IMPERFECTION
Page 27
Gardener felt a breeze skate across the back of his neck, forcing him to shiver. He really didn’t like it at all.
“Jesus Christ!” whispered Briggs. “How does he think of all this?”
“He’s disturbed,” replied Gardener. “He doesn’t live in the same world we do. Everything about him tells you that.” He moved forward and bumped into something solid, causing him to curse. Whatever it was must have grazed his shin.
“Steady, Stewart,” said Briggs, before shouting, “he could have given us some fucking lighting to work with!”
Which is precisely what their host did.
Puzzled, Gardener glanced behind and noticed that he had bumped into a real tree stump. And that the headstones all around them contained names of all the people he knew: his father, the rest of the watch committee, even one for himself and Sean Reilly. The shrines bore the names of Corndell’s parents: Wallace and Betty.
Corndell junior had a very sick mind. His masterpiece confirmed it: the inside of the opera house was more unsettling than anything he’d ever seen.
Gardener turned around again as a noise diverted his attention. Two halogen lamps cut the darkness to reveal a round column, rising up from the graveyard, leading into the rafters up above.
Gardener peered upwards. Although it was dark, he could make out the top of the column, which had a small round base. Though he couldn’t swear to it, he thought he could see a pair of feet.
Chapter Fifty-six
Corndell chuckled to himself as he surveyed his handiwork from another arched box at the other side of the opera house. Two police officers completely out of their depth, unaware of the situation they were caught up in, and therefore unable to help. Something to which they were unaccustomed.
He turned, reached out and pulled a lever. The hum of an electric motor broke the silence.
Laughing even more, Corndell was thinking of how much he had enjoyed himself recently. But as Gardener had mentioned only minutes previously, his finest hour was yet to come.
The column descended.
Chapter Fifty-seven
The column suddenly moved, forcing Gardener to jump back. He would have lost his balance had it not been for Briggs.
“Steady, Stewart.”
“Stand back,” said Gardener, “I’ve no idea what’s coming down but I wouldn’t put anything past this freak.”
The column continued lowering, sliding into the earth beneath them. As it did so, the feet Gardener thought he had seen grew into a pair of legs: wearing blue jeans and a pair of small white boots with a heel, certainly not suitable footwear for holding your balance. There must have been countless females in Leeds wearing those kinds of fashionable boots but he knew whom they belonged to.
The person on the column let out a whimper.
“Who the hell’s on that?” shouted Briggs, peering upwards.
“Oh, Jesus,” said Gardener, “it’s Laura.”
“What?”
She had now dropped low enough that they could see up as far as her chest. Laura’s arms had been tied behind her back. As her face came into view, Gardener noticed she had been gagged and a noose had been tied around her neck. Her biggest problem was that the base upon which she was standing was perhaps only a foot in diameter, allowing little room for error.
“What the hell goes through this bloke’s mind?” Briggs asked Gardener.
The slack in the rope was taken up and it started to tighten. Gardener realized – with a panic – that if they didn’t do something, his partner’s wife was going to be hanged right in front of them.
But what could they do? The column still towered above them – well out of their reach. It was impossible to climb because it was a smooth round pole. It was pretty much in the middle of the earth and he could see nothing he could use to gain any height: not that he thought he’d be allowed to anyway.
Gardener turned and glared at Briggs. “How the hell are we going to get her out of this?”
As he said it, the column stopped.
Gardener turned. Laura was still at least six feet above him. There was little or no slack left in the rope and she was now standing on tiptoes. She made no sound but he could see the tears running down her face and the imploring expression in her eyes, reminding him of the night Sarah died.
There was no margin for mistakes. She had to stand absolutely still for as long as it took for both officers to negotiate her release. But did she have the confidence to see that through?
Chapter Fifty-eight
A powerful beam appeared through the rafters, lighting up a theatre box to Gardener’s left, illuminating Corndell.
“If she falls, she hangs,” he shouted. “If you don’t do as I say, she hangs. If you try to save her, she hangs. Not a lot to look forward to, has she, Mr Gardener?”
Gardener’s temper was mounting but he knew at the moment he was the underdog. He held no cards. “Don’t be stupid, Corndell, you’ll never get away with this.”
“Oh but I will, Mr Gardener.”
“He’s right, simpleton,” said Briggs, “you’ve done enough damage, don’t make things any worse.”
The DCI stepped to his left, as if to show some initiative to rectify the situation.
“Take your inspector’s advice, Briggs, and don’t you be stupid. I am controlling the lever, so her fate is in my hands. You will not reach me in time to do anything about it. You will not get anywhere near your sergeant’s wife, and you certainly won’t save her life, so I suggest you stay exactly where you are.”
Gardener could have heard a pin drop, which raised the tension. He glanced at Laura. She was still crying. She was also shivering and Gardener knew that it wasn’t cold. He either needed to buy her some time and alleviate her predicament, or he had to save her, neither of which were likely in the short term. And time wasn’t something she had a lot of.
Gardener glanced at Corndell. “What exactly are you planning, Mr Corndell? If it doesn’t end well for Laura it certainly isn’t going to end well for you. You’re in enough trouble. You’ve already killed four people. You’re looking at life, so how much worse would you like to make it?”
Corndell laughed hard, a high-pitched screech in which he rocked backward and forwards. “I don’t think so, Mr Gardener.”
“What don’t you think?” shouted Briggs.
Corndell stopped laughing and stared at Gardener, as if he were a machine that could simply switch itself on and off when he wanted.
He leaned forward with his hands on the side of the box as if he wanted to fire his words at Gardener.
“I don’t think I am going to get life. Let’s look at the facts, shall we?”
Corndell raised his right arm and started counting off the fingers of his right hand with those of his left.
“Fact one: you have absolutely no evidence against me. Two: neither you nor anyone else has ever seen me kill anyone.” He raised his third finger. “There is no trace of me at any crime scene. No sightings. Your witness statements will sound like they’ve been made up by Mickey Mouse. ‘What did he look like, sir?’ ‘Well, your honour, a bit like a vampire with pointed teeth and wearing a dark cloak.’ Any evidence you think you have is circumstantial at best.
“If you put me in front of a jury, Mr Gardener, you will be completely laughed out of court because you have nothing to back up your statements. My solicitor will have a field day.”
Briggs had his phone in his hand and appeared to be filming the exchange. He stared at Corndell. “What’s this if not evidence, sunshine?”
Corndell laughed at the superior officer. “By the time you have finished filming that and try to present it, I will be long gone.”
“You think we’re just going to let you walk out of here?” shouted Gardener, “after everything you’ve done, and still are doing?”
“I know so, Mr Gardener. You are going to let me walk free if you want to save the life of your partner’s wife.”
With that, Laura let out
a strangulated cry. Gardener glanced upwards. She implored him to do something despite the fact that she couldn’t move or talk. Her legs were trembling.
“She cannot possibly hang on much longer,” said Corndell. “She’s been standing like that for an hour. It’s only a matter of time.”
“He’s right, Stewart,” said Briggs. “We need to save Laura’s life and we can’t do that without him so whatever bargain he wants to make, go ahead. We’ll pick him up later, he won’t get far.”
“He’s managed to escape every other time he’s killed someone,” retorted Gardener, unwilling to play his game. “What’s different now?”
“He can’t slip back to this place any longer. We know about it. As soon as he leaves here, we can set up roadblocks and we can have men on stations and airports. He’s going nowhere fast, so give him his moment of glory.”
“Listen to him, Mr Gardener. He’s talking sense.” Corndell stood with his arms folded, as if he had already won the battle.
Laura whined. One glance at her and Gardener knew Briggs was right. She could not hold that stance very much longer.
Gardener ran his hands down his face, thoroughly frustrated. Where the hell was Sean Reilly when he needed him?
Gardener raised his hands in the air. “Okay, you win, Mr Corndell. How are we going to play this?”
Chapter Fifty-nine
Corndell chuckled, he had them where he wanted them. And they hadn’t seen the half of it yet.
He drew his right hand toward his pocket, reassuring himself everything was in place, and that he maintained the advantage. He wondered how far he would be able to push it, making them dance to his merry tune.
Glancing at Laura, Corndell realized there was a slight amount of slack in the rope around her neck: time to ramp up the tension.
He turned. As he reached out for the lever, he had a shock of his own to deal with.
“No you don’t, sunshine,” said Sean Reilly, punching Corndell straight in the mouth, more than once.
Corndell fell back, crashing into the side of the box.
Reilly punched him once more and Corndell fell flat on his arse, winded and slightly dazed.
The Irishman grabbed Corndell by the scruff of his neck. “I haven’t finished with you, sunshine. I’m going out there to free my wee wife and then I’m coming back in here to finish you off.
Corndell’s head was swimming. He felt like he’d been hit by a battering ram.
Reilly grabbed his right hand, quickly handcuffing it to the rail running around the box.
“You’re going nowhere.”
Chapter Sixty
Gardener heard the crash as an aluminium ladder was thrown over the side of the box, landing in the soft earth with a clump. “Where the hell’s that come from?” Gardener peered up toward the box. He couldn’t see Corndell.
“What the hell are you up to, Corndell?” shouted Gardener, tramping forward, which wasn’t easy due to the soil underfoot. Was he about to play another game: allow them to try and save Laura but perhaps lower the column at the last second?
The silence was condemning.
“What fucking perverse game is he up to now?” Briggs asked Gardener.
“He isn’t up to anything,” said Reilly, appearing stage left. He headed straight for the ladder.
Gardener lurched forward and helped his partner part the ladder despite it being nowhere near stable enough to climb.
Briggs ran to help. “Where the hell is Corndell?”
“Don’t worry,” replied Reilly, “he isn’t going anywhere.”
Knowing his partner better than anyone, Gardener wondered if he’d already killed Corndell. It was a fleeting thought, so he doubted and dismissed it.
“Sir,” said Gardener to Briggs, “grab the other side of the ladder, let’s do the best we can. I doubt it will be stable enough but Laura has very little time left.”
The first time Reilly attempted to climb it, the ladder fell toward the pole, rocking it slightly, causing Laura some unnecessary panic. Gardener glanced upwards and his heart flew into his mouth as Laura rocked forward. Thankfully, she kept her balance.
“Jesus Christ!” shouted Reilly. “He’s a dead man when I’m through here.”
Briggs ignored the threatening comment. “It’s okay, Sean, just get up there and get your missus.”
Despite the rocking motion, he finally made it to the top of the ladder. Gardener didn’t figure he would have any chance of being able to stand on the podium with Laura but the ladder was almost as high and Reilly was slightly taller than his wife.
But it was a tense few seconds whilst he managed to loosen the noose.
Gardener heard a sigh of relief as he unhooked Laura’s neck.
But then they heard a scraping sound from the box to the left.
Gardener turned.
“Good effort, Mr Reilly, but not good enough.”
Chapter Sixty-one
In his left hand, Corndell held a small oblong box, about the size of a TV remote. His face was bloody from a cut to his mouth and Gardener could see his right hand.
“What’s he holding?” asked Briggs.
“I’d hate to think,” said Gardener, aware of how precarious their situation was. Reilly was still at the top of the ladder with Laura slumped over his shoulder. He and his senior officer were stuck in mud.
“It’s all over, Mr Gardener, you’re out of time.”
Corndell screeched with laughter as he raised his left hand.
Gardener was suddenly reminded of the mad scientists in the old horror films, those who went down screaming, taking everyone else with them.
There was no further time for a reply or a thought.
Corndell pressed the button on the oblong pad and the first explosion rocked the place.
Gardener had no idea where it came from but the force was enough the blow them all sideways. The ladder came down on top of him, cracking his forehead and scraping his face. Thankfully for him, Briggs disappeared in the opposite direction and not on top of him. Reilly and Laura punched the earth next to him. He heard his partner exhale loudly.
Another explosion to their left rang through Gardener’s ears, nearly deafening him. Flames shot toward the box in which Corndell was standing.
The Phantom screamed and fell backwards.
Reilly jumped up and started to make his way to the left-hand side of the theatre.
Corndell was shouting something but Gardener couldn’t hear it clearly enough.
Gardener grabbed Reilly’s arm. “What are you doing?”
“I want that bastard up there,” shouted Reilly.
“You’ll never make it, Sean.”
Popping and crackling sounds flashed around their ears. The flames grew higher and as Gardener peered at the box, he could not see Corndell.
“Trust me, Sean, you’ll never make it.”
He could tell that Reilly would not be satisfied until he had Corndell’s throat between his hands.
“He’s right, Sean,” shouted Briggs, “that scum isn’t worth it.”
Laura had managed to make it to her feet. “For God’s sake, look at this place.” She pointed upwards as another mini explosion sounded above them.
In the blink of an eye the roof beams were aflame, and in no time at all the building was set to become a raging inferno.
“He needs to pay for what he’s done.”
“Fuck him!” shouted Briggs, “we need to save our own skins.”
One of the roof beams fell down behind the pole on which Laura had been standing. No further warning was necessary. All four of them tramped through the thick earth underfoot, finally making it to the steps of the opera house. As they almost fell down them, a creak and a slam made Gardener glance behind him. The only door that had ever been available for entry and exit had slammed shut.
Corndell had planned everything down to the last detail.
But what had happened to him; where the hell was he?
Ga
rdener bent forward with his hands on his knees, breathless, unable to believe how lucky they had been.
“Stewart, move yourself, for God’s sake,” shouted Briggs.
Like an alarm in his head, he realised that if Corndell had triggered the opera house doors to lock, he may well have triggered the main doors of the building in the event that they had foiled him.
Gardener and the others bolted for the entrance. The doors were still open. Once on the street, they ran across it to where their cars had been parked, and Briggs called the fire brigade on his mobile.
Epilogue
It was close to midnight when the fire chief pronounced the warehouse safe and secure. Standing a little way from the two officers, Gardener heard the conversation between the chief and his colleagues. The building had been reduced to a shell.
All four of them had sat beside the car listening to the cracking and banging as the timber joists fell, the windows exploding as the fire raged out of control.
A crowd had gathered shortly before the fire services had arrived, some of them asking if they were okay. God only knew the impression they must have given. One of the assembled onlookers had even gone to a burger bar around the corner and brought back tea and coffee and snacks for them.
Laura and Sean had stuck together like glue, before he had finally taken her home around nine-thirty. The pair of them had had enough.
“You never did tell me where Sean had got to,” said Gardener to Briggs.
His superior officer was a picture: the lenses of his glasses were so thickly coated with grime it must have been impossible to see through them, his face had been covered in soot and soil, and even a vagrant would have turned his nose up at the clothes he was wearing. But he figured he hadn’t fared any better himself.
“I wasn’t really sure myself,” said Briggs, taking a sip of coffee. “When we got out of the car, he told me to go inside. He said that if Corndell saw all of us together, he would have the advantage. And he would probably be cocky enough to think that we were stupid enough not to have split up.”