by Tim Ellis
It would be at least six hours before she woke. Sleep was what he needed now. Last night, he had given up three hours of sleep to acquire the van, and since he had seen Mary Richards he had not slept well. Work had been hard during the day. He had found it difficult to concentrate knowing what was to come.
He made his way upstairs. Tomorrow was Saturday – he had planned it well. Now, he had two whole days to enjoy himself, to focus all his energies on loving Mary Richards. By the end of Sunday she would be pregnant with his baby. Then all he had to do was wait for it to be born, and he would be a father. Baby names skittered through his mind as he lay back on the soft pillow and closed his eyes. He wondered if he should honour his father by calling him Derek, but what if it was a girl? Yes, he was already enjoying being a prospective father.
***
Pete Ranger paced around the sparse greyness of Interview Room 1. The video camera lights were off, and everybody had been sent to the canteen to grab a coffee. Kowalski didn’t want any evidence of what he was about to do.
‘This is illegal, Kowalski.’ Ranger said, a thin line of sweat appearing at his hairline.
Kowalski stood by the door towering over Ranger. He’d taken his jacket off, rolled his sleeves up, and loosened the tie at his neck. The muscles in his wide shoulders, his barrel chest, and hairy arms stretched his shirt to bursting. If he’d had a hammer and anvil he would have been mistaken for a blacksmith shoeing horses.
He took a step towards Ranger. ‘Illegal is what I’m going to do to you if you don’t tell me where Naylor is?’
Ranger sat at the table and leaned back as if he didn’t care. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I want a solicitor, or my union rep.’
Kowalski moved round the table, pulled Ranger up by the lapels of his jacket, and slammed him back against the wall. ‘It would be more appropriate for you to ask for the pathologist, the undertaker, or the man from the crematorium.’ Kowalski’s face was inches from Rangers’. ‘This is not a formal interview, Pete, there’s just you and me. No solicitor, no union rep’, and more importantly no witnesses.’
‘You’ll never get away with it.’
‘That’s rich coming from you, Ranger. You and Naylor have been getting away with it for years.’
‘You’ve got no evidence…’
Kowalski thumped him in the gut. Ranger doubled over and crumpled to the floor.
‘Jed Parish is lying in King George’s A & E full of your heroin, and fighting for his life. Now, you injected him on Naylor’s orders, or you got the heroin and gave it to Naylor so he could get his revenge. At the moment, you’re implicated in attempted murder, but before the night’s out it could be murder.’
‘You’ll never prove I had anything to do with it.’
‘If I thought I could prove anything, you’d already be banged up and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’
‘You must be stupid if you think I’m going to say anything to incriminate myself.’
Kowalski sat sideways on the table. ‘After I’ve finished with you, two uniforms – who volunteered without being asked by the way – are going to dump your bleeding and broken body in a dark alley and leave you there.’
‘You won’t do anything to me, Kowalski, you’ve got too much to lose. People know I’m here.’
‘No one knows you’re here, Pete. Nobody in the station likes you, they all know you’re a dirty cop. Tomorrow, everyone will swear they saw you leave at six o’clock. And you should know that the Chief has sanctioned this – Parish is his golden boy. Anyway, enough chit-chat, let’s get down to the real reason why you’re here. Are you going to tell me everything you know, or do I beat it out of you?’
‘Fuck off.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that,’ Kowalski said and jabbed him in the nose. A loud crack echoed in the small room.
Ranger put his hands up to his nose. Blood sprouted through his fingers. ‘You broke my nose, Kowalski.’
‘I’m not pissing around, Pete. Next, I break each one of your fingers, then your arms, your legs… I’m sure you can imagine where this is going. I’ll stop short of murder, but you’ll never work again.’
He took a step forward, but Ranger held a bloody hand up. ‘Wait.’
‘I’m waiting?’
‘Yeah, I gave Naylor the heroin, but I didn’t know he was going to try and kill Parish, and I have no idea where Naylor is now. He said he planned to ruin Parish’s career by making it look as if he was a user and a dealer. I was the one who phoned the ambulance for God’s sake. As soon as Naylor rang me, and I realised what he’d done, I phoned for the ambulance.’
Kowalski hit him in the face again and broke his cheekbone. ‘That’s for not going to the car park to see if Parish was still alive. You’d better get yourself down to the hospital now and have them fix up your face. Oh, and I expect you to request a transfer to some far-flung place on Monday. You’d better pray that Parish pulls through, because if he dies I’ll be coming for you, Ranger. Where’s Richards?’
‘He made no mention of Richards. If she’s missing, it’s nothing to do with me. You know what Naylor’s like, he makes up his own rules.’
‘You do know Naylor’s probably killed his wife and two children?’
‘No… Oh God.’
Kowalski left Ranger to find his own way out and went up to the squad room to phone the Chief. Ed Gorman sat waiting for him.
‘Richards took the pool car back at twenty-five past six and that was the last time anyone saw her.’
What the hell was Richards playing at, he wondered? Why wasn’t she answering her phone? There were two possibilities, either Naylor had her, or she was doing something stupid on her own. He knew there was a third possibility, but he didn’t want to think about that. ‘Thanks, Ed. I’m going to focus on Naylor…’
‘I’ve been thinking about that, Ray. Is Parish still alive?’
‘Just.’
‘It looks to me as if Naylor’s tidying up loose ends before he disappears, and he’s not the type of bloke to leave if Parish is still alive.’
‘You’re a fucking genius, Ray. Tell me again why you’re not a DI?’
‘Because you take all the glory, Ray.’
But Kowalski wasn’t listening. He was on the phone to the Chief telling him what Ranger had said, and what he expected Naylor to do.
‘I want four uniforms down here in plain clothes to guard Parish,’ the Chief said. ‘And make sure they all know what Naylor looks like.’
Kowalski grunted. ‘I’m hoping I’m wrong Chief, but Naylor has probably got a gun.’
There was a long silence. Eventually the Chief said, ‘Make sure they’re armed and wearing jackets, and sign a weapon out yourself, Kowalski. Have you found Richards yet?’
‘She returned the pool car, no one’s seen her since. I’m wondering if Naylor has got her.’
‘What would Naylor do with her… Don’t answer that? What a fucking mess.’
Kowalski knew that if Walter Day began swearing, then things were getting bad. The Chief never swore.
‘Organise the protection, and get back here, Kowalski. Let’s hope you’re right and Naylor is coming here to finish Parish off. At the moment he’s surrounded by doctors and nurses, but that could change as the night wears on.’
‘I’m on my way, Chief.’
He disconnected the call and said to his partner, ‘Listen Ed, sorry to fuck up your Friday Night, but while I’m looking for Naylor I want you to keep looking for Richards.’
Ed Gorman shrugged. ‘Friday night’s the same as any other night – a screaming wife and kids. I much prefer to stay here. I’ll stay on the job until Richards turns up, okay.’
‘Thanks, Ed. Let’s say that Naylor hasn’t got her…’
‘Or killed her?’ Ed voiced the unspeakable.
‘I don’t think we should consider that option. If she is dead then nothing we do can help her. So, let’s say she’s walking back from O’Flynn’s
. Naylor hasn’t abducted her, and she doesn’t have a car anymore to go off and do something stupid on her own – where is she, Ed? And if she’d gone somewhere for coffee or a burger she’d be answering her phone. The fact that she isn’t picking up her calls…’
‘…makes you think something’s happened to her?’
‘Yeah, and I’m getting a creepy feeling about this, Ed.’
‘Leave it with me, Ray.’
‘Call in some off duty people, I’ll authorise the expenditure on behalf of the Chief.’
‘Very generous, Ray,’ Ed said.
They both laughed, but there was no humour behind the laughter.
***
Trevor Naylor sat in the car he’d stolen earlier and smoked a cigarette. After following the ambulance to its destination, he’d parked the car in a side road behind the hospital. He knew he was being obsessive and crazy, he really should be heading for Luton Airport. He’d booked a flight to Varna in Bulgaria that was due to leave at eleven tonight, and from there he was going to see what Bahrain was like because it had no extradition treaty with the UK.
He wondered why no one could be trusted. Ranger had obviously rung for an ambulance. If he’d only done as they’d agreed, Parish would be a corpse in the mortuary fridge by now waiting to be gutted by Doc Michelin.
What should he do? Was Parish alive or dead? Could he disappear not knowing if Parish was dead or not? If he didn’t leave tonight, the chances of him being caught increased.
It would take him an hour and a half to drive to the airport and book in. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was eight thirty-five. He had less than an hour to finish the job.
Climbing out of the car, he checked that the K100 Whisper still sat comfortably in his donkey jacket pocket. He’d found the gun with the silencer already fitted in a Crack House when he’d been working Vice. He pulled his collar up and the woollen hat down to shield against the biting wind, and made his way to the hospital.
***
They’d moved Parish up to the Intensive Care Unit, which was an open ward with two entrances – it wasn’t ideal from a defensive point of view, but Kowalski thought he had it covered. There were three other patients in the oblong room at varying milestones on the road to death and two plainclothes coppers armed with Glock 17’s trying to look inconspicuous. The other two armed Constables were positioned one outside either entrance making sure Naylor didn’t try to slip inside.
It was five past nine, and Kowalski and Chief Walter Day paced the second floor corridor outside the ICU.
Angie Richards appeared. She now had her hair tied up underneath a paper hat and her nurses’ uniform on. The ICU was where she worked, although apart from checking Jed Parish’s vital signs, she wasn’t permitted to get involved with his treatment because of their relationship.
‘Is he going to pull through, Angie?’ Kowalski said.
‘Probably, but whether the heroin has caused any damage to his heart or brain we won’t know until he wakes up.’
‘And that’s going to be when?’ the Chief asked.
‘I deal with you policemen week in and week out. You’re always in here trying to talk to patients that are in no condition to talk.’
‘That’s because we need answers, Angie,’ Kowalski said. ‘Parish is the only one who knows where Mary might be.’
‘There’s still no sign of her?’
Kowalski shook his head. ‘No. She took the pool car back and then disappeared. I’ve got Ed Gorman looking for her now… Oh, by the way, Chief, I authorised him to get some off-duty people in to help him.’
‘Very generous of you, Kowalski.’
Kowalski smiled. ‘I knew you wouldn’t mind, Chief.’ Turning back to Angie he said, ‘Ed will phone me when he finds something.’
‘But we really need to talk to Parish, Angie…’ the Chief pressed.
‘He should wake up sometime in the early hours of the morning, I think. We’re flushing his system with a saline solution. He’s already had five bags pumped through him…’
‘He sounds like a car engine being flushed through,’ Kowalski said.
‘It normally takes between two and five days for opiates to work their way through the body, we’re giving him a helping hand. This is the only treatment, unfortunately.’
‘Let’s hope…’ but Kowalski’s hopes fell into a black hole that had formed between them.
‘Let’s hope what, Kowalski?’ Angie said. ‘What are you not telling me?’
‘You’ve got a big mouth, Kowalski,’ the Chief said.
‘I was talking about Mary, and hoping that she had that long.’
A mask of horror appeared on Angie’s face. ‘Oh God… what do you mean? Tell me.’
‘I don’t know anything concrete yet, Angie,’ Kowalski tried to shuffle out of the corner he’d talked himself into. ‘All I know is that she hasn’t got a car, she never made it back to the station, and she’s not picking up her calls. I don’t think she stopped off for a snack, because she’d answer her phone. Someone intercepted her, but who? We’re working on the assumption that Naylor has her, but I don’t think he’s got her. If she’d made it back to Parish’s car while Naylor was doing what he was doing, she’d be dead – he wouldn’t take her.’
‘Insurance?’ the Chief suggested.
‘It’s a possibility. I certainly haven’t ruled it out, but I’ve got Ed checking the other…’
Kowalski’s mobile vibrated in his pocket. He moved along the corridor as he answered.
‘Ray, its Ed.’
‘What have you got?’
‘I’ve had people checking the CCTV footage all round O’Flynn’s, and we found something.’
‘And you’re keeping it to yourself because?’
‘Sorry… We’ve got Richards leaving the garage, but we’ve also got a man in a pig mask driving a Mercedes van up Attwell Street towards the A10.’
‘Shit?’
‘It was over two hours ago, Ray.’
‘I want that van found, Ed. Do you hear me?’
‘I hear you.’
‘Get the helicopters up there. The Chief says all expenditure is authorised.’
‘I’m on it, Ray.’
Kowalski ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket. He tried to hide the worried look on his face, but the Chief and Angie had followed him along the corridor and were standing right behind him.
‘Tell me?’ Angie said. ‘And no lies, I want the truth.’
‘Ed’s found CCTV footage of a man in a pig mask driving a Mercedes van in the area.’
Angie’s brow creased. ‘A pig mask… I don’t understand?’
Kowalski looked at the Chief.
The Chief shrugged. ‘You’d better tell her.’
‘The killer they’ve been hunting wears a pig mask and drives a stolen van when he abducts his victims.’
‘Oh God! You mean… the killer of those women has my Mary?’
‘It’s looking that way,’ Kowalski whispered as he put his muscled arms around Angie to stop her crumpling onto the floor.
‘We need to talk to Parish, Angie,’ the Chief said again. ‘Is there no way you can wake him up now?’
‘Do you know what you’re asking me to do, Walter Day?’ Her face was a blotchy mess from the tears.
‘It’s the only way, Angie. We need to know what he knows.’
‘How can you ask me to risk Jed’s life to save Mary’s?’
‘Jed would,’ Kowalski told her.
‘I’ll go and talk to the doctor,’ she said. ‘But if anything happens to Jed, you can throw your invitations to Sunday lunch in the waste bin.’
***
He’d found out from a nurse that Parish was still alive and that he had been moved to the ICU on the second floor. After walking up the stairs, he looked through the small glass window in one of the double doors and saw Kowalski and Walter Day talking in the corridor. He also spotted the armed plainclothes copper by the ward entrance and g
uessed that there was another one further along the corridor at a second entrance, and two in the ward. Like Walter Day, he’d been seconded to CO19 when he was younger, although it was called D11 then. He realised that he wasn’t about to walk into the ICU as Trevor Naylor. What it did tell him though, unless it was an elaborate ruse to draw him out into the open, was that Parish was still alive.
Pushing through the double doors, he turned left instead of right. The ICU shared the second floor with the Special Care Baby Unit and the Medical Assessment Ward. He sat down in a shiny red plastic chair, which was part of a row of six bolted to the floor outside the SCBU, picked up a discarded copy of Hello magazine, and pretended to read. Not one of the medical staff or visitors looked at him. A hospital was a place of anonymity, a place where people could get lost, a place where people died. No one wanted to impinge on what might be a person’s grief. In short, you could walk around a hospital unnoticed all day.
The Chief of the Murder Investigation Team wasn’t stupid. The plainclothes officers knew Naylor by sight – he recognised the one in the corridor as Terry Lazell. Now was probably the time to walk away, he reasoned. If he tried to get to Parish he’d probably end up dead in a firefight. In fact, a few people would probably die.
He’d stashed away enough money to keep him comfortable in his old age. His getaway had been bought and paid for. What the hell was he doing here? Why couldn’t he just forget about Parish – let it go? That was the problem, he wasn’t the type of man who could walk away. When somebody did you a disservice, as Parish had done to him, he couldn’t let it go unpunished – John Lewin had discovered that. If he left now, it would eat away at his insides like a flesh-eating disease. Day after day it would take a bit more of his self-respect, until what Parish had done to him was the only thing that defined him as a person – Jed Parish had got the better of Trevor Naylor. He couldn’t live with the knowledge of that. No matter how it ended, he had to finish what he’d started – Parish had to die.