***
Crane hadn’t had time to implement his plan when Juliette Stone turned up at the barracks, looking for him. As a result, he was less than pleased to see her and more interested in seeing Captain Edwards and making a couple of phone calls.
Before she could open her mouth he put up his hands and said, “I know, Ms Stone. I can only apologise but I assure you there is no threat to any of your staff or to the athletes in St Omer Barracks.”
“Sorry, Sergeant Major?”
“The piece in the Aldershot Mail,” Crane indicated the folded newspaper on his desk. To his surprise Juliette Stone laughed.
“Oh that bit of rubbish,” she said. “The stupid girl actually came to me for a comment and I sent her away with nothing more than a dose of reality.” Ms Stone’s jacket crackled like a piece of breaking ice as she perched on the corner of Crane’s desk. “I’m actually here to give you the full report on what’s missing from the stores.”
Crane took the proffered piece of paper, but didn’t read it. “Thank you, but you could have sent someone over with it.”
“Sometimes it does us all good to get a way for a while, wouldn’t you agree Crane?” A smile played across her lips as she slowly crossed her legs. The light in her eyes reminding Crane of the way Tina used to look at him, before the demands of the baby on her body became paramount.
“Of course, but we also need to pick our moments, wouldn’t you agree?” Crane held Juliette Stone’s gaze.
“Ah, and this is not a good moment for you?”
“Definitely not, I’m afraid,” Crane tried injecting a sense of regret into his voice, but wasn’t sure he managed it.
“Some other time perhaps,” she replied standing, but not leaving.
“Perhaps,” Crane mumbled, picking up and looking at the piece of paper she’d given him, without seeing any of the words written on it. A pose he held until he once more heard the crackle of ice as she left his office. As he breathed in deeply, he smelled her alluring perfume and once again saw the teasing in her eyes. Feeling guilty for finding another woman attractive, he pushed the thought away, together with her piece of paper and got on with his work.
***
Crane eventually got his meeting with Captain Edwards. This time he didn’t need to emphasis the seriousness of the situation. That was something Edwards started on as soon as Crane entered his office.
Leaving Crane standing to attention in front of his desk Edwards summed up the awfulness of their present predicament in every last gory detail, from the original death of Corporal Simms to the current position of having an Afghan officer in custody and an old Gurkha dead, with all the twists and turns in-between. He finally barked, “So what are you going to do about it, Crane?”
Edwards allowed Crane to sit once he realised there was a possible solution and listened like a prison inmate eagerly learning of plans to escape.
Night 31
Allah is Good! Allah is Great! Allah be Praised! Things are going better than I dared hope. As a result of my carefully laid plans, I have the security services on the garrison running around in circles, how do you say, ah yes, chasing phantoms in the wind, grasping at thin air.
I had the supposed privilege of meeting your chief investigator the other day. Crane is it? Or some such name anyway. It is of no matter. He struts around like a cock with his faithful chickens running around him, scratching for any bits of praise he may throw down at them. Pathetic. I spit on him, the infidel. He thinks he is so good, so clever, but I had him rattled.
For let me remind you, that I, with the power of Allah behind me, am more than a match for this evil one. He has no idea that the confusion is being orchestrated by me. Nor has he any concept of the chaos that I am about to rain on his head. No inkling that this torture is not going to end anytime soon.
He thinks it will, of course. He will think it’s all over and that he’s triumphed over what he perceives as the evil invading his garrison. But that will just be me lulling him into a false sense of security. For he can never win. Never beat the truth that is the one true religion.
I will grind him down until he turns into nothing but a speck of dust under my boot. Just you wait and see.
Day 32
Crane alternated between pacing the corridor and sitting by Tina’s bed. He was woken around 05:00 hours with Tina feeling light headed and breathless with swollen ankles. So he wasted no time in getting her into the car and over to Frimley Park Hospital. At the moment she was surrounded by a doctor and couple of nurses, leaving Crane to kick his heels in the corridor.
“Mr Crane?” It took a minute for Crane to react to the use of the term Mr. Normally he was addressed as Sergeant Major, or just Crane. Looking up he saw a doctor walking towards him. “Well, emergency over for now, I think.”
“What’s the matter with her, doctor?” Crane tried not to snap, but worry was making his voice harsher than normal.
“Flare up of the old pre-eclampsia again, I’m afraid. But we’ve been monitoring the baby’s heartbeat and it’s as strong as ever. So for now I want to leave things be.”
“Oh good, so she can go home now?” Crane bent to collect his coat from a nearby plastic chair.
“Most certainly not. Mrs Crane must stay in hospital until the baby’s born.”
Straightening up and leaving his coat where it was, Crane asked, “When will that be?”
“One never really knows with babies I’m afraid, Mr Crane.” The doctor consulted his notes. “But we won’t leave her too long before inducing. Still, a few days yet, I should think.” With that the he turned on his heel and walked away, then he turned back calling, “Oh, your wife is sleeping now, Mr Crane, so best leave her until visiting time don’t you think?”
Looking at his watch Crane realised it was time to go to work anyway, so with one last look at Tina’s sleeping form squeezed into a bed on the Maternity Ward, he sloped off. As he passed the cafeteria near the front doors, it was just opening, announced by the enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Deciding to get a cup to take away and enjoy with his cigarette outside, Crane made his way to the deserted counter. As he was waiting for an assistant to emerge from the kitchen, he was joined by someone else, who began tapping his foot and looking at his watch. “For God’s sake,” the man mumbled.
“Desperate for coffee?” Crane said glancing at the person who had joined him.
As the man meet Crane’s eyes he exclaimed, “Bloody hell, Crane! How are you?”
“Benson! Fine thanks and you?”
As the two men greeted each other like long lost brothers, an assistant finally came to take their orders. Benson decided to get a take away coffee as well and joined Crane outside.
The two men strolled down to the car park catching up with each other’s lives. Benson was posted to Colchester a few years ago, at the same time as Crane and the two men worked well together and enjoyed each other’s company.
“I didn’t know you were posted back at Aldershot,” Crane said when they were far enough away from the hospital buildings to light up. “When did that happen?”
“I’m not,” Benson said looking out over the vast expanse of empty car park that would soon fill up as patients began arriving for appointments.
“Don’t tell me you’re out?” Crane was astounded. Benson was one of the most committed soldier’s he’d met. A great outdoors man, he would volunteer for every course going and loved nothing more than to face new challenges and learn new skills. But looking more closely Crane saw slackness around Benson’s face and a thickening stomach almost as big as the man’s barrel chest.
“Yeah, couple of years ago now.”
Benson began a close inspection of the ground by his feet. His hair, longer than Crane remembered flopping over his shirt collar, the dark brown now flecked with grey.
“Why? What went wrong? Weren’t you enjoying army life anymore?”
“Nothing went wrong, Crane, and yes I was still enjoying army life, but
the wife wasn’t.”
“The wife – Carol?”
“Yes, after we had our first kid, she changed somehow. Maybe it was being more tied to the house, oh I don’t know.” Benson started playing around with gravel under his foot. Rolling the small stones backwards and forwards. “She talked me into leaving. Told me it would be best for the family.”
“And was it?” Crane looked at Benson keenly.
“Oh yes. For them, definitely.” Benson finally looked at Crane. His face was smiling but his eyes were not. “It’s been great seeing the kids grow up, you know, look here’s a picture,” and he fumbled in his wallet before passing over a small family portrait, well-worn at the corners.
“Lovely,” Crane tried to sound enthusiastic. “So what are you doing now?”
“Security.” Benson avoided Crane’s gaze by putting the photograph back.
“What, private stuff, body guard, that sort of thing.”
“No,” Benson laughed, the tinge of bitterness clear, “buildings. Anyway, best get back. If I’m not careful Carol will have had the baby without me and then I’ll really be in trouble.” With a wave of his hand, Benson walked off back towards the hospital.
Crane watched his retreating back and realised they hadn’t made plans to meet up again. He raised his arm and went to call out, but seeing the stoop of Benson’s shoulders and the hesitancy in his stride, Crane’s mouth remained closed and his arm dropped back down. Probably not such a good idea. Best to leave things alone. What would they have in common now anyway, apart from joint memories?
Crane hurried to his car, glancing at his watch and hoping Billy and Kim would still be at the barracks when he arrived. As he drove away his mind kept going back to Benson’s hunched figure as he walked away, a far cry from the proud, upright man he had known in the army.
Night 33
Crane endured Billy’s grumblings. He knew he’d stop soon and anyway to a certain extent he had to agree with him. Being dragged out to the sports centre in the evening, after just switching to days, was not what Billy considered a good idea. But Crane knew that having the team back together on days was one of his better schemes and as Edwards was desperate for results, he’d agreed.
“What are we looking for boss?” Billy asked as they climbed out of Crane’s car.
“Anything, nothing, oh I don’t know. It’s just that something’s off kilter and I want to find out what. So keep alert,” the tone of Crane’s voice indicating the final statement was an order.
“Okay, boss.”
Crane and Billy stood by the car, which was parked in the sports centre car park and looked around. At 23:00 hours the Paralympians and their helpers were all back at St Omer Barracks, the sports centre was closed and armed Royal Military Police and soldiers on guard duty had the building on their patrol lists. Flood lights illuminated the car park and front of the building, bathing Crane and Billy in harsh white sodium light.
“Are we going inside, sir?” Billy indicated the building with his head.
“Yes, but not through the front doors. Where are the Afghan officers tonight, Billy?”
“In New Mons Barracks, boss. It’s a normal off duty evening for them, no formal dinner or anything like that.”
“Right, in that case they’re close and free to roam around. Come on.”
Crane moved away from the car park towards a clump of trees about 100 yards away. By the time they arrived, their eyes had adjusted to the night and Crane paused.
“This is the spot where Padam saw the smudge gaining access to the sports centre through the side door there. Can you see it, Billy?”
“Vaguely, sir.” Billy’s face screwed up with the effort of focusing his eyes on the dark side of the sports centre.
“Well that’s the way we’re going in tonight. Come on.”
Crane began to pick his way carefully out of the thicket and headed towards the building. On their arrival Crane produced a key, which he gently inserted into the lock. The night was so quiet they could hear the tumbling of the teeth as the key turned. Crane waited a few moments before cautiously opening the door, in case someone was waiting on the other side. He and Billy slipped in and Crane locked the door behind them.
The air was thick and heavy, smelling of dust and chlorine. As Crane and Billy switched on their torches, dust motes swirled, trapped in the twin beams of light. Without speaking, Crane indicated Billy should go right and he would go left, sweeping around the space and meeting again in the middle on the other side.
Crane felt the tingle of unease playing over the back of his neck, his senses alert to any disturbance in the air. Playing his torch beam around the space in front of him he then looked up and carefully examined under and around the pipe work above his head. A spaghetti junction of plastic. Pipes ran adjacent to each other, under or above each other and canted off at angles. He knew that some were inlet pipes and some outlet pipes. Others allowed for the flow of water to be re-circulated through the filters and pumped back into the pool. Any one of them an ideal place to plant a bomb. But on his half circuit of the space Crane found nothing. No smudges on pipes that shouldn’t have been there. No tell-tale tape holding explosives in place. No ticking of clocks. The other thing Crane didn’t find on his arrival at the meeting point was Billy.
Standing with his back to the wall, Crane played his beam around and above the yawning space in front of him. Nothing. So he continued on his way, hoping to find Billy delayed by a piece of evidence. When Crane found him he realised Billy had indeed been delayed. Not by something, but by somebody and left lying prone on the floor, his torch several feet from his body, illuminating the back wall.
Crane’s first reaction was to rush to Billy’s aid, but his training stopped him and he stood still. Ears straining, eyes searching, his light insufficient to reach further than a few feet in front of him. Once he was satisfied there was no threat, Crane took the few steps that brought him to his sergeant. Still he didn’t speak, putting his fingers to Billy’s neck where he should feel a pulse. He closed his eyes in relief as he felt a strong, regular blip under his fingertip.
At Crane’s touch Billy groaned, moving his head and then trying to get to his feet. Crane held him down, giving his young sergeant a few moments to come to, before attempting to stand. He then made sure Billy got upright in stages before supporting him on their slow journey back to the door.
Propping Billy against the wall, Crane took the door key from his pocket and turned it in the lock. Pressing down on the handle he pulled the door towards him. It refused to open. He tugged the metal door, but there was still no movement. It took Crane a few moments to realise he had just locked the door. Someone else had unlocked it and in his panic forgotten to secure it again.
The fresh air outside seemed to revive Billy and by the time they reached Crane’s car, he said he was feeling better.
“Apart from a headache, boss” he said.
“What the hell happened?”
“No idea, boss. Never heard or saw a thing. Just bang and the lights went out!” Billy looked down at his dark clothing and tried ineffectually to brush the dust off.
“Any recollections at all? Here, sit in the car. Try and remember exactly what happened.”
Crane got into the driver’s seat and turned to face Billy. The colour was returning to his face and his pupils were becoming smaller, albeit slowly, a reaction to the overhead light in the car. Crane knew he should have Billy’s head injury checked out, but he needed to hear what had happened first.
“I was walking along the side of the wall, looking above me at the pipes. I didn’t see anything suspicious, so decided to sweep my light in front of me. I took a few paces away from the wall and the next thing I knew something must have hit the back of my head. I didn’t see anyone, or hear anyone, sorry, boss.” Billy turned to Crane.
“It’s alright. Just take a few more minutes.” Crane got a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and went to light one.
“Oh
boss, not one of those smelly things…Jesus Christ that’s it! The smell, boss. There was a funny smell in the air.”
“Well done, son,” Crane said. “What was it?”
“That’s the thing, boss. I’ve no idea. But I’ll know it if I smell it again.”
Day 34
Crane was pleased to see Billy at work the next morning, after being given the all clear at the hospital the previous night. Gratefully taking the steaming mug of coffee proffered by Kim, Crane sat in the open plan office looking at his white boards. There were now six. The first two were the investigation into the deaths of Corporal Simms and Corporal McInnes. The third one, the thefts from the Aspire Defence stores. The fourth covered the investigation into the four suspicious Afghan officers, with the fifth and sixth covering the disappearance and subsequent finding of Azar Niaz and the death of Padam Gurung. Billy and Kim joined him, drinks in hand.
“Right,” Crane said. “I think it’s about time we had another team briefing. Kim, call in Staff Sergeant Jones and Lance Corporal Dudley-Jones, so we can update the boards and see where we are.”
“Nowhere, boss, if you ask me.”
“Well I’m not, Billy,” Crane said. “Stop being so bloody defeatist. I know you must have a headache, but still.”
“Sorry, boss,” Billy mumbled, rubbing the back of his head. Crane had to smile at the pathetic attempt to try and elicit sympathy. Calling to Kim to let him know what time the others would be there, Crane went towards his office to call the hospital and find out how Tina was this morning. He stopped at the shrill ring from Kim’s phone on her desk, looking at her questioningly as she answered it, just in case it was the hospital wanting him.
It was someone wanting him, but not the hospital. As Kim replaced the receiver, he saw her eyes were wide and heard the panic in her voice as she said, “Sir, that was a call from the sports centre. They think they’ve got a suicide bomber.”
A Soldier's Honour Box Set 1 (Sgt Major Crane Crime Thrillers Box Set) Page 38
