by John R McKay
As he walked the streets of the Latin Quarter, his purchases in a plastic bag, he was able to dissolve into the city. Nobody gave him a second glance. Nobody knew the situation he was in or the fact that he was a multi-millionaire with properties around the world. To them he was just another unimportant tourist visiting their city and more to the point, none of them cared who he was and he liked it that way.
He then made a decision. If he was going to start to move on with his life then he would leave the hotel he was staying in and move to another one close by. He did not want to dwell on Lucy’s memory. He did not want to drive himself mad. He had enjoyed the closeness to her that he had felt last night but now believed that a clean break to somewhere new would allow him to have the concentration he would need without being distracted with thoughts of her. It was important his mind was focused.
An hour later he had checked out of the Hotel de la Sorbonne, paying his bill with his credit card and had checked into the Grand Hotel Saint Michel on the corner of Avenue Victor Cousin and the Rue Cujas thirty yards up the street.
#
Julie Green sat at her desk and looked at the clock. Jim Lea was late for work again and she was starting to worry. This was the second time in as many days and for as long as she had known him punctuality had never been a problem. She had tried to call him but there had been no reply from his landline and his mobile phone was going straight to voicemail. She considered leaving the station and going round to his flat and decided that if he did not arrive within the next ten minutes then that was exactly what she would do.
She had been keeping in close contact with the Metropolitan Police who so far had been unsuccessful in locating Sean Lange. They were convinced that it was only a matter of time before they had him in custody. The man had made too many mistakes already and if he continued to form then he was surely going to make more. They were considering going to the press with the information they had in the hope that the public would be able to assist in giving them his location. This was an option that was worth considering the longer it went on. Julie was just happy that Danny Cooke had decided to spirit himself away to France out of the way and out of danger.
She was about to gather her bag and jacket when Detective Inspector Raymond approached her.
‘Julie, can you come to my office straight away please.’
He looked serious and turned around before she could reply. She left her things where they were and followed him down the corridor. As she entered the office he was sitting down, a solemn expression on his face. Julie was instantly worried.
‘Close the door please.’
‘Certainly, sir.’ She did as he said and then stood before him expectantly.
‘What have you heard about Detective Sergeant Lea?’
Bewildered, she replied: ‘I’m not sure what you mean, sir. I’m a bit worried as I haven’t seen him today and he’s rarely late for work. He isn’t answering his phone either.’ She was now very concerned. ‘Do I need to be worried?’
Looking up Raymond replied, ‘DS Lea was arrested late last night following a domestic disturbance at his marital home.’
‘Oh Jesus,’ said Julie, completely shocked. ‘What happened?’
‘A patrol was called to the house and found him beating the living daylights out of a…’ he looked down at a piece of paper on his desk, ‘…Stephen Cooper. Apparently he is the lover of his wife. Been having an affair for a while I believe. He’s put the guy in hospital with a broken jaw, nose and severe lacerations to his face. He may have also ruptured his spleen.’
‘Good God,’ replied Julie, sitting down in a chair opposite. ‘How’s he managed that? He had an injured hand yesterday, said he’d caught it in a door.’
‘It looks like he made an attempt the previous night and went back. He appears to have grabbed an ornament of some sort and hit him with it. Completely lost it. It’s a probable GBH charge too. He was released early this morning and we’ve suspended him until further notice.’ Raymond put his head in his hands. ‘This is a career ender, Julie, believe me. There’s no way he will be back from this.’
Julie could feel tears welling in her eyes. ‘I knew he was having problems and that they’d separated. He seemed so calm about it though, as though he was handling it. I can’t believe he lost control like that. Do you know if he was provoked or not?’
Raymond looked over to her, ‘That’s pretty much irrelevant really, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose so. How is he?’
‘Not good from what I’ve heard,’ replied Raymond. ‘He’s no injuries worth mentioning. It looks like it was all one way traffic. He’s probably at home in bed right now regretting what he’s done. Too late now though, the stupid sod.’
‘Can I go and see him?’
‘I’d leave it for a day or two if I was you, to be honest. Give him time to calm down and reflect.’
Julie stood up. She had work to do and with Jim now out of the picture, it had just doubled.
‘One more thing before you go,’ said Raymond. ‘Sit back down.’
Retaking her seat she said, ‘Yes boss?’
‘This case you’re both working on. This hit and run thing.’
‘Yes?’
‘This is a bit weird. I had a call a day or so ago from the security services. They basically told me that this Sean Lange character….is that his name?….works for them, in a roundabout way. Acted as a consultant of some sort, not sure in what capacity. Does this tie in with what you’ve found out? If that’s the case then you probably need to let them get on with any internal investigation they’re doing.’
Julie could not believe what she was hearing. What the hell did MI5, or whoever, have to do with Danny Cooke, Lange and the hit and run? This whole thing was getting weirder and weirder.
‘I have got absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,’ she replied. Raymond had obviously not heard of the previous day’s happenings as he had been away on a senior management meeting at Force Headquarters all day and she had not yet had chance to inform him of what had happened in London. This was why she had been waiting for Jim, so they could brief him together.
‘It seems very suspicious to me boss,’ she explained. ‘I was waiting for Jim to come in this morning ‘cos we both wanted to bring you up to speed on the case.’
Leaning forward Raymond said, ‘Go on. What’s happened?’
‘Sean Lange is on the run from the Metropolitan police as we speak. He attempted to kill Danny Cooke yesterday morning in a hotel in London. Danny managed to fight him off and has now gone to ground in France.’
‘OK,’ replied Raymond intrigued. ‘You sure it’s him.’
‘One hundred per cent. He’s also the number one suspect in the murder of Kieran Pearson, a drug dealer from Failsworth. We have reason to believe Pearson’s the guy who drove the car in the hit and run. Lange definitely had something to do with that, without a doubt.’
‘God, you leave the building for one day and all this happens,’ said Raymond sighing. ‘So what has this got to do with MI5? They virtually told me to back off.’
‘No idea boss,’ replied Julie. ‘Maybe if he does work for them he’s lost the plot. I can’t see a link between MI5 and Danny Cooke though. That’s a total mystery to me. It makes no sense whatsoever.’
‘Intriguing.’
‘You can say that again,’ responded Julie. This was getting beyond a joke now. Her head was starting to pound and she felt that she could really do with Jim being in work right now.
Raymond looked at Julie. ‘You know,’ he said. ‘I could really have done with having this information sooner than this morning.’
Julie was not pleased, ‘Yes, sir,’ she apologised through gritted teeth. ‘And maybe we could have done with the information about Sean Lange and MI5 a day or so ago, when you received it.’ Without waiting for a reply she stood up and walked out of the room. He did not call her back.
What a
complete buffoon, she thought as she made her way back to her desk and sat down. What a morning. First Jim being suspended, the idiot, and now this. What next? She could really do with that holiday which was only a few days away. She would now like nothing better than to hand over the case to colleagues and get on a plane with her friends to Greece. It couldn’t come soon enough.
She sat back down at her desk, drained. What the hell was Jim thinking? What on earth did he expect to happen? She could not believe that this quiet, humble man could be pushed to such an extent that he ended up virtually beating someone else’s brains out. And with an improvised weapon too! Julie had met Jo, Jim’s wife, only briefly some months earlier, at a function at Old Trafford Cricket Club, and she had seemed quite pleasant. They had seemed very happy but obviously there were problems that they hid well.
The phone on her desk rang, breaking her thoughts. She picked it up, ‘Yes, DC Green speaking.’
‘Hi Julie,’ said a familiar voice. ‘Detective Inspector Wilson here, Metropolitan Police.’
‘Oh, hi Harry.’
‘Some major developments down here, I’m afraid, that we need to make you aware of.’
‘What now?’ she replied. ‘What’s happened?’
‘We tried to get into Lange’s mother’s house this morning, to speak to her again to see if she’d heard anything. When there was no response we broke the door in. Found the old girl from next door at the bottom of the stairs with her neck broken. It’s possible she fell down the stairs but after we went up to the bedroom it became apparent that she was probably pushed.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Because we found the mother in the bedroom with her brains sprayed all over the wall. Not a pretty sight, believe me. He made absolutely no attempt to cover his tracks either. Just threw the gun down with his prints all over it.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ she responded, shocked. ‘When do you think this happened?’
‘Late last night probably. He used a pillow over her face to cover the noise. He must have got in through the back. We had a patrol at the front of the property all night and they saw nothing.’
‘OK,’ replied Julie. ‘No-one covering the back?’
‘Come on,’ sighed Wilson, ‘you know what staffing levels are like. We thought he would have done a runner anyway. Couldn’t see him coming back home to be honest. However, we know why now.’
‘Go on.’
‘We completely ripped his bedroom apart this morning. We were there yesterday afternoon but only gave it a cursory search. Just looking for him, like. This morning we found a metal box under his floorboards. It had two false passports inside. My thinking is that he’s taken others. Trying to get out of the country, if he hasn’t already, that is.’
‘Do you know of any link with the security services, with MI5 or people like that?’
‘No. Is there one?’
‘Looks like it. My boss has just told me they rang him a day or so ago virtually warning him to back off.’
‘That’s interesting. Very interesting indeed,’ said Wilson thoughtfully. ‘There’s no way that’s happening believe me. We now want him for the murder of his mother, the probable murder of her friend and the attempted murder of Danny Cooke.’
‘Not to mention for questioning on Kieran Pearson and Lucy Taylor up here.’
‘Yes. So that’s four murders and one attempted. Sorry two attempts on Cooke.’
‘That’s about the size of it.’
‘Leave this with me. From what you’ve just told me he could be working for someone. Maybe someone is controlling him because there’s no real motive for what he’s doing and there has to be a connection of some sort. Maybe that’s a line we need to go down. I’ll keep you posted.’
‘Right,’ said Julie, her head pounding now. She took a sip from a glass of water that she picked up off her desk.
‘I’m worried about Danny Cooke,’ she said. ‘If this guy has links to MI5 and he has a way of getting out of the country, he may even know where Danny is. I’ll have to warn him.’
‘Probably a good idea to get him back over here where we can protect him until this Lange character is caught. He’s an extremely dangerous bloke and that’s about all we know of him. He’s kept himself anonymous up to now.’
‘OK,’ said Julie after a while. ‘I’ll fill my boss in and contact Danny. Let him know of these developments. Keep in touch.’
‘Will do,’ said Wilson. ‘Take care.’ He hung up.
Julie took a packet of Paracetamol from her handbag and took two. She had a feeling it was going to be a long day. She stood up and let out a loud sigh. Colleagues looked up from their desks with curiosity and, embarrassed, she said, ‘Sorry,’ before walking back to Raymond’s office. Although she was beginning to severely dislike her boss, she knew that he would be able to make the decisions on what would be needed to be done next. The bars and beaches of Greece may have to wait, she thought, which was ironic, as that was exactly what she needed right now. More than ever.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Lange was awoken by a knock at the door. ‘Hello. It’s the cleaner,’ came a woman’s voice from the corridor outside his room.
‘Give me a few minutes,’ shouted Lange and turned back over. He picked up his watch from the bedside table and checked the time. Half past eleven. Bloody hell, he had slept in. He needed to check out in half an hour.
He got out of bed and went into the bathroom to shower. As he let the hot spray wash over him he was able to think. He had pulled into the motorway service station at Knutsford on the M6 at half past one that morning and had been able to get a room for the night at the Travelodge, using cash to pay for it. He had got to the room and virtually fallen asleep as soon as his head had hit the pillow. He had not intended to sleep so long and had wanted to get more of a start on Cooke. If Cooke had not yet returned home, then that was good, it gave him time to prepare. He would shave his head to look more like the passport photograph and then go into the city centre to purchase new clothes and a suitcase. He would also need to change the car as he was sure by now the bodies of the two women would have been found in the house in London. He could not think of one of them as his mother. Not yet anyway. Time for grieving would come once all this was over with. Once Cooke was dead he would get to the airport and take the first available flight to anywhere in mainland Europe. He could then make his way to Amsterdam once he had landed, wherever that may be. Once in the Netherlands he could meet up with his associates and then take things from there.
He got out of the shower and dried himself. He took the clippers from his bag and went back into the bathroom and shaved off all his hair, completing the process with a disposable razor. He put on the glasses and compared the passport photograph to the face that now stared back at him from the bathroom mirror. Spot on he thought, spot on.
He looked at the name on the passport, then back to his reflection. ‘Hello Mister Baker,’ he said and then laughed out loud at the irony of it all. Mister Baker. Cooke and Baker. Bloody hell, he thought, we might have been better setting up a restaurant together than going through all this nonsense.
There was another knock at the door. It was the cleaner again. ‘Just a minute,’ he shouted, ‘I will be checking out in five minutes. Come back then.’ He could hear the sound of footsteps moving away along the corridor. Mithering gits, he thought and smiled again.
The shower had made him feel awake. Made him feel alert once more. He felt in control again. Control of his own life with no-one to bother him or order him around. His mother was gone and with that ‘Roger Moore’ now no longer had any hold over him. He could tell him to piss off if he wanted to. He had made his money with him and it had been good while it lasted, but now there was no need to be at his beck and call. The police were after him for murder and that was worse than anything that ‘Roger’ could hold over him. Yes, he thought, he can piss right off.
Lange left the room with
the bag slung over his shoulder and a woollen hat on his head, to hide the change in appearance he had just made. He handed in the keys at the reception desk and left the building. Before he got inside the stolen car he checked around the car park to make sure no-one was observing him and then opened the door and got in. He had now formulated his plan. He would drive to Manchester city centre and park the car taking the car park ticket with him. He would then go shopping for the things he needed and then return to the car park and take another vehicle. He could then use his ticket to get off the car park and he would then drive to Danny Cooke’s house where he could then sort out that particular problem. He realised he was taking a risk in doing this but Cooke was the architect of his downfall and for this he was going to pay. Also, Lange was a professional and if he was given a job to do then he was certainly going to finish it.
As he was about to start the car the mobile phone in his pocket began to ring. The phone that was the link to the guy that had been controlling him. Or his soon to be ‘ex-boss’ thought Lange.
He let it ring for a while before he pressed the button to answer it.
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘You complete and utter fuck up,’ came back the response from the now familiar voice. Lange grinned to himself. It never ceased to amuse him when he heard a posh person swear, it just didn’t sound right.
‘Whatever,’ he replied. He decided he was going to have some fun with this call.
‘Where are you now?’
‘None of your fuckin’ business, Roger.’
‘Roger?....Who the hell do you think you are talking to you little shit?’
‘I’ve no idea. But then I’ve never had a clue have I?’ replied Lange. ‘And it doesn’t matter now does it? You have no hold over me anymore. The one thing you could threaten me with has gone.’
