Killing by Colours

by Wonny Lea

  Keith nodded and directed one of the officers plus one of his team to the eighteenth hole.

  ‘The other two pairs are my biggest concern,’ said Martin. ‘We don’t know exactly where Austin and the woman are but there is the potential that the others could catch up with them and with dire consequences.’

  Keith tasked two more of his team with the job of finding the other four golfers before they reached the killer. He then turned to Martin for his permission to go further with his plan.

  ‘We’ve got maps of the course, so we know the spots that will give us cover, and I suggest we try to find exactly where Austin as soon as possible.’

  He handed Martin a small piece of electronic equipment. ‘These things are less noisy than mobile phones,’ he said. ‘I will keep you informed of progress at every step of the way.’

  Martin took the gadget but protested. ‘I would prefer to be alongside you, not just waiting here when we could be preventing a murder.’

  ‘Look, Martin,’ Keith said rather impatiently. ‘This is our part of the job – when did you last crawl around on your belly and read the terrain like a terrorist?’

  Martin gave a wry smile and resigned himself to watching the armed response team in a scene that was more like a film than reality. They wore camouflage clothing and merged with the trees and bushes so that even he found it hard to spot them and he was looking and listening.

  He overheard a bit of a commotion as the two women who had reached the sixteenth hole were protesting loudly that their round had been disrupted. ‘Shut those women up,’ said Martin. ‘Get them inside and shut them up – arrest them if you have to – just shut them up.’

  The thought of being arrested must have been what did it as not another word was spoken and once again there was silence.

  Martin’s gadget vibrated and he listened as Keith spoke quietly but distinctly. ‘Any moment now you should see some people walking towards you. They are the two pairs of golfers and our officers so we have no more members of the public on the golf course. Austin has been sighted at the ninth hole and two of the people who are walking towards you were caught up with as they went towards the tee for the eighth. A near thing!’

  ‘Is there any sign of the woman – of Connie Jackson?’’ asked Martin.

  ‘Yes,’ was the reply. ‘Austin’s pacing around and I’d say he looks extremely unstable. He has his arm around her neck and appears to be talking to her. Some of my lot are approaching from a different angle so we’ll get a better picture soon. I’ll let you know as soon as we do.’

  Martin moved to where Matt and Helen were standing, having dealt with the golfers coming off the course, and Matt took the chance to speak to him.

  ‘We got a call on our way here from Barry Police Station. Apparently Mrs Taylor called in there this morning to report her husband missing. We got the officer to ask her a series of questions and she confirmed that when she had first met her husband she had been in a relationship with Norman Austin. She also told them that some years ago her husband had been brutally attacked by Austin, but the police had hushed it up.

  ‘That’s why she apparently has no faith in the police and hadn’t summoned up the courage to report her husband missing until this morning. The poor woman is obviously distraught so she may be rambling but they are sending a family liaison officer home with her and awaiting our instructions.’

  Martin responded. ‘The poor woman may well be distraught, but what she said about the attack on her husband did, according to Sergeant Evans, happen in the way she describes.’

  Once again Martin’s handset vibrated and he heard Keith’s voice. ‘We’ve had a better sighting of the woman and I can tell you that he has tied her hands behind her back –’

  ‘– With green cord,’ continued Martin. Keith was about to speak but Martin got in first. ‘Is she injured?’

  ‘We have telescopic lenses, so we’re able to see her very clearly. She looks terrified but as far as we can see she is not injured. Austin looks like he’s completely lost the plot.’

  ‘Direct me on the best way to approach without being seen,’ said Martin. ‘We’re going to have to take some action, and we must retain the element of surprise.’

  ‘Stay where you are,’ said Keith. ‘I’ll come and escort you in and I suggest no more than two officers come with you, we really can’t risk involving any more.’

  Matt and Helen had overheard the message and both volunteered immediately. Martin hesitated, remembering that the last time he and Matt had faced a knife-wielding criminal Matt had almost lost his life. But Matt was the most senior officer and would be expecting to accompany Martin.

  This was the first time since Helen had joined CID that she was volunteering for a potentially dangerous mission, and Martin knew he couldn’t exclude her just because she was a young woman. He was saved from having to make the decision to take her by Sgt Evans. ‘As I know this man better than anyone else here I think it’d be a good idea if I was the third officer. You don’t mind, do you, Helen? It makes sense.’

  Sgt Evans had supported Helen when she was a PC and she valued his opinion and experience. She was disappointed not to be going into the thick of the action but nodded her approval.

  ‘Take care, all of you,’ she said as she watched the three men walking towards where Keith was just coming into view. ‘You’ve all got your stab vests, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes, Mum,’ called back Sgt Evans.

  Keith gave them a bit more news as they followed him to a point where they could see where members of the armed response team had taken up positions, some crouched low, some lying in the rough, and some standing behind trees. It looked surreal.

  ‘The woman’s very much alive and she looks amazingly calm for someone in her position. I can’t figure out at all what he intends doing. He’s pulled his golf bag towards the woman a few times as if he has something in mind but then nothing happens.’

  ‘We have to do something now,’ said Martin. ‘For his last three murders he’s used a long sharp knife and we have CCTV images of him killing a woman in far less time than it would take us to get to him now.’

  Keith tried to give some reassurance. ‘He’s under the closest of scrutiny, and if he went for her with a knife one of our snipers would take him out. We probably wouldn’t kill him but he would be minus a few fingers.’

  ‘But would that be before or after Connie Jackson was minus her life? No, waiting is not an option; we have to make the first move and be prepared for the consequences. Pass me the speaker, please.’

  Keith signalled to all his men that primary action was the preferred way forward, and they all trained their weapons on the killer. Martin moved the switch to ‘on’ before holding the speaker to his mouth and shouting.

  ‘Norman Austin, this is Detective Chief Inspector Martin Phelps, and I have to tell you that you are surrounded by members of the armed response team who will shoot if you make any attempt to harm Ms Jackson. Please raise your left arm slowly if you understand what I am saying.’

  Austin looked for a moment as if he was responding as he started to raise his arm but then he executed a well-practised movement and the knife was no longer in his golf bag but at the throat of Connie Jackson. One bullet had already been fired, but Keith instantly gave an order for no further rounds to be used – there was too much of a chance that Connie would be shot by friendly fire.

  ‘We wounded him,’ said Keith. ‘Look, you can see blood dripping down his arm – it looks like a shoulder injury, but unfortunately I don’t think it will be fatal.’

  He handed Martin the binoculars he was using, and as Martin focused them he found himself staring straight into the eyes of Norman Austin. For a moment he jumped because it really did seem as if Austin was just an inch away, but then he used the enhanced vision to check on Connie Jackson and the specific position of her body in relation to Austin.

  Austin was gripping his shoulder and pressing the tip of his knife to her sk
in. He was content that she was between him and the line of fire, and the officers would know that one false move from them and he would finish her off. Not that he wanted to do that, because she was his only way out of there.

  ‘I think he’s been hurt more than we first thought,’ said Martin, but then changed his mind as Austin’s voice boomed out over the fairways. ‘Long time, no see, Phelps, but I have enjoyed watching the press destroy you lately. No longer the blue-eyed boy, are you? You won’t get me unless you kill her first and that won’t be very clever, will it?

  ‘I’ve got nothing left to lose but you’ll lose everything when you mess this one up. Did you bring DS Pryor and DC Cook-Watts to help you? Don’t tell me you came alone.’

  Martin wondered why Austin was interested in whom he had brought with him and decided to humour him. ‘DS Pryor is with me, Austin, but I also have an old friend of yours, namely Sergeant John Evans.’

  Austin was seen to grip his shoulder tighter and a fresh stream of blood covered his right hand. This didn’t stop him shouting defiantly. ‘It was a toss-up between Evans and you, Phelps, both of you got in my way. Evans, don’t think I don’t know it was you who shopped me on more than one occasion. Did you really expect them to believe a fucking police sergeant over me?’

  Martin didn’t know what happened next. All he saw was a contorted movement of Connie Jackson’s legs, causing Austin to lose his balance, and all he heard was a single shot.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dead or alive?

  Helen Cook-Watts was pacing up and down on the patio outside the entrance to the reception area. Since the four men had left she had watched two vehicles pull up and they had added to her feeling of apprehension.

  Alex Griffiths was usually at a crime scene before CID officers arrived, and it felt a bit like the cart before the horse to see him and his team turning up in their white van and waiting to be needed. She briefed him regarding what was happening and he gave a low whistle. He had heard about the reputation of the former DCI but hadn’t met him.

  When Alex had been appointed head of SOC, it had been with a particular remit to weed out some unsavoury personnel and to stamp on any unprofessional working practices. It had not been easy. DCI Austin was no longer in his post at that time, but he had left behind a legacy of collusion between CID and the SOC whereby the line of least resistance was taken, regardless of whether or not it had any scientific significance. It had been an ‘anything for a quiet life’ culture.

  The first year had been hell for Alex, as he realised that some of the staff who had been SOCOs for years seemed to have been trained to ignore evidence that didn’t suit and to find evidence that made closure of a case more probable. When challenged it was always a case of ‘that’s how DCI Austin wanted it, so that’s what he got’.

  Alex made rapid inroads into changing the methods of working but it was not until a few key officers had been given their marching orders that things improved. The promotion of Martin Phelps to DCI brought a fresh approach to the working relationship between SOC and CID. Now, Alex was proud to be part of a team that was getting a national, even an international, reputation for coordinated criminal investigations that produced first-class results. If Austin had been festering in retirement and witnessing the team’s success via the media, then he would have had every reason to hate the little upstart that had once been his dogsbody.

  The second vehicle that Helen saw was a fully equipped ambulance serviced by four senior personnel. Matt had spoken to the ambulance service earlier. The situation was outside the parameters needed for instigating a major incident response but was considered to need something more than the normal course of action. Consequently one doctor and three experienced paramedics had been sent, together with additional medical supplies.

  Helen explained to them that injuries commensurate with stabbing could be expected and also that there was an armed response team on site so gunshot wounds could also be possible. The ambulance team took on board her words and began organising equipment for such eventualities.

  Helen walked back towards Alex, and as she did she heard Martin’s voice in the distance speaking into a loudhailer. She recognised the voice but it was too far away for her to be able to pick up exactly what he was saying.

  Alex helped out a bit. ‘It sounds as if DCI Phelps is issuing some sort of ultima–’

  He stopped in mid-sentence as the sound of a shot was heard.

  It was followed by an even more frightening silence.

  ‘We can’t just wait here,’ said one of the paramedics. ‘Someone may already be injured.’

  ‘Possibly,’ replied Helen, ‘but there’s an experienced armed response team out there and they know what they’re doing. We’ll get a call as soon as we’re needed.’

  Not long after she had finished her sentence, the second shot was heard and the ambulance staff could contain themselves no longer. ‘The shots seemed to come from over there,’ said the doctor. ‘At the very least we should get the vehicle a bit nearer – it could save us time later.’

  Helen sensed their frustration and didn’t want them heading off in the wrong direction. She had seen the path her DCI had taken and it wasn’t where the doctor had pointed. She looked at Alex and suggested he drive towards the ninth hole and the ambulance could follow.

  The two vehicles churned up more earth on the golf course than an army of moles, and as Alex drove down a second slope the scene of the action was visible. Helen’s phone sprang to life – it was Matt, asking for medical assistance.

  ‘Help’s right here,’ said Helen as the ambulance drew to a halt and the team headed for the injured.

  Matt assured the team as they approached that the area was safe for them to work in and directed them to the man sprawled out in a pool of blood. ‘He was hit in the shoulder first and I think that’s where most of the blood is coming from, but a second bullet may have hit him somewhere else. He seems to be unconscious but he is breathing.’

  The doctor and one of the paramedics began working on Austin and within minutes he had an airway in situ, was attached to various pieces of equipment, and was receiving intravenous fluids. Matt watched, impressed at their teamwork and at the speed of their actions.

  ‘We’ll need to get him to hospital as quickly as possible,’ said the doctor, and she shouted to one of the other paramedics to get the stretcher.

  ‘I’ll have to come with you,’ said Matt. ‘As soon as he regains consciousness this man will be charged on several counts of murder.’

  ‘If he regains consciousness,’ came the reply. ‘His vital signs are deteriorating. He must be still bleeding, but it’s not from any obvious source so we need to get him where we can have a better look. Feel free to join us.’

  As she spoke her two colleagues were transferring Austin from the ground to the trolley and she asked them about the woman who the fourth paramedic was sitting with. One of them replied. ‘Nothing we can’t cope with, but if you and Dave can manage this one I’ll stay and help Paul and bring her in at a more leisurely pace. We’ve sent for a second ambulance and it’s on the way.’

  Sirens and flashing lights paved the way of the ambulance from the golf course to the Accident and Emergency Unit of the University Hospital of Wales. Matt had been involved with some high-speed chases in police cars, but this experience was more nerve-racking than any one of those. It was not just the speed and the drama it was the feeling of not being in control. He sat in the back being thrown around and watched the doctor in what was looking like a losing battle to save the life of a killer.

  Connie, on the other hand, had insisted on sitting up and was demanding a drink.

  Paul shook his head. ‘No can do,’ he said. ‘Your feet are swelling, and it looks like some broken bones, so nothing to eat or drink until we know what’s what.’

  He took out a flask of water, soaked some tissues, and wet her lips, receiving a nod of approval. Martin came over to them and introduced himself.

>   ‘I’m Detective Chief Inspector Phelps,’ he said. ‘I’m trying to make up my mind if you are the bravest or the most stupid woman I have ever met.’

  Connie grinned because she knew what he was talking about. ‘Nobody has ever called me brave – but stupid – that’s one I’ve heard more than once. I go to the gym regularly, Inspector, and I’ve probably got stronger muscles in my legs and back than you have. More to the point, I wanted it to be me that knocked that monster over – you won’t believe what he said he was going to do to me.’

  Suddenly every vestige of a smile left Connie’s lips and tears started to roll down her face. Seconds later her sobbing was out of control, and the paramedic rocked her gently in his arms.

  Martin could only guess at the trauma that she had endured, but she was alive and a woman with the bottle to do what she had just done should recover from any mental scars the killer had inflicted on her.

  Keith came over to confirm that the armed response unit had been stood down and to arrange a time for the statutory debriefing. Martin thanked him and walked over to where Alex was standing.

  ‘It’s unusual for us to meet at a crime scene without a body, and no Professor Moore either, but well done – great result. Even without a corpse this is still a site that needs investigation, so we’ll just get on with the job.’

  ‘I’ll need you later too,’ said Martin. ‘As soon as we establish where Austin has been living I suspect we will find that BMW and maybe some of Mr Taylor’s blood. Hopefully a few other things as well, as I’ve got to make sure he gets done for all three murders and one attempted murder – and we may also be able to prove he was planning three more.’

  ‘He looked pretty out of it when they stretchered him to the ambulance. Is he going to make it?’ asked Alex.