He raised the boot and rummaged for a few seconds, before handing Palmer and Gheeta a torch each. They flicked them on. Gheeta led Palmer and the Constable up the stone steps to the oak door.
‘It’s open, sir.’
She stopped in her tracks, seeing the door was slightly ajar and not knowing what was on the other side. Palmer moved in front and pushed it gently, just enough to see inside. No lights.
‘Mrs Leyton!’ he called loudly. ‘Mrs Leyton, are you in there? It’s Detective Superintendent Palmer, you remember me?’
They stood in silence. There was no reply. Gheeta’s mobile rang. She moved down the steps and answered it quietly, had a quick conversation with the caller, and returned.
‘That was Claire, sir. Stanley Leyton’s out. His brief got a judge to overturn the no bail order; he got out about half an hour ago.’
Palmer thought for a moment.
‘Right, that puts the fox amongst the chickens, doesn’t it? So, we must assume the first thing he did was to ring his wife and warn her we’d got her in the frame, and were most likely on our way here.’
‘She wouldn’t have had long to get out sir; just minutes before we arrived.’
Palmer nodded agreement.
‘Hence the door being open; and I don’t want to sound like Sherlock Holmes but look at the floor.’
He shone his torch on the flagstones.
‘Look at our wet footprints in the porch; no wet prints inside the door, so nobody’s gone in.’
Gheeta followed his train of thought.
‘But the door is open, so somebody could have gone out meaning to come back in; but they haven’t.’
‘And that’s probably because we turned up halfway through what they were doing; so they are probably still here somewhere.’
He took a step inside the large hall and shone his torch beam around, bringing it to a halt as it lit up a bag stood on the floor behind the door; the open top of the bag displayed neatly arranged gold ingots shining back in the light.
‘Well, we meet again; and all packed and ready to go.’
Gheeta parted the top of the bag fully using her torch.
‘There’s only about fifty bars in here, sir.’
‘So, we interrupted Mrs Leyton halfway through doing a runner.’
‘The Jaguar’s still here.’
‘Yes, and I’ll bet she is too. And the lack of wet footprints in the hall means she’s outside somewhere. Give Jones and Handly a call and tell them to be very careful as we think she’s out there somewhere.’
Sergeant Singh made the call. Neither officer had anything to report back.
‘Right.’
Palmer looked out onto the courtyard where the mist and the swirling rain in the darkness looked very uninviting.
‘We’d better join them and take a look around. Constable, you stay here at the door please, just in case she tries to slip back in. Here, you take this…’
He handed him the air horn.
‘Any sight of her with a shotgun, let it rip and hit the floor. Come on Sergeant, let’s take a look at that car.’
Bracing themselves against the lashing rain, heads bowed and squinting, they hurried down the steps and around the corner of the building towards where the Jaguar was parked, its wet paintwork glinting under the moonlight.
‘She could be anywhere here,’ said Palmer, looking into the darkness that surrounded them. ‘We ought to wait for more back-up really to do a controlled, armed search, but by then she could be miles away. You’d never find her in that lot anyway.’
He pointed to their right, where the grass gave way to overgrown scrub and trees presenting a dark wall.
‘Not without dogs.’
They reached the car and shone the torches inside.
‘Well, there’s a surprise.’
The torchlight lit three carrier bags of ingots on the back seat. Gheeta swept her torch beam around the area, and held it steady on a door it revealed in the side wall of the Manor House.
‘Look, guv. She came through the house with the bags, not out the front door.’
Palmer looked.
‘Or maybe she did come round from the front, and has gone back in through there to get that last bag.’
The high, rasping, screeching sound of the air horn permeated through the wind and rain. Both were already running back towards the front of the house when the loud thud of a shotgun being fired quickened their gait; Palmer had images of a dead constable slumped in the porch rushing through his mind as they reached the front.
No constable was to be seen. Slowly and staying close to the side wall, they moved up the steps. The oak door was clearly showing the marks of a shotgun blast, with steam rising off the hot embedded pellets as the cold rain hit them. As they got close to the door, it opened slowly a foot and the constable peered out.
‘Are you all right, son?’
Palmer was totally relieved to see a person and not a body.
‘Yes sir, I’m fine. Just a bit shaken up. She came from the front and when I let the horn off she pointed the gun at me. I managed to get inside and slam the door before she fired it.’
He looked at the damage.
‘Christ, that could have been me.’
‘Okay, well done. Radio in for help.’
He turned to Sergeant Singh.
‘Well, she didn’t pass us, so she must have gone round the other way.’
The Sergeant checked inside.
‘The bag’s still there.’
Blue flashing lights and the rasp of tyres skidding to halt on the wet courtyard gravel announced the Tactical Firearms Unit’s hasty arrival. Handly joined them, his semi-automatic in hand.
‘Everybody okay?’
Palmer nodded.
‘So far, yes. The suspect is on the loose around here somewhere with the shotgun. She took a pop at the constable, and luckily the door took the hit.’
Handly looked around.
‘Okay, I think it best if we wait for back-up. If we try searching now we are just going to be on the defensive with only three of us. One will have to wait with you, and that only leaves two; and I have no intention of searching with just two of us in this weather. Easy targets.’
Palmer knew better than to argue with a Firearms Commander.
‘Okay, might be best if we all get inside the hall then?’
‘Yes, I think so,’ Handly agreed.
Palmer remembered the gold in the Jaguar.
‘Hang on, I need to go and get the bags from that Jaguar; otherwise she could drive off with them.’
He pointed through the heavy gloom and rain.
‘It won’t take long.’
‘Okay,’ Handly nodded. ‘Take one of my men with you – the rest of you inside.’
Palmer leant into the driving rain that felt like needles stabbing his face and made for the Jaguar, with a Firearms Officer in tow. They kept low and close to the wall until they were alongside where the Jaguar was parked on the grass. They moved out to it.
‘Right.’
Palmer opened the back door of the car and pointed to the side door of the Manor.
‘Let’s get these bags into the house through that side door.’
He walked over to the door and opened it fully. Behind him the officer held a bag in one hand and his semi-automatic in the other and followed. Palmer stepped inside and looked around; it looked like an empty old store room for feed and grain. He stepped back outside as the officer went in past him with the bag. Behind him, unseen by Palmer, a figure hurried out from the gloom and ran over to him and barged him over onto the muddy gravel, then quickly slammed the door to the store room and turned the key in the lock.
‘Get in the car driver’s seat.’
Palmer looked up from his prone position at two large gun barrels aimed at him by a wet and angry-looking Margaret Leyton.
‘Now!’
She motioned to the car with the barrels. His hands stung from the grazing they had tak
en from the gravel as he’d fallen. He slowly straightened his body up to a standing position, retrieved his wet trilby and put it back on. Inside the Manor store room, the door was being repeatedly banged as the officer tried to break out.
‘Don’t be stupid, Mrs Leyton.’
Palmer cleared the rain from his face and eyes with the back of his hand.
‘You’re in enough trouble now, don’t make it worse. Put the gun down.’
‘And then what, Chief Superintendent? Thirty years in jail? No thank you. Get into the car, or I will blow your feet off.’
She lowered the gun to point at his feet. Palmer’s sense of survival kicked in. This woman had nothing to lose, and his days spent at Profiling Courses as a young CID had taught him that would mean the only thought in her head was to escape. He made his way slowly to the car, opening the driver’s door. Mrs Leyton opened the rear passenger door and they both got in. Palmer felt his trilby snatched off his head and replaced by the cold steel end of the shotgun barrels pushed against the back of it.
‘Hey! That hat was an anniversary present from Mrs P. and she won’t be –’
‘Shut up and drive, or you won’t be having any more anniversaries’
He pushed the ignition button and the Jaguar engine purred into life. He switched the wipers on fast mode and they still had trouble clearing the rain that had developed into a near storm thrashing at the windscreen.
‘Slowly drive out of here, and no heroics.’
As Palmer moved the car forward, Sergeant Singh and the Firearms Officers ran around from the front of the building fifty metres in front of them. Palmer flashed the headlights.
‘Full beam, and keep them on,’ came the order from the back seat. ‘Open your window and tell them to step aside and let us through –or else.’
He felt a little prod from the barrels. He wound the window down and shouted out.
‘Sergeant, don’t come any closer. I’m okay, but she’s pointing the gun straight at my head. Let us through and radio any other units at the road to step back and make way.’
They waited as Sergeant Singh stood unmoving. Palmer shouted again.
‘Sergeant, she means business. Move away.’
His mind raced. Come on, Gheeta – don’t be a hero, or we’ll be next on her victim list. Move over.
Singh turned to the Firearms Officers who were knelt with their guns aimed at the car. She said something, and they slowly backed away to the side. She took her mobile from her pocket and held it in full view. Margaret Leyton was suspicious.
‘Why is she waving her phone at us? I’m not going to ring anybody, stupid woman.’
‘She wants you to make contact,’ lied Palmer, who knew exactly why DS Singh was waving her mobile. ‘It’s a hostage situation and contact is important.’
Palmer knew that wasn’t why Gheeta was waving the phone, and surreptitiously checked his mobile was on as he drove the car slowly past them, making sure they could see the gun at his head. No silly moves please, Sergeant. No silly moves.
At the end of the short drive two panda cars, a squad car and an ambulance were parked along the road, flashing blue lights permeating the thick mist and rain. Their occupants stood behind them. Sergeant Singh had obviously relayed the message and insisted they move back and allow the Jaguar through.
‘Turn left and accelerate,’ was the order from the back seat. ‘And I mean accelerate.’
In the rear-view mirror Palmer saw the officers make a mad rush for their vehicles as soon as he had passed by them onto the main road. He took the Jaguar up to fifty.
‘Faster!’
The gun was prodded painfully into his neck
‘If they catch up I will use this gun. I promise you that.’
The road wasn’t straight, and Palmer put his foot down as hard as he thought necessary to keep them on the road. The thought crossed his mind to slam the brakes on and duck; but if the gun went off anything could happen, and there were a few clusters of pedestrians about, most of whom turned to watch the speeding Jag and mouthed obscenities towards the stupid old fart driving at such high speed on wet roads in a built-up area.
‘Next turning right.’
They turned into an unlit side road.
‘Right again’
Another unlit road; ahead of them, he could see a well-lit T-junction with a main road.
‘Left at the junction’
The call must have gone out to all units to watch for a green Jaguar by now. Palmer expected to hear the whirring of a helicopter, or see flashing blue lights in his mirror at any second. The road was going from lit to unlit as they passed through pockets of houses and shops sitting on it like knots on a length of string. Palmer reckoned silence was the best policy; all those courses he’d taken in the ‘old days’ flashed their ‘hostage instructions’ through his mind. Remain calm, show no fear, build a relationship. How the hell do you do that, travelling at eighty miles an hour in a thirty mile limit with a gun at your head?
After they’d gone about ten minutes, another order came from the back seat.
‘Slow down… Just past the next street lamp on the left is an entry between the shops –pull into it.’
The entry was in a row of shops and take-aways, between an empty shop and a bakery which was closed at this time of the evening. The empty shop on the left of the entry had a For Rent sign sticking out like a starched flag from the brickwork above the ground-floor shop windows. Palmer noted the previous occupier’s fascia was still in place: ‘CHARLES PLANT, Antiques & Jewellery’.
Things were falling into place now. This was Plant’s old shop. That early report from the team he’d sent to poke around here had mentioned a lady friend about the same age… but of course – Margaret Leyton! She fitted the bill exactly… but what was their relationship? Business? Or more than that?
Chapter 50
Gheeta had watched as the Jaguar disappeared up the Manor House drive with her boss at the wheel. Handly stood next to her.
‘We can stop it at the end of the drive?’
Gheeta was adamant.
‘No way. You saw what I saw – she’s got a gun at his head. Let them pass. We can find them again.’
‘We can?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay.’
He gave the order to let the car go on its way into his radio. It was acknowledged.
Gheeta ran back to the Manor and hurried inside the hall, where she shook the rain from her coat and hat like a dog after a bath. She put her shoulder bag on a large hall table and slid the laptop out and switched it on. Handly and the others watched as the screen lit up and she tapped the keyboard. She clicked on one of the many apps that showed up, and the screen changed to blue with a box asking for a password. She typed one in. She was impatient.
‘Come on, come on…’
Handly understood her impatience.
‘This is rural broadband country down here, no fibre optic fast speed. Still on the old copper phone wire.’
Gheeta smiled.
‘Yes, I can see that.’
The screen changed to another and asked for another password. Handly was intrigued.
‘What are you doing? Hadn’t we better get after the Chief?’
‘That’s exactly what I am doing.’
She thought she’d better explain.
‘We had a case not so long ago where I got kidnapped by an irate killer and was left chained to a radiator in an old warehouse. Not a very nice experience, so we can now trace where I or DS Palmer are on a computer at all times.’
‘He’s got a tracker bug on him?’
‘No, not quite – but the same principle. What I did was to add a tracker chip to his mobile phone SIM card that gives out a signal – providing the phone’s on – that is picked up on the satellite GPS system. But this laptop isn’t powerful enough to take the signal direct, so I’ve had to key into our powerful computers at the Yard using a Team Viewer programme that I adapted and encrypted that a
llows me to basically take over the work computer from here; and what we are looking at now is that screen.’
She tapped the keyboard.
‘Put in the Superintendent’s code, and… hey presto!’
A flashing dot appeared at the top right corner of the screen.
‘That’s him. Now where are you, guv?’
A map of Europe appeared, with the dot flashing in the south of England. Gheeta zoomed in, and like a rocket descending from space the picture took them down and down, with the landscape below becoming larger and larger and more detailed until she released the zoom button as the screen showed a number of streets and buildings. The flashing dot was behind one of them.
‘The Lanes. Does that ring a bell?’
Handly peered closer.
‘Brighton. The Lanes is in the main shopping area on the outskirts.’
‘That’s where he is then. Let’s go.’
They hurried to their vehicles.
‘Lucky he had his mobile turned on then,’ Handly called as he got into the TF SUV.
Gheeta smiled back as she got into the front passenger seat of the squad car. She opened the window and shouted back.
‘That’s why I was waving mine at him; he has a habit of turning it off. I know what he’s like.’
She tapped her nose with her finger.
Chapter 51
Palmer edged the car slowly into the dark alleyway between the shops.
‘Left into the backyard,’ came the order from the rear seat.
He turned left through a narrow entry into the backyard of what used to be CHARLES PLANT, Antiques & Jewellery’s rear yard. It was dark with high walls on three sides and the back of the shop building on the other. In the far corner to the right was a large shed that Palmer assumed was Plant’s old smelter. He pulled up close to a wall and switched off the engine. The incessant rain beat on the car roof.
‘Lights out.’
He did what he was told and heard Margaret Leyton get out of the car behind him. She opened his door and stood back, the shotgun pointing menacingly towards him.
‘No need for that. I’m not likely to try and run, am I? Wouldn’t get very far.’
‘No, you wouldn’t.’
LOOT & I'M WITH THE BAND: The DCS Palmer and the Serial Murder Squad series by B.L.Faulkner. Cases 5 & 6 (DCS Palmer and the Serial Murder Squad cases Book 3) Page 16