Dead Lock (The DI Nick Dixon Crime Series Book 8)

by Damien Boyd

  ‘He’s stopped,’ muttered Jane. ‘What the fuck’s he doing?’

  She watched him lift the floor of the rear deck and lean down into the engine compartment, cranking a handle of some sort. Then he crawled forwards and reached up for the throttle, the water churning forwards under the boat this time.

  Jane looked up at a lock keeper sprinting down the towpath. He stopped at the edge of the lock and shouted down to Dixon in the bottom.

  ‘He’s going to sink the boat!’

  That was all she heard and all she needed to hear.

  She glanced across as she sprinted across the footbridge, watching Anytimenow sinking at the back as the water gushed into the engine compartment. It was up to the back doors by the time she cleared the bridge, the stern resting on the bottom and the nose settling inch by inch.

  She raced down the grass bank on the far side and ran along the towpath, past the Armed Response officers still pointing their weapons at Steiner, who was up to his neck in water at the back of the boat.

  ‘No shot!’ shouted one.

  ‘Hold your fire,’ shouted another. ‘He’s not armed.’

  The dog handler was ahead of her, running along the towpath towards the road bridge. Then, when she was level with the sinking boat, Jane dived into the water. A flat racing dive, just like she’d been taught at school; she surfaced five yards from the bank, grateful that she hadn’t hit anything under the water.

  She struck out for the sunken boat now resting on the bottom of the canal, only its roof still visible, the skylight poking out of the water, the bicycle still chained to the railings at the front.

  A diesel engine revving hard off to her right – she glanced across to see Dixon on the rear deck of the other canal boat, roaring backwards out of the lock.

  Hang on, Hatty. We’re coming!

  Someone was in the water on the far side of the Anytimenow, swimming towards the far bank. Must be Steiner.

  Bastard.

  Then she felt the handrail on the back of Anytimenow and pulled herself into a standing position on the deck at the back of the boat, holding on to the roof. She tried the steel doors, but they were bolted from the inside, the sliding hatch above them open. Two pillows and a duvet had floated to the surface, so she threw them clear, took a deep breath and slid down into the gloom, feeling her way with her feet and hands.

  Steps. She missed the top one and pitched forward, her arms flailing in the murky green water.

  Then the edge of a bed. She felt the wooden slats, but where was the mattress?

  Shafts of light were streaming in from the windows on either side, everything tinged green by the water.

  The bathroom on her left now, a tin of shaving foam above her head, banging against the underside of the roof. She followed the passageway, pulling herself along using the window frames on one side and the open bathroom door on the other, until she reached a locked door; fumbling for the lock, the clock ticking, lungs bursting. And Hatty had been in the water even longer.

  Then her fingers closed around a bolt and she slid it open.

  The kitchen. It must be. The curtains were closed now, but she could make out a loaf of bread floating above her head, just under the roof, a box of cornflakes, empty cartons of milk and apples bobbing; bottles and tins rolling about on the floor at her feet too, as she pulled herself along the worktop.

  Light was streaming in from above now. The skylight. It must be the skylight!

  Odd that the light was flickering. Then she saw the legs of a child – Hatty’s legs – kicking out in the water in front of her, the girl’s face pressed to the glass of the skylight above her.

  An air pocket, it must be an air pocket!

  Jane felt the edge of the dining table against her thigh and stepped up on the bench seat, wrapping her arm around Hatty’s waist to hold her up. Then she fumbled for the lock on the skylight with her free hand.

  It opened. Just a couple of inches, but that was enough. She was standing on the dining table now, pushing Hatty up towards the gap, and heard her coughing and spluttering as she filled her lungs with air. Hatty turned and wrapped her arms around Jane’s neck, sobbing and gasping for air at the same time.

  Then Jane lurched upwards towards the light, her face pressed against the glass as she too gasped for air, one arm still around Hatty’s waist, the other holding on to the edge of the roof.

  ‘Can you hold on to the roof, Hatty? I won’t let go of you.’

  The child slid her hands from around Jane’s neck and took hold of the edge of the roof, pulling herself up and turning her face towards the opening.

  ‘I’ve got you,’ said Jane. ‘See if you can find the dining table with your feet.’

  ‘I . . . I can’t.’

  ‘It’s all right.’ Jane felt Hatty’s legs flailing in the water. ‘I can hold you. We’re going to be fine. The boat’s stopped sinking and help’s on the way. All right?’

  Hatty nodded. If she was still crying then her tears were being washed away by the water that was washing over the roof of the boat and in through the skylight, the wake of Dixon’s boat, probably.

  Jane took a deep breath. She tried to turn her head to look towards the front of the boat.

  Nick, where are you?

  Then she heard the dull thud of footsteps running along the roof above them.

  Chapter Forty

  Dixon watched Steiner looking all around him, no more than thirty yards away now, his eyes darting from side to side. Then he disappeared down behind the back cabin and lifted the engine cover.

  ‘Armed police. Stay where you are!’

  Dixon peered around the wall at four Armed Response officers edging along the towpath, their weapons raised and pointing at Anytimenow. More on the top of the wall above him.

  ‘He’s going to sink the boat!’

  He looked up to see a lock keeper running along the top of the lock. He stopped adjacent to Dixon and shouted down to him: ‘If he removes the cover on the rudder housing and puts it in reverse, it’ll sink like a stone.’

  The sound of the armed police officers shouting was drowned out by the revving of a diesel engine, then the water started churning at the back of Anytimenow, bubbling forwards under the boat.

  ‘That’s it,’ shouted the lock keeper. ‘That’s reverse.’

  ‘How do I reverse this one?’ shouted Dixon.

  ‘Press the red button, lever back, point the tiller in the direction you want to go.’

  The nose of Anytimenow was rearing up in the water as the narrowboat sank at the stern. Arms were flailing in the water on the far side: Steiner was swimming for it.

  Dixon looked up at the sound of footsteps on the bridge directly above him just in time to see Jane sprint across, run down the grass bank and dive into the canal. She surfaced five yards out and started swimming towards the stricken canal boat now sitting on the bottom of the canal, only the roof and bike visible.

  He slammed his boat in reverse, roaring backwards out of the lock towards Anytimenow, and had cleared the lower wall by the time Jane arrived at the sunken narrowboat. He watched her take a deep breath and drop down inside the cabin through the top hatch.

  ‘Can I help?’ shouted the elderly man over the noise of the engine. He had crept to the top of the back steps and was peering out on to the rear deck.

  ‘Get me over there, as quick as you can,’ replied Dixon. ‘There are people on board.’

  ‘Oh, good God.’

  The man stepped out on to the deck and took hold of the tiller, adjusting it so they were heading directly for the front of the sunken Anytimenow.

  Dixon climbed over the back rail, ready to jump across, and waited, watching the bicycle on the roof getting ever closer.

  He spotted movement on the far bank and watched Steiner climb out of the canal and run across the campsite towards the road. Dixon grimaced. Sirens were all around him now – even over the sound of the engine – Armed Response officers and dog handlers sprinting
along the towpath towards the road bridge and through the farm on the other side too. They should be able to cut him off.

  ‘That’s close enough,’ he shouted. Then he jumped, landing on the roof of the sunken boat.

  ‘Nick!’

  Jane’s voice, coming from the open skylight, her fingertips just visible, holding on to the edge of the frame.

  Dixon picked up the barge pole and ran along the roof, jumping over the bicycle chained to the side rail. He stopped when he reached the open skylight and looked down at the two faces pressed to the Perspex beneath him, eyes wide open. Jane clinging on with one hand, her other arm wrapped around Hatty, both of them gasping for air.

  ‘You’ll need to take a deep breath and duck down, just for a second. All right?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Jane.

  ‘Can you do that, Hatty?’ asked Dixon.

  She nodded.

  ‘With me, Hatty. OK?’ said Jane. ‘Ready?’ She took a deep breath, turning her head to watch Hatty do the same. Then she nodded and they both ducked down under the water.

  Dixon slid the pole under the skylight, braced it against the single hinge and levered it open, snapping the metal bracket off the frame. The skylight flew open. Then he reached down into the water and took hold of Hatty by the wrists, lifting her clear of the water up on to the roof.

  She rubbed her eyes.

  ‘Are you all right?’ asked Dixon.

  ‘Yes.’ Sobbing now.

  Then Jane appeared, both hands on the edge of the frame, kicking with her feet and trying to climb out of the skylight. Dixon reached down, put his hands under her arms and lifted her out of the water.

  Hatty lunged forwards, clamping her arms around Jane’s waist.

  ‘It’s going to be all right,’ said Jane, wrapping her arms around Hatty. ‘You’re safe now.’

  ‘I’m Nick and this is Jane.’ Dixon smiled. ‘Your Grandad Roger sent us.’

  Chapter Forty-One

  ‘He what?’

  ‘He got away, Sir.’ The uniformed officer took a step back.

  ‘How?’

  ‘I’ll deal with this, Quinn, thank you.’ The duty inspector appeared behind Dixon. ‘He hijacked a car at knifepoint, rammed the patrol car blocking the road and sped off.’

  ‘They should’ve bloody well shot him.’

  ‘Oh, c’mon, Dixon, you know the rules of engagement. There was no immediate threat.’

  ‘You’re in pursuit? At least tell me you’re in pursuit.’

  ‘We were.’ The duty inspector was rubbing his hands together. Nervously. ‘We called it off on the outskirts of Chippenham,’ he said. ‘It was becoming a danger to the public.’

  ‘And what the fuck d’you think Steiner is?’ Dixon kicked the gravel on the towpath, sending small stones spraying across the canal. ‘And who’s “we”?’

  ‘I called it off. I’m the duty inspector and it was my decision. We’ve got the Avon and Somerset helicopter en route and we’ll try to pick him up once he clears the town.’

  ‘If he clears the town.’

  Dixon walked over to the ambulance parked on the towpath. Jane was holding hands with Hatty in the back, both of them wrapped in space blankets.

  He smiled. ‘How are they?’ he asked, turning to the paramedic standing at the back of the ambulance.

  ‘They’re both fine.’

  ‘Has Hatty been assaulted?’

  ‘She says not, but she’ll need to be examined properly.’

  Dixon nodded.

  ‘She’s a bit groggy, but it seems to be wearing off,’ continued the paramedic. ‘She swallowed some water, so we’ll need to watch she doesn’t vomit and choke on it, but her lungs are clear. We’ll be taking them both to Bath A&E.’

  Dixon nodded.

  ‘Can you follow us there?’

  ‘Yes.’ Dixon smiled. ‘Her mother’s already on the way there.’

  ‘Your DCS Potter is on the way, Dixon,’ said the duty inspector, sliding his phone into his breast pocket. ‘She’ll be here in ten minutes.’

  ‘Thank you for the warning.’ He turned back to the paramedic. ‘C’mon, then, let’s get them to the hospital. I’ll follow in my Land Rover.’

  Blue lights.

  The curtains at the front of Old School House had been closed day and night since Tuesday, but Poland could still see the blue lights outside, reflecting off the ceiling even in broad daylight. He walked over to the window and peered around the side of the curtain, expecting to see the now familiar gaggle of photographers and journalists in the lay-by opposite the house.

  Instead his view was obscured by an Avon and Somerset Police four wheel drive pursuit vehicle parked directly outside the house, its engine still running, the driver’s seat empty.

  The knock at the door was loud and slow.

  ‘Who is it, Dad?’ asked Adele, looking up.

  ‘It’s the police.’

  He walked over to the front door, with Adele and Jeremy close behind him, and opened it. Geraldine was sitting at the dining table, doing a jigsaw puzzle. She stood up, craning her neck to listen.

  ‘What is it, Cole?’ he asked.

  ‘May I, Sir?’

  Poland stepped back, allowing Cole into the hall, before closing the door behind him. He swallowed hard. ‘Is it Hatty?’ he whispered, his eyes wide.

  ‘We’ve found her. She’s fine, Sir.’ Cole grinned. ‘She’ll be on her way to Bath A&E in the next few minutes. We’re to meet them there.’

  Adele dropped to her knees behind Poland and began to sob. He turned around and helped her to her feet, holding her up with an arm around her waist. ‘Them?’ he asked.

  ‘She’s with Jane Winter, Sir. Inspector Dixon will be following in his Land Rover.’

  Poland nodded. ‘Who d’you want then?’

  ‘All three of you, I think, Sir. There’s room in the car.’

  ‘What about Mum?’ gasped Adele.

  ‘You go,’ said Geraldine. ‘Just go!’

  Poland climbed in the back of the BMW with Adele, Jeremy sitting in the front passenger seat. They ducked low behind the car to avoid the photographers, but several cameras were still held out in front of them as Cole accelerated away.

  Adele leaned over, her head on Poland’s shoulder, the tears soaking into his shirt.

  More blue lights up ahead. Cole slowed at the junction – the traffic stopped by police motorcycles – before sweeping out on to the A39 and accelerating hard towards the motorway. Seconds later the motorcycles flashed by, taking up position in front of them, ready to stop the traffic again at the bottom of Puriton Hill.

  ‘Why Bath?’ asked Jeremy.

  ‘It was the nearest A&E, Sir,’ replied Cole.

  Jeremy looked over his shoulder at Adele. ‘Where was she?’ he asked, turning back to Cole.

  ‘In a narrowboat on the Kennet and Avon Canal, Sir.’

  ‘And she’s not been . . . ?’

  ‘She says not, Sir, but she’ll need to be examined.’

  ‘Of course she will,’ said Poland. ‘Let’s worry about that later, shall we?’

  The motorcycle escort stayed with them as they raced north on the M5, Poland watching the familiar landmarks flashing by on the nearside, tears rolling slowly down his cheeks.

  A burnt out factory; that had been quite a night. And Brent Knoll. He smiled. He had some good friends who lived there. Some damned good friends.

  Hatty was still, at last, lying on a stretcher in the back of the ambulance, holding Jane’s hand. Cried herself to sleep, probably, thought Dixon as the paramedic closed the back doors of the ambulance, the last vestiges of whatever drug it was in her system taking effect.

  He was following the ambulance along the A4 when he spotted the blue lights, coming up fast behind them in the outside lane of the dual carriageway. He looked in his rear view mirror and watched the cars approach, sirens wailing. One pulled in behind his Land Rover, the other coming alongside in the outside lane. The driver looked up a
t Dixon and nodded, then accelerated, taking up position in front of the ambulance, matching their speed.

  He thought about Steiner and wondered where he was. Hiding under a bush, perhaps, or even in custody by now. He slid his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. No messages, so he dropped it on the passenger seat, waking up Monty, who was asleep in the front passenger footwell.

  Two walks today. Good lad. We might get another later, old son. If we’re lucky.

  Dixon followed the ambulance into the small car park outside the A&E department, which was deserted apart from a police BMW X5 and two motorcycles parked on the double yellow lines opposite the entrance. The car doors opened; Adele and Jeremy took each other’s hands, Poland standing behind them on the grass verge.

  The ambulance stopped in front of the double doors and Dixon coasted to a stop behind it. He switched off his engine, got out and waited for the paramedic to open the back doors. Hatty slid off the stretcher and Jane helped her to the back of the ambulance when the doors opened, so Dixon picked her up and carried her across to Jeremy and Adele, who ran forward, their arms outstretched.

  ‘She’s fine,’ said Dixon, gently placing Hatty in Jeremy’s arms.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, tears streaming down his cheeks.

  ‘She needs to be checked over.’

  Adele nodded. She tried to say something, but shook her head, the words lost in the sobs.

  Poland stepped off the kerb and put his arms round Adele, who had her arms around Hatty. Then he walked over to Dixon and stood in front of him with his hand outstretched.

  ‘I don’t have the words,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Save them for your best man’s speech.’ Dixon smiled.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Don’t thank me, thank Jane.’

  ‘What happened?’ asked Poland.

  ‘The boat sank. She went in and got Hatty out. I may have found her, but Jane saved her life.’

  Poland walked over and put his arms around Jane, who had climbed out of the ambulance under her own steam.

  ‘You’re soaking wet,’ he said, smiling.

  ‘Er, yes . . . sorry.’ Jane shrugged her shoulders.