by Jack Gatland
He couldn’t have her tarred with the same brush.
‘It’s true,’ he said reluctantly.
Sutcliffe turned to face him in shock. ‘Say that again?’
‘I was with Kendis the night before her death,’ Declan admitted. ‘But we weren’t planning a terrorist attack. We were having an affair. And that’s why I left the house in the morning.’
There was a moment of silence at this revelation.
‘And the fancy dress cemetery visit?’ Sutcliffe asked as Bullman now stared at Declan with what looked like disappointment.
‘Kendis was working on an expose of Rattlestone,’ Declan explained. ‘She told Charles Baker’s wife about this, and she died shortly after. It scared Kendis. And Rattlestone needed to discredit her.’
‘Lies,’ Sutcliffe clapped his hands together. ‘But a nice confession nevertheless.’ He looked out to Frost, rising from his desk. ‘Gather your coat, you’re taking Mister Walsh to a more secure location!’
He looked back to Billy.
‘Do you want to do the honours?’ he asked.
Sadly, Billy nodded.
‘Declan Walsh, I am arresting you for the murder of Kendis Taylor, and under the operation of police powers under the Terrorism Act 2000, I’m arresting you for suspected terrorism…’
Declan didn’t hear the rest. The whooshing noise had returned.
Kendis was dead. Nasir Gill was dead.
And now Declan Walsh was a murderer and a terrorist.
16
Run Rabbit Run
‘I need to piss.’
Declan didn’t mean to say it like he did, but he knew that this was his only chance before they dragged him away to god knows where.
‘What?’ Sutcliffe looked back from the door. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said I need to piss,’ Declan repeated, looking to Billy, who’d stopped reading Declan his rights and was now looking back to the DCI for advice. ‘Look, I came here this morning, we had a meeting, then the pub which exploded, I went to a shopping centre and then was brought back here. It’s been a long day and I haven’t relieved myself.’
Sutcliffe opened and shut his mouth a couple of times. ‘And this matters to us how?’
‘Because if your lad there takes me to wherever we’re going, it’ll be longer,’ Declan explained. ‘And then who knows how long it’ll take. If this had been a normal station, you could have put me in a cell, and I’d have peed in the toilet there, but this isn’t a normal station and there isn’t a cell.’ He pointed to the back of the office and the door that led out.
‘There’s a toilet right there,’ he said with a smile. ‘I’ve not been fully read my rights yet, I’m not officially arrested, so how about you let me go do my business and then I’ll tell you whatever you want.’
Sutcliffe went to reply, to refuse this request, but Bullman nodded.
‘Even suspected terrorists have rights,’ she said.
Sutcliffe sighed, looking to Billy. ‘Where does that corridor go?’ he asked.
‘Nowhere,’ Billy replied. ‘A toilet, one that has three cubicles in, and on the other side is a storeroom.’
Sutcliffe thought long and hard. Eventually he nodded.
‘Phone and keys,’ he said. Declan was confused at this, but then realised that he still had his items on him; they were so quick to bring him in, they still hadn’t searched him.
Which meant that he still had Nasir’s Micro SD card in his pocket.
‘You’ll take care of these for me, right?’ he asked as he pulled them out, placing them on the table.
‘While we’re at it, you can pass me your warrant card,’ Sutcliffe continued. ‘After all, you won’t be needing that ever again.’
Declan paused at this, but eventually reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the warrant card, placing it on the desk.
‘And, I’d like—‘
‘All I wanted was a piss,’ Declan insisted. ‘You can have everything I own in a couple of minutes, yeah?’
Sutcliffe glared at Declan. ‘Go on,’ he hissed, looking out to Frost. ‘Monitor him.’
Frost walked over to Declan, grabbing him by the arm.
‘I don’t need to be escorted,’ Declan snapped.
‘I beg to differ,’ Frost replied as they walked through the back door and into the corridor. As they reached the toilet door however, Declan smiled as he turned to the man with the rimless glasses.
‘Do you need to check it out?’ he asked.
Frost pushed him through the door.
Now in the toilet, Declan turned to look back to Frost.
‘I know it was you,’ he breathed. ‘That attacked Monroe. That tried to kill him. There’s a recording. And now he’s in the wind, isn’t he? I bet that must weigh on you. If I find it was you that murdered Kendis, I won’t be arresting you. I’ll kill you myself.’
Frost smiled, but it was a forced one. He was rattled, Declan realised.
‘Just piss.’
‘Can’t do it while you’re watching,’ Declan walked to the cubicle.
‘Keep it unlocked,’ Frost replied. Declan pushed the cubicle door closed behind him as he tried to think on his feet quickly.
‘Why did you steal the phone?’ he asked.
‘Your daughter?’ Frost was leaning against the sinks now. ‘We needed to show you we could get to anyone. It was part of a plan to get you in line, but it all changed when the whore was killed.’
‘She’s not a whore.’
‘Adulterous trollop?’ Declan could tell from the tone of the voice that Frost was smiling.
‘You didn’t kill her?’
‘Not us.’
‘And who’s us, exactly?’ Declan continued. ‘Rattlestone? Because Nasir was one of yours and you shot him in the head.’
‘Nasir was an accident.’ Frost’s voice was lower now as he moved towards the cubicle. You finished yet?’
‘Why, in a hurry to take me to a real cell?’ Declan leaned across to the cistern, grabbing the lid. ‘Or are you going to drive me to a secluded plot of land and shoot me in the head?’
‘Which do you think?’ Frost was getting bored now.
‘So, do you work for Baker or Harrison?’ Declan pulled the lid now, wincing as the ceramic clinked loudly.
Suspicious now, Frost pushed the cubicle door open. ‘What are you doing anyway—‘
He wasn’t expecting Declan, the ceramic lid of the cistern held in his hands like a weapon, to slam the lid into his face, his nose exploding in a spray of blood as he staggered back, clutching at it. Declan moved in quickly, swinging hard, connecting again and then for a third time, slamming the heavy lid against the back of Frost’s skull, sending him unconscious to the floor.
‘Did you let me win that time, you prick?’ Declan hissed as he placed the cistern on the floor, listening to see if anyone had heard. Hearing nothing, he quickly rummaged through Frost’s pockets, taking his Detective Inspector ID and tucking it into his own inside pocket. There was a noise outside and, not wanting to waste any more time, he rolled the unconscious Frost over, handcuffing him to a sink pipe and turning to the toilet door. It was a U shaped handle with no lock, and Declan stared at it for a moment as he tried to gather his breath. His chest was tight; for a moment he wondered whether he was having some kind of minor heart attack. Looking at his reflection in the mirror above the sinks to the left of the door, Declan turned the tap on, splashing water on his face.
Am I really doing this? he thought to himself. If he ran, there was no way that he could walk this back. He would be a fugitive, and every lie thrown on him so far would be taken as the truth.
Every lie thrown on Kendis would be taken as gospel, too.
But at the same time, if Declan stayed here, accepted the future, there was no way that he’d be able to clear his name. This was his only chance.
He hurried over to the middle cubicle, feeling behind the basin and pulling away the burner phone Trix had left there. H
e pulled the toilet seat cover down and stood on it, reaching up to the ceiling tile that was above it, pushing up. The tile popped up, and Declan could see that there was a hastily made wooden frame around it, like the hatch of a loft or attic.
‘How long were you working on this?’ Declan muttered to himself as he jumped up, grabbing the sides of the frame and pulling himself into the crawl space. He couldn’t help it; the scrabbling of his feet made a noise, especially when he connected hard with the basin, using it to boost him up. Now in the crawl space, he carefully placed the ceiling tile back in place and tried to get his eyes adjusted to the dark.
The crawl space was mainly filled with insulation and ceiling beams running parallel to each other for the entire length, and only a couple of feet above him were the beams for the next floor. He only had a minimal area with which to crawl, but luckily there were small planks across the beams beneath him, most likely left by Trix.
Who, being smaller and skinnier, probably managed this with ease.
Quickly, he slid across a few feet, pulling up another tile and dropping into the hallway that led to a staircase. He was now effectively in a different building, and he hoped that this would take a while to be discovered as he ran up the stairs. At the top, though, he found he was in another narrow corridor, and for a moment he’d lost his bearings.
Follow the corridor west, to the front facing windows.
Doing this, he found another narrow corridor heading north, where the windows to the building were situated. Running as far north as he could and then opening the last window, he stared out over Temple Inn.
This was his route out.
Carefully he climbed out of the window, clambering onto the top of it; as the roof was sloped and the window was jutting out, which meant that it had a small square above it he could gain a grip on. From there he reached up to the top of the small, sloped roof, pulling himself up and over, sliding into the channel along the middle of the building. He’d been lucky; the trees outside the offices had blocked people from seeing him do this unless they’d actively been looking for him. And currently the only people doing that were still inside.
The channel ran from north to south, sloped roofing on either side, but to the north was a ladder leading up to the roof of the next building. Declan climbed up and onto the roof, now finally able to run on the flat surface as he covered the fifty yards to the next building with ease, moving onto another sloped roof building before stopping.
The roof was too high to climb; all that he could use was a foot-wide balcony that ran to the left and around the building. It was only around ten yards long, but he would be exposed to anyone looking up. And the roof to the left was a sloped one; he’d have to slide to the other side of it to ensure that he wasn’t seen, while trying his best not to slide off.
He needn’t have worried. Sirens were now blaring in the courtyard as police cars were pulling in, police running into the Temple Inn Crime Unit. They were so convinced that Declan was still there that they weren’t spreading out yet. And the noise and commotion was enough to distract anyone walking in the courtyard, ensuring that they weren’t looking up to the suited, terrified fugitive who now clambered for his life over slippery roof tiles five storeys in the air.
Eventually he reached the next block of buildings, pulling himself gratefully over the sloped roof and down into a walkway. From there it was a twenty yard dash to a white door. He looked around, but couldn’t see a keypad.
Trix had said there was a keypad.
Looking north, he realised with a groan that he was at the wrong door. Trix had mentioned a jump; he hadn’t even reached that part yet. Forcing himself to breathe slowly, he thought back to her words.
West, north, and west again around Old Mitre Court, jump north onto the next building.
‘Christ,’ he muttered as he moved on, continuing north and clambering around a chimney stack to climb onto yet another roof, this time the one above Mitre Court Buildings. Although sloped, this room had a large flat area to run on and Declan did this, making his way three quarters of the way along before turning to the right and north. There was another building facing him, a channel beside a small sloped roof, his only opening.
But there was a six-foot gap between them.
A gap that, if he missed, would see him fall five storeys down to his death.
Taking a deep breath, Declan ran down the roof, using the speed to give him momentum as he leapt across the gap.
He didn’t make it.
Luckily, however, he landed hard on the edge of the building, his arms scrabbling for purchase on the roof as his legs dangled over the drop. Pulling hard at the guttering that he could grasp, he clambered onto the roof, taking a moment to revel that he wasn’t dead.
Come on, move you idiot
Rising and now on shaky, adrenaline fuelled legs, Declan made his way north, up the staircase and to the second white door. This one did have a door code and, after entering it, Declan made his way shakily down four flights of stairs and emerging, as Trix had said, next to Messrs Hoare Bankers.
Looking around, Declan realised he had moments only to decide what to do next. He needed to go to ground, to continue investigating the case, while most likely becoming the subject of the biggest terrorist manhunt London had found itself in for years.
Think, Declan.
He couldn’t use cards. They’d track him. But maybe that was an idea? Perhaps he could use this to his advantage?
Yes, that would work. It was a half-mile walk to St Pauls, and everything he needed was there.
Turning eastwards down Fleet Street, Declan walked quickly, pulling his lapel up to hide his face. With luck, they’d be searching Temple Inn for a good hour.
That was plenty of time to disappear.
17
Deals With Devils
Doctor Marcos had sent DC Davey back to the Crime Unit as soon as they’d exited the hospital; as far as she was concerned it was a far better plan to keep someone on the inside, to ensure that Sutcliffe and his goons didn’t destroy the unit before Monroe returned to gain bloody vengeance.
That said, Monroe still wasn’t in that much of a bloody vengeance mood, and the constant moving was bringing on stabbing migraines because of the pressure still on his brain, causing him to almost black out frequently as they made their way out of the hospital and, placing him (with a small amount of fuss) into a black cab that specialised in wheelchairs, making their way into East London.
Now finally able to check her messages, Doctor Marcos quickly realised the severity of the immediate situation. Declan was apparently on the run, outed as the ‘terrorist handler’ that had worked with Kendis, Anjli was still on site at a bomb explosion and DCI Bullman had arrived at Temple Inn, proving to everyone that she was an utter nightmare to be around.
Which was precisely what Doctor Marcos had asked her to do.
‘Things aren’t looking good,’ she muttered to Monroe as he sat, half sprawled, on the taxi’s back seat. ‘Whoever’s done this, they’ve planned it with military precision.’
‘Can we find Declan?’ Monroe asked, his voice still rough. Doctor Marcos thought about this for a couple of seconds.
‘Not through legal means,’ she said.
‘And what does that mean?’ Monroe asked, finally realising that the taxi was even moving. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Just shut your eyes and leave that to me,’ Doctor Marcos placed a tender hand on his forehead, but it was just to check the temperature. Exhausted and too tired to argue, Monroe shut his eyes. Which was good, because it meant that he didn’t see that the taxi was driving into Globe Town, the home of Jackie and Johnny Lucas; otherwise known as The Twins.
At the Temple Inn offices, Anjli stared at the chaos in front of her.
Police cars were parked haphazardly around the entrance, officers were scattering out around Temple Inn and DCI Sutcliffe was standing at the base of the steps of the building, bellowing out orders to seemly anyone who
was listening, which at the moment seemed to be only Billy and DI Frost, currently holding a handkerchief to his bleeding nose.
‘What’s going on?’ Anjli asked as she approached. ‘Are we being attacked or something?’
‘More the or something,’ Billy replied. ‘Declan’s escaped.’
‘Escaped from where?’ Anjli looked around and saw DCI Bullman talking to some officers to the north. ‘And what’s she doing here? I was only away an hour!’
‘Your tardiness may have costs lives,’ Sutcliffe snapped. ‘Did you know Walsh was a terrorist sympathiser and handler?’
Anjli stood still, unable to reply to this. Sutcliffe took her silence as confusion, and so continued.
‘The man in the hat and glasses that’s currently on every news screen? Walsh. The man who attacked Monroe last night? Walsh. The man who killed the only surviving witness to link him to the terrorist Kendis Taylor? Walsh.’
‘We’re not completely sure that he attacked Monroe—‘ Billy stopped as Sutcliffe glared at him.
‘This can’t be right,’ Anjli looked around imploringly. ‘There’s no way he’s a terrorist!
‘It’s time to come back to the real world, Anj,’ Billy muttered. Anjli glared at him for a moment before replying.
‘Still the Judas, I see,’ she snapped. Billy looked at Frost, changing his handkerchief for a less bloody one before replying.
‘If being a Judas means working for the greater good, then yeah, call me that,’ he replied angrily. ‘Declan confessed. He said he’d seen Kendis, that he went to the cemetery, that he lied to us. And then, before we could formerly arrest him, he escaped custody.’
‘How?’ Anjli’s head was aching now.
‘Apparently he kicked the shit out of that guy there and disappeared into thin air,’ Bullman said, pointing at Frost as she walked over. ‘Either that or he’s still inside the building, hiding. They’re combing the floors as we speak. Hello, DS Kapoor.’
