Force Of Habit v5
Page 11
‘Mr Strickland,’ she spoke into the phone.
North hit the button to release the mute and James repeated herself. ‘I appreciate that Mr Strickland and I agree that you can't be too careful.’
North made caressing movements with his hands. Treat him gently.
‘We could use you looking after our servers over here,’ said James.
North gave her the thumbs up. She let the nerd go on about data security and the Data Protection Act.
‘I'll give you my number.’
An exasperated look came over her but she managed to keep the smile in her voice. ‘Good thinking, you look for our main number. I'm at Gateshead High West Street station. Excellent.’
She grasped an invisible cock with her right hand and moved it up and down. It looked out of place and made North smile. Try and try as she might she was never going to be just another one of the lads.
‘Oh, and Kevin - can I call you Kevin? Thank you, Kevin. We are looking for the killer of the woman who was murdered last night.’ She paused. ‘That's the one.’ She made some noises of agreement. ‘Kevin, it's clear that you have just the attitude and experience that could help us make significant progress in the hunt for the killer. Could I ask you a favour?’ She nodded to herself. ‘That's all I ask. These numbers could be key to the investigation. Could you look at the data you pull and see if you can see any patterns? We could really do with a professional eye analyzing the data for us. I appreciate that you are a busy man and if you can only send the information to us, then that's fine, but I think you could be an invaluable source of help to this high profile investigation.’ She made a puking face at North, said some minor pleasantries into the receiver and then hung up.
‘Well?’
‘He isn't promising anything, but he'll see what he can do.’
‘He'll do plenty. Sanctimonious prick like that will now be thinking he can solve the case all by himself. I've met those IT types. They think they are the keepers of the Holy Grail. That they alone know its secret.’
‘What secret?’
‘I've no idea. They seem to think that computers control the universe and that as the computers’ masters they are vastly superior to everyone else. Geeks. He'll be right on it. You did good, Just James.’
‘Don't use your Jedi mind tricks on me, sir.’
‘That's the stuff, talk Jedi to him. Them geeks love that shit. That sexy voice you were emphasising more and more will already have you down as his wank of the week. If he isn't gay.’
‘Do you always stereotype people like this, people you've never even met?’
‘Call it profiling if it makes you feel better. I’ve known a lot of people, Just James, a lot of them criminals. You get to see patterns. That's how killers can be profiled and that’s how I know that a man like Terry Rawlins won’t last five minutes out there on his own. He’ll be jumping at his own shadow, feeling sorry for himself and getting totally wasted in order to deal with it all. He’ll show up before long.’
‘I think you have a lot in common with your image of Kevin. You are arrogant and egocentric. You think you know what makes everyone tick and you feel superior to them.’
‘Ouch, have you been comparing notes with Deacon?’ North smiled. ‘I’ll admit that the shit may have fit once upon a time, but not so much any more. Life either educated it, or ground it, out of me. Probably a bit of both. But I am right, people can be categorised, there's not many people in the world that make their own kind of music.’
‘But you're one of them.’
‘Me? I'm tone deaf, James.’
‘I take it you drew a blank with Rawlins’ parents.’
A nod.
‘The autopsy?’
‘She was tortured, mutilated, sexually violated and it went on for some time, could have been several hours.’
North gave her the nitty-gritty.
‘Tortured for information? A rival drug gang?’
He shrugged.
‘Maybe, but then why the sexual aspect? If it is a drugs thing and someone was making a point – pun intended – or sending out a message, then they would do some damage before killing her but they wouldn't take so long about it and they most probably wouldn't violate her sexually. And you would think that they would have taken the drugs, not left them around for errant PC's to lift and croak on. And if it wasn't about drugs, if it was some sadistic sex killer getting their jollies, exerting their power, degrading her, acting out their sick fantasy, whatever, then why add the syringes after killing her? I'm no closer to knowing what we are up against. Maybe it’s a drug thing and they have a psycho on the firm who does their dirty work for free, for fun. Any joy with similar cases?’
She shook her head.
‘I went back ten years and nothing leaped out, not with this level of abuse, not even without any syringes. I took a brief look at missing persons but there are hundreds of them just in the last year. Most are people who would have good reason to disappear: debts with the wrong kind of people, others escaping pimps and abusers or the wrong kind of friends. It makes for some sorry reading: runaway kids, missing addicts, battered wives and even battered husbands who have finally had enough. Doubtless some are probably lying dead somewhere, some probably lie there at the hands of others and it is feasible that they do so at the hands of our killer, but we will probably never know. I never realised just how many murderers could be walking free, not even on our radar. Not on anybody’s radar.’
North nodded.
‘There are a lot of deranged people out there. Some of them will be acting out their fantasies and will continue to do so until they fuck up and we come in to it. Some of them will never get caught - think about the high profile cases that are all over the media twenty-four seven for days on end but no one is apprehended, the news hounds soon get bored and move on and the victims simply fade away and are forgotten while their killers walk free amongst us.’
‘Like Jennifer Yates.’
North recognised the name, but he heard so many and couldn’t match it to a face.
‘The tabloids Miss Middle England who vanished into thin air on the way home from work one evening.’
He remembered. The whole country had been following it for weeks. Now even he couldn’t remember her name.
‘Exactly like Jennifer Yates,’ he said. ‘That case will still be open but no one will be working it full time, if at all. It’s been too long.’
‘It is surprising how many people in relationships just seem to walk out the door and never look back,’ said James.
North winced.
‘Are you alright?’
‘Yeah, the knife wound is giving me jip.’
‘Guv,’ a PC came in, ‘we’ve found Rawlins.’
‘I told you he would show up before too long. When will they bring him in?’
‘That might take a while,’ he pointed at a TV in the main room. Rawlins face stared out of it. He was looking up, directly at the camera pointing down at him. The screen logo announced that the image was live. North had a sense of motion sickness as Rawlins veered around the screen, the cameraman fighting to keep him in frame at maximum zoom. The lens began to pull back and North became aware that he was watching footage from a helicopter. Rawlins retreated into the distance until the Tyne Bridge filled the screen. Rawlins was now just a dot sat on top of the vast blue arch spanning the river.
‘He’s threatening to jump,’ said the PC.
NINETEEN
‘He is not going to jump.’
‘Then perhaps you would like to tell me just exactly what it is that you think he is doing up there?’
‘Running scared. He’s more likely to fall than jump.’
‘Jump or fall it will all be the same for us in the aftermath. This is going out live on national television.’
‘Chief Superintendent, I believe that Terry Rawlins has information critical to my investigation. The preservation of his life is paramount. I am here to retrieve him. Alive.’
North was with the main set-up down on the quayside so they could see and be seen by Rawlins, if Rawlins could see that far with that much alcohol in him. He looked pretty pissed. They had tried to access the webcams that were located at either end of the bridge, in the North and South Towers, but neither was putting out a signal. They had to make do with their own cameras, from the ground and air, plus the TV broadcast.
Groups of officers had sealed off access to either end of the bridge and were manning the barriers. Traffic was piling up and crowds had gathered. TV crews were now on the ground too. People peered out of galleries, café’s and boutique hotels on the South Shore Road. The news channel helicopter hovered high above broadcasting pictures of Rawlins surrounded by the award winning structures that lined the banks of the river, a magnificent backdrop to the huge pale blue structure Rawlins had taken refuge on. It was TV gold.
The Tyne Bridge itself was clear. North felt like the ringmaster in a circus but he wanted the show over with as soon as. Another helicopter appeared. North had called in the coast guard. He aimed a megaphone. ‘Terry, we can’t hear you down here. Please talk to me. I would like to lower a radio from the helicopter so we can talk.’
Rawlins was sitting with his legs over the edge of the steel arch. He spat and it drifted away on the wind, making its way down into the river.
‘Nice,’ North said, finger off the button. He pressed it and tried again.
‘Terry, please talk to me. I am lowering a radio. Please do not do anything until we talk.’
Then all he could do was wait and hope that Rawlins didn’t fall trying to reach for the radio. It was windy enough up there as it was, without the chopper blades whipping up their own storm. The pilot kept it high to minimise the downdraught which meant the cable had quite a drop to Rawlins and little weight on the end of it. It was passing back and forward, in front and back of him.
North had been through all the training, even been in a few live situations. He knew all about the negotiation procedures. Before even introducing yourself you had to attempt to gain an undertaking from them not to commit suicide at this time, and time was of the essence. The more time you bought the better chance of success. Only North didn’t have time. That stupid fucker was quite clearly legless two-hundred feet up in the air and the longer he stayed up there the more chance there was that he would accidentally be taking the express route down.
North barely breathed as he watched Rawlins flap about for a good few minutes before his arms clasped the cable and clutched it to his chest. As he did so something fell away from him and they all watched until it disappeared into the water. North switched the megaphone back on. He had to encourage him to talk, and, if he could, to think.
‘Terry, get the radio and let go! The helicopter could pull you off if you don’t let go!’
Finally he had it. The cable moved away and Rawlins remained perched above. North explained how to use the radio.
‘You made me drop my drink!’ Rawlins came through loud and clear. ‘I want more drink.’
North introduced himself. ‘And I can get you more drink, Terry, but it would be safer if you were back down here. You’ll be safe down here.’
‘No one is safe.’
‘Terry, I want to help you.’
‘It’s all fucked up.’
‘Let me bring you down, Terry. Things aren’t as bad as they seem.’
A noise came down the phone.
‘Did he just laugh at me?’
They looked at their video screen. Laughter turned to tears.
‘We’re all dead.’
‘I know you didn't do it. I know that you couldn't have done it. That you didn’t kill Denise.’
‘Do you think I'm a fucking idiot?’
Rawlins stood up, turned to the sky and started shouting at the helicopters.
‘This guy is a hamper short of a picnic, Guv. Are you sure he couldn’t have killed her?’ asked a PC.
‘Yeah.’
‘Maybe Winter didn't get all the drugs.’
You couldn’t keep shit from anyone round here. They must all know by now. The Chief had better break the news to the media before the media broke it to him. Maybe he could sneak it out while all this shit was still going down.
‘Maybe, or it could be a cocktail of alcohol, fear and paranoia.’
‘He sure is working himself up into a right state. We're going to be scraping him off the road or scooping him off the water in a minute, either will have the same effect from that height. It's not going to look good for us going out live on the news.’
On queue North's phone rang. The Chief ranted. North let him and then hung up.
‘The Chief agrees,’ said North.
‘Jump!’ someone cried. Others began to join in.
‘Get the goons doing crowd control to get those fuckers back in their cars and get them out of here. It’s not like they don’t have plenty of other options to get across the river. Get them out of here or arrest them for getting in the way – in fact go and arrest anyone who is shouting for him to jump. That will give the rest of them incentive to bugger-off out of it.’
North hit a speed dial on his mobile.
‘How far?’ he said. He looked over towards the road leading onto the bridge from Gateshead. A large, unmarked box van was approaching the officers redirecting traffic. They let it through. North hung up. Swapped the phone for the two-way.
‘Terry, please use the radio. Talk to me. I can’t hear you.’ And sit down, he wanted to add but didn’t want Rawlins to think he was being ordered about. Rawlins might ordinarily have it in him to jump, or he might not, but it didn’t matter what North had told the Chief, he knew that a tanked up Rawlins was a major liability. He could quite as easily launch himself off as slip. Full of the drink your craziest thoughts became reality. Full of the drink you just didn’t give a shit anymore.
‘You want to kill me!’
He really had lost it.
‘Terry, I want to help you. You can see that one of those helicopters is from the television. You are live on television. Everyone can see you. Everyone will want to know what happens to you. Nothing can happen to you without the whole world knowing. They will want to interview you.’
‘Interview me?’
‘Of course. You are big news. Everyone will want to know all about you.’
‘They’ll pay money?’
‘Thousands.’ What the fuck, humour him. ‘But you can only do that if you come down. We can arrange for someone to come down to you, from the helicopter. Take you off of there to somewhere safe.’
‘You must think I’m fucking stupid.’
North did but discretion was the order of the moment.
‘Of course not.’
‘There is nowhere safe.’ Rawlins fell and a cry went up from the ground as everyone gave an involuntary gasp. He slipped towards the edge and his reaching hand found only air and his head and shoulders slipped out over the side. He came to a stop half on half off. Something poured down from above.
‘Ah, shit.’
He’d puked.
North’s phone rang. He didn’t have to check the number to know it was the Chief. He ignored it. He watched Rawlins inch back onto the arch before speaking into the two-way. He repeated himself four times without reply. Maybe Rawlins had dropped the radio. North hadn’t seen it fall. Maybe he’d dropped it up there and it was smashed.
‘Next time I go all the way over.’
North breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Terry –’
‘I want my vodka.’
‘Okay, Terry. I will get it for you, but I need you to help me. I need you to be safe. If we bring you your vodka I want you to let us set up a harness and then give it to you. We can fix it to the bridge so you are safe. If you want to take it off you can but it will stop you having anymore accidents while you
are wearing it. Is that okay, Terry? It will be safer when we pass you stuff. When you have to reach out. We get you vodka and you wear the harness. Is that okay?’ Hopefully the fall he just had would help him make the choice no matter how pissed-up he was.
‘Okay,’ Rawlins agreed.
North gave instructions to the helicopter.
‘Terry, your vodka and the harness are coming now.’ He kept talking to him, trying to provide a distraction. Rawlins sat and watched the helicopter hovering above. North was almost willing him not to move. They were almost there. Just a few minutes more and they could all relax. The chopper door opened and someone started manoeuvring into position. Below, North gave a signal toward the road and the van was waved onto the bridge. High above Rawlins could only hear the roar of the helicopter blades. His eyes never left the man being lowered towards him.
The van drove to the middle of the bridge. Several officers followed. They opened the rear doors and began hauling something out onto the road. Above, the air and sea guy was half way down to the bridge. North looked towards the van: no one was giving him the signal.
Above: ten feet from the bridge.
Below: still no signal.
‘Come on,’ North’s palms were getting sweaty.
Above the coast guard’s toes were searching for purchase - then he was down. He was on the arch a dozen feet from Rawlins. Rawlins stood up and took a step back. North stopped breathing. He glanced back at the road. There was the signal! North gave the okay.
One hundred seconds to go.
He put both hands on his head. The signal for the guy above to start counting. He'd come onto the bridge facing North so he didn't have to make any obvious movements. A glance would do it. North was counting it off in his head. The guy up there would have to do the same while trying to communicate with Rawlins. While trying to reassure him.
Thirty seconds gone.
The guy kneeled down and fixed a rope around one of the beams that ran to the second arch on the other side of the bridge. This was the tricky part. If Rawlins took his eyes off what the guy was doing and looked below he might kick-off.