by Mistry, Liz
Immediately, he released the small girl whose hand he was holding and stepped forward to help Sadia hoist the girl back onto her shoulders. Glancing round in desperation Sadia noticed a movement in her peripheral vision. With relief she saw that the landlord from The Flappit was waving to her from the window, gesturing that she should bring the children round to the pub. Sadia would have kissed him if he’d been closer. He’d clearly stayed to watch the proceedings when she and Gus had left and now he was providing a lifeline.
As she hurried the children across the snowy car park towards the pub, she noticed the landlord had left his position by the window and by the time they’d reached the main street, he’d appeared to help her bring the children into the pub.
‘Phoned your lot, and an ambulance’ he said, gazing in horror at the children who huddled together silently by the fire. He’d relieved Sadia of the unconscious girl and now gently laid her on a long settee. Looking down at the girl, he took a deep breath and then exhaled before turning back to Sadia, ‘You best go and find your partner, love. I’ll get this lot something to eat while we’re waiting for the ambulance. We’ll be ok here. I’ll lock the doors after you.’
Sadia reached over and squeezed his arm and nodded. She could already hear sirens coming along Thornton Road, so she knew help was near. However, she’d also seen exactly what these men were capable of and the last thing she wanted was to leave Gus on his own with them. What the hell was he doing? With a sinking feeling she realised that if he could, Gus would have followed the children out of the mill. So, what the hell was keeping him?
Leaving the pub, she noticed a car with two figures in it turn into the car park. Who was that she wondered? Back-up, maybe. But then why hadn’t Alice alerted her that they were so close. She sprinted forward and round the corner into the mill car park just in time to see Beth Graves climb from the passenger side of the car and glance around her. Sadia opened her mouth to shout and then paused. Where was the driver and what was Beth Graves doing here?
Sadia edged forward and watched as Beth walked towards the open roller door and went inside.
‘What the fuck is going on?’ Then, reluctant to let the woman wander into the building unaccompanied, Sadia followed. Re-entering the mill, she heard Beth’s hurried footsteps echoing above her. Following as quietly as she could, Sadia had reached the top of the second flight when the first gunshot rang out. Heart hammering, she increased her pace. Then, there was another shot followed by screaming. Not knowing whether to be relieved that the screaming was female or not, Sadia increased her pace and finally, arriving on the third floor, she rushed down the dimly-lit corridor towards the room where a flash of light escaped. Cautiously, she looked into the room and was just in time to see Gus exiting through the fire escape. A wave of relief surged through her body as she realised he was unhurt.
Still wary, she entered the room and, glancing round, she assessed the scene. Seeing that Beth, Molly and the baby seemed to be ok and not caring what state either Sid Smith or Alex Graves were in, she rushed over to the broken fire exit and poked her head out.
Heights weren’t her thing so she sent a quick prayer off to Allah and stared down. She could see Bowles, hotfooting across the snowy field. Just when she thought something must have happened to Gus, she saw him half-jump, half-sprawl off the ladder. Relieved, she watched him follow Bowles and, swallowing her fear, she tentatively stepped onto the metal landing. It was icy so she gripped the rickety handrail and began to descend, keeping an eye on Gus’s progress as she went. The cold metal rail seared her palms as she held on for dear life. Then, she stumbled. Her stomach flipped and a wave of nausea swept over her. She closed her eyes for a second to allow the dizziness to pass and when she opened them again, she saw Bowles turn and face Gus, a gun in his hand. Words left her mouth, but later she couldn’t say what they were. As if in slow motion, she saw Gus’ left arm jerk and then blood splattered onto the snow.
‘Nooooo!’
Bowles laughed and then took off again. Gus stumbled but righted himself and followed. Sadia half-slipped, half-ran the rest of the way to the bottom and had just stepped onto the solid ground when she heard another shot and Gus was lying on the ground, blood melting the snow around him. Like an echo in her brain she was half-aware of the sirens and then a loud hailer voice telling Bowles to put his weapon down.
Finding her feet she ran across to Gus and instinctively felt for a pulse. She could find none so she straddled him and began CPR. Unaware that she was crying, she continued frenziedly till the paramedics edged her out of the way. Soaked and cold, she turned and saw two armed officers guiding a beaming DCS Bowles towards the front of the mill. Unable to stop herself she walked over and spat in his face.
He laughed.
Chapter 111
Sunday 6pm
A crumpled DCI Nancy Chalmers quietly entered the side ward where Gus lay staring at the arctic wall. He hated being here. He’d been remembering the cold snow contrasting with his warm blood pooling beneath him. He’d had déjà vu. He’d thought he was back in Becky’s living room with Greg in a rage. He’d tried to roll onto his side, desperate to find Billy. He’d known he had to stop the bleeding. Where was Billy? Then he’d felt a heaviness across his middle and something was bouncing repeatedly on his chest. He’d felt himself fade away and then soft, cold lips covered his mouth, blowing, warmth into him. His eyes flickered but wouldn’t open. Warm fingers touched his frozen cheek and soft hair tickled his head as someone began to gently slap him. ‘Don’t you bloody die on me, Gus McGuire. Don’t you bloody dare.’ Too many memories from before and he was desperate to get out.
Contrary to Sadia’s assumption, his heart hadn’t stopped… he’d fainted, like a bloody wimp. Anyway, a through and through wound on his upper left arm, combined with the strain he’d placed on his already injured right shoulder, made it barely possible for him to do anything for himself. Bowles’s second bullet had given him a flesh wound to the side and his third had missed. Gus was glad Bowles hadn’t been to the firing range in a while.
Sensing Nancy’s presence, he turned and met her eye. ‘You look worse than I do, Nancy.’
She snorted and moved slowly over to the chair next to Gus’ bed and plonked herself down, kicking off her shoes and lifting her feet onto the edge of the bed. ‘Feel bloody hellish, too. Can’t believe that bastard. I’ve worked with him for years and never suspected a damn thing.’
Gus moved his hand and awkwardly patted her foot. ‘None of us suspected, not one of us. Has he confessed?’
Nancy leaned down, rummaged in her copious handbag and produced a half bottle of Glenfiddich. She got up and poured a sizeable measure into the plastic cup that stood next to a water jug by Gus’s bed. Toddling through to the toilet, she returned with another one which she also filled. Handing one of the cups to Gus she took a big swig and said, ‘Here’s to you, Gus. You and your team did well on this.’
Gus took a small sip, shuddered and handed it back to her. ‘Not in the mood to celebrate really, Nance.’ He smiled ‘Anyway you know my tipple’s Glenmorangie.’
She tipped her cup at him and then sipped. Gus studied her as she drank. He’d heard the rumours about Nancy and DCS Bowles. His dad had all but confirmed it when he’d visited earlier. However, Gus also knew that Nancy wouldn’t let her personal feelings get in the way of securing a sound prosecution.
‘What about the kids?’ he asked.
‘Sadia was coming up the stairs to help you and met them coming down. She escorted them into the car park. Apparently the landlord of The Flappit was still watching from the upstairs window so she waved him down and went back into the mill. He took them into the pub and kept them till the paramedics took over.’
‘They going to be ok?’
‘They’ll be fine. Jankowski’s in charge of repatriation. The best thing for them is to get home to their families.’ She sipped her whisky. ‘As for the mental stuff. Well, who knows?’
Gus h
adn’t had time to check their physical injuries in the mill, but his own experience told him that the physical wounds would heal far quicker than the mental ones.
‘And what about Molly and Beth?’
‘Traumatised. Bowles achieved what he set out to do. Beth’s got no-one. Jessie’s dead, her best friend is murdered and her husband is going down for a long time. He’s singing like a bird, by the way. Beth’s strong, but how is she going to pull back from this?’
Gus shook his head. He’d been thinking about that before Nancy came in. How was Beth Graves going to learn to trust anyone, least of all herself, again? She’d married two different paedophiles and, although she was in no way to blame for this, he knew she’d blame herself. His thoughts were interrupted when Nancy spoke again.
‘You had us worried back there, you know, Gus. Thought you were a gonner.’
With a wry grin he said, ‘I come from good old McGuire stock. No way will a couple of bullets stop me.’
Flushed from the whisky, Nancy matched his grin. ‘Well, in that case, the sooner you get your arse out of that bed and down to The Fort, the sooner you’ll be able to watch me interviewing Charlie.’
Gus snorted. ‘You need me to hold your hand?’
‘No. I need you to see this finished. Tomorrow, 9am sharp.’
She pushed herself to her feet, downed the whisky Gus had left undrunk and walked to the door and opened it. ‘By the way, I’ve cancelled your appointment with Dr Mahmood tomorrow.’ Then seeing Gus’s triumphant grin, she frowned at him. ‘Back to normal next Friday, though. Get the woman convinced you’re ok and stop wasting taxpayers’ money.’
Suitably contrite, Gus nodded, relieved when the sudden cacophony of hospital noise was cut off by door swinging shut behind her.
Chapter 112
Monday 9am
Behind the one-way mirror, in the tiny viewing room, Gus struggled to get comfortable. In the end, he found that leaning his butt on the table edge offered the most respite from pulling stitches, aches and bruises. He was with Sadia who, from the moment he’d arrived, had refused to meet his eyes. What was that all about? She’d had his back in the mill. He owed her one for that. Surely she wasn’t embarrassed about crying when he got hurt. He was pretty sure he’d be in tears if one of the team were injured. Anyway, it hadn’t stopped her trying to help him.
Gus’s body tensed as the door to the interview room opened and former DCS Charles Bowles was escorted in by a uniformed officer and his lawyer, Vincent Jacobson. Exhaling loudly, he focussed on unclenching his muscles. No way was that bastard going to give him any more pain than he already had. Bowles, although dressed in prison clothes, still looked like the arrogant sod he’d always been.
Nancy had decided to let him stew in the least hospitable of The Fort’s interview rooms, and as Gus watched he saw a few chinks appear in the other man’s armour. First it was the bouncing of one knee, then when he got no reactions from the arrogant statements he directed at the one-way mirror, he began to tap the table. At first it was a slow rhythm, but as the minutes passed it became more frenetic. After fifteen minutes, he seemed to collect himself. With a final glance at the mirror he, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Slowly, the knee and finger movements stopped. Gus made a note to advise Nancy to interrupt his relaxation. Setting him off kilter might make him reveal more than he intended.
Gus had thought he looked bad, but quickly revised his opinion when Nancy and Alice walked into the interview room.
Nancy’s straight back and determined stride couldn’t conceal her pallor and the tension lines around her mouth. Bowles kept his eyes closed until she scraped a chair across the lino and sat down. He took his time studying Nancy, and then smirked. Gus’s fingers balled into fists. He was relieved that Nancy had insisted that she conduct the interview with Alice. Nancy dragged her chair further under the table and Gus saw her shoulders relax. God knows what internal reserves of calm she was using up during this interview.
‘Well, well, well, Nancy.’ said Bowles, his smug tones carrying clearly into the viewing room. ‘Your golden boy not up to interviewing me?’ He rubbed his hands together, ‘or did I crack him? I know I didn’t kill him or Vincent here would have told me.’
Jacobson, Bowles’ lawyer, laid a cautionary hand on Bowles’s arm. ‘Come on now, Charles. We agreed you’d co-operate.’
Bowles’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t break eye contact with Nancy when he answered the other man. ‘I will co-operate. I agreed, didn’t I? Nevertheless, I want to have a bit of fun, too. After all it might be the last I have for a while.’ He cocked an eyebrow. ‘That right, Nance?’
Nancy had her back to the mirror, so Gus couldn’t see her expression. However, her shoulders tensed visibly before she replied in a conversational tone, ‘How could you do this, Charlie? To all those kids, to your wife, to the police force? Tell me how it all came about.’
Leaning back, Bowles crossed one knee over the other and with meticulous care positioned his trouser leg until the non-existent crease lay exactly central to his knee cap. His eyes sparkled with what, in another man, could have been benevolent humour, but in him took on a malevolent air. ‘How can you show concern about Hazel when for the last two years you’ve been happy to drop your French knickers and bend over my desk at the drop of a hat? You were panting for me all those years ago in Cambridge and when you followed me up here, you couldn’t wait to spread your legs.’
Gus heard Alice’s gasp over the speakers and saw Sadia, beside him, cover her mouth in shock. Nancy, except for a slight twitch of her arm, didn’t react. ‘Good try, Charlie. However, consensual sex between two adults pales into insignificance in the light of over twelve years’ worth of child abuse, trafficking abduction, murder and torture, wouldn’t you say? So, bearing in mind that your lovely colleagues Devlin O’Rourke, AKA The Provider, and Alex Graves, The Facilitator, are singing like larks and the fact that you shot Sid Smith, The Distributor, in front of witnesses, I’d say you better start talking.’
Bowles tapped the table with his forefinger and pursed his lips. ‘You know what Nancy? I don’t think I will play your game, after all. Do your worst. I’ve done what I wanted. I’ve had my revenge on that bitch. I might rot in a cell, but at least I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that she’s in hell too. Knowing that she alone is responsible for everything; her daughter being tortured, her mother-in-law and her friends dead.’ He laughed, ‘The stupid bitch married a paedophile, not once but twice. Oh yes, I’ll rest easy in my cell knowing that her freedom is as restricted as mine. So from here on in my response to you will be ‘no comment, no comment, no comment’.’ He folded his arms across his chest, focussed his gaze on a point above Nancy’s shoulder and refused to speak.
As Gus watched, Nancy continued with a few more questions. Each time, Bowles drawled an elongated ‘No comment.’
Finally, Nancy nodded to Vincent Jacobson, gathered up her paperwork and with Alice following, left the interview room.
Minutes later Nancy stormed into the viewing room. ‘What the fuck does he think he’s playing at?’ she said, dragging her fingers through her hair.
Gus stood and stretched tentatively. ‘Doesn’t matter, Nancy. O’Rourke and Graves are both talking and we’ve got witnesses to him shooting Sid Smith. He’s going down for a very long time. They all are. That’s what matters.’
Nancy inhaled deeply. ‘And Graves has supplied us with a list a mile long of all their clients.’ She bundled her dress between her legs and hopped up on to a table facing the mirror. At Nancy’s exit, Jacobson had requested that the recording system be turned off, so there was no sound. It appeared, though that Jacobson was losing his argument with Bowles, who with a grin kept shaking his head. Abruptly Jacobson stood, went to the door and left. Seconds later the uniformed officer returned. Bowles stood, and, with a ‘ta ta for now’ wave towards the mirror, was accompanied from the room by the officer.
Nancy rubbed her eyes. ‘We’re st
arting to arrest the client list today. Believe me, there won’t be a political, financial or religious leader in the UK who’ll sleep well tonight.’
Chapter 113
Thursday 1pm
Gus, still aching, lay on the sofa in his living room, trying to dispel the haunting image of Beth, her daughter and her baby at Jessie’s funeral that morning. Mother and daughter clung to each other, frames skeletal, faces pale and expressionless, eyes bleak and empty; Molly’s bandaged hand was cradled against her waist. Then baby Sam began to cry and immediately they were on their feet both bending over his pram, eyes suddenly alive. Mother and daughter shared a small smile when he immediately quietened at their attention.
Beth had told Gus they were leaving the UK for somewhere warm, somewhere they wouldn’t be haunted by their memories. Gus had smiled at them and wished them well, but at the back of his mind he knew their memories would follow them wherever they went. His did.
He sighed and closed his eyes, savouring the solitude of his home. Then the doorbell rang accompanied by a loud familiar voice calling through the letterbox. ‘Hallooooo, Angus. It’s me and your mum. Got a wee surprise for you, to liven the place up.’
Gus groaned, wishing he could put a cushion over his ears and pretend he wasn’t in. As a second round of ferocious knocking began, he pushed himself to his feet and headed through the hallway to the door. He’d no sooner opened it, when a ball of white catapulted itself at him from his mother’s arms, barking loudly.
‘What the….?’ He looked from his father’s large, florid smiling face to his mother’s beautiful, smooth, grinning one.
‘Thought the house might feel a wee bit empty with Gabriella gone, so we got you a wee gift… His name’s Bingo.’
Gus looked down at the squirming creature in his arms and his frustration died as the wiggling puppy yapped twice and then poked out a pink tongue and liberally wet Gus’s face.
