The Keeper

by Luke Delaney

  Sally and Anna got out of the car just in time to see the men disappear around the first corner and into an alleyway.

  ‘Shit,’ Sally shouted as the other two unmarked cars screeched to a stop next to her, the detectives spilling out. ‘He’s run, he’s run,’ she told them frantically. ‘The guv’nor’s gone after him, but he’s got no radio.’

  ‘Where?’ Donnelly shouted.

  ‘Down the alley.’

  Donnelly turned to the younger, lighter detectives. ‘Go on then. What you waiting for? Off you go.’ Zukov and the two detectives broke into a hesitant run, staying close to each other as they jogged along the road and disappeared into the alley. He noticed Sally subconsciously clutching her chest. ‘You all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, a little breathlessly. ‘I should have gone after him. I should have stayed with the guv’nor.’

  ‘And then the rest of us wouldn’t have had any idea where you were or what had happened.’

  ‘I would have taken a radio,’ she argued.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he assured her. ‘The others will catch up with him.’

  ‘No they won’t – and I don’t think he wants them to.’

  Sean’s raincoat trailed behind him like broken wings as he burst from the alley. Lawlor was only a few metres ahead, never once looking over his shoulder – years of running from the police had taught him that could be a costly mistake. They ran straight across the emerging road, causing a passing car to judder to a stop, its horn blaring as the two figures disappeared into another alley and faded into the darkness.

  Halfway along the alley Lawlor suddenly leapt to his side, hitting a six-foot fence and scrambling over it like a cat a second before Sean’s hands could grasp his ankle. ‘Bastard,’ he muttered, launching himself at the fence, his upper-body strength dragging him over just in time to see Lawlor straddle the fence on the opposite side of the garden. Now that they’d left the roads and alleyways, Sean knew he was on his own; the chasing pack would have no idea where he’d gone. He felt his ankle almost give way as he landed on hard grass, relieved it was only a fleeting pain as he sprinted across the lawn and jumped at the fence, clearing it more smoothly than he had the last. Remembering to roll as he hit the grass on the other side, he sprang back to his feet in one motion, cursing the raincoat that continually threatened to trip him as he struggled to see clearly in the ever-increasing darkness. Lawlor had already cleared the next fence, using a garden bench to vault it, the distance between the two men remaining the same. Sean maintained his pace as his foot hit the bench while his left hand helped him clear it, but this time it wasn’t grass that waited for him, it was paving slabs, slippery with winter moss and moisture from the cooling air. His right foot gave way under him and he hit the ground hard, his shoulder and hip taking the blow, his forehead connecting with the leg of a cast-iron table, forcing him to call out in pain as he pressed his hand to where he knew he’d been cut, feeling warm, slippery blood escaping from the wound.

  ‘Come here,’ he yelled after Lawlor, quickly back on his feet and moving across the garden, heaving himself over yet another fence, breathing hard and heavy now.

  At first he could see nothing in the twilight, but where his eyes betrayed him his hearing came to the rescue: Lawlor had changed direction, heading for the end of the garden instead of traversing. Sean could hear the sound of feet scuffing against the higher fence as Lawlor struggled to pull himself over, fatigue beginning to override his fear and adrenalin. His own anger and the pain from his bleeding head and bruised shoulder drove him on, flooded his body with hormones that pushed him forward despite the burning in his brain and muscles. He hit the back fence just as Lawlor snaked across and landed on the other side with a thud, his footsteps heading away. Sean’s hands grabbed the top of the fence as he jumped from a standing position, pulling and scrambling until he was able to hook a leg over and roll on to the other side, but the fall was much further than he’d expected as the ground fell away from the backs of the houses.

  Suddenly he heard a tremendous noise screaming up behind him. As he turned to see what it was, a dazzling beam of light came bearing down on him like an exploding star. Shielding his eyes with one hand, he braced himself for the sound and light to send him to oblivion, stumbling backwards, tripping and falling, until he saw the train crashing past, its passengers oblivious to the drama only inches away as the whistle screamed in alarm. He rolled further from the tracks, pushing reflections of near death aside as he scrambled back to his feet and scanned the trackside for Lawlor. The lights of the train picked him out no more than twenty metres ahead and Sean took off after him with increasing determination, already looking forward to the moment when he’d be kneeling on Lawlor’s back, twisting his shoulders and snapping on the quick-cuffs.

  The train receded into the distance, leaving behind an eerie silence as Sean chased the shadow in front of him, concentrating on his running, maintaining a short powerful stride, arms pumping like pistons, occasionally flailing to the side when he slipped on the large pieces of loose gravel that ran alongside the tracks and between sleepers.

  The darkness was almost total now, but then a spot of light appeared in the far distance, approaching slowly and silently at first. As it grew larger and louder, its speed seemed to increase tenfold and then tenfold more until it was a meteor hurtling towards them. Sean looked down at the darkness under his feet and assured himself that the approaching train would pass him safely by on the parallel set of tracks, but as it grew dangerously close he realized it had been disguising another sound, a rumbling and humming from the tracks he was running along. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a second light heading towards them, moving slower than the other, but still capable of bringing instant death to anyone who got in its way.

  Sean knew he should stop, give up the chase and let Lawlor escape, hunt him down another day, but once he was after his man his police instincts took over, instincts that had been drummed into him since his first day on the force. To lose a suspect was the greatest of sins. So he resolved to keep going – keep going until he had Lawlor under his heel or lost him to the darkness of the night. He wouldn’t give up the chase, no matter what.

  The silhouette of Lawlor kept moving steadily forward, but Sean could see he was tiring as he kept losing his footing, teetering to one side and then the other, his arms jutting out to keep his balance or break his fall, and all the time the lights from in front and behind continued to converge on the two men. Soon Sean would be close enough to kick Lawlor’s legs from under him and end the chase. But just as the train coming towards them was almost level with Lawlor, he burst across the tracks, his silhouette perfectly framed by the approaching light, and jumped clear less than a second before one hundred tons of metal moving at sixty miles per hour hurtled through the space he’d leapt from.

  Despite the close proximity of the slower train behind him and the speed of the train in front of him, Sean could think of only one thing: unless he went now, Lawlor would be lost – and God knew when he’d surface again. Without looking over his shoulder, he crossed the first set of tracks, the reverberation vibrating the muscles in his legs, the lights so close they cast his shadow long and far, stretching it further with every fraction of a second, until he leapt to the second set of tracks, closing his eyes as he ran.

  When he landed on the grass bank he was temporarily blinded and deafened by the noise and light of the train. Disorientated, almost confused to find himself still alive, he tried to work out which direction he was lying in. Along the tracks he saw a shadow stumbling down the grassy bank into the darkness below. He jumped to his feet and sprinted diagonally down the bank, closer and closer to his target until finally he threw himself headfirst across the remaining distance between them and brought Lawlor to the ground with a thud.

  Sean pressed Lawlor’s face into the wet grass and held him there while he got his breath back. ‘I told you to stand still, didn’t I?’

  Lawlor tw
isted his head so he could talk and breathe, trying to spit out the pieces of grass that stuck to the saliva gluing his lips, his voice broken and disjointed. ‘I … I didn’t know … who, who you … were, guv’nor.’

  ‘Bullshit,’ Sean panted. ‘You may not know who I am, but you know what I am.’

  ‘I didn’t, guv’nor, honest. I thought you was … vigilantes. I swear, if I’d known … you was Old Bill, I’d never have run.’

  ‘Fucking bollocks. You ran for a reason!’

  ‘No, guv’nor. I’m clean, I swear on my fucking eyes. I’ve been clean since I got out.’

  ‘Then why d’you miss your bail signing?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your bailing signing and your Sex Offenders’ Register appointment?’ Sean repeated, seething with impatience, the excitement of the chase still pumping through his body.

  ‘I was drunk. That’s all. I went out and I got pissed and missed my bail signing. After that I knew I’d be wanted so I tried to keep out the way. That’s all, I promise. I swear.’

  ‘You’re lying,’ Sean spat at him. ‘You missed them because you had better things to do, didn’t you?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me. You were searching for them, weren’t you, looking for the right ones?’

  ‘I’m clean. I’ve done nothing.’

  ‘And when you found them, you took them, didn’t you? You took them, you raped them and you killed them?’

  Lawlor looked as confused as he did scared, his head furiously shaking in disagreement with everything Sean was saying. ‘I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about. You’re fucking crazy.’

  ‘Are you working with someone else?’ Sean persisted. ‘Does he take them for you and then you do the rest? Don’t you have the guts to take them yourself?’ He pressed Lawlor’s face hard into the grass, pulling one of his arms back and twisting it until he grimaced and groaned with pain while he looked all around the surrounding area, searching for any CCTV cameras British Transport Police might have deployed in an attempt to catch vandals and perverts. Once he decided there were none, he rolled Lawlor on to his back and gripped him around the neck one-handed, tightly enough to make him wheeze as he tried to draw breath. ‘I asked you a question.’

  ‘You’re mad,’ Lawlor struggled to say. ‘You’ve got the wrong man.’

  ‘Where do you keep them, once you’ve taken them? Where do you keep them?’

  ‘Keep who?’

  Sean looked at the silent, still darkness around them. They were alone. He squeezed Lawlor’s neck harder and raised his other hand high and to the side. Resisting the temptation to turn his open hand into a clenched fist, he brought it down with a violent swipe into Lawlor’s face, the sound of the slap echoing in the empty night. ‘Answer my questions,’ he hissed.

  Lawlor struggled to escape, but Sean’s powerful grip held him in place like a live fish waiting to be gutted. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Another slap resounded along the grass bank. ‘Who are you? What do you want?’ Lawlor screamed as loud as he could through his constricted airway.

  ‘Answers,’ Sean told him.

  ‘I don’t have any.’

  ‘Where’s Louise Russell?’

  ‘Who?’ Another slap twisted his face.

  ‘Who has her?’

  ‘Please, wait.’ Both men stopped for a few silent seconds as Lawlor searched for air and answers. ‘You’re talking about the man who’s already killed one, right? It was on Crimewatch, yeah?’

  ‘Yes.’ Sean spoke through angry gritted teeth, his hand ready to strike Lawlor’s sweating, reddening face. ‘You know something. Tell me what you know.’

  ‘That’s the point – I don’t know anything. Nobody knows anything.’

  Sean’s face contorted in confusion. ‘Nobody knows anything – what does that mean?’

  ‘This one’s working alone. Keeping himself to himself, saying nothing, sharing nothing. No Facebook, no Twitter, no YouTube. He doesn’t want to share. This is just for him.’

  ‘Who would he share with?’

  ‘You’re Old Bill, you know. We meet in prison, on the segregation wings. When we recognize each other, we share. But not this one. He gives us nothing and nobody recognizes his work. No one knows him, I swear. You’re looking for someone who’s never been caught.’

  ‘Or someone who’s only just started,’ he said to himself, but Lawlor heard him.

  ‘Yes,’ Lawlor whispered excitedly. ‘Yes. Someone new. Someone who’s only just started. Of course. Of course. How did you know?’

  ‘What?’ Sean asked, distracted by his own thoughts.

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Shut the fuck up.’ Sean felt his hand tightening around Lawlor’s throat, the pain and panic spreading across his face, the power to kill or spare him totally within his control. It was a good feeling, potent and thrilling. Lawlor’s hands clutched at his wrists, trying to release the grip on his throat, but it was too strong. His legs began to kick and splay, his body twisting and writhing, but Sean fell on his chest with one knee, sinking deep into his diaphragm.

  Then sounds came, voices calling to each other from the grassy bank, torchlight stroking the gently swaying uncut grass, dark figures approaching. Lawlor’s eyes darted between the descending shadows and Sean’s black, lifeless eyes, as if trying to draw his attention to the only thing that could save him. Finally Sean’s subconscious rage acknowledged the fact they had been disturbed by voices he recognized – Donnelly, Zukov and others too. His fingers began to loosen around Lawlor’s thin neck, turning his lips from a whitish-blue to pale pink, flecks of spittle spiralling through the air as he coughed his lungs full, made silver by the light from the closing torches.

  Sean rolled him over on to his stomach and pulled his arms behind his back, smoothly wrapping the handcuffs around his wrists. ‘Get up,’ he ordered and hoisted him to his feet.

  Donnelly was the first to reach them, years of experience telling him something was wrong. He looked from Sean to Lawlor and back. ‘Everything OK?’

  ‘Everything’s fine,’ said Sean, shoving Lawlor towards him. ‘Arrest him for the abduction and murder of Karen Green and the abduction and false imprisonment of Louise Russell.’

  ‘Any evidence?’

  ‘Yes,’ Sean replied. ‘He ran.’

  ‘He’s gone fucking mad,’ Lawlor said, speaking loud enough to ensure everyone heard him. ‘He tried to kill me – look at my fucking neck. He was gonna kill me.’

  ‘Shut up and get moving,’ growled Donnelly. ‘You’ve only got yourself to blame. You know better than to run from the police.’

  ‘But I ain’t done nothing.’

  ‘Well, well,’ Donnelly said, ‘an innocent man! And I thought I was the last of that dying breed.’

  ‘Whatever,’ Lawlor replied. ‘Do what you got to do, just keep that maniac away from me. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but keep him away from me.’

  Sally and Anna watched as Donnelly frogmarched Lawlor towards the waiting cars, flanked by DCs O’Neil and McGowan, Sean and Zukov walking behind them. The streetlights made them all look jaundiced. Donnelly manhandled Lawlor into the back of his car, pushing the top of his head down with his hand and slamming the door. Sally noticed the serious faces, the usual signs of relief and joviality after an arrest conspicuous by their absence.

  ‘Everything all right?’ she asked Donnelly.

  ‘Aye,’ he answered. ‘We eventually found them on the other side of the railway embankment. Everyone’s OK.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’ Donnelly glanced towards Sean and rolled his eyes. She grabbed his forearm. ‘I should have been there. I should have come with you, not stayed here hiding with the cars.’

  ‘No, you shouldn’t have,’ he insisted. ‘You’re not ready yet. Don’t try to rush it, you’ll do more damage than good. Take your time. It’ll come.’

  �
�All the same—’

  ‘Sally,’ Sean interrupted her, ‘I want you, Maggie and Stan to spin his bedsit. If you find anything interesting, get hold of forensics and keep me informed. Dave, you and Paulo get this idiot back to Peckham and book him into custody. I’ll interview him later.’ Sally and Donnelly nodded their understanding.

  ‘I’d like to come with you,’ Anna said, appearing at his shoulder. ‘To help you to prepare and do the interview.’

  ‘Out of the question,’ he replied. ‘Go with Sally and search the bedsit if you want to be involved. Look through his things and see what you can learn.’

  ‘But the letter from the assistant commissioner clearly states—’ Sean held his hand up to stop her.

  ‘I don’t have time to discuss this with the committee,’ he snapped. ‘We can talk about it later.’ He turned his back on her and walked to his car. She took a step after him, but Sally caught her arm and gently pulled her back, shaking her head.

  ‘Let it go,’ she said softly. ‘Now is not the time to fight this battle.’

  ‘Is he always this rude?’

  ‘Only if he likes you,’ Sally told her.

  Deborah Thomson’s eyes opened slowly before surrendering to the fog of chloroform and flickering shut, then bursting wide open again as her brain deciphered the hazy images it had been sent, recognizing danger and the need to fire the body alert. Her head and torso jerked in all directions, desperately trying to make sense of the near-darkness that surrounded her, her eyes growing increasingly accustomed to the gloom. She felt the mattress beneath her and the duvet on top of her rubbing against bare skin. She slid a hand tentatively under the duvet and confirmed her worst fears, that her clothes had been taken. Choking back tears of panic, she squinted into the darkness and cocked her head to one side, listening for a sound, any sound. A shuffling noise somewhere in the room made her freeze. She tried to focus on the source of the sound, but something was obscuring her view. Slowly and carefully she stretched out a hand, gently waving it from side to side, as if the thing she searched for was more ethereal than solid, its distance away impossible to judge in the poor light. Finally her fingers felt the unmistakeable cold of metal. Her fingers coiled around thin steel as her face came closer to investigate, hundreds of small squares spreading left and right, leading to more walls of squares and above her the same terrible pattern. The fingers of her other hand grabbed at the wire and gripped it hard as she realized what the squares were, that she was locked in a cage.