A Time For Justice hc-1

by Nick Oldham

  Henry gazed with mounting excitement tinged with trepidation at the tired but expectant faces in front of him. This was it. Somehow he knew it in his guts. This was going to be the real thing. No way could it turn out to be a wild-goose chase.

  Karen had been tasked to do the briefing. When she asked for quiet, the room hushed immediately.

  ‘ Good morning, everyone. Thanks for turning out at such short notice. We are very impressed by your eagerness and I think that it will be rewarded today.

  ‘ OK… we all know about the escape from custody of a man called James Clarkson Hinksman three days ago after he’d been found guilty of the M6 bombing and the murders of several police officers and others. The escape was perpetrated by a ruthless professional gang who specialise in such jobs. It involved incredible violence, leaving many of our colleagues dead for no good reason. Obviously since then we have been working at full tilt to recapture Hinksman and apprehend this violent team.

  ‘ It’s no secret that netting the team will be a long and difficult process as we believe they’ve probably dispersed abroad by now. However, with regard to Hinksman we have had a major breakthrough. This is why you’re all here this morning.’

  A murmur went round the room. Karen allowed it to settle before continuing.

  ‘ As most of you know, DS Christie and I have headed the part of the investigation aimed specifically at Hinksman. This morning DS Christie and Special Agent Donaldson of the FBI — who has been working closely with us on this — have received some Class A information which leads us to believe two things. Firstly, Hinksman is still in Lancashire. Secondly, he’s going to leave the country today. We know how and where, but we don’t exactly know when, other than it’s today sometime. So I’ll warn you now, this could be a very long day, but I’m confident that at the end of it we’ll have a result. Any questions so far?’

  There were none. But there were plenty of smiles on plenty of faces.

  On the wall behind Karen was a large-scale map of Lancaster and its environs. She stepped to one side and turned to it.

  ‘ The information we have received today is this…’

  She pointed to the map and began to reveal the police operation that had been hastily put together.

  Dave August had everything from the Lancashire police files on Lenny Dakin: intelligence reports, photographs, more up-to-date descriptions, known associates, suspected involvement in crime, estimated wealth etc. There were copies of several surveillance operations which had been run jointly between Lancashire and other forces, but all these had been unsuccessful. He was a very careful man, very surveillance-conscious. One detective referred to him as the ‘canny Scot’.

  So, pondered August, he was a big-time criminal, of that there was no doubt. He read through an intelligence report submitted by Henry Christie, reporting that Dakin had picked up the American gangster Corelli at Manchester Airport. Christie surmised that the two were in cahoots, probably planning ways to bring drugs into the country. He also surmised that Dakin had probably set up Danny Carver and Jason Brown to meet their deaths at the hand of Hinksman — but he had no evidence to back that up.

  He may be Mr Big, August thought, but more importantly, this morning I have identified him as the man behind everything that has gone wrong with my life recently. This is the bastard who preyed on my weakness and exploited it.

  When August’s secretary Jean came in, he realised, much to his surprise, that it was 8 a.m. He was still sat there in the uniform he’d been wearing for the last twenty-four hours. He needed a shave and a shower.

  Jean had a worried look on her face.

  She walked across to August’s desk and placed a newspaper on top of what he was reading.

  ‘ I think you should see this, sir,’ she said without a smile. ‘And there’s a journalist outside asking to see you, an American called Lisa Want.’ She spun round and left.

  August frowned. This was not a newspaper he had ever read or would ever consider reading. It was complete trash.

  Then the headlines hit him.

  Chief Constable In Sex-And-Drug Orgy With Hooker!

  ‘ Oh my God,’ he groaned.

  A grainy colour photograph on the front page showed him facing the camera, standing naked with a woman kneeling in front of him. Her face and breasts, his privates and buttocks had been blacked out with a thick line, but the ecstasy on his face was horribly clear. It was a still taken from the video.

  The article accompanying it was written by Lisa Want — again on ‘special assignment’. Readers were invited to turn to the centre pages for more sensational photographs and a transcript of the soundtrack.

  With a heartbeat increased to epic proportions and a quivering hand to match, Dave August did just that. His world, which was crumbling away, began to avalanche down a precipitous mountainside.

  And there would be more to come.

  He looked out of his window towards the sports field. The day was overcast, clouds grey. Big spats of rain slapped loudly onto the panes.

  The phone started to ring.

  Both Henry Christie and Karl Donaldson received phone calls after the briefing which unsettled them. They were summoned down to the communications room on the floor below the gym and took their calls at the same time, but from different extensions.

  Karen, standing in a position between the two, watched their reactions to whatever the news was.

  ‘ Daddy?’

  Henry immediately recognised his eldest daughter’s voice and the strained tone which accompanied even that single word.

  ‘ Hi Jenny, what’s the matter, sweetheart?’

  ‘ I don’t know, Daddy.’

  He could hear fear in her voice.

  ‘ What d’you mean, you don’t know?’ he asked, keeping his own voice purposely light. He sensed something catastrophic was wrong. It wasn’t like Jenny to phone him at all; she usually tagged onto Leanne’s calls.

  ‘ We got up this morning and… oh, Dad! Mum’s not here! She’s gone. We don’t know what to do.’

  Henry felt something heavy drop in his stomach.

  Meanwhile, in the same room, not six feet away, Donaldson was taking a transatlantic phone call.

  ‘ Just letting’ ya know outta courtesy, Karl,’ the faint voice 3,000 miles away at the other end of the line was saying. It was one of Donaldson’s former partners, still a good friend.

  ‘ Speak up a little, Jack. Can hardly hear ya.’

  ‘ Bad news, pal, bad news. It’s about Joe Kovaks… ‘

  Henry and Donaldson hung up simultaneously. Each ran a hand over his own face.

  ‘ I can’t believe this,’ said Donaldson. ‘Joe’s gone missing. Last seen leaving the office ten a.m. yesterday, not called in since. Bucar’s gone too. Not like him, not like him at all. Chrissy hasn’t seen him. I know he’s a maverick, but he ain’t stupid. Don’t like it.’

  Karen laid a worried hand on the back of his head.

  Henry, stunned, said simply, ‘I think Hinksman’s got my wife.’ He closed his eyes, dropped his head and began to pray.

  A light flashed on the switchboard. One of the comms operators answered the call.

  ‘ DS Christie? Call for you.’

  FB burst brusquely into the communications room. ‘I’ve just brought the Chief Constable up to date with what’s happening and where this thing’s going. He didn’t half sound strange-’ He stopped midsentence and looked at the serious faces of everyone in the room. Karen put a finger to her lips.

  All attention was focused on Henry who picked up the phone and slowly put it to his ear.

  ‘ Henry, you’re one hell of a lucky son of a bitch. That bomb was meant for you, but no doubt you know that.’

  ‘ It’s a conclusion I reached,’ said Henry stonily, immediately recognising the voice of Hinksman.

  ‘ An’ I’m real sorry about the kid because I don’t like killing innocent people unless it’s absolutely necessary. It’s so unprofessional. ‘

&nb
sp; ‘ So how guilty was the prostitute in Blackpool?’

  ‘ Hey, some detective! I’m impressed you know about her.’ Hinksman’s voice went hard, making the hairs creep on Henry’s scalp. ‘She stole from me. She lost her status of innocence. Rather like you, Henry, when you turned my money down, then when you shot me.’

  ‘ And how guilty is my wife?’ whispered Henry, feeling the nausea grip his lower abdomen like a clawed hand.

  Hinksman gave a short laugh. ‘She’s actually very innocent. I’ve told her it’s nothing personal, but I need to use her. What surprises me is that you didn’t take more steps to protect your family. You ain’t even got a burglar alarm on your house. I as good as let myself in — not even a dog, for Christ’s sake. And all those goodies to protect — TV, hi-fi, microwave — and those two lovely daughters.’

  Hinksman allowed the words to sink into Henry’s consciousness.

  ‘ Had a look in at that older one, he said airily. ‘Developing a real nice pair of titties. Might come back one day and rape the fuck out of her — just to make you suffer again. Because that’s what all this is about, making you suffer for what you did to me.’ His voice grew thick. ‘I wanted to kill you face to face. I was waiting for you the other night, but I chose the hooker instead… ‘

  ‘ Then let’s meet,’ Henry cut in desperately. ‘Let Kate go and I give you my word, just you and me.’

  ‘ Love to say yes — but no can do. I’m out of here — once I’ve finished with Mrs C, that is.’ He laughed uproariously. ‘So, unfortunately I’m going to have to make you suffer by proxy. Oh, and forget about tracing the phone — I’m on a mobile. Goodbye Henry. Missing you already.’

  ‘ Don’t hang up,’ screamed Henry. ‘Hinksman!’ The line was dead.

  ‘ I told you to hold all calls, you stupid bitch. I don’t want interrupting,’ Dave August snapped down the line to his secretary. He was trapped in his office and it was getting smaller and smaller. The walls seemed to be sliding towards him like some sort of medieval torture chamber. He half-expected sharpened spears of steel to appear.

  ‘ Mr August,’ Jean remonstrated. ‘I’m doing my best. I felt I should let you know that the HMI has been on, as well as the Head of the Police Committee, as well as numerous others… and there are two gentlemen here to see you.’

  ‘ Tell them to fuck off.’ He was sweating profusely. ‘Is that bitch of a reporter still there?’

  ‘ Yes, out in Reception together with several others and the TV.’

  ‘ Tell them all to fuck off, or I’ll have them thrown out.’

  ‘ Mr August, I can’t do that,’ she said desperately. ‘I’m struggling out here to be as polite to everyone as I can. I’m trying to protect you so you can pull yourself together, yet all I hear from you are senseless, obscene instructions which are impossible to carry out. Mr August, I am very close to tears.’

  Not as close as I am, he thought. He capitulated. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. My mind’s in a bit of a mess at the moment as you can probably appreciate.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Who are the gentlemen you refer to? Not reporters, I hope. I won’t see anyone from the press.’

  ‘ No, they’re officers from Greater Manchester Police. They say they have something very important to discuss with you.’

  ‘ Right, right… give me five minutes.’

  ‘ I’m Detective Chief Superintendent Runshaw and this is Detective Inspector Tandy.’

  August leaned across his desk and shook their hands. He had changed out of his uniform into a suit and had quickly shaved, nicking himself several times in the process. He looked a mess, but didn’t give a shit. He invited the two men to sit down with a wave of his hand.

  ‘ Pleased to meet you,’ he said, even though he didn’t like the look in their eyes. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘ A somewhat delicate matter,’ Runshaw admitted. ‘We’ve received a complaint from a member of your force, one of your officers, and we are investigating it following a decision by our Chief Constable in consultation with the PCA and CPS.’

  ‘ Oh? Sounds unusual.’

  ‘ It’s actually a very serious allegation that’s been made and it’s an allegation against you, sir. It’s one of rape.’

  August nearly wet himself. ‘What? That’s preposterous.’

  ‘ A female Chief Inspector has alleged that you raped her in her home some months ago,’ Runshaw went on.

  ‘ That’s not true,’ said August shakily. Please, ground, he thought. Open up, swallow me…

  ‘ Well, sir, the allegation has been made and we’re satisfied that there’s enough evidence to make an arrest-’

  ‘ An arrest? Are you saying that you’re going to arrest me? I’m a Chief Constable, for God’s sake. You can’t do that, especially on some unsubstantiated allegation by a bitter woman.’

  Runshaw held up his hands, palms towards August in a pacifying gesture.

  ‘ Firstly, sir, I know you’re a Chief Constable. Secondly, I or any other police officer could arrest you, so don’t make that mistake. You are not above the law. However, if you would be willing to accompany us voluntarily so that we can interview you about the matter, that would suit us. No unpleasantness. That said, I must caution you.’ And he recited it, word perfect.

  August replied with a sneer in his voice. ‘Her word against mine. You’ll never prove anything.’

  ‘ Please, sir, don’t jump to that conclusion.’

  ‘ You mean you have evidence other than her say-so?’ He looked astounded as he watched the two men nod simultaneously. ‘Such as?’

  ‘ Suffice to say there is more than just her say-so, as you put it.’

  ‘ Bollocks! Anyway, I’m too busy to be bothered with this at the moment. On the way out, make an appointment with my secretary for some time next week and we’ll discuss it then. Goodbye, gentlemen.’

  Cool, unflustered, DCS Runshaw said, ‘I’m arresting you on suspicion of raping Karen Wilde, and may I add that I don’t give a rat’s arse that you’re a Chief Constable. You could be the fucking Prime Minister for all I care. You’re coming with us — now. Understand?’

  For the second time that morning, as the enormity of what was happening hit him, Dave August’s career tumbled before his very eyes like a ton of bricks off the back of a lorry. Whatever happened now, he was a goner. The combination of the arrest and the newspaper headlines had well and truly sunk him, professionally and personally.

  He sat back slowly in his big comfortable leather chair and nodded apparent acceptance of the situation. But his mind was racing.

  ‘ Could you just give me five minutes?’ he asked. ‘Obviously I have numerous things to sort out and I can’t just leave them in mid-air. I’ll need to tell my secretary and staff officer what’s going on; then have a quick word with an ACC to hold the fort. Will you let me do that?’

  Runshaw looked at his DI and gave him the eye. ‘DI Tandy will come with you, sir. I’ll wait here if you don’t mind.’

  ‘ No problem.’

  August walked out of his office with Tandy on his heels.

  ‘ Jean,’ he said, ‘I’ll be back shortly to let you know what’s going on.’

  ‘ Yes, sir,’ she nodded worriedly, completely mystified by the events of the morning.

  In the corridor outside the office, August said, ‘I need a wee.’

  ‘ I’ll come with you, sir.’

  ‘ Suit yourself, but I’m not going to do a runner.’

  He led Tandy to the gents toilet on the same corridor. There was no one else inside. Tandy hung back by the door whilst August relieved himself. He washed his hands meticulously and dried them under the hot-air machine. Standing there, rubbing his hands as instructed, flexing his fingers, he made a rash decision which in his present lightheaded, unreal frame of mind seemed totally rational.

  Might as well go out in a blaze, he thought.

  He smoothed his jacket down and with a resigned smile on his face, sauntered towar
ds Tandy, giving the DI no warning of what was to come.

  It was a wonderful punch. Low, hard and rising, right in the solar plexus. He couldn’t have placed it better if ‘X’ had marked the spot.

  The wind hurricaned out of Tandy. He doubled up with an agonised gasp. August then grabbed hold of the scruff of the detective’s neck, and drove him headfirst into the wall. The DI flopped to the floor, dazed, gurgling incoherently. For good measure August kicked the unfortunate man twice on the head. The first kick knocked him cold, the second meant that Tandy would lose the use of his left eye for ever.

  August then dragged him across to one of the cubicles where he dumped him, folded him up on the floor around a toilet and closed the door.

  In his haste to leave the gents, August almost slipped headlong on the trail of blood across the tiled floor.

  Outside, the corridor was clear.

  He turned and sprinted towards the stairs, propelling himself down them three at a time. Within seconds he emerged in a ground-floor corridor. Here he paused and composed himself.

  ‘ Fucking career’s ruined, life’s ruined, what’s it fucking matter?’ he chunnered to himself.

  A couple of people walked past him and nodded at him. He smiled benignly at them. Pulling his jacket together he walked briskly in the direction of the garage where his car was parked, passing the armoury as he did so.

  The door was slightly open; someone was working inside. August did a quick sidestep, unable to believe his good fortune. ‘Play it cool,’ he told himself.

  The man inside was a firearms instructor from the training school. He was working at a small table, checking over some handguns which were laid out in front of him. August’s eyes lit on a revolver, next to which was a box of ammunition.

  ‘ Hello, sir,’ said the instructor, surprised, starting to rise.