She told the other officers to get back to work and the noise in the room went back to its previous level but Alex could feel that everyone was flagging. The emotional turmoil of all that had happened was taking its toll. She got hold of a uniformed constable and told him to organise a pizza run.
By quarter to six the food had been delivered to the desks, where they helped to revive the passion and energy of the team.
Russell had spent some time in his office talking on the phone to Mark McLelland and Christine O’Donnell. He had hoped to offer them some comfort but after what had happened to Karen, it was the two parents who provided the support and succour for him. Mark McLelland had suggested again that he would come to the station but Russell had gently rebuffed him. McLelland had a lot to offer but this wasn’t the time for him to come out of retirement.
Alex was wrestling with a slice of pepperoni pizza when the detective superintendent arrived back into the incident room. She had left him to his own devices in the period since he had retreated from the briefing.
“Grab a slice,” she suggested, pointing to the open boxes at the end of the row of desks.
“No, I’m not very hungry but thanks. Where are we?”
Alex reported Stephanie’s findings.
“That’s good work, Stephanie. Thanks,” he told her.
Ann-Marie Craigan walked from the group of desks that was the home of her small team.
“Sir, I think I might have something.”
“I could do with some good news D.S. Craigan.”
“I think I might know who his accomplice might be. Nicky Pettersen.”
“What?” Russell and Alex said simultaneously.
“Pettersen.”
“What makes you say that?” Russell asked doubtfully.
“I thought I would take a look at him as he was the only connection to Dent we had identified in relation to the crimes. He served three years for his part in the original conspiracy back in 1993. When he came out, he went to college to do an HNC in Computing that he then used to get into university and get a degree in Computer Science. In 2000, he set up an electronic security company with the help of an unknown investor. He sold that outfit in 2008 for £32 million and he is now apparently an investor in other businesses and property. I checked at Companies House, he is listed as a partner of a company called the Motley Bell Group. The only other listed partner is an offshore company called Ruggero Pagliacci Holdings, the same name as the mysterious Italian businessman that was supposed to be selling that property.”
Russell brightened and said, “It’s him, it has to be. Right, I want a full check on any property owned by Pettersen or any company that he’s involved with. Look for warehouses, or maybe abandoned factories, anywhere where they could set up their freak show. Use as many people as you need, I want this to be the focus of the investigation.”
Alex added, “Concentrate on anywhere close to water that might be on the flight path for Glasgow or Prestwick airports.”
“Yes sir, ma’am. It might take a while.”
“Do what you can but use every resource you need. We need to find them before ten o’clock.”
Craigan hurried away and began calling others to her desk.
For the first time since he had realised the identity of the victims, Russell had hope.
***
Joe O’Donnell sat in silent vigil over Karen Russell. She had lost consciousness about twenty minutes after he had finished treating her wounds. Her face was still deathly white and her breathing seemed a little laboured, but he hoped that a period of rest might help her recover, if only a little.
He had no idea what the Harlequin had in store for them in his next charade but his belief was evaporating in much the same way as it had disappeared from Hayley. Throughout his teenage years he had played the role of hero in any number of games, blasting aliens, criminals and Nazis in the comfort of his own home. The type of violence he engaged in was pure fantasy, and he could never have imagined the awful reality. When he pulled the trigger and the deafening sound of the bullet being expelled filled his ears, he felt both physical and mental shock. The heat of the gun barrel had only hastened his decision to get rid of it, as it felt like death. The sight of the blood pouring from Karen’s leg had affected him like nothing that had come before; even the cuts inflicted by the stars they had used earlier had paled into insignificance. Here was a very personal violent act in the raw, and he had committed it. He had tried to shift the blame to the Harlequin but his thoughts kept coming back to the fact that he could have aimed the gun further away or that he could have refused to pull the trigger. However, if he was honest with himself, he had been more worried about his own life; his own survival was more important to him than doing what was right, and that was what was playing on his conscience most of all.
As he sat watching a woman who had shown him kindness, and an incredible amount of personal courage, he hoped she would survive. If she didn’t, then he didn’t think that he could live with the guilt of knowing that he had killed her; his own life would become worthless.
***
By half-past eight a network of companies owned in full or in part by Nicky Pettersen had been revealed. The ex-prisoner’s net worth was now reckoned to be around £80 million and the range of businesses he was involved in was extensive. He owned restaurants; a haulage firm and had created another software company specialising in apps for smartphones and tablets. His property portfolio was equally complicated and intricate.
As the depth of complexity became apparent, Russell had called Baxter to enlist the help of corporate specialists within the fraud squad. Two forensic accountants with the required expertise had been called in and were now sifting through the data with a keen eye.
Russell’s nervous energy had him flitting between the various groups, hoping that his very presence would somehow help to produce the breakthrough. Time seemed to be racing and the clock hands moved on to nine o’clock and then half past in the blink of an eye. Everywhere you looked in the room people were yawning, stretching and rubbing tired eyes. The length of the day was only part of the reason for the fatigue; everyone felt Russell’s pain like they were part of a hive mind.
Alex had joined the tedious trawl through the records and it was she who made the important discovery at ten to ten.
“Sir, I think I’ve found it.”
The news of what she said went around the room in an instant and a hush descended.
“One of the property companies owned by Pettersen deals in factory space. It owns a former food processing plant close to the waterfront near Port Glasgow. It’s not far from the airport.”
“Sounds as good a place as any to start. Come on let’s get going. D.S. Craigan, notify the Armed Response Unit and get them to follow us down.”
“Yes, sir.”
Alex put a brake on Russell’s desperation to get going. “Sir, we’ll need to wait on the A.R.U. We know that there are at least two guns on the premises, there may be more. We can’t do anything until we have tactical support.”
Russell looked like he was about to argue but the cool head and procedural sense of his D.I. had won out over the need to help Karen as soon as possible. He wouldn’t be able to help her if he was lying with a bullet in him.
Ann-Marie Craigan called the A.RU. and gave them the details of the property. As they were based in Baird Street, they had a longer journey ahead of them and it would be ten minutes before they would be passing Helen Street. The plan was they would let the detectives know when they were getting close.
“Alex, you’re with me. Frank grab some bodies and a car.”
The two of them raced out to the car park and piled into Russell’s car. Alex had barely pulled her seat belt across her chest, when the detective superintendent spun the wheels of the Insignia, pulled out into Helen Street, and waited with engine running for
the response unit to approach. Frank Weaver followed with a couple of detective constables in a marked Ford Mondeo about two minutes later. While they waited, they ignored the pleas of the press corps as they tried to engage the detectives and shouted questions from the pavement.
The time dragged once more but at ten o’clock the sound of sirens filled the air and Russell and Weaver’s cars headed for the M8. They added to the cacophony of sound with their own sirens and lit up the night with flashing lights. They were about twenty-five minutes from Port Glasgow, All Russell could do was hope that they would get there quickly enough to save three lives.
Chapter 28
The Harlequin came for the captives at five minutes to ten. Karen Russell had woken up about ten minutes earlier. She was hobbled by the pain in her legs, and had to be helped to walk by the other two. They were pushed back to the area the earlier ‘games’ had taken place and then on deeper into the building. At the far end, the lights and cameras had been moved to a space in front of a heavy, metal door. As they approached they could hear a humming noise filling the air like a swarm of insects was approaching. Having survived all that their captor had thrown at them so far, that sound filled them with new dread.
They were manoeuvred into position in front of the camera and at ten o’clock exactly, the Harlequin began his introduction. “Welcome, ladies, gentlemen, boys and girls to the final part of today’s Harlequin April Fool’s Carnival. Our third game is called, appropriately enough ‘Three degrees’.” The room was filled suddenly by the sound of the song ‘When Will I See You Again’ sung by the seventies girl-group, The Three Degrees. The Harlequin danced like it was his favourite tune and the three captors shuddered. The music stopped as swiftly as it had begun.
The masked clown stopped dancing and said, “Just a little April Fool’s Day humour there. The game is simple; you are going to go inside this industrial freezer. The winner will be the one who doesn’t freeze to death. All three will be placed in the room with the temperature at zero degrees.” He walked across to a control panel beside the door and indicated an L.E.D. display. “After five minutes I will lower the temperature by three degrees, hence the name of the game. I will continue to reduce the temperature by three degrees every five minutes until such times as two of you have frozen to death. It’s going to be very exciting. As they say, ‘revenge is a dish best served cold.’” He laughed wildly before saying, “As Karen is the only one to have not won a round, she will be going in for five minutes on her own.”
“No, you can’t do that,” Joe protested.
‘Quiet!” The Harlequin struck the younger man with the back of his hand.
“It’s OK Joe,” Karen said quietly.
“No, I’m going in with you,” he said defiantly.
The Harlequin replied, “Fine, it’s your funeral, but just to make it a little more interesting we’ve got an extra surprise for you.” He disappeared out of shot and appeared with a large bucket with water splashing in it. He threw the contents of the buckets over the three people, so they were instantly soaked, the thin costumes revealing the lines of their underwear. Collectively they struggled to draw a breath as the shock of the cold water affected them.
“Ms Russell and Mr O’Donnell you’re up first.” He removed his gun from his waistband and waved it to direct them to the door. Hayley stood in shuddering silence as Joe helped Karen towards the door. The Harlequin opened it and a blast of even colder air hit them. They walked to the middle of the room and the door clanged shut behind them.
***
Two minutes after they had created a small convoy with the mini-bus carrying the armed team, Alex’s phone rang.
“Ma’am, it’s D.S. Craigan. I thought you should know that he’s putting them in a freezer. He says that he’s going to keep turning the temperature down until two of them die.” Craigan’s Belfast brogue cracked with emotion.
Alex relayed the message solemnly to her boss. He didn’t even acknowledge what she had said; instead he reacted by pressing the accelerator a little more firmly and took their speed above ninety miles an hour.
***
In the Helen Street briefing room the team were once more sitting in silent horror as they watched the final chapter unfold in the Harlequin’s long revenge. Five minutes after he had put Karen and Joe in the freezer he forced Hayley to join them. When the door slammed shut on her, ‘When will I see you again’ began to play on loop. There was a camera mounted inside the frozen room and it showed the three of them huddle together, Hayley helped Joe to hold Karen up and all three moved around in a circle; none of them wanted to sit or lie down, afraid that it would only accelerate the freezing process. Ice was already beginning to form on the hair of the first two ‘competitors’ and the signs were that they wouldn’t be able to last very long before hypothermia took its toll. The watching police officers were as powerless as the others around the world who had tuned in to see the finale; they could only hope and pray that their colleagues would arrive soon.
***
Ten minutes into the race, the little group of police vehicles had left Glasgow airport behind and were passing the junction that led to the Erskine Bridge. They were travelling as fast as was safely practicable, the traffic had been thankfully light and was now down to only an occasional car or lorry, but the police drivers knew they had a responsibility to those people as well as the Harlequin’s victims. D.S. Craigan keeping them informed of developments by sending Alex texts. She had responded by telling the Irish woman to arrange ambulances from the Royal Alexandria Hospital in Paisley to get to the site.
***
Inside the freezer the temperature was now at minus twelve degrees. Karen no longer had the strength to stand up and the other two were beginning to feel the strain. They all sat in the middle of the room, trying to get some warmth from each other’s bodies but it was only having a minimal effect. They kept moving to stop them freezing into a solid mass, taking turns to be in the middle to share what little heat was left. The encouraging words they had initially said to one another were now lost in their silent condensing breaths. Every one could be their last.
***
Russell was leading the convoy when they reached the end of the motorway and joined the A8, heading towards Greenock. Port Glasgow was a few miles down the road and their destination was getting closer. As they were no longer on the motorway, he eased back a little on the speed but he was still fifteen miles over the speed limit as cars moved across to give him a free path on the outside lane.
After another five minutes he killed the sirens and lights as they reached a roundabout. Alex guided him to their destination and all three vehicles pulled up in a line at the edge of the car park of the plant.
Detective Inspector Ruaridh McLeish, the leader of the A.R.U. team was a stocky Highlander with an abrupt, military demeanour befitting a man in his position. He called everyone to him at the back of the bus. He already had a diagram of the building on an electronic tablet. As he ran through the plan, Russell’s feet itched to take him inside but he knew that in this arena, McLeish’s word was the only one that mattered, so he listened and bided his time.
***
Karen Russell had fallen into unconsciousness as the temperature dipped to minus fifteen. Joe O’Donnell clung weakly to her, his limbs now stiff, his hands frozen into painful claws. He had begun to hallucinate and at one point he was convinced his mother was standing over him, when he reached out to touch her she disappeared and his thoughts drifted to their Easter dinner. Was it really only yesterday? He wished he hadn’t behaved like a spoilt brat, he should have stayed with her for the rest of the day. At the time he presumed there would be many more Sunday dinners, now he wasn’t so sure. Life was ebbing away and soon it wouldn’t matter.
Hayley was also losing the battle. She had gone past cold and suddenly felt as if she were on fire. She had an urge to back away from the others and
strip off her costume but something in her memory about it being a symptom of hypothermia stopped her, and she stayed where she was. She kept up an internal mantra telling herself that the heat was an illusion. Time was running out and it wouldn’t be long before all of their struggles would end.
Chapter 29
There were three entrances to the old factory; the main entrance at the front; a bay for vans and lorries at one side and an emergency exit on the other. Two officers were sent to cover each side, while the six remaining armed men and women were ready to go in through the front led by McLeish.
Russell and the team would follow the initial attack when the armed officers had secured the scene. The delay only served to increase his sense of helplessness. He felt like he was the only one who could save Karen, that he owed her that much.
The radio on McLeish’s vest crackled twice as the two teams guarding the alternative exits confirmed that they were in position. McLeish signalled to the others to move towards the main door and like the well-drilled team they were, they moved into their assigned places. One of the officers tested the door and found that it was locked. A short battering ram was brought forward. There was a pause as McLeish ensured that everyone was set and then using his fingers, he counted down from three.
The two officers crashed the double doors open; the lock offered little resistance. The battering ram was dropped and the team began to swarm into the space.
The air was filled with shouts of “Armed police” as they moved through a series of offices. “Clear,” echoed through the building as the team visited a series of empty rooms and then the shouts changed suddenly to, “Armed police, get on the ground.”
***
The temperature in the freezer was now at minus eighteen and Hayley had lapsed into an unnatural sleep and Joe was close to joining her. He thought he was hallucinating again when he heard faint shouts through the door, but they persisted and Joe moved stiffly to rouse himself.
The Harlequin Page 22