by M A Comley
He placed the cat on the floor and stepped into the kitchen. He opened the tin of cat food and spooned it into the cat’s silver dish. “I suppose I better think about feeding myself, too. Better keep my strength up with a big job ahead of me.”
As he prepared his evening meal, he argued with himself while he ran through the plan for robbing the next location. By the time he’d rustled up his steak, chips, peas, and mushrooms, he had his plan firmly thought out and was eager to get started on the surveillance in the morning. “Maybe I’ll go in disguise this time. I’ll definitely need to steal another car to keep the coppers on their toes. I’ll do that on the way back home tomorrow.”
The following day, he rose at ten, much earlier than usual. After feeding Tiger, he bolted down a bacon sandwich and set off. He scanned the area to see if the coast was clear then began the long journey over to Didsbury. On the way, thinking he’d need to ditch the Laguna, he surveyed the roads for cars he could steal on the return journey. The Laguna had served him well, but it was time to dump it.
He parked at the rear of the post office car park and made notes of the busy times throughout the day. Once the doors closed at five-thirty, he headed back home, taking the shortcuts to avoid the rush-hour traffic build-up that was a constant bane of the residents’ lives in the area.
Down one of the quiet streets, he spotted a white Avensis. He drove around the block a few times, found a piece of wasteland several streets away, and jumped out of the Laguna. He removed a spare shirt and a petrol can from the boot. Taking a lighter out of his jacket pocket, he opened the tank of the Laguna. After twisting the shirt into a tight roll, he inserted it into the tank opening then lit the end. Immediately, he took the petrol can and set off on foot. He managed to get several metres away from the car before it blew up. He doubled back to where the Avensis was waiting and tried the driver’s door, which opened. Not believing his luck, he tampered with the wires, started the car, and drove off. He looked in the rear-view mirror and saw a heavily built man shaking his fist and shouting.
“Ha, that’ll teach you to lock your car, sucker.”
After keeping to the back roads, he finally made it home by seven. Upon his arrival, he went directly to the garage, where he stored a set of number plates in one of the cupboards. He drove the car into the garage, replaced the plates, then entered the house. Tiger rubbed himself against Myers’s legs. He swooped the cat into his arms. “Have you missed me, big boy? Time for dinner.”
His cat leapt out of his arms and ran into the kitchen in front of him. Once he’d fed the cat, he smiled at what he’d already achieved that day then laughed at what lay ahead of him the following day. “What are we going to do with all this money, Tiger? I know—I’ll stop off at the pet shop before I hit the post office tomorrow and buy you a treat or two.”
Chapter 7
The day after the appeal, Hero was disappointed by the response it had garnered. Most of the calls offered only snippets of useless information. His team was in the process of chasing up a couple of calls regarding blue Lagunas, but Hero had a feeling they, too, would turn out to be a waste of time.
At almost ten in the morning, Sally took a call that sparked everyone’s interest. Hero was standing at the vending machine for his coffee fix when she glanced over and motioned for him to join her. He perched his backside on Julie’s desk and craned his neck to look at the sheet of paper Sally was writing on.
She ended the call. “This sounds interesting, sir. Someone reported a burnt-out car on a piece of waste ground in Withington.”
“Don’t tell me—it’s a Laguna.”
“It is, sir.”
“Okay, let’s think about this for a second. The appeal went out the night before last. I mentioned the Laguna in that appeal; maybe that spooked him into getting rid of it. Sally, first I need you to check the database and see if any Lagunas were reported missing. Also, if this was the murderer’s car, he’d be on the lookout for another one. Check if any cars were reported missing in that area around the same time.”
“Yes, sir.” Sally tapped at her computer keys and had the answer within seconds. “Here you go, sir—a white Avensis was reported missing a few streets away from the wasteland. Your hunch was right.”
Hero nodded. “Okay, just check that no Lagunas were reported stolen; let’s put that theory to bed first. If not, then I think we might have shaken this fella up a little. I’ll get onto SOCO, make sure they’re aware that this vehicle might be the one we’re looking for. Maybe they’ll find something in the vehicle to lead us to this guy. Anything on the CCTV footage?”
“I think I have something finally, sir. Just taking another gander to be sure,” Jason replied excitedly.
Hero walked over to his desk and eyed the monitor over Jason’s shoulder. “Here’s the man coming out of the Kilburns’ post office. I followed the car on the other cameras around that area and have spotted it here on Liverpool Road. After that, I can’t seem to locate it.”
“Good work, Jason. Although, there’s not a lot we can do about tracing the vehicle to an address if it turns out he’s dumped it.”
“What if I continue to monitor the CCTV, take it on a day or so, and look for the Avensis? Maybe I’ll have better luck there.”
Hero patted him on the shoulder. “Great idea, let me know if you find anything.” He went around the rest of the team to see what calls they had taken. There had been two about the Laguna, but when the information on the cars’ owners turned up highlighting a young woman and an older lady, they’d cleared the vehicles of any involvement in the crimes. Hero returned to his office and rang the pathology department.
“Gerrard, it’s Hero. We’ve got reports of a burnt-out Laguna that could be connected to the cases I’m working on at present. Is there any chance you can send a team out to assess and examine the car before it gets towed away?”
“If you give me the location, I’ll get on it right away. I was about to ring you. I have the results from all the PMs. Want me to run through them with you now or send them over via e-mail?”
“Can you give me a brief rundown over the phone?”
“Okay, I have another PM due in ten minutes, so it’ll need to be quick. The thing that strikes me most is that a different weapon was used in each case. With our two police friends, the culprit used a shotgun. On the second post office robbery, he used a smaller weapon—our initial findings are pointing us in the direction of a Smith and Wesson. And at the first post office, he used a knife.”
“So, what you’re really telling me is that this bastard has an arsenal of weapons at his disposal, and if we don’t catch the fucker soon, there’s no telling how long the victim list is going to get. Maybe we’re looking at different culprits here.”
“I doubt it, considering the amount of torture involved in each of the crimes. I’m willing to hazard a guess that it’s the same offender. Maybe we’ll find some matching DNA to corroborate that assumption. The wounds found in Millward’s stomach were caused by a six-inch kitchen knife. Whether he brought that with him to the crime scene or took it from the victim’s kitchen, I have no idea. Either way, it wasn’t found at the scene, so bear it in mind when you finally arrest the person and search for evidence.”
“I’ll do that all right. I take it you’ve yet to discover any DNA evidence at either of the scenes?”
“Nothing—this killer is a canny bastard. You’d do well to remember that if you ever catch up with him.”
“You mean when we catch up with him. Is that it?”
“Sorry it wasn’t more. I’ll send the full reports over to you within the next few hours.”
“Thanks, Gerrard. Don’t forget to send a team out to the waste ground at Withington.”
“I’ll organise that as soon as I get off the phone. Have a good weekend—are you doing anything nice?”
“Not really. I’m planning on joining the rest of the TA team. Portman was a member, and we’re going to say a private farewell to him
.”
“Good luck with that, Hero. Take care.”
“Speak soon, Gerrard.” He ended the call and began penning plans for his weekend meet-up with the TA, wishing they were gathering under happier circumstances. Still, Cara would be there to help him through it; she always was. He rang his sister and arranged to pick her up the following morning at eight-thirty.
Cara was as quiet as Hero during the journey. They arrived at the barracks ten minutes before their duty started. The rest of the team were already there, and the lack of jovial banter in the dorm spoke volumes about how each of them was feeling. Hero bumped fists with each of the men, and one or two of his closer buddies even hugged him.
“Hey, guys, I know we’re all really upset about Chris, but think about it: would he really want us to feel down? He was always the joker around here. Why don’t we make this weekend about celebrating his life, not mourning his death?” Cara said, wrapping her arm around Hero’s waist.
“She’s right, guys. The last thing he’d want is for us to be here with long faces.”
Sergeant Milton entered the room, looking solemn. “Nice of you all to show up this weekend, lads. Sorry that we’re meeting up again under such grave circumstances. Portman was a fine man, one of the best this unit has ever seen. I’ve arranged for the chaplain to come by at lunchtime and say a few words for our fallen colleague. Until then, let’s try and remain busy, occupy our minds. The equipment hangar needs a good clear-out. Are you all up for that?”
The team stood to attention and shouted in unison, “Yes, sir.”
Sergeant Milton nodded, saluted his men, and left the room.
Hero thumbed over his shoulder. “It’s hit him bad.”
“It’s hit all of us bad, mate,” Smythe said.
Hero nodded. “I know. Just didn’t expect it of the boss, that’s all. He’s always seemed a little distant.”
“Nah, it’s your imagination, mate. He’s sound. Right, we better get down to the hangar before he comes by and really lays into us.”
The team stepped through the doorway to the large hangar, and everyone looked at each other. It was a mess. Sergeant Milton had pulled all the equipment into the centre of the room.
Hero sighed. “Bang goes our cushy weekend mourning our friend.”
Cara nudged him. “This really is how Portman would have wanted it, Hero. Let’s stop whinging and get to work. This lot won’t sort itself out.”
He turned to his sister. “Who made you the smart one?”
“I think Mum and Dad had a hand in that. However, I could be wrong. There might have been a divine influence or two along the way.”
The team began sorting out the equipment, and halfway through the morning, Sergeant Milton joined them.
“You’ve made good progress, team. I’ve just received a call—we have an emergency on the M6. A pile-up involving several vehicles and a light aircraft. Let’s get over there ASAP.”
He clapped, and the team rushed to their vehicles. Hero drove one of the cars, while Smythe drove the other. The team of eight turned up at the scene within half an hour. On either side of the southbound motorway, they found confused and dazed members of the public. Four ambulances were already there, tending to the more urgent casualties.
Most of the casualties appeared to have been pulled away from the vehicles involved in the crash, but the scene was still in chaos. The light aircraft, which apparently had been part of a nearby airshow, had nosedived into a silver people carrier, and both vehicles were alight. Two fire engines were dealing with the blazes, while the paramedics tried to get the casualties who were lying on the ground away from the blaze.
The team rushed to aid the paramedics. Cara and Hero teamed up, as usual.
“Guys, what do you need us to do?” Hero asked.
An older male paramedic pointed in front of him. “We need to get everyone as far away from the blaze as possible. Leave the worst of the injured for us to deal with. Anyone who says they’re not badly injured can be helped back to the safe area over there, where our colleagues will attend to their injuries, okay?”
Hero nodded. “Leave it with us. Cara, you help the woman, and I’ll see to the gent.”
They approached a bloody couple who appeared to be very disorientated. The man was lying flat out on the tarmac, and the woman’s ankle was broken and hanging at a bad angle.
“Where does it hurt, sir?” Hero asked, surveying the man’s body and not seeing any indication of injuries.
“My back. I can’t sit up.”
“Okay, stay still, I’ll organise a stretcher.”
Cara helped the woman to her feet, but the woman shouted, “I’m not leaving my husband. Please, our dog is in the vehicle. Please won’t you save him?”
“Which vehicle, ma’am?” Hero glanced over his shoulder.
“The red sports car over there.”
The woman pointed behind Hero, where a car was sitting under the wing of the plane. He inwardly groaned. “I’ll do what I can if you promise to leave with Cara now.”
“My husband—I can’t leave him.”
“He’s safe. I’ll get him moved and then try and rescue your dog. What’s the dog’s name?”
“Teddy,” the woman said with a strained smile.
Hero left Cara to watch over the couple and ran back to the paramedic he’d spoken to earlier. “I need to get the man on a stretcher. He’s told me he can’t move as there is something wrong with his back.”
“Do you have stretchers on board?” the paramedic asked.
“Yes, one or two. Should we move him, though? I’d rather have one of you guys to assist us.”
“I’ll be over there after I’ve finished here. Try and keep the man calm until then.”
Hero hurried to the back of his vehicle, extracted the stretcher from the rear, and returned to the casualty. “Okay, we’re going to get you on the stretcher, but not right now. Hang in there; we shouldn’t be too long.”
“My dog,” the woman urged again.
Hero glanced over at the car and where the fire brigade was focusing their efforts and decided that he wouldn’t be putting himself in immediate danger if he attempted the rescue. He rushed over to the vehicle and looked at the backseat. The roof was a mangled mess, but he could just make out a ball of fluff fearfully staring back at him. Hero put on his gloves then prised open the already smashed window. Tearing the glass panel aside, he spoke to the tiny dog and tentatively put his hand through the window. The dog snarled then attacked his gloved hand. Hero surged forward and grabbed the dog, swiftly pulling it through the window. “Drop the attitude, mutt. I’m trying to save your damn life.”
He carried the dog over to the couple.
The woman held out her arms and snuggled her face into the dog’s fur. “Oh, Teddy, Teddy, I’m so glad you’re safe.”
Hero peered over his shoulder at the paramedic, who was packing his bag and heading their way. “Cara, let’s get the lady shifted now. We won’t be far behind you.”
Cara helped the woman to her feet again, which was an effort as the woman was intent on holding her dog rather than assisting Cara. She struggled, and Hero lent a hand getting the woman settled at the casualty centre set up at the side of the road before he returned to assist the paramedic. Between them, they placed the husband on the special board they had for spinal injuries and then onto the stretcher.
“Can I leave this man in your capable hands and help someone else?” Hero asked the paramedic.
“Go. Thanks for your help.”
Hero motioned for Cara to join him, and they rushed over to a lone woman lying in the road. “Hello there. Where does it hurt?”
“All over.” The woman smiled but winced as Hero touched her arm. “I think it’s broken. It hurts like hell.”
“Okay, can you walk?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve been too scared to move.”
“Gently does it now. Cara and I will help you to your feet. If it’s too much, then ju
st yell, and we’ll stop. All right?”
Cara held the woman from under her uninjured arm, and Hero tucked his arm around the woman’s waist and pulled her to her feet.
“It’s not too bad, only hurts a little. I think I can walk, if you’ll help me.”
“Of course, that’s what we’re here for. Were you travelling alone?”
“Yes. It was terrible. One minute, I was driving along the motorway, and the next, I saw the plane come down. Everything else seemed to happen in slow motion. It was so scary. I thought we’d all be killed. I haven’t seen the people come out of the plane or the car it landed on, so sad.”
“It is. Let’s get you safely away from the scene for now.”
They deposited the woman next to the other couple they had just rescued and returned to the crash site. “There aren’t many left now, Hero. I wish we could get into that vehicle under the plane. There might be someone still alive in the wreck.”
“Doubtful, sis. Let’s concentrate on getting the rest of the people to safety and reassess the situation afterwards.”
Hero and Cara joined another couple of their team at a concertinaed vehicle involved in the actual pile-up. The four of them managed to get the driver’s door open only to find the young male driver dead behind the steering wheel.
“We can’t help him,” Hero declared, backing away from the car.
Cara tilted her head. “Did you hear that?”
Hero cocked his ear then walked forward a few feet. “Over here, guys. There’s a woman trapped in her vehicle.”
The four of them again worked swiftly to clear the debris and found a sobbing woman pinned behind the steering wheel of her Nissan Micra. “Oh, thank God. My legs are trapped. I’m losing all sensation in them. Please help me.”