by D Attrill
“Well your say would probably have been ‘No’...” Garstone was obviously dropping hints.
“As your Acting Superintendent, it might be, still.”
Leyton saw her subordinates looking at her, as if waiting.
“Can’t believe how weak -willed I’ve become.” She gave in as a vest was handed across to her “You’re leading the way, Greg, is that understood?”
How Fiona made her way inside, Leyton couldn’t figure for the life of her.
The chapel had clearly sat unused for some considerable years . The grey bricked up windows had grown holes over time, still nothing big enough to squeeze through. The front entrance stood heavily barricaded; the only means of access appeared having to ring the number on the yellow plastic sign, which was hanging up by one rusting screw, right above the door.
“We’d better split.” Garstone directed the others. “Leroy, Tim, take the other end. Chuck something down first; there's a chance she’s round there, smoking the barrel. Waqar and I will attack this side.” He looked back up to Leyton as he began his way down. “Ma’am, which do you fancy?”
“Well you’re the one least likely to get shot.” she naturally responded.
Before Garstone could say anything in Armitage’s defence, the crying started again... somewhere close.
Layton and Garstone got their backs right against the brickwork as they sidestepped all the way down to the corner of the lower crypt wall. “She’s close.” Garstone had his ear to the wall. “More this end than theirs.”
“No one round the corner, Greg.” said Hussein. He’d held out his helmet round the side, as if ready for being met by an oncoming bullet. “Am I ok for proceeding?”
Garstone nodded with a grudging look - he obviously shared Leyton’s disapproval over loosing another impressive young officer so soon.
“Seems like it’s ok, mate.” Hussein nodded back “I’d still take it slow, thoughl, if I was you.”
Both detectives started shuffling down against the wall. They kept their bodies reasonably straight and stiff.
Following Hussein slowly round the corner, Garstone almost gave the game away as he rattled a drainpipe end with his shoe.
Leyton gave him an unapproving look, keeping her thoughts silent.
Trying politely to pretend she was unconcerned, she began the journey left, looking along the crypt.
The crying was still audible, on and off as they neared each recess, along the undercroft, but it seemed to be getting no nearer or louder. If Fiona were on the other side, she was being moved further away by their footsteps.
“Straight ahead…”
Hussein tapped Garstone. An half-open doorway was almost two yards in front. The back entrance to the crypt had obviously seen some vandalism in recent times - the olive green painted door broken off all but the upper middle hinge, stood at a crooked slant to exhibit the pitch darkness behind.
“She’s handed us her way out on a plate.” judged Leyton’ “The top door's sealed off at both sides .She’s nowhere to run, well unless its right into the arms of a few awaiting police officers. Cle-ver.”
“This is where it gets tasty.” Garstone had cut in front of Hussein “You stay behind with the Superintendent: I’ll make sure we’re not walking into anything unsavoury… er, hello.”
There was a vague rattle of some old paint jars at the back of the room. As Leyton and Hussein forced the door fully open as best as they could manage without totally de-hinging it, Garstone venture forward inside. He obviously knew not to bother seeking out any light switches - the fittings would have been long severed. She step-stoned her way across after, wondering what had happened to the floor. In the virtual blackness sat a sea of cardboard boxes, full of old newspapers, church magazines and various other books as once donated by various loyal churchgoers now gathering dust from decades of neglect.
“Shht.” Garstone warned the other two.
The room grew dark once they’d got beyond the door, enough that Leyton was only able to see by movements of Garstone's jacket sleeve.
As she followed his route there was something to hear, that wasn’t an eight month old child bawling his eyes out. Leyton traced the faint sounds across to a recess she could just make out beneath stairs. A silhouette blocked out the small shaft of daylight trickling in through the slates.
As she saw the shadow emerge, she beckoned Garstone to close in.
It appeared clear that Fiona was no longer armed.
Her DC suddenly stopped, shaking his head.
“What the hell you doing in here?”
“Hey up, I thought you were taking care of outside.” Armitage said, stepping into view along with Andrews.
“Well so did I,” said Leyton “but some of us were slower to spot a second door, weren’t we.
As she accepted her embarrassing lapse of perseverance, the crying came once more but faint.
“At least we know she’s still about.”
“Fiona’s still got manners, though, in’t she.” said Armitage “She left us a trail.”
He held up a small, dishevelled denim jacket with a very familiar faded blue look. Leyton instantly recognised the heavy metal motifs sewn onto the front left pocket, as she took the top for a closer look.
“She won’t leave this behind.” said Leyton “Even a woman as demented as her might possibly risk arrest, just for the sake of a jacket.”
A car was then heard starting nearby.
“I told you she was near.” Leyton led them out again. “Tim! Waqar! Tell Will to block her…. That’s if he is prepared to break himself away from the fallen hero for a minute!”
“She won't make it anywhere, ma'am.” Hussein said, coming up behind them “We're parked right across her front.”
“Oooh... She'll be in for a surprise when she sees who comes to help her out.”
“Ey up, that don't sound like a Clio engine.” Armitage said, nodding to up the hill.
They could hear a motor revving up, rather loudly.
All three detectives tore up to the street, just in time to see a dark red Ford Escort accelerating away down the pavement, just missing an incoming paramedic vehicle.
Leyton made straight for her Passat.
She found both front tyres were as flat as a sheet of paper.
(ii)
Leyton was reminded of every evil fairground ride she’d been on, as Garstone tore along the streets of Sheffield. Diving right-side-wrong-side around islands and roundabouts, such techniques were totally acceptable this time, providing he kept in with PC Thompson's coordination. The uniformed vehicle was leading them down Saville St.
She recognised the old railway arch ahead in the distance along with the huge Tesco store and several open fronted business that swallowed them into the city; it felt to her as if she were flying into some galactic spaceport. As soon as they were onto the Wicker it seemed even more that way as cars came edging past, either way at crazy angles. Shooting across the lights into the steeply built street behind, Garstone seemed hot onto their target, enough to risk their life.
“Take the interchange mate!” came Thompson up the radio “Waqar says there’s a Liverpool-bound coach due to depart at three-thirty!”
“Got it!” Garstone responded.
Leyton held on for life as he tore across Fitazalan square and dived down the hill, dodging double-deckers. As he did he was staring in his mirror at Andrews’ unit behind.
“Who’s that in the back of Tim’s?” he was curious.
“Shall I give you a guess? “ she asked.
“You are kidding. Ma'am, you can’t...”
“Our dear, clever old chum Becky very wisely let Fiona have her house address details, when she first took her under her wing. Guess where our friend might head, if not for the Irish Sea. On top of that, it appears that identity theft is her other speciality art.”
“What you on about now?”
What I'm on about, is the real Fiona McGrogan, also the legitmate own
er of that Clio, was admitted to Glasgow Royal Infirmary, on August 13th. She apparently lost her fight last Tuesday.”
“We’ve been duped again it seems, ma’am?” Thompson came on as they tore across the bus interchange. “Just had a report they saw her car up in the centre.”
“Will, take her from this end instead!” Garstone commanded, “We’re gonna have to cut her off ourselves - the one way system might not.”
Leyton clutched onto the inside handle as Garstone and the others behind turned sharply round the islands and out again, narrowly avoiding an arriving fleet of No120s.
Garstone curved his way uphill into the city centre. Aiming right towards the peace Gardens he suddenly braked. Leyton saw another unit came at them from the opposite side before swooping up Pargold St.
Thompson was also turning up left after them, at which point she realised it was Andrews. As theirs and Thompson’s vehicle followed they found themselves stopped up by a wall of steel.
Another police unit sat parked at right angles outside Rabersons department store, stopping the road up. Andrews’ vehicle had already arrived and was unloading its passengers as Leyton got out and launched herself over to see. She could hardly help wonder if she’d just walked into a would-be riot. Over fifteen other officers appeared occupied with working the pedestrians away from the pavement, directing some into the Wetherspoons restaurant, behind. All entrances into the junction were becoming cordoned off or had been already.
“That better not be Sergeant Bill-berry shooting his oar in again.” Armitage appeared from the car behind, joining them. He was staring at the extra officers, very icily.
“Afternoon Amy.” Leyton went straight across to meet WPC Stannings. She was stationed outside the restaurant doors, along with two other officers she didn’t readily recognise. Only then Leyton noticed various people - public and officers - alike were standing there, watching up above as though waiting for something to fall.
“Sorry, I forgot to mention we don’t let children wander onto crime scenes.”
A scruffy voice stopped them. Sergeant Billington from Don St had stepped across to bar their path. Garstone appeared furious to see this officer.
“So-o-o, what's happening?” Leyton asked, too tired to deal with discourtesy. “Are we expecting aliens?”
“That, or someone just as inhuman. Some young bird with a baby - seems she’s threatening to jump.”
“I wonder who that could be.” Leyton cranked her eyes up to the top of the department store roof. There was no sign of a figure. “Where exactly did she head, Sergeant?”
“To the very top apparently.” Billington was studying the skyline.
“Christ.” Leyton noticed a huge tower crane above. “Are you sure she’s jumping, or just contemplating?”
“Could try getting up to her.” Armitage was looking at the ramp to the car park. “…if we can manage to get one of us cars up there wi’out too much sound.”
“Okay…she thought about it for ages then realised it might work.” Greg and Amy, you stay down here with Becky. While you’re at it, I take it she wouldn’t mind a hot chocolate?”
“Oh yes please." Becky appeared not to be concentrating.
“Listen carefully Bex.” She told her friend, firmly “you need to stay sat in there, where DC Garstone and the other officers can see you. No silly business, ok?” She pointed a swift finger to ensure it went in, then let Garstone direct Thompson and Hussein to their positions.
Donning her bulletproof apparel once again, Leyton allowed Armitage and Andrews to lead her to his unit.
She held tight as Andrews backed up and took the short route into the multi-storey entrance.
Leyton was concerned by the cramped rectangular space of each storey they passed through, with extremely little chance for public motorists to move aside; except that on this occasion there were none to avoid. As they passed up round the ramps each storey they came to was seemingly dead, not even a sole pedestrian in sight. Andrews still showed his skill as he circled up the countless ramps from one floor to the next, his hand pinned to the hooter.
“I seem to remember you saying three storeys, Mr Armitage.” Leyton could only wonder if that was Yorkshire lingo for ‘six’.
“Forgot to mention they’re on split level, ma’am.”
Armitage pointed to the sign ‘3A’ on a pillar as they took to the top segment. It was also marked out by two other officers stood in a corner, watching out over the street. Leyton jumped out to address PCs Christings and Hall whom she recognised from Don St and Midelson Road respectively. Both were fully equipped in black bullet-proof armour, which instantly clarified that they’d been expecting Fiona to pass their way.
“You need to get back, ma'am.” warned Hall. “She’s got a gun.”
“So I believe….” Leyton eased their concerns with her own awareness.. “She’s right on top of us however, so we’re comfortably unseen….”
BLAT, BLAT, BLAT!!!!!!
Layton, Armitage and the other cops dived to the deck, like naval officers under attack, as bullets rained down at them. Several windscreens, including Andrews’, were taken out, although luckily every officer was missed.
“Well I can safely say she’s still not afraid to use it.”
As she picked herself up from the dusty, grey-coloured concrete, Armitage and Andrews slowly followed. The other two PCS seemed to prefer keeping their heads down rather than losing them.
“Sorry to break this to you ma’am” Hall called over the radio. “ think you got the wrong side.”
“That’s perfectly alright Chris - we have now come to realise it.” She daren’t shout at one of her own PCs in public, especially with one of the Attercliffe contingent in earshot.
“What now?” asked Armitage “With Greg on his own over there, us chances don’t hold out great, do they?”
“All three of you stop here.” She instructed the PCs, the stations they each came from, irrelevant. “Stay clear of the edge until we have sufficient backup.”
She beckoned Armitage after her. They headed down the department store stairs. Clattering their way down to the bottom level, Leyton let Armitage overtake, only to nearly trip over him. “I get worried about you, every time I look at them health and safety things.” A gravelly Afro-Caribbean voice suddenly greeted them from opposite. “Should perhaps ask that they be printed bigger, eh?”
As she looked to her left, a tall bearded man in his sixties stepped out before them. He was clad in a canary jumpsuit, with a high vis coat tucked under his arm.
“Ey up, dad -how handy catching’ you here.” Armitage said, looking guilty at him.
“So handy in fact, I can tell you off about running on the stairs.” The older man momentarily adopted a serious face. “Your mother misses doing that since you flew the nest.”
“What you been up to here any road?”
“Well, I was just coming back from having a coffee, and I hear all hell is breaking loose outside. Everyone told not to leave the store so I might as well be heading up the grind again.”
“Tell me who this beautiful young lady next to you is - you never told me anything about a new lady in your life.”
“I wish, heh, heh. Dad, this is Acting Detective Sup….”
Layton saved him the spit by presenting her famous leather-clad badge.
“Leroy, my boy, you are really pulling the ranks this time.” he complemented, shaking Leyton’s hand. “I’m Des. Pleased to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, Mr Armitage ‘senior’.” Leyton had already heard from her DC about how his father’s work as a tower crane operator had landed him a contract on a major city centre redevelopment, in the months up to Christmas. The season appeared to have come early for Des Armitage as his eyes appeared to fall glued upon her.
As she tried not to openly do the same, she sensed an idea.
“Erm… Mr Armitage, do you by any chance have a couple of spare hard hats we can borrow?”
&nb
sp; “Greg…Gr…eg. Y…ou th..e….ere?” Garstone got a broken up apology of a message from PC Hall, as he looked through the window to check on Becky. “Gr….eg. …”
“I am….but it doesn’t sound like it.” Try a different radio.”
“Greg….have the officers evacuate the bar…”
“You what?” Had the normally by-the-book cop completely flipped, he wondered?
“Evac…Ge….get everyone down into the basem….do it, I’ll explain soon as I c…”
“What’s happened? Where’s Leyton and Leroy? What’s happened? Chris.”
“Gre….”
He heard the sound crackle to death. Throwing down the radio, he approached Hussein who was standing guard at the bar. “Is there a cellar here?” he asked the barman. “we need you to move everyone down there.”
Hussein and Thompson started advising all the patrons sat round to pick up their bags and prepare to move. “Change of plan.” he pounded across to Becky’s table “Oh fuck, no…”
There was an empty seat there, and no sign of Leyton’s friend.”
“Where the hell’s she gone, Billington?!” Garstone asked Billington angrily as he approached.
“Sergeant Billington to you”
"Don’t test me you bastard, I’ve had you in my face, enough!”
He could almost feel his hand reaching round that obnoxious cop's throat. Discipline turned him to ambush another of the bar staff instead.
“Scuse me mate - the lady sat at table 14, did you see where she went?”
“Woman with red hair?” the barman replied “Just shot off upstairs, about twenty seconds back.”
“Christ, she's trying to save us the job of getting shot.”
“What should I do?” Stannings asked.
Without completing the command, Garstone engines his way up to the top bar and into the rear balcony garden. He weaved around various upturned tables, stopping only to tell a couple of customers cowering behind the bench that they might be safer going below.
Having reaching the railings, he stared down onto a supermarket's rear yard, trying to see where Becky might have dived.
