END GAME a gripping crime thriller full of breathtaking twists Page 14

  Darren smiled, and George immediately knew that he was holding something back.

  Darren leaned forward and fidgeted with one of the coffee cups. The others followed suit. George restrained himself from grabbing the chief by the scruff of his neck and shaking him.

  Finally Darren spoke. ‘We have found something by going through the land registry. It’s just a garage registered to Forley, but it’s a place to start—’

  ‘I assume you are planning on searching that sooner rather than later?’ George cut in. His pulse began to race.

  ‘Barry Lance and his team are already on their way with a warrant. At least we can gain entry and an initial assessment. See if there’s anything that we can ask about in the interview.’

  George sat forward. ‘Maybe I should go along? They need to be careful, you know. I mean, this could all be part of his next move. Do they know to be careful? A booby trap would be just his style.’ He could hear himself begin to babble.

  ‘It’ll be fine, George. Barry Lance is just about the most experienced man we have. And with the greatest of respect, I’m not sure you would be welcome. I’ll make sure you get updated as soon as I hear.’

  The quickening of his pulse had set off his tinnitus. One of the female officers asked a question he almost missed. ‘What do you expect from him in interview, George?’

  He took a second before replying. ‘I expect him to enjoy every minute of it. He’s an extremely arrogant man who thinks he’s very clever. I think he will talk to you willingly. You’ll need to feed his ego a little. I would play dumb, be impressed with how clever he has been. I wouldn’t reveal what we know too early on.’

  She scribbled some notes. ‘Makes sense.’

  ‘Are you aware of his back story?’ George asked. ‘Of his motive for the whole thing? What happened to his brother and his mum?’

  She nodded. ‘Darren filled us in with what you told him. I spoke to Paul Baern as well. He was involved in the William Forley case, and some of the fallout from it.’

  ‘I have no doubt he will bring that up, but my advice would be to let him do that in his own time. It’s very emotive for him, and it could easily make him angry to the point where he stops giving us what we need.’

  ‘Good advice,’ Darren said.

  George pushed back his chair. ‘Boss, is there anything more you need from me? I was hoping to get back to trying to find out where he’s been all this time.’

  Darren looked around. ‘People? Anything more we need from George here?’

  They shook their heads, and George almost ran from the room.

  Chapter 33

  Barry Lance sized up the garage door, aware of his colleagues watching him. His tension was obvious to everyone. He’d been behaving oddly for some time now. He’d almost had a full-blown argument with Darren Lewis when Darren had asked him to head up the search. At first he had refused to leave the station. Then he had thought about what might be behind the door and rushed his team so that they had been forced to leave some of the door-entry kit behind, the more subtle tools that weren’t immediately to hand. Barry insisted on taking a separate vehicle for himself. He had followed them out of Langthorne House in an unmarked black BMW 4x4.

  There was no way to see inside the locked garage, and this did nothing to improve his mood. Barry ran his gloved hand over the rusty metal. The only part of the door that looked cared for was the lock, which had evidently been fitted recently.

  Barry pushed at the top of the door. Nothing happened. He put his hand on the lock and looked over his shoulder at the men just behind him. They took the hint and stepped back.

  ‘You should get further back than that,’ Barry growled.

  ‘There’s no need, boss. Just wait for the dog.’ A particle-detection dog was on its way. It would be able to nose out any explosive device inside.

  ‘We don’t have time to be waiting for the fucking dog.’ Barry tightened his fingers around the lock. The men withdrew.

  ‘Locked,’ Barry grunted. ‘Halton! Bring the drill.’

  The drill whined and pushed through the lock. Barry twisted the handle and at the same time, pushed at the top of the door.

  The garage was empty, the floor streaked with fresh brush marks.

  ‘Hello, what’s this?’ One of Barry’s colleagues was looking up into the exposed rafters, where the door rested parallel to the roof. He pulled at a long, yellow piece of Perspex balanced on one of the beams.

  ‘A number plate,’ Barry said.

  ‘For a bike.’ Another of the men radioed control with the number.

  The check took seconds. ‘Can confirm it is a Yamaha FZX 750 Fazer. Currently showing SORN. No insurance either, but there are keeper details.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Edward Forley of flat 5, Churchill House, Romney Avenue, Langthorne.’

  ‘Edward Forley,’ repeated Barry.

  ‘Sounds like we need to do another search, boss. I’ll write it up for your signature.’

  Barry sighed. He was desperate to get back to the station, but he couldn’t tell his men why.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Let’s get it done now.’

  Chapter 34

  Churchill House stood on a patch of bare ground, foursquare and solid. It was not an attractive building, though some of the residents had made an effort to brighten the forbidding exterior with hanging plants and welcome mats. The team soon found flat five on the ground floor. Barry peered in through the front window and made out a kitchen sink, work surface and units, and a half-empty bottle of washing-up liquid. It looked clean, tidy and sparse.

  Barry hammered on the door. Sam Halton had bought the enforcer, but the team was reluctant to use it, afraid the door might be rigged.

  But Barry couldn’t wait. ‘We’ll have to force it.’

  Ryan Dobson, Barry’s second in command, looked doubtful. ‘We left the lock-pick kit back at the nick, but it’s not too far. It would give us a far more controlled entry.’

  ‘We don’t have the time to be fucking about!’ Barry shook his head. ‘Sorry, Dobbo, I’m under pressure here. The acting chief wants a phone call and I need to get back.’

  ‘It wouldn’t take long to drill it out and snap the lock.’ Ryan raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Fine, but we’ll have the enforcer to hand.’

  ‘Understood. We’ll be through that door in minutes. Then you can head back if you want to. We can handle this.’

  Ryan probably wanted him out of the way, and Barry couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t an easy man to work with at the moment.

  Ryan pushed the drill into the centre of the lock but it laboured and stopped. This was not going to work.

  ‘I don’t understand it,’ Ryan complained. ‘We’ll have to pick it.’

  ‘No time.’ Barry growled. ‘I’ve only ever seen a drill fail on a reinforced lock. It won’t pick either. Take the fucking door off.’

  Barry nodded at Sam Halton. Sam looked at Ryan, who shrugged.

  ‘I’ll brace.’ Lee Howiss sat down in front of the door, leaned back, placed the soles of his boots against it, and pushed.

  Barry’s phone rang. He swore loudly and paced away from the flat at a distance where he could concentrate on the call.

  ‘Barry, how are you getting on?’ asked Darren Lewis.

  ‘No answer at the address. We’re just about to gain entry.’

  ‘Okay, good. I got the update about the garage. This is the only link we have to him, Barry. We really need something.’

  Barry opened his mouth to reply when he heard the blast.

  ‘What was that, Barry?’

  Barry snatched to the sound, smoke and dust suddenly swept towards him along the walkway.

  ‘It was an explosion! Jesus it was an explosion! Send help!’

  ‘A what? Barry! Are you all okay?’

  Barry cut the call and made his way back towards flat five.

  Chapter 35

  Tommy Wilkes really hated being sober.
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  A cup of very sweet coffee was passed to him through the hatch. He took it and stuck two fingers up at the cell door. Maybe four sugars would compensate for the lack of alcohol. It didn’t. He sat at the end of his bed, some distance from the microwave meal sitting half-eaten on the floor. He knew what he had to do. He just wanted to get on with it now.

  And there it was. Three slaps on the outside of his door. Tommy took another swig of his coffee. Time to get started.

  Tommy lay on his bed, under a flimsy cover, facing into the camera in the opposite corner. He pushed a hand under his waistband and felt for his anus. It was slightly bulbous and tender to the touch. The package was just under the surface. It was uncomfortable easing it out, but not half as bad as getting it in. That bit never got easier.

  Tommy had the package free in less than a minute. He rolled over to face the wall and picked at the wrapping. He freed the two razor blades, concealed them in his fist and sat up. He would finish his coffee first. He was damned sure he wouldn’t be getting offered another any time soon.

  * * *

  George made it to the kitchen. The two officers still watching Kane Forley hadn’t seen him. They both looked bored, and were tapping idly at their smart phones. To George’s relief, the kitchen area was empty. Now he had to wait, with no real idea what for. He was on tenterhooks. So much was riding on the next few moments, and so much could go wrong. His ears buzzed, and his tinnitus thudded to the beat of his heart. He pushed the door open slightly so he could hear any noises coming from outside. He was a long way from cell three.

  An alarm suddenly ripped through the busy custody area, and everyone stood still. George knew it would bellow out across the building, summoning every able officer to the depths of the station.

  George emerged slowly from the kitchen and peered along the corridor. The two men guarding Kane Forley were on their feet, both watching the custody desk.

  ‘Knife!’ The shout came from the corridor on the other side of the floor. The block was suddenly a melee of running feet and raised voices. One of the officers broke away from his post. The other stood looking into Kane’s cell.

  George made his move. He walked up behind the officer and spoke into his ear, making him jump.

  ‘Jesus! The fella round there’s got a knife! You go help. I’ll stand guard on him.’ George pointed at the wide-eyed officer’s chest. ‘You’ve got the vest on.’ The officer hurriedly zipped up his stab vest, nodded at George and was gone.

  Kane Forley got to his feet and shook his legs.

  ‘We going, then?’ Kane asked.

  ‘Just do as I say.’

  * * *

  Barry ran to the flat. Smoke swirled out the door, and a ferocious heat came with it. His team stumbled about, rubbing their eyes. No one seemed to be seriously injured and all were accounted for. Through the acrid smog, Barry noticed an orange glow. He acted quickly. He threw himself through the doorway and was able to dash into the kitchen, away from the smoke that was being funnelled through the open door. He searched round frantically until he found the fire. A small sofa sat burning in the centre of the open-plan flat. Someone was sitting there, still upright and now almost entirely engulfed in flames. Barry saw the blue jeans. A black and white headscarf. A white T-shirt, melting in the intense heat. It had a large black YSL emblem on the front.

  Oh God, no.

  ‘Shelley!’ Barry shrieked, sucked in a lungful of black smoke and coughed. He looked around wildly and saw a beach towel hanging over the radiator in the kitchen. Barry threw it into the sink and ran water over it. He threw the soaked towel over the burning figure. It put out the fire but Barry was blinded by smoke. He grabbed at the figure and his hands immediately stuck to it. He pulled back, his fingers covered in melting plastic. The dummy pitched forward. Barry turned away and ran out of the flat.

  Outside, Barry collapsed, gasping. Ryan got to him first and pulled him to his feet.

  ‘Barry! You okay?’

  ‘My hands!’

  Ryan looked at the blackened fingers. ‘Jesus, what happened?’

  ‘It wasn’t her,’ Barry said, his eyes still shut. ‘It wasn’t her!’

  ‘Who, Barry? You’re okay, mate. We’ll get the burns kit.’

  ‘It wasn’t anyone.’ Tears streamed from Barry’s eyes. Ryan thought it was the smoke.

  * * *

  Barry doused his hands in cold water and then applied a specialist burn cream. One of the team had wrapped bandages tightly round them, but he could still use them a little. He sat on the ground with Ryan beside him. The team had retrieved some bottles of water from the van. Ryan was opening and closing his jaw to clear the ringing in his ears. All the officers were covered in soot. Barry’s phone had been ringing incessantly. He finally felt able to answer it.

  ‘Boss?’

  ‘Barry! Jesus, what happened?’

  ‘It was booby trapped. An incendiary device — small, but enough to give us a fucking shock,’

  ‘Everyone alright?’

  ‘Yeah, boss. We’re just having a sit down for the minute.’

  ‘Keep your team out of there. We’ll get the bomb-disposal people down. I want to be sure there’s nothing more.’

  ‘Yeah, I agree. I don’t think there will be, but better safe than sorry. The device lit up an armchair in front of the door with a dummy sat up in it. It must have been triggered when we opened the door. It was all about sending us a message.’

  ‘Okay, Barry. Hold tight and let me make a few calls. I’ve arranged for patrols to get down there. Use them to evacuate the block and we’ll get you and your men looked at by the ambulance people.’

  ‘Patrols are just arriving by the sound of it. He’s still fucking with us. This is his way of saying that he could finish us all if he wanted to.’

  Darren sighed. ‘No one’s hurt though, Barry, that’s what matters. Just hold tight, I want you all checked out.’

  ‘I’m heading back. I’m fine. I’ll leave the boys here, but I need to be back at the station.’

  ‘Well, okay, Barry, but I don’t need you if you want to stay with your team. Just keep me up to date, okay?’

  ‘No problem.’ Barry ended the call and got to his feet. He could see that his men were still in shock.

  ‘Listen, boys, shit day. Sit tight for now, get checked over by the paramedics, they’re on their way. The wooden-tops can sort out evacuating people and general bollocks and the bomb-disposal people can take over making the flat safe. Get yourselves together and head back when you’re ready. I’m going back now, okay?’

  Barry didn’t wait for an answer.

  He made it to the BMW, climbed in and rested his head on the steering wheel.

  * * *

  Tommy Wilkes was really getting into his role. He’d slashed his arm three times, and the blood was flowing nicely before anyone got to him. The moment the cell door opened, Tommy lunged at the officer with a razor blade in each hand. This earned him a couple of hits around the head and he backed away. It was a stand-off. He grinned bloodily at Jim the jailor.

  The panic alarm suddenly stopped. An uncanny silence prevailed.

  ‘Come on, Tommy, don’t be stupid. Put them down and I’ll help you out.’ The jailer was breathing heavily. His cheeks were a blotchy red and his T-shirt was spotted with Tommy’s blood. Tommy said nothing. He took a step forward and Jim immediately retreated. Another officer now filled the doorway.

  ‘What’s he got?’ the officer asked.

  ‘Razor blades,’ said Jim. ‘We’re gonna need a Taser officer.’

  The man turned and shouted down the corridor. ‘Taser officer! Taser officer!’

  Tommy grinned again.

  * * *

  George heard the shout. He knew that once a Taser arrived, it would all be over pretty quickly.

  Kane was still in handcuffs. George took hold of his upper arm and they walked quickly towards the custody desk. The exit he needed was via a long corridor that jutted off to the right
. George was afraid that someone might still be manning that desk. There were two exits, the other directly in front of them that led through into the police station. George could hear footfalls the other side of that door. As the first officer pushed open the door, he and Kane turned abruptly into the corridor and out of their line of sight. George silently prayed that no one was coming in from the yard. They made it to the door. In his panic, George swiped his pass too hastily and it didn’t register. The second time he tried, the light turned green.

  George hustled Kane towards a marked Skoda. He heard the door to custody open again, and someone shouted. They were shouting at him.

  ‘George! What the fuck?’ Matt Dobson stumbled as he came out of the door.

  ‘Get in the car!’ George screamed. Kane slid into the passenger seat. George reached behind him and took out Carl Matten’s pistol. He’d almost forgotten he was still carrying it. He had tucked it in his waistband in case he got desperate for a plan B. With the weapon raised, George stepped towards Matt Dobson, who was running ran straight at him. Matt stopped dead.

  ‘I don’t have time to explain, Matt, but you know me, I wouldn’t do this unless I had to.’

  ‘Jesus, George, there’s nothing to explain. We can still sort this out. Just bring him back in and put that fucking thing down.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ George said. He glanced back to the Soda. Kane was peering out of the window.

  ‘Walk him back in, George. We can still sort this out.

  ‘I can’t.’

  Matt had his hands spread out. He didn’t seem angry or afraid of the weapon. More than anything else, Matt looked sad. George had betrayed him.

  ‘Stay the fuck away or I will shoot you, Matt. Don’t think for a second that I won’t.’ George hoped he sounded convincing.

  ‘George, listen to yourself.’ Matt took a step forward. George had no idea if the weapon worked, he hadn’t thought to test it. He aimed a little high and to the right, praying that the sights weren’t out. The gun went off all right, it kicked back hard. Matt dropped to one knee, his hands raised.