Human Frailty, a Detective Mike Bridger novel (24 page)

He had been waiting for this day to come. It
had taken a lot of preparation but it had been worth it. All the
hard work was going to be coming to fruition in the next couple of
hours. His plan had consumed his entire thought process, laced with
bittersweet emotions. He was finally going to have his mother put
right the wrongs she inflicted on him as a child. She was going to
thank him. He was sure having had time to think about her actions
all those years ago, that she would want to put it right for both
their sakes.

He had prepared father for the
day
’
s
activities, he was waiting backstage for his curtain call. Father
was almost catatonic, his eyes were not focusing, there was a
stream of clear snotty liquid running from his nose and glistening
on his messy facial stubble. His movements were more like a person
who needed guidance than someone actively resisting. It had not
taken much to put him in the frame. Father's frame was not as
elaborate as mother's was. His part did not require much in the way
of movement.

Mother on the other hand had to be able to
dance, he wanted her to dance the dance of the desperate and
frightened. The selfish dance he had witnessed as a boy. He had
made her do it a while ago, to see if she remembered.

Watching her while he manipulated the ropes,
twirling and swaying, had invoked the memories he wanted. This had
to be vivid and clear for it to work. He did not want to hide from
the feelings it was going to bring him. In order to purge the
demon, the feelings had to return. He was strong now. He could face
them.

He grabbed a bottle of water from his bag
and opened the lid. Taking a mouthful of the cold, still water, he
looked at the screen. Mother was there, doing what he remembered
her doing. She looked to be lost in her own thoughts, shutting out
the world and everyone in it, thinking of her own torment and not
his. Torment inflicted on her by the sniveling mess in the next
room. She chose that man and everything that came with him. He
looked at the photo in front of him, the smile on her selfish face.
That smile told him that she was happy with her decision, that she
invited him into her life with open arms. His smile told him that
he was happy for her to do just that.

He looked at the clock, ten minutes to go.
He would not start a minute before; it had to be just right.

The team leader of the Armed Offenders
Squad, Sergeant Gary Stone, was struggling with his emotions. He
was an athletic forty seven year old father of two daughters, both
in their late teens and out dating, something he was having trouble
coming to grips with. He had married young, with children soon to
follow.

He had seen the best and the worst of people
in his career to date, but what this man was doing was beyond
comprehension to him. He had listened in anger as Bridger had
filled him in on whom and what they were dealing with. His blood
was running high, as was the other members of the squad, so they
had to be professional. His brief to them was simple, get in,
secure the building, and Jonas. Then evacuate Marion to a safe
place.

Once they were alone with Jonas, he wanted
to make sure they did everything by the book. As much as his
instinct told him that he should hurt this man, he had to let real
justice take its course. He could not let natural justice into the
equation. He was trying hard not to picture his own daughter
trussed up in the contraption he had seen on the live feed earlier,
as the thunder flash exploded inside the building.

He watched in anticipation as the front man
disappeared inside followed closely by the rest of the team.

The shout of 'Armed Police' was bouncing off
brick walls of the warehouse as the men moved in and then fanned
out in search of the quarry. It was a move practiced a thousand
times before and they executed it perfectly.

The room was cavernous, measuring about
twenty meters by thirty-five meters, it contained one blue sedan,
various large metal drums, and further towards the rear there were
rows of shelving similar to a library.

It took a couple of minutes to check the
room with various members of the teams shouting, 'Clear', as they
searched the area they were assigned to and found nothing.

Less than three minutes after the first loud
explosion, Gary Stone stood in the middle of the building
surrounded by his team. Neither Jonas nor Marion was in the
building. The rear door was still locked with a padlock on the
inside so could not have been used. It looked like Jonas had been
spirited away.

"We watched the guy drive in here, he must
be inside somewhere", Bridger was saying into the cell phone as he
approached the entrance to the warehouse. Slightly out of breath he
stepped into the building, as soon as he saw the Stone he put away
his phone. He was standing in a huddle with some of his squad
members; they had removed their black helmets leaving sweaty hair
stuck to their scalps.

"Where the hell is he
then?
”
Bridger said angrily.

"Hey Mike, don't shoot the messenger, we
checked and rechecked. This building is empty. You must have missed
him coming out after he parked his car up".

Bridger silently kicked himself. Had he
taken his eye off the ball once he saw Jonas going inside,
expecting him to stay inside with Marion? If he had, he did not
expect that sticky had looked away, or the other members of the
surveillance squad.

"Tell your boys to search again, he's in
here somewhere", he demanded.

"Look Mike we do this sort of search all the
time. My boys are good at their jobs; if he were in here, we would
have found him. I'm telling you he's left the building".

"That can't be right", Bridger said, "we had
at least four pairs of eyes on this building, I'm sure we would
have seen him coming out if he had".

"Well we haven't found him, and you
lot haven
’
t
seen him leave, so he must be in here somewhere then", Stone said,
indicating the four corners of the room, clearly visible from where
they were standing, his irritation starting to show a little on his
normally calm and confident features.

Bridger looked around helplessly, there were
not many places to hide and the boys dressed in black had searched
every corner. Anger started to bubble in the pit his stomach, anger
and frustration at the lack of someone to blame.

Becky was standing off to one side, looking
at the sidewall, then back at the door. She had a slightly puzzled
look on her face.

"Mike this room is smaller than the
buildings footprint", she said.

"What?
”

"The building is bigger on the outside than
what I can see in this room. There has to be another room
here".

"The only door is at the rear and that was
padlocked", Stone said. "My boys had to break the lock to check. It
leads out to the rear yard..., what there is of it".

He looked around the room trying to see what
Becky was trying to say. A momentary glance at the floor below the
workbench off to his right gave him the explanation he was looking
for. He could see a semi circular shape in the dust pattern on the
floor, as if a door opened over it recently, except there was no
door visible.

"Turn off the lights", Bridger whispered
urgently, the excitement building again over the feeling of
failure.

Stone motioned to one of his men; the large
industrial lights went out leaving total darkness.

Bridger blinked his eyes to try to regain
his vision in the blackness of the warehouse. He turned around in a
slow circle scanning the area where he imagined the floor to meet
the wall. He did not need night vision to see the faint glow
emitting from a small crevice under the workbench attached to the
sidewall.

"Put the lights on again", he said.

The lights went on leaving everyone
blinking. Bridger put his finger up to his nose, indicating the
need for silence. Then he pointed at the workbench.

The rest of the team had seen the same thing
in the darkness and needed no further explanation.

Bridger watched for a second time as the
black clad figures lined up on each other, each man holding the
shoulder of the man in front. The two lead members took hold of the
workbench on either side. Stone gave a reverse three count using
his fingers. They manhandled the workbench away from its position,
bringing with it a whole section of the wall. Light flooded out of
the opening, light that was brighter than the area they were in
currently. The light reminded Bridger of a fictional alien
spacecraft opening its door. It was light that you would see as a
part of any stage set.

Bridger watched for a second time as the
black clad figures disappeared into the light one by one. He looked
at his watch, two minutes to one o'clock.

"How much do you think he knows
Greg?
”
Glenn Gallagher asked.

Matthews did not quite know how to respond,
they had been sitting in his office for the past half hour with
Mrs. Watson, passing pleasantries between themselves as if they
were old friends. It had not slipped Matthews attention that Mrs.
Watson had not once mentioned Marion during that time. He knew the
history between her and Gallagher, but he was sure she had been
more than a little flirtatious with him as well. Gallagher had been
smarmy as always, the same tosser he was when he was in the
job.

Matthews had watched as he had bullied his
way into the rank he attained prior to leaving the police, he had a
knack of knowing everything about everybody and would use some of
that information to hold people to ransom. Matthews had no doubt
that he employed the same tactics to gain his position at the table
next to the Mayor, as the Chief executive officer of one of the
biggest construction firms in the city, he had open access to the
city leaders ear.

He hated the fact that he was unable to
stand up to this man, but self-preservation was a strong motivation
to play along.

Matthews had not done anything illegal back
in the day, but illegal or not, the morality of the job had changed
a lot since then and it would not do for Gallagher to start any
rumors about him that could derail his promotion aspirations.

Now that Mrs. Watson had excused herself to
go to the toilet, Gallagher was back to being all business.

"Well Gregg what do you think, is Bridger up
to it? Or is he the alcoholic cowboy you described to me".

"He can
’
t know anything about it yet",
Matthews said, "But he's about to take down the operation as we
speak. Do you think Jonas is our boy?
”

"He could be it's been so long since I've
seen him. People change so much as they get older".

"Obviously they don't change their nature
though, as I recall he was a bit of a violent child in his time. A
victim of his circumstance maybe", Matthews said.

"Like father like son more like," Gallagher
replied.

Gallagher had never let on who the father
was.

"When did you realise that it could be him?”
Matthews asked

"As soon as he opened his mouth, it was what
he has been saying, and there is no doubt that Marion looks exactly
like her mother did at that age. He wants to resurrect the past
using Marion as the prop to exorcise his demons".

"What's his name
Glenn?
”

"I don't know, I think it was Daniel or
something like that. I didn't really take much notice of the kid; I
wasn't there to see him was I".

"Where has he been all this time and
why hasn't he tried contacting his mother?
”

"I told him she had died as well. It seemed
easier and it smoothed the way for his entry into that residential
school I put him in".

Matthews looked at Glenn's stony features as
he talked.

"You really are an arsehole aren't
you..."

"Don't be like that Gregg; I did my best for
the boy. He was no good in that house...or with either of
them".

"How can he be better off being dumped in
another hell hole thinking that his parents had died? You did your
best for you. It sorted out your inconvenient problem. If you had
reported any of those assaults, it would have all come out
eventually. You would have been out of the force".

Glenn smiled back at Matthews, a sly
knowing smile. It turned Matthews
’
s stomach to look at.

"It pays to know things in this life, Gregg,
I would have been slightly embarrassed to air my dirty washing in
the canteen but that's as far as it would have gone".

Matthews could only imagine what he knew and
whom he knew it about.

"What made Mrs. Watson contact you
about Marion?
”

"I guess I was the only police officer she
knew. I guess she thought with our history that it would be better
for me to handle this than a younger police officer that thinks
differently about things".

"Does she know that this pervert who is
holding her daughter is possibly her long lost son"?

"She thinks he died that night, Gregg, along
with her husband. I would like to keep it that way".

"What happened to the husband, you
have never told me who he was?
”

"It's better that you don't know..., better
for him and for you. These things can be very awkward".

"I can't be responsible for what he tells
Bridger, it may all come out. And besides as a serving police
officer my first responsibility is for Marion's safety, you know
that".