by DS Butler
With a thud, Mackinnon’s head connected with the curb. He wasn’t sure whether it was that or the effects of the gas, but his vision faded to grey.
As the face of the man in black loomed over him, the gas mask distorting his features, Mackinnon couldn’t do anything but raise a hand to try to grasp him again.
He couldn’t see properly, but for some reason, he was sure the man was laughing at him.
The last thing Mackinnon heard was the distant wail of sirens before it all went black.
44
WHEN MACKINNON WOKE UP he was in hospital. His head was pounding, and the light above him seemed to burn into his retinas. He tried to raise his hand to block out the light and realised he was hooked up to an IV.
His first thought was Robbie. Had he been too late?
He swallowed. Everything hurt. At least he wasn’t wearing an oxygen mask, so that was a good sign.
He looked around the room. He was alone. There were two other beds set up, but no occupants. He wasn’t in ICU – more good news. He leaned back on the pillow. The small effort required to raise his head and look around the room had exhausted him.
Mackinnon heard the squeak of a door hinge. He expected to see a doctor or nurse come to check up on him, but instead it was Charlotte. The dark makeup around her eyes was smudged, and she looked even paler than usual.
“You daft sod,” Charlotte said. “What were you thinking?”
Obviously, he wouldn’t be getting any sympathy.
“Don’t nag me. I feel terrible,” Mackinnon said.
“You deserve to. Did you not think? Hello? Standard operating procedure - ever heard of it?”
“Yeah, all right,” Mackinnon said. He rubbed a hand over his face. He knew he was probably imagining things, but he felt like he could still smell the gas. “What would you have done? That little boy was unconscious. Would you have waited?”
“He could have been dead already, Jack. And you could have died for no reason at all. That’s why we have procedure.”
After a moment’s silence Mackinnon asked, “Is Robbie all right?”
“I think so,” Charlotte said. “Dr. Sorensen’s been treating both of you, and she seems to think you’ll both be okay.” Charlotte moved closer and stood by his pillow. “How are you feeling now?”
“Terrible,” Mackinnon said.
“That’s to be expected I suppose. And if you think I’ve told you off, just you wait until you hear from Brookbank. He’s livid, Jack.”
“Fantastic,” Mackinnon said. “That’s something to look forward to.”
His head was thumping and his throat hurt. He wasn’t exactly expecting a medal, but he sure as hell hadn’t expected this.
Charlotte’s face softened. “Seriously though, I’m glad you’re okay. Did you see anything? Get a look at him?”
Before Mackinnon could answer, the door opened again and Dr. Anna Sorensen entered, followed by DC Collins.
Collins grinned. “Sleeping beauty’s awake.”
Mackinnon struggled to raise himself into a sitting position. “How am I doing, Anna? When can I leave?”
Dr. Sorensen frowned. “I don’t think there’s going to be any permanent damage, but we’ll keep you in here tonight to be on the safe side.”
Mackinnon nodded. “All right. But don’t tell Chloe,” he said, looking at Charlotte. “I don’t want to worry her, and she thinks I’m staying at Derek’s tonight anyway.”
Charlotte shrugged. “If you’re sure.”
Dr. Sorensen checked Mackinnon’s IV and made a note on the chart at the end of his bed. After telling him she’d be back to check on him later and warning Collins and Charlotte to let him get some rest, she left the room.
Mackinnon slumped back onto his pillows. “What did Robbie say? Did he see anything?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Collins said. “The kid was glued to his Xbox. One minute he was shooting enemy soldiers, the next minute, nothing.”
Mackinnon closed his eyes.
“What about you?” Collins asked. “Did you get a good look at him? We got some witness descriptions, which basically all said the same thing. Medium height. Dark clothes. Wearing a gas mask.”
“I only saw him wearing the mask. A big, clunky, old-fashioned gas mask. There was a glass or plastic visor covering the eye area. It made his eyes look all distorted. It was creepy. I think his eyes were blue, but I …” Mackinnon could feel himself start to drift.
“All right,” Collins said. “We’d better let you get some rest. But before I go, you know what you did was bloody stupid, don’t you?”
“Yes, thanks, Nick. I’ve already been told that, and I’m sure you won’t be the last person to tell me.”
“You’re right about that.” Collins grinned and looked at Charlotte. “Did you tell him that Brookbank’s on the war path?”
Charlotte nodded. “Oh, yes.”
“At least we got something out of it,” Collins said.
Mackinnon frowned. “We did? What?”
“The masked man left his bag behind. They found you slumped on the side of the road, leaning on it. Cuddling it like a teddy bear.”
Suddenly, Mackinnon was wide awake. “Why didn’t you say so before?” He sat up and pushed back the sheets. “We’ll need to catalogue everything. What was in it?” Mackinnon got out of bed and with one hand on the chair beside him, began to rummage through the bedside cabinet. “Where the hell are my clothes?”
Charlotte cleared her throat and turned away.
Collins laughed. “You do realise the hospital gowns are backless, Jack?”
Mackinnon’s hand shot round to his back. Collins was right.
Mackinnon sat back on the bed and looked at Charlotte, who was still facing the wall. “Sorry.”
Collins laughed again. “Just get back to bed, Jack. You’re no good to anyone in this state. We’ve started to catalogue the contents of the bag. I’ll fill you in tomorrow.”
Charlotte backed out of the door. Her cheeks were still bright pink. “See you tomorrow, Jack.”
“Make sure you put your pants on tomorrow,” Collins said and got an elbow in the ribs from Charlotte.
After they’d gone, Mackinnon’s mind was whirling with possibilities. What was in the bag? Would it help crack the case?
He thought he’d never be able to sleep, but the moment he shut his eyes, he drifted off.
45
TYRELL PATTERSON THOUGHT HIS heart had stopped beating. He’d already had six lagers and shared a bag of weed between four of his friends when his mate, John Denver, said the words that shocked him to the core.
He grabbed John’s arm. “Hang on. What did you just say?”
He had to be tripping … It just didn’t make sense …
John shook off his arm. “Swear to God. I heard it from Rita Baxter, Robbie’s cousin. There was some bloke dressed up in black and wearing a gas mask. He looked like something out of World War II. Apparently, loads of people saw him coming out of the flats.”
Tyrell felt dizzy, and it had nothing to do with the six lagers. The spliff he was holding dropped to the floor.
“Hey, watch out,” John said, picking up the smouldering end. “You dozy bastard. You’ve put a fag burn in the carpet. My mum will go spare when she sees that hole.”
One of Tyrell’s other friends collapsed into giggles. “It’s a pothole!”
Tyrell ignored them and felt himself swaying a little as he stared at his friends. Their faces blended into one as they stared back at him.
“You all right, Tyrell? You look a bit green, mate.”
Tyrell put the Xbox controller down on the floor. He and his friends had been sitting around playing this game for hours. How could they not have told him this earlier? Didn’t they realise how important it was?
He’d been sure Estelle had made it up. He’d had a couple of drinks before picking up the Chinese, and she’d been pissed at him. That was why he thought she invented that stupid story ab
out a masked man.
He’d got her hysterical phone call, effing and blinding, calling him every name under the sun, when he’d been finishing up his third pint.
He’d been so sure she was making it up. For God’s sake, a man in a mask – who would believe that?
Tyrell staggered and leaned against the wall for support.
“Bloody hell, Tyrell. What’s up with you?” John said.
Tyrell’s other friends had gotten bored and picked up their controllers to resume the game.
“Come on, Tyrell,” John said. “Maybe you ought to call it a night.”
Tyrell shook his head. “You don’t understand. Estelle said a masked man broke into the flat, looking for me. I thought she was talking bollocks.”
John ran a hand over his forehead and scratched his scalp. “That doesn’t make any sense. What would he want with you?”
Tyrell felt sick. This had to have something to do with what went down at the newsagent’s. Vinnie was still in hospital, so had the Brewertons decided to come at Tyrell instead? He pushed past John. He needed to get outside into the fresh air. He needed to work out what to do.
He careered down the stairs, stumbling as he missed the last step.
He ran out of the block of flats, into the warm July evening. How the hell could this have happened?
If they were targeting Robbie, that must mean whoever was doing this was targeting Vinnie’s mates.
And if Estelle was telling the truth, they were coming for Tyrell, too. He fumbled with the phone in his pocket. The tiny display window swam before his eyes. This phone was a bunch of crap. He should have kept the fancy new one for himself. He only got it in the neck after he gave it to Estelle as a present anyway.
He punched the buttons and selected Estelle’s number from contacts.
It took six rings before Estelle’s sleepy voice answered, “What do you want?”
“Listen, Estelle this is important. You need to go somewhere safe. Go to your mum’s.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Tyrell?” She sounded furious, and he couldn’t really blame her.
Tyrell licked his lips. His mouth was getting drier and drier by the second.
“This is really important. I’m sorry, babe, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about that masked man. Please, go to your mum’s.”
“What the hell, Tyrell. You can’t just –”
“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I’ll call you later.”
“What will you do?” Estelle asked.
“I’m going to do what I should have done when you first told me. I’m going to the police.”
Tyrell hung up.
46
TYRELL WISHED HE HADN’T smoked quite so much weed this evening. It went against all his instincts to enter a police station high and drunk, but this was important. Surely the police wouldn’t be interested in a little recreational smoking when there was a crazy nutter, trying to gas people.
As he rounded the corner to Wood Street station, he stretched his shoulders and stuck a piece of chewing gum in his mouth to freshen his breath. He needed them to take him seriously. He couldn’t go in there stinking of booze.
Tyrell stared up at the blue police lanterns hanging either side of the entrance. He had to shove his hands in his pockets to stop them shaking. After thirty seconds of standing there looking like an idiot, Tyrell climbed the steps and entered the police station.
He walked to the police officer on duty at the reception desk and leaned on the counter.
The police officer was sorting papers, putting them into different pigeonholes and didn’t see Tyrell until he turned around.
“Can I help you?”
Tyrell nodded. “My name is Tyrell Patterson, and I need to speak to somebody about the gas attacks.”
47
CHARLOTTE’S MORNING STARTED OFF very well. A very scared-looking Tyrell Patterson had turned up in the early hours and handed himself in. Charlotte couldn’t say she blamed him.
As DI Tyler wanted to ask him questions personally, she’d left Tyrell Patterson with a cup of coffee, half a packet of chocolate digestives and a PC to keep an eye on him.
Five minutes ago, Charlotte had rung the hospital. Mackinnon seemed to be okay. No lasting damage, thank God. Sometimes health and safety laws could be over the top, but in this case, what he did was stupid. He could have killed himself.
Mackinnon should be discharged this morning. She’d heard through the grapevine that he’d already received his telling off by Brookbank, so she imagined he was feeling pretty sorry for himself.
Charlotte glanced at her watch. Time for the morning briefing. At least they had some good news this morning with Tyrell Patterson ready to answer questions and whatever clues the team had managed to get from the black holdall.
If Tyrell could give them some answers, they might be able to put this case to bed by the end of today. From what he’d said so far, Charlotte was worried it might be a gang retaliation. God, she hoped not.
She hoped this sort of thing didn’t catch on.
DI Tyler was heading up the briefing again this morning. Charlotte moved to the front of the room where DC Collins and DC Webb were already sitting.
DI Tyler made his way into the room, carrying a pile of papers. As he lowered them onto his desk, he turned to Charlotte with a grin. “I think you’ve got some good news for us, DC Brown.”
Good news travelled fast.
“Yes. Tyrell Patterson came into the station this morning. He is scared he’s going to be next.”
“Hopefully the kid can give us the information we need to catch this killer. We’ll need to question his girlfriend as well, as she was the one who saw the masked man. But before we arrange that,” Tyler perched on the edge of the desk, “we’ve got Vinnie Pearson and Robbie Baxter still in hospital. Whoever is after them might try to target them again. So I am going to organise protection.”
“Another waste of taxpayers’ money,” DC Webb said.
Tyler ignored him. “We can keep a uniformed officer outside the hospital wards until they are well enough to leave. Then we’ll transfer them to a safe house. Tyrell Patterson will go straight to the safe house.”
“That will cost a sodding fortune,” DC Webb said.
Tyler glared at DC Webb. “I’m well aware of that, thank you.”
48
IT DIDN’T TAKE VERY long for Charlotte to convince Ivy Baxter that Robbie should go into the safe house as soon as he was discharged. After all, she was a mother, and she knew Charlotte wasn’t lying about the risk to his life. But Ivy didn’t make it easy for Charlotte. Ivy Baxter was her normal bolshy self, agreeing to the safe house as if she were doing Charlotte a favour rather than the other way around.
Dr. Sorensen said Robbie could be discharged whenever the safe house was ready, but Vinnie Pearson still needed medical attention and wouldn’t be discharged until next week.
So, Robbie Baxter was easy enough, but Vinnie Pearson was another matter.
She’d known Vinnie would be trouble as soon as she entered the ward.
As she approached the bed, Vinnie Pearson looked up. Charlotte could see he recognised her. His whole body tensed, his eyelids lowered slightly and the edges of his mouth turned up in a smirk.
Charlotte didn’t see the point in beating around the bush.
“Vinnie, after you’ve been discharged, we want to keep you in a safe house for a short period of time. We think that somebody might be trying to kill you and your friends.”
For the briefest moment, a flicker of fear showed on Vinnie’s face, and then he was back to normal.
“Yeah like that’s going to happen,” Vinnie said.
She tried again, trying to convince him, telling him that Tyrell Patterson would be in the same safe house and that Robbie would be going there when he was discharged, too. But her words had no effect.
Vinnie looked straight ahead, staring at the wall rather than looking at her.
&
nbsp; She could really do without this sort of crap. Charlotte shifted in her chair, getting comfortable, then leaned back, folded her arms and waited. She could wait it out just as well as he could.
It took only two minutes for Vinnie to start fidgeting. He shot her a sideways glance. “There’s no point in you hanging around. I’m not going to change my mind,” he said.
Charlotte shifted her legs out of the way as a nurse bustled past and updated something on Vinnie’s chart. They both stayed silent until the nurse had gone.
“Why are you still here?” Vinnie said, clearly getting agitated.
“I thought I’d hang around until you get some common sense,” Charlotte said and leaned forward in the chair. “What is it, Vinnie? Do you know who is doing this? Are you refusing help because you’re scared? Is that what this is all about?”
“Of course, it isn’t. I’m not scared. I just don’t want anything to do with the police. I mean, how would it look?”
“Surely keeping yourself safe is more important,” Charlotte said. “Would you tell me if you knew who was doing this? Have you got on the wrong side of someone? Is that why they are targeting you and your friends? Is it some kind of turf war?”
“Turf war? I ain’t one of the Kray brothers. Jesus, no one told me we’d gone back in time.”
Despite his tough words, Charlotte noticed his hands were shaking. Dr. Sorensen was right. Vinnie was scared of something.
He looked up and frowned. “Hang on a minute. You said my friends were being targeted. You meant Tyrell and Robbie, right? No one else?”
Charlotte took a deep breath. Vinnie was still trying to protect his friends from the police. When would it sink in that the police weren’t the ones he should be worrying about? “Craig Foster and Joanne James are dead, Vinnie.”
Vinnie’s eyes widened. “No. You’re lying. I saw Craig climb out the window myself, and the doctor here told me only Robbie and me were admitted. Joanne and Craig got away.”
