Wasted Lives, a Detective Mike Bridger novel (32 page)

“
This is
it J man… this is it…”

Was Joseph
talking to himself? Maybe he was J man... He was confused. He heard
the sound of laboured breathing, as if he was exerting himself.
Then a grunt, followed by the sound of something heavy and dull
banging on the wall to his left.

“
I’m
going to fucking enjoy this bitch…”

There was a
subtle noise, similar to a ripe tomato squashed in a closing fist,
followed by a sharp intake of breath… a small whimper …

“
Fucking
get some…” Joseph’s voice was becoming urgent. More breathing…he
was doing something to Jo… something he could not see… something he
felt…

There was more
breathing, increasing in urgency… he heard another sick sucking
sound followed by a dull thud… one… two… three, more and more. He
heard a wet gurgle, quickly smothered… a wet coppery smell invaded
his nostrils, overpowering the sour sweat… he had smelt this
before…

Then
silence…

“
It’s
done…I’ve fucking done it… fuck yeah”

He felt Joseph
stand up from his labours…

“
Did you
enjoy the show, Coppa…? I actually fucking loved it… but it’s only
an appetiser for the main course, and I’m going to really enjoy
that now…” He wanted to scream, he wanted to rise up and take
Joseph Kingi down, he wanted to help but his broken body betrayed
him.

The sour
stench subsided as he felt Joseph’s presence leave the room,
leaving only the coppery aftertaste of blood; the face subsided
from inside his head. He was left in the room… alone… the other
human presence had gone…he had killed her, she was gone…there was
nothing he could do now.

He stopped
fighting his consciousness, he wanted sleep, and he did not want
the pain. He did not want to lie in this room anymore, next to his
dead colleague.

Bridger could
feel the extra weight in the car as he swung it around the corner
into Isadore Road; underinflated tyres making it wallow and crab
across the surface before grabbing traction again. He saw two faces
in the rear view mirror rocking from left to right as the car
corrected its position on the road. Killing the siren and slowing a
little, he heard a collective release of breath. He did not really
care what they thought of his driving though, they were only a few
hundred meters from the approach road to the old ruins and the
thought of saving his wife and colleagues had taken priority.

Driving past
the front entrance to the golf course on their right, he could not
help noticing the car park was full of near new sedans, the type
owned by wealthy retirees. So much for respecting the dead, he
thought, the golf must go on. He wondered if they had taken any
notice of the Gangs activities in the last few hours. Highly
unlikely, they would be far too busy trying to put their little
white balls into the equally small holes.

Continuing
along the road he could see a Police patrol car parked on the
corner up ahead with its blue and red lights blinking on and
off.

“
That
will be Steve Kirkland” Gillian spoke up from the rear. “He and
another have been released from the scene of the shooting; they
have all their kit with them”

The four of
them had only been able to gather two rifles and three pistols from
the firearms safe at the police station on their way out the door,
Bridger was glad that Steve and his partner would have more
firearms with them. He had a bad feeling they were going to need
them.

“
I have
one patrol heading this way from North but they are a little while
away yet…” Matthews said. Bridger glanced back at him in the mirror
and their eyes met for a second, there was nothing in the look.
“And no, I’m not going to say let’s wait for them… we go in now,
hard and fast” he added.

Bridger did
not need telling, he already knew how this was going to play out
and he was not waiting for permission from Matthews.

Driving past
Steve Kirkland in the other patrol car he indicated for him to
follow as he made the turn into the street.

“
That’s
Joseph Kingi’s car isn’t it?” Brian said from the front passenger
seat.

Bridger had
seen the car that he was pointing at and the recognition of his
familiar BMW only served to increase his urgency. He felt the car
surge forward as he subconsciously pressed down on the accelerator.
This was it, they were here… he just hoped they were in time.

The old
building was not visible yet, hidden behind a subdivision of new
houses it was perched on the cliffs edge accessed via a single
entrance track. That would work to their advantage today though, he
thought, as the houses would shield them from immediate view right
up until the last minute.

Inside the
car, he could hear the unmistakable sound of ammunition rounds
chambering inside the breach of the Bushmaster rifles coming from
the backseat and he saw Brian on his left sliding the working parts
back on the Glock pistol he was holding in his hand. The adrenaline
was almost overpowering, and had every one of them hyped up and
ready.

They were four
hundred meters away from the only entrance to the castle.

“
Let
Steve take the lead on the entry Mike, he has had the training.”
Gillian said. Her voice heard from behind him.

Bridger knew
she was probably right and checked his mirror to see how far behind
he was. The front end of his patrol car filled the entire mirror;
he was right on their tail. Good man, he thought, we will not be
wasting any time when we stop.

Two hundred
meters left.

Steve took the
initiative and accelerated around the outside of their car, as if
he had read Gillian’s mind. He raced ahead and Bridger watched as
he expertly slid the car to a halt, just like in the movies, and
then disgorged along with his partner from either side. Both of
them were dressed in the black of the AOS and wore black Kevlar
helmets on their heads. They came together, brought their rifles up
to the ready and then moved in unison like figure skaters vying for
Olympic gold as they disappeared down the rough track. Nothing was
going to stand in their way.

Jumping on his
own brakes seconds later he brought their car to a stop and had the
door open before he had even applied the handbrake. The others had
opened their own doors as the car surged forward slightly causing
them to stumble as they tried to alight. Realising his mistake he
banged the gear selector into park. He had to stop himself for a
second. Slow down a bit, you will stuff this up otherwise…; the
thoughts were lost as he saw his colleagues disappearing down the
track behind the black clad Olympic skaters. Grabbing the Glock
pistol from its holster strapped to his thigh, he followed
suit.

As he neared
the old building, the scale of it became apparent, it was not
overly large by today’s standards but it was an impressive
structure anyway, with its tall crumbling concrete walls, huge
window openings and battlements on the roofline giving it the
impression of a small castle keep. With a backdrop of bright blue
sky and a view over St Clair and the ocean, it would normally make
a beautiful sight, except today. Today it held a deadly secret, of
which Bridger was acutely aware. He could almost feel Laura and his
colleagues calling out to him from within its derelict walls.

He could see
his five colleagues crouched down behind bushes with their guns
trained towards what looked like the only entrance on this side of
the building. He could not see anyone in or near the building at
all, it looked as empty and derelict as its ruin suggested. Steve
Kirkland waved him closer. “Mike, Simon and I are going to breach
the front door there,” he pointed at the obvious door. “You and
Brian go through those empty window openings to the left and right,
they are not too far off the ground so you shouldn’t have too much
trouble” Bridger just nodded while looking at where Steve was
pointing. “I’m going to send the Inspector and Gillian around the
back to mop up anyone making a run for it.”

He found
himself impressed with Steve’s quick decision-making skills; and
made a mental note to let him know when this was over. Looking over
at Matthews, he saw he was nodding in agreement with Steve’s
directions. The look on both Brian and Gillian’s face told him that
they understood what the plan was and were ready to go.

“
We go
on three then…”

Steve Kirkland
pulled a flash-bang grenade from his belt, held his hand in the
air; three fingers erect, and then dropped them one by one.

Bridger heard
the loud retort of the flash-bang doing its thing as it announced
their arrival, then watched as Steve and Simon disappeared into the
open front door arch, the shouts of warning echoing over the
receding explosion. He had to slow his breathing a little, as he
looked over at Brian who nodded back, indicating he was ready.
Climbing up into the empty concrete window frame, he dropped inside
the dank bowels of the ruin. A musty damp smell laced with human
urine hit his nostrils instantly. The acidic odour burnt at the
back of his throat. The room he landed in was empty but shouts of
unknown voices came from further inside the castle.

Bringing his
Glock pistol up into the action position, his master eye looking
over the iron sights at either end of the short weapon, he moved
through to the next room and into the chaos. It seemed to be some
sort of central area with various openings off each wall, some had
doors, and some did not. He saw Brian emerge from a door on the
opposite side; his Bushmaster rifle was up and scanning from left
to right. Steve and Simon had taken up positions on the other side
from them both; one of them had his rifle pointed squarely at what
lay between them all. The other was moving his attention between
the various openings in the room in case of anyone surprising them.
He could not tell them apart dressed in their black gear with their
faces covered. It would be a foreboding sight for anyone and
obviously was for the pack of dogs who now sat cowering in a huddle
in the middle of the room.

A strange
silence had descended now they had made the initial entry and
Bridger could hear his own breathing, which was surprisingly steady
in the excitement. It had taken less than a minute to reach this
point but the adrenaline was still pumping through his body. He
scanned the leather clad pack in front of him, a few faces he
recognised, some he did not. Most of them looked pretty strung out
under the fear of a faceless man wearing black threatening to shoot
them. It took less than a split second for him to realise that
Joseph was not amongst the pack, and there was no sign of Laura,
John or Jo.

Shit…They had
to be in here somewhere… The others had come to the same unspoken
conclusion just as Gillian came through the door at the rear of the
room, followed by Matthews who was breathing heavily, his face
almost purple with exertion. “No one came out the back Mike, they
must all still be inside” Gillian said.

No one needed
any encouragement to complete what they came for. Bridger took the
initiative, “Clear these rooms… Kingi is still outstanding, he
knows we are here now and he might be with them, so be careful.” He
watched them move along the walls closest to each, before he made a
move himself.

The first room
he came to was empty except for a pile of old newspapers and some
fast food containers, the food inside decomposing. He moved further
along the wall, this one had a door that was slightly ajar. He
could feel a slight boost in his adrenaline, which he knew from
experience, was his sixth sense telling him that something was
amiss. There was something behind this door…

He took a deep
breath then kicked at the base of the door causing it to swing
inwards; moving into the room in time with the door he quickly
scanned left and right working on autopilot, his vision at head
height. No threats… dropping his eyes to ground level the sight of
what lay there slammed into his senses making his leg muscles
weaken involuntarily and he dropped to his knees, pistol clattering
onto the concrete floor as it dropped from his useless hands.

The floor was
sticky with blood, the coppery stench making him gag. Detective
John Mouller was laying on his back, eyes swollen and closed,
purpling bruises mottled the rest of his face, his jaw was set at
an improbable angle, and blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
His breathing was so shallow that Bridger could not see any
movement from his chest. His outstretched arm disappeared under an
old grey blanket that was lying next to him. The blanket covered
something bulky, it had dark wet stains in various places… there
was someone under it… Images of Laura flashed through his mind… it
couldn’t be… he couldn’t breathe, Jo or Laura…? He did not want to
find out, but he knew he had to look.

With
increasing panic, he reached out and took the corner of the blanket
in his shaking hand, pulling it back slowly he saw straight away.
All he could see was death, inflicted in such a rage that he could
not see them making a conclusive identification. He took a deep
breath exhaling slowly trying to get a hold on his emotions; he
could feel his stomach tightening. Looking upwards through the
roof, open to the sky, he noticed it was a beautiful hazy blue, he
hoped it was the last thing seen before death, and then he looked
back at John and wondered if he had offered any comfort in the last
moments.