by Neil White
‘How is he?’
‘He's alive,’ she said, and then added, ‘You don't know what you're dealing with.’
‘You're going to tell me. But how do I know you're not just another trick?’
‘What do you mean?’
Carson gave a sharp laugh. ‘You moved in after Sarah was kidnapped, and you pretended to be her lodger and friend, and then it turns out that she never had a lodger. You played us all, lied in your statement – just part of the game, was it? How do I know that he didn't let you out to mislead us?’
Katie swallowed and wiped her cheeks. ‘You don't,’ she said, ‘so it's your gamble.’
‘You're a sweet little bitch, aren't you,’ Carson sneered at her, but he knew that she was right. Dan Mather had taught her well. ‘Where was Sarah kept?’ he asked.
‘There's a cellar, split into two halves,’ Katie replied.
‘How many ways in?’
‘Just one. It's the part of the cellar nearest to the hillside.’
Carson thought back to what Rod had told him, about the coven members being targeted, and then he thought about how Sarah had died. ‘What's his thing with explosives?’ he asked.
‘That's just Tom,’ she replied. ‘He likes blowing things up. I caught him once emptying the gunpowder out of fireworks. He keeps experimenting.’
‘Is that all he has up there?’
Katie looked down.
‘Miss Gray, you'd better say something.’
‘He's been buying fertiliser, just in small amounts, but now he's got quite a pile. And blasting caps. He's got some of those. I think he's building up to something big.’
‘Has he tried it out yet?’
Katie nodded. ‘He blows up bottles, just behind the house. He mixes the fertiliser with oil and then sets off a blasting cap. It makes him really excited.’
Ged Flynn spoke up. ‘Ammonium nitrate?’ he asked, and his face had turned serious.
‘That's it,’ said Katie, nodding. ‘It was in the shed at the back, but he's filling tins with it.’
‘What do you mean, “filling tins”?’ asked Ged.
‘Just that,’ Katie replied. ‘He's put paint tins all over the house, and he's filling them with oil and that fertiliser. They're under the windows, everywhere.’
‘Shit!’ exclaimed Flynn.
‘Ammonium nitrate is serious stuff,’ said Carson.
Ged Flynn nodded. ‘If you mix it right,’ he said, ‘and easy to get hold of.’
Carson paused for a moment. ‘Is he going to kill himself?’ he asked Katie.
Katie nodded. ‘And everyone else in there.’
Carson stepped out of the van and looked back towards the house. It was booby-trapped, and he knew that Dan Mather was prepared to kill. Then he turned around when he heard a phone ring. Katie looked at him for a moment, and then reached into her pocket. As she pulled out her phone and looked at the screen, her eyes opened wide. She tried to turn it off, but Carson beat her to it. He pushed her against the side of the van and looked at the screen. The caller ID simply said ‘Dan’.
Carson pressed the answer button.
Chapter Ninety
‘Dan Mather? This is Karl Carson from the Lancashire Police.’
Carson didn't know what to expect as he introduced himself. He thought that there might be some desperation from Mather's end, and he knew that he had to stay calm, not startle him.
‘Hello Karl. This is Dan.’ His voice was calm, almost serene. Carson was surprised. But then Dan said, ‘She found you then.’
Carson set his jaw and looked at Joe. Dan Mather was too calm, as if the call was about a parking ticket. Joe held out his hands as if to say, ‘Calm down. Take it slow.’
‘Yes, I'm with her now,’ Carson said coolly. ‘I know that you have got one of my detectives in there. How is she?’
There was silence for a while, Carson straining to hear anything going on in the background. Dan's voice returned eventually. ‘She's still alive.’
Carson almost grimaced. ‘She's still alive’ covered too many possibilities.
‘Is she unharmed?’ he ventured.
‘She's still alive,’ Dan repeated, and Carson sensed that he was enjoying himself.
Again, there was silence as Carson tried to evaluate the position. Joe was scribbling furiously on some paper, and then he passed the paper to Carson. It said, ‘All about control. His pace, not yours.’
Carson nodded. He understood. ‘What do you want us to do?’ he asked.
There was further silence.
Carson moved the phone away from his ear and shrugged his shoulders at Joe. Joe made a hush sign to his lips. Carson stayed quiet. Instead, he looked at Katie's phone, searching for the hands-free button. He found it, and the next time Dan spoke, his voice was like a tinny echo around the van. ‘I just want some of you in here,’ it said.
‘That's not going to happen, not unless you let the other two people leave first,’ Carson answered, his mouth close to the handset so Dan wouldn't know he was on speaker-phone.
‘You've made your choice, Inspector.’
Carson glanced over at Joe, who held his palm outwards and then lowered it, telling him to take it slow. There was silence again. Carson thought about Laura, and he wondered if she could hear the call. There were experts at this kind of thing, but he wasn't one of them.
His relief wasn't to last long.
‘My son is pointing a shotgun at your detective's head, and he's a little bit trigger-happy,’ said Dan, sneering. ‘So I want some of you in here. You come, and she can go.’
‘And what about the explosives?’
Dan laughed at that. ‘The little bitch didn't take long, did she? So you might as well know that if you mess me about, I will set those fuckers off, and you'll have to explain to your police officer's family why she has been pureed. I'm not doing deals. I want you in here, or wish your colleague goodbye.’
Carson looked over at Joe and said, ‘Can I call you back?’
Dan was silent for a few moments, and then Carson heard him agree. ‘Five minutes,’ he said, and then the line went dead.
Carson gave a heavy sigh and thought about Joe's one word of advice: control. Let Dan believe that he is in control. Don't bullshit him or underestimate him. He looked down at the phone. His hand was sweating. This was it. The next thirty minutes could save or cost lives.
When Dan put down his phone, I asked him, ‘You're determined to die?’
He looked at me, and I saw that some of the arrogance had gone, that in its place was an acceptance of his fate.
‘The letters were Katie's idea, not yours, we know that,’ I said. ‘But why did Tom go along with it?’ I glanced over at Tom, who was still pointing the gun at Laura, but it didn't seem like he was listening, the barrels drooping slightly. Was he thinking about Katie, how she had betrayed him?
‘He wanted to be stopped too,’ I continued, ‘and that's why the letters were sent. He isn't like you.’
A smile flickered at the corner of Dan's mouth. ‘Maybe not,’ and then he looked back out of the window, to where Katie had run. ‘Sometimes a woman wants a taste of the wild life, but it's just a game, because when things get too wild, they want out.’
‘Is that how it was with April?’ I asked.
Dan shook his head. ‘April was different. She didn't know.’ He looked over at Tom. ‘Katie changed him. A man's first really good fuck does that. A man should move on, find someone else, because women like that are trouble – when the man can't deliver, the woman moves on.’
‘How much did Katie know?’
‘She knew everything,’ Dan said angrily. ‘I saw the excitement in her eyes, the flush it brought to her cheeks.’
‘And now she is telling her story,’ I said. ‘What now?’
He looked down and scratched his cheek as he thought, and then he looked around at the tins, filled with fuel and powder. ‘We go next, I suppose.’
‘But you could tell them
all about her, otherwise she'll get away with it, blame it all on you.’
Dan shook his head. ‘Do you think it would make a difference? I kill people, as does Tom.’
‘But why? You sound like you know it's wrong.’
He sighed and clenched his fists, screwed his eyes up tight, like he was fighting against his own personal demons. I looked over at Laura. She nodded at me almost imperceptibly, and I could tell she thought I was getting somewhere.
Dan took a deep breath. ‘Do you know what it's like to live with someone who won't leave you alone?’ he said, his eyes squeezed shut. ‘It's like that in my head, a voice, always pestering me, driving me to carry on, like a constant tap-tap-tap in my fucking head, non-stop. I kick against it, tell it to leave me alone, but it won't stop, constant, in my ear all the time, telling me to feel it, to know it, someone's last second, facing death in an instant, just a glance at the end. And I don't want to listen but it doesn't stop, and so I give in, and I see what the voice means, the pleasure, the rush.’ He opened his eyes, gave a little laugh. ‘But do you know what? When it happens, I don't remember much, like it's old movie footage, black and white, flickering, going too fast.’ He laughed again. ‘What kind of fucking irony is that?’
‘But if you know it's wrong,’ I said, ‘why do you carry on?’
He shook his head. ‘If you were pestered constantly to kill, you would give in, I can promise you. Just after, it's like a release, silence.’
I pointed towards the window. ‘Let them understand you. It might stop it happening to someone else.’
Dan followed my gaze, and for a moment I thought he was tempted, but then his phone rang, and the spell was broken.
He looked at it, then back at me, but when I saw his sneer return I realised that the moment had gone.
‘Carson. I'm glad you called back.’
Chapter Ninety-one
Carson heard Joe whisper ‘Good luck’ as Dan answered the phone. He tried not to think about whether he needed the luck. He felt isolated, but he wanted it that way. Just himself and Dan Mather, a meeting of minds. If he messed up, he would be the one answering the awkward questions at the inquiry.
‘Mr Mather?’
There was just silence.
‘Is that what you want me to call you?’ asked Carson, waiting for the answer.
Joe gave him the thumbs up. Good, it said. Let him take the helm.
‘You can call me Dan,’ came the response, the voice echoing around the van again.
‘Good, Dan,’ Carson said. ‘You called Katie's phone for a reason, so what do you want to talk about?’
‘Well, it isn't about the fucking weather forecast, is it,’ came the sarcastic response, followed by a low chuckle. ‘I wish you could see her now.’
Carson's stomach turned over. ‘How is she?’ he asked. It was a lame question. Then he heard a grunt, some kind of exertion, and then a yelp, a female cry, echoing around the van. He guessed it had been a kick at Laura, maybe a punch.
‘I keep telling you, she's alive,’ answered Dan, amused.
It didn't seem like much, but at least there was still some hope. Joe whispered at him to stay calm, but the thought entered his head that if Laura was alive at the start of the call, and then dead before its end, it could be his fault. Carson took a deep breath to push it to one side.
‘It looks busy out there,’ said Dan. ‘How about losing a few?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Get them to retreat. I want every police car out of sight.’
‘I don't know if I should do that.’
‘What you ought to do is whatever I ask you to do, Carson. You're no longer in charge.’
‘Don't worry,’ whispered Joe. ‘Tell him it's okay, you'll give it a try, and then shout at everyone to move their cars.’
Carson nodded in agreement. He dropped the phone to his chest and shouted for everyone to move back, waving his arms at them theatrically. He heard the crackle of static as the message went through the radios, and then the movement started. The cars and vans edged slowly backwards, until the only vehicle still there was the van with Joe and Carson inside. But Carson knew that there would be men still stationed behind the wall, waiting for a good line of sight.
Before he had the chance to speak, Joe gave him the thumbs-up signal.
‘See, Carson, do you see the power I have?’ said Dan, laughing. ‘I know they will be crawling along the walls, but I got them to move.’
Carson stayed silent. Perhaps Joe had underestimated Dan Mather.
‘Do you want your detective back?’ asked Dan, taunting.
Before he had a chance to answer, Joe made cutting motions with his hands. ‘Don't say yes,’ he hissed. ‘Preserve the status quo.’
‘I just want her to be safe, that's all,’ said Carson.
‘Well, she can be. It's in your hands, Karl Carson. Fuck up, and you have blood on them.’
Carson felt a flash of anger, but Joe shook his head. Don't say anything. Let him lead.
There was silence for a while, although Carson thought he could hear harsh words spoken over the whisper of stifled sobs. He felt a bead of sweat trickle onto his lip.
‘Send the little bitch back,’ said Dan, ‘and then we'll talk some more.’
‘If you mean Katie, we can't send her back,’ Carson answered. ‘And you know that.’
‘But don't you care about your detective?’
‘Yes, I do, but why do you want Katie back?’ asked Carson.
‘C'mon, you've seen her. Pretty young thing, isn't she? And it gets lonely in the countryside. Send Katie back, and make it all right for Laura. She wants to go home. You can help her.’
‘Why don't you help her? Just let her go, Garrett too, and take your chances in court. It might work out for you.’
There was silence again, and Carson wondered if something he'd said had angered him. And then the phone went dead. Dan had hung up.
Carson glanced along the road, to where the other police vehicles were, just out of sight of the house.
‘You're doing okay,’ said Joe. ‘Give it two minutes and ring back. Just don't agree to anything we can't deliver. Let him agree his own surrender. Start to explain the positives in letting Laura go.’
Carson looked back towards the house, and he felt angry. He was being held to ransom by a bike mechanic from the hills. This wasn't what he had expected when he'd started the day.
But he knew the drill in negotiations. Concede some to win some.
He looked at the phone in his hand, said a silent prayer, and pressed call.
The phone rang out seven times before it was answered.
‘Is that you again, Carson?’
‘Yeah, it's me.’
There was a moment's silence, so he decided to press on.
‘Look, Dan, this is difficult for me, and I suppose it will be for you too, but I think we can work this out.’
A bitter laugh came down the line. ‘There is no “we” involved. I tell you what we want, and you do it. If you don't, I kill Laura, and then I kill Jack Garrett.’
‘What do you want out of this?’ Carson pleaded, but the phone went dead.
Chapter Ninety-two
Tom Mather was bouncing on his heels, the gun barrels swivelling around like a tank turret.
‘This place is going to blow like fucking Etna,’ he said, his eyes wild.
I looked towards the window and wondered what was happening outside. And I began to wonder whether I should run for the door, try and get outside to warn everyone to stay away. I would die in the process, I was certain of that, but if I did nothing, I would die anyway.
Then I thought of Laura. If I ran, she would certainly die. It could be what made him set off the explosives. Laura was still alive, and for as long as things stayed like that, I would co-operate.
I looked at Dan. He was smiling.
Rod thought about what he could do. The ambulance wouldn't come any nearer, not with an armed stando
ff, and he wouldn't leave. Carson had taken over the negotiations, but this was his area, he felt some responsibility. He had been told what Katie had said about ammonium nitrate in the house, confirming what he knew. He had been around enough farmers to know about fertiliser.
He looked over to the firefighters, who were standing by their engines, looking restless. They were further back than the police vans, clustered at the entrance to a field. Rod hobbled over to them, wincing all the way, looking for the person in charge. Rod found him pacing at the back of a fire appliance.
‘We can't just sit here all day,’ he complained to Rod, glancing at his watch. Then he looked down and saw Rod's trouser leg, now soaked through with blood.
‘I know that,’ Rod replied, his voice calm. ‘Tell me this, though: would you go near that house if there was a fire in there and you knew that there was some ammonium-based fertiliser inside?’
The fire chief opened his eyes wide. ‘Not a chance,’ he replied. ‘And I know there's fuel in there. I heard the girl before. Do you remember the Oklahoma bomb?’
Rod nodded.
‘That was ammonium fertiliser. Blew the front of the building off, and that wasn't some old cottage in the hills. That place will be blown into nothing if it goes up.’
‘So how do you deal with it?’ Rod asked.
The fire chief scratched his head and thought for a moment. Then he said, ‘Get it wet. Really wet.’
Rod smiled. He'd thought as much.
‘Tell me one more thing,’ Rod asked.
The fire chief gave a wary smile. Police officers in this mood usually meant trouble.
‘Could your hoses break glass?’ Rod asked.
The fire chief looked surprised. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Can the pressure from the hose break a small pane of glass?’
The chief looked at Rod quizzically, weighing up whether it was wise to answer truthfully or not, before cracking a smile. ‘If it isn't too big, I reckon they could make a mess. Depends on how strong the glass is, I suppose.’
‘What about if we break it first? Could you get a good stream going, enough to knock a man over inside?’