Human Frailty, a Detective Mike Bridger novel (35 page)

Beth
’
s Daniel was Daniel Crompton, the
counselor from the university and the back stagehand for Jonas's
play. They had been having a relationship of sorts. He had made
advances on her after she started going to him for guidance at the
beginning of the semester. Bridger had pictured the innocuous male
he had met at the theatre less than 24 hours ago. Their
relationship seemed to be that of mutual benefit, both getting what
they needed from the unlikely tryst.

Beth had also told them of Daniel's plan to
humiliate Marion for some unknown reason. The reason was all too
clear to them now. For her part, Beth seemed very surprised to hear
of what Daniel was actually up to. She had fought his corner well,
defending his reputation as someone who cared, someone who could
not hurt anyone. Daniel's interest in Marion did not really concern
her though, it only cleared the way for her to step up and take the
leading role she had been craving.

Bridger had watched her demeanor change in
front of his eyes as she spoke of her aspirations. All thoughts of
Marion buried in herself aspiring dialogue. Her eyes were alive
again, her face showed emotion that had not been there only a few
moments ago. Then as fast as her mood changed it descended back
into the black abyss that she lived in.

She had no understanding of what Marion was
going through, or what danger she was in with Daniel. A great
advertisement for the 'Me' generation, he had thought.

Bridger looked over at Gary; he was a solid
capable sort of guy. Bridger felt embarrassed that he had let
himself down so badly in front of him and the other members of the
armed offender squad.

I am not so different from that girl back at
the police station, he thought.

He felt beholden to so many people because
of his actions. A sick, uncertain feeling started to churn in the
pit of his stomach. Two people were in serious danger right now
because of the actions of different people in the past. He felt
sick that his own actions were going to be responsible for the
outcome, good or bad. What ever happened now he could not change
what had happened previously, but he would not be able to look back
on this with any sort of pride. He had not acted the way that
society dictated; he had not followed the rules of life.

"Mike the lads are in place, we just need
the go ahead from you".

Gary's voice was a hushed whisper in the
back of Bridger's mind. It was a call to action that he should not
ignore. He wanted to stay where he was though, it was safe here
inside his head, and he did not have to make serious decisions that
affected people's lives.

"Mike, snap out of it mate, we need to get
in there". Gary knocked Bridger's knee with his black gloved hand
in the cramped interior of the van. "Listen Mike,” he said quietly,
placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’re all human, we all have our
shortcomings. People are quick to judge others but everyone has
things hidden in the closet that they would rather stay hidden.
Some people's line is a bit further away than most and once they
cross it they are into unknown territory. This guy is so far over
that line, its unknown territory for all of us. No one can tell you
how to react. This investigation is on your shoulders, we know
that, it is bound to put a lot of stress on anyone. You need to
step up to the plate now Mike. You need to make the call".

Bridger stood up, cracked his neck from side
to side, cartilage popping as he did so.

"Let's do it".

Bridger and Gary stepped out of the van and
into the chilled night air of the Leith Valley, their breath
mingling to create a small fog. Gary put his black Kevlar helmet on
his head and secured the strap. Bridger looked further back up the
street; he could see an unmarked police car in the gloom, engine
on, exhaust curling lazily into the air. Grant and Becky would be
sitting there with the heater on full blast.

Brian and John would be further back,
knowing Brian there would be no heater on in that car; engine noise
gives you away at nighttime he would always say.

Up ahead he could see the outline of
Daniel's house, with its windows smashed earlier by an angry young
girl. It was the only point of reference they had for Daniel, even
though Steve Kirkland had sworn the house was empty when he
checked.

No offence to Steve, thought Bridger, but he
would rather find out for himself. Steve would not have been
expecting to find the macabre scene they hoped to uncover. He
probably just called out inside the house, got no answer and so
left it at that.

The surveillance team had been watching the
address as they were preparing back at the central Police Station.
Stan Walton had confirmed that nobody had either arrived or left
the address in the time they were there.

Bridger listened to Gary as he spoke quietly
over his radio, checking for the final time that every point of
exit was covered. The affirmative replies sounding in his
earpiece.

The squad members were invisible in the
darkened streets, the black jumpsuits they were wearing helping
with their nighttime urban camouflage. He knew they were there, he
had watched them deploy. If the puppet master was keeping to his
timeframe, then they had two hours until 9pm. Two hours to find and
dismantle his little stage show. All going well it should be over
in the next ten minutes.

Bridger looked around at the darkened
windows of the neighboring houses, the curtains drawn shut against
the cold night. Most of these people would only read about what
went on in the morning
’
s paper. That is if they bothered to read it
at all. For the second time that day, he hoped that his hunch was
right.

"Send them in", he said.

Thirty seconds later a there was a flash
followed by a dull thud which echoed down the street, as the usual
greeting was thrown through the door of the target address.
Bridger's night vision had adjusted and he could just about pick up
a flurry of shadows moving towards the door. He was less than one
hundred meters from the address and could make out the shouts of
'Armed Police' carrying on the slight breeze.

Once the house was secure, they would
move in and make the arrest. An ambulance, placed on standby, would
be ready to administer whatever aid Marion and the unknown male
required. Bridger was edging closer to the address in anticipation.
He could hear the first team call,
'Room
Clear'
, through his earpiece, as they moved through
the front door. He was about twenty meters from the door, still
hidden from view in the shadows. More shouts of
'Room Clea
r' were coming through the
radio.

It is not that big a house, Bridger thought.
They have to be in there.

'House
Clear'
, was the last call he heard before a blinding
white light erupted from the doorway, the displacement of air
caused by the sound wave nearly knocking him of his
feet.

There was a moment of eerie silence after
the initial noise of the explosion, and then reality rushed back in
to meet them. Urgent calls came over the airwaves. Teams were
checking in as they found themselves in the shocked aftermath but
otherwise okay. Bridger watched in stunned silence for a few
seconds as small licks of flame started creeping up the front door
frame.

"There was an explosion in
the hallway, team two are down. They’re unresponsive".
The voice on the radio was shaky but calm.
"Attempting to evacuate them now".

Bridger watched as other members of the
squad dragged out two black clad figures. Their arms holding the
Kevlar plated vests of the victims, making them look just like the
dummies used in the police fitness tests all around the country.
The two apparently lifeless members were dragged through the
increasing flames, out onto the front porch and down onto the
grass. They threw their rifles onto the ground as the men began
working franticly on their fallen teammates. Gary Stone had run
over towards the mess of bodies.

"Get their vests off, make sure they are
breathing", Gary called.

"I've got a pulse", yelled someone.

"Jamie's got a pulse to", called
another.

"Right carry out a quick assessment
and get them into the recovery position", Gary ordered, not a trace
of panic in his voice. He looked over at his second in command, a
stocky, confident looking man called Ken Moore. "What the hell
happened in there?
”

"I think it was rigged boss, some sort of
man trap. We had just finished clearing the house; I switched on
the hall light just inside the door then the gas bottles exploded
on the sidewall. The only thing that saved Jamie and Paul was the
structural wall between them and the bottles. Most of the force
would have been directed outwards".

Bridger cut in, "What about that
target or Marion, any sign of them? Could you have missed
something?
”

Ken Moore looked back at Bridger, barely
hiding the contempt in his eyes. "Not this again, we cleared that
house properly, they are not in there Sergeant. If you want to
check be my guest".

"Look sorry, I didn't mean that you hadn't
done your job properly". Bridger felt chastised again. "I just
think that if he would go to the trouble of setting a man trap, he
must be protecting something".

"Well whatever he is hiding, it bloody well
isn't in that house", Ken spat out, before turning back towards his
fallen friends.

"The house is clear Mike," Gary said, hand
on his shoulder. "I trust my lads. We are on the right track
though. The explosion proves he has something to hide".

"The problem is he's not hiding it here
though, is he Gary". Bridger looked at his watch. Time was ticking
by.

Daniel Maine watched the bank of screens in
front of him. He could see clearly, as the black clad police
officers had entered his house. The same as he had watched that
silly girl Beth break all of his windows. Technology was a
wonderful thing. A few cameras hooked up to his Internet connection
was all it took. He had also prepared some delaying tactics for
just this type of occasion. Although he did not actually think, he
would need them. Maybe he had misjudged Beth's resolve and
instability.

The bright light of the explosion had
disabled his view and now the screens were blank, probably
destroying the cameras in the blast. Never mind he had seen enough.
It would soon be over.

"
It seems we
have visitors mother. I have given them a surprise gift to welcome
them to my home. It should keep them busy for a while. Time enough
for us to help father with his valediction... And your redemption.
Although we may need to bring the ceremony, forward a bit. We could
be pushed for time.

I wish father had given us more time mother,
if he had then we would not be here. He pushed us all along at
whatever pace he wanted. Time meant nothing to him, the faster the
better, all the way to the end.

You know after all that he put us through
you would think that father would have more to say for himself. I
guess you cannot have everything in this life, I should have known
that.

Do you know who our
visitors are mother? Do you? Of course you don't, you
are
a little too tied up in your own life to worry
about such things. It is the police, mother, anger and
self-indulgence in a uniform. Who do you think they are here for
mother, you or me? On the other hand, maybe the both of us deserve
rescuing. What do you think?

One thing I can be certain of mother is that
each and every one of them are here for their own selfish reasons,
all lying to themselves about helping people and all that rubbish.
Their uniforms give them delusions of grandeur, self-importance, a
false sense of self. The only thing the uniform has brought me
mother is misery.

Father's uniform was the same as theirs,
mother, only his always smelt strongly of cigarettes. Whenever I am
around a smoker, it reminds me. You probably think I was too young
to remember, but I remember that fact very well. His stinking
uniform represented hurt and misery and it has stayed with me all
these years.

That is why they all deserve to be hurt,
just as they hurt me.

Listen to me mother; I'm ranting a bit now,
I'm sure you should have something to say about my behavior".

Marion was beyond caring what the shadow was
spouting, his delusions were of no interest to her. She did not
want to have the last thing she heard to be the ranting of a mad
man so she was trying to block out his ugly monologue.

She had heard a deep rumble from
somewhere out in the darkness, like a roll of thunder. She wondered
if it was stormy outside, she loved the wild unpredictability of
that kind of weather. It was the awesome power of Mother Nature on
show in all its glory. She thought of her own mother, at home in
front of the fire, she would be nervous, because she hated storms.
Marion remembered sadly how she would flinch at the flash of
lightening, then wait, not breathing, for the thunder to come
rolling in. Like a little girl in need of comfort, her mother used
to come and sit next to her. Marion remembered the small grateful
smile she received when she would put her arm around her
mother
’
s
shoulders, the same smile she had been seeing all her
life.

What would her mother do without her? She
did not want to die.

She had not heard him when he mentioned the
police; she did not know the end was getting closer as her captor
hurried the proceedings along.