Chapter Thirty One
“I have John in here,” Bridger yelled, stumbling back out into the main room. “He’s in a bad way, we need an ambulance.” He did not say anything about his other discovery lying destroyed on the cold floor.
One of the Patches sniggered from within the pack in the middle of the room “He fucking deserved it piggy…” More nervous sniggering came from within, a couple of barks sounded. Bridger’s blood started to boil and he moved towards the nearest Patch he could see…
“You’re no better than fucking animals” he spat, before kicking out at the patch on the floor “There is a police officer lying seriously injured inside that room, and I have no doubt you probably would have killed him if we hadn’t found you”
More barks… he kicked out a second time, not caring where his shoe connected.
“One of your mates lies dead next to him; he has been cut to ribbons. What the hell is that about…?”
He could see that his revelation had an immediate effect on the pack; it was as if it was news to them.
“What the fuck are you talking about…?” One of the Patches spoke up “We ain’t done nothing to him…”
“Except beat him a little,” another said, causing a few more barks and sniggers from the pack.
“Yeah, so if he’s cut up, then it’s you’s that have done it… fucking pigs” The barking erupted into frenzy, the rabid faces of the Patches blurred into one. The noise was fever pitch and banging into the back of his brain. They really were animals. Bridger had had enough; he put his pistol in the air and fired one round into the ceiling above them. The sharp retort silenced the pack immediately.
“I don’t give a shit what you lot think.” He could hear himself yelling the words “One of you will tell me where you are holding the two women or I will shoot the nearest one of you I see.” Realising he was now pointing the gun directly at the group; he knew he did not really care. He could not stop himself.
The Patches stared back at him defiantly but no one spoke… he was going to pull the trigger.
The sound of a siren approaching somewhere out on the road broke the standoff; the sound of Gillian’s voice was trying to make itself heard inside his head.
“Mike… Mike take it easy…, Brian and Inspector Matthews have found Jo in another room… Steve has Joseph Kingi in custody.”
He lowered his pistol, looking at Gillian “My wife Gill, where’s my wife, she should be here…”
“She’s not here, Mike.”
Looking around the room, he felt helpless; the collective intelligence of the patches sitting in the middle did not amount to much. They would not know anything…, they were followers not leaders, one of them would have said something if they knew, just to rub it in his face. She had to be here, somewhere…
Two more uniformed police officers came through the door at the front followed by two ambulance medics, he heard Gillian direct them into the room where John was lying. Things were happening… He needed to find her… Where was Laura, it made no sense…?
“Have you checked upstairs…?” The sight of Joseph Kingi, shirtless and in handcuffs, emerging from the room on the other side cut his question off. He closed the gap between them in four large bounds ending with his face inches from Joseph’s ugly tattoos.
“Where the fuck is my wife you piece of shit.” He had the pistol barrel jammed into Joseph’s temple, his knuckle white on his trigger finger.
Joseph smiled “I don’t know what you’re on about piggy… I ain’t seen your wife. That tasty piece of arse back there was enough for me” There was a sickness in his eyes and he looked completely lost in a haze of drugs and violence. It was plain to see he did not care who he hurt
Matthews spoke up, his voice commanding “Bridger… Enough… let me take care of this. You go and check the upstairs area for Laura; I will take our friend here out back and see what he has to say… We will get her back”
Lowering the pistol he backed away slightly, he could see something in Matthews’s eyes that told him he meant what he said. He looked at the pistol in his hands, this was not the way, he was not this person, and if he was to get Laura back, he needed to be in control. “Okay Sir… if he says anything though, I need to know straight away.”
“It goes without saying Mike…”
The use of his first name by Matthews was a first; there was something different in his voice that he had not heard before… indifference…? Acceptance, maybe? He could not quite place what it was. He watched as Matthews pulled an old t-shirt over Kingi’s head and tied it at the bottom, rendering him blind. Then he wrenched his arm behind his back, almost to the point of breaking, and physically manhandled him out of the door. The large bulk of Matthews frame, made bigger by the ill-fitting stab vest, dwarfed Joseph Kingi’s own large stature making him seem almost childlike. Then he guessed that is what he was really. He was a child who had not matured in the right way. A child in a man’s body, capable of horrendous murder… his hand tightened around the pistol grip of the Glock… he had to holster it before he did something stupid. Laura was here somewhere… that was his priority.
He scanned the room, everything was under control, they had their colleagues back, and all he wanted now was Laura. He saw a doorway which opened to a passage and then onto some old stairs. Without thinking he took the stairs two at a time, not bothering about danger or even caring if he encountered any.
“Laura, Laura…” He was not even aware that he was calling her name.
Reaching the top of the stairs, he did not have many options to choose from, it was not an overly large area. Looking around he found that he could see into two of the small anterooms in front, but they were empty. No one had come out to see what the noise was yet, but that was not surprising, anyone up here would have heard the commotion downstairs and would know the police were here for them. They had better be scared… he thought, and they better not have touched her…
There were two doorways left, one wide open and one with a door. He pulled the Glock from its holster once more, moving towards the closed door he glanced into the open room to his right, pistol up and ready. He could see the room was empty… you must be behind door number one then…
Kicking at the door as hard as he could, the old wood splintered and gave way, the door burst inwards and he moved inside, swinging his pistol back and forth, eyes in line with the sight… scanning an empty room.
She is not here… dropping to his knees, the adrenaline in his system caused him to shake uncontrollably, he felt like crying. His hopes had been pinned on Laura being here, he had no idea where else she would be.
Somewhere outside he could hear a loud voice, it was demanding, it was not getting any response. Standing, he went to the window and looked down, the glass had long since disappeared and the warm breeze tickled his face.
He could see Matthews on the grass, he had Kingi by the neck and the blue of the ocean below them framed them both. Standing next to the cliffs edge it was clear to him what Matthews was doing… and he did not care. ‘Fear is the mother of morality’ according to Nietzsche and Matthews was delivering that lesson.
He watched quietly as Matthews edged the blinded Kingi closer to the cliff face. From his vantage point it seemed surreal, almost Shakespearian… old school policing at its worst but for a very good reason. He already knew what the outcome would be; dogs did not talk to the police…
A minute or so passed and he had not heard anything of the conversation the two players were engaging in below him, but he could guess what Matthews was whispering in Kingi’s ear. Kingi just stood there with his back to the cliff face, defiant in his stance, head covered with his t-shirt. Then it happened…
Matthews put his hands on Joseph Kingi’s chest and pushed, it did not take much effort. Kingi lost his footing and stumbled backwards. He did not hear anything from him as he disappeared out if view below the cliff edge.
Bridger felt nothing; he did not even quest
ion the decision Matthews had made. Kingi would not talk, he made his own decision, and it was what it was… another life wasted.
He turned back into the room just as the message tone chirped on his phone. Taking it out of his pocket, he looked at the message details. One message received from Laura Bridger. His heart lurched in his chest… opening the message he read, ‘Mike, I need to see you after work. We need to talk.’ He looked between the phone and the window… Laura was fine… Joseph Kingi would not have known the answer to an issue that was not a problem in the first place. Shit…
He took the stairs two at a time and rushed through the middle of the ruin to the back door, ignoring the looks of everybody around him. He came out on the old stone terrace and saw Matthews at the other end of the lawn, still standing at the cliffs edge. He was looking down at where Kingi had gone over the edge and appeared to be smiling.
Moving towards him, slowly now, slightly fearful of what he would see, he got nearer to the edge. He could hear what sounded like a baby animal. Standing next to Matthews and looking down himself, he saw Joseph Kingi less than a few feet below the edge, lying in a foetal position on a large rocky outcrop, and he was crying like a baby.
Wasted Lives, a Detective Mike Bridger novel Page 33
