by Wes Markin
Topham stood up. It felt as if all the blood was draining from his body. He pointed down. ‘How do you know who I am?’
I’ve met Neil.
Topham started to sway on his feet. The walls suddenly seemed to be pulsing. ‘You are talking nonsense.’
Severance wrote: Or at least I’ve met what’s left of him.
Topham put a hand on the table to steady himself. ‘You’re lying.’
Severance slid the next card over. Topham was struggling to read now, but he managed. God, how he wished he hadn’t. There were bits of him everywhere, Mark. He’d been stabbed thousands of times.
‘Shut the fuck up! Shut up now!’ Topham felt ready to vomit. ‘I will fucking kill you.’
And she was still doing it when I left. Stabbing him. Again and again.
Topham swooped the pencil from Severance’s hand, gripped the killer by his throat and dragged him away from the table. He pinned him up against the wall, and placed the nib of his pencil against his eyeball.
As Yorke sprinted back down the corridor towards the interview room, he felt the contents of his stomach rising. Around him, the air seemed to press in on him. The evil invading their lives was now as palpable as the heat grilling the world around them.
He heard commotion from the interview room acknowledging, immediately, that his worst fears were realised.
Topham knew.
Yorke burst through the interview door.
Topham wasn’t a large man, but he was bigger than Severance and he was pumped full of adrenaline. He’d lifted Severance partially off the floor by his neck. The prisoner’s face glowed which was a good sign because it meant he was still in the earlier stage of strangulation, and saveable. The pencil to his eye was not such a good sign.
‘You’re a fucking liar,’ Topham said.
Behind Topham, the officer was trying to pacify him. A pathetic sight. ‘Sir … please, sir.’
‘Mark,’ Yorke said, ‘it’s Mike.’
Topham glanced back at Yorke. ‘Mike, you’re not going to believe the bullshit pouring out of this vile fucker.’
Severance’s mouth was open, and the remaining nub of flesh which had once been a tongue wiggled around in the air.
‘Mark, you need to let go of him.’
‘I should push this pencil into his eye, Mike, and I shouldn’t stop until it is buried in the wall behind him. The monster has just told me that Neil is dead. That he’s been stabbed to death. Can you believe it?’ He looked back at Yorke again. There were tears running down his face.
‘I don’t know why he’s said those things,’ Yorke lied. ‘But this isn’t the right way to solve it. We both know that.’
‘Just tell me it’s not true. Tell me he’s lying.’
The words stuck in his throat; lying to his friend was eating him up inside.
A bluish tinge was beginning to creep into Severance’s face. The window of opportunity to save him was shrinking.
‘Please?’ Topham said.
‘Mark, you are confused, and I completely understand. So listen to me, and focus on my words as much as you can. You need to let go of him, and then we will find out what has happened. ’
‘What did they find in the house?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What did Jake find in the house?’
‘I haven’t spoken to him, Mark.’
‘You went to call him.’
‘To tell him about Susie being there, alone. I’ve not heard back.’
‘Then phone him back now. I need to know that this is bullshit.’
‘By the time I’ve made that call, Severance will be dead,’ Yorke said. ‘You need to let go of him. If he loses his life now, there will be nothing I can do to stop you losing yours too.’
Topham didn’t reply. Yorke prayed he’d gotten through to him. ‘He isn’t worth your life, Mark. Not at all.’
Topham threw Severance to one side as if he weighed nothing.
He looked at Yorke. ‘You get me the truth.’ Rubbing tears from his face, he marched out of the room.
For the first time since the incident began, the officer ceased his pathetic flapping, and dived to Severance’s assistance. Yorke said, ‘Officer, get this monster to his feet, out of this room and to the other side of the bloody building.’
Yorke chased Topham down the corridor. He was sloping side-to-side, like a drunkard. When Yorke had caught up with him, he steered him into an empty office.
Topham turned to look at Yorke. There were more tears running down his face, but it wasn’t red. It was ashen.
Yorke put a hand on Topham’s shoulder. ‘Sit down, Mark.’
Topham pulled away and turned his back. ‘Don’t you dare, Mike. Don’t you fucking dare!’
‘Mark, I need you to sit down.’
Topham reached down and brushed everything off the desk: a telephone, a heap of files and some framed pictures. Everything came crashing down. ‘You don’t get to do this, Mike. You don’t get to fucking lie to me, and then bring me in here to tell me something different.’
He paced through the mess he’d pushed over onto the floor, back and forth for a minute, before turning and pointing. His finger was inches from Yorke’s face. ‘YOU DON’T GET TO FUCKING DO THAT.’
Yorke brushed his hand away and put his own hands on both of Topham’s shoulders. Firmly this time. He didn’t struggle.
‘I did speak to Jake, Mark. I’m sorry for lying to you.’
‘No … no … no …’ Topham turned his head from side-to-side. The tears were coming more freely now.
‘Susie Long was alive, but there were bodies there. Two. I suspect one of them is Alex Drake…’
‘Please, Mike, just stop, I beg you.’ Topham looked down at the floor.
‘Look at me, Mark. Please, look at me.’
Topham looked up.
‘We recovered a wallet from the other body in the room. I’m so, so sorry, Mark. I really am. We suspect that the other body belongs to Neil.’
Yorke was sure he saw something happen in Topham’s eyes at that very moment. It wasn’t as obvious as a light dimming or something dying in there. It was something so subtle that it would only be noticeable to a person incredibly close to Mark Topham. A person like Michael Yorke.
Yorke couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but knew that this moment, this subtle movement in the character of Mark Topham, would haunt him for the rest of his days.
Topham slumped to his knees and Yorke clutched his friend’s head to his stomach.
And the sound of Topham’s despair tore Yorke’s world apart.
18
IT IS ALMOST finished.
Yorke stood alone in the conference room looking at the savage collage on the whiteboard, contemplating Severance’s words.
He’d left something in play. What?
He chewed the end of a pencil as he thought hard.
More of Severance’s words resonated: yes, judges are very good at taking things into account when passing sentences.
He went through to his office, and logged on. He identified the judges from the two trials of Marcus Long. He contacted The National Archives and requested, immediately, the two transcripts of these trials. They acted quickly. His email pinged.
The email was encrypted; GDPR had tightened laws beyond belief. Once he was in, he looked at the closing speeches from both judges. It was Judge Andrew Salton who caught his eye.
‘I believe that Christian Severance pursued Marcus Long with great intent. In no way does this excuse his behaviour, but I have taken this into account when determining the length of his sentence.’
Bingo. Andrew Salton was on Severance’s chain.
Yorke rang through to Judge Andrew Salton. His wife told him that he’d not arrived home. Yorke started to sweat. He contacted the Salisbury Law Courts and asked them to check when Salton left for the day and requested access to the CCTV footage of him leaving in the car.
While he waited, Wendy dropped him
in a strong cup of coffee. ‘Is DI Topham alright? I can’t believe it.’
‘Thank you for your concern, Wendy, but can we talk later?’
She nodded. His phone rang. Wendy left the room. Something had happened in Salton’s car. The law courts sent the CCTV footage over.
Yorke rolled up his sleeves as he watched the footage; he could feel the sweat running down his back now. He drank the entire cup of coffee in two mouthfuls.
The footage was clearer than he expected. It used to be so grainy. Modern day clarity on a small camera was staggering. When Salton climbed into his car, Severance darted out from behind another car and jumped into the passenger side. He was holding a spray can. There was some commotion in the car, which was difficult to see because of the tinted windows. Eventually, Severance stepped back out, dragging and manoeuvring Salton over to the passenger side. The judge had obviously been rendered unconscious by whatever had been sprayed on him. Severance then closed the door, ran around to the driver’s side and climbed in. He started the car and drove off.
Now where?
Wiltshire Council had invested almost £450,000 in new state-of-the-art CCTV for Salisbury City Centre. Recently the ownership of it, and responsibility for running it, had been transferred to Salisbury Council. He contacted the council control room and made his request clear. He gave the vehicle make, registration and a request to track its journey.
They contacted him back and told him that this vehicle had been driven into Salisbury Solutions Storage Unit on Churchfields Industrial Estate. He instructed them to keep the recordings as evidence to prevent them being erased in 31 days.
He took a deep breath and contacted the reception of Salisbury Solutions Storage Unit.
He gave his credentials and then said, ‘Does Christian Severance rent a unit here?’
Yorke heard the receptionist tapping away. ‘No.’
Yorke paused to think; a sudden rush of caffeine through his system aided this. ‘How about Robert Webster?’
More tapping. ‘Yes.’
‘Has he been today?’
Another pause. Yorke was on his feet now. Wendy’s rocket-fuel bubbled inside him.
‘Twice.’
‘Twice?’
‘Yes.’
She gave the times. Over an hour apart. ‘Can you watch the CCTV footage of his actions please?’
‘We cannot see inside the unit if the door is closed.’
‘That’s okay. Just tell me what you can see.’
And she did.
Severance drove Salton into the unit and folded the steel door down behind him. When he emerged, CCTV footage showed Salton in the shadows at the back of the unit, propped up in a chair. Severance drove away. When Severance returned over an hour later, he was in a different car. There was someone else unconscious in the chair beside him. Again, he drove in, and when he left, the second man was sitting against the wall at the side.
Yorke had no idea who the second man was, and he knew he didn’t really have the time to figure it out.
Salton and this other man were in danger.
He contacted Jake. ‘I need you at Unit 42 Salisbury Solutions Storage Facility now. As fast as you can.’
‘Why?’
Yorke gave him a brief summary of the information.
After he hung up, he put an alert out on the two vehicles. They had Severance already, but there may have been a possibility of Mayers using one of these vehicles. Automatic Number Plate Recognition might strike gold.
Then, he headed back down to speak to Severance again.
He had a different officer behind him this time. Yorke had insisted the other one was changed for someone more competent.
He stared at Severance long and hard, and didn’t speak for a while.
Severance stared back.
‘Unit 42 Salisbury Solutions Storage Facility,’ Yorke said.
The colour drained from Severance’s face.
‘What can you tell me about it?’
Severance’s lips twitched.
‘What will we find there?’
Severance opened his mouth to speak, clearly forgetting, in this moment of surprise, that he no longer possessed this ability.
He reached down for a card and scribbled his answer. You will be too late.
Yorke put his phone on the table. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure.’ He folded his arms and sat back in his chair, continuing to stare at Severance.
Yorke may have looked confident, but he felt anything but.
Still located at Mayer’s house, Jake asked several officers from Armed Response to follow him to the storage facility. He informed them that they were more than likely recovering victims, and that there shouldn’t be any threat on site, but it was better to be safe than sorry, or even dead.
He asked Willows to accompany him and explained why. She was pale following the discovery of Neil’s decimated body and Susie, drenched in his blood. She’d been rocking back-and-forth in the corner of the cellar, clutching a knife to her chest.
‘I can’t come to terms with it, sir.’
‘Neither can I, and I’m sure Mark won’t be able to either, but we need to finish this.’
These words pre-empted a twenty-minute journey of stunned silence in which they contemplated the sudden, unimaginable and violent loss of a loved one.
It was late, and the sky was dark and swollen. The storm was close, but until it came, the high temperature would persist. Jake increased the aircon.
As they turned into Churchfields Industrial Estate, Jake said, ‘I know it might seem ridiculous to warn you of this, after what we have just seen, but prepare yourself Collette. Severance put two people in here remember. Yes, they were still alive when he left them, but I don’t buy into the possibility that they’ll be fine. He’s turned himself in, hasn’t he? Salton and this other man are not just sitting in there having a quiet cup of tea.’
A woman stood by an arm barrier in a hi-vis jacket. Jake stopped the car, opened the window and she approached. He showed his badge. ‘Detective Sergeant Pettman, ma’am.’
‘Sandra North.’ She looked and sounded shaken up. She must have been the receptionist who’d viewed the CCTV footage for Yorke. ‘As requested, everyone has been exited and no one has been admitted. The facility is empty.’
But it isn’t really, is it? Jake thought.
He saw a BMW X5 in his rear mirror. ‘Ms North, we have armed officers with us. Please point us in the direction of Unit 42, and then please go and wait inside the office.’
She described the route to him and then headed back inside her office. Moments later, the barrier raised, and Jake gave a thumbs-up to the officers behind him. They started to move into the facility.
‘There’s one thing I still don’t quite get,’ Yorke said, rotating the mobile phone on the table in front of him. ‘Why did you go to all this trouble to heal, and let’s be honest, you’ve gone to quite some trouble, only to spend the rest of your life in jail?’
Severance considered for a moment and then wrote a response.
Someone once told me that time was the greatest healer. But I was never that interested. What is the point of all that time, all that pain, on a promise that one day it will be okay?
‘That doesn’t really answer my question.’
Severance tried again. He slid his response over.
My time with the Conduit brought relief, escapism, togetherness, growth – all the things, Detective, that you take for granted in your life. Every single minute of my time in the Conduit’s care, every single second, I felt healed. The time I have had was worth it.
Yorke smirked. ‘You could have summed all that up by saying that you’re a rather impatient bastard seeking instant gratification.’
Jake didn’t want to delay. Armed Response did. An officer called Friars, who was of a higher rank than Jake, posed an interesting question at the roll-up shutter. ‘What if there is a bomb in there?’
‘There was nothing on the CCTV footage
to suggest that was a possibility, sir.’
‘There’re ways.’ Friars chewed gum. ‘Suicide vests?’
Jake looked at him. ‘Let me take the chance. Take your officers a suitable distance back, and Willows, too.’
‘Sir, I’ll stay with you,’ Willows said.
He looked apologetically at her. ‘That’s an order, Collette.’
Friars looked uncertain.
Jake said, ‘There are lives in danger, sir … you saw what was back at the house.’
‘That’s what I’m worried about.’ He nodded and threw his chewing gum to one side. At that point, there was a low rumble of thunder. They all looked up at the black sky.
‘It’s going to be one hell of a storm, we could do with getting this wrapped up,’ Friars said, looking at Jake. ‘Okay, fine, I’ll escort your officer back.’
Jake watched Friars escort Willows to the BMW. She climbed in, but Friars didn’t. Instead, he got something out of the van. He came running back over with a semi-automatic carbine.
Frustrated, Jake said, ‘Christian Severance is in custody. I don’t think we’re dealing with criminals. Please keep it pointing down, sir.’
‘I will, until it needs pointing up, officer.’
They waited until the BMW had reversed to a suitable distance and then Jake rolled up the steel door.
They were now in the interview room with the working aircon, so Yorke used the remote to hike it up. No, he didn’t want to make Christian Severance comfortable, but neither did he want to sit in a puddle of his own sweat.
Yorke turned the phone over and looked at the screen as if that would somehow encourage it to ring, while Severance scratched his thigh and sat with a nonchalant expression.
Yorke had never seen a prisoner looking so content. He knew that as time ticked on, he was closer to winning whatever twisted game he was playing.
‘Help yourself, Christian. Tell me what is happening inside that storage unit?’
Severance shook his head from side to side.