Preacher Boy

by Gwyn GB

  ‘He’s going to hear us coming. Be vigilant. He could try to make a break for it in the van. David, you stay outside here as liaison, I need eyes and ears covering the outside. Any sign of trouble you call for back-up immediately. No heroics.’

  DC Oaks nodded. His heart had sunk initially at the thought of being stuck outside instead of going in and searching, but he knew it was critical to keep an eye on the outside and the DCI had trusted it to him.

  Sandra Barker was nervous. She was a cautious woman, and she didn’t like taking her officers into a situation without a clear plan and protection, but she also knew that speed was critical right now. Platt could decide to kill the boy at any moment, especially if he heard them coming for him. She turned, gave one last look over her team to make sure they were ready, and gave the signal to start.

  34

  DS Salter led Barker and then Harrison into the building. He shoved at the excuse of a door. It was clear that despite what the security company said, kids had also not found it too hard. There was evidence of all of humankind’s favourite pastimes, vodka bottles and beer cans, used condoms, and even the odd pile of human excrement. It also stank of human urine. The three of them picked their way through the debris using powerful torches to check exactly where they were treading.

  Once through the initial entrance, the bravery of the vandals had clearly petered out. It was pitch-black inside the corridor, and while there were occasional bits of debris and rubbish on the floor, it became easier to move forward. The air improved slightly too. A blessing provided by the vandals who’d broken the glass in the windows.

  The corridor seemed to lead all along the back of the building. Now and then, shafts of light crossed the darkness in front of them. Daylight coming through the windows of the offices which interspersed the loading bays.

  In the corridor, Barker motioned for Harrison to lead the way. She knew he’d be able to spot any signs that someone had been there. He was eager to get on and jumped at the opportunity to lead them forward. Harrison trained his torch on the floor and walked.

  They came to their first office on the left. Its door was closed and carried a sign, ‘Security’. Jack pointed to the sign. Could this have been where John Platt came to work every night? Could this be where his son was hiding?

  Barker motioned for Harrison to stay back. Harrison Lane was not a police officer and so he was to follow up the rear. She and Jack went into operational mode, taking a side of the door each and communicating only through signs and facial expressions. They counted down, three, two, one, and then opened the door.

  Daylight filled the room that they entered and streamed into the corridor where Harrison stood, creating a beam of dancing dust. The second they were both inside the office, he followed them.

  The office window was smashed, its blinds ripped down and dumped in a tangle of plastic and string on the floor, but apart from that and the broken glass, there was very little else in the room. Dust and bits of ceiling tiles covered the dirty brown carpets, and here and there were pieces of paper. The walls were painted cream and still carried the ‘Rota Board’ with names as initials. Jack pointed out the initial ‘JP’ on the list. Elsewhere on the walls a couple of faded colour posters of women, half naked, still clung to the wall. Evidence of the advancements in equality and political correctness since the factory had closed. They scanned every inch. There was nowhere for anyone to hide.

  Barker turned to Harrison and whispered, ‘Any signs?’

  He had already started to scan the ground where they hadn’t already trodden, looking for evidence of recent activity. He searched, his feet scrunching through the broken the glass.

  Everywhere was covered with dust, but there were no footprints, no disturbances. He shook his head.

  They returned to the corridor, the beams of light from their torches swinging from side to side. They should reach the loading bays soon. If Harrison’s calculations were right, the first one would be off on the left in about fifteen yards.

  His heart was pounding in his chest, his whole body ready for fight or flight. All he could think about was finding Alex Fuller and getting him to safety. Platt had to be here. He could feel it.

  The door into the first loading bay was closed but unlocked. They followed the same pattern of action, Salter and Barker in first, Harrison following up the rear.

  This time there was no light from windows to help them. They entered a dark, cavernous area with only their torches.

  They worked as a team, taking a section of the bay each, shining light into each of the corners. There were some cardboard boxes on one side. They didn’t look promising, but they checked them out anyway.

  Harrison searched again for any signs of life. He saw nothing but rat trails and decades old rubbish.

  One thing was certain, there was nothing in the bay that could hide a boy, let alone a van.

  Harrison was itching to run ahead. He was like a dog told not to chase a ball. He knew he had to be restrained and follow procedure. This was a police operation and if he didn’t follow orders it would be his last. They had to do things properly, and he didn’t want to endanger anyone’s life—or the chance of a conviction. But it was tough.

  It was as they crept towards the second loading bay door that he heard him.

  Harrison was up front. His senses on high alert, eyes scanning, ears straining, and they heard something.

  He held his hand up for them to stop.

  Nothing.

  For a moment he thought he’d been mistaken, perhaps heard one of the other police officers outside.

  Then it began again, a low mumbling voice of a man.

  At first Barker and Salter couldn’t hear it. They looked quizzically at Harrison, who motioned for them to listen. All three of them crept forward towards the door.

  A few more steps and they all heard it.

  DCI Barker brought them to a halt. She turned away from the door and bent her head to whisper into her radio with her hand cupped over the microphone.

  ‘Sounds of a man’s voice in loading bay two. That’s second bay in from the entrance—and second from right if you’re outside. We are going to go in. Everyone on standby. We may need reinforcements.’

  DCI Barker double-checked her body camera and took several deep breaths. She looked at the two men with her. Their faces were alive with expectation. This was the moment they’d been working towards for days. She knew their hearts would be in their mouths, pounding and their stomachs tight with tension. She knew this because hers were.

  Like before, DCI Barker and DS Salter were to go into the room first. If this had been America, they’d have gone in with their handguns cocked and ready, but it wasn’t. They had Tasers and truncheons, but DCI Barker also knew she had some back-up in Harrison Lane who she wouldn’t like to pick a fight with if she was a bloke.

  She counted down, hand on the door handle. Three—two—one.

  DCI Barker pushed open the door.

  The first thing they saw as soon as the door opened, was the flickering yellow light coming from a small bonfire in the middle of the loading bay. Behind it was the post office van, and walking around the fire was a small, dishevelled man.

  ‘Cameron Platt, stay where you are. On the floor. You are under arrest,’ shouted DCI Barker.

  She and Jack worked a pincer movement, coming at Platt from either side of the bonfire. He didn’t look at them and made no move to get on the floor, or to try to run. His eyes were glazed.

  Harrison didn’t care about Platt, he was frantically scanning the room for Alex.

  This loading bay had pieces of furniture stacked, boxes and wooden crates, some of which had made their way onto Platt’s bonfire. Harrison clocked each of these. Near to the fire was a crate upturned with paper and a pen and another box that clearly functioned as a seat. This was where Platt must make Alex write. But where was Alex? There was no sign of him.

  Besides the smoke, Harrison could smell other odours, which took him
a moment to place.

  As he moved further into the bay, he saw several rusted cans of linseed oil and teak oil which had been used on the furniture. It looked like Platt had used some to get his fire going. Both of them highly flammable.

  Perhaps the most surprising thing was that Cameron Platt didn’t seem all that concerned at their arrival. The man was clearly unhinged.

  ‘Now is the judgement of this world; now will the ruler of this world be cast out,’ he shouted at them, standing above the fire on a small crate like a demonic preacher, his face glowing in the flames.

  ‘The Gospel according to John,’ replied Harrison. Cameron looked at him for the first time. His pupils dilated.

  ‘Cameron Platt, we are arresting you on suspicion of murder and abduction. You do not have to say…’ DCI Barker tried to read him his rights, but he ignored her.

  ‘And he seized the dragon that ancient serpent, who is the Devil and Satan, and bound him for a thousand years—Revelation,’ Platt continued, staring at Harrison. He didn’t seem to register Barker or Salter as they closed in on him.

  Jack moved forward with his handcuffs.

  ‘Where’s the boy?’ he asked.

  Platt said nothing, staring at Harrison still.

  His eyes had returned to their vacant look. He didn’t seem to be in the room at all.

  ‘Where’s the boy? Where’s Alex?’ Jack repeated, louder this time as he grabbed Cameron’s left arm and put a handcuff on his wrist.

  ‘Mr Platt, we have found the body of your father. We also know that you killed Darren Phillips. Don’t make things any worse, please tell us where Alex is? Is he alive?’ added DCI Barker.

  At the mention of his father, it was as though somebody had flicked a switch on. Cameron Platt’s face changed from one of passive disconnection to hardened evil. His eyes almost seemed to grow darker. DCI Barker saw the change and Harrison noticed her muscles tense, ready in case of attack. Salter, who was behind Platt putting the cuffs on his right arm, didn’t see his face.

  ‘He has been saved,’ was all Platt said to her, almost spitting out the words. Then he looked back to Harrison, triumphant, goading.

  ‘Where is he then?’ DCI Barker pushed, ‘is he dead? Where is he?’

  Cameron Platt slowly turned back to look at her, Harrison moved towards them nervous that he was about to do something. While Jack was holding him and Platt was no match for his size, there was something else, an inner strength that worried him. It was the strength of the desperate and the mentally deranged, that extra reserve of power and surprise which could give a person superhuman energy.

  ‘We’ll find him, so you might as well do yourself a favour and tell us first,’ Jack said to his captive.

  ‘Over there.’ Platt nodded behind them to where a door led into the next bay. DCI Barker instantly moved towards it as Jack and Harrison also turned. It was all that Platt needed. He lurched from Jack’s tight grip, not completely, but enough to reach the metal cans of oil which were sitting by the fire. His hands were cuffed, but his legs weren’t and before Jack could even react, he had kicked the cans over, sending a torrent of linseed oil towards the fire. It ignited instantly as the highly flammable fluid hit the flames. Jack yanked Platt backwards as the fire leapt up, red and angry. They almost fell, Platt banging into Jack.

  ‘And the Devil that deceived them was cast into the lake of fire and brimstone, where the beast and the false prophet are, and shall be tormented day and night forever and ever!’ Platt shouted.

  DCI Barker was on her radio in an instant. ‘Get the fire brigade here now, we have a fire in cargo bay two. We’ve found Platt, but not the boy. Keep searching for the boy. We need all officers here now.’

  Jack regained his balance and pulled Cameron Platt further away from the flames. The bottom of his trousers had caught light and so he knocked him to the floor, rolling him on the ground to quell any flames.

  Harrison had just one thought on his mind, finding Alex Fuller. The boy had to be in the building somewhere, whether he was dead or alive, and if they didn’t find him quickly, he would definitely be dead.

  DCI Barker disappeared through the door Platt had pointed at, Harrison rushed over to the van.

  He yanked the driver’s door open and looked in the cab. In the passenger seat footwell he saw a child’s coat. It was agonising. Alex was here. Somewhere he was here. But where?

  He rushed to the back of the van, convinced he would open it and find the boy tied up. The door was unlocked, but the rear of the van was also empty. Nothing. Not even any evidence at all that anybody or anything had been in there.

  Harrison could hear DCI Barker shouting Alex’s name next door and he too called out to the boy.

  Jack had managed to secure Platt to a railing and was attempting to put out the fire. It was ferocious. With the oil it had spread fast, and the tinderbox dry old wood and cardboard became ready fuel. The smoke was starting to hit the back of their throats and sting their eyes.

  He looked for fire extinguishers, but the brackets were empty. There was nothing to dampen down the flames, Jack was forced to give up and instead joined the search for Alex. They pulled crates and sheets of wood away from the walls, hunting for a frightened, young boy.

  Jack and Harrison had just finished their trawl of the loading bay when DCI Barker returned. She looked at them expectantly and shook her own head. The whole bay was beginning to fill up with smoke and the fire was spreading fast.

  Harrison saw the same desperate expression on Jack’s face as he felt inside. They couldn’t get this close and not save Alex. He had to be here somewhere.

  There was the sound of others in the corridor outside and a blue capped Tactical squad officer peered in through the door. They were searching all the other bays and offices.

  ‘Anyone seen any signs of the boy?’ Barker shouted into her radio.

  ‘Negative, Ma’am,’ came back the replies.

  ‘Where is he?’ Salter had marched up to Platt and grabbed him by his top, just under his chin. ‘Where is he?’ he shouted again.

  ‘He is destined to burn in the fires of hell for all eternity,’ Cameron replied.

  ‘Harrison, is he lucid? Does he know what we’re asking him?’ Sandra asked. Her whole face was pleading for an answer, something they could work with.

  It was virtually impossible to tell at this point, Platt was almost certainly having a psychotic episode, but whether he could understand their question, work out the consequences of his actions, was hard to tell. The events of the last few weeks had sent him over the edge.

  ‘I don’t think he has any concept of reality right now,’ he replied.

  ‘Perhaps I can help him,’ said Jack.

  He dropped his grip and pulled his arm back to swing a punch, Harrison was too quick for him, he grabbed his arm and stopped him.

  ‘Don’t, he’s not worth it. It could end your career.’

  ‘We need to get out of here,’ DCI Barker shouted at them. ‘Get him out.’ She motioned at Platt.

  Any longer and the fire would block their exit. They were going to have to go back the way they’d come.

  Salter and Harrison dragged Cameron Platt down the corridor. Even that was starting to fill with smoke. Sandra was on her radio telling everyone to evacuate.

  As they reached the exit, DC Oaks opened the door and helped them haul Platt out of the building.

  ‘He needs medical attention,’ said DCI Barker, ‘possible burns to his ankles. Where’s the fire brigade?’

  ‘On their way, Ma’am.’

  ‘And any sightings at all of Alex Fuller?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘We need to carry on looking,’ said Salter.

  Inspector Summers ran up to them. ‘We’ve searched the whole building. He’s not in there. We need to fall back until the fire’s under control and carry on looking over the rest of the site.’

  ‘Okay, you carry on, Inspector, thank you.’ Sandra nodded to him. He jogged off,
barking instructions into his radio. ‘David, can you escort Mr Platt to the car, please.’

  Harrison’s mind was racing. There was no way that Platt would have kept Alex in another building. He wouldn’t leave him alone, he needed him close to teach him.

  ‘He’s in there,’ said Harrison. ‘I know he is.’ And he turned on his heels and ran straight back into the building and down the dark corridor.

  ‘Harrison, get back here now,’ DCI Barker shouted after him.

  ‘Give us five minutes,’ Salter said to her as he too spun round and headed after Harrison.

  35

  Jack hoped Harrison had a plan. Both of them knew they’d have just a few precious minutes before the smoke would become too thick and they’d be overwhelmed.

  They couldn’t get back into the loading bay the way they’d gone before because the flames were licking around the door frame. Instead, they ran into the next-door office and entered via the side door.

  Both of them checked over the van again, pulling up the spare wheel cover, shouting out for Alex to respond if he could hear them. Nothing.

  Then they looked around the bay itself. Harrison willed every one of his senses to work together. He blocked out the immediate danger of the fire and focussed on one thing and one thing only, finding that little boy.

  The top half of the bay, near the door they’d come through earlier, was an inferno. If he was there, it was already too late, but there was nothing in that area which could possibly hide a child.

  ‘Alex, this is the police, we are here to help you. Shout so we know where you are,’ Jack yelled to the cargo bay, and they both stopped for a few moments—ears straining for any sound. ‘Bang or kick, Alex, if you can’t shout, anything.’ They stopped and listened again for something, anything that could indicate where Alex was. Nothing.

  ‘We need to check every crate again. Darren was held in an enclosed space,’ Jack shouted to Harrison above the sound of the fire. It was getting louder, and the smoke meant visibility was becoming so poor, they were in danger of being disorientated. With each breath, the heat and smoke were getting into their lungs, slowing them down, making them cough. They knew it was almost too late.