Red Alert (19 page)

Before Kirsty had time to stop him, he turned and fled wildly from the kitchen.

‘Johnny, come back!’ Cutlery clattered onto the floor as she bumped the table aside and rushed after him into the hall. She’d just managed to catch hold of his arm when a door beside them opened unexpectedly. It was their mother’s bedroom door.

‘Kirsty!’ Mrs Price cried out. ‘Kirsty, what are you doing?’

‘Where did you get the bump?’ one of the firefighters asked. ‘Has Kirsty been going for you?’

‘As a matter of fact,’ Greg laughed, ‘it was Kirsty. She mistook me for a burglar in the dark and cracked her torch over my head.’

‘What were you both wandering about in the dark for?’

‘You might well ask.’ Greg turned serious. ‘There’s something wrong in that house, and I’m determined to find out what it is.’

Just then, Jack Campbell appeared in the doorway.

‘Greg, I can’t wait. I’m due in the station in a few minutes. But I thought you’d be interested in the result of our enquiries. That guy Paul Henley you asked about has a clean record but here’s what’s interesting. He works as a croupier in the casino in Buchanan Street. There was a big theft reported there and he was the witness who said he saw the manager leaving carrying a case.’ Campbell shrugged. ‘According to Henley, the manager usually goes to the bank about that time and he never thought anything about it. But the manager never came back and the safe was found empty.’

‘Yes, that is interesting,’ Greg said. ‘Thanks, Jack.’

After Jack Campbell had hurried away, Greg repeated, ‘Very interesting.’

‘You think this Henley guy is in on the robbery or something?’ one of the others asked.

‘Could be. I don’t know. But for some reason, he’s been hanging about Botanic Crescent. He’s up to something. I’ve been suspicious about him from the moment I set eyes on him. I think I’d better phone Simon.’

‘Kirsty’s father?’

‘Yes. He didn’t want to go away and leave Kirsty and her mother alone just now, but Mrs Price insisted that they would be just fine. Then Simon suggested that Mrs Price should go and stay with his sister for a holiday.’ He took out his mobile and was just about to dial a number when the alarm bell filled the room with its ear-splitting jangle.

‘Bugger!’ Greg flung his mobile aside and raced away with all the other firefighters.

On board the engine was a vehicle data system which gave them operational procedures, maps, operational risk assessments, and detailed layouts of all the rooms, as well as information on where water supplies could be found, and on whether there were any chemicals and where they were located.

It was a factory fire. The heat was intense as Greg and his crew approached the fire. The roaring noise of the flames was loud in his ears as they directed the high-pressure jets of water at the base of the flames. Sweat trickled down Greg’s face as waves of heat flowed over him. The smell of burning plastic was acrid in his nose. He jerked as something seemed to explode at his feet. He looked round to see a small group of capering teenagers laughing and throwing bottles and stones at the fire crew. They fought to ignore the yobs as they struggled to control the inferno. How easy it would have been to turn the hose on their tormentors. If only!

Luckily, the police arrived a couple of minutes later in squad cars and the yobs moved back. At least now the fire crew could concentrate on the job at hand.

They had to use the longest extending ladder to rescue a man from one of the top windows. Greg was glad of his breathing equipment. Smoke was already belching out of the place and flames were shooting up from the roof. Before Greg could reach him, the man had slid away inside the room, overcome by the smoke. Greg managed to lean inside the window, grab the man with one hand, and haul him back up. Flames had caught on the man’s clothing and Greg fought to put them out, and then slung the man over his shoulder. This was anything but easy as the man was very heavily built, but thanks to much practice through the years and many hours in the gym to strengthen his muscles, Greg managed it. He carried the man down to safety and the care of the ambulance crew who were now waiting below. Hoses kept aiming at the flames until at last they got the fire under control, but not before Greg and one of the other firefighters had rescued several terrified people.

They had barely returned to the station when there was another turn out. This time it was to a road accident. They were having to deal with an ever-increasing number of road rescues.

Mostly they involved teenagers or guys in their early twenties who had been drinking or speeding to show off. Or both. He was glad that a scheme had started in schools where they set up a car that had been in a collision and a make-up artist painted injuries on the young people who were supposed to be in the car. The appearance of the very bloody-looking injuries was meant to shock, and it did. Along with this, driving lectures and instruction were given to the schoolchildren, in the hope that they would become good and sensible divers once they were old enough to hold a licence.

The horrific road accidents the firefighters had so often to deal with were such a waste of young lives. ‘Young people like you,’ they’d tell the schoolchildren, ‘who have all your lives before you. All wasted, all gone.’ The kids seemed to appreciate these afternoon visits. More and more schools were joining the scheme.

Once back in the station again, Greg thought about what Jack Campbell had told him and he decided to pay the casino a quick visit just to see the lie of the land, apart from anything else. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he felt he needed to see the place where the Henleys worked. It turned out that getting into the place was neither quick nor easy. He had to stand at a counter in the entrance area and answer a whole lot of questions about himself, and produce his credit card as a means of identification. A camera behind the counter also took a photograph of him. Eventually, they clicked a door open from behind the counter and he could walk into the main casino area. It was a really luxurious place with many chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Beneath his feet was a luxuriously thick red and gold fitted carpet. And all around the walls and in the centre of the huge room were gaming machines and tables.

Upstairs there were small tables attractively set with white linen tablecloths and napkins. Greg sat at one of the tables and saw on one side of him an outside balcony that looked down on the river. On the other side of where he sat, he could see down into the hall. Eventually he spotted Paul and Renee Henley.

Paul, like all the other male croupiers, wore black. The women croupiers were all in blue. Across from where the Henleys were working, there was a door and Greg noticed a man in a smart grey suit disappearing through it. Could he be the new manager? He looked like someone in authority going into his office. So this must be where Paul Henley, according to his story, witnessed the original manager absconding with the takings.

A waiter came to the table and asked Greg if he would like to order anything.

‘Just a cup of coffee, thanks.’

The waiter bowed and within minutes a steaming cup of coffee was placed in front of Greg. While drinking it, he tried to fathom out why he felt so suspicious of the Henleys, especially Paul. He knew there was something, but he didn’t know what.

He phoned Simon Price and tried to convey his unease to him. Simon said he’d make arrangements to return to Glasgow, and Botanic Crescent, as soon as possible.

‘They want me to stay on here for another week, but I’ll definitely refuse now. Thanks for putting me in the picture, Greg.’

‘That’s OK. See you soon, then.’

‘Yes, definitely. Time I was getting back to my students as well. It’s getting nearer to the time of their show. I’ve a lot to organise with that.’

‘OK. See you.’

Greg felt a bit better after the conversation with Simon. Now he could go back to Botanic Crescent and tell Kirsty and Mrs Price that everything would soon be back to normal once Simon returned. Kirsty especially could relax. She would have nothing more to worry about.

‘You’ll kill Mother if she sees you,’ Kirsty whispered frantically, as she jerked Johnny back against the wall at the side of her mother’s bedroom door.

Almost at the same time, Mrs Price appeared in the open doorway and repeated anxiously, ‘Kirsty, where are you? What are you doing?’

Kirsty mouthed a desperate plea to Johnny, his back pressed against the wall only a few feet away, ‘Get back upstairs – for Mum’s sake.’

Then she quickly stepped out in front of Mrs Price, blocking her path.

‘Mum, I feel a little dizzy. I stumbled against the table in the kitchen and gave myself quite a blow. Do you mind if I sit down on the edge of your bed for a minute?’

‘Of course not, dear.’ Mrs Price put a comforting arm around her. ‘Can I get you a drink of water or something?’

‘No, no. I’ll be all right. It was silly of me, really. Did you hear the noise? I sent all the cutlery flying.’

Was Johnny past the door and up the stairs yet, she wondered. Surely he wouldn’t suddenly reappear in the room.

‘Kirsty dear, you’re trembling.’ The older woman’s voice quickened with concern. ‘Just you sit there. I’ll fetch a cup of tea.’

And before Kirsty could think of another ruse to stop her, Mrs Price had hurried from the room.

Kirsty’s hands flew to her ears to blot out the expected screams of shock her mother would give at seeing Johnny. No sound came, however, except the shuffling of slippered feet, then the familiar tinkle of teacups.

In exquisite relief, Kirsty relaxed. Johnny must have come to his senses again and returned quickly to his hiding place. She could hardly wait to make sure, however, and after tea, on the pretext of washing the dishes, she left her mother in the sitting room and crept quietly up to the loft.

‘Johnny, thank goodness!’ she gasped when she saw him lying on the narrow camp bed. ‘I was afraid you might have run out of the house or something.’

He turned his head towards her. ‘I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever be able to leave this house.’

‘Oh Johnny, don’t talk like that. You mustn’t give up hope. I won’t let you.’

‘It’s no use, Kirsty.’ His blue eyes burned huge in a pinched white face. ‘It’s not going to work. I know it.’

‘Now, now, you don’t know anything of the kind. If you can just keep calm and hang on for a few more days, you’ll be all right. I’ve had a talk with Paul and made sure he won’t keep you waiting much longer.’

‘What do you mean?’ Johnny raised himself stiffly. ‘What did you say to him?’

‘I told him I know where the money is and I threatened to burn the lot if he didn’t get you on a ship by the end of this week.’

‘He wouldn’t like that, Kirsty. He’ll be furious at you for telling him what to do.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘But you should.’ His hands plucked agitatedly at the blankets. ‘I don’t want you to get hurt. You mustn’t say anything else to Paul. Just keep well away from him.’

‘All right, all right, dear.’ She hastened to soothe him. ‘I’ll be careful. I promise.’

She returned downstairs, her face clouded with worry. Johnny was looking really ill.

She couldn’t get his thin, ghost-like face out of her mind all evening. Even after she’d gone to bed, she lay wide awake thinking about him, seeing his eyes staring at her, feeling the restless agitation of him.

Paul would have to be quick. There was no telling what Johnny might do.

She drifted eventually into an uneasy sleep. A sleep filled with mixed-up dreams and vague apprehension.

She was glad when morning came, yet reluctant to face the day before her. She dressed slowly, then sat at the dressing table absently brushing her hair. No sound of any movement came from the loft above. She listened intently. The house had never been so silent.

Putting down the brush, she tiptoed to the bedroom door and opened it a little. No sound of her mother either. She slipped out of the room. If she was very quiet and careful, perhaps she’d be able to make breakfast for Johnny and take it up to him before her mother woke up.

She’d just reached the stairs when suddenly she felt someone touch her. Already strained to breaking point with worry and lack of proper sleep, she found herself unable to stifle the scream of fright that leapt from her throat.

‘Kirsty, Kirsty, don’t. It’s me. I couldn’t stay cooped up in there any longer. I had to start moving around. I’ve been all over the place all night. I couldn’t help it.’

‘It’s a good job Mum’s still on nightly sedation,’ Kirsty gasped. ‘Goodness knows what she’d have thought if she’d heard me scream like that. It’s probably wakened her anyway. And I was hoping to get breakfast safely up to you first.’

‘I don’t want anything. I’m not hungry.’

‘Johnny, you must …’

‘No, please. I’m too upset to eat.’

‘You’re not still worrying about me, are you?’

‘Yes. I should never have come here. I’ve never been any good to you. I’ve caused you nothing but worry and trouble all my life.’

‘Nonsense!’

‘No, it’s the truth.’ His mouth trembled. ‘I’ve never realised it till now, when it’s only too obvious.’

‘Johnny, you’re my brother.’ She put an affectionate arm around his shoulders. ‘I’ve always been only too glad of the chance to help you. Now, stop being silly. On you go up to the loft and stop worrying. Everything’s going to be all right soon, you’ll see.’

‘I can’t go up there again.’

‘Yes, you can. Just for another few days.’

She could hear her mother moving about in her room downstairs.

‘Johnny,’ she repeated, dropping her voice to a whisper, ‘you’ve no choice. You must.’

He nodded, his mouth quivering too much to speak, his eyes moist with an unnatural brilliance. Watching him pull himself up and disappear safely into the loft, Kirsty felt no relief from tension. Her heart – now beating very fast – showed no sign of slowing down.

Johnny couldn’t be trusted to stay up there much longer. She didn’t blame him, but the tenterhooks of suspense this situation put her on were almost unbearable.