by Tania Carver
‘I don’t… Keith… please —’
Claire’s words were cut short. Her phone rang.
She froze. So did Keith. He stared at it. She knew what he was about to do, and in the split second before he moved, she answered the call, put the phone to her ear.
‘Hi, Claire? DS Sperring here. I just wanted to check someth—’
‘He’s here!’ she screamed. ‘It’s him, he’s here, in the flat, in here —’
The phone fell from her hands. Pain like she had never experienced passed through her. Like a thousand dull blades ripping her flesh, hitting every nerve in the process. She screamed. Fell to the floor.
Unconscious.
88
The phone in Sperring’s hand was screaming. Then it abruptly stopped.
He stared at it, then looked round the incident room. He hadn’t expected that.
He put the phone to his ear, tried again.
‘Claire? Claire Lingard? This is DS Sperring. Hello?’ He waved at Cotter as he spoke, tried to attract her attention.
A voice answered. ‘What d’you want?’
He could guess who it was. ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Sperring. Where’s Claire? Is she all right?’
The only answer was breathing. He could hear a raised voice in the background, whimpering and gasping.
‘Keith Bailey, is that you? Am I talking to Keith Bailey?’
Nothing.
‘Hello?’
The voice came back, speaking slow and low. ‘Why don’t you just fuck off and leave us alone?’
The phone went dead.
Sperring stood up. Cotter had reached his desk.
‘We’ve got trouble,’ he said.
89
It didn’t take long for the circus to roll up.
The road in Kings Heath was cordoned off, police tape unrolled at either end, makeshift barriers erected, uniforms posted on duty. The mobile incident room had been set up outside the flats. Phil and Marina entered.
‘Oh God, not you again.’
Mike Battersby, the hostage negotiation expert, looked up. Did a double-take. Phil gave him a nod of acknowledgement by way of greeting.
Battersby stood up, finger pointing. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘I don’t care what you say, you are not having anything to do with this negotiation. You go nowhere near it. You got that?’
Phil held his hands up in mock surrender. ‘Fine by me.’
Cotter interjected, leading Phil away by the arm. ‘I’m sure DI Brennan has plenty of other duties to take care of.’
Battersby resumed his seat.
‘Where are we?’ Phil asked Cotter.
She told him about Sperring’s call.
‘Anything else? Any movement from inside? Attempt to contact him?’
Cotter shook his head. ‘Waited until you got here.’
‘And you’re sure it’s him? Keith Bailey’s the guy we’re looking for?’
Cotter looked quickly round as if being overheard. ‘We don’t know. We can only assume so at the moment. But it seems like a strong assumption. I think we have to proceed as if he is and that he has Imani in there as well as Claire Lingard. And hope that Imani’s still all right.’
‘Right,’ said Phil. ‘Think it’s time for a phone call, don’t you?’
Cotter nodded.
Battersby dialled the number of Claire’s phone. Put it on loudspeaker. They waited. Each ring seeming to get louder. Eventually it was answered. No one spoke.
‘Hello?’ said Battersby.
No response. Just breathing.
‘Hello, is that Claire Lingard?’
‘Who’s this?’
Phil recognised Bailey’s voice. Nodded at Cotter, confirming it.
‘This is Detective Sergeant Battersby. Mike Battersby, if you prefer. What’s your name?’
‘If you’re calling this number then you already know who I am.’
‘Keith Bailey?’
A snort. Laughter?
‘Right, Keith. Listen. I just want to know who you’ve got in there with you and whether they’re all right.’
‘I’m not talking to you. I don’t want to talk to you.’
‘Why not, Keith?’
‘Because you’re going to try and talk me out of it. Try and make me let them go when I haven’t finished yet.’
‘Haven’t finished what yet?’
‘My work.’ Said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. ‘What I have to do. You don’t think I do this for fun, do you?’
‘I don’t know, Keith, you tell me.’
‘You don’t know. You don’t know…’
They felt he was about to explode. Cotter sat forward, ready to order in a response team.
‘Well, you’ll have to help me, Keith,’ Battersby continued. ‘If you talk to me, I can —’
‘Oh, fuck off,’ said Bailey. ‘I don’t want to talk to you.’
‘Well, Keith, I —’
‘Is she there?’
Battersby looked confused. ‘Who’s she, Keith?’
‘The psychologist. The one I spoke to this morning. Is she there?’
All eyes in the room turned to Marina. She stepped forward, moved close to the microphone.
The room held its collective breath.
90
‘I’m here, Keith,’ said Marina.
‘Yeah. Thought you would be.’
Marina sat down to be nearer the microphone. Battersby moved along to let her in. Phil noticed – with dark relish – that he looked somewhat put out by that.
‘What d’you want to talk about, Keith?’
‘What I wanted to talk about earlier. I think you know. I think you would have talked about it – properly talked about it with me – if I’d said. Wouldn’t you?’
Marina looked round slightly, as if she had missed a couple of pages in the script they were following. ‘I would have talked about it?’
‘Yes.’
‘In your office?’
‘Yes. If you’d known what I’m doing. And why I’m doing it.’
‘Okay then, Keith, if you want to talk to me about it – all of it – then tell me all of it. I know what you’re doing. You’re taking women and killing them, is that right?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Well, yes, I suppose it is if you look at it in purely reductive terms.’
‘And what way should I look at it, Keith? Just to get a handle on it, so we can talk about it.’
‘It’s not what I’ve done. It’s why. You should know that.’
‘Right. Well, as I see it,’ she said, ‘they’re surrogates for women who’ve hurt you in some way, is that it?’
‘Yes.’ His voice cracked slightly on the word.
‘And this is to make up for it?’
‘Yes. For what those bitches did to me. All of them.’
‘They hurt you, those women, did they?’
Behind them, one of the uniforms rotated his finger at the side of his head. Sperring knocked it away. The uniform dropped his head, stood in shamefaced silence.
‘Yes. All of them.’
Beside Marina, Cotter scribbled a note: Did he know all the women he killed? Marina shook her head, continued.
‘These women. The ones you took. You didn’t know them, did you? They just represented the ones who had hurt you, didn’t they?’
Silence.
‘Keith?’
‘Yeah. I said yeah.’
‘So they let you down. The women in your life. They hurt you.’
‘Every time.’ His voice cracking once more. ‘And they enjoyed it. All of them. That’s the worst thing. They enjoyed it. Or just… didn’t care. Treated me like I was nothing.’
‘Surely that wasn’t the case every time?’
‘It was. Always.’ The words sounded pained, forced out.
‘What about your mother?’
Silence on the line. It lasted so long Marina thought he might have gone. ‘Keith?’
‘Don’t mention my fuck
ing… that fucking…’
‘Right,’ said Marina, responding to his raised voice by making hers even calmer. ‘I see. Right. So you did what you did because of the hurt that had been done to you.’
‘Yes.’
‘But why these particular women?’
‘Because… because they were damaged,’ he said, as if that explained everything, desperate to be understood. ‘Hurt. Like I was. Just like I was.’
‘Did you think you were mending their broken hearts? Was that part of it?’
‘I took their hearts. And gave them to the women who had hurt me. Used their damaged hearts to help heal me. Don’t you see? You should understand that.’
‘I do, Keith,’ said Marina, nodding, even though he couldn’t see it.
Bailey continued. ‘When I’ve done that, it’s complete. That’s the ritual done. For each one. The ritual gets rid of the ghosts. Makes them go away. And when they leave me, I become a better person. Well, obviously you can see that.’
‘Yes,’ said Marina. ‘But what about Claire? Where does she fit in?’
‘What d’you mean?’ His voice hard once more. Wary.
‘She’s a good person, Keith.’
He made a sound like a wounded animal. Marina ignored him, kept going.
‘She loves you, Keith.’
‘No,’ he said, the wounded howl tailing off. ‘She doesn’t. She can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because she doesn’t know me,’ he said, again desperate to be understood. ‘Not really. She thinks she does. We all think we know someone else, love someone else. But we don’t. None of us do. Because all we see is the mask. All she knows is my mask. She doesn’t know what’s behind it. She just fell in love with a mask. How stupid…’
‘But Keith,’ said Marina, genuinely engaged with him, ‘don’t we all wear masks?’
‘W-what d’you mean?’
‘It’s simple. We all wear masks. All of us. Every day. You know Kurt Vonnegut? The writer?’
Nothing.
Marina continued. ‘He said we all had to be careful about the masks we choose to wear because in time we become them.’ She looked up. Phil was staring right at her. She continued, eyes locked with his. ‘Or they become us. You know, if we want to be brave, we pretend to be brave. If we want to be good, we act good. Or happy. Or anything. We find a mask for it.’
She saw Phil smile. Nod.
‘And gradually,’ she said, feeling encouraged by what she was saying, genuinely feeling she was making a breakthrough, ‘gradually we become that thing the mask represents. Don’t you think?’
Silence from the other end. Then slowly a scream built up. Deep and wailing at first, then ragged. Anger and pain vying for dominance.
‘Shut up,’ screamed Keith, ‘shut up…’
Marina looked round quickly. She was losing him.
‘I thought you would understand. You of all people…’
‘I do, Keith, I do,’ she said. ‘Listen. There’s something I need to know. Have you got Imani Oliver there with you? Detective Constable Oliver?’
‘What?’ Screaming again. ‘What the fuck do you want to know about her for?’
‘I just —’
‘Her. That’s all you were interested in. All this time. Her. Not me. You, you fucking liar. You fucking bitch liar…’
‘No, Keith, I’m not. I swear I’m not. Please, listen to me…’
‘Bitch…’
‘Keith, please. What have I just said to you? What have we just talked about? If I wasn’t listening to you, then what was all that for?’
‘You… you just…’ He had calmed down slightly but she knew he was on a knife edge and could go either way. She had to be careful what she said next.
‘We talked, Keith. And I meant every word. I’m trying to understand what you’re doing. Why you’re doing it. That’s what you want, right? You want me to understand?’
Silence.
Marina continued.
‘Listen, Keith. If you’ve got Imani Oliver there, why not let her go, eh? She’s not part of your ritual. She’s not damaged or hurt. Nothing like that. She’s no good to you. You can’t use her. Why not let her go?’
Silence. More heavy breathing. Then: ‘Fuck you.’
The line went dead.
Marina sat back. Exhausted.
91
‘You should have been closing,’ said Battersby. ‘All the time. Closing.’
Marina stared at him in disbelief. ‘Sorry? Are we selling second-hand cars or something?’
‘In hostage negotiation you’re always moving towards that. Always trying to get the hostages out safely. Not…’ he threw up his hands, ‘indulging him in his fantasies.’
Marina squared up to him. ‘I was not indulging him. I was talking. He wanted to talk to me, not you. Maybe you’ll get your chance later. Close him then.’
She turned to Cotter before he could answer. ‘Alison, have you thought about what I said?’
When the phone had gone dead and Bailey had refused to pick up again, Marina had asked Cotter to go somewhere private, have a word. They had stepped outside, hidden round the back of the unit, away from long-range media lenses. There she had put her idea to the DCI.
Cotter, inside now, was shaking her head.
‘But it’s the only way,’ said Marina. ‘At least with such short notice.’
‘No,’ said Cotter. ‘I won’t hear of it. It’s too dangerous.’ She threw a glance at Battersby, then back to Marina. ‘And you’re not even trained.’
‘It’ll work,’ said Marina. ‘I go in. Claire comes out. I wear a wire. While this is happening, Phil leads a team in from the back.’
Cotter turned away. ‘No. We’ve already got the stigma of this being some kind of maverick operation as it is. I can’t allow a civilian in there.’
‘After everything I’ve done, I’m hardly a civilian.’
‘It’s too dangerous.’
‘It’s the best chance we have. Otherwise this could drag on for…’ she shrugged, ‘God knows how long. And we don’t know what the situation is in there. What state Imani and Claire are in. I could provide information about that.’
Cotter sighed. ‘It should be a member of my team.’
‘Well, unfortunately, he doesn’t want to talk to anyone on your team. Only me. That makes me an asset. Use me.’
‘Marina’s right,’ said Phil.
They both turned, unaware that he had been listening.
‘She’s already established a bond with him. I think this is the best chance we have.’
Cotter looked at Marina, reluctantly relenting. ‘Would you be armed?’
‘No,’ said Marina. ‘No point. If I take a gun in there, it just makes it more dangerous.’
‘But you wouldn’t be protected. You wouldn’t be safe.’
‘Yes I would.’ She spoke the words to Cotter but her eyes were on Phil.
Phil tried hard to hide his smile.
Cotter said nothing, thinking. Marina kept talking.
‘And I’d be able to relay information back. Tell you which part of the building he’s in.’
‘We can do that with thermal imaging.’
‘But you haven’t got the equipment here yet. God knows how long it will take to arrive, or what he could do before then.’
‘This is completely against protocol. If it goes tits-up, it could be the end of all our careers.’
‘And if we do nothing,’ said Marina, ‘if we wait, it could be the end of Imani and Claire’s lives. Which is more important?’
Cotter said nothing, looked at Phil. ‘And you,’ she said, ‘how do I know you won’t go in there and mess it up like last time?’
‘Because I won’t,’ said Phil.
Cotter looked between the pair of them. Sighed.
‘Do it,’ she said.
92
The phone rang. They all looked at it. Waiting.
The tension in the room was palpable. Clai
re wanted to scream again, just to hear her own voice, to remind herself she was still alive. After Bailey had hung up, no one had spoken. Claire had pulled herself into a corner, arms round her bruised torso, gasping as the pain slowly subsided. Imani lay silently on the bed, spent. Bailey had put the stun gun down on a table, switched it for an automatic. Now he strode up and down, talking to himself, hitting himself in the temples occasionally, as if his head was hurting and it would alleviate the pain.
That was when the phone rang.
‘Answer it…’ Imani.
‘Shut up, shut up…’ Hitting himself in the side of the head once more. ‘Shut up, I’m thinking…’ Still pacing.
Claire had never seen him like this. Unravelling. She no longer recognised the person before her.
‘Please,’ she said, Imani’s voice giving her the courage to speak, ‘please just answer it.’
Bailey stopped moving, stood still in the centre of the room, threw his head back and gave a silent scream. The phone kept ringing.
Something had to be done, thought Claire. Ignoring the pain, she leaned forward, made a movement towards the phone. Bailey saw her, snapping out of his pose straight away, and beat her to it. Before he realised what he had done, the phone was to his ear.
‘Hello? Hello? Keith? Is that you?’
Marina’s voice again.
He groaned by way of response.
‘Listen,’ said Marina. ‘I’ve got a proposal for you. Why don’t you let Claire and Imani go and I’ll come in instead?’
Bailey looked round, as if expecting a trick. ‘What, I…’
‘I think it’s a good idea,’ Marina continued. ‘We can keep talking, like earlier. You can explain your work to me. How does that sound?’
He didn’t reply.
‘I won’t be armed,’ said Marina. ‘I’m not police. Nothing like that. Just you and me. Talking. What d’you say?’
Keith closed his eyes. Thought. Just him. Alone with Marina… the two of them…
Then another thought struck him. He smiled at it. Felt excited by it.
