20

 

Judge Matheson peered over his glasses at Miles Kingsman. “Is that it, Mr. Kingsman?”

“Yes, My Lord. We believe that our witnesses will provide enough evidence that my client did not, in fact, kill Mrs. Luckett because he was nowhere near Headley Cross at the time.”

Niamh stood. “Can my learned friend prove this? Does he have a bus or train ticket? CCTV pictures from a petrol station? A boarding pass for a plane? Perhaps he wrote the threatening letter to Mrs. Luckett himself.”

“As I tried to explain yesterday, my client did not write that letter.”

“Mrs. Harkin and Mr. Kingsman,” Judge Matheson said. “This is not a tennis match to score points off each other with. There is a simple enough way to prove one way or the other if Mr. Jankowski wrote the letter, Mr. Kingsman. If your client is willing to do a handwriting test?”

“Anything to prove his innocence in this matter.”

Judge Matheson nodded. “And we’ll need a control to compare it with. Perhaps you’d oblige, Mr. Kingsman? I’ll read a line from the letter in front of me and you both write it down.”

Miles hesitated.

“You have a problem with that?”

“Am I being accused of something, Your Honor? Surely in the interest of fairness, Mrs. Harkin and Mr. Croft should write it out as well?”

“Sounds good. Mrs. Harkin, Mr. Croft, if that’s all right with you. I’d like you all to use identical pens. The clerk will give you one. Along with a sheet of paper.”

Niamh nodded. “I have no objection to this, at all.” She took the pen and paper from the clerk, seeing Toby do the same out of the corner of her eye.

Miles muttered under his breath as he pulled the lid off the pen. “What do you want us to write?”

“Tell anyone what you saw and you will die,” Judge Matheson said. “And then sign your names at the bottom.”

Niamh did as she was told. She stood quietly as Miles and Toby wrote the same thing. She shivered as the all too familiar slanted words appeared on the sheet of paper. She glanced up, catching his eye. Fear struck her to the core.

She raised her eyes to Patrick in the gallery, trying to silently communicate with him. The room closed around her as her throat tightened, making breathing hard. She reached for her glass of water, but Toby’s hand covered hers, stopping the movement.

“Mrs. Harkin? Your paper, please?”

“Sure.” Her hand shook as she held out the paper to the clerk who collected all of them before crossing over to the dock and took a matching sheet from the defendant. The clerk gave them to the judge.

Toby reached over and touched her arm. “I’m going to ask for a recess,” he whispered. “We need to discuss this away from the courtroom.”

“There’s nothing to discuss.” She pulled her arm away, not meeting his gaze, and then straightened. “Can you smell smoke?”

Toby nodded.

Niamh glanced up. “It’s coming from the vent.”

The fire alarm went off.

Judge Matheson stood. “If you’re in the public gallery, please follow the court official to the nearest exit. Court officers, please escort the defendant from the building following evacuation protocol delta.”

Niamh grabbed the files in front of her and shoved them into the briefcase. Then she headed to the door.

Toby ran beside her. “Take the north fire exit,” he yelled, raising his voice over the clanging alarms.

“Why?”

“Because the smoke is coming from the south.”

Niamh stopped running and looked at him. “You seem pretty certain about that.”

“No time to talk,” Miles said from behind her. “Toby is right. The north exit is better.”

“Then I’m going the other way.” Niamh dodged past them and ran back the way she had come. Footsteps and voices echoed behind her. She dodged into a side corridor and ran towards the east exit, the one that lead to the car park.

The smoke seemed thicker the further down the corridor she ran. She reached the fire exit and put a hand on the metal bar. Crying out, she pulled it away. “It’s hot.”

“Of course it’s hot, you stupid woman.” Hatred resounded in the familiar voice. She slowly turned around to see a gun pointed unwaveringly in her direction. “Now I suggest you come this way. Or you’ll die sooner than intended.”

I never dreamed of this scenario when I imagined how it would play out. Lord, please, work this for Your good. If there is any good to come from this.

“Why?” She struggled to get the words past the lump of betrayal in her throat.

“Because you wouldn’t leave things alone. You had to keep pushing and investigating.”

“That’s my job. I thought it was yours. Or did you get a better offer?”

Smoke shot out from under the door, swirling around her feet then retreated as quickly as it appeared.

“The door behind you is going to blow any second. I suggest we move. Now.” He grabbed her arm, forcing her to run with him, back the way they had come.

 

****

 

Jared sighed as the alarms echoed across the fire station. He’d just got the engine clean enough to see his refection in, and now it was going to go and get dirty again.

“Fire at the Crown Court. Both pump and ladder to go. Make pumps twenty-five. Persons reported.”

The call sent a cold wash of fear over him, and he caught his breath.

Oh God, no. Niamh’s there all day today. And twenty-five pumps make it a massive fire.

His fingers shook as he climbed into his gear. He glanced up as Brad touched his shoulder. “I know what you’re going to say, Guv. My wife is there. There is no way I’m staying behind.”

“Then you follow orders. We’re not the only unit responding, and I don’t want you risking anyone. And that includes yourself.”

He jerked his head in response, climbing on board. The sirens rose and fell in their two tone wail as they raced across town.

“Time for more prayers,” Skippy told him.

“I haven’t stopped.”

 

****

 

The blast blew Niamh to the floor. She pulled her arms up to protect herself as a wave of intense heat flashed over the ceiling. A whistling sound accompanied the roar and crackling. Foul smelling smoke clogged the air, replacing what oxygen there was. Once it lessened, she scrambled upright and pushed open the door to her right. She didn’t care what room it was, perhaps she could climb out of the window and get away.

She shut the door behind her, fumbling with the latch, trying to lock it. She had to put distance between her and them.

Thick, choking smoke surrounded her, seeping under the door and pouring through the vents. It was so dark she could hardly see, never mind breathe. Forget the door. Just get out of here.

Falling to her knees, she crawled along the floor, the air slightly better there. Tears blinded her, her throat constricting, coughs wracking her body.

The door behind her opened, allowing more smoke into the enclosed space. “Niamh?”

She tried not to cough, but the smoke filled her lungs, and she had no choice.

“I know you’re in here.” Shuffling steps came up behind her. “Come on, Niamh. Let’s talk about this.”

“Nothing to say, Miles.” She kept crawling. Surely the window was in front of her, but she was so lightheaded she was no longer sure.

“Niamh, I found a way out. Where are you?”

“Where’s Toby?”

“Saving his own skin. We need to get out of here. Come and give me a hand trying to get this door open.”

Why is he doing this when he wants me dead? “Why should I believe you? You’re in this as deep as he is.”

Groping fingers found a wall and door frame.

His voice was husky. “You believe me because you know Toby wrote those notes as well as I do, Niamh. How else could you receive them in the internal mail? And now the judge knows. Toby cut your brakes. He took the files and gave them to me. He set the fires in here. We can send him down.”

“While you plead insanity? Or turn Queen’s evidence?”

Miles’s hand gripped her wrist and hauled her to her feet. “Do you want to get out of here or not? Just help me with this door.”

After a couple of shoves from both of them, the door gave enough for them to roll through. She shut the door behind her. Pushing upright, she staggered to the window. It had bars across it. She looked around for a chair. She was back in the courtroom.

Flames crackled from the bench and around the doors. She was trapped. Picking up the fire extinguisher, she raised it and aimed it at the window. It just fitted between the bars.

Nothing happened. Of course, reinforced glass. It won’t break and besides I’m on the fifth floor. Far too high to jump.

She jumped as a hand grabbed her, pulling her away.

“No, you don’t.” Miles dragged her to the center of the room, pushing her against the central pillar. Yanking her hands behind her back, tying her securely.

“Miles…” Terror filled her. Tears blinded her as the heat from the acrid smell seared her throat. “What…?”

“You’ve heard of Joan of Arc?” he whispered in her ear. “This is Niamh of Headley Cross. Different story. Same end.”