An Urgent Murder

by Alex Winchester

  Between the Police moving about inside the houses and the photographer in the garden, anything left inadvertently by Simon was destroyed.

  144

  Monday 20th June 2011

  By the time the whole palaver was playing out, Simon was entrenched in his room at the Premier Inn fast asleep. He had only waited five minutes in the hotel carpark for Ian and his apprentice to arrive via the exit. The handover of the jute bag and all the phones was swift, and Simon told them which ones he had used to call the Police and press. He explained that the one marked number two was the one likely to contact the home office mole. Laura asserted that the one he had used to call Police would be the last one she checked in case there had been a trace put on it by the Police Control Room.

  Greg answered the phone.

  “Hello.”

  “Do you know what has happened?”

  “I have a rough idea.”

  “The shit has hit the fan. I can’t stop it now. Too many of my officers have been all over both houses. I can’t vouch for more than one of them. I’ve been told there are three dead and my right-hand man may have done it and RD may be on his way out.”

  “No he didn’t.”

  “What do you know?”

  “Someone who uses the name Simon. I don’t know if that’s his real name or not. He’s done it.”

  “I’ve been told Yusef’s office is empty. He’s got all the phones.”

  “Do you know everyone’s numbers?”

  “No. I don’t know anyone or their numbers except yours. What do you think he will do?”

  “I think we will have to wait and see.”

  “I can’t do anything to jeopardise my position. Somehow the press has got wind of all this. They will be watching like hawks. It’s got to be straight down the line. I don’t know what Beadle is going to say. He might drop us all in it when he comes round.”

  “Where is he?”

  “In Birmingham General.”

  “Anyone with him?”

  “Just a uniform PC.”

  “Can you call him off for an hour?”

  “Yes. Are you going to do what I think?”

  “Yes. Better safe than sorry.”

  “I don’t want to know. Just do it.”

  “Bye.”

  The Chief Constable put his head in his hands. He had envisaged this happening one day but it had still been a shock when he had received the phone call from the City Control Room. It was worse than he thought. If Greg dealt with Beadle that would close that avenue. Then the thought crossed his mind that Greg might consider him a weak link. Would he try and silence him? Once he got to the office in the morning, he would arrange some personal security. He couldn’t get back to sleep. What was going to happen? Every sound made him jump nervously.

  Ian connected all the phones up to the extensions except the one that Simon had used to call the Police. If he put the battery in that one, it didn’t matter if it was turned on or not, it would show its position to the closest mobile phone mast. The Police could then trace its location without much difficulty within a few hours. Ian sat back to let his apprentice do her work. It had actually occurred to him that he had relinquished the mantel of tutor to her and he had assumed her role as the apprentice. Laura soon found that each phone only had one number stored in its memory and only had calls to and from that other phone shown in its logs. It was the easiest work she had been asked to do. The only exception was the phone that Simon had used to call the press.

  Phoning Graham, Ian filled him in regarding the phones. He had recently arrived home and had released his driver. It was agreed that Ian and Laura should get back to London as soon as they could and meet Graham in Snow Hill Police Station. They anticipated no more than two hours hence and no later than 6am. Turning the TV on in his lounge, Graham searched the rolling news channels. They were starting to report a serious incident in Birmingham but with sketchy reports. Some claiming many dead at the hands of a deranged Police Inspector.

  Graham called John. For twenty minutes, they chatted. Tossing scenarios about as to how to proceed, they played devil’s advocate even for their own ideas. Sluggishly, a plan was formulated. It seemed a reasonable idea but Graham needed to speak to the Home Secretary for her agreement. John was watching Sky rolling news and Graham was watching the BBC. They were relying on the mole seeing the footage when they woke up in the morning.

  The PC who was sitting on a borrowed chair outside the single room occupied by Beadle took a phone call. Ordered to stop the press entering the hospital via the main door he left his post. Greg strode passed him in the corridor. When he walked into the room, Beadle was starting to rouse. It didn’t take much. Greg gripped Beadle by the throat and squeezed. Beadle’s eyes were wide and staring with pure hate. He couldn’t defend himself. His arms and hands wouldn’t do what his brain was telling them. Trying to shout for help was lower than a whimper. It was the end and he knew it.

  At the nurse’s station, a machine burst into life beeping stridently and the steady rhythmic dance of the moving graph changed step. By chance, there were three male nurses having a break from their services to the sick, injured and dying of Birmingham. They ran to Beadle’s room and saw Greg with his hand gripping Beadle’s throat. One dived at him knocking him clear and the other two challenged him. A gun appeared in Greg’s hand and all three nurses backed off. Greg had wanted to eliminate Beadle with minimum fuss and not be observed. It had all gone awry because of some wires that he had not seen under Beadle’s arm. He had come to kill him and decided that was now imperative. He put the gun to Beadle’s head and pulled the trigger. He was no longer being surreptitious and didn’t care. The nurses were petrified. They were witnesses to a cold-blooded murder. Were they to be next?

  All three ran from the room shouting for help. Greg followed. He knew his image would be plastered all over the place as honest Police sought him. No one would be able to protect him however high they were in the establishment. He cursed Simon. How he wanted to kill him. He would give a king’s ransom for the chance. Running down the stairs, he passed the PC running up them. His time in England was up. He had to get out of the country fast.

  His escape plan had been in place for several years. Within four hours, he was on his way to New York.

  145

  Monday 20th June 2011

  Alison awoke again with a raging thirst. Whatever the tablets were that Carol was feeding her were having some strange effects on her. She wriggled about to sit up in bed without too much pain, then downed the glass of water on the bedside table. In the quiet of the night, she heard faint voices. Checking her watch, she saw it had just passed four. ‘Am I the only one to try to sleep in this house?’ She got out of bed and wrapped John’s dressing gown around her before stealing out into the hall and then into the lounge.

  John was laid flat on his favourite chair watching the television. She sat gingerly down in the chair she had found most comfortable previously.

  “Why pray are you watching TV at this time of night?”

  “Your dad asked me to.”

  “It’s like getting blood from a stone with you two. Why?”

  “Just watch and see if anything springs to mind.”

  Alison watched as the news scrolled round and then to an incident in Birmingham. Her eyes widened as the reporter stated that a rogue Police Inspector had shot and killed at least three people and was under guard in hospital.

  Alison whined. “Please. Don’t tell me Simon was involved.”

  “Did they say anyone else was involved? The person who did it is in hospital. Simon is in his hotel probably asleep.”

  “Why do I worry then?”

  “Maybe you are very fond of him?”

  She chose not to answer and continued to watch the news. A ticker tape running constantly across the bottom of the screen added a new item. Breaking News: A shooting in Birmingham Hospital. Believed Detective Inspector Beadle has been shot dead whilst under Police guard as a suspe
ct for murder. Alison looked at John who seemed non plussed.

  “Tell me what is happening. I’m going mad. Is Simon in trouble?”

  Carol strode into the room.

  “For goodness sake. When you two are up, everyone is up. Just tell her, then we can all get back to bed.”

  John looked at Alison and said, “No. He has just picked up some phones. He’ll be back tomorrow: or rather later today.”

  She glared at him. She knew there was so much more. She knew he was not going to tell her just yet.

  “Alright. I want the full story in the morning” and she stomped sullenly back to bed.

  Carol sat in Alison’s vacated chair.

  “Is he ok?”

  “Yes. I think so. We’ll know soon enough. He should be back by midday.”

  Carol watched the repeated rolling news.

  “Looks like he’s caused mayhem.”

  “The murder in the hospital is strange. I can’t work that one out.”

  “I’m going back to bed. I presume you’re staying up for a reason?”

  “Yes. I’ll grab a nap sometime later.”

  John phoned Graham who was in a different car with a fresh driver.

  “The DI they have attributed all the murders to has been shot in his hospital bed. I can’t work that out.”

  “Maybe to stop him talking.”

  “It’s the only answer, but he was under Police guard and they never saw a thing.”

  “We need to know why? I’ll get the Home Secretary to find out. She can ask questions without raising suspicion.”

  “There’s no way Simon could have been involved. I would hope he’s bullet proof.”

  “It means there is a killer up there that we don’t know about. Let Simon have a few hours then fill him in.”

  “Ok. Do you think I should tell Ginger?”

  “No. Not yet. We don’t want to worry him unnecessarily.”

  They hung up without acrimony that neither said goodbye or exchanged accepted pleasantries to end the conversation.

  Graham phoned the Home Secretary who was still at the Ministry in her office watching the rolling news with foreboding. She’d been up all night and was getting crotchety. The more she watched, the grouchier she got.

  “Good morning Minister.”

  “No it bloody isn’t. What the hell has been happening up there?”

  “I don’t know yet, but will in an hour or two. My man was able to get hold of some phones which are now on their way back to London. He believes one is a direct link to the mole. As soon as I can, I will come and see you. I would ask though if you could find the time, could you contact the Chief Constable up there and find out how the killer got past the Police guard in the hospital?”

  “I’ll ask him a damn sight more than that.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Make sure you get to me before ten o’clock. Preferably before nine.”

  “I certainly will.”

  “Goodbye” and she slammed the phone down on its cradle.

  Within minutes she was on the phone to the Birmingham Police Control Room Night Duty Inspector insistent on speaking to the CC. When told he was at his home address and not contactable, she exploded.

  Demanding to know, “Why hasn’t he attended to take control of the situation?”

  The Inspector tried to placate her. “I have been able to keep him fully briefed as to the situation as it has developed.”

  “I am in my office because it is a serious incident. It’s all over the TV. Tell him I expect him to be in his office.”

  “Yes Madam. I shall pass on your observation.”

  “It’s not a bloody observation, it’s an order.”

  The Inspector realised the mistake of his words and compulsorily stood up. “Yes Ma’am.”

  She changed tack and launched into an attack on him in the absence of the CC.

  “You have dead bodies all over the place and the potential killer in hospital. Why the hell did you only have one PC guarding him? An apparent proficient killer?”

  “The instruction came directly from the Chief Constable.”

  Steaming straight on she challenged him.

  “Then how did another murderer get past him? Three medics were able to witness it all according to the TV so why couldn’t he? Why didn’t he try to prevent it?”

  The Inspector had already spoken to the PC.

  “He was at the front of the hospital to make sure the press didn’t get in.”

  “What!” Sarcastically asking the Inspector before he could reply “Was he the only officer working in Birmingham tonight that is capable of doing everything?”

  “The officer was instructed personally by the Chief Constable to leave his post without my knowledge.”

  She practically took off.

  “How?”

  “He phoned the officer directly from his home.”

  As he spoke, he realised what he was saying. The Home Secretary realised what he had said. Neither spoke as both came to the same conclusion. She became rational.

  “Inspector. I want you personally to take a full statement from the PC and I want a copy on my desk within the hour. I shall be sending in the IPCC (Independent Police Complaints Commission). As far as I am concerned, they will be investigating your CC for complicity to murder. When you have the statement, and not before, I want him made aware of this fact. Do you understand?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Get on with it then” and she hung up.

  146

  Monday 20th June 2011

  Graham was in Snow Hill eating a ‘plastic’ sandwich with an expiry date three days previous that he had picked up from a small twenty-four hour convenience store on the way in. At least the coffee was hot. He hadn’t had time to get anything decent. There were three men sitting with him saying nothing. They had been summoned from their beds, as far as they could tell, in the middle of the night to meet him. None had been up this early for years. All accepted that what they were going to do was of national importance. The officer manning the front counter had been instructed to conduct the expected two people directly to him.

  Ian and Laura arrived and were ushered into the small, now crowded, office. They handed the single mobile phone marked ‘Two’ to Graham. He passed it on to one of the three men.

  “I need to know the address where the phone bearing the number that is stored in this one is located. Urgently. The minute you know, call me.”

  The three left the office and went to a small building a couple of hundred yards away and within minutes had located the mast nearest the phone as Harrow on the Hill.

  They went to three identical VW vans in an underground car park and all drove to Harrow on the Hill. Arriving at pre-determined points, they all climbed into the back of their vans. Electronic instruments were turned on and all coordinated and triangulated with each other. The signal was from an area to the East of the mast. Driving to new agreed points, they parked and climbed into the back of their vans again. Now they were getting closer. One of the vans repositioned two streets further North. The instruments were delicate but exceedingly accurate at short range.

  They pinpointed a tree lined road and the vans were again repositioned. One went to a junction and when the equipment was turned on, it indicated a gated group of four houses about midpoint of the road. The vans’ instruments could see the phone was in one of the two houses to the East side. It was the best they could do. They couldn’t get through the secured gates. One van using different equipment sat outside in the tree lined road and listened for any transmissions to or from the phone. As the unelected leader of the three was starting to call Graham, one of the others called him on their unique radio band to let him know a government car had arrived at the gate entrance.

  Recording the index number was simple enough. These were not Policeman but they knew it would prove useful. A smartly dressed fit looking man of about five feet ten inches left one of the houses carrying a red box bri
efcase. It was a giveaway that he was a Minister. His face was buried in concentration as he watched the news on his new government issued smart phone. The chauffeur hurried to meet him and take the case from him.

  The technicians concluded from their instrumentation that it was not the phone in question although they could see that the phone was on the move. It was clear to all three that he had to have it somewhere on his person, or in the case. From their access to the unabridged electoral roll, they had the man’s name. Graham was given the full details within the hour of the three leaving the little office.

  His car was brought to the front of the station. Ian and Laura would meet him later. He had good news, or so he thought, for the Home Secretary.

  147

  Monday 20th June 2011

  John stood with a mug of coffee in his hand as he looked out of the kitchen window across the fields surrounding the university buildings. Birds were on the move searching for food. There were swifts or swallows, he wasn’t sure, flying high in the sky. Marvelling at their acrobatic aerial antics, he didn’t hear Alison walk in.

  “Hello.”

  The liquid sloshed all over the counter as the mug left his grasp and he spun round with hands coming up in a defensive posture.

  “Wo. It’s me. You are edgy this morning.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t hear you coming.”

  “Any news?”

  “The press have got hold of a CCTV image from the hospital of the person who killed the Policeman. You’ll be glad to know it’s not Simon. Check it out on the TV. You never know, you might recognise him.”

  Alison looked at him dubiously.

  “What you are saying is: I should recognise him?”

  “Possibly.”

  Alison went into the lounge and sat down in front of the TV. It wasn’t long before a clear frozen image was shown, and the voice over claimed it to be that of the murderer. She didn’t recognise the man. Having cleared up his mess, John joined her.