Authors: Angie Smith
As they neared what she assumed to be the sun room
she could feel her heart racing; Sarah’s hand took hold of hers and she
squeezed it. Before they reached the door she paused momentarily to gather her
composure. She then let go of Sarah’s hand and walked briskly into the room.
“Hello Pauline,” Gerrard said quietly. “It’s good to
see you.”
She rushed up to him, bent down and hugged and kissed
him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “for not telling you sooner.”
Tears ran down her face, but she didn’t care. “It
doesn’t matter, you silly man. I’m here now and I’m not leaving your side.”
“I’ll explain everything. I never wanted to hurt you.
You know that, don’t you? When the treatment failed, I didn’t want to have you
going through the pain of losing me for a second time. I’d intended slipping
away quietly.”
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I know.”
Pauline glanced up and spotted Scott hugging Sarah.
He was wiping the tears away from his cheeks. “It’s good to be a family again,”
he said to his sister.
“It sure is,” replied Sarah.
Sunday 10
th
June.
Woods arrived at work at 7.00
a.m. Both he and Barnes were now officially no longer on sick leave. Foster had
vacated the office in the Incident Room, which was again available to Woods,
who had been called earlier by Hooper with an update on Plant’s movements.
Hooper, who was in North Yorkshire coordinating the surveillance, was concerned
Plant’s intention was to make a move on Guilford-Johnston, and Woods agreed to
be at HQ overseeing events as and when they happened. Barnes, Foster and McLean
were already in the Incident Room discussing options when he walked in.
Foster appeared anxious, and came straight across.
“Faulkner-Brown’s on his way; he’s finally spoken to the Chief, who’s agreed he
can see Dudley. He’s pushing to have him de-arrested, but the Chief’s stood
firm and so far there’s no pressure from the higher echelons.”
“Good,” said Woods. “For once things are working in
our favour.”
McLean chipped in. “Aye, Plant’s been watching Guilford-Johnston’s
house all night. As you probably know there are two officers inside with him
and his wife, and two outside guarding the front and rear. Hooper’s guys are
keeping their distance; they’re ready to go in if Plant makes a move.”
“Does he know he’s being monitored?” Woods asked,
suspecting the answer to be in the affirmative.
Foster shook his head and his expression was
dismissive, but Barnes spoke. “Whatever you think about him, he’s not stupid. He’ll
have an idea he’s being watched, and if he’s planning a move, it’ll need a
distraction.”
“You’re right,” Woods said as he rubbed his chin. “We
need to stay focused.”
Foster’s phone buzzed and he immediately answered. After
a few seconds he put his hand over the mouthpiece and looked at Woods. “Faulkner-Brown’s
downstairs; he’s asked to speak to you and I.”
“Right, let’s see what he has to say.”
Foster spoke on the phone, saying they’d be down
shortly. He asked that Faulkner-Brown be shown into one of the interview rooms.
Woods winked at Barnes. “Is it alright if Maria
comes with us?”
Foster hesitated.
“Put it this way, either she joins us, or you deal
with Faulkner-Brown on your own.” Woods was pushing his luck, but his manner
was bold, and he wanted Barnes there to unsettle Faulkner-Brown.
“It’s okay with me,” Foster said, heading to the
door.
The three detectives made their way down to the
ground floor room where Faulkner-Brown was waiting. As they approached, Woods
turned to Barnes. “Don’t wind him up too much; for the first time we have the
upper hand, let’s not lose it.”
She twitched her nose, a sign he recognised as her
acquiescence. Foster opened the door and they went in.
Faulkner-Brown, who was dressed smartly,
clean-shaven and sitting bolt upright, smiled as they entered. “Ah, Miss
Barnes, how nice to meet you.” He stood and offered his right hand.
Barnes wavered, but as he went to sit down Woods
nudged her, and she shook his hand. “Your colleagues are no longer following me
around,” she said, sitting. “Does this mean your interest in me is over?”
He settled back in the chair. “I have an interest in
many things, Miss Barnes, which occasionally upset people. However, at this
moment you’re not my main priority. The fact that Hilton Dudley’s locked up in
here and as yet hasn’t been allowed to make a phone call, is.”
Foster leaned forward. “As far as I’m aware he
hasn’t asked to make a call.”
Faulkner-Brown huffed. “You’ll be aware the Chief
Constable’s agreed I can see him.”
“Yes, I assumed that’s why you are here. What I
don’t understand is why you want to speak to us.”
“I’d like him released into my custody. I’ll take
responsibility and return him to your charge within 72 hours.”
“That won’t be possible,” Foster stated.
“Then I’ll have to make it possible.” He took out
his phone. “I’ll ring HQ; they’ll make the necessary arrangements.”
“Be my guest,” replied Woods, anticipating he was
bluffing.
Faulkner-Brown’s features tightened, “It’s much
easier if we work together, combine our efforts.”
Foster looked at him and sighed. “Dudley is in the
cells charged with the attempted murder of a police officer. It’s our
understanding that your remit is not to assist in Williams’ capture, but to
silence him. Even you must realise that we’ll never be party to that.”
Faulkner-Brown stood. “I’ve heard enough. I’ll have
a word with Dudley now, and I’ll need his mobiles back.” As he spoke he glanced
at Barnes. “There are confidential numbers on them, and I’d rather they didn’t
get into the wrong hands. I’ll let HQ sort out his release. Your lack of
cooperation will be noted and no doubt your Chief Constable will have some
explaining to do.”
“Que sera, sera,” Barnes said.
“I’ll have the mobiles sent down to you,” Woods
agreed.
Faulkner-Brown scowled. “Is Crean alive?” he asked,
almost as though it was an afterthought.
Woods nodded. “But I suspect you already knew that.”
“Hand on heart, we thought he was dead; otherwise
we’d have been. . .”
“Swimming from a deflating dinghy?” Barnes
interrupted.
He smirked and ignored her. He continued to speak to
Woods. “Did you get your information from Crean?”
“Yes.”
“Are you still in contact with him?”
“Of course not,” Woods snapped, as if the question
was unthinkable. “He’d be arrested if I could sort out his extradition. We’ve
already taken the pathologist into custody and seized the money Crean paid
him.”
“Is Crean in contact with Williams?”
“He claims not to be. Says he hasn’t seen him for
months.”
Faulkner-Brown appeared unsettled by the answer.
“I understand Williams once worked for you,” Woods
intentionally probed.
“That’s classified information… but yes, he did.”
“We’ve been told he double-crossed you and worked
for the Russians,” Barnes added.
Faulkner-Brown chuckled. “You don’t know the half of
it. The Russians thought he was a double-agent working for them; in actual fact
he always worked for me. The misinformation he provided here was only part of
what he gave me; bluff, counter-bluff, and double-counter-bluff.”
Barnes shook her head. “You’re attempting to save
face.”
“I’ve no need to save face, as you put it, Miss
Barnes. Williams worked for me. Period.”
“So why were his family murdered?” she retorted.
“I’m going,” Faulkner-Brown mumbled as he rose.
“Don’t think for one second that this is the last you’ll hear from me.” He went
out of the room closing the door with force.
Woods looked at Foster. “What do you think?” he
prompted.
“He’s running out of options. Dudley’s never going
to be released into his custody; he was trying it on.”
“The question remains, are the CPS going to
prosecute?” Barnes asked.
“My guess is they’ll say it’s not in the public
interest.”
“That’s as may be,” Woods affirmed, “but the longer
he’s out of action the more pressure is placed on Faulkner-Brown and Plant.”
Around 9.00 a.m. Woods became
aware of a commotion occurring within the building. He could hear shouting and
running footsteps hurtling down the staircase. He decided to investigate, but
before he could get out of the office his phone rang; it was the duty sergeant
from the front desk, who sounded agitated. “Dudley’s escaped,” he said.
“What?” barked Woods.
“We’re not sure how it happened. The custody
sergeant and two of the PCs were overpowered. They were locked in the cells. All
their security fobs have been taken, and Dudley’s disappeared. We’re checking
the CCTV.”
Woods was incredulous. “When did this happen?”
“Within the last twenty minutes.”
“Get officers out searching the area,” he ordered. “He
can’t be far away.” He slammed the phone down. Despite his instructions to
search the area, he had a feeling Dudley would be long gone. His advantage
diminished, he needed a quick response. He hurried out into the Incident Room.
Barnes and McLean had just received the news.
“Faulkner-Brown must have given him something to
assist with the escape,” Barnes said, clearly annoyed.
“Pete, get to the hotel and interview him,” Woods
said frantically. “Check Dudley’s not there with him.”
“He won’t be there,” Barnes said. “He’ll be heading
to Guilford-Johnston’s.”
“I’ll ring Hooper,” Woods said, exasperated. “Can
you go downstairs and check the CCTV; find out what happened.”
Barnes jumped up and sprinted to the door.
Faulkner-Brown was driving north
with Dudley sitting beside him in the passenger seat. He’d rendezvoused with
him on the outskirts of the city, at a semi-derelict hospital building, about a
mile from the police HQ. When he’d spoken to Dudley earlier, he’d been informed
about the previous morning’s meeting in the Incident Room and the link between
the cloned vehicles and a dark blue Audi A6. Since then he’d been piecing
together the most likely scenario.
“Guilford-Johnston has a dark blue Audi A6. I assume
it was Williams using a clone of it, knowing the police would eventually put
two and two together and go asking questions. That’s how Woods knew it was him
who authorised Plant’s assignment. Williams is deliberately trying to draw
their attention to Guilford-Johnston. That’s another reason why I’m convinced
he’s done a deal with Williams. I’m the one he’s after.”
“In order to find Williams we need to interrogate
Guilford-Johnston. Is Plant on site?”
Faulkner-Brown nodded. “Ring him; arrange to meet up.
There’s a large out-of-town shopping mall we can use not far from Harrogate.
We’ll agree a distraction.”
Dudley did as requested.
Woods was speaking with McLean
when Barnes returned. “I’ve checked the CCTV, and spoken to the custody
sergeant,” she said. “It appears Dudley feigned sickness. Faulkner-Brown
probably slipped him a pill unnoticed by the supervising officer. The custody
sergeant and one of the PCs went into the cell to assist, as it appeared he was
choking, but he overpowered them and locked them in. He then attacked the
second PC and left him unconscious behind the desk. He’d taken their security
fobs and was able to walk straight out, unchallenged. He was last recorded
heading towards the hospital.”
Woods shook his head in disbelief, but before he was
able to respond his phone buzzed. He answered.
It was Hooper. He put it on speakerphone so the
others could hear. “I’m sorry, Greg, we’ve lost Plant.” There was a pause.
“We’re searching the area, but he’s given us the slip.”
Woods put his head in his hands.
“How did that happen?” Barnes snapped.
“We were following him, as he appeared to be doing
yet another sweep of the area around Guilford-Johnston’s, but after he turned a
corner and momentarily went out of sight, he must have dived round the back of
the houses. Despite frantically checking the gardens we’d lost him and have no
idea which way he’s gone.”
Woods was incandescent, although, unusually for him,
realised it was not the time for ridicule, or reprisals. “Faulkner-Brown may
have contacted him. They might be meeting up somewhere,” he suggested.
“Aye,” McLean chipped in. “I’ve just returned from
the hotel; Faulkner-Brown’s checked out.”
“I’ve put the call out to stop his car,” Woods
shouted, “but I suspect he’ll already have switched vehicles.”
“We’ll keep a lookout while we’re searching for
Plant,” Hooper said ending the call.
Woods closed his eyes, his heart pounded and his
breathing was laboured. He needed to calm down, but that was easy to say. “We
need to find them,” he snarled.
“Why don’t you ring Faulkner-Brown?” Barnes
suggested.
“I don’t have his number; I’ve never been privy to
it.”
“I do, and Plant’s and Dudley’s, if you need all
three.”
Woods looked at her, but didn’t say anything.
“I took them off Dudley’s phone while he was locked
up in the cells; Fat-Boy’s number, who I presume to be Faulkner-Brown, and
Jonnie’s number, who I assume to be Plant’s, were both saved on it, along with
a few other interesting ones.”
Woods smiled as she took out her notebook, opened it
and handed it to him. He keyed in Faulkner-Brown’s number.
“Hello,” he snapped when it was answered. “Where are
you?” he demanded.
“Who is this?”
“Woods. Have you got Dudley with you?”
“No, I have not!”
Woods sneered, “Is Plant with you?”