Depth of Despair (17 page)

There was a crackle on the radios Clara and the bomb squad chief were carrying, followed by a second, then a third, then a rapid succession. They waited, expecting someone to speak but there was no other sound than the repeated static. This stopped and almost immediately they heard the voice of the helicopter pilot, loud and clear with no interference. ‘Two vehicles leaving the rear of the shed to the south of the yard. They’re headed across country, quad bikes I think. Do you want me to track them?’

Nash realized there was little more the helicopter could do for them. ‘Tell him yes, and on no account lose them.’ Clara relayed the message. ‘You take over out here. I want Jackie and her team to go
through the rest of the outbuildings. I’m going to take four men and go inside. Get on to Tom. Tell him “officers down” and we need SOCO.’

‘Who do you want with you?’

‘A couple of armed men,’ Nash looked at the army officer. ‘And a couple of your chaps.’

‘I’ll come myself.’

They stepped carefully past the rubble then moved slowly down the hallway where thankfully the lights were still on. The commander of the bomb squad and an armed officer led the way warily across the stone flags. Another policeman shoulder to shoulder with another soldier followed. Nash brought up the rear. They reached the door leading to the office. The door and frame was checked carefully before he was satisfied there was no device rigged to it. He eased the handle down, standing to one side as he gently pushed it open. The room was brightly lit. It was also empty. Nash heaved a sigh of relief then froze as the bomb squad leader pointed to the far side.

In the middle of the desk on the blotting pad was a squat, ugly looking black box measuring some six inches by three. On the top of the box were a red light, a rocker switch and a stubby aerial. The light glowed evilly. Coming from one end of the box was a slender two core cable that ran across the desk before disappearing
alongside
the computer.

‘What is it?’

‘Radio-controlled detonator,’ the officer replied. His tone tense with the anxiety they all shared. He circled the desk carefully. When he was satisfied there were no secondary devices he looked below the computer console where the server was positioned. He gave a long, low whistle of surprise. After a detailed inspection he straightened, reached across and flicked the rocker switch.

Nash saw what the officer was about to do, he closed his eyes, opening them again to see the red light fade. He breathed a gusty, noisy sigh of relief, to find it being echoed by several others.

‘If that bloody thing had gone off, it’d have taken the house and us with it. There’s a shed-load of explosives under here, all attached to that detonator. Do you know the ironic bit? The men who planted this device were in the army, right?’

Nash nodded. ‘They chose the standard service frequency. Their remote trigger sent its signal alright, but it was intercepted on our radios. Remember the crackling sound we heard outside?’ Nash nodded. ‘That was them trying to blow us up. Our receivers jammed the signal, weakened it. This little aerial failed to pick it up. I bet they’re really pissed off.’

‘We were bloody lucky.’

‘You need all the luck you can get in our job.’

‘Can you get your men to make sure they haven’t left any other nasty little surprises?’

The inspection took almost twenty minutes, ‘It seems this was their last throw,’ the commander told him. ‘They obviously thought it would be enough. It would have been, too,’ he added thoughtfully, ‘but for pure chance. Anyway, the rest of the building’s clear.’

Nash waved to Clara to join him, ‘Any news from the chopper?’

‘They’re still keeping tabs on the bikes. They said the riders are making slow progress owing to the terrain. The pilot wanted to know if he should put the searchlight on them. I told him no. I thought you’d want to know where they’re headed first before we try to stop them.’

‘Dead right.’

They heard gunshots outside and dashed from the building. A couple of the armed officers pointed their weapons towards the end building. Fleming stepped out of the open door. She was holding a man who was wriggling and squirming in a desperately futile attempt to escape the handcuffs on his wrist.

The nearest officer stepped forward and took the prisoner. Nash looked at the man. ‘What happened?’

‘He was hiding in there with another bloke. The pigs were protesting at the company. Those pigs have good taste. One bloke escaped with Zena and a posse of armed officers in pursuit. This one was about to run but I grabbed him. The gunfire you heard was our men firing warning shots, that’s all.’

‘Will you administer the caution?’ Nash peered at the captive closely. ‘Charge him under the name of Janko Vatovec; conspiracy to murder. Come on, Clara, let’s go see if Zena’s safe.’

Zena and a small group of armed officers were coming through
the rear door of the pig unit. ‘What happened to the other man?’ Nash called out. ‘Don’t tell me he got away?’

Zena grinned. ‘No, he’s in deep shit.’

Nash looked puzzled. One of the officers explained. ‘He was so anxious to escape he didn’t watch where he was going. The Commander here gave him a helping hand, pushed him into a slurry pit.’

‘What happened?’

‘He drowned,’ Zena smiled contentedly. ‘Nobody would go to his rescue.’

‘You didn’t ask us,’ the officer objected.

‘Would you have done it?’

‘Probably not.’

Zena shrugged.

They regrouped in the farmhouse, accompanied by the dejected looking Vatovec. Nash left a detail guarding the approaches to the farm, although he anticipated little further trouble. ‘Get hold of Tom,’ he instructed Clara. ‘Tell him what’s gone on and that we believe Wardle and Hill have escaped. The chopper’s following them but we’re going to need more back-up when we know where they’re headed.’

Clara told Pratt the situation. She listened, then said, ‘Hang on, I’ll get Mike.’ She held the receiver out. ‘Tom wants a word urgently. He knows where they’re going and you need to know right now.’

‘Tom, what have you got?’

‘We’ve checked Stevens’s phone records. We found some calls to Howlingales Farm but there are a lot of calls to a bloke named Butler, Clive Butler. Name mean anything?’

‘No, Tom.’

‘It didn’t to us until we checked. We thought he was one of Stevens’s colleagues. Then we checked again. He runs a private hospital and clinic here in Netherdale. The CB Clinic. You know it, I believe?’

Nash didn’t respond. A cold shiver of fear ran through him. Stella! He realized Pratt was speaking. ‘Mike, Mike, you there?’

‘Sorry, Tom. Yes I know the clinic.’

‘Pearce phoned Ramirez who told us Butler’s ex-military. I got
the Chief to pull some strings with the MOD. They checked Butler’s file. He served in Bosnia at the same time as Wardle and Hill.’ Pratt continued, ‘Ramirez also told Viv that Butler’s very highly regarded. One of the best in his field.’ Nash heard his boss take a deep breath. ‘His speciality is organ transplant.’

Nash pictured Stella wheelchair-bound, defenceless. If they knew she was connected to him … the thought was unbearable. Nash was certain they would know. He’d made no attempt to disguise his identity when he’d visited. Nash’s brain cleared. The need to detain Wardle and Hill became insignificant, meaningless almost. All that mattered to him now was protecting Stella.

‘We must cordon off that hospital, we must protect the patients. Stella’s in there, Tom.’

‘I know, Mike,’ Nash could hear the sympathy in Pratt’s voice. ‘Cordoning off the place isn’t going to be easy. We’ve no more uniformed men, there’s a match on tonight.’

‘Then get me another ARU from York. Try and get someone to the hospital. We’re on our way.’

He almost flung the phone at Clara. ‘Jackie, we know where they’re going. Get that chopper away from the bikes and over to the CB Clinic. It’s more use to us there. I’m leaving you in charge. Liaise with SOCO when they get here. Clara, with me, NOW! And you two,’ he snapped at two constables coming in through the door, ‘get as many men as can be spared after us in the van.’ He hurried towards the door. ‘And send a bunch of the ARU men as well,’ he flung over his shoulder.

Before they reached Bishop’s Cross Nash set the beacons flashing. The sirens sounded their warning, although for the first part of the journey all they did was excite mild curiosity from sheep grazing in the fields.

Clara hardly dared take her eyes off the road. She glanced
sideways
at Nash. His face was tense, more than concentration would merit. ‘Talk to me, Mike,’ she urged him. ‘Tell me!’

Nash explained in clipped snatches. Clara noticed the speedometer. They’d taken the last bend in excess of 80 mph, a measure of Nash’s urgency, or was it panic?

Clara’s satellite radio crackled and she heard Pratt’s voice. ‘Whereabouts are you?’

‘Coming up to Helmsdale, any news?’

She glanced at Nash, if anything his anxiety had heightened. ‘The chopper lost Wardle and Hill. The pilot had to swing wide of Helmsdale to avoid pylons. If they’re heading for the hospital they’ll have to change vehicles but we don’t know what to. If they’ve reached Netherdale already, we’ve a problem. The football match ended half an hour ago. The opposition brought a big contingent of supporters and there’s a huge crowd in the streets. If they get amongst that lot we’ll never find them.’

‘I’ll let Mike know.’

‘What is it,’ Nash’s voice was sharp.

Clara explained.

‘Shit! They’re heading for the clinic. I know they are,’ he sent the car surging forward with even greater urgency.

‘It won’t help Stella if we kill ourselves.’ Clara said miserably.

He eased back a fraction. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered. ‘I’m just petrified they know my connection to Stella. How vulnerable do you think she is, stuck in a wheelchair?’

‘Is that it?’ Clara asked, knowing Mike, knowing there was more.

‘No,’ he admitted. ‘I don’t think Wardle and Hill will leave anybody behind who could give evidence. We’ve seen how
ruthless
they are. I think they’ll destroy everything in their way. They’ll take hostages if necessary then kill them when they cease to be useful.’

Stella had been through a tiring day. Her neurologist had insisted she attend an appointment at York.

She’d been taken by ambulance and kept waiting over an hour and a half before she was seen. His examination was thorough, involving a lot of physical manipulation. When it was over, Stella felt mauled and weary.

She returned to the clinic too late for lunch and too tired to eat in her room. She wasn’t too late, however, to avoid the physiotherapy session. Her therapist had happily agreed to increase the exercise programme. Stella explained that she’d been put through the mill by the neurologist and pleaded for a twenty-four-hour stay of execution. She might as well have saved her breath for the
exercises
.

When she reached the sanctuary of her own room Stella used the last dregs of energy to haul herself on to her bed with the intention of a long, recuperative nap, but sleep was denied her by the aches and pains her exertions had brought about. Had the pains been in her legs they would have been welcome.

She felt she’d only been asleep a few minutes when a nurse came in with her medication. The sleeping tablet undoubtedly helped. The sleep was so deep she didn’t hear the sound for a long time. As she came round a little she was aware of a faint noise. It was a bell being rung incessantly. It increased in volume, she thought, unaware that it was she who was regaining consciousness.

The sound came from the clinic’s alarm system. She recalled it from the numerous occasions she’d heard them testing it.

‘Why were they testing the alarm at so late an hour? Or wasn’t it
a test?’ Stella pulled herself to a sitting position. She was glad she’d been too tired to undress. She heard her door open and looked across to see a figure in the doorway.

She was unable to see clearly. The room was in darkness and the corridor lights also appeared to be out. She fumbled for the switch on her console and saw the corridor lights flicker into life, dimmer than usual. ‘Who’s there? What’s happening? Why is the alarm sounding?’

Stella was still groping for the switch when the main light came on. This too, wasn’t as bright as usual. She blinked momentarily before she recognized the man. ‘Mr Butler,’ she said. Was it Mister or Doctor for a surgeon? She wasn’t sure and it wasn’t important. ‘What’s happening? Why are the alarms ringing?’

‘We have to leave,’ he answered obliquely. ‘Get into your
wheelchair
.’

Stella shuffled across the bed. He made no move to help. Stella was about to repeat her question when he grabbed the handles of the chair, pushed her to the door and into the corridor.

There was a smell of smoke. The building was on fire. Butler increased the pace as they rushed past the lifts. They wouldn’t be working, Stella realized. Lifts were always shut off when there was a fire. Then the horror of her situation struck her. How would she be able to get out? Butler would have to manhandle her
downstairs
. There was no one else around. Was she the last? Had everyone else been evacuated?

Butler pushed her beyond the stairwell and through the double doors. ‘Where are we going?’

He didn’t answer. At the end of the corridor he slewed her chair into a small office and beyond into a larger room. Two men were standing at the far side of a large desk. One was looking towards her. The other was staring out of the window. Both were armed with small machine guns; small but very efficient looking. Her panic was instant, immediate and total.

‘Ah, Miss Pearson. Just the person we need. I understand you’re a close friend of the policeman, Nash. Is that correct?’

‘What’s happening?’ She gasped.

‘This is a hostage situation,’ the man’s tone was calm, level, cold even. ‘You being the hostage. Please don’t scream or do anything
dramatic. It would serve no purpose but to exercise your lungs and annoy me. You don’t want to do that. Believe me.’ He repeated, ‘You definitely don’t want to annoy me.

‘Let me explain. We’ve evacuated everyone else from this floor. The fires you can smell will soon die out. They were set to give us time to negotiate our escape in safety. Safety for us, that is. You are in considerable danger.’

‘Why me? Why pick on me?’

‘It isn’t for your undoubted attraction. More your friendship with Nash. He’s become a thorn in our side. We need a bargaining tool, and that’s you. Please don’t think that makes you
invulnerable
. All you’re here for is to make our escape easier. We will get away, with or without you. I don’t mind which. Far from being indispensable, you’re highly expendable.’

‘Can we avoid the football traffic?’ Nash asked. ‘Is there a back way through town?’

‘I don’t think so. I’ll check with Tom; he knows Netherdale better than us.’

‘Make it sharp. We’ll be hitting the ring road soon. When you’ve spoken to Tom you’d better check our men are behind us. Damn!’

‘What’s matter?’

‘I should have asked Jackie to send some of the Bomb Squad.’

Clara got busy on the radio. ‘Tom says there’s no easy way to the clinic. He’s diverting a patrol car to meet us at the junction. They’ll have instructions to clear a way for us.

‘Jackie says the Bomb Squad is only five minutes behind. They’re in convoy with the ARU.’

‘Good.’ Nash slackened his foot off the accelerator. ‘If we’ve to wait for the others, there’s no point pushing it. If Wardle and Hill have come this way, they’ll meet the same problems. The only difference is they won’t have anyone to clear a path for them.’

Was Nash trying to convince her or himself?

The patrol car had just negotiated the roundabout and was manoeuvring into position as they approached. The red and blue beacon was flashing. The ring road was solid with traffic.

Nash pulled in behind and turned off the beacon. Clara noticed
his fingers drumming on the steering wheel, saw the frown on his normally cheerful face. ‘Relax, Mike. We can’t do anything until the others get here.’

Time dragged before they pulled in. Nash flicked his siren to signal the patrol car, and the convoy moved forward.

Traffic was blocked solid in both directions. Drivers weren’t ignoring the beacons and sirens. They simply had nowhere to go to. It was an agonizing five minutes before they were able to clear the junction.

With less than three miles before they reached the clinic Clara’s radio crackled into life. She flicked the switch into the open channel position. Pratt’s voice echoed eerily. ‘We’ve just got to the clinic but we can’t access it. Looks as if they’ve got here first.’

‘Why can’t you get in?’

‘They’ve disabled the electrics. The building’s gone on to stand by power. All the doors are electronic and the generator isn’t feeding enough power for them to open. The fire doors only open outwards. We’re waiting for the fire service. If they’re not here in a couple of minutes we’re going to have to force our way in.’

‘Why the fire service?’

Pratt took a deep breath. ‘The building’s on fire.’

‘What?’

‘There are four different fires, two on the ground floor and two on the first. Small, localized blazes. We’d go in now but there’s only four of us and we’re not armed.’

‘SIDs,’ they heard another voice.

‘What’s that?’ Nash thought they’d intercepted a stray
transmission.

‘Small incendiary devices.’ Nash recognized the voice as that of the Bomb Disposal team leader. ‘Used as a delaying tactic or to create confusion and panic. They’ll burn themselves out unless they’ve been placed near combustible material. They can also be used to distract attention from more lethal devices.’

The calm manner of the army officer soothed Nash’s jangled nerves. But only slightly.

‘Care to give us an up-date, Martin?’ He turned back to Stella briefly. ‘That’s what our American friends call a “sit. rep.”. Succinct,
don’t you agree?’ He might have been chatting to the newsagent as he collected his morning paper.

‘Fire engines are just arriving,’ the other man spoke for the first time. ‘They’re taking their time unloading. Now there’s a patrol car, a plain car, two blue vans and two camouflaged Land Rovers pulling up. Look like army Land Rovers.’

‘That’s got to be Nash back from the farm with the armed unit we heard. The other will be a BD unit from Catterick. Clever of Nash to think of them. That’ll be why the device under the computer didn’t go off, I bet.’

‘How long before you contact Nash?’

‘Let them stew. The longer they’re kept waiting, the more
cooperative
they’ll be. We’ll use Nash and Miss Pearson as our exit pass and head for our destination as planned. Just that Martin, nothing complicated. Remember your training. “Simple works,
complicated
fails”. When we’re safe we can dispose of our excess baggage.’

Stella was looking at the man called Simon as he spoke. There was no extra inflexion in his voice, nothing to indicate the
cold-blooded
ruthlessness of what he was proposing. She saw his gaze slide past her to Butler and realized she, Nash and the surgeon were all going to be killed the moment their usefulness ceased.

Nash was out of the car before it stopped. He weaved his way through the emergency vehicles. The helicopter was overhead, its searchlight bathing the clinic in bright light. This was in marked contrast to the interior of the building. The clinic must still be
operating
on generator power. There was little sign of the fires, proof that the Bomb Disposal officer’s assessment was accurate.

‘Tom,’ he shouted.

Pratt looked round. ‘Thank God you’re here. They’ve moved everyone to the ground floor but nobody’s come out.’

‘They don’t need the electronic doors. Why don’t they push the bars on the emergency exits?’

‘It isn’t that simple. I rang to tell them to evacuate. Got through to some bloke who identified himself as Head of Security. He told me they’d orders to keep everyone inside. I told him I was giving the order to evacuate.’

‘And?’

‘He said “I don’t take orders from you”, then hung up. I couldn’t get through again.’

‘They must be Wardle’s men. No wonder we didn’t meet more opposition at the farm. They were all here, waiting for their boss.’

‘Not boss, more like Commanding Officer.’ The interruption came from the Bomb Squad leader.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Wardle would want men he could trust. Men who wouldn’t ask questions, wouldn’t talk. Who better than the troops he’d commanded? He wouldn’t need to train them. He’d already done that.’

‘You seem to know a lot about the way Wardle operates.’

The officer shrugged. ‘Standard military thinking. Wardle will be after hostages. Not many, that would create logistics problems. Besides which there’s the question of disposing of them later. The question is who? I guess he’s already made that decision, but you’ll have to wait until he contacts you.’

‘I already know. Have you any suggestions as to what we can do in the meantime?’

‘You have to wait to see what he demands. Whilst you’re waiting, someone ought to recce the building. See if there are any vulnerable entry points. Wardle might be good but I doubt he’ll have thought of everything. Besides, I don’t think he’ll have the manpower to cover everywhere, not given the size and design of the building. Want me to take a look? I’ve got a bit of experience in this sort of situation.’

‘I’ll bet you have. And how did I know you were about to make that offer?’

The army officer smiled slightly. ‘I’ll take Sergeant Mironova with me shall I?’

‘Do you want some armed officers with you?’ Nash asked with deceptive innocence.

‘I don’t think that’ll be necessary.’ The officer’s right hand went towards his belt in a reflex action.

‘Care for a walk?’ He asked Clara.

Nash watched them go, his suspicions about the officer
intensified
.

‘We can’t be sure Wardle knows about you and Stella.’ Pratt attempted to comfort him.

‘We must assume he does. With all those guards hanging around, taking note of every visitor, how wouldn’t he get to know something of such value? I think our Bomb Squad man was right. I don’t suppose we’ll have to wait long to find out.’