Steps to Heaven: A Sgt Major Crane Novel (27 page)

Chapter
Forty-Nine

Crane opened his eyes to the most welcome sight he had ever seen. Tina.

“Hello,
Tom,” she said softly, the anxiety of the past few days written in the new lines on her face and the paleness of her skin. “How are you feeling?”

For
a moment Crane couldn’t speak. He squeezed her hand and took in every contour, every shadow. Coughing to hide his emotion, he then said more gruffly than he meant to, “I’d be better if I could sit up.”

Tina
held him by his good arm as he leaned forward and then deftly raised the top of the bed and rearranged the pillows one handed. As he sunk back, he joked, “You’re pretty good at that, I bet you could get a job here.” But somehow the joke fell flat and he ended up spluttering, “Not that you’re not good at your job, I didn’t mean that.”

“Tom,
it’s alright. I knew you were only joking,” she replied, taking his hand once more.

“Tina,”
he began then stopped again.

“Tom,
we’ve got to talk.”

“I
know,” he agreed.

“I’ve
got something I want to say to you,” she paused and looked down at her lap.

“No,”
he said finding his voice. “Let me go first. I’ve been thinking a lot about this and rehearsing it.”

“Tom,
it’s not a presentation,” she laughed.

“No,
I know,” he said, “but I want to make sure the words come out right.”

“Okay.”

But
Crane had seen the small, sharp, involuntary, widening of her pupils. She was scared of what he was going to say. Well, so was he.

“First
of all, sorry I didn’t make it home for dinner. The last time we spoke I promised I wouldn’t be late,” Crane had copped out and he knew it.

Tina
laughed, “Apology accepted, but I don’t think that’s what you really want to talk about.”

“No
you’re right. It’s, it’s, this business of having children,” he faltered. Tina squeezed his hand in encouragement. “Well, I know I’ve been pretty reluctant to make a decision. Refusing to talk about it when you needed to. Putting obstacles in the way. Need I go on?”

She
shook her head. A small movement that caused her hair to hang over her face.

“Well
I want to explain why. I don’t think I even knew at the time. But I’ve had time to go over it.” Tina kept her head down. “It was because of the case I was working on. Those children getting killed. Killed by their own fathers. It was more than I could bear really. And I got to thinking that how can anyone bring a child into a world such as this. Where people can be manipulated into doing something so terrible.”

“I
see,” Tina whispered, continuing to hide behind her hair.

“So
I came to the conclusion that I couldn’t have children. Understandable don’t you think?”

Tina
nodded, the movement making the tears fall from her face and drop into her lap.

Crane
struggled to compose himself, tears pricking the back of his own eyes. “But lying here, at least in my more lucid moments, I realised I felt like that because I did care so much about children. I’ve had to accept that it’s part and parcel of being a parent, wanting to do the best for them and protect them as much as you can. So my thinking was a bit skewed really. Tina?”

He
got no response, so raising his tube infested hand, he touched her under the chin and lifted her face to his.

“Tina,
do you understand? I’m trying to tell you I want us to have a child. Hell, more than one if you like!”

Tina
gulped back her sobs.

“For
God’s sake say something!” he pleaded.

“I’m
pregnant,” she said, smiling through her tears.

If you enjoyed
Steps to Heaven
you might be interested in
40 Days 40 Nights
by Wendy Cartmell, also published by Endeavour Press.

Extract from
40 Days 40 Nights
by Wendy Cartmell

Day 1

They found the body at 04:00 hours. As he drove to the scene Sergeant Major Crane’s hands gripped the steering wheel, his vision sharpened and his breathing rapid. Excitement that he had something to investigate overlaid, as always, with guilt. For his good fortune was at the expense of another man’s life. He parked his car in front of the Aldershot Garrison Sports Centre, a squat grey lump surrounded by green and rushed to the scene. It was 04:45 hours.

He slowly walked around the remains, wearing protective clothing over his dark suit and white shirt, keeping well clear of the corpse, whilst he waited for the pathologist, Major Martin. As Crane crouched down to get a clearer view of the dead man, voices overhead interrupted his study.

Rising, he called, “We’re down here, Major. The body’s at the bottom of the steps.” Crane’s words echoed around the large underground cavern that was the underbelly of the huge Olympic sized swimming pool. The Major emerged, ducking his head under large grey pipes as he picked his way to the bottom of the stairs, encumbered by his medical case and the protective overalls he was wearing.

“I thought I recognised your voice, Crane. Right, what have we got?” The Major placed his case some way from the body and turned to look at it.

Crane called Sergeant Billy Williams from out of the shadows.

“Well, sir,” Billy said, “as members of Team GB are on the garrison as part of their preparations for the Olympic Games, routine security patrols are made of the swimming pool every hour during the night. The soldiers keep in touch by radio whilst they are separated. Corporal Simms failed to meet the others at the front door of the complex and didn’t answer urgent calls on his radio. So,” Billy consulted his notes, “Lance Corporal Fielding went to find him. He saw Simmons crumpled at the bottom of the stairs here, that lead underneath the swimming pool. Unable to find a pulse, he swept the area, which he found to be empty and retreated. He then called the Royal Military Police as per procedure.”

“So, the question is,” Crane took over from Billy, “did the lad fall or was he killed?”

“For God’s sake, Crane, at the moment I have no idea.” Major Martin rose from his examination. “His neck appears to have been broken. It could be from a fall, possibly accidental, or he could have had some help. Another option is that someone surprised him and broke his neck here at the bottom of the stairs. I won’t know anything until I get him on the table.” The Major snapped off his gloves.

“Which would be?”

“Later this morning.”

“I don’t need to remind you…”

“No, Sergeant Major, you do not,” the Major’s voice was as taut as the latex he had just peeled from his hands. “I am well aware of the sensitivity of the situation at the moment, as no doubt Captain Edwards will also be happy to make clear to me. Including the Commanding Officer and anyone else who feels they have a right to put in their two pennies worth.” Glancing at his watch, he continued. “It’s nearly 05:30 hours. I’ll do the post mortem at 10:00 hours. You can come if you want.”

“I will… sir.” Crane eventually finishing with the acknowledgement that Major Martin was an ex-officer. Even though Crane was a Sergeant Major, his position within the Special Investigations Branch of the Military Police, enabled him to cut across the rank system when on an active investigation. Making the Branch as feared as it was respected. But officers, even ex-ones such as Major Martin, who was an accredited Home Office Pathologist whilst in the army, still expected the deference their rank deserved.

***

Crane decided to attend the post mortem later that morning, meeting the Major in the

morgue at Frimley Park Hospital. Not out of ghoulish curiosity, nor because he enjoyed seeing corpses reduced to a pile of organs and empty cavities, but simply because it was the quickest way to find out how Corporal Simms died. Actually, Crane hated everything about the morgue. The sterility, the smell, the noises. An incongruous operating theatre, where instead of opening up a living human being to heal them, doctors cut open a dead body to find out what had gone wrong. Once he was suitably kitted out and standing beside the metal trolley that held Corporal Simms in its icy embrace, Crane asked Major Martin to start on the neck first.

“I hope you aren’t trying to tell me how to do my job, Crane?” the Major shouted over the noise of the grinding electric saw he was holding in his hand, which loomed perilously close to Crane’s head instead of the corpse’s.

“Not at all,” said Crane, only just managing to duck out of the way in time. “It’s the quickest way to get me out of your hair.” A bizarre comment as the Major was practically bald under his protective headgear. “Figuratively speaking, of course,” Crane finished lamely, adding, “sir.”

“Very well, Crane.” The Major turned off and put down the saw, then manipulated the young Corporal’s neck. “Definitely broken. Feels like the spinal cord is ripped as well.” Turning the head backwards and forwards, and peering at the face, he continued, “No obvious sign of trauma.”

“Any sign of trauma to the neck itself? Bruising from fingers, or a garrotte of some kind?”

“No nothing. Here give me a hand to flip him over,” the diminutive Major asked Crane. Crane helped to turn Corporal Simms over onto his front. A young man reduced to an ignominious naked body. Even through latex gloves the grey flesh felt rubbery and unyielding, reminding Crane of the texture of squid he once ate and hated. He waited whilst the Major cut through and then peeled back the defensive skin covering the young soldier’s neck, exposing the bones and spinal cord.

“There!” the Major exclaimed with some satisfaction. “Broken between C3 and C4 and here are the loose ends of the spinal cord, see?”

Crane didn’t want to, but glanced at the neck anyway, seeing mangled flesh and bones that meant nothing to him. Straightening up he said, “So now we definitely know what killed him.”

“Certainly. Broken neck and spinal cord.”

“But not how it happened.”

“No evidence to suggest foul play at this stage. I would say it was most likely an accident.”

“Most likely or definitely?” Crane wanted the distinction clarified.

“Most likely,” confirmed the Major turning back to get on with the rest of the Post Mortem. “Now get out of my hair, Crane!”

***

By 11:00 hours Crane was reporting the findings to Captain Edwards.

“Excellent news,” was Captain Edward’s verdict as he smiled at Crane.

“Excellent sir? A soldier is dead!” Crane looked at Edwards, unable to mask the horror that must be etched on his face. Not wanting to believe what he had just heard.

“Oh for goodness sake, Crane. You know what I mean. Excellent news that it was an accident.” Edwards went on, “I’ll draw up a press release immediately to say that there has been an unfortunate accident, that has resulted in the death of a soldier on the garrison and, of course, confirm that to the family.” Edwards gathered up his papers. A clear indication the meeting was over.

“But, sir, are you sure you shouldn’t err on the side of caution and treat it as murder? There could be a potential threat to the athletes here. Someone could have been staking out the swimming pool and been surprised by Corporal Simms.” Crane leaned forwards, his elbows on his knees.

“Crane, as I see it I am ‘erring on the side of caution’ as you put it. I am not about to spread panic throughout the Olympic community and the local community, by calling an accident a murder. Imagine the implications.” Captain Edwards shuddered. “No. Sorry, Crane, accidental death it is.”

“But -”

“No buts, Sergeant Major.” Edwards rose from behind his desk, as was his habit, showing Crane that he was not only superior in rank, but superior in height.

Crane stood, but didn’t leave the office. “Major Martin said ‘most likely’ not ‘definitely’. I specifically queried that point.”

“Crane, that’s enough. I really think you are splitting hairs. I’m going with accidental death.” Edwards moved from behind the desk and opened the door. “That will be all.”

“Sir,” Crane moved towards the open door. Then stopped. “You don’t think?”

“I don’t think anything, Crane!” Edward’s voice rang out, causing a passing soldier to stop and look round. “And neither should you. Dismissed.”

As Crane stalked off he tried to rein in his temper by reminding himself his special assignment was only for just over a month. As of today he was responsible for security on the garrison for forty days and forty nights whilst Team GB and then the Paralympians were on the garrison - so he better get on with it.