Chapter Twenty Four
He had been waiting for this day to come. It had taken a lot of preparation but it had been worth it. All the hard work was going to be coming to fruition in the next couple of hours. His plan had consumed his entire thought process, laced with bittersweet emotions. He was finally going to have his mother put right the wrongs she inflicted on him as a child. She was going to thank him. He was sure having had time to think about her actions all those years ago, that she would want to put it right for both their sakes.
He had prepared father for the day’s activities, he was waiting backstage for his curtain call. Father was almost catatonic, his eyes were not focusing, there was a stream of clear snotty liquid running from his nose and glistening on his messy facial stubble. His movements were more like a person who needed guidance than someone actively resisting. It had not taken much to put him in the frame. Father's frame was not as elaborate as mother's was. His part did not require much in the way of movement.
Mother on the other hand had to be able to dance, he wanted her to dance the dance of the desperate and frightened. The selfish dance he had witnessed as a boy. He had made her do it a while ago, to see if she remembered.
Watching her while he manipulated the ropes, twirling and swaying, had invoked the memories he wanted. This had to be vivid and clear for it to work. He did not want to hide from the feelings it was going to bring him. In order to purge the demon, the feelings had to return. He was strong now. He could face them.
He grabbed a bottle of water from his bag and opened the lid. Taking a mouthful of the cold, still water, he looked at the screen. Mother was there, doing what he remembered her doing. She looked to be lost in her own thoughts, shutting out the world and everyone in it, thinking of her own torment and not his. Torment inflicted on her by the sniveling mess in the next room. She chose that man and everything that came with him. He looked at the photo in front of him, the smile on her selfish face. That smile told him that she was happy with her decision, that she invited him into her life with open arms. His smile told him that he was happy for her to do just that.
He looked at the clock, ten minutes to go. He would not start a minute before; it had to be just right.
The team leader of the Armed Offenders Squad, Sergeant Gary Stone, was struggling with his emotions. He was an athletic forty seven year old father of two daughters, both in their late teens and out dating, something he was having trouble coming to grips with. He had married young, with children soon to follow.
He had seen the best and the worst of people in his career to date, but what this man was doing was beyond comprehension to him. He had listened in anger as Bridger had filled him in on whom and what they were dealing with. His blood was running high, as was the other members of the squad, so they had to be professional. His brief to them was simple, get in, secure the building, and Jonas. Then evacuate Marion to a safe place.
Once they were alone with Jonas, he wanted to make sure they did everything by the book. As much as his instinct told him that he should hurt this man, he had to let real justice take its course. He could not let natural justice into the equation. He was trying hard not to picture his own daughter trussed up in the contraption he had seen on the live feed earlier, as the thunder flash exploded inside the building.
He watched in anticipation as the front man disappeared inside followed closely by the rest of the team.
The shout of 'Armed Police' was bouncing off brick walls of the warehouse as the men moved in and then fanned out in search of the quarry. It was a move practiced a thousand times before and they executed it perfectly.
The room was cavernous, measuring about twenty meters by thirty-five meters, it contained one blue sedan, various large metal drums, and further towards the rear there were rows of shelving similar to a library.
It took a couple of minutes to check the room with various members of the teams shouting, 'Clear', as they searched the area they were assigned to and found nothing.
Less than three minutes after the first loud explosion, Gary Stone stood in the middle of the building surrounded by his team. Neither Jonas nor Marion was in the building. The rear door was still locked with a padlock on the inside so could not have been used. It looked like Jonas had been spirited away.
"We watched the guy drive in here, he must be inside somewhere", Bridger was saying into the cell phone as he approached the entrance to the warehouse. Slightly out of breath he stepped into the building, as soon as he saw the Stone he put away his phone. He was standing in a huddle with some of his squad members; they had removed their black helmets leaving sweaty hair stuck to their scalps.
"Where the hell is he then?” Bridger said angrily.
"Hey Mike, don't shoot the messenger, we checked and rechecked. This building is empty. You must have missed him coming out after he parked his car up".
Bridger silently kicked himself. Had he taken his eye off the ball once he saw Jonas going inside, expecting him to stay inside with Marion? If he had, he did not expect that sticky had looked away, or the other members of the surveillance squad.
"Tell your boys to search again, he's in here somewhere", he demanded.
"Look Mike we do this sort of search all the time. My boys are good at their jobs; if he were in here, we would have found him. I'm telling you he's left the building".
"That can't be right", Bridger said, "we had at least four pairs of eyes on this building, I'm sure we would have seen him coming out if he had".
"Well we haven't found him, and you lot haven’t seen him leave, so he must be in here somewhere then", Stone said, indicating the four corners of the room, clearly visible from where they were standing, his irritation starting to show a little on his normally calm and confident features.
Bridger looked around helplessly, there were not many places to hide and the boys dressed in black had searched every corner. Anger started to bubble in the pit his stomach, anger and frustration at the lack of someone to blame.
Becky was standing off to one side, looking at the sidewall, then back at the door. She had a slightly puzzled look on her face.
"Mike this room is smaller than the buildings footprint", she said.
"What?”
"The building is bigger on the outside than what I can see in this room. There has to be another room here".
"The only door is at the rear and that was padlocked", Stone said. "My boys had to break the lock to check. It leads out to the rear yard..., what there is of it".
He looked around the room trying to see what Becky was trying to say. A momentary glance at the floor below the workbench off to his right gave him the explanation he was looking for. He could see a semi circular shape in the dust pattern on the floor, as if a door opened over it recently, except there was no door visible.
"Turn off the lights", Bridger whispered urgently, the excitement building again over the feeling of failure.
Stone motioned to one of his men; the large industrial lights went out leaving total darkness.
Bridger blinked his eyes to try to regain his vision in the blackness of the warehouse. He turned around in a slow circle scanning the area where he imagined the floor to meet the wall. He did not need night vision to see the faint glow emitting from a small crevice under the workbench attached to the sidewall.
"Put the lights on again", he said.
The lights went on leaving everyone blinking. Bridger put his finger up to his nose, indicating the need for silence. Then he pointed at the workbench.
The rest of the team had seen the same thing in the darkness and needed no further explanation.
Bridger watched for a second time as the black clad figures lined up on each other, each man holding the shoulder of the man in front. The two lead members took hold of the workbench on either side. Stone gave a reverse three count using his fingers. They manhandled the workbench away from its position, bringing with it a whole section of the wall. Light flooded out of the opening
, light that was brighter than the area they were in currently. The light reminded Bridger of a fictional alien spacecraft opening its door. It was light that you would see as a part of any stage set.
Bridger watched for a second time as the black clad figures disappeared into the light one by one. He looked at his watch, two minutes to one o'clock.
"How much do you think he knows Greg?” Glenn Gallagher asked.
Matthews did not quite know how to respond, they had been sitting in his office for the past half hour with Mrs. Watson, passing pleasantries between themselves as if they were old friends. It had not slipped Matthews attention that Mrs. Watson had not once mentioned Marion during that time. He knew the history between her and Gallagher, but he was sure she had been more than a little flirtatious with him as well. Gallagher had been smarmy as always, the same tosser he was when he was in the job.
Matthews had watched as he had bullied his way into the rank he attained prior to leaving the police, he had a knack of knowing everything about everybody and would use some of that information to hold people to ransom. Matthews had no doubt that he employed the same tactics to gain his position at the table next to the Mayor, as the Chief executive officer of one of the biggest construction firms in the city, he had open access to the city leaders ear.
He hated the fact that he was unable to stand up to this man, but self-preservation was a strong motivation to play along.
Matthews had not done anything illegal back in the day, but illegal or not, the morality of the job had changed a lot since then and it would not do for Gallagher to start any rumors about him that could derail his promotion aspirations.
Now that Mrs. Watson had excused herself to go to the toilet, Gallagher was back to being all business.
"Well Gregg what do you think, is Bridger up to it? Or is he the alcoholic cowboy you described to me".
"He can’t know anything about it yet", Matthews said, "But he's about to take down the operation as we speak. Do you think Jonas is our boy?”
"He could be it's been so long since I've seen him. People change so much as they get older".
"Obviously they don't change their nature though, as I recall he was a bit of a violent child in his time. A victim of his circumstance maybe", Matthews said.
"Like father like son more like," Gallagher replied.
Gallagher had never let on who the father was.
"When did you realise that it could be him?” Matthews asked
"As soon as he opened his mouth, it was what he has been saying, and there is no doubt that Marion looks exactly like her mother did at that age. He wants to resurrect the past using Marion as the prop to exorcise his demons".
"What's his name Glenn?”
"I don't know, I think it was Daniel or something like that. I didn't really take much notice of the kid; I wasn't there to see him was I".
"Where has he been all this time and why hasn't he tried contacting his mother?”
"I told him she had died as well. It seemed easier and it smoothed the way for his entry into that residential school I put him in".
Matthews looked at Glenn's stony features as he talked.
"You really are an arsehole aren't you..."
"Don't be like that Gregg; I did my best for the boy. He was no good in that house...or with either of them".
"How can he be better off being dumped in another hell hole thinking that his parents had died? You did your best for you. It sorted out your inconvenient problem. If you had reported any of those assaults, it would have all come out eventually. You would have been out of the force".
Glenn smiled back at Matthews, a sly knowing smile. It turned Matthews’s stomach to look at.
"It pays to know things in this life, Gregg, I would have been slightly embarrassed to air my dirty washing in the canteen but that's as far as it would have gone".
Matthews could only imagine what he knew and whom he knew it about.
"What made Mrs. Watson contact you about Marion?”
"I guess I was the only police officer she knew. I guess she thought with our history that it would be better for me to handle this than a younger police officer that thinks differently about things".
"Does she know that this pervert who is holding her daughter is possibly her long lost son"?
"She thinks he died that night, Gregg, along with her husband. I would like to keep it that way".
"What happened to the husband, you have never told me who he was?”
"It's better that you don't know..., better for him and for you. These things can be very awkward".
"I can't be responsible for what he tells Bridger, it may all come out. And besides as a serving police officer my first responsibility is for Marion's safety, you know that".
"I know you will do your best to steer any confessions he makes in the right direction", Gallagher said.
"What really happened between you and Mrs. Watson, Glenn?”
"That's a story for another time Gregg, what matters is what this boy will say if it is him, and that Detective Sergeant Bridger of yours digs a little too deep. He can bring us both down you know. My job depends on my reputation".
"Don't lump me in with you Glenn, as I recall it was all you're doing, a social experiment you called it. I reckon it was just plain laziness, either that or you were trying to cover up the fact you were screwing Mrs. Watson the whole time she was being beaten half to death by that husband of hers. You did nothing about it then and look what resulted".
"Don't be like that Gregg, just remember, you were not Snow White back in those days either. I covered for you on a few occasions as well. Besides Mrs. Watson was a real police groupie back then, she would do anything for me, and I mean anything", Glenn Gallagher said with a leery grin.
"I bet she had no choice in the matter, you pathetic piece of shit", Matthews mumbled under his breath, not caring if Gallagher heard or not.
If he had heard, he did not let on, as Mrs. Watson walked back into the room.
"Talking about me, boys", she said as she sat down. "It's not often these days I get two men discussing me in any way. At my age I will take any male attention I can get".
Matthews looked at the elderly woman sitting in front of him, smoothing her practical skirt over her ample thighs. She looked back at him with a smile and a look in her eyes that spoke a thousand words, a look that belonged on a woman half her age. On the other hand, he may have been just imagining it, Gallagher’s description of her clouding his judgment. He had not seen that look from his wife in a long while. He was not that much younger than Mrs. Watson and Glenn was a few years older.
We are all getting older, he thought to himself as he looked away. Age always hides the sins of the past.
Mrs. Watson had not let on whether she remembered him from that night, Matthews was not about to jog her memory.
"Do you think Marion knows this person who is holding her, Mrs. Watson?” Matthews asked, getting down to business himself.
"I have no idea Gregg", she replied. "But I guess we'll find out soon enough when Sergeant Bridger comes to the rescue".
Matthews felt almost dirty at her attempt at intimacy, using his first name, Gallagher's description of her running through his head. Mrs. Watson's demeanor had changed from distraught to a strange kind of indifference when she found out that the police were about to rescue her daughter.
She is a very strange and messed up woman, he thought.
"If anything this little experience will teach Marion a very valuable lesson about who she can and can't trust in this life", she said, "Lord knows I've been trying to tell her all these years. Maybe she will listen this time".
"Let's hope she hasn't been hurt in her ordeal, Mrs. Watson", Matthews said.
"Yes..., yes of course Gregg, I hope you don't think I'm not worried for my daughter, she's all I've got left in this world".
"We should be hearing word any minute now, Mrs. Watson. The officers on the ground have let me know
that the boys have just gone through the door. I'm confident that my officers will see to the safety of your daughter".
"I'm in debt to both of you", Mrs. Watson said, smiling at both of them in turn. "I hope I can repay you in some way".
Matthews shuddered inwardly.
Gallagher just sat there with a false smile on his face.
Beth Johansen had made her way back to Marion's flat. She had tried ringing him on his cell phone after she left the police station. She did not want to walk home in the cold, but it had just rung through to answer phone. Typical bloody male, she thought to herself, not available when you want them.
She had walked all the way back to the flat without feeling anything, just numb from her night locked in that concrete coffin.
She thought about him as she looked around the flat at possessions that did not mean anything to her. They were possessions that belonged to Marion. Where was he? What was he doing? Was he playing nicely with his temporary housemate? Bloody Marion, she got all the best parts. So successful and confident, she even had a boyfriend. She so desperately wanted to be Marion; it almost made her ill thinking about the time she was spending with him. Time he could have been spending with her, she needed comfort and security just like anyone else. Just a couple of days, he had said, she will not even know you were involved. He just needed to humiliate her a little, for what she had done.
What the fuck was she to him anyway? Beth thought. He was her friend, not Marions. He always understood her issues. He understood her fears. He listened when she spoke of her childhood, always knew the right things to say. She had felt comfortable the first time she had gone to him, offered herself willingly. He had done things to her that she had never experienced. When he had been a little rough, she had been a little shocked at first. When he had made her bleed, she knew then that she deserved it. She needed his discipline, her fears were her own to endure, and she had grown up with them.
Her parents had never paid any attention to her fears, her perfect sister had seen to that. Her parents were too busy taking her sister to one thing or another, pushing her to be the perfect daughter, no time for me. All they did for me was force me further inside myself. He has helped me make sense of the darkness inside me. She felt herself slipping back into one of her black moods.
Answer your fucking phone, she thought desperately.
She looked around the flat for her fix. Something to take the edge off, just a small spliff. The memory of last night surfaced in her head and she realised that the police would have taken everything. There was nothing in the flat, not even prescription medicine.
“Bloody Marion, why do you have to be such a square, doesn't everybody use something these days. Maybe I will go and see him; yes, that is what I will do. He will know what to say, he will make it better again”.
She picked up her jacket and went back into the dull daylight, overshadowed by deep grey clouds. It suited her mood, her inner feelings showing on the outside as well. There were a few students walking quickly down the street, intent on getting from their lukewarm flats to the warmer university without freezing to death. They all looked content and happy with their feelings, busy with their perfect lives.
Would everybody know her mixed up feelings were what they saw in the greyness of the sky? Fuck it, she thought, let them stare, maybe they would realise that not everybody had it easy. She turned her collar up against the biting wind and started walking.
"What the fuck is this", Bridger said, quietly and as menacing as he could. He had Jonas backed up against the wall, a wall that was covered in silver tinfoil from top to bottom. Bridger clamped his hand tightly around his throat. The harsh overhead lights throwing out heat as well as shadows, a strong pungent smell enveloping everyone in the room. Shadows fell across Jonas's face, making him look like the villain in a fairytale. All around them were green plants in various states of growth, sprouting from long troughs lined from end to end.
"Where's Marion, what have you done with her".
"What, I haven't done anything with her", Jonas spluttered.
Bridger increased the pressure on Jonas's throat and repeated his question.
"Steady on Mike", one of the black clad police officers said, his familiar voice coming from somewhere in the greenery. "We need to be a bit cleverer about this. He's no use to us if you kick his arse".
Bridger released the pressure on his neck but stood his ground, staring intently into Jonas's eyes. A flicker of self-doubt flashed through them; if Bridger had blinked, he would have missed it. Jonas regained his composure, buoyed up by the black clad police officer’s words.
"I hope you have a warrant, Sergeant, otherwise you are trespassing on private property. I also resent the fact that you think I have something to do with Marion. I can assure you that I have no idea where she is. As for what you can see around you, it is only for personal use. It's a wee hobby of mine".
"You pompous prick," Bridger yelled. "She might not be here but you sure as hell know where she is". The red mist was starting to descend over Bridger's eyes. He could feel forces outside his control urging him on.
Jonas smiled.
"You know Sergeant you really should see someone about your anger, it can be an issue if you let it control you".
"Fuck you Jonas", Bridger growled.
He punched Jonas in the sternum forcing the air quickly out of his lungs, as he folded forward Bridger bought his knee up and connected with the soft cartilage of the nose. There was a sickening crunch and Jonas fell to the floor, blood starting to pool around his face. Bridger had no control over his actions, the anger and frustration taking over; he kicked out, repeatedly, at any exposed part of Jonas's body now lying in a fetal position on the floor.
He looked down at the body curled up on front of him. He was no longer Jonas; he had morphed into the man who had been with his wife. The male looked up and mouthed the words, 'Laura's a great lay man', then smiled salaciously at him.
"What the hell are you doing with my wife you prick", Bridger snarled. He kicked out at his head, narrowly missing, before strong hands grabbed him and pulled him away.
"Get him out of here", Becky was saying as she looked at Bridger.
Bridger stood there restrained by two black clad police men, face flushed. Tears were prickling at the corners of his eyes and he was breathing heavily. He looked over at Becky but could not tell whether the look on her face was concern or confusion, but he felt a deep sense of embarrassment. Looking down to break the eye contact he saw Jonas, his body was lying prone on the floor, he saw his face covered in blood, his eyes were closed tight and he was speaking quietly to himself. Bridger tried to make out what he was saying but the words were struggling and confused, being spat out with the blood in his mouth.
"Come on Mike, let’s get outside", the man on his right said.
Bridger looked away and let the two black-clad police officers walk him outside into the daylight. Outside in the cold light of the early afternoon it all seemed so normal; he did not feel anything for Jonas. His only thoughts were for Marion and his failure.
His cell phone began to ring in his pocket, the caller display showed Grants name on the screen. He looked at the black-clad police officer nearest to him.
"Go ahead", he said, indicating the ringing phone.
Bridger pressed the answer key.
"Mike, it’s started. You must have the wrong guy".
"No shit".
Breathing in a deep lungful of cold air he turned around and punched the side of the building.
Human Frailty, a Detective Mike Bridger novel Page 25
