Crack Down

Chapter 25

I couldn’t believe how blue the sea was. It glittered under Mediterranean sunlight like one of those crystal beds that New Age fanatics have lying around their living-rooms. I propped myself up on one elbow and watched the lumbering half-tracked harvesters further down the beach, gathering and refining the spice that had caused the planet wars that had ravaged Dune for a generation. Suddenly, the sand shifted, only feet away from my leg, and the head of a huge, carnivorous sandworm reared up. The ferocious jaws opened, to reveal Moustache’s face.

I swam up the levels to consciousness, passing from dreaming to awareness via that state where you know that you’ve just been dreaming, but you’re not quite awake. My head felt like an oversized block of stone, though there didn’t seem to be as much pain as I remembered enduring before the accident. The accident!

My eyes snapped open. I was in a small room, dimly illumined by lights glowing through frosted glass from the corridor outside. I tried to lift my head, but it was too much of an effort. Instead, I shifted my feet to check I was still functioning below the neck. You put your left leg in, you put your left leg out…Yeah, the lower limbs all did the hokey cokey. I breathed deeply. There was a bit of pain from my ribs and chest, but nothing felt broken, which was pretty miraculous given that I hadn’t been wearing my seat belt when I crashed the van. I raised my right arm, which seemed fine, apart from the puffy bruises that ran round hand and wrist like designer bangles by the Marquis de Sade. My left arm had no watch on it, only grazes from shoulder to wrist, and a drip running into the back of my hand, which was more than a little disconcerting.

I moved my head to one side, trying to see if there was a clock anywhere. To my surprise, Della was fast asleep on a plastic bucket chair next to my bed. I felt mildly outraged. Someone had tried to kill me tonight, and she should have been down the police station, going through the hoops of the Police and Criminal Evidence Act to make sure Crazy Eddy spent the foreseeable future living at the taxpayers’ expense in a room with a bucket to piss in and bars on the windows. Then a horrible thought struck me. What if Eddy Roberts had managed to give the plod a body swerve? What if Della was Greater Manchester Police’s idea of a bodyguard? What if Crazy Eddy was still out there with his pump-action double-barrelled shotgun packed with cartridges with my name on?

I opened my mouth. My brain said, ‘Della?’ but my mouth was too dry to play along. All I managed was a sort of strangulated croak.

She must only have been catnapping, for her eyes opened at once. Momentarily, she had the startled look of someone who has lost track of where she is. Then her conscious mind checked in and she sat bolt upright, staring at me with undisguised relief. ‘Kate?’ she said softly. ‘Can you hear me?’

I tried to nod, but it wasn’t in my repertoire yet. I waved my arm in the direction of the locker, where there was a jug of water and a bottle of orange juice. ‘Drink?’ I mouthed.

Della jumped up and poured a glass of water. She leaned over me and tipped the glass to my lips. Most of the water went down my cheeks and on to the pillow, but I didn’t care. All I was concerned about was getting some in my parched mouth. The water was warm and stale and blissful. I didn’t want to swallow, just hold it there in my mouth. Della gave me a concerned, anxious look as I waved her away.

Finally, I let the water trickle down my throat. ‘Thanks,’ I said in something approaching my normal voice. ‘What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be down the cells beating a confession out of that mad bastard with the shotgun?’ She gave me an odd look. ‘You did catch him, didn’t you,’ I demanded, panic gripping my chest and turning my stomach over.

‘We caught him,’ Della said grimly. ‘The officers from Longsight got slightly over-enthusiastic with their truncheons when they realized he had a gun. Your assailant has a broken collar bone and a shattered wrist, you’ll be sorry to hear.’

‘Is that why you’re here and not down the nick taking a statement?’ I asked.

Della looked awkward. ‘Actually, no,’ she said, shifting in her seat. ‘Kate, this isn’t the same day,’ she said in a rush.

I frowned. ‘Not the same day? What do you mean?’

‘You called me in the early hours of Wednesday morning.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s now four forty-seven a.m. on Thursday. You’ve been out cold for over a day.’

‘Over a day?’ I echoed foolishly. I couldn’t take it in. I had no sense of having lost a day of my life. I felt like I’d woken up from a strange dream after a brief spell of unconsciousness. Did people feel like this when they came out of comas that lasted weeks or years? No wonder they felt dislocated. I’d only lost a day and I felt like I’d stumbled into an episode of the Twilight Zone. I managed a twisted grin. ‘You know it’s a bad case when the only way you can catch up on your sleep is to get unconscious.’

‘I’m glad you can joke about it. We were starting to get really worried. The doctors gave you a brain scan and said there seemed to be no damage, but they couldn’t say how long you’d be out.’

‘Does Richard know?’ I asked.

‘I discussed it with Bill and Ruth, and we decided not to tell him before this morning’s hearing. It seemed the best solution.’

‘Yeah,’ I sighed. ‘He couldn’t have done anything, and they wouldn’t have let him out unless I was really at death’s door. It would only have had him climbing the walls. The last thing he needs right now is to be charged with assaulting a police officer.’ The only good thing I could see about having lost an entire day was that I wouldn’t have to wait so long to see Richard again. With luck, he’d be out on bail by lunch time.

‘How are you feeling?’ Della asked.

‘Took your time asking, didn’t you?’ I teased.

Della looked hurt for a few seconds, before it sank in that I was at the wind-up. ‘Listen, Brannigan,’ she said, pretending to be stern, ‘I don’t have to be here. I’m not on duty. I’m here out of the goodness of my heart, you know.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, meaning it. ‘I’m impressed. I’ve never known you go this long without a cigarette voluntarily. Actually, I don’t feel too bad. A bit woozy, that’s all. And my head’s throbbing. And now I’m awake, they’ll probably give me something for that. At least I know I’ll be out of here in a few days. How’s Crazy Eddy handling it, being locked up in a cell?’

Della stiffened to attention again. Her face shifted from concerned friend to alert copper. ‘You know who this guy is?’

‘Why? Don’t you?’

She looked faintly embarrassed. ‘As it happens, we don’t. He won’t say a word. He had nothing on him that would identify him, and his prints don’t seem to be on record. Who is he?’

‘His name’s Eddy Roberts. He’s an ex-Para. He got invalided out a couple of years after the Falklands war because he was out to lunch and not coming back. He’s supposedly been working all over the globe as a mercenary. He’s been back in Manchester since Easter. Apparently working as a hired gun. Among other things.’ I stopped, suddenly exhausted.

‘Kate, I know you’ve been through it, and I’m sorry to have to keep on at you. This isn’t the time to take a formal statement, but this is really important information. How do you know all this? Have you been chasing him?’ She had the good grace to look ashamed of herself.

I gave one of those laughs that turns into a cough halfway through. ‘No, Della. He was chasing me, remember. The reason I know so much about Crazy Eddy is because his wife and kids told me. Eddy Roberts used to be married to Cherie Roberts. The woman he blew away outside the post office on Tuesday.’

That was revelation enough to shatter Della’s official cool. ‘You mean, that wasn’t a professional hit job? It was a domestic?’

‘It was a hit job all right. Cherie had found out about the child porn racket. And I expect she threatened that she’d spill the beans to me. The fact that Eddy used to be married to her was, I suspect, totally irrelevant. If anything, it probably made it more exciting.’

‘And that’s how you got involved? Through Cherie?’

I was growing wearier by the second, but I forced a smile. ‘I thought you weren’t taking a statement?’ Della started to apologize but I waved it aside. ‘Only joking, honest. No, I got involved because Davy came home stoned out of his mind.’ I gave Della the thirty-second version of events around Oliver Tambo Close. I’d just got to the bit about interviewing Wayne and Daniel when we were interrupted.

She was only in her mid-twenties, but the night sister was fierce. ‘Is the patient awake?’ she demanded. ‘Chief Inspector, I gave you strict instructions to ring for a nurse if the patient showed signs of coming round. You’ve got no right to interrogate her on my ward without my permission.’

‘It’s my fault,’ I butted in. ‘I wanted to know what had happened.’

The sister busied herself with my pulse. ‘You’re in no fit state to discuss it,’ she said firmly. ‘Chief Inspector, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You can come back after Mr Rocco has seen the patient and if he decides she’s fit to be interviewed.’

Della got to her feet meekly and winked. ‘See you soon, Kate,’ she said.

‘I hope so,’ I sighed. ‘Oh, Della — before you go…Sister, can I ask the officer one question?’

The sister smiled, unexpectedly. ‘If you must. But keep it short,’ she added, frowning pointedly at Della.

‘The van. What sort of state is it in?’

‘Amazingly enough, it’s just superficial damage. You’ll be relieved to hear it’s not a write-off, according to Bill last night.’ She edged towards the door. ‘Thanks for your help, Kate.’

I watched her retreating back while the sister bustled about doing sisterly things to my reflexes. She asked me who the Prime Minister was, and I told her about the pain, so she gave me some pills once she’d finished her neurological observations. The last thing I remembered as I drifted into sleep was being grateful that I hadn’t written off the Little Rascal. It was only seven months since another homicidal nutter had sent my last company car to the great scrap yard in the sky. Any more of that, and the insurance premiums were going to be higher than the price of a new set of wheels.

The next time my eyes flickered open, I thought I was hallucinating. There, sitting on the uncomfortable chair, brown hair flopping across his forehead, eyes intent behind his glasses, was Richard. Seeing me waken, a slow, joyful smile spread across his face. I’d never seen a more welcome sight. ‘Hiya, Brannigan,’ he said. ‘You’re not fit to be let out on your own, are you?’ He stretched out an arm and gripped my right hand tightly. The bruises sent out a protest bulletin on all frequencies, but I didn’t care.

‘You’re a fine one to talk,’ I said. ‘This is all your fault anyway.’

‘I had a funny feeling it was going to be,’ he said, grinning. ‘I see the blow to your head hasn’t improved your grasp of logic. They tell me you’ve not got brain damage, but I told the consultant different. He said there was nothing they could do about the state you were in before the accident. So I’m just going to have to live with it.’

‘Did you get bail, or was it Group 4 that escorted you to court this morning?’

‘The police withdrew their objections to bail, and they let me go without conditions. Ruth says they’ll drop charges once they’ve nailed the real guys in the black hats and cleared me. I came straight here, you know. I didn’t even go home for fresh clothes and a joint. You did a great job, Brannigan.’ He released my hand and dropped to his knees, hands clenched in supplication. ‘How can I ever repay you?’

‘I’ll think of something,’ I said. ‘You can start by giving me a kiss.’

He jumped to his feet. ‘I’ll have to close my eyes,’ he said, mock-seriously.

‘I look that bad?’ I demanded, suddenly discovering a new anxiety. I put my hand up to my head, discovering a thick turban of bandage that extended halfway down my forehead.

‘Two lovely black eyes, two lovely black eyes,’ he sang. ‘And a whopping great bruise on your jaw. Linda Evangelista won’t be worrying about you taking her place on the catwalk for a while.’ Before I could say anything more, he stooped over me and kissed me gently on the lips.

‘Call that a kiss?’ I snarled.

It got better after that.

When he finally came up for air, he said softly, ‘I love you, Brannigan.’

‘Don’t go getting soft on me,’ I murmured. ‘You’re only saying that because I got you out of jail.’

‘And you took care of my kid. I’ve heard all about what went on. Bill came to court this morning and told me how you’d ended up in here.’

‘Speaking of which,’ I interrupted before he got hopelessly sentimental in the way that only cynical journos can. ‘Where is Davy?’

‘Alexis took the day off to look after him. They’ve gone off to some fun palace this morning. She told Bill she’d meet me here…’ he glanced at his watch. ‘In about ten minutes, actually.’

‘God, you’d better not let him in here if I’m as much of a sight as you seem to think I am. He’ll have nightmares for weeks.’

‘Brannigan, you’re talking about a kid who thought Dracula was a fun movie. I don’t think a couple of bruises and a heavy-duty headscarf are going to freak him out. He knows you were in a car crash. The only thing I’m worried about is what he’s going to tell his mother.’