by mark mctighe
He told Horsham again. “When you wake up James Horsham you won’t have as much space as you’ve got now. But you will have a light; very low wattage; but it’s not like you’ll be reading a book or anything.” Horsham remained silent. His breathing was agitated and irregular. His eyes ran. “You’ll have some oxygen and you’ll be buried beneath two feet of solidifying, reinforced concrete. Then you can think. I reckon it’ll give you a real insight, clarity even. I mean how many of us actually get the opportunity to know it’ll all be over in a day, half a day. None of us do James Horsham, we’re either too ill to know we’re on death’s door or WHAM...... We get hit by a bus. No you’ll be dying in good health, you’re one of the few who will actually know what the hell’s happening.” Wass stopped and listened, a little disappointed that the screaming had stopped. Horsham wasn’t giving him any feedback anymore. But it wasn’t going to stop Wass from telling him, again and again; ‘atonement’.
Wass checked the technology was working. He called the number from his mobile and the oxygen supply opened. He’d have to make sure the call was placed well before the pour commenced. It would be a shame if the signal strength dipped and the oxygen never received the instruction. He called the second number and the IPod recording began. Wass should have been able to get them to both work off the same number, he was usually good at that stuff, but he couldn’t so he didn’t waste any more time trying.
Wass fell into a pattern for the next two nights. He liked routine. When it fell dark he’d gas Horsham, put him out for a couple of hours, then venture over to the school, roll up his sleeves and hand cut the reinforcing bars for the new sports complex. And what a new complex it was going to be. Wass had viewed the plans ‘on line’; squash court, sports hall, gym, weights room and a social club for ‘old boys’. It was so different from his day. Wass used the daylight hours to catch up on some sleep and educate Horsham. That was the fun bit, educating Horsham; remembering deeds, discussing final details, adding a few new twists; it was only a shame that it remained a one way conversation. But Wass had discovered the way to get Horsham howling. The obvious way, the key to everyone’s being; his family......
Wass’s ‘All Office’ phone was off; he’d even taken the SIM card out. He’d heard somewhere that it was still possible to track the phone if you left the SIM in place. ‘But then is anyone really looking for me?’ Wass considered. ‘There may have been a link established from the school’ he thought, ‘but were these police really capable of making that link? They’d be too busy looking for the sleeping policeman to bother with me’ Wass thought. ‘No, there’s no need to panic, to rush, keep to the plan, finish the job and move on.’ The thought of moving on, of cleansing his psyche of these people brought a smile of contemplation. Perhaps then he could start dating Victoria. ‘It really is going very well’ Wass thought, ‘I’ll have a celebratory Indian tonight.’ Wass couldn’t wait for the Indian. In the last few weeks he’d really got his taste for it back and now he was in the Mecca for Indians, the best Indian meals outside of Bradford...... He was in Leicestershire. And another thing, he’d gone off kormas, they were way too mild now. No, he needed heat from his Indian, ‘a jalfrezi, no, it’s a vindaloo tonight’. He could feel himself sweating at the thought of that spice, that heat, and his face began to colour and perspire.
Wass sat outside, perched on the mud guard of the human cannonball, and ate out of the tin foil containers with a plastic fork and spoon. It was too confined in the lock up and it was starting to smell bad, human shit bad. No, he inhaled the crisp March air deeply and looked into the night sky; into space and beyond. The dark profile of the school was evident on the near horizon; the ugly modern church standing head and shoulders above the gothic revival architecture of Pugin. ‘How, why did the local planning office ever let them get away with that? It was a disgrace; should be burnt down’ Wass thought. ‘Not a bad idea’. He carefully placed the tin foil containers in his rubbish sack, pulling the top of the sack shut with its yellow draw cord. Wass didn’t like leaving the detritus of his Indian meal in the bin. No, he had to seal the top and dispose of it properly; and normally that meant out of the house and into the outside bin. It was the same with chicken carcasses. He couldn’t stand waking up in the morning and finding yesterday’s carcass in the bin. No, it always had to spend the night out of the house. He was particularly particular about this. But, Wass wasn’t at home and there was no outside bin. So, after sealing the bag he grabbed his tools for the work ahead and traipsed over to the school; trudging over the field and through the mud with his tool kit and rubbish bag in hand. He’d ‘gassed up’ Horsham again; he was probably addicted to the stuff by now; health damaging, but then that wasn’t the problem for Horsham. One thing he’d never suffer from was a long term health problem. That made him smile, that was genuinely funny.
Midnight, and as expected the school was dead. Three more weeks and the children broke up for Easter. Things were different now; in Wass’s time the school had been one hundred percent boarding and one hundred percent boys. Now it was mixed and ninety five percent day pupils. There were just a couple of boarders in each year; children whose parents lived a travelling life; a life of service for their country; foreign office, army, things like that. Wass lifted the lid of the canteen bin and carefully placed his rubbish sack in the corner. He lowered the squeaking lid gently then made his way over to the foundations of the new development.
Progress was good and Wass felt powerful. He replaced the blade of the hacksaw after each bar was cut. ‘At this rate I’ll be finished in one night’ he thought. The freshly cut reinforcement bars glinted in the moonlight where the blade had sliced through; the bars a dull oxidized brown, the ends a glow worm of reflected moonlight; a sign that something wasn’t quite right, that something had been messed with. Wass pulled out the brown spray paint and squirted a blob onto the end of each rod, extinguishing. ‘Now that’s planning’ he thought, ‘only four more rods’. He checked his watch and decided they’d have to be saved for tomorrow. ‘Need to get rid of these off cuts’; Wass made two trips back to the container. They were much heavier than they looked but now the building site was clear of all debris and Wass could take a well earned break.
Wass lay back and thought of Mr Wilson and Mr Mullen. Perhaps he’d rushed things, perhaps he should have given them more time for contemplation, more time to understand. It had all happened so fast. Wass hadn’t realised that you didn’t need to rush death. It was inevitable but he could have, he should have, stretched it out more. He’d do things differently now, or would he? Perhaps not, perhaps they were like the chicken carcass and he couldn’t cope with an old carcass hanging around, yes, they were trash and like trash he’d got rid of them quickly; ‘they just weren’t worth wasting any time on’ he contemplated and nodded his approval to himself. Wass moved the arrow down to S and pressed open. Whittaker’s address book sprang open to a page of S’s. Wass closed it and pressed open again. The process was soothing. This was just the sort of toy he’d played with as a boy. They didn’t have video games then so you had to take your pleasures where you could find them. Wass scanned down the list until his eyes rested on what he was looking for. “There you are Victoria; see there’s no hiding from me”. It was an easy address to remember. Wass felt stimulated and with those thoughts he lay down and rested. He’d be up soon and then he’d enjoy poking a bit more life out of Horsham. It was just like a school project.
16. From the dead.
“You’d better get that face seen to, there’s still a great deal of blood.” The uniform said. He was starting to look impressed as he’d heard Leo recount the night’s activities and adventures to Jack. “And that nose”; the uniform turned and cornered the florescent jacketed man. “Is there somewhere DI Dix can freshen up?”
“Over there” he pointed a three fingered hand towards a white porta-cabin. “And I think I can stretch to a coffee, follow me;” the words ‘Site Manager’ in two inch letters across his back.
“Thanks” Leo nodded. He needed to get his head in order; ‘think, what to do next? Think.’ He encouraged himself whilst falling into step behind the florescent jacket. Leo stopped and turned. “It’s Constable Jacks isn’t it?” Leo put out his hand. “Look Jacks, we need to search this site and we need to search it NOW. Can you get a team here? This Simon Wass that we’re looking for shot two policemen dead yesterday and he’s holding a hostage. We need armed response units out here to comb the site.”
“I’ll call it in” Jacks said, “I’m sure my DCI will want a quick word though.”
“Not a problem, but we’ve got to move fast. We’ve got to assume he’s still here somewhere.”
The incinerator site ground to a halt. Joe, the Site Manager, and his team were forced to remain inside the white cabin and soon Joe’s porta-cabin became Joe’s café. Three teams of armed police turned up and after two hours the site was declared clear. Leo’s watch, wallet and phone had been found in a group of remote, disused, buildings. Leo sat in an ambulance having his face wounds cleaned and taped. His nose would require treatment at the hospital.
Ziggy was giving the disused building the once over. Perhaps he’d left a clue of where he was going. As Ziggy scoured every corner a hastily convened team meeting was conducted in Joe’s Café; Jack, Mikey, Leo and Mandy all present. Leo pressed on as if nothing had happened and Jack was happy to let him.
“He’s going to place him in the foundations of a building” Leo began. “Mandy we need to talk to a structural engineer. Wass said the concrete was reinforced and would be 2ft thick. We need to know if that gives us any clues to the type or size of the building....... Mikey, it may have been for my benefit, but I don’t think it was because I’m sure that he’s sure that I’m dead. So getting back to what I was saying....... When he was talking to Horsham and telling him how he was going to die I believe it was, is, truthful. SO that means the concrete pour is Friday morning. Let’s concentrate on London and the South East first. Mikey we need to know if ‘All Office’ are involved in any work like this and at the same time make contact with all the concrete companies; see where they are scheduling large or significant pours on Friday. And does it make any difference that we know the depth and the fact that it’s reinforced? We don’t have the time to hang around, so let’s get cracking.”
“Mikey” Jack interrupted, “Let’s get a team onto this Friday concrete pour, see what resource you need then give me a shout I’ll give you as many as you need, it sounds like a huge task.”
“Thanks, Guv.” And Mikey was gone.
“Yes”, Leo nodded and thought as Mandy closed the door. The room was silent, just the two of them. Leo gently brushed his swollen fingers over his broken nose.
“You know what I’m going to say Leo but I’ll say it anyway..... You need to get that nose seen to straight away. It’s never the same if you wait too long.” Jack said. “You can sit and think; direct operations and get all over the back of people whilst they re-brake and set it. It’ll probably help you focus, you know a bit of pain’s good in the mix”.
“Sounds like fun” Leo smiled. “It’s the third time you know, and I don’t get any prettier.”
“Never stopped you getting the girls though, did it?” Jack lent forward and patted Leo on the shoulder. “You had me going there for a minute, you had us all going. We’re just so happy to see you back.”
“Thanks, look we’ll have a drink when we’ve caught the bastard but right now I need to see Scarlett, there’s lots to tell and he might be able to make more sense than I can.” Leo borrowed Jack’s phone and placed a call to Scarlett.
A short trip with Joe on an electric site vehicle that was more golf buggy than car, and Leo stood outside the disused offices where his belongings had been found. He could hear Ziggy directing Dylan’s every move.
“Not there for Christ’s sake, look where you’re putting your feet.”
“Sorry”, Dylan was always sorry. It was tough working for a perfectionist.
Leo poked his head around the doorway, “he’s still giving you the run-around then Dylan?”
“It’s his lot.” Ziggy answered for him then glanced towards Leo. “What the...... Shit, you need to get to a ........”
“Hospital”, Leo smiled as best he could, his voice now changed by the disfiguration.
Ziggy made a move to come over then stopped himself. “I’d come over and give you a hug if I didn’t mind contaminating the site; thank god, Jesus Leo, Mikey told me some of what you’d been up to and it sounds like a nightmare but I wasn’t quite expecting this.” Ziggy’s eyes welled up.
“We’ll save it for the beers” Leo moved the subject on. “Can I have my phone? Wallet? Keys? Watch? I need to get moving.”
“Yes”, Ziggy began to cheer, “but you’ll need to go through the contents of your wallet with Dylan; make sure nothing is missing; like a condom.” Ziggy was back, his humour twisted, his voice deadpan and flat. “I’d hate you to get caught short.”
Leo waved him away in a dismissive gesture. “Yeh, yeh; caught short, funny.” The phone was crammed with messages and missed calls. Simone had called twice. ‘I can’t keep procrastinating’ Leo thought; although this time his excuse was valid. There were three calls from Mikey, two from Mandy and Jack; twenty two from Ziggy; he’d enjoy teasing him about that later; one from Scarlett and an SMS from Rufus, although thankfully he was out of the loop. Leo’s swollen thumb continued to scan down the texts until he came to one from Victoria. He opened it. ‘Still unable to find ‘flip up thingy’; let me know if I can do anything else. X.’. She was getting under his skin and starting to occupy a great deal of thought. And more to the point, Leo was starting to like it.
The Whittington Hospital agreed to have a doctor waiting for Leo. They agreed to process him as fast as humanly possible and send him back out and into the investigation. A life was at stake.
Travelling to the hospital was a chance for Jack and Leo to really catch up. They discussed the case in circles, spirals, round and round, lifting every stone and poking every idea to see if it had any mileage in it. Leo respected Jack’s opinion on most things but above all he trusted Jack’s instinct, his feel for people, for how they’d react. OK, so Richard Scarlett was the profiler but Jack came a very close second in Leo’s mind. He never failed to bring fresh ideas to the table.
“Perhaps he’ll bring him home” Jack began. “Not necessarily burying him in the garden but close by. I’ll get Mikey’s team to check with the local planning office, see what construction’s planned for this week.”
“I’m not so sure Jack; I’m guessing that 2ft thick and reinforced probably means a tower block in the City. It sounds seriously load bearing; Docklands perhaps? It was the way he said it Jack. The 2ft thick and you’ll be underneath it, yes, the depth of the concrete signalled the depth of his problem; you know, 2ft and reinforced, you’re not coming out of that alive, or dead for that matter. We should concentrate on London then if time allows cast our net over the South East;” ‘spiralling circles within circles’. When Leo was dropped off at the hospital he sported a serious headache; ‘probably dehydration’; he stood next to the water dispensing machine and drank five small plastic cups of ambient water. He didn’t like the chilled stuff, it set his teeth on edge.
Scarlett appeared juggling another hot coffee. “Why do they let them sell it this hot? Accident waiting to happen.” He was addressing a young man in an overly tight suit and large black rimmed glasses.
“You should bring one of those insulated plastic mugs Scarlett” Leo interrupted from behind the twisting shoulder blades.
Scarlett turned, burned his hand and quickly put the coffee down on a knee high white plastic table covered in coffee ringed ancient magazines. “Your face is responsible for that” Scarlett began. “This is police work Hank.” He turned to face the young man whilst pointing at Leo’s face. “This is Hank, he’s with us for the day I’m afraid.” Scarlett looked se
riously pissed off; “internship, training, secondment, whatever. He’s got absolutely no experience, fresh out of college but in his defence he’s got a brain. I don’t know how good it is but it seems to be able to move him about OK.” Scarlett threw his hands up in a gesture of ‘well what can you do about it. I haven’t asked to be shadowed in fact I hate it’.
A nurse ushered Leo into a side room and within minutes a doctor had appeared and appraised the damage to Leo’s face. A rhino surgeon followed and within an hour and a half his nose had been straightened and his face zipped back up. He couldn’t see the finished article. It lay hidden beneath a protective white plastic membrane which resembled an ice hockey mask. His breathing had been restored but both eye sockets were now black and puffy. He was going to remain a mess for at least a month and even then the bulk of his face would be yellow; a vision of liver failure and bad health. Nothing could have been further from the truth.
Scarlett and Hank were waiting. “I think I liked you better before” Scarlett began and Hank chuckled ingratiatingly; “so where to Mr Lecter?”
