by Linda Regan
She slowed and stopped at a red light. Again she flicked a glance at the mirror, touching a finger under her eye to catch a tear, so that her vision wasn’t blurred and her mascara wouldn’t sting.
He was kneeling on the floor behind the driver’s seat, an arm around her throat and a strange, twisted smile across his face. He could have been a stranger, not the child she had watched being born. She had held his mother’s hand during the birth, and sworn to watch over him and protect him as his godmother. She hardly recognised her Kevin, with those mad eyes and a gun in his left hand in case the knife wasn’t enough.
She lowered her eyes. Reasoning with him was out of the question. Her only hope was that someone would pull up beside them at the lights, recognise her and knock on the window for her autograph. But for that to work she needed to position her face closer to the window – and his grip was so tight she couldn’t turn her neck.
“Where am I driving to, Kev?” she asked, failing to keep the tremble out of her voice.
“Keep going south, then turn left as soon as you can towards the river.”
Her body stiffened with fear. He obviously sensed it, because he began to laugh.
“‘I know you’re afraid of water, Auntie Katie. You’re going for a little swim.”
She took a deep breath and fought the tears trying to explode from her eyes.
“You won’t be alone,” he told her. “There’ll be plenty of rats to keep you company.” He laughed again, a whining sound she heard never heard from him before. “You won’t see them, though. I’m going to cut out your beautiful blue eyes first. And feed them to the rats.”
The tears suddenly spilled out. She moved her head minutely as she tried to fight them back, and the edge of the knife caught her throat. First she felt the sting, then the trickle of warm blood as it tickled and slid down her neck. Then she heard that strange laugh again.
“Blimey, it’s her. It’s Nurse Penelope from Screened.” PC Garrad slammed his foot on the brake of the police patrol car. “In front of us! Look – black BMW number plate KAT. That’s the car we’re looking for.”
His partner, PC Tracey Alexander, spoke into her radio as Garrad crawled alongside them.
“Keep your distance, Jim,” Tracey said. “There’s someone in the back. He’s got a knife to her throat.”
Katie saw the patrol car pull alongside them, praying that Kevin hadn’t. But it was too much to hope.
“Go!” He pressed the heel of his hand against her throat, making her gag. “Never mind the lights. DRIVE!”
She hesitated. He loosened his grip on her throat, and something stabbed her left hand, which was holding the handbrake.
“Do it! DRIVE!”
She did, without looking to see if they were about to be killed by the oncoming traffic. Cars swerved around her, hooting and shouting, verbal abuse flying out of open windows. Surely the police car would come after them now, she prayed.
But nothing happened.
“Keep your foot down. Keep driving.” The knife moved back to her throat, and his arm gripped her head and neck even tighter. She couldn’t see the blood oozing from the cut on her hand, but she felt its warmth as it slid between her fingers.
“All units urgent!” The station sergeant’s voice crackled out of Tracey’s radio. “Black BMW, registration KAT, heading south driving erratically. Do NOT approach, repeat DO NOT APPROACH. Armed and dangerous passenger in the car. Keep under observation but wait for back-up! Armed response is on its way.”
Alison now sandwiched safely in between two patrol cars with sirens squealing, sped across red traffic lights. Banham clung to the edge of the seat and barked orders into his radio.
“Stay back. Do not get too close,” he shouted. “Do not attempt to flag it down.”
Katie pulled up at the next traffic lights. Her eyes slowly focused on the driver’s mirror. Kevin smiled that strange smile again. He drew the knife up her neck on to her chin and across her cheek, slowly sliding it toward her eye, grazing the soft skin of her cheek and angling the razor-edge so it was less than a millimetre from her left eye.
She froze.
He moved again, dragging the blade down her face over her already smarting cheek, and pushing the sharp edge in hard under her chin. Her heart was beating so hard it felt like a bomb about to explode. She closed her eyes, waiting for the agony as the knife penetrated her throat.
Nothing happened.
She opened her eyes again.
“I’ve got an erection, Auntie Katie. Do you want to feel it?”
This time she couldn’t stop the tears. Mascara ran into her eyes, stinging and blinding her.
She had nursed him as a baby; bought him his first train set, and watched him grow up, hardly missing a week of it. In all those years she’d never seen a hint of this side of him. Had they been so busy feeling guilty for denying him a childhood with his real father that they had failed to see how disturbed he was? That he was a very sick boy in need of psychiatric help? Or was it a direct result of the violence Kenneth had shown him?
The traffic light turned green.
“Drive on,” he said casually.
She lifted her bloodied hand and tried to wipe the mascara from her eye so she could see clearly. Another prickle stung her the shoulder like an angry bee. She couldn’t move her head, but she felt the blood as it leaked on to her pink t-shirt. An uncontrollable sob burst from her mouth, and the car stalled.
“It’s only a nip, don’t be such a baby,” he said irritably.
She restarted the car and felt the heavy steel against the back of her head. There was a sickening, slicing sound, and she fought to keep the car straight as her body tensed, waiting for the pain.
He laughed, dangling his trophy in front of her. It was a large hank of her long golden hair.
Her first thought was that the studio would be furious. She had signed a contract agreeing not to change her hair in any way. She could get the sack. Then reality hit her. The job was the least of her worries; her chances of getting out of this situation alive were practically nil.
She lifted a trembling hand and wiped the smudged mascara from across her face. Blood from the cut on her hand stung her grazed cheek.
They were travelling at nearly eighty miles an hour, sirens screaming at their front and rear. Banham spoke into his phone. “The description fits Kevin Stone,” he told Crowther. “Get Brian Finn into the back of a very fast unit car, and tell them to step on it. They are heading south towards the river. Bring a radio and I’ll keep you updated. Time is at a premium.”
Alison’s accelerator foot hit the floor.
Banham clicked his phone shut and heard himself praying aloud that they would be in time to save Katie Faye’s life.
“We’re doing everything we can,” Alison said quietly.
Katie slowed as she approached another set of traffic lights.
“Stop here,” Kevin said, looking around.
Where had all the police cars gone, Katie thought desperately.
He took the knife away from Katie’s throat and sprang lightly over the top of the passenger seat.
The car was stationary. This was her only chance.
She opened the driver’s door and launched herself towards the gap, but screamed with pain as he dragged her back by her hair. He grabbed the collar of her leather jacket with the other hand; he had obviously dropped the knife and the gun, so she resisted with all her strength. But she couldn’t match his. He hauled her back into the car.
First his fist landed hard on her temple. Her head spun and she saw stars. Then he leapt out of the car and ran round to the driver’s side; he pushed her legs in and slammed the door so quickly she had to pull her feet free. As he climbed back into the passenger seat terror consumed her; he grabbed her hair and turned her face towards him. His fist slammed hard into her face, and blood spurted from her nose and mouth. “Now drive the fucking car!” he snarled.
She was dizzy but she drove on. Any ho
pe of being recognised was gone; her face was a mess. She was losing hope.
Crowther and Brian Finn were in the back of a unit car, siren screaming, overtaking everything on the road. Banham’s voice crackled over the radio. “Kevin Stone is armed with a gun and a knife. An ARV is on the way. Stay out of sight until the ARV arrives. Katie Faye’s life depends on it.”
“Let me talk to him,” Finn offered. “He’ll listen to me.”
“Not yet,” Crowther said.
“That bastard Ken Stone,” Finn muttered. “He’s responsible. No wonder the boy’s like he is.”
Crowther glared at him.
“I’m your only hope,” Finn urged. “If the police approach him, he could kill her. He’ll listen to me. I’m his dad.”
“What do you think you’re doing here?” Crowther sighed. “A fucking joy-ride? When the time is right, you’ll talk to him. But right now, shut the fuck up, will you.”
“Turn left at the lights,” Kevin said.
Katie still felt dizzy. She hesitated for a moment, trying to focus on the lights.
“I said turn left.”
She felt another sting on her hand, and a trickle of fresh blood ran down her fingers. Her feet fumbled with pedals, then she put pressure on the accelerator and turned left.
“South! South!” The voice sounded in all fifteen police cars closing in on the BMW. “Correction: target has now turned east and is heading towards the river.”
Brian Finn sat ashen-faced and silent, listening to every word.
The police car in front of Alison slowed, and the wailing siren went silent. Alison followed suit, and so did the car behind her. A voice came over Banham’s radio. “They’re only a couple of streets away, guvnor.”
The familiar stab of guilt made Banham catch his breath. He hadn’t been able to save his wife and baby, but he wasn’t going to let Katie Faye die.
Katie tried pleading, but the words almost choked her. “Kevin, I don’t deserve this.”
“Yes, you do fucking deserve it! You let my father rot in prison.” His voice was cold and angry. “For something he didn’t do.”
“You’ve got it wrong. It wasn’t like the…” Another punch to the side of her head knocked the breath out of her, and hysterical sobs began to spill out. “Please, Kevin, say you won’t hurt your mother,” she begged. “She loves you, and she wouldn’t…”
The knife was in his hand again. He cut through her t-shirt and into her collarbone where the skin was thin. It was a shallow cut, but the pain was nearly unbearable and she had to fight for breath again. She opened her bleeding mouth, but only a strange animal-like sound escaped.
The voice came through the police radios. “Target has turned left. The road leads to the docks.”
Alison slammed her brakes on. She reversed quickly, spun the car and headed in the opposite direction.
The blue lights on the other cars flashed silently.
She flicked a glance at Banham. He was staring out of the window, and she knew exactly what he was thinking. More than anything in the world she wanted to save Katie too. She had misjudged her. And Banham would blame himself forever. If they didn’t get there in time he might never recover.
She approached the junction and slowed down.
Banham spoke into the radio. “Any news on the Armed Response Vehicle?”
“Here, guvnor. Right behind you.”
17
“Next left,” Kevin said, his tone chillingly casual. He ran a finger along the edge of the knife, pulling it quickly away to remind Katie how sharp it was.
The cuts on her body were reminder enough. Mascara stung her eyes, and her mind was growing hazy. It took her a moment to work out which was right and which was left.
“Next left!” he shouted, raising the knife.
She indicated left and out of the corner of her eye saw his hand drop. He started cutting at the g-string with the edge of the knife, carving little snips off the leather ribbon. The soft sound terrified her.
She turned the car into the side road, and her heart hit her boots. The road led to the water.
Banham spoke quietly but with authority into his radio. “Keep your distance. No one, repeat no one, is to follow target vehicle. Armed Response van is directly behind us. We have a visual on the BMW, which has just pulled up by the edge of the river. Everyone else leave your cars, and very quietly, I repeat very quietly, move in on foot. Be very sure you are not seen. Crowther, take Finn with you, but stay out of sight. Armed Response officers are now moving in.”
Kevin placed the g-string on the end of the gun in his left hand. He opened the passenger door. “Stay in your seat. I’m coming round to get you,” he told Katie.
Hysteria was overtaking her. The pain she was in and the sight of the water were proving too much for her. She grabbed his arm before he set a foot on the ground.
“Kevin, please, I’m begging you, don’t do this. Your mother…” She stopped mid-sentence. He turned towards her, the knife in his right hand. “Oh God. No…” Her arm flew up defensively, but not fast enough. The knife scored the side of her head above her ear. Blood ran down the side of her neck.
“Now get out,” he ordered.
Everything faded and all she could see was grey. A small, still-aware part of her mind prayed for the end to come quickly, before the deep, dark water swallowed her up.
He was standing by the open driver’s side door when her vision returned. “Out,” he commanded.
She obeyed. As he pushed a hand into her armpit and started to march her towards the river, she made a last appeal, slurring like a drunk as she spoke. “Kevin, don’t hurt your mother. Promise me…” A ripping sound stopped her in her tracks. The knife cut through her leather jacket and continued into her back. All she felt was excruciating pain which took over her whole body. She gasped for air as the agony hit her lungs and shot up to her brain. Then her knees gave way, and she fell to the ground.
Banham saw it all. There was no time to wait for the Armed Response team. Ignoring Alison’s warning, he leapt from the car and ran down the middle of the road. He had no body armour, nothing at all for protection: just the overpowering urge to save Katie Faye.
“You’re surrounded, Kevin,” he shouted. “Drop your weapons, or we’ll shoot.”
Within seconds a dozen armed police officers moved in behind him, their guns pointed at Kevin.
An ambulance had been hovering out of sight on the corner of the neighbouring street. Two paramedics armed with oxygen jumped from the back.
Katie was face down on the ground.
Banham slowed to a walk. “Drop the gun and the knife, Kevin.”
Suddenly Alison was beside him. For a moment the world seemed to rock around him. “Get back!” he shouted. “Wait behind the AR vehicle.”
“I’m staying with you.”
“I’m giving you an order, sergeant. Not open to negotiation. Do as I say. Now.”
She hesitated and stopped. He kept walking.
“Drop the gun and the knife,” he said, his eyes on Katie.
She was struggling to her knees. Kevin pointed the gun at her head.
“Stand away from her,” Banham shouted. “A dozen guns are aimed at you.”
“Guv, please.” Alison was beside him again.
“I told you to go back,” he said without taking his eyes off Kevin.
Kevin placed a heavy boot on Katie’s back. Her body quickly gave way and she sank to the ground. “Go ahead,” he goaded. “Shoot.” He raised his hands high in the air, one holding a gun, the other a knife.
Banham lifted a hand to halt the police riflemen, who were awaiting the order to fire. “Alison, go back,” he said calmly.
“No,” she said, planting herself squarely beside him.
Kevin’s hand dropped. He opened his flies, pulled his penis free and urinated over Katie. “Sorry about that,” he shouted. “It’s the river. All that water. Couldn’t stop myself.”
A voice boomed ou
t from a little way behind Banham. “Drop the gun, son.”
Brian Finn.
“Don’t shoot her, son. Give the gun up. Do it for me.”
Banham heard footsteps, and glanced back to see Finn hurrying down the road towards his son. DC Crowther followed closely behind and stopped beside Banham and Alison. Finn hurried on.
Ten yards from his son he stopped and put out a hand. “Give me the gun, son.”
“I’m going to count to ten,” Banham said.
“Shooting’s too good for her,” Kevin retorted.
“Kevin, please, for me, for your dad, stop this. Give yourself up.” Finn moved forward again; now he was only a few feet from Kevin. “Do it for me?” he asked again. “Give the knife and the gun to me.”
“Nine. Eight. Stand away from him, Finn.”
Finn ignored him.
“Seven. Six.”
Katie stirred slightly, murmuring in pain.
Banham took another step towards Katie. “Five. Four.”
Alison and Crowther moved in behind him.
“Step to the left, guvnor,” the head of the AR unit shouted as Banham raised his hand to give the signal.
“Paul, for Chrissake!” Alison screamed.
“Three. Two.” Banham’s hand rose a little higher.
“Give me the gun,” Finn said urgently to Kevin.
“No.”
“One.”
Everything happened in an instant. Kevin lifted the knife to stab Katie. Finn lunged at Kevin to grab the gun. Banham moved to shield Katie Faye from the knife. Alison put out an arm to push Banham clear as a shot rang out.
Brian and Kevin, struggling with the gun, knife and each other, fell to the ground. Kevin dropped the knife. Finn tried without success to wrestle the gun from him.
Banham kicked the knife out of reach and stood over Katie, watching desperately for the right moment to wade in and grab Kevin.
Kevin and Finn rolled on the ground with Finn. Kevin had firm hold of the gun, his finger treacherously near the trigger.
