by Rob Ashman
‘We have information to suggest that Alex Jarrod, who is wanted for four murders, may be hiding out in a vacant property that has recently undergone building work. You all have a background briefing note regarding Jarrod, please read it and see me afterwards if you have any questions. He used a Facebook account to communicate with two people, Ellis Johnston and Christopher Millican, and in the messages they talk about their experiences of coming home having served in Afghanistan.’
Kray tapped the touch pad on her laptop and the Facebook comments came up on the TV screen. ‘On two occasions Jarrod referred to how good it felt to come home to the place he loves the most - the Central Pier. He talks about how he sits on the Promenade watching the sun setting behind the Ferris wheel.
‘He met with Millican last night and chose the pier as their rendezvous point, and in his discussion Jarrod said that he could relate to the place. He said the pier was a survivor, just like him. This place obviously has resonance.
‘I believe Jarrod is holed up in a building near to the pier, maybe in a position where he can see the structure. This is a map of the area identifying all the vacant sites in that location.’ A map came up on the screen with the premises outlined in red. ‘Jarrod has probably been planning this for a long time so we can exclude those that have recently become empty.’ The map changed to show fewer buildings coloured red. ‘And if we also exclude those that have not had any building work done to them we have this.’ The final map came up.
‘We need to search these locations. This will not be a high-profile raid and we will be led by Inspector Yates. Do you have everything you need, Donna?’
‘Yes, Roz, we have several items of clothing from Jarrod’s flat. If he’s in there we will find him.’
‘Good. I cannot stress enough how dangerous Jarrod is. He has a military background and we have to assume he is armed. I want the dog in first, then the armed response unit, then anyone else. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ was the murmured reply.
‘I do not want us blazing in with blues and twos. We lost him once and I don’t want to scare him into running. Uniform, you will be posted out on the street in case he does make a break for it. We’ve contacted the landlords and property developers and asked them to open up for us but if they are not there, we go in anyway. Does anyone have any questions?’
There was a general shaking of heads as people rose to their feet.
* * *
An hour later everything was set. The first target was a huge three-storey hotel on the front, the car park was now home to three yellow skips containing discarded beer cans, bottles and domestic rubbish. The landlord turned the key and the heavy padlock clicked open.
Inspector Yates went in first with an enormous Czech Shepherd dog called Cracker. She gave the command and the dog went into tracking mode. He sniffed at the floor and shot off, followed by two armed officers and Yates. Kray and Tavener brought up the rear.
The place was completely gutted, only the walls and stairwells remained. The overwhelming stench of wet clothes and mould hung in the air. Torch beams flashed around the interior as Cracker sniffed his way up the stairs and along the corridor. Rows of empty rooms with no doors stretched along the length of the building. Cracker bundled along, checking out every room, but nothing of interest turned up. It was the same on the next floor.
They came to the last room and scurried down the service stairs, through the ground floor and back out into the breathable air.
Yates made a fuss of Cracker for a job well done. Kray blew her nose when she emerged outside.
‘The next one is one street back, we’ve not heard from the landlord.’
The team made their way along the front and took a left, then a right. This hotel was on four floors and much smaller. The bolt cutters made short work of the lock. They went inside following the same routine, the place had been stripped bare, with naked block walls and concrete floors. In minutes Cracker had decided this was worse than the first and they were all outside on the pavement again.
‘Back to the Prom,’ Kray said pointing the way. ‘We’ll need the bolt cutters for this one as well.’ They turned the corner and the massive hotel opened up in front of them. Kray gazed up at the sun-baked orange front. The big bay-fronted windows standing proud on the top floor made her shudder. She could see the Central Pier in all its glory, the Ferris wheel standing out against the clouded sky.
Tavener cut through the lock and shoved open the door. Yates removed the clothes from the sealed plastic bag and once again allowed Cracker to bury his snout in the material.
He shot off.
This one was different to the other two. Woodwork and pallets were strewn across the floor and the upended reception desk lay on its side. The damp stench they had experienced in the other buildings was replaced by the smell of plasterboard.
She put her hand on Tavener’s arm.
‘Be careful.’
Cracker made a beeline straight for the service stairs, sniffing at the floor and walls as he went. Up and up they climbed, until they reached the top. He hurried down a windowless corridor then he froze, standing absolutely rigid and silent.
Yates caught up with him and signalled to the others. ‘He’s found something.’ Pointing further on.
The armed officers skirted around Yates and the dog with their weapons raised and crept along the last few yards of the passage way. The entrance opened up into a big space with horizontal bars of light cascaded onto the pink walls. One of them peered down the big round hole at the end. He gave the ‘All Clear.’
Kray slipped on a pair of overshoes and stepped inside, casting her eyes around the room. Sachets of packet food were lined up in regimental order in one corner, along with bottles of water and a gas stove. Three bottles of vodka stood in a line against the wall next to three mobile phone boxes. Against the other wall lay batteries, medicines, spare laces, cutlery and two bottles of Tabasco sauce all lined up in order. A black holdall and a neatly folded set of clothes sat beside them.
‘And I thought I had OCD,’ Kray muttered under her breath.
Then she noticed the faces of two women and two men staring at her from across the room. Four pictures were stuck to the wall, each one with a fat red X through it. Tavener joined her, staring at the photographs.
‘Shit,’ he said.
Kray went up to the faces, examining each one carefully. ‘There’s one missing.’
‘How can you tell?’
‘These are blu-tacked to the wall. Look at this.’ Kray pointed to the space next to the mug-shot of Billy Hicks. She clicked on her torch and directed the beam at the plasterboard. Four round blue marks stained the surface. ‘There was a fifth picture, he’s taken it with him.’ Kray took out her phone, enabled the flash and started clicking away.
‘Who do you think it is?’ asked Tavener.
‘I don’t know.’
‘This is great, now all we need to do is wait for him to come back and nab him.’
Kray looked around the room. ‘I’m not so sure.’
‘Why?’
‘Where’s the bedding? He has this place kitted really well, but where does he sleep?’
‘After all the preparation, you wouldn’t leave this lot.’ Tavener waved his hand at the supplies.
‘You would if you had some place else to go.’
‘Hey.’ Tavener nudged Kray’s arm and nodded in the direction of the hole in the floor and the rope suspended from above. ‘Looks like Jarrod is on a suicide mission.’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’ The flash went off and the hangman’s noose was preserved for prosperity.
41
The woman wearing Ugg boots drops a pound coin into my Costa cup. I’m sitting cross-legged on the pavement and can only see up to her knees because my head is bowed. I grunt a ‘thank you’ as she walks off feeling better about herself.
I’m in a place that catches the sun but I can still feel the cold of the concrete chill
ing the bones of my arse through my sleeping bag. I’ve pulled it around my legs for extra warmth but, in reality, I am hiding my boots and combat trousers. They still don’t look right.
Whenever I went to the Lakeland I always changed into this gear to give it a worn lived-in look. I didn’t wash the clothes I’m stood up in for six weeks and made a point of ensuring they got grubby. But while they are soiled, they are not street soiled – there is a big difference.
It is an amazing feeling. Scientists don’t have to waste their time inventing an invisibility cloak, all you have to do is sit on the ground in a busy shopping centre and abracadabra! - no one can see you. Which is good because the next part of my mission requires me to hide in plain sight.
In my peripheral vision I see a police officer and a PCSO ambling up the pedestrianised thoroughfare. An old lady stops them to have a chat. It seems they know one another. She is smiling, throwing her head back and cackling while waving her arms about. The coppers are smiling back and nodding. Eventually she goes on her way and the officers resume their preamble up the street.
I watch them stop and the PCSO flicks her head in my direction. They are ten yards away and the police officer is looking straight at me. My pulse rate spikes.
Stay calm, stay calm.
They change direction and head towards me. I keep my head down and control my breathing.
‘Are you all right, sir?’ The polished boots of the PCSO enters my field of vision. I look up shielding my eyes from the sun. She looks about fifteen years old.
‘Yeah, I’m fine, officer.’ I lower my gaze back to the floor and the second pair of bright shiny boots come into view.
‘Do you have somewhere to stay?’
I raise my head again, peeking through my fingers. This lad looks about twelve.
‘Oh, erm, I have a bed at the B&B on Clevedon Road.’ I lied.
‘I know it, up by the Hilton?’
‘Yeah, that’s the one.’
‘I’m afraid, sir, you have to move on,’ said the man.
Shit what do I do now? How would a proper homeless person reply? Would they argue or simply go away?
‘I’m not bothering anyone, officer,’ I said.
‘I know but you have to move on.’
‘Okay.’ I step out of my sleeping bag and pick up the cup containing the money. ‘Sorry if I’ve …’
‘That’s okay, sir, but we do have to ask you to move on.’
All right, you’ve told me three times, I get the picture.
I shuffle to my feet, maintaining a slight stoop when gathering up my things. Then I hold my hand up as a sign of goodbye and slope away.
‘Excuse me, sir.’ It’s the PCSO calling after me. I keep my head down and pretend not to hear her. ‘Sir, excuse me.’
I carry on going. Then I feel a tug on my sleeve.
Every sinew is poised to take the knife from my boot and slice her head off. Instead, I stop and turn slowly.
‘You dropped this.’ In her hand is a pound coin. She gives it to me and I grunt a ‘thank you.’
If only she knew how close she came, if only she knew.
42
The sun had long since given up the last of its glow as it disappeared below the Irish sea. Kray and Tavener were in a car watching the back of the Lakeland Hotel. The rest of the team were dotted around doing the same while the armed response officers were cooped up in the back of a van. The digital clock on the dashboard read 20:50.
The sky was grey with clouds and fine rain cast an opaque veil over the windscreen. The streets were empty save for the occasional passer-by.
‘I hate stakeouts,’ Tavener said offering Kray a mint. ‘They start off with a buzz of high expectation, and dissolve into a pool of boredom.’
‘Bloody hell, that’s a bit poetic for you. How many have you done?’
‘Including this one … two.’
‘You’re hardly a seasoned veteran.’ She shook her head and popped the sweet in her mouth.
‘You only have to stub your toe once to know how much it hurts. It’s not necessary—’
‘Thanks for that stunning piece of insight. You are making this so much more fun … after all, it could be shit.’
‘Yeah, well it looks like it’s about to get worse.’ Tavener nodded out of his side window at the figure scampering towards them with his jacket pulled over his head. The back door flew open and Bagley piled into the back.
‘Evening,’ Kray said staring into the rear-view mirror as Bagley shook water all over her back seats.
‘Evening. Nothing has moved at our end,’ Bagley said.
‘Same here,’ muttered Kray. ‘The most exciting thing we’ve seen is a man picking shit up off the pavement.’
‘Bloody hell, was he taken short?’
‘He had a dog with him at the time.’
‘Oh … anyway, I came over to tell you I’ve arranged for us to be relieved at nine o’clock. So I suggest when they arrive, you get off home. I will handle the handover. We have also doubled up on the uniform officers babysitting the other convicted people on the list. The Chief and the ACC are still in damage limitation mode and we can’t afford another slip-up.’
‘That sounds a sensible move. You could have told us that over the phone, you didn’t need to get soaked.’
‘I suppose but I wanted to check in on you.’
The headlights of two cars came into view, cruising to a stop on the other side of the road. Kray switched on the windscreen wipers.
‘That will be them,’ Bagley said opening his door. ‘You two go home and get some rest, we will resume at seven in the morning. I will leave instructions that if anything happens during the night they will contact both of us, Roz.’
‘That sounds fine. Good night, Dan,’ Kray replied.
‘Goodnight, sir,’ said Tavener.
Bagley bundled out into the rain and trotted across the tarmac to the first car.
Why the hell can’t you behave like this all the time? Instead of being a complete wanker. Kray started the engine and pulled away.
She stared at the road ahead and said nothing.
‘Do you think Jarrod will return? He has that place well prepared. If it were me I’d be loathed to leave it,’ asked Tavener.
‘My gut feeling says he won’t be back. We have to go through the process of watching the hotel because that is the right course of action but I think he’s done a runner again.’
‘Are you making that judgement because the sleeping bag and the picture are missing?’
‘Yeah, but more than that the place didn’t feel right. The food supplies were so well organised it looked like he had stored them away with a rule and a spirit level. Everything was lined up with precision but there was something out of place, and I can’t for the life of me put my finger on it.’
They rode the rest of the journey in silence. After five hours of sitting together in the car there was not much left to say. Kray dropped Tavener off at the station and headed home. Feelings of anxiety raged in her belly.
* * *
Kray slid the key into her front door and stepped into the hallway, stooping down to pick up the mail off the floor. She placed the letters on the side table along with her keys. Her phone buzzed, it was Millican calling for the fifth time today.
‘Hey, that’s good timing I’ve just walked in,’ she said. The voice on the other end was erratic. ‘Yes I’m sorry, I couldn’t take your calls earlier we were tied up.’ Kray hung her coat on the hook and kicked off her shoes.
Millican babbled on while Kray walked into the kitchen, retrieved a bottle of wine from the fridge, a glass off the draining board and sauntered upstairs.
‘You are not going to feel good about any of this, Chris, so that’s to be expected.’ She held the phone in the crook of her neck and turned on the taps, pouring a hefty glug of bubble bath into the swirling water. The bottle and the glass sat patiently on the wooden bridge that spanned across the bath, waiting for the full-fro
ntal assault to ensue. She undressed, leaving her clothes in a pile on the floor.
‘If you don’t mind, Chris, I’m going to say no. I’m dead on my feet, having only had three hours sleep, and I need to take a bath and go to bed. I’ve got an early start and if you come over that won’t happen.’
The line went dead.
‘I don’t have the time nor the inclination for that shit.’ She muttered under her breath, unscrewing the cap and filling the glass. She watched the bubbles grow into a thick white carpet on the surface of the water. The first chug of wine felt cold in her mouth.
She eased herself into the bath, shutting off the taps. The hot water burned her skin, making her shudder. The image of Catherine Stubbs flashed into her mind with her clothing melted into her flesh under the heat of the flaming aerosol. Kray sunk beneath water until only her head was visible, her anxiety running riot.
The second gulp of wine was followed by a third and in no time the glass was empty. She topped it up.
Should have brought another bottle with me.
Kray ran her fingers across the puckered skin of the scar sliced across her belly. It tingled to the touch. The wine began to do its job and Kray’s eyelids slowly closed.
She was drifting down the promenade on a warm bed of fat, white bubbles, past the tower with the Central Pier in the distance. The sun bathed the Ferris wheel with an orange glow against the horizon. Then she was in a kitchen, Joe was preparing a meal. He had that rolling chopping action going on and was laughing, drinking beer. Chris Millican was standing beside him, slicing vegetables with the same chopping action. When Joe drank, so did Chris, they were mirror images of one another. Their mouths were moving but she couldn’t catch what they were saying. They flung their heads back and laughed.
Then the scene cut away to the inside of the penthouse at the Lakeland. The blushing pink walls were frosted up with the cold. Four floating faces stared at her, their faces scared with a red X. A blank sheet of paper was pinned to the wall. The hangman’s noose dangled above the hole in the floor, next to it Kray could see Jarrod looking out of the shutters at the pier.
