‘Well, in total you have eight, and I have three, so I suggest that you take the lead,’ Mickey said. Outside the gunfire seemed more distant now. Mickey wondered how many were holed up in the coach house. They had the advantage, the high ground, as it were. Good sense told Mickey that they really should wait for reinforcements to arrive, and then hope that the hostages would be given up. Reality told him that they would not. The two boys were innocents in this, and Mickey had seen enough innocents killed.
The upper story of the coach house was reached by a flight of narrow stairs at one end. There seemed to be no other way up and Henry and Mickey knew that they would make ready targets for whoever was above them. ‘We must be silent and we must be swift,’ Henry said. ‘I will lead the way – at the top of the stairs I’ll fire into the ceiling. Hopefully that will give us an element of surprise as we enter the room. We must just buy ourselves seconds and then act decisively.’
Mickey nodded. ‘Best be on with it then.’
Henry moved. Mickey let him get on to the fourth step and then began to follow, aware that if someone shot Henry and Henry fell back, there was nowhere for him to go but to crash into Mickey and take them both down. Henry hugged one wall, and Mickey the other as they climbed upwards. The stairs doglegged and Henry paused before turning sharply. He then took the final stairs at a run, firing shots ahead of him, aiming high. Shots were returned. One hit the wall an inch from Mickey’s head. Another shot was fired, and he heard Henry swear. Mickey was on his heels now and entered the room a split second behind his boss. There had been three men in the room, and the two boys. Mickey recognized one of the men immediately as Davies. He had hold of one of the boys, his fingers twisted in the child’s hair and a gun pointed at his temple. Across the room the other boy stood between two members of the gang. He looked terrified, but the men were more concerned with Mickey and Henry and did not have hold of the child.
Even as Mickey took this in Henry had fired and one man fell. The child ducked down and Mickey prayed that he would stay there. He wheeled around to face Davies. A second shot, and a shot returned but Mickey couldn’t look round to see what had happened. He heard a body slump and hoped it wasn’t Henry. The fact that no one shot him in the back implied to Mickey that Inspector Johnstone was safe, though he was swearing like a trooper and a moment later Mickey heard him ordering the child to stay down, to stay where he was. So that just left Davies.
Davies looked as though he was enjoying himself. He had pulled the boy’s head back, exposing the throat and almost taking the poor mite off his feet. He couldn’t be more than twelve or thirteen, Mickey thought.
‘Now come on, Davies. Let the brat go. I never heard that you were one for killing kids.’
‘And what have I got to lose, copper? I kill this one, it’s just one more. They can only hang me the once, whatever the tally. So how about you stand aside and let me go down those stairs.’
‘And you’ll be walking into a whole posse of police officers,’ Mickey told him.
‘None of which will want to be responsible for me shooting a kid,’ Davies retorted. ‘So you just get out of my way, copper. Now I’ll walk out of here with this boy, and then I might think about letting him go.’
Mickey wondered if he could take the shot. The boy’s body was held close to Davies and although the man’s head was visible, Mickey was uncertain whether he could get a shot off before Davies took his. Dimly he was aware of Henry shifting position and Mickey moved too, as though undecided about letting Davies head for the stairs and go down. He drew back across the room, still talking. ‘I suppose you did for that poor woman. The one at the racecourse.’
Davies just laughed. ‘Not exactly a challenge, was she? One blow and down she went,’ he gestured, as though miming what he’d done and just for a split second his weapon moved away from the boy’s head. A split second of hubris, but it was enough. Mickey fired, but so did Henry. Davies fell.
EPILOGUE
Otis Freeland was walking by the time the funeral happened, Martha Mason and her husband placed side-by-side in the churchyard. He attended the church service but did not make himself known to anyone. Henry acknowledged his presence but waited until after the internment to come over and speak to him.
‘Two dead here,’ he said. ‘Two police officers, and three more wounded in the line of duty. It is a mess, Mr Freeland.’
‘And you were injured too,’ he indicated the left arm, supported by a sling. ‘Indeed, it is a mess. A major currency fraud has been prevented,’ he said. ‘But I agree that sounds like little compensation. The diamonds, incidentally, were taken from a piece of jewellery that belonged to Lord Elliston’s wife. You know that he was widowed. It seemed Mr Kirkland removed the jewels and gave them into Martha’s safe keeping. He told her that they would run away together, but then … Well, it seems he did not think she believed him. She promised to return his letters, but what he really wanted was the diamonds. He eventually confided all of this to Timothy Elliston and he of course told Davies. Once that was done, Martha’s fate was sealed and that of her husband. She knew too much and besides, she had the diamonds. It is pure good fortune that Nora Phillips is safe. I’ve no doubt they would have come to the same conclusion that you did.’
‘And so what now for you?’
‘Well, I will give evidence, of course, as an enquiry agent brought in by the government to look into forgery and fraud. This being my area of expertise.’ He smiled at that. ‘After that, who knows?’
‘And is your name really Otis Freeland?’
Otis grinned. ‘I do rather like it,’ he admitted. ‘We may meet again, Chief Inspector. And when we do, you may call me Otis.’
The Good Wife Page 22