by Luca Veste
He thought of Sarah and ignored it.
He wasn’t going to let her be in the middle of something like this again.
Murphy looked ahead, the constant stream of people almost unending. There was a sign above him, which indicated the location of the stairwell. He made his way towards this, still battling against the crowd as he moved. He found a pocket of space and pushed forwards, keeping close to the wall. Above the noise he heard the voice of DC Kirkham, trying to direct everyone out of the building.
There was a sense of panic in the air, but the people he was moving past also stopped to see what he was doing. Who was he and why he was going a different way to all of them?
He almost fell into the open space at the back of the crowd, surprised when it suddenly thinned out. Murphy looked around, stopping for a second and catching his breath. He saw DC Kirkham and DC Hashem making their way towards him, trying to take the same route he had. Their way was more blocked, however, as the crowd of people began to push and shove to get out of the building.
He pulled out his phone, hoping that Sarah had returned his phone call or messages, but his screen was blank. He hesitated a second, then thought of what was happening above him and kept going.
Always running towards the danger. That was his job description in a nutshell.
He took the stairs two at a time, rounding the corners as it wound its way up the building. A few stragglers passed him in the opposite direction, holding onto the banister as they made their way carefully down the stairs.
One man, who could have been no more than nineteen, despite his height and thick beard, was moving more slowly, holding onto a laptop in one hand with a backpack and phone gripped in the other.
‘Just leave them,’ Murphy said to the man. ‘Get out of the building now.’
The man looked at him, suddenly stock still. He began to stutter out a reply, but Murphy was already past him.
Priorities, Murphy had time to think, before the smell hit him.
This floor, he thought, pushing his way through double doors and into a long corridor. His instinct was right.
The screaming came from the far end of the corridor.
He was breathing hard, pain already growing in his legs as they protested against the unwanted exercise. He pushed on, almost sprinting towards the end of the corridor.
He reached the ornate double doors and pulled hard, trying to gain access to the conference room beyond, before he noticed the way in was barred.
Literally.
Something metallic and long had been shoved through the handles on the outside of the doors. At first, he thought he could slide it back through, but it was locked into place. It was as if it had been fashioned for this purpose alone, to lock the doors in place so those inside a room had no chance of getting out.
The screams were getting louder inside. He heard a mixture of voices, all panicked and full of a fear he could feel even in the safety of the corridor.
He heard doors bang behind him and a shout.
‘Sir,’ DC Kirkham yelled from behind him. Murphy turned, seeing DC Kirkham and DC Hashem coming towards him.
He turned back to the doors, pulling on the metal bar, feeling the thickness of the implement, the weight of it. It was stuck in place, no give in it whatsoever.
‘What’s going on?’
‘They’re going to burn to death in there unless we get this off,’ Murphy said, attempting to lift the bar with two hands. Smoke drifted underneath the door as he did so, small plumes moving around their feet as he and Kirkham took an end each and tried to move it.
It wouldn’t budge. Not an inch.
DC Hashem joined DC Kirkham, giving everything she had despite her small frame, Murphy ignoring the scream of effort she made in her attempt to help move it.
‘Fuck this,’ Murphy said, letting go of the bar. He took one step back and raised his foot, smashing his shoe into the bottom of one of the doors. Other than a slight splintering sound, the door panel made no movement. He tried again, then one more time.
DCs Kirkham and Hashem began similar attempts on the edge of the other door. Murphy decided to change tactic.
He took a few more steps back, then ran at the doors, using his shoulder as a battering ram. One of the old doors began to move on its hinges, just as a bolt of pain shot through him, down his shoulder into his chest. He ignored it, moving backwards again.
‘All of us, at the same time,’ Murphy said, breathing hard, sweat dripping from his forehead. ‘On three.’
They lined up, the doors wide enough that there was space between each of the detectives. Murphy wondered if they would have any effect on the door at all.
‘Three.’
They rushed the door, heads tucked down, shoulders in front of them. They crashed into the doors, the sound momentarily stopping the screaming behind it.
Murphy stepped back and checked to see if they had made any dent.
The top-right-hand corner, where Murphy had hit the door, was now bowed inwards. Smoke drifted out and above his head as the shouting became louder again.
‘Help, get us out of here. For Christ’s sake, we’re going to die.’
Murphy heard DC Hashem shout back, but his ears were still ringing from the hit he’d landed on the door and his shoulder was throbbing with pain.
‘One more time,’ he said, turning back to the two detectives. ‘On three again.’
They lined up once more.
‘Three.’
This time, Murphy crashed through the right-hand side of the doors, hitting the metal bar in the middle and vaulting over it and into the room.
The smell hit him first: burning flesh, smoke and petrol.
He got to his feet, then covered his nose and mouth with the sleeve of his jacket as the smoke began to swirl around him. He peered through the fog, trying to work out what he was seeing in front of him.
There was a long table running down the middle of the large room, chairs either on fire or thrown back towards the walls. Four large windows were on one side of the room, the curtains which had once hung there were now destroyed.
The burning flesh smell was coming from one corner of the room. A figure surrounded by flames was strapped to a chair. It was already too late for him, Murphy thought, turning away from the sight.
His head cleared after a few seconds and he heard the shouting from the far end of the room. His face was already sensing the sudden increase of warmth, the heat making it feel like it was already burning.
Murphy moved slowly along the nearest wall where the fire hadn’t yet reached. He tried to shout towards the group of people at the far end of the room, realising what was happening.
‘Get down, we’re here,’ he shouted, his voice muffled by the sleeve of his coat. He felt the presence of the other two detectives beside him as they entered the room behind him.
‘Come on, out,’ Murphy said, his voice suddenly loud as he removed the coat from around his mouth. He continued to move towards them, reaching them within a few seconds.
They were pitiful now, all sense of entitlement gone. They were just young boys cowering from the fire devouring the room. Some were already on the window ledge, having smashed open the window in an attempt to allow air to reach the room.
Murphy began shepherding the young men out of the room, reaching across to pull back someone who was about to lift himself onto the window ledge as the flames grew closer.
‘I’m not going to burn to death, I’m not going . . .’
Murphy gripped the lad’s jacket and pulled him backwards. The chaos within the room was growing by the second as everyone headed for the exit, jumping over the table and fallen chairs, trying to stay away from the ever-growing fire surrounding them.
‘Get out of here,’ Murphy screamed, trying to get closer to the window and the one lad hovering over its edge. ‘Go, go, go.’
He made it past the few remaining boys, reaching the window. ‘Get back inside, you can get out.’
/> The lad was already out of the window, crouched on the ledge, two hands gripping the wood behind him. ‘No, I can’t,’ he said, shaking his head, tears cascading down his face. ‘I’m not coming back in.’
It struck Murphy that the boy didn’t know the doors had been opened and there was now a way out. Ignoring the screams from his own muscles, he curled his right arm around the lad and pulled him back inside.
He looked down at the pavement directly below the window, hoping he wouldn’t see any bodies lying there. He breathed a sigh of relief, then looked towards the crowd that had gathered on the opposite side of the street. He saw something which made him breathe an even heavier sigh of relief, even with everything else that was going on.
Sarah. She was looking directly at him, possibly without even realising. He didn’t try to get her attention. Just knowing she was there was enough.
Not in danger.
Murphy turned back to face the room, the fire was getting ever closer as it raged uncontrollably in two thirds of the space. He made his way back to the door, skirting around the edge of the room as the heat began to take hold.
DC Kirkham was waiting, pulling the last lad through the opening and then extending an arm towards Murphy. He pulled him through, out into the corridor, falling onto the floor and Kirkham.
Murphy began coughing, slowly at first, then more forcefully as his insides began to protest at what they’d been put through. He tried to get to his feet, but the exertion began to catch up with him.
‘Where did they go?’ Murphy said, swallowing back bile growing in the back of his throat.
The lad he’d pulled from the window ledge was sitting with his back to the wall, almost balled up, hugging his legs tightly.
‘Get up,’ Murphy said. Then again, louder, ‘Come on, we have to get you out.’
‘I was going to do it,’ the young man said, his face as white as the wall behind him. ‘I was going to jump.’
‘It doesn’t matter now,’ Murphy said, then paused to cough more. He lifted himself up finally, seeing DC Hashem in the distance herding the rest of the boys out of the building. DC Kirkham rose to his feet slowly beside him. ‘You’re out of there. Just need to get you out of the building now.’
‘Was going to kill us all,’ the lad said, shaking his head, his face a mess of tears, his breath coming out in rapid bursts. ‘I can’t believe it. Set fire to him. Right in front of us. Then locked the door so we couldn’t get out. Why us?’
‘Where did he go?’
‘Just burst in, out of nowhere. We just wanted to hear James Morley speak to us, like the others had.’
‘Listen to me. Where?’ Murphy asked again, waiting for an answer.
‘Said the roof,’ Murphy heard the young lad say, just as DC Kirkham pulled the boy to his feet and moved him towards the exit. ‘Said it was destiny.’
Murphy watched them walk away, DC Kirkham half-carrying the younger man. He stared after them, making a decision.
He looked behind him, the fire within the room burned even brighter. Heat was hitting his back now.
Murphy swallowed, coughed a little more as the smoke grew around him, then started moving.
Thirty-eight
Murphy made his way up the staircase again, slower this time as his legs screamed from the effort. He discarded his jacket, thick with the smell of smoke, dropping it to the floor and leaving it behind him. He briefly wondered what had happened to his tie, but decided it wasn’t important.
The stairs grew less ornate as he climbed higher, people not usually invited to visit the upper floor. The carpet disappeared, replaced by concrete. He continued climbing, knowing he was close.
A double door announced the end of his journey. He pushed his way through it, the chipped paint and dark brown surface rough under his hands. There was another set of stairs behind the doors, steeper and more narrow. There wasn’t any light in this stairwell, darkness growing around him as the doors closed behind him. The noise of the fire alarm, which had been a constant reminder to him of the situation, also dimmed as the doors closed. The sound of his own breathing was suddenly more apparent.
He climbed the stairs, taking them two at a time, before his body decided against that and slowed down. His eyes grew more used to the darkness with every step. He reached the top and pushed open the heavy fire door.
Sound whooshed out towards him as light returned. He blinked and shielded his eyes from the sun which was now blaring down on him. Murphy moved further onto the roof, slower now, hearing sirens below and in the distance.
‘Nice view.’
He made his way closer to the figure standing with arms outstretched on the raised edge of the building in front of him. The person didn’t turn at the sound of his voice. Murphy looked around, seeing the taller buildings of the waterfront in the distance.
‘Probably an easier way of seeing the view though,’ he said, continuing to move further along the roof. ‘Don’t you agree, Simon?’
The figure tensed up as Murphy drew closer. His arms were still stretched out, but they were struggling to stay in mid-air.
‘You should have let them burn,’ Simon Jackson said, Murphy only just making out the words over the noise below them. ‘They deserved to die.’
‘Maybe so,’ Murphy replied, stopping a few feet to the side of the man in front of him. ‘Not my call, though. Not yours either.’
Murphy risked another step closer, coming further into line with Jackson as he did so. He could see his face more clearly now, the way his shirt hung loose, billowing in the wind which gusted around them.
‘We all deserve to die.’
Murphy breathed deep as he got closer to the edge of the roof, trying to ignore the drop below him. ‘It’s over, Simon,’ he said, the gravel scraping under his feet as he took another step towards Jackson. ‘It’s time to come down now.’
There was a soft chuckle before Simon turned his head slightly towards him. ‘I’ve seen you before. On the television, I think.’
‘Everyone has,’ Murphy replied, shrugging towards Jackson. ‘It’s a terrible kind of celebrity. Doesn’t get you anything.’
‘They’ll talk about me, though,’ Jackson said, turning his head back to face the smaller building opposite them. ‘Probably not in the same way they do you, of course.’
‘Do you care about that sort of thing?’
Jackson lowered his arms a little more, then used one hand to wipe sweat from his brow as it got nearer to his eyes. ‘Only in the way anyone cares about the manner in which your work is discussed.’
‘Work?’
‘Yes,’ Jackson said, his clipped tones sounding alien in the surroundings. ‘My work. I have completed my job.’
‘How about helping me complete mine,’ Murphy said, his breathing now under control. ‘Only fair, surely?’
‘Your negotiation tactics need a little work.’
Murphy held his breath as the wind picked up once more causing Jackson to sway. ‘What was your job?’
‘To destroy it all, of course. To rectify the mistake we made.’
‘What mistake?’
Jackson turned towards him again, his eyebrows raised as he considered Murphy anew. ‘I knew it was over when he came to see me.’
‘Who did?’
‘Wanted to talk to me about that slut who was crying rape all over campus in our final year. As if she hadn’t wanted what happened. He told me what I didn’t know.’
‘For someone who was intent on killing everyone involved with the club because of this girl, you don’t seem to be too sympathetic to her. You know, given she is the one who initiated this change of heart.’
Jackson took a step to the side, almost off the building entirely, before he found purchase again. ‘It was never about her. She was nothing. She was just another one, like all the others. It was about all of them. What they made us become. They destroyed us before I even started. They turned us into something we could never be.’
�
�And what was that?’
‘Scum,’ Jackson replied, holding Murphy’s stare. ‘If what she, and so many others said, became known, it would never go away. They made us this way. It was girls like her that made the club the way it was.’
‘That’s a very black and white way of looking at things,’ Murphy said, confused by the man’s words. None of it made sense, the reason and motive clouded by the man’s hatred of women. ‘You kill men because of what they did, even though you blame the women for making them that way . . . you’re going to have to help me out here.’
‘They killed his sister,’ a voice said from behind him. Murphy turned swiftly, stones slipping out from underneath his feet and scattering across the roof. ‘Isn’t that right, Simon?’
The last person Murphy had expected to appear up there with them made her way towards them.
‘What are you doing here?’ Murphy said, taking a step back and trying to lower his voice.
Rossi shrugged towards him. ‘Had a visit from someone. A mutual friend of our man on the ledge here, isn’t that right, Simon? It’s the same every time. Sexist rapists, who hate women, apart from the ones they’re actually related to. Of course, to some, that doesn’t even matter. Except these small-minded idiot boys.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Jackson said, spittle flying out of his mouth and down to the street below.
‘Don’t I?’ Rossi replied, eyes fixed on Jackson’s back and not acknowledging Murphy at all now. ‘You don’t think I’ve met people like you all my life? Happy to subject women to your hatred, until it becomes someone you care about.’
‘Stop talking.’
‘You can’t silence me, Simon,’ Rossi said, coming to a stop behind Jackson, a few feet away from Murphy. ‘You didn’t know until my brother turned up at your office, did you? He told you the truth. About what they had done. To Ellie. You had no idea what they did to your sister. Why she killed herself.’
‘I don’t want to hear this . . .’
‘Why not? This is your legacy. You’ve been trying to atone for what you helped create, by taking revenge on your fellow rapists. They took something from you and you felt responsible for what happened.’