‘There will be no deal,’ Cottage said again.
Ed’s smile disappeared. He chewed at his bottom lip. ‘Let me remind you of your situation. You three are the only people that know about me and my merry men, with the exception of Graham, and we all know that he’s too pissed on himself to go public. Now as I see it, that means you either get on board or you become my only obstacles, and that makes you highly vulnerable.’ Ed stood behind Jacobs, one hand resting on his shoulder and the other out of sight. ‘You’re running out of opportunities to make the right decision here, chief. Now give it another go.’
‘There will be no deal,’ Cottage said without hesitation.
Ed let go of Jacobs’s shoulder and raised the other hand. It held a pistol. Ed pushed the barrel into the back of Jacobs’s head. The inspector’s eyes flickered open briefly, sparking with recognition as they rested on George.
Ed pulled the trigger. At such close range the bullet tore through Jacobs’s head, shattering the skull, and out the other side, narrowly missing George’s left arm. Pieces of bone, teeth and brain spattered George’s face and chest and he recoiled in disgust, clawing at himself.
‘Jesus! Fuck!’ Cottage roared. His eyes widened and he raised a hand in defence as Ed pointed the pistol at George, then the chief, then back to George again.
Ed seemed to be talking to Cottage but the gun was aimed at George. ‘You had one opportunity and you blew it. I don’t need to tell you what’ll happen if you don’t take this one, do I, boss?’
George stood still, facing the gun barrel. At this range there would be no missing.
‘Okay, okay, wait!’ Cottage still had his hand up.
Ed kept the gun levelled at George. He kicked at the chair in front of him and it tipped forward. Jacobs’s body landed, sprawled, at George’s feet.
‘We can make a deal, then?’ Ed lowered the pistol slightly. His gaze darted to the chief and he licked his lips. The standoff continued for several seconds, long enough for the security light to switch itself off.
George took his chance. The armed police officer the chief had sent to escort him out of the hospital, had also unwittingly donated his sidearm. George had stuffed it down the back of his trousers, happily imagining Ed Kavski at the other end of the barrel.
George had to fire from the hip as the light came back on, but the movement was clumsy. The end of the pistol got caught in his jacket and he fired a shot off to the left. The shot missed Ed, it couldn’t have been by much. The round surged through the dark interior of 5 Roman Way, where a scream suggested it might have found someone, at least.
Ed had disappeared inside the house and George fired blindly towards the patio doors. He and the chief stood illuminated under the spotlight of the security light, which concealed all movement inside. George was suddenly aware of return fire. It was coming at them from floor level. One of the rounds smashed the security light, throwing everything into darkness. George fell down, still pulling the trigger. The garden was lit with flashes from his pistol, and return flashes coming from inside the house. He hit the ground, his shoulder shooting pain as it popped out of its socket.
All sound was muffled. George could feel Cottage tugging at his clothes. The gunshots had worsened the ringing in his ears to the point of deafness. He was aware of being pulled to his feet, and he didn’t resist. He wasn’t sure if he heard another gunshot as he was hauled out through the back gate and pushed to the left, away from where they had parked the car. He began a shuffling run, still clutching the pistol, with his other arm flopping limp and useless at his side.
* * *
Cottage’s ears were working just fine. He could hear men shouting. He couldn’t tell how many men were following, or if they carried more weapons. Their footsteps were close behind him, too close for the car to be a viable option, so he led them in the opposite direction, towards the centre of Epping Hill Estate. He had noted the terrain when they had driven in — tight streets with plenty of parked cars, alleyways and narrow pavements. Maybe they would provide cover.
They reached the end of the unmade road. Cottage still had hold of George by his sleeve. The footsteps were getting closer, and he made a decision.
‘George! We need to split up — it gives us a chance.’ Cottage got no answer so, as they arrived at a four-way junction, he pushed George to the left and carried straight on. George started to try and follow him. He pointed. ‘That way. We’ll meet later.’ The chief turned and ran away.
Chapter 44
Paul Baern had been sitting at home, bored and tired, until he received a short message from George. It hadn’t made much sense:
Baerny,
I’m going to Epping Hill. Long story, I’ll explain when I can. If anything happens forward this to whoever you need to . . .
Paul had opened the attachment. It was a detailed admission from his area commander. Paul knew George well enough to understand why he was heading straight to Epping Hill and when his calls went unanswered, he had made his own way there.
He sat in his car four streets away from Roman Way. He had no idea what he was hoping to achieve, or what he should do next. He decided to try George’s number again. If George didn’t answer this time, he would give up and head back home.
He lifted the phone to his ear, thinking that it was not his place to be interfering. The chief constable had also been sent the email, after all. Waiting for it to ring, Paul was attracted by a movement to his right. He recognised his sergeant, lit up by the orange glow from the street lights and sprinting past him as if his life depended on it.
‘Shit!’ He fumbled for the key and got out. He shouted out, but George didn’t look round and he didn’t slow. Paul checked around him. He couldn’t see or hear anything that would have made George run like that, and he set off after his fleeing boss.
* * *
The chief constable licked his lips and tasted the salt. His shirt clung to him. At last he felt he was able to slow to a walk. His highly polished brogues striking the pavement was now the only sound that could be heard among the densely packed houses.
He looked over his shoulder. All he could see was dimly lit pavements, shiny with moisture, and the terraced houses decked with Christmas lights seeming to huddle together to keep warm.
He turned a corner and paused to catch his breath. He looked around him. Nothing moved but his shadow, which had appeared in front of him before sliding under and behind him as he walked beneath the yellow street lights.
He shook his head and shivered as the sweat on his back turned cold.
A voice cut through the night. ‘You done yet, old man?’
He whirled round. Illuminated by the streetlamps were two figures, their faces concealed under hoods. They came towards him. As he broke into a run, they followed.
Their footsteps reverberated through the Epping Hill Estate. It was a warren of dark alleyways and boltholes. From one of these emerged a third hooded figure, surprising the sprinting man, and forcing him off the pavement and out into the road. He stumbled over the kerb, where a pool of water had collected in the gutter, and lost his balance, falling to his knees. Sodden and bruised, he looked up to see a car approaching at speed, throwing up sheets of water from the wheels. The driver failed to notice the man on his knees, or the look of horrified surprise on his face, his arm raised in self-defence.
It all happened in slow motion. The car hit the stricken man even before the brakes were applied. He fell under the front grille and was dragged along the tarmac, shredding skin and clothing. The vehicle lurched sideways into a row of parked cars.
The driver’s window rolled down and a teenage boy leant out, his eyes wide. ‘What the fuck was that?’
The passenger door swung open and another boy put a foot on the ground, peering back through the drizzle. ‘I think it was someone.’
‘Connor! Shut the fucking door.’ As the passenger struggled to close the door, the car scraped other cars and accelerated away into the warren of the Epp
ing Hill Estate.
The three men on foot stared at the crumpled figure at the kerbside. One of them nodded at the others who, without a word, turned and ran off into the darkness. The remaining man looked up briefly at the lights flickering on in surrounding houses. Swiftly, he crouched down and patted the fallen man’s pockets. He swore and peered at the ground around the motionless figure. A small, oblong object caught his eye, lying against the wheel of one of the parked cars. It was the casing of a mobile phone, the battery part nowhere to be seen. He stuffed it into his pocket and, as the front door to one of the houses opened, he slipped back into the shadows.
* * *
George’s head throbbed, the pain in his right arm made him groan with every step, and his lungs felt as though they were bursting. He’d heard a muffled shout, and knew he wouldn’t be able to outrun Ed and his people for much longer. He needed a plan B. He knew this estate well, but pain and confusion had caused him to lose his way. Then he saw the shape of Peto Court ahead of him.
‘Lizzie’s flat!’ His hand went to the inside pocket of his jacket. The key was still there. At the metal door of the communal entrance stood two men, swigging from cans of beer and propping the door open. They stepped out of his way as he ran through. George started up the steps.
He could hear muffled footsteps echoing through the empty stairwell, and as he reached Lizzie’s floor he heard someone call his name. If he could just get there and get the door locked he could call for help.
He disappeared into Flat 22, he could hear heavy footsteps behind him in the corridor. George slammed the door shut, cursing the pain in his shoulder as he struggled to lock the door. He felt it click just as a voice shouted from the other side, and began banging the door.
George couldn’t make out the words. All he knew was that they would kill him this time. He was a sitting target in here. He backed away from the door, his head still throbbing. The buzz in his ears blocked out almost all sound.
George backed away, stumbling over a discarded laundry basket. Sprawled on his back, he was aware of a thump at the door and a splintering sound as it caved in. The flimsy wood buckled and a figure appeared silhouetted in the doorway. Without hesitating, George lifted his pistol and pulled the trigger.
Chapter 45
George sat on his bed. He’d tried lying down but it had just increased his discomfort. And his frustration.
He was back in the same hospital room that he had left a few hours earlier. Back when everything was different. It was no wonder he couldn’t sleep, despite his utter exhaustion. The events since leaving this room kept playing over and over in his mind — particularly how it had all ended. Uniform cops had arrived almost immediately, he still had the pistol raised when they entered, he damned near pulled the trigger again but he saw the blue writing just in time and discarded the weapon. He had been so relieved. He pointed at the man still lying in the doorway, ordered them to make sure he was dead. They’d calmed him down and walked him out. George reckoned he would remember that walk for the rest of his life. One of the officers held his arm as he looked down at Paul Bearn’s face, his eyes shut, bleeding heavily from his chest. George’s last vision as he reached the end of the corridor was of Paul’s upturned palm laid out on the floor, spotted with blood. It was that image in particular that he couldn’t shake.
Helen Webb entered his room. She was with a man in a suit.
‘George, how are you feeling?’ Helen asked.
‘Like shit, ma’am.’
‘Physically? Are you injured?’
‘Nothing major. My ears have calmed down thankfully, my shoulder’s giving me some jip . . . how’s Paul?’
Helen sighed. ‘He’s stable, George. He took a big hit in the shoulder. There was a scare over damage to his lung, but they seem positive that they can sort that. He will need a complete rebuild of his shoulder joint at the very least. He’s in surgery now but he will need a few goes under the knife it seems. It will be a few days before we know for sure.’
‘Jesus.’
‘It could have been a lot worse, George.’
‘It shouldn’t have happened at all.’
Helen made no reply.
‘And what about Ed Kavski? Was he found?’
Helen shuffled from one foot to another. She still didn’t reply.
‘You didn’t find him?’
‘No.’
‘Who do you have out looking for him?’
There was that shuffle again.
‘Do you have anyone looking for him?’
‘Listen, George, we’re still trying to piece together the last few hours, we have five scenes and that’s just the beginning. There are a number of actions that will be put off until we can get the right resources.’
‘Actions and resources? You sound like you’re writing up an investigation plan for a shoplifting incident. This man shot and killed a serving officer in front of me. Damned near blew his head off. You should have the whole world hunting for him.’
‘We will deal with Ed Kavski, George. I can assure you of that.’
‘And how will you deal with me? The armed officers outside my door, is that in case this Ed comes for me or in case I try and walk?’
‘Both are considerations.’
‘Am I under arrest?’
‘No, George, you’re not under arrest. We will need to talk to you in the right environment, you will understand that better than most I’m sure.’
‘So I can leave? Go and see my family?’
‘If you try and leave, George, you will be arrested.’
George forced a laugh. ‘And what about my family? This man has already targeted my home once, what’s being done to keep them safe?’
‘Your family are being put in the hands of Witness Protection. They are both still here and remain under guard until your daughter’s treatment is concluded.’
‘So I can see them?’
Helen shrugged, ‘It will be supervised.’
‘And your nodding dog here, he would be from the Professional Standards Department, I presume?’
The man in the suit started to move forward. Helen put her arm out to stop him and she spoke again before he could.
‘Like I said, this needs to be done right, George. You need to help us to help you, and if you do, then you have my word, that’s how this plays out, with Lennokshire Police doing all we can to back you up. From what I can see this all got out of hand very quickly and that wasn’t your fault. But people died, unlawfully killed and we need to be sure this is done right.’
‘Ed Kavski killed at least one police officer. He will need to answer for that.’
‘And if Ed Kavski answering for murder means you answering for what you did . . .’
‘Then that’s what happens. Put us both in court. Nothing I did was for any other reason than to defend myself. They showed the lengths they were willing to go to when they committed murder right in front of me. They would have done the same to me without a second thought.’
‘It’s not a competition, George. It’s not whoever is the most guilty goes to jail. If you’re guilty of something, you go to jail. That’s the system.’
‘Nearly twenty years unblemished service, that’s got to count for something, I’ve given my life to this job.’
‘You’re highly respected George, a brilliant detective, but it’s a different job these days.’
‘I had the right motivation for everything I did.’
‘Really? Think of what you know and how this plays out in court. You snuck out of hospital after a man tried to kill you at your own home, and badly injured your young daughter. You stole a gun from an officer and drove to where you knew this man was, and you told no one else of your intentions—’
‘I told the chief constable himself!’
‘So you say. He’s dead, George. He’s not going to be the most effective witness is he? Who else do you have? Inspector Price? Paul Bearn? The only reason you went to that location is for your revenge,
you had murder on your mind and people died George — it’s not a giant leap to find you responsible.’
‘You don’t really believe that, do you?’
‘It doesn’t matter what I believe. But that’s not a difficult sell to a jury and all of a sudden we’re in a lot of trouble. I need to keep you out of a court room, where I can influence what happens to you.’
‘So you just let Ed Kavski walk? He murders a police officer, a senior officer, and he disappears?’
Helen shook her head and turned to leave. ‘You need your rest, George, and you need time to think.’
‘Promise me you’ll do the same, ma’am.’
‘We’ll speak again soon. Maybe you’ll come to realise that disappearing might not be such a bad idea. For both of you.’
The door slammed shut before George could reply.
* * *
Lennokshire Police Station. The Area Commander’s office was flooded with the light of a new day. Graham Huntington was still, bent forward, held by the neck, he appeared to bow at a picture of his smiling wife. The handwritten note stuck to his desk read:
I had everything I wanted. I just couldn’t stop there.
I’ll love you always Jannie xxx
THE END
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Book 2: PANIC BUTTON
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https://www.amazon.com/PANIC-BUTTON-gripping-thriller-twists-ebook/dp/B01N4WATRV/
Someone is killing the officers of the Langthorne Police one by one. And in a sadistic twist he makes each victim push their radio panic button before they die, thus broadcasting their last moments to the entire force.
Book 3: BLOOD MONEY
BODILY HARM a gripping crime thriller full of twists Page 22