Walker had managed to clamber out of the bathtub, and crawl in agony through the small bedroom and out into the corridor, where he’d mercifully lost consciousness. Within minutes a horrified maid found him and called all three emergency services. The news had rapidly reached Finn, who was still at Mei Tsukuda’s home and had only just been informed by the officers outside Walker’s house that he wasn’t there. He’d immediately directed Ojo to the Travelodge and she was now at Chelsea and Westminster hospital where Walker was being treated. The good news was his injuries, while severe, weren’t deemed life-threatening. Aware Walker was likely to be sedated for some time, Ojo was now managing to update Finn on her mobile from the hospital’s corridor.
‘I’ve spoken with the ambulance crew who treated him. He confirmed it was Portbury who attacked him and mumbled something else to them that they couldn’t make sense of. One of the paramedics said it sounded like a warning, but then he passed out again and they dosed him up.’
‘When do we think he might be conscious again? How badly hurt is he?’
‘He managed to turn the shower on just in time, but he’s got some very nasty torso burns. He’s lucky to be alive. As for when he might be able to talk, your guess is as good as mine. I’m going to stay here just in case.’
‘I’ll send a couple of armed officers to join you. If Portbury finds out Walker’s still alive, he might be tempted to come and finish the job.’
Finn was standing in the street leaning on his car with one finger in his ear as he focused over the noise of the rush-hour traffic. Paulsen was stood next to him, listening closely to his side of the conversation. She’d pretty much got the gist of it as they got in the car, where Finn filled in the blanks.
‘Portbury must have said something to Walker before he tried to kill him. It’s important, otherwise why would he try and warn the paramedics?’ said Paulsen.
‘Portbury’s killed – or at least thinks he’s killed – every one of his former crewmates. Who’s left for him to go after?’ said Finn.
‘What about the fire station where they worked?’
‘I don’t think his grudge is against the profession as a whole, just the people he blames for leaving Mei on her own.’
‘Do you know what worries me? When he murdered Maddox, he stayed at the scene to make sure the fire didn’t spread. Sounds like he didn’t do that with Walker,’ said Paulsen.
‘You think he’s stopped caring if other people get hurt?’
‘He’s motivated by guilt. A guilt which has been growing for years. I don’t think he has any rational perspective left.’ Finn turned to look at her and she saw an understanding in his face. ‘I know a lot about guilt and what it can do to you and we’ll have that conversation later. But not now, because if that’s what’s driving this then I think I know where he’s gone – and what he’s planning to do.’
Chapter 56
Getting into the building was easy, but then he’d planned this for a long time. Start with the ending and work backwards, was his logic. In total, twenty-six different businesses rented office space in One Pacific Square, mainly a combination of insurance brokers, investment companies and commercial banking institutions. The building was protected by front-of-house security, reception staff, a concierge service, CCTV and an alarm installation, together with round-the-clock monitoring. Breaking in was almost impossible, but Portbury was armed with one major advantage: he’d no intention of coming out again. He’d found one of the many fire doors and used his Halligan bar to break in, which in turn set off an internal alarm. The whole thing would be on camera and security would be swarming all over it in minutes, but none of that mattered. He was now inside and they’d be too late.
The break-in triggered a series of events. Responding to the alarmed door, the building’s head of security – a former Royal Military Police officer called Charles Stacey – sent two men to investigate straight away. He also routinely alerted Wandsworth Police Station, who’d dispatched a couple of uniformed PCs to assist. The sergeant who took the call, aware of the links to their investigation, tipped off the incident room at Cedar House. The news was relayed to Finn who’d immediately ordered three things: a complete evacuation of the building, a clear instruction that no one was to approach the intruder, and a request for armed SCO19 officers to rendezvous with him outside the main entrance.
Just over twenty minutes later Finn’s Volvo, a blue light flashing on its front, skidded to a halt just ahead of the large grey piazza which surrounded the skyscraper. A long semi-circle of evenly spaced anti-vehicle bollards prevented them from getting any closer. The armed officers were already in place, prowling with their distinctive Heckler & Koch G36 assault rifles. The building’s evacuation was complete, and Finn guessed it hadn’t taken long because most of the office staff were probably already on their commute home. Around half a dozen uniformed officers were forming a perimeter outside the half-moon of the piazza. Only a few people were showing much interest in what was going on. Once such a scene would have gathered a small crowd, but it was a sign of the times that most Londoners seemed to take it in their stride now.
The SCO19 commander was talking to a man in uniform who Finn guessed must be the building’s head of security. He and Paulsen flashed their ID at the nearest PC, ducked under the cordon and ran over to join them. Finn recognised the armed commander immediately as Devon Samuels. They’d worked together before, and Finn was pleased to see him there. At six foot five inches tall, Samuels was an imposing figure but he also possessed a natural calm. He spoke with quiet authority, whether it was in the pub or out in the field, and it was a quality Finn appreciated. There was a mutual nod of recognition as they approached.
‘So what have we got then, Dev?’
Samuels introduced Stacey, who Finn suspected was ex-military from his bearing. Stacey smiled formally, and when he spoke it was with a cut-glass accent.
‘We had a break-in just before a quarter to six this evening. An IC3 male used some sort of crowbar to break in through one of our fire doors. As per your direction, we’ve not engaged, but we’ve kept eyes on him via the security cameras. We also managed to pull off an image for you.’ He produced a sheet of A4 from his pocket. On it was a black-and-white print-out of a man with a large holdall walking up a flight of stairs. Despite being a screen grab, the definition was excellent and the identity of the intruder unmistakable.
‘That’s Stuart Portbury, alright. Where is he now?’ said Finn.
‘On the roof. He forced another entrance and has been out there ever since. I’ve got a man on the door, but we haven’t approached him,’ Samuels replied.
‘Good, so at least he’s contained,’ said Finn.
‘What’s he doing up there?’ asked Paulsen.
‘Nothing, as far as we can tell. Either he’s admiring the view or he’s waiting for something. Do you want to tell me what this is all about?’ said Stacey.
‘We think your intruder is responsible for the murder of three men and the attempted murder of a fourth man earlier this afternoon.’
‘So what’s he doing here? Does he want to kill himself?’
‘Possibly, but what’s in that bag? If you just want to jump, why bring that with you?’ said Paulsen.
‘And why here? If that’s your objective, you’re not exactly short of options in London,’ said Stacey.
‘Because he has history with this place. He used to be a firefighter – he was one of the first responders when the original construction site burnt down,’ said Finn.
‘Are you saying he has a grudge of some sort? That he might have brought a device with him?’ asked Stacey. There was a hint of panic, thought Finn; maybe not officer class after all.
‘I wouldn’t rule anything out. His life was bent out of shape that night. He’s killed, or at least thinks he’s killed, everyone who was responsible for that.’
‘It makes sense that the final act would be to come here. What we don’t know is what his plan is,’ sai
d Paulsen.
‘Whatever he’s got in that bag won’t bring the building down. It’d take a hell of a lot more than that, and the roof would be the least effective place to detonate an explosive,’ said Stacey.
‘If he’s a former firefighter then he’ll know where the weak spots are. We can’t rule out the possibility he could have planted something earlier. Something we don’t know about,’ said Samuels.
‘That’s impossible,’ said Stacey.
‘Portbury’s planned every step of this; he’s not improvising,’ said Finn. ‘DC Paulsen’s right – this is the endgame in some form, and we can’t take chances.’ He turned to Samuels. ‘Extend the perimeter and pull your men back to be safe, and call in bomb disposal. They can get some sniffer dogs in there.’ Samuels reached for his radio and relayed the instructions. Finn turned to Stacey. ‘Are you sure the building’s empty now?’
‘As sure as I can be, notwithstanding any idiots.’
‘Good. Okay – Mattie, you’re with us.’ Finn started to walk, flanked by her and Samuels.
‘And where are you all going?’ asked Stacey.
‘To the roof,’ said Finn, without turning.
They took the lift from the deserted reception and stood in silence as it slowly ascended. Samuels was still carrying his assault rifle, with one hand resting on the trigger, the other firmly over its midriff and the barrel pointing to the ground. He looked calm, but the weapon was increasing Paulsen’s growing sense of unease.
‘Shouldn’t we be calling in a negotiator, guv?’ she said to Finn.
‘To negotiate what? Is he planning to jump? Does he want to burn the place down? Has he got hostages somewhere? I want more information before I make my next decision.’ He turned to Samuels. ‘And an armed officer might spook him too; it might be best if you stay out of sight, Dev.’
‘Okay, but if there’s a vantage point I can find up there without him seeing, then I’m taking it. And if I think there’s a threat to life, I’ll take the shot,’ he replied.
The lift gave a small chime and the doors opened. They walked out into what appeared to be a service corridor. At its far end stood another armed officer by the entrance to the roof.
‘Wait here. I want to know the lie of the land before we go any further,’ whispered Samuels. Paulsen watched as he padded over to his colleague. Whatever Portbury was there to do he hadn’t done it yet, and it was hard to shake the feeling he was waiting for something. For a moment she found herself back on another roof on another summer’s day, where another man was waiting. In her mind’s eye she saw that face again, with its charming smile and hint of a leer.
‘Are you okay?’ said Finn, noticing her expression.
‘I’m fine, but why did you want me up here? Surely it makes more sense to have me controlling the situation on the ground.’
‘Because I might need some support from someone not holding an assault rifle. Is that alright?’ he asked, his own irritation showing now, and she realised he was as tense as she was.
‘Yes, of course,’ she replied.
Samuels seemed to have finished talking to his colleague and waved them over.
‘The roof’s split over two levels. Portbury’s on his own at the top,’ he whispered as they joined him.
‘Are we okay to proceed?’ asked Finn. Samuels instructed the officer on the door to maintain his position, then motioned at Finn and Paulsen to follow him as he stepped through the door. They walked out slowly and found themselves on a grey concrete concourse. The first thing which struck Paulsen was the loud hum of the electrical generators that surrounded them. There was a small corrugated iron staircase close by which led up to the top level. Samuels looked at Finn, ceding control of the situation to him with a glance. Finn nodded in acknowledgement, then turned to Paulsen, mouthed ‘with me’, and walked over to the steps. Samuels crouched and started scouting for a position of his own.
As she reached the top of the stairs Paulsen was greeted by an extraordinary vista of London opening out in front of her. Despite the circumstances, she couldn’t help but be taken aback. The Thames rippled below in the sunshine, and she wondered just how many miles out into the suburbs the view extended.
‘Gorgeous, isn’t it?’ said a voice.
It took them both a moment to register where it came from. He was almost dwarfed by the backdrop; Stuart Portbury standing at the edge by one of the railings.
‘Wait here,’ whispered Finn. ‘If I need you, I’ll signal. And remember what Dev said. You won’t be able to see him, but he’s probably found a vantage point.’ Paulsen nodded and Finn walked out slowly towards Portbury, his hands outstretched with his palms facing up.
‘Hello, Stuart.’
‘That’s far enough,’ said Portbury and Finn stopped around ten feet away. Portbury reached down to the holdall at his feet, and pulled out a large plastic bottle. He unscrewed it and tipped the contents over his head. Even from a distance away Finn could smell the petrol fumes.
‘What I’m about to give you is evidence. It’s a dying man’s statement,’ said Portbury. He took his Zippo lighter from his pocket and held it up.
‘Stuart, just wait a moment,’ said Finn.
‘What do you think I’ve been doing? I’ve been up here almost half an hour waiting for you to get your shit together,’ he replied. ‘Still, I’m glad it’s you, not one of those kids you sent to my flat. Not the smartest cookies in the jar, are they?’
Paulsen watched from her position by the stairs. She could guess what was in the bottle and it was clear now what Portbury was intending. She concentrated, channelling her feelings and focusing them, because this time she was determined the outcome would be different. She began to walk forwards.
‘Listen carefully, because this is evidence I want used in court later,’ said Portbury. ‘On the twelfth of August 2015 I attended a fire at this site as a serving member of the London Fire Brigade. Four of my crewmates – Martin Walker, Gary Elder, Adesh Kaul and Phil Maddox – contrary to their training and moral duty, deliberately allowed a man to die that night in service of their own greed.’
Portbury paused; there’d been just the hint of a tremor in his voice. This was nothing to do with some nonsensical idea of giving evidence, thought Finn. This was a confession. Wherever this was going, it was only moments away.
‘They stole a quantity of money, a share of which I accepted in return for my silence. Until this moment I’ve kept their secret, but I’m both a thief and an accessory to murder.’
‘We know.’
The voice cut through like a whip crack, and Finn spun around – part in shock, part in fury as he realised Paulsen was now standing behind him.
‘I told you to stay put. Move back.’
Portbury held up the lighter.
‘I’d do as he says.’
Paulsen held her ground and Finn recognised the look in her eye. Wild and blazing. He’d seen it before, earlier that week in Cedar House when she’d completely lost control. The situation was threatening to come off the rails, if it’d ever been on them.
‘You do this, then the last thing you’re doing is absolving yourself.’
‘Paulsen,’ said Finn, but she ignored him and Portbury smiled.
‘I know what you’re thinking. Some sort of reverse psychology? You believe if you can find the right words you can get through to me. Change my mind. You think if you hold eye contact, impress me with your courage, make a big speech, you and you alone can end this. Well you’re wrong. You’ve been watching too many films.’
‘I understand you better than you think,’ she said.
‘I doubt it,’ he said, before turning back to Finn. ‘You have everything you need now. You know what happened here five years ago, and you know why I killed those men. Make sure the truth comes out, make sure what they did is made public.’
Paulsen took another step closer, determined not to be ignored.
‘You don’t own guilt, Stuart. I know exactly what you�
�ve been living with because I killed a man once.’
The words echoed around the rooftop.
‘Not the same thing, you’re police,’ said Portbury. He was still holding the silver lighter up; it dazzled occasionally as it caught the early evening sun. Paulsen took yet another step forwards.
‘I didn’t burn them alive, shoot them or stab them. But I was responsible. I wanted it to happen. And it did.’
Another step.
‘I’m warning you,’ said Portbury.
‘Mattie . . .’ whispered Finn. She ignored him.
‘You know what I’ve learnt about guilt? It isn’t always rational. It’s just a weight you carry and if you’re not careful it’ll crush you in the end, whether you deserve it or not.’ The words seemed to register. For the first time, Finn saw doubt in Portbury’s eyes. ‘You can still put this right,’ continued Paulsen.
She was now almost within arm’s length of him. Finn reckoned if he lit the flame she was close enough now to be caught in the resulting fireball. He looked around, desperate for some sign Samuels was close, but could see nothing.
‘The way I see it . . . a man is a sum of his choices,’ said Portbury. ‘You made a choice once maybe, but they made mine for me. I never asked to have someone’s death on my conscience.’
‘Then face up to it and deal with it. Because to end it like this achieves nothing. It’s just—’
‘A coward’s choice?’ said Portbury. ‘You say you understand me. If that were true, then why would you want to go on living?’
‘Because we have to,’ said Finn quietly. ‘Because we owe it to the dead, to take responsibility for our actions.’ He looked across at Paulsen. ‘Don’t we?’
For a moment all three of them stood there in silence. Three damaged people, Finn would later reflect. Portbury slowly shook his head.
‘I’m sorry but this choice is mine, no one gets to take it away from me.’
He flicked the lighter’s flint wheel with his thumb. Finn dived forwards, throwing his arms around Paulsen, swinging her round and pulling her back in a single movement. For an instant the flint wheel sparked, but before it could engage there was a crackle of automatic fire and Portbury buckled to the ground. Samuels was stood around twenty feet away at a diagonal to them, with his weapon raised. Blood started to pool under Portbury’s head. Paulsen wrenched herself free from Finn’s grip and sprinted over. She sank to her knees, her eyes fixed on the body in front of her, her face impassive.
The Burning Men Page 27