Deadly Terror (Detective Zoe Finch Book 4)

by Rachel McLean

  Only two months ago, she’d been on the other side of that glass. She’d taken the journey Andreea was taking today, from Bucharest to Birmingham, and been delivered to her devoted new boyfriend. Titi, she called him. She still couldn’t quite believe her luck meeting him the way she had.

  “Move.” The man had put his phone away and was standing in front of her. “Time to go now.”

  “Go where?”

  “To fetch your sister.”

  She allowed herself a smile, ignoring his look of disdain. She wondered what the men said about her behind her back. That she was a gold digger perhaps. That she’d only come from Romania because of his money.

  Sure, she wasn’t complaining about the money. Her boyfriend’s modern house in the countryside south of the city was the sort of thing only a politician would own in Romania, and the jewellery he gave her made her squeal with joy. But he was more to her than a meal ticket. He was the man who’d opened her eyes to the real world. The world outside her backward, old-fashioned country with its hangups about the past and its fear of the future. The man who’d given her the confidence to make a new life here in the UK.

  And now Andreea was getting her chance to do the same.

  “She won’t be coming through for at least half an hour,” Sofia told the man. “Longer, if she’s got luggage.”

  Andreea wouldn’t have much luggage, she knew. A few torn t-shirts, some of her trademark fishnet tights. A gallon of hair gel. But Andreea didn’t own much apart from her clothes.

  “Boss says we go now. Come wi’ me.” Adam had a thick Birmingham accent and Sofia couldn’t always understand him, but his body language was clear enough.

  “Can I talk to him?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, love. He’s busy.”

  He was always busy. When they’d met in Bucharest he’d had all the time in the world for her. He’d taken her for meals she could never afford on her meagre salary. They’d strolled through city streets that had looked so different at his side. He’d been relaxed and attentive.

  When she’d first arrived here, things had been similar. But since Christmas he’d become more and more preoccupied with business. Now she was lucky if she saw him for an hour at dinner in their echoing dining room.

  She picked up her handbag – Gucci, a gift – and followed her minder. He took her not towards the arrivals gate as expected, but back to the exit.

  “You’re going wrong way.”

  He shook his head. “The wrong way. You need to talk properly.”

  “The wrong way. You’re going the wrong way.”

  “Uh-uh. This way.”

  They had time to spare. Maybe he was taking her to meet Titi. Maybe they would welcome Andreea together. He hadn’t met her sister, and Sofia wasn’t sure what he’d make of her. With her grungy look and her bad manners. She steeled herself.

  “We’ll need to be back here soon,” she said.

  “Don’t worry.” Adam stepped out of the airport building. She followed, wishing she’d brought a coat. It was usually warmer here than at home, but today was an exception.

  A van pulled up. Not the Mercedes. Adam yanked open the side door and eyed her.

  “Get in.”

  “Where do we go?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Where are we going, is what you mean to say.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Where is boss?”

  He clenched a fist. “I told you. Just get in, will you?” He placed a hand on her back and steered her into the van.

  Inside were three rows of seats. All empty. She sat in the closest one and shuffled to make herself comfortable. Titi did this sometimes. He had her taken places to meet him, without telling her where. Not that she knew her way around the city anyway. She liked the air of mystery. And it always turned out for the best.

  Sofia smiled, determined to show a brave face to Adam and the driver, who she didn’t recognise. The two men spoke together in low tones so she couldn’t listen in.

  They sped away from the airport building. Sofia looked behind her at the people streaming in and out of the doors. Andreea was back there somewhere. What if Sofia missed her? Andreea would be lost in an alien country.

  She took a deep breath and muttered a prayer in Romanian, crossing herself. Adam’s turned to fix her with his thin blue stare. She met his gaze, her handbag clutched in her lap.

  They raced away from the roadways in front of the building and swung around bends, leaving the airport behind. Sofia turned to look through the back window, her heart racing. What would Andreea do if she emerged from those gates to find Sofia missing? Would she wait?

  Andreea was short-tempered and unpredictable. She might do anything.

  They turned another bend and the van slowed. They were on a narrow road now, not much more than a country lane. Trees arched overhead and there was a gate in front.

  The van shuddered to a halt and the driver slung his arm across the passenger seat, turning to look out of the back as he reversed. Sofia blinked, not wanting to stare at him. There was a scar under his right eye and his face had been pockmarked by acne. Adam had his phone to his ear.

  “He’s definitely on the plane?” he grunted. He scratched his neck as he waited for a response. Sofia watched, her heart racing.

  “Good,” he continued. “Teach those bastards what happens if you step into our business.” He hung up and sat back in his seat, shuffling his shoulders.

  They stopped at right angles to the gate, the van filling the road.

  “What is happening?” Sofia asked. “Why do we stop here?”

  Adam raised a finger to his lips: shush. He chewed his bottom lip.

  She leaned across to see out of the window. Beyond the gate, which was made of mesh, was a neat grassy mound. It was long and straight, running parallel to the van. A plane taxied along, above their heads. The runway?

  There was no sign of the Wizz Air plane. It would be here soon. The plane Sofia could see had a green and black flag on its tail. She wondered where it had come from, whether it was full of wealthy holidaymakers or people seeking a new life like Andreea.

  The plane slowed as it passed. Steam rose from its surface into the cold January air. Sofia watched it slow and prepare to take another bend.

  Without warning, the plane was engulfed by a ball of flame. An ear-splitting bang followed the sight, pushing Sofia down in her seat. The tail collapsed and crashed to the ground. Black smoke billowed from beneath the plane, while flames spread towards the cockpit.

  Sofia stared, terrified. Her feet were rooted to the floor of the van. The two men in the front threw their doors open and jumped out.

  Sofia couldn’t tear her eyes away from the burning plane. Her chest felt full and empty at the same time, and tears pricked her eyes. She leaned forwards into the front seat to see better, whimpering. Nausea rose from the base of her stomach.

  The side door to the van slid open.

  “Out,” said Adam.

  Sofia stared at his face then back at the plane. How was he so calm?

  “We have to help. We have to tell someone,” she croaked.

  “They know. It’s not your concern.” He leaned in and grabbed her arm. His fingers dug into her flesh through her thin jacket. Another gift, wildly impractical.

  “Now,” he said. His voice was low and full of threat.

  She stumbled from the van. Heat from the fire washed over the side of her face. She turned to look, her mind racing.

  Those poor people. The plane was fully ablaze now. No sign of anyone escaping. Sofia’s knees buckled.

  “Move!” Adam grabbed her hand and dragged her away from the van.

  “Stop! You made me drop bag!”

  He yanked at her arm. “Get it when we come back. Move!”

  It was getting dark, the growing dusk accentuated by the brightness of the fire. She let herself be pulled along as he crossed the road and made for the fence. She could smel
l the smoke, sharp and bitter.

  Andreea. What did they do if a plane was about to land and something like this happened?

  Her question was answered by the sight of another plane standing further along the mound. Wizz Air. It had landed.

  The driver huddled against the gate. He held wire cutters. Adam pointed to the Wizz Air plane. “We’re getting them out. You have to help.”

  Sofia stared back at him.

  “Don’t you understand?”

  The driver jumped back as a hole appeared in the gate. An alarm sounded.

  “Yes,” Sofia said.

  “Good,” Adam replied.

  Sofia ran with him.

  Chapter Six

  “I’m fine. Just let me do my job.”

  “There’s glass embedded in your neck and you’re in shock.”

  “I’m fine.” Lesley explored the skin of her neck with her fingertips.

  “Please don’t do that,” the paramedic told her. “You’ll make it worse.” She muttered something unintelligible under her breath.

  Lesley dropped her hand. “I’m Silver Command on this operation. My job is to tell you and your bosses what to do, as well as a whole bunch of my own lads and lasses. Now just let me go so I can get on with my job.”

  The paramedic sucked her teeth. She was pale with curly dark hair, slightly overweight. Lesley had learned how strong she was when the woman had manhandled her away from the top of the ramp and down to the waiting ambulance, arguing with her all the way.

  “OK,” she said. “I’ll patch you up. I’m putting a neck brace on you, so you can’t get at your injuries. As soon as you’re done here, you get a police car to take you to A&E.”

  “That’s the right decision.”

  “A thank you would be nice. And a promise that you’ll do as I say.”

  This paramedic was a feisty one. Lesley liked her. She saluted. “Aye, aye.”

  The paramedic’s face softened. “Good.” She slid the brace around Lesley’s neck. Lesley immediately felt like a dog coming back from the vet with a cone. She slid her fingers into the edge of the brace, screwing her face up.

  “Don’t mess with it.”

  “Fair enough.” Lesley hauled herself upright and tried to ignore the dizziness that hit her. She had no idea where Sanders was.

  A uniformed sergeant was nearby, briefing two of his constables.

  “I need your radio,” Lesley told him.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “My name’s DCI Lesley Clarke. I’m Silver Command on this thing. Now are you going to give me your radio, or aren’t you?”

  “Ma’am.”

  She snatched it off him. “What channel’s the ops base on.”

  “Nine, ma’am.”

  She flicked the radio to that channel, wondering if she should give him a bollocking for not demanding her ID.

  “Jackdaw operation base, please keep this channel to urgent comms only.”

  “This is Silver Command. Detective Superintendent Lesley Clarke, call sign FD582. Where’s Gold?”

  “One moment please.”

  Lesley waited for Sanders to come on the line. The sergeant whose radio she’d nicked watched her. He looked uneasy. She did that to people.

  “DCI Clarke, I heard you’d been injured.”

  “Just a few surface wounds, sir.”

  “That’s not what I’ve been told.”

  “I’m fine. I’ll go to A&E to get stitched up when this is all over. Not before.”

  “As long as you’re sure.”

  “I wouldn’t be using this radio if I wasn’t. What do we know?”

  “Thirty-seven people were inside the building when the bomb detonated. It was a nail bomb, which is a blessing of sorts. Two dead, eight critical, seventeen walking wounded.”

  “What about the negotiator?” Lesley couldn’t remember her name.

  “One of the deceased, I’m sorry to say. Inspector Jameson. The bomber is dead too.”

  Lesley blew out a thin breath. Her mouth tasted of soot and metal. She closed her eyes, wishing there was a wall or something she could hold onto.

  “There was a girl, a hostage,” she said.

  “She’s fine. They’re checking her up, at City Hospital. But she’s just got some bruises. You saved her life.”

  “Inspector Jameson did, you mean.”

  “DCI Clarke, we’ll need you here. There’s a search operation underway in case there are any victims we haven’t yet found, and Forensics need to know when it’s safe for them to go in too. You’re liaison.”

  Lesley opened her eyes. The giddiness washed over her. She swallowed and put her hand over her mouth.

  “Surely it would be better to do it from here.”

  “Silver, just get in here, will you? Coordination is from the base. I don’t want you putting yourself at risk any more than you already have.”

  “I’ll be right there. Sir.”

  Lesley passed the radio back to the sergeant who hurried away. A barrier stood next to her, one of those things they’d put in to protect the Christmas market a few years back. They hadn’t considered nail bombers.

  She felt bile rise in her throat. She scanned the street and leaned down behind the barrier to vomit. Her mouth was dry and only phlegm came out. Her stomach felt like someone had pulled it out and stuffed it back inside out.

  She pushed herself up and let the barrier take her weight as she took a step. She couldn’t have people see her like this. She pushed out her chest and let go of the barrier, focusing on her balance, on moving. Parked in front of her, on a road normally reserved for trams, was a squad car.

  She opened the passenger door. The driver turned to her, startled.

  Lesley held up her badge. “Take me to the Mailbox. Ops base.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The constable radioed in her destination and revved the engine. Lesley leaned back in the passenger seat, pushing away the image of the negotiator’s body flying at her on the other side of those glass doors.

  Chapter Seven

  Zoe sat in Randle’s Audi, remembering the times she and Mo had observed this car with suspicion while they were investigating the murder of the Assistant Chief Constable.

  At the Five Ways roundabout, Randle took the ring road east.

  “This isn’t the way to New Street,” Zoe said.

  “We’re going to the airport,” Randle replied. They stopped at the Bristol Road lights, the blinking indicator the only sound.

  “I don’t understand, sir.”

  “There’s been an explosion.”

  “What?” Zoe sat upright. “When?”

  “I got a call after we left your office. An aeroplane. On the runway.”

  Zoe’s skin bristled. “Oh my God.”

  “It could be a coordinated attack. Sanders and Lesley are at New Street, so you and I will need to be on this one.”

  “But we haven’t been briefed.” And I only completed the Bronze Command training a week ago, she thought. She wasn’t ready for this.

  “I’m Gold, DCI Donnelly’s Silver. You’re one of three Bronze Commands.”

  DCI Chris Donnelly was from Erdington, Zoe’s old station. She’d worked with him as a rookie detective.

  “Your role will be to ensure the responders preserve forensic evidence, as far as possible,” Randle said.

  Zoe worked through the training in her head. She didn’t remember anything about forensics, but it made sense. “Are Uniform already there?”

  “Airport security are running through their standard evacuation procedure. Uniform are en route.”

  “They’re evacuating people from the plane?”

  He shook his head as they pulled away from the lights. “Looks like there are no survivors.”

  She slumped in her seat. “None?”

  His upper lip twitched.

  “How much do we know about the evacuation procedure?” she said. “What’s the priority?”

  “Other planes, I expect. The airp
ort buildings will be chaos. Forensics will be… I don’t know where forensics will be.”

  “On the exploded plane,” she said. “No issue about the evacuation affecting that. The airline will want access.”

  “Search and rescue will be going through it, when it’s safe. Firefighters, God knows what.”

  Zoe stared at the brake lights ahead of them.

  “Hold on,” Randle said. He flicked a switch on the dashboard. Blue lights and the wail of the siren were enough to startle the cars in front into moving aside.

  “That’s better,” he muttered. They pushed through the traffic, picking up speed as other drivers became more aware of their presence. Zoe gripped her seatbelt, thoughts racing. Were the two explosions related? Was this second one even an attack?

  “The plane might have malfunctioned,” she said. “Fuel leak, something like that.” She knew nothing about planes.

  “On any other day, you’d think that. But within an hour of a bomb going off at New Street?”

  “True.” Zoe’s mouth was dry. They were on the Coventry Road now, speeding towards the airport. The signs on the gantries were changing, warning people of diversions and blockages ahead. She and Randle would be ploughing through them all, heading straight to the scene. She wondered what they’d find when they arrived.

  Chapter Eight

  The two men ran up the grassy mound. Sofia followed, her eyes darting between the two planes: the one that was in flames, and the one that held her sister.

  At the top of the mound, the airport opened up before them. Planes had halted on the tarmac. Lights and sirens blared.

  No one had emerged from the plane that had exploded. Smoke filled the air, leaving a bitter taste in Sofia’s mouth. What would it be like to be in there, trapped with fire raging and smoke choking your lungs? On her flight here the plane had been full. She’d had a window seat, the seat next to her taken by an overweight man who ate chocolate bars all the way over. How would you get past someone like that?

  She glanced at Adam. He watched the blaze, his mouth twitching at the corners, hands in his pockets. She felt panic was over her.