Encounter with Death.
Micky gave up, deciding that he was too tired. He would try again when they were back at the hotel.
A couple of minutes later their Limo turned off of the Chester Pike and into North Swarthmore Avenue. They were stopped a short way up the road by an unmarked armoured vehicle that was straddling the road.
“Swat team,” Chris muttered.
Lieutenant Armstrong approached them as they all got out of the Limo.
“Hello Micky, Charlie. Sorry, you’ve had to come out here.”
“That’s alright Lieutenant, it’s better to rule the killer in or out.”
“Yes, I wouldn’t have called you, but my boss, Commander Hicks, is jittery because there was a tube through his body. Even though I told him, it’s nothing like the killer’s MO, and the tube was only an inch in diameter anyway.”
“When was it reported in?”
“Less than two hours ago.”
“So Cedrick called me literally within minutes of the incident, Lieutenant. Uh, do you mind if we call you Brian? It will work better.”
“That’s okay with me. But you’d better revert to Lieutenant when Commander Hicks arrives.”
“Of course. So, go through the sequence of events for me.”
“Apparently Mr Jones, the deceased, was working on the roof when he slipped and fell off. On the way down he hit the end of the skip, that’s when a steel tube went through him. Finally, he bounced off the flat bottomed skip onto the ground.
He was certainly already dead by the time he hit the tarmac.”
“So it looks like an accident?”
“Yes.”
Then why did they call us, Brian?” Charlie asked.
“As I said, Commander Hicks is more concerned about his reputation than using his brain. Hence, that’s why you’re here.”
“OK,” Micky replied, then walked off to survey the incident scene, some 30 metres away.
A little further on down the road, an ambulance was waiting. Two police cars were also parked close by but were empty. Then he noticed two police officers who were still taking statements from some of the neighbours.
A group of four officers, evidently the ‘SWAT’ team, stood with weapons at the ready.
“I see you’re not taking any chances, Brian.”
“None at all Micky.”
“Was Mr Jones the owner or a workman?”
“The owner, he lived on his own, so the locals say. Those that we’ve already interviewed anyway.
He was renovating the house and probably went up there to save money. That’s what I reckon anyway.”
“Yeah Brian, no doubt you’re right. I bet he didn’t have a safety harness on either.”
“What a waste,” Charlie added.
“Yeah, but he was careless. Let’s take a closer look, Brian.”
Then seeing the body was covered, Micky thought he’d look over the Skip first.
The Skip was of a medium size, and almost full to the brim with materials removed from the house.
Amongst the rubble, several one-inch steel pipes protruded. The pipes had probably been replaced by copper and plastic tubing in the house.
There were dried blood stains on the end of the skip where Jones had landed, before bouncing off.
“So,” Micky said, running through the sequence. “Mr Jones just fell off the roof. Hit the end of the skip where the blood stains are, and one of the steel pipes went through him, but the momentum toppled him over the edge, and he fell to the ground. Where’s the steel pipe?”
“Oh, that’s still in his body.”
“Well, it looks straightforward enough to me.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
Micky scanned the area but found it difficult to see through the diverse emotions being projected by the police and neighbours alike.
Suddenly, his mind fleetingly locked onto a determined emotional flavour, which he recognised as belonging to the killer. Then it was gone.
“Let’s look at Mr Jones’s body Brian… I’m starting to feel uncomfortable.”
Charlie picked up on Micky’s nervousness, and her hand found the butt of her revolver.
As they walked over to the body, a man from the forensics team stepped forward and pulled the cover off exposing Mr Jones’s body.
It was a horrific sight, even for experienced eyes to see.
The man’s neck was pierced by a one-inch steel pipe that had torn through, taking his ‘neck’ bones and windpipe out and onto his chest, in a gruesome tangle of body material and blood.
His head was just hanging on, with its flesh and sinews seemed to sway in the slight breeze.
He could see that the man’s hair was greying though most of it was dark red where it had been soaked with his blood, which had since congealed.
His face was fixed in a frozen scream like expression.
Divorcing himself from the gruesome sight, Micky looked at the man again and decided that he had been a well-built man, probably in his late fifties.
“Geeze,” Charlie gasped.
“Not a pretty sight Miss,” the man in the white coat said.
“Well, at least we can be sure of one thing Brian, these injuries can’t be attributed to the killer,” Charlie stated.
“That’s what I told Commander Hicks.”
“Anything else of interest about the body?” Micky asked the forensics’ man.
“I’m Smith sir. We obviously can’t carry out a full analysis here. But there is something strange on his back but I’m not sure if it’s relevant.”
“Well, have you completed your inspection of the body?” Brian asked.
“Yes Lieutenant, we’ve done all that we can here.”
“So, shall we try to turn him over now?” Micky asked.
“Don’t ask me,” Brian quickly said.
“What, just the two of us then?” Smith asked.
“Yes, it shouldn’t be too difficult?” Micky replied.
Smith didn’t look too happy but nodded ok.
“You’ll definitely be needing these,” he added and handed a pair of gloves to Micky to put on.
“Right on the count of three. Turn,” Micky ordered.
Smith struggled a bit at first, finding it difficult to keep hold of the torso while carefully turning the body over.
Meanwhile Micky gripped the undamaged part of the victim's head, trying to move it in sync with the body.
The body was now face down, with its back exposed. Micky had not been quite so lucky, as the man’s head was still looking up, but at a slightly different angle.
“This is what I was talking about, sir,” Smith said as he pointed at the body.
Micky looked, and a chill ran down his back. He recognised the 4cm diameter cauterised depression in Jones’s back.
Then sensing an emotional surge a hundred yards away, Micky jumped into action.
“Too late,” he thought hearing Smith scream in pain as a purple beam hit his arm.
The flesh on Smith’s arm seemed to boil for a second. Then his arm, bones and all, vanished in a swirling red mist and he collapsed in shock.
“Take cover,” Micky yelled trying vainly to grab hold of Charlie’s arm.
But she had seen the blue Mustang, which had come roaring out of West DuPont Avenue a hundred yards away. And, as it came speeding towards them, she was already swinging into its line of fire, her revolver in her hand.
Micky finally managed to grab Charlie’s arm, and pulled her behind the skip, but not until she’d emptied her magazine at the Mustang.
“Bloody hell. Go on, get him,” Brian yelled at his armed officers.
Then the ‘Swat’ team fired a hail of bullets. The bullets slammed into the Mustang as the occupant fired back, clipping one of the swat team’s men.
The shot sent him flying backwards. But his bulletproof vest had taken the brunt of the discharge and swung him around and out of the main beam. Saving him from certain death.
&
nbsp; By then the police officers who had been taking witness statements had added their firepower to that of the swat team.
But the Mustang, now riddled with bullets, and its windows shattered, accelerated away and out of the field of fire. Then rocketed straight across to join Tome Street, its tyres squealing in protest.
“Get after him,” Brian yelled at his men. Then shouted into his transceiver, “Despatch. Suspect going down Tome Street, possibly heading for Chester Pike. Intercept with caution. The occupant is armed and dangerous. Get a Helo here quick.”
Within seconds, the two police cars accelerated away heading after the blue mustang.
Lieutenant Armstrong’s transceiver rattled away, as messages on the progress of the chase were being sent back and forth. While the medics from the ambulance tended to Smith’s’ armless shoulder.
Then, over the comms system they heard a harassed-sounding voice yelling, “He’s going down Dutton Street.” With the sound of squealing tyres being heard in the background.
A few seconds, then, “Damn. Sorry…, Bartol Avenue.”
Micky sensed that the police car had hit something but was still in pursuit.
“Whoa, that was close. He’s gone up the East Chester Pike the wrong way.”
Silence for nearly a minute.
“Sorry Lieutenant, he’s vanished. I bet he knows the area like the back of his hand. Where’s that damn Helo? We need it right now.”
“I’ll chase it,” Brian replied, then called Despatch again. “Where’s that Helo?”
“One will be with you in six minutes Lieutenant,” came a calm voice.
“Six minutes too late,” he snapped as he switched the transceiver back to standby.
“We’ve lost him, Brian,” Micky said. “He’s pretty smart.”
“What do you mean?” Charlie asked.
“Don’t you see? We’ve been set up.”
“So why did he kill Mr Jones then?” Brian asked.
“Simple. It's Charlie and me he has to get rid of, and he almost succeeded. He used pure logic. Shoot Mr Jones, then just wait for us to arrive.”
“But how could he have known that we would call you in. After all we didn’t think the case had the same MO, the tube was only an inch in diameter.”
“Yes, but Commander Hicks was jittery because there was a tube through his body. That was enough for him to ask us to come,” Micky replied.
“Perhaps the killer gave him a mental jolt at the right time. It could be done.”
“Then Jones died for nothing, and Tomlinson will never be the same again,” Brian stated, sounding dismayed.
“Afraid so.”
“You worry me, Micky. What is this thing you have in common with this killer anyway?”
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” Micky said smiling wryly.
“Charlie, help me out here.”
“Can’t help you, Brian. You’ll just have to trust him as I do.”
Why?”
“Well,” she said, thinking for a moment. “Ah yes, we’re having a baby for one thing.”
“Congratulations.”
“Charlie. Don’t tell everyone,” Micky urgently interjected. “You’ll put yourself in even more danger if the killer realises you’re pregnant.”
“Sorry, I didn’t think,” Charlie nervously answered, looking anxious.
Don’t worry, Charlie. Trust me, I never heard,” Brian told her, then muttered, “If I could get my hands on him.”
”He’d kill you first Brian, believe me. No, it’s our problem. Charlie and I have to deal with him.”
“Better you than me.”
Micky was quiet for a moment while he mentally scanned for the killer. There were several highly emotional people close by. But there was nothing in the area that he could attribute to him.
Smith had just recovered consciousness and was in acute pain, even though the painkillers were starting to work. Micky, realising this, sent him a mental jab to reduce his pain level significantly. Smith suddenly relaxed and was quiet.
“I saw you do that Micky… So, what are you? You’re not normal that’s for sure.”
“Brian, I’m not sure myself. But I am the good guy in all this.”
“I know that… But, there doesn’t seem to be any info on you before five years ago?”
“I…” Micky started to answer him when Chris came over to join them, providing Micky with a very welcome interruption.
“What’s the score, Lieutenant?” Chris asked.
Brian had studied Micky for a moment before he replied.
“I don’t think there’s any more to be gained here, what do you say Micky?”
“I agree. We’ll continue that conversation another time Brian.”
“I look forward to it Micky.”
Chapter 26.
A Warning Sign.
All three walked out, with Micky ‘feeling’ Brian’s gaze on his back, as he watched them depart.
Charlie put her hand on Micky’s arm to stop him, saying, “We’ll catch up Chris.”
“Okay,” he acknowledged and continued on to the Limo.
“I think Brian suspects something isn’t right Micky,” Charlie murmured.
“He reads too much science fiction. But I agree, I felt his emotional component, and it’s like, well like he thinks I’m a Superman or an alien, or something like that.”
“Could he be a problem for you?”
“No. It’s just that he saw that I was able to help reduce Smith’s pain, without touching him. He doesn’t understand how I can do things like that. I think he’s in awe of me.”
“Well. Don’t let it go to your head,” Charlie said.
“I won’t,” he agreed, grinning at her. “Come on let’s get back to the Limo.”
“So, what are we going to do now?” She asked as they got into the Limo and buckled up.
He looked at his watch. “Nearly 2:30. No wonder I’m starting to feel hungry.”
“Where to?” Chris asked. “How about that Diner on the Chester Pike, the one that we went to yesterday?” He suggested.
“Good idea,” Micky agreed. Knowing he’d be able to continue his scans in there, even though they’d be limited to half a mile radius.
“OK. The Diner it is.”
Chris started the car. Did a three-point turn, then headed back down North Swarthmore Avenue towards the Chester Pike. Once on the Pike, it only took a couple of minutes to reach the Diner.
Chris turned the Limo, parking it ready to leave, then let them out. “I’ll wait out here as usual.”
“Can’t we tempt you with any food, Chris?
“No, Charlie. I have my own.”
“OK, we’ll see you later,” they both called as they went into the Diner.
The Diner was nearly empty they noted as they sat down.
A tall, slender blond-haired waitress came straight over and waited to take their order. “Sorry, it’s a limited menu between 2 and 6 o’clock. We’re short staffed at the moment,” she pointed out almost giggling.
“Do we look funny?” Charlie sarcastically asked.
She flushed. “No offence meant. I’m just a giggly type of person.”
“That’s ok, then, no offence taken. Can you give us a moment, please?”
“Certainly,” she replied and left them while they decided what to have.
“Grilled chicken and chips with an orange drink for me. What will you have Charlie?”
“I think I’ll have the same food, but a coke instead.”
Micky gestured for the waitress to take their order.
“It’ll be about ten minutes. Do you want your drinks now or with your meal?”
“With our meal.”
“What are we going to do later Micky?” Charlie asked while they waited.
“Drive around I guess, see…,” he started to say but was interrupted by his phone vibrating.
The screen was blank, so he placed his thumb on a particular area, and the pho
ne scanned for proof of identity, then brought up a keypad on the screen. He entered his access code and the sender’s message displayed.
The message read
‘We have brought forward the testing to tomorrow at 12 o’clock, Building K8, Cebro. Do not be late. The building will lock down 20 minutes before the commencement of the test.
Doctor J Hanson, Project Coordinator.
“Damn,” he muttered. “D, minus one.”
Charlie cottoned on. “Tomorrow.”
“Yes, tomorrow.”
He closed the message. Then, suddenly feeling as if he might faint, decided to call Cedrick.
“Yes, my boy?”
“Cedrick, I need to see a doctor urgently.”
“It’s started then?”
Charlie, hearing part of the conversation, looked horrified but said nothing.
“Yes. Have we got someone near here who won’t ask too many questions?”
“Leave it to me. I’ll get the directions to your driver as soon as I find one.”
“Thanks.”
He ended the call just as the food arrived at the table.
They started to eat.
“Micky. Is there anything you should be telling me? Like, why you seem to be ageing so fast?”
“Later Charlie.”
‘Damn,’ he thought.
“It’s just… Well, as I’m having your baby…I need to know if you are really going to be around when it’s born.”
“Sorry Charlie, I don’t know. Only time will tell.”
“Is it the ‘death of time’ for us then?”
“You’ve lost me.”
“I mean, have you got a fatal disease?”
“Not that I know of. Anyway, I expect a lot of people have ageing disorders. That’s probably all it is.”
She stared at him in disbelief, then carried on with her meal. She didn’t really believe that for one minute. It was more than just an ageing disorder.
‘Who are you, really?’ She wondered.
After a long silence, Charlie couldn’t stop herself, and asked, “Then why are you so impatient to see a doctor?”
Death of Time (SpaceFed StarShips Series Book 4) 2nd Edition.: A thrilling, psychological, Mystery and Suspense, sci-fi detective thriller. (SpaceFed StarShips Trilogy) Page 18