Authors: Quintin Jardine
511 QFT.
`Stop, Major!' Martin's command cut through the evening air. The Agent halted in midstride, looked around, then broke into a renewed sprint, his car key extended before him.
As John Torrance glanced up in surprise at the commotion, the detectives and the soldier began to run too, like hunters towards their prey.
They were sixty yards away, but the blast from the Alfa still took them off their feet, and its heat seemed to sear their lungs.
They picked themselves up, staring in horror at the roaring fireball. At its heart, they could see the outline of the car's skeleton, and of the dark, twisted shape behind the wheel. The Jaguar, which had been its neighbour in the park, lay on its side, with flames licking at its undercarriage.
Àlison!' Neil Mcllhenney screamed, high-pitched. He broke into a lumbering run, but Andy Martin floored him with a rugby tackle before he had gone ten yards. As they hit the ground, the petrol tank of the Jaguar gave a dull, muffled 'Crump!' and a second column of flame shot fifty feet into the air.
The two policemen lay on the tarmac yard, with the Sergeant still struggling in the Chief Superintendent's iron grip. Still deafened by the first explosion, they did not hear the sound of Elliot's Rover as its heavy diesel engine barked into life. With eyes only for the horror of the inferno, they did not see it as it bore down on Adam Arrow, standing in front of the gateway.
The little soldier stood his ground, an automatic pistol in his hand as if from nowhere. The Rover, roaring in second gear, picked up speed across the yard. It was almost upon him when he fired three shots, 'Crack! Crack! Crack!' in less than a second.
They were perfectly grouped, just above the centre of the windscreen, to its left, directly above the steering column.
At the last instant, Arrow threw himself to one side, feeling the rush of air as the car swept past him, and rolling over to see it crash into one of the huge iron gates, tearing it from its hinges, and hurling the dead driver over the wheel and through the windscreen, to lie, shapeless, across its twisted hood.
NINETY-FOUR
‘Why, for God's sake, Andy?' Skinner stared at his friend across the living room at Fairyhouse Avenue. Sarah sat beside him on the couch, her face still white with shock.
The knees of Martin's flannels were dirty from the tarmac of the quadrangle. A bump had risen on his right cheek, where Mcllhenney’s flailing elbow had caught him.
`We'll never know for sure,' he answered. But John Torrance said something that could well have a bearing on it. He told me that at the adoption meeting, Elliot suggested to Leona that once she'd made the seat secure, she could step down. She cut him off short, and said that she was there for the duration.'
`That would do it,' said Skinner emphatically. 'He must have decided that he couldn't wait any longer, whatever the risk. No doubt he thought that with the investigation having picked up suspects we'd try to nail a second explosion on one of them. Or maybe he decided that we'd go looking for a terrorist solution.'
But what good would it have done him with the by-election under way?' asked Martin.
`Read your electoral law, Andy. If any candidate dies once the campaign is under way, the writ is void and the process has to begin all over again.' He leaned back in his seat, and dropped his head on to his chest. 'It's all over for the person, but politics, after all, is more important than life and death. In this case the show goes on uninterrupted. Sure, the candidate's in shock, but that doesn't matter. The other parties needn't bother turning up.
They'll have to weigh Leona's votes, rather than count them. But our poor Alison. It's all over for her. And she had plans, Andy, she had plans.'
`She never knew a thing, Bob.'
`That's a small mercy,' he said. Although still not back to full strength, suddenly his voice was savage.
Ì tell you, boy, you should steer clear of me. I am a walking jinx. I put Roy Old on that plane. I told Alison to spend as much time as she could with her friend.' He gazed at the ceiling and murmured, '
Death stands above me, whispering low, I know not what into my
ear."
Know that one, Andy? It could have been written for me. For Roy Old, and for Alison, being around me was very dangerous . . . fatal, in fact. But not just them. For someone else, years ago . . .' His voice tailed away. As it did, Alex, who had been kneeling on the floor beside Martin, stood up and came over to sit on the arm of the couch, beside her father.
`Pops,' she whispered. 'Sarah told me. About what you went through with Kevin O’Malley and about the things he uncovered. She told me about Mum, and the accident.' She looked at him solemnly, and took his right hand in both of hers.
`You mustn't feel guilty about the fact that she was driving your car. There isn't a day of my life goes past when I don't miss her, or wonder what might have been. But what might have been wasn't, and that's that. It's all in the past, and over the years we've coped, you and I. Pretty well, I'd say.
`So while I'm glad that you've spilled all those unhealthy suppressed memories out of their box, promise me that you won't torture yourself over Mum's death. In fact, promise me that you won't think of it anymore.'
Bob smiled at her. 'Sweetheart, you're asking me to do the impossible. O'Malley made me face a truth so awful that I've been hiding from it for sixteen years. Your mum was murdered, by mistake, instead of me. There's no way I can just set that aside.'
He glanced across at Sarah. 'But don't you two worry about me being tortured by remorse.
I might feel that way over Roy and Alison, but I feel none at all about Myra. I'm a copper, and I can focus all the guilt on the person who cut that brake pipe.
Ì'll tell you what I am going to do, Alex. I'm going to find out who that person was, and if he, or she, is still alive, I am going to make them wish most earnestly that they were dead!
I'm not going to do it for you, or for me, but for your mum. Because like every victim, she deserves justice, and that's what she's going to get . . . even if it is sixteen years late. If I just set aside what I know now, I might as well take early retirement.'
`Bob,' said Sarah quietly. 'You won't turn this into a mission that will dominate your life, will you?'
He frowned at her. 'No, of course I won't. You know damn fine that my life belongs to you two, and to the wee fella upstairs. Anyway, don't start on about it being a mission. Like I said to Alex, there was a crime and I'm a policeman.'
`But, honey, that isn't your job anymore.' Her voice rose. `You're Deputy Chief Constable.
Delegate it to Andy, and to CID, just like any other crime.'
The coldness of his sudden stare pierced her, and made her stomach flip over.
`Just like any other crime!' he repeated, softly and incredulously. He shook his head.
`That's my wife you're talking about, Alex's mother — and she was murdered. If you believe I'm capable of passing it down the line like some bloody shoplifting offence, then you don't really know me.
Ànd if you're selfish enough to expect me to do that,' he said, with a heavy sadness, 'well, Sarah, I'm not sure that I really know you either.'
She drew a sudden gasping breath, as hurt and anger, mixed together, flashed in her eyes.
Suddenly, the silence in the room was almost palpable. Andy and Alex stared at them in consternation, as a retort formed on Sarah's lips, ready to burst out ... and, at that moment, the telephone rang.