Dark Secrets

by Jack Steele

  ‘Carl and I have a few things to attend too and then we will join up with you at Broadmoor.’

  ‘Great. Let’s hope things are better once we arrive. See you there.’

  I returned to the briefing room to join Carl who was sitting down talking to Sheila. She was busy placing the refreshments on a trolley by the side of the table.

  ‘There is another briefing scheduled for the same time tomorrow Carl. Let us all pray that by then we have found them safe and well.’

  Carl had icing sugar on his jumper from the cakes he had been picking off. There were still two in his hand when Sheila wheeled the trolley to those still waiting outside in the cold.

  The large television screen on the wall had just repeated the briefing on the News Channel but now attention turned to a reporter standing in Victoria Park. Behind him was police tape and the strapline running along the bottom of the screen mentioned another grisly find. A man walking his dog had let it off the lead and went to find it when it had disappeared in the bushes.

  I shook my head concerned that one of the fugitives could be responsible for this despicable crime. My attention was drawn to the large whiteboard and flipchart stood next to the monitor. Attached to them were the faces of the fugitives and a map showing Geb Blood’s previous hideout at the brickworks as well as his home address in the woods. I stood there trying to work out where he could strike next.

  ‘I feel we are missing a few pieces of the jigsaw Carl but I can’t put my finger on exactly what I should be looking for.’

  Carl mumbled in agreement as he stuffed the final cake into his mouth. I waited for him to wash it down with his cup of tea and then he offered, ‘We have Blood’s profile but nothing for Cross. If Stella was here she would be working on that right now, but she’s not here. Where has he taken her?’

  I knew that the longer we theorised the less time we had to save her and Miranda. We desperately needed a breakthrough.

  For that we went to see Graham searching the CCTV for pictures of the van leaving Miranda’s. In his absence I talked to Scott. He still owned a fine mass of facial hair.

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘He is out back. He isn’t feeling too good.’

  Scott didn’t look up from his monitor. He held a ballpoint pen in his left hand while he clicked incessantly on his mouse button with his right. Then he began to turn the pen around his thumb just by moving his hand. It was mesmerising.

  I asked if he could search for any footage around the time of the Broadmoor breakout. He let out a yawn and wrote my request down on his notepad along with the date and time. His demeanour made it obvious to me that the pressure of another demand was beginning to show the strain on their time and energy.

  Carl nudged me when Graham appeared from a door leading off from the surveillance room. It wasn’t a good sign seeing him look pale faced with stress etched into each worry line across his forehead. This wasn’t the first time we had one of our own to find seeing that it was only days ago that we were hunting our commander, finding him just in time. Miranda and Stella were such an integral part of our group and our capabilities for a successful investigation were severely diminished without them.

  He sat down in front of his monitor and drank some fruit flavoured water from a plastic bottle. He looked at us both and shook his head.

  ‘This is taking us forever. We need more support and when I approached the commissioner he said he would see what he could do!’

  I needed Graham and his team upbeat and positive so I took out my mobile and punched in George Drake’s number. He picked up immediately and after a brief conversation he agreed to speed things up by assigning more staff to look at the CCTV with everyone accountable to Graham.

  Graham looked somewhat annoyed that he didn’t get that response from him but thanked me. A phone rang and Scott immediately transferred it to his superior.

  ‘It’s the school with information regarding their teacher Johanne Julious.’

  Listening to Graham we gathered that she was on holiday in Benidorm with her friend Ruth Pasmore but due to arrive back tomorrow morning. We left him and his team to work out the details of when precisely it would land and which airport so we would be there to meet her.

  Carl had parked at the back of our building to avoid the cameras. We belted up and headed for Broadmoor.

  Chapter 38

  This was our first visit to the legendary hospital. Until recently, most of the public still believed it to be a prison and were surprised to find it was run by the National Health Service. It is the best known and oldest of the three high-security psychiatric hospitals in England, the other two being Ashworth Hospital near Liverpool and Rampton Secure Hospital in Nottinghamshire.

  On the drive over, Carl and I had been theorising whether or not the fugitives were responsible for the recent murders in the park.

  ‘The way the innards are left outside the body resembles those violent murders of Jack the Ripper.’

  The gruesome photos from the brickworks were similar to the ones we studied at the Academy during our training there. Carl was particularly fascinated by the subject.

  ‘I think it is such a coincidence that back in 1888, James Kelly escaped from Broadmoor and many believe he was in fact Jack the Ripper!’

  ‘So do you think one of those on the run is trying to re-enact his murders?’

  Carl mumbled it was possible as we saw the black smoke rising above the trees ahead of us. It was a menacing indication that we had arrived at Broadmoor.

  A police cordon had been established on Upper Broadmoor Road to prevent the press and members of the public venturing too close to what was being portrayed on the news channels as a warzone.

  Carl pulled up and spoke to an officer who checked our ID and rang ahead to confirm our access to drive nearer to the hospital. While we waited for clearance I glanced around at who else was here. The media were here in force as well as a large group of people who I assumed were friends and relatives of the patients in Broadmoor. They were all congregated on grass to the right of us. A wooded area led off from here and it was possible to access the hospital through the trees. No doubt the intrusive media would want an exclusive shot for their station and I watched a couple of camera crews disappearing through them. They could see over the high security wall and the rioters on the rooftops, provided they climbed high up into the trees with their cameras.

  The officer moved some bollards and waved us through with instructions where to park up further ahead. As the high security brick walls came into view there were more police vehicles parked up along the road. We were waved around to the left and towards the main entrance. The whole area was buzzing with police who were armed and stationed at key points along the road. It was something that I had never witnessed before. We were stopped again just before the entrance and asked to park up. When we left the car we were escorted to the entrance by two armed officers. In the distance a helicopter hovered over the hospital just above the buildings that were in flames. The smell of burning wood and the sounds of rioting were quite chilling as we finally stood alongside the commissioner.

  He introduced us to the man in the spotlight, Michael Moor, the Clinical Director of Broadmoor. We learnt that several of the nursing staff in the Assertive Rehabilitation section were still unaccounted for. Everywhere was in lockdown but with the cameras not working it was difficult to get a precise assessment of the situation inside.

  Suddenly we all ducked down instinctively as a loud explosion shook the ground where we stood.

  Chapter 39

  The armed police rushed us through various gates and checkpoints to an area inside the hospital still unaffected by the violence. Carl and I watched as the group caught their breath and a few minutes later we were led to a room where two others were already seated around a large glass table. The director introduced the Primary Nurse and Lead Psychologist as part of a larger team who dealt with Geb Blood and Jez Cross on a daily basis. The others were still hos
tages deeper in the hospital.

  They sat nervously around the table as we all took our seats then the commissioner wasted no time in asking them to detail the events leading up to the start of the riot.

  First to speak was a petite middle-aged woman with short jet black hair and a tanned face. A badge pinned to her pink cashmere jumper read Angie Smitheringale, Lead Psychologist.

  ‘I was the first person that Geb Blood opened up to. It took us about six months to gain each other’s trust but once our meetings reached double figures he began to write me notes and interact more. He was mute so that’s how we communicated.’

  I watched the pretty woman glance at her notes contained in an opened file placed on the table in front of her. She frowned and screwed her eyes up as if she had forgotten her glasses and the words on the page were undecipherable but then a second later looked up and carried on her profile of the mass murderer.

  ‘The more we met the more he realised that I was there to help him. He realised that if he worked with me and my team then he could receive perks and possibly be moved to a less secure environment.’

  It was then that the Clinical Director interrupted her. He was keen to protect his staff from scrutiny and potential blame from all concerned. He was aware that moving someone like Blood to a place where he could turn things to his advantage was highly sensitive considering recent events.

  ‘I encouraged everyone to give Geb Blood, Jez Cross and obviously everyone here a chance to redeem themselves. All the patients are placed into our care so that we can try to rehabilitate them whilst at the same time understand why they did those things in the first place.’

  It felt like we were skirting around the issue and not getting to the crux of the matter about their escape. I decided to ask the Primary Nurse named Dave Gant. He was built like an ox and must have spent half his day in the gym judging by his huge biceps. He could have worked as a doorman for nightclubs but instead he was here dealing with patients who could launch an attack on you any second of the day.

  ‘Hello Mr Gant. Could you please provide us with a brief timeline to exactly what happened on the day of their escape?’

  ‘My role here is to ensure the safety and welfare of the patients and the team.’

  It was another rehearsed line that slightly infuriated me and I wasn’t going to waste valuable time listening to this. He spoke with a cockney accent and when I asked him for specific details on the breakout I noticed he glanced towards the Clinical Director. That’s when I decided enough was enough.

  Chapter 40

  ‘Listen, I appreciate this is sensitive for everyone but we must have an understanding of their profiles, how they could organise a co-ordinated breakout during a riot at the same time as the hospital’s computer systems crash caused by someone hacking into the mainframe.’

  The Commissioner placed his hand on my arm meaning that I was sidestepping some kind of managerial waffle by going straight for the jugular. Instead he encouraged the three staff members present to elaborate on their observations. I was fidgeting uncomfortably in my chair as I listened to things that I already knew. Time was ticking and my thoughts were with our colleagues Miranda and Stella who could be going through hell.

  We listened to the profile of Geb Blood. Stella had written an extensive profile about him so I was more interested about who exactly was Jez Cross? That question was answered by Angie.

  ‘He was quite open about his past. He revealed how his stepfather mistreated him as a child and he was constantly in trouble at school. Many times he was sent home which only led him to play truant rather than face another beating. He took up with some gypsies, eventually preferring to stay with them. He learnt bare knuckle fighting, went to the annual Appleby Horse Fair and mixed with nefarious people. As he grew older he grew stronger developing a high tolerance threshold for pain. Later he became an amateur boxer and did quite well initially but when he was hospitalised after a knockdown he decided to spend more time as a bouncer on the door of a nightclub. It was on one particular night that he had a run in with a drug dealer who he saw selling in his club. He dragged him into the alleyway and proceeded to give him a severe beating which was caught on the nightclub’s camera. That earned him a stay at Wormwood Scrubs where inside he became involved with a crime syndicate. On release he became employed by them to collect debts with, in his own words, the chance to beat people up, break their fingers and toes. One of his victims decided to get his revenge by driving into his car. Jez knocked the man unconscious and then while he was still on the floor, he got back into his car and drove over him. A few cars down were plain clothes detectives who took him in and when the victim died Jez was sent here to Broadmoor for treatment to curb his aggressive nature.’

  So it was clear that both he and Geb Blood were extremely dangerous and I asked her why the staff thought the time in the hospital was changing their attitudes.

  ‘This is the first time I have witnessed a co-ordinated and sustained attack in my thirteen years here at Broadmoor,’ she took a gulp of water from a small glass tumbler before continuing. ‘We realise now that it was a mistake to consider both Geb Blood and Jez Cross for the transfer from Intensive care to Assertive Rehabilitation. They had been assessed a couple of months ago as responding to therapy, taking their meds without incident and worthy of the trial.’

  The commissioner interrupted her with a question.

  ‘Who made that decision?’

  She stuttered the answer as if under interrogation by the Clinical Director then focusing on her colleague she replied, ‘the team…Michael, John, Nigel and I...as well as the nurses.’

  Michael then interrupted her to explain the procedure.

  ‘Each patient was assessed at a weekly meeting. If any were proving to be reacting favourably to treatment, then the team would consider all their options. One of which was to move a patient onto a ward with a lower level of security. The patients can mix with each other albeit with supervision by the staff present. It appeared that both Geb Blood and Jez Cross were making exceptional progress, more than any of the other patients.’

  ‘What happened on the day of the breakout John?’ asked the commissioner. The young man leant forward and took a deep breath.

  ‘I supervise the movement of the patients when they have time outside in the secured courtyard. I work closely with Angie and spend a lot of time with both Cross and Blood.’

  We found out to our surprise that Cross and Blood had started woodwork classes producing objects that would be sold to generate funds for these activities.

  ‘It was during one of these classes that we noticed a drone outside. It flew around the grounds with flashing lights and a siren which must have been the signal to start the rioting. We were quickly overwhelmed and attacked with the workshop tools at their disposal.’

  My mind was picturing the scene and the transformation from serenity to chaos. It was a chilling series of events that the Clinical Director revealed to us in that room.

  ‘It was co-ordinated precisely at the time the cameras and the computer network went offline. The manpower became thin on the ground as nurses were drawn to all sections of the hospital leaving our sector to the basic minimum staffing levels. The Clinical Nurse Manager, Nigel Stamford was overseeing the workshop at the time and taken hostage. Blood had cut Nigel’s wrist with a chisel and was about to slash his throat unless we cleared a path for them. We had sent for backup and I calculated that the three of them would be intercepted once they set foot outside the perimeter. Unfortunately the backup failed to materialise until much later. I had made the worst decision of my life and now they are out there on the rampage.’

  We sat in silence deep within our own thoughts. No doubt the reparations and the heavy hand of justice will fall down onto the Clinical Director. Something seemed to be troubling Angie, the Lead Psychologist and I asked her if she had something to add.

  ‘When they held Nigel hostage in the craft room, Jez could have tried to save him
but he didn’t. Instead he allowed Geb to hold a knife to his throat and became Blood’s voice in ordering their release.’

  Suddenly she stopped talking as the sound of sirens wailed all around us. Then two armed men entered the room.

  Chapter 41

  ‘Please gather your belongings and follow us out this way immediately!’

  We quickly got to our feet and followed them through the entrance and into the bright sunshine outside. A thought occurred to me that this would have been the same route that Nigel would have been dragged through by the two fugitives. He would have prayed that they left him here but instead they took him with them.

  I noticed a group of armed officers being briefed by their superior officer who I hoped would answer a few of my questions. I made my way over to them and realised they were the National Tactical Response Group highly skilled at handling riots and bringing order and stability usually to prison riots. Unfortunately he made it abundantly clear that my presence was unwelcome and I would have to wait. That’s just when another explosion close to where we were standing caused more chaos. The crazed shrieks from those inside the hospital were unnerving and we begrudgingly took the advice of the NTRG to leave the area. Everyone instantly dispersed which meant that our questions about how the fugitives had left the hospital were going to be answered another day. Reluctantly, Carl and I followed the armed convoy away from the hospital and back through the cordon. My thoughts turned to Stella and Miranda and whether or not time had just run out for them.

  Chapter 42

  Stella was still stunned by the confession of her best friend. She couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Miranda was obviously distraught at the thought that their lives were in danger now because of her actions a few years ago.

  It had been the Strategic Investigation Unit’s first case. Miranda, fresh out of the Academy was keen to cement her place in the organisation. They had in custody the psychopath Geb Blood and Graham had tracked down his base to the old brickworks. All she had to do was find forensic evidence that linked him to the scene.