HE WILL KILL YOU an absolutely gripping crime thriller with a massive twist

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HE WILL KILL YOU an absolutely gripping crime thriller with a massive twist Page 25

by Charlie Gallagher


  The man who had seemed so relaxed with his arms along the tops of the chairs snapped to his feet. He moved to the front and nodded at DCI Clark before turning to address the room. He was shorter than Maddie had reckoned when he was sitting down. His eyes were bright with excitement; his hair was shorn close to his scalp and had a hint of red to it. He stood with his feet slightly apart and his arms fell behind his back like he was ‘at ease’. Maddie could tell a soldier when she saw one.

  ‘Good morning. I am Mark Buchanan and some of you I know. A little bit about me . . . I am a civilian officer now but I was a cop for twenty years and I retired around five years ago — so thank you all for continuing to pay into my pension pot!’ There was a ripple of laughter. Buchanan’s eyes were still bright with mischief. He pulled his arms apart and round the front to wring them together over the beginnings of a pot belly as he now paced. ‘Before I was a copper I was in the military and I did tours all over the world. I spent a lot of time in Ireland, both as a solider and a copper and, sort of by accident, become a bit of an expert in all things explodey. I’m almost freelance now; I go where the explosions are or where they might be and I was asked by your CT unit to come down here when the first devices were activated in the Roundhill Tunnels in Langthorne.’ He spent a few silent moments looking up and out. He had a captivated audience, Maddie was sure of that. It seemed that he liked to be sure, too.

  ‘The Roundhill Tunnels then . . . I’ll talk about that incident first. We’ve spent a lot of time in there over the last few days, although it is still early in the investigation and we’re certainly nowhere near an evidential package. Today, then, is merely conversational — merely my current thoughts and opinions, given to assist you and maybe direct you in your investigation. With that in mind, this is perhaps a good time to remind you that this briefing is marked confidential. And I do ask that nothing is written down — or, if it is, not removed from this room. You will be searched on the way out!’

  Another ripple of laughter. This time, however, it was accompanied by the sound of dropping pens and closing notebooks. The officers Maddie recognised from Major Crime seemed to lean in, their expressions suddenly much more interested. The word confidential invariably had that effect. Buchanan moved off to one side as a projector screen behind him lit up white momentarily and then was filled with a high-definition image. It looked to Maddie like a clump of dark metal lying in the road. She could see the tunnels in the background, unmistakeable despite being out of focus.

  ‘This is the site for the first explosion. My early conclusion is that this is a VBIED — a Vehicle Borne Improvised Explosive Device. We’ve been able to find debris from the device, enough to identify some components, and I can tell you that it was an adapted phosphorus grenade. A phosphorus grenade is standard issue in the British Army and also readily available on the black market — if you know which stall to go to. I’ve used these myself and I can tell you that you don’t want to be anywhere near one when it’s angry. It burns quick and it burns hot and it’s the perfect choice for lighting up a secondary power source — in this case, the vehicle’s fuel tank. Petrol . . . diesel . . . it doesn’t matter a jot. It’ll go up big style and it’ll make a lot of noise and a lot of smoke. And that brings me onto the methodology . . .’ Buchanan took time to do another sweep of the room. He needn’t have bothered; his audience was hanging on his every word.

  ‘The vehicle you see on the screen was empty when the device was activated. We believe the occupant of this vehicle pulled the car across both lanes, halting the traffic behind. According to witnesses, he then stepped out of his vehicle and walked back through the middle of the queuing cars. He was seen placing two packages as he went. One under a vehicle that we know to be a red Ford Focus and which we also suspect had contained an accomplice. Certainly the occupant of that vehicle was seen leaving the car and walking out of the tunnels prior to any of the explosions. She is described as a white female and I will come back to her a little later. So the initial device was activated and, around thirty seconds later, so was the second device, under the red car. We believe this was a frag grenade — that’s your standard anti-personnel weapon. It will take out a vehicle quite happily but is a little more centred — something I’ll cover in a second. And then comes the nasty part . . . A third device is placed under a civilian vehicle. We believe this to have been a random placement. A thirty-two-year-old female and her baby son were the occupants of this vehicle. Fortunately the young woman was switched on. She has described how she saw a man bend down by the red Ford and then at the rear of her own car. She heard the first explosion, then saw the Ford go up and figured she could be next. Turns out she was right. The woman was able to get herself and her baby out in time but she sustained considerable injuries and as I speak she should be under the knife having shrapnel removed from her spine. Something that she agreed to delay so she could give us her account. She is a hero and you will remember that every time you deal with her.’

  Again he paused. He had been excited to this point. Now he was more circumspect. It seemed to Maddie that this pause was mainly for him, as if he was gathering himself together for the next bit. He visibly puffed himself back up.

  ‘Our running theory, then . . . We have found debris consistent with mobile phone activation for all devices. We may have enough by the end of the search to be able to identify one or some of the phones. This was an attack designed to terrify first, to injure second and to kill as a last priority. That would make sense with using the fozzy grenade on the first car. It went up big and loud. There would have been lots of bright, white smoke — you wouldn’t have missed it. It was designed to send a message to the people in the tunnel behind it. That they needed to get the hell out of there. The second device reinforced that message and then the third device . . . maybe that was their way of saying that they weren’t too concerned about targeting members of the public, even if they did give them a fighting chance first. You will have seen from the news no doubt, that we have two fatalities, one from a blast wound and one unfortunate soul from wounds caused by shrapnel. And we have scores injured. Despite that, we were incredibly lucky. Any questions at this stage?’

  The room was in stunned silence. The tension was tangible, frustration hung heavy in the air. Mark turned towards the screen. He clicked the pointer to scroll through some more scene photos. The next was a shot of the inside of the tunnel, looking right down the middle. The area was lit brightly by floodlights, which had been placed wherever there was a gap. The cars were in a mostly neat line, but for their doors hanging open and the debris littering their windscreens and road. The screen clicked onto what was left of the second vehicle. Then there was a shot of a male, slumped forwards as if he was hugging his steering wheel; the picture was from behind. His head was an odd shape, with a lump on the left side. Maddie strained to make it out; it could even be that his hair was just ruffled up.

  ‘Our only victim still in his car . . . Andreas Mitz, a German national. That has caused us some issues as you can imagine. We have been in regular contact with the German embassy and their Foreign Minister, who is concerned that one of their citizens might have been killed in a terrorist incident in a foreign country — which brings me to the motivation. Following the tunnel bombing, we were waiting for someone to claim responsibility. No convincing claim came forward from the usual suspects. All our sources were silent — here and abroad. Then we had the second incident . . .’

  Buchanan clicked his pointer again and the image on the screen changed.

  ‘This is the fourth car bomb, which yesterday claimed the life of a local man, Craig Dolton. Mr Dolton was a two-minute drive from his home address and was being stopped by the police at the material time. We know then that no one dropped a package under the vehicle on this occasion. Sorry — I should say that all of the three vehicles in the tunnel had the explosive device underneath them — external. Mr Dolton was killed when a bomb exploded from inside his vehicle. The blast patterns a
re quite different as you can imagine. Of note, from this location you can almost see the Roundhill Tunnels, albeit this is a different road that leads over them.’ Buchanan paused. Maddie tried to make out details in the photograph. Again it was a dark husk of scorched metal, but the contortion in the roof and panels overall where the explosion had pushed outwards was clear. She found herself shaking her head. The killer must have had access to that car. She turned to Harry, who met eyes with her briefly. He had been quick to point out that Grace would be a suspect. This new information could only add to his theory. Buchanan continued.

  ‘Again, we know this was a grenade device, but the bomber has made some amendments to all of the devices. The standard grenade activation you will all be familiar with, up to a point at least . . . A pin, pulled from the body, primes the weapon. But not like the movies. No soldier will pull a grenade pin out with his teeth, not twice at least.’

  More laughter round the room.

  ‘It’s awkward. It’s designed to be.’

  Buchanan mimed the pulling of a grenade pin. He bent forward, the backs of his hands coming together, his elbows pointing out. He then pulled them apart. He lifted his right hand in a tight fist. His eye fixed on it, as did every other set of eyes in that room. He licked his lips before he started up again.

  ‘The body of a grenade is about a pound in weight. It feels lovely, sits nicely in the palm of your hand. All the while you hold onto that clasp, nothing’s gonna happen. Let go of it and you’ve got about four seconds before all hell breaks loose. In this case, our man decided he didn’t want to be holding his weapon. He didn’t even want to be near it. So he took out the pins, the clasp too, and replaced it all with a mobile phone primer. It’s actually easily done. I mean, it takes a steady hand — you wouldn’t get me showing you, put it that way!’

  There was too much tension in the room now for laughter.

  ‘For him though, activation was simple. A simple phone call . . . boom! From what we can tell so far, all four devices are identical in their operation. The phosphorus grenade used for the first detonation is the only one of that type. Craig Dolton is interesting, as the device that took his life was already inside his car. For how long? Why it was there? What’s the story? That’s your job to understand. The one thing I can be certain of is that the two incidents are linked. You’re looking for the same person. All my years of experience tells me that bombers create bombs in a way that is as individual as they are. And for that reason, you need to understand that anyone who sets a bomb wants only one thing . . . No matter what they say, no matter what they demand in exchange for not detonating — they want that device to go off. It is the only way to cover their tracks. We’re getting pretty good at piecing them back together, but we’re not quite there yet. Bombs are hard to make — even simple adaptations like these. It takes time touching, breathing over and sweating on the device. You will leave forensic evidence. A bomber will know this, but they will also know that forensic evidence is lost the moment it detonates. So I will say it again . . . the one thing every bomber wants when they create a device is for that device to reach its potential — to explode.’ Buchanan held up his right fist as if he was inspecting it. When he released his fist and spread his fingers it was like breaking a spell. Maddie saw heads move, some turning to the person next to them, some shaking, there was a murmur of low voices too.

  ‘Right, I will pass you back to the boss, who can talk to you about where the investigation is right now. Unless there are any questions?’

  There was another stunned silence. Buchanan brought his hands together in a sort of bow. Ian Clark was already moving in behind him when Maddie called out.

  ‘Sorry! Can I just ask . . .’

  Buchanan had made it to his seat but turned to face her. He looked a little surprised. ‘Sure.’

  ‘Why would he use a phone? For the first three, I mean? If he was there?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The first three in the tunnel. The phone makes sense to me for Dolton. You could be anywhere. But in the tunnel, could you not just set the grenades on timers?’

  Buchanan nodded. ‘You could.’

  ‘And evidentially, that would be better wouldn’t it? That way you would have no worries about your phone being traced.’

  ‘You wouldn’t. We’ve had the same conversation and it’s something that we won’t get a definitive answer to until we speak to the bomber. But I would say it depends on what they were trying to achieve. A timer is not a very precise method and it doesn’t allow for a Plan B. Maybe they needed that.’

  Ian Clark was stood beyond Mark. He looked impatient.

  ‘Okay?’ he said.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ Maddie said.

  Ian took up the talking. The twisted husk of charred metal, all that was left of Dolton’s car, remained on the screen behind him.

  ‘There’s been a lot of work going on as you can imagine. Too much to list up here. You will be given your own individual briefings, depending on what part you are to play. A key focus has been phone work. We’ve been able to get a data dump from the mast that covers that area. We requested all of the cellular activity going through that mast at the material time. It was a lot as you can imagine, that mast is the main source for the town. From triangulation we were able to largely drill down so we were left just with the phones that had been moving — that is the phones that were in the vehicles on that road. From that point we were able to identify three phones that were switched on just prior to the explosions and then disconnected from the network within a very short space of time. Any savvy bomber will know that if we can identify the phone that detonated the device then we will look to track it backwards to get a picture of where it’s been. You can get round this by only turning the phone on when you need it. We can be sure that was what happened in the Roundhill Tunnels. We are still working on finding out where the phones were purchased and by whom, but they are burner phones, as you would expect — no contract. My guess is we won’t be able to link them to anyone quickly. The phone that armed the device that killed Craig Dolton, however, that had to be turned on earlier. The CT analysts are still working on that. They’ll provide a very detailed product, but the early indication is that the device connected to the network while at Craig Dolton’s home address the previous night. He lived there with his partner . . .’ Ian now turned towards the screen. It changed. A picture of Grace appeared. She was smiling. She looked fuller in the face, her skin tone was healthy, her hair longer and straightened. She was smiling and her eyes had a sparkle. She looked happy. So different to how Maddie had seen her last.

  ‘This is Grace Hughes. She is Craig Dolton’s partner. This picture was provided by her father and is a couple of years old. She doesn’t have any social media that we could find. It’s quite likely that she wasn’t allowed it. We have been provided a document by Inspector Blaker that was received into this police station having been sent by Grace on the day of her boyfriend’s death. It is a diary. It gives a detailed account of her treatment over several months at the hands of Craig Dolton. It is not comfortable reading. The very last entry is only two days old and details Craig knocking Grace Hughes unconscious and raping her. As I have already discussed with Harry and DCI Lowe, this document elevates Grace Hughes to where we must suspect her involvement in the bombings and the murder of three persons. We believe a male walked away from the first vehicle and subsequently laid another device. We now have reasonable grounds to believe that Grace Hughes was the female seen walking from the second vehicle in the Roundhill Tunnel. She also has a strong motive regarding Craig Dolton’s death and, of course, easy access to his vehicle. DCI Lowe will provide you all with a document with some key details about Grace. Our main task now is to find this woman. Harry and I have also discussed the action plan for if she should be located and I urge you all to read that part carefully. In summary, she is to be treated as extremely dangerous, and her arrest will be carried out by armed officers only. Firear
ms are having a separate meeting this morning where officers will be made aware that they are authorised to take the necessary actions if she is seen in possession of a mobile phone and does not obey commands.’

  Maddie spun to Harry as if she had been stung. He was still peering forward. He would be aware of her stare. She held it. Her mouth fell open. She burned hot; she could feel it in her neck and cheeks. There was more to the briefing, an update on Grace’s associates and movements among other things, but Maddie wasn’t listening anymore, she didn’t take any of it in. She couldn’t wait for it to finish, and when it did she was the first one out of the double doors. She almost fell through them and heard them clatter off the wall behind her. She heard Harry’s voice, too.

  ‘Maddie!’ he called out. She kept walking. She could see daylight through a glass panel in a fire exit at the end of the corridor. She made for it. She pushed this one just as hard. It was early morning and the temperature was still below freezing — it took her breath away. The black path had a thin layer of glittery frost that crunched under her feet as she walked towards the car park. She was making for a coffee shop she had used before as a bolthole. She hadn’t needed one for a while. Not since her first weeks after transferring down to the area. She’d felt lost then, out of her depth and lonely. Harry had been a big part of getting her past that. Now he was the reason she needed it again.

  * * *

  The coffee shop was already busy. The cold weather and the early morning combined to cajole people through the door for a hot drink to start the day. Maddie had to join the back of a queue. She kept her head down. She was trying to calm her thoughts, trying to work out how they had got to this point: where Grace Hughes was wanted for murder, with firearms teams specifically assigned for her arrest. Ian Clark’s words repeated over in her mind — she should be treated as extremely dangerous and firearms are authorised to take necessary action if she is seen in possession of a mobile phone and does not obey commands. Maddie knew what that meant. It meant Grace was in a lot of danger. It meant she would need to find her first.

 

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