The Jackdaw

by Luke Delaney

  ‘Sometimes I think you’re an out-and-out socialist,’ she accused him.

  ‘Maybe I am,’ he admitted, ‘or maybe I just believe in capitalism with a conscience.’

  ‘Whatever you are,’ she told him, ‘you should be safe from that lunatic the media are calling The Jackdaw. You’re hardly his … type.’

  ‘Was Paul Elkins his type?’ he questioned.

  ‘More than you.’

  ‘I hired Paul to come and work at King and Melbourn when I was there because he was a good man as well as a good banker,’ Francis Waldegrave explained. ‘Most of the things the so-called Jackdaw said about him were lies.’

  ‘I know,’ she agreed, ‘but maybe he’d changed in the years since you worked with him. Certainly some of the things the newspapers said about him would suggest so.’

  ‘You shouldn’t read the papers,’ he warned her. ‘Especially the tabloid rags. They like the idea of this lunatic being something more – a man of the people standing up against their greedy oppressors. It’s more interesting than just another killer with mental health problems. It’s a story they can spin out for months or at least as long as it takes to catch him.’

  They were both silent for a few seconds until Jennifer Waldegrave spoke again. ‘Have you spoken to Jeremy Goldsboro again?’

  ‘No,’ he answered. ‘He wasn’t too happy when I contacted him the first time. I thought it best not to call him again.’

  ‘Well, you did fire him and end his career,’ she unnecessarily reminded him.

  ‘No,’ he corrected her, ‘I let him go with a golden handshake he didn’t deserve. We never liked each other, but when I saw he’d been one of The Jackdaw’s victims it seemed the least I could do. Once he got over the shock of me calling him he was polite enough – I suppose – although his tone made it clear he didn’t want to hear from me again.’

  ‘You can’t blame him,’ she smiled. ‘You were never going to be on his Christmas card list.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘I don’t suppose I was and nor did I want to be.’

  ‘Quite,’ she replied, a shadow casting across her face. ‘But when you spoke to him, did he mention it seemed a bit of a coincidence that both he and Paul had been victims, given they had both worked at King and Melbourn – even if it was years ago?’

  ‘No,’ he told her, ‘but I did.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘We agreed it was probably just bad luck, given neither of them have worked there for years, but Jeremy said he’d mentioned it to the police anyway – just in case.’

  ‘Then it must have come to nothing,’ she decided, ‘otherwise I’m sure the police would have come to see you by now.’

  ‘Exactly,’ he assured her, ‘and there are the other victims too. None of them have a connection to me or King and Melbourn. It all appears quite random. You’re better off jumping out here and walking the rest of the way,’ he told her. ‘The traffic’s not going to get any better.’

  ‘Good idea,’ she agreed, undoing her seat belt and reaching for the handle before pausing. ‘Just be careful,’ she warned him. ‘There’s still a madman running around out there.’

  ‘Remember what Franklin D Roosevelt said,’ he smiled. ‘We have nothing to fear except fear itself.’

  Sally allowed the unmarked car to roll to a silent stop on the dirt road in the Surrey countryside, out of sight of the derelict building. The fully marked Armed Response Vehicle rolled up behind them. She felt as if butterflies were fluttering uncontrollably in her stomach. She had good reason to be afraid of the men who stalked the woods with shotguns, but it was her dread of not being able to control her anxiety that scared her most.

  ‘We have nothing to fear, but fear itself,’ she whispered a little too loud as she unconsciously rubbed the scars on her chest that hid under her clothes.

  ‘Excuse me?’ Bishop asked.

  ‘What?’ Sally asked, surprised to remember she was not alone. ‘Oh. Nothing. Just something somebody said once.’

  ‘Franklin D Roosevelt,’ Bishop told her. ‘During the Great Depression. He said it.’

  ‘Whatever,’ Sally replied. She climbed quickly out of the car and indicated with a wave for the uniformed armed officers in the other vehicle to join them. Bishop climbed out the other side and spoke over the roof.

  ‘Wonder what they used this old place for?’ Bishop asked.

  ‘The information report said it used to be some kind of electricity substation or something.’

  ‘And it’s already been searched?’

  ‘Apparently,’ Sally told him. ‘As have all the other possible buildings in this area.’

  ‘Then why are we here?’ Bishop questioned her. ‘He must have been broadcasting from somewhere in this area we haven’t found yet.’

  ‘Sean said to double check, so that’s what we’re doing,’ she snapped at him a little. By now the uniformed officers from the Armed Response Team had joined them.

  ‘Fair enough,’ Bishop gave in. ‘You sure you want to start with this one and not one of the other buildings?’

  ‘Yes,’ Sally answered. ‘From the reports this looks the most likely – so we start here. And we’d better both hope I’m right, because any second now Sean and Dave will be arriving at the golf course in Hampstead. If we can find something here to end this bloody thing then there’s less chance of Sean doing something … Well, let’s just say it would be better for everyone.’

  ‘I don’t follow,’ Bishop admitted.

  ‘You don’t have to,’ Sally dismissed him and turned to the three armed officers – two fit-looking middle-aged men and a young woman who Sally reckoned couldn’t be more than thirty, but she looked strong and confident, her Heckler & Koch nine-millimetre sub-machine gun cradled in the crook of her arm. One of the men carried the same weapon, whereas the driver was armed only with a semi-automatic pistol still holstered on his right thigh.

  ‘This is about as bad a scenario as I can imagine,’ the driver, apparently the leader, told her, keeping his voice to little more than a whisper. ‘One dirt road in – trees on either side and a large derelict building you want us to search at the end of it. You couldn’t have picked a worse spot. Take an army to search this area safely. This is ambush paradise.’

  ‘No one’s asking you to go in alone,’ she told him, her patience already wearing thin as her desperation to find The Jackdaw before Sean made her irritable.

  ‘If this is an armed operation then we go in first,’ the driver explained. ‘We wouldn’t want to shoot you by mistake.’

  ‘We’ll hang back,’ Sally assured him.

  ‘Or we could wait until we have more armed units,’ the driver argued. ‘I could probably get them here in ten minutes.’

  ‘No,’ Sally insisted. ‘We can’t wait.’

  ‘Mind telling me why?’ the driver asked.

  ‘Because he may have already abducted a member of the public he intends to kill,’ she half lied, keeping her fears for Sean to herself. ‘We can’t let that happen.’ The driver just shrugged. ‘So, how d’you want this to go down?’

  The driver theatrically drew his pistol from its nylon holster and slid the top half of the gun back before releasing it forward to load a round into the chamber and clicking the safety on. Next he unclipped his iPhone, called up Google Maps and expanded the area around the derelict building as much as he could.

  ‘We use the woods for cover as we approach,’ he explained. ‘Stay close to the road, but in the trees. According to the map there’s a degree of clearing all around the building, although it could be more overgrown than it’s showing. If not we’re going to have to cover the ground between the treeline and the front of the building quickly and quietly.’ He turned to his two colleagues. ‘Jonnie, you go left. Head for a ground-floor window that’s got no glass in it and cover the inside. Jenny, you go right and do the same.’ They both nodded that they understood. ‘I’ll go straight for the front door, but no shouting and screaming. Let’s try and
rely on stealth to get this done. There’s not enough of us to cover the sides and back at the same time. Once we’re in there we’ll need eyes in the backs of our heads, so that means sticking together.’ His colleagues nodded their agreement with his assessment. He turned back to Sally. ‘You wait in the treeline until I call you forward. Understand?’ She didn’t argue. The driver looked her up and down one more time. ‘You sure you don’t want to wait for back-up? If this man’s the person you say he is then I could have half the Met here in less than twenty minutes.’

  ‘No.’ Sally stood by her decision. ‘We go now. No waiting.’

  ‘It’s your call,’ he told her before summoning the others forward with a nod of his head. Sally watched them all but disappear into the trees at the side of the road before turning to Bishop.

  ‘Come on, Bob,’ she encouraged him, ‘and try not to get shot.’ Bishop turned a pale shade of grey as Sally followed the armed officers into the trees and headed towards the derelict building, pushing branches out of the way as she walked, careful not to let them spring back and hit Bishop in the face, watching where she placed her feet as her eyes darted around the forest looking for any sign of movement.

  Jesus Christ, she thought. He could be hiding anywhere in this mess. He could be five feet in front of me, pointing his shotgun straight at my head and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. She hoped the armed cops ahead of her had better instincts for an ambush than she did.

  As they headed further through the trees she couldn’t help but be reminded of the Thomas Keller case – she and Sean walking through what seemed like endless forest as they searched for the bodies of his victims and then finally as they searched for Keller himself.

  ‘Forests,’ she whispered. ‘Why does it always have to be forests?’

  ‘What?’ Bishop asked as loudly as he dared.

  ‘Nothing,’ she told him. ‘Just keep up.’

  She picked her way through the trees and undergrowth for what seemed an age, always trying to keep the armed officers within sight, a sense of panic making her heart rate jump every time she momentarily lost sight of them. Eventually they stopped, the leader holding up his hand behind him and signalling for them all to get down before he turned and summoned Sally forward. She took a deep breath and headed towards him, crouching next to him. His eyes were firmly fixed on the building that lay just beyond the last line of trees.

  ‘There’s no more cover between here and the building,’ he whispered. ‘That’s thirty feet of open ground. More than enough distance for him to get off both shots from a shotgun. You both wearing your body armour?’

  ‘Yes,’ she truthfully assured him.

  ‘Close up it probably won’t save you,’ he told her seriously, ‘but at this range it should do the job – unless he goes for a head shot, or he’s using illegal single or five shot, in which case …’ Sally tried not to think about the damage a lead ball over half an inch thick travelling at more than a thousand feet per second could do to a human body.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said with a sarcastic smile. ‘That’s very reassuring.’

  ‘Just remember to wait for my signal,’ the leader reminded her. He turned his back on her and tapped his colleagues one after the other on the shoulder, causing them to rise simultaneously and break from the treeline, crouched down and moving fast across the open ground, the sub-machine guns wedged in their shoulders sweeping back and forth across the front of the building, the leader with his pistol held out in front of him in a two-handed grip, elbows slightly bent. Within a few seconds they were at the front of the building, bodies pressed against the wall, weapons pointing to the ground. The leader held out three fingers and started to count them down. Once all digits were folded into a fist the three of them stepped slightly back from the building – the two with the Heckler & Kochs pointing their weapons through open windows, the light from the Maglite torches attached to the guns sweeping the darkness inside, while the leader pushed open the front door and dropped back into a crouched position as he flicked on the small torch hung underneath his pistol – the three beams of light occasionally crossing as they searched the ground floor for signs of life.

  Sally watched from the sanctuary of the trees, almost wincing with tension as she waited for the outbreak of gunfire she felt would surely come, but no deafening sounds interfered with the gentle rustling of the leaves above. She watched as the leader looked from colleague to colleague and, with a sideways nod of his head, moved forward into the darkness, the others moving quickly from the windows to the door and also disappearing inside. For what seemed an eternity Sally saw and heard nothing other than the occasional flash of torchlight until without warning the leader emerged from the front door and walked backwards about six feet from the building, his pistol trained on it the whole time. He quickly looked over his shoulder at Sally’s position and summoned her forward.

  ‘Shit,’ she muttered and grabbed Bishop by the arm. ‘Our turn.’ She broke from the treeline dragging Bishop along with her and all but sprinted in a squat across the ground, past the leader and into the building. Once inside she leant against the wall and took a few deep breaths to steady herself. She noticed Bishop was doing the same, only he seemed to be taking a lot longer to compose himself. ‘You all right?’ Sally whispered.

  Bishop gulped air before answering. ‘Yeah,’ he managed to answer. ‘Just … I haven’t been out of the office for quite a while.’

  ‘I understand,’ Sally told him sympathetically. ‘Just stay behind the people with guns and do what I tell you to.’ He nodded a nervous agreement.

  The leader re-entered the building and stood next to Sally looking relaxed, but with his pistol still at the ready, the light from his torch forming a circle on the ceiling as they all watched the beams of light from the other armed units still moving about, mainly pointing at the ground.

  ‘Ground floor’s clear,’ he told Sally in a matter-of-fact tone.

  ‘Then what are they still looking for?’ Bishop asked, looking increasingly concerned.

  ‘Signs of recent life,’ the leader whispered. ‘Evidence someone one could have been using the building.’

  ‘Let’s just get on with it,’ Sally insisted. ‘If he’s here then by now the chances are he knows we’re here. Let’s just find him and get this over with.’ Creeping around in the dark and damp brought back too many vivid memories for Sally, memories she’d rather forget. She wanted this over – no matter what the outcome.

  ‘If that’s the way you want to play it,’ the leader told her before whispering into his radio’s mouthpiece. ‘All right, guys. Let’s check out the first floor.’

  Sally watched as the beams of light once more came together and formed up, making their way to the foot of the open-plan staircase that doglegged its way up to the first floor. The leader took a long hard look before putting a foot on the first step as he began his ascent – the rest of his small team following one at a time, five steps apart, all still with their weapons raised, the light from their torches showing the way ahead. Once the leader had reached the first floor Sally tugged on Bishop’s sleeve.

  ‘Come on,’ she told him.

  ‘Aren’t we supposed to wait for a signal?’ Bishop asked, the fear etched on his face in the dimness.

  ‘If we stay here, we won’t be able to see the signal, will we?’ she explained and headed off towards the stairs, looking over her shoulder to see Bishop still rooted to the spot. ‘Come on,’ she whispered as loudly as she could, watching him until he finally moved away from the wall that had become his sanctuary. Sally shook her head a little and almost tiptoed the rest of the way to the foot of the stairs just in time to see the light beams fade as they moved inside the first room off the corridor. She took a deep breath and headed up the stairs, making herself look as conspicuous as possible so as not to spook the gun carriers.

  When she reached the top step she froze, arms raised to shoulder height and slightly spread as the light beams came back t
hrough the doorway. She neither moved nor spoke until she was sure they’d registered her presence in the semi-darkness, their lights appearing to scan her body like alien invaders trying to decide what she was.

  ‘Anything?’ she asked, the shakiness in her voice catching her by surprise.

  ‘You’re supposed to wait until I signal for you,’ the leader chastised her. ‘I don’t want to have to explain a dead detective to my boss.’

  ‘Sorry,’ she apologized without meaning it, ‘but, anything?’

  ‘No,’ he whispered, never looking at her, constantly sweeping the corridor ahead. ‘It’s clear. Stay behind us.’ He gave his colleagues one nod and they set off further along the corridor, like something out of a video game. Sally’s heart was beating so loudly she felt sure it must be audible to everyone in the dark, damp building – felt sure it would betray their presence if by some miracle he didn’t already know they were there – waiting to strike like a hidden snake.

  Again she watched as the lights swept into the next room, a quiet voice behind her making her visibly jump.

  ‘They found anything yet?’ Bishop practically whispered in her ear.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ she quietly snapped at him. ‘D’you mind not doing that? And no – they haven’t found anything.’

  After only a few seconds the lights found their way back out into the corridor – searching the walls, floor and ceiling in circular patterns, heading towards the next door.

  ‘We should have waited outside,’ Bishop complained.

  ‘And not know what the hell was going on?’ Sally whispered back. ‘I don’t think so. Just say close enough not to get shot by one of our own and far enough away not to get shot by whoever might be hiding in here.’ Bishop’s mouth opened as if he was about ask how, but Sally had already moved away, following the lights until they stopped outside the next door. She sensed their hesitation before entering, as if something was different about this one. She moved a few steps closer to the leader. ‘What is it?’