Paying the Ferryman

by Jane A. Adams

  ‘How you holding up?’

  ‘I’m fine. The bullet went straight through my biceps, so no gym for a while.’ He smiled. ‘Could have been worse.’

  ‘Could have been a lot worse. What the hell happened?’

  ‘I don’t know. He was there, waiting for me beside my car. I saw him, didn’t think much of it, then saw the gun. He demanded I take him to Sarah. I tried to talk to him but it was obvious he wasn’t going to back down. I thought we’d stand a better chance of being spotted by the security cameras inside the hospital and knew I’d have to find a way of dealing with him that, hopefully, didn’t end up with me getting shot. It didn’t quite work out that way, did it?’

  He moved and winced.

  ‘Have they given you painkillers?’

  ‘Local anaesthetic for the stitches. The doctor’s gone to sort me out a prescription.’ He grimaced. ‘I hope he gets a move on, I don’t mind admitting the local’s wearing off now and it bloody hurts.’

  Sophie laughed and then apologized. ‘I’m just relieved,’ she said. ‘When they said you’d been shot—’

  Steel nodded. ‘You been to see the body yet?’

  ‘No. You want me to do that now?’

  ‘Yes. See if they’ve managed to identify him. I’m going to wait for the doctor and then go up and see Sarah. Join me there, after. I’m going to need a lift home, I think.’

  ‘You sure you should be talking to Sarah? She’s going to be freaked out, seeing you like that.’

  ‘She’s going to be freaked out, as you put it, if I don’t. She’s probably heard all manner of stories by now. I want her to know it’s been dealt with. She’s going to be kept safe, no matter what.’

  Willis nodded and took her leave. Steel watched her go and then slumped back in the chair and closed his eyes. There’d been a moment, just a split second really, when he had been certain of his own death. When he’d just known that this was it and the gun was going to fire and he was about to be hit.

  Logic and reason told him that he couldn’t possibly have been aware of that at the time. That he was superimposing narrative over memory. But he knew it was more than that. The world had decelerated, actions seemed many times slowed down; thoughts had elongated, blossomed, to fill the expanded gap.

  The door opened and the doctor arrived with a prescription, a couple of pills, a bottle of water and a cheerful, ‘This should do you for a while. Get your prescription filled at the pharmacy, then go home and get some rest.’

  Steel thanked him and swallowed the tablets with a mouthful of water. It was very cold and he was suddenly aware that his throat felt parched and tight.

  ‘Sit for a few minutes now,’ the doctor advised. ‘Wait until the pills kick in.’ And Steel, both grateful and resentful, took his advice.

  How the hell had Sarah Griffin managed? he wondered. Carrying her little brother and stumbling across that field in the pouring rain and with an injury far worse than his. He wasn’t yet ready to make it down the corridor, never mind run across a ploughed field.

  He closed his eyes again, fighting nausea this time, wanting more water to cool his throat but not sure his stomach could keep it down. His arm throbbed and the chill in the air had begun to trouble him. A nurse had given him a blanket and, a little sheepishly, he pulled it around his shoulders, over the torn shirt and remnants of the jacket they had cut away and the sling that held his arm tightly across his chest. Then, feeling rather sorry for himself and wearing the blanket like a yellow cloak, he got to his feet and began to make his way to Sarah’s ward.

  Sophie Willis crouched at the head of the stairs and peered down. The CSI team were getting ready to move the body, DI Martin supervising and, Sophie could see, generally getting in the way.

  ‘Hey Joe,’ she said. He looked up and smiled. ‘Stay there, I’m coming up.’

  Looking past him she could see the odd angle of the neck, the arm thrown out as though to halt the man’s fall. The gun, fallen on to the bottom step.

  ‘How’s the boss man?’

  Sophie got to her feet. ‘Sore,’ she said. She looked up at the bullet hole in the wall, close to the ceiling. ‘That the one that got him?’

  ‘So far as we know only one shot was fired, so yes, we can safely assume there are bits of DI Steel now permanently embedded in the hospital superstructure. You want a coffee? There’s one of those dreaded machines down the hall.’

  She nodded and followed him back through the glazed doors. She could imagine how Steel had rammed the door back against the gunman, then wrenched it open again and shoved him as hard and as fast as he could. She didn’t know if she’d have had the nerve or the coordination. ‘He was bloody lucky,’ she said.

  ‘He was.’

  ‘Any identification yet?’

  ‘No, the shooter had nothing in his pockets. We’ll have to wait for fingerprints and hope he’s in the system.’

  ‘Which is likely, I’d guess.’

  ‘I’m guessing so.’

  They paused beside the vending machine and between them rustled up enough change for a couple of coffees. Sophie Willis had known Joe Martin far longer than she had known Steel and, despite his different approach and manner, she respected him pretty much equally. Unlike Steel, Martin actually liked dealing with the media, enjoyed the public appearances and what he had once called the ‘performance aspect’ of police work. At the time she had thought it an odd, uncomfortable phrase to apply to such a serious business and she knew it had earned him both censure and mockery from his colleagues – Steel included – but she had come to realize that actually, it could be a useful attitude.

  It was certainly an attribute his colleagues exploited.

  ‘You want to come and look at the CCTV footage? Some of it should have been collated by now.’

  Sophie nodded. ‘Then I’ve got to go up to Sarah’s room. I told Steel I’d meet him up there and give him a lift home.’

  ‘Where he needs to stay for the next day or two at least.’

  ‘You know he won’t.’

  ‘I know it’s unlikely. It might mar his superhero image.’

  He led Sophie down the corridor and up a flight of stairs. This place is a maze, she thought.

  Finally, he led her into a room filled with people, CCTV screens and a blur of assorted technology. She recognized and greeted a couple of her colleagues. Others, she guessed, were hospital staff or from other forces.

  She watched as the technicians talked them through the montage of shots from various CCTV cameras. Camera two, in the car park, showed the first encounter, though Steel faced the gunman, who had his back to the camera so the weapon could not be seen. Camera four picked them up as they crossed the car park. Camera twelve in the stairwell, the first time the gun could be seen, Steel looking up into the camera, his face pale and mouth set in a straight line, hoping someone would take notice.

  Camera thirteen as they turned on the first dog leg of the stairs and started up the next flight.

  ‘Did no one notice anything?’

  ‘Most of the attention was focused on the front entrance and the main reception areas,’ someone told her. ‘There are nearly forty cameras across the hospital campus and only three operators at any one time.’

  Sophie turned her attention back to where camera fourteen picked up the final dramatic moments. Steel keying in the code, opening the door, then, as the gunman started through, his swift turn, slamming the door into the man’s arm. The blast of the shot, Steel throwing his weight first back against the door, and then against the still armed man, catching him off balance and then hurtling him backwards. Sophie held her breath, watching as her boss all but followed his assailant’s fall, making a grab for the handrail, then dropping down on to the top step, a look of utter relief on his face.

  ‘I’d better get going,’ she told Martin.

  He nodded. ‘Think you can find your way without a sat nav?’

  ‘I’ll manage. Catch you later.’

  Soph
ie Willis slowly made her way back to the head of the stairs and from there found her way back up to Sarah’s floor. What the hell was going on here? Sarah was a fourteen-year-old girl. She’d already had her family taken from her; what was all of this about? And would they try again?

  TWENTY-NINE

  Steel had spent some time with Sarah Griffin. The girl was utterly bewildered by what had happened. Shocked and scared all over again, she clung to Stacy’s hand and Steel again wished he could find some family to comfort her, or at the very least bring her friends in again. He had forgotten that Maggie was to bring the boys to the hospital until a call came up to the ward from reception and he remembered that he had been supposed to meet them in the car park.

  He made hurried arrangements for them to be escorted in and it was clear from the look on Maggie’s face that their escort had filled her in on events on the way up.

  She bundled Sarah into a warm embrace and reached out an arm to include Joey. Tel, on the other side of the bed, grabbed Sarah’s hand. For a moment or two Steel watched the comfort and the crying and then gestured to Stacy that he wanted a word outside.

  ‘I like the blanket,’ she said. ‘That your new superhero cloak, is it? Christ, boss, what the hell is going on here?’

  ‘I don’t know. My guess is that someone thinks she knows something or has seen something. Someone is determined to shut her up, but about what?’

  ‘She and her mother ran away six years ago. Sure, Thea Baldwin knew what her husband was into, knew enough to get him put away, but this is all old news. I just don’t see.’

  Steel shrugged and then wished he hadn’t. The aftermath was settling in now, something he supposed was a mix of shock and painkillers, and he badly wanted to sleep and forget everything for a while, though he felt he ought to go and talk to Naomi and Alec first. They’d have heard all kinds of rumours on the news and he owed it to them to give them a first-hand account.

  He caught sight of Sophie Willis coming along the long corridor.

  ‘Here’s your lift,’ Stacy said. ‘You want me to say your goodbyes for you?’

  ‘Thanks. Look, I know we said we’d get someone in to cover for you tonight—’

  ‘Don’t worry. I can’t leave her now. It wouldn’t be fair.’

  He nodded, gratefully. ‘Talk to her about Vic,’ Steel said. ‘About anything she can remember her mother telling her about her step-father. Talk to her about—’

  ‘Boss, go home. I know what questions to ask. Right now, though, I think she just needs hugs and comfort from her friends.’

  Steel nodded again, then joined Sophie Willis. ‘I saw you on the CCTV,’ she said. ‘It was … dramatic, I suppose, is the word. How are you feeling?’

  ‘How do I look?’

  ‘Like shit.’

  ‘That would probably cover it. Take me back to the Dog and Gun, will you?’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘I’m sure. But if I fall asleep in the car, leave me alone, will you?’

  Sophie grinned at him. ‘So long as you don’t snore,’ she said.

  THIRTY

  At the Dog and Gun pub Naomi and Alec skipped channels trying to get the latest updates on the rolling news and Alec used his phone to scan the Internet for further details.

  Mostly, the reports just rehashed the few facts they had. That a further attempt to kill Sarah Griffin had been thwarted by a Detective Inspector who had been shot in the process. The gunman was reported dead, but there were no further details.

  Alec’s phone rang. It was Sophie telling him that she and Steel were heading back to the Dog.

  ‘How is he?’

  ‘Should be asleep in bed. As it is, he’s asleep in my car. I feel like I should be doing what my sister does when her baby falls asleep: just driving round in circles for a bit. What I am going to do is take him home, then I’ll come and fill you in, OK?’

  Alec wanted to ask more, but Sophie ended the call and he had to remind himself that she was probably right. Steel had been hurt and his needs had to come above their wish for news.

  They turned their attention, instead, back to the television. Douggie knocked on the bedroom door and Alec let him in.

  ‘A friend of mine just called from the hospital,’ he said. ‘Reckoned they’ve got armed police moved in there now. Pity they didn’t think of that before.’

  ‘I think they had one officer there,’ Alec said. ‘But I assume they’d have been focusing on the main entrances. Who’s your friend?’

  ‘One of the porters. No one notices a porter.’ Douggie winked. ‘So if you want eyes and ears on the ground, as it were …’

  Alec hid his smile. ‘Thanks Douggie. DS Willis is on her way here. She’ll probably be hungry.’

  ‘Sophie is always hungry. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.’

  Douggie departed. Alec could hear his heavy tread receding down the stairs.

  ‘You think it’s just revenge?’ Naomi asked. She’d asked the same question a half dozen times in the past hour, but Alec didn’t comment on the fact beyond saying, ‘I still don’t know. But I don’t think so. It doesn’t feel so, if you know what I mean. Terry Baldwin was a dickhead, a scrote. He beat his wife and child and he half killed his partner, but the thing is, it was all really direct. Really hands on.’

  ‘Hard to be hands on when you’re in prison.’

  ‘True. But it was all kind of … simplistic, you know. Even the jobs he carried out, you’d never be able to accuse him of long-term, complex planning. They were all, hey, I’ve got nothing to do today, fancy robbing a shop/stealing a car/hitting the local building society?’

  ‘True,’ Naomi said. ‘Strangely enough I think that’s what made it work for him. No one knew what he had planned – because he never did. So no one could ever give him away. No, I know what you mean, this doesn’t have the Terry Baldwin signature, but at the same time, Alec, if someone offered to get rid of his wife and kid in exchange for something Terry could provide, I can just see him doing that.’

  ‘Me too,’ Alec agreed. ‘So the question is, after nearly seven years inside, what was it Terry Baldwin still had that was worth the trade?’

  THIRTY-ONE

  ‘There’s a man at the bar, says he’s a friend of yours. That someone called Patrick told him you was here. You want me to get rid of him?’ Douggie asked.

  Naomi frowned. ‘Did he give a name?’

  ‘Said he was called Gregory. Said you’d want to see him.’

  ‘Gregory? What the hell is he doing here?’

  ‘I can get rid,’ Douggie said, interpreting her response as definitely negative.

  I wouldn’t like to see you try, Naomi thought. She shook her head. ‘No, tell him we’ll be down as soon as Alec gets out of the shower. Can you show him into the snug, Douggie? It’s fine. I was just surprised, that’s all.’

  ‘He looks like a funny bugger,’ Douggie said doubtfully. ‘Ex copper, is he? Or ex military?’

  Naomi smiled. ‘Something like that,’ she said.

  Douggie departed, muttering something disapproving. He seemed to have become their self-appointed guardian, Naomi thought, not too sure how she felt about that.

  Alec emerged from the shower a few minutes later and was given the news.

  ‘Why would Patrick tell him we were here?’

  ‘He and Gregory communicate most days, apparently. I suppose it came up in conversation or something. Anyway, he’s here.’

  ‘So we’d better go and find out why.’ Alec sighed. ‘And decide what we tell Steel about him.’

  ‘As little as possible,’ Naomi said. ‘So far as Steel and Willis need to know, Gregory is just a friend.’

  Gregory, pint glass in hand, was already installed in the snug when they came down. Seated in the corner, facing both the door from the bar and the one through which they entered from the rear of the pub.

  ‘You’re looking well,’ he told Naomi. ‘Douggie’s left your drinks on the table. I don’t think he
likes me.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re used to that,’ Naomi told him.

  Gregory raised his glass, toasting ironically – though the action was lost on Naomi.

  ‘So how’s Nathan, and what brings you here?’

  Gregory laughed. ‘He’s getting better. Sends his regards. As to why I’m here, well, I hear you have a mystery on your hands and I thought I might as well come and help out.’ He laid something on the table in front of Naomi. ‘Present,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure if it’s a peace offering or a bribe, but … whatever.’

  Curious, Naomi unwrapped the tissue and found a little box, heavily embossed, nestling inside.

  ‘I found it at the antiques place up the road. Seemed right up your street.’

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, her fingers tracing the contours of the little object, examining the flowers and twining ribbons. She found the catch and the box lid sprang open. It closed again, with a satisfying click.

  ‘So, does that get me a story?’ Gregory asked. ‘Who got shot and why, and what does that have to do with the pair of you?’

  For the next hour Gregory listened as they told him about Thea Baldwin, who became Lisanne Griffin. About the dead child and the injured one, and about the new husband who seemed to have an even more opaque history than Thea herself.

  ‘So, who was the primary target?’ Gregory asked eventually. ‘The woman or the man she shacked up with?’

  ‘We’re assuming Lisanne Griffin,’ Alec said. ‘But until we know more about Victor—’

  Gregory nodded. ‘I took a walk down by the river,’ he said. ‘I figure they must have come in the back way, along the footpath on the same side of the road as the house. There’s a parking and picnic area about a quarter of a mile away. I figure the car was left there, the shooter came in, got out the same way.’

  ‘That would fit with what is known,’ Alec said. ‘I’ve not heard anyone talk about the parking spot, though.’