LOOT & I'M WITH THE BAND: The DCS Palmer and the Serial Murder Squad series by B.L.Faulkner. Cases 5 & 6 (DCS Palmer and the Serial Murder Squad cases Book 3)

by Barry Faulkner

  ‘Yes, that’s fine with me sir.’

  ‘Good.’

  He turned back to Williams.

  ‘Can you organise a pair of eyes to watch this place overnight and tomorrow until we go in? Let us know if anybody arrives or leaves?’

  ‘No problem, sir. I’ll do it now.’

  Chapter 34

  Williams dropped them off at the local Travelodge, having rung ahead and booked two rooms on the Gloucester Police account. Palmer pulled his coat tightly around him as they walked into the foyer.

  ‘Bit chilly out here in the sticks. I Hope the heating’s on in the rooms.’

  They signed the register. Palmer picked up a large-scale map of the airfield Williams had arranged to be sent over from the Police HQ, and they took their keys and made for the lift, both totally unaware of the figure who was about to come to the desk for her key and suddenly swung left to avoid them and hurried into the residents’ lounge.

  Sylvia Fenn had recognised Palmer as he turned away from the desk; luckily he was more interested in a hot bath and sleep than in other guests and headed for the lift unaware of her presence. Sergeant Singh was miles away in her mind, thinking whether to use her iPad and put an ‘away for a day’ message on her Skype page, so the family couldn’t ‘ping’ her and she could get a well-deserved early night. She decided it was a good idea, as she really wasn’t in the mood for another bout of defending her single status, her job and the rest of her lifestyle – a lifestyle she liked – with Aunty Raani.

  Chapter 35

  The Gloucester Constabulary building was impressive; thoroughly modern and mostly glass, with the midday sun reflecting off it in large bright shards.

  ‘Now we can see where all the money goes, eh?’

  Palmer raised his eyes up the outside of the building as they got out of the taxi from the hotel.

  ‘You wait ‘til you see inside, guv.’

  Gheeta had been there once already that morning. She had slept well and been up early to photocopy the mug shots of Hilton and Mooney for the team that would be doing the raid, check with Claire that nothing else had come from Forensics and download a face picture of Parks from the Civil Aviation site, which she also made copies of.

  ‘Do you think I could get a transfer here?’

  ‘You’d hate it, Sergeant. Dealing with country bumpkins? Be all about double-parked tractors and lost sheep. Anyway, once you got outside the City you wouldn’t understand what they were saying.’

  Palmer had surprisingly slept well, as hotel beds were usually too soft or had a deep dip in the middle so that his sciatica would remind him of its presence during the night; but this time it hadn’t. He’d had the hotel breakfast of sausage, bacon, beans and fried bread, which was very nice and totally bad for him, followed by marmalade on toast – two slices – and a coffee; if Mrs P. had been there it would have been bran flakes and orange juice. He’d then spent time pouring over the Staverton Airfield Map that Williams had sent over for him, working out the best way to approach Parks’s buildings without raising suspicion. He reckoned that if you had ten million in gold hanging around you’d be fairly jumpy and on your guard against strangers approaching.

  DS Williams met them in the spacious foyer and took them upstairs to a briefing room the size of the Yard’s car park; all open space and big windows. Mr Clark was there, as were four members of the Tactical Firearms Unit. Palmer and Singh were introduced to them.

  ‘Right then,’ said Palmer, removing his coat and trilby and putting them on a chair as they all sat round a long table. ‘Well, I hope you won’t be called on to use any firearms, but we really don’t know enough about the suspects to be sure that they aren’t carrying or have access to weapons on the premises. The case is one of multiple murders, which we believe one or all the four suspects are involved in. It all stems from some stolen gold bars being fenced and laundered and people getting greedy. Detective Sergeant Singh has the mug shots for you.’

  She passed one to each officer as he continued.

  ‘The only person we don’t have a picture of is the female – Angela Rathbone – but you can’t miss her; she’s mid-thirties and got brilliant red hair. I’ve had a good look at the airfield map this morning, and unless any of you can see a better access I think the only way is two vehicles coming at Parks’s buildings from opposite directions and trying to surprise them – all quiet until we get on top of them and then lots of noise.’

  He looked round the faces, hoping for a better plan than that. None was forthcoming.

  ‘We will unfortunately be visible from about five hundred yards in each direction as we approach, so unmarked vehicles please; and we’d better have four uniformed officers in first so the suspects can see it’s a police raid. The background of the case is gang related, and if they think it’s another mob after the loot and they are tooled up, they’d certainly use them. Right then, familiarise yourselves with the layout and take a break. We’ll meet again here at seventeen thirty please; that will give us time to move in with a bit of darkness cover. Hopefully they’ll all be so involved in getting ready for their flight they’ll not notice us until we’re on them.’

  He turned to DS Williams.

  ‘Any movement at the airfield today – anybody left?’

  ‘No sir, all present and correct. They have been seen moving about but nobody’s left.’

  ‘Okay, that’s good then. I’ll see you all at seventeen thirty.’

  Chapter 36

  Evening was falling fast as Angela Rathbone zipped the last canvas holdall shut in the back room of Parks’s office building. There were four large holdalls, each with the gold bars inside.

  Mooney came in, dressed in smart, new casual clothes.

  ‘Bonjour senorita.’

  He did a twirl.

  ‘Oh, how very smart.’

  Angela laughed, and they gave each other a quick kiss.

  ‘But make your mind up whether to go to France or Spain, okay? Bonjour is French, and senorita is Spanish, you chump.’

  He twirled again.

  ‘We can go anywhere we like. Money opens every door.’

  ‘Spain will do for now.’

  ‘Tomorrow, my angel, we shall be on the beach drinking cocktails.’

  ‘Or if it all goes wrong we shall be in a Spanish jail, awaiting extradition. Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, young man. Steady does it.’

  He hugged her.

  ‘Nothing will go wrong.’

  ‘How long have we got?’

  Mooney checked his watch.

  ‘An hour. We are still okay for a seven o’clock take off – Parks wants us ready to board by six thirty. When we get to Spain it will be dark, and he’s got somebody coming out to the plane when it lands with overalls for us.’

  ‘Overalls?’

  ‘They’ve got a Spanish courier company’s name and logo on them. We put them over our clothes and anybody seeing us around the plane or in the airport will assume we are workers with that company. Then it’s into a large van with a few parcels and these four bags and bingo!’

  Outside the sound of vehicles arriving at speed and slewing to a halt on the gravel forecourt was followed by loud shouts of ‘POLICE!’, and the front office door bursting open as the Tactical Firearms and uniformed officers swarmed in to put an abrupt end to their vision of nirvana.

  Mooney reacted quickly, taking a key off the wall hook and thrusting it into Rathbone’s hand.

  ‘Here, take the bags and go out the back; this is the key to the perimeter fence gate. Your car’s in the industrial estate car park opposite.’

  ‘What? What about you? Come with me!’

  ‘Just go! I’ll keep them occupied here. If the gold’s not here they won’t have a case against me. GO!’

  She lifted two bags, and with an anguished look back at him hurried through the back door into the evening gloom and across the five yards of grass to the perimeter gate. She was shaking as she opened the lock. Behind her
she could hear the sound of scuffling and sirens as more police cars arrived. She left the bags and rushed back for the other two; the adrenalin coursing through her body made them feel lighter than when she had pulled them out of the City Concrete office.

  Two at a time she pulled, carried and stumbled with them across the perimeter road into the industrial estate car park to her car and then heaved them onto the back seat. Holding back the panic in her brain, she drove out with no idea of where to go.

  Chapter 37

  Fifteen minutes earlier it had looked all quiet as the unmarked police van (Palmer still called them ‘Black Marias’, a name that the force had to drop in these ultra PC times) with six uniformed officers inside slowly approached Parks’s offices, the Tactical Firearms personnel carrier coming from the opposite direction.

  Palmer and DS Singh followed the van in a squad car. With a hundred yards to go Palmer gave the order: ‘Go! Go! Go!’ and all the vehicles accelerated and sped to the front of the building, sliding to a juddering halt on the loose gravel. That didn’t do Palmer’s sciatica much good as he was jolted into the back of the front seat and his trilby sent flying out of the front passenger door window; Sergeant Singh retrieved it and handed it back as he got out.

  The TF boys were out of their PSV and into the building, shouting and generally creating an atmosphere of control over anybody that was inside. Clad in black with helmets on, visors down and holding weapons in the firing position, they looked menacing; the uniformed officers followed them inside, batons at the ready. Palmer didn’t think the bunch of petty criminals inside would offer much resistance to that lot; his one fear was that they might have a weapon, but no shots rang out and very soon the TF Sergeant beckoned from the doorway for Palmer and Gheeta to enter.

  ‘All clear, sir. We have control.’

  Inside Mooney, Hilton and Parks were face down on the floor, their hands fastened behind their backs by plastic restraining ties.

  ‘Where’s the girl?’

  Palmer felt a pang of worry go through his brain.

  ‘Where’s Rathbone?’

  ‘Nobody else in the building, sir,’ the TF Sergeant raised his visor and spoke. ‘It’s all clear, just these three.’

  Gheeta moved quickly into the back room. Bags of clothes and belongings were in a neat row, ready to be taken to the aircraft for the flight. The back door was closed. She pulled it open and stepped outside into the darkness, reaching for her flashlight. Sweeping its beam across the grass, she nearly missed the perimeter gate; if it hadn’t been open she would have. Beyond it was the lane, and behind that the industrial estate car park they had watched from yesterday. A pair of headlights swept out from it, briefly blinding her as a car pulled out and sped off down the lane. She could just make out a single occupant.

  She ran back into the building, through the back room and yelled at Palmer as she raced past him towards the squad car at the front to start a pursuit.

  ‘Rathbone’s got out the back, sir. She’s just driven off down the lane.’

  Palmer and DS Williams ran after her and threw themselves into the back of the squad car whose doors had been left open, as Gheeta got into the driver’s seat, turned the ignition and hit the accelerator. This time Palmer was thrown backwards in the seat as the car lurched forward and his trilby pushed forward over his face.

  ‘Sorry, sir. Automatic, not used to it.’

  DS Williams leaned forward to direct her.

  ‘Head for the main gate, there’s no other vehicle exit from the field. Which way did she go?’

  ‘She came out of the industrial estate car park and turned left.’

  ‘Okay, when you get to the gates go left on the main road, and the lane she’s on exits onto that main road about a hundred yards down. We should get there well before she does. That lane has some sharp bends, and you can’t do any speed on it or you’ll end up in a ditch.’

  Chapter 38

  Angela Rathbone was starting to panic. Where should she go? More to the point, where could she go? Obviously the game was up, and somehow she had to run. But run where? Back to the flat? The police must have been there – probably still were. They must have been watching Parks’s place too. They must have seen her. No, she couldn’t go home; or to Mooney’s, they’d be there as well.

  The office! Yes, they would have finished their forensic work there. She’d drive back to the office for the night and have a good think. She’d still got the gold; she could always go to Sylvia’s, play ignorant, make up a story – say she went and got the gold from the office safe for the pair of them as planned, killed Robson and Finlay, and then she got scared. Would Sylvia believe that? Sylvia’s place would be a safe house to hide in until it all died down a bit. Yes, back to Sylvia’s – not the office…

  The car jolted heavily on the uneven road.

  This bloody lane is a bit twisty – still, keep the foot down; if anything was coming the other way their lights would show well in time to slow down and pass. What the…!

  She sped round a blind bend and as she did so, a car pulled out suddenly and quickly from a small layby on the left just as she got level with it. She yanked hard on the wheel to the right to avoid it, which sent her car banging into the deep side ditch of the lane, its nose down. She thudded forward into the airbag that saved her from going through the screen and the four bags of gold bars on the back seat flew over, flinging their contents throughout the car with some bouncing off the airbag and smashing through the passenger door window and screen. One clipped the side of her face, and she felt the hot blood run down.

  An eerie silence followed. She couldn’t move; she was held fast by the front and side airbags and unable to turn and release the seat belt or deflate the bags. Somebody opened the passenger door. She couldn’t make out the figure in the gloom.

  ‘Hello Angela. Going somewhere?’ Sylvia Fenn spoke softly.

  ‘Sylvia? Is that you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, thank God. I was on my way to yours – I’ve got the gold.’

  ‘So I see.’

  She struggled to release herself but couldn’t.

  ‘Help me out of here, we have to get away. The police are onto us. They’ve got Pat and Hilton.’

  ‘Really?’

  Sylvia Fenn laughed cynically.

  ‘Oh Angela, do you really believe that I don’t know your little game?’

  Her tone changed to menace.

  ‘You double-crossed me, Angela. You and Mooney, or probably just you – you led me along with your lies. You never had any intention of sharing anything, did you?’

  ‘I did, of course I did! I can’t move my leg, I think it’s broken. Ahh! Christ, it’s hurting a lot! I was going to share it, honestly I was. I was going to your place now. I can’t move. Help me out.’

  Sylvia Fenn leant in and rummaged around, putting the gold bars she could see back into the bags which she pulled out of the car.

  ‘The plan was a good one, Angela; and it would have worked. But you got greedy. Off to a hideaway with Mooney, were you? Very nice too – but I don’t think that’s likely to happen now Angela, do you? Not going to happen at all.’

  She fetched a jerry can from her car and started to pour petrol over the front seats and over Angela Rathbone, who was now panicking and desperately trying to get out.

  ‘Remember this? Great plan Angela, squirting petrol through Palmer’s letter box. And it worked too; Harry Robson was taken into custody as a suspect,t just as we thought he would be. Then we could get the gold and get away while he was inside. Unfortunately, they let him out on bail, and he panicked and went for the gold. You said you’d beat him to it, but you didn’t phone me back, did you? And Finlay didn’t come back either. And then I saw the morning news and it all fell into place. You never had any intention of sharing with me. You and Mooney were going to get set for life on it, and poor old Sylvia could take her chances with the police. You had it all planned that way from the start. I’m not stupi
d. I followed you, Angela. Saw you load your clothes into the car at Mooney’s flat and followed you down here. Saw you laughing and drinking in the Chinese last night. Not a thought about me. Remember the phone ringing as you toasted each other? The call you didn’t answer? It was me, Angela. I was watching from across the road.’

  The petrol was starting to sting Angela Rathbone’s face where the gold bar had cut it.

  ‘You can have it all. Take the lot. Just get me out!’

  Angela was in sheer panic, screaming.

  ‘I beg you, Sylvia. PLEASE!’

  Taking a book of matches from her pocket, Sylvia Fenn struck one and ignited the whole book.

  ‘Goodbye, Angela.’

  She tossed it into the car.

  Chapter 39

  ‘She should have been here by now. There’s not a turning off that lane is there?’

  Palmer was worried that Angela Rathbone’s car hadn’t arrived at the junction of the lane and the main road which DS Williams had blocked with the squad car. They were standing beside it, waiting expectantly.

  ‘Somebody’s having a bonfire on the airfield.’

  Sergeant Singh pointed to a small red glow in the distance, growing ever larger as they watched it.

  Williams started back to the car.

  ‘That’s not the airfield, that’s on this road. Jesus, she’s crashed!’

  They got back into the car and sped up the lane towards the glow. Palmer was hoping Williams had passed the Police Advanced Driver course as they slid round tight bends, sending showers of loose gravel into the verges. They came on the blazing car bonnet down in a ditch and leapt out, hoping nobody was still inside the inferno; but the dark, still, figure in the middle of the flames dashed all hope. Williams took an extinguisher from the squad car’s boot and started to douse the flames. Palmer took his sleeve and forcibly pulled him away.