by steve higgs
It meant James Butterworth and Constable Van Doorn were already dead. It was annoying but if that were the case, there was nothing he could do about it. Saving Karen Gilbert would be enough to ensure he was recognised. There would be a commendation at least.
Constable Bob Copeland peeled out of the shadow behind the Blue Moon office in Rochester as he watched the utility vehicle gather speed over the cobbled road.
‘They are moving, sir,’ he gasped into his radio as he ran.
He’d been given warning they were heading his way by his partner for the night, Constable Danny Hurst. Danny was watching the front which at least gave him something to look at. Standing in the shadows behind the office was boring. Bob was cold and his feet had gone to sleep an hour ago.
Neither man complained though. They both knew Jan and knew the code: we do everything to protect our own.
Danny was already at the car, clambering into the driver’s seat when Bob arrived.
‘They are in a car, sir,’ PC Copeland reported. ‘We are following.’
‘Good,’ murmured Chief Inspector Quinn. ‘Stay with them. Let me know where they go.’
‘There’s something else, sir,’ Bob added. ‘Two men came to the office about half an hour ago.’
Quinn found he was squinting, desperate to hear what the man might say next.
‘Sir, one opened and shut the back door to get their attention, and the other ducked inside to leave a box in their office. Both then ran away. We didn’t see where they went, but they were wearing black robes, sir.’
Bob didn’t say it but had been worried about revealing this little snippet of information. The chief inspector was a harsh critic and unforgiving if anyone did anything he thought was the wrong thing to do. He discussed what they ought to do with Danny at the time but both agreed their orders were to watch the Blue Moon team so that was what they did.
Quinn’s heart beat a quick staccato. This could be exactly what he was hoping for.
‘Stay on them, keep me informed and whatever you do, do not let them out of your sight. If you lose them, don’t bother coming back unless it’s to clear out your lockers. Out.’
With the call ended, the two constables shared a worried look. They were following the Blue Moon team but had to try to look like they were not following. There was no back up team that could swing into position if the people ahead spotted their tail. Cautiously, and trying to keep at least one car between them, they drifted along in the wake of the utility vehicle.
Big Ben. Tooling Up. Saturday, December 24th 1520hrs
Jagjit’s car could easily seat five, but there were six of us which made it a squeeze. I offered to have Alice sit on my lap in the back. I was just trying to be helpful, but Jagjit eyed me as if I might be trying to achieve some other aim.
I guess I understood his concern. More than a few seconds breathing in my heady scent while pressed against my muscular form was bound to make his wife reconsider her poor choice of partner.
So I got to ride in the front where my broad frame and long legs had room to fit. I pulled my chair forward a bit to give those behind as much room as possible, but it was still cozy back there with four of them stuffed in.
Following Tempest’s instructions, we went over the bridge into Strood and through the small town, stopping at a hardware store on the way out. It was due to shut until Boxing Day in less than an hour but that was more time than we needed.
Tempest and I both grabbed trolleys, a small procession of us heading through the electronic double doors when they swished open.
We got looks from everyone who saw us. I’m used to it, of course, because there is barely a woman on the planet who doesn’t stop to get at least a second glance. The men were looking too though, and it was entirely because four of us were wearing our black combat gear again.
The fingerless gloves with the Kevlar knuckles had a purpose, but in such a benign, civilian setting, we looked like a paramilitary team.
Naturally, anyone looking would assume I was the leader.
Spotting an attractive member of staff in her thirties, I sashayed up to her. ‘Hey, babe, I’m Big Ben. Can you point me toward the chainsaws, please?’
When she looked my way, I hit her with the smile that had dropped a thousand knickers.
Something went wrong with it because she raised an eyebrow and jerked a thumb toward the back of the shop.
‘Aisle twelve.’
Amanda hooked my elbow. ‘Come on, Romeo. We don’t have time for anything else.’
Starting to panic because my batting average in the last twenty-four hours was zero hits from a lot of swings, I found myself mumbling. ‘I need to find a mirror.’
‘No time,’ Amanda repeated.
‘But there’s something wrong and I worry that if we don’t fix it the world will stop spinning.’
I heard her say something like, ‘Dear Lord,’ as she let go my arm and jogged to catch up with Tempest.
What was happening to me?
Doing my best to put it from my mind, I found the chainsaws and loaded two into the trolley along with a can to carry the fuel I would need.
Tempest and the others were all heading for the tills by the time I found them, their trolley near overflowing with tools that made very good weapons yet were completely legal to buy and carry in public. It was using them as a weapon where the line got crossed, but we were so far past the point of caring about that now I doubted it even surfaced in anyone’s mind.
Quinn. Updated Information. Saturday, December 24th 1603hrs
‘Where are they now?’ Quinn snapped out his question when Copeland’s voice came through it again.
‘At Big Jobs hardware store in Strood, sir. They are buying tools. It looks like they are planning to renovate a house, sir.’
Quinn rolled his eyes. ‘They are tooling up for a fight, you idiot. Did you see what they bought?’
Copeland’s eye flared. What kind of people was he dealing with here? He knew of Tempest Michaels; everyone did. The TV footage of him making Quinn look like an idiot was saved to the phone memory of every officer in Maidstone. It had happened more than once too.
Copeland heard the stories about them just the same as everyone else and had been in the grounds of Rochester castle in October when a huge battle broke out between two gangs of clowns. The whole thing was utterly bizarre, but surely the other tales were all hyperbole?
Whether they were or not, he had to now question what the Blue Moon investigators thought they were going up against with chainsaws, battery-powered nail guns and sledgehammers. Yet more items were loaded into the back of the utility truck’s load bed, most of them in boxes so he couldn’t make out what they might be.
Eyeballs poking out on stalks, he saw the Indian guy and the woman who wasn’t Amanda Harper head back to the store. He recognised Amanda because she only left the police a few weeks ago. Bob didn’t know what they were going back for, but the moment they were far enough away, the big guy jumped into the driver’s seat and a second later the car rocketed out of the carpark.
The Indian guy and the woman were left staring at the receding taillights looking speechless, but Bob only caught a glimpse of them as Danny stomped on the accelerator to give chase again.
Tempest. A Plan. Saturday, December 24th 1605hrs
From the backseat, Amanda said, ‘You didn’t have to do that, you know.’ She was less than impressed with me.
I sucked some air in between my teeth, unhappy that I had done it too.
‘I couldn’t risk Jagjit refusing to hand over the keys or trying to come with us.’ I wasn’t happy that Amanda was coming with me either for that matter. It wasn’t a question of her ability to manage in a crisis situation; far from it. I was in love with her and putting her in harm’s way as I was about to did not sit well.
‘He would have understood,’ she argued.
‘There was no time to discuss it,’ I insisted. ‘Jagjit is too proud to have accepted me leaving h
im behind without arguing to save face. His wife was there to witness it, so he would have felt it necessary to fight me on the subject. We don’t have time for that.’
Amanda either conceded the point or she chose to save her breath. Either way, she had nothing more to say and the car lapsed into silence interspersed only by the sound of Basic’s Gameboy playing music as he fought to save Princess Peach.
From Strood to Cobham is a straight shot through the centre of town and up the A2. It was also known as Watling Street and followed the line of the original road built by the Romans to connect Dover (Dubris) to London (Londinium). It took ten minutes to get to the exit, leaving the busy road and the traffic heading to the capital as we swept down the off ramp and into the dark countryside.
At this time of year, mere days after the winter solstice, the sun literally fell from the sky when it decided the day was over. An hour ago, it had been light. Now it was full dark.
Would that play into our hands or not?
Big Ben killed the lights with a mile to go to the park, and dumped Jagjit’s car at the side of the road when he found a lay by it would fit in. We were still four hundred yards shy of the park entrance, but the gate would be shut by now to stop people going in there at night and we needed to be invisible as we approached.
Using boot polish bought at the hardware store, we buddied up to black out each other’s faces, removing any shine that might catch the moonlight to give our position away. After a quick check to make sure we could move silently without things in our pockets jangling, we hefted the tools from the load bed, loading as many as we could into pockets and belts and carrying more besides.
We overdid it at the store, buying more than we could comfortably carry, but that was okay – we had enough.
And we had a plan.
Remember the keys?
The Sandman. Preparation is Everything. Saturday, December 24th 1618hrs
Ramsey Mitchell finished shaving and dabbed his face and neck dry with a towel before applying some moisturiser and a touch of aftershave. He needed to feel the part and for that he knew he also needed to look the part. As if he were going out on an important date, he was taking the time to make sure he looked and smelled good.
Karen was a special one for several reasons. Partly it was because she had slipped through his fingers and he’d thought her lost. Regaining her brought him such joy. The other reason was because of how closely she resembled his precious Valerie.
If it were true that a person had a type, then Valerie was his. That was how, as a young man, he came to hurt her. It had never been his intention to do so, but she had been making him pay for his error ever since. Her constant instructions gave him purpose and only by obeying them could he please her.
Returning to his control room, with the screens and the radio, he checked the position for Tempest Michaels. He had considered phoning him to draw him out but doing so left him exposed to being questioned by the man and he knew the police were looking for him already.
He doubted they would be able to find him, but prudence demanded he wrap things up here and move on. Besides, sending the note was more elegant in many ways and had proven to be just as effective.
The little blip on his screen didn’t tell him if anyone else were with Tempest, but he felt secure in his belief that the giant would be with him, and the dumb one who looked like a caveman. Probably the pretty blonde one too. He’d read of their exploits and had a mental picture for how they operated. They were a frontal assault, blunt force instrument.
They would sense the trap they were walking into and choose to rely on luck and courage to see them through. They would not last long.
The wall to his front contained six monitors, each of which could display the feed from one of many cameras. Only one had a picture currently because the others were all in darkness. He flicked switches on the console, bathing both the police officer, Constable Van Doorn, and Karen in bright white light.
Both were awake and had to shield their eyes.
Clearing his throat, and licking his lips, the Sandman leaned toward his microphone and switched it to address all areas so not only would his acolytes hear it, so would the three forms in their slumber rooms.
‘Good evening one and all. Most especially you, Karen, my precious. Tonight is to be a celebration. You have been chosen. Chosen to be saved. Before we get to the ceremony, I wish to allow you to listen to the foolhardy attempt to rescue you from the sanctuary I offer. Tempest Michaels and his friends are about to storm my bunker. I would like you all to listen as they die.’
Big Ben. Full Assault Mode. Saturday, December 24th 1623hrs
As Tempest predicted, the bunker door at the front was unlocked. This was the scariest part of what we were going to do, but Tempest’s plan was either genius or suicide; we would find out which soon enough.
With Basic at my side, I edged into the darkness. Some night vision goggles would have gone down well, right about now, but the moment I thought that the lights came on.
Blinking against the sudden light, and sticking to the walls to minimise the target we might offer them, I gritted my teeth and took in my surroundings.
We were in a tunnel made from concrete. It went about eight feet before it met another staircase that went down again. I peered cautiously over the edge. The stairs went down maybe fifty yards into the earth. It would have been well protected from the bombs the Germans dropped all over the county during the second world war. Whoever had been working down here would have been safe.
I didn’t bother to turn to look behind me, I simply took the jerry can of fuel I had prepared, lit the rag, and threw it. As it sailed through the air, I started down after it. Not too fast, I didn’t want to be too close when it hit the floor below and exploded.
With a boom that was like a concussion grenade going off, the plastic jerrycan hit the ground far below and a fireball filled the air. I heard screams of terror and some of pain and the shock that goes with it but had to hunker down and hug the stairs as a burning ball of flame shot back up at me.
I intended to cause shock and awe, and to capitalise on that I had to move now and move fast. Basic was right on my heels, a sledgehammer in each hand as we both ran down the concrete steps as fast as we could. A sled would have worked better but might have been going too fast to control once we hit the unforgiving floor below.
Screaming like a banshee I came into the bottom tunnel to find fake monks in their daft dresses running away. Some were half undressed, the robes discarded having caught fire. There was nothing in the tunnel to burn but the smell of charred cloth and hair hung in the air.
We were in.
Jane. All the Fuel I Would Need. Saturday, December 24th 1627hrs
To say I felt sick wouldn’t even come close. When the Sandman stopped speaking, there was silence for more than a minute before the sound of an explosion made me think Tempest had borrowed a tank from somewhere.
Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past him.
The ripping noise of a chainsaw filled the air. There were shouts, Big Ben’s voice easy to pick out, so too Basic’s.
There were shouts from people I didn’t recognise – the Sandman’s acolytes no doubt.
I had no idea how many they had to face or how far they had to go to get to me. How vast was the building I was in?
‘Get them,’ growled a voice I didn’t know. The malice in it did nothing to belie the owner’s intentions. They were sent there to kill and sounded joyful at the prospect.
‘Now!’ shouted Tempest. ‘Go now!’ His voice was easy to pick out from the other cries filling the air. However, his shout was followed by a cry of pain and my breath caught in my throat.
I could only hear them over the speaker. They were trying to get to me, but they had to be on another floor high above me, or at least so far away that the sounds of their struggle couldn’t reach me through the walls.
‘Tempest is down,’ shrieked Amanda, trying to stay calm but failing.
>
A sob escaped me.
‘Where are they?’ yelled one of the acolytes.
An answer came back. ‘I can’t see! There’s too much smoke.’
A grunt of pain followed by a blood-curdling wail from Basic made me curl into a ball on the bed. My friends were all dying in their bid to save me. If I could have been more vigilant, I would have seen the Sandman coming for me. I should have been watching. Or I should have tried harder to work out who he was. If I had solved the case already, none of this would be happening.
‘Where’s Tempest?’ shouted Big Ben. ‘We need to retreat!’
Amanda’s words ripped right through my heart. ‘He’s dead, Ben. We’re cut off!’
Big Ben’s enraged war cry filled the airwaves and was abruptly silenced.
Only the sound of Amanda’s terrified crying remained.
‘I think that will do,’ said the Sandman, cutting the feed so I didn’t have to listen to them find Amanda.
I still had the knife, and I had a belly filled with lava that was ready to erupt. I might only get one chance to kill him, but if the opportunity came, he had given me all the fuel I would ever need to gladly exchange my life for his.
For what he had done, he needed to die.
Jane. Behind Every Great Man. Saturday, December 24th 1638hrs
They came for me less than a minute later. I sat up on the bed as the door opened, keeping the knife tucked inside my hands so it couldn’t be seen. It didn’t take much effort to look terrified and defeated – I was both.
The first man had horrible teeth. He smiled at me, showing off how many were broken, missing or crooked.
