Angel’s screwed up his face. ‘Who says?’
‘The super says … something to do with security. I thought you’d want to know.’
This was a new experience. It had never happened to Angel before. That sort of order was usually reserved for the announcement of the outbreak of a war, but on that morning’s radio news there had not been any hint that any kind of national emergency was imminent. He knew a General Election was expected to be called soon but he couldn’t think that that had anything to do with it. He pursed his lips. It must surely then be something local but very important.
‘Yes. Right, lad, thank you. If you find out anything else, give me a ring, if you can.’ He pocketed the phone and rubbed his chin.
While he had been on the phone, a police patrolman had noticed him and had run out of the office and across the forecourt towards him.
Angel recognized him. It was PC Donohue. ‘Any injuries, Sean?’ Angel said.
‘No, sir. The cashier was scared but I think she’s all right now. The van is the only casualty here,’ Donohue said, pointing at it. ‘They certainly meant business.’
Angel glanced back at it, pursed his lips and blew out a length of air. ‘What happened?’
‘The cashier said that the driver of the ice-cream van drove up to that pump, got out and then disappeared. Shortly afterwards, four men in black balaclavas and gloves came in here and demanded to know where he was, and threatened her with a gun. The cashier said she didn’t know. So they left her and set about attacking the van with iron bars and hammers and in a minute or so they reduced it to that. Then they ran off. Then the cashier locked the office door, switched off the pumps and dialled 999.’
Angel saw two more police Range Rovers arrive and several uniformed policemen on foot.
‘Right, Sean,’ he said. ‘Liaise with the other lads and ask those customers – politely – if they saw anything. If they didn’t, ask them to leave. And tape off the entrance and exit. There might be some closed signs you can put up. Then see if you can see anything around that might have belonged to the vandals – weapons, balaclavas, gloves or anything they might have dropped or discarded.’
‘Right, sir,’ he said and dashed off.
Angel went back across the forecourt up to the pay-office door, opened it and went inside.
He saw a young woman standing behind the counter talking on the phone. She nervously looked across at him and frowned. Her hands were shaking and her face was white – whiter than the walls in the loos at Strangeways.
‘I don’t care about all that,’ she said into the phone. ‘I want my money up to date and my cards. I’m leaving and I’m leaving tonight.’ Then she banged the phone down into the cradle.
‘Who are you?’ she said.
Angel held up his warrant card and badge and said, ‘I’m Detective Inspector Angel, miss. What’s your name?’
She looked at the warrant card, nodded and said, ‘Another policeman! Julia Makepeace.’
‘What exactly happened, Julia?’
‘I’ve already been through it twice.’
He smiled at her gently and said, ‘I know, Julia. I know. But this is absolutely necessary, I assure you. You want us to catch the thugs, don’t you?’
She shrugged awkwardly then said, ‘I s’pose.’
Then she began to tell him just what PC Sean Donohue had said, but more colourfully.
Angel rubbed his chin and said, ‘Did you know the driver of the van?’
‘I never actually saw him, Inspector. I saw the van arrive and stop at pump number two. I noticed it was one of Grogan’s vans. Then a customer came in to pay. I attended to her. When I looked back, he was not around. Couldn’t see him anywhere. Then those thugs arrived. At first they crowded round the van, looking at each other, then they started crossing the forecourt in this direction. I was terrified. They came in here. It was horrifying. They came through that door … all in black, their eyes and lips showing through the knitted balaclavas, one of them carrying a gun.’ She shuddered.
Angel nodded. He understood how frightened she must have been.
‘Then what happened, Julia?’ he said.
‘The one with the gun wanted to know where the driver was. I couldn’t speak, I was that scared. He screamed the question at me again and waved the gun in front of my face. Eventually, I managed to get out that I didn’t know.’
‘Do you remember the exact words he used, Julia? It could be important.’
She narrowed her eyes and said, ‘Yes. I’m pretty certain he said, “Where’s the driver of Grogan’s van?”’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes. He yelled it out loud two or three times. “Where’s the driver of Grogan’s van?”’
Angel nodded. ‘Was there anything unusual about his voice or his clothes or any of the other men’s clothes and voices?’
‘The one with the gun was the only one who spoke,’ she said. ‘He wasn’t from round here. I’m pretty sure it was a cockney accent.’
Angel nodded. ‘Then what happened?’
‘They ran out of here and began to trash the van.’
Angel rubbed his chin. After a few moments, he glanced over the counter at the cash till. He pointed at it with his thumb and said, ‘There’ll be a few quid in there, I expect, Julia?’
‘Over a thousand pounds,’ she said.
‘Didn’t your friends in the balaclavas show any interest in it at all?’ Angel said, raising his eyebrows.
‘No. I thought that that’s what they wanted when they came into the office, but no. And for all I care, Inspector, they could have had it too. I’m not brave. I’m not paid for dealing with men with guns.’
‘Did you see if they had a car?’
‘No. They seemed to arrive from nowhere, did what they did and then dashed off. I don’t know which way they went. I was too scared to look.’
Angel wasn’t learning much. The villains had pretty well covered themselves.
He thanked Julia Makepeace for her patience and left the office. He noticed that the uniformed constables had cleared the forecourt of the general public, taped off the area and formed a line of eight, and were methodically crossing the forecourt with their heads down, searching for clues. He nodded approvingly and crossed the forecourt to reach the constables just as they had completed their search.
He looked at PC Donohue and said, ‘Did you find anything, Sean?’
‘No, sir.’
He wasn’t surprised.
‘Well, thanks anyway, lads,’ he said. ‘Wait until SOCO get here with DS Taylor then return to your normal duties. I’ll get off.’
He turned and made the few steps across the forecourt to his car. He had just fastened the seatbelt and was reaching for the ignition when his mobile rang. It was Harker. He sounded strange. His voice was an octave higher than usual.
‘Ah yes, Angel,’ he said. ‘The chief constable has declared that Bromersley Constabulary is formally on standby. You are to stay exactly where you are until you receive further instructions. And you are to keep your phone line open to receive further orders. So carry on working on your cases, but stay put, so that I know exactly where to find you. All right?’
Angel blinked. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said. ‘But why is—’
Harker had gone. The line was dead.
Angel closed the phone and dropped it into his pocket. Those were exactly the orders Ahmed told him that he had received in the CID office. Angel frowned. It wasn’t likely that the authority of Bromersley Constabulary had been rescinded. Bromersley was a totally responsible force with a high success rate. It must be some significant political or criminal activity that needed the intervention of other specialized organizations such as MI5 or the army.
Angel’s mobile rang again. His hand shook as he opened it. It was Ahmed.
‘What’s happening?’ Angel said.
‘I’ve got this from a constable in the control room, sir. It should be reliable. Apparently, at about nine o’cl
ock this morning there were several big explosions at Grogan’s ice-cream factory. There was a lot of damage to the building and the plant, and there were some injuries and some dead, including Mr Grogan himself. The chief constable promptly decided to bring in the Special Unit of Operations. It was apparently the SUO’s directive that for our own safety we were to keep well away from the site and continue with our routine work. Some members of the gang responsible for the explosions are thought to be still in the building, and the SUO have brought in a team of armed men, track vehicles, even a helicopter. And I understand that there are fire engines from all over … Barnsley, Rotherham and Sheffield. And ambulances from Bromersley General and Barnsley General. And that’s about it, sir.’
Angel looked through the windscreen along the grey bonnet of the car and slowly shook his head. It was a sad day.
‘Does anybody know why?’ he said.
‘No, sir. They don’t know anything more in the control room.’
Angel rubbed his chin, then said, ‘And did you say Raphael Grogan was dead?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Angel said, ‘Right, lad. Thanks very much.’
He closed the phone and slowly dropped it into his pocket. He sighed deeply. His mind was racing as he assimilated the amazing news. He needed to know what was happening. All the action was at Grogan’s ice-cream factory. Although he had been ordered to stay at the service station his investigation there was completed and he had no intention of hanging around wasting time.
He pulled the seatbelt round and clicked the chromium plated lip into position. Then he reached forward, turned on the ignition and the car engine purred into life. He let in the clutch and drove the BMW towards the exit and the blue and white DO NOT CROSS tape. A constable lifted the tape for the car to pass under and then threw up a salute. Angel waved a hand of thanks and pressed on across the pavement and into the main Wakefield Road.
FIFTEEN
As Angel drove the BMW up Wakefield Road towards the Fitzallan Trading Estate he saw a black funnel-shaped cloud directly over the area. The sight made him gasp. As he got nearer, he could see the upward movement of a black column of smoke and then the billowing out creating a mushroom shape. He turned on to the ring road then soon reached the short road on to the Fitzallan Trading Estate. He passed the signboards showing the layout of the estate and the 10mph speed restriction sign. Ahead he heard a short burst of four shots from a gun or a rifle.
His heart began to thump.
He slowly turned the curve in the road and saw an unbelievable sight. Grogan’s factory lay in ruins. Some of the walls were reduced to piles of bricks, the building had no roof and there were black holes where windows and doors had been. The stream of black smoke generating in the middle of the building continued to ascend into the sky. He heard another burst of four rifle shots followed by a response of seven or eight. He couldn’t see the source of the exchange.
Three firemen’s ladders were suspended over the factory roof directing water hoses into the middle of the factory. There were two cars and two three-ton lorries in khaki livery parked on the front of the neighbouring factory unit. A Daimler track vehicle with tin helmets bobbing out of the top of it raced past the side of Grogan’s factory, ripping up the carefully maintained turf. Near them, a group of men were sheltering behind an armoured car. Some of them seemed to be consulting a map, while others had their rifles set in firing positions.
Angel bit his lip uneasily as he sat there, mesmerized by the sight. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and cut his speed.
Suddenly from nowhere out stepped a man in an army uniform gripping a rifle. He briefly put out a hand with palm facing to indicate that he wanted Angel to stop.
Angel braked and saw that the man was fully kitted in army khaki, a steel helmet and holding a menacingly dangerous SA80 A2 Heckler and Koch rifle.
Angel lowered the car window.
The soldier kept his eyes on him and ambled round the car to it.
‘No entry here, sir,’ he said. ‘You’ll have to turn round.’
Angel said, ‘I am a police officer. Detective Inspector Angel, Bromersley Police.’ He pulled out the leather holder that held his warrant card and badge and showed it to the soldier.
The man merely nodded towards it and said, ‘I don’t care if you’re Ann Widdecombe, sir. You can’t come past this point.’
Angel pocketed the leather case and said, ‘Why, what’s happened?’
The soldier shook his head. ‘A gang of villains has blown up a factory and we’re clearing up after them, that’s all. Now just turn round and go away, sir,’ he said, with a wave of the rifle. ‘Please.’
The sound of a distant siren grew louder. An ambulance was coming straight towards them from the direction of Grogan’s factory. The soldier dashed round the back of the BMW to give it more room as it roared past.
The soldier watched it go, then took up a position in the middle of the road in front of the car. He readjusted the helmet strap under his chin, stared at Angel and alternately tightened then slackened his fingers round the grips on the rifle.
Angel could see that he had no alternative but to take his leave. He reversed back a short way to a junction and turned round. When he was out of sight of the soldier and could see the ring road ahead, he stopped the car and pulled on the handbrake. He rubbed his chin as he gazed out at the brown fields on each side. There was nothing he would be allowed to do at Grogan’s factory so he may just as well leave. He would have liked to return to his office but Harker had rather put that out of bounds. The superintendent believed that he was at the service station on Wakefield Road but it was pointless going back there. Everything that he could do had been done. He could go home but Mary would insist that he got that bed assembled in time for Lolly’s visit. She was arriving the following day, and he feared the bed would not be assembled in time. Even so, he wasn’t up for doing it.
What a ridiculous state of affairs.
He gazed out of the windscreen. The snow had almost melted away but there were still strips of the dirty white stuff in the prickly, black hedge bottom.
Suddenly, he thought he saw something moving. He focussed his eyes on it. It was on his left about forty metres away, close to the hedge bottom. At first he thought it was a fox or a dog, crawling slowly along, as if it was injured, but then it stood up, looked around, probably saw the BMW and quickly flopped back down full length into the snow and stayed motionless. Angel realized it was a man, a man who didn’t want to be seen. The man didn’t stay still for long, and began to crawl slowly further along. Angel assumed that he was making for the ring road. He could see an aluminium gate on the corner of the field that he should easily be able to open or climb over, then a few steps and he would be at the side of the ring road. Angel estimated that at the man’s present rate of progress, he would be there in three minutes and he decided to act as a reception committee and meet him at the kerbside.
At due time, Angel started the BMW and drove the short distance out of the estate and on to the ring road where he stopped, turned off the ignition, took out the keys, then ran round the front of the car and up to the aluminium gate.
The man seemed to be well dressed in a suit, collar and tie with a thin dark raincoat on top. However, he was soaking wet and his face and head as well as his clothes were daubed with streaks of mud. He didn’t speak even though he must have felt Angel’s grip. He pulled the man over the gate, carefully arranging to have his right arm up his back when his feet landed on the ground.
‘Are you in a hurry, sir?’ Angel said.
‘Let go of me, for goodness’ sake, Angel,’ the man said. ‘I’m Raphael Grogan.’
Angel stared at the man. The voice was right. But he had been told he was dead. He released the hold. ‘I’m terribly sorry, Mr Grogan. Didn’t recognize you under all that mud … Come along. I’ll give you a lift. You must have had a terrible time.’ He pointed to the car. ‘Jump in.’
It was th
en that Angel saw blood on the fingers of his left hand and realized that he must have caught it from some place on Grogan.
Grogan saw the blood and said, ‘I have a cut on my shoulder from a big piece of plaster that fell on me. It’s nothing much. Nothing at all to worry about.’
Angel assisted Grogan into the car and got into the driving seat. Grogan was having difficulty fastening his seatbelt because of the injured shoulder, so Angel pulled it across him and pressed the tab home.
‘I have some tissues somewhere,’ Angel said and he began searching the glove shelf behind the steering wheel. ‘Clean you up a bit.’
Grogan smiled. ‘Thank you, Inspector. That would be nice.’
Angel shook his head as he fiddled with some dusters and a sign with the word POLICE printed on it and a pair of handcuffs.
‘Don’t know where they are,’ he said. ‘Will you look in the glove box in front of you, Mr Grogan? That might be where I put them.’
Grogan nodded, leaned forward, pressed the catch and busied himself among maps, charts and police pamphlets with titles such as: ‘BROMERSLEY POLICE PROCEDURE. Leaflet No. 465 – procedure on being in collision with wild animals such as tiger, lion, elephant, et cetera. Note: this does not apply to wolves or foxes under two years of age or over twelve years of age.’
‘I have them, Mr Grogan,’ Angel said, pulling a big box of Kleenex tissues off the shelf, waving them in triumph and handing them to him. ‘They were behind the tachometer all the time.’
Grogan took the box and thanked him.
Angel then started the car.
‘I’ll take you straight to the hospital,’ Angel said. ‘Have that shoulder seen to, a general check-up and a wash, and if you’re all right, then I’ll take you home.’
‘No thanks, Inspector,’ Grogan said. ‘It’s very considerate of you but it is nothing, I assure you. Would you please take me to the railway station?’
Angel frowned, shook his head and said, ‘The railway station? I couldn’t do that, Mr Grogan. You must have been through a terrible time. Please don’t worry. I will see you right.’
The Dog Collar Murders Page 22