Time Is Running Out

by Michael Wood

‘What?’

  ‘I could … I could come with you,’ he said quietly, hesitantly.

  ‘That could work.’ She smiled. ‘We could help each other out.’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘Me too. So, shall we go and have a chat and a pizza and go from there?’

  He nodded.

  There was a bang from somewhere behind Jake. He increased his grip on Frank, whose face reddened. He winced as the gun was pressed firmer against his temple.

  ‘What was that?’ Jake asked.

  ‘I don’t know, Jake. It was probably a door slamming or something.’

  He backed away down the corridor, dragging Frank with him. Sian followed.

  ‘Jake, give me the gun. Come on, let’s go somewhere warmer and more comfortable to talk about this.’

  At the end of the corridor, Jake turned. He saw Danny Hanson and his cameraman enter from the fire exit. He saw the BBC logo on Danny’s jacket and the camera on the other man’s shoulder.

  ‘You fucking bitch. You lied,’ Jake screamed.

  The gun went off. Frank’s head exploded, splattering Jake and Sian with blood, brain and bone fragment.

  ‘Sian! Down!’

  Sian couldn’t move. She froze. She was back in the car park again, watching her colleagues fall. She felt someone grab her and pull her to the floor.

  ‘Put the fucking gun down, now!’ Someone yelled.

  Jake was using Sian as a shield. He was kicking out, pulling Sian with him, trying to put some distance between himself and the armed officers aiming at him.

  The floor was covered in the blood leaking from Frank’s body. Jake was skidding in it as he tried to maintain a hold on Sian and the gun.

  Sian could feel the warmth of Frank’s blood rolling down her face. She could smell it, taste it. It was everywhere. The thick viscous liquid was running through her fingers.

  ‘You lied to me,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘You don’t give a fuck about me. You just wanted me to put the gun down.’

  ‘Drop your weapon now!’ Porter shouted.

  Jake kicked at the floor again as he tried to get away from the approaching armed team. Sian was on top of him, his arm around her throat, the gun pressed against her head. She could feel it burning her flesh, the heat caused by the shot that killed Frank making the barrel feel like a flame.

  ‘Of course I did,’ she whispered with anger. ‘Did you honestly think you and me were going to pop to the college for a course in confidence? You were falling for it, though,’ she seethed. ‘You were believing everything I was saying because you’re weak and you need people to tell you what to do.’

  ‘Shut up,’ he screamed.

  ‘No. If you want to kill me, then go ahead. But those men there will riddle your body with bullets, and you’ll be dead just like me. What will you have achieved then, eh? Nothing. But that’s been the story of your life, hasn’t it? You’re nothing. A nobody.’

  ‘I swear to God, I will fucking kill you,’ he shouted in her ear.

  ‘This is your final warning, drop your weapon!’ Porter shouted.

  ‘You need me. If you were going to shoot, you would have done so by now. You don’t want to die any more than I do. You know that if you kill me, you’ll be dead within seconds. You need me to get out of here, you little prick.’

  A shot rang out.

  Sian slumped to the floor.

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Outside the hospital, Jake’s van had been located in the corner of the car park. CCTV footage and ANPR cameras backtracked Jake’s entry into the hospital and discovered the vehicle he’d climbed out of. DS Aaron Connolly and DC Finn Cotton stood well back while bomb-disposal officers checked out the van to make sure there were no hidden devices or traps. A fine drizzle had started to fall. Both detectives were wet and freezing cold.

  ‘Have you spoken to your wife today?’ Finn asked.

  ‘I called around lunchtime. She didn’t answer, but I left her a message; told her everything that was going on,’ he said, arms folded, glaring straight ahead.

  ‘Did you hear back from her?’

  ‘She sent a text telling me to stay safe. That’s all.’

  ‘That’s a step in the right direction. Maybe she’s beginning to thaw.’

  He looked down at the young DC. ‘No. She made her feelings perfectly clear. She won’t have me back.’

  ‘Have you asked her?’

  ‘Until I’m blue in the face.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Would you have your wife back if she cheated on you?’

  Finn thought for a moment. ‘No. I don’t think I would.’

  ‘There you go then. Anyway, she’s started divorce proceedings. It’s my own fault. I can’t turn the clock back. Come on, it looks like they’re giving us the go-ahead.’

  ‘Either that or they’re wanting to use us as the canary,’ Finn said with a smile.

  As they approached the van, one of the team began removing the bomb-disposal suit with the help of a colleague.

  ‘Fresh air,’ he said with a smile. ‘We’ve done a sweep of the van. There’s nothing underneath it, nothing under the bonnet and we’ve not detected any kind of explosive material inside the vehicle.’

  ‘I sense a but,’ Finn said.

  ‘We don’t know what’s inside the van. The handle could be rigged to trigger some kind of air compression system that explodes a nail bomb or something,’ he said, hazarding a guess.

  ‘So, it’s not safe for us to just open it?’ Aaron asked.

  ‘No. Not here.’

  ‘Can’t you remove it and take it elsewhere?’

  ‘What we need to remove it wouldn’t get in this space. We’re going to fit a small charge to the lock on the back of the van, powerful enough to blow the doors open. Hopefully that will give us the opportunity to look inside.’

  ‘You want us to make sure everyone is well back?’

  ‘Please.’

  As they walked away, Aaron noticed Finn smiling.

  ‘What are you grinning at?’

  ‘I just heard Michael Caine in my head saying, “You were only supposed to blow the bloody doors off.”’ He laughed. ‘Sorry,’ he said when he noticed Aaron’s grim expression.

  The car park was empty of people and all police were ushered back while bomb-disposal experts placed a small charge on the lock of the van. They carefully unrolled the wire until they were a safe distance away, pressed a button on a remote control, and a muffled bang echoed around the open space. The doors immediately flew open.

  ‘I was expecting more of a bang than that,’ Finn said.

  ‘You just wanted to quote Michael Caine again, didn’t you?’

  ‘I can’t do the accent.’

  ‘You’re telling me.’

  They were beckoned over to the van. A powerful torch was aimed inside the vehicle, lighting up the space. It was a while before their eyes adjusted.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Finn said.

  ‘Do you know who that is?’ a bomb-disposal expert asked.

  ‘Roisin? Is that you?’ Aaron asked, climbing, carefully, into the van.

  She looked up. Her wrists and ankles were tied, tape secured her mouth closed. Her face was mucky, her clothes were torn and tears rolled down her face. She nodded.

  He reached forward and gently removed the tape. ‘I’m DS Aaron Connolly. We met, very briefly, around Christmas.’

  ‘I remember,’ she said quietly with a smile. ‘Is it all over?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. But you’re safe. That’s the main thing.’

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  Inspector Gavin Porter and DI Christian Brady ran over to Sian. She was slumped in the corner of the corridor, caked in blood and brain matter. Porter kicked Jake’s gun away while Christian squatted in front of his DS.

  ‘Sian, Sian, can you hear me?’

  She looked up at him. Her eyes were wide and unfocused. Her face was pale.

  ‘Is it over?’

  Chr
istian glanced to one side, saw Jake Harrison propped up against the wall with half his head missing, his eyes wide open.

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  ‘Everything’s muffled,’ she said.

  ‘That’ll be the gunshot. Your hearing will come back soon. Are you hurt?’

  ‘No. I don’t think so.’

  He helped her up. ‘I am so incredibly proud of you.’

  She couldn’t help but smile. ‘Really? I was staring down the barrel of a gun. I’m an idiot.’

  ‘Well, yes, that too.’

  She turned and looked down at Jake. ‘How can one man cause so much destruction?’

  ‘It wasn’t just one man, though, was it? His brother takes a lot of blame for this. Come on, let’s get you a drink.’

  He helped her to her feet. She looked down at herself, at the amount of blood she was covered in. Another outfit ruined.

  Slowly, Christian walked Sian down the corridor to the lifts. They passed Frank’s lifeless body. She looked into Matilda’s room. The DCI was lying in the bed, unconscious, oblivious to all the drama going on around her. Penny was in tears, screaming and wailing, though to Sian it was muffled. A female armed response officer was trying to calm her down. Daniel Harbison was having his gunshot wound checked by a nurse.

  The further down the corridor they went, Sian took in the aftermath of the carnage. Spent bullet cartridges, doctors and nurses lying on the floor where they’d been gunned down. This really was a nightmare from which there was no waking up.

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  Sian’s clothes were evidence. She had to sit in the blood-drenched pieces while samples were taken from her and she was photographed from every angle. She was then cut out of her clothes, which were placed in evidence bags and sealed. She was allowed to have a wash in the nurses’ changing room at the hospital before being given a white forensic suit to change into.

  Christian stayed with her every step of the way. He wanted to call Stuart for her, to come and be with her, but she said she needed time to process what had happened first. After a long, hot shower, she was ready to return to the station.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Christian asked for what felt like the thousandth time.

  She nodded.

  They were in the back of a marked car being driven by PC Nowak.

  ‘Roisin Featherstone was found alive,’ he said.

  ‘That’s good news.’

  ‘Martin’s on his way here now.’

  ‘He’ll have a lot of questions to answer.’

  Nowak cleared her throat. ‘Sorry to interrupt, I overheard the Chief Constable on the phone at the station. He’s handed in his resignation.’

  ‘I can’t say I’m surprised,’ Sian said.

  ‘He’ll still have a lot of questions to answer,’ Christian said.

  ‘We all will.’

  Back at the station, Christian and Sian went straight to the interview suite where Steve Harrison was still waiting. In the car on the way back, Sian asked if she could break the news to him. Before opening the door, she composed herself, took a breath, then burst in.

  Steve jumped. He looked up, saw Sian in her forensic suit and laughed.

  ‘Oh dear, got a bit of blood on your clothes?’ he asked.

  ‘They were caked in it,’ she said, standing in the doorway, a slight smile on her lips. ‘Still, a ruined jumper and trousers are a small price to pay for the death of a killer.’

  Steve’s face dropped.

  ‘Oh, haven’t you heard? How remiss of me,’ she said, her words oozing with sarcasm. ‘I should have sent someone down to tell you that Jake was killed. Not before he spent about ten minutes crying, telling me how nobody had ever loved him and how he didn’t have the confidence to make anything of his life, blah, blah, blah. It was all very embarrassing.’

  Steve remained impassive. He looked at Sian with smiling eyes, a smirk on his lips, totally unfazed by the death of his brother.

  ‘You see, today has all been for nothing,’ Sian said, leaning down on the table. ‘Matilda is still very much alive. The operation to remove bone fragments from her fractured skull was a complete success. She’ll make a full recovery and she’ll be back at work before the end of the year, mark my words. You failed, Steve. You’ll be charged with incitement to commit murder. Any privileges you had at the prison will be removed, and you can kiss goodbye to your minimum term. You’ll never see daylight again.’

  She looked up at Shaun Cox and gave him the nod to take Steve away. He’d be going back to Wakefield Prison tonight. They knew where to find him when they needed to question him again.

  ‘I haven’t failed,’ Steve said. He stopped in the doorway and turned back around. ‘Matilda might still be alive but look how many have died today. You’ve lost detectives, people you work with and care about. You’ve seen things today you thought you’d never witness. Both of you.’ He looked from Sian to Christian. ‘In fact, every single one of you will have nightmares and flashbacks. You’ll be in therapy for a very long time. I did that. Me. I’m in your head now. And I’ve no intention of ever leaving.’

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  ‘Today has been one of the darkest days in Sheffield’s history. The events of Tuesday the eighth of January 2019 will be remembered for years to come as the day a lone gunman took to the streets of Britain’s fourth largest city and went on a killing spree, mercilessly massacring men, women and children. He was finally stopped here, at the Royal Hallamshire Hospital, where he was cornered and gunned down by armed response officers. In a very brief statement released by South Yorkshire Police, we can officially reveal the gunman was identified as thirty-four-year-old Jake Harrison, brother of former police officer Steven Harrison, who killed six people in 2017. The death toll from today is not yet known and it will take several days before all the crime scenes are processed, but together, these two brothers have murdered more than thirty people and will go down in history as Britain’s most prolific sibling killers. Danny Hanson, BBC News, Sheffield.’

  Christian pointed the remote at the television screen on the wall and turned it off.

  ‘Wanker,’ he said. ‘You know he’s going to write a book about them, don’t you?’

  ‘Did you see the look in his eye?’ Sian said. ‘He was practically smiling. He’s loved every minute of today.’

  Two hours had passed since the events at the Hallamshire Hospital and they were currently sat in the Homicide and Major Enquiry suite. They were the only ones remaining. A few desk lights were on, but they were in virtual darkness. Finn and Aaron couldn’t get out of the station fast enough when Christian said they could leave for the day. For some reason though, despite wanting to be with his family, Christian felt the need to stay, just for a little while longer.

  From a drawer in Valerie Masterson’s filing cabinet, Christian had taken a bottle of whisky and two glasses and poured himself and Sian a large measure each.

  ‘Can you believe any of what we’ve been through today?’ Sian said, fighting back the tears, looking at the empty desks in front of her, some of which would still be empty tomorrow morning when work resumed.

  ‘It’s going to be a while before it sinks in.’

  ‘Christian, tell me we can come back from this,’ she said, turning to face him. She had had only one Mars bar from her snack drawer all day, and the effects of the alcohol were quickly sinking in. Her head lolloped to one side.

  ‘We can. It’s whether we want to, that’s the question.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, do you still want to be a police officer after today?’

  ‘Yes. Of course,’ she replied firmly. ‘More than ever. I consider it my duty to serve in the memory of those we’ve lost today. Please don’t tell me you’re thinking of leaving.’

  ‘I need to speak to my wife,’ he finally said. His voice was heavy with emotion. ‘It’s not only my decision to make.’

  ‘I can’t do this without you,’ she said, a single
tear falling down her cheek. ‘We’ve lost so many good officers today. You’re needed here.’ She reached out a hand and placed it on his arm. ‘I need you here.’

  He turned and smiled at her. ‘Have you phoned Stuart?’

  ‘Yes. He’s coming to collect me.’

  ‘Will you tell him everything that’s happened today?’

  She nodded as more tears fell.

  ‘We’re lucky really, aren’t we? We’ve both got people we can share these things with,’ he said.

  ‘Stuart is a very understanding and sympathetic man. I couldn’t wish for a better husband.’

  ‘But who have Scott, Kesinka, Matilda and Adele got?’

  ‘They’ve got us. And they’ve got each other,’ she said, slurring her words slightly. ‘The only way we can defeat people like Steve and Jake is by growing stronger together.’

  Her mobile on the desk in front of her began vibrating. She picked it up and smiled when she saw Stuart’s face. She swiped to answer. ‘Hello … Ok. I’ll be right down … No, well, I may have had one. See you soon.’ She ended the call and tried to stand up but stumbled.

  ‘Have you had anything substantial to eat today?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Maybe you should.’

  ‘Maybe. Right, well, I’d better be getting off.’ She held her arms out for a hug.

  Christian stood up and obliged, holding her tight.

  ‘Promise me you’ll come in to work tomorrow,’ she said, her head against his chest.

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘We need to stick together, Christian. If we don’t, they’ve won.’ There were tears in her eyes and a catch in her voice.

  ‘I know.’

  She stepped out of his embrace, picked up her coat and bag and walked unsteadily towards the doors. She turned back.

  ‘A new day tomorrow, Christian.’

  ‘A new day.’ He smiled.

  He waited until she was gone, and he was alone in the suite. He looked around him. So much had happened. He was surrounded by darkness and silence, but the atmosphere was heavy. He pictured Rory sat at his desk, having a playful argument with Sian about the contents of her snack drawer, and how she would tease him about cutting him off if he didn’t contribute. He couldn’t see the levity returning to this room. It was tainted. Everything had changed today. Life for the remaining members of the Homicide and Major Enquiry Team would never be the same again.