A Time For Justice (35 page)

Henry believed him.

One of his hands went to Henry’s throat, and his fingers
closed unhurriedly on the windpipe. Slowly, but surely, Henry was
being throttled by a man who was enjoying his work.

He gasped, gurgled, struggled for air. His vision misted over.
Blackout, followed by death, wasn’t far away.

It
was amazing what such a
realisation could do to a person. Everything that Henry had left
went into what he did next.

He smashed his right knee up into the man’s
backside.

He’d wanted to connect with his privates, but that would have
been physically impossible. However, the effect was just as good.
The impact sent him shooting over Henry in a messy forward
roll.

As the hands came off his windpipe, air whooshed down. Henry
scrambled to his feet as quickly as possible. He staggered weakly
and turned to his attacker, who was up on his knees already. Henry
lurched towards him and executed a double-fisted swipe across his
face that sent him sprawling again.

Blood flowed from the man’s mouth, coupled with spittle and a
tooth. He shook his head and looked meanly at Henry who stood over
him. Then, suddenly, he dived for Henry’s ankles - and nearly had
them. Henry managed to step smartly backwards and all the man
managed to do was grab thin air.

So Henry kicked him in the side of the head as hard as he
possibly could.

Twice.

Henry was going to end it now. He had to.

While the man crouched on the ground, recovering, Henry picked
up a large, oval-shaped rock. Lifting it high in both hands, he
brought it down with all of his fading strength on the crown of his
assailant’s head. There was a horrible splintering noise and the
big man was felled like an ox. He was probably as good as dead, but
Henry wanted to make sure.

He hit him again with the rock. Then he found he couldn’t stop
himself. He continued to hit him. There was no point to it, but he
couldn’t hold himself back. He kept hitting and hitting until he
collapsed next to him, exhausted.

It began to rain lightly.

A lifetime later, soaked to the skin, Henry staggered through
the trees, and up the path. The cabin was ahead of him, nestling
innocently in the trees, the Metro parked in front.

He stopped in his tracks, fearing the worst.
Suppose the killer had visited the cabin on the
way?

He ran to the door and burst in.

The girls were sat in front of the electric fire, contentedly
playing draughts. They looked up, their beautiful faces suddenly
transformed with looks of horror at what they saw.

A man. Dirty. Bloody. Wet. Bedraggled. Not their
father.

Leanne screamed.

‘
Jenny,’ said Henry. His voice came straight from the hell
where he’d been.

Her mouth fell open.

Dizziness overcame him. He teetered. His limbs weren’t
working; they were suddenly jelly and couldn’t hold him
up.

He pitched headlong onto the floor of the cabin.

Henry surfaced several hours later. He had vague recollections
of flashing blue lights, two-tone horns and a sensation of speed,
but nothing more. When his eyes focused they saw a nurse in uniform
and a tube sticking out of his arm.

He tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t leave his voice box.
His throat was very badly swollen and sore.

The nurse smiled. ‘Carlisle Infirmary, Casualty Department,’
she said brightly, reading his mind. ‘Your children are in the
waiting room with your wife and they’re fine, so don’t worry. I’ll
get a doctor now and once he’s seen you he can decide whether or
not you’re fit for visitors, OK?’

Henry nodded. Well, that was everything taken care of, he
thought. Nurses just seem to know everything.

When Kate and the children came in to see him, it was clear
they’d all been crying. His wife was dabbing at her eyes and the
end of her nose looked red-raw from snuffling. Henry wanted to grab
her and hug her. He knew, however, that she would not allow
it.

‘
You look a bit better now, Dad,’ said Jenny, eyeing him
critically. She managed a weak smile.

He laid his good hand on her head. ‘Thanks to you, that is,’
he said. He went on slightly falteringly, ‘Well done for
getting me to hospital, love. I owe you
one.’

‘
No, you don’t. I love you,’ she said
heartbreakingly.

He’d been told of Jenny’s cool head and quick reactions. She
had covered him with a blanket, given Leanne strict instructions to
stay with him and she’d run over two miles to the nearest public
phone box and called an ambulance. She had then run back to the
cabin where a petrified Leanne held her father’s head on her lap
whilst pressing a towel onto the wound in his back. She had been
sobbing and was covered in blood.

Henry looked at Leanne. ‘And you, pet - thanks for looking
after me.’

‘
It was nothing,’ she said bravely, her lips quivering with
remembered fear.

‘
That’ll do,’ said their mother stiffly. ‘Now you two give
your Dad a hug and a kiss and go and wait for
me in the Matron’s office.’

They reluctantly obeyed.

Kate perched herself on the edge of the bed, near Henry’s
feet
and they regarded each other
for
a while in silence.

‘
You’ll have to come nearer if you want a conversation,’ said
Henry. ‘I can’t talk very loud.’

She sighed and moved closer, not allowing him to touch her
when he reached out to do so. He accepted the rebuff without
comment.

‘
Two pretty amazing kids,’ he said.

‘
Yes, they are ... Look, Henry, what’s going on? What have you
got yourself into? The doctor told me he’s called the local police
in to see you
,
at
your request, because you’d been shot. You must tell me what’s
happening!’ She was afraid and confused.

‘
It’s tied in with the Hinksman trial, I think,’ he said
painfully. ‘Silencing witnesses - intimidation. But I doubt I’ll
ever be able to prove there’s a link.’

‘
Oh Christ! So what happened today?’

Slowly, Henry told her everything.

‘
You think you killed him, then?’ she asked when he’d
finished. She put her hands to her face. ‘You killed a man! I don’t
believe this.’

‘
It was in self-defence,’ he croaked. ‘I didn’t have a choice
in the matter. It was him, or me. I made sure it was
him.’

‘
And are we in danger, I mean me and the girls?’

‘
I don’t know,’ he said truthfully. ‘Probably it’s only me
they want. I’m the man who can do the damage.’

‘
So what shall we do?’

‘
Carry on as before, but keep a close watch on them. Tighten
up security at home. . . I don’t really know, Kate. I just don’t
know. I wish I did.’

‘
What’s going to happen to you now?’

‘
I’ll speak to the local cops and tell them what’s
happened.

Hopefully they’ll believe me, won’t be daft enough to charge
me with murder. The evidence should support my story. I’ll have to
see how it goes.’

‘
How will you get home? You can’t drive with your wrist all
plastered up.’

‘
Dunno. I’ll find a way. Taxi. Bus. Train. Plane.
Walk?’

‘
I’ll come up for you. ‘

‘
You don’t have to.’

She heaved a weary, full-bodied sigh and looked
away.

After a pause, he said, ‘What about us, Kate? Is it really
over?’

‘
I don’t know,’ she said heavily. ‘You betrayed me. You were
unfaithful.’

‘
I’m sorry. I’ve said it a million times and I’ll say it a
million more times, if that’s what it takes. I love you and I want
to get our lives back on track. I let you down badly. I hurt you. I
hurt the kids. I know all that. Don’t you think I’ve suffered, too?
I’m mixed up to hell about it all . . . but I know where I truly
belong. I miss you like hell. . . I want to touch you, kiss you,
hold you, reassure you, make love to you, court you, live my life
with you, die for you ... hmph! Talk about dying. You know what the
worst part is, eh? Thinking you won’t be there when I die
...’

‘
Henry, don’t-’ She was sobbing again.

‘
Mr Christie?’

Henry looked up beyond Kate’s shoulder. Two men had appeared
at the foot of the bed. Well-dressed. Nice suits. Clean shaven.
Short hair. Henry pinned them as detectives immediately. He
smiled.

‘
Yes. Hello, fellas.’

They did not smile. ‘DI Fletcher, this is DC Tumin. Carlisle
CID.’ They flashed their warrant cards.

Henry nodded, wary now.

‘
I’m arresting you on suspicion of murder. I’m not gonna bore
you by reciting that new caution, mainly because I can’t remember
it. You know you don’t have to say owt, but if you do it may be
given in evidence - and if you do say owt, then it’ll do any
defence you might have no good. Understand?’

Chapter Twenty

The trial at Lancaster Castle, due to begin properly the
following Monday morning, came to a standstill quite quickly, much
to the smiling pleasure of Hinksman who was led back down to the
holding cell.

Several members of the jury had complained to an usher - who’d
passed the complaints on to the court clerk - that strange things
had been happening to them over the weekend. Two had windows broken
at their homes by unidentified persons, two received unusual phone
calls and three had tyres slashed on their cars. Taken separately,
each incident amounted to nothing more than a minor annoyance;
taken together, they were more than a coincidence. It was very
sinister and unsettling. The jury was being got at.

In the chambers, the Judge saw FB. He promised to look into
the matter and told her that he would arrange for each juror - if
they so wished - to be escorted home by police each evening and
back to court next morning for the duration of the trial. He also
said he would provide each of their homes with an alarm linked to
the police radio system. Such an alarm, once activated, would
immediately alert every police officer on that frequency who could
respond without delay. The cost would be excessive, but would have
to be borne. Better safe than sorry.

FB also told her what had happened to Henry Christie that
weekend.

She listened, appalled.

The trial did not begin until 2.30 p.m.

And Henry Christie was sat in court.

He looked a mess. The eye-socket which had been head-butted
stuck out as big and red as a cricket ball and his throat was a
swollen mess of dirty purple bruises. His left wrist was in
plaster, and held across his chest in a sling.

He waited for Hinksman to be brought up from the holding cell.
Only then did he leave the court as he was required to
do.

Only when he had made eye-contact with Hinksman.

Only when he had made it quite clear that he would not be
beaten. Everybody’s eyes were on him as he hobbled out of
court.

The Judge covered a grin and called for proceedings to
begin.

Outside the court, Henry made his way to the police room
where

Donaldson was waiting, together with Karen.

He sat down and gratefully accepted the proffered cup of tea.
‘Now then, Henry, you old son of a gun, bring me up to date,’
requested Donaldson.

Henry took a sip of the tea, leaned back and told them his
story.

Two uniformed Constables had guarded Henry on Saturday night
through to Sunday morning - just in case he decided to run away.
Henry, pumped full of blissful drugs, slept like a baby in a dark,
dreamless void. He awoke refreshed the following morning, when he
was discharged from hospital and taken into police
custody.

He didn’t blame them for arresting him. He would have done the
same. Someone had died a violent death; explanations were
needed.

It didn’t stop it being an unpleasant experience. He was
treated well and courteously, but there was no quarter given just
because he was a fellow cop. He was grilled by experienced
detectives whose techniques were very, very good. Henry could have
played games with them, but he didn’t. He was open and honest and
admitted what he’d done. He argued self-defence and everything
pointed to his story being right.

The presence of FB in the background helped, too. He came to
assist as soon as he heard.

At the end of the day after nine hours in custody, several of
those hours being spent brooding in a cell, Henry was released
without charge but warned that a report would be submitted to the
Crown Prosecution Service for advice. Informally he was told by a
Detective Chief Inspector that the ‘job was going nowhere’ - police
terminology meaning that he would not be prosecuted. In his heart
of hearts Henry knew that this would be the case, but it was a
relief to hear it anyway.