by Jack Gatland
‘No funny tricks, or she dies,’ he said as he waited for the phone to answer. ‘Come on, where are you…’ he disconnected and redialled, still to no answer.
‘Oh dear,’ Declan replied. ‘Looks like things aren’t going well there. The question is, did my daughter beat the snot out of your daughter, or did my team get in there first?’
Karl looked around the car park, as if expecting armed police to leap out at any moment.
‘Don’t worry,’ Declan continued. ‘I didn’t bring anyone. It’s just us. And the coin. You said tails, right?’
And with that, Declan flipped the coin high into the air.
29
Heads Or Tails
Karl, obviously more nervous about this coin flip than any other he’d flipped in the past, watched the coin as it lazily turned in the air, reaching its peak before falling.
He wasn’t however watching Declan, who, having never cared about the coin’s result, took this moment to charge in heavily, slamming into Karl, sending them both to the muddy car park floor as the coin landed, unseen in the darkness.
Declan was military trained, but so was Karl; he might not have used it over the last three decades, but the German was a killer; cold, calculating and fighting for his life for probably the first time in years. This would not be as easy, Declan thought as—
Karl rolled up quickly, slamming his elbow towards Declan’s stomach; but the move had been telegraphed, and Declan managed to desperately block it with his forearm, smacking it aside as he grabbed at Karl’s arm, turning it into a hip toss, sending Karl flying onto the bonnet of the Peugeot with a crunch.
‘That was for dad, you wanker,’ Declan hissed as he charged back in, only to catch a boot in the face, Karl kicking out and sending Declan staggering back as Karl tore the windscreen wiper off the car, whipping it at Declan’s face like a rapier, catching his cheek, the vicious cut welling up with blood as Declan blocked another attack with his shoulder, letting the momentum carry him into a wicked sidekick that caught Karl square in the midsection, the air expelling with a whuff as Karl crumpled to the floor.
‘Careful, Declan,’ he chuckled. ‘You break me, you might have nothing left to arrest.’
‘Who said anything about arresting you?’ Declan snapped back as he moved in for the kill.
‘I’m ending you.’
The door to the workshop crashed open as Billy slammed his foot against the door handle, and Anjli ran in, brandishing the baton.
‘Armed police!’ she shouted. ‘On the floor now!’
Jess and Ilse were in the workshop's corner; Ilse had the better of Jess and was pushing her backwards over the counter, a length of chain pressed against her opponent’s throat. However, as the door crashed open, she momentarily glanced towards it, and Jess grabbed hold of a cordless drill on the worktop and swung it hard, the battery base of the drill connecting hard against Ilse’s skull, sending her tumbling to the ground, disorientated.
‘Get up,’ Jess hissed, sweat dripping from her face as she wiped at it with her arm, the drill still in her hand. ‘I haven’t finished with you.’
‘Yes you have,’ Anjli replied as she grabbed the confused Ilse from the ground, pulling her hands behind her back and cuffing her. ‘You’ve done enough. Stand down.’
‘Have you heard from dad?’ Jess asked, leaning against the wooden counter, gulping in large, thankful breaths as she placed the drill back on the worktop. Billy shook his head.
‘We think we know where he went, but it’s a cellular dead zone there half the time,’ he replied. ‘The bosses are all on their way though.’
There was a roar of a motorcycle engine, and the door lit up with a mixture of headlamps and bright blue flashing lights.
‘Cavalry’s finally arrived then,’ Anjli mocked. Moments later De’Geer and Bullman ran in, ready for a fight, but stopped as they saw the scene on the floor.
‘Ah. We’re not needed then. Good show,’ Bullman said to Anjli, who smiled.
‘Girl did it, not me,’ she said.
Bullman looked at Jess, her breathing now back to normal.
‘I see no girl,’ she stated. ‘All I see is a highly competent woman.’
Jess smiled. ‘Thanks, ma’am.’
‘It doesn’t matter that you have me,’ Ilse muttered to Jess. ‘My father will kill your father, and then we will both walk free.’
‘Yeah, about that,’ Bullman walked over and knelt in front of Ilse. ‘He did without you for thirty years. You think he’ll risk everything for a daughter he barely knows? Who’s on charges of kidnapping, accessory to murder—‘
‘Attempted murder of a minor,’ Jess added.
‘That as well,’ Bullman smiled, looking back to Ilse. ‘Face it, love. Even in the remote chance he wins, he’s not risking his freedom. Men like him never do. You’re screwed.’
De’Geer moved in and grabbed Ilse, pulling her to her feet and pulling her outside where, in the distance, more police sirens could be heard, more backup from Maidenhead as Jess walked over to Anjli.
‘Armed police?’ She enquired. Anjli grinned, showing the extendable baton.
‘A technicality,’ she replied. ‘And it always makes them look, doesn’t it?’
Billy was working through messages on a phone that he’d found on the worktop.
‘They’re at the Dew Drop Inn,’ he said as he looked up. ‘But Karl doesn’t intend to walk out with Declan still alive.’
‘That’s fine,’ Jess forced a smile. ‘Dad probably has the same idea. Does anyone have…’
And without finishing, Jess’ eyes rolled back into her head as she finally passed out, collapsing to the ground in a heap.
Karl parried a foot to the head and swept Declan’s legs out from under him, sending his opponent to the floor. Now up and moving, Karl ran back to his car, a slow, limping run which showed that the German was feeling the injuries.
‘Running away?’ Declan cried out as he climbed to his feet. ‘You goddamn coward!’
Karl reached into the glove compartment of his car and pulled out a folding cut-throat straight razor. Straightening up, he started back towards Declan, the blade now out.
‘I used this on Craig Randall,’ he said. ‘And Michael Bose, back in Paris. What do you say? Third time’s the charm?’
He slashed at Declan, who staggered back, trying not to overbalance as Karl kept moving in, the straight razor glinting in the car headlights. Declan darted right, towards the Dew Drop Inn and the scaffolding around it as Karl moved after him like some kind of insane, German Terminator.
‘Where are your funny lines now, Declan?’ Karl shouted. ‘Where are your arrogant beliefs in yourself? All those times I pretended to be your friend, and not once did you think I was lying! I even came into your house after I stole your father’s computer and offered to stay with the glazier! Me! Alone in your father’s house! What would he have said!’
He slashed again at Declan, who retreated behind a skip, looking for something he could use as a weapon.
Slash. Slash.
‘And then, you come to me through the back garden!’ Karl continued. ‘That was a clever idea, to use the back fence, it meant the police could not work out how you escaped. I used it tonight, when we removed your daughter from the house without that bitch of a neighbour across the street seeing!’
Slash. Sla—
Declan swung hard with a piece of plywood, a torn scrap of framing, but large enough to do some damage. Karl ducked away from most of the blow, but the torn edge of the wood slammed him hard in the forehead and now, bleeding from the cut he stumbled back.
‘Just shut up,’ Declan said, moving in once more. ‘Shut up and damn well die.’
Karl’s face was ashen now as he realised that this could actually be a fight he was going to lose.
‘Your daughter by now is arrested or worse,’ Declan continued. ‘Your CIA friends haven’t turned up, and the police aren’t here to finish this. I’m here to finish t
his. Here—‘
He pulled a business card out of his pocket. It was one of his Temple Inn ones, and on the back was a stick man with a scythe, drawn in blue ink. He tossed it to Karl.
‘Pick it up,’ he hissed. ‘Let’s start a new cult. The Blue Executioner. Doesn’t have the same ring as yours, but hell, I only intend to use it once.’
Karl raised up his straight razor, but Declan kicked out at the hand, sending the blade clattering across the carpark tarmac. Walking to the syringe, Declan picked it up, turning back to Karl.
‘Time for an overdose, you son of a bitch,’ he snarled as he walked back towards Karl, now trying to back away while still in a sitting position.
‘Wait!’ Karl begged. ‘We can talk about this!’
‘Did the others beg?’ Declan asked. ‘Did you hear their pleas? Did you ignore them? Force them to die?’ He tossed the syringe over to Karl, where it came to a rest against his thigh.
‘Your American friends aren’t coming,’ Declan smiled darkly. ‘I called in a favour. You’re more good to them gone than still around.’
‘I will make sure they—‘
‘Stop!’ Declan screamed. ‘Don’t you get it? I’m not arresting you! The name Karl Schnitter will never be spoken again after tonight! You’re gone, forgotten, removed!’ He pointed at the syringe.
‘That’s your only honourable way out. To do what others did before you. To accept the ruling of the Red Reaper and kill yourself.’
Karl stared at the syringe, at the death within it, and shook his head.
‘No,’ he whispered as he tossed it aside. ‘I will not play this game. Arrest me and let us get this over with.’
From the bridleway there was the sound of a car arriving at speed, and Doctor Marcos’ Mercedes skidded into view as almost before it stopped, Monroe, Freeman and Doctor Marcos emerged from it, running towards the two men.
‘Don’t do it, Declan!’ Freeman shouted. ‘We’ve got Jess. She’s safe. And Ilse is under lock and key.’
Declan turned back to Karl to see him smiling.
‘And now the police are here, and normality returns,’ he said gratefully, climbing painfully to his feet, holding his hands out. ‘Please, arrest me.’
Monroe went to walk forward, but Freeman halted him.
‘We can’t,’ he muttered. ‘The CIA has claimed him the moment we place handcuffs on him. He won’t see a moment of prison time.’
‘Then what do we do?’ Monroe snapped as Karl laughed.
‘You could let me go free?’ he suggested. But Declan simply smiled again as, in the distance, they could hear another vehicle approaching.
‘Not happening,’ he said as a grey van pulled into the car park, looking remarkably like the one that had abducted Declan a couple of days earlier. It pulled up beside Karl and stopped, the side doors opening and three men leaping out, grabbing him by the arms.
‘Wait!’ Karl cried out. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I second that!’ Monroe joined in. ‘What the hell is this, Declan?’
The driver’s side door opened and Tom Marlowe emerged, nodding to Monroe.
‘It’s justice, uncle,’ he said simply. ‘Justice for all that were killed, in particular Christine and Patrick Walsh.’ He turned to the terrified Karl.
‘Hello, Wilhelm,’ he said with a relaxed grin. ‘We have some people who want to chat to you in a deep, dark, government black site. And we have some German buddies who are mightily pissed that you shot one of their own. They’ve asked for some pounds of flesh, too.’
‘When my friends hear what you’ve done to me—‘ Karl started, but stopped when Declan put up a finger to stop him.
‘How will they hear?’ he asked. ‘Seriously. Tell me. I won’t be telling anyone about tonight. As far as I’m concerned, and as my report will state, you escaped and left your daughter to rot in prison.’ He looked to Freeman. ‘We’ll leave the case open, the CIA won’t be able to argue it, and justice will be served.’
Monroe also looked at Freeman. ‘You okay with this?’ he asked. To his surprise, Freeman nodded.
‘I don’t have to be okay with it,’ he replied calmly. ‘Because when we got here, Declan was alone. Isn’t that right, DCI Monroe?’
‘I don’t think I’ll be DCI much longer,’ Monroe said. ‘But, if I’m going to be kicked out for doing something against the rules, this is a pretty solid one to do.’ He looked at Doctor Marcos. ‘You?’
‘I’m only happy with this, if you send me pictures of what you do to him,’ Doctor Marcos said to Marlowe, who nodded.
‘That can be arranged,’ he said, nodding to the three men who pulled the kicking and screaming Karl into the van. Declan walked up to the door, facing his one-time friend.
‘You helped me when I needed you, so I will never forget that,’ he said. ‘That’s the only reason I didn’t kill you tonight. That, and that the amount of pain and suffering you’ll endure for the rest of your life will be punishment enough for the people you killed.’
He looked to Marlowe.
‘Make sure it’s a long life,’ he ordered. ‘I didn’t give him to you, to make Ilse an orphan.’
Marlowe nodded, climbing into the van and, with a last wink to Monroe, he started up the engine.
‘Laddie,’ Monroe walked up to the window. ‘Tell her… tell her I hope she’s happy, and if she is, I’m glad.’
Marlowe grinned.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen her happy, but I’ll tell her,’ he said as the van drove away into the Berkshire night.
There was a moment of silence in the car park.
Declan stretched, feeling his shoulder, wincing at the pain.
‘Gunshot wound opened?’ Monroe asked as Declan nodded. ‘Well, it serves you right for being a bloody martyr, then.’
‘How did you find me?’ Declan looked up to all three officers. ‘I didn’t tell anyone.’
‘Tracker in the car,’ Doctor Marcos smiled. ‘It’s always the tracker, Declan. God, you still have so much to learn.’
‘Jess?’
‘Being taken to St Mark’s hospital now,’ Freeman patted Declan on the arm. ‘You know how you’ve been a pain in my neck on this? I’m afraid I had to return the favour, and I called her mum. Sorry.’
Declan nodded. To be honest, having Lizzie angry at him while Jess was safe was the best of the outcomes he’d envisioned for this night.
‘We should get out of here too,’ Doctor Marcos continued. ‘We need that shoulder looked at, and we need to confirm the story that we’re telling everyone.’
‘It’s simple,’ Monroe nodded to Declan. ‘Karl and Ilse kidnapped his kid, he went to negotiate, our guys saved Jess and realising this, Karl ran, never to be seen again.’
‘That works for me, as long as you’re all okay with that,’ Declan nodded, but then stopped, looking out across the car park.
‘Have any of you got torches?’ he asked.
‘What now?’ Monroe muttered. ‘Did you lose your car keys?’
‘More a fatal overdose of heroin,’ Declan replied, scanning the floor. ‘Thought it might be an idea to pick it up before we leave.’
And with their smartphones out as torches, Declan, two DCIs and a Divisional Surgeon played a midnight game of hunt the syringe, while in a van three miles to the east, the Red Reaper was taken to face real justice.
Epilogue
It took another week before the fallout finally settled.
Declan had returned to the hospital to face a furious Lizzie; he’d expected this, and although Jess was awake and explaining that she’d only passed out due to shock, the bruises on her wrists and around her throat gave the true story that she was trying to gloss over with bravado and, when Lizzie grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a corridor, he was ready for whatever words she had to say.
He wasn’t however ready for the words that she did say.
‘I’m speaking to a solicitor later,’ she hissed at him, pushing him against a
corridor wall. ‘We’re going to petition to have you removed from custody for Jess. I don’t want you near my daughter ever again.’
‘Lizzie, you can’t—‘
‘I can’t what?’ She snapped back, tears welling in her eyes, tears of anger and fury. ‘Jess almost died, Declan! She almost died, and you put her into that situation! She’s fifteen!’
Lizzie looked away, taking in deep breaths to calm herself.
‘I don’t know what’s happened to you, but you’re not the man I married, fell in love with. You’ve thrown yourself at every opportunity to kill yourself ever since your bloody dad died. And I’m sick of it, Declan. And I’m sick of you trying to drag our daughter with you. If it’s not men stealing her bag, it’s women trying to murder her.’
She looked away.
‘Not anymore, Declan. You’re toxic. You destroy everything you touch. And I’ll be damned if I’m losing Jess to that.’
Declan stared at Lizzie for a long moment before speaking.
‘I agree,’ he whispered. ‘You don’t need to spend money on a solicitor, I agree. I didn’t think this would happen, and I didn’t look after my daughter enough.’ He looked through the window at her, currently laughing at something PC De’Geer, who’d been with Declan since he arrived to have his own wound stitched up, was saying.
‘Just tell her I’m sorry,’ he continued. ‘That I’ll call her—‘
‘You’ll do no such bloody thing,’ Lizzie interrupted. ‘You’re a ghost, Declan. I don’t expect to hear from you apart from birthdays and Christmas, you understand?’
Before Declan could answer, Lizzie turned from him, walking back into the ward where she embraced Jess. After a moment of conversation, Lizzie and Jess left together; Lizzie staring straight ahead, while Jess managed a brief nod to her father, standing alone in the hospital corridor.
Karl Schnitter, or Wilhelm Müller rather wasn’t the only one to lose a daughter that day.
After that, things had been a little more normal around the village. Declan still received glares from some villagers, and he understood that. To some of them, people who didn’t know the full story, Declan was involved with one of their own, and the result was a missing, popular local mechanic. There were even rumours that Declan had murdered him, hiding the body in the woods near the Dew Drop Inn, but rumours were just rumours. The truth was far wilder, and Declan had ensured that nobody would ever learn that.