?’
‘Are you sure you put it on this morning, dad? You know what your memory is like these days.’
‘Maybe I didn’t.’
Increasing her speed she lurched and side-stepped like a boxer.
The guards were still behind her.
She reached Slaughterhouse 8 and squirmed through a gap beneath the wooden hoardings.
It was dark and the grounds were overgrown. She’d never been here before and prayed the guards didn’t follow her, but her prayers went unanswered.
The guards slithered through the same gap she had come through even though it wasn’t large enough for a snake.
She headed for the entrance to Slaughterhouse 8. The very place she didn’t want to go. It was too early for Dunkin and Wingnut to be here and she was so frightened about going in on her own, but what choice did she have?
***
Caesar burst into the command centre.
The three women inside squealed.
He smiled beneath his balaclava. He had that effect on women.
But wasn’t that the whole point? He was covered from head to foot – a black jump suit with hundreds of pockets, boots, a balaclava, a helmet, goggles and gloves. What people couldn’t see frightened the hell out of them. Psychological warfare the scientists called it. He wasn’t an expert on the brain by any means, but he knew as well as anyone that he liked to see people’s eyes when he was talking to them, liked to see their mouth moving and receive cues from their facial expressions. Criminals who wore masks were seriously frightening, and hadn’t it extended to children? Now they wore hoods and scarves round their faces so they couldn’t be recognised. How many times had he
seen them on the television news?
If it wasn’t for the bullet-proof vest with “POLICE” on the front and back, he could have been mistaken for a criminal or a terrorist himself.
‘DI Caesar – CO19,’ he said.
‘Sorry, Sir. You frightened the hell out of us bursting in dressed like that. I’m Constable Cheal. I’ll call DI Quigg. He’s been expecting you.’
He put his gloved hand over hers as she began to pick up the phone. ‘No, there’s no need to do that. Where is he?’
‘He’s in Room 22 in the hotel. He thought he’d grab a couple of hours sleep before you arrived.’
‘I’ll go up there and wake him afterwards. First, you can brief me on what’s been going on.’
He sat down and rested his carbine on the worktop. The strap was looped around his neck. After taking his goggles and helmet off, he put them down on the worktop as well.
‘DI Quigg should brief you,’ Cheal said. ‘He might know things I don’t.’
‘Then he’ll tell me when I wake him up.’
He’d left his men outside to secure the area. What he didn’t want was Quigg and his people getting in the way of what he had to do. Bed was a good place for him. By the time he woke up it would all be over.
He declined the offer of coffee. Trying to take a piss in the uniform was a mission in itself.
PC Cheal told him what had been happening over the previous week.
So, the Assistant Commissioner hadn’t been completely honest with him. Someone had sent people in to destroy the biological material already. He guessed it was something to do with those two men in her office. Where were they from? Who did they represent? If the government or the country was in danger, then they were probably MI5 or MI6. Now they needed Caesar to sort out their mess for them. Well, they’d chosen the right man for the job this time.
He had no idea what all the rubbish about a Cora Jiggins being murdered in three different time periods meant. What he did know was that the killer Quigg and his people were looking for was obviously the rogue scientist, who sounded like a right nutcase. An asylum for the criminally insane that had reinvented itself as a horror theme park was probably the right place for him.
What was the biological material? Why were they so worried about the forensic people having and analysing it here? Well it wasn’t his concern. Curiosity killed the cat. All he had to do was what had been asked of him – nothing more, nothing less. He had to bring order out of chaos, and make everything right with the world.
He stood up. The carbine swung back to him on the strap. He collected up his helmet and goggles and said, ‘You’ve been very kind, PC Cheal. I’ll make sure that the people who matter know of your professionalism.’
Her face reddened and she smiled. ‘Thank you, Sir.’
‘I’ll go up and see DI Quigg now.’
He ducked outside. To Constable Simeon Herbert he said, ‘Cut the telephone wires.’
What he didn’t want was Quigg being alerted to his presence just yet – he had matters to attend to.
Herbert walked round the command truck and cut the telephone wires.
He called his men to him.
‘What we have here is a matter of national security. Now, I know there are police officers and forensic scientists in those trucks, but you have to choose between saving them or your country. If any of you want to walk away now, so be it. There’ll be no black mark against you.
None of his men moved.
‘Good. Okay, put incendiary devices underneath each truck for . . .’ He checked his watch. It was ten forty-five. ‘. . . two a.m. at thirty-second intervals.’
IDs weren’t government issue, they were a terrorist weapon. Sometimes though, a copper had to fight fire with fire. They were simple enough to make – a small amount of explosive, a detonator with a timer, and a pot of chlorine trifluoride equalled conflagration.
Once that was done, Caesar led his team into the hotel and down to Room 13.
Chapter Seventeen
She was just glad that Ruth, Duffy and the twins weren’t between them anymore. If there was any chance of her overcoming Jones then he couldn’t be in a position to use them against her. Now she had a chance.
She walked as slowly as she could into Duffy’s bedroom, but he kept nudging her in the back with the silencer.
He sat down in the chair by the dressing table. ‘Right, get them off.’
There wasn’t much to get off. An army-green t-shirt with: “I’m much more interesting on the internet” printed on the front, a pair of jeans and her lace panties. No bra, no socks, no scarf and gloves, no jumper – it was July. If she’d known this was going to happen she’d have dressed accordingly.
She tried to eke it out by doing the stripper’s dance and taking her t-shirt off very slowly, but he wasn’t impressed.
‘Stop fucking around and get your clothes off.’
She pulled her t-shirt over her head and dropped it on the floor.
‘Call those tits? I’ve seen bigger ones in a tin of peas.’
‘Hey, nobody’s forcing you to rape me, you fucking bastard.’
He waved the gun up and down. ‘And the rest.’
Regardless of what he said about her breasts, she could see he was attracted to her. His nostrils were flared, he kept licking his lips and he adjusted himself with his free hand.
As she squirmed out of her jeans, she palmed the 7.62 mm bullet in her pocket. Then she pushed the jeans down her legs and stepped out of them.
‘Well?’
‘You’ve forgotten something, haven’t you?’
She pulled her panties off and kicked them towards him.
‘A bit bushy for me.’
‘Are you a fucking critic for a magazine, or something?’
He smiled. ‘Lie on the bed face down.’
She did as she was told, but she kept one eye on him.
He stood up, put the gun on the dressing table, quickly took his clothes off and scooped up the gun again.
As he took a step towards her she said, ‘A bit scrawny for me.’
He smiled.
She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
He stopped. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I need the toilet.’
‘You can wait.’
‘If you fuck me when I want to pee, I’ll wet myself.’
She stood up.
He hesitated.
She wasn’t close enough. She walked towards him.
‘What . . . ?’
But she was close enough to use the only weapon she had. She swung her leg upwards as if she was taking a penalty kick for England.
He tried to turn and avoid it, but the top of her foot connected with his testicles. His eyes opened wide, and his finger jerked on the trigger as his knees buckled
The sound of the hammer hitting an empty chamber echoed round the room.
‘Jesus!’ he said, his face contorting into a mask of pain.
She smashed a fist into his face and he fell sideways.
The gun bounced on the carpet..
She picked it up, released the magazine and slipped in the bullet. Then she pushed the magazine back in and chambered the round.
‘Nice try, arsehole,’ she said aiming the gun at his heart and pulling the trigger.
The bullet smashed into him and he jerked once.
After checking he was dead, she put her clothes back on. Then ran to get one of the mobiles from the urn and phoned for an ambulance.
Next, she opened the utility room door.
‘Duffy, are you all right?’
Duffy looked pale and drawn. The knife was still protruding from her abdomen. ‘I don’t know.’
‘She needs to see a doctor,’ Ruth said.
Lucy nodded. ‘I’ve called for an ambulance.’
‘What about Sergeant Jones?’ Duffy said.
‘That bastard won’t be bothering anybody anymore.’
Ruth put her hand on Lucy’s
shoulder. ‘Are you all right, Lucy?’
‘I think I’ve broken my hand,’ she said, holding up her swollen hand.
‘You know that’s not what I mean.’
‘He tried, but he wasn’t up to the job.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure.’ She stood up. ‘I need to do something before the ambulance arrives.’ She walked out to the atrium and opened up the trapdoor. After hiding the gun again and getting her mobile phone she went through into Duffy’s bedroom and dragged Jones by the ankles to the trapdoor opening. Then she pushed him down the steps with her foot. Next, she threw his clothes down after him and closed the trapdoor.
Soon afterwards there was a knock at the front door. The paramedics worked on Duffy and then put her in the back of the ambulance.
Ruth stayed home to look after the twins. Lucy went with Duffy and promised to call Ruth with any news.
The paramedics put the flashing blue light and siren on.
Duffy didn’t look good at all.
***
The phone rang.
For Christ’s sake! He’d only just got to sleep.
He scrabbled on the bedside table for the handset.
‘What?’
‘This is Mike Mulley from park security. You wanted us to let you know when we’d caught one of those thieving kids.’
He checked his watch. It was quarter to midnight! ‘Have you seen what time it is?’
‘Yeah well, we’ve been chasing those kids around the park on your instructions all day trying to catch them.’
‘So, you’ve caught one.’
‘No. We’ve lost two of our men instead.’
His head was full of cotton wool. All he wanted to do was go back to sleep. Tolliver was a dirty little liar. No sooner had they climbed into bed than she was all over him. He tried to push her off, to explain that he was already taken, that he was tired and excuse me but weren’t we just going to go to sleep? She wasn’t that type of girl. Ha! She was exactly that type of girl. She’d lured him to the room under false pretences.