“Here’s the offer I’m making you. You go now and don’t come back. I have no beef with any of you. Otherwise, I will have to incapacitate all of you.”
“You think you could take all three of us together?”
“Effortlessly and without the gun. You are not who I want. It’s Grigoriev.”
“Now I know you’re as mad as he is.”
“Well. What’s it to be?”
“I could say, ok and then we could come back for you.”
“You would be three corpses. I’m letting you go. The choice is yours.”
The two men looked at each other and nodded.
“OK. At nine there will be our three replacements. You think you could take six of us.”
“I wouldn’t be making the offer if I couldn’t.”
As a show of contempt for the two men, Simon turned his back on them. His bravado was enough for them to accept his word. Neither wanted to be the first to attack him even if his back was to them. If he was senseless enough to take on Grigoriev then Grigoriev could kill him.
“Pick up your colleague from the booth on your way out” and then he walked down the stairs and to the glass kitchen door with its two small bullet holes close together. ‘Fair shooting in the dark.’ He went in and then locked the door behind him. Not worth taking any needless chances of a surprise attack.
*
Carol said, “Alison. I know you won’t like this. You should tell your Dad.”
John reaffirmed he would update both Ginger and Ian as Alison slunk off back to her room. She was happily looking forward to waking her Father before 5.am. Picking up her new mobile phone, she rang Graham.
“Hello. It’s me,” slight pause, “Alison.”
“I know who it is. I’m just surprised you are awake this early. What’s happened?”
She nearly hung up. He was already up and about. The wind was taken right out of her sails. Then gritting her teeth and being as true to the narrative as she could remember, she brought her Father up to speed. At her conclusion, she waited for some kind of response.
“Thank you” and he hung up. Looking at the phone, she thought, ‘Why me?’
Carol knocked and went into Alison’s bedroom. She was going back to St Richard’s Hospital and she told Alison she would make arrangements for her X-rays. It was accepted that John would transport her to the hospital at the appointed time. Carol sat at the foot of Alison’s bed and they discussed how Simon was going to progress any enquiry.
134
Sunday 19th June 2011
Simon slammed shut the front door and went up to RD’s room. The house was secure. Daylight was breaking, and he saw no point in advertising his presence by turning a light on. There was sufficient ambient light to see what he needed to. If the guards alerted anyone, so be it. Mercedes’ body had been propelled to the side of the room as the bullet had hit her. It wasn’t the prettiest of sights and Simon found a sheet and covered her. He pulled his phone from his pocket and called Bruce. He needed some medical advice.
“Hi Bruce. Sorry to wake you I need some help.”
“Yeah. Go on?”
“I am next to a man who is unconscious in bed. He has apparently been kept in this state for a long time. There is a drip stand with a bag of clear liquid that is passing through some kind of a pump and going into his arm.”
“That sounds like liquid to keep him hydrated. Can you see what is being used to keep him sedated?”
Simon looked about and found a larger than average syringe on a small wheelable trolley and a bag of brownish powder.
“There’s a bag of brownish powder next to a large syringe.”
“Nasty. That could be a concoction including Diamorphine. Heroin in other words. That would keep him unconscious. Too much though could kill him. Is there a pump where the syringe could be fitted?”
“It could probably be fitted on the bottom of the pump with the clear liquid.”
“Simon, if I am right, taking him straight off it could also prove fatal. You need a qualified doctor to deal with him.”
“I will probably be able to get him to a hospital some time tonight. Will that be too late?”
“You’re pushing your luck.”
“Thanks Bruce. This chat didn’t happen.”
“Obviously” and the line went dead.
*
The three guards stood by Grigoriev’s Saab.
The one from the booth said, “What do you reckon?”
“He was happy to take three of us on. If he’s after Greg he’s got to be good or plain mad.”
“I think I want to give this a miss. I’m going home and I ain’t coming back.”
The other two agreed.
“It looks like Greg has legged it and left his car.”
“I’ll park it and then I’m off.”
“You going to tell the day team?”
“Yeah.”
“What about Yusuf?”
“Fuck him. He’s a slime ball.”
“Jackie is meant to be coming back today.”
“She’ll find out then soon enough.”
They all went their separate ways.
*
Simon busied himself checking the Glocks. They were all fully loaded and all looked well maintained. That wasn’t a benchmark though that would prove they would fire if called upon to do so. He would rely on the Lithuanians’ tried and trusted gun the MP-443, but preferably, his own butterfly knife. Sitting in one of the plusher chairs that he hauled from the middle of the room and put against the wall opposite the bedroom door, he dozed. He wanted to be awake for any of the 9am team arriving.
At 8.30am Simon roused himself. There had been no efforts by anyone to enter the building and search for him. He moved to the front of the house and watched and waited. Another beautiful June day was in its infancy. 9am was soon past. No one had turned up. Then at ten a lady in her senior years with a slight stoop, pulling a stainless steel wheeled trolley suitcase walked into the cul-de-sac and stopped by the booth. She looked about for a minute and then started to walk up the middle of the drive as though she owned it. Simon watched her approach the front door and then heard a key in the lock.
‘Surely this old lady is not Jackie?’
135
Sunday 19th June 2011
John had updated Ian first who immediately set off for Birmingham. It had been agreed the sooner he could take possession of any phones the quicker he could work on them. The firearms were a bonus, and would join the arsenal in Kent after the armourer had checked them out and removed any identifying marks. Most of those working or living at the Kent base had skills taught them by the military and had honed them during their careers. That the majority were disabled was no bar to their knowledge.
Ian had taken a youngish woman who had served in the signals regiment with him who had become adept at recovering information from mobile phones. He knew she was better at it than him. Her only mistake in the army was that she was too close to someone who stepped on a land mine. She now sported a prosthetic leg.
Ginger was quickly updated as to Simon’s situation. Although exhibiting a laissez faire attitude over the phone, he was quietly apprehensive. He didn’t tell his long suffering wife as she had never wanted to know what Simon was up to because she was a serial worrier. Ginger knew his son’s abilities and was confident he could deal with any situation, but he still became anxious. It was natural for a father to worry about his offspring.
Graham had phoned John with some details he had learnt about Richard Davies. They were sketchy. He had not wanted to utilise computerised Police indices for fear of alerting the wrong people. Mostly, the information had been given to him by word of mouth from some old acquaintances, both active and those retired, that he knew and trusted. Even so, he was extremely economical with the truth as to why he sought the information, and downright lied to some of them. None considered passing any information back to unsavoury characters, or even discussing the nature of the co
nversations let alone admit they had actually spoken to him.
At 7.15am, John was at his usual table with Jimmy. Both gave the impression, thanks to several uncleared plates, that they were working their way through the canteen’s menu. They weren’t in talking mode and other customers recognised the fact and gave them a wide berth. They were getting ready for a long day. The urgent quest for sustenance was due to the belief that this would be their only meal of the day and they were stocking up. Groves ordered his food at the servery and bought a tea for Jimmy and coffees for John and himself. He placed them on the table in front of each, and received a grunt of sorts from Jimmy and no sound from John. Sitting down he said nothing to either of them. The whole canteen seemed crowded, but hardly a susurration stirred in the room. Everyone knew it was going to be a long haul today and was likely to be very disquieting.
Chairs began to scrape the floor as their occupants pushed them about as they stood up. People were on the move, mainly going to the conference/briefing room. John and Jimmy waited for Groves to finish his meal and then went up to the office. Sitting behind Paul’s desk was the Chief. Prodow was at a desk still piled high with exhibits. Doreen was at her desk looking disconsolately at a blank screen on her computer. Paul was leaning against the office door trying to look between slats in the blind at one of the windows and out towards the old playing field. Groves and co propped up the wall by Jimmy’s desk. It was as quiet as the grave.
The clock crept slowly towards a quarter to eight.
The Chief said, “Listen people. We have got to get to grips with all this. I will conduct the briefing this am. I’ve read the original documents folder which is plainly bloody useless. That nurse is patently innocent and I will have it out with her brief as to why she has said nothing. It’s her own bloody fault she’s been locked up and charged. I will be in court and I’ll make sure we fight costs tooth and nail.”
Prodow said, “That’s a bit strong you going to court guv’nor. You’ll be right in the firing line for everyone to have a pop at you.”
“Sod ‘em. They will see what we’re made of.”
Doreen said, “Who’s going after Haskland, the Micra man?” to no one in particular.
Prodow answered saying, “The surveillance team have been on the car since 5am. We want Deborah in it as well as him so we’ll have them both together. Anyone goes near it, they’re good as nicked.”
As the clock hit 7.40am the CC snatched a phone from the desk and punched in some numbers.
“Hello. Southampton Hospital. Emsworth Ward. How can we help you?”
“Hello. I am Chief Constable Robertson from Sussex Police. I would like the update as to how one of my officers, Sergeant Murray is doing?”
“Good morning sir. Nice to hear from you again. Murray had a good night and is gaining strength. He is still being fed by tube and should be on solid food either later today or tomorrow.”
“Thank you for that. I shall call again for an update about 1.pm.”
“I’ll look forward to that.”
“Good bye.”
The day sister on the ward said to a minion, “That is the personification of what a good manager should be. Thinking all the time about the wellbeing of his staff.”
“Shame some of the managers at this hospital don’t think about us.”
The CC said, “Right. Let’s get this briefing going” and they all followed him down and into the briefing room.
As one, all those seated rose as he strode purposefully into the room.
“Sit down please. No ceremony. This is going to be swift.”
He updated the room as to Murray’s continuing progress and said, “Today maybe the hardest day any of you have had with Sussex Police. Some things happened yesterday that have traumatised a lot of you. Today, you may learn even more that is going to be upsetting to some, and shocking to others. You are all experienced professional Police Officers and support staff. You can cope with this. However. I know that it helps to talk. In Murray’s old office you will find the Force’s counsellor. I want each team member to pop in and have a chat during the day. No exceptions!”
He scanned the room and looked at all the faces.
“Understood?”
Several minutes passed. No one moved a muscle. Some seemed to have stopped breathing. They were all staring back at him.
“These are dark times for us. We will prevail. Come the end of this, each one of you will have the satisfaction that you helped solve and prosecute the most complex criminal case this county has known.” He looked about. “Where’s Doreen?”
Paul said, “She’s still upstairs manning the office.”
“Could someone please fetch her.”
A detective ran to get her.
As she walked into the room, the CC said, “Doreen. Please join me.”
Doreen felt scared, but she didn’t know why.
“Ladies and Gentlemen. You all know Doreen. It is entirely possible that she has provided evidence that may lead to the correct murderer of George Armstrong. She is not a trained detective, yet she has put together through her own pure dogged perseverance enough to give us a good starting point. As we are speaking, a surveillance team is watching a green Micra vehicle that may have been used by the killer. I believe we are close to catching the real culprit. By the end of the day, I expect a satisfactory result.”
He turned directly towards Doreen.
“You sure you won’t come and work for me?”
The ice was broken. Doreen exhaled loudly, and the room seemed to breathe a collective sigh as people started to fidget about in their seats.
136
Sunday 19th June 2011
A voice called out.
“Mercedes. Where are you? There’s no one in the booth.”
Simon stood out of sight. He heard the noise of the old lady wheezing as she started to drag her case up one of the staircases, one step at a time.
“Mercedes. For God’s sake, come and help me.”
Simon moved to the top of the stairs and started down towards the woman. She stopped dead in her tracks.
“Who are you?”
“Simon. And you are?”
“Doctor Bandell. Where’s Mercedes?”
“Upstairs with the old man.”
“There’s no one in the security booth.”
“I know. I sent them home.”
The old lady looked incredulous.
“I hope you know what you’re doing. Greg will go mad.”
“I don’t think he really cares now. After you. I’ll bring your case.”
The old lady struggled up the remaining stairs puffing loudly even without her burden, and straight to the old man’s rooms.
She stopped when she had passed through the dressing area and got a few feet into the bedroom.
“What’s happened in here?”
“Last night, Greg shot Mercedes. That’s who is under the sheet.”
The woman was totally unfazed by the corpse in the room of someone she evidently knew.
“How’s RD?” and she went to his bedside. Checking his pulse and seeing the empty bag of liquid, she said, “Pass me a bag of fluid. It’s under the trolley.” Within seconds, the fluid was dripping back into RD’s arm. “Do you know when he last had any heroin?”
“At a guess, about 3am. I think Mercedes probably gave him some about then.”
Glancing indifferently at his hands clothed with his latex gloves she passed no comment.
The doctor opened her suitcase and took out a phial and a hypodermic syringe.
“Do you have to give him that?”
She looked at Simon. “Why do you ask?”
“I was hoping to speak to him today.”
“Not a hope. He’s been on ‘H’ for about five years to my knowledge. This is all that keeps him alive. If he came off it, he would probably die. His wife and Mercedes want him kept alive, so I give him this a couple of times a week.”
“Mercedes won’t be ha
ving any more input as to his treatment.”
The comment spurred the doctor to go to where the sheet covered the corpse and she removed the shroud. Looking at the hole in Mercedes back, she knew without checking further that she was dead. It was clear to her that she had died instantly. Without rite, she threw the sheet back over her.
Sitting down in an easy chair, the doctor lit a cigarette.
After a couple of puffs, she said, “Alright. Tell me what happened last night?”
Simon lied as he kept the narrative simple. Saying he wanted to speak to RD and was permitted entry by the sentries, and was chatting to Mercedes when Greg phoned. Then Greg shot Mercedes and all the guards ran away. When the doctor had finished her cigarette, she looked hard at Simon for several seconds.
“I’ve heard some crap stories before, and that’s right up there with them.”
“The true bit is Greg shot Mercedes.”
Doctor Bandell did not seem to worry about the ash that had fallen on the carpet, and even ground the end of her cigarette into it under her shoe. Simon supposed that the blood and entrails of Mercedes that were strewn across part of it were a lot worse. The doctor picked up her syringe and moved to RD’s bedside.
“Can you give me a little help here? Mercedes used to hold his arm for me.”
Simon moved beside the bed and as he stretched forward towards RD’s arm, the doctor, with amazing speed, tried to stick the syringe into his exposed bare wrist. Simon’s reactions were fast, but not quick enough. The needle went through the glove and grazed the back of his hand as some of the fluid found its way into his blood stream. Doctor Bandell let go of the syringe which just clung on limply to the back of Simon’s glove and swung from it before dropping to the floor.
The doctor moved away swiftly from the bedside. Simon started to feel dizzy within seconds. He staggered to a chair and collapsed into it. The doctor stood by the light that had been Mercedes downfall and lit another cigarette.
“It doesn’t take much and only a few seconds. It’s got a sedative, Fentanyl, that is used to relax muscles ready for an anaesthetic and some of my own mixture, I don’t know who you are, but I’m sure Greg will like to see you. I’ll give you the proper dose in a minute.”
An Urgent Murder Page 43