Nick Oldham - Bad Tidings

Sending up a satisfying shower of dust and grit in his wake, Henry gunned the Audi off the club car park and accelerated towards the hospital, which was less than two miles away. In fact, on the journey down from Belthorn, they had been within sight of the huge complex for a substantial part of the way, as it was situated high on a hill, overlooking Blackburn.

As he drove, he reached across to the glove compartment, flicked it open and fumbled in it for his personal radio.

‘What’s going on?’ Janine demanded, gripping her seat belt tightly.

Thumbing the PR on with his left hand and steering with his right, Henry said, ‘Freddy’s at A amp;E, causing a rumpus.’

‘Shit,’ Janine uttered.

‘And he’s got a knife.’ Henry tabbed through the PR to tune it to Blackburn division’s radio channel, announcing that he was on his way to the disturbance, ETA four minutes. Then he asked for an update.

‘Unclear at the moment,’ the operator told him. ‘No patrols have arrived there yet, but a treble-nine came from the hospital staff saying that a patient had gone berserk and was holding a nurse hostage.’ At that, Henry glanced at Janine, who screwed up her face in agony. ‘And he’s got a knife to her throat, but we don’t have much more than that at the moment, other than it’s supposed to be Freddy Cromer who was reported missing earlier. Apparently he’s a nut job.’

Henry groaned inwardly at the last phrase. Not that it was off the mark, but it was perhaps a little non-PC — and Freddy’s niece was sitting alongside him, listening in.

‘Who is attending?’

‘An ARV and two section patrols. I’m trying to get supervision up there too, but I know they’re busy in custody.’

‘OK. I’ll take charge,’ Henry said as a flush of adrenalin hit his system. To himself he muttered, And doesn’t this day just keep giving. .

He braked at the red lights, sneaked carefully through them, then stood on the gas. The car almost lifted off and it felt good. He looked at Janine again.

She said, ‘A nut job?’

‘It’s a medical term.’

She glowered at him, unimpressed. ‘Doesn’t give him much of a chance in the eyes of the cops then, does it? Already labelled.’

Henry glared back. ‘Sometimes it’s best to go in prepared.’ He spoke into the PR. ‘If any patrol gets there ahead of me, tell them to take extreme care. Cromer is prone to serious violence and is very unpredictable. Understood?’ He looked at her again. ‘A label plus ingredients.’

The operator relayed this over the air, but said to Henry, ‘You could well be first on the scene. Other patrols are some distance away.’

‘Roger,’ Henry said, imagining them having to be torn away from their Christmas puddings.

They had reached the point where Shadsworth Road levelled out and Blackburn Royal Hospital was visible across to their right, illuminated by lights in the car parks and spotlights, angled up to the buildings, as well as by the lights showing from the windows.

Less than a minute later Henry pulled in close to the ambulance bays outside A amp;E. He jumped out and dashed to the boot, in which he kept his equipment, including a lightweight Teflon stab vest which he slid on underneath his zip-up jacket.

With Janine at his heels he ran through the A amp;E entrance and skidded to a halt at the reception desk. The place was busy and he shouldered his way to the front of the queue, saying ‘Police’ to the harassed-looking woman on duty there.

Before she could say anything, a white-coated Asian doctor appeared at his side, grabbed his sleeve and pulled. ‘This way.’

Henry followed the man, having a rushed conversation as they strode hurriedly along.

‘What’s happening?’

‘A patient is holding one of the nurses hostage in the X-ray department. Come, come,’ the doctor urged him to speed up.

‘Why is he doing it?’

‘We don’t know. . he just became very violent.’

‘OK. What’s the current situation?’

‘They’re in the X-ray waiting area. We managed to clear everyone else away, staff and patients.’

‘Right,’ Henry said, knowing there wasn’t time for an in-depth discussion here. He needed to get to the scene and assess what was really going on.

They turned into the corridor leading to the X-ray department and Henry was impressed to see that a couple of porters had placed trolleys across the width of the corridor, either side of the entrance, creating — ironically — a sterile area. Henry giggled inwardly at the notion.

Fortunately there were not many people around here.

The doctor slowed to a walk and pointed to the double swing doors leading into the X-ray waiting area. ‘In there,’ he breathed.

Henry nodded. He turned to Janine and held up his hand for her to stay back. ‘Let me see what’s going on.’

She nodded uncertainly.

He sidled past one of the trolleys to the door and peeped into the waiting area through the porthole window. He could see several rows of chairs, the reception desk, and at the back, in one corner, Freddy Cromer sitting next to a young nurse. His left arm was draped loosely around her shoulder, whilst his right hand held to her throat what looked like a paring knife. He was whispering into her right ear, mouth right up to it, lips almost brushing her lobe, and the girl, no more than nineteen, sat there with a stiff, terrified expression as she nodded in response to something Freddy had said.

The point of the blade dug into her throat, by her windpipe.

Freddy’s left hand slid back and grabbed her hair, bunched it in his fist and jerked her head back, exposing the whole of her throat.

Henry could see that the left side of Freddy’s face was badly grazed, looking like he’d been dragged along a cinder track. The smooth burn marks on the other side of his face were still visible, the ones Henry had noticed all those years before when Freddy was trying to strangle him. He was wearing a torn shirt, jeans, socks, but no shoes. The jeans were also ripped. And although Henry hadn’t seen him for many years, he hadn’t aged beyond recognition. Henry vividly recalled his wild eyes. They hadn’t changed, rolling in their sockets in an almost comical loony-guy look.

Freddy placed the blade of the small knife across the girl’s throat and continued to speak to her in hushed tones, mouth to ear.

Henry wondered what he was saying.

He saw the knife make an indent in her neck.

‘Shit,’ Henry thought. He opened the door and stepped through. ‘Freddy,’ he said.

Freddy Cromer’s rage-contorted face twisted towards Henry. ‘I told everyone to fucking get out,’ Freddy growled, ‘or I’ll kill this bitch.’ His lips exaggerated the words he spoke.

‘Freddy, what’s going on?’ Henry said reasonably. He took one step forward.

Freddy yanked the nurse’s head even further back, causing her to gasp in terror. His face angled forebodingly at Henry, his lips in a snarl.

‘I’ll fucking kill her.’ His eyes were ablaze.

‘No, Freddy, no,’ Henry gasped, his hands patting down fresh air, a keep calm gesture. ‘What’s going on? What is this for? Talk to me.’

Freddy blinked as though some sort of normality had come to his brain cells. As if he was seriously considering Henry’s request.

Henry weighed up the gap. Maybe eight metres, diagonally to the left, across four rows of chairs screwed to the floor. He wondered if he could leap across these and if he did, if he could do it in time to stop Freddy hurting the girl. His answer: no.

‘Freddy, can we talk?’ he asked warily.

‘Who the fuck are you?’

‘I’m a police officer, Freddy. I won’t lie to you. I’m a cop.’