Impeding Justice Page 2

  Pete's unmistakable shape lay on the nearest stainless-steel table, covered by a green sheet that stopped just short of the floor.

  This is it. Hi, Pete, I’m here.

  Her hand shook as she folded back the sheet, but her dread gave way to relief. The fear and pain etched on his face in his final moments had gone. Pete’s chubby features now looked angelic, pure and peaceful.

  Jacques lingered behind her. 'Are you okay?'

  He squeezed her quaking shoulder. She welcomed the support he conveyed with the gesture. Her head flopped, and when she raised her shoulder her cheek rested on the back of his hand, 'I'll survive, Jacques.’

  The moment paused and held comfort.

  ‘What happens now? When will his body be released for the funeral?'

  He didn’t remove his hand to give his answer. She sensed he enjoyed the sensation of the contact as much as she did.

  'We need to carry out a few more tests; a couple more hours should do it. The funeral home will collect him around five o’clock. Do you know what his preference was? Burial or cremation, I mean?'

  'Now there’s a question. It’s something we never really discussed. The subject never cropped up, why would it? We regarded ourselves as indestructible.'

  The mood had changed, she turned to face him, 'I guess, knowing Pete, he’d prefer cremation. He once helped in the garden at home and squirmed when a long worm appeared.’

  'I think you’re right. Cremation appeals to me more and more nowadays. I take it the Police Force will give him a good send off?'

  'They’d better or I’ll have something to say about it. Look, I have to go, Tom’s waiting outside for me.' Her cheeks flushed as she mentioned her husband's name.

  Facing Pete’s body again, she kissed his icy forehead, then whispered in his ear. 'So long, sweetheart thanks for all the times you took care of me, sorry I wasn't able to repay the favour.'

  As they left the post mortem suite Jacques spoke. 'Lorne, you must not blame yourself for what happened. He has had several near misses in the past and going in with a jacket not properly done up...'

  'I know. I’m mad at everything at the moment, Pete for flaunting the rules, myself for not challenging the screwed up system we work in, but then, if we’d have had guns we still couldn’t have done much. We went into a trap.’

  'And, your one-woman campaign stands very little chance after the hoo-hah of the De Menezes case. I think it’s a long time in the future for this country to think of arming its police. Now, go home, try and get some rest. Let me know when the funeral is arranged, I would like to attend, and Cherie…'

  She had stripped off her protective suit and was about to slip her shoes on, but something in his tone caused her to search out his ocean blue eyes.

  'I was going to say, you know where I am if you need a shoulder to cry on.' He tapped his shoulder and gave her a cheeky wink.

  After stepping into her shoes she walked over to him, kissed his cheek, then embraced him in a bear hug, 'Thanks, Jacques, I’m so lucky to have you as a friend.'

  Without waiting for a response she walked towards the exit, afraid of what the consequences might be if she stayed around him any longer. She did allow herself one peep back before closing the door behind her. The dejection outlined in the slope of his shoulders tugged at her heart, but what could she do?

  Chapter Three.

  ‘Shit!' She’d driven straight through a red light! The sound of the indignant papping of the driver’s horn behind her still rang in her ears as she turned into the Police Station. She needed to pull herself together.

  And now she had to run the gauntlet of the sympathetic looks and the meaningless condolences.

  Shutting the door on the reception and outer offices, Lorne closed her eyes and thanked God things hadn’t got out of hand. She’d coped well with the nods and patronising smiles. Pulling her shoulders back and keeping her head held high had shown them she hadn’t come in to work so soon, for that.

  Her agenda to solve Pete’s murder took priority over everything.

  Now to make that clear to her immediate colleagues and team-mates in the Major Crime Squad; to this end she entered the room with determination.

  She could have touched the silence. It clawed at her. An obvious rehearsed spokesman, Sam O’Connor stood and cleared his throat, ‘Ma-am, we’re sorry…'

  Lorne lifted her hand. Disappointed in their reaction she spoke harsher than she intended, ‘Right, take it as read, we’re all damn sorry and no one more so than me. But, what I want from you is not shitty speeches, it’s action. Pete’s gone, and while there is a breath left in my body he will not be forgotten, but now we nail the bastard who took him out. I want one hundred and fifty percent from you all. Our focus has to be on tracking the Unicorn. When we've caught him, then we grieve, right? In fact if I catch anyone doing so before that I’ll suspend them on the spot. Have I made myself clear?’

  No one answered. She turned her back on them. She had one more milestone to tackle.

  Opening her office door Lorne hesitated for a moment. The air held a tinge of Pete’s Cool Water, aftershave. They’d shared this cardboard box of a room for two years because of refurbishments taking place in another section of the station.

  ‘Free to speak honestly, ma-am?’

  Detective Sergeant John Fox’s voice from behind forced her to step into her office.

  ‘Yes, come in and take a seat. Is there something troubling you, John?’

  ‘Um… A little harsh out there weren’t you, ma’am?’

  He sagged rather than sat as if the reprimand had taken all his strength. She hoped he had more balls than that considering he’d have to step up into Pete’s shoes for a while.

  ‘It needed to be said, John. I’ve seen better teams than mine crumble when a colleague has been lost in the line of duty. It’s better to acknowledge how upset everyone is and to quickly move on rather than let things fester. Pete would have wanted that too. You of all people should understand that!’

  ‘You’re right as usual, gov. Look the gang are meeting down at the White Swan after work to have a commemorative drink for old Pete. You’re welcome to join us.’

  ‘We’ll see. Let’s get down to business shall we? What have you uncovered so far?’

  He took his notebook from the top pocket of his black jacket, the same black jacket he’d worn every single day in the six years she’d known him.

  ‘Right, this guy should be calling himself 'The Magician' the amount of tricks he's got tucked up his sleeve. It looks like he deliberately lured you and Pete into that alley.’

  ‘That fits the bastard’s mentality, and a conclusion I had come to. Okay, give me what you’ve got.’

  ‘On the roof, SOCO found around thirty or so spent shells from a machine gun, rigged up to rotate at regular intervals, firing off three to four shots per second. If they hadn’t stopped it when they did, it would have fired several hundred and kept you pinned down longer.’

  ‘So, he set off the machine gun to cover his escape! The crafty little shit. But, judging by the amount of rounds fired, he couldn’t have got away much before the response got there. If they had been that little bit quicker… What else, any idea how he escaped?’

  ‘There were prints found on the weapon, but we know from past experience they’ll turn out to be forged, so I don’t hold out much hope on that front. It seems most likely he made his getaway down the fire escape.’

  ‘Where does it lead?’

  ‘Market Street. I’ve got a couple of guys looking through the CCTV footage now.’

  ‘Good work. But, there is one thing puzzling me, how did he know we had sent for back-up? Oh, I know it's natural we would, but he wouldn’t know we had it at the ready. The noise from the helicopter could have been anything; they're always hanging about over London. Anyway, John, keep me informed as things develop.’

  ‘Will do, ma-am. By the way the DCI popped in earlier, said he wanted a word with you as soon as yo
u arrived.’

  John rose as he spoke. Lorne’s conscience prodded her. He looked weary. She may not want sympathy herself, but she had a duty of care towards her team. Bugger! She’d mucked up good and proper…

  ‘John, how are you holding up?’

  ‘Fair to middling, ma’am, Pete was a good man, one of the best. I’m gonna miss the old bugger. Been buddies for years, in the same class at Hendon we were.’

  Tears glistened in his eyes.

  ‘I know, John. It’s going to be hard for all of us over the next few weeks. Hey, I’m going to be relying on your support.’

  Taking him in her arms came natural to her. They all went back a long way.

  The shrill ring of the phone on her desk parted them.

  ‘DI Simpkins...’

  ‘Ah, Lorne. How nice of you to answer my call personally…’

  ‘You, Bastard!’ She covered the mouth-piece and indicated to John to trace the call.'

  ‘One step too far, Lorne. You only have yourself to blame for that. You had enough warnings to back off and yet you chose to ignore them. Tut tut! Perhaps you’ll be more vigilant next time and I’m confident there will be a next time, dear Inspector.’

  His laughter sickened her, ‘Just get on with it, why are you ringing?’

  ‘Am I keeping you from something, Lorne?’

  ‘Yes.’ She snapped back.

  "Very well, I’ve had my fun, now let’s get down to business. I want £20 million. No, let me correct that, I’m demanding £20 million in cash is deposited on the roof of Great Ormond Street Hospital within the next twenty-four hours...'

  ‘Twenty million… Is this a joke?’

  ‘Remember, remember, the fifth of November… Only I, dear Lorne, am not your Guy Fawkes. I won’t fail.'

  ‘That's ludicrous. You wouldn't dare.’

  ‘Doubt me at your peril, dear Lady. In twenty-three hours and fifty nine minutes, oh, and thirty seconds time, London will see the biggest firework display ever. Speak later, dear…

  The phone clicked then, monotonously purred in her ear…

  Lorne stood as if encased in ice… The Houses of Parliament!

  Chapter Four.

  'Is he in?'

  Lorne anticipated the secretary’s move to bar her way and marched towards the Chief Inspector’s office.

  'Yes. But, he's in a meeting.'

  'With whom?'

  'Superintendent Greenfall. And, I have strict instructions they are not to be disturbed!'

  The secretary lived up to her nickname, Wily Fox, as by the time she'd said this her sly, hop, skip and jump, had her positioned in front of the DCI’s office before Lorne could reach it.

  'Get out of my way!' Tugging Wily Fox’s cardigan achieved nothing other than a resounding bump louder than a knock on the DCI’s door.

  If Lorne had been a lesser woman she would have given in under the look Wily Fox gave her. Instead she tried a shove. The resistance of the woman had them locked tight against the door.

  'I have urgent news for the…'

  The words became lost in a mouthful of shirt as a gaping hole sucked them both in. Mortified, Lorne could do nothing. A few wobbly moments later the Chief regained his balance.

  'What in God’s name…'

  It took a moment to disentangle herself and Wily Fox.

  'Sorry, Chief. I’ve just received a call from the Unicorn and thought you should know about it straight away.'

  'Well, if it is that important you had better come in. Thank you for trying, Margaret. Perhaps you can arrange some kind of refreshments?'

  Wily fox’s protest stayed locked behind tight lips. Another deadly look and the door slammed behind her.

  'Lorne.' Superintendent Greenfall acknowledged her with a curt nod. His balding head shone like a beacon beneath the office lights, his face a picture of disgust at her abrupt intrusion.

  'Sir.'

  'Take a seat, Lorne.' The Chief said.

  She sat down next to Superintendent Greenfall, the man she hated the most on the Met.

  'Before we find out what made you barge in here, I would like to offer my condolences for the loss of your partner. Pete was a fine man…One of the best.'

  'He was, Chief. He’ll be hard to replace.' Anxious to keep her composure she dare not stay on the subject long, 'About the Unicorn…'

  'Of course, Inspector. Surprise us.' The Superintendent’s interruption had Roberts looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

  'He’s holding the Houses of Parliament to ransom.'

  'That’s absurd!' Greenfall’s body shifted uncomfortably next to Lorne as he said this.

  Detective Chief Inspector Roberts ignored him, 'Go on.'

  'He’s demanding £20 million in the next twenty-four hours… Actually, make that twenty-three hours and fifty minutes. He warned; unless we meet his ultimatum he will blow up the Houses of Parliament. I think we should take him seriously, sir. It’s not in his genes to make idle threats.'

  'I see…'

  The DCI sounded calm, but his pen raced over his pad.

  'Well, I don’t.' Greenfall snapped.

  'With respect, sir…'

  'Lorne!'

  The DCI’s voice held a warning. Lorne moderated her tone, 'With respect, sir, havoc is this man’s middle name. I should know. I’ve been on his tail for the past eight years. Only a fool would take what this man says, lightly!'

  'The Inspector has a point, sir. She knows this man better than anyone else on the Met.'

  'Is that right, Chief Inspector? Then, answer me this. Why is it, that DI Simpkins has been unable to capture him? After eight bloody years! The fact is this terrorist has avoided capture for that long. The Inspector here has let him slip through her fingers.'

  Lorne’s pulse thumped. How dare he question her detecting skills.

  'Have you any idea what type of person Unicorn is, sir?'

  'I’ve read the reports, Inspector…'

  'You may have read the reports, but…'

  'That’s enough, Lorne…' Roberts jumped in.

  'I will not stand for insubordination, Chief Inspector!'

  'I’m sorry, sir…' Roberts began to say.

  'I didn’t mean from you, man, but from your Inspector, here!'

  A smile threatened, but somehow Lorne managed to suppress it. She found it priceless watching the Superintendent, huffing, and puffing like a raging bull in the ring.

  'Perhaps you can make an exception in light of what happened to her partner. This isn’t Lorne’s normal behaviour…'

  'Sir, I…'

  'Leave it, Lorne…'

  'No, let her speak. Let’s hear what the wise Inspector has to say.'

  The Superintendent’s smugness tortured her. Temptation to wipe the self-righteous grin off his face had her holding her fists so tight her finger nails dug into her palms. She decided to let the reference to Pete pass.

  'The fact is, sir, The Unicorn has resources at his disposal which leave us standing. He changes his appearance more times than I change my underwear. He clicks his fingers and helicopters, boats or even, private jets seem to appear in minutes. He has guns the Russian army would be proud of. Whereas, I am forbidden to even look at a bloody gun, let alone put my hands on one. Even protective vests are in short supply due to the cut backs. If they hadn’t been, my partner wouldn’t be laying in the morgue at this very moment, because the one he had didn’t bloody fit!'

  'It’s your duty to society to arrest this man at the earliest opportunity.'

  This is why she hated Greenfall, the pompous bastard hadn’t even acknowledged her difficulties.

  'How? We thought we had him cornered yesterday, but he'd set us up. What I need, sir is special dispensation to carry a gun. I have the necessary training. I gained these skills in my own time with a force instructor.'

  'Out of the question and besides, you had no right to the training. The ranges are for selected staff. I demand to know the name of your instructor.'


  Shit! 'I’m…er…I can’t remember his name, sir.'

  'Actually, sir, I think Lorne has a valid point and I’m personally asking you to consider her request. I’ll take full responsibility, as her senior.'

  Lorne held her breath. She could see Superintendent Greenfall mulling it over in his mind.

  'Okay, I agree. But, the commissioner will need to give the all clear. What is your next step, Inspector?'

  'My team are looking through the CCTV footage from yesterday’s incident. Our priority is to get an ID on this guy. We have clips of him from other scenes and the forensic guys are trying to use facial recognition software to make a match. Unfortunately, to our knowledge he’s only been spotted on camera at three other locations.'

  The Superintendent stood up and headed towards the door. He threw a needless order over his shoulder as he left the room. 'Keep me informed of any developments.'

  'Yes, sir.'

  Lorne spoke in unison with the Chief.

  The instant the door shut behind him Roberts demanded, 'What the fuck was all that about, Lorne?'

  'He’s a prick, Chief. We both know that.'

  'That’s as may be, but you've got to curb that temper of yours or he’ll have you off the force quicker than you can say: "I’ve got tickets for the policeman’s ball, want to be my partner?" '

  'Similar to the way he forced my father off the force, you mean?'

  'Let it go woman. God knows, your father has.'

  'Has he? How the hell would you know? When was the last time you visited him? It’s pitiful the way he spends every day sitting in his conservatory staring out at his garden. A garden he used to tend with pride, which now resembles a miniature jungle in the middle of suburbia.'

  'Lorne, your father left the force two years ago, and you know as well as I do, his decline has only happened since your mother died.'

  He came around his desk, sat in the seat the Superintendent had vacated and placed both his hands on top of hers.

  The show of concern affected her in a way she couldn’t deal with. Tears trailed down her face.