by Mark Hayden
‘Did they fire at him?’
‘No. The Land Rover had gone round the roundabout and stopped at the entrance to the southbound carriageway. Vehicles were still coming round it, slowly, and we hadn’t stopped the traffic at this point. One male and two females got out of the Land Rover and approached the accident. All were wearing balaclavas and black clothing. The shots were fired at them. The male and one of the females moved to attack, and some form of weapon was discharged. One of the southbound drivers panicked when he heard the shots and crashed into the roundabout. Another tried to reverse and was smashed from behind. The three suspects tried to get into the tangle of crashed vehicles, and that weapon was discharged again. It smashed into the tractor unit of a large lorry, destroying it and starting a fire.’
He took a swallow from a bottle of water. ‘If this mess ever ends, I am going to recommend that patrol officer for every award going. He pulled the dashcam out of his vehicle and stood behind it, filming everything and shouting instructions. It may have made all the difference, because the suspects saw him filming them and started arguing. At that point the ARV was getting nearer. The ARV team knew the northbound carriageway was blocked, and they crossed over. When the suspects saw and heard it coming, they launched a number of incendiary devices into the crash zone and got back into their vehicle. They headed south and managed to dodge the ARV.’
‘Any sign of them?’
‘As you can imagine, every emergency protocol short of nuclear war had been activated by now. I was at home getting dressed and every vehicle in Thames Valley was on the alert. Nothing. That Land Rover never arrived at the Peartree Interchange, and on all CCTV, it has no index. That’s no number plate to you.’
I let that pass.
‘Back at the crash site, the original patrol officer and the ARV team approached the burning vehicles. They found a white male with a submachine gun and serious injuries trying to crawl out. As soon as he saw them, he threw the gun down and started shouting.’ The inspector consulted the comms officer. ‘Have we got that footage ready?’
‘Sir.’
We turned to watch. In the background, burning vehicles flared out parts of the camera as it tried to adjust its light level. The officer who’d filmed it lowered the camera and it focused on a pitiful sight. Dressed in black, with blood coursing down his face, a man crawled forward with one shattered leg. My titanium tibia throbbed in sympathy. There were tears in his jacket and more wounds visible. He looked into the camera and said, ‘Get the Constable! Get Conrad Clarke! My name is Morris Chandler and I surrender. Get the Constable. You’ll all be killed if you don’t get them.’
‘We ran his name. And yours. His name came back as a dangerous wanted suspect. Your name came back with a note: contact Security Liaison. Now it’s your turn. What the hell do we do?’
I pulled my lip and closed my eyes to get the image of Chandler’s pain out of my vision. ‘What are the casualties?’
‘A van driver went through his windscreen and died before the fire brigade could get to him. There are two others seriously injured and several with minors.’
‘Do you have a name for the van driver?’
‘Preliminary.’
I could only see one way out of this unholy mess that would make the world a better place. I pointed to the video screen. ‘Who’s seen that? Where is it stored?’
‘It’s restricted to counter-terrorism. We took the original footage straight from the ARV.’
‘I need to make a call. Get that footage off the system.’ He bristled. ‘I didn’t say destroy it. This gang have the resources to hack almost any system: get it off your servers, and quickly. Lock the original in a safe at headquarters. I need to make a call, then we’ll have a plan.’
I took the chance to light a cigarette when I was outside and waiting for my call to Hannah to connect. She answered on the first ring. ‘Well?’
‘We have one of Eilidh Haigh’s gang, ma’am. Looks like he escaped and they pursued him. He surrendered to the police. I need authority to take urgent action. We need to protect his life and protect his information.’
‘Granted. Do what you have to. Should I come up to Oxford.’
‘No need at present, ma’am.’
‘Get on with it, then. And may Hashem guide you.’
The armed officer let me back in to the van. ‘That footage is off the system,’ said the uniformed constable.
I nodded and asked the inspector what the name of the deceased was.
‘Provisionally identified as Kristoff Varcik. Polish national.’
‘Are the hospital itching to get Chandler into surgery?’
‘Yes, and he won’t consent until he’s seen someone he recognises. He didn’t believe that Captain Richmond was high enough up the food chain.’
‘Here’s what’s going to happen. From this moment, until you hear otherwise from the top, Morris Chandler is the one in the morgue and Kristoff Varcik is the one in A&E. Otherwise, proceed exactly as normal. Stand down all but one armed officer, and station him or her inside the room. Wrap up this van and clear out.’
‘You are joking. Sir.’
‘In twenty-four hours, you can announce Varcik’s death and blame it on forensic confusion. We can sort out what happens to Chandler after that. By now, London central command will have heard from my boss. Check it out.’
The plain clothes officer had been following every word we’d said, and at a nod from the inspector, she made a call. When she’d been connected, she said, ‘Requesting clarification of operational command transfer.’ She listened for twenty seconds and nodded to herself a few times. ‘Right. Thank you.’ She disconnected. ‘Confirmed, sir. Transfer to Squadron Leader Clarke and only him. Until further notice. Came all the way from the Cabinet Office at 10 Downing Street.’
The Inspector nodded once. ‘You heard what he said. Get on to it. Varcik is in surgery if anyone asks. Including his family. Start the procedures for declaring Morris Chandler deceased.’
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I now need to go and put that into effect. I may pass on messages via one of my team. OK?’
‘Understood.’
19 — Exercise
Richmond was staring at his phone rather than staring at the corridor. Down the other end I could see Saffron paying rather more attention to her duties.
‘Hannah’s put you in charge,’ said Richmond disbelievingly. ‘And she did it by text.’
‘Report?’
‘What?’
‘What’s the status?’
He pulled himself together. ‘Chandler calmed down when I told him you were here, but he still won’t talk to anyone except you.’
‘Chandler’s dead. The man in that room is Kristoff Varcik. Understood?’
‘No.’
I leaned in to whisper. ‘If Haigh thinks Chandler is dead, they won’t attack the hospital. Now do you understand?’
‘You could have said.’
‘I didn’t think I’d need to. Hawkins and I are going to talk to Varcik now. You’re going to put that phone away and focus.’
‘Why not me?’
I paused and took half a second to see it from his point of view. ‘Because I’d rather have you outside on watch than Hawkins. You’ve got the experience. She hasn’t.’
‘Oh. Right.’
The armed police were listening to a message as I approached. While I waited for them to finish, I waved Saffron to me. I showed the officers my ID and we went into the room. Chandler was clearly in the VIP suite. Not only did he have the large room to himself, there was a separate area for medical staff, occupied by a doctor and a nurse. Another armed officer was in the opposite corner.
‘Clarke! You’re here!’ said Chandler. ‘You’ve got to protect me.’
I held up a hand to shush him and spoke to the medics. ‘I need five minutes with my witness. After that, he’ll consent to surgery.’
The doctor was young and nervous. She was also resolute. ‘We can’t le
ave our patient. He is not medically fit to be interviewed alone.’
‘Sir?’ said Saffron.
‘Yes?’
She coughed. ‘I think they’ve been watching Line of Duty. They think you’re going to silence him as part of a giant conspiracy.’
I hadn’t thought of that. The medics were looking at some notes and blushing. Saffron was right. ‘One of you can stay,’ I said in a loud enough voice for Chandler to hear. ‘The other needs to go out and start changing all the records. There’s been a mistake. This man’s real name is Kristoff Varcik. Isn’t that right, Mr Varcik?’
‘Yes.’
The doctor made a quick decision: was her patient under threat? No, she decided. ‘Mr Varcik? Are you going to let us treat you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I’ll stay,’ she said to the nurse. ‘You go and sort out the paperwork. And tell the surgical team.’ The nurse picked up some folders and left.
We moved over to Chandler’s bed. In a model of efficiency, Saffron got out her notebook and pen.
‘You’ve got to protect me,’ said Chandler.
‘We will.’ I bent down to whisper. ‘That’s why you’ve changed your name. The poor sod in the morgue is Morris Chandler. His name will be released to the media. His wife will be informed.’
‘No! That’s why I escaped. I found out on Facebook that she’s pregnant. And it’s mine. It’ll kill her.’ He looked panicked and in pain. It was only adrenaline that was stopping him from going into shock.
‘If you co-operate, we’ll catch them. That’s the only long-term solution. I’m sure the police can get Mrs Chandler to play along with the deception. When you’re released from prison, you can forget all about it.’
He was already shaking his head. ‘Not going to prison.’
I leaned even closer. Even super-sharp eared Saffron had to bend down. ‘Do you remember the last time we met? You attacked a Gnome. A clan second, in fact.’
‘And Eilidh killed one of us. I’m the victim here.’
I shook my head. ‘We have a treaty with the Gnomes. Someone else attacked the clan second last week. You do not want to know what they did to him, and he was a Gnome. Humans get even worse punishments. We can protect you from Eilidh Haigh, and we will, but unless you co-operate, we can’t protect you from the Gnomes.’
‘Sir, look,’ said Saffron.
The dressing around Chandler’s leg was starting to leak blood. Chandler went even whiter when he saw it.
I stood up. ‘Decision time, Mr Varcik.’
‘All right, all right. They’re holed up at a cottage near Newbury. Place called Stockcross.’
‘Who? Who’s there?’
‘Eilidh Haigh and that other witch, Jane Jones she called herself, but that’s not her name. They’ve been keeping us prisoner since … since the business with the tunnels.’
‘Keeping who prisoner?’
‘Me, Owen Holt and Marissa Leon and Eve Maguire.’
‘Anyone else?’
‘That Irina woman was with us for a bit. And the South African guy came a few times. Not for a while.’
‘How did you escape?
‘Went shopping in Newbury yesterday. Jane Jones came with me and let me drive. I bought a set of realistic kiddy’s keys. You know, the ones you give toddlers to stop them stealing yours. I put the fake keys in the bowl and no one looked. It was hot. They’ve been letting us have the windows open. I jumped out in the middle of the night and took the Mercedes.’
‘What were they up to? It’s been six weeks since Niði’s Hall.’
‘They was gonna attack them three Gnomes once they’d got the gold out of the mine, that’s what we were training for. Then you lot stopped ’em and took Irina. I think they’ve bin trying to find a way to let us go without us being arrested.’
‘Is there a forge at this place? Like a blacksmith’s?’
He shook his head. ‘They talked about it. I …’
He slumped back. More blood was coming from the dressing.
I shook him and spoke up. ‘Kristoff? Do you consent to surgery?’
‘What? Yes. Yes.’
The doctor was coming over, and I had one more job to do. I reached under his shirt and found his chain of Artefacts. ‘Saffron, can you remove this without cutting it.’
She answered by doing. In five seconds, she had it in her hands.
‘All yours,’ I said to the doctor.
I gathered everyone together outside the room and moved us away from the door. There was going to be a lot of medical activity round here in the next few minutes.
‘Saffron, is there something like a personal beacon in those Artefacts?’
She looked at them carefully. I recognised the unblinking eye of an Ancile, and the twin masks of a Persona. There were two others I’d not seen before, one of them in the shape of an open triangle made of gold. She touched her finger to it. ‘This one. It’s faded a lot since I took it off Mr Varcik, but I could feel it in there all right.’
‘You know what to do with those, don’t you?’
‘Sir.’
I addressed the three armed police officers. ‘Get the inspector on the radio and tell him to come inside.’
It didn’t take him long to appear, and I took him even further down the corridor. ‘Mr Varcik’s going into surgery shortly,’ I told him.
‘And the threat level?’
‘I need an officer to take Lieutenant Hawkins to the mortuary and give her access to Mr Chandler’s body. After that, you can all stand down, except for one plain clothes officer and one personal protection officer in the room with him. He’ll need to be arrested for causing death by dangerous driving.’
The inspector’s eyes stayed dark, but his mouth smiled. ‘Is he going to be tried as Kristoff Varcik?’
‘No. By the time he’s out of surgery and the anaesthetic’s worn off, you can arrest him as Morris Chandler. He won’t argue, or if he does, just stick a garden gnome on the table.’
‘A garden gnome.’
‘Yes. He’ll get the message.’
‘What about the attempted murder?’
‘Self defence. You’ll need to inform Mrs Chandler and get her onside with this for a few hours. I want Morris Chandler’s death announced all over the media as soon as you can get an FLO to her house. Say that he was pronounced dead on arrival at hospital.’
He nodded. ‘Are you sure it’s safe to pull everyone out of the hospital? I need to know that.’
‘My team will protect the mortuary. If the gang think he’s dead, they’ll want to make certain. They won’t actually open the drawer in the morgue, or if they do, they’ll get a nasty surprise.’
‘Fine. I’ll oversee the pull-out, but everything else is above my pay grade. I can’t announce things or brief family liaison.’
‘Thanks. I’ll make sure your governor knows how well you’ve done here. I’ll organise everything else.’
We shook hands, and he turned to one of the armed officers. ‘Dave, go with Lieutenant Hawkins. The rest of you report to the command vehicle.’ He walked out of the fire door, talking rapidly into his radio as he went.
‘And me?’ said Dom Richmond.
‘You’re coming with me to have a conference call with the Boss.’
Saffron: My phone is running out of charge. Can’t we swap places?
Me: No. I’ll send you in a spare.
‘I am not going into a mortuary until I have to,’ said Mina. ‘And that is that.’
‘Do you think Scout would do it?’ I suggested.
‘I am sure he would. He would also eat the phone and be attacked by hospital staff. Why don’t you give the poor girl a break? Five minutes won’t hurt.’
‘Five minutes might hurt a lot. I’ll take it in myself.’ I levered my tired body off the grassy bank and knocked the clippings off my trousers. ‘Call me the second you see anything suspicious.’
If you approach the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford and follow the
signs for Deliveries, you’ll notice a grassy bank on your left with a windsock to tell the incoming air ambulance pilot what the ground conditions are like. That’s where Mina and I had set up an observation post, and for once my RAF ID was the right thing to convince the anxious hospital security guards that I was there on official business. They didn’t ask why I had a short Indian woman and a border collie with me to make an inspection of the helipad.
I shook my leg to get out the stiffness and ambled up the road, past the children’s wing and on to the completely anonymous concrete building that stretches for over 100 metres on the edge of the hospital. Here you’ll find the laundry, supply stores, maintenance workshops and the mortuary.
And in the mortuary was Saffron.
‘Love the coat, Saff,’ I said.
‘I am freezing my tits off. Literally. When I started turning blue and shivering, the staff stopped trying to chat me up and got me some thermal protection. It’s all right for you. I’ll bet you’re sitting in the sun having a picnic.’
‘Not yet. We didn’t want to start without you.’
‘We? Who else is out there?’
‘Mina and Scout.’
‘Now I feel really depressed. Here I am, sitting next to a room full of dead people while you canoodle in the sunshine or play with your psychotic dog. The Constable didn’t say anything about this when she recruited me.’
‘Scout is not psychotic.’
‘He’s a border collie. They’re all mad.’
‘Fair point. Here’s a phone. It’s got my number in it. Have you had a hot drink?’
‘Yes thanks. Three. And I need to pee all the time. Are you sure you can’t do this?’
