He found him around the back of the KFC talking to Mark — who had, as Rik guessed, tried to slip out and disappear. Henry was holding Mark’s sleeve and it looked as though the pair were having a few moments of tension. But Rik knew what was important and that he and Henry might be needed elsewhere p.d.q. Mark Carter could be picked up as and when, so it didn’t concern Rik too much when Mark saw his chance and fled.
The two detectives raced to Henry’s car and jumped in. Henry reversed out of the space and screeched on to the road, turning up to the traffic lights on Preston New Road. From there, a left turn would take them towards Blackpool, right to the motorway roundabout at Marton Circle, the M55. The lights were on red.
‘What’s the situation?’ Henry demanded.
‘Not entirely sure,’ Rik admitted, looking at his PR which was alive with traffic and some pretty panicked voices.
‘Find out,’ Henry said.
Rik hesitated slightly, waiting for an appropriate gap in transmissions into which he could dive. Impatient, Henry snatched the PR and said, ‘Superintendent Christie interrupting.’ From what little he had heard he could tell it was very confusing and, for a short time, no one seemed to be taking proper control. Part of the problem was that patrols were on radio talk-thru, meaning everyone could hear everything being said and could interrupt without permission. On big incidents, this wasn’t always a good thing and sometimes the radio operator needed to take a firm grip, switch off talk-thru and assume total control. Which is exactly what Henry ordered the comms operator, who sounded out of his depth, to do. Maybe it was a new guy. At Henry’s instigation the man took a deep breath, became more authoritative, and cancelled talk-thru. Henry asked him then to recirculate brief details of the incident, offender and vehicle.
The lights changed to green.
Henry stuffed the PR back into Rik’s hands, considered his position, zipped across a lane, cutting up another driver, and headed towards the motorway junction. His feeling was that enough people were already at the scene, so he thought that a few minutes sat at the motorway junction could be fruitful. Maybe. A traffic car was en route to do just that, but was ten minutes away at least, so Henry decided to plug that gap for a while. Patrols covering checkpoints such as motorway junctions was pretty standard procedure anyway, basic coppering that sometimes got overlooked in the heat of an exciting incident. Escape routes had to be covered and sometimes it paid off.
All this was in Henry’s mind when Rik said, ‘We’re not going to the scene, then?’
Henry gunned the Mercedes, feeling the smooth surge of power at his light touch. God, it felt good. ‘No.’
‘But…?’
‘I know there’s no guarantee, but a Ford Fiesta with a cracked windscreen might just come sailing past.’
‘And pigs might fly.’
Henry grunted like one. But he knew that being a lucky cop was often about diligence and doing routine things… and patience. He said, ‘Sometimes it happens, especially if an offender is panicking leaving a scene because they haven’t worked out an escape route properly, one that avoids main roads. Sounds like the guy in the Ford was surprised and maybe he didn’t even think he’d need an escape plan.’
‘Mm, whatever.’ Rik would most definitely have preferred to be charging to the scene. Those emotive words ‘ Officer down ’ drew in cops automatically. They always felt the need to be there, even if they ended up acting like headless chickens. Henry, too, felt the urge to be at the scene, but he knew a wider perspective was needed — which is why he was a superintendent. That was his argument, anyway.
His mobile phone rang and he answered it by pressing a button on the dash which linked to the handset via Bluetooth and also switched the call to speakerphone. Henry grinned, amazed at how he had embraced the technology.
‘Henry Christie.’
‘Henry — it’s Karl. I heard your voice on the radio, barking orders like some sort of mini Hitler.’
‘Karl — you at the scene?’ Henry asked, ignoring the remark.
‘Right at it,’ Donaldson confirmed.
‘Tell me,’ Henry said. Donaldson did so, succinctly.
He ended by saying ‘The cop he clipped looks pretty bad — big thigh injury. He did well to crack the windshield with his gun, though.’
‘Are things being controlled now?’
‘Yeah. There’s a uniformed cop with a lot of bird shit on his collar at the scene, ambulance just arriving, bomb squad, too. I think we’re OK. The initial scene down by the Tower entrance is sealed, I think, and that guy’s been neutralized. But Akram’s on the loose. Hell, if we could take him, that would be…’ Donaldson was lost for words.
‘OK, pal. I’ll have to leave you with it. Unfortunately it’s not my job, but I’ll sit on the motorway checkpoint until the traffic car deigns to turn up, then I’ll have to resume my day job.’
‘Gotcha.’
‘Oh, Karl — you planning on staying up here tonight, or going home?’
‘Hadn’t given it a thought.’
‘Spare room at the Christie household if necessary,’ Henry invited him. ‘Just turn up if you need it. Cheaper than a Premier Inn.’
‘Roger that.’
Henry drew the Mercedes on to the forecourt of the petrol station situated just five hundred metres before the motorway junction and parked up close to the exit ramp. An ideal position from which to view passing traffic. The two officers picked up their just-warm meals.
‘I knew Karl would be involved somewhere,’ Henry smirked, then sat back in the comfortable leather seat, watching traffic, not hopeful for a result. ‘Suicide bomber in Blackpool,’ he murmured, taking a bite from his chicken burger.
‘Why bloody Blackpool?’ Rik said, disgusted.
Henry shrugged. ‘Terrorists terrorize. Hitting a target like Blackpool makes the whole country feel unsafe. Up to now, if you don’t live in London you feel pretty secure strolling around your own town. Remember the IRA?’
‘Mm.’ It was a bitter murmur from Rik’s throat.
‘Surprised they don’t do it all the time — make everybody feel threatened all the time. Provincial towns… middle England… low-class places…’
‘I get your point,’ Rik said uncomfortably.
‘I’m sure they have the resources and the willing bodies,’ Henry pressed on relentlessly.
Rik raised his hands in defeat. ‘I get you.’
Henry grinned.
‘So, come on then,’ Rik demanded, making his point with a chicken leg. ‘Have you ever actually sat at a checkpoint after a job and actually seen the offending vehicle drive by?’
‘ Twice, actually. ’
‘Yeah, sure.’
‘True. Once, when I was on the crime car and a taxi driver got robbed at gunpoint, the offenders stole his cab and came sailing past ten minutes later. That was a good lock-up,’ Henry remembered with pride. ‘Other time was after a post office robbery… that got a bit messy, but it was a good result.’
‘OK — so twice in thirty years?’
‘You’ve got to cover all avenues.’ And to confirm it, the comms operator informed all patrols that all checkpoints in the division were now covered by static patrols and adjoining divisions were doing the same.
‘So if he tries to get out of Blackpool by main road, we might get lucky,’ Rik said cynically. ‘There’s loads of other ways out.’
Henry looked at him and shook his head sadly, then returned his attention to the traffic flowing by. He could not help but feel a pulse of excitement in his veins. A murder and a suicide bomber in one day. He thought about his ‘Intention to Retire’ report sitting on his computer’s hard drive, waiting to be printed off. Days like this meant it could wait a little longer. Kate’s illness and death had certainly taken the sheen off police work for Henry, but that had been the fault of the circumstances as much as anything. A loved one dying took the shine off everything. However, there was no doubt about it, he still got a serious buzz from coppering, even if he’d had a mental hiccup earlier at the murder scene. But that was something he’d occasionally witnessed in other colleagues when they’d been affected by personal trauma. He just never thought it would get to him on the job, thought he was immune to it.