by Michael Wood
Doors were unlocked. He passed through and was told to wait until they were locked again, before moving on down the corridor to another set of locked doors. The journey was incredibly tedious. Eventually, they arrived at the governor’s door.
Steve had only met the governor a couple of times, and those interactions had all been back when he first arrived, and after he’d been beaten and bullied. While putting his plan with Jake into action, he’d performed the role of the model prisoner, which had earned him rewards and a place in the governor’s good books.
Craig Lombardi stood as Steve was shown in and gave him a friendly smile. At six foot five, the governor of Wakefield Prison stood head and shoulders above most of the prisoners. His smooth bald head shone under the lights, his dark blue eyes were piercing, and his strong jaw line and broken nose were evidence this was a man not afraid to get stuck in when the occasion required.
‘Steve, have a seat,’ he said in his deep, gravelly voice.
The office was opulent and had the smell of furniture polish, stale coffee and desperation from whoever had been in here before him. The seat Steve sat in was warm; someone had been given a long talking to.
He looked at the officers still standing either side of him and feigned wonder at what was happening.
‘I’m afraid I’ve received some bad news regarding your brother,’ Craig said, sitting down behind his desk and interlocking his thick sausage fingers.
‘Jake?’
‘Yes. I don’t know if you’ve caught any news on television or the radio today, but there have been a number of shootings in Sheffield. In their investigations, South Yorkshire Police believe your brother is responsible.’
Steve gave out a hollow laugh. ‘Jakes’s shot someone? That’s ridiculous. He wouldn’t know how.’
‘I’m afraid the evidence suggests otherwise. They also believe your brother shot and killed your parents in the early hours of this morning.’
Steve’s mouth dropped open. ‘Mum and Dad? Jake’s killed them?’ he asked with a frown. His bottom lip began to wobble, and tears pricked his eyes.
‘I really am terribly sorry, Steve.’
‘I can’t … I just can’t believe it,’ he said, his eyes darting from left to right. And the Academy Award for Best Actor goes to…
‘South Yorkshire Police have put in a request to interview you. Jake is missing and they require as much help as possible in locating him before he strikes again.’
‘But I haven’t spoken to Jake for … I can’t remember how long. It’s a good few years. How would I know where he’s hiding?’
‘They believe you might be able to help. I know you have a history with South Yorkshire Police, but I’ve granted them permission. A vehicle will take you there now.’
‘You want me to leave the prison and actually go to the station?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, of course, I’ll do anything I can to help, but I doubt there’ll be anything I can do,’ he said with mock protest.
‘You know your brother better than anyone, Steve,’ Craig said. ‘And any help you can provide will be recognised here. There could be more privileges for you.’
Steve paused for effect, as if he was trying to take in this unbelievable account. ‘When do I leave?’ The famous smile was back.
Chapter Forty-Seven
‘So, how does the change in the way Pip sees Joe Gargery affect the reader?’ Chris Kean asked the class of thirty year-ten pupils. He looked out at the sea of blank faces as they all tried to avoid eye contact with him.
‘Lisa?’ He smiled at one girl at the back of the room. ‘As you haven’t even opened your copy of Great Expectations this lesson, I assume that means you’ve already read it in your own time and know where the story goes. So, enlighten us about Pip’s relationship with Joe Gargery.’
There was a murmur of laugher from around the room.
Lisa adjusted her position on the seat. She looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, at the beginning he, like, looked up to him, didn’t he? He was like a father figure to him. Then, when Pip goes off to London and he’s got some money and new mates and everything, he’s embarrassed by him.’
‘Ok, you’ve given us the plot, now tell us how we should feel about that.’
There was a loud bang from somewhere outside the classroom door, followed by several others. All eyes turned to the door.
Chris recognised the noise straight away. They were gunshots. He stopped breathing momentarily, as he tried to remember his training. He’d been on several courses in first aid and what to do in the event of a terrorist attack or a gun attack, but his mind suddenly blanked on him.
‘Sir?’ someone called out to him.
A few more shots were heard.
‘What is that?’ someone asked.
‘It sounds like shooting.’
‘Don’t be thick, Kevin.’
‘Everyone, keep quiet,’ Chris said. ‘Stay where you are. I’ll go and see.’ He didn’t turn to look at the students. He didn’t want them to see the fear in his eyes.
He pulled open the door just wide enough to squeeze through and closed it behind him. The corridor was empty. He looked in the room opposite. Ruth was standing by the door, looking out. Her face was pale. She obviously recognised the noise coming from downstairs too. She came out into the corridor.
‘Chris, what was that?’ she asked in a whisper. ‘It sounded like shooting.’
‘I know.’
‘It wasn’t though, was it?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What’s going on?’
They both turned to see Pauline Butters standing in the doorway, her class of students behind her, straining to see what was happening.
‘I don’t know,’ Chris said. ‘I’ll go and have a look.’
Tentatively, Chris made his way along the corridor to the stairs. The school was unnaturally quiet. It was growing dark outside and the brilliant white lights on the wall lit up the corridor like an alien invasion.
At the top of the stairs, Chris gripped the railing and slowly leaned over. He couldn’t see anything.
Chris swallowed hard. He took a deep breath and carefully edged his way down the stairs so he could get a better look at what was happening on the ground floor of the school. With his back firmly against the wall, he took each step slowly. He could feel the sweat trickling down the back of his shirt. He was shaking, yet he wasn’t scared. It was the unknown that bothered him. If he knew what was going on, he’d be able to come up with a plan of action.
As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he angled himself so he could see around the corner without revealing his position. He saw a leg. Someone was on the floor and not moving. A black shoe and black trousers, obviously belonging to a student, as that was the uniform. Chris’s breath was shaking. His hands were cold as he firmly gripped the bannister to lean further into the corridor. He saw blood and immediately jumped back.
He clamped a hand over his mouth. There was a pupil on the floor in a pool of blood. What the hell had happened?
He took out his mobile phone from the back pocket of his trousers, turned on the camera and switched it to selfie mode. With a shaking hand, he held it up and out into the corridor before taking a photo. He pulled his hand back and looked at the picture. The image was blurred as he hadn’t been able to hold his hand still, but he could easily make out six or seven bodies on the floor of the corridor.
‘Oh, Jesus Christ!’ he uttered.
Another shot rang out and Chris ran back up the stairs, three at a time. Ruth and Pauline were waiting for him in the middle of the corridor.
‘What did you see?’ Ruth asked.
He held up his phone and showed them both the photo.
‘Oh my God!’ Ruth put a hand to her mouth.
Pauline turned away from the horror.
‘Did you see anyone?’ Pauline asked.
‘No.’
‘Do you know how many gunmen there are?’
&n
bsp; ‘No.’
‘Shit!’
It was the first time either of them had heard Pauline swear.
‘What do we do?’ she asked.
It took a few long moments for Chris to arrange his thoughts.
‘Ok. Ok, here’s what we’ll do. Go back into your classrooms, close the doors, turn off the lights and hide in the corner of the room away from the door. Barricade them if you can. Get your students to text, tweet, whatever. We need to let everyone know something is happening. All phones should be put on silent. All we can do is wait.’
Ruth nodded. ‘We all have each other’s mobiles, don’t we? That’s how we’ll keep in contact with each other. We’ll text.’ Her voice was shaking with nerves.
‘We need to protect the kids,’ Pauline said. She turned to head back to her classroom. She stopped at the door and looked back to Chris and Ruth. ‘I know we’re a generation apart, but I don’t want either of you two doing anything stupid and getting yourselves hurt.’ She didn’t wait for them to say anything in return. She went into her classroom and closed the door firmly behind her.
There was another single shot.
Chris grabbed Ruth by the shoulders. ‘Go back in there, keep them all safe. Do as I said. I’ll contact Scott and tell him what’s happening.’
He waited until Ruth was back in her room before returning to his own.
‘Sir, what’s going on?’
He turned off the lights and asked a couple of the boys to help him drag a heavy bookcase in front of the door.
‘Everyone, I need you to remain calm. It appears that there is a man in the school with a gun.’
The students reacted in disbelief. Some cried, some gasped, some called out.
Chris held up his hands. ‘Like I said, you need to stay calm. Now, I know it’s scary and you’re bound to be frightened – I’m frightened, too – but we can get through this if we try to remain as calm and as sensible as possible.’
‘What are we going to do?’ someone asked.
‘We’re going to remain in this room, hide and wait for the police to arrive. I’m going to call my friend Scott who works in the police…’
‘Your boyfriend?’ someone chimed up.
Chris turned to face them. A few were smiling at him, others looked petrified. This was hardly the right time to come out to his pupils, but if it distracted them, then what the hell.
‘Yes, my boyfriend. He’s a detective with South Yorkshire Police and he’ll know exactly what to do.’
‘Sir, some of the others have been posting on Twitter,’ one of the students said as he held up his phone. ‘Stannington is trending.’
‘Shit. Uh, sorry,’ he apologised for swearing in front of them. ‘Ok, that’s another way we can get help. Everyone, turn your phones to silent, but get on Twitter, Facebook, whatever, and tell everyone what’s happening.’
‘Should we text our parents?’ a student named Beth asked.
Chris thought for a moment. ‘That’s probably a very good idea, Beth. Yes, I think you should all text your parents.’
Chapter Forty-Eight
‘This isn’t real,’ Janet Crowther said, handing back the letter to Sian.
‘I know it seems like a nightmare right now—’
‘No,’ she interrupted. ‘This letter. It isn’t real. A GP surgery doesn’t write to you to tell you you’ve got terminal cancer. I had breast cancer a few years ago, and they had me go into the surgery. They told me face to face. Also, I’m with the same practice and this isn’t their letterhead. The logo is wrong.’
‘What?’ Sian looked at the letter. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m positive. Ronald had a letter only last week about his diabetes check-up. It’s all wrong.’
‘Why would someone write a letter like that to tell Jake he had cancer if he didn’t?’ Sian asked.
Christian grabbed Sian by the elbow and pulled her to one side, out of earshot of Janet and Ronald.
‘Jake tried to hang himself just after Christmas. Maybe he was having second thoughts about going on a shooting spree. This letter could have been written to get Jake back on side. By telling him he only had a few months to live, it’s like saying you may as well go out in style rather than fade away in agony.’
‘You think someone manipulated him by saying he was terminally ill? That’s sick,’ Sian said.
‘And who do we know who is such a sick manipulator?’
‘Steve Harrison.’ Sian nodded. ‘But surely he wouldn’t tell his own brother he had cancer if he hadn’t. That’s a whole different level of sick.’
‘I don’t think Steve gives a toss about family anymore. It’s all about him. He wants to cause death and destruction, and he’ll go to any lengths to do it.’
DC Scott Andrews watched as Janet and Ronald Crowther shed tears over the callous murder of Malcolm and Vivian Harrison. He couldn’t help but feel moved as they tried to make sense of the horrific information they were being given that a member of their own family was on the loose in Sheffield, had conducted two shooting sprees, and could possibly be planning an even bigger atrocity.
His phone started vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw it was Chris calling. The picture of his boyfriend sticking his tongue out to the camera came up on the screen. It made Scott smile. He’d give anything to be with him right now, curled up in bed together, arms safely wrapped around each other, away from the nightmares and the chaos. He wondered what time he’d be able to get away from here tonight.
Scott turned away from his colleagues and swiped to answer.
‘Hello, gorgeous,’ he whispered.
‘Scott, there’s a gunman in the school,’ Chris said quietly. His voice was shaking. He sounded petrified.
‘What?’
‘I can’t talk loudly. There’s a gunman in the school – I’ve heard shots. Lots of them.’
‘Fuck!’ Scott cried out. Everyone turned to look at him.
‘What’s going on?’ Rory asked.
Scott took a deep, shaking breath. ‘Shit. Chris, I’m going to put you on speakerphone. I need you to repeat what you just said.’
Scott placed his phone carefully on his desk and stepped back from it. ‘Ok, Chris. Go ahead.’
‘There’s a gunman in the school.’
‘Oh my God!’ Sian said, slapping a hand to her mouth.
Scott started crying. Rory went over to him and placed a comforting arm around his shoulders.
‘Chris, this is DI Christian Brady. Is this Stannington Secondary School you’re talking about?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Where are you now?’
‘I’m on the first floor. I’ve told all the other teachers here to barricade themselves in the classrooms, to keep out of view of the door, and to try to remain calm.’
‘You did the right thing. Well done, Chris. I’m going to get a team of armed police out to you. Are there any casualties?’
‘I think so. I took a photo. I’ll send it to Scott.’
Scott closed his eyes tightly shut. He prayed to every single god he could think of that he’d see the man he loved again.
‘Ok, Chris, keep your phone handy and stay safe.’
Scott picked up the phone, turned the speakerphone off and went to the other side of the room, away from his colleagues.
‘Chris, listen to me,’ Scott said, a warning tone in his voice. ‘I don’t want you to do anything stupid, ok? Don’t be brave. Just stay exactly where you are, and we’ll come to get you. We’ve got trained officers who know exactly what they’re doing.’
‘Ok.’
‘We’ll be with you as soon as we can, understand?’
‘Yes. I understand.’
‘Good. I love you so much, Chris,’ he said.
There was a pause before Chris replied. ‘I’ve just come out to my English class.’ He chuckled.
‘You always have to turn these things around to you, don’t you?’ He gave a nervous laugh. ‘How did they
react?’
‘I don’t think they cared.’
‘They won’t. I’m going to get off the phone now. I’ll be coming out to the school with the team. Now, listen to me, Chris, don’t do anything foolish and get yourself hurt. I mean it. I need you at home tonight.’
‘I’ll be there.’
‘Good. I love you.’
‘I love you too.’ Scott’s hands were shaking as he ended the call.
‘Are you all right?’
Scott jumped as he ended the call. He turned around and saw Rory behind him.
‘He’s going to do something stupid. I know he is.’
‘He won’t put himself in harm’s way,’ Rory said, placing a firm hand on Scott’s shoulder.
‘He’s in a classroom full of fourteen-year-olds. If someone comes in with a gun, he’ll jump in front to protect them. I know he will. We need to get into that school, Rory. We need to get in and we need to stop that fucker.’
DI Christian Brady was out of his depth. He knew it. This was an operation nobody of his rank should ever oversee. Thankfully, he wasn’t the decision-maker. He’d called Inspector Gavin Porter and told him to send an armed team to Stannington Secondary School. He told Sian, Aaron and the three DCs to wear protective gear and go with them to help with any pupils or teachers who might have been able to escape. Janet and Ronald Crowther were sent to a relatives’ room, and Christian headed for ACC Valerie Masterson’s old office, which the Chief Constable was using. Meanwhile he texted his wife to fill her in on what was going on.
