Then suddenly the message that she’d hoped for. ‘Suspect found…’ However, seconds later the elation had gone out of the officer’s voice, and was replaced by exasperation. ‘He’s out of the window!’ A moment passed. ‘He’s fallen badly. Looks like he’s damaged his ankle on landing. He’s hobbling, but he’s still running…’
Charley was unable to speak, and the sense of frustration flared inside her, like white-hot lava about to erupt from a volcano.
Charley ran towards the scene to see police officers running in the direction of the open fields beyond the campus, their attention on their prey.
The airwaves were busy. Then suddenly, repeatedly, came the shouts from PC Mike Sharp. ‘Stop, stand still, or I’ll let the dog go.’
As she arrived at the outer edge of the campus grounds, in the distance she could see PD Marcel running at speed in pursuit of a person fleeing, his handler was some distance behind. The surrounding country roads were blocked by police vehicles with flashing blue lights, and other emergency units available should they be required.
Then with a great leap, Marcel pounced and brought the absconder to the ground, but to Charley’s dismay she heard the dog give an almighty yelp. Marcel had been injured, and was whimpering in pain, but he still went on; the police dog wouldn’t be beaten. The next update over the airwaves told Charley that the officers on site had contained an area surrounding an electricity pylon. Russell Peters was cornered, and he was going nowhere. Peters had quite clearly injured his ankle as previously thought, and Marcel had bitten his arm which was bleeding.
As Charley got nearer she could see for herself that Peters was panicking, still seeking in his pain an escape route. At a stand-off he looked down at the blood that had worked down his sleeve from his injured elbow, the red stain contrasting against the colour of his jumper.
Annie ran up behind Charley, her breathing erratic. The two stood in silence for a minute, then she spoke quietly. ‘Have we got him?’ she enquired tentatively.
Charley’s face was stony. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘We’ve got him, but look,’ she pointed to see Russell Peters studying the pylon. ‘He’s looks like he’s not done yet.’
A call over the airwaves captured Charley’s attention. It was from the officers still searching Flat 22. ‘Boss, we’ve found a backpack, do you want us to take it back to the nick?’
‘Get CSI to photograph it in situ first. We’ll exhibit the contents when you get back,’ she replied.
To Charley’s horror, Russell Peters’ extra height gained him an easy foothold on the pylon. She watched intently, taking in the warning signs of the upright framework for a few minutes, which clearly warned of the dangers and voltage. Hearing shouting from the officers near the electricity pylon, Annie looked from the back of the dog van, where she had been observing the dog-handler inspecting Marcel’s eyes, to the direction in which her boss was staring.
‘OMG!’ she whispered under her breath. ‘Surely he’s not that fucking stupid?’
However, Annie’s main focus was on the police dog.
The dog-handler’s voice shook with emotion. ‘His eyes are bloodshot. I don’t know what the bastard sprayed him with but there’s no doubt he’s in pain,’ he called out to Charley.
‘Blue light him to the vets, and let me know how you get on,’ she called back.
Charley took a 360-degree turn, surveying the surrounding area as she updated headquarters control and Bobbie Stokes the Divisional Commander. Northern Power had been informed of what was occurring, and the on-call negotiator Detective Chief Inspector Jack Dylan arrived in a traffic car, at the same time as the ambulance arrived at the scene.
Those living on campus were beginning to walk to their morning lectures, and owing to their interest, it became imperative that the area around the pylon should be cordoned off, and quickly. The last thing Charley needed was a crowd goading Russell Peters on.
Russell Peters was clearly in a lot of pain, and she hoped that he would reconsider his obvious intended actions, but no, as he raised his arm to start his ascent blood started streaming from his wound. When he reached the top his face was alight, flushed with his success even through his pain.
If he jumped from his present position it was highly unlikely he would survive, but Charley was keen to take him alive to suffer the consequences of what he’d done, and explain why.
The noise from the skies was deafening as the Force helicopter hovered above, their observations welcomed by those on the ground.
Over the radio came the request from Dylan for HQ to get a fire engine to the scene, and within four minutes it pulled up alongside the ambulance.
‘What does Dylan want a fire engine for?’ Annie asked Charley.
‘He’ll use their turntable to speak directly with Peters,’ Charley replied.
Charley’s phone rang, and she was relieved to hear the voice of the Divisional Commander. ‘I’m en route,’ Bobbie Stokes told her. ‘I’ll deal with the media, to enable you to concentrate on Peters,’ he said.
On the ground, Charley couldn’t hear the conversation between Dylan and Peters. What was obvious, and encouraging, was that Dylan had engaged Peters in conversation when no one else could, and it appeared that the young man was responding. However, it became apparent that Dylan hadn’t quite got his trust, when Peters moved around to the opposite side of the pylon away from the negotiator.
No one knew what Peters next move would be. It was as if the air had been sucked out of Charley, and she momentarily turned away, to see once again to her relief, that Divisional Commander Stokes was at the rendezvous point where he had already gained the gathered media attention, and he was reading a statement.
Stokes made his way to speak to Charley the moment he had finished.
‘Is he our man for the murders?’ Stokes asked. Charley’s eyes never left Peters and Dylan.
‘Everything points to it being him,’ she said. ‘He’s bleeding heavily from a bite by the police dog, and I’m concerned about his ability to hold on up there.’
Stokes was pragmatic. ‘Doesn’t he realise he would have been better being tasered? That pylon carries fifty thousand volts, he’d have been toast if we’d not managed to liaise with the power grid.’
‘He’s an accomplished climber, according to his boss, he’s not fazed by heights and to be honest I don’t think right now he gives a shit.’
‘Well, the media’s sorted for now. I’m heading back to the control room. Let me know if you need anything. One thing’s for sure, he won’t be up there for long with the amount of blood he’s losing.’
For a moment the two stood in silence watching what was happening above. Dylan hadn’t given up, and had moved to face Peters.
An hour later, and the necks of those looking up were aching. Dylan had patience in abundance, which was considered to be the most important quality required in a negotiator, and this had paid off. Peters was ready to give himself up. The faces of the officers on the ground showed relief, including Charley, who felt every step that he took on the ladder down, aided by Dylan talking to him along the way, kept him focused. Slowly, he descended and Charley moved forwards with the paramedic. Mike Blake, a few steps behind her, had his handcuffs at the ready to use on Peters, who wouldn’t be given another chance to escape.
Peters reached the final ten feet of the ladder; he looked unsteady and he tried in vain to find the next rung on the ladder with a swinging foot. He put his fingertips to the hard metal step, and stopped, looking down at his hand. Blindly, he grabbed the step tightly and instantly let out a shout of pain.
‘I think I’m going to…’ he said faintly.
Suddenly he slipped.
‘Shit!’ Charley shouted, seeing legs dangling from the ladder.
Chapter 29
Transfixed, Charley Mann was powerless to stop what happened when Russell Peters let go of the ladder, and slid directly down into the arms of those waiting at the bottom. The officers laid him on the ground.
Peters’ body was crumpled, his eyelids blinking, opening and shutting seemingly in sync with the movement of the fingers on his one functioning hand. One of the officers produced her handcuffs, and his body suddenly began to jerk and writhe with movement. He splayed his fingers in an attempt to claw at his captors, which jarred the shoulder of his injured arm, dislocated and now useless, forcing a scream of pain from his trembling lips. Flushed from exertion and in a state of panic, he kicked out with threats to kill, in a futile attempt to resist arrest. However, he was no match for the officers in his weakened state. When Peters was handcuffed, Mike and Charley moved to within a few feet of him as he lay on the ground, and watched the paramedic administer first aid. When she had finished she looked up at the SIO. ‘He will need hospital treatment for the injuries to his arm and ankle,’ she said.
Once he was sitting up, Charley cautioned him. ‘Russell Peters you are under arrest for the murder of Cordelia Le Beau, the murder of Lincoln Heinz, burglary with intent to rape, and the abduction and attempted murder of Catherine Crowther.’
He made no attempt to reply, but rather looked away from Charley, coughing and spluttering. He spat blood directly at her feet. Unperturbed, she turned away.
From a few metres away, the SIO watched Peters’ pathetic struggles dispassionately as he was taken to the ambulance, then seeing Annie walking towards her, her mind turned to Marcel the injured police dog, and his heroic actions that had no doubt brought Peters into their custody. She was pleased to hear that the vet had told Marcel’s handler PC Mike Sharp that the dog would make a full recovery.
Satisfied with the result, Charley turned to see Dylan talking with Mike, and she thanked the negotiator for his prompt attendance, and the patience he had shown.
‘He needs watching,’ he said. ‘I’ve seldom seen such dark, empty eyes, yet on the occasions that I have, it meant trouble. My advice is to tell your team never to turn their backs on him.’
Charley was thoughtful. ‘I’ll let the custody team know too.’
After one last look around the scene she walked to her car. With the rest of her team either with the prisoner, or already en route back to the station via other means of transport, she travelled alone, grateful for the time to gather her thoughts. Charley spoke to the Custody Sergeant Percy Shaw to let him know that a prisoner, arrested for murder, would be with him as soon as he was released from hospital, following treatment for an injured ankle and a serious dog bite.
‘He has a stammer and made no reply on arrest, although he was given every opportunity.’ Before any witticism could escape Percy Shaw’s lips, she continued. ‘You might have to be patient with him, and Jack Dylan, the negotiator, has warned us not to turn our backs on him.’
‘Don’t worry, boss, we get all sorts coming through here, he won’t be the first, and I doubt he’ll be the last that we wouldn’t turn our backs on, if you get my drift.’
Percy Shaw had been in the job more years than he cared to remember. He was a little outspoken, and occasionally not politically correct, but no one could deny he was extremely good at his job.
The morning traffic delayed her return to the station, however, she knew the debrief wouldn’t start without her. Silence reigned and Charley was glad of the time to collect her thoughts.
Arriving at the office, Charley liaised with the HOLMES team about the morning’s success. It was another forty-five minutes before the briefing could start. Tattie thrust a drink into her hands.
‘Non-alcoholic I’m afraid, but I’m sure that will be rectified later,’ said the administrator.
The SIO was disappointed to learn that Dylan had been called to another incident, which meant he would not be able to attend. His warning about Russell Peters still rang in her ears, and she would heed it, making it clear to all officers that Peters must be watched at all times. However, what was music to her ears was that Divisional Commander Bobbie Stokes had informed Tattie that he would be attending, to thank all those involved in the operation personally. In her experience, it was rare to see anyone of rank or stature in an incident room. Usually, they preferred to give incident rooms a wide berth, and left the detectives to the job in hand.
Charley’s thoughts returned to Peters’ backpack that had been recovered from Flat 22, as she walked along the corridor to the briefing room, where already she could hear the noise and euphoria of a successful operation. She was looking forward to finding out what they had found inside from Detective Constable Ania Kierczynska, the officer who had seized it. The moment the SIO walked through the door, her audience fell silent. She stood at the front of the room facing the personnel beside Detective Mike Blake, who was sitting. Divisional Commander Bobbie Stokes chose that moment to enter the room, closing the door quietly behind him, and as he took his seat next to her he whispered in her ear, ‘Congratulations.’
Charley began the debrief with a flush of pride upon her face, but caution in her voice. ‘Whilst the morning has been a success, we still have a long way to go to prove the offences against Russell Peters, and put him away, hopefully for a whole life tariff.’ Her eyes scanned the faces in the room. ‘Thank you to each and every one of you for your efforts so far. Now, let us see what else we know after this morning’s operation.’ Charley found PC Helen Weir’s face. ‘Helen, you were one of the arresting officers, anything you can tell us?’
Helen chose her words carefully, and was succinct. ‘Peters is very much like his recent photo that we have of him, ma’am. He has an injury to his arm where PD Marcel heroically held him, and also another injury to his ankle where he fell when leaping from the window of Flat 22. He was certainly not happy about being arrested. Physically he has broad shoulders, strong upper body strength, and he also has a bad stammer. Presently he is under police guard at the hospital. There are two officers with him.’
Charley took a sip of the drink that Tattie had given her, the hot liquid warmed her stomach. When Helen finished and sat down, the SIO spoke.
‘Thank you, Helen. Our police dog, Marcel, is going to make a full recovery by the way,’ Charley told them, in answer to the inquisitive faces and unspoken words. ‘It appears that Peters sprayed deodorant directly into the dog’s face, causing him to be temporarily blinded. Thankfully the vet has assured us that he will be okay.’ Charley paused. ‘Peters discarded the canister afterwards, which has been recovered and retained as evidence.’
Next the SIO turned to look for Detective Constable Kierczynska. ‘You searched Flat 22, Ania, and recovered his backpack. I’m interested to know what you found inside?’
‘There was a knife, some rope, a scarf and a roll of gaffer tape. Basically, a kidnapper’s murder bag, ma’am. We found no spare clothes for Peters, and there was nothing in the flat to eat or drink except for tap water.’
‘Had he got his sights on his next victim?’
‘He was prepared, ma’am,’ she replied.
‘How did he manage to slip the net?’ Charley asked.
‘He’d been sleeping on the floor under the window. There is no question that he was prepared to make a quick exit if anyone entered the room. Although I don’t think he expected that it would be us, ma’am.’
‘I’m glad that we were able to stop him from continuing his killing spree.’ Charley shuddered as the stark alternative crossed her mind.
After the briefing was concluded, everyone left quickly, each with a focus on their personal task ahead.
A hurried conversation between Charley and Mike resulted in his following her to her office. There was a long day of interviews ahead, and she needed to discuss the pre-disclosure, and interview strategies with the detective sergeant.
Charley informed Mike, ‘I know it can be disconcerting interviewing someone with a stammer. You have to be patient, and a good listener, which is why I chose you. However, I want you to choose your co-interviewer. Who do you think will not rush Peters, interrupt him, or try to finish his sentences for him? I want both of you to maintain natural eye contact,
no matter how difficult this might be at times. DNA is damning evidence, a great start, but it’ll be interesting to hear what he has to say about his victims, or his reason for the attacks.’
Mike looked at Charley quizzically.
‘Ever the optimist, ma’am. What makes you think he’ll speak to us? As far as we know he has never spoken to any of his victims, has he?’
‘True, and talking about his surviving victims, we have the opportunity to test their ability to recognise their attacker. I’ll ask the Identification Unit to arrange the necessary. We need as much evidence as possible.’ The SIO jotted down a reminder for herself.
When she looked up from her notebook she eyed Mike purposefully.
‘Have you decided who you would like as your co-interviewer?’
Mike didn’t show any hesitation. ‘Annie,’ he replied. ‘Her timing, and the selective use of silence in interviews is the best I’ve encountered in a long time.’
Charley turned and caught sight of Annie in the outer office, working with her head down. ‘I’ll leave it with you to tell her, and I’m relying on you to come up with a strategy. I’ll watch onscreen in the office. Let’s see how it goes once he gets a brief.’
Mike shuffled to the edge of his seat, and prepared to leave. ‘I’ll let you know once they’re ready to start.’
Charley smiled. ‘There’s plenty of time. Peters could be at the hospital for some time yet, but at least his custody clock is stopped whilst he’s there, which gives you and Annie more time to prepare for the interviews.’
Charley watched Annie’s face light up when Mike stopped at her desk to give her the news that they would be interviewing Russell Peters together. She felt a pang of jealousy. The SIO would have liked to interview him herself. However, because of her rank she knew that it would be frowned upon, and deemed inappropriate, and oppressive, according to the Police and Criminal Evidence guidelines.
Persecution Page 21
