Lying Ways, page 29
‘I won’t let anything happen to you,’ he said.
She was moved. It was a very sweet gesture, but Kate wasn’t stupid. Nobody could protect her if a bunch of angry prisoners wanted to take advantage of having a real live woman in their company, especially a copper.
‘So, a tornado team is specially trained to quell situations like this. They wear riot gear and have a few more handy weapons than your average POs. It’s likely they’ll send in armed squads too, at least with blanks, and the fire brigade may be on standby – you’d be amazed at how powerful their hoses are.’
‘Is that what’s called a Freudian slip?’ Doug teased. Kate appreciated him trying to lift her spirits. He was an old-timer, unlike Nathan, and knew very well what she might face.
They chatted easily and Kate reflected on the absurdity of the situation. Aaron stuck close by and she wondered what his story was, he was so young. If she got out of here, she’d put a good word in for both prisoners. And there were others. There were the men who’d kept quiet about her being in the library in the first place. There were the ones who’d stood in front of her when Rickie Burton came sniffing about. They all deserved a mention for their humanity. Just because a man goes to prison doesn’t mean that he loses all of his values. Some of them were probably innocent, too. Whatever their backgrounds, Kate was happy that Doug and Aaron were with her now.
The whistles began to reverberate down the corridor as they neared the central rotunda. Kate had never been this up close and personal with cells before. Those beneath Eden House were like hotel suites compared to this. The damage and detritus was staggering. They walked past burning pyres of wood and furniture. The floors were scorched black. Taps drained across the halls, turning everything to a black mush. Glass was scattered across the wing like confetti, and piles of beds, cupboards, doors and desks had been built up to prevent anyone from leaving or gaining entry. She looked around and assessed the situation, in case she could get hold of a phone and communicate the information to a tornado team.
‘When they enter, they will shout “get down”. It’s such a simple thing, but it works, because anyone wanting a fight will stand. We’ll hit the deck, and believe me they’ll start pushing in with huge force. Anyone standing will be mown down. If you can find a way in to a cell, then well and good, but the important thing is not to give them any reason to use coercion against you. If I’m nearby I’ll make myself known to them – they’ll know I’m in here and will be looking for me, as well as the POs and Nathan.’
‘You know a lot for a teacher,’ Aaron said.
She smiled and squeezed his hand. He wasn’t much older than Millie. He knew she wasn’t a teacher.
‘I trained in it, honey. Promise me you’ll get your arse on the floor when they come in?’ she said. He nodded.
The noise grew louder and Doug, Aaron and Nathan made a blockade around her.
Rickie was chatting to a group of men and turned to see her arrival. The din was deafening now, and Kate saw a look in many of the faces that reminded her of what a criminal looks like when he was charged with a serious offence for the first time: it was an animalistic sense of injustice and arrogance. But it was also mingled with something else: lust. Their eyes were red and wide, probably from drugs, in most cases. She could smell the hooch, and she also recognised the acrid aroma of vomit. Many men were passed out on mattresses, while others danced, some fought and some huddled around the only TV powered by a generator. To most of them the day was just a holiday; some relief from the tedious routine of their isolation.
Rickie approached and Doug got between them.
‘I won’t have anything untoward happen to this lady, Rickie,’ he said.
‘Neither will I,’ Nathan said, stepping forward. Kate saw Doug’s head dip; Aaron watched from next to her. She felt his body shaking and touched his hand.
‘It’s okay,’ she whispered, wishing she could believe her own voice.
‘You’re a fucking copper!’ somebody shouted. The whole place erupted into chants and taunts. The crowd came closer and Kate felt suffocated.
‘Get back!’ It was Rickie Burton’s voice.
‘Fuck you! She’s getting what’s coming,’ another said. A few lads rushed forward and managed to get hold of Kate. Nathan jumped on one of them and Doug held on to Kate’s arm for dear life. Aaron backed up against a wall. Rickie desperately tried to calm things down but Kate could tell that he’d lost the loyalty of mob.
Nathan disappeared beneath the hoard of men and Doug went down too. Kate frantically searched for them amongst the charging bodies, which seemed to be running in all directions. Her lungs screamed in pain as they were crushed against men’s backs and elbows, she took a shoulder to the face and her head seemed to spin out of control. Her vision went blurry and her knees buckled. Somebody pulled at her leg.
She was down. She wriggled violently, hoping no-one could get hold of her, and she clawed her say away from the fighting, on her belly. The noise was deafening. Her leg continued to be pulled by a vice-like grip and it was only when she was clear that she realised that it was Aaron, and he bent low next to her.
‘In there!’ he said breathlessly. She saw that he was pointing to a cell. She stopped kicking and they squirmed their way to the room. She watched and listened as cracks resonated against the bare plastic walls, and she realised with horror that the noises were probably bones breaking. She looked back and could not see Nathan or Doug. She did spot Rickie Burton, though, who was pinned down underneath a mass of prisoners. Their eyes met and she saw pure fear in his gaze. She looked away and hid with Aaron under a metal bed. He was shaking.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked her, and she nodded, putting her arm around him, like one of her own children. The noises outside the cell were subsiding and Kate could just see, though the detritus thrown about the cell, what was going on outside. The scuffling was stopping as something else caught the men’s attention. She saw that Rickie Burton had regained his footing, though he was bloodied and hurt, he’d managed to divert attention to a new arrival. She watched through the door as a man was brought to the centre of the space, and thrown to his knees. He was pleading for his life to be spared and trying to convince his captors not to harm him.
It was Brian Taylor.
‘This was all his plan! He manipulated you! He played you like kids. Don’t you see, he wants this, he engineered it. Think about it, who told you about the search?’ the governor screamed.
Kate watched in horror as the man cried out in terror as he teetered between being spared or being executed. But the situation was beyond her control. She held on to Aaron, and he to her as they watched the crowd murmur amongst themselves.
They were choosing sides.
Chapter 60
The command room became aware of the shifting mood inside the prison via Mike.
‘People are coming out!’ The communication reached the command room where Kelly and Cassandra stood, arms splayed on the desks in front of them. Kelly wanted to run, but she used all her willpower to stop herself. She had to wait for the armed response units to stand down, and make sure the prisoners gave up their weapons.
They watched the screens helplessly. It was all they could do. No one knew what had happened, and Mike spoke frantically to prisoners who had picked up drop phones and still had them.
‘It’s over,’ one told him. ‘The governor’s dead.’
Cassandra turned to Kelly and they watched the screens, wildly searching the survivors for signs of prison officers, Kate or the teacher.
Dozens of men were leaving the prison. Most inmates appeared unhurt but some were badly wounded. Reports of fights between those who tried to protect the governor and those who were loyal to Rickie Burton filtered through to the cabin.
Then Kelly saw her.
She looked at Cassandra, who nodded. Kelly sprinted from the temporary suite and pounded towards the stream of prisoners. Kate was with a young man, and they had their arms around one another. Kelly stopped running. Their eyes locked and Kate’s face crumpled. The pair halted too, and Kelly saw that the young man was supporting Kate. Kelly charged over to them and stood breathless in front of them, and Kate stumbled towards her boss. The young man smiled at Kelly and she looked at him, then closed her eyes. She held them both tightly.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked the boy.
‘Aaron. I found her in the library.’
‘We spoke to you on the phone. Well, my colleague did,’ Kelly corrected herself. Of course, Aaron wouldn’t know how important he’d been, or that a whole command suite was listening to him.
‘Doug?’ she asked. Kate looked at her and shook her head.
‘Nathan?’ Both of them shook their heads.
‘Rickie Burton is badly injured. It got nasty. CM Fawcett is dead. The governor was lynched. A handful of them are still having a party, but when the majority found out that it was all a plot to save Burton’s skin, they gave up.’
‘We’re hearing reports that Rickie Burton is dead too,’ Kelly said. ‘Is it true that he was behind it, then?’ Kelly asked. Kate nodded.
‘It was the governor who pointed it out and swayed the prisoners. I guess he thought it might save his life. Kelly, it was horrible,’ Kate said. ‘This young man protected me.’
Somebody put a blanket around them and they walked back to the medical tent, set up hastily for casualties.
Kelly noticed movement in her peripheral vision and realised that Cassandra had ordered a tornado team inside. But she no longer cared. Kate was out, and she was safe.
She reflected on the curious situation she found herself in: surrounded by convicts, unshackled and walking in the same direction as them, for the same purpose, and she felt no threat. No threat whatsoever.
‘Do you want to speak to Millie? Johnny’s with her,’ Kelly said. Kate stopped and nodded. She turned to Aaron.
‘Millie’s my daughter, not much older than you,’ Kate said.
Kelly dialled the number and spoke to Johnny. ‘She’s out, she’s all right and she wants to speak to Millie,’ Kelly said. She passed the phone to Kate, who took it.
‘Millie?’ Kate said. Then the tears came.
The phone was passed back and Kelly spoke to Johnny again. She watched as Kate’s face changed and the reality of her freedom hit her. Kelly said a quick goodbye to Johnny, but he didn’t want the call to end. Before she could hang up on him, like he had done to her, he told her he’d been watching the news and had seen Ian Burton arrested and taken away in a police car. His voice was flat but Kelly knew him well enough to establish that it wasn’t due to a lack of emotion, rather the very opposite.
‘You asked me if I know him, I do. He needs help, Kelly, not you lot locking him up and throwing away the key. He’ll last five minutes inside a prison, and no-one deserves that when they’ve fought for their country. He went to hell in Iraq, it wasn’t his fault. I’ve been treating him for PTSD for three years,’ he said.
Kelly felt sick. Johnny had counselled a monster.
Chapter 61
‘Be advised, Mr Burton, that you are being interviewed under caution, and anything you do say might be given in evidence at a later date, should the court require it. You have been arrested on suspicion of murder. What can you tell me about Jack Bell and Dean Kirby?’ Kelly asked.
‘Never heard of them.’
It was the first time Kelly had heard the voice of the man she believed had killed Jack and Dean, and certainly others too. She pushed the photos of Jack and Dean towards him and watched him. He didn’t flinch.
‘Nope.’
His accent was neutral. He could have been from anywhere. His dad, Rickie, had a thick northern dialect and he sounded rough and ready, as if he’d lived on the streets, scrapping all his life. But Ian was different.
‘Why do you think your father didn’t have you recorded as his next of kin?’
The mention of his dead father riled him, which was what Kelly wanted.
‘Irrelevant, can you please move on,’ the lawyer interjected.
‘Do you recognise this?’ she held up the signet ring in a see-through plastic bag.
‘Where did you find it? I lost that ages ago, or it was stolen,’ he said.
‘It has your fingerprint on it,’ she said.
‘It was stolen,’ he said.
‘You were burgled?’ Kelly asked. He didn’t answer and the lawyer held her stern gaze, making it clear that she should move on.
Kelly was exasperated, but she also knew that if he was willing to keep up this facade, and keep it going in front of a jury, then they wouldn’t get him where they needed him: beyond reasonable doubt. They needed solid evidence of communication between him and his father, and they needed to place him in the vicinity of Seascale and Workington at the right time. Then, and only then, would the circumstantial evidence come together to convince a jury.
‘Do you know this man?’ she asked, showing him the still of Kieran Foster, the drug dealer from Barrow, the one who’d bought the Snickers bar.
‘Nope.’
‘That’s funny, he knows you,’ she said.
‘Really? Are you sure he’s not just saying that, after seeing my picture in the paper, for some personal gain?’
The lawyer looked at Kelly questioningly. Kelly stared at Ian. The man before her was a narcissist. He’d run away and joined the army, then he’d played God in close protection, then he’d been sent back to his daddy. Any sense of real responsibility had passed him by, and his arrogance compounded the personality disorder. The lies just sealed the deal.
‘Why did you take the eyes, Ian?’
‘My client isn’t on trial, DI Porter,’ said the lawyer.
‘Did Dean’s latex allergy frustrate you, and make you want to hurt Jack more?’
‘I have to insist on a new line of questioning, DI Porter. Unless you have some solid evidence to show us.’
Kelly was more used to lawyers letting things go, mainly because they knew half of their clients were guilty as hell. However, this was a new face, and she’d clearly swallowed the manual on interviewing under caution.
‘Do you recognise these items?’ she said, showing photos of the winching equipment, the lamp and the gloves used at the care home.
‘We use them at the care home all the time,’ he said.
Kelly reckoned, judging by the pulse in his neck, that his heart rate hadn’t gone beyond ninety.
‘And this?’ It was a photo of the winch strap tying Jack to the chair. Ian twisted his head this way and that.
‘Hmmm, it could be from our place, I’m not sure. It’s quite dirty,’ he said.
‘Why didn’t you sign in under your real name when you visited your father in prison?’
‘He said he didn’t want me to, it’s a safety thing, he’s always tried to protect me from his criminal record, with my military past and all that,’ Ian said. He was articulate and in control.
‘On that note, Ian, what happened to you between January and December 2004, when you disappeared for three hundred and nine days, near Basra, Iraq?’
‘Not much. The family had lost a son, and they kept me living with them to fill a gap, I guess. I was disarmed after a patrol gone wrong, we were sold out by the enemy and I was taken. They were perfectly respectful towards me.’
‘But you weren’t allowed to leave?’
‘No.’
‘How did they force you to stay?’
‘It might come as a surprise to you, but what the common view of incarceration involves isn’t usually correct. Being held in a situation against your will might not always be about violence, although you’d like to believe it is, I’m sure – that would give you the motive you need to prove that I committed some perverse re-enactment, wouldn’t it?’
Kelly stared at him. She hadn’t had chance to speak to Johnny about his therapy, what it entailed, and what they spoke about. She was too mad at him. She had no idea where the feeling of betrayal came from, but it was there. She couldn’t reconcile his work with this man before her. Even after he’d found out who Ian Burton really was, Johnny had still defended him.
‘We are aware that you have been receiving therapy for PTSD for the last three years from a counsellor. Mr Johnny Frietze?’ She watched him.
‘Yes, he showed me your photo. He said images of functional, happy families are therapeutic. Your daughter is so pretty.’
Kelly’s nails dug into her fists under the table.
‘Did your trauma begin as a result of your incarceration, or was it your work in military security that contributed to it? More specifically the relationship with a minor when working for a family in Amman, between 2014 and 2017?’
No answer.
‘What were your movements between midday on Friday fifteenth October and midday on Sunday seventeenth October?’
‘Can’t remember, I often work nights and sleep all day when I get some time off.’
‘I find it difficult to believe that you struggle to recall where you were only days ago, when you remember the kindness of a family sixteen years ago,’ Kelly said.
‘I think we need to leave it there. If you’re not going to charge my client then it’s his right to leave, and I’m advising that course of action now.’
Kelly was royally pissed off. The lawyer was technically sound, but very unhelpful.
‘Do you recognise this type of phone?’ Kelly asked. She showed him a plastic bag containing a Zanco Tiny T1 phone, like the ones believed to have been used by the victims.
‘What is it? An MP3?’ Ian asked. The lawyer packed her things away, knowing full well that they had little else.
‘Turning off the tape at three forty-nine.’
Watching Ian Burton leave custody was one of the worst moments of her career since leaving the Met. But more than that, his smile when he stood up and pushed his chair in made her shiver.
