Chapter Two

Chapter Two

No plan survives first contact with the enemy, or so someone once said, but the first part was almost too easy. A couple of props, a notepad and a halfway decent camera and voila, instant reporter… the perfect excuse to be hanging around outside their crime scene.

Scanning what I could see of the scene as I approached, I snapped a couple of photographs past the bored-looking copper stood in front of a couple of miles’ worth of crime scene tape. Satisfied I’d found my way in, I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips.

At least one of us was happy. The scowl the copper didn’t even try to hide and the twitch of his fingers towards his radio told me that I’d nailed the disguise; and that he wasn’t pleased to see me.

“Look,” I said, trying to sound reasonable as I got closer, “we both got a job to do here, I can respect that, couple of quick questions, and I’m out of your hair, we good?”

He did his best impression of an angry statue as I spoke, holding his hand out in that unmistakable ‘don’t even think about it’ gesture.

I couldn’t blame him, of course, once the press had managed to get pictures from the fourth scene they'd promptly splashed them all over the front pages… and had a hissy fit when they were served with a D-Notice. Unable to report on the biggest story since the last big thing, the tabloids in particular had been tearing chunks out of the Met ever since.

"No comment,” he said in the same flat tone he'd been using since before I’d even asked the first question, “and I think your phone’s ringing?”

"Shit, shit, shit..." I hissed, looking down and cancelling the ringing alarm. And what wonderful timing that was. I’d got carried away playing reporter, trying to get something other than ‘no comment’ to pass his lips. I gave him a little wave and wandered off to have a nice loud, losing argument with my imaginary editor.

"Well," I eventually spat, "up yours too Becky! Perhaps if you'd been nicer, the police would be more cooperative!" I hung up and threw my phone away in an apparent fit of pique. I'd happily thrown Becky under the bus, literally and figuratively, and why not? Maybe the copper would look more kindly on little ol' me should our paths cross again, he almost certainly wouldn’t forget me after tonight.

I dropped to my knees to retrieve the smashed phone and glanced around sullenly, catching him laughing at my antics.

“Go on, laugh it up” I called over while raising my camera in his general direction, “… and enjoy being on the front page!”

He looked away briefly as I dragged the camera up one-handed. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for me to drop his lordship's package unseen under the trailer holding the generator. I stood and, without looking back, tossed a casual wave over my shoulder before wandering off into the night, head low, to lick my wounds.

Well, that's what he thought I'm sure. It took a count of five to make it around the corner. I picked up the pace as soon as I was out of sight; and was halfway down the alleyway behind the Town Wharf, and closing on the wheelie bins I'd stashed earlier by the time I reached seventeen.

Clearing the three metre high wall was relatively easy from the top of the bins I'd propped there earlier. I even stuck the landing on the other side. go me!

But now I had to cross the river, something I so wasn’t looking forward to. The water was, apparently, cleaner than any time in the last hundred years but that didn’t make me feel any better about swimming in it. I didn’t need to dip a toe in to know it’d be fucking freezing, and full of fish and slimy things!

I shivered in anticipation as I stripped down to my undies, psyching myself up for the trip – about a hundred metres in a straight line, a little more as I’d be crossing at an angle with the current… easy really, if everything carried on going to plan.

I placed everything I wanted to keep in a waterproof bag, while the broken phone disappeared into the river. I suppose I could have left it all on the bank and come back for it but one dip was going to be enough for me, the thought of going into the river twice enough to make my skin crawl.

A quick glance at my watch let me know I’d prevaricated too long already, my time was running out fast! Slime and God knows what else squished between my toes with the first step into the murky water.

I suppose I should be grateful that I didn’t step on anything sharp, or get set upon by something fish-like but, when the bank suddenly disappeared from under me, I flailed and sank like a lead weight screaming like a little girl. My heart leapt into my mouth, along with at least a gallon of foul river water, as I sank deep into the muck – mud squelching into places I’d really rather it hadn’t - as I fought against the force of the water to get myself upright again.

It could have only been a few seconds, even if each felt like a small lifetime, but I eventually made it back to the surface and dragged myself back to my feet. Much as I would’ve liked to have stood there feeling sorry for myself, I was completely out of time. The first explosion dragged my eyes skyward as fireworks poured into the night sky from the pub's car park... a lot of fireworks, all going off at pretty much the same time.

Spluttering curses I threw myself forwards, crashing along with all the grace of a cave troll, grateful that the sounds of my splashing were drowned out by the cacophony overhead.

***

Forty very long seconds later I crawled out onto the bank shielded from view behind the white tent the police had so thoughtfully erected, wondering how many had been watching the impromptu display.

I knew the fireworks wouldn't be enough to draw them all away from the scene, of course, but they weren’t meant to. They’d made enough noise that even my crashing through the river like a Panzer through the Ardennes couldn’t have been overheard, but that wasn’t the only noise they’d covered.

They’d easily drowned out the EMP's charging whine… and the thud as it went off. Oh, it wasn’t hard to tell it’d gone off alright, the flames and plumes of dense, noxious smoke that were rising from what was left of the police’s generator couldn't be missed. Nor could the other, slightly bigger clue. Everything within a few hundred metres had gone dark. No lights, no radios and no drones, for a little while at least. OK, so maybe the EMP alone would have taken care of the generator, maybe… but who can resist playing with explosives? Overkill? Not a word in my vocabulary.

I could hear the uniforms stumbling about and calling out to one another, and trying to call for help as I slipped up behind the tent, knowing I probably had less than five minutes until they managed to organise themselves and the drones would be back on the scene, so this would have to be fast and dirty if I was going to get it done.

I took a few calming breaths to help steady my pulse, crossed my fingers and pressed my ear to the plastic. I couldn’t hear any voices from the other side of the plastic, no sounds of movement either.

My knife slid easily through the thin material, quickly carving a me-sized hole. Not even the dimmest of the Met’s officers would miss that, given enough time, and maybe a couple of ten-year-olds to point it out to them… so yeah, they’d know someone had come through there and interfered with their crime scene, but needs must.

“Take that you old stick-in-the-mud, I'm in!” I whispered to myself, drawing a sharp breath as I stepped through into a chilled atmosphere, the scent of blood heavy on the air.

Trailing river water in my wake, I walked briskly around the perimeter to the actual door, carefully avoiding looking at the lumpy mass covered with a blood-stained sheet in the middle of the space. I peeked out from between the flaps to see if anyone was nearby or, worse, heading my way but it all looked good, for now.

I could see bodies moving around some distance away easily enough, backlit as they passed in front of the burning generator. I smiled, there wasn't a soul in sight between me and the road. Hell, they were so far away making my own door had probably been unnecessary, if I’d had the balls, I could have just strolled around the front and walked in the door.