Beautiful Death (35 page)

He just had to hold his nerve. Stepping outside into the cold, he took a deep breath and then he was running.

Kate could hear the man with the balaclava busying himself outside the car. She couldn’t imagine what he was doing, but she could hear him opening and closing the doors of another vehicle so maybe he had met up with a companion, or perhaps that was his means of escape? She realised she couldn’t hear any voices, so presumed he must still be alone. If that was the case then he planned to leave her Fiat here … wherever here was.

She watched, terrified, as he walked — his arms laden with stuff she couldn’t make out — around to the back of her car, just inches from where she was lying uncomfortably squeezed into the boot.

‘What are you doing?’ she yelled.

‘Shut up,’ was his reply.

Kate could hear him fiddling around beneath the car. She could feel the car moving as he pushed against it, making a clunking sound. What was he doing? It was otherwise silent outside and very, very dark. Through the inkiness she could just see the outline of trees.

What was the worst she could imagine? She tried to dream up the most intolerable end to this miserable affair and decided that if he doused the car with its own petrol and set it alight then things couldn’t be any bleaker.

‘Right,’ she whispered, determined to hear her own voice, trying to steady herself somehow. ‘That’s as bad as it’s going to get and you’ll die of smoke inhalation before the flames get you.’ She didn’t really believe it, but it helped to say it.

She screamed when he shocked her by opening the boot. He was holding a knife.

‘Don’t,’ she begged, her resolve forgotten. Stabbings were her nightmare.

He reached down and slashed the bonds at her ankles. ‘Get out,’ he said, half dragging her, taking her the long way around to the driver’s side.

‘What do you want?’ she said, feeling especially pathetic that that was all she could think to say in this terrifying scenario. She so desperately wanted to be brave, to go down swinging punches or kicking knees, defiant to the last second of her life.

‘Get behind the wheel,’ he said.

‘Why?’

‘Because I say so and because I’m holding a knife, sweetheart.’

‘What kind of fucking loser are you anyway? I’m presuming he’s killed or had killed everyone else
who’s been involved in his dirty affairs,’ she bluffed. ‘What makes you think someone isn’t waiting outside here … where are we, anyway?’ she finished incongruously, realising she was standing in a forest with a man in a balaclava.

‘I’m too smart to get trapped by the likes of him, darlin’; you’re not so smart so you’re the one who does the dyin’.’

‘And you’re comfortable with that, are you? Killing a helpless woman?’

‘Killing a pig? Yeah, I love it. I’ll brag about it to me mates.’

‘You’re the pig,’ she said and thought about taking that kick she so badly wanted to, now that her feet were free, but he had her half in and half out of the front passenger seat — and he also had a nasty hunting knife. She really didn’t want that plunged into her belly.

‘Get all the way in,’ he said, sounding almost bored now. ‘Into the driver’s seat.’

‘What are you going to do, then? Run me down a ravine or something?’ Kate felt stupid even talking to him but it bought her a few more precious seconds, just in case the cavalry was coming.

He ignored her, winding down her window slightly. Then it all made sense as he fed a tube through the gap at the top then wound the window back up as far as he could.

Then he used some old T-shirts to stuff the gap in the window to achieve a makeshift seal. He was going to poison her with carbon monoxide.

‘That’s it, darlin’. I’m off now. Sweet dreams, eh? If you want my advice, don’t fight it, all right? Inhale as hard as you can because it’s quicker that way. Pretty quick in somefink this small anyway. P’raps
four or five minutes before you black out. Your heart will stop a bit later but you won’t know much about it, being unconscious and all that. Well, that’s a pretty polite death, darlin’.’

Helplessly handcuffed and shocked, she didn’t even fight him when he pulled the seatbelt around her and strapped her in.

‘There we are,’ he said. ‘Bye sweetheart.’

The man in the balaclava turned on the ignition.

28.

‘He’s running!’ Ellie yelled just as one of her burly colleagues broke down the front door. Geoff and his two sidekicks had begun circling the main outbuilding and were the only people outside, it seemed, as Ellie shouted the news. Geoff squinted into the darkness, just making out the retreating shadow of a man, presumably Charles Maartens, running at a furious pace. Without pause, he took off after him.

Geoff was big, and too many people assumed that meant slow. All they had to do was ask Jack Hawksworth about training with Benson and they’d learn that ‘The Bear’ might be a very large man, but his fitness matched his size and he was surprisingly fleet of foot. He used all of that speed and stamina now to hunt down Charles Maartens, whom he was sure couldn’t possibly want to get away as badly as he wanted to wrap his fingers around the surgeon’s throat and squeeze.

At least he thought it was Maartens. He had no way of knowing from this distance. And the figure was in a tracksuit with a beanie pulled low over his
head. If he got away now they’d have no proof it was the surgeon running away.

Geoff was sucking in air, gradually narrowing the gap between himself and his prey, and although Maartens had now hit flat ground and clearly had a destination in mind, Geoff was still gaining speed from the downhill terrain. He didn’t care that it was slippery or that he wasn’t wearing ideal shoes for running. He was single-minded in his purpose. This man knew where Kate Carter was.

Behind him he could hear various police officers thudding along. He hoped Ellie had directed some of her colleagues to spread out in various directions so they could trap the fleeing surgeon in a pincer-like movement, but he could not slow down to check.

Geoff wondered where exactly the doctor was planning to go. He seemed to be running straight at the hedge. Was he planning to crash through it? He didn’t think the surgeon stood a chance against whatever the hell that huge hedge was grown from. And then, impossibly, just as the fleeing man arrived at the hedge, he disappeared.

‘No!’ Geoff roared his anger. He hit the flat at a great rate and rapidly covered the distance to where he was sure he’d seen Maartens slip through. Barely able to breathe, pausing fleetingly to suck in huge breaths, he searched for an opening, desperately scrabbling at leaves and twigs.

‘Torch!’ he gasped.

Ellie was upon him first. She too was breathless.

‘Shit, you’re fast, sir,’ she gasped admiringly. ‘But how did he get out?’ She quickly unbuckled her torch from her belt.

Before she could even flick on the switch Geoff had found the opening and like the bear of his
nickname had fought his way through it, dragging part of the hedge down with him.

He let rip with a load roar on the other side because there was nothing. No sound, no running figure, no streetlight to help him.

Maartens, or whoever he’d been chasing, had vanished.

The police search unit surprised Jack with its speedy arrival. He was just toppling out of the car in his speed to find Kate as they pulled up.

‘Great work,’ he said to the man in charge. ‘We’re about five hundred metres from a clearing called High Beech,’ he added, urgency sharp in his voice.

‘We know it, DCI Hawksworth,’ the man said. ‘Who are we after?’

Jack pulled Kate’s scarf from his pocket. ‘This belongs to DI Carter. She’s been taken into High Beech clearing, we think, by a person or persons likely to be armed and dangerous.’

‘Well so are we, sir,’ the man replied grimly. ‘Was she driven in?’

Jack nodded. ‘I think so. But we’ll go the last five hundred metres on foot. Then he won’t know how many of us or which direction we’re coming from.’

The man pulled a face. ‘Not much chance for the dogs to follow a trail, then.’

Jack was already moving away rapidly. ‘Just go in. At least if they bark and her captor hears us coming it might just save her life. I’ve got to go. Send the ambulance behind us.’

‘Right behind you,’ he said, as Jack and Angela ran at full pelt toward the clearing.

Behind him the first of the dogs barked.

* * *

The ignition was on and already Kate could hear the telltale hiss of the odourless gas that would kill her. There was suddenly so much she wished she could say to those she loved.

The Fiat was such a small car. She had no doubt that the dying would happen quickly. She knew how carbon monoxide worked, had read about it several times in pathology reports. And she was trapped by the tube that was blowing it straight into her face.

Outside the man in the balaclava watched her. She had no idea what his expression was, but somehow she didn’t think he was smiling. Her death was not his idea. He was just doing a job. She supposed he was making sure everything was working according to the script and that he’d probably hang around a bit longer to ensure she was finished. She began to think about the stages of her pitiful death.

The first thing that would occur — in fact it was already occurring, she realised — was a muffling sensation. Her mind felt as though it was thickening. She was pretty sure now that she wouldn’t have been able to hold a pen to write a farewell note even if her arms had been free to start scribbling.

A headache would ensue. Deep, dull, confusing. She would slip into unconsciousness. Minutes were all she had left. Kate reminded herself of a case where a man had gassed himself in a Barina. He was dead within ten minutes, according to pathology. She’d already been inhaling the fumes from her exhaust for two, possibly three minutes.

There was no point in pulling at the handcuffs. She’d already tried that and was not going to waste the last few minutes of her conscious life in futile
struggle. A calm came over her at the same time as a dull throb began in her head. This was it. It was happening.

She leaned her head against the window. It suddenly felt awfully hard to hold it up straight and she gazed out at her killer. He stared back, unwavering. Perhaps he’d done this before. Surely no one with a heart could watch this without flinching?

She hated him. She hoped he met a grisly end. She wouldn’t let him be the last person she saw. Kate told herself to find the strength — it was so hard now — to turn her head away. Or at least close her eyes. Before she could rally the energy to do either she noticed the man’s head snap away from watching her to look towards the other side of the clearing.

Something’s disturbed him
was Kate’s last clear thought, but then the pain in her head intensified and her world began to darken.

Without realising she was doing so, Kate closed her eyes.

And let go.

Jack saw him.

‘There!’ he yelled and redoubled his efforts. The two dogs thundered past him and the lights of the ambulance and another police car lit the clearing.

‘Get him!’ he roared, surprised that his voice sounded so guttural as to be almost primitive. He wanted to run with them but he slid to a halt, heart breaking as he saw Kate slumped in the driver’s seat of her neat little car. He’d not seen it before, only heard her talking about it to one of the other members of the team. She was proud of it. Her first brand new car, he recalled her saying. He prayed it wasn’t her coffin as he yanked open the door.

She fell out sideways and he caught her, reaching to switch off the ignition.

‘Kate! Kate!’ he repeated several times, slapping at her face. ‘Please, Kate … please.’

He could feel her soft hair against his cheek, the warmth of her body against his neck. He craned his head, looking for the ambulance.

‘Oxygen!’ he screamed at the paramedics spilling out of the vehicle.

Within seconds he had been pushed aside and an oxygen mask had been placed over Kate’s face and a different sort of gas — the life-giving kind — was being pumped into her lungs. She was lying on her side, her hands still cuffed. Jack could hear a paramedic urging Kate to breathe. He knew it was still too early to tell if she would live.

He sat in the leaf litter of the clearing, holding his head, feeling helpless, hopeless, useless — for an eternity, it seemed. In reality, it was only a few moments before he jumped up slightly out of control. ‘Make her live!’ he roared, and knew he had to get away from the pathetic sight of her unconscious body — her possibly dead body — and take it out on someone. Someone had to pay for all this death and despair.

Jack strode to the other car and wrenched open the door hard enough to make its hinges protest. He took the keys out of the ignition. This was to be the vehicle that took Kate’s killer — attempted killer, he admonished himself — away, he supposed, but he would ensure he remained on foot until they could hunt him down.

He snatched up a jumper he found on the car seat. That would help the sniffers. He took one last look at the paramedics working on Kate. One
returned his gaze and looked doubtful. Jack felt a rare surge of violence pass through him and he began to run in the direction of where he’d seen DI Karim disappearing in a melee of dogs and trackers.

He soon caught up with them, paused in a smaller clearing, calculating which track to follow. ‘Here, this belongs to him,’ he said to one of the trackers.

‘Good,’ the man said and whistled. ‘Robbie!’

Obediently one of the bloodhounds trotted up and sniffed the woolly pile in the man’s hands.

‘Find him, Robbie,’ the handler urged. ‘Go, boy.’

‘Everyone else wait!’ Jack ordered. ‘Watch this one. He’s got the scent.’

Robbie, his seriously ugly nose to the ground, turned in circles several times, then moved first to one tree and then another.

‘It seems the perp doesn’t know what to do. He’s panicking, by the looks of this.’

‘Has Robbie picked him up?’ Jack felt frantic.

‘Watch him. He needs to get the strongest scent and the one that keeps going. His ears stir up the ground and his drooling mouth pulls in the smell as well. Don’t be fooled by that hang-dog expression. He can follow a scent for weeks, long after you’d think it’s gone cold.’

In any other situation Jack would have found this information interesting, but now all he could do was fret over Kate. He forced himself to be rational and gasped with relief and gratitude when Robbie barked insistently near a gap between two trees.

‘Ah, he has it!’ the handler said. ‘Now we go.’

Jack was near the front of the group of excited dogs and anxious, angry men that set off once more into the forest, when his phone rang.

He answered but kept moving. ‘Sarah!’

‘Sir! What’s happening?’

‘I’m at a place called High Beech at Epping Forest. It’s where we’ve found Kate but we’re in pursuit of the man who brought her here. He’s on foot, we’re heading …’ Jack had to think about it, looking all around to get his bearings. ‘Heading south. I need more squad cars, more people, surrounding the area. Get them in from Juliet Charlie.’

‘Yes, sir. What about Kate —?’

‘Not now, Sarah. Get onto this and get some more bodies to help. I’ll call you back shortly.’

Within moments the baying of the hounds intensified and Jack realised they were closing in on their quarry.

It was actually Angela who brought him down. Youth and impetuousness on her side, she leaped down an incline of four metres. No small jump, Jack thought, hugely impressed, as she crashed onto the shoulders of the felon.

Jack was on him in moments as well. The man struggled and Jack relished the chance to restrain him forcibly, particularly enjoying driving his knee hard into the man’s apparently dislocated shoulder. Did Jack care? Not in the least. He hoped the injury never healed.

He began, over the man’s screams, to read him his rights.

‘Get up you cowardly bastard,’ he said, when it was done, hauling the now whimpering man to his feet. ‘No stretcher available, DI Karim?’ Before the young detective could answer, Jack went on, ‘Sorry mate, no paramedics around, you’ll have to walk back up the hill. Don’t worry, I’ll help.’ He spoke angrily, dragging the man now, despite his yells of pain.

Angela looked a little unsure, but a glance at DCI Hawksworth’s grim face must have confirmed to her she should keep her mouth shut about the duty of care to be shown criminals and suspects at this point.

‘Is she dead?’ the man asked. He’d found some composure, hopping between Jack and Angela, perhaps his pain becoming bearable as he got used to it. Jack jolted him for good measure.

‘You’d want to hope not. I’d enjoy sending you down for murder.’

‘I think you arrived too late, mate,’ the man goaded him, ignoring the threat. ‘She’d already gone under. Bad sign with exhaust fumes.’

Jack ground his teeth, refusing to respond, but he ensured he didn’t make the journey back to High Beech easy for his captive. Back in the clearing, the ambulance had gone and with it Kate, replaced by a couple of squad cars from nearby Leyton Police Station. It had begun to rain.

A senior officer introduced himself and wasted no time. He knew what Jack wanted to know. ‘She’s alive, but don’t get your hopes up, sir. The ambulance crew weren’t leaping out of their skin but they said to tell you that there’s a hyperbaric chamber at Highgate Hospital and that will speed up clearing her body of carbon monoxide. They’re rushing her over there now.’

Jack let out the breath he’d been holding. ‘She’s alive and DI Carter’s a fighter. She’ll pull through.’

‘I hope so, sir. Is this him?’

Jack jagged the man’s arm, pushing him forward. ‘I don’t even know his name yet and I don’t care. Can you take him?’

‘We’d be delighted to show him the comforts of Leyton nick.’

‘Thanks. And please thank all your team and the POLSA unit for me. I’m going to the hospital.’

‘One of our cars can take you.’

He shook his head. ‘DC Karim and I can get there. Okay, Angela?’

She straightened with obvious pleasure. ‘Yes, sir.’

Jack turned back to the man they’d hunted down. ‘Enjoy the hospitality of Her Majesty, mate. I’ll see you in court.’

‘Fuck you, pretty boy. I hope she’s dead. Another pig off the streets.’

‘Get him out of my sight,’ Jack said quickly, shocked at the violence simmering once more below his professional façade. ‘Let’s go, Angela.’