The Scent of Death

Chapter 28

Whelan reacted first. ‘Clear the area!’ he yelled, signalling furiously as he pushed past me. ‘Everybody get back! Now!’

Police officers and SOCOs seemed to be running everywhere, scrambling for cover behind cars and trailers. Still holding the detonator aloft, the contractor grabbed hold of the young police-woman by the arm. When the grey-haired PC made as if to intervene, Jessop thrust the detonator at him, thumb poised.

‘Go on, then! You think I give a fuck?’

‘Do as he says!’ Whelan snapped.

The older PC reluctantly backed off. Next to me Ward was speaking hurriedly into her phone, her voice low as she requested support. At the bottom of the steps, Jessop shifted his grip on the PC, yanking her in front of him and pinning her to his chest with an arm crooked tight around her throat. The contractor’s clothes were filthy. A grey stubble covered the loose skin of his jowls like a dirty frost and his eyes were yellowed and bloodshot.

Whelan spoke to me quietly. ‘Move away, Dr Hunter.’

The hospital’s mausoleum-like entrance behind me was the nearest cover and the only option that wouldn’t involve going past Jessop. Looking into its dark maw, I hesitated, loath to leave the two of them.

‘Now!’ Whelan snapped.

Jessop’s voice rang out. ‘He’s staying there! Nobody’s going anywhere!’

Still holding the police officer around her neck, with his free hand he pulled open the top of the holdall. From where I stood I could see it was full of waxy slabs tangled with plastic-coated wires. A bottle of what looked like vodka lay among them, sloshing slightly with the movement.

‘There’s enough RDX in here to blow everybody to fuck!’ He raised the detonator. ‘Anybody comes near me, I’ll fucking press it! I mean it!’

‘All right, Keith, we believe you.’ Ward stepped out from beside me, lowering her phone. ‘Now you’ve got our attention, supposing you tell us what you want?’

She spoke conversationally, sounding almost bored. It seemed to unnerve him. As Jessop struggled for a response, the young PC he was holding spoke in a choked voice.

‘I’m sorry, ma’am, he said if we didn’t do as he said, he’d—’

Jessop tightened his arm around her neck. ‘Shut the fuck up!’

‘All right, Keith,’ Ward said smoothly. ‘Why don’t you put the detonator down—’

‘Don’t tell me what to do!’ Jessop glared at her, his mouth working. ‘Nobody tells me what to do. Not any more.’

Ward raised her hands. ‘Nobody’s trying to. You’re in charge, so why don’t you tell me what it is you want?’

‘What I want?’ Jessop barked out a laugh. ‘What I fucking want is my life back! Can you give me that?’

‘I can help, but you’ve got to—’

‘Do I look stupid?’ The jaundiced eyes seemed to radiate heat as he glared at Ward. ‘My picture’s all over the fucking news! Everything’s gone, and for what? Some stupid little bitch who’d no right to be here!’

‘Her name was Christine Gorski.’ There was an edge in Ward’s voice. ‘She had a life too. And a family. You saw them, remember?’

‘So what? It’s not my fault their daughter was a junkie!’

‘She didn’t deserve to die, Keith. Any more than Adam Oduya or—’

‘I don’t give a fuck about them!’ Jessop yelled. ‘What about me? Who cares about me? No one!’

‘That isn’t true, Keith. I’m sorry if—’

‘You’re sorry? You think I give a fuck about an apology?’

‘Then talk to me. Tell me what you want.’

‘I want to do what I should have done months ago!’ He jerked his chin behind her, towards St Jude’s. ‘I’m going to blow that fucking place up!’

‘That won’t change anything, Keith.’

‘Maybe not, but I’ll die happy.’

‘Will you?’

A breeze stirred the contractor’s greasy hair as he stared at her, suddenly uncertain. Then he cocked his head, listening. A moment later I heard it myself.

The wail of sirens, growing louder.

‘That your friends?’ Jessop sneered. ‘Thought you’d keep me talking until some fucker blows my brains out, is that it?’

‘No, wait—’

But Jessop was already climbing the steps, forcing the female PC to walk ahead of him. When Whelan moved towards them, the contractor raised the detonator.

‘Get the fuck out of the way.’

‘I can’t do that. Come on, man, think what you’re doing.’

‘I said, fucking move! You think I won’t press this?’

Jessop brandished the detonator, his knuckles white. The sirens were much closer. I saw the older PC from the gate cordon start to edge nearer, but then the contractor’s head whipped towards him.

‘Fuck off! Now!’

‘Do as he says,’ Ward said quickly. She put a hand on Whelan’s arm. ‘Nobody do anything stupid.’

‘I’ll count to three,’ Jessop spat. ‘One!’

‘No one’s going to stop you from going inside. Just let her go,’ Ward told him. ‘Look at her, Keith. She’s not much more than a girl. Do you really want to hurt her?’

‘Two!’

The young PC had shut her eyes. She was half the size of Jessop. I could see her trembling but her mouth was clamped and determined. Ward seemed to have run out of words. As the wail of sirens drew closer, Jessop took a breath and raised the detonator.

‘Take me,’ I said.

The words tumbled out spontaneously. My voice sounded unnaturally loud. Whelan and Ward spoke at the same time.

‘For Christ’s sake…!’

‘Stay out of this, David…!’

But I had Jessop’s attention. I spread my hands, showing him they were empty. ‘You want a hostage, take me instead.’

He looked at me, his arm still crooked around the PC’s neck. Then his mouth turned down. ‘Get out of the way.’

‘Let her go. I’ll come with you,’ Ward said before I could respond.

Whelan turned to her, horrified. ‘No way! That’s—!’

‘In another thirty seconds you’re going to be in the crosshairs of about a dozen police marksmen,’ Ward told Jessop, ignoring her DI. ‘I can’t let you take one of my officers in there, but I’ll go with you instead. Or you can blow us all up now because, the way my day is going, I really don’t care very much. Your call.’

‘Ma’am, you don’t have to do this,’ Whelan implored.

She ignored him, staring at Jessop. ‘Fifteen seconds.’

The sirens sounded inside the gates now. The contractor gave a nod. ‘If you try anything…’

‘Jesus, man, I’m six months pregnant, what am I going to do?’ Beneath the show, I could hear the fear in Ward’s voice.

‘Sharon, don’t…’ I began, but she was already going towards where the contractor held the young policewoman.

‘I can’t let you do this,’ Whelan said, moving to stop her.

‘Stand aside, Jack. That’s an order.’

Her voice cracked out, and Whelan faltered. Moving quickly, Jessop shoved away the PC and grabbed hold of Ward instead.

‘Inside. Now,’ he said, steering her up the steps.

‘For God’s sake, man, she’s pregnant!’ Whelan shouted, anguished.

So was Christine Gorski, I thought, numbly. Jessop backed through the shadowed doorway, pulling Ward in after him. Her bravado had gone now, and her face was pale and scared.

Then Jessop pushed the big doors shut behind them and they were swallowed up by St Jude’s.

The next hour was one of the worst I can remember. The second Jessop and Ward had disappeared inside the hospital, Whelan began yelling instructions. As frenzied activity erupted all around, I stood on the steps, dazed and ignored. Dark vans screeched up with lights flashing, disgorging armed officers in body armour. The air was full of sirens, all of them growing louder, as though drawn towards the epicentre of St Jude’s.

Whelan hauled me roughly down the steps. ‘What the fuck were you thinking?’

He lifted a hand, as though wanting to hit me. Then, with a disgusted shake of his head, he turned and hurried away.

I was ushered away from the main building, forced into a run until I was behind the police trailers, where a police officer with a gun demanded to know who I was. Then I was instructed to stay there. More police vans and cars were arriving all the time, joined now by fire engines and ambulances. As the crackle of emergency radios sounded from all around, above the trailer I could make out the roof of the old hospital, a stark black silhouette against the grey sky.

Jessop hadn’t blown it up yet.

Not knowing what else to do, I sat on the steps of the trailer. When I looked at my watch it didn’t seem possible that less than half an hour had passed since I’d arrived at St Jude’s.

‘How you doing?’

It was the young PC from the gates, who Ward had replaced as hostage. She held out a bottle of water.

‘Thought you could use this.’

I could have used something a lot stronger, but I accepted it gratefully. She hesitated.

‘I wanted to thank you. You know, for back there.’

I just nodded. There was a sick, hollow feeling inside me that swallowed up anything I might have said. The PC looked past me, towards the hospital.

‘She’d have done it anyway. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I should have stopped him.’

‘How? You did what you could,’ I told her.

‘Doesn’t stop you feeling shit, though, does it?’

No, it didn’t. After she’d gone I took a drink of water. It was more to give myself something to do than from thirst, but I realized I was parched. As I recapped it, brisk footsteps alerted me to someone’s approach. It was Ainsley. The commander stopped in front of me and gave me a cold stare as I got to my feet.

‘We’ll talk in the trailer.’

He trotted up the steps, leaving me to follow. Empty plastic chairs stood inside, arranged around an empty table.

‘Any news?’ I asked.

Ainsley seemed to consider whether or not to answer. ‘No. We’re still trying to make contact.’

‘Is anyone else inside?’ The cadaver dog search had ended for the day, and I’d seen one search team outside, but there could still be others in the basement.

He breathed out through his nose, nostrils flaring. ‘Apart from my SIO and a suspect with a bagful of explosives, you mean? Thankfully not. The search was winding down so the hospital was empty.’

He turned a chair around and sat down. After a second I did the same. The china-blue eyes were hard to meet, but I didn’t look away.

‘So, Dr Hunter, would you mind telling me why you’re here instead of at the mortuary?’

It wasn’t the question I’d expected him to lead with. ‘I’d finished there, so I came to help with the cadaver dog search.’

He stared at me without speaking. Hanging between us was our last conversation, his instruction to report my findings to him as well as to Ward. We both knew I’d flouted it, but I didn’t care.

‘Tell me what happened with Jessop,’ he said at last.

I did, trying to dredge up every detail from my memory. Ainsley would have already spoken to Whelan before coming to see me, but he was all business now, wanting to hear anything I might add.

‘Describe what you saw in the bag,’ he said, interrupting.

‘Rectangular blocks of what looked like dirty white putty, with wires stuck in them. Jessop called it RDX.’

Ainsley breathed out. ‘It’s an explosive used in demolitions. Can you say how many blocks you saw?’

‘Not really, but the holdall was medium sized and looked heavy. About half full. And there was a bottle of vodka in there as well.’

It was worth mentioning in case no one else had seen it: alcohol and explosives were a bad mix. Ainsley nodded, as though I’d confirmed what he’d already heard.

‘How would you describe Jessop’s state of mind?’

I wasn’t qualified to judge that, but Ainsley wasn’t asking for a professional opinion. ‘Angry, aggrieved. Self-pitying. He didn’t show remorse over Christine Gorski or Adam Oduya.’

‘Would you say his threats were a bluff?’

My mouth was dry. ‘No.’

The doll’s eyes regarded me. ‘Do you recall our conversation this morning about interfering in police operations?’

I took a breath and let it out. ‘Yes.’

‘Then would you mind telling me what you thought you were doing, offering yourself as a hostage to a hostile suspect armed with a bag of explosives?’

I’d been tormenting myself with the same question, asking if Ward would have volunteered if I hadn’t done it first. But then Jessop would have taken the young policewoman instead, and I’d have been berating myself over not doing anything. There was no easy answer.

I stared back at the hard blue eyes. ‘What would you have done?’

Ainsley’s mouth pursed, but he didn’t reply. He stood up, dusting something invisible from the front of his well-pressed trousers. I’d noticed him do that before: either his eyes were better than mine or it was an unconscious tic.

‘I’ll send someone to take a formal statement, then you can go. I’ll arrange for you to be taken home.’

It hadn’t occurred to me until then, but I’d parked in front of the main hospital building, on the wrong side of the new perimeter. My car wasn’t going anywhere until this was over.

One way or the other.

‘I’ll make my own way,’ I said.

‘As you like.’

He left. I’d managed to stop myself from asking what was going to happen now. He wouldn’t have told me, and I could guess some of it anyway. A police negotiator would try to make contact with Jessop, probably through Ward’s phone, if the contractor’s was switched off. They would try to talk him into giving himself up and releasing Ward. If that failed, the decision would have to be taken whether it was riskier to wait or send in armed officers. In a warren-like building the size of St Jude’s, that would be a last resort.

Especially when Jessop might have rigged it with explosives.

It seemed an age before a plainclothes detective constable arrived to take my statement. I spent the time replaying the events on the hospital’s steps and agonizing over what might be happening while I waited in the empty trailer. My neck and shoulders ached as I sat tensed, waiting for the roar of an explosion.

It didn’t come. Once I’d signed my statement, I was told someone would be along to escort me through the outer police cordon, and then I could go. When no one had appeared after another fifteen minutes I grew tired of staring at the trailer’s scuffed walls and went to wait outside. No one took any notice as I opened the door and went down the steps, but there was a palpable tension, a sense of expectancy in the air. It had been late afternoon when I’d arrived and the light had fallen while I’d been inside the trailer. Floodlights had been set up in front of St Jude’s, bathing the austere face of the building as though it were a giant stage set.

Jessop’s van still stood at the bottom of the steps, too close to the hospital for the police to approach. Its door hung open exactly as he’d left it, a physical reminder of what had happened.

‘Dr Hunter.’

I turned to find Whelan approaching. I braced myself for more criticism.

But all his energy seemed to have left him. The DI looked to have aged five years in the last few hours, and I realized he probably felt almost as useless as I did. This was a tactical operation now. He’d have to take a back seat himself while other people took over.

‘I wasn’t sure you were still here,’ he said. ‘Look, about earlier. Maybe I was—’

The ground suddenly shook with a deep, solid bump that felt as though my heart had stuttered. An instant later it was followed by a huge, percussive THUMP that rocked the trailer next to us. I staggered into Whelan as the entire front of St Jude’s seemed to shiver, and then the boards covering its windows were blown off. A sheet of timber caromed into Jessop’s van, almost tipping it over before it was swallowed by a billowing cloud.

The din of car alarms filled the air as shattered brick and stone peppered down with the sound of hail on a tin roof. All around people were climbing to their feet, staring in shock at the hospital.

Whelan leaned weakly against the side of the trailer. ‘Oh no…’

Beneath a billowing veil of dust, over half of St Jude’s had ceased to exist.