by Rashad Salim
Mitchell backed off a little. “Don’t get me wrong, Paul, I don’t mean no disrespect but I’ve been busy and I ain’t even had much time with him.”
I felt sick when I realised he was talking about Max.
“You know what, George? Normally I’d just give you the keys and let you play about some more but I ain’t chancin’ it. This has gotta be done right and if you want somethin’ done right you gotta do it yourself.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Mitchell said. “You call dumpin’ the other boys in the same fuckin’ place ‘doing it right’? Let me handle it this time. You go off to sunny Spain or wherever the fuck you wanna go. Might be better that way with you out the country. Get me?”
Paul, the White Van Man raised his finger to his mouth. “Sssh... you hear that?”
Mitchell looked at him blankly. “What? I don’t hear nothin’.”
“There’s someone here, you mug.”
I was so scared I had my hand over my mouth to stop the sound of my breathing from being heard. I tried to stay as still as possible and prayed they weren’t going to start searching the whole place for me.
They both faced the entrance to the loading bay where I had entered.
“You better stay here,” Paul said. He gave Mitchell a set of keys. “I’m warning you though,” Paul raised a finger at him. “Don’t open that door ‘til I get back.” He gestured at the storage room at the other end of the site.
“Whoever it is, get rid of them,” Mitchell said.
65
DC Cole
“Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go!”
Asim was making a run for it – he had passed the front gate before I had even opened the car door. I didn’t give Richardson a chance to prevent me from getting out and if he wanted to stop me he’d have to come after me.
I heard his door open and slam shut. I looked over and saw him struggling to catch up with me.
I ran towards the white van and used it as cover, pausing behind it to catch my breath. Richardson caught up with me and the two of us leaned against the van.
“What’s the plan?” Richardson asked.
I looked at him in surprise.
“This is your idea,” he said. “So what we gonna do, just seize Asim and confront the van driver?”
“Pretty much.”
For all we know the fella is totally innocent and popped out for lunch!”
“Let’s find out,” I said.
“I hope you realise we’re trespassin’ right now.”
“Doesn’t matter now,” I said. “I’ll have a look around and find the boy, you just go in and say hello. Keep him distracted.”
“We don’t even know who else is in there. There could be a few other people inside.”
I shook my head. “If that’s the case then it can only make this easier. It’ll give us more information.”
He nodded and moved away from the van. I watched him head towards the rear end of the building to find an entrance since the front side had none.
I scanned my surroundings for any sign of life. There was none.
It made me wonder if it was usually like this and if so, how easy that made it for someone to go in and out without being seen – to be totally free to do as they pleased.
The thought sent a chill down my spine.
66
Asim
When Paul started walking towards the entrance to the loading bay, I looked around frantically, searching for a weapon. Anything I could find that to defend myself. I had to get that storage room open.
I was certain that’s where they had been keeping Max and now I knew Mr Mitchell had the keys to the door.
My heart pounded, knowing that I was going to have to attack Mr Mitchell. I was still in shock from his involvement in the abductions and murders. My mind was having a hard time processing the discovery. I told myself I had to attack my way out of there. There was no way I could escape now without being challenged by Mr Mitchell and his accomplice Paul.
A neat pile of metal poles were stacked on the shelf behind me. The poles were about four to five feet long. On one end they were square shaped but on the other end they were shaped in a sharp point like spears. I grabbed one and lifted it. It was heavier than it looked. I had to strain myself raising it, making sure I did that as quietly and as carefully as possible.
I held the pole with both hands like I imagined an ancient savage would, with the sharp end pointing forward and gripped the pole hard.
Would I be able to drive this through Mr Mitchell, I thought.
I had hoped I’d find a blunt tool as a weapon. Something to creep up behind him and knock him over the head with but I wasn’t reluctant to spear him with the pole.
I prepared myself mentally to attack Mr Mitchell by willing myself into believing there was no other choice. But the process was no use when I applied it to Paul. Mr Mitchell was a weasel but Paul terrified me.
I spun around and watched Paul walk away from me towards the entrance. I couldn’t wait for him to leave. I held my breath watching him leave and prayed I’d escape without being detected by him.
I was so psyched up and ready to pounce on Mr Mitchell once Paul left that when he stopped at the entrance I couldn’t believe it. The shock was double fold when I saw a man appear in front of Paul.
It was DI Richardson.
I nearly gasped. My legs were shaking over what would happen now.
The arrival of the detective jolted Mr Mitchell, still beside the storage room. His mouth fell open and he stared at the cop in shock.
This was good, I thought. He was distracted and wouldn’t see me coming.
Paul had his back to me too.
“Can I help you?” Paul asked Richardson.
Richardson showed him his badge and introduced himself. “Just doin’ a routine check. May I ask who you are?”
Paul shifted his weight on one foot. “Paul Jones,” he said. “I work here.”
“Ah,” Richardson said, nodding his head. He looked around at the warehouse casually. He seemed relaxed. I hoped he wasn’t as ignorant as he appeared and something worried me. He was alone.
If he had come to arrest Paul, I doubted he’d have come alone. So there was little chance the cops had the area surrounded.
Richardson tilted his head to the side and spotted Mr Mitchell. He smiled at the teacher. Mitchell smiled back awkwardly.
They’re caught, I thought. There was no way Richardson hadn’t recognised Mr Mitchell and I didn’t think Mr Mitchell could explain his presence without it being suspicious.
“What’s this about a routine check?” Paul asked.
“Oh, probably nothin’ but you never know. We’ve been gettin’ reports of suspicious behaviour in the area ...from other businesses. We just wanted to check if there was anythin’ you knew.”
I wanted to call out for help right then – both George and Mitchell were absolutely focused on Richardson – but I chose not to. They outnumbered DI Richardson.
If I called out, Paul would attack the detective right away and he was twice Richardson’s size. I didn’t think the detective had much of a chance against Paul as it was, never mind if Mr Mitchell jumped in too.
I couldn’t lose the element of surprise. I knew I had to act soon but knowing the right moment was the problem.
“Nothin’ to report here,” Paul said. “Business as usual.”
“I see,” Richardson said. “You haven’t had any trespassers here, have you?”
“No,” Paul said. “Just you.”
Richardson laughed but it was a nervous laugh. I got the feeling he was losing control of the situation.
“No signs of a breakin’ in then?” Richardson asked.
“Nothin’.”
There was an awkward silence between them and when I turned to see what Mr Mitchell was doing, he was no longer there. He had vanished while my attention was elsewhere.
“There anything else?” Paul asked. “I’m quite busy.”
/> I crept up the aisle, closer to Paul and stopped when I was less than fifteen feet from him.
Richardson ignored Paul’s question and gave the warehouse another scan. “What is it you do here, Mr Jones?”
“As you can see I work in construction and plumbing.”
Richardson nodded.
“You don’t mind if I look around, do you?” Richardson said. He stepped around Paul and came closer into the warehouse. “Just in case there might be somethin’ you missed.”
Paul spun around with a look of hate. He had balled his hands into fists and glared at Richardson, who had his back to Paul now.
The tension in the air was overwhelming. I stood where I was frozen.
Richardson could have seen me if he looked in my direction.
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Paul said.
“You never know,” Richardson said.
“What exactly are you lookin’ for?” Paul asked.
“A broken window perhaps,” Richardson said, scanning his surroundings. “Can’t ever be too careful in a town like this, right?”
Richardson shuffled around the warehouse but didn’t come any closer to me. The way he was taking his time made me think he was stalling for something.
I hoped it was reinforcements.
“There’s nothin’ to see here, officer,” Paul said. “I think you’ve seen enough. Now if you don’t mind I’d like to lock up and go home. It’s been a long day.”
“Sure.” Richardson finally looked Paul in the eye. “I suppose I can always come back tomorrow.”
Paul narrowed his eyes at Richardson. “If you’ve got a search warrant.”
“Why would that be necessary?” Richardson asked. “You’re not hiding anythin’, are you?”
“Stop wastin’ my time, officer. I’m a busy man.”
Richardson nodded. “Was that George Mitchell around just now?” he asked.
“Why?”
“Oh, nothin’. It’s just that George and I kind of know each other,” Richardson said.
I still held the metal pole in both hands and despite my best efforts in holding it steady I had grown tired and tilted it by accident. The rear end of the pole clanged against the shelf behind me and the sound echoed in the warehouse.
I was mortified and saw my life ending.
Both Paul and Richardson looked in my direction.
“What was that?” Richardson asked.
I was about to reveal myself since I had already made my presence known to them when Paul reached down his side for something.
The movement was too quick for Richardson to react. He was still focused on my direction.
Paul raised his hand. He held a tool. A long screwdriver. He plunged the sharp end of the tool into the detective’s chest as I looked on in horror.
“No!” I called out.
Richardson grunted, doubled over and staggered backwards as I charged towards Paul.
Paul grabbed Richardson by his suit and stabbed the detective again. Richardson collapsed on the ground.
Paul never saw me coming.
I charged at him with the metal pole and speared him in the back with all my might.
The sharp tip of the pole pierced his flesh and he arched his back in pain. He dropped the knife to the ground but I held on. I kept pushing the pole in deeper but it didn’t go much deeper than maybe the six inches from the first shove.
My heart beat so fast it felt like battery acid being pumped all around my body.
Paul moaned a garbled response and fell to the ground. The spear was still stuck in him as he lay there still. A large pool of blood was now forming near his wound.
I stared at him breathless. I had used every bit of energy I had in attacking him. I thought no matter how hard I stabbed him he would somehow brush it off and get me. I had images of what he must’ve done to the boys in my mind the whole time. The fear that he and Mr Mitchell would’ve done the same to me had taken a stranglehold on me from the moment I had hid behind the shelves.
Now, as he lay beside DI Richardson I looked at Paul with the pole sticking out of him like a flagpole and hoped he was dead.
I must’ve stood there for only a couple of seconds before I dared to check his pulse but it felt much longer.
There was no pulse but even then I couldn’t accept he was dead.
I moved to check on DI Richardson next. He had no pulse either.
Only then did it dawn on me that they were both dead.
I looked around and spotted the storage room.
Mr Mitchell had the keys, I suddenly remembered. And where was he?
I assumed he’d gone to hide from Richardson and would return any second when he thought the detective had left.
If he did return, he was in for quite a shock.
I picked up Paul’s weapon and left the dead men, making my way out of the loading bay.
I wasn’t out of danger yet, I reminded myself. There was no telling where Mr Mitchell was. It crossed my mind he could’ve been watching my every move.
67
DC Cole
I stayed at the front when Richardson sneaked around to the rear end of the premises. I moved away from the white van and came out into the open, allowing my presence to be known.
With Richardson searching for Asim at the back of the location it would be best if I stayed at the front in case Asim or White Van Man returned. If either appeared I planned to do the same thing – question them accordingly.
Asim had definitely stumbled onto something and I was desperate to remove him from any danger White Van Man posed.
I walked around the front side of the location searching for any sign of life but there was none. When Richardson had been gone for longer than expected I started to worry.
Just when I had lost all patience and was about to go check on Richardson I spotted movement in my peripheral vision.
I turned and saw a man in the distance, fifty feet away, sneaking away from the building.
I guessed he had come out of the building from an exit Richardson should’ve seen.
He hadn’t noticed me. He was too focused on fleeing. It a few seconds to recognise him and when I did it sent alarm bells ringing in my head straight away.
It was George Mitchell, the PE teacher from Binford Secondary School.
Why was he here?
What legitimate reason could he have had being on an industrial site?
His presence was definitely suspicious and I wasted no time in confronting him.
I sprinted towards him and when he saw me coming he froze. His expression was that of a deer in the headlights of a speeding car. He was done for and he knew it.
I called out his name. He suddenly fled in the same direction as before – towards his car.
I chased him hard, knowing if he managed to get into the car before I reached him, I’d lose him possibly for good. This PE teacher wasn’t as fast as I expected him to be and I easily narrowed the distance between us.
He was less than ten feet away from his car when I caught up to him. I slammed into him at full speed and sent him colliding against the car. He bounced off the car and fell to the ground on his backside.
I pounced on him, turning him over onto his front and placing my knee on his back. I put all my weight on the knee and yanked his right arm back forcefully. He yelped in pain as I slipped handcuffs on his wrist and did the same to his other wrist.
“This is a mistake!”
“Why did you run?” I asked, still sitting on him.
“I haven’t done anythin’!”
“What are you doin’ here, George?” I asked him. “Extra-curricular activities, eh?”
He grunted but didn’t answer my questions. I wondered where Richardson had gotten to and wondered what he’d say when he saw who I had caught.
“Who are you here to see?” I asked.
When he didn’t answer I grew angrier.
Time was imperative. My partner was missing, as was th
e boy who led us here and there was a dangerous criminal on the loose here. I had been growing more anxious by the second since I got here.
I took out a tiny CS spray canister, which I had been carrying since transferring to Binford, and aimed it partially at his face.
“You know what this is?”
His eyes widened at the sight of the canister and he struggled under my weight, moving his head back and forth to avoid being sprayed.
“Three seconds to tell me who you’re here for.”
“Paul Jones!” he said, repeating the name over and over. “Don’t spray me! Please...”
I felt him soften up and go limp.
“Is he the driver of that white van?” I asked.
“Yes,”
“Hey!” I heard someone call out.
I looked up and saw Asim Patel forty feet away with a sharp weapon in his hand.
I waved him over and he ran towards me.
When he reached me he was breathless. He met my gaze and dropped the weapon to the ground. He put his hands on his knees and doubled over, breathing hard.
“What the hell is goin’ on here?” I asked him. “This is your teacher right?”
Asim looked up, still bowing with his hands on his knees and nodded. He tried to talk but made little sense.
“Take your time,” I said and gave him a moment to catch his breath. “Have you seen DI Richardson?”
He looked at me and shook his head. I took that to mean no.
“I need to find him,” I said.
Only then did I notice the sharp weapon Asim had been holding was covered in blood.
“...Whose blood is that?”
He put his hands on his hips and stared at me, still breathing hard. “It’s DI Richardson’s. He’s dead.”
I looked at him in confusion. “What?” I thought I had heard him wrong.
“DI Richardson is dead.” Asim looked distressed.
I frowned. “You killed him?” It still didn’t make any sense.
He shook his head. “The white van man killed him.” He pointed at the weapon. “That’s his.”