The Fourth Cart Read online

  Chapter Fourteen

  Magee flinched as a piercing noise burst through the headphones he was adjusting on his head. His hand shot out to reach for the volume control. A clear voice broke through, ‘Testing, testing, can anyone hear me?’

  ‘Loud and clear,’ Magee responded. ‘Are you in place?’

  ‘Yep, well at least I think I am,’ Paul Mansell replied. ‘I’ve just checked in to room 306, as per instructions.’

  ‘Roger that. Talk to me if you spot anything. Over and out.’

  Magee turned to Melissa seated in the car’s passenger seat. ‘Well, I suppose we just sit it out now.’

  ‘You think this is worthwhile, sir? Not just some wild goose chase? I got the distinct impression the other day that you didn’t trust him.’

  ‘I don’t. But if he’s telling the truth, about being set up by these apparent non-existent clients, then we might just as well tag along behind him. It’s not as though we have anything else to go on. Anyway, this is your idea.’

  ‘But it’s the middle of the night,’ Melissa moaned. ‘Why do we have to do this stakeout ourselves? Why couldn’t we leave it to the locals to deal with it alone?’

  ‘It’s just my way, Melissa. It’s the way I do things. Anyway, we are the “locals”, as you put it.’

  ‘I’m from Lewes, sir. This is Hove.’

  ‘Close enough, Melissa. The point is, you never know, maybe we can spot something others wouldn’t.’

  ‘Like?’

  ‘Who knows? That’s why we’re here.’

  Melissa shut her eyes and sighed.

  ‘Why?’ Magee persisted. ‘Did you have something planned for tonight?’

  ‘A sleep perhaps?’

  ‘I’ll sleep when this maniac is behind bars, not until then.’

  ‘This might be a legitimate client of Mansell’s though, sir, in which case we’re wasting our time here tonight.’

  ‘True, but it seems to fit in with the same pattern as his last two clients. Think about it, Melissa. Mansell has never seen this client, yet a hotel room is booked and paid for in advance for him. In Hove too, even though he only lives a couple of miles away in Kemp Town. Why would anyone insist he stay here the night, wasting money, rather than expecting him to clear off back home at the end of his shift?’

  ‘I really can’t imagine,’ Melissa replied. Boredom was etched all over her face.

  ‘Mansell’s been given precise instructions for his movements during this evening to supposedly coincide with the client’s wife’s comings and goings. It’s too pat, too convenient.’

  ‘But what if it’s not this hotel? Maybe the attack is going to occur somewhere different.’

  ‘The attack will be very close, I reckon. Certainly close enough to ensure we would check out the residents staying here at the Ranalagh, where Mansell’s been booked in.’

  Melissa yawned and looked at her watch. ‘Nine forty-one, sir. I don’t think I can stand this all night. Can I get out for a walk?’

  ‘No!’ Magee snapped. ‘That’s the last thing we want, you spooking the murderer. It may be someone that can recognize your face, like Nick Price. That really would wreck the evening.’

  ‘Oh, great. Now I’m trapped here with you.’

  ‘Go to sleep if you’re bored.’

  ‘Thanks, I will.’ Melissa shut her eyes.

  Magee gave a look of despair in Melissa’s direction. What was wrong with the youth of today, he wondered? No staying power at all.

  The evening passed slowly as Magee sat in quiet solitude next to his sleeping sergeant, his only relief the odd radio enquiry from the three patrol cars waiting in the vicinity.

  At half past one in the morning a piercing alarm went off.

  Melissa jerked awake and spluttered, ‘What the hell is that?’

  ‘All cars, all cars,’ Magee shouted into his radio. ‘Respond please, where is that alarm coming from?’

  ‘It’s coming from here,’ the radio cackled in response.

  ‘Where’s here?’

  ‘The Roxborough, sir. It’s two along from the Ranalagh, going west. Hang on, there’s a security guard running like the clappers.’

  Magee stumbled out the car and heard a near cry of, ‘Hey, you, what’s going on?’

  ‘It’s the boss,’ came a muffled reply. ‘It’s his new panic button, right by his bed.’

  ‘Sir?’ came the cackle on Magee’s radio. ‘Are you still there? I think an attack is in progress.’

  Magee reached through the window to pick up the radio handset. ‘All cars, all cars, secure the area. Move in on the Roxborough Hotel. Is anyone around the back?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ came an unidentified response. ‘There’s a service path. I’m on it now. Hang on a second.’

  ‘Come on, Melissa. Action time!’

  Magee ran towards the hotel as bluish-white strobing lights from a multitude of police cars lit up the road.

  ‘Where is everyone?’ Magee shouted as he entered the hotel.

  ‘Downstairs, sir, the owner’s flat,’ came a distant reply.

  Magee rushed down a flight of stairs and through an open door to find a scene of utter confusion. One security guard lay collapsed on the floor; another sat on a sofa nursing a bruised jaw. Next to him lay an unconscious poodle. Behind the sofa, a pair of French doors were hanging half open, one glass panel revealing a neatly cut circular hole.

  Magee moved through the flat to the bedroom. There, he found the scene he’d been dreading. An officer looked up at Magee in bewilderment. ‘She’s unconscious, but still alive. Gassed I reckon. He’s, well, as you can see, sir. He’s well and truly had it.’

  Magee’s eyes had been fixed on the body since he’d entered the room. Killed in the safety of your own bed, what worse scenario could you face?

  ‘Jesus!’ Melissa muttered as she walked up behind Magee.

  ‘He must have woken, pressed the alarm even as he was being attacked,’ the officer said to no one in particular.

  Melissa leant over the bed and pulled back a bloodied sheet. ‘It’s the same dagger, sir.’

  ‘No doubt about it,’ Magee muttered in agreement. ‘It’s our man again.’

  ‘The guard out there nearly got him,’ the officer butted in.

  ‘Really?’ Magee perked up. He walked back into the sitting room to speak to the guard massaging his jaw. ‘I’m DCI Magee. Did you see him? The assailant, that is?’

  ‘Yeah, well, sort of. The bastard floored me.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Mr Harrison, the boss, installed a panic button the day before yesterday. He drilled us for hours and hours on it. Every time he set it off we had to run, full pelt, down here into the flat without knocking.’

  ‘You had keys?’

  ‘Yeah. We had to race in to his bedroom. He said he was worried about being attacked at night. Reckon he knew this was coming to him.’

  Magee scratched the back of his head before asking, ‘Did he say why, or who it would be?’

  ‘Nah! Sorry.’

  ‘Can you describe the assailant?’

  ‘A fucking Chink.’

  Magee frowned. ‘Do you mean he was of Chinese origin?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what I said.’

  ‘How do you know he was Chinese? What about Japanese? Could he have been from any other Eastern country?’

  ‘Fuck knows, mate.’

  ‘Man or woman?’

  The security guard thought about that question a while. ‘You know something? I’m not too sure. Male, I suppose. Too strong to be a woman. He nearly broke my jaw.’

  ‘What about his height and build?’

  ‘Smallish frame. Five foot six, maybe, maximum.’

  ‘Any distinguishing marks, characteristics?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Would you recognize him again?’

  The security guard took a moment to answer, ‘To be honest, no. I only really saw him for a split second. And anyway, he was weari
ng a gas mask.’

  ‘A gas mask? Shit! What about an artist sketch?’

  ‘I’ll give it a go, if you like, but . . . well . . .’

  ‘Okay, later perhaps. Which way did he go?’

  ‘Not sure, but I expect he went straight down through the gardens. There’s a path that runs along the bottom, it connects up all the properties along this road.’

  Magee looked at the unconscious dog lying next to the security guard. Surely it would have been on the floor, barking at the assailant as he came in. ‘What about the dog? Did you put it there?’

  ‘No. No, I didn’t.’

  Magee reflected on the question of the dog’s location. ‘Interesting, very interesting. Our murderer has a soft spot somewhere.’

  The radio crackled into life. ‘He’s come out on The Drive. Hello? Anyone there? Assistance required on The Drive. He’s in a Renault 5, heading north.’

  ‘This is DCI Magee. All cars give pursuit. I repeat, all cars to give pursuit.’ He lowered the hand-held radio and said, ‘Come on, Melissa.’

  ‘We’ve got him,’ came a crackled cry down the radio. ‘In pursuit going up Woodlands. He can’t outrun us; we’re yards from his bumper. Registration number is Delta Three Four Seven Delta Tango Charlie.’

  ‘Seal off his exit,’ Magee screamed at the radio. ‘Don’t let him get out of the town!’

  ‘Where’s Mansell, sir?’ Melissa asked.

  ‘No idea. Let’s go and check.’

  By the time Magee had entered the Ranalagh, the messages coming through on the radio were not what he wanted to hear.

  ‘. . . he’s on the dual carriageway, doing over a hundred, he’ll kill someone at that speed . . .’

  ‘. . . he’s going to turn on to the A23. Oh shit, that lorry’s swerved too much, it’s going to jack-knife. No, don’t brake . . . Ahhhh!’

  Magee winced as he heard the smash of glass and a resounding thud.

  ‘Sweet Jesus! Ambulance required immediately at the junction of the A27 and A23. Oh fuck, don’t lose him, let’s get going!’

  ‘. . . where is he? I don’t believe it! The fucker’s disappeared!’

  Magee clenched his fists in frustration. Surely, they couldn’t possibly lose sight of a car speeding that fast. ‘Get a helicopter out, for Christ sake!’ he shouted into the radio.