To Kill Or Be Killed (32 page)

Diane ignored
her. She opened the brown file and spread pictures on the desk.
There were crime scene photos from Beech Bottom Dyke, The crushed
Volvo 440 with clear images of the dead officers’ lifeless bodies
at odd angles in the blood spattered carnage of the dumped vehicle.
The shots were enough to turn anyone’s stomach over. ‘Leash’ turned
her head away.

“Look at them!”
Again the whiplash voice which this time pulled her head round, but
there was no trace of shame.

“He said you’d
lie to me. Say he was a murderer”

“Really, we’ve
got his DNA off your bed and any minute now I will be able to link
it to the bodies and when we’re done we’ll have him for any other
assassinations he’s done here or abroad.”

“He’s going
where you won’t be able to get him.”

Diane
laughed.

“Really?” She
said drily.

The door opened
and a plain clothes detective came in and put a sheet in front of
Diane. She looked down and the looked up with clear hard eyes. Then
she dealt out what she knew would be the winning hand.

She slid the
sheet with the DNA results in front of ‘Leash’.

“Look at it!”
Even the plain clothes man winced when she spoke.

‘Leash’ looked
at it.

"Pick it up
Aliesha and read it.”

'Leash' picked
it up and read it. The two bars of data on the sheet matched. Her
eyes rose slowly from the paper and then she went to place it on
the table to see two pictures, family pictures, a man with two
children, a girl and a boy, and a woman and a her husband in
portrait with a cute blonde two year old boy.

Diane’s voice
was soft and motherly, tender and emotional.

“That’s Stewart
Mitchell and his two kids. His son Antony is fourteen and his
daughter, that’s her with her dad’s hand on her shoulder, she’s
eleven; she’s twelve this Saturday coming.”

Diane paused.
‘Leash’ stared at the picture then watched Diane’s manicured finger
point to the second photo.

“That’s Moira
Brown with her husband and their two year old son.” ‘Leash’ unable
to bear it looked away. Diane slid the photos of the Stewart
Mitchell’s blood coated face, neck twisted when his body was
pitched around by the dumping of the police Volvo and Moira’s
bloodied face with the bullet wound clear and grim where her eye
should have been.

“Look at it!”
‘Leash' didn’t respond. “Look what he did because they’d tried to
stop him. Two unarmed police officers and he killed them. He’s here
for a reason, he doesn’t love you he just wants to use you and he’s
going to kill at least one more time, now you’ll be responsible for
the next person he kills as well if you don’t help me stop
him…”

‘Leash’ had
begun to sob.

“I’ve got a
daughter about your age. How old are you Aliesha? Twenty,
twenty-two?”

“I’m
twenty.”

“My daughter’s
a year older. She goes to clubs. I’d hate to think of her being
tricked so badly by a killer. He used you and he lied to you
Aliesha. What do you know?”

“Will you call
my dad?”

“Yes love. I’ll
call him.” She turned to the officer.

“She named him
as next of kin on the checking in form. You’ve got a number.” He
left the room.

“Well?” Diane
asked in a once again harsh voice.

“I think he got
attached to me, he seemed friendlier in the early hours when he
left. I thought his name was Marc. He had a gun…”

“Probably the
one that belonged to one of my men; he’s in hospital, lucky to be
alive by all accounts..” Diane interjected.

“I was excited,
he’s very manly. He said he had a job to do, big money then he was
going to a non extradition country. He said he’d call for me… he
said you’d lie… that he’d been a soldier … that people die all the
time…”

“They’re good
at deception Aliesha.”

“I think he
meant it though, really I do.”

“Yes perhaps he
did. Perhaps he wants to settle down with his ill gotten gains and
you appealed to him. You are attractive and to a man his age… well
… but what do you think would have happened when he got bored with
you or a settled life?”

“I know. I… I’m
sorry for those people really I am.”

“Did he say
anything else anything at all?”

“No… I ‘m sure
… wait, in his sleep he said some name like ‘Jon’ and the word
‘Priory’… twice … I wondered if he’d killed a priest in the past,
he was having a bad dream…”

“Guilty
conscience and wounded psyche does that. Else counsels our people
who have to kill anyone. They get checked. Killing’s
unnatural.”

The officer
came back in.

“He’s on his
way.”

“Did he say
anything?” ‘Leash’ asked.

“Just that he
was on his way.”

Diane collected
the photos into the file and got up.

“Let her go,
but have her watched and by armed police, protection,” she turned
to ‘Leash’ ”and you young lady build some bridges with your father.
Family life is important and it’s what good society is built on,
the bedrock. Make the most of your time with your father.” She
tapped the brown folder. “There’s a girl in there that’ll long to
see her father every day from now on, but especially Saturday next.
He won’t be coming home though. Make the most of the time you have,
it may run out much faster than you expected.”

When Diane got
outside the cell she leant against the wall, took a hankie out of
her sleeve and wiped away the tears that she had controlled in the
room. She blew her nose, pushed the hankie into her sleeve and got
out her ‘sat phone’.

“It’s Diane.
Run the word ‘Priory’ through the computers and compile a list of
places. It may be nothing, but there’s not much to go on… yes she
did…silly little mare… she’ll be fine… daddy’s on the way to make
it all better for her.”

Chapter
84

Torquay Harbour

5 a.m.

April 19th

Torquay was an
open harbour, walls around, but no blocks to entry. Stanton was
nearly out of fuel when he entered the seaward gap. It was dark and
the sun wasn’t due to rise for at least an hour. He turned on the
light on the top of the boat and steered his way into an empty
berth. There were three empty berths near the sea wall. There was a
heavy bump as the prow of the boat hit the wooden jetty. Stanton
had cut the engine when he’d steered it in, so there was no reverse
power to hold off hitting the woodwork. He switched off the light,
ran to the back of the boat, grabbed a line and tied her up.

Stanton stood
quietly on deck looking and listening. The harbour was quiet. Some
distance away there was an inner harbour with smaller boats. There
was a little traffic on the road, lone car lights, the street lamps
polluted the pre dawn dark, aside from that there was nothing.

Back in the
cabin, aware of time as he was Stanton took a break to eat and
drink. A pack of digestive biscuits from a cupboard and a large mug
of tea helped him feel stronger.

Refreshed he
gathered some useful tools in a bag and walked the jetties looking
at berths. There were plenty of yachts and most had engines. He
couldn’t really sail a yacht, not alone. There were very few
cruisers. There were five sprigs of floating walk ways and along
the third he found what he was looking for. There was a clean
looking Fairline Phantom 38 three berths in from the walkway.

Stanton climbed
aboard and broke through the back door using a crow bar. Glass
shattered as he levered the door open, he was acutely aware of the
noise as it echoed off the water. The harbour seemed unwatched and
no alarm went off when he broke in. He was twenty minutes getting
to the wires behind the control panel. He found the starter wires
and fired up the engine, it started first time. He went to the
back, cast off and as the boat began to drift he gave it power and
steered his way carefully around the sprigs of jetties and into the
open sea. He checked the electronic panel, fuel tanks were full. It
was a nice little boat, lounge, berths, kitchen, very plush, but
unlike the Nelson Landguard 33 there was no ‘autopilot control
system’, he’d have to steer it all the way.

To that end he
motored around the bay, checked the depth sounder and anchored just
off Oddicombe beach, just under the Babbacombe cliffs. He took of
the aft cabin doors and threw them over the side, putting the back
covering up. He cleaned up the glass and checked the boat over. He
found no clothes left there except for a blue Berghaus coat with a
hood and a woolly hat.

It was lovely
really, a real floating home. He found the paperwork for it in
cabin storage, the berth ticket for Torquay and owner’s papers. Not
for the first time he blessed the complacent laziness of the
average human being. They hadn’t thought that anything would happen
to them. In his line of work you spent everyday assuming that bad
things were going to happen and watching out for them. The alarm
system hadn’t even been switched on. At last clear that he could
pass muster with a harbour master at Dover, as he knew he’d be
arriving in daylight, the Torquay ticket showing he hadn’t come
from abroad, he could cruise in, tie up and wait until nightfall to
get out and head for the Thames estuary.

It was getting
on for six am and there was a pale light in the sky to the East. He
hauled anchor and pointed the boat out of the bay and into the
channel. The Fairline could do 30 knots and Stanton pushed it as
hard as he could, knowing channel traffic would slow him around the
Dover area.

Chapter
83

Dover

6 a.m.

April 19th

The darkness
surrounded him, there were screams and cries, lights flashed
showing images of shadow figures pointing guns, the muzzle blast
was bright orange and in the light women children and men were
shot, then the light flash ended, darkness taking the bleeding
victims away as the shadow gun men faded away too. David ran to the
flashes of light to help the people who’d been shot; he was fearful
of the shadows with guns, terrified that the light would shine on
him and he’d be shot. He struggled to pull his own gun from the
folds of his coat and light after light came on and more and more
people were shot by the shadow men. He rushed from place to place
to help, trying hard to fight. Finally he got his gun out and the
light shone on him. He spun in a circle sweating and in a light
further away Beaumont stood, called to him and was shot. David ran
towards him suddenly reaching the end of a railway platform. David
pointed the gun into the dark beyond and a figure marched out
pointing a rifle, David fired just as the shadow figure emerged
into the light and David saw that it was his father falling to the
ground and the view changed to one of himself as one of the shadow
men looking into the pool of light at his father’s bloodied
face…

“Father!” David
shouted as he woke, hands tangled in the duvet and soaked in sweat
from head to toe. David breathed as if out of breath. He started as
Mary’s hand touched him on the back.

“Bad dream
Davey?”

“Aye.”

“Get up and
write it down straight away then you can get me a nice cup of
tea.”

David went
downstairs found a piece of paper and wrote the dream down, he
heard the toilet flush and Mary appeared, heavy and round in her
pregnancy, the belt of her dressing gown under the bump like a fat
man’s belt under a gut, the dressing gown didn’t quite cover
her.

“Not long now
Mary McKie eh?”

“No I’ll be
glad when she comes out.”

“Sit down I’ll
get you some tea.”

Mary watched
him leave the room. He was tall, broad shouldered and his biceps
stretched the edge of the T-shirt of his ‘pyjamas’, his legs in the
shorts showed defined calves. She wondered that such a formidable
man, strong and intelligent should struggle with his emotions. She
knew he’d been troubled by the lorry of immigrant bodies he’d told
her he’d found one time in customs work. She knew though that most
of his life he’d feared little. When Connor was born David had been
there strong and assertive, but when the baby came out he’d cried,
with joy of course. It touched her that such a man was attached to
her. She was unsure though of the path his life was taking and
feared that his ‘secret’ life would drive a wedge between them.
David came back with two mugs of tea.

“Conor still
asleep.”

“Yes.”

“What was your
dream?”

David told
her.

“That’s very
Freudian I’d say, killing your own father. Didn’t Oedipus do that
by accident?”

“Yes. What do
you think it means?”

“Something to
do with control I’d say. Maybe you feel that things have got out of
control, you know, the parent, the controller being killed, safety
gone, feeling unsafe?”

David grabbed
her hand and kissed it.

“My word you’re
a clever lass aren’t you. Maybe you should counsel me eh?”

“I’d like that.
I don’t want to be on the outside.”

“I don’t want
that either. We’ve always been close.”

She squeezed
his hand.

“What happened
at the bus station?” She asked.

“I’m not
supposed to talk about what I do.”

“I’ll not tell,
anyway no matter what you signed with them you made promises when
you married me and my claim on you pre-dates theirs. I won’t tell I
promise.”

David’s face
broke into a big grin. “You’re right. No-one will know and I’ve
always told you about my work. I don’t see the problem in us
sharing it. Maybe you could help.”

He told her the
situation, what had happened and the story, what he knew of it, of
the five men. Mary sat rapt in attention until he finished.

“My God, that’s
incredible. There are three more out there?”