END GAME a gripping crime thriller full of breathtaking twists Page 11

  ‘What do you want? What do I do to get my family back?’

  ‘I’m not giving you your family back, George.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’m not just going to hand them back. When you do what I need you to do, I will give you a chance to save them. Just one chance.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘You know how I like to keep you guessing, George. That’s the fun of this whole thing.’

  ‘I’ve had just about enough of your games.’

  ‘I’m sure you have. Just one more, George. But lose this last game, and you will lose your family. Just like I lost mine.’

  ‘What do you want from me?’

  ‘Liberty.’

  George scowled in confusion. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Free me, George.’

  ‘Enough of the games, Kane.’ But George was talking to a dead handset.

  He threw down the phone and lowered his head onto the steering wheel.

  The door to the flats opened, and a young woman came through backwards, pulling a buggy. She spun it round and started down the path. George got out of the car and trotted over to her.

  ‘George Elms. I’m a copper from Langthorne.’ George did his best to smile, though he felt like weeping.

  ‘What do you want? I told you lot I ain’t making no statement.’

  George shook his head. ‘It’s not about you. I’m looking for the Polish girl that lives in your building. Blonde hair, quite petite? Do you know who I mean?’

  She shrugged. ‘Lot of Slovaks around here.’

  ‘She’s Polish.’

  ‘All the fucking same, mate. Oh, her. The one in the first flat on the left, yeah?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s it.’

  ‘What do you need to know?’

  ‘Does she live there alone?’

  She shook her head. ‘I keep myself to myself, you know? We ain’t friends like.’

  ‘But you might have seen other people going in and out, or heard them?’

  ‘Young girls mainly. Like thirteen, fourteen. A couple at a time, but always this one girl. Could be the sister. Looks a bit like her.’ The young woman frowned.

  ‘Any blokes?’

  ‘I’ve seen a bloke a couple of times. He’s English though.’ She was beginning to edge away.

  ‘What did he look like?’

  ‘I don’t know. I only know he’s English ’cause he held the door for me once, and he said something or other. I didn’t really look at him. Couple of days ago, I suppose. Can I go now? I got a meeting with the housing people. They’re getting me out of this shithole.’

  ‘Yeah, of course. Thanks for your help.’

  With his phone to his ear, George watched her hurry away. It rang and rang, but there was no answer. Paul was playing him at his own game. Voicemail kicked in just as he got into the Skoda.

  ‘Paul, it’s George. I was a dick this morning, I know. I do know how you feel. I’m not entirely up with what’s going on either, and I’m frustrated. Listen, I can’t explain right now but I promise I will. I think Jana’s important. I don’t quite know how yet, but she might be our leak, or part of it at least. Can you get out to see her as soon as possible? She’s in Dover — Trevaine Court on the junction with Devonshire Road. The first flat on the left as you go through the communal. When you’re happy she’s on her own, try and talk to her. Push her a bit and I’m sure she’ll fold. Find out what you can. I gotta go, and I might be offline for a while. I will explain. I’m really sorry, mate. I need you, Paul. There’s no one else I trust here now.’

  George had been using his work phone. His personal one took two goes with his thumb print to unlock — he was sweating and his hands shook. He called up the GPS device he had attached to Sarah’s car. The map appeared on his screen and the red pin landed on Devonshire Road, Dover. George climbed out of the car, phone in hand. He suddenly felt a dread that threatened to consume him. He knelt down and saw at once the flat lump of metal underneath the driver’s seat. He pulled it out. It held a folded up piece of paper. The note read, Free me.

  George rocked back onto his heels, overcome by despair.

  Kane Forley had his wife and child.

  Chapter 23

  The man put his phone back in his pocket and walked up the steps into Langthorne House police station.

  The reception area was empty of visitors. Two women sat looking at their computer screens. They didn’t look up. After a while one of them called out ‘Be with you in a second,’ her eyes still on her screen.

  ‘I can wait.’ The man wandered around, studying the posters and notices.

  The woman who had spoken finally raised her eyes. ‘Can I help?’

  ‘There’s been a picture on the news. A man you want to talk to about shooting police officers.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ The woman looked blank. ‘You have some information for us, do you?’ She took up a pen.

  ‘The police wish to speak to me.’

  ‘To you? Have you made a report already?’ The woman looked puzzled.

  ‘No. I killed nine police officers, including your chief constable. It appears they now know my name. I have come to speak to them on my terms, rather than get picked up off the street like a stray dog. Could you let them know that Kane Forley is here?’

  ‘Kane . . .’ She picked up the desk phone, looking suddenly panicked.

  ‘I’ll just take a seat.’ The man went over to one of the chairs lined up against the wall, and sighed loudly.

  Thirty seconds later, two officers burst into the reception area and split into formation. Both carried G36 assault rifles. The lead man moved sideways, his weapon pointed at the seated figure. ‘Stay where you are, hands where we can see them. Any movements will be seen as an act of aggression and you will be shot. Do you understand?’

  The women from the front counter were being shepherded out.

  Kane Forley remained silent. He kept his hands in his lap, palms up. Eventually he raised his head. ‘I’ve interlocked my hands. You can see they are empty, and I will now raise them over my head.’

  The lead officer pushed his rifle at him. ‘You do what you’re told, when you’re told!’

  Kane smiled. ‘I was just trying to help. You seem a little tense. I’m here to talk. If I’d wanted to hurt you, Officer, you would be dead by now.’

  ‘Shut the fuck up! Slowly push your hands in front of you and stand. One movement that I don’t like and I will shoot you in the face.’

  Kane looked around. ‘What? Here? With all the cameras? Go ahead.’

  ‘Stand up slowly,’ the officer repeated.

  Kane suddenly jumped to his feet, and both police officers started. The man who had given the orders pushed the barrel of his gun into Kane’s cheek.

  Kane kept on smiling.

  ‘Search him where he is and cuff him. We’ll do a thorough search in custody.’

  A third officer approached Kane and ran his hands over his shoulders, down his body, and through his pockets. ‘Nothing.’ The handcuffs snapped shut, and Kane was led out.

  The officer’s smile was grim. ‘You’re under arrest for murder.’

  * * *

  Barry Lance went white when he heard the news. So Kane Forley had handed himself in. What would this mean for him?

  He checked the phone that Kane had left for him. No missed calls and no messages. Had Kane Forley seen the news and realised the game was up? What had he done with his wife? Barry guessed she must be dead. What would one more body mean to Kane?

  ‘Baz? Wassup? You okay?’

  The acting sergeant found Barry out in the corridor, pacing.

  He looked up. ‘Oh yeah, I’m cool. I just wanted to be the one to bring him in, you know? It’s a bit of an anti-climax like this. It would have been good to kick his door in and drag him here.’

  The sergeant shrugged. ‘Ah well, he’s in clean, no one else is hurt. It can all stop now.’

  ‘Fair point. Wel
l, I should go and see what the deal is. They’ll probably want the team to do some searches.’

  Barry pushed through the double doors and headed for custody.

  * * *

  ‘Boss!’ Jim the jailor greeted Barry as he walked into the custody office.

  ‘Bit of a turn up for the books, eh, boss? We’ve closed custody for now, just while we get him settled in.’

  Barry nodded, and swept past Jim to a series of monitors that played video feeds of the cells.

  ‘Cell eleven!’ Jim called out.

  The monitor showed a figure sitting on a bench facing towards the open cell door. Two officers stood facing him with their backs to the camera. One was seated and the other leant nonchalantly against the door frame. Cells eleven and twelve were intended for juveniles. The doors to these cells were made of reinforced Perspex instead of the harsh steel of the adult cages. This door, and the external toilet, allowed for constant surveillance.

  ‘What did he say at the desk?’

  ‘He’s not been booked in yet, boss. It was busy. He’s been searched, but the skipper was waiting till the other stuff was dealt with so we could focus on him. Any minute now.’

  ‘Did he have any property on him?’

  ‘No phone, no wallet, nothing. Just a zip bag of white powder. He said it was cocaine.’

  ‘Cocaine?’ Barry stared.

  ‘Yup. I mean, who gives themselves up with a bag of coke in their pocket? Anyway, it’s not gonna make much difference, is it? He said he forgot.’

  ‘A man like that doesn’t forget. I want to stay.’

  Jim shrugged. ‘No problem. I’ll go and find out if we’re ready for him.’

  * * *

  Kane Forley sat in the middle of the bench with his bare feet on the plastic mattress. He had his arms around his legs, and his chin rested on his knees.

  He looked up at the overweight jailor.

  ‘The sergeant’s going to book you in now.’

  Kane put his feet on the floor and went slowly to the custody desk.

  ‘Kane Forley.’ The custody sergeant stood up and leaned over the desk to look down at Kane.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you understand why you have been arrested today?’

  ‘I do. Can you take the cuffs off now, please? I have been searched and I have been absolutely compliant.’

  The custody sergeant looked at one of the two officers standing with Kane. The officer nodded and removed the cuffs.

  Kane rubbed at his wrists.

  ‘Did you require a solicitor or legal advisor?’ asked the sergeant.

  ‘No. But I wish to exercise my right to an eight-hour rest period.’

  ‘Rest period? That’s more for people under the influence, or arrested in the middle of the night.’

  ‘I haven’t slept. Not for days. Now I’m here and I’ve got this off my chest, maybe I can sleep. I’m exhausted, too tired to talk to you people yet. I know you’ve got a lot of questions. And I took cocaine just before I walked in. It helps me function, see?’

  The sergeant looked at his watch. ‘Eight hours means you won’t be spoken to until two this afternoon. If you feel you need to delay—’

  ‘It doesn’t delay anything for me now, Sergeant, does it? I mean, I’m not going anywhere, am I? I murdered nine police officers.’ Kane stared into the camera above the desk. ‘There’s your admission. I mean, I’m just going to say the same thing whatever time you speak to me. But I know you’re going to want a lot of detail, and I’m so tired.’

  ‘Eight hours rest. And you definitely don’t want a solicitor?’

  Kane shook his head and grimaced. ‘Can you imagine the face of the poor solicitor getting that call? I don’t think anyone is going to want to help me now, Sergeant. I’ll be fine, thank you.’

  ‘Let me know if you change your mind. You’ll have an officer or two just outside your door. It’s standard with something as serious as this.’

  ‘Understood.’

  The sergeant nodded. ‘You can take him to his cell then, please, gentlemen.’

  ‘I’ll walk him to his cell.’ Kane looked round. A stocky man bearing inspector’s pips was standing at the rear of the office.

  ‘Sir?’ The sergeant said. The two uniform officers froze.

  ‘I said I will take him.’

  ‘We’ll come with you, sir,’ offered one of the officers.

  ‘No need. You two might be here for some time. Take the opportunity to get yourselves a cup of tea. Kane, do you want a cup of tea or coffee?’

  Kane tilted his head. ‘Inspector Lance?’

  ‘Tea or coffee?’ said Barry.

  Kane smiled broadly. ‘Is the coffee any good? Only I have high standards.’

  ‘He’ll have a coffee.’ The two officers moved off. Barry led Kane a different route back. ‘We need to talk,’ Barry growled.

  Kane walked into cell eleven and turned to face him.

  ‘I have an eight-hour rest period before I need to talk to anyone.’

  ‘Where’s my—’

  ‘Inspector!’ Kane raised a finger to his lips, and pointed to the camera pointing down at them. ‘We don’t talk here. If you say something you shouldn’t, then it’s all over. I think you will understand what that means. You’ll need to find somewhere more private. Now, I have an eight-hour rest period and every minute you stand here talking to me is another minute it is being extended.’

  The officers returned and bustled in past Barry. Smiling, Kane thanked them. His eyes never once left Barry’s face.

  Barry turned to leave.

  ‘See you soon!’ called Kane.

  Chapter 24

  Darren Lewis leant on the back of his chair and stared at DCI Lisa Jones. ‘So what do we know?’ he asked. He had told Barry Lance to sit down, but he was still pacing to and fro.

  ‘He just came in. He made a significant admission to the front counter and custody staff, in front of the cameras. Then he demanded his eight-hour rest period. He doesn’t want a solicitor and it looks like he’s just waiting to make a full confession.’

  ‘Why the rest period?’

  ‘He said he hadn’t been sleeping and he’s high on coke. The custody staff weren’t convinced he was on anything, but he did have a bag on him. We can’t risk interviewing him now, and then have some smart-arse defence lawyer saying he was unfit,’ Lisa said.

  ‘Absolutely.’ Darren nodded. ‘We think this is one of his mind games, right?’

  ‘Of course it is,’ Barry snapped.

  ‘It’s a fair assumption,’ Darren said. ‘We know he likes to exercise his power, and show that he knows the way we work. But it suits us too. Gives us more time to prepare.’

  Lisa shook her head. ‘The way Elms was talking, Forley was going for a big finish of some sort. Giving yourself up and then exercising your right to eight hours’ rest is hardly that. There has to be some other reason for delaying us.’

  Darren shrugged. ‘Maybe. Or maybe he’s just looking to run down his clock? He must know that we only have twenty-four hours to question him.’

  Lisa shook her head. ‘That wouldn’t make any sense. We could charge him right now, whether or not he has the eight hours. The interview is a formality really, and if we need to extend his stay there’s not going to be any problem getting that sorted.’

  ‘And he didn’t give an address?’ Darren looked at Barry, who seemed distracted.

  Barry paused, mid-stride. ‘Er, no, sorry. No, he said NFA. There’s nowhere for us to search.’

  ‘Of course he did. So what? We wait till two and see what he says?’

  Lisa nodded. ‘Seems that way. But that’s clearly what he wants. He can still dictate what we do, even here. He’s probably getting off on that.’

  Darren frowned. ‘Well, then maybe we shouldn’t? Maybe we should leave him to sweat in his cell for a while. We could get the extension and leave him there till tomorrow morning. Show him that he’s on our terms now.’

  �
��Why not? I think we should do whatever we can to show him we’re not just going to toe the line. He thinks we’re desperate to talk to him. Maybe leaving him with his thoughts will put him on the back foot a bit?’ Lisa smiled.

  Darren nodded. ‘Okay, good. Leave him to rot. This is going to be on our terms now.’

  ‘I’ll tell him.’ Barry had spoken too eagerly, and the others stared at him.

  ‘I mean, I’ll do his custody review. I’ll make him aware that he will be interviewed when we’re ready, not when he feels like it. I’ll let you know how he reacts.’

  Darren and Lisa nodded.

  Darren stood up. ‘Good then. Let’s make this piece of shit aware that we’re in charge now. And can we keep trying George and Paul? We could really do with them being around.’

  Chapter 25

  Langthorne town centre was quiet. The working day had started and the shoppers were just beginning to emerge. The couple strolling up the middle of the cobbled high street looked out of place. Both had their heads down. The woman wore a dirty white hoodie with the hood up and pulled tight round her head.

  The man shuffled through the dry leaves. He was taller and wore a long, waxed jacket over a white T-shirt. His combat trousers were tucked into heavy boots. He also had his hood up. He had one hand stuck in a pocket, and the other held the lead of a fat Staffordshire bull terrier. Every so often the dog looked up at him hopefully. The man paused once to drink from a can of lager.

  The bench at the top of the high street was damp. The man sat down straight away. The woman wiped at the bench with a tissue before she too sat down. The man lit two cigarettes and passed her one.

  ‘What time you gotta go then, Tommy?’

  Tommy squinted. ‘I was gonna do this fag, then go. You gonna miss me, Weasel?’ He patted the dog.

  ‘How long, d’you reckon?’

  ‘You know what they’re like, Susan. It’ll be like fucking twelve hours or something.’

  ‘Give me your fags and that to look after.’

  ‘Yeah, but I’ll want one when I come out.’

  Susan rolled her eyes. ‘Well, just keep one then, yer dopey cunt.’

  ‘I might want two.’

  ‘How many have we got?’ she asked.