by Linda Regan
Another series of small explosions shook the walls around her.
“I can’t get the fucking door open!” Isabelle was banging and kicking it, half-hysterical. “The lock’s too strong – I can’t break it.”
“Hairpin!” Millie exclaimed.
“What?”
“You mean you don’t know how to pick a lock?” Millie pulled hairpins from her wig and ran to the door. Her fingers moved swiftly and adeptly, jiggling one pin after another in the lock.
Within a few seconds the door opened. Black smoke filled the room, and they all gasped for breath.
Then there was an enormous bang, and everything went quiet.
“Go!” Millie was suddenly in charge. She handed Isabelle the last blanket. “Where’s yours?” Isabelle put a hand over her mouth to keep the smoke out.
Millie pushed her towards the door. “Just go.”
Isabelle swallowed a mouthful of smoke and started to cough. “I’ve got a jacket,” she wheezed, pushing the blanket back at Millie.
Millie lifted her red sequinned dress over her head, revealing tiny red knickers and a suspender belt and black stockings. Through the smoke Isabelle glimpsed a hand-gun sticking out of the top of her garter bag.
Some of the girls ran through the door and into the black smoke. Others cowered, trembling and crying.
Isabelle pointed to the gun and frowned.
“Later.” Millie waved her hands. She turned towards the girls and began to coax them out. Isabelle was last on to the smoke-filled landing.
Millie grabbed Isabelle’s hand. “We can share this blanket,” she said, “and when we get out of here, we’ll share Colin Crowther. Not that there’s much to share.”
“Please don’t make me laugh,” Isabelle warned. “I’m trying to hold my breath.”
***
The first Crowther thing saw was the crowd of people in the street. Then he spotted the row of fire engines, and last of all he saw the flames licking the sky. The emergency vehicles had blocked the road to keep cars out. He parked as close as he dared and started running. He ran past the CO19 vehicles without seeing Eddie Chang and Terry King, handcuffed and under armed guard. He ran into the empty club, flashing his warrant card at the uniformed officer standing outside, and carried on running until he reached the courtyard. That was when he stopped, held back by a couple of hefty firemen.
He tried the warrant card approach again, but the firemen were adamant. “The place could collapse at any moment,” one told him.
A series of explosions went off inside the cottage. “That’s firearms,” he shouted, trying to force his way past. “There’s a shipment of Mac 10 sub-machine guns in there. And I need to get to my colleagues.”
Banham and Alison rushed over to him. “Let them do their job, son,” Banham said.
“Isabelle and Millie! Are they in there? Are they? Isabelle!” he yelled at the top of his voice.
The two fireman held his arms. “Please, sir. Let us do our job.”
“Crowther! Stand away!” Banham shouted. “That’s an order.”
Another series of small explosions sent an array of sparks like miniature fireworks into the air. “Get back,” the fire chief shouted above the din of gushing hoses. “Everyone back,” the chief repeated.
“The building’s going to go up,” Crowther shouted. Two uniformed police moved in and took over from the firemen.
Alison ran towards the building, but a fireman stopped her too.
She heard a fire officer shout, “Jump!” There were two parallel ladders up to a first floor window, and a very young blonde girl, reed-thin and smoke-blackened, was being helped to safety.
Banham squeezed Alison’s hand. “There, I said it would be OK,” he said.
They watched as eight young blonde girls appeared one after another on the scorched window sill. A fireman helped them down the ladder, and another handed them over to waiting paramedics.
“The Ukrainian girls,” Crowther said. “They were here. Gladman wasn’t lying. There was no Wednesday pick-up.”
There was a loud explosion, and the window ledge burst into flames. The last of the eight girls had just reached the bottom. Screams from the cottage tore at Alison’s heart.
Crowther began to shout almost hysterically. “Isabelle! Millie! Millie! Izzy!”
Another fireman hosed the flames, and others put another ladder up close by.
“There are police officers still in there.” Banham shouted. “You’ve got to get my people out.”
“We’re doing all we can, sir,” came the reply.
Blue and yellow flames rose from the building. There was a bleeping sound, like a small alarm going off. The fire chief ’s calm demeanour began to show cracks. “That’s Roger’s alarm,” he said. “He’s in trouble in there.”
It was like battling through thick, black, burning fog. Isabelle couldn’t see a thing. She struggled to keep her one working eye open against the sting of the smoke. She was in a lot of pain, and it was making her disorientated. She and Millie had managed to get the young girls to safety, but the last sudden explosion had sent everyone flying and she had completely lost her bearings.
She could hear Millie’s voice, but she had no idea if they were still near the window. She fought the urge to cough; her throat was burning and she wanted to throw up, but that wasn’t a good idea. Crowther’s voice called her name, and that stiffened her spirit. She would get through this; he wouldn’t let her down.
“Isabelle?” said Millie’s voice, croaky and distorted. “Where are you?”
“I don’t know.” She stopped and held the stinking blanket over her mouth for a moment, but it did nothing to stop the burning in her throat. “I can hear you. You must be close.”
“Can you see anything?”
“Nothing but smoke.” She felt weak again as she breathed more of it in.
“I’m by a window.” Millie’s voice sounded breathy and hoarse.
“Millie.” Crowther. He sounded a long way off. “I can see you. Open that window and climb out. We’ll catch you if you jump.”
“Go,” Isabelle urged. “I’m right behind you.”
The truth was she had no idea where she was.
“Millie!” Crowther watched the firemen secure another ladder. One climbed up, lifted Millie out through the window and carried her to safety. She still wore the scorched remains of her red sequinned dress. Her feet were bare, and she looked as if she was about to lose consciousness.
The flames had temporarily subsided and the firemen started to assemble more ladders into a climbing frame to get to Isabelle and Roger.
Two more ambulances shrieked to a halt in the alleyway, and four paramedics jumped out with oxygen and blankets. The Ukrainian girls were being supported through the gate by firemen.
“Keep all the girls at the hospital,” Banham told the paramedics. “They will all need to be interviewed.”
Alison and Crowther both had tears in their eyes as a para-medic ran over and put an oxygen mask over Millie’s face.
Andrew Fisher pushed past them and bent over her to cuddle her close. She tried to push the oxygen mask off, but passed out before she could speak.
More explosions shot through the roof, and black smoke and flames billowed into the sky. It was like a grim Bonfire Night party.
“Back!” the fire chief shouted again. The firemen obeyed without question.
The building began to crack, and flames shot in all directions. Black smoke swept down to fill the courtyard, and everyone starting coughing and retching, as the cottage roof building collapsed and burning debris flew in all directions.
“Retreat!” the fire chief commanded loudly. “Everyone clear! Clear this area NOW!” There was desperation in his voice.
Banham and Alison dragged Crowther back. He was hoarse from shouting Isabelle’s name. He pulled free and ran towards the bright orange flames. His foot was on the ground floor window sill and he was about to haul himself on to a wobbl
y drainpipe when a fire-fighter turned a hose on him.
The fire chief was taking no chances. He threw a net over Crowther, and it took two of the biggest firemen to pull him to the ground. Banham and Alison watched in fascinated horror as the window sill he had been about to step on collapsed into the courtyard.
***
Crowther struggled like a salmon caught by an angler.
“Clear the fucking area!” the firechief shouted, but his voice was lost in the crackling and roaring that followed the next set of explosions.
Crowther put his hands to his head and cried like a lion in pain. “No-o-o-o-o!”
The fire had rampaged out of control, spreading in all directions. More engines skidded into the street and nearby buildings were being evacuated.
Banham and Alison used all their strength to drag Crowther into the street. The three of them stood side by side, a safe distance from the blazing centre of the fire: the cottage.
Crowther said very quietly, “Please God, don’t let it end like this.”
Alison swallowed back tears. Banham touched her shoulder, and they walked around to the police cars where Eddie Chang and Terry King were sitting handcuffed. She saw Millie Payne climb out of the ambulance and stumble along the pavement shouting hysterically. She was barefoot and wrapped in a thick blanket, and her face was starting to blister. Her voice was hoarse with smoke, and it was impossible to make out what she was saying.
Andrew Fisher was standing on the pavement. He held out his arms as she approached him, but she stopped a few yards away.
“Don’t let him near me!” Alison heard her croak.
“She’s a bit delirious, sir,” Andrew said to Banham. “I’ll stay with her, and wait for her at the hospital.”
Millie pointed at Andrew. “He’s working for Eddie Chang!”
“She’s delirious,” Andrew repeated. “She needs to go to hospital – ”
“He’s got a gun.”
Andrew’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. Alison grabbed him and began to pat him down.
Millie lurched to the ground in front of him and scrabbled around his ankles. She pushed his trouser leg up and held up a hand-gun identical to the one Sadie Morgan had been carrying. An Astra Cadix .22.
Banham held out his hand for the gun, but Millie staggered to her feet and pointed it at Andrew. “It was you, wasn’t it?” she rasped.
Banham was suddenly aware of two armed CO19 officers moving toward her. “Millie, give me the gun.”
She ignored him. “It was you! You killed Sadie.” Her voice cracked and her hand began to shake.
“Millie, you’re delirious...”
“You came to the club with me. I gave you an alibi, I lied for you. You’re a murdering scumbag and I’ll...”
Banham took a step towards her. “Give me the gun, Millie. Andrew didn’t kill Sadie.”
Alison could only watch, horrified at this new turn of events. Where had this come from? If Millie was right, why hadn’t any of them worked it out?
Millie steadied the hand holding the gun. “He did. He killed her. And he just set fire to the cottage and tried to kill us all.” She was swaying on her feet, but she managed to stay upright. “Ask him where he got this gun. Go on, ask him.”
The CO19 men closed in on each side of her.
“Tell them you’re a murderer. Tell them you killed my friend.”
“That’s enough, Millie. Give me the gun.” Banham tried to speak calmly. If he didn’t get the gun off her, he couldn’t be responsible for the armed response men’s actions. They were trained to do this job.
“Tell them!”
Andrew looked terrified.
“Millie, you have to give DCI Banham the gun,” Alison shouted urgently.
The young PCSO shook her head defiantly and took a step nearer Andrew. She extended her arm so that the gun almost touched his head.
A warning shot from one of the armed response team hit the ground next to her. Everyone else jumped; she only flicked a glance down at the pavement.
Her aim didn’t falter. “Last chance,” she said.
Andrew’s pinched face betrayed his terror but he said nothing.
Alison yelled, “Millie, for Chrisake, give the gun to...”
Millie pointed the gun at Andrew’s foot and pulled the trigger.
The armed response unit took aim.
“Don’t shoot her!” Banham leapt in front of Millie.
Andrew was hopping up and down in agony. “You bitch, you’ve shot me.”
Banham faced Millie and held out his hand for the gun.
Alison’s fragile hold on her temper snapped. “You stupid girl, give DCI Banham the gun, or someone will shoot you.”
But Millie had become hysterical. “I don’t care!” she shouted, pointing the gun at Andrew’s crotch. “He killed Sadie, and he started the fire. Tell them, or I swear I’ll shoot your bollocks off.”
“OK.” Andrew put his hands in the air. “You win.”
Alison closed her eyes. She wouldn’t have seen this coming in a million years.
Millie’s arm dropped slackly to her side and Banham waved the armed officers away. Andrew Fisher began to speak.
“I had to kill Sadie,” he said dully. “Eddie Chang made me. He’d have had me killed.”
“I wish he had,” Millie screamed hoarsely. “And the fire. Tell them you started the fire.” She began to raise the hand with the gun in it.
“That as well,” Andrew said. “Chang made me.”
Eddie Chang’s head appeared at the police car window. “What a liar,” he shouted. “He killed Sadie because he wanted her and couldn’t have her.”
Alison couldn’t move. She felt as if she’d stepped into a parallel universe, and could only observe what was happening. And none of it made sense.
She heard Banham arrest Andrew Fisher and read him his rights. Two uniformed constables walked past her, and Banham handed Andrew over to them. “Go with him in the ambulance, and bring him back to the station when the hospital releases him.”
Millie waited until they had walked away before handing the gun to Banham. As she did, CO19 dropped their aim, and Banham said quietly. “Millie Payne, I’m arresting you for being in possession of a dangerous firearm.”
“What? I was helping you. I’m on your side!”
Alison suddenly found she could move again, and ran towards Millie. “Get in the ambulance,” she shouted, fighting the urge to smack the girl. “Before we do anything you’re going to hospital.”
Millie looked at her, closed her eyes and swayed gracefully. Next moment she was lying on the pavement in a dead faint.
A couple of paramedics moved in to deal with her, and at the same moment Crowther appeared at the corner of the club building, fighting off a uniformed constable who was trying to restrain him.
“He tried to get into the cottage,” the fresh-faced young officer said apologetically to Alison. “It’s not safe, ma’am. I tried to tell him, but...”
“It’s OK, I’ll take it from here.” At least this was straight- forward, she thought.
The young man looked relieved, and disappeared in the direction of the alleyway behind the club. Alison stood face to face with Crowther. “Get a grip, Colin,” she told him firmly.
Banham was behind her. “We know how it feels,” he told Crowther. “We’re as worried about Isabelle as you are.”
“If I’d got here sooner...” Crowther muttered, desperation roughening his voice.
Alison took a deep breath. “We’re all going to hold it together,” she said firmly. “We don’t know where Isabelle is. Do you hear me, Colin? We don’t know. She could come walking round that corner any minute.”
“But...” Crowther waved a hand at the glowing sky.
Alison slapped his hand down. “There are four teams of firemen dealing with that. Leave them to do their job and we’ll do ours. We’ve got all the evidence we need to put Eddie Chang away for a very long time and we
couldn’t have done that without Isabelle. So let’s do what she’d want us to – go back to the station and throw the bloody book at him.”
Chapter Seventeen
When Millie woke up she was lying in a hospital bed. She felt as if a swarm of bees had made their home on her body. Her arm was bandaged, and when she touched her face she found that was bandaged too. In fact, an awful lot of her was covered in bandages, some of them leaking orange cream with a vaguely antiseptic smell.
She turned her head cautiously, and to her surprise found Colin Crowther sitting by the bed. As their eyes met, the compassion and concern on his face melted away, to be replaced by one of his mischievous Mr Irresistible smiles.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “The doctor is pretty sure there won’t be any scars. They got to it quickly.” The smile dropped away, and she saw sadness in his eyes. “You’ve been very brave.” He looked down at his interlaced fingers. “I told you it was a dangerous job to take on.”
“Just as well.” Her throat was still sore, but she could talk normally now.
“Just as well what?”
“Just as well my face won’t be scarred. I’m going to need it to get acting work. I think I’ve got the sack from the police.”
Crowther didn’t answer. He locked and unlocked his fingers. “Where did you get that gun, Millie? Not the one you took from Fisher. The one in the little bag hanging on your garter.”
She sat up and pushed the blanket away, and slowly swung her legs to the floor. “I stole it from Terry King’s sewing bag before I followed Isabelle to the cottage. I was looking for his torch, but when I saw the gun I took that too – for evidence, I thought, but I did think it might come in useful.”
A sob welled up in her chest and she fought it down. Crying in front of Colin was not an option.
His eyes hadn’t left her.
She shivered and grimaced, cautiously touching the large bandage across her forehead. “It’s an Astra Cadix, the same as Sadie had in her bag. That has to prove that Eddie Chang was dealing them.”
“So it wasn’t the only one?”
“There were guns in the cottage. That’s what caused the explosions. I just hope there’s something left for evidence.”
