by Chris Simms
‘Who knows. If he has, you better hope he hasn’t locked it behind him.’
‘Why?’
‘The only way through that thing will be with a bloody great axe.’
Jon span round and started up the stairs once more. As the final set of stairs came into view, he slowed his pace. Tried to make no noise. There was a corridor at the top. He edged up the final steps and closed his eyes to listen. Footsteps. Dropping to his knees, he kept his head low. Just as he started to peep round the corner, his phone started to ring inside his pocket. No! The noise echoed along the empty corridor.
Chapter 46
Gavin Conway stood before the wooden door to the clock tower. All the sirens had gone silent, which only made him more nervous. Hurriedly, he patted his trouser pockets, searching for the key. What the hell? It wasn’t there. It wasn’t there! Calm down, he told himself. Of course it’s there. Try again. Take it slowly.
This time, he felt it.
His heart was pounding and he let the breath seep slowly from his lips. You’re nearly there. It’s all nearly over. You’ve done it. His fingers were trembling as he raised the key towards the lock.
A phone’s shrill ring made his head snap to the left.
It wasn’t a faint sound, floating up from far below. It was close. Really close. Further along the deserted corridor, something was coming into view. It was almost at floor level, where the stairs began. Was it the top of someone’s head? He watched incredulously as a forehead and then a face came into view. Suddenly, the big bastard he’d seen outside the Veterans’ Helpline office sprang forward and began sprinting towards him.
Jon roared the words at top of his voice: ‘Do not fucking move!’
Conway’s eyes were wide open and Jon saw him flinch. The key in his hand fell to the floor. For a moment, Jon thought his tactic had worked. The bloke had frozen. But then Conway stooped down, fingers scrabbling desperately at the carpet.
‘Police! Stay still!’
Another quick glance in his direction and Conway snatched up the holdall and bolted in the opposite direction. He ran for a few metres then vanished through the nearest doorway. A bang as the door slammed shut.
Jon reached it moments later. The handle turned easily enough, but something stopped it from opening. He slammed his upper body against it. The thin wooden surface flexed, but didn’t budge. He took a step back and kicked at the lower part with his heel. The panelling immediately cracked. He repeated the action again and again, watching it start to splinter, then come apart. Once the hole was big enough, he reached in and started snapping sections away with his fingers. The nail of his forefinger caught on an edge and was half-ripped off. He kept going until the hole was bigger. Dropping to his knees, he peered through. A chair, tipped back on two legs, the back of it wedged beneath the door handle. He reached through, grabbed the leg closest to him and threw the thing aside.
The door cracked against the wall as he stepped into the room beyond. Whatever it had once been, the place was now empty. He scanned for another door or exit. No side room or cupboards or anywhere to hide. Nothing. That left the line of windows on the far side. He ran across and looked out. A narrow wooden platform beyond the glass. He started checking the old-fashioned metal handles. All were pointing down, which meant the latch was engaged with the frame. All except the last, which was horizontal. He pushed it open and stuck his head out. Cool air washed over his face. Off to his right, Conway was stumbling along the walkway. Jon couldn’t see the holdall. Had he left it behind? Then he realised he couldn’t see the man’s arms, either. He was clutching it to his chest. He still had the baby. Jon crouched down and squeezed himself through the narrow opening.
‘No answer,’ Iona announced, turning to the DCI. ‘Want me to leave him a message?’
‘Don’t be bloody stupid,’ Parks spat. ‘That bloody man.’ She retrieved her own phone from her pocket and selected a number. ‘Evans, where are you? Cameras showing anything? Damn. OK, you know the score: divide up and start a sweep of the building. Soon as Spicer is located, tell him to retire from the scene, understood?’
Behind Parks, Iona could see another car pulling up. She watched as an overweight man with long straggly hair climbed out and lifted a hand. ‘Evening! I’m Toby Bishop, the negotiator. Any ideas where he is?’
Parks swept a hand out. ‘Somewhere in there.’
He surveyed the massive building with a look of dismay. ‘Okay. Have we any means of contacting him? A phone?’
Parks ran a hand through her hair. ‘I don’t know,’ she replied irritably, before glancing in Iona’s direction. ‘Weren’t you sourcing that?’
‘I was, but I was given the instruction to hand everything over to your team.’
She saw the negotiator look despairingly in the opposite direction. Parks appeared to be wilting. After a second’s silence, she said to Iona, ‘Where did Jon think he might be?’
Iona took a step back and raised a finger towards the clock tower. ‘He reckoned that—’ Up on the sixth floor, a figure was making its way along the scaffolding’s walkway. Her eyes tracked back. Jon! He wasn’t far behind – and the distance between them was closing fast.
With every step Conway took, the wooden boards flexed and bounced beneath his feet. He looked to his side: just a waist-high length of scaffolding acted as a handrail. Beyond that was nothing but the drop down to the hard stone of Albert Square. An ambulance was edging its way round a cluster of parked cars. He could see the number 43 on its roof. Beyond the perimeter hoardings was a group of people, all their pale faces turned up at him. Directly behind, he could hear the thud-thud-thud of the detective’s footsteps. How had he broken through the door so fast? The bastard was relentless. He heard that same hoarse, gravelly voice.
‘Don’t be stupid, Gavin, for fuck’s sake. Talk to me, mate. What are you trying to achieve here? Just talk to me.’
Talk to you? Gavin almost laughed. Why? Why would I give you even the tiniest chink? I’ve been trained in talking, you cretin.
There were only a few metres of walkway left. Where the gangplanks ended, a ladder had been lashed to the scaffolding. It was at a right-angle, slanting steeply towards the gutter of the lower roof. I could climb up, Conway thought, if I wasn’t carrying this bag. He wanted to roar with frustration. He’d nearly done it! The tower was so close, it blocked out all the sky. But now, he realised, I’m not going to make it.
He whirled round and extended his right arm so the holdall dangled in the air beyond the handrail. ‘Get back! I’ll drop it. I will!’
Chapter 47
Jon raised both palms. ‘Fine: I’m not coming any closer. But is this really what you want, Gavin? Come on, it can’t be. Tell me what you want. I’m listening.’
‘I want you ... I want you to sit fucking down.’
Jon was surprised at how ragged Conway’s voice was. The man was close to collapse. It gave him hope. ‘OK. You’re in control here.’ He lowered himself onto the planks of wood, quickly gauging distances as he did so. Too far to rush him. Take your time, he said to himself. Easy does it. ‘I’m sitting down, see?’
‘Cross your legs! Put your hands on your head.’
Clever, thought Jon. Making it as difficult as possible for me to get up fast. ‘I’ll try, mate. But my knees are knackered.’ He lowered himself to a sitting position and bent his left leg in. But as he tried the same with his right, pain started stabbing into the knee joint. ‘Best I can do. Honestly.’
‘Hands on your head!’
‘OK. Done.’ He watched Conway bring the holdall back over the handrail and lower it to his feet. Thank God for that. ‘The baby’s in there, is she?’
Conway tore off the high visibility tabard. Now he was dressed only in black.
Jon didn’t like it. ‘What’s the plan, Gavin?’
The other man’s lips remained tightly shut. In fact, Jon thought, his whole face was locked down. Just the eyes – bright with distrust. ‘Speak to me, Gavin.�
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Conway dropped to a crouch and unzipped the bag. Checking on Jon every other second, he reached carefully in and started to lift something out. Jon expected it to be the infant, but what started to emerge was insubstantial. And black. Oh fuck, it’s the wings. ‘Gavin? What’s going on?’
Conway raised them over his head and settled them on his shoulders. He pulled a stretchy band of material down over one shoulder and attached it to a clip beneath his armpit. After doing the same on the other side, he tightened both straps and shrugged his shoulders a couple of times.
‘Gavin, you’re making me uneasy here. Gavin?’ The man didn’t react. It’s like, Jon thought, he’s following instructions via an earpiece. Can he even hear what I’m saying? When Gavin stood, Jon’s sense of panic increased. He started speaking more quickly. ‘Tell me about your wife and child. I’ve got a daughter, too. She ran away from home earlier today.’
Finally, something sparked. ‘Go on.’ There’d been a flicker of anticipation in his eyes as they closed.
Jon used the opportunity to shuffle himself forward a few inches. The pain in his left knee was rapidly increasing. Spreading into his thigh. ‘She’s only ten years old. Some ways, she’s a lot younger than that.’ He saw Gavin’s eyes open again and stopped moving. ‘Just getting a bit, “I know best”. As they do.’
Conway was now watching him intently.
‘We didn’t know where she’d gone. Me and Alice, the feeling – it’s like someone’s yanking your intestines out. I wanted to puke.’ He could see Conway starting to work his lips. It was having an effect. ‘Honestly, my legs felt like they were going to fold. I couldn’t get my—’
‘What happened?’
‘With Holly, my daughter?’
Conway nodded.
‘I found her in the local park, cold, but otherwise safe.’
The other man’s face fell and Jon realised he’d been hoping for a worse outcome. The sick bastard. ‘We’d made this camp back in the summer, among the trees. She’d gone there to try and be a grown-up. Live on her own.’ He pictured her crouched in the dark, rain dripping on her head, dry noodles in a pan. To his surprise, his eyes filled up. This is good, a voice said to him. Go with it. ‘It absolutely wrecked me, seeing her there.’ He squeezed a tear out onto his cheek. ‘So ... I can’t imagine what it was like for you. To be told your wife and your daughter were both—’
‘Shut up!’
He lifted his chin. Conway’s finger was pointing at his face.
‘I know what you’re trying.’
‘What am I trying?’
‘You’re ... you’re so fucking obvious. Just shut up. Not another word.’
Now the only noise was the breeze catching in the stonework around them.
Conway looked off the side and Jon shuffled a bit closer. The pain in his knee was now more like a knife, stabbing. Am I close enough? Not quite. Just a bit more. Conway’s head turned back in his direction. There was a deadness in his eyes and Jon knew he’d failed. He was going to do it.
Before he could move, Conway bent down and lifted the slack baby out of the bag.
Jon raised a hand, edging himself forward as he did so. ‘OK! I’ll level with you, Gavin. Join your wife and daughter. Isn’t that what you want?’
The other man’s head cocked to the side.
‘I know it’s what I’d want if I lost mine. So, leave. Go.’ He flicked his fingers towards the walkway’s edge. ‘Launch yourself. But don’t take the baby, for fuck’s sake. She has a family. She has people to take care of her. Leave her with me. Please.’
Gavin flexed his shoulders once again. Clutching the baby to his chest with one hand, he tightened a strap with his other. Jon looked on desperately. Can I get to him? I don’t think so. But if I don’t try now, I’ll miss my chance. He took another shuffle forward. Conway would have to climb over the handrail. That would take a second or two. ‘Gavin! Are you even listening to—’
The other man started to turn away and Jon jumped to his feet. Both legs felt numb. Like they belonged to someone else. He swung his left leg forward but, as soon as his weight came down on it, the knee buckled. No, he thought, falling forwards. In front of him, Conway was climbing swiftly over the handrail.
Jon forced himself back to his feet and tried stepping forward again. This time, his leg stayed firm. He took a tentative step with his right. Even as he started to stagger forward, he knew he was too late. He stretched an arm out and tried shouting again. ‘Give her to me! Give her!’
Conway’s eyes were closed and there was a blissed-out smile on his face. Clasping the baby with one hand, he reached behind him and pulled on something.
Jon saw the wings snap out either side of his shoulders. He was almost within touching distance.
Conway began to let himself topple back, the baby raised towards the sky. The handrail bit into Jon’s stomach as he lunged at her with his hand. The tips of his fingers brushed against her soft babygrow and then ... she was gone.
He had a freeze-frame image of them both falling away from him. He closed his eyes and heaved himself back from the edge with a cry of despair. Before he landed on the walkway, he clapped both hands over his ears. If he heard the sound of their bodies hitting the ground below, it would be in his head forever.
Lying on his back, he started grinding his heels against the wooden boards. She had been right before him! So close he could see the traces of veins beneath her eyelids. The little nostrils. The miniscule creases in her lips. If he ever needed more proof God didn’t exist, this was it. ‘You fuck, you fuck, you fucking fuck!’ He knew he was crying, but he didn’t care. It couldn’t be true. Please, he begged, let me wake up from this. A tram let out a low hoot somewhere nearby.
He opened his eyes and saw the floodlit clock tower above him. The white face and black hands. Time hadn’t stopped. It’s real. Everything is real.
There and then, he decided he couldn’t go on. He would leave the police and do ... something. Anything. He had his family. They were safe. What he had just seen, how would he ever get rid of it?
Eventually, he became aware of a new noise. The ring of his phone. Should he answer? He had to. Had to let them know it was over. The baby and Conway were both dead. It was Iona’s name on the screen and he took a deep breath before pressing green.
‘Jon! Are you OK?’
Below him, he heard the sound of a siren starting up.
‘Iona. I’m so sorry, but—’
‘You just disappeared. Are you still up on the walkway?’
How did she know where he was? He lifted his head. ‘Yes. I fell backwards. You saw me up here?’
‘Yes, you followed Conway out! I’m down in the square.’
Oh Christ, he thought. She saw it, too. She saw them drop. But her voice wasn’t right. She sounded almost ... excited.
‘Can you stand? Can you look down to where I am? I’m right below you.’
Next to their bodies? He didn’t want to see that. ‘Iona, what’s going on?’
‘I’m here. I’m waving. Where are you?’
He regained his feet. On the far side of the square, an ambulance with lights flashing was taking the sharp turn onto Princess Street. Tentatively, he looked over the edge. She was down there, one hand moving back and forth, the other holding her phone to her ear. Beside her, a scattering of debris obscured the flagstones. Cardboard boxes. Long strips of what looked like plastic sheeting. Several officers were standing among it all. He realised they were gathered around a motionless body in black clothing. ‘Iona? I don’t understand.’
‘We built a platform, Jon!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Empty boxes with layers of bubble wrap on top. Something for them to land on.’
He realised she was talking about a crash mat. ‘Where’s the baby?’
‘The ambulance took her. She survived.’
He gazed across the square, listened to the rapidly receding sound of the siren. Oh, my God. Tur
ning back to Iona, he asked, ‘And Conway?’
Her head shook.
Epilogue
‘All snug, then?’ Jon asked, smoothing the edge of the duvet beneath his daughter’s chin.
‘All snug,’ Holly replied.
‘Good. You sleep well.’ He placed a kiss on his daughter’s forehead, began to stand, then changed his mind and sank back onto the edge of the bed. ‘I was wondering. How do you fancy us two go on a weekend in the Peak District? We could learn how to create a proper shelter, forage for food, make a bow and arrows – that type of thing.’
She looked intrigued. ‘Like Forest Schools, you mean?’
He briefly considered the short walks in woods her class did at school. ‘Better than that. Much better. We’d be with a guide – but he’d be more like the man you watch on the telly; the one who goes into the wild and lives off the land.’
‘Ray Mears?’
‘Yes, him. They might even show us how to catch rabbits.’
‘Really?’
He nodded, scrutinising her face.
‘And what,’ she asked uncertainly, ‘would we do with ones we caught?’
‘Well, not keep them as pets.’
‘Would we cook and eat them?’
‘I reckon so.’
‘On a camp fire?’
‘Yup.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’
‘Just you and me?’
‘Yes.’
‘That sounds brilliant!’
‘Great. I’ll see about booking us in.’
Before heading down the stairs, he poked his head into Duggy’s room. He was spreadeagled on the mattress, round belly pointing to the ceiling. If you came with us, Jon thought, you’d eat the bloody rabbit raw.
Alice was in the telly room sifting through a basket of laundry on the sofa beside her. When he came in, Wiper’s tail started a lazy thudding against the floor, but the dog didn’t stir from his place before the wood-burning stove.
