The Burning (32 page)

Rob

In theory, it was all very exciting to be involved in an undercover operation aimed at trapping a highly dangerous, prolific serial killer. In reality, I could think of a few things I’d have preferred to be doing than standing in the rain in the middle of the night, catching pneumonia. Things like cleaning out a blocked drain bare-handed. Watching snooker on a black-and-white TV. Being doorstepped by a Jehovah’s Witness early on a Saturday morning while suffering from the mother and father of all hangovers. The surveillance op was a pain in the arse to begin with; having the
Sunday Courier
turn up didn’t help. And the weather was the last straw. I was soaking wet already from wandering around South London in the dark, which didn’t improve my mood as I came up behind the silver Ford. The only thing to be said for the rain was that it made me almost invisible – and the reporter was looking in the wrong direction anyway. I knocked on the passenger window twice, hard, and had the pleasure of watching him jump out of his skin. I held up my warrant card where he could see it and pointed to the ground until he got the message and the window slid down.

‘Good evening, sir. Can I help you with anything?’

My tone must have confused him. I could see the wheels turning inside his skull as he tried to think of a reason for being there. ‘No – er – I was just looking for an address. Trying to get my sat nav to work, you know. It keeps sending me back here.’

‘Where are you trying to get to?’

He opened his mouth and closed it again, flummoxed. I could see his problem. It had to be somewhere in this general area, which he evidently didn’t know particularly well, but it couldn’t be anywhere too well known or he wouldn’t need sat nav to get there. Before he could come up with anything specific, I shook my head at him.

‘Don’t bother. We know you’re a journalist, and we know what you’re doing here.’

His shoulders sagged for a moment. As I had expected, it didn’t take him long to rally. ‘Since you know all that, you know I have a right to be here.’

‘Yeah, but here is in the middle of an operation which you might be about to compromise. I’m going to ask you nicely. Please leave.’

‘It’s a public street. You can’t make me go.’

‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Out of the car.’

What?’

‘Step out of the car, please. And if you have your driver’s licence on you or any other form of photo ID, I’d like to see it.’

Why?’

‘It’s the middle of the night and you’re driving around on your own. You haven’t given me a valid reason to be here. I suspect you may be in possession of stolen goods or prohibited items so I’m going to search you and your car under Section 1 of PACE.’ It was straight out of the textbook on stopping and searching, totally legal, and entirely invented as an excuse to annoy him. And he knew that as well as I did.

‘You can’t do that.’

‘If you obstruct me, you will get nicked.’ I said it like I meant it. The only sound was the rain tapping on the roof of the car.

‘For fuck’s sake.’ With extreme bad grace he opened the door of the car and got out, fumbling in his pocket. ‘NUJ card. Driver’s licence. What else do you want?’

I walked around to where he was standing and moved him back two paces so he had his back to the wall, away from his car. ‘Stay there, sir.’

In the light of my torch, the cards showed me a younger version of Spencer Maxwell, crack reporter. The bearded, paunchy reality was less impressive. He had an address in Hackney and I raised my eyebrows. ‘On your way home, were you? Decided to take a detour?’

‘I was doing some research. I wanted some colour for a piece I’m writing about the murders. The atmosphere here.’ He waved a hand vaguely, indicating the street and park. His hair was beginning to flatten against his head and the shoulders of his suit were dark. Another couple of minutes and he would be nicely soggy, I calculated, and went on searching the car in a cursory manner while he rambled on about it being ridiculous and harassment and how he wanted my name and number. I might have done a PNC check to round off his evening, but an experimental poke at my radio confirmed it was totally dead. I settled for checking under the seats and in the boot, staring without comment at the pile of junk he had in there until he felt moved to explain that he wasn’t the only one who used the car; he hadn’t even known that stuff was there.

‘Not stolen, is it?’

He looked wildly at the rat’s nest I had uncovered: plastic bags, a tow rope, a leaking container of engine oil, empty water bottles, crisp packets, sandwich wrappers and a few old, torn copies of the
Courier
. ‘N-no. I mean – it’s rubbish, isn’t it?’

‘So it would appear.’ I shut the boot and turned, shining the torch in his eyes. ‘Just thought it was odd you were claiming you didn’t know it was there, that’s all.’

It wasn’t that odd. Everyone lies to the police, all the time, about nothing. I wasn’t going to arrest him for being a slob, but he still couldn’t own up to having made the mess himself. I held up my hand to stop him from gibbering at me any more.

‘Right. I’ve marked your card, Mr Maxwell. Now fuck off, or I’ll nick you for obstruction, and you can spend the rest of the night in the drunk tank at the station. I’m sure your paper’s expensive lawyer will get you out in the morning.’

He looked a bit sick at the thought. ‘No need for that. I’ll go.’

‘See you do,’ I started to say, but I was distracted by a noise to my left. I looked around to see Sam running –
running
– down the side of the park, panting into his radio.

‘Sam!’ He didn’t hear me, or didn’t look around anyway, just kept going. I threw a wild look in the direction of the surveillance car to see if Maeve or the UC were there but both front doors were hanging open, the inside light shining on empty seats, and all I could think was why the fuck did something have to happen while I was tied up with the world’s most decrepit cub reporter?

Late to the party, I didn’t hang about. The shortest route to the recreation ground happened to be over the railings so that’s how I went, vaulting over them. I hit the ground running, aware now of scuffling somewhere up ahead of me, of a repeated dull thud that sounded very much like something heavy hitting muscle and bone. I cut through the playground and ducked between two trees that raked at me with low branches before I burst into open space and saw a scene out of a nightmare. Propped up against the wall of the toilet block like a broken doll, her head lolling to one side, was the UC officer who’d been assigned to Maeve’s team. On the ground nearby was a huddled shape that was, I saw with horror, Maeve herself. And standing over her was a figure in bike leathers. And as I watched, he drew back for a kick that was aimed squarely at her head.

I had been running flat out but now I dredged up an extra turn of speed from somewhere and hurled myself across the grass. It would have been more sensible to hold off until backup arrived, but I’d seen torches bobbing through the trees on the other side so I wasn’t going to be on my own for long. Besides, it was an emergency. I was too late, of course. His foot connected with Maeve with sickening force a split second before I cannoned into him, shoving him off-balance and falling on top of him. Training and technique had gone out the window; the only thought in my mind was my intention to leather the shit out of him. I got in a few good short punches to his face and cracked him across the nose with my elbow, but then he started to fight back. He was strong, and desperate, and I found myself in trouble almost immediately, even though I had no compunction about fighting dirty. After a couple of blows to the head that made my ears ring and stars flare in the dark, I stuck my thumb in his eye, then pushed my forearm hard against his throat. I’d have thought that was enough to knock the fight out of anyone, but the next thing I knew, his teeth were trying to meet through my arm. At long last I heard the welcome sound of an extendable baton being racked open behind me, accompanied by wheezing breaths. I had just enough time to be relieved that backup had arrived before I felt a searing pain in my leg.

‘Not me, Sam, for fuck’s sake. Hit him!’

Second time around, Sam did a bit better, and when two uniformed officers ran up to join in, even my opponent had to admit it was all over. I rolled away when he was face down, hands cuffed behind him, being sat on by the larger of the two PCs. I lay on my back for a couple of seconds, catching my breath, eyes closed against the rain. The most serious damage started to make itself felt. I sat up abruptly. If I felt bad, Maeve had to be worse off. I had been too focused on fighting to think about her – now she was all I could think about.

It could only have been a couple of minutes since the alarm had been raised but two ambulance crews had already responded. One paramedic was kneeling beside the undercover officer, talking to her as he checked her over. Three were gathered around Maeve, who was still on the ground, not moving. There was blood smeared on their gloves, and a spreading pool of it under her head. They were bending over her so I couldn’t see her face, or really gauge how badly she was hurt. But she was limp as they handled her, and it came to me with a shock that I hadn’t heard her make a sound so far. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. If she was seriously hurt…

They had lifted her onto a stretcher. Forgetting about the suspect, I got up to go and check on her, only to be blocked by one of the paramedics. She was short, square and motherly, and she would not get out of my way.

‘Do you mind?’ I said after the third attempt to sidestep her failed. ‘I want to check on my colleague.’

‘Plenty of time for that at the hospital after you’ve been treated.’

‘I’m not going to hospital.’ I was trying to see over her shoulder. They were loading the stretcher into one of the ambulances.

‘You most certainly are. You’ve got a gash in your eyebrow that needs stitching and I don’t know what else.’ She tutted. ‘What have you done to yourself?’

I looked where she was pointing and saw blood dripping down my fingers. I flexed them and pulled a face as pain darted up my arm. ‘Nothing much.’

‘Come on. I’m not taking no for an answer. At least let me assess you properly.’

‘Look, I promise I’ll go to hospital and get checked out, OK? Just tell me where they’re taking Maeve and I’ll go there.’ I watched the ambulance take off down one of the paths in the direction of the gate, blue lights whirling.

‘Your colleague?’ She looked at me shrewdly. ‘I’ll find out for you. But a promise is a promise. You’ll go and get yourself checked over in A&E.’

‘Scout’s honour,’ I said, holding up three fingers.

‘You were never a scout.’ She walked away, shaking her head. As it happened, she was right about that. But I would have made good on my promise if Judd hadn’t turned up two seconds later, wild-eyed and quivering with excitement.

‘Where is he?’

‘Who? Oh.’ I had almost forgotten. ‘Over there.’

‘Have you searched him? Checked his ID? Run him through the PNC?’

‘I’ve been a bit busy,’ I said mildly. ‘Maybe one of the others has had the chance.’

‘Did anyone even caution him?’ I let silence be his answer. ‘Christ, do I have to do everything myself? Come with me.’

Why, do you need someone to hold your hand?
I didn’t say it out loud; I wasn’t stupid enough to think that Judd would forget or forgive a smart remark even on the best day of his miserable career.

The suspect was standing by now with one uniform on either side of him, his head hanging down. The officers were holding his arms up a little so he had to bend forward to relieve the pressure on his shoulders. Nothing like being in a bit of pain to make you compliant.

When we got close enough, I could see that he was shaking. It was cold, though the rain had slackened off a bit. But as he glanced up briefly, then looked back down at the ground, I realised that he was much younger than the psychologist’s profiles had suggested our killer would be – and that he was absolutely terrified.

Judd pushed forward self-importantly. ‘Who is the arresting officer?’

Silence. I winced. They had been waiting for me to do the formalities, I guessed, though I hadn’t thought of it. I didn’t exactly see it as an honour, even if I was the first officer to lay hands on him. Still, time to step up. ‘I suppose I am.’

‘You suppose?’ He swung around. ‘Are you telling me you haven’t arrested him? And neither has anyone else?’

I shrugged painfully. ‘They might have. Like I said, I was a bit busy.’

‘Do it now, and do it properly.’ Judd was speaking through gritted teeth. I’d never seen anyone do that in real life. As ever, being around the inspector was an education.

‘Why don’t you do it, Tom.’ The superintendent’s low voice came from behind me. ‘I think it would be appropriate. You don’t mind, do you, Rob?’

‘Not at all.’

Godley clapped me on the shoulder and I managed not to flinch. ‘Good lad. Tom, he’s all yours. Get it right.’

Judd would do it all by the book. He’d even get a kick out of the paperwork. I didn’t stay to watch, judging that my work there was done. As I walked away, the motherly paramedic saw me and called, ‘St Luke’s.’

I gave her the thumbs up and she frowned at me. ‘Make sure you go.’

‘I will.’ I wouldn’t necessarily stop to get treated, but I’d go.

I spotted Sam sitting on a bench a few yards away, hunched over, a picture of misery, and I went over to him.

‘Thanks for hitting me. What did I ever do to you? I thought you were going to gas me next. Another time, hit the serial killer.’

‘Sorry.’ He looked up. ‘Do you think she’s going to be all right?’

I didn’t need to ask who he meant. ‘I hope so.’ Then, needing to say it to someone else, ‘It looked nasty.’

‘I shouldn’t have taken so long to catch up. She was out of the car and halfway down the street before I even noticed there was anything wrong.’

He was right, but there was no point in making him feel worse than he did already. ‘You’re not exactly built for the four-minute mile, are you? And Maeve has an unfair advantage with those legs.’ He didn’t smile. ‘Look, she’s a fighter. She’ll be OK.’ I sounded a hell of a lot more confident than I felt.