Dead Man Walking

by Paul Finch

  If the burly Scot had been wearing his hat at the time, he no longer was now – his bull-neck and the back of his head were not just singed black, they were thickly bloodied. Presumably they’d taken the brunt of the impact as the door flew from its hinges. Heck hunkered down and felt at the side of the PC’s neck. There was a pulse, but the injured cop was lifeless, a deadweight. It didn’t stop Heck hauling him off to get to the person underneath. This one was equally coated in dust and dirt, but more animated, coughing and writhing as she struggled to breathe.

  ‘Thank God,’ he said, slumping down onto his knees. ‘Oh, thank God …’

  ‘Oh hell, Heck …’ Gemma coughed again, hawking out wads of gritty saliva. Her face too was a mask of dirt and blood, but her focused gaze indicated full consciousness.

  ‘Don’t try to move,’ he advised.

  ‘I’m … I’m alright.’ She tried to get up.

  ‘Yeah, but just be careful …’

  ‘Ow, shit … I’m not alright!’ She stiffened in agony. ‘My back …’

  ‘Is it bad?’

  ‘Just a bang, I think.’ She wriggled where she lay, grimacing again, and then eased herself up into an awkward sitting posture. ‘Hell of a bang …’

  ‘This whole thing went with a hell of a bang. Must have slammed you back onto those concrete steps like a bundle of laundry.’

  ‘McGurk?’ Gemma asked.

  Heck turned to the dusty figure lying motionless alongside them. ‘He’s alive. And it’s a bloody miracle. Good job this was a heavy door.’

  Gemma mopped a sleeve of grimy sweat from her brow. ‘Propane, yeah?’

  ‘Yeah. Some maniac must have opened the valves on all the cylinders.’ Heck glanced around. Treacly-black smoke still snaked from several pools of liquid fire, wreathing into the mist topside to create a hellish, stinking smog. ‘Looks like he doused the floor with petrol as well. Turned the whole nick into a time-bomb.’

  There was a clatter of bricks as Hazel scrambled down the side of the crater. The other villagers were now gathered along the top. Heck’s gaze roved across them. Despite everything, it was important to remember the civvies they were trying to protect here. Thankfully, it looked as if all were present and correct.

  McGurk now stirred, giving a dull groan.

  ‘Mary-Ellen!’ Heck called. ‘I need you.’ There was no response. He glanced up, expecting to see her hastening down the brick slope towards him. But nobody moved among the spectators along the rim. ‘M-E!’

  ‘I didn’t see her with you,’ Hazel stammered. ‘You arrived here on your own.’

  ‘She was right behind me when we were back in the trees.’

  ‘I didn’t see her.’

  Heck was about to let forth on the subject of people doing disappearing acts just as you needed them most, when he was distracted by a louder groan from McGurk, who now tried to turn over.

  ‘Lie still,’ Gemma instructed, leaning across the injured cop and prodding at the side of his neck, as if to assure herself that Heck’s diagnosis hadn’t been wrong.

  McGurk lay still again, breathing slowly but heavily.

  ‘Nightmare scenario, this,’ Gemma said. ‘He could have a dozen broken bones that need immobilising … but we can’t leave him here.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Heck replied. ‘We need to get him back to the pub. If we do more damage to him en route, we apologise afterwards.’

  Even so, they checked McGurk over quickly before moving him. The workable first-aid knowledge all police officers were required to possess didn’t come close to matching that of qualified medical personnel, but it was frequently the only thing available in situations like this. Aside from a deep, nasty gash zigzagging across the back of McGurk’s head, which was responsible for most of the blood and for his groggy state, he wasn’t manifesting any other obvious injuries.

  ‘Good enough to go, I reckon,’ Heck said.

  Gemma winced as they tried to lift the guy upright.

  ‘Here,’ Hazel said, stepping in. ‘Let me.’

  The casualty groaned all the more. His face was unrecognisable it was so black, but mainly this was soot adhering to congealed blood.

  ‘How the devil could this bastard benefit from blowing up the police station?’ Gemma wondered, as Heck lifted the casualty’s left arm over Hazel’s shoulders, and then manoeuvred the right one over his own.

  ‘Hard to say, but he probably set it up earlier … a lot earlier,’ Heck said. ‘Might have thought we’d pack all the villagers in there for safekeeping. Alternatively, he might just have wanted to wipe the cops out …’

  ‘I thought he liked to get hands-on,’ she said, limping after them as they sidled clumsily up the steps, McGurk’s booted feet dragging.

  ‘Seems to be a jack of all trades,’ Heck grunted. ‘Where the hell is Mary-Ellen?’

  ‘I told you, I haven’t seen her,’ Hazel said. She too was smoky-faced, tears smudged down her cheeks.

  ‘Wha’ … the fuck happened?’ McGurk mumbled. He was slowly becoming coherent, but his head drooped onto his chest as though his own bodyweight was pulling him down. The ex-Marine might be in his forties now, but he was still a solid hunk of bone and muscle.

  ‘You got front-row tickets to the Stranger’s barbecue,’ Heck told him. ‘Think you can walk? You weigh a sodding ton.’

  ‘I’m blo— bloody sorry …’ McGurk stuttered.

  It was several minutes after they’d got up onto the flat before the casualty was able to find his feet properly. Even then, his knees buckled as they tried to skirt the exterior of the rubble.

  ‘Don’t … don’t think I’m gonna make it,’ McGurk said.

  ‘Yes you are,’ Heck replied.

  ‘Totally … messed up …’

  ‘Look on the bright side. You’ll get six months’ sick leave for this. Full pay.’

  The rest of the villagers had now convened on Hetherby Close, their faces stark and pop-eyed in the firelight, stained with smoke.

  ‘Okay, that’s all of us,’ Heck said. ‘Back to the pub, everyone. Come on, another two hours and a bit, and it’s daylight.’

  They shuffled along Hetherby Close in a disorderly group, heading for the junction with Truscott Drive. It was far from easy. McGurk still hung semi-lifeless from Heck and Hazel’s shoulders, and none of the other villagers were prepared to walk ahead, instead clustering around the cops for safety but at the same time impeding progress.

  The smoking ruins of the police station and the surrounding buildings fell slowly behind and vanished in the mist, but that was no comfort.

  ‘Come on, people,’ Gemma urged them. ‘Make way, eh … we’ve got to get this injured man to shelter.’ But she too looked strained; her voice was weak with pain.

  ‘Where the bloody hell is M-E?’ Heck said for the umpteenth time. ‘We couldn’t half bloody use her now!’

  ‘You sure she wasn’t injured too?’ Gemma said. ‘She couldn’t be buried under wreckage?’

  ‘We were nowhere near the blast when it went off. We ran back towards the village together, but got separated in the woods …’

  Almost on cue, a shrill voice sounded from their left. ‘Heck … Heck!’

  They glanced around as Mary-Ellen emerged from between the houses north of Truscott Drive.

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ he demanded.

  Mary-Ellen was as sooty, dusty and bug-eyed as the rest of them, her spiky black hair gleaming with sweat. ‘I think … think I almost caught him …’

  ‘What … where?’

  ‘Baytree Court.’

  ‘Yeah … well, “almost” doesn’t help us. Come on everyone, stop standing around. Back to the pub!’

  ‘Heck, he was right there … I almost nabbed him.’

  ‘Tell me on the way. McGurk’s hurt and we’ve got to get these people under cover.’ Heck glanced at Hazel as they stumbled on. ‘Please don’t tell me you’ve got propane cylinders in your cellar too.’

  She shook her head
. ‘Ours are in the shed out back. There’s only beer in the cellar.’

  ‘Thank God for beer.’

  ‘I’m not kidding, Heck,’ Mary-Ellen said excitedly. ‘After we got split up in the woods, I came out on Truscott Drive a bit further up from you … just across from Baytree Court. And I thought I heard something down the far end … like breaking tiles … like stuff was falling off Bella’s roof. It made me think there might be someone up there, you know … next to the tower.’

  ‘That was more important than finding out what had happened at the nick?’ Heck said.

  ‘Think about it,’ she said. ‘If you wanted to survey this whole village with thermal imaging, where would be the best place?’

  Heck couldn’t deny the logic of this. The McCarthys’ house didn’t just boast a higher, steeper roof than most of the properties surrounding it – its features also included a mock-Victorian bell-tower. In addition, it sat on raised ground. Anyone perched on top of there with heat-detecting vision would have a grandstand view of the neighbourhood and the chaos slowly engulfing it.

  ‘And did you see anything?’ he asked.

  ‘I couldn’t see anything, could I? But I heard him, I’m sure. It was like a cracking, breaking sound. When I ran over to the McCarthy house, bits of slate and other shit were falling off the roof.’

  ‘And that’s the bloody extent of it?’ he snorted. ‘You know explosions create shockwaves that cause structural damage?’

  ‘What … you think I should have ignored it?’

  ‘No … no, course not.’ Heck was now acutely aware of the other villagers clustered around them, listening, and therefore not looking to their own safety. ‘Look, we’ve got to get these people under cover. Give us a hand here, M-E!’

  Mary-Ellen hastened to assist with McGurk, replacing Hazel, who now looked exhausted. ‘There was no sign of the bastard anyway,’ Mary-Ellen said. ‘Then I heard you screaming for Gemma … so I didn’t hang around.’

  ‘Come on everyone, move it!’ Heck shouted, McGurk still a sagging weight on his shoulder. They recommenced shuffling down the hill in a disorderly gang. ‘Christ’s sake, PC McGurk,’ Heck complained. ‘Can’t you put one foot in front of the other?’

  Before McGurk could mumble a foul-mouthed reply, a familiar refrain, rendered harmonious by the most tuneful whistling they’d ever heard, came drifting downhill towards them. They stopped and glanced back at the station, which was blanked out by smog, though flickers of orange firelight were visible. Whoever was whistling Strangers in the Night to them, he was standing right there, right in the midst of the obscured ruin. But of course, just because they couldn’t see him, didn’t mean he couldn’t see them.

  Chapter 30

  ‘Into the pub, all of you,’ Heck said, expecting a fusillade of shots to roar out of the fog. ‘Right now!’

  The villagers jerked to life again, dashing down Truscott Drive to The Witch’s Kettle. Lucy unlocked the door, and, despite Gemma’s advice that everyone take it easy and try to stay calm, the rest of them piled through in a frightened mob. Burdened with McGurk, Heck and Mary-Ellen brought up the rear. It took no more than forty seconds to get down the road and scramble inside, but Heck’s heart was jackhammering for those last few yards. Gunfire from behind felt imminent, and it was only when he heard the pub door slam closed and the bolt ram home that he allowed himself to breathe.

  ‘Everyone down … sit down or lie down!’ Gemma shouted to be heard over the gabbling voices. ‘Away from the windows!’

  The villagers complied, while Hazel and Lucy shoved stools and tables away, so Heck and Mary-Ellen could lay McGurk on a leather-topped couch. He’d recovered sufficiently now to start pushing off hands. ‘I’m alright … you can stop fussing.’

  ‘Pity you didn’t decide that at the top of Truscott Drive,’ Heck said, rubbing his shoulder.

  Hazel glared at him. ‘For God’s sake!’

  ‘Wha’ happened?’ McGurk tried to touch his brow, but the mere act of lifting his arm brought a grimace to his battered face. ‘IED?’

  ‘Something like that,’ Heck said.

  Gemma approached, pale-cheeked herself. ‘You don’t remember the cellar, PC McGurk … under the police office?’

  McGurk looked vague. ‘I don’t … I’m nae sure.’

  She reminded him of the events leading up to the explosion; how he’d been looking to fix the power, how he’d said he hadn’t needed her help, but how they’d gone up there together anyway. ‘Then, at the last second you seemed to realise something was wrong. You slammed the door again, before we took the full blast in our faces.’

  McGurk shook his head, bewildered – which made him wince all the more.

  ‘Can I get you a drink, PC McGurk?’ Hazel asked.

  ‘Just water for the moment, please …’

  Heck tapped Gemma’s shoulder. ‘I need a word.’

  Leaving Mary-Ellen to apply what first aid she could in the dark, Gemma followed Heck across the pub to a distant corner. As they huddled together, he quickly and quietly relayed the info about the SFO vehicle, the trio of corpses inside, and the missing cache of police firearms. Under normal circumstances, even Gemma Piper, DSU at Serial Crimes, might have reeled with shock at hearing this, but tonight it seemed to be par for the course. Instead, she slumped onto a bench, cringing with pain. ‘This is getting ridiculous,’ she said. ‘I mean, Cragwood Vale is hardly small. How’s this guy getting here, there and everywhere?’

  ‘I think I can help with that, ma’am,’ Mary-Ellen said, joining them and sitting down. ‘That quad-bike you mentioned, Heck? The one he chased you on? I think it’s parked in the back garden of Bella McCarthy’s house.’

  ‘You saw it?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah. When I went over there, investigating that noise on the roof, I nipped around the back, just to see if someone was climbing down the other side. The quad was there … parked on the lawn.’

  ‘And was it drivable?’ The import of this was quickly dawning on Heck.

  ‘Can’t say for sure. There were no punctured tyres, I can certify that. But it could explain how he’s been getting around so fast, don’t you think?’

  ‘Except that we’d have heard its engine,’ Gemma replied.

  Mary-Ellen shook her head. ‘Not necessarily, ma’am. This fog, it eats everything … sound as well as vision.’

  ‘She could be right,’ Heck said. ‘Get out there in the middle of it and it’s like cotton wool’s stuffed in your ears.’

  ‘Look … why don’t I just go back and check it out properly?’ Mary-Ellen said. ‘Maybe bring it back here. I’m not frightened. And I know exactly where it is.’

  Heck and Gemma glanced at each other. The implication of this was obvious: if they managed to obtain the quad-bike, one of them could easily get out of the Cradle and ride for help. But how had this opportunity suddenly arisen?

  ‘Sounds fishy,’ Gemma said. ‘He goes to all this trouble, and then leaves us a way out?’

  ‘It doesn’t seem like our lad, I agree,’ Heck said. ‘I mean, this guy’s organised to the nth degree.’

  ‘But if he doesn’t know we know it’s there …’ Mary-Ellen argued.

  ‘He might have drawn our attention to it deliberately,’ Heck interrupted. ‘Look, whoever he is, he’s been planning this whole thing for a while. He’s taken every eventuality into consideration. I mean, how much homework did he do to find out we had propane bottles in the police station cellar? This isn’t some everyday nutter getting his rocks off, I can tell you that.’

  ‘We should at least check it,’ Mary-Ellen persisted. ‘I can be there and back in no time.’

  ‘I don’t like the idea of anyone going out there now,’ Heck said. ‘Not when we know he’s right here on the plot, whistling his little heart out.’

  ‘Heck …’

  ‘No, M-E! Let’s have a breather and take stock of where we are …’

  ‘Which is fucked, if we don’t do something!’ Mary-Ellen
retorted. ‘Heck, he’s just blown the fucking police station sky high, not to mention wiped out the firearms team …’

  ‘Keep your voice down!’ he admonished her with a hiss.

  She clamped her mouth shut, but her eyes shone with defiance, her face gleaming with sweat. She looked even more wired than usual, though this was hardly a surprise.

  ‘Whatever we do, we don’t go at this thing like a bull at a gate,’ Heck said more quietly. ‘Let’s try and keep a level head for a second or two, because this guy’s not just outgunning us, he’s outthinking us as well.’ He paused before turning to Gemma. ‘I’ll be honest, ma’am, I’ve been trying to work out his motivations … and needless to say it’s a dog’s breakfast. We can only guess at it. But regardless of whether or not this guy is the actual Stranger, I reckon you’re his primary target.’

  She eyed him curiously. ‘This another flight of your imagination, Heck?’

  ‘Imagination is all we’ve got at present. But here it is, for what it’s worth. Suppose this guy’s been following recent events, I mean in relation to your and my careers. Suppose he saw where I got transferred to after the Nice Guys business, looked the place over and decided it was ideal for his purpose, especially with winter coming. We were bound to get bad weather at some point, whether it be fog, heavy snow, anything that would make it difficult to get reinforcements up here. And after that, well … what was more likely to draw you to this place than a suspicion the Stranger had showed up?’

  Gemma mulled this over. ‘On that basis, if this isn’t the Stranger, say, it’s another major player who wants to get even – and I’ve upset plenty of them in the past – he could have an entire hit-team with him.’

  ‘Christ,’ Mary-Ellen breathed. ‘That’d be all we need.’

  ‘For which reason I doubt that’s the case,’ Heck said. ‘Look … a team of killers would have slaughtered us out on the road just now. Either that or they’d move on the pub. No one’s coming to help us. There’s still two hours of darkness and fog, and if they weren’t armed to the teeth before, they are now. There’d be nothing we could do to resist them. I still think we’re only dealing with a small number of adversaries, two at the most. Though to be honest …’ He recollected the grisly murder scene at Bill Ramsdale’s cottage. ‘It’s pretty difficult to envisage even two men coming together who’d willingly participate in a death as sadistic as Bessie Longhorn’s. I think we’re only facing one person here, an extreme type of psychopath – rare, even in the criminal fraternity. But that still gives us a bit of an advantage, because contrary to appearances, he cannot be in half a dozen places at once. So let’s assess what we do know. First of all, he’s fit and energetic. He’s also a local guy – if he wasn’t born and raised here, he’s made it his business to get to know the place. He knows which houses are occupied, he knows where the local cars are kept, he knew where the police motor launch was housed. Trouble is …’ Heck drummed his fingertips on the table. ‘There’s one thing that doesn’t even fit into this picture.’