Stuart MacBride - A Song for the Dying

Two more uniforms charged him, both with their batons out.

The first got a fist in the face that lifted him right off his feet. The second slammed into Wee Free’s chest, knocking him back a couple of paces. Raised the baton ready to take his knees out from under him-

But Wee Free was fast . He grabbed the arm, wrenched it back, yanked the officer towards him then slammed his forehead into the guy’s nose.

A wet crack, a grunt, and the uniform’s legs gave way. Wee Free caught him by the stabproof vest before he could go too far and battered a knee into his groin.

Let go.

The poor sod crumpled to the floor.

Wee Free raised his head and glared at me. Tiny spots of red dotted his cheeks and moustache. Chest heaving. ‘You — said — they’d — find — her.’

I raised one hand, palm out. ‘OK, I need you to calm down. Can you do that for me, Mr McFee?’

‘It’s — all over — the papers — but — but this lot — they — wouldn’t — tell me shite.’ He howched, then spat on the back of one of the CID bodies. ‘Bastards.’

‘Right now, someone’s on their way down here from the armoury.’ I checked over my shoulder, where the cowering idiots were just visible through the open door. ‘Aren’t they?’

One of the officer’s eyes went wide then they scurried off.

Morons.

‘That what you want, Mr McFee? Spend the rest of the day with a bullet hole in you?’

His breathing was getting easier. Less violent. ‘Supposed to be a Family — Liaison officer. Wouldn’t — even talk — to me.’

The uniformed officer slumped against the wall twitched. Wee Free took two quick steps towards her, then kicked her in the stomach. ‘RAN AWAY LIKE I WAS SCUM!’

‘This isn’t helping, Mr McFee, this is making matters worse.’ I limped closer. ‘Come on, let’s you and me go sit down somewhere quiet and we can-’

A screeching wail burst into the room, high-pitched and jarring, like a ruptured car alarm. I froze. Sodding hell: the ankle bracelet. The family room was at the opposite end of the building from the conference suite, four floors apart. The only way I could get further away and still be in the same building would be the cell block in the basement.

Two hobbling steps back towards the door … and the noise didn’t stop.

Brilliant.

‘MR MCFEE, LISTEN VERY CAREFULLY, I NEED YOU TO LIE FACE DOWN ON THE FLOOR WITH YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!’

‘MY JESSICA DESERVES-’

‘THEY WILL SHOOT YOU!’

He puffed out his chest. ‘I’LL BATTER THE BLOODY LOT OF THEM!’

‘DON’T BE A DICK!’ No point backing away, it wasn’t making any sodding difference to the volume. ‘NOW GET DOWN! ON THE FLOOR! NOW!’

The door thumped against the wall behind me and a couple of firearms officers burst into the room, all done up in their SAS-style kit, complete with crash helmets and black scarves so their faces couldn’t be seen.

They had their tasers out — the things looked like children’s toys: bright-yellow plastic body, neon-blue cartridge on the end.

About time.

I held a hand up. ‘IT’S OK, I’VE GOT THIS, I JUST NEED EVERYONE TO-’ And then the bastards shot me.

‘What the hell were you thinking?’ DI Smith marched up and down the office, wearing a path in the ratty carpet tiles. ‘Assaulting a victim’s father in a police station, do you have any idea what the press are going to do with that?’

The duty doctor flicked the mini torch away from my left eye, then back again. His liver-spotted hand trembled as he switched it off and placed it in his bag. ‘How’s the pain: on a scale of one to ten?’

‘Like having cramp and pins-and-needles at the same time.’

Smith did a one-eighty by the filing cabinet and headed back for another pass. ‘Soon as you’re finished, I want him processed and in a cell. Assault, destruction of property-’

‘You’ll live.’ The doc smiled, showing off tar-stained teeth. ‘Never been tasered myself. Always thought it best to avoid that kind of thing.’

‘Didn’t really have much choice.’

Smith jabbed a finger at me. ‘You’re lucky the response team saved you from a murder charge!’

All right. Enough was enough.

I levered myself off the desk. ‘Don’t see them here now, do you? Nothing to stop me ripping your head off, you chinless bag of-’

A voice cut through the room. Female. Sharp. ‘All right, Mr Henderson, that’s enough.’ Detective Superintendent Ness stood in the open doorway, arms folded.

Jacobson appeared in the corridor behind her, lips turned up in a little smile.

Ness waved a hand in the vague direction of the cells downstairs. ‘Would someone care to explain to me why I’ve got a wrecked family room, six officers and one Community Support off to A amp;E, and Jessica McFee’s father in custody?’

Smith stiffened his back, brought what little chin he had up. ‘I was just saying exactly the same thing, Super. Mr Henderson here went on a rampage, broke the conditions of his release, assaulted-’

‘I didn’t lay a finger on anyone, you prick.’ I turned to Ness. ‘Wee Free only wanted to know what was happening with his daughter. Wakes up this morning and it’s splashed over the papers, but your idiots wouldn’t speak to him. He got … agitated.’

‘ Agitated ?’ Ness’s right eyebrow raised an inch. ‘He went through the room like it was a wet paper bag.’

‘His daughter’s just been grabbed by a serial killer. It’s not…’ My jaw clenched. Deep breath. Closed my eyes. Hissed it out. ‘They had no business treating him like a monster. Even if he is one.’

‘Then there’s the matter of my firearms team getting an urgent call to apprehend you, in complete violation of standard operating procedure and the command structure.’

Brilliant, not ‘Friendly Fire’ after all. So much for sending someone off to the armoury. Suppose it was too much to hope that anyone at FHQ would be bright enough to take Wee Free down on their own initiative. No, the bastards in black were there for me.

Behind her, Jacobson raised a hand. ‘That was on my orders.’

I gave him a glower. Then back to Ness. ‘Let Wee Free go, drop the charges, and get him a Family Liaison officer that isn’t scared of their own shadow.’

Smith sniffed. ‘You’re in no position to decide what action we do and don’t take, Mr Henderson. You can pack your stuff up, Doctor, he’s going-’

‘Oh, give it a rest.’

‘Ash Henderson, I’m arresting you for assault on one William McFee, and-’

‘DI Smith!’ Ness closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘That’s enough. Go chase up the CCTV team. I’ll deal with Mr Henderson.’

He worked his jaw from side to side for a moment, then turned and marched out of the room, back straight and stiff. Presumably because of the stick up his arse.

She gave the Duty Doctor a nod. ‘Thank you, Dr Mullen. We’ll be fine from here.’

As soon as he’d rumbled out of the room, Ness ushered Jacobson in and closed the door.

‘I don’t appreciate people going behind my back and appropriating my officers, Mr Henderson. A firearms team is not a toy.’

‘Right, because I’m the one who called them. Said, “Come on down to the family room and shoot me in the chest with a taser. That’ll be fun.” You want to blame someone?’ I pointed at the smirking git in the leather jacket. ‘Blame him .’

Jacobson shook his head. ‘Not this time, Ash. You knew the conditions of your release — you have to stay within a hundred yards of Dr McDonald. What happened is entirely your own fault for breaking that.’