The History Suite (#9 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series) (41 page)

John finished the sentence. “Floor to lap tray. And I bet it extends.”

Craig nodded. Caleb Pitt’s wheelchair was standard hospital issue and the stainless steel lap tray he set things on was exactly 685 millimetres from the ground and adjustable. Its maximum extension reached beyond Pitt’s feet.

“He’s also confirmed that Pitt keeps a metal cane in a slot across the back of his chair.”

Liam’s jaw dropped and Des flicked eagerly through the books he’d brought. He reached a page and turned it towards the group. It showed the bruising left by trollies, wheelchairs and other mobile edges on the human body; they matched the bruising on Adrian Cook and Eleanor Rudd’s legs. He flicked to another page that showed bruising from rods and canes. One of the canes matched the other bruises on Cooke.

“I’ll tell you what else matches – Pitt’s armrest’s height and shape would fit the dent on the linen room door. He must have bashed it when he went in.”

John and Liam crowded round to look at the books while Craig rubbed his eyes in exhaustion. After a minute’s discussion he waved them down.

“My guess is that Pitt came up behind Rudd and Cooke and drove into the back of their legs using his protruding steel tray as a weapon; he rammed them hard if the bruising’s anything to go by. As they lost their balance and fell backwards on top of him he grabbed them around the neck and strangled them. The cane marks on Cooke were probably because he was harder to subdue. Rudd had no other bruises, although her hands show that she fought him hard.”

John recovered from his shock enough to ask a question. “But how did he get Rudd into the linen room? He couldn’t have dragged her in there easily in a wheelchair.”

“He didn’t need to drag her. He killed her inside the linen room. It’s huge; big enough to hold metal trollies, so a wheelchair could have entered and hidden easily. Pitt pulled out the linen trolley and then waited in the room till she arrived.”

It was Des’ turn to interrupt. “But he couldn’t have known she was going in there that day.”

Craig shrugged. “For all we know he’d waited there every day until he got her; it was just her misfortune that she chose that morning to give Cooke his drugs. It’s a big room full of laundry so Pitt could have concealed himself easily for hours. OK, so when Cooke left with his cocaine Pitt killed Rudd, left her where she fell and then wheeled himself back to Reilly. She wasn’t found for an hour. The whole thing confirmed to Pitt that Adrian Cooke was involved with drugs as well, if he’d needed confirmation, but Cooke’s actual death was opportunistic. Cooke called into Reilly that Monday evening to say hello and Pitt just saw his chance. He left Cooke where he dropped and I think he left the book behind to show that Cooke was involved in the dealing as well as being an addict.”

“So the squeaking noise Jacobs heard was Pitt’s chair wheeling away? But what about the mint smell, boss? What was that?”

Craig smiled at Liam’s last try at keeping Ferdy Myers in jail.

“Pitt’s a heavy smoker; I noticed the nicotine stains on his hands this morning when we met. My guess is that when we search his room we’ll find menthol cigarettes or mouthwash.”

Craig’s words hung in the air.
When
they searched it; they couldn’t go near Pitt until his prints were confirmed and linked with the deaths elsewhere. Des’ excited voice cut through Craig’s thoughts.

“I can swab his wheelchair and cane for trace evidence…”

Craig shook his head. “We can’t touch him until we legitimately confirm his prints. Strictly speaking we shouldn’t even be confining him to his room.” He sighed. “We’ll have to let him out and tail him.”

Liam shrugged. “He won’t get far in a chair.”

“He drives a car. He can get as far as he likes and we’re powerless to do a thing. Excuse me a minute, I need to make some calls. Liam, call High Street and have Myers released after the FME clears him. And let his community house know he’s fragile please so they can keep an eye.”

He disappeared to the corridor leaving the others to talk amongst themselves. When he reappeared minutes later he had a resigned look on his face.

“Davy’s still heard nothing from the US so I’ll have to get the C.C. onto it again. Carmen’s chasing a warrant for Pitt’s prints and the others are staying on the ward to keep an eye on him. I’ve called off the guard but Pitt’s still inside his room so I’m heading over there now.” He glanced at Liam. “You look wrecked. You should call it a night.”

Liam shook his head. “I’ll come with you.”

Craig was pleased to have him. He threw him the car keys; he had a call to the C.C. to make on the way.

Chapter Sixteen

St Mary’s Hospital.

“Thanks for chasing that, sir. Until we get Pitt’s I.D. confirmed and match his prints to the cold cases we can’t bring him in.”

Liam drove smoothly through the night-time streets, half-listening to Craig’s conversation with his other half wondering why the hell there were always roadworks on the M2. Did the Department of Environment not have enough to do with the annual round of snow without ruining his day? He pulled into Reilly’s car park and they began their fast walk to the ward. As they reached the back door they were surprised to see Annette standing there. She spoke before Craig could.

“I’ve been thinking, sir.”

Craig glanced pointedly at her hand. Her return glance begged him not to send her away so instead he answered. “Yes?”

“Given that no-one noticed anyone near the linen room doesn’t that raise a question?”

“Go on.”

“Well, who’s practically invisible?”

Craig smiled, knowing that she’d reached the conclusion of their whole day’s deductions on her own.

“It was something we discussed once when I was a nurse; it started when a child had been abducted in a shopping centre. We asked who could have taken them and yet have no-one notice or object?”

They chipped in one after another. “A mother.” “An authority figure.”

Liam threw in a topical ten pence worth. “A priest or vicar?”

But Craig knew exactly who Annette meant.

“Someone that society sees as harmless, vulnerable and incapable of harm.”

Annette nodded. “An elderly person…”

Craig nodded Liam on to relieve Jake then he drew Annette to one side and brought her up to speed. Her mouth dropped open.

“My God! The man in the wheelchair! I chatted to him days ago and never guessed.”

“You couldn’t possibly have known. No-one could. It’s taken us this long to narrow it down and we still can’t touch him until we get everything confirmed.”

Just then Liam re-emerged, looking far from amused.

“Pitt’s got a gun, boss.”

“What!”

“Service weapon. One of the old ladies told Jake; Pitt showed it to her once. It might be decommissioned but…”

Craig sped past him into the long-stay ward. The terrified stares that greeted him said the gun rumours had spread faster than a chant at a football match. He strode across to a stunned looking Hazel Gormley.

“Start evacuating; I don’t care where to.”

Before she could object he was at Caleb Pitt’s door where a uniformed officer was still hovering, contrary to orders. The P.C. saw the question in Craig’s eyes and rushed to defend himself.

“I didn’t like to leave the ward without protection…”

Craig nodded. “You did right.” He gestured at a group of pensioners. “Help the sister evacuate them through that door. Inspectors McElroy and Cullen are outside. Ken and Jake, help him, please.”

As the group dwindled amidst muttered questions and objections, a macabre stillness descended over Reilly’s common room, deepening when Craig switched off the TV. Finally the ward was empty apart from Caleb Pitt, still firmly inside his room. As the last resident left Liam joined Craig, speaking in his best stage whisper.

“The others are keeping everyone calm. What do you need from me?”

Craig shook his head, thinking. He beckoned Liam into the sister’s office and took a seat.

“Everyone’s safe and both exits are blocked. Now we wait.”

Liam glance said he was about to object. “Until what? Pitt shoots a hole in the door! The last thing we need is a siege with an OAP; the press will set up a tent!”

“We don’t have grounds to arrest Pitt on suspicion of the earlier killings until we get confirmation that his prints match. We also can’t lift him just because someone may or may not have seen a souvenir gun, and if we storm in there he could shoot one of us or himself. So what would you suggest, Rambo?”

Liam laughed despite himself. Rambo was what Danni called him sometimes, although Craig couldn’t know that; their role-playing fantasies were no-one’s business but their own. Before he could answer Craig a voice came booming from Caleb Pitt’s room.

“I know you’re out there, Craig. How many are with you?”

Liam went to answer but Craig shook his head. If Pitt thought the ward was empty there was just a chance that he’d emerge. After a long pause Pitt repeated his question, frustration in his voice.

“I’ve got a gun. It’s a M16 and it works, so forget anyone who told you it was a dud.”

An M16 adapted for automatic fire had been the US’ weapon of choice in Vietnam, but how the hell had Cooke got it into the country? Even as Craig thought it he shrugged; fifty percent of the UK’s thousands of decommissioned weapons were capable of being reactivated, and Ireland had a lot of access routes if Pitt had wanted a gun brought in live.

The silence took on a different edge. If Pitt had a live weapon they needed armed response. Craig decided to try something first. He broke his silence and yelled across the floor.

“What do you hope to gain by this, Mr Pitt?”

Pitt sounded surprised. “Gain? There’s nothing left to gain, boy. Is that Craig?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know I’ve already lost everything I ever loved. Losing my life was something I’d expected to happen long before now.”

Craig moved to the door of the small office and Liam hissed. “Get down. If you get your head blown off it’s me who’ll have to do the paperwork.”

Craig gave a wry smile. He was no martyr; he’d calculated the arc that Pitt’s bullets could reach and they were well out of range.

“Do you want to die, Mr Pitt? Is that it?”

Silence.

“Is this suicide by cop? We call in armed response and you fire, knowing you’ll end up with more holes in you than a sieve?”

Pitt said nothing, confirming his guess. Craig’s next words held disgust.

“You’re a coward, Pitt. You’d prefer some poor bastard to carry the guilt of shooting you to facing your punishment like a man.”

The roar from Pitt’s room would have done Liam proud. Liam leapt to his feet and joined Craig by the door.

“For God’s sake, boss, stop bear baiting.”

Craig shook his head. “I’m soldier baiting. Pitt’s no coward; he’s fought in too many battles to suck that up. I think I can get him out.”

“And then what? You think he’s just going to drop his gun and say ‘it’s fair cop, guv’? Get real.”

Craig swung round and the look in his eye told Liam he’d said enough. “What’s the alternative? We call in SWAT and they do exactly what we’re doing, or more likely they barge in there and Pitt gets blown away, taking one of them with him.”

Liam wasn’t giving up. “They can shoot to stop and they have more accurate guns than us. Just because you’re frustrated is no reason to have a death wish. I’ve seen more cops die than you have and I don’t want to see another one.”

They faced-off long enough for Caleb Pitt to speak again.

“You called me a coward, boy. I’m no coward.”

“Prove it. Throw out your weapon and take your chance in court.”

The old soldier laughed sarcastically. “Court? And spend my last days in some British shit-hole? That’s not happening so forget it.”

“What then? What do you want?”

Liam peeked around the corner of the office and saw something shift beneath Pitt’s door. He gestured to Craig.

“My money says he’s facing the door, so his back will be to the window. If I circle outside I can come up under it and check.”

Craig shook his head firmly. “And then what? You watch him facing the door, or he turns and blows you away? The M16 is automatic and he’s probably got it set on full. I’d rather take my chances face on.”

Liam was insistent. “If he turns I’ll shoot his gun arm.”

Craig thought for a moment then made a decision. “I’ll do it.”

“No.”

Craig was firm. “I’m the boss. I’ll do it.”

But Liam wasn’t budging.

“You can’t. Pitt’s talking to you. If you hand over to me now he’ll know there’s something up. It has to be me.”

At that he was out of the door on his hands and knees hissing “keep him talking.” Craig watched as he scuttled out of the ward and made a note to give him an earful when the case was done. He covered Liam’s exit by repeating his question.