“In the office at the back of the unit, Guv,” came the reply.
“Mmm, I need him out in the open really. Hold your position.”
“Guv,” the officer confirmed.
The teams Anderson had with him were from the local Armed Response Unit and the Serious Organised Crime Unit, who Anderson had been liaising closely with, as they tracked Anic’s movements and worked out his business dealings and organisational structure. But Anderson knew that this was his last chance of being involved with any investigation into Anic. All future cases would be dealt with by the newly formed National Crime Agency, “the British FBI” as it was already being dubbed by the media and local officers. So Anderson really wanted this last chance to bring the Croatian to justice, before all his files were handed over to the NCA, and he once more swore out his frustration.
His main concern was arresting everyone without any injuries to either his team or Anic’s men. He was worried about going in while Anic was holed up in his office. The Croatian could decide to make a stand if he was armed and angry enough and barricade himself in his office. That would not constitute ‘coming quietly’ as far as Anderson was concerned. It wouldn’t be the sensible thing to do, but Anderson didn’t think Anic was in the least bit sensible. His track record proved that he used force rather than diplomacy in his dealings with people and Anderson couldn’t take a chance on Anic actually showing any glimmer of rationality when put under pressure.
Anderson had teams concealed on either side of the unit, as well as the front and the back of it and was just working on a ploy to get Anic outside in the car park, when he heard a roar of anger coming from the body shop.
“All units make ready. Anic could be on the move,” Anderson whispered into his radio and heard in his imagination the clicks of all the sniper rifles, semi-automatic guns and small firearms being cocked and made ready.
Just then Anic appeared at the front door of the unit, shouting and gesticulating. He seemed to be issuing orders to the several men that had emerged from nowhere and were now surrounding him. Anderson put his binoculars to his eyes and fixed them on Anic. He could see the anger in the man’s red face. As he screamed, spittle flew from his mouth, covering the man he was shouting at.
“All teams, go go go!” shouted Anderson, making the split second decision that this was his ideal opportunity to go in. Whilst Anic was angry and distracted. Anderson presumed Anic had just had a call from Wainwright telling him he wasn’t going to turn up with the drugs after all. A situation which suited Anderson nicely.
He stayed behind the cars of the armed officers that burst into the yard and screeched to a halt. As the police emerged from their cars, their shouted orders caught all the men by surprise, causing confusion in Anic’s ranks. Anderson wasn’t surprised by their reaction. The cacophony of voices all shouting, “Armed police!” “Stand still!” “Do not move!” “Hands on your head!” “Drop your weapon!” over and over again was frightening and disorienting. Although he had expected the melee, even Anderson was rather overwhelmed with the noise and confusion it provoked.
The dark blue uniforms of the officers and the stomping of their high booted feet gave the impression of a marauding army of beetles, swarming all over the unit and the car park. He watched as a line of them forced their way into the unit itself, emerging a few moments later with three men, all disarmed and with their hands on their heads.
Not being armed himself, Anderson had to wait until everyone had been contained before emerging from behind the safety of a police car. He strode over to Josip Anic and stood just that bit too close to the man, hoping to unsettle Anic further by invading his personal space.
“Good morning, Josip. Remember me?”
“Anderson, what the hell do you want?” As he spat the words out it was clear Anic’s anger hadn’t subsided. Well it wouldn’t have done, though Anderson wryly to himself. The raid would have just wound him up even tighter.
“Just wondering who you were waiting for,” Anderson said.
“Waiting for? I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” Anic’s face was still flushed red.
“Oh, I thought you were waiting for Bob Wainwright and his heroin from Afghanistan.”
Anderson saw Anic’s body still as he digested that piece of information. Then his face went blank. “No comment,” was all he said with a small upward nod of his head.
“Really?” asked Anderson. “Then what is all this for?” and at his nod a member of the response team threw a bag full of money on the floor between the two men. “I bet this lot is payment for the drugs. All ready and waiting for Wainwright, eh?”
“No comment.”
“Whatever,” Anderson swept Anic’s words away with his hand and then cleared his throat, stood up straight, brushed down his tweed jacket and looking into Anic’s eyes said, “Josip Anic I am arresting you for conspiracy to purchase and distribute Class A drugs. Anything you say…”
As Anderson finished the official wording of the Police Caution, Anic didn’t slump under the weight of the words as Anderson had expected, but shook himself free of the two officers detaining him.
Flexing his muscled arms, he spat, “I said no comment, you bastard.” The accompanying piercing stare would have frightened a lesser police officer, but Anderson had too many years’ service under his belt and he merely laughed in the gangster’s face.
The Hand Over
Kerry was getting a bit fed of up waiting. She fidgeted uncontrollably. Firstly, patting Tyler’s back, then rubbing it, then rocking her, then smoothing down her hair. Finally, she spoke. “Are you sure they’ll be here soon?” she asked Padre Symmonds.
“Oh, very sure. Don’t worry, Kerry.”
“It’s just I can’t believe it’s taking them so long. Don’t they want Tyler back?”
“I know that they very much want Tyler back, Kerry.”
“Well, I hope they do. And I hope they are ready to mend their ways.”
“Mend their ways? Whatever do you mean?”
“Well,” Kerry looked around to make sure no one else was there and listening to their conversation, “I suppose I might as well tell you now. Then you can speak to them. The voice of authority as it were. Tell them.”
The Padre moved from behind his desk and sat on the easy chair opposite her. “Okay, I’m listening,” he said and leaned towards her as if he was slightly deaf and wanted to make sure he caught all her words. “What do you want me to tell them?”
“I don’t know if you know, but they’re not very good parents.” She had leaned forward as she spoke the words and then sat up straight, a note of triumph in her voice and nodded to the Padre. “I know Julie from the Mother and Baby Group and she was always saying that her husband Bob was never at home. Never seemed to do much around the house. Never seemed to have any time for Tyler.”
She could see the Padre was listening closely to her words, so she decided to continue. “He used to shout a lot, apparently. Shouted at her. Shouted at the baby. Got upset and angry when Julie couldn’t keep Tyler quiet. I ask you, what sort of father is that?”
That had set the Padre straight. She could see it. Disbelief that parents could act like that was etched on his face. It gave her the impetus she needed to continue.
“And Julie wasn’t much better, you know. I ask you, leaving the baby outside a shop while she went to get pasties for her husband’s lunch. I would have told him to get his own lunch as I was with the baby.” She nodded in agreement with her words and smiled a smug smile. “Honestly, why couldn’t she put the baby first? That’s what a mother has to do, you know. Put her baby first. Protect her above anything and anyone else.”
That made her think of Molly and her eyes filled with tears.
“I wasn’t given the chance to do that. To protect Molly as she grew up. A chance to show her how much I loved her by making her the centre of my world.”
She managed to sniff back the tears. For this was no time for looking back at her
own life. It was all about looking forward and Tyler’s life. “That’s what Julie has to do now,” she said. “You see that don’t you?”
It would appear the Padre did, for he nodded his head in agreement.
“Um,” he said, “sorry Kerry, but who is Molly?”
“Why my own lovely baby,” Kerry said thinking the man was going a bit mad. It wasn’t that difficult to understand, surely. “Don’t you remember? She died in the night so I left her here so you could look after her.” Kerry couldn’t stop her tears. They seemed to have a life of their own, falling out of her eyes without restraint onto the top of Tyler’s head. “You did look after her didn’t you? You must have done. Tell me you have!”
“Of course I did, Kerry.”
“Did you bury her? Laid her to rest here at the church?” Kerry bawled and wrapped her arms around Tyler, trying to get some comfort from cuddling the child that she would soon have to give back.
“Yes, I gave her a proper funeral and burial, Kerry. It’s alright, there’s no need to get so upset.”
The Padre’s words were soothing and Kerry tried to control her emotions by remembering why she was here.
“But I didn’t know her name, so I haven’t done a headstone yet,” the Padre continued.
“Oh.” Kerry cocked her head on one side, trying to remember what she did all those weeks ago. She was still crying, but had managed to calm her breathing and the sobs were subsiding.
“You’re right. I should have left a letter or something shouldn’t I? Then you would have known her name was Molly.” She swiped away the tears from her cheeks using the sleeve of her coat.
“Not to worry, I know now,” replied the Padre. “Would you like to see where she’s buried?”
“Oh, yes please. That would be lovely.”
The Padre went to get out of his chair.
“Oh, not yet,” Kerry shouted at him. “We can’t go yet. We’ve got to wait for Julie and Bob. We’ll go afterwards. And don’t forget you have to explain to them what bad parents they used to be so they’ll understand what they’ve done wrong. They must promise you that they’ll try to be better parents. Promise to put the baby first in future.”
“Yes, of course,” the Padre agreed and sat back in his chair. “More coffee?”
Kerry nodded and watched Padre Symmonds as he fussed over his coffee pot. What a silly man he was, she thought. Thinking I would go to see Molly before I’ve sorted Tyler out. That’s the trouble with men. They never think rationally when it comes to babies. She did hope he’d get her message across to the Wainwrights. Make them understand they had to put Tyler first. She stroked the baby’s back again and murmured to her, telling her mummy would be here soon and then she could go home.
She was interrupted by a noise outside the Padre’s office. He looked up from the coffee pot and said, “Just stay there a minute, Kerry. It sounds like Bob and Julie are here.”
Kerry breathed deeply several times. To make sure she was ready to do this. To hand Tyler back to her parents. As Julie came into the room, Kerry stood and faced her.
“Hello, Julie,” Kerry said, wrapping her arms protectively around Tyler in the carrier. “How lovely to see you again. Why don’t you sit down? I’m sure the Padre will make you a cup of coffee. It’s really rather good. Does Bob want one as well?” Kerry turned and looked at Bob Wainwright.
His face was inscrutable. Typical soldier, thought Kerry. Won’t show his emotions. Won’t give away how he’s feeling. She still wasn’t sure about him. Wasn’t sure that he was capable of being a good father. But she had to trust the Padre, she supposed.
“I, don’t, um,” Julie stammered a reply to the offer of coffee.
Kerry wondered why she looked so pale and skinny. “Have you been ill?” she asked her, worried now that Julie wasn’t in any fit state to look after Tyler.
“Ill? No, no, just a bit…”
“Ah, I understand,” nodded Kerry. “Just a bit worried about Tyler?”
“Yes, could I have her back now?” and Julie reached out her arms towards the baby strapped to Kerry.
“In a minute.” Kerry took a step back from her. “The Padre has something to say to you and your husband first. Haven’t you Padre?”
37
Julie Wainwright walked into the Padre’s small office in the church with more than a bit of trepidation. She couldn’t bring herself to believe that at last she would get Tyler back. But as she looked around and her gaze lit upon Kerry, she began to believe it may actually be true after all, for there was Kerry, large as life, with a baby in a carrier strapped to her chest.
Julie knew her appearance wasn’t up to much. She had lost at least a stone in weight and her skin was in the most appalling condition with spots breaking out on her chin and worry lines that were probably permanent, carved into her forehead. But Kerry didn’t look a picture herself. Her red spiralled curls were stuck out from her head like an incongruous afro. She had inexpertly applied green eye shadow and her lips were a garish slash of red that clashed with her ginger hair.
Kerry was sat in a comfortable chair, near the coffee pot and invited Julie to sit opposite her. She’d rather have her baby back than sit down, but did as she was asked, wondering how long this stupid charade was going to go on for. Then Kerry offered her coffee - just as if they’d been meeting at one another’s houses, or at the mother and baby group. It was beyond belief! She shot a look at Bob. But he was of no help, for he had his soldier’s face on as she called it. The one that said he was behind his barrier. Emotionless. Aloof. Oblivious to her distress.
Groping behind her, she managed to collapse into a chair before she fell over and mumbled something to the offer of coffee. But she did manage to find her voice and ask for her baby back. In response to that, Kerry told them the Padre had something to say to them first, so they all turned towards Padre Symmonds. They moved woodenly, as if they were puppets, unable to move voluntarily, only able to dance to Kerry’s tune, for the mad woman held their strings.
To be truthful, Julie wasn’t taking in any of the Padre’s words. She vaguely heard him say something about parenting and not leaving the baby alone again. She managed to nod in what she hoped were the right places, for all she could do was stare at the baby in the carrier, who didn’t seem to move much. Perhaps she was asleep? Concentrating on the bulky shape, she was sure she could see Tyler breathing. There was a slight movement of the chest up and down - wasn’t there?
Then the baby cried. It was more like a whimper, really, but it startled them all and stopped Padre Symmonds’ bumbling words about putting the baby first. Kerry looked down at the baby and replaced the dummy her mouth.
Julie heard the Padre say, “Don’t you think you should hand Tyler back now, Kerry?”
Watching Kerry unbuckle the carrier, strap by strap, was agony. Julie wrung her hands together over and over again as she sat on the edge of her seat, poised to take Tyler once she was free. No one spoke. Julie looked up and saw that Sgt Major Crane had slipped silently into the room and joined them. She also caught sight of Kim Symmonds, who was standing in the doorway. Everyone was watching Kerry.
At last the straps were all undone and Kerry cradled the baby in her arms. She leaned down and kissed her cheek, then held her out to Julie.
With arms that didn’t seem to belong to her, Julie reached out towards Tyler as she stood up. Kerry stood as well and at last put Tyler back into her mother’s arms.
“Thank you so much, Kerry,” the Padre said and immediately moved to stand between the two women. He was probably making sure Kerry couldn’t grab her back, thought Julie as she adjusted the child in her arms to make sure she had a better hold on her.
“Why don’t you go with my wife Kim?” the Padre asked Kerry. “She’ll be happy to show you where Molly is buried.”
Kerry must have agreed, but Julie wasn’t taking any notice, just staring at the child in her arms. Tyler’s hair was the right colour, but not quite the right style. H
er cheeks were all red and rosy which was unusual for Tyler, who only got like that when she was screaming due to teething or colic. Julie could feel Tyler breathing, but no other part of her was moving. Not her head, her arms, nor her legs. She fell back into the chair she had just risen from and as she did she accidently brushed the baby’s face. When she felt the cold porcelain underneath her fingers, she started to scream.
38
Crane had just managed to whisper to Kim, “Hand Kerry over to Billy and Sgt Jones. They’re waiting in the body of the church,” when all hell let loose.
Julie Wainwright started screaming and threw the baby away from her as though it were scorching her hands. He quickly shut the door behind Kim and Kerry, to stop them returning, as the child crashed onto the floor. When he looked back into the room, he saw Tyler lying on the carpet between the two chairs, splayed out on the bright rug.
Wainwright seemed paralysed, as did the Padre, for they were both stood there as if turned to stone by Medusa, staring down at Tyler. So it was Crane who took the few paces from the door to the sitting area. He squatted down to pick up the child, wondering why she hadn’t cried as she hit the floor. And that’s when he saw why she hadn’t. That was when he saw the large crack in her face that ran from her chin up through her nose, travelling up over her forehead and disappearing into her hair. One of her eyes was missing, leaving a gaping hole where the organ should have been. The eyeball itself had rolled away and come to rest against the table leg. It was lying there, staring up at Crane.
He stood and backed away from the doll in horror. He realised what they hadn’t seen before. That the baby Kerry had brought to be handed back to her parents, was nothing more than one of those reborn dolls. He turned to Julie, who was still screaming. He opened his mouth to try and comfort her, but he couldn’t find the right words, couldn’t find any words, and all that happened was that he opened and closed his mouth like a fish beached on the shore. Anyway words couldn’t even begin to describe his own horror and confusion. Underneath that, he felt immense sadness for Julie Wainwright, who didn’t know it yet, but had not only lost her child, but was about to lose her husband. Despite feeling completely inadequate, he realised he must do something, so he grabbed the screaming woman and pulled her close. At his touch, Julie began to calm down, collapsing against him, sobbing, so Crane took her weight and held her upright.
A Soldier's Honour Box Set 2 (Sgt Major Crane crime thrillers Box Set) Page 40