by Bill Ward
You're mine, Sam was thinking, as she aimed at Tom rolling on the ground. She cursed the dog for being in her line of fire and shot it through the head. The dog had been Eduardo’s idea. He had also provided the weapon.
She had been aware of the jogger but not unduly concerned by her close proximity. She knew instantly who was responsible, when the body crashed into her with such force, that it drove all the breath from her lungs even before she hit the hard ground. Her gun skidded away out of reach.
Her attacker had landed on top and her arms were flailing at her body and face in a frenzied attack. Sam parried the blows. Her left hand grabbed the jogger’s collar while her right punched up into the solar plexus. The jogger gasped and Sam grasped a leg and threw her off and to the side. She leapt to her feet and started running back down the hill towards the pond. She barged the couple with their kids out of the way. As she ran she bent and took the second gun from its strapping against the bottom of her leg.
Tom felt the weight of the dead dog collapse on his body. Blood spluttered over him. He had rolled several yards from the killer and as he pushed the dog’s body away he continued to roll and roll away from the direction of the gun. He had expected to hear and feel the next bullet. Then he saw the jogger wrestling the assailant on the ground. It was a very brief image because then the killer was on her feet and running. He climbed unsteadily to his feet. He saw the weapon a few feet away.
As Taylor neared Simpson, lying prone on the ground, he saw Tom stoop to pick up the fallen gun and set off in pursuit of the attacker. The jogger had also regained her feet but was bent double, clutching her stomach and obviously winded. Taylor knelt over Simpson and was relieved to see his eyes flicker open.
"Help's on the way,” he said, then sprung up and began to chase after Tom.
Taylor could see that the attacker was about a hundred yards ahead of Tom who in turn was thirty yards in front of him. He'd not run far before he realised that both of them were rapidly drawing away and the attacker was steadily increasing the distance between herself and Tom. He was too old for this game and was starting to blow hard.
"She's getting away,” he shouted into his radio. "I think she's heading towards Kingston gate. Steve, she’s coming your way. Be careful though. She’s fucking dangerous!"
Tom had slowed his pace to a steady trot. He knew he was losing ground but he didn't have the stamina to keep up his initial sprint. He glanced behind and could see, a long way back, Taylor suffering even worse.
Ten years earlier he'd run around the park a hundred times in training for the London marathon. If you kept close to the wall the circumference was nine miles. The direction they were headed, it had to be at least another mile to the road and just beyond lay another car park and Kingston gate. He hoped Miller and his men were organising a reception committee at the road.
As he ran he had only one thought. Please by some miracle let the man who had saved my life be alive. The overweight so and so had barged him clear and taken a bullet in the process. Never judge a man by the outside.
Tom controlled his breathing, forcing himself to take in and expel oxygen in a steady rhythmical fashion. He could feel the muscles in his legs tightening. He was now two hundred yards behind and the woman in front was showing no signs of flagging.
The terrain was hilly and Tom lost sight of her as she disappeared over the brow of a hill that led down to the road. He pushed himself for a final effort and accelerated a little.
Miller arrived at the spot where Simpson was lying at the same time as Pete who had rushed from the car park. He heard Taylor announce the man was getting away and ask Steve to intercept. He could see Simpson was going to live and decided he was needed elsewhere.
"Where are the car keys?" he asked urgently of Pete.
"In the ignition."
"Stay here and help,” Miller commanded and then was off again, running towards the car park.
His personal backup car, of which Pete was one of two regular drivers, was a Volvo V70. Dave arrived seconds after Miller had already sat himself behind the wheel, pulled open the passenger door and flung himself into the seat.
"What kept you?" Miller asked as he accelerated away, the door not yet closed. He wasn't used to the Volvo and underestimated its power, accelerating too fast, and felt the wheels spin in the gravel. He eased his foot off the accelerator a little and then raced back down the unfinished road connecting the car park for the ponds with the main road, which ran on the inside and parallel to the outer wall of the park. He turned on his siren and lights and drove at a ridiculous speed towards the Kingston gate entrance.
Accelerating over the brow of a hill he noticed Dave give him a look that suggested less than total confidence in his driving. He prayed no deer would decide to take a leisurely stroll across the road. At the speed he was driving it would be like hitting a brick wall. As he finally came in sight of the park gates he could see his own car parked up ahead at the side of the road.
What the hell... The woman they were all chasing had run across the road immediately in front of the car he was driving. He slammed on the brakes and skidded violently onto the grass verge, throwing the rear of the car sideways. He was out and running in seconds, closely followed by Dave but the woman had a hell of a head start and was moving too bloody fast.
The area between the road and the wall, where the woman seemed to be heading, was wooded. Miller slowed slightly as he was unarmed and didn’t want to be retired sooner than planned. The woman was getting herself cornered. He motioned with his arm for Dave to spread out to the left. He had his gun in his hand.
"Steve,” he said into his radio.
"I see you, Boss. I'm coming,” came the instant response.
"What about the cavalry?"
"On their way.”
Miller had been following the woman as much by sound as sight. Suddenly it was quiet up ahead and he could see the wall. He stopped behind a solid oak tree listening for any sound of the woman.
Sam was smiling to herself. She was annoyed she'd once again missed Ashdown but she'd easily outrun her pursuers. At last her running ability had served a purpose. She had never been very excited by running around a track in circles at school but this was completely different. She loved the power in her legs working with purpose to put distance between herself and her pursuers. It was a complete adrenalin rush.
She knew they would expect her to head for the gate but after crossing the crest of the last hill before the road and out of sight of those chasing, she headed not for the gate but a point two hundred yards further up the road.
She heard the siren of the approaching police car and actually saw the look of horror on the face of the driver as she raced across the road. She heard the car skid to a halt behind her but didn't bother turning to look. She had only another hundred yards through the trees to safety.
As the wall loomed up in front she quickly obtained her bearings, found the tree she'd identified much earlier in the evening and made directly for it. She took only a few seconds to climb to the branch that hung over the top of the wall. She moved along the branch, hanging upside down on all fours, until she could sit on the top of the wall. She turned and fired a shot at someone she saw stick his face out from behind a tree, then suspended herself by her fingertips and dropped the few feet to the ground where she knew Eduardo would be waiting.
Miller drove Tom and Taylor back to the ponds car park. They had searched but found no sign of the woman. The consensus was that she had used the tree to escape over the wall into the new housing estate where probably she had a car waiting. Certainly, that was the general direction from which the shot had been fired at Miller. He hadn't heard the shot but heard the impact it made on the bark of the tree he was hiding behind.
From where they lost her to the busy A23 was only five minutes and it would have been easy for her to get away. They were organizing a house to house search of the housing estate but more in the hope someone had seen her, rather than th
inking they would actually find her hiding in some garden bush.
Tom was surprised and relieved to learn Simpson had been wearing a bullet proof vest. When they arrived back at the car park, Pete was waiting to greet them with the news Simpson had been taken away by ambulance but was obviously going to live. The bullet had missed his vest and gone through his upper arm causing just a bit of superficial damage.
“How was the jogger?" Miller asked. “And who the hell was she?”
"I’m fine, thanks,” came the response in a decidedly American accent.
Melanie had been bent over tying up her shoe lace and neither Miller nor Tom had spotted her. Now together they both turned in her direction in shock.
“What the hell were you thinking of!” Tom exclaimed. “Are you raving mad?” He recalled his telephone conversation with Melanie, telling her what he planned to do and her initial protestations. She had asked him specific questions about the location and time of the meeting and now he understood why. He was almost lost for words.
Miller was smiling, observing the interaction between Tom and Melanie. It was the second time he had seem them together and it was apparent to him they had a strong bond.
“Seems to me Miss Adams we all owe you a vote of thanks. Isn’t that so Mr Ashdown?”
Tom mumbled agreement. Melanie had saved his life and he felt a fool for having shouted at her. He moved towards her and took her in his arms. He was oblivious of the faces staring at him as he bent to kiss her.
“Perhaps we should all say thanks like that,” Taylor remarked when Tom had finished.
“Don’t mind if you do,” Melanie joked.
Tom laughed. “As they’re all on duty perhaps I’d better act on their behalf,” and he kissed her again, even more passionately than the first time.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Miller accepted that tip offs were an essential part of policing. This though was taking the piss. An unknown female with an Irish accent had called to report the whereabouts of the body of a certain Brendan Connor. Miller knew who the bloody woman was. Didn’t know her name but knew her work. And she was laughing at him. The caller had directed them to this address but she had also made a point of leaving the message, “better luck next time.”
Miller surveyed the lounge where Connor was found and wondered if this was the end of the killing. Ashdown and Melanie Adams were going to organize permanent bodyguards, which she’d suggested, declining the offer of police protection. Given he had only been proposing a single officer for protection, she had felt the need for a much larger team. Miller was very happy to agree that his officers’ time would be better spent finding the guilty rather than on protection duties.
It was a small terraced house with a musty smell that at first glance looked sparsely furnished. To Miller it looked like a safe house rather than somewhere someone lived permanently. It was probably the bolt hole where Connor had fled from Brighton. Miller smiled at how this young girl had managed to enter the house and kill a professional like Connor.
He certainly wouldn’t bemoan Connor’s passing. In other circumstances he would have raised a glass to the girl. Perhaps it was her very youth that had made him careless and allowed her to get so close. He did wonder if perhaps she had not acted alone. She had been alone though in the park.
What was her reason for killing Connor, he had no idea. Perhaps it was personal. He smiled at the thought Connor was an ex-boyfriend who had dumped her and this was her revenge. Not likely. He was a fair bit older and the girl in the park had been fit and attractive. Miller couldn’t see her being attracted to Connor. But if she was the same woman who had phoned in revealing his whereabouts in Brighton, then she could have been working with him until they had a falling out. That was more likely. He must have really upset her. There was one particular way that came to mind he might have done so. They had been sharing a small hotel room. Miller could easily imagine Connor trying to force himself on her. That might have made her mad enough to want to get back at him.
There was one other personal involvement she could have had. Connor had almost certainly been responsible for the death of Murphy. Could she have been Murphy’s girlfriend maybe? He put a call into the office. He needed to know if Murphy had a girlfriend. At the same time he was informed Simpson had come through with the full background check on Ashdown and it was waiting for him in the office. Since the events in Richmond Park, he had pretty much lost interest in Ashdown so felt in no rush to see the contents of the report.
Miller had an idea. He approached the Chief Inspector responsible for the investigation and confirmed he was indeed not joking, once he had explained what he wanted. Connor was no longer dead. The idea was full of holes but there was just the chance he could use a not dead Connor to get to the informant if he did exist. Miller made it clear to the Chief Inspector that he could forget about his pension if news of Connor’s death leaked out.
It was a long shot because in all likelihood Jones or whoever the informant was, was working with the damn girl and already knew full well Connor was dead. Hell he might even have ordered it! But there was just a slim chance that the girl was working independently, for personal reasons and the informant may not be in the loop. Miller was still of the opinion that there were at least two teams playing in this game, so he had to play out the hand and see if his bluff would come good.
Sam knew full well what she was going to do. She just didn’t know whether she should tell Eduardo anything and invite the inevitable argument. She reasoned that nobody in their right mind would go after Ashdown, after what had happened in the park. They would expect her to have flown the country and Ashdown to be out of danger. She was sure she had the advantage of surprise for one final attempt on Ashdown. She knew where he worked and was confident she could get close enough for a shot. The cold weather would provide the perfect excuse for covering her face under a scarf and hat. She wasn’t going to just give up. She’d dealt with Connor and needed one last attempt at Ashdown.
Eduardo had gone out for a walk, saying he needed to stretch his legs and make a couple of phone calls. His business would not run itself. On his return he had suggested she accompany him while he ran one further errand, with the promise of dinner afterwards. She decided to hold off discussing what she wanted to do until dinner. Men always listened better over a meal with a drink in their hand.
Eduardo had driven the Mercedes he had hired to help Sam escape from Richmond Park for thirty minutes, when he pulled into the car park of a country park, which from the signs she’d been seeing was somewhere near Slough. He had driven straight to the park without needing his Sat Nav so it was obvious he had been there before.
She had also seen the signs for Heathrow airport, which was nearby and thought the close proximity was probably not a coincidence. There were just a handful of other cars parked. One man was holding open the boot of his car while a medium sized golden retriever jumped in the back. She was intrigued by who Eduardo was meeting but didn’t ask. It was his business and he would tell her if he wanted her to know.
“We are early,” Eduardo announced, glancing at his watch. “Let’s take a walk.”
Sam followed him down a well-trodden path. There seemed to be nobody around. Not really surprising given the weather. She zipped up the bright pink ski jacket she was wearing, removed the matching knitted gloves from her pockets, putting them on as she walked. The jacket, gloves and jeans she was wearing were all newly purchased that morning while Eduardo was out seeing to his business.
He moved slightly off the path into some bushes and trees. She was used to clandestine meetings in strange places and followed, intrigued to know where they were headed. She bumped into him as he stopped and suddenly turned towards her. He leaned into her and kissed her passionately on the lips. “We have some time to kill,” he smiled. “We might as well enjoy ourselves.”
Sam knew what he was suggesting and was very excited by the idea. She liked spontaneity. She glanced to either side but there w
as no one else visible in the vicinity. Anyway, she quite liked the idea there was the possibility of someone walking by and seeing what she was doing.
She was quickly on her knees tugging at the belt to his trousers. The floor felt cold and damp beneath her knees. She hoped he wouldn’t find it too cold and change his mind once she exposed him to the elements. He immediately encouraged her and when she enveloped his half erect form in her mouth she felt him quickly become fully hard. She was impressed the cold didn’t affect him. He immediately started thrusting. It was different to before. He went deeper than usual and didn’t stop even when she gagged a little.
“Don’t stop,” he demanded.
Sam had no intention of stopping. She offered her throat as best she could to his urgent and deep thrusts. Every few thrusts she had to draw back to stop herself gagging too much. His hands held the back of her head, encouraging her to take him ever deeper. She was careful to maintain eye contact all the time. She wanted to please Eduardo. He had done so much for her. His grunts and faster thrusts told her what to expect. When he exploded in her mouth she was careful to waste nothing and smiled broadly when she had finished swallowing.
“That was different,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” he replied, quickly tucking himself back in his trousers with one hand.
“Don’t be silly. I loved it.”
She was still on her knees as he moved behind her. He bent down and kissed her lightly on the neck. He pulled her head back and smiled. He slipped his hand inside his jacket. “I really am sorry,” he repeated.
Sam didn’t understand why he was saying he was sorry until she saw the knife in his hand. She still didn’t really understand but without hesitation he swung the knife in an arc towards her throat. As she tried to move away she realized he still had a firm grip on the back of her hair and she was unable to avoid the blade slashing across her exposed throat. Her eyes pleaded with him for understanding. Her final thought was of her brother.