by Jack Gatland
‘Some woman named Pearce,’ Nasir eventually replied.
‘Francine Pearce?’
‘Yeah,’ Nasir was now looking to the escalators. Following the gaze, Declan saw the two men now arrive on their floor.
‘She’s in prison,’ Declan replied.
‘No, she’s under house arrest until the trial—‘
Nasir didn’t finish the line as his head snapped back, a phut sound echoing around the balcony level, and a bullet smashing through his skull, dead centre of his forehead, killing him instantly. As he fell to the floor Declan looked back to the two men, one of which now held a pistol, the silencer now aiming at Declan.
Grabbing Nasir’s camera by the strap, Declan moved quickly, leaving the body and zig-zag running towards the man who, surprised to see his target come at him rather than run, fired blindly at him, the almost silent bullets missing Declan and scattering the shop window as he moved in close and swung the camera at his attacker, connecting hard with his head, sending him to the ground with the side of his head busted open from the impact.
The second man looked down in horror before reacting, pulling out a KABAR assault knife, but the momentary pause was enough for Declan and he pivoted, using the camera strap, wrapping it around the man’s wrist before he could use the blade and spinning around, twisting the strap, snapping the wrist in one quick motion, flipping the second attacker onto the floor.
By now the shopping centre was emptying as people ran for the main entrance, the screams echoing around the shops. With both men now down and Nasir dead, Declan stared at the remains of the camera now hanging from the strap. Discarding it after removing the Micro SD card, Declan rose. He could see an Armed Response Unit entering the main entrance; being close to St Pauls, there was always going to be a unit within screaming distance and, pocketing the card and pulling out his warrant card, he waved it at them.
‘Up here!’ he cried. ‘Detective Inspector in need of assistance!’
The SCO 19 officers saw him and, still holding their rifles at the ready, made their way to the upper floor. Slowly and carefully, his arms up to show that he had no weapons, Declan walked towards them.
‘I’m DI Walsh,’ he said. ‘The two men there killed my informant before—‘
The butt of the assault rifle striking his head was unexpected, and he stumbled backwards.
‘Get on the ground!’ the assaulting SCO 19 officer screamed, rifle now aimed at Declan who, checking his temple for blood but finding none, dropped to his knees, his hands in the air.
‘I said, I’m Detective Inspector Declan Walsh,’ he continued. ‘I was defending myself and my informant.’
The SCO 19 officers were already at the two attackers, the first responding leaning over them as he checked their pockets. Pulling out a wallet and riffling through it, he looked to the officer beside Declan.
‘It’s them,’ he said.
‘Them who?’ Declan had a sinking sensation in his stomach. This wasn’t going the way he expected. The officer before him stared down coldly.
‘The two men you assaulted were Special Branch officers, here to take into custody a terrorist suspect,’ he said. ‘A suspect that you apparently attacked and murdered before they arrived, according to witnesses.’
Declan glanced to the shop where, a phone in her hand, the shop assistant that he had shown his ID to was watching, terrified. Great.
‘It’s not what it looks like,’ he said. The officer smiled. A dark, cold one.
‘It never is,’ he said before kicking Declan hard in the ribs, sending him to the floor. ‘Now resist arrest, you terrorist piece of shit, so I can shoot you legally.’
Declan laid on the floor and stared up at the ceiling. He’d learned who Kendis’ source was, but he would never be able to do anything with it now.
His race was over.
15
Interview One
Declan had expected to be dragged to New Scotland Yard itself, but instead the SCO 19 officers waited with Declan by the entrance to the shopping centre. They’d handcuffed him, but they hadn’t searched him or even read him his rights. It was as if Declan was in some kind of strange limbo state.
It wasn’t long before Declan saw why he was being held. A black BMW pulled up to the kerb, followed by a police car. DCI Sutcliffe climbed out of the BMW, staring coldly at Declan.
‘Christ,’ he muttered.
‘Those bastards aren’t Special Branch,’ Declan said. ‘They shot my informant before I could speak to him.’
‘If they did, then the fingerprints will back you up,’ Sutcliffe said nodding to the SCO 19 Team Leader. ‘Thanks for keeping this under wraps.’
‘Under wraps?’ Declan exclaimed. ‘They dragged me out to the front of the shopping centre and hanged me out for everyone to take photos! No thought for my rank or even the truth of the situation!’
‘The situation is that you killed a man and almost killed two others,’ one of the SCO 19 officers muttered.
‘The situation is you’re a cretin,’ Declan snapped back. ‘Ask the witness! How did I shoot Nasir when the gun was in a Special Branch officer’s hand? Magic?’
‘We’ll take it from here,’ Sutcliffe turned to Declan. ‘Get in the car.’
‘Uncuff me.’ Declan held his arms out. ‘You either believe me or you don’t. If you do, then prove it. If you don’t, then at least give me my call to a solicitor.’
‘Your solicitor is already waiting for you,’ Sutcliffe looked back to the other car where two police officers walked to Declan.
‘You’re bloody kidding me,’ Declan hissed. ‘I knew you were corrupt the day I met you in Hurley.’
Sutcliffe leaned in close.
‘You were a prick then, and you’re a prick now,’ he hissed. ‘The only difference is that now, you’re a prick in handcuffs.’ He nodded to the police officers, and they grabbed Declan, one on either side, walking him back to their police car.
‘Am I arrested?’ Declan yelled. ‘Are you going to read me my rights? What about do your job? This is a setup!’
Now sitting in the back seat of the police car, Declan looked to the car’s roof and sighed.
‘Damn,’ he whispered. One of the two officers, now in the passenger seat looked back to him.
‘Sir, I’m sorry about this,’ he said. ‘If it means anything, we’re fans of your department, and if that man needed killing—‘
‘I didn’t kill him,’ Declan replied. ‘But I appreciate the comment.’
He leaned back, watching the crowds, all taking photos with their phones as the car drove off.
He would be Internet famous within the hour, it seemed.
To his surprise, Declan wasn’t taken to some kind of terrorist black site, and he felt a surge of relief course through him when he realised he was entering Temple Inn as he looked out of the window of the car. That said, the faces on the officers as they exited the vehicle and pulled him out of it didn’t seem that happy to be here; Declan assumed they knew something that he didn’t.
There was a small group of photographers at the sides of the entrance, shouting out questions and taking photos as Declan was marched past them. He couldn’t help but note that if someone wanted to completely discredit his testimony in the same way that they had been discrediting Kendis, this was the exact way to do it.
Entering the main office now, Declan saw that Frost and Billy were there, while Anjli was conspicuously absent. The two police officers walked him into the glass-walled interview room, where he sat on a chair, holding out his handcuffs.
‘Sutcliffe got his photo op,’ he said. ‘And I don’t need these on here, especially as I still haven’t been arrested.’
One of the officers nodded and pulled out a key, uncuffing and then taking away the handcuffs. Declan rubbed life back into his wrists as he looked out of the window at Billy and Frost.
‘How’s Anjli?’ he asked. ‘And the pub?’
‘They were lucky,’ Billy replied after
looking quickly to Frost. Although his friendship was to Declan, his loyalty was to his career, and Frost was his superior. ‘They were in the beer cellar, awaiting a delivery when the bomb went off. Ground zero seemed to be the security room at the back, which was utterly destroyed. Also, the upper floor was pretty much undamaged, the buildings around only suffering external glass damage, with only the external frontage of the pub permanently ruined. It was almost as if they did it for show.’
‘We don’t know that,’ Frost added. ‘We don’t know what Taylor’s plan was.’
‘Still keeping that narrative?’ Declan asked. ‘Top points for consistency. Where’s my solicitor?’
‘Do you need one?’ Frost enquired. Declan shrugged.
‘Sutcliffe said there was one here.’
‘Detective Chief Inspector Sutcliffe must have been mistaken,’ Frost replied. ‘Or, he wanted you here with a minimum of histrionics.’
Declan nodded, looking back to Billy. ‘And how’s Detective Chief Inspector Monroe?’
‘We don’t know,’ Billy admitted, ignoring the jibe. ‘He seems to have gone missing with Doctor Marcos. DC Davey told an officer to call for armed backup but when they got there, all three were gone.’
‘DC Davey is an hysterical idiot,’ Frost muttered. ‘Sooner she’s suspended for wasting police time, the better.’
Gone was good, Declan thought to himself. Gone meant no dead body.
There was movement from the door, and Sutcliffe entered the main office.
‘Stop talking to the suspect,’ he snapped at Billy and Frost. ‘Fitzwarren, you’re in with me.’ Entering the interview room with Billy, Sutcliffe sat down opposite Declan.
‘I don’t know what you’re playing at here, but it looks real bad for you,’ he said, leaning over to the recorder, clicking it on. There was a long beep and then the device started recording.
‘Interview with Declan Walsh—‘
‘DI Walsh,’ Declan interrupted.
‘Interview with Detective Inspector Walsh,’ Sutcliffe amended, looking to his watch. ‘One thirty-seven pm, DCI Sutcliffe and DC Fitzwarren in attendance.’
‘Shouldn’t we be waiting for his solicitor?’ Billy asked nervously.
‘Don’t need one,’ Sutcliffe smiled, his eyes not leaving Declan’s face. ‘We’re just having a friendly chat.’
‘Then turn off the recorder,’ Declan replied. ‘Because friendly chats aren’t admissible in court.’
‘Guilty conscience?’ Sutcliffe asked.
‘Not at all,’ Declan replied, leaning back in his chair as he measured Sutcliffe. ‘I’m guessing this is all a power play because you were told by a Tory MP to let me take over a case that would have made your currently limited career for you.’
‘Interview paused,’ Sutcliffe stabbed at the recorder as he turned it off. ‘How dare you!’
‘How dare I?’ Declan leaned forward now, his face a mask of fury. ‘You left me to stand in the open while everyone with a smartphone uploaded me to the internet! You’ve blamed me for a murder I couldn’t have committed, ignored injuries I took while defending my life from armed insurgents and a bomb that almost killed me, and labelled my girlfriend a terrorist, when you damn well know this is a campaign by either Charles Baker or Rattlestone! Tell me, Sutcliffe, which one of those is paying your mortgage these days?’
Sutcliffe stared at Declan with a cold, hard hatred.
‘So she’s your girlfriend?’ he asked. Declan leaned back, calming down.
‘She was, many years ago,’ he replied carefully.
‘And you know nothing about the pub she was in last night?’
‘No,’ Declan lied. Sutcliffe nodded, looking to Billy, who reluctantly pushed a closed manila folder over to him. Opening it, Sutcliffe read from a page.
‘The Horse and Guard pub. Chelsea. A favourite drinking spot for Chelsea Pensioners. Strange that she’s there the night before a bomb goes off.’
‘A bomb that doesn’t actually kill anyone and destroys security footage.’
‘Incompetence isn’t proof of innocence.’
‘Neither is hearsay,’ Declan shook his head. ‘I don’t get this. Why are you so convinced to paint her as the enemy? Why are you doing your best to discredit me in the process? You know damn well that I didn’t kill Nasir Gill.’
‘What were you talking about before he died?’ Sutcliffe closed the folder. Declan shrugged.
‘He worked with Kendis. There were people going to kill him.’
‘Ah yes,’ Sutcliffe smiled, looking to Billy, who currently wore the expression of a man who really didn’t want to be there. ‘The mysterious man, in the mysterious car, with the mysterious note.’
‘Nothing mysterious about him,’ Declan replied. ‘The car registration showed that it’s a Rattlestone fleet vehicle. Therefore, he’s a Rattlestone employee.’
‘One that’s been following you and you alone?’
‘Maybe. Or it’s the team. I saw him at the Taylor house, and I recall a man looking like him when I went to the ACCU.’
‘Convenient that nobody else did,’ Sutcliffe mused. ‘Or that DS Kapoor didn’t hear this alleged Rattlestone employee yelling into his phone, nor did she see these notes that you saw so well in what, the half a second you had there? And it was so convenient that he’d left it open and angled so you could read them.’
‘Convenience doesn’t equate to lies,’ Declan replied. That he yelled into a phone for someone to do it now seconds before a pub we were about to enter exploded is fact, not speculation.’
‘Fact by you, an unreliable witness.’
‘And why am I an unreliable witness?’
‘Come on, Walsh. The murder victim, the extremist—‘
‘Alleged.’
‘The alleged extremist terrorist was a close friend of yours. And you’re telling me you never once picked up on these personality shifts in her, these changes?’ Sutcliffe tutted to himself. ‘You’re a shit detective, or you knew about it and lied.’
‘First off, I haven’t seen her for years,’ Declan replied heatedly. ‘And second, she’s not a goddamned terrorist!’
‘What did she say to you?’ Sutcliffe asked softly. ‘In the cemetery?’
Declan faltered. How did Sutcliffe know of the meeting?
‘Who?’
‘DS Kapoor, when she pulled you away.’
Declan relaxed again. ‘You’ll need to ask her that.’
‘Oh, we will, as soon as she’s back from the crime site,’ Sutcliffe looked to his watch again. ‘Shall we reconvene—‘
He stopped as the door to the interview room slammed open and a woman filled with righteous anger stood there. In her late fifties or early sixties, her short blonde hair peppered with flecks of grey, this wasn’t a woman who worried about her appearance. She wore a smart charcoal grey suit worn over a white blouse, her makeup was minimal and she was flushed, possibly from running.
‘What the hell is going on?’ she asked, looking to Declan. ‘Are they interrogating you?’
Declan kept quiet as Sutcliffe rose from his chair, turning to face the intruder.
‘And who the hell are you?’ he asked.
‘I’m DCI Sophie Bullman,’ she replied. ‘And I’m DI Walsh’s Federation Representative.’
‘We don’t need a Federation Rep in here,’ Sutcliffe looked back to the table. Billy however shook his head.
‘He has the right, sir,’ he said, glancing at Declan as he spoke. ‘If Declan—I mean if DI Walsh wanted DCI Bullman to rep him, she’d be within her rights to stay here.’
‘Who called you?’ Sutcliffe asked. Bullman smiled.
‘I was in the area,’ she said.
‘You’re a West Midlands copper, aren’t you?’ Sutcliffe continued. ‘You worked with Walsh on the Beachampton case.’
‘Actually, she worked with Monroe on that case,’ Declan added from the chair. ‘We barely met.’
‘The world’s a big planet,’ Bullman said
to Sutcliffe. ‘Birmingham’s only a couple of hours away. In the globe scheme of things, anywhere in England is in the area.’
‘I’d like DCI Bullman as my Federation Rep, please,’ Declan said.
‘Is he under arrest?’ Bullman folded her arms.
‘Not as yet—‘
‘Is he suspended from duty?’ Bullman interrupted, glancing at Declan. ‘I mean, is he suspended again?’
‘Not as yet—‘ Sutcliffe repeated and was interrupted at the same moment.
‘Then why the hell is he stuck in this room and not sitting at his desk solving this crime?’
‘There was an incident at a shopping centre,’ Sutcliffe was angering now. ‘He’s a suspect in a potential murder.’
‘Bullshit,’ Bullman stepped to the side of the door, indicating for Declan to leave. ‘If he was, you’d have taken him somewhere with a cell. This is just targeted harassment. Go on, Walsh. Shoo.’
Almost wanting to not miss the ensuing conversation, Declan reluctantly rose from his chair, but Sutcliffe stopped him.
‘We have information that leads us to the fact that Walsh here is more than he says,’ he said as he looked out of the door towards Frost, now watching in. ‘That he could indeed be the mysterious handler that we see in a photo that the press have, who was witnessed leaving the house of Kendis Taylor the same morning of her death and from his cell phone location records, we know he was in The Horse and Guard pub with Taylor the night before it exploded.’
‘So I’m supposed to be in a pub and here attacking Monroe?’ Declan snapped back. ‘Because we all know that’s a narrative you’ve been playing with.’
‘You could have done both,’ Billy muttered into his chest. ’We could only track the phone, not you.’
Declan looked through the open door at Frost’s desk. On the screen was a photo of the baseball capped, sunglassed man, positioned next to the police ID photo for Declan. You didn’t have to be Columbo to realise that the jawlines were similar.
‘Circumstantial,’ Bullman replied, and Declan realised that if she kept defending him, it’d fall badly on her. She was a good detective; he’d seen that when she came to Beachampton to save DCI Monroe.
