“Hello, sir,” the boyish grin lit up his eyes. “Just needed to see for myself that you were okay. They told me you were. But I didn’t believe them.”
“No, he kicked up a bit of a fuss down on the ward and managed to charm a young inexperienced nurse into bringing him up here.” Sister sniffed to show her disapproval. “Now, Staff Sergeant Williams, you’ve seen your Sergeant Major. So back to bed for you.” As she turned and wheeled Billy away, she called over her shoulder, “And rest time for you, Sergeant Major Crane. If you don’t press that morphine button right now, I’ll come over and do it for you!”
“Must admit you are looking a bit rough now, Crane.”
Crane could feel sweat breaking out on his forehead from the pain. Derek took the beaker which was slipping out of Crane’s hand and put it back on the locker by the side of the bed.
“Feeling it too Derek.” Crane fumbled for his morphine feed and his thumb presses the button. “Second instalment later?” But he’d drifted away and didn’t hear the answer.
***
The muted sound of a television woke him and he lay there for a while listening to the beeps of his hated monitors. He was beginning to concentrate on them too much, listening to see if there was a skip of his heartbeat and constantly checking his blood pressure.
He struggled to sit up, a movement which sent searing pain through his shoulder and he collapsed back with a groan. But he tried to get up again, damned if the pain was going to stop him. His efforts were seen by the nurses, who came straight over, raising the head of the bed and making him more comfortable.
“If you don’t stop doing that,” one of them admonished, “you’ll open the stitches. As it is you’re aggravating the wound. Next time you want to sit up, just push the call button.”
Crane groaned again, this time with frustration and looked around for something to distract him.
“When’s Tina coming in?” he called after them.
One of the nurses returned to his bedside. “You know we sent her home for at least a day and a night. She had to get some rest otherwise…” her voice tailed off.
“Otherwise?”
Refusing to look him in the eye she continued, “Otherwise she’ll end up being as sick as you. Now stop fussing. Oh look,” she said brightly, “here’s Detective Inspector Anderson to see you,” and almost ran from his bedside.
“Derek,” Crane asked without preamble, “have you seen Tina?”
“Not since last night. Should I have done?”
“How did she seem?”
“Knackered. Now do you want the second instalment of the story or not?” Clearly Anderson was refusing to discuss Tina, so acquiescing, Crane leaned back on his pillows.
“As I was saying this morning, we found Billy and Elias in a tangle on the floor. Elias had a graze on his head, but otherwise seemed uninjured, although he was struggling to breathe. Billy had a knife sticking out of his arm. I arrested Elias for the attempted murder of Billy, which was the best I could think of at the time and then they were both carted off by the paramedics. Elias was briefly examined outside and pronounced fit to interview, so we hauled him off to Aldershot nick. Billy was brought here by ambulance, where he underwent emergency surgery for the damage to his arm.”
“Will it be okay?” Crane asked, worried about Billy’s future career.
“So they say. He’ll need some recuperation and physiotherapy, but in time will be back to normal.”
“Good old Billy,” Crane grinned. “Always was a brave soldier.”
“Yeah well, he nearly throttled Elias.” Anderson didn’t seem to share Crane’s enthusiasm for Billy’s actions. “Why are you so concerned about Billy anyway?”
“Well, you know,” Crane hedged, “he’s one of my men.”
Anderson’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, “Are you sure there’s not more to it than that?”
“Of course not, Derek.” Crane changed the subject, “Where’s Elias now? Locked up somewhere I hope?”
“Yep, Broadmoor. Bloke’s as mad as a hatter. Spouting religious rhetoric, threatening everyone in sight with eternal damnation, that sort of thing.”
“You know he told me he was responsible for my three soldiers?”
“Yes, he confessed to those to me as well. Very proudly in fact. Bastard. When I think of those kids…”
Crane asked for a drink.
“So, I think that’s pretty much brought you up to date. Oh, by the way the powers that be, or upper echelons, as you call them, are all very happy. They think you’re quite the hero of the hour, albeit a bit unconventional. So that’s one less thing to worry about. Better leave you to rest now, otherwise I’ll get my head chewed off by sister over there.”
“Just one more thing before you go,” Crane put out his hand to stop Derek. “Who the hell kept ringing my mobile when I was in the cinema? Was it you?” Crane feigned anger.
“No, not me.”
“Then tell me who it was, Derek. They won’t let me have my mobile phone so I can check. Because of all the monitors or something. If you don’t tell me now, I’ll find out later anyway.”
“Well, the first two times were the Padre and the third time was Mrs Morrison. Why does it matter?”
“Because they saved my life and the lives of the poor idiots trapped in the church with me.” Crane could clearly remember the times when his mobile had vibrated. “What did they want?”
“Would you believe they’d both realised why the police artist’s image of Zechariah looked familiar. They’d worked out it was Elias and had phoned to warn you.”
“Well, they were a bit too late for that, but their intervention did the trick. Will you pass on my thanks to them?”
“Sure,” Anderson patted Crane’s arm. “But you’ll be able to thank them for yourself soon when you’re transferred to a general ward. Both of them want to come and see you. Although they might change their minds if you carry on being so grumpy and demanding. Oh by the way, Crane, talking about people being grumpy and demanding, Diane Chambers keeps turning up saying she needs to urgently interview you for her paper. Apparently she’s been given the promise of an exclusive.”
Smiling Crane said, “I think that’ll have to wait for now, don’t you Derek? Get her off my back and I’ll owe you one.” Falling back against the pillows, Crane let Derek leave and pushed his morphine button once more.
As he drifted off, he was pleased that Anderson hadn’t rumbled him. He must make sure no one ever found out that he set Billy up. When he realised Billy had disobeyed a direct order and was going to the church, he should have stopped him, but had decided not to. Wanted to let things play out, used Billy and his nephew as bait, hoping he could cover their backs. He’d have to make sure Billy’s career didn’t suffer too much. It was the least he could do.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Crane opened his eyes to the most welcome sight he had ever seen. Tina.
“Hello, Tom,” she said softly, the anxiety of the past few days written in the new lines on her face and the paleness of her skin. “How are you feeling?”
For a moment Crane couldn’t speak. He squeezed her hand and took in every contour, every shadow. Coughing to hide his emotion, he then said more gruffly than he meant to, “I’d be better if I could sit up.”
Tina held him by his good arm as he leaned forward and then deftly raised the top of the bed and rearranged the pillows one handed. As he sunk back, he joked, “You’re pretty good at that, I bet you could get a job here.” But somehow the joke fell flat and he ended up spluttering, “Not that you’re not good at your job, I didn’t mean that.”
“Tom, it’s alright. I knew you were only joking,” she replied, taking his hand once more.
“Tina,” he began then stopped again.
“Tom, we’ve got to talk.”
“I know,” he agreed.
“I’ve got something I want to say to you,” she paused and looked down at her lap.
“No,” he said f
inding his voice. “Let me go first. I’ve been thinking a lot about this and rehearsing it.”
“Tom, it’s not a presentation,” she laughed.
“No, I know,” he said, “but I want to make sure the words come out right.”
“Okay.”
But Crane had seen the small, sharp, involuntary, widening of her pupils. She was scared of what he was going to say. Well, so was he.
“First of all, sorry I didn’t make it home for dinner. The last time we spoke I promised I wouldn’t be late,” Crane had copped out and he knew it.
Tina laughed, “Apology accepted, but I don’t think that’s what you really want to talk about.”
“No you’re right. It’s, it’s, this business of having children,” he faltered. Tina squeezed his hand in encouragement. “Well, I know I’ve been pretty reluctant to make a decision. Refusing to talk about it when you needed to. Putting obstacles in the way. Need I go on?”
She shook her head. A small movement that caused her hair to hang over her face.
“Well I want to explain why. I don’t think I even knew at the time. But I’ve had time to go over it.” Tina kept her head down. “It was because of the case I was working on. Those children getting killed. Killed by their own fathers. It was more than I could bear really. And I got to thinking that how could anyone bring a child into a world such as this. Where people can be manipulated into doing something so terrible.”
“I see,” Tina whispered, continuing to hide behind her hair.
“So I came to the conclusion that I couldn’t have children. Understandable don’t you think?”
Tina nodded, the movement making the tears fall from her face and drop into her lap.
Crane struggled to compose himself, tears pricking the back of his own eyes. “But lying here, at least in my more lucid moments, I realised I felt like that because I cared so much about children. I’ve had to accept that it’s part and parcel of being a parent, wanting to do the best for them and protect them as much as you can. So my thinking was a bit skewed really. Tina?”
He got no response, so raising his tube infested hand, he touched her under the chin and lifted her face to his.
“Tina, do you understand? I’m trying to tell you I want us to have a child. Hell, more than one if you like!”
Tina gulped back her sobs.
“For God’s sake say something!” he pleaded.
“I’m pregnant,” she said, smiling through her tears.
***
40 Days 40 Nights
Dear Reader,
Well, Crane finally saved the children and caught the evil preacher.
So, are you ready for a new case?
Crane’s next challenge will make his first investigation seem like a walk in the park! He is still recuperating from his stomach wound, and really should be taking things easy. But that has never been Crane's way.
Against orders he and his team struggle to hunt a killer who hides in plain sight, while athletes, elderly Gurkhas, missing supplies and army politics muddy the waters of their investigation. Who can Crane trust?
If you enjoyed the first book in the series, you’ll love 40 Days 40 Nights. The stakes are higher and the twists more surprising.
Continue your journey now.
Day 1
They found the body at 04:00 hours. As he drove to the scene, Sergeant Major Crane’s hands gripped the steering wheel, his vision sharpened and his breathing quickened; excitement that he had something to investigate overlaid, as always, with guilt. For his good fortune was at the expense of another man’s life. He parked his car in front of the Aldershot Garrison Sports Centre, a squat grey lump surrounded by green and rushed to the scene. It was 04:45 hours.
He slowly walked around the remains, wearing protective clothing over his dark suit and white shirt, keeping well clear of the corpse, whilst he waited for the pathologist, Major Martin. As Crane crouched down to get a clearer view of the dead man, voices overhead interrupted his study.
Rising, he called, “We’re down here, Major. The body is at the bottom of the steps.” Crane’s words echoed around the large underground cavern that was the underbelly of the huge Olympic sized swimming pool. The Major emerged, ducking his head under large grey pipes as he picked his way to the bottom of the stairs, encumbered by his medical case and the protective overalls he was wearing.
“I thought I recognised your voice, Crane. Right, what have we got?” The Major placed his case some way from the body and turned to look at it.
Crane called Sergeant Billy Williams from out of the shadows.
“Well, sir,” Billy said, “as members of Team GB are on the garrison as part of their preparations for the Olympic Games, routine security patrols are made of the swimming pool every hour during the night. The soldiers keep in touch by radio whilst they are separated. Corporal Simms failed to meet the others at the front door of the complex and didn’t answer urgent calls on his radio. So,” Billy consulted his notes, “Lance Corporal Fielding went to find him. He saw Simmons crumpled at the bottom of the stairs here, that lead underneath the swimming pool. Unable to find a pulse, he swept the area, which he found to be empty and retreated. He then called the Royal Military Police as per procedure.”
“So, the question is,” Crane took over from Billy, “did the lad fall or was he killed?”
“For God’s sake, Crane, at the moment I have no idea.” Major Martin rose from his examination. “His neck appears to have been broken. It could be from a fall, possibly accidental, or he could have had some help. Another option is that someone surprised him and broke his neck here at the bottom of the stairs. I won’t know anything until I get him on the table.” The Major snapped off his gloves.
“Which would be?”
“Later this morning.”
“I don’t need to remind you…”
“No, Sergeant Major, you do not,” the Major’s voice was as taut as the latex he had just peeled from his hands. “I am well aware of the sensitivity of the situation at the moment, as no doubt Captain Edwards will also be happy to make clear to me. Including the Commanding Officer and anyone else who feels they have a right to put in their two pennies worth.” Glancing at his watch, he continued. “It’s nearly 05:30 hours. I’ll do the post mortem at 10:00 hours. You can come if you want.”
“I will… sir.” Crane eventually finishing with the acknowledgement that Major Martin was an ex-officer. Even though Crane was a Sergeant Major, his position within the Special Investigations Branch of the Military Police, enabled him to cut across the rank system when on an active investigation. Making the Branch as feared as it was respected. But officers, even ex-ones such as Major Martin, who was an accredited Home Office Pathologist whilst in the army, still expected the deference their rank deserved.
***
Crane decided to attend the post mortem later that morning, meeting the Major in the morgue at Frimley Park Hospital. Not out of ghoulish curiosity, nor because he enjoyed seeing corpses reduced to a pile of organs and empty cavities, but simply because it was the quickest way to find out how Corporal Simms died. Actually, Crane hated everything about the morgue. The sterility, the smell, the noises. An incongruous operating theatre, where instead of opening up a living human being to heal them, doctors cut open a dead body to find out what had gone wrong. Once he was suitably kitted out and standing beside the metal trolley that held Corporal Simms in its icy embrace, Crane asked Major Martin to start on the neck first.
“I hope you aren’t trying to tell me how to do my job, Crane?” the Major shouted over the noise of the grinding electric saw he was holding in his hand, which loomed perilously close to Crane’s head instead of the corpse’s.
“Not at all,” said Crane, only just managing to duck out of the way in time. “It’s the quickest way to get me out of your hair.” A bizarre comment as the Major was practically bald under his protective headgear. “Figuratively speaking, of course,” Crane finished lamely, adding, “sir.�
�
“Very well, Crane.” The Major turned off and put down the saw, then manipulated the young Corporal’s neck. “Definitely broken. Feels like the spinal cord is ripped as well.” Turning the head backwards and forwards, and peering at the face, he continued, “No obvious sign of trauma.”
“Any sign of trauma to the neck itself? Bruising from fingers, or a garrotte of some kind?”
“No nothing. Here give me a hand to flip him over,” the diminutive Major asked Crane. Crane helped to turn Corporal Simms over onto his front. A young man reduced to an ignominious naked body. Even through latex gloves the grey flesh felt rubbery and unyielding, reminding Crane of the texture of squid he once ate and hated. He waited whilst the Major cut through and then peeled back the defensive skin covering the young soldier’s neck, exposing the bones and spinal cord.
“There!” the Major exclaimed with some satisfaction. “Broken between C3 and C4 and here are the loose ends of the spinal cord, see?”
Crane didn’t want to, but glanced at the neck anyway, seeing mangled flesh and bones that meant nothing to him. Straightening up he said, “So now we definitely know what killed him.”
“Certainly. Broken neck and spinal cord.”
“But not how it happened.”
“No evidence to suggest foul play at this stage. I would say it was most likely an accident.”
“Most likely or definitely?” Crane wanted the distinction clarified.
“Most likely,” confirmed the Major turning back to get on with the rest of the Post Mortem. “Now get out of my hair, Crane!”
***
By 11:00 hours Crane was reporting the findings to Captain Edwards.
“Excellent news,” was Captain Edward’s verdict as he smiled at Crane.
“Excellent sir? A soldier is dead!” Crane looked at Edwards, unable to mask the horror that must be etched on his face. Not wanting to believe what he had just heard.
A Soldier's Honour Box Set 1 (Sgt Major Crane Crime Thrillers Box Set) Page 22
