by Tim Ellis
Chapter Nine
‘This had better be good, Kowalski,’ Chief Constable William Orde QPM said.
‘Good is not a word that I’d use in this instance, Sir.’
‘Go on?’
Kowalski described what Blake had told him, and also about his phone call to DCI Ridge.
‘There’s some words I could use, but as my wife is sitting here, I’ll refrain from using them. Can we trust DI Blake?’
‘In my opinion – yes. She can be a cowboy at times, but essentially she’s a good copper.’
‘What are you proposing?’
‘I’ll run an operation outside the chain-of-command, so that there are no leaks. I’ve sent Blake and Gilbert back into that room. They’re continuing their stake-out, but from inside the lion’s den.’
‘So, we’ll know when the drug smugglers come back, or if the killer returns?’
‘That’s the idea, but I’ve promised them back-up.’
‘Seems appropriate. How many people?’
‘I’m thinking maybe eight – two teams of two on rotating eight hour shifts. I can’t see it lasting long – maybe two days at the most, but I also want CO19 on standby.’
‘And what about Ridge and his people?’
‘They’re going to come back for the drugs – that’s for certain. When they do, I think we should arrest everybody – including Ridge and his people – and unravel what’s been going on in slow time after that.’
‘Do you really think Ridge is dirty?’
‘I would have put my house on him being squeaky clean before that telephone call, but now . . .’
‘All right. I’ll give you eight people from my emergency pool, but keep it to yourself. I’ll also set in motion an investigation of DCI Ridge by Professional Standards. Don’t worry, they’ll operate under the radar until this has all been sorted.’
‘And CO19?’
The Chief Constable gave Kowalski a telephone number. ‘Is there somewhere for a helicopter to land?’
‘Yes. There’s a couple of fields close by.’
‘Ring that number when you need an Armed Response Team. The person on the other end will be Inspector Steve West – he’ll sort you out.’
‘Thanks, Sir. Also, I’m going to arm Blake and Gilbert.’
‘Is that wise?’
‘Back-up is not immediate. And we know nothing much about the drug smugglers or the killer. It was a condition of them going back inside that room.’
‘Authorised. Anything else?’
‘Funding?’
‘I was wondering when that would come up. I have a couple of pounds stashed under my mattress for emergencies. Two days you said?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘That’s when the funding will run out and you’ll have to put your hand in your own pocket.’
‘Understood.’
‘What about this killer?’
‘All I know is that it’s a man. He’s killed four women over an estimated six week period. Blake and Gilbert didn’t get a good look at his face, so they can’t identify him. Apparently, light was a problem in the two rooms, and they didn’t want to contaminate the crime scene before forensics had been in there, so they know nothing about the victims either. Once we’ve sorted this mess out with the drugs, they’ll begin their investigation.’
‘If they could catch him in the room . . .’
‘That would be an ideal solution. It’s one of the main reasons I want them to have back-up and weapons, but there’s no guarantee that he’s going to kill again, or if he does that he’ll bring the body back to the room. For his first three victims the industrial unit was empty. Now, it’s like Waterloo Station in the rush hour, and there’s a mountain of drugs in there, which he saw tonight when he deposited his fourth victim in the room. He might feel that it’s too risky to go back now, and find an alternative dumping site for the bodies.’
‘Keep me informed, Kowalski.’
‘Will do, Sir.’
The call ended.
He phoned Jerry, but Jerry’s mum – Matilda – picked up. ‘Is Jerry there?’
‘Sorry, Ray.’
‘Sorry! What do you mean?’
‘She’s not here.’
‘Not there! Where is she?’
‘London.’
‘For God’s sake! She’s gone to that clinic, hasn’t she?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you and the kids all right?’
‘Don’t worry about us, Ray. We’ll be fine.’
‘I’ll be back as soon as I can, but it won’t be until the early hours of the morning.’
‘You do what you have to do. Bert and I will take care of the children.’
‘Thanks, Matty.’
He ended the call and rang Jerry.
‘Hello, darling,’ she said.
‘Hi, Jerry. Where are you?’
She laughed. ‘A trick question! You already know where I am, so why are you trying to trick me into telling you something else?’
‘I can’t believe you’ve gone to that clinic.’
‘Bronwyn needs my help.’
‘Bronwyn can take care of herself.’
‘She’s been there for both of us when we needed her, Ray.’
‘So, you’re on your way home now?’
‘Not quite.’
‘Meaning?’
‘They’re saying she discharged herself, but I don’t believe them and they won’t let me in to take a look round. I can’t get hold of her, and I’ve been trying for a couple of hours now.’
‘Not everything is a conspiracy, Jerry. There might be a logical explanation for why you can’t get hold of Bronwyn.’
‘Such as?’
‘She’s lost her phone, thrown it into the Thames, the charge in the battery has run out . . . need I go on?’
‘She would have called me.’
‘Maybe she’s too embarrassed.’
‘I’m her next-of-kin . . .’
‘What?’
‘She said she had no one else. Can you believe that, Ray? She has no one else. I think that’s so sad. Of course I agreed to be her next-of-kin when she asked me, which comes with certain responsibilities . . .’
‘And those responsibilities do not include haring off to London and . . . What exactly are you planning to do now?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Who’s there with you?’
‘Nobody.’
‘You’ve roped in your two toy boys, haven’t you?’
‘They were sitting around doing nothing when I called. . .’
‘And you’re planning to break into the clinic and look for Bronwyn . . .’
‘She’s in there, Ray. I know it. They’re keeping her in there against her will.’
‘Why would they be doing that?’
‘I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.’
‘You do recall that you’re the loving wife of a DCI in the UK police force, don’t you?’
‘You can always say you knew nothing about it.’
He grunted. ‘Which is usually the case.’
‘Are you back at home now?’
‘I’m at the office. I have a dirty copper and a serial killer to sort out. The last thing I need right now is you getting into trouble again.’
‘I’ll be careful.’
‘You say that every time and yet . . .’
‘I promise.’
‘You say that as well.’
‘You’ll just have to trust me, Ray.’
He knew from past experience that he wasn’t going to dissuade her from doing what she wanted to do, and if he was being honest with himself – he didn’t want to. He was proud of her for being committed to a cause. He just wished her causes were a little less dangerous and more law-abiding.
‘Tell those two boys of yours that if anything happens to you – I’ll come looking for them.’
‘You know you don’t mean that.’
‘Call me when you’ve rescued Bronwy
n.’
‘I will. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. I love you.’
‘I love you as well.’
He put the phone down and compartmentalised Jerry’s escapade. He’d think about it when he had to think about it and not before. For now, he had other irons in the fire. He walked down the stairs to the armoury.
‘Hello, Sir,’ Sergeant Trillo-Blanco said. ‘I didn’t realise DCIs worked past five o’clock.’ Sergeant T-B – as he was known throughout the station – was a second-generation Spanish immigrant who had served his time as a CO19 marksman and was now filling in the space between active duty and retirement by running the station armoury.
‘And I didn’t realise that Sergeants were so well-informed about the working habits of DCIs.’
‘Point taken, Sir. What brings you down here to my den of iniquity?’
‘I want two Glock 17s.’
‘Two?’
‘Yes – without shoulder holsters.’
Sergeant T-B realised he wasn’t going to get any more information out of Kowalski and acquired two weapons, magazines and boxes of 9mm rounds from the armoury, and put them on the counter. He pulled the breech back on both handguns to show Kowalski that there were no bullets in the barrel.
‘Clear,’ Kowalski agreed.
‘Do you want me to fill the magazines?’ Sergeant T-B said.
‘No, it’ll give them something to do while they’re hanging around staring into the darkness.’
‘Right you are, Sir.’ He passed Kowalski the paperwork.
Kowalski filled in the details, but didn’t write Blake and Gilbert’s names in the boxes provided.
T-B stared at the N/A Kowalski had written in the boxes, but didn’t say anything.
‘I’ll take full responsibility, Sergeant.’
‘As you wish. Do you want them in a bag, Sir?’
‘Please.’
He scooped up the supermarket plastic bag. ‘Thanks for your help, Sergeant.’
‘Tell Blake and Gilbert good luck, Sir.’
Kowalski smiled.
***
‘I have an idea,’ Jerry said. She’d just come off the phone with Ray. He’d support her whatever she did – that’s why she loved him.
Shakin’ put his throw-away coffee cup down on the table. ‘We’re listening,’ he said.
They’d found a McDonalds at the far end of Lower Wimpole Street, and at Joe’s insistence had come in to work out what they were going to do next.
The boys had ordered burgers and fries, but all she wanted was a bottle of water.
She’d offered to pay.
‘Thanks, Mrs K,’ Joe said, stuffing a mouthful of burger into his mouth and heading for a table.
‘It can’t be all building.’ She took out her phone, navigated to the map app and zoomed in on satellite view. ‘There!’ She showed them what she’d found.
‘Oh yeah!’ Joe said, sounding less than enthusiastic. ‘It looks like trees.’
‘All we have to do is carry on walking until we reach Wigmore Place, and then look for an access point to the rear of the buildings. Once we’re in that wooded area, we’ll be at the back of the clinic.’
‘And then what?’ Shakin’ said.
‘Then we gently force open a rotting door that will lead into a cellar that everyone forgot existed and begin searching for Bronwyn.’
Joe dunked a couple of fries into his last barbeque dip, stuffed them into his mouth and said, ‘What if they catch us?’
‘We’re looking for Bronwyn, we’re not robbing a bank, Joe. They’ll simply throw us out. We’ll say we wandered in there by mistake, we got lost, we’re sorry and we won’t do it again.’
‘Yeah,’ Shakin said. ‘It’s not as if they’re going to torture us like that guy did to Dustin Hoffman in the film Marathon Man . . .’
Joe pulled a face. ‘Pulling his teeth?’
‘Don’t,’ Shakin’ said, slapping his hand over his mouth. ‘I hate the dentist.’
‘So, are you still with me?’ Jerry said.
Shakin’ nodded. ‘We’re with you, Mrs K.’
‘Good. I thought I might have to torture you myself.’
Joe laughed. ‘You crack me up, Mrs K – Doesn’t she crack you up, Shakin’?’
‘You can torture me any time you feel the urge, Mrs K.’
‘Are you ready boys?’
The boys stood up. ‘Lead the way, Mrs K.’
They marched back up Lower Wimpole Street, past the locked doors of the clinic, down Henrietta Plaza and turned into Wigmore Place, which seemed to be mainly residential buildings that the Victorians had built as sprawling houses for the rich, but had long ago been converted into apartments.
It wasn’t until half-way along Wigmore Place that they found an alleyway that looked as though it had been tunnelled though the building instead of acting as a firebreak between buildings.
‘Down here,’ Shakin’ directed.
They followed him along the dark alleyway.
‘What about here?’ Shakin’ said as he reached a wooden gate.
Joe whispered, ‘Try it, Shakin’.’
‘Yeah – it’s open.’
‘Go on through then,’ Jerry urged them.
They found themselves in somebody’s overgrown back garden, and they needed to travel sideways – parallel to the road – through at least another ten back gardens to reach the rear of the clinic. The route to their objective, however, was not as simple as strolling through the undergrowth under a waning gibbous moon – it was an obstacle course littered with six-foot high fences, rose bushes, hawthorn and hogweed.
‘I’m sure I can hear a bear, or something along those lines,’ Shakin’ said.
‘A bear!’ Jerry queried. ‘In London! Is it a brown or black bear? What about a Panda bear? Or maybe it’s a Koala bear? Or possibly a teddy bear?’
‘It’ll be no laughing matter when we’re bear food, Mrs K.’
Joe interrupted. ‘Did I ever tell you how me and my mates used to play back-garden Willie when we were young?’
‘Back-garden Willie!’ Shakin’ said, half-laughing. ‘You never said you were a raging pervert, Joe.’
‘Nah! Willie was used, because we’d climb over fences and run for ages through people’s back gardens in the dark and get the screaming willies when someone came out. We had to freeze, and sometimes we were spotted and had to scarper . . .’
‘How is this helping us navigate to the rear of the clinic?’ Jerry said.
‘Well, it’s not really,’ Joe explained. ‘Except to say that I’ve done this type of thing before and it’s doable.’
‘You lead the way then, Joe,’ Shakin’ said. ‘Show us how it’s doable.’
‘Me?’
‘If it’s doable – do it.’
‘’Okay, but the trick is not to make a noise. If you make a noise people are going to come out and catch us. So, if you do – run like hell into the next garden. Don’t try to go back – going backwards never works. If the lights are on in the house you should be able to see where you’re jumping, but if you can’t see – don’t jump, slide down the other side of the fence. You don’t need me to tell you what could happen if you jump into the unknown. Any questions?’
‘Let me get this right,’ Jerry said. ‘We’re going to climb over the fences into the next garden and keep on going until we reach the clinic?’
‘You got it, Mrs K.’
Was it something she could physically do? She hadn’t been to the gym for a while. In fact, it had probably been six months or more since she’d done any exercise at all. Maybe she should call the whole thing off, tell Shakin’ and Joe to go back to their rooms in the university’s halls of residence, and go home to her children where she was meant to be. What type of mother had she become? What type of wife? But she knew she couldn’t leave until she found out what had happened to Bronwyn.
She pulled out her phone and called Bronwyn again – diverted to voicemail.
‘Got i
t. I’ll go between the two of you. I might need some help getting over, and watch where you put your hands. We wouldn’t want any accidents – would we boys?’
Shakin’ grinned like the Cheshire cat. ‘You can trust us, Mrs K.’
***
‘Do you think you’re going to get into trouble after this is all over?’ Stick said.
They were sitting in the storeroom in the pitch black again. The smell from Stick’s vomit and the murder room was still as bad, but they were getting used to it – if that was even possible. Through a crack between the sliding door and the wall, Stick was keeping one eye on the door in the other room. They didn’t think that the killer would return so quickly, but they were prepared if he did.
‘Me?’
‘The Chief didn’t seem very happy about us coming down here instead of staying on stake-out in the car where we were meant to be.’
‘Kowalski never seems very happy. He takes himself far too seriously these days. In fact, I think he has his head so far up his own arse that it’s affecting his ability to see straight.’
‘You’re just saying that because he keeps dragging you into his office.’
‘And do you know why he keeps dragging me in there?’
‘To discipline you?’
‘That’s certainly the story going round, but I think it’s an excuse, a ruse, a cunning plan just to get me on my own.’
‘And why would he want to do that?’
‘He wants me. I think his brain is so befuddled by my beauty he can’t think straight, and when he drags me into his office it’s like a fix for him. I’m his drug, his eye candy, his guilty pleasure.’
‘Mmmm! I can understand how that situation might arise, but when you’re in his office does he kiss you, breathe in your perfume, touch you, or . . . ?’
‘No, he doesn’t do any of that. There’s no inappropriate behaviour.’
‘I see – he just shouts and belittles you as if he’s angry, and then threatens you with the sack?’
‘Yes, but don’t you see – it’s his way of telling me he wants me. I can see it in his eyes. It’s killing him being so near yet so far away from me.’
‘When he arrives at midnight with the stuff you’ve asked him for, you want to ask him.’