by Frank Lean
‘Lucky for you I came back, isn’t it?’ Cullen said mildly when he picked himself up and dusted off his trousers. ‘I wonder what we have here?’ He studied the woman on the ground. Nurses and hospital security staff arrived and in seconds the small side ward was crammed with bodies. The would-be assassin was hauled onto a trolley, still alive but breathing with an ominous snorting noise. Cullen phoned for reinforcements and Janine squirmed through the mob to my bedside.
‘Dave, you were asleep again and I was out getting a cup of coffee. I came back and I saw her bending over the bed and pulling that gun out. She was here to kill you.’
‘That’s right, old cock,’ Cullen said cheerily. ‘Did you recognise her?’
‘Recognise her? I can hardly see you now, let alone her!’ I said grumpily, fingering the bandages which enveloped my head.
‘All right, Dave, keep your hair on.’
‘I’m glad someone finds this amusing,’ I said. One side of my head had been shaved for the operation.
‘All I meant was that she might have been the last thing you ever saw. I’d have thought her face was etched on your memory,’ Cullen shot back.
‘She was wearing that mask,’ I croaked.
‘So she was,’ Cullen agreed. Using tweezers he picked the mask up from the corner where it had been kicked and placed it in an evidence bag. ‘I should wait for forensics, but with so much coming and going in here the place is bound to be contaminated anyway.’
‘What problems you have. I’m still waiting for an explanation as to why I was attacked in a supposedly secure hospital.’
‘So am I, sunshine,’ he said grimly. ‘So am I. I wonder what kind of mask this is?’
‘I can see you’ve never played ice hockey,’ Janine volunteered from her corner of the bed. ‘That’s a goalkeeper’s face mask. I know because I’ve taken Lloyd to the Arena to see the Manchester Storm.’
The mention of Lloyd started her weeping.
‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘We’ll find him and Jenny. At least we know it’s not a child molester who has them.’
That was no comfort to her.
‘I’ve told you Henry used to like beating me up,’ she said. ‘Goodness knows what he’ll do if Jenny starts being difficult.’
‘He’ll be on his best behaviour, love, believe me,’ Cullen interjected.
‘How do you know?’ Janine demanded.
‘It figures,’ he continued. ‘He’ll want the kids on his side at least until he gets them out of the country. He’s probably smothering them in ice cream and sweets and videos and whatever else kids of that age want.’
‘No!’ Janine wailed. She collapsed into the armchair and buried her face in her hands.
‘Bren, if that’s the best you can do . . .’ I muttered fiercely.
‘Right, let’s have a look at the gun then,’ he said, ignoring my words.
Partly numbed by drugs as I was I still felt a shiver of horror as Bren lifted the weapon up by placing a pencil in the barrel. I watched fascinated as he took out a pen and pressed the button to eject the magazine.
‘Uh-oh!’ he muttered, as the magazine fell onto the bed.
‘What?’ I asked anxiously.
‘Special bullets, that’s what. Point-two-two LR Stinger bullets, just like the ones which killed Lou Olley.’
‘What are they?’ Janine asked, looking up from her private grief. I felt a surge of pride that she could go on being professional in the circumstances.
‘This gun’s a Star Model Target Pistol, made in Spain and no doubt smuggled into this country in some holidaymaker’s baggage. It fires ten point-two-two calibre Long Rifle bullets, but these particular bullets weren’t made in Spain. They’re Stinger bullets, made in the USA, and specially modified to increase their stopping power to make up for the small calibre. Each bullet inflicts maximum injury. It doesn’t pass through the target and out the other side. All the energy is released inside the body. A single bullet is powerful enough to stop an elk. Even you wouldn’t have survived a hit from one of these, Dave.’
His words sounded intentionally brutal. I remembered the warning he’d given me that morning when he’d been at Lou Olley’s PM. The effect was to render me speechless for once. Janine crumpled. She slumped forward and would have fallen on the floor if Bren hadn’t caught her. He helped her back into her chair.
‘It seems to me that the lady with the lump on her head who tried to do you, Dave,’ he continued, quite unconcerned, ‘is the same female who killed Lou Olley. At least, the chances of there being two female assassins who pack point-two-two target pistols loaded with Stingers is pretty slight. So it looks like the idea of Operation Calverley – keeping an eye on you – has finally paid off.’
‘Paid off!’ I croaked indignantly. ‘It’s pure chance that she didn’t succeed. Don’t try to twist this round into a great success for yourself. Janine deserves the credit. I wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t had the guts to tackle that woman.’
Cullen gave me a wistful look.
‘I suppose you deserve some credit,’ I admitted.
‘Does this mean it’s all over?’ Janine asked. ‘You’ll catch the people who’re behind all this now, won’t you?’
‘Maybe, love, but if she’s a pro it’s unlikely she has any idea who paid her to kill Dave.’
Janine looked ready to be sick at this concept. She struggled to keep her emotions under control. I lay back and prayed for unconsciousness but it didn’t come.
‘This hasn’t got anything to do with Henry taking my kids?’ Janine asked almost in a whisper.
‘Lady, if it was anyone else but Dave involved I’d say no, but where he’s concerned anything’s possible. Do you want to know how many times I’ve warned him that the Carlyles play for keeps?’
‘He doesn’t listen,’ Janine agreed wearily, ‘but my children, what about them?’
‘I’ve put out an alert to all ports and airports to stop Talbot taking them out of the country but I’m afraid I’d be fooling you if I told you that was likely to be one hundred per cent effective.’
‘What will I do?’ Janine enquired forlornly.
‘Keep your fingers crossed that someone spots them, that’s all we can do,’ Bren said sadly.
‘But we were going to find out from . . .’
While speaking Janine was looking at me. I shook my head as vigorously as circumstances permitted. Janine looked surprised. Her voice faltered.
‘Yes, love?’ Bren prompted.
‘How did that killer know Dave was here? How could she know?’ she improvised.
‘There are people who spend all their time listening to the police radio, and if whoever organised this didn’t find out that way there must be dozens of people who saw Dave being carted off in the ambulance.’
‘Not to mention that some of Manchester’s finest don’t mind making a dishonest bob or two,’ I said.
‘Oh, you can speak, can you?’ Bren said with a curl of his lip. ‘I must be off to see if there’s any sign of your mate’s friends.’
‘Thanks for the protection.’
‘Better late than never. You know I had a feeling that if I stuck close to you I’d crack this case.’
‘Nice to know you care.’
‘Yeah, well don’t wander off,’ he said with an ironic glance at my various attachments. ‘You as well, Ms White. I’ll need a statement.’
‘What are we going to do?’ Janine wailed as soon as Cullen’s broad back was round the corner.
‘Janine, I’ve got a strong feeling that we don’t need to get in touch with the Carlyle family. I think they know exactly where we are.’
I spent an interesting morning being poked and prodded when I wasn’t napping and being told how lucky I was that the blow wasn’t a millimetre in another direction. Medical opinion was tending to agree with Clyde that I had a thick skull. It was nice to know that there was one part of me that was useful.
We both made statements about the s
hooter to Cullen’s oppo, Detective Sergeant Munro, who made no effort to hide his distaste. I also made a statement about my ‘accident’ to an inspector from West Yorkshire who assured me that the fullest investigation would be made into the near fatal circumstances but that I wasn’t to expect an early result as all batons concerned were now very clean, indeed polished, and no one was admitting anything; and didn’t I think it possible that I hit my head on the steel door lintel as I fell, and that the whole thing was just an unfortunate accident.
I didn’t, but I left him with a strong hint that my interest in vengeance would be considerably lessened if efforts to find Jenny and Lloyd were expedited.
Marvin also paid a visit. He handed me a card with his surname on: Marvin Desailles. He was wearing a dark three-piece suit. It was at least one size too big but that didn’t prevent Marvin from conveying an impression of great dignity and seriousness. I introduced him to Janine as the firm’s legal representative.
‘Are they still harassing you?’ he asked, with a nod at the armed police standing by my doorway.
‘Oddly enough they’re supposed to be protecting me, but it’s more a case of shutting the stable door than anything. Janine saved my life.’
‘Sorry about your troubles, ma’am,’ he said to her formally, and then, ‘The other matter, sir, shall I proceed?’
It took me a minute to work out what he meant. He sounded more like an old-fashioned English butler than a streetwise lawyer.
‘No, give me the letter,’ I said after a moment’s thought. ‘Mr King may have to stay in jail a little longer.’
‘Are you sure?’ he asked. ‘I mean there will have to be action, won’t there?’
‘Postponed for the present,’ I said.
Marvin left soon after and I then had my work cut out persuading Janine that charging off to Manchester Airport would do no good. We were talking when there was a knock on the door and the uniformed officer opened it. Tony Hefflin stood beside him, hair as bouffant as ever, and wearing a cashmere jacket and slacks. He looked as if he was off for a visit to Tarn Golf Club. His crinkly skin was the colour of tanned leather. He must have spent hours under the lamps.
‘Excuse me, this gentleman says he’s a friend of yours,’ the copper said disapprovingly.
Hefflin’s reputation had obviously gone before him.
‘He is and I was expecting him,’ I said. ‘Come in, Tony.’ The armed doorkeeper frowned but admitted the emissary from Brandon Carlyle.
‘Cunane,’ Hefflin said grouchily, ‘a little bird tells me that a copper put you in here. That’s good to know.’
I smiled at him and he responded with a puzzled frown. He gave Janine the barest of nods.
‘What! No chocolates?’ I said. ‘How’s Brandon?’
‘You won’t learn, will you? How many times have you been told to keep your nose out of the family’s business?’
‘Whoa! Family now, eh? What’s happened? Has Brandon adopted you?’
‘And does your warning mean that you accept that it was the family who sent an assassin to kill Dave?’ Janine demanded.
‘I know nothing about any assassin, though I can’t say I’m surprised. Lover-boy here’s trodden on more toes than a blind elephant at a ballet dancer’s picnic.’
‘What have you come for, then?’
‘I’m here to see that Cunane gets the message. Stay out of our business and be told!’
‘I’m going to deck the next person who tells me to “be told”,’ I said.
‘Look at you,’ Hefflin mocked. ‘You couldn’t raise a hand to save your life.’
‘But I can,’ Janine said angrily, stepping forward to confront Hefflin. ‘I want my children back.’
‘That’s nothing to do with us.’
‘The Carlyle Corporation employed Henry Talbot and brought him into the country. It’s got plenty to do with you,’ I said.
‘I know nothing about that.’
‘Then you’d better be a good little errand boy and find out,’ I suggested. ‘I’d also like to hear about the “or else”.’
‘What are you on about? Are your brains scrambled?’
‘I’ve to stay out of the family’s business. What’s the “or else”? Another hit?’
‘I’ve told you, that was nothing to do with us. You’ve already had your payoff from the family. Why the hell do you think your little no-hope business suddenly got so prosperous? Now you’re reneging. We hear someone’s been to visit Dr Sameem. What the fuck do you think you’re playing at? You’ll be back in the gutter before you get out of that bed if Mr Carlyle lifts his hand.’
‘I don’t think so. It would be hard to manage anyway, being in the gutter and in bed at the same time.’
‘The great joker, eh? I want your word that you’ll drop whatever you were up to and then Mr Carlyle may think twice about dumping you in view of the efforts by unknown parties to kill you. The publicity might not be good for the firm.’
‘That’s not going to happen either,’ I said confidently. ‘You listen, Hefflin. You tell Brandon that I can have Vince King released from prison within the next forty-eight hours. See how that grabs him.’
‘Now I know you’ve really lost it. King’s staying in jail till he rots. I didn’t pay my subs to the Police Federation all those years to see a cop-killer walking free.’
‘He’ll walk,’ I said smugly.
Despite himself Hefflin was curious.
‘Oh, yes?’
‘Yes. The Home Secretary will have no alternative when I send him the proof that evidence was suppressed.’
‘What evidence, dickhead?’
‘Evidence that the carpet fibres which placed King in the murder room could have come from somewhere else. Evidence that DI Jones blackmailed the forensic scientist to cover up.’
‘You’re making this up.’
‘No, it’s all down in black and white, signed, sealed and waiting to be delivered to James McMahon.’
‘He’ll ignore it.’
‘He can’t. The permanent secretary knows all about it. King will be out while the unsafe conviction is investigated by an outside police force. McMahon will have King out of that prison so fast that you’ll miss it if you blink. He’ll do it to protect his own and the Government’s reputation and also because King really is innocent.’
‘You sod!’ Hefflin cursed. He turned on his heel, but when he reached the door thought better about the dramatic exit. ‘I’ll be back,’ he said furiously and then shut the door quietly behind him.
52
WITH ALL THE nimbleness of his rat-like nature Hefflin slipped back into the room about five minutes after he’d left. Perhaps it was unfair to say the disgraced former copper was rat-like but I wasn’t feeling generous. There was a suaveness and a sure-footedness about the way the man moved that specially grated on me in my present bed-bound state.
‘She’ll have to go,’ he said, pointing to Janine.
‘It’s the fate of my children you’re discussing!’ Janine said indignantly.
‘This isn’t a fucking press conference. I’m not saying what I have to say in front of any sodding journalists,’ Hefflin said smoothly. I could see he was enjoying winding Janine up. He was brimming over with barely concealed spite. It wasn’t hard to imagine what his conversation with Brandon had been like.
‘They’re my children and I’m staying.’
‘OK, so I’m going,’ Hefflin announced.
Janine tried to block him at the door. Hefflin was foolish enough to try to push her aside. The result was that, experienced copper though he may once have been, he found himself flat on his back with Janine trying to use his abundant wavy hair as a handle to bang his head repeatedly against the carpeted floor. Apart from a few piercing gasps the struggle took place entirely in silence.
‘Janine, we need him if we’re going to get Harrow to help us,’ I warned, but to no avail. The pair rolled over in furious battle, with Hefflin cursing monotonously under his b
reath. It was only the arrival of a nurse that stopped them. She yelled for security as soon as she opened the door and took in the scene. It took two hospital security men to get Janine off Hefflin. Then an armed police guard crowded the former copper into a corner while the hospital security men stood with the panting, wild-eyed Janine. I noted with satisfaction that Janine was clutching a handful of Hefflin’s hair. He looked well battered. His face was a dangerous shade of puce.
Moments later a hospital official in a suit arrived to read the riot act. He was accompanied by the surgeon who’d treated my wound.
‘The hospital management can’t tolerate this kind of rowdiness,’ the official, a mild-looking man with a moustache, told us. I could see that he suffered from an intimidation deficit and that he was having trouble working himself up to the right degree of indignation. Surveying Hefflin’s cashmere jacket, now sadly in need of some invisible mending, and Janine’s torn blouson, he shook his head and tut-tutted. ‘Really, we don’t expect this class of behaviour from people of your sort. It’s bad enough in A&E on a Saturday night with the drunken yobbos, but we don’t expect this kind of thing in an intensive care unit. I’m told you’re a journalist, Ms White. I wonder how your editor would like to hear that one of his employees was rolling round on the hospital floor in a savage attack on this gentleman?’
‘I did no such thing,’ Janine said gamely. ‘He attacked me. I’m sure my editor doesn’t mind his journalists defending themselves.’
Hefflin started spluttering indignantly at this.
‘I’m not here to sort out the rights and wrongs. There’s already been an extremely serious incident in this room. The management will have to assess our ability to cope with the treatment of Mr Cunane if incidents on this scale are going to reoccur. We have the safety of other patients and staff to think of.’
