Acid Row (17 page)

“Go on then.”

“Can you tell me where you are?”

“Humbert Street.”

“Whereabouts exactly? You said you were trapped against a wall.”

"Down the end. Number 9. We've tried banging on the door .. . but the lady inside's brain's shot and she won't let us in ... I guess she's frightened, poor old cow."

“Do you know what her name is?”

“Mrs. Carthew.”

“OK, hang on. I'm going to check to see if she's on our list.” There was a few seconds' pause. "Got her. She's one of Sophie's and she's in the “Friendship Calling” scheme." Another pause while voices were muffled by a hand over the receiver. "All right, Gaynor, this is the plan. I'm going to phone Mrs. Carthew and, while I'm doing that, I want you to talk to a police officer who's here with me. He's been listening to you on the loudspeaker and he's going to advise you about what to do when Mrs. Carthew opens her door."

“You're wasting your time, love. She's been ga-ga for years.”

“Let's see, shall we?”

Another voice came on the line. "Hello, Gaynor. Ken Hewitt. Right the important thing is not to start a stampede. If everyone's frightened they'll pile in after you, and that's going to make the situation worse. What we need is a controlled exit. Can you tell me first how many youngsters you have with you?"

Gaynor did a quick head count. “Ten or so.”

"Good. In the first instance I want each one of those kids eased carefully through the door so that people around you don't know it's happening. Keep it very quiet. OK?"

“Yes.”

"Pick the two biggest kids, and tell one of them to create a throughway to the garden by clearing any furniture from the corridor and opening Mrs. Carthew's back door. Tell the other one to stand by the front door. The one by the front door has to be strong if there's an adult close by, all the better. He or she will give you the signal when the way's clear and also act as your regulator, because I need you to be the marshal on the outside when the exit's established. If too many people try to push through when the door opens, then you and whoever's inside must close it and drop the latch. If you don't, people will be trampled in the corridor and the exit will jam. Stand in the doorway and only let one through at a time. It must be controlled. Do you understand?"

Gaynor was five-foot-four and weighed eight stone. How the hell was she supposed to hold back a stampede? “Yes.”

"All right. Now, I've looked at the layout of Humbert Street, and there are gardens running back to back with the gardens of Bassett Road. The kid you pick for the back door needs to start breaking down fences to open up space. We're looking to create spillover areas for anyone who wants to escape. Tell the kid to break out towards Forest Road South. We need people to head for home .. . take some steam out of the situation .. . not mill around in the gardens at the back."

“OK.”

"Lastly, don't attempt to advertise the exit. As people start to feel the pressure easing behind them they'll move into the vacant space and come to it of their own accord. That'll make the job of controlling them much easier." He fell silent for a moment, listening to Jenny relaying instructions. "Excellent. Mrs. Carthew says she'll unlatch the door but she needs time to go upstairs before you open it. She's frightened of being knocked over. She has a portable phone so she'll confirm to Jenny Monroe when she's safe and I'll give you the go-ahead.

Understood?"

“Oh, Jesus Christ!” Panic leapt in Gaynor's chest. "But I haven't explained any of this to the kids yet."

“Take your time,” he said calmly. "It's important that they all understand what they're doing. Tell me when you're ready."

She knew one of the girls already, Lisa Shaw, a bright child in the same class as Colin. She wasn't big enough to act as a regulator but she could certainly clear the corridor and lead the way out to Forest Road. She nodded immediately when Gaynor explained what she wanted her to do. More nods when Gaynor impressed upon all of them the importance of a 'controlled exit' to prevent people being hurt. A complete blank when she tried to make the biggest child understand her role. She was an immature giant with a slow brain and her eyes swam with tears when Gaynor asked her to man the front door.

“I'll do it,” said Lisa. "She can help me. The others can clear the corridor.“ She smiled at Gaynor. ”Don't worry. I'll see they do it right. Col'll kill me if you get flattened. He reckons you're Supermum."

Police Message to all stations >28.07.01 >15.33***

Missing person investigation Amy Rogerson/Biddulph ALERT ALL COUNTIES Wanted for questioning: Edward Townsend Registered address: The Larches, Hayes Avenue, Southampton Last seen: Hotel Bella Vista, Puerto Seller, Majorca 03.00, 27.07.01 Returned to London Luton Friday a.m. on Flight EZY0404, arriving 08.25 Registered vehicle: Black BMW W789ZVV Believed to be somewhere in the south May be travelling with a child  

Saturday 28 July 2001 Glebe Tower, Bassindale Estate

JIMMY JAMES WAS losing patience with the paramedic on the other end of the line. He'd had to wait five minutes before the ambulance operator answered and now his battery was running out. What the hell kind of service were these shysters operating? Every time he followed an instruction the man demanded more. He'd eased the policewoman into the recovery position and checked her airway for blockages. Confirmed all the major life signs breathing, heartbeat, pulse. Tried to bring her round -without success.

And now the sod was asking him to locate her wound.

"Look, mate, how am I supposed to talk to you and find out where she's bleeding at the same time?" he snapped, staring at his right hand which was gory with the woman's blood. He felt bile rise up his throat. "It's OK for you .. . you're used to it ... but it's not fucking OK for me. There's blood everywhere. I'll have to move her hair out the way and I can't do that with a sodding phone in my hand.

OK .. . OK .. . I'm putting you down."

He laid the mobile on the floor behind him and, with a groan of disgust, used both hands to part the stained blonde hair on the back of the woman's head where the already crusting blood seemed thickest. He picked up the phone again and felt it slip in his hand. “FUCK IT!” he roared. He heard the paramedic's alarmed inquiries through his own swearing. “Of course something bad's happened,” he snarled. "I've just smeared blood all over my sodding mobile. Yeah .. . yeah .. . I'm sorry, but it's making me sick, this is. I've got a thing about blood OK? All right ... all right .. . she's got a gash on the back of her head ... I don't know .. . two inches maybe. I can't tell if there're any more .. . not without rolling her over .. . she's got long hair for Christ's sake, and it's all over her face.“ More alarm. ”No, of course, I'm not going to turn her over .. . you've already told me about pushing bone into her brain.“ He pulled a face. ”Listen, mate there's more of a problem with dirt .. . This sodding lift's so filthy she'll die of blood poisoning if any of the germs get into her. Guys round here piss in it, you know. It's the fucking council's fault .. .

If they pulled their finger out once in a while and sent some cleaners in ... OK .. . OK .. . I'm doing it now."

He put the phone down again and lifted hanks of hair from the woman's face. He hadn't seen it before, and he was startled by how pretty she was pale and fine-boned, like a Victorian china doll, with faint flushes of rose in her cheeks as if to prove there was blood left in her. With gentle hands he felt beneath the part of her head that was lying against the floor, but his fingers came out no bloodier than they were before.

“There's just the one cut as far as I can tell,” he said, retrieving the phone, 'and it looks like it's scabbing over .. . No, of course I haven't got a fucking bandage .. . Where would I get a bandage in a sodding lift?“ He rolled his eyes to heaven. ”What do you mean, go looking for a first-aid kit? Listen, mate, I'm black as the ace of spades and I'm covered in blood. Think again, OK .. . There's no way I'm knocking on doors in this dump. Half of them're in their eighties and'll be scared witless if a bloody, wild-eyed nigger bursts in on them .. . and the other half're teenage Nazis who'll stick a knife in my ribs soon as look at me. I'm in Acid Row, for Christ's sake .. .

not the fucking Seychelles. Yeah .. . yeah .. . yeah ... If you're that brave, then put some boot black on your face and tell those bastards on the barricades you're my cousin. Let's see how far you get."

He checked the battery levels on his mobile. "I've got about another five minutes," he warned, 'so you'd better come up with something fast.“ He listened, then raised his eyes to the lift buttons. ”The doors are opening and closing all right so I guess it's working. No mate .. . never heard of it ... What the hell is “Friendship Calling”?

Mrs. Hinkley ... flat 406 .. . fourth floor .. . Yeah, I reckon I could live with that ... so long as you talk to her first and she knows the score.“ He reeled off his mobile number. ”I'll switch back on in five minutes .. . Just don't forget to tell her I'll do a runner if she starts screaming .. . I'm feeling sick as a dog here .. . and I don't need any more aggro.“ He listened some more. ”Why can't I stay anonymous? What the hell difference does a name make? OK .. . OK .. .

Tell Mrs. Hinkley it's Jimmy James and I live at 21 Humbert Street.

No, she can't look me up in the sodding book. I've only been there two days .. . Jesus wept! Because I've just come out of fucking prison.

That's why."

Outside 23 Humbert Street Colin appeared suddenly at Melanie's elbow and shouted into her ear that she'd better do something quick because Kevin Charteris and Wesley Barber were handing out Molotovs to their mates. "I can't stop 'em Mel. They're well lage red up. I've told 'em Rosie and Ben are in the house but they just ain't interested."

She stared at him in alarm. “What are you talking about?” "Petrol bombs,“ he said. ”The riot's been planned for days .. . ever since you and Ma said you wos gonna march. Kev 'n' Wcs 'ave been fillin' the bottles since Tuesday .. . Reckoned the only way to get rid of perverts was to burn 'em out. I told 'em the fire'd spread to your place, but they just said fuck off. Wcs is stoned out of his head. He's a right dick .. . He's been droppin' acid 'n' speed and he's talking about burning the whole fuckin' road down."

It was a wake-up call. Like icy water being poured over her head. She couldn't keep looking to Jimmy for help, she realized. If her children were to survive then it was up to her to protect them. "Where are they?"

Colin jerked his head towards a huddled group at the edge of the semicircular space outside number 23. “Over there.”

In contrast to the bottlenecks at either end of the road, the space in front of the paedophile's house, and those beside it, had remained relatively clear, almost as if an invisible cordon were holding the crowd back. In a sense this was true, since those at the front unwilling to be ousted from their grandstand view, were constantly pushing backwards to counter the pressure from behind.

It had allowed Melanie to stand guard over her front door, hitting out at anyone who tried to encroach, but she drew no comfort from it since the reason for this jealous guarding of the space was excitement. It had become the gladiatorial arena where the more bullish of the youths launched their bricks and stones into the pervert's sitting-room destroying everything of value to the exultant 'oohs' and 'aahs' of the crowd.

“Stay here,” she said, shoving her mobile into Colin's hand.

“What are you going to do?”

“Stop them,” she said fiercely.

She charged across the tarmac and grabbed one of the youths by his collar. “Where's Wesley?” she demanded.

The boy tried to shake her off, but as he moved aside she saw Kevin Charteris squatting on the ground and flicking an unresponsive lighter to a petrol-soaked rag in a bottle. “Oh, my God!” she stormed seizing him by his ponytail and hauling him to his feet. "What d'you think you're doing, you stupid bugger?" She smacked the lighter out of his hand. “My house is next door and my kids're in there.”

“Sod off,” he said furiously, twisting to get away from her.

She hit him across the head with her other hand and swung him round in front of his friends. “Are you crazy or what?” she demanded. "Where d'you get these bottles from? Whose fucking idea was it?" She jerked Kevin's head back. "It had to be yours and Wesley's, Kevin. You're the only ones stupid enough."

“Why d'ya always pick on me?” said the boy sullenly, his face flushed with alcohol. “Everyone's doin' it.”

Melanie cast about wildly to see if he was telling the truth. "The whole place'll go up and who's going to put it out? You reckon those idiots on the barricades'll let fire engines through?"

“It was your idea, Mel,” he said, yanking his hair from her hand and backing away from her. "You said you wanted rid of the nonces and that's what you're gonna get." He nodded to Wesley, who was standing behind her, and grinned when the boy tossed over another lighter.

“We're gonna burn 'em for you.”

She lunged at him but was held back by Wesley. "What about Amy? D'you want to burn her, too?"

“She ain't in there.”

“She was seen at the door.”

“It don't make no difference,” he told her carelessly. "Stands to reason, she'll be dead meat under the floorboards by now. That's how it works, Mel. Perverts kill kids. We kill perverts." With another broad grin, he set fire to the rag and shifted the bottle to his right hand in order to lob it towards the shattered window of number 23.

He knew very little about how to construct a Molotov cocktail, and because he was drunk his reactions were slow. He did not know how quickly the neck of a bottle would heat up when the petrol inside it ignited, or how dangerous a Molotov cocktail could be to the thrower.

The principle behind such an incendiary device to keep the petrol contained in the bottle until it shattered against its target was little understood by amateurs. Certainly Kevin had no idea of the value of screw-top lids or tying the rag round the neck of the bottle rather than stuffing it inside.