Double Identity

by Alison Morton

  ‘Got him!’ he said, his eyes gleaming.

  She nodded, bent down and snatched the bodyguard’s gun from his waist holster. The young policeman’s eyes widened, but she jerked her head towards the cabin.

  ‘Stand by the door,’ she ordered in a harsh whisper. She scanned the ground, then found two loose bricks. She arched her back and lobbed one straight at the window glass which splintered then shattered into a hundred pieces. A shot rang out in her direction, but she’d already moved. She flung the second one through, then ran back to the side. More shots in a firing arc. Ex-military, then.

  The young policeman pressed his back against the cabin wall, just by the door. Mel pointed at herself, him, then the door. He nodded. She took out the pistol she’d acquired, checked the safety was off and stuck up three fingers. Miming three, two, one she ran at the door. Twisting her body sideways, she rammed it. It shuddered but didn’t give way. The policeman took a step back and thrust his shoulder at it. The lock popped and the door groaned as it gave way.

  ‘Floor,’ she shouted and took a flying tackle at Georgi’s ankles. The next instant, bullets zinged where their heads would have been. She heaved on the Bulgarian’s ankles. He fell back, firing at her. A bullet ripped a trench through her jacket and flesh on her upper arm. She cried out, and rolled away, gasping for breath. Georgi raised his pistol and took direct aim at her. Her heart went into overdrive, the pulse clamouring in her ears. He couldn’t miss. Nothing to lose. She swung the borrowed pistol up and fired two quick shots. His eyes bulged, and he fell back, his last bullet hitting the ceiling.

  McCracken groaned, but didn’t move. The younger policeman bent over the Bulgarian and kicked the pistol away from his hand, then went to check McCracken. The Bulgarian coughed and moaned. His lips were moving. He was trying to say something. Mel knelt by his side. No way was she going to put her ear near his mouth to listen and risk a bitten ear, but she leant in.

  ‘Immigrant. He get you. America. You no find.’

  His head rolled to one side. He was gone.

  * * *

  The construction site swarmed with flashing blue lights, uniforms, plain clothes and white-suited and blue-gloved CSIs. Two ambulances parked at odd angles were loading up, one with a stretcher trolley with one of Georgi’s henchmen. His comrade was standing, being checked by another paramedic. A few metres away, Joanna Evans was giving Mel grief.

  ‘It’s a gunshot wound. You have to go to casualty,’ Joanna insisted.

  ‘It’s fine,’ Mel lied. It was hurting like hell, throbbing, but that was just her flesh reacting. She’d apply a dressing, take a couple of painkillers and it would settle down in a few days. Her other shoulder was hurting more. That cabin door had been bloody hard. The bruise would be a spectacular purple-black.

  ‘If you don’t get in that ambulance, I’ll arrest you and have you taken there.’

  McCracken’s ‘mouse’ was now locking eyes with hers like a ferocious jungle cat. Mel sighed. Her mouth tightened, but Joanna didn’t relax her determined expression.

  ‘Oh, very well, but I’m not staying in.’

  Supporting her wounded arm with the other hand, Mel stepped into the second ambulance, helped up by a paramedic. McCracken was lying there, his eyes shut and face white. Another green-uniformed paramedic was doing vitals on him, said nothing, but gave her a reassuring smile. Mel leant back and closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted.

  As the ambulance rolled along the short journey, Mel had time to try to make sense of what had happened. No doubt there would be a lot of shouting and paperwork back at Friars Green station and she’d get a disciplinary for her actions while suspended. But that was beside the point. What had that Bulgarian meant? The Immigrant was obviously a top-class bastard, so Mel took the threat that he would attempt to terminate them as written, but what was the reference to America? The EIRS was partly funded by the administration there, so extradition would be swift and certain. No escape for him there.

  The moment the ambulance door opened at St Mary’s, it clicked. How could she have missed anything so obvious?

  She scrabbled in her pocket for her phone, but as she started to tap for speed dial, a hand clamped round her wrist.

  ‘No phones in A & E. Turn it off immediately.’ A strapping male nurse was frowning at her.

  ‘This is an emergency.’

  ‘No, you are the emergency.’

  ‘You don’t understand.’ She jabbed at the screen again.

  ‘I understand perfectly.’ And he snatched the phone out of her hand.

  ‘Give that back.’

  ‘Nothing is more important than seeing to that wound.’

  ‘Actually, there is.’ She looked round and spotted one of the uniformed constables who had followed them here. She wrenched her hand away from the nurse’s grip and ran towards the policeman.

  ‘Friars Green?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Investigator des Pittones. Tell Director Stevenson from EIRS he must come here immediately without speaking to anybody else first. Insist on speaking to him, not his deputy or Superintendent Fredericks, just Stevenson. Oh, and tell him McCracken’s okay.’

  The constable looked puzzled but nodded.

  ‘Now, young woman, you must come with me.’ The bossy nurse couldn’t be refused twice.

  * * *

  Mel woke suddenly. Danger. She didn’t open her eyes; the lids were too heavy and sticky. Her head felt full of cotton wool. The smell of antiseptic, beeps from machinery, wheels travelling along plastic floors, dull green curtains, whispers. She was in a hospital bed in the half-dark. Cotton on her skin, a hospital gown, and her upper arm was sore; tight plastic tape pulled at her shoulder. And despite the harsh hospital smell, she picked up a spicy, slightly resinous scent.

  Somebody was near, walking stealthily. Not a nurse with squeaky rubber-soled shoes trying not to disturb patients, but somebody not wanting to be heard at all. She had nothing to hand. She glanced sideways and spotted a plastic cup of water on the bedside cabinet. Not exactly a weapon. The bell push on its cable was hooked on the wall out of immediate reach. Her arms and legs felt like soggy wood, too heavy to move. She doubted she could even stretch that far at the moment. Why was she here anyway? They must have sedated her, or perhaps she was just too tired to be sent home.

  She heard the intake of a short sharp breath. Not making any perceptible movement, she set her fingers working to loosen the top sheet from its iron grip on the mattress beneath her. She wasn’t fixed to any lines or tubes, so she could roll out of her bed away from any threat. But in her present state she’d land flat on the floor like a wounded deer waiting to be finished off.

  A hand appeared between the overlapped curtains at the side, followed by a suited arm. Mel fought to keep her breathing slow and regular but shook inside. She remembered who the smell belonged to. Her dread grew. The whole figure emerged from between the curtains.

  Ellis.

  45

  Watching from under barely opened eyelids, she could make out movement towards the bed. Her heart raced. Perhaps he didn’t know she’d worked it out. A tiny hope that Stevenson had sent him to check on her and McCracken died when she felt his fingers round her neck, the thumbs crossing in the front. He started to press down.

  She opened her eyes extra wide. Ellis flinched, but then pressed harder. She struggled to move away, but her legs were trapped in the tight hospital bed. She balled her fingers. If she could just bring her arms up between his to break his grip…

  She flailed at him, but her arms were as weak as wet concrete. Pain shot through her shoulder. The dressing ripped off her skin. Choking, head swimming. She was going to die in a hospital bed.

  ‘Lie still, you bitch,’ he growled.

  Everything going dim, ears ringing.

  Metal crashed on metal. A flash of green. The pressure on her throat was instantly released. She gasped for air, coughed and coughed. The curtains on the other side of the bed were torn back. />
  Stevenson, one hand gripping the curtain. He dropped it and lunged for Ellis. But Ellis had slipped through the opposite curtains before Stevenson could get round to the other side of the bed. He shot after him. Mel could hear the director’s voice shouting ‘Police. Stop that man!’

  Dieu, her throat hurt. She fought for breath. Tears rolled down her face in reaction. A bloodstain bloomed through the upper arm of her thin gown where the dressing had come loose. She trembled, then gulped, which hurt like broken glass scraping the inside of her throat.

  Stevenson came back with a nurse who frowned at the bloodstain then set about refreshing the dressing and changing Mel’s gown. Stevenson turned his back and, ignoring the prohibition on mobiles, made urgent calls in English and French.

  ‘Right,’ he said, nodding at the nurse who had returned with a lukewarm cup of tea and some painkillers for Mel. ‘Tell me what happened, if you can speak.’

  ‘Wouldn’t let me phone you,’ she croaked. ‘Gave message to police officer.’ She swallowed gingerly. ‘Only for you. How Ellis know?’ She took a sip of the tea and closed her eyes for a second in relief as the liquid soothed the swollen flesh of her throat.

  ‘Don’t blame the constable,’ Stevenson said. ‘He was anxious to deliver your urgent message. He thought Ellis would do. I was rather busy last night after your heroics at the building site. I came to see you earlier, but you were fast asleep.’ He smiled. ‘What you were doing on an operation while you were suspended, you’ll have to tell me later, but first, what was so urgent?’

  ‘Georgi, Bulgarian contact, said, “Immigrant. He get you. America. You no find”.’ She turned her head away, even though the movement was agonising. ‘Stupid not connect Ellis Island, Immigrant.’

  ‘We were all similarly stupid.’ He took her hand. ‘When you sketched out that plan of how to get inside the Triangle Building in Brussels with a drone, I realised we must have a traitor inside EIRS. Not a pleasant thought as I’d hand-picked every team member. Well, apart from Ellis. But I’d worked with him in the Home Office. I thought I knew him. Apparently not.’ His mouth tightened. ‘He won’t get far.’

  ‘Why hate me so much?’

  ‘Not all men can cope with strong women, you know.’

  ‘Oh. What McCracken said. Not sure that’s reason.’ She picked at the sheet with her other hand and looked down. ‘How’s Jeff?’

  ‘Resting. Apparently, he was being awkward, saying he didn’t want an X-ray for his head and he had too much to do. Like you, they gave him a sedative.’

  ‘Like to see him.’ She swallowed. Her throat ached, but not as fiercely as ten minutes ago.

  ‘You’ll have to fight it out with the nursing staff,’ Stevenson replied. ‘My bet is that the frowning one won’t let you out of bed even if the Martians were invading. I’d rest if I were you and wait until they change shifts at half seven.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Can you do that for an hour and a half?’

  * * *

  ‘Oh, Jesus. Now I know I’ve died and gone to hell.’

  ‘If that’s your greeting, I’ll go back to my own ward.’ Mel looked down at McCracken. ‘You look as if you belong there, if I’m honest.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  She reached for the chair with her free hand and sat beside his bed. The other bed in the open side ward was unoccupied.

  ‘What happened to you, then?’ He pointed at the sling in which her left arm was resting.

  ‘While you were having your little sleep in the Portakabin, there was a bit of shooting. One of the bullets seemed attracted to me.’

  ‘Didn’t do a thorough job then.’ But he smiled at her, warmth in his grey eyes despite the tiredness. She smiled back.

  ‘Georgi came a permanent second,’ she said after a couple of seconds.

  ‘Hmph. You making a habit of collecting dead bodies?’

  ‘Somebody has to, given your ability with a handgun.’

  He closed his eyes for a moment. ‘Don’t, just don’t go there,’ he said.

  She looked at him and smiled. He looked back at her face, then his eyes dropped to red and purple bruising on her throat. ‘What happened to your neck?’

  She pulled the hospital dressing gown up to attempt to hide the bruising. She looked round but saw only one of the policemen Stevenson had now assigned to guard them out in the corridor.

  ‘Ellis tried to choke me,’ she said in a low voice. ‘In the night.’

  ‘Fucking hell!’ He stared at her.

  ‘Shh. I don’t know if I was supposed to tell you. Mr Stevenson appeared just in time.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  Mel stayed there for another hour but was shooed out when the doctor came to see McCracken. She sat outside with the policeman until the white coat and entourage had gone.

  ‘What did she say?’ Mel asked. ‘The truth.’

  ‘You really are a pain.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I can go home if I don’t throw up my dinner.’

  ‘You have to wait until evening?’

  ‘No, you posh totty. Lunchtime. This afternoon.’

  She started laughing at him, but pain grabbed her throat. She reached out quickly for the cup of water on his bedside table.

  ‘I’d better go back and see when I can be released,’ she said after she’d recovered. ‘We have work to do.’

  * * *

  Mel trudged up the steps from the garage at Friars Green station and had to catch her breath at the top. What the hell had they put in that sedative? She’d grab a strong coffee before going into the incident room. She had a report to write and needed to be needle-sharp. McCracken looked no better. He opened the door and every head in the room turned in their direction, including Joanna and Andreas. Mel felt warmth creeping up her neck which hurt like hell. She fixed her gaze on her empty seat and made straight for it. McCracken stared a junior officer out of his and flopped down. He rubbed the back of his head and winced. He plugged his phone in to charge it, then closed his eyes and leant back in his chair.

  Mel logged on and scanned her messages – nothing that urgent. She opened the report template and started typing one-handed. The letters were all over the place. She eased her arm out of the sling and made much better progress.

  ‘Here,’ Joanna Evans plonked a large mug of black coffee and a couple of chocolate digestives in front of Mel.

  ‘Thank you,’ Mel said. ‘What’s happening, Joanna? Why are you here instead of at Westway? Where’s Fennington?’

  ‘We’ve all been called in for a plenary. Fennington’s downstairs in the cells. And I don’t know what it’s all about.’ She gave Mel a sharp look. ‘What’s the matter with your voice?’

  Mel was saved from answering by Stevenson striding into the room, accompanied by Superintendent Fredericks. ‘Make yourselves comfortable, ladies and gentlemen. This may take a little time.’

  McCracken roused himself and he and Mel gave verbal reports of the previous evening. Some raised eyebrows, several gasped in shock at Ellis’s actions. Nobody said anything as they absorbed the betrayal.

  ‘Are we absolutely sure, Director?’ Barbara Winters broke into the silence. ‘Perhaps Miss des Pittones was confused by her wound and the sedative.’

  Mel pulled herself out of her chair, walked over to the secretary and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her high-necked shirt. The bruising had deepened on Mel’s neck and dark purple was now surrounded by a sickly yellow.

  ‘I was not confused,’ she said, looking straight into Winters’s face. The older woman flinched then looked down. Mel went back to her seat.

  ‘I know it is hard to believe,’ Stevenson said. ‘I saw Ellis’s hands round Mélisende’s throat myself. Other facts appear to fall into place. Now we have two principal tasks. Firstly, to apprehend Ellis.’ He nodded at Fredericks. ‘The Met will spearhead this in coordination with international colleagues. Secondly, to re-examine records, statements and documentation to produce a new analysis in light of Ell
is being identified as the “Immigrant”. Duchamps and Fennington will be interviewed again as will the Russians and the two Bulgarians picked up last night. My theory is that Ellis hired them, directly or indirectly.’

  He paused for a moment.

  ‘I will ask the security team attached to the Home Office to interview Ellis’s colleagues back to the start of his service. We have to work out what damage he may have caused, both operational and political. Ellis may also turn out to be the unidentified person Duchamps senior was talking to about the Brussels bomb when Mélisende was driving him from the airport, so we need to at least inform the RCMP and ask for their input. All of this will, of course, be my area.’ He looked at Mel. ‘We also need to re-examine the role of Gérard Rohlbert in all of this, establish any relationship he may have had with Ellis and perhaps find out at last why he was murdered.’

  46

  ‘You’re in no fit state to go home by yourself. You should still be in hospital,’ Mel said to McCracken. ‘You’d better come back with me.’

  He touched her forehead.

  ‘Says the woman running a temperature from a gunshot wound,’ he retorted.

  ‘Don’t get your hopes up, or anything else. You need food and rest. I’m just being comradely.’

  ‘So that’s what you French call it.’

  But he didn’t object when she persuaded him into the back of a police car and told the driver her address. In the flat, she helped him undress and pulled the duvet over him. He was asleep within minutes.

  She closed the bedroom door and made for the bathroom. Peeling the dressing off her upper arm she saw the wound had scabbed over. In the morning she’d rub some hypericum cream into the skin around it. Gérard had always teased her for using ‘hippy’ remedies, so she’d always kept it in the bottom of her toiletries bag. But he’d never been shot. Her fingers wandered to the indentation by her waist. That wound had healed pretty quickly. Hopefully this would be the same.