The George Elms Trilogy Box Set

by Charlie Gallagher

‘Mate, I can’t think of anyone better. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. I honestly wouldn’t have even bothered Tim — you’re perfect!’

  ‘No, George. I can’t do it. You have to do the course and get signed off — it’s a big job, you can’t just play at it.’

  ‘You’ll do it right, Paul, I know you will! And don’t you worry about courses and all the rest. You have every attribute in spades. And, right now, Whittaker would be more than happy for us to take the initiative. I reckon he’s about to have a shortage, don’t you?’

  ‘George, come on! I don’t know what I’m doing. Really.’

  ‘None of us do! Look after Stan. Be here with him at some point every day, help him get over this shit state of affairs and find out anything you can from him that might help. You’ve worked with enough FLOs. You know what they can do.’

  ‘Yeah, but Stan! George, he’s been smashed to pieces. He’s like Humpty Dumpty in there.’

  ‘And you are all the king’s men, Paul. I can think of no one better.’

  George could feel his phone start vibrating again. ‘I got to get this,’ he said.

  Paul called after him: ‘You realise that all the king’s men couldn’t put him back together again, right?’

  George moved the phone away from his mouth. ‘Then be better, Paul. I believe in you!’

  Chapter 9

  Jenny still wore the same white top, the sleeves pulled up over her wound, the material frayed, singed and stained with dry blood. Her jeans were scuffed at the knees from climbing the wall and she was caught by a stab of pain in her ribs as she turned to where Anne called out to her in the kitchen. Jenny had gone to her room to tie her hair back and freshen up with some borrowed toiletries.

  ‘Are you in pain?’

  ‘I bumped my side. I think it’s just bruised is all.’

  ‘You really are in the wars, love, aren’t you? You make sure they take you to get checked out at the hospital.’

  ‘I will do. It could be worse.’ Jenny hesitated. She thought about Joseph again, about what had happened to him, about how he hadn’t stood a chance. He’d been a sitting duck. He’d had been a good man too; they’d had their problems, but he was not the type to run away when she fell pregnant and she didn’t run when he moved them across the country using hotels that accepted cash only. If she was honest with herself, she had known that he was involved with something from the start, but she had convinced herself it wouldn’t affect her. Now she wished she had asked more questions. Then at least she might have more of an idea of just how deep it ran, how much danger she was really in.

  ‘Are you sure this is the right thing to do?’ Jenny said.

  ‘What else can you do, love? You got to put your faith in the police. There’s no one else who can help you. You can’t stay hidden in the loft forever, can you? Just think, you could be holding your little girl within the hour.’

  ‘I just can’t face stepping out there. Maybe they could come here?’

  Anne shook her head. ‘Some of the other residents are starting to get back. I can’t have police attention here and I reckon there will be a lot of it when they work out who you are. I’ve had it before. There was just a door knock about a car accident out the front — some two-minute conversation with a bloke in uniform. Before I knew it I had three empty rooms. The government gives me a decent grant for every one of them. That grant scarpers when they do.’

  ‘Okay.’ Jenny was aware she didn’t sound sure. She wasn’t sure; there was nothing she could do to hide it.

  ‘Don’t worry. Look, I’ll drop you right at the door. I’ll come in with you. There won’t be a problem. Who would do anything to you walking into a police station?’

  ‘These people, Anne . . . broad daylight . . . people around — it didn’t seem to matter to them. I know what will happen, we’ll go in and they’ll sit me down to wait out front. Anyone could be coming in and out. It takes a second, Anne. I’ve seen that.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what . . .’ Anne clicked her fingers. ‘We’ll call ahead. Tell them we’re on our way down and that we want someone waiting or we’re not coming at all. It was 1-0-1, right? The number?’

  ‘1-0-1, yeah. Okay, that sounds good.’ Jenny sucked in a lungful of air. She knew this had to happen. Anne was right: she couldn’t hide in the loft forever and she had to see Isobel. She just didn’t want to feel scared any more. Surely at the police station she wouldn’t have to.

  Anne gestured at some folded clothes that were stacked on the table. ‘I had a family here, they upped and left a while ago, they left a lot of their belongings. It happens a lot. The wife was about your size. I fished out some bits. They look clean to me. I figured you could do with a change.’ Anne was looking her up and down. Jenny could hardly disagree. ‘You know . . . before we go outside. I know you don’t want to be drawing attention to yourself right now do you, love?’

  ‘I guess you’re right.’ The new clothes were a slim-fitting pair of black jeans, a long-sleeved red top and a zip-up black gilet with front pockets and a grey hood. What she really wanted was a change of underwear — some of her own underwear. That would have to wait. ‘Thanks, Anne . . . you know . . . for everything.’

  Anne nodded. She had her phone to her ear already. Jenny took the hint and moved to the back of the kitchen to get changed. Jenny could still hear Anne on the phone.

  ‘Hello, I’m ringing to let you know that I am bringing the girl down to the police station — the girl who ran away from the shooting yesterday.’

  Jenny bit down on her lip; said out loud, the description made it sound like someone else.

  ‘In Dover.’ Anne rolled her eyes at Jenny. ‘No, I won’t be giving any details about me — no, you don’t need to know who I am. I will be dropping her down in ten minutes but we will only come in if there is someone there to meet us. This girl has had quite a time of it, she needs to be safe.’ Anne frowned into the phone, she made a gesture that suggested someone was typing. ‘No, you don’t need my address. We are coming to you. Look, we are on our way. Have someone meet us, okay?’ Anne pressed to end the call. She spoke to Jenny, ‘Honestly, they want to know the ins and outs of a duck’s arse! Why can’t they just listen and do their job?’

  Anne was still holding the phone. It rang almost immediately. She scowled at it then lifted it to her ear.

  ‘Hello . . . Oh, Jesus! What is the matter with you people? You need what? How does that keep us safe? Fine, look, I will be in a blue Fiat, I will pull up outside and I would like a police officer to come out and meet us. If you can’t assure me of that then I won’t be coming down. Yes, yes, I understand that. I agree we need to get her safe, that’s why I am doing what I can.’ Anne sighed, and shook her head.

  Jenny felt nervous all of a sudden, she tried not to think too far ahead. She just needed to get into a car, the station was just a few minutes away and the police would be waiting to meet her. They had her daughter; they would be reunited. And they would be safe.

  ‘I’m not telling you that,’ Anne snapped down the phone. ‘I said that already. We are ten minutes away and we will be coming from the sea side of the town. That’s all you need to know, thank you for your help. Goodbye!’

  Anne was off the phone. ‘Well, the police have finally agreed to our terms!’ Anne chuckled playfully. ‘Let’s get you safe, love.’

  Jenny’s new clothes were a good enough fit. The jeans were a little tight and they rubbed against her grazed knee, but she was barely aware of the discomfort. Other residents were coming in as they left through the communal front door. Jenny kept her head bent. The same car that had had its bonnet up the previous day still seemed to be the centre of two men’s attention despite the persistent rain. They leaned over the engine with hoods pulled over their heads. Everyone seemed to be oblivious to the woman skulking in the passenger seat of the old, blue Fiat. The car started at the second attempt, it coughed a little and Anne wiped at the condensation on the windscreen with her sl
eeve.

  ‘She’s an old bird — needs a few minutes to warm up. Just like her mother.’ Anne played with the heating controls. The fan was loud, and the noise filled the cabin. Jenny was glad of the layer of moisture and condensation, she felt concealed. Safer. The car bounced a little as it pulled away. The traffic was constant and slow moving. They had to turn left into a two-lane, one-way system and a roundabout was upon them immediately. Anne went all the way around it and, as they headed back towards the town of Dover, Jenny was on the side nearer to the sea. She peered out over the dull, grey waters that seemed to mirror the sky exactly. Just a few days earlier, on a far sunnier day, they had walked as a family along the promenade and been to all the seafront attractions. Both Jenny and Joseph loved the sea air and panoramic views. Isobel had slept soundly — she was such a content little girl. Jenny had thought at the time that they all seemed to be content for once, that maybe their life together would start settling down soon. Joseph had promised it often enough, he had even agreed to them looking for somewhere to rent more permanently in the area. Only a week had gone by since then, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

  The traffic was still thick when they got to the next roundabout. Anne took a right and any view of the sea was gone.

  ‘You okay, love?’ Anne said. It roused Jenny from her thoughts.

  ‘I’m okay. I just can’t get my head around how everything has changed. I just don’t know what I can do from here.’

  ‘You get your baby girl back and you start all over again. The police will keep you safe. Once they do that, nothing else matters.’

  ‘What about her dad? Does he not matter? She’s not even a year old and she’s lost her dad and I don’t even know why. What if it turns out he’s mixed up in something, what if he turns out to be a criminal or a bad man?’

  ‘How was he to you? To your baby?’

  ‘He was great. He was great with me and great with her. I felt really lucky, you know? We didn’t plan Issy, I admit, and we definitely hadn’t been together long enough for it to be the right thing to do, but he was insistent that we would make it work. It was never a consideration, you know, to not go through with it.’

  ‘I know what you mean. You are lucky, too. Most men in that situation . . . well, you wouldn’t see them for dust. Sounded like a keeper.’

  ‘I just don’t know now. I just don’t know what happens next.’

  ‘One step at a time, love. First, we get you to the police station and to your little girl. That’s step one. Don’t be worrying about anything beyond that right now.’

  Anne tutted. She was looking down to her right, at the mirror. The Fiat had been drifting across to the right-hand lane as they approached another roundabout, but Anne suddenly jerked it back into the left.

  ‘Some people are in such a hurry,’ she said. A long, silver car flashed past them in the right lane. It had to brake hard for the roundabout and then it was gone, it moved round to the right and out of sight. Anne moved back over; there was one car in front. It pulled out so that Anne’s Fiat was now on the cusp of the roundabout. Anne checked to her right. The silver car had gone all the way around and she had to wait for it. ‘Bloody idiot doesn’t even know where he’s going.’

  The silver car’s headlights flashed. It had slowed to a crawl around the roundabout; now it stopped, holding up the traffic behind. It flashed again. Anne shook her head and pulled the Fiat out onto the roundabout. Jenny was still watching the silver car. Something about it wasn’t right: why flash someone out at a roundabout? She didn’t have time to scream, she saw the silver car hurtle forwards as if it had been kicked from behind. A split second later and the Fiat took the impact hard in the driver’s side. Jenny felt herself thrown right, then hard left. She screamed, the car juddered sideways, she could hear loud engine revs from outside as the Fiat skidded and bucked sideways towards the crash barrier on the left side. Jenny was forcibly turned towards the barrier and it was getting relentlessly closer. She saw a flash of colour — a car trying to get up the inside and out of the way. It didn’t make it. Jenny’s side took the impact this time, the metal bent inwards, the noise was terrific. Anne cried out as Jenny’s window imploded and shards of glass fell into her lap. The flash of colour was now gone. The silver car was out of sight, too. The Fiat stopped moving and rocked back onto its wheels. Jenny turned to Anne. She looked stunned and her face was ashen; she was bleeding freely from the back of her head. Then, beyond Anne, she saw it again: the silver car was backing away, its front bent in and crushed and its windscreen with a spider web pattern to it. There was the roar of an engine and the screech of tyres and then the silver car was speeding towards them again.

  Anne turned to Jenny. She looked resigned. Strands of her hair were slick across her face and ran between her lips. ‘Run love!’ she gasped.

  ‘ANNE!’ Everything flashed white. Suddenly Jenny was staring at the sky, then the dark grey tarmac, then the sky again. She could do nothing but grimace as forces pulled and tugged at her body. Then she was aware of being upright again. Her head spun, her ears rang and everything had a pink tinge. Her door was rocking open — she couldn’t be sure if she had pushed it open or not. She could see a raised curb and she felt for it with her left foot. She couldn’t see Anne. What was left of the driver’s side was now empty. She got out onto the curb and bumped into a sturdy metal railing. Her left hand reached out for it instinctively. People were approaching her on foot, though she couldn’t make out any details. Everything seemed fuzzy and she could feel herself falling. But something kept her up. Then came a sound with which she was now familiar: a gunshot.

  Still acting on instinct, Jenny ducked behind the shell of the car. Her ears were ringing loudly and when she heard the second shot it sounded distant — but she couldn’t be sure and she knew the shots were meant for her. She knew she had to go. She heard voices — they might have been shouts but, regardless, she couldn’t tell what they were saying. There was a gap straight ahead between the car bonnet and the railing. Her body flooded with adrenalin again, she sprang through it. As she moved clear of the wreckage, she heard another crack of gunfire.

  The traffic had come to a standstill and there were a lot of cars around. As she darted between two of them, she heard a sound like falling glass from her right followed swiftly by a shout of anguish. She turned left and aimed for another two stationary cars. As she approached the gap between them, one of the doors was pushing open. Jenny screamed for them to get back in their car. She kept weaving between the gridlocked vehicles and could now see an alleyway ahead. Leading off one of the roundabout exits where she now found herself, it looked like it ran down the side of a church. At least she hoped it was an alleyway. Though her lungs felt like bursting, she made it. She hit the opening so fast she bounced off the church wall, and the sharp flints in the masonry bit into her shoulder. Jenny kept running and burst from the alleyway into a cobbled street. She turned right; it seemed a logical assumption that those chasing her would expect her to continue left, the direction she had been heading in. The cobbled street was busy with shoppers and she recognised it as the High Street. People stopped to gape at Jenny but she didn’t care. They were just cover for her.

  Chapter 10

  George followed Whittaker’s car through the gate to Langthorne House. The old man looked stressed as he stood up out of the back seat. He made straight for George.

  ‘Major, how’s your day?’

  ‘The phrase bad to worse comes to mind, old boy. Are you plumbed into the grid?’

  ‘I have my radio, but I’ve not been monitoring. Are there developments?’

  ‘I’ll say there are. The woman made contact — or at least we think it was her. There’s been another incident out on the roads. More carnage. Our woman has gone back underground. And this time I don’t think she’ll be popping her head back out again.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Oh, George, I have literally no idea right now. Someone is on their way here
for a strategy meeting. Another damned strategy meeting. The press have made the link. I’m getting nothing but questions I can’t answer. I think it’s fair to say my dinner will be getting cold tonight, my friend.’

  ‘Call ahead, sir. Forewarn the wife, soften the blow.’

  ‘I sometimes wonder if you listen to a damned thing I say, George. I already told you my day is a stinker. The last thing I need to be doing is calling up the enemy with unacceptable news.’

  ‘You’d rather save it all up for when you get home?’

  ‘Who knows? Part of me is considering bringing up how I should approach the wife in this latest strategy meeting. Some of our finest tactical minds will be there, see? Someone must have an idea.’

  The men chuckled. Then the chuckles subsided quickly.

  ‘What’s the story with this other job, George? No doubt I will be fielding questions on that one too.’

  ‘It’s a sad one, I’m afraid. Elderly couple robbed at home in the middle of the night. Just the old boy survived it. CSI are still there, but it’s just one officer. She could do with some help to get the scene processed. Any chance you can spare her some help?’

  Whittaker rubbed at his face. ‘I know that what you have is far from ideal, but our situation down here just got worse. From what I hear we have yet another scene — someone else fighting for their life on the streets of Dover. I’m losing people to this job, George, if anything. I’m certainly not able to free anyone up.’

  ‘Okay. I think she’s quite happy to keep working away up there. They’ll just have to stay on the scene longer. I suppose our victim isn’t going anywhere. I want this one though, sir — the job, I mean. I’m going to have the bastards that did this.’

  Whittaker registered a flicker of pleasure through his mask of stress. ‘It’s yours, George. I don’t hear that enough from my officers. I could do with getting you up to speed on this other job, though. A fresh pair of eyes and a man of your experience might be able to start filling in the blanks. Or at least point out what the blanks are. Right now, that would be a start. Especially now you’re sober!’