by Jake Cross
‘Here we go,’ he said to himself.
* * *
South of that roundabout, Katie sat in her car a hundred feet from the entrance to the church grounds, and twenty feet in front of a police car. She ignored the activity around her, including a bunch of teenagers shouting at each other in the park to her left, and two police officers talking to them about a report of a man waving a baseball bat around. There was no bat-wielding lunatic, though. Katie had called in the lie in order to get the police to the church. If she had called them about Karl, they would have arrived mob-handed. This way, when she told the two officers who she was and what was going on, nobody would be able to stop her getting to Karl. When she saw a man in a hi-vis jacket and carrying a bag, she tensed. She just knew it was Karl from his walk. It took every milligram of will to prevent herself from running to him.
‘Here we go,’ she said to herself, then turned and shouted to the policemen in the park.
* * *
North off that mini-roundabout was Danny’s van, parked on a zigzag white line just short of a zebra crossing. Parking here was a big no-no, and many honking cars had let them know this, but from this location the occupants could see McDevitt waiting by the church. In the mirrors, they saw a man in a hi-vis jacket cross the road and enter the church grounds.
‘Here we go,’ Danny said to Liz.
* * *
Two hundred and fifty feet east of the van, McDevitt stood by a tree near the church’s rear. He saw a man in a hi-vis jacket pass through the single black gateway. Into Mick’s world.
‘Here we go,’ he said into his phone, literally shivering with excitement.
* * *
East again, 280 feet away, just beyond the perimeter fence, Brad and Dave were sitting in the Mercedes Vito, chosen for its sliding side door. Both men had arrived only minutes earlier, at roughly the same time. Dave’s bike was in the cargo space, near Mick’s bags.
They didn’t even get time to relax before Mick called with the news: Seabury had arrived.
‘Here we go,’ Brad said to Dave.
* * *
Karl saw him almost immediately. On the left side of the church as he faced it. Some way back, under a large tree, leaning on it casually. He was in jeans and a black jacket, which Karl hadn’t expected from a detective.
But where was Katie? There was a black car in the driveway, but it was empty. And there was a sign in the rear passenger window advertising horse-riding lessons, so he doubted it was the detective’s anyway. He wondered where the man’s ride was, then figured he might not have one. He might be planning to call a police car. But where was Katie?
Karl stopped at the end of the main driveway. The man raised a hand and rubbed his forehead. Then gave him a thumbs up and waved him over.
‘Where’s my wife?’ Karl shouted.
‘In my car. Back this way. I didn’t want to park on main roads.’
Karl continued walking. His eyes ran over every tree, bench, nook and cranny, seeking armed cops ready to pounce. But he tried to relax, because by entering the church he’d passed the point of no return. If they were out there, hidden, it was game over already. His best bet was to go quietly.
He stopped thirty feet away. The guy was in the tree’s shadow. Big guy, grey buzz cut. There was something familiar about his face, but he couldn’t place it.
‘Where’s the car?’
‘Where’s Liz Grafton?’ the guy asked.
‘She didn’t want to come. She’s going to hand herself in in her own way. She didn’t want to do this without help.’
The man looked upset about that. He tried to hide it behind a smile, but the truth was in his eyes. ‘That’s good. So we need your statement, Karl. Shall we go?’ He pointed behind him, deeper into the church grounds, beyond thick trees. Something was wrong here.
‘I’m not coming in until my wife’s with me.’
‘She’s waiting. Don’t keep a pregnant woman waiting.’
He sounded impatient now, almost angry. Karl didn’t move. Something was definitely off. He wished he’d listened to Liz. The detective put a hand into his pocket.
‘Let me see your ID.’
The guy pulled a warrant card. It couldn’t be scrutinised from this distance, as the guy well knew. But Karl wasn’t about to step closer.
When he realised Karl wasn’t going to step up to check the ID, he slotted it away and laughed.
Right then, Karl heard the crunch of gravel and turned. A police car had appeared from behind the corner of the church, slowly, like a cruising shark. So, the detective had called in backup after all.
‘You lied to…’ he said as he turned back, ready to shout at the detective. But the guy was gone.
‘Karl!’
Katie’s voice. He turned back to the police car. Katie was there with two police officers.
‘Stay right there, Karl,’ one said, and both quickly made their way towards him.
‘Katie, what’s going on?’ he asked as the cops grabbed him, forced him down onto his front, and cuffed him.
‘Karl Seabury, I am arresting you on suspicion of murder—’
Katie pushed past and kissed his head. She was crying. ‘Are you hurt, Karl?’
‘You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence—’
Her hands ran over his face, neck, shoulders. He closed his eyes, overcome with shame.
* * *
‘Oh shit, this went wrong,’ Dave said. Brad looked past him, out the driver’s window, and saw Mick running across the grass. Alone. And he did not look happy. He slammed into the fence and started to climb.
Brad climbed into the back and opened the sliding door. Mick burst inside, knocking Brad back. Mick’s face was pure anger and there was spit on his lips.
‘Fucking piece of shit!’ he roared as he slammed the door. The spit flew from his lips.
‘What happened?’ Brad asked as he climbed back into his seat. Mick slapped the metal floor hard three times.
‘Drive. Fucking reverse. You should have been parked the other way anyway.’
Dave and Brad looked at him. ‘What went wrong?’ Dave asked.
‘Turn. Back the way you came in. Fucking go.’
‘Mick, what’s—?’
Mick kicked the back of his seat, hard. ‘Fucking go.’
He was clearly in no mood for explanations, so they had no choice but to get moving. Dave Y-turned in the road and headed back towards the gate they’d entered through. Mick kicked his seat again to urge him to go faster. Brad looked around and saw Mick pull out his gun before pulling down his woollen balaclava. Which meant this wasn’t over yet.
‘Bitch wife of his called the fucking cops. The police got him. They’ll go to Carr Street station probably, which means coming east past us. Stop at the end, at the junction.’
‘What are you planning, Mick?’ Brad asked.
‘Balaclavas on unless you want your faces all over the news.’
Brad and Dave looked at each other, panic rising. Dave’s foot eased off the accelerator.
Mick slapped the back of his head. ‘Faster. To the end.’
‘What the fuck, Mick?’ Brad said. ‘The cops have him? I hope you’re not—’
‘We are. We fucking are.’
* * *
Katie managed to convince the police to allow her to sit in the back with Karl as he was transported. He was handcuffed behind his back, which made sitting awkward, but this was a guy who might have killed a man earlier that day, so the two officers were taking no chances. They called the station to report their plan: bringing the suspect in. They also warned her not to touch him, so they sat ten inches apart, which was the most awkward part of all.
Katie didn’t speak until the car turned right out of the church grounds.
‘I got you help, Karl. A solicitor. As soon as we know where they’re taking us, I’m to call him, and he’ll come immediately.’
He was overcome with immense embarrassment. Not bec
ause of where he sat, but because Katie was with him. Her plan for this afternoon had been to get her nails done, not accompany her husband to jail.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t think about that just yet. You can do the begging for forgiveness part later. Did you kill that man?’
He couldn’t believe she’d asked him. But he understood why. When he said no, the look she gave him was all he could ask for at this moment: belief.
‘I don’t know what happened. He came after us. Two of them. One is dead, but I don’t know what happened.’
She rubbed her face. ‘This is a mess. Where is the one who caused all this trouble? That gangster’s wife?’
‘She didn’t come—’
‘Abandoned you after what you did for her, eh?’
‘No, no. She’s planning to hand herself in. But she didn’t want to do it like this.’
Katie looked at the policeman, not wanting to give away any more in front of them. ‘Look, let’s wait until the solicitor arrives. Let’s just talk about you. Are you okay?’
He saw the two cops exchange a glance. ‘No talking at all,’ one said.
Katie leaned her head on Karl’s shoulder, but the driver warned her to keep away. When she didn’t move, he started to slow the car. So, Katie moved reluctantly. She reached behind him to grab his cuffed hands, to let him know everything was going to be okay.
* * *
‘This is damn madness,’ Dave said. ‘I don’t want any part of this.’
‘You’ll get part of a prison cell,’ Mick shouted at him. ‘You fuck this up, you’re both going down for twenty. I’ll fucking see to it.’
Brad said: ‘Mick, he’s right. You can’t—’
‘There!’ Mick bellowed, and pointed out of the passenger window.
The Vito was at the junction, poking its nose out. Way down where there was a school and a 20 mph zone, they saw a police car come into view. Four hundred feet away. It took the roundabout and turned in their direction.
Seeing this, Mick clapped both men on the shoulders. ‘Right, back up a hundred feet. This is how it goes down…’
* * *
‘It’s done,’ Danny said from his place sixty feet behind the police car. ‘Can we go now?’
‘Wait until the station. Think of it as escorting a date home.’
So they drove on, but the station was never going to happen. Just seconds later, a van burst from a side road on the right. Too fast. Intentionally, Danny realised, a moment before the vehicle crossed the westbound lane and struck the patrol car like an anvil. There was a screech of rending metal and shattering glass and the smaller vehicle was shunted to the left as if fired from a slingshot.
‘My God!’ Liz yelled. ‘It’s them.’
* * *
Katie was looking at Karl, and Karl was looking at his knees, so neither of them saw the impact coming. The noise was tremendous, but dulled, as if taking place underwater. It all seemed surreal. He was thrown into his door as the car was whipped aside from under him, like crockery remaining in place as a tablecloth is pulled away. The next moment, Katie crashed into him. The car was stalled, half on the road and half on the pavement. The driver’s side of the front was a convoluted mess of curved and jagged metal, poking into the driver, and he was screaming in pain. The airbags had been shredded. The only flesh Karl could see was the back of his neck, red with blood. Just feet away was the battered front of a larger vehicle.
Katie was beside Karl. She was leaning against her door, clutching her belly and looking at it in fear.
‘You okay?’ he asked, surprised he’d been able to. He must not be hurt somehow.
She nodded. Unhurt also, which was a miracle. But she was still clutching her belly. When he put his hand there also, it seemed to jolt her out of shock, and she let out a noisy breath of relief.
* * *
Brad was an experienced man, familiar with blood and violence, and he was able to kick into autopilot to force his mind and body to react and do what needed to be done. But here, listening to the screech of tyres from stopping vehicles and the yells of onlookers, he froze. It had all happened so quickly, too quickly for him to actually think about the consequences. And now they were here, and all bridges were burned behind him, and the only two things he could do were sit numb and think about how they were all fucked now Mick had pushed them a million steps too far.
Mick, though, had entered autopilot mode all too easily. Brad heard the sliding door grate open, and then Mick appeared in his view through the windscreen. Pistol in hand. He yanked open the back door of the police van, and ducked in to yank Seabury out, who fell to his knees on the glass-littered tarmac. Mick then pulled open Brad’s door.
‘Get him. The fucker’s wife’s here, too.’
Brad got his arse in gear. He jumped out, grabbed Seabury’s handcuff chain and hauled him to his feet, then lifted him and dumped him into the back of the Vito. Brad clambered in after him, in time to see Mick roughly yanking Seabury’s wife out of the car.
‘Take her.’
Brad got out again and took her arm. She was screaming. He really didn’t want to hurt the man’s wife, especially when he saw she was pregnant, but they were all in now. Maybe there would be no reason to hurt her, and she could be let go later. For now, though, all loose ends needed tying up.
Mick had gone. He heard another door open.
‘I’m fucking driving,’ he heard Mick shout. He had gone around to swap places with Dave, and Brad’s attention was diverted as he looked through his window to see Mick pulling Dave out of the driver’s seat.
Even as he realised his mistake, Seabury was taking full advantage of it.
Brad felt a heavy weight crash into him, and down he went.
‘Run, Katie!’ Seabury shouted.
Brad tried to stand, but took another blow, a kick in the ribs that bought the Seabury guy another second or two. When the vibrating world calmed, he saw the woman running away down the street.
‘Get him back inside, you dickhead,’ Mick yelled as Brad saw him bolting in pursuit of the fleeing woman.
‘Leave her, Mick, cops coming,’ Dave shouted after him.
Dave had hold of Seabury. To reclaim some pride, Brad yanked the guy out of Dave’s grip and threw him back inside the van. He got in. Seabury tried to sit up, so Brad grabbed his hair in both hands. The handcuffs meant there was no block to come. So, he took his sweet time pulling back his knee and driving it forward, hard into the guy’s face. When he let go of the guy’s sweaty hair, Seabury collapsed. His head made a nice dong on the metal floor. Brad slammed the door just as Dave jumped back into the driver’s seat.
Dave started the stalled engine.
‘Wait for him,’ Brad said.
Dave started to reverse and turn the van in the road. ‘Fuck that. He can meet us later.’
Brad slapped Dave’s shoulder. ‘No. Wait.’
* * *
Seabury’s wife lost serious ground every second. Scared, hurt, and holding her fragile belly, she was helpless.
Mick was upon her in seconds.
She whirled and an arm came out defensively. Her hand caught him on the side of the face. Not a painful blow, but his balaclava was whipped away like a magician’s cloth.
In that moment, he did something that would haunt his dreams. With his face bared for all to see, he froze with shock. Like a swimmer who’d dived into frigid water, his brain and body locked up.
She tore from his grasp and ran, and he did not follow. Could not. Some way ahead, as he watched but was unable to move, two heroes took her and guided her away, into a shop doorway, and she was lost.
He turned and ran. Back, away. The going was hard, and his heart thumped like never before. Despite the gun still locked in his fist, fear rattled through him. He reached the van and by that time was light-headed. He dragged himself in and slammed the door, and only when it was shut did his breath explode in a noisy rasp.
* * *
‘
Think those two cops are okay?’
‘Don’t give a shit,’ Mick said. ‘Get him inside while I check this out.’
But Mick did give a shit. Every criminal in the word could drop dead and the world would rejoice, but the guys in the car were cops, and Mick was a cop. Not enough common ground to warrant buying flowers but he hoped both guys were okay.
He paced outside the warehouse as he scoured the Internet for news of his name. Seabury’s bitch wife had somehow overheard his plan to meet her husband at the church, and no doubt his face had been captured by onlookers, so there was no chance now of coming out of this one unscathed. But it didn’t matter. He would be a ghost soon. Seabury would give up Grafton’s bitch in the next few minutes, prompted by a pair of pliers, and then they would go get her. Then he would sterilise his house and he’d be gone. There was no stopping that, but his plane ticket was now a useless scrap of paper because Seabury’s wife knew enough to burn him. But that didn’t matter, either. There were other ways of getting out of the country. He needed to be at the coast before the news broadcast his face.
The abandoned warehouse had whitewashed windows and gaping holes in the corrugated iron roof where noisy pigeons crowded along the rafters. It was empty apart from a scattering of wooden crates, vast amounts of trash and the remains of components from fairground rides.
Seabury was in a wooden chair in the centre of the littered floor with his hands cuffed behind his back and a second pair of cuffs securing the first to the chair’s backrest. When Mick entered, he heard Brad telling Seabury his only way to survive this was to give up the girl, walk away and keep his mouth shut.