Death's Cold Hand

by J. E. Mayhew

  Cars were double parked up this road, too and Noel inched the van along, searching desperately for somewhere to stop. Then Terry’s phone rang.

  Noel cursed and pulled the van onto the pavement, bumping up the kerb. Terry pulled the phone out of his jacket pocket. “Put it on speaker, Terry,” Noel said. “So I can hear it too. Then I’ll know you aren’t going crazy, okay?”

  Terry looked at him for what seemed like a century and then nodded, answering the phone. “Terry? Where are you?” A robotic voice said.

  Probably the worst crime Noel ever committed was a kidnap. In his mind, it hadn’t been that bad because the victim was a known drug dealer who had been filtering takings from his boss. They kidnapped the dealer to get the money back. He’d just been hired to drive but he remembered the boss using that kind of voice disguiser. Even though it had been deepened, he could tell it was a woman’s voice.

  “I-I’m in…” Terry looked helplessly at Noel. “Where am I?

  “You aren’t alone? That’s against regulations, Terry. You’ve compromised the mission. There’s only one option…”

  “No, please…”

  Noel was sick of listening. “Who is this?” he said. “Why do you have to disguise your voice from Terry if you’re on his side?”

  “Endgame, Terry. Endgame.”

  “No,” Terry sobbed.

  “It’s a woman’s voice, Terry. Who is she that she can tell you what to do? Your mum? Do you have a boss who’s a woman? Think Terry. Why does she hide from you if she wants to help you?”

  “Endgame, Terry. Endgame.”

  “Please,” Terry whimpered, curling into a ball.

  “Is this Nicola?” Noel said through gritted teeth. “Cos if it is, we’re nearer than you think and we’re coming for you.”

  “Endgame. That’s an order.” The phone went dead.

  “Shit,” Noel hissed. “Terry, we’ve got to…” He didn’t manage to get another word out because a fist slammed into the side of his head, filling the world with stars and pain. Another blow fell on his shoulder but Terry was restricted by the cab of the van and his side-on position. Noel grappled with the door handle and fell out into the road on his hands and knees. A car blared its horn and Noel just had time to glimpse the red of its skirting and bumpers, a few letters of the registration plate before it ploughed into him, crushing him against the open van door before ripping it off and coming to a halt.

  The world swam before Noel’s eyes. He could feel the van door under him, digging into his back. Oddly, there was no pain as he lay there. That might come later, he thought. If there was a later. Terry White looked down at him, his face pale. “Run, Terry,” Noel gasped. “Run, lad.”

  He heard Terry’s voice as though through a thick blanket. “I-is that you, Graves?”

  “No,” Noel sighed. “Go and get the bitch. Get Nicola. She’s your enemy now.”

  Terry vanished from view and darkness began to shroud Noel’s vision. All he could hear was the slap of Terry White’s boots on the tarmac as he fled the scene.

  *****

  Irked might have been one way to describe DI Kath Cryer’s feelings as she approached Nicola Norton’s office in Heswall. She didn’t want to feel that way, but she felt side-lined by Blake. It was a stupid reaction, she knew, childish and unhelpful; the Heswall office was as important an element in this investigation as anywhere else but why didn’t he send Vikki Chinn here?

  Alex Manikas didn’t seem bothered by the fact that they were driving away from where all the action was likely to be. Kath shook her head. Why did she want to be near a source of potential danger anyway? She’d had enough excitement when she faced a shot-gun-wielding psychopath last year. She’d only just about recovered from that. She’d even tried to short-circuit the need to come out to Heswall by phoning but the number for the business just gave a continuous beep, suggesting it no longer existed. Under the circumstances, she had to go out and check.

  They stood outside the mobile phone shop beneath the office. “Vikki said that the door to the office was round the back,” Alex said.

  “If she’s so familiar with it, she should have come herself,” Kath muttered. They walked round the back but the door was locked.

  “Should we ask in the shop?” Alex suggested.

  The shop was dingy and full of glass cabinets containing old phones, video games and keyboards. Kath wasn’t a gambling woman but she’d lay a month’s wages on some of this stuff being stolen. A balding, middle-aged man with thick glasses and a brown cardigan leaned on the counter watching them. Kath swore that he flinched when she produced her warrant card.

  “I’ve got receipts for all of this stuff, I promise,” he said. “If it’s knock-off, then I wasn’t to know, honest.”

  “Don’t worry, sir, we’re not here for you, we’re looking for Nicola Norton. She has an office upstairs…”

  The man looked even more despondent. “Yeah, well you won’t find her up there, will you?”

  “You tell me.”

  “No, you won’t because she’s moved on. I’m the landlord and she handed in the keys on Thursday. Shame, really, I quite liked her.”

  “She closed her office on Thursday? Did she say why?”

  The man shrugged. “Said she was going away for a while. Didn’t say where.” But Kath and Alex were out of the door and heading back to their car.

  *****

  Blake hissed with frustration at the cars lined up in front of him. “Why are so many people still intent on going to this rally? It’s for nothing.” They’d been stuck for half an hour and were still not that far out of the tunnel entrance.

  “I think it’s touched a nerve, sir. I bet a lot of people going along just want to show that they respect what it stands for,” Vikki Chinn said. “It’s not so much the terrorist rumour as the idea of a murder on such a place that seems to have got people so exercised about it.”

  Kinnear sat in the back staring out of the window, lost in his thoughts.

  Blake rubbed his forehead. “I sometimes think people care more about monuments than people. I know it’s important but Paul Travis was a father and a husband. He wasn’t a saint by any stretch but he was loved and will be missed. That should count for more. If people protested like this every time someone was unlawfully killed, we’d live in a better world. Maybe if they just picked up the phone to help us every now and then, I’d have a bit more respect for them.”

  Vikki gave a tight smile. “It’s symbolic, I suppose, sir.”

  “Symbolic? I wonder if half the people going today have just come for some aggro,” Blake snorted. “I’m sorry, Vikki. I don’t suppose everyone going there supports people like Lex Price or even shares his views. It just winds me up.”

  “It’s been a tough case, sir,” Vikki said, keeping her eyes firmly on the road.

  “Take a left here, we’ll take the back roads,” Blake said, pointing down a small street. They made progress, zigzagging through the smaller roads of Rock Ferry but as they approached Port Sunlight itself, the roads became busier again. Once or twice, Vikki had to flash the blue lights and give a blast of the siren to make the lines open up for them.

  Blake’s phone buzzed. “Nicola’s not here, sir,” Kath said. “She handed in the keys to her office on Thursday, said she was going away for a while.”

  “Jeez,” Blake hissed through gritted teeth. “This just gets better and better. Notify Border Force, see if we can stop her getting out of the country and put a call for any transport police to keep an eye out for her but in this mess, I can’t imagine that’ll be easy.”

  They came to a dead stop. Vikki flashed her lights but the car in front had nowhere to go. The road was blocked with double-parked cars. “It’ll take ages to sort this out, sir.”

  Blake opened his door. “It’ll be quicker on foot. You keep trying to get to Nicola’s, Kinnear, you’re with me. We’ll meet you there, Vikki.”

  “I’ll notify any uniformed officers that you’re
heading that way, sir, in case you need back-up. Be careful.”

  Blake and Kinnear began running down the street. Praying that Nicola Norton hadn’t already got away.

  Chapter 42

  Nicola Norton had not expected this kind of reaction to Paul Travis’ murder. She watched the swarms of people meandering into Port Sunlight village as though heading for a picnic or open-air concert. They were a funny mix, too; some were the kinds of people she would expect to come to a rally like this, shaven-headed, with big boots and strange tattoos. Some even carried flags with symbols Nicola didn’t recognise. Others looked like average punters, young and old. There were little kids, old ladies and even a few war veterans with blazers and medals on their chest.

  The war memorial had been just another distraction to make the police think there was some kind of military link to his death. She didn’t imagine for one second that it would spark so much outrage. It threw a spanner right in the works; she had to move fast. Not only did she have a flight to catch but she was worried about her call with Terry White. Somebody else had been with him and, by the sound of it, may have turned him against her. She didn’t want to be here when Terry arrived with his new friend.

  The chatter of the crowd and the sound of distant sirens filled the air as Nicola heaved the last of her suitcases into the back of the car. Somewhere from the centre of the village, a speech was being given over a PA system but she couldn’t hear what was being said and, frankly, she couldn’t care less. She just had to get her shoulder bag with the passport and tickets in and she would be away. She slammed the boot down and looked up. A large figure loomed over the crowds, striding up the street. So fixed on Nicola’s house was he that Terry White had accidentally knocked a couple of people over. A couple of skinheads yelled abuse after him but thought better of having a go.

  Nicola’s heart thumped and she made a grab for the car door, then remembered her bag. She couldn’t escape without the tickets and passport. She sprinted up to her front door, slamming it shut behind her. Where had she put her bag? She scanned the living room, searching for it. “No, no, no, no,” she hissed as she ran around the house searching frantically. Tears of fear and frustration stung her eyes. “Where the fuck is it?”

  As she stumbled down the stairs two at a time, she spotted the bag hanging in the hall. At the same moment All of Terry’s massive bulk crashed against the front door, shattering the glass in the small window and splintering the frame. Nicola shrieked and grabbed the bag, dashing for the back door.

  With a final crash, Terry flew into the hall, leaving the door hanging on one hinge. He tripped, and fell to the floor, cutting himself on the broken glass that lay there. “Endgame, Terry!” Nicola shouted.

  “I know who you really are and what you’re playing at, Graves,” Terry panted, dragging himself to his feet. His eyes were wild and a manic grin cracked his face. “I’m going to finish you.”

  Nicola dragged the back door open and ran out, bag still clutched in her hand. Without looking back, she hurried through the small backyard and out into the alley behind. If she could lose White in the crowd, then double back to the car, escape would still be possible. She dashed into the main street and headed into the village, glancing back every now and then and ignoring the odd looks she got from some as she barged past them.

  Terry emerged from the alley behind Nicola’s house, she could see his bloody face as he craned his neck, searching through the crowd for her. She slowed to a brisk walk, trying her best to look normal. But when she looked back, she caught his eye and he stared right at her as though the crowd wasn’t even there. He started running towards her. Nicola bolted too, knocking people aside and ignoring the yells of annoyance. She ducked and twisted, pushing herself between the crowd, totally oblivious to their protests as blind panic took over.

  For a moment, she was uncertain quite where she was in the village but then she saw the art gallery and the boating lake. If she could get to the war memorial, she’d be safe; there’d be police there and so many people that Terry wouldn’t dare attack her, surely. She’d be able to talk him down or, even better, there may be armed officers there to take him down. A pushchair caught her ankle and she fell, screaming, her wrist cracking as she tried to break her fall.

  Someone dragged her to her feet and she screamed for them to let her go, slapping out and with her good hand. “Steady on, love, you’re okay…” someone said but Nicola gritted her teeth, tucked her throbbing wrist under her other arm and limped away as fast as she could. The crowd thickened but she knew White was gaining on her from the cries and shouts behind her.

  She threw herself forward at the boundary of police officers who had formed a cordon around the memorial. Taken by surprise, one of them reached out to grab her. “Steady, Madam, can you…”

  “Please. He’s trying to kill me. You’ve got to help me!” Nicola screamed, pointing at Terry White as he pushed people aside and charged towards her.

  *****

  It was a little further from Vikki’s car to Nicola Norton’s house than Blake had estimated. His chest burned from the run and sweat soaked his back and forehead. Kinnear kept up with him but the weight he was carrying slowed him down. The front door dangled from one hinge, “We’re too late, sir,” Kinnear panted.

  “The back door’s wide open,” Blake said peering through the house. Screams and shouts of anger rose from the streets behind the house. “Check inside the house and call for back-up, I’ll check in the crowd.”

  Kinnear nodded and disappeared into the house as Blake ran round the side into the village itself and the surging mass of protestors. He waved his warrant card as he went. “Police, mind out!” Up ahead, he glimpsed Terry White’s broad shoulders and, further in front, Nicola Norton’s ashen face glancing back.

  Some people swore at Blake, others stepped aside and pointed in the direction that Nicola Norton had gone. The punishment Terry White had given Blake earlier in the week and the damage to his ribs that he’d sustained in Scotland were beginning to take their toll on him and he had to pause. His head throbbed and he gasped for breath, wondering if it would have been wiser to let Kinnear chase after Norton.

  Another scream up ahead forced him to start jogging again, holding his warrant card up once again. It looked like Nicola was heading for the war memorial. Blake headed for the edge of the crowd and began running on people’s front gardens to skirt the mass of protestors.

  Elbowing his way through the crush around the memorial, Blake forced his way to the front where, seeing his warrant card, the officer let him through. At the same moment, he saw Nicola Norton break into the memorial space, and turn to face the charging Terry White. The big man’s bulk took two officers off their feet and he reached out, not stopping until he’d grabbed Nicola Norton, holding her like a rag doll under her armpits.

  Blake ran forward and an officer fired a taser into White’s back but the big man thundered on, propelling her forward. Then he stopped at the top of the steps, throwing Norton with all his might towards the statue of a soldier holding a rifle with bayonet fixed. Blake watched in helpless disbelief as the woman flew up into the air, then she stopped abruptly, looking down in shock at the bronze bayonet protruding from her chest, blood spreading across her pale sweater. Her head slumped and she dangled from the statue of the soldier.

  It was only then that Blake realised that Lex Price stood on the memorial flanked by a couple of speakers and a microphone. He took one look at Terry White and swung a punch, sending the young man to the ground. Police officers piled onto the prone soldier and the crowd began to surge forward.

  As if caught on a tidal wave, Blake lost sight of Price as he was swept by the sudden surge of the crowd towards the sides of the memorial. He could see what was coming but could do nothing to stop it and felt hard stone smack against his face and chest. He fell to the floor, a foot crushing his hand and a knee clipping the side of his head. Someone dragged him to his feet and he staggered, the press of bodies
holding him up, now and propelling him along the wall of the memorial.

  The police officers who had formed a cordon, were now trying to drag Terry’s body onto the upper part of the memorial while some members of the public kicked at his body. Other officers were trying to get Nicola down and staunch the bleeding. Blake pushed forwards and grabbed an officer’s arm, lashing out at anyone who tried to harm Terry. “You two, try and get the public back, we’ll drag him to safety.”

  Many people were trying to get away from the crush now and hurrying from the area, others tripped over those running away in their effort to see what was going on. Sirens wailed as ambulances, fire engines and more police arrived.

  “Stop!” Lex Price yelled at the top of his voice. Blake looked over his shoulder at the big man who now stood on the wall of the memorial with his hands in the air. “We’ve got to show these terrorists that we are better than them!” Lex continued. “Instead of fighting with our brave boys in blue, we should be helping them. Everyone back off!”

  Given that many of the people at the rally had retreated from the violence, only a handful of skinheads with scarves around their faces remained and the police officers were forming ranks again. They did back away though and stood looking rather sheepish. The vacuum was replaced with a pack of journalists and photographers and Lex Price was swamped by people asking questions before Blake could intercept him.

  “You okay, sir?” Vikki Chinn said, appearing next to him.

  “Vikki, am I glad to see you?” Blake said, slumping onto the top step of the memorial. “Check and see if Norton’s alive and if White’s okay. He took quite a mauling there.” Blake watched Vikki hurry off to the paramedics huddled over White.

  Deirdre Lanham hurried over to him. “DCI Blake, have you got any comment on this outrage?”

  “There’ll be an official statement once we know exactly what happened…”

  “A woman was assaulted, DCI Blake, right under your nose. You must have something to say about it.”