CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

A pall of darkness hung over Carlton Way. Within the gloom, darker shapes moved, semiautomatic weapons held close to their bulletproof vests. They covered the terrain with the silent delicacy of a lion stalking an antelope. As they approached the house, they fanned out, crouching to stay below window sills, then regrouping on either side of front and back doors. Each man fought to keep his breathing soft and steady, heart pounding like a drum calling him to battle. Fingers checked that earpieces were in place. None wanted to miss the clarion call to action when it came. If it came. This was no time for ambivalence. When the word sounded, they’d demonstrate their commitment.

Above their heads, the helicopter hovered, the technicians glued to their thermal-imaging screens. Theirs was the responsibility for making sure the moment was right. Sweat prickled their eyes and dampened their palms as they focused on the two bright shapes. As long as they stayed apart, they could give the go-ahead. But if they merged into one, everyone stayed on pause. There was no room for error here. Not with a life at stake.

Now it was all in the hands of one man. Assistant Chief Constable James Lawson walked down Carlton Way, knowing this was the last throw of the dice.

Alex struggled to make sense of Macfadyen’s words. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“I saw him last night. With the baseball bat. Under the bridge. Hitting your pal. I thought he wanted justice. I thought that’s why he was doing it. But if Lawson killed my mother…”

Alex clung to the one thing he knew to be true. “He killed her, Graham. I’ve got the evidence.” Suddenly the line went dead. Baffled, Alex rounded on Duncan. “What the fuck?” he said.

“Enough,” Duncan said, wrenching the headphones from his head. “I’m not having this broadcast to the world. What the hell is this, Gilbey? Some kind of pact between you and Macfadyen to fit up Lawson?”

“What are you talking about?” Lynn demanded.

“It was Lawson,” Alex said.

“I heard you, Lawson killed Rosie,” Lynn said, gripping his arm.

“Not just Rosie. He killed Ziggy and Mondo, too. And he tried to kill Weird. Macfadyen saw him,” Alex said wonderingly.

“I don’t know what you think you’re playing at…” Duncan began. He was stopped in his tracks by the arrival of Lawson. Pale and sweating, the ACC looked around the group, puzzled and clearly angry.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” he demanded, pointing at Alex and Lynn. He rounded on Karen. “I told you to keep her in the ARU van. Christ, this is a fucking circus. Get them out of here.”

There was a moment of silence, then Karen Pirie said, “Sir, some very serious allegations have been made that we need to talk about…”

“Karen, this is not a fucking debating society. We’re in the middle of a life-and-death operation,” Lawson shouted. He raised his radio to his lips. “Is everyone in position?”

Alex dashed the radio from Lawson’s hand. “Listen to me, you bastard.” Before he could say more, Duncan was grappling him to the ground. Alex wrestled the policeman, dragging his head free to shout, “We know the truth, Lawson. You killed Rosie. And you killed my friends. It’s over. You can’t hide any longer.”

Lawson’s eyes blazed fury. “You’re as mad as he is.” He bent down and retrieved his radio as a couple of uniformed officers dived on top of Alex.

“Sir,” Karen said urgently.

“Not now, Karen,” Lawson exploded. He turned away, his radio to his face again. “Is everyone in position?”

The replies crackled back through his earpiece. Before Lawson could respond, he heard the voice of the technical-support commander in the helicopter. “Hold fire. Target with hostage.”

He hesitated for only a second. “Go,” he said. “Go, go, go.”

 

Macfadyen was ready to face the world. Alex Gilbey’s words had restored his faith in the possibility of justice. He would give the man his daughter back. To ensure safe passage, he’d take a knife with him. One final insurance policy to get him safely out the door and into the arms of the waiting police.

He was halfway to the front door, Davina tucked under his arm like a parcel, a kitchen knife in his free hand, when his world exploded. Doors caved in front and back. Men shouted, a deafening cacophony. Brilliant white flares exploded, blinding him. Instinctively, he pulled the child round to his chest. The hand holding the knife came up toward her. Through the chaos, he thought he heard someone shout, “Drop her.”

He felt paralyzed. He couldn’t let go.

The lead marksman saw a child’s life at risk. He spread his feet, steadied his gun hand and aimed for the head.