The second phase of the search was underway when muffled screams drifted through the walls.
“Quiet!” a SOCO shouted from the basement. The three-storey house fell silent instantly. The screaming became more urgent and it was painfully obvious that it came from a child.
“Where is it coming from?” Alec shouted downstairs.
“It’s coming from my left, guv,” the officer replied. “If you’re on the pavement facing the front door, it’s the house on the right.”
“See if the firemen have taken the door off that house, move it!” Alec ran toward the front door. There were eight sandstone steps leading to the pavement, and he took them two at a time. “Smithy, it’s the house on the right!” The ginger detective was emerging from the house on the left with two armed officers and three detectives in tow. The firemen were in the process of removing corrugated iron sheets from the entrance of the house next door. They heard the commotion coming from number forty-four and saw a stream of officers running toward them.
“What’s going on?”
“Get that door open!” Alec shouted. “The boy is in there, we can hear him screaming.”
The firefighters tore at the metal with renewed vigour, and the sheets buckled and folded beneath the pressure. When the sheets came away, a third fireman thrust a battering ram into the lock. The wood was rotten and riddled with worm, and it splintered under the third blow.
“Armed unit first!” Alec shouted, and four officers disappeared into the deserted terrace. The detectives were seconds behind them.
“Armed police!” Their voices boomed through the empty house. “Armed police!” Another warning echoed from the first floor. “Armed police! First floor clear!”
The ceilings in the hallway were hanging down in places. Scrap metal thieves had demolished long sections of the walls in order to get at the electric cable and copper pipes. The building smelled of damp and must.
“Guv!” A voice shouted from the hallway. “Get everyone out, now!” The armed officer shouted an urgent warning. “Bomb!”
Alec reached the officer and peered into the basement stairwell. On the top of the stairs was an oil drum. Strapped to it was a timing device. “I think there is a motion sensor fitted to the top, guv,” the officer babbled. “When I stepped onto the stairs, the timer activated.” The red LCD display was counting down. There were forty seconds left. The child’s desperate screams spurred them into action.
“Get everyone out of here now, guv.” The armed officer pushed Alec out of the stairwell. “I’ll get the child, do it now!” He slammed the door closed behind him and he left Alec frozen in the hallway.
“We can’t let him go down alone, guv, let us by!” Alec stepped away from the door and the remaining members of the armed response unit hurtled into the basement. Their lack of concern for their own safety was stunning, and Alec swallowed hard. His responsibility was the safety of every detective, scientist and emergency services officer at the scene, and he had to clear the building.
“You heard them!” he hollered, “Everyone out now!”
“Kisha is down there, guv,” Smithy hesitated.
“I hope so, Smithy.” Alec shoved him toward the door. “If she is, then they’ll bring her back to us, now move!”
They cleared the building with about thirty seconds to go. The firemen illuminated the interior of the building with the spotlight on the tender, but the beam was lost just yards inside the house. Alec heard frantic shouting from inside. The voices were lost in the building, and they couldn’t make out what was being said. A gunshot rang out, and Alec flinched at the noise. They were helpless. A second shot quickly followed the first. A third and then a fourth shot sounded much closer. The cellar door burst open and dark shadows flitted about in the hallway. A figure took on a human shape as it entered the beam of light. He was carrying the body of a woman and butterflies took off in Alec’s stomach. “Please let her be alive,” he prayed. As the officer reached the steps, the woman cried out in pain. Her attacker had crushed her jaw and the broken bones were jingling together as the officer ran full tilt. It was odd to want to hear a woman scream, but on this occasion, they welcomed the sound. The officer jumped the stone steps in a single bound and he landed in a heap on the pavement. Two of his colleagues followed on his heels. “Get down, get down!” One of them shouted as he jumped for the top step.
“The cellar is full of oil drums!” The third officer added as he joined his comrades in a heap on the tarmac. Firemen and detectives dragged them away from the building. There was a few seconds of anxious wait as they realised that the fourth armed officer had not returned, and they fell silent as they waited for the incendiary bombs to explode. “Get her to the ambulance!” Smithy shouted. “Paramedic!” he hollered at the top of his voice.
The hallway remained still and silent. There was no sign of the fourth officer or the boy. It was getting dangerously close to the timer reaching the end of its journey. As the seconds ticked by, Alec realised that the Victorian terrace had not turned into a fireball. Kisha moaned in agony as the paramedics reached her. Alec ran to where she lay and as he approached, he saw the expression of horror on Smithy’s face. His mouth hung open and a tear ran from his left eye. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and looked at Alec. Alec looked down at her and his brain tried to comprehend what had happened to her once beautiful face.
“What has happened to her?” Smithy shook his head in disbelief. Her injuries caused her face to swell around the eyes and there was a gaping hole in her face, where her nose used to be. A paramedic cut the gag from her face, and her jaw flopped unnaturally to the side. She moaned and her body began to twitch. Congealed blood poured from the corner of her mouth, and the paramedic put his fingers into her mouth the check if her airway was clear. As her head tipped to the side, Alec could see that her ear was nothing more than a flap of skin and cartilage. A dark red hole was all that was left of it.
“She’s been bitten, guv.” The medic glanced up at Alec. “Her breathing is laboured and she’s tacy, we need to ventilate, now!”
“You keep her alive,” Alec said quietly. “Do you hear me?”
“She’s in a bad way.” The medic placed a ventilator over her battered face and squeezed air into her lungs.
“Guv!” Alec looked toward the house. The fourth armed officer was stumbling down the steps unharmed. He was panting and puffing like a steam train.
“What happened in there?” Alec ran to where the armed unit were standing.
“The cellar is knocked through to next door, guv,” the lead officer explained breathlessly. “There’s ten or more oil drums in the second house and they are all wired up to the device on the stairs.”
“It hasn’t gone off,” Alec looked into the house again.
“It isn’t going to, guv,” the officer bent over and put his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “The timer keeps on resetting when it reaches zero and the oil drums aren’t full of petrol. The ones I checked are full of water.”
“Are you sure?” Alec raised his eyebrows.
“Positive,” the officer nodded his head. “We found your detective in the second room, but there was no sign of the kid. I thought I saw the suspect in the next house and I went through a hole in the wall which leads into the next one, I think. It’s black down there, guv so I let off four rounds. There was no way I could make it back through the cellar before the timer ran down, so I took cover in the third house. When I realised it wasn’t going to explode, I checked out the drums. Definitely water.”
“So the cellar in there goes through to the next house?” Alec gestured to the firefighters.
“Yes,” the armed officer nodded. “And there are no devices in there.”
“Open that front door!” Alec shouted. “Smithy!” The ginger detective was standing over Kisha as the medics worked frantically on her. Alec watched them giving her chest compressions. “Smithy!” The medics picked up her limp body and placed her on a stretcher. Two men carried her whilst a third continued to administer ventilation and heart compressions. They carried her toward the back of a waiting ambulance. Smithy waited until the back doors closed before he turned to face Alec. Tears stained his ruddy face. “I don’t think she’s going to make it, guv.”
Will Naylor peered into the reception area and saw Salim’s grandfather waiting there. There was a big man in a black leather jacket stood by the door with his arms folded. “Do you think he’s the minder?” Will asked sarcastically. His mood was dark. Sharon Gould smiled. The entire team was on edge.
“Stereotyping again,” she laughed sullenly. “He might be his lawyer.”
“Do you want to bet twenty quid?”
“Nah,” she shook her head. Her mobile buzzed as they waited for the front desk sergeant to open the door. She looked at the screen. “It’s the governor.”
“Tell him I’m about to interview Oguzhan, will you, and I need to speak to him when he has got half an hour free.” Will didn’t think a two minute conversation was going to cut it. The door clicked as the desk sergeant disengaged the electronic lock which stopped the public from accessing restricted areas. Will opened the door and approached the elderly Turk.
“Mr. Oguzhan?”
“Yes.” The old man looked up, but he didn’t move. His dark brown eyes looked into Will, searching for weakness. Will sensed that this ordinary-looking pensioner was far from ordinary. He kept his silver hair neatly cut, and he wore a dark blue Crombie over a white shirt and blue tie. He looked more like a banker than a mobster. “And you are?”
“Detective Inspector Naylor.” Will didn’t offer a handshake. “Can we just have two minutes?” Will pointed to a door which led to a small interview room. Uniformed officers used it to assess exactly what a member of the public needed to discuss, and with whom, rather than for interviewing suspects formally. The proper interview rooms were downstairs next to the cells. Years of misuse by the disgruntled public had left the paintwork on the door scratched and chipped. The old man wrinkled his nose at the thought of walking through it. He looked to his minder and the big man shook his head in the negative.
“I have come to pick up the bodies of my grandson and his family, nothing more,” Zamir smiled. It was cold smile, almost a snarl. “If you tell me what I need to do to release their bodies, then we can be on our way.” He nodded toward the glass-fronted doors. Will walked to the glass and looked out at the car park. He could smell the minder. The big Turk smelled of Aramis and garlic, more garlic than aftershave. There was a black transit near the front doors. Directly behind them was a second identical van. Inscribed on the sides was the logo of a London funeral parlour. The driver and passenger of the nearest one stared back at Will, expressionless.
“Are they being paid by the hour?” Will nudged the minder with his elbow and laughed. The Turk unfolded his thick arms and glared at Will. “I’m only asking because you have more chance of watching Turkey win the World Cup than you have of taking Salim’s body anywhere.” The minder moved toward Will and then glanced at the old man. Zamir held up his hand to placate his bodyguard. “You should listen to him,” Will patted the minder on the arm patronisingly. The Turk’s face flushed red with anger. “You’re well off your manor now, my friend, and if you so much as fart in the wrong place, I’ll have you banged up before you can blink, understand?”
“Are we going to have a problem, Inspector Naylor?” Zamir asked. He walked to the window and looked out at the funeral van. “You see, in my country we have to bury our dead quickly. It’s a religious thing, you know?” His thin smile crossed his lips again.
“Well, my boss wants you arrested. but I think if we have a quick chat, we can sort things out without solicitors and tape recorders.” Will pointed to the anteroom again. “I haven’t got the time to fuck around, so shall we talk or do you fancy spending the day in the cells? It’s your shout.” Will shrugged.
“Your manners leave something to be desired.” The old man smiled thinly and looked at the river. Dark clouds were rolling in from the Irish Sea and the water looked dark green in the dull light. “How old are you, inspector?” he asked without looking at Will.
“That really is none of your business,” Will smiled and checked his watch. “Make your mind up, Zamir. I don’t have time to waste.”
“You are thirty-five, inspector.” The old man turned to him. “Your birthday is the twenty-sixth of March, nineteen seventy-seven. You were born in Whiston hospital. Your address is Sixteen Palace Mews, Woolton, and you drive a grey BMW. Do I need to go on?” The minder laughed and folded his arms. He titled his head to the side and grinned at Will.
Will walked to the interview room and opened the door. He looked the old man in the eyes and waved his hand toward the opening. “Nice party trick, Zamir, last chance.” The desk sergeant buzzed the electronic lock and Sharon Gould walked into the reception area. She looked shocked and grey with pallor. Her conversation with Alec had been a disturbing one. “My colleague here will either get your pet thug a cup of tea while we chat, or she can summon two officers to arrest you and show you to the cells, which one is it to be?”
“Call our lawyer,” Zamir said to his minder. “He takes two sugars, and you have five minutes, inspector.” He brushed past Will and walked into the small room.
“I’ll be five minutes.” Will turned to Sharon.
“What are you doing, Will?” Sharon hissed and raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“Trust me,” Will smiled. “Is everything okay with the governor?”
“No, it isn’t, far from it!” She shook her head. What he was about to do was completely irregular.
“You can fill me in later. This won’t take long,” Will said briskly. He looked at the minder and smirked. The Turkish minder bent his knees and farted loudly. He smiled at Will and farted again. “You should probably check your underwear. That sounded moist,” Will returned the smile and closed the interview room door.
The old man leaned against the radiator and warmed his hands on it. He looked at the bleak walls and frowned. “Police stations are real shitholes, aren’t they?” His thin smile appeared briefly and then disappeared.
“Most of the people we deal with belong down a toilet.” Will indicated that they should sit down. “Would you prefer to stand?”
“What do I need to do to release my grandson and his family’s bodies, inspector?” the old man said, ignoring Will’s question. “It is imperative that we take them home.”
“Simple.” Will sat down on a metal framed chair. “Release Rose James unharmed, and we will talk to you about their bodies. Until then, they stay in the morgue.”
Zamir’s face darkened and he sighed. He rubbed his hands together and then placed them back onto the radiator. Will noticed the liver spots on them and the thin dark blue veins crisscrossing his wrists. “Rose who? I have no idea what you are talking about, inspector. I want my family’s bodies today.”
“I want a Ferrari and a night out with Cheryl Cole, but it’s not happening. You can make one phone call before I slap the cuffs on you, Zamir. I don’t know why people pussyfoot around you, to be honest. Release Rose James and we’ll ask the coroner when their bodies will be released, but be sure of one thing, we will not be speeding anything up for you.”
“Salim is my only grandchild, you know?” Zamir wagged his index finger at Will. “His children are my only great grand children, and I am too old to be gifted with any more. My family have been murdered and I’m grieving, inspector. When we lose a family member, the grieving cannot properly begin until we have washed the body. It is our religion, you see, an important tradition. You are insulting my family in our time of grief, and everything has a price.”
Will put his hand to his forehead and frowned as if he was in deep thought. “Are you threatening me?” he laughed. “We have a few important traditions ourselves. One is that we don’t kidnap women because all our heroin has been nicked, and another one, which is my particular favourite, is that we lock up scumbag gangsters and drug dealers and we throw away the keys. That’s a good one, eh?”
“I don’t think you have any idea who you are dealing with, Inspector Will Naylor, none at all,” Zamir shook his head. He put his hands into his pockets and looked at Will. “You have no respect.”
“Yes, I do,” Will smiled. “I am dealing with a tired old mobster who lives in the past. Your mob is on the way down, Zamir. Look around you. The Tottenham Boys, the Kurdish Bulldogs, the Bombacilliers and at least three Albanian gangs are crawling up your arse. Personally, I would put the lot of you on a boat and send you back to Turkey. I can’t do that, but I can promise you that I will block the release of Salim’s body and link it to every investigation we have for the next two years. If you don’t play ball, Salim will be nothing more than a puddle before you get him home. Make a call and we will talk to the coroner.”
“You are pushing me, inspector,” Zamir said. “And there is a price to pay for that.”
“Whatever, make the call or we’ll go downstairs and do this formally.” Will pressed the panic bar, which ran around the walls of the room and then opened the door. He looked Zamir in the eyes before he closed it and locked it from the outside. On hearing the alarm, three uniformed officers and Sharon Gould ran into the reception area. The minder grabbed the handle of the interview room door and rattled it anxiously. “You fucking pig, you are as good as dead!” he turned on Will. “Open this door.”
“Arrest him for breach of the peace and making threats to kill,” Will ordered. The officers struggled with the big Turk, but soon had him face down and cuffed on the floor. The air was blue with his protestations. “Give the old man ten minutes, and then arrest him on suspicion of possession with intent to supply. Let me know when his lawyer arrives,” Will said.
“Are you sure about this?” Sharon asked.
“Just do it.” Will straightened his tie and made his way back into the station.