by Lesley Kelly
‘My office is one floor down – would that do?’
‘Sounds good.’ He took her arm again. ‘We’d better hurry.’
Lucy’s office was small, with most of the floor space taken up by a large wooden antique desk. It was impossible to open the door fully. Bernard squeezed through the space and surveyed the room. Every available surface seemed to be covered either by papers or by books. She fussed around, rearranging enough stuff to allow him to sit down. He pulled out his mobile and pressed his boss’s number.
‘Paterson.’
‘It’s Bernard.’
‘I know. The phone told me. What’s up?’
He wondered where to begin. ‘Ehm, right, OK, thing is . . .’
Something approaching a growl emanated from the phone. ‘Cut to the chase, Bernard.’
‘We’re at the Museum. We think Helen Sopel will be meeting someone here, but we don’t know who.’
‘Excellent work! Give me a ring back after she’s had her Health Check.’
He panicked that Paterson was about to hang up. ‘Wait! The thing is, Mr Paterson, Mona was wondering if you could send some backup.’
There was a loud snort. ‘I’d love to, Bernard, but who? Maitland’s still in hospital, Carole is worse than useless, and unless you are both staring down the business end of a sub-machine gun, there’s a limited chance of me being able to get any local plod round to you. The only chance would be going back to Stuttle, and I can’t do that unless you are telling me it’s either a matter of life and death or a matter of national security. Is it either of those things?’
Was it a matter of national security? He wasn’t sure, and Mona had been pretty adamant that he didn’t share too much with Paterson.
‘Bernard!’ The phone shouted at him. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes, fine, just thinking.’
‘So, do I need to call Stuttle?’
‘No . . .probably not.’
‘Are you sure? Because I’m getting the impression that you and Mona aren’t sending all the information you should be up the chain.’
In contrast to earlier, he now had a sudden urge to get Paterson off the phone. ‘It’s fine, Mr Paterson, we’ll cope.’
‘Tell you what, Bernard, I’ll come. I’ve had a couple of beers so I’ll need to get a taxi, but I’ll be there as soon as.’
‘OK, good,’ he said, but the phone was already dead. He hoped Mona would be OK with this.
Lucy smiled at him. ‘Reinforcements on the way?’
‘Something like that.’ He gave a slightly queasy smile. The cavalry were some way off mounting their steeds and riding to the rescue. ‘How far away is Corinna’s office? I seem to remember it’s on this floor.’
‘It’s a couple of doors down.’
‘Is there any chance of a look at it?’
She wrinkled her nose. Bernard sensed they were reaching the limits of Lucy’s willingness to co-operate.
‘I don’t know – don’t you need a warrant or something like that?’
‘How about I promise just to look and not take anything away? She won’t even know I’ve been there.’
‘Well, OK, I suppose.’ A look of doubt still clouded her face. ‘But if she walks in on us I hope you can say something that stops me getting sacked.’
‘I’ll think of something.’ He sincerely hoped Paterson would have arrived by then. He didn’t care whether his boss praised his efforts, or yelled at him for his approach, he just wanted someone else to come along and take charge.
Bernard stuck his head out of the door, and gave a cautious look around. The sound of muffled voices could be heard upstairs.
‘Quick, and be very quiet.’
They scurried along the corridor. Lucy gently eased the door open and they went in.
‘What are you looking for?’ she asked.
‘Accounts.’
‘Try the filing cabinet.’
‘It’s locked.’
‘I think the key is in her top drawer. I’ll get it. Oh.’ She looked over to him. ‘What was the name of the civil servant you were looking for? Is it Helen Sopel?’
‘Yes.’
She pointed to the desk. ‘There’s a document here with her name on it. It seems to be some kind of resignation letter.’
He walked round to her side of the desk and started to read the typewritten document.
Dear
I wish to tender my resignation with immediate effect, for personal reasons.
Yours sincerely,
Helen Sopel
Head of the Virus Operational Response Team at the Scottish Government
There was a second sheet of paper sticking out under the top layer. He pulled his jumper down over his fingers and gently eased it out.
Dear Joanne
I can’t do this any longer. I’m so sorry that I’ve caused you any worry. I’m taking some time away to think about things. I’ll ring you when I’m settled.
Love you,
‘Why are these here?’ asked Lucy. ‘I don’t understand why this lady would come here to write these letters. And when was she here?’
‘I don’t know. But I have a horrible feeling that she didn’t write them, Lucy. I think perhaps that someone else wrote them and they’re hoping she signs them tonight.’
‘No.’ She looked nervously over her shoulder. ‘Can we go, Bernard? I don’t like this.’
‘OK.’ He had to admit his stomach was starting to churn a bit too. He pulled open the nearest door.
‘That’s a cupboard, not the way out,’ said Lucy.
He didn’t move, just stood staring at what he’d found.
‘Bernard, what is it?’ She came over to see what he was looking at.
‘Lucy, is that what I think it is?’ He pointed at a long wooden pole with a brass hook at the end of it.
‘Oh dear.’ Her hand flew to her lip. ‘Yes. That’s the pole for opening the skylight. It shouldn’t be here. It should be . . .’
‘On the third floor. Next to where Nathan fell, if he did fall, to his death.’
14
‘What are you doing here?’ Helen’s voice was high-pitched and squeaking with fear.
What was Ian doing there? Whatever his interest was in Helen, it didn’t relate to her being late for a Health Check. She suspected that his interest wasn’t official Police Scotland business either. She didn’t know why he was here, or what he was up to but she suspected that Helen was right about one thing. He really was an awful man.
Should she reveal herself? Deep within the HET handbook there was a protocol for how the HET and Police Scotland should work together. In an emergency situation the procedure made it clear that HET staff were compelled to defer to their police colleagues. She couldn’t help but feel that the nuances of this particular situation were not adequately covered by the handbook’s rules. And she’d be damned if she was revealing herself before she’d found out what Ian was up to. It wasn’t just idle curiosity; the more she heard of the conversation, the better she would be able to protect Helen from whatever Ian had in mind.
‘I had a little chat with the Carmichaels, and we agreed that I would take it from here. That little stunt with the phone bills didn’t go down at all well.’
‘I’m sorry.’ There was a squeaky tone to her voice, betraying her nerves. ‘It wasn’t supposed to happen. I didn’t ask anyone to do it – my friend panicked when your lot turned up and started questioning her.’
‘Yeah, mistake or whatever doesn’t make up for the fact that it did happen. And by the way, if you are relying on Anneka Tomas to raise the alarm for you, guess again. We’ve had her in custody since this morning.’
‘Well, fuck you.’ She seemed to be rallying. ‘What was I supposed to do? Jasper had sold us out to that Professor, Nathan was dead, and Carlotta wouldn’t give me any reassurance that I wouldn’t end up taking responsibility for the whole thing. She was talking about me being extradited to the Democratic Republic of Africa on manslaughter ch
arges. I could end up in an African jail!’
‘Believe me, that won’t happen.’ Ian’s tone was soothing. Mona recognised the fake sincerity from her previous conversations with Ian. She knew exactly how quickly it tipped over into threats. ‘Now, Helen, I need you to sign a couple of things for me, then we’re going for a drive.’
‘I’m not going anywhere with you. You can’t make me.’
‘Oh, Helen.’ He gave a little, sarcastic laugh. ‘You cause us so much trouble. Put it this way, you can sign the things we need, and walk to the car, or I can shoot you in one of your legs and drag you there.’
Helen let out a small scream.
Mona texted Bernard. Dial 999. Man with gun.
‘Is this really necessary?’ asked Corinna. ‘We could . . .’
‘Shut up. So, what’s it going to be, Helen?’
The time had come. Mona carefully got to her feet, and in one smooth motion yanked open the cupboard door and stepped out into the meeting room. ‘I suggest you don’t do anything.’
‘What the . . .’ Ian gawped at her, astonished. She was disappointed to see that he was actually holding a gun. She’d been hoping it was a bluff, but, hell, she’d work with what she’d got. Ian’s expression hardened. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Looking for a missing Health Defaulter.’ She smiled. ‘Hey, Helen, good to meet you.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Mona.’ He started to laugh. ‘You are totally wasted in Health Enforcement. Why couldn’t you make the same half-arsed attempt to track down Defaulters as the rest of the HET staff?’
‘Just like to see things through.’
She started calculating her odds. Ian had a gun and an apparent ruthless streak on his side, and she had her bare hands, Bernard one floor down, a 999 response that could take God knows how long, and two civilians with very questionable loyalties. There was the potential for someone to end up very dead in this scenario.
Without moving his aim an inch, Ian reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out his mobile.
She took a step in his direction and he motioned her back with the gun.
‘Bob?’ He spoke into his phone. ‘Guess which lovely lady has joined the party?’
Bob. It must be Bob Ellis, Ian’s partner in crime, whom she’d last seen driving off with the Professor, allegedly taking him to a safe house. She wasn’t privy to Bob’s response, but she guessed it would be something sarcastic, sweary and with an unpleasant undercurrent of sexism.
‘Mona Whyte.’
This time, even from where she was standing, she could hear Bob’s response loud and clear.
‘Yeah, that bitch. Going to need some backup in case she tries to scratch me with her fingernails. You know what girls are like.’
Shooting her a fake smile, he popped the phone back into his pocket. ‘Bob says hi.’
‘Ian, what’s going on?’ Corinna stepped around the table to stand behind him. ‘Who is she?’
‘She’s a minor irritation.’ Ian’s eyes never moved from her face. ‘Which I’ll deal with. Do you have the paperwork?’
Corinna still looked anxious. ‘It’s in my office.’
‘Go and get it.’
Mona wondered if Bernard was up to this. He wouldn’t have been her first choice as back up, but he was getting better. He was better in a crisis situation than he was when he had time to stop and think about all the things that could go wrong. If he’d any sense, once he’d got her text he’d have got himself and Lucy out of the building.
With a last glance in Mona’s direction, Corinna disappeared from the room.
‘Don’t let him take me.’ Helen’s breath was coming in short bursts.
‘I won’t.’ She kept eye contact with Ian, who snorted.
‘If she’s your only hope, Helen, you’re doomed.’
Mona continued her calculations. How far away was Bob? Once he arrived, presumably armed, there was no chance of her stopping Helen coming to harm. She caught Ian’s eye and guessed similar scheming was going through his mind.
‘We’re not there yet, you know,’ said Mona.
‘What?’ asked Ian.
‘We’re not yet in a world where police, or whatever you actually are, can go around shooting innocent people and justify it because of Virus control.’
‘Innocent?’ He shook his head, a small smile on his face. ‘I could find many words to describe Ms Sopel here, but innocent wouldn’t be one of them.’
They were interrupted by Corinna returning.
‘There’s someone down there. I can hear them talking.’
‘Yours, I presume?’ Ian turned to Mona. ‘Is it Maitland or Bernard?’
She said nothing.
‘It’s Bernard, isn’t it?’ He threw his head back and laughed. ‘I was almost worried for a minute there. Corinna, does this room lock?’
‘Yes.’ She walked over to the door and pulled a large, old-fashioned key out of the keyhole.
‘OK. Get her locked in. The rest of us are going downstairs.’
‘I could stay here . . .’ said Corinna.
‘No. I’ll need your help.’ He turned and pointed the gun directly at Mona’s face. ‘And, bitch, don’t try anything. I really will shoot you.’
She believed him.
‘Don’t leave me here, Mona.’ Helen grabbed her arm. ‘Please.’
She gently prised her fingers off. ‘I’ll be back. Don’t worry.’
‘Don’t bank on that, Helen. You,’ he pointed the gun at her, ‘move.’
They walked down the stairs in single file. Above them they could hear Helen Sopel hammering on the door and screaming Mona’s name.
‘Corinna, which room are they likely to be in?’
She wasn’t listening, too busy looking back up the stairs, in the direction of the noise. Mona guessed that the evening was not working out the way that she had hoped. Ever since Ian had started threatening to shoot people, Corinna had been looking increasingly pale. She was a walking definition of ‘out of one’s depth’.
‘Corinna, focus!’
She jumped.
‘Which room will they be in?’
‘Oh, right. Probably my assistant’s. That door there.’ She pointed.
‘Bernard!’ he shouted. ‘Come out before I shoot your boss!’
There was a second’s delay, then Bernard appeared, with Lucy’s head peering over his shoulder.
‘Corinna,’ said Lucy, ‘What’s going on?’
‘Just . . .’ She looked on the point of tears. ‘Just do as he says. Please, Lucy.’
‘Wise words.’ Ian turned to Corinna. ‘Does your room lock?’
‘Yes, but . . .’
‘Everyone in there, please, quick as you can.’
Mona was embarrassed to see Bernard leading the way, disappearing into the room as fast as he could go, with little thought or concern for the others. If he had been hoping for a relationship with that woman from the Museum, he could forget about it now, after this lack of chivalry. She’d spent months trying to build up his confidence so that he wasn’t an embarrassment in these types of situations. Couldn’t he at least have put up a token show of resistance?
‘Great backup you’ve got there, Mona.’ Ian sniggered. ‘First rate.’
‘The Police will be here any minute, you know. We’ve dialled 999.’
‘I’d be delighted to see them.’ He looked unconcerned. ‘One phone call from me and it’s you lot that would end up under arrest.’
She tutted, her annoyance compounded by the fact that Ian was probably telling the truth. She walked as slowly as she dared in the direction of the office, desperately trying to formulate a plan of action with the limited resources she had at her disposal. With a half-willing accomplice, a Maitland, for example, the two of them could surely have overpowered Ian, gun or no gun. But she didn’t have a partner on this one. She had Bernard. She might as well have been on her own.
‘Speed it up, Mona.’
Wi
th a final glare at him, she stepped into the office. Immediately she was grabbed by Lucy and pulled in to a corner. Wrong-footed, she tried to work out what was happening. Bernard stepped forward, and as soon as Ian walked through the door hit him in the face with what looked like a large wooden pole.
‘Ow, my nose.’
Bernard brought the pole down again, this time on his arm.
‘Careful, Bernard!’
Glad as she was to see Ian getting beaten up, she didn’t want anyone killed by the gun going off by accident. Ian cried out in pain, and the gun fell to the ground. Mona made a grab for it, and her fingers closed round it seconds before Ian crashed into her. Bernard gave Ian a further blow with the pole, this time on the back of the head. He fell to the ground, moaning.
‘Fuck’s sake, Bernard! Stop hitting me!’
Mona pointed her newly acquired gun at Ian.
‘Lucy,’ she said, ‘get the keys to the meeting room and let Helen out.’
‘Don’t do this, Mona.’ Ian levered himself up on his good arm. ‘You’ve no idea what is going on here.’
‘Stay there!’ She pointed the gun at his head. Bernard, and the wooden pole, stood guard over Ian to stop him making a grab for her.
‘Can I have the keys, please?’ Lucy held out her hand, and Corinna passed them over without a murmur.
‘Mona, give me my gun back.’ Ian had propped himself up against Corinna’s desk. From the way he was nursing his arm, she doubted he would actually be able to fire it. ‘If you give me it now, we can minimise any comeback on you or Bernard for your behaviour today.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘You know I outrank you!’
‘No, actually, I don’t. I don’t know who the hell you are or who you work for these days. I only know that bad things happen around you.’
‘You don’t understand what is happening here. You don’t . . .’ Ian’s voice tailed off. His skin had turned a strange shade of grey. After staring at them blankly for a second, he slumped forward, his head crunching off the floor as he fell.
