Last Gasp

by Robert F Barker

  'Bollocks.'

  He checked his watch. The Duke should be back from his early HQ meeting any time. He might even be in his office right now. As he reached for the phone there was a rap on the door. Before he could, say anything it opened. Shepherd’s head appeared. Seeing Carver alone, he slipped inside and closed the door, before settling himself in the chair next to the desk.

  For several seconds the two men stared at each other. Then Shepherd began.

  He started with a firm, ‘So, ’then tried to make it sound casual when he continued, ‘where does last night leave us?'

  Carver wasn’t fooled. They’d gone over things before leaving Megan’s – after waiting for the dog handlers to confirm that Cosworth wasn’t going to be found hiding in any ditches or thickets. He knew an agenda when he saw it. He said, 'With work to do.'

  He rose, intending to go in search of The Duke. He was in no mood for buggering about.

  'Hang on,' Shepherd snapped. 'I want a word.'

  Carver stopped, took a deep breath. What the hell. He returned to his chair.

  ‘I’ve put out the All Ports on Cosworth.'

  Carver nodded.

  'And I’m meeting Forensic at his flat in an hour.'

  Carver didn’t respond. They’d agreed it all the night before. He gave Shepherd a look. Get on with it.

  'I want to get one thing clear.'

  Here it comes.

  'When he turns up, he’s mine, agreed?'

  Carver let out a weary sigh. 'Gary, I couldn’t give a shit whose he is. But I’m not the SIO. Speak to The Duke.'

  'Don’t give me that bullshit,' Shepherd said. He leaned forward. 'You’ve blown this one and you know it. I was right all along, and you were wrong.'

  Carver checked himself. He would rather avoid an argument, but he wasn’t going to be browbeaten. 'If you feel that last night vindicates you in some way, Gary, then I’m pleased for you. I just want the bastard caught, that’s all.'

  Shepherd made no attempt to hide his bitterness. 'So you can get your face in the papers again?'

  'Grow up Gary. This isn’t a game. I couldn’t give a monkey’s fuck about faces in papers.'

  'In that case you won’t have any qualms about leaving Cosworth to me then, will you?'

  Carver sighed again and stared at the man facing him. He’d never seen anyone so anxious about getting his name on a collar. 'What’s this all about Gary?'

  For several seconds Shepherd said nothing. Then the dam broke.

  'Cosworth was my man, and has been from the start. While you and Miss Prim and Proper were wasting time taking tea with perverts, I was sussing out our killer. I’ve worked on him. I should have him. And anything that comes after.'

  Carver nodded. ‘Ah.’ He sat back. ‘I see.' Shepherd bit his lip. 'You think that whoever nails this guy is going to get, what? Promotion? Or maybe you think it’s your turn for a bit of media exposure?'

  'Whatever I get, I’ll deserve.' Shepherd spat the words back.

  'I’m sure you will. Now, if you’ve made your point, I need to be somewhere.' Rising, Carver headed for the door a second time.

  'I know, Carver.'

  Carver stopped, his hand halfway to the handle. He turned back to the man in the chair.

  'Know what?

  'About you. What you used to, get up to.' Carver stared at him. 'You’re sick Carver. I’m just surprised no one’s ever twigged. You’ve managed to fool all those people who wrote you up as ‘Ace Detective’, but you don’t fool me. What’re you and the Crane woman up to? Played any games yet? I’ll bet you’d love to. Maybe even involve that nice sergeant of yours. She’d be a–.'

  Shepherd managed to gain his feet a split-second before Carver’s hand closed round his windpipe and he found himself pushed up against the wall. His fingers clawed at Carver’s wrist, trying to relieve the pressure. But Carver was strong, and angry. As Shepherd gasped and twisted, he found himself nose-to-nose with the man he’d been tormenting.

  'Listen to me you piece of shit. First of all, you don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. Secondly, unauthorised use of NCA Source files is a serious matter and as soon as I’ve got what I need, your feet won’t touch the ground.' As the meaning behind the words sank in, Shepherd stopped struggling. His face paled. ‘Thirdly, if I hear any more stupid remarks about Jess or Megan Crane, you’ll have my fist to deal with along with all the other crap that’s coming your way. Clear?' Shepherd pulled at Carver’s wrist. He tightened his grip. 'I said is that clear?'

  Shepherd grimaced, and managed a nod.

  Letting go, Carver pushed him towards the door. He slunk away, massaging his throat and gulping air. But at the door he turned, wounded, but far from finished.

  'You try and finger me for anything Carver and I’ll drag up so much crap on you you’ll smell like a shit-house. I know enough to make it sound good. That ex-girlfriend of yours, the one in Leeds with her new life and nice little boy? I’m sure she’d love to be involved in a discipline investigation. And that singer you’re shagging? I’m sure she’ll enjoy hearing what you used to get up to. As will all the papers that wrote you up. Don’t fuck with me Carver. I’ve got as much on you as you’ve got on me.'

  Carver had had enough, bollocks to the consequences. His hands balled as he started forward. But Shepherd had said his piece and was out of the door before Carver could get near. His steps receded, quickly, down the corridor. Carver stopped himself from following. Not here.

  Ten minutes later, Carver had calmed enough to go looking for The Duke. But as he rose from the chair a third time the door opened and the man himself appeared.

  'I’ve just seen Gary. Told him I was coming to see you and we should talk. He didn’t seem keen.' He gave Carver a look. 'You don’t seem surprised.'

  Carver shrugged. All he had to do was mention the Angie thing, and Shepherd would be history. But that would also mean having to deal with the fallout that would follow. The Duke closed the door and gave him a pointed stare.

  'Whatever’s going on between you two it stops right now. I can’t afford to have my two ASIOs at each other’s throats.'

  If you only knew, Carver thought. But he said nothing and returned The Duke’s gaze. He wasn’t sure if the older man sensed it wasn’t the right time to delve, but Carver was glad when his expression changed and he dropped into the chair Shepherd had not long vacated.

  'I’ve seen your e-mail. It seems Megan Crane’s a lucky woman.'

  Carver said, 'I still don’t know how he caught her out. I thought she was sharper than that.'

  'What I’d like to know is how the hell he got away? The way your report reads, he just vanished. Or am I missing something?'

  Carver shook his head. He couldn’t blame The Duke for being sceptical.

  'It was dark John. Once I gave the abort there were a lot of people running about. You’ve been there. You know how it is.'

  It was The Duke’s turn to nod. 'But the way it went down, it sounds almost like he knew you were coming before you did.'

  'That’s the bit I don’t understand. It was almost like he was monitoring us, rather than the other way round.'

  'Any theories?'

  'None that make any sense.'

  For several minutes they considered the ‘what-ifs’ and ‘maybes’. It led nowhere. The Duke changed tack.

  'So Gary was right after all.' He sounded almost disappointed.

  'Looks that way.'

  'You’ve still got doubts?'

  Carver hesitated, knowing how it would sound. 'There’re things I can’t put together yet.' He told The Duke of his concerns.

  'Maybe things won’t fall into place until he’s caught,' The Duke offered.

  'Maybe.'

  Carver lapsed into silence, deciding. The idea had come during the night but until his spat with Shepherd, he hadn’t been sure. He was now. He pitched it.

  'Look John, everything’s going to focus on Cosworth now.'

  'So?'

&n
bsp; 'So why don’t I take the Holland end of things? We need to find the Mertens girl, the one in Cosworth’s photos. Whatever she says is going to be relevant, one way or another. Any trial judge will want to know we’ve tried, at the very least.'

  He waited, letting The Duke think on it. The girl’s story could be an important link in the evidence chain. On the other hand, the defence might seek to use her to confuse the jury. Either way they needed to know. He saw The Duke’s eyes narrow.

  'If we find Cosworth while you’re away, Gary would have to take the lead. Even when you got back, it would stay with him.'

  For the first time, Carver let his weariness show. 'It doesn’t matter. I just want to know how it all fits. And now we know it’s Cosworth, Gary will be like a fox down a hole, especially if I’m not around. It’s probably what’s needed.'

  Carver could see that The Duke was in two minds. But he was reluctant to go against his deputy.

  'Okay. If that’s what you want.'

  The Duke rose to leave, just as a knock came on the door. It opened and Alec poked his head around.

  ‘Something interesting,’ he said.

  They beckoned him in.

  He approached the desk. He was carrying his mobile and he placed it down. It was showing a photograph. Carver and The Duke both leaned in to peer at the picture of a flat, black object, similar to a mobile, but with a smaller screen. Then they turned questioning looks back at the D.S.

  ‘When we were searching for Cosworth, I did the first floor bedrooms.’

  Carver nodded. Their first action after rescuing Megan, had been to search the house, top to bottom. He’d half-expected they would find Cosworth hiding in a cupboard or under a bed.

  ‘Go on,’ he said.

  ‘I saw this on a dresser in the middle spare bedroom, the one directly beneath the attic we had planned to use. I wasn’t sure what it was, so I snapped it.

  ‘And?’

  ‘I’ve just shown it to one of the surveillance team. He says he thinks it’s a blocker.’

  ‘What sort of blocker?’ The Duke said.

  ‘One that stops wireless signals.’

  Carver stared at him. For several seconds he said nothing, letting the implications of Alec’s news settle. ‘You’re right. That is interesting.’

  Carver lay in bed, cursing himself. It was two in the morning.

  The evening had started well enough. Rosanna had baked some sea bass, and looked ready to forget about the previous night and morning. But she took the news about him going to Holland badly. He’d feared she would.

  'Why you? Why can’t someone else go?'

  His explanation - that the enquiry was sensitive and needed someone senior - hadn’t sounded convincing, even to him. And though he thought about telling her the truth - not just about Shepherd - he’d chickened out, not sure how she would react.

  So dinner had become a sullen, silent affair. She picked at her fish, waiting for him to offer something that would explain his recent behaviour. Why he’d stopped confiding in her. Where he was at night. Something other than the obvious. For his part, he kept getting to the point of saying something, then backed off. He wasn’t sure why. After dinner she drifted off upstairs, leaving him staring into his wine.

  Now, as his arm stretched out, confirming the emptiness next to him, he admonished himself - again. Of course he’d wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to be able to say that it was all in the past, that he was over it. But somewhere deep down was the feeling, the fear that it wasn’t in the past. That he wasn’t over it. And as he dwelt on it, the inevitable happened.

  He tried to stop himself, but the draw was too strong.

  Suddenly he was standing in the doorway to Megan Crane’s Playroom, looking at her, bound to the post, helpless. And as the memory flooded back, he screwed himself into a ball, and turned his face to the pillow.

  Chapter 47

  Carver arrived at Jess’s flat on the Saturday morning just as Megan Crane was making ready to leave. It was the first time he’d seen her since they’d nearly lost her. He hadn’t been avoiding, it was just that he’d spent most of the past two days accounting for what happened. It seemed everyone wanted to know how Chaperone had come so close to disaster, how Cosworth had managed to get away. The Duke, the ACC, the Force’s Solicitors, they all wanted to hear it first-hand, as well as demanding, a copy of the file report he was trying to work on between phone calls, ‘ASAP.’

  He still wasn’t sure why Megan had stayed another night on top of the two she’d already spent at Jess’s. He knew she’d been back to The Poplars a couple of times in the interim, but only to pick up clothes, it seemed. The round-the-clock police guard on the Poplars had been organised and ready since the afternoon after. Carver only learned Megan still wasn’t back staying there when the team sent to watch over her rang to enquire when she would be home. A phone call to Jess told him. ‘She’s still a little shaken. Another night here and she’ll be fine.’

  Carver was surprised. Okay, she’d been through a frightening experience. But from what he’d come to know of Megan Crane, he wouldn’t expect she would need three days to get over it.

  There was a moment’s awkwardness when Jess left them alone while she retired to her bedroom to take an, ‘urgent’, call on her mobile. Jess had told him several times that Megan wasn’t blaming him. or anyone for what happened. She’d even acknowledged to Jess that she was partially to blame for not letting them use video. It wasn’t how Carver saw it.

  He sought to cover his embarrassment be asking how she was.

  'Much better now, thanks. Jess has been a great help. No news yet I assume?'

  He shook his head. 'Don’t worry. We’ll find him.'

  'I’m not worried. Just curious.'

  'You and me both.'

  In the silence that followed, he thought about apologising, but remembered his conversation with the woman from the Force Solicitor’s Office. ‘I’d suggest you be careful about saying anything to her that may infer acceptance of liability.’ Carver expected he would hear soon if she’d lodged a complaint over the way he’d framed his response.

  'There’s a team on your house,' he told her. 'I’ll let them know you’re on your way back. Don’t worry, they won’t intrude any more than necessary.'

  She didn’t argue. 'Thanks Jamie.' Then surprised him again by giving him a chaste hug as she left. As Jess walked her down to the front door, he made the call, then waited for Jess to return. He’d seen her face when she came out of the bedroom, and was concerned enough to ask if she was alright.

  Her response, 'A bit tired is all,' wasn’t convincing.

  He probed. 'How’s Martin? When’s he due back?'

  Her pained expression told him that, responsible for the Cosworth debacle or not, his instincts were still working.

  'Want to talk about it?' He remembered Megan extended stay. 'Or have you already done that?'

  With a sigh, she dropped into the couch before shaking her head, answering another unspoken question. She gave him a long look, as if debating whether to unburden herself. Then she gave a, what-the-hell, sort of shrug.

  'Martin rang me last night. He was due back this weekend but said there’d been a problem and he was having to stay out another couple of weeks.' Carver waited, saying nothing. 'He was ringing from his hotel room.' He waited some more. 'I heard someone in the background.'

  Oh-oh.

  Her eyes glistened as she said, 'I heard him “shush” her.'

  Carver said, ‘Oh dear,' then realised how inadequate it was. He tried bolstering her by offering alternative explanations. But he knew he was wasting his time, deceiving her in a way she didn’t deserve. 'I’m sorry, Jess.'

  She shook her head again. 'There were some things we were going to have to sort out anyway when he got back. Now there’s only one.' She turned to the kitchen. 'Coffee?'

  He nodded.

  When she returned she seemed brighter. He briefed her about how he wanted her to play t
hings during his absence. It was her turn to read between the lines.

  'You told me most of this the last time we spoke. Why are you here when you’ve got a plane to catch?'

  He gave her a long look, then told her about his spat with Shepherd. Not all of it, but enough.

  'You need to know, Jess. Just be careful of him. And I need someone to watch my back while I’m away’.

  What she did next took him by surprise. She pressed her hand over his. 'You can rely on me.'

  He looked up. She was staring at him. 'I know.'

  For the next few seconds they communicated their understanding of each other’s problems. In her case, Martin. In his, Rosanna, Shepherd - and other things.

  About to leave, he hesitated.

  She saw it. 'What?’

  If you feel like you need to talk to someone… about Martin, and such.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Rosanna’s on her own. I think you’d find her… understanding.’

  'Oh.’ She looked surprised. ‘Okay.’

  Minutes later, driving away, Carver wondered if he’d just made a big mistake.

  Chapter 48

  The two doors were separated by a strip of wall, two bricks wide. In the dim glow of the bare bulb overhead, the flaking paintwork still showed traces of their original olive green. On a hook set in the mortar between the bricks were two mortise keys. Old and rusted, they bore plastic fobs, one yellow, one red. The yellow one bore a black, ‘L’, the other, ‘R’.

  Megan Crane was staring at the left-hand door as if she had x-ray vision and were seeing through to the room beyond. Her jaw was working from side-to-side, the red lips set in as thin a line as they were capable of making. She had been like that for several minutes. Eventually, she reached up and took the key with the yellow fob, inserted it in the lock and turned it. The click of the mechanism echoed in the confined space. Grasping the knob, she opened the door a fraction, held it there a second, then pushed it hard so it flew open and banged against the dividing wall.

  The room within was pitch black, the light from the bulb barely penetrating. She felt a cool draught as the air from within mingled with that outside. The stale smell carried on it contained a trace of something akin to ammonia. She ignored it, used to it. Reaching round to her left, her fingers groped over the rough surface until they found a square of smooth plastic. She flicked the switch in its centre. A strip light hanging on chains in the middle of the room flickered, buzzed and clicked, before flooding the room with a cold, white light.