25
The emergency operator had received no calls in the last half an hour of her shift. It was one of the most unusual days, but she though that the time of night coupled with the warm late summer weather had meant people were more engaged in having a wonderful time or sleeping than they were in creating emergencies. That was the part of the job that she didn’t like and that she found others overlooked. When she told someone what she did for a living they would think that she would be proud she was helping others. But she was more concerned with why people called the emergency services.
Sam had been doing the job for around 8 months after her training but was reaching the end of her time there. She could no longer deal with the destruction that humans performed on each other. Just about every call she received was as the result of one person causing harm to another or to themselves. The ambulance calls she took, particularly at the weekend, were mainly drink and drug related. The police calls were pretty much the same, but with robbery thrown in too. The calls for the fire brigade were typically the result of arson or neglect. She thought that her time might be better spent stopping people from drinking, rehabilitating people away from crime or educating building owners that they need to keep on top of fire safety than it was clearing up the mess that all this made. She didn’t feel any joy in her job, even on the odd occasion she got ‘feedback’ that she had saved someone’s life. All she could picture was the person that had put them in a life-endangering situation in the first place.
It was near the end of her shift and Sam rejoiced that she only had a few minutes to go. She had taken no calls in half an hour and hoped that she could escape from any more for the next few minutes. Even the room she occupied was depressing. It was a small office with a few operators in. They had been arranged in the call centre style, so each had their own space, made by temporary screens and rarely saw each other. They were sat only a few yards apart for hours on end and didn’t meet eye to eye. The modern drive for efficiency in every aspect of work life had overshadowed the need for people to feel valued and happy in their work. Sam was looking at what she could do to help in the real world and not in her 8-hour prison. She had considered counselling and education but was still to make her mind up. She knew that whatever lay ahead, this job was soon to be behind her. There would be a lot of work and studying to make a difference in her life, and some expense she might add, but it had to be better than this.
Sam looked at the three walls her screens had made and the effort she had put into making it feel more like a place she could spend time. The walls were filled with photos of her on holiday with friends and family. If one thing was bound to raise her spirits and remind her why she worked then it was the holidays she had been on in the past. They were a signal that there were more holidays to look forward to in the future, funded by her income. She looked over the pictures that were grouped together of the holiday she had with Tom, her brother and the mix of friends the two of them had in Iceland a few years earlier. It was such a laugh and she was concerned to begin with how it would go. Tom’s mates were adventure seekers and her friends were generally those that liked a bit of luxury and pampering. But they hadn’t been on holiday together since they were kids and had always agreed to visit some of the world with each other one day. They just invited people and let them decide if they could get on. Even if it meant that the brother and sister went together. But they were all game and signed up within days of the invite being sent out. The whole group had a whale of a time, relaxing at night after some adventurous days. It was the summer so there was a party atmosphere already on the island. All vowed to go back one day. The photos were of Tom rock climbing and the girls enjoying the thermal waters. Another group of photos still remained although the person featured in them didn’t feature in her life. It was an ex-boyfriend and although she would like to wipe him out of her memories (he treated her like shit and fucked off with his ex) the holiday was too good to take down the pics. She has always wanted to visit California. She had feelings for California like others around her had for Australia. For Sam, it had the same vibe. It was relaxed, baked in sunshine and filled with beautiful people - in her mind at least. When she arrived, it lived up to expectations in every way. She loved every second of the three weeks they spent there and had looked into gaining a Green Card to live in the United States every year since. But it was more and more difficult to get into America permanently. Sam thought she would have to go back one day as a tourist again and live that life for a fleeting time again.
The phone rang. She had hoped that she could avoid that for the last small portion of her shift. She consoled herself that she would only have time for one call.
“Emergency services. What service so you require?”
“Uh, fire……and I guess the police. Do they usually come together?”
“It depends on what the cause of the fire is. I’ll get them both out to you. Can you give me your name?”
“It’s Fred. There’s a fire at the house opposite me. I need someone to come quickly. Somebody lives there, and I haven’t seen them come out of the house. I’m worried. I can’t get out and about myself or I would have gone to see if I could help. If I was twenty years younger I’d have been in there like a shot.”
Sam sent the fire brigade and the police to the address. She then clocked off for her shift with her thoughts split between Fred being 20 years younger, her next trip to California and what she would do to get out of this job and into one that made a difference, in her eyes. Thoughts of her next job took over and Sam walked home with a view of herself in a few years’ time. She could picture life as a counsellor.
26
The fire crew arrived at the scene and quickly assessed the situation. Fred watched as best he could from the house over the road but couldn’t really see much. When he was young the fire brigade used to arrive, douse the place with water and see what happened. Now he could see someone taking charge and discussing the situation with people. Fred blamed it on health and safety (‘health and safety gone mad’ was a phrase he used far too often) but could see that it wasn’t taking long. The fire crew assembled while the police looked around at the rest of the neighbourhood for signs of what might have started it or to see if the fire was causing a stir. In other parts of Washington, a fire this big would have attracted a crowd of thousands by now, but this quiet forgotten part of town saw nobody stop to watch the hypnotic flames start to rise up the building and reach into the night sky.
Fred watched some more and noticed that one of the fire fighters was trying to kick down the side gate and gain access to the garden. It took a few blows, which made him wonder why the man opposite had taken so much care of the security of his back garden. The fire fighter walked through the broken gate and ran back out of the same gate a few seconds later. He spoke to the man that appeared to be in charge and then the radio was used. By now Fred had managed to get in a better position upstairs and he saw the rest of the events unfold.
The fire fighter returned to the garden and then walked back out with someone over his shoulder.
The police at the scene looked concerned with the man who had been retrieved from the garden.
The fire fighter handed something over and this was bagged up by the police officer he first spoke to.
An ambulance arrived and the man was put on a stretcher and taken away.
The fire crew worked on the house for a few hours before it looked as though the fire was extinguished. The orange flames stood out against the darkening sky and Fred felt like it was bonfire night. But there was a sinister element to the show. Someone had been taken away from the scene by an ambulance. Fred hoped that it wasn’t his neighbour. He hadn’t seen much of him since the new neighbour had moved in and he didn’t even know the guy’s name but Fred didn’t wish ill of anyone in his small sphere of contact. He ventured back downstairs and slept in his chair hoping that it wasn’t the neighbour. If it was the neighbour he hoped that he would be OK.
&n
bsp; 27
Augustine Boyle beat the rest of the team into the office the following day. The conversations he had been through with Lou at the curry house had got his mind going. When that happened, there was little chance of sleep. He wanted to test his theories on the rest of the team, and that meant some time at the computer. He delivered his words best when they were written down and he wanted to talk to the rest of the team about the different ideas he and Lou brainstormed the night before.
But the second Augustine walked into the police station he could sense that there was something in the air. The people working there were unusually down and he was told that his boss was waiting in his office. Augustine rushed through to find out what was going on. The person at the front desk offered to bring him through a hot drink and he asked for a black tea. Over the years Augustine had moved away from his usual strong tea with only a splash of milk because others didn’t understand what he meant by a splash of milk. He didn’t really like the taste or smell of milk at all. When he asked for a strong tea, here was invariably a load of milk in it and a strained teabag. When he asked for tea with a tiny amount of milk in it, the result was more often than not that the other person had used enough milk to last him a week. To avoid this hazard, he drank black tea when it was made by anyone else. He walked to his office while trying to decide what the news might be.
As Augustine walked through the door, he could see Marie sat at his desk looking for all the world like she had received a shock. Augustine knew that she wouldn’t be there unless absolutely necessary so dragged in a chair from the nearest desk so he could sit too. There were other chairs in his office but none nearly as comfortable as the one behind his desk that was occupied by Marie.
“There has been a major development with the killer you are tracing. He has struck again. A police officer. Andy Lane, I don’t know if you know him. We think we may soon know who the killer is,” Marie explained but she could immediately see that Augustine wasn’t taking in the information she was conveying. He had gone into deep thought and from experience, Marie knew it could be a few minutes until he came back again. She gave him time.
“So, he has killed one of our own? How did this happen? How did we know?” Augustine looked up and down as though he was searching for answers. He was trying to avert his gaze from Marie and work the tears away from his eyes before she could see them. He thought that if he didn’t let her see then he could maintain a strong front and work the situation through rationally.
“We were called to a fire. One of the fire brigade went into the back garden to assess the fire and found him in the back garden. He had been hit over the head by the looks of it. I have asked Electra to go to the post mortem instead of coming here. I thought this is what you would want to happen. I can call her again if you have someone else in mind,” Marie spoke to Augustine with two hats on. She was his boss and wanted to help the investigation as much as she could. It wasn’t just Augustine that was feeling the pressure of multiple killings and no indication that they had any idea of who the killer was and where they might be. But her other hat was one that wanted to take control. She hadn’t woken Augustine when she was told of the killed police officer a few hours earlier because she wanted time to make plans and think about how this might play out. She wasn’t ready to take Augustine off this case yet, but wanted to conduct things more closely than ever before. Who knows, she may not have been in a position to have the final say on whether he would be allowed to continue looking for this killer that has now taken the life of a police officer to add to all the others found dead.
“How do you know it’s him? Was there a letter left on his chest?” Augustine asked as if the answer would change any of the emotions he was feeling at that time. He had come across PC Andy Lane a few times in his work and always found him to be an upstanding member of the police force. He could see a day where he became a detective and maybe they would even work together. But now all Augustine could see were the tears welling up in his eyes. He didn’t know what to do or say next. He looked to Marie for the lead.
“There was a letter left on his chest. The fire brigade has stopped the fire taking the whole building out and there is some other evidence in there. We can go look with the rest of the team when they arrive. The information we want is upstairs, so there is a little work going on to secure the stairs. The next call is yours. We go as soon as they get here, or wait for Electra,” Marie spoke in a way that sounded inclusive. She didn’t want to step on Augustine’s toes too much. She wanted him to still feel like he was making decisions.
“We go when the rest of them are here. Electra will catch up in no time. I can’t wait,” Augustine looked at Marie for the first time since he had been given the news. He was ready to start looking forward and getting his teeth into the information. It had taken the death of a colleague, but it seemed like some progress was finally about to be made in the search for the killer.
28
As the group arrived at the scene of the fire and the finding of the body of their colleague, the fire brigade had gone and there was a joiner on site repairing the staircase so they could see the information Marie had referred to in the short briefing. She didn’t go into detail as to see it in situ was probably going to explain everything they would need to know. She hadn’t seen it herself, only been told the broad brushstrokes, and was intrigued as to the finer details. The fire chief had told her what his men had seen through the window while making sure the fire was extinguished and he had been able to get up there and quickly survey the scene himself. But it was nothing like having a team of trained detectives at the location. Marie was first there, and she had waited for the rest of them to arrive. It was a quiet neighbourhood. At the front of the building, Marie held court and explained a few of the facts, as she knew them, while the joiner was finishing off the work on the stairs. ‘Only about ten minutes,’ he had shouted when she first arrived. That should give me plenty of time, she thought.
“PC Andy Lane radioed from here at exactly 7.24 PM yesterday. It appears he turned his radio off at that point. We have no record of the signal being live for the next half an hour or so. A neighbour called the emergency services and initially the fire brigade and police were sent. They were both on the scene before 8 PM. It wasn’t until a firefighter entered the back garden at around 8.15 PM that a body was noticed and the ambulance service was called to assist. PC Andy Lane was pronounced dead at the scene at 8.25 PM. The post mortem is being carried out now, Electra is there, but it appears he was struck on the head and there are cuts to the thigh area. We will know more when Electra is back in the office later today. Do we have any questions?” Marie spoke to the whole team by creating eye contact one by one and then moving on to the next. This was her way of knowing that they had all listened to her. There were no questions. They were all champing at the bit to get inside the building and see what they had been brought there for.
“We can go in shortly. I just want to remind you that this is the person we suspect has killed all these people. I will remind you to wear gloves and touch as little as possible. We go in, see what is contained on these walls and then get out so forensics can do their job. I have pulled a few strings to get us here first. Don’t fuck it up. The person who this address is registered to is called Alaaldin Hussein but we still can’t be 100% sure it is him yet,” Marie was looking directly at Augustine to see how he was taking all of this. She was sure that he would rather be giving the briefing but he didn’t seem to be out of place with the rest of his team. She wondered if this was how he lead them.
“I’m ready now, love,” the joiner shouted as he walked out of the front door, “it’s all yours.”
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