by David Evans
“I’ve got to help,” Susan said and struggled with the door handle.
“Calm down, Susan, the child locks are on and you’re going nowhere,” Stainmore said, “This is a job for us.”
“And where is Luke?” Strong asked, hand still shielding any sound to the phone.
On cue, a car drew to a halt in front of them. Luke Ormerod, John Darby and Trevor Newell piled out.
Strong leapt out to greet them. Stainmore did likewise.
“What have we got then, guv?” Ormerod asked.
Still listening on his phone, Strong brought all his officers up to speed quickly with the situation evolving a hundred yards or so from the gates.
“Still no update on the ARU, guv,” Stainmore added.
“And we’re the only officers I could round up,” Ormerod stated, “But uniform are sending a couple of units as well.”
“Okay, we’ll have to play the hand we’ve been dealt, then. But tell uniform, no lights or sirens when they get close. I don’t want to create any more panic in there.” Strong thumbed in the direction of the driveway. “Kelly, stay with Susan.”
“No way. Trevor can sit in. I’m with you lot.”
Strong considered a second. She was the most senior of the other officers, after all. “Okay,” he said. “Trevor, can you make sure Susan stays in the car until uniform turn up. If there’s a female officer, swap over. All phones on silent for the rest of you.”
* * *
“You told me tae deal wi’ him.” Kennedy was indignant.
“Not permanently,” Brogan came back. “I’ve told you before, you go way too far sometimes. You shouldn’t take what people tell you too literally.”
“Not having a little falling out are we?” Souter began to speak in a stronger Scottish accent.
Brogan spun round. “Shut it Souter. I know what you’re trying to do.”
“You see, Wullie, if I can call you that, your boss here will let you carry the can for all this mess.”
Brogan took a step closer to Souter. “I’ve told you already …”
“Naw,” Kennedy interrupted, “Ah’d like tae hear whit he’s got tae say.”
“Hang on a minute; I’ve looked out for you these past few years. I’ve kept you out of places like Barlinnie. Why would I want you to go back there? Can’t you see what he’s trying to do? He’s trying to sow seeds of doubt with you.”
“It’s working though, isn’t it?” Faulkner suddenly joined in.
Souter was glad of his intervention.
“Go on,” Kennedy said, gesturing with the gun.
“I can believe you didn’t mean any real harm to anyone with that fire, Wullie, but what happened with Joe Webster?”
“He wouldnae gi’ me the envelope.”
“The one he had inside his jacket?”
“Aye.”
“Was that what you were asked to do? Get hold of it.
“Well … no … naebody knew he had it. Ah didnae ken mysel’ until Ah saw him tuck it in closer under his jaicket.”
“But there was no need to stab him though?”
“Ah just wanted tae frighten him. All he had tae dae was hand it over.”
“Shut up, Wullie,” Brogan said. “You’re just digging yourself in deeper.”
Souter decided to push a little bit further. “So what did you do with the knife?”
Kennedy smirked. “Ah, yae see, I’m no’ as dumb as ye a’ think I am. That’s ma insurance plan.”
“How do you mean?”
“It’s hidden in his car,” he said, indicating Brogan.
* * *
The heavy rain had stopped as Strong, Stainmore, Ormerod and Darby made their way hurriedly towards the main building. Just before they got there, Strong signalled to stop. He was listening intently to the conversation being relayed over his phone from a few yards away. “John,” he said in a whisper, “Make sure those cars aren’t going anywhere; the four by four first.”
Darby nodded, walked towards Brogan’s car and tried the door handle. Locked. Undeterred, he made his way to the front, fiddled about with the bonnet and managed to release it. Head inside, he rummaged around, before reappearing, a wide grin on his face then moved on to the Mercedes.
In the meantime, the others approached the lit window. Inside, the figures were still unaware of the activity outside. Stainmore and Ormerod spotted the gun in Kennedy’s hand, looked at one another, then at Strong. He squatted on his haunches, back against the brick wall below the window and beckoned them to join him. Darby was still fiddling with the Mercedes bonnet release.
“What’s the plan?” Ormerod whispered.
Strong held up his hand as he concentrated on the events unfolding on the other side of the wall. Suddenly …
* * *
“It’s where?” Brogan retorted. “In my bloody car?” He waved a hand towards Appleyard. “He was right, you are a moron.”
“Just a minute …”
Suddenly … outside, a car alarm sounded.
“Whit the fuck …”
Faulkner was on his feet. “That sounds like my Merc,” he said, trying to see out of the window.
Souter stood too and put a hand to the glass to shield out the room light.
“Sit doon!” Kennedy yelled. “Ah’ll sort this. You all stay here.” At that, he left the room and stomped down the corridor.
Faulkner joined Souter at the window. “There are some cars at the end of the driveway blocking the entrance.”
“Let me see,” Brogan said, pushing the council leader out of the way. “Fuck,” he said and dashed for the door.
* * *
Strong killed the connection with Souter’s phone and spoke to the others, “Take cover, Kennedy’s coming out.” They all got to their feet and scattered, Ormerod around the corner of the building, Darby crouching down behind the Merc whilst Strong and Stainmore managed to get to the other side of Brogan’s four by four.
Strong peered through the windows of the car and saw Kennedy appear at the doors in an agitated state. And now, he had a clear view of the gun. With the light behind, Kennedy’s eyes swept the area in front of him. The Mercedes orange indicators were flashing and the horn was giving a loud warning. Kennedy seemed to see the cars blocking the entrance for the first time and Strong heard him curse.
With the noise from the car alarm to cover him, Strong dialled control. “I don’t care what they’re attending to, we need that ARU here now, it’s urgent. And where’s that uniform back-up? Tell them to move it, this is a serious situation.”
Stainmore gave her boss a nudge. He followed her gaze to see the muzzle of a gun pointing at them, and the demented look on Kennedy’s face.
“Ah don’t remember yous two bein’ invited,” he said. “Get up!”
“Take it easy,” Strong said, slowly getting to his feet, Stainmore beside him. “We’re police officers and you need to think very carefully …”
“Hey!” Ormerod shouted from the corner of the building. “Armed Police! Drop your weapon!”
Kennedy turned towards him and that gave Strong the chance he needed. From behind, he struck Kennedy’s wrist, knocking the gun to the ground. Stainmore went to grab it but was knocked out of the way when Kennedy, grappling with Strong, swung him round into her and onto the ground. Strong was surprised by Kennedy’s strength and swiftness of movement. He managed to put a hand on the gun barrel as Kennedy took hold of the handle. Together, they struggled on the wet ground, twisting it one way then the other. As they both managed to stand up, Stainmore joined in and tried to wrestle the gun free. Again, they fell to the ground, a tangled heap. Just as Ormerod arrived to lend his strength, a shot rang out. Everyone seemed to freeze.
Brogan appeared at the doors, took in the scene and held up his hands. “Are you police?” he asked.
Kennedy took advantage of the distraction, got to his feet and made a dash for it.
“After him, Luke,” Strong shouted, then looked down at Stainmor
e, motionless on the ground.
From the main road, the sounds of sirens and flashing blue lights. Trevor Newell had moved Strong’s car to allow the marked vehicles to enter and was sprinting up the driveway with them.
John Darby moved in to arrest Brogan as Souter and Sammy appeared behind. “What’s happened?” Souter asked. “We heard a shot.”
On the rain-soaked tarmac, Strong cradled Stainmore’s head in his lap. He’d opened her jacket and was holding his hands to her chest in a vain attempt to stem the blood flow. “Get an ambulance. Get a fucking ambulance,” he cried, to no-one in particular.
“Stay there,” Souter instructed Sammy and ran to help his friend. He pulled his mobile from his pocket and dialled 999, as a number of other officers had probably done. He knelt down by Strong and lifted one of Stainmore’s wrists and felt for a pulse. “She’s still with us,” he said. “A bit erratic and weak.”
“Help me stop the bleeding, Bob,” Strong said.
Souter scrunched up Stainmore’s jumper and pressed down alongside Strong.
“Why Kelly? Why?” he said.
For the first time he could remember since they were boys, Souter saw his friend cry, tears rolling off his cheeks.
59
Tuesday 11th September 2001
Strong had been in the Leeds General Infirmary since the middle of the night. He’d arrived with Stainmore and the paramedics in the ambulance; insisted on travelling with them. They’d worked on her en route and she’d been taken straight into the operating theatre where a team of surgeons was waiting.
He looked a mess, despite attempts to clean himself up; hair unkempt and blood stains on his jacket. He paced the corridor outside, accosting any medical personnel entering or leaving through the double doors. He knew they were doing their best but his frustration rose to the surface. Fortunately, Luke Ormerod was on hand to pull him off a man in theatre scrubs who had just come out.
“Guv, let them do their jobs,” Ormerod said. “They’ll tell us anything as soon as they can.”
Strong visibly deflated and sagged onto one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. Ormerod sat down next to him. “Faulkner and Appleyard are in custody, as is Brogan,” the DC said quietly. “Hemingford is interviewing them himself. Flynn is visibly upset, but he’s in there too.”
“What about that other bastard?”
“We’re still searching the site for Kennedy. There’s a lot of old buildings and such for him to hide, but the site’s secure. He won’t have got away.”
Strong looked at him. “You can guarantee that, can you?”
Ormerod looked down.
“Sorry, Luke. I didn’t mean …”
“That’s okay, guv.”
“So what have those two from the council said?”
Ormerod sat forward in his seat, arms on his knees. “There was a meeting of the Talisman Club called by Faulkner for the night of the fire, under pressure from Brogan, he says. Faulkner, his secretary, Brenda, and Appleyard lured Chamberlain upstairs and secured him to the frame. Then Brogan stuffed the sponge in his mouth. Faulkner reckons they were only going to leave him for an hour or two. But Kennedy had set the fire and when Faulkner went back to release him, the place had gone up.”
“Kennedy. That fucking nutter.” Strong looked to Ormerod. “You know he stabbed Joe Webster?”
Ormerod nodded. “We recovered a knife from Brogan’s car, as you said.”
Strong was on his feet again, thoughts back with Stainmore. “Why the hell did I let her come with me?”
“You can’t beat yourself up.” Ormerod stood beside his boss. “Look, have they said anything at all?”
“One of the doctors said the bullet went through her lung and missed her heart by millimetres.” Again he fixed Ormerod with his gaze. “If she dies, how can I ever face her parents?”
“Jim Ryan’s bringing them in now.” Ormerod put both hands on Strong’s upper arms. “But it’s not going to come to that. Kelly’s strong. She’ll pull through.”
“I’d have agreed with you if it was the Kelly Stainmore of a couple of years ago. But recently, she’s … well, she’s had some problems.”
“I must admit, she’s not looked a picture of health.”
“She’s just started medication for an underactive thyroid. That’s why she’d put on weight, her skin looked rough and her hair …”
The doors burst open and two men, obviously members of staff dressed in shirts and trousers, appeared, halting the conversation.
“You two colleagues of Miss Stainmore?” the older of the two enquired.
“I’m DI Strong. I was with her last night. How is she?”
“I’m Mr Pettigrew, the senior cardiologist here, part of the Major Trauma Team.” He proffered a hand which Strong shook. “She’s been in theatre for …” He checked his watch and Strong did the same. Ten fifteen. “… just over seven hours,” he continued in a cultured English accent. “We’ve managed to remove the bullet and re-inflate her lung. She was lucky it missed major blood vessels, but she’s not out of the woods yet. We’ll get her up to the High Dependency Unit shortly. The next forty-eight hours will be crucial.”
“So what are her chances?”
Pettigrew puffed out his cheeks. “Well, she’s survived the surgery, that’s the first step. She’s young enough, but, like I say, the next forty-eight hours ...”
“Can we see her?”
“Once she’s gone upstairs, it’ll be up to the nursing team. She’ll be wired up to the machines and sedated for some time. But you’ll be able to look through the vision panel, at least.” He placed a hand on Strong’s shoulder. “If you’ll excuse me, I have other patients I need to attend to.”
“Thanks doctor,” Strong said.
“Come on, guv, let’s get a coffee or something,” Ormerod suggested. “You look as though you could do with one. And it’ll be a little while before Kelly gets settled in upstairs.”
“Yeah, you’re right, Luke. Let’s go.”
On the way, Strong’s mobile rang. He looked at the screen before answering.
* * *
About half a mile away in the Yorkshire Post newsroom, Souter was pensive as he studied his computer screen. The lack of sleep didn’t seem to have affected him. He and Sammy had been taken to Wood Street to make statements, finally being released at four in the morning. The events of the previous night had made the nationals as well as the front pages of the Post, although the detail was lacking. Photographs of the main players would accompany Souter’s later account for the evening editions. Susan was with him, still shocked but excited at the way things had unfolded. She’d made a contribution to the reporting, pulling some background information together on the councillors.
Sammy had been shaken up quite a bit but had decided to go into work that morning. Souter would give her a call later to check how she was coping.
Before he completed the updated story, he had one important phone call to make. He’d called the hospital about DS Stainmore’s condition and, as he expected, had been refused any information. West Yorkshire Police were also reticent to comment. He dialled Colin’s number.
He wasn’t sure his friend would answer but he did. Strong told him what Mr Pettigrew had said. He agreed that Kelly’s condition was best described as critical but stable.
Just after half-past twelve, Souter and Susan entered the pub about a ten minute walk from the offices. He’d called Sammy and they’d arranged to meet for some lunch. Souter was at the bar ordering a pint for himself and an orange juice for Susan when Sammy appeared at his shoulder.
“Can I have a dry white wine please, Bob?” she asked.
“Course you can.” He added her drink to the order.
A few minutes later, food choices made, they were all seated at a table by one of the large windows.
“So how have you been?” he asked Sammy.
“Trying to keep my mind off last night.” She looked anxious. “Just can’t believe how cl
ose we came to …”
“Hey, don’t linger on it. It’s Kelly Stainmore we need to think about now.”
“Have you heard how she is?”
Souter repeated his conversation with Strong.
Sammy looked shaken. “I liked her. If you remember, it was her I first spoke to about Maria last year.”
“Well, let’s just hope she pulls through.”
The food order arrived interrupting the depressed conversation.
They were quiet for a while as Susan added some black pepper to her lasagne, Sammy cut up her pizza and Souter squeezed tomato sauce over his fish and chips.
Susan finally broke the silence. “Have you heard from Alison recently?”
“Spoke to her early on Sunday morning,” Souter said, as he finished swallowing some fish. “She’s really enjoying it. They’ve all been so nice to her, took her out to the Statue of Liberty on Saturday and she was going to Long Island on Sunday.”
Sammy, who appeared to be playing with her food rather than eating much, joined in. “Ten days she’s been out there now, isn’t it?” she asked.
“She flew out on the second, so …” he counted on his fingers, “yeah, today’s day eleven, I suppose.”
“Not that you’re missing her or anything.” Sammy laughed. “How long before she’s home?”
“Well, we’ll be back overnight on 14th October, touching down next day but,” he had a huge smile on his face, “I’ll be seeing her on the thirtieth of this month. Only nineteen days to go.”
“And you can’t wait,” Susan added. “Which of the Twin Towers is she based?”
“80th Floor of the South Tower,” Souter said. “She says the views are magnificent.” He swept the last of his chips around the plate, scooping up tomato sauce. “Someone took her to the top the first day she arrived but it was a bit hazy. Still saw for miles though.” He took the last bite and placed his knife and fork on the plate, a satisfied grin on his face.
“Can’t wait to see the photos,” Sammy said.
Souter checked his watch. “We need to get back, Susan. Will you be okay this afternoon, Sammy? You haven’t eaten much.”
