Линда Ла Плант - Good Friday

‘Jesus Christ! Are you serious?’

‘Yes… YES! Come on, Stanley, PLEASE!’

Stanley followed Jane back down the corridor. As she approached the top of the stairs she tripped and had to tear off the now trailing frill from her dress, almost falling head-first down the stairs in the process. Stanley grabbed her arm and they barged through the crowd.

Dexter was in the gents, at the urinal, when a uniformed PC walked in and stood next to him. It took a couple of seconds before Dexter noticed that the officer having a piss next to him had the number 332 on his shoulders.

‘Are you PC Crane?’ Dexter asked as he zipped up his flies.

‘Yes.’

‘I thought you were on parking duties?’

‘I was, but another officer said he’d been posted to it so I let him take over.’

‘Go and find the duty inspector and bring him to the reception right now.’

‘No need to get uptight!’ said the PC. ‘I haven’t disobeyed an order… just swapped roles, that’s all.’

‘Well, this is my order: find the inspector now and tell him it’s an EMERGENCY!’ Dexter barked, making the officer jump and pee on his own boots.

Dexter hurried back to the foyer and looked out of a window from a safe distance. He could see the car park was full and a queue of vehicles was now blocking the entrance and lined up in Caxton Street. He looked for the uniformed officer Jane had recognised as the Covent Garden bomber, but couldn’t see him. He turned, heart beating fast, as Jane and Stanley approached,

‘You were right, Jane,’ he said urgently. ‘The officer out front isn’t the PC assigned to car parking. It could be nothing — but he could be our man posing as a police officer’

‘Shit,’ Stanley gasped.

The duty inspector appeared. Dexter pointed from the foyer window where they could now see the suspect standing between two parked cars.

‘That PC out there, standing on the left… did you tell him to take over parking duties?’

‘No, never seen him before… what’s his shoulder number?’

‘I don’t think he has one. We suspect he may have planted a bomb on the premises.’

The inspector looked offended. ‘We’ve searched this place top to bottom, sniffer dogs ’n’ all and it’s clean… there’s no bomb in here!’

‘Well, check again, but make it discreet,’ Dexter ordered. ‘I don’t want a mass panic on our hands. Look for a rucksack or holdall hidden in or near the ballroom.’ He turned to Jane. ‘Are you sure you recognise him?’

‘Yes, I caught his profile and it just came back to me. Like you said it would. It’s him. I know it is.’ Jane was relieved that she had been right, but fearful of what would happen if he had succeeded in planting a bomb.

Dexter took a deep breath. How devious the IRA were to dress one of their own as a police officer to blend in with all that was going on at the hotel. It was audacious but so simple and it would have fooled them all but for Tennison’s flash of recognition.

‘Let me go and get Maynard and the lads out of the bar.’ Stanley suggested.

Dexter shook his head. ‘We’ve wasted enough time. I’ll walk past him while you approach from the left, then I’ll turn on your shout and we take him out together.’

Dexter took off his jacket and threw it at Jane. ‘Hang on to this for me.’

The suspect was now walking out from between the parked cars towards the exit onto Caxton Street. He had to move to one side as there were two vehicles attempting to look for a free parking space. Stanley and Dexter looked at each other: they had to reach their target before he got to the street. They moved quickly, but the suspect stopped and instinctively looked over his shoulder. Dexter and Stanley froze instantly, not wanting to give themselves away. It was no more than a fraction of a second, but the suspect started to run.

Dexter and Stanley were ten feet behind and closing as the suspect ran up Caxton Street and right into Buckingham Gate where all three of them narrowly missed being hit by passing vehicles. As the suspect crossed the road and ran left into Castle Lane, he threw something into the basement area of a row of terraced flats. Neither of them stopped, but Stanley was flagging as the suspect turned left into a narrow dustbin-lined alleyway which, to their relief, turned out to be a dead end. They thought they had him trapped, but the building along one side of the alley was the rear of a four-storey office complex with a fire escape leading up to the top floor at the far end. The suspect ran up the fire escape two steps at a time and, reaching the top, hesitated as he looked down to see Dexter and Stanley moving up below him. He kicked at the fire-escape door but it didn’t budge, so he pulled himself up onto the narrow safety rail and crouched down like a monkey.

‘Shit… he’s going to jump onto the opposite roof!’ Dexter shouted running up the fire escape. As he reached the top, he lunged forward, attempting to grab the suspect’s leg, but it was too late. The man sprang forward through the air, his arms outstretched as he just managed to grab hold of the parapet edge and, with his legs dangling, pulled himself up onto the roof. Dexter now climbed onto the safety rail behind him.

Stanley, still labouring up the fire escape, called out, ‘That’s nearly ten feet across and twenty-five down! Don’t risk it, Dex. We can get backup and surround the area.’

Stanley had hardly finished his warning when Dexter took off through the air in pursuit. Stanley shut his eyes, expecting to hear a sickening thud, but when he opened them again he saw Dexter dangling from the parapet by one hand. Then, in a swinging motion, Dexter managed to get his other hand on the roof and pull himself up. He was gasping for air, but once safe he seemed to find a new surge of energy and set off along the roof in pursuit of the suspect, feet slipping on the tiles as he went.

Realising the suspect was probably doubling back, Stanley decided to get back down to the ground and track them along Castle Lane and Buckingham Gate. Due to the narrow lane and angle Stanley couldn’t see them, but from the loose tiles that broke free and crashed down near him, he knew he was heading in the right direction. He prayed that a tile didn’t hit him on the head. By the side entrance of Westminster Chapel Evangelical Church, Stanley could hear people singing ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’. A poster on the church wall showed a steeple-shaped graph, coloured lines indicating how much money had been raised for restoration of the church roof. Judging from the number of loose tiles falling, they’d need a lot more money…

Up on the roof, Dexter was getting closer to the target who had climbed even higher. As he tried to keep his balance he looked across the roof and could see the suspect crouched down on his haunches, ready to make another terrifying leap. Dexter slid down the steep roof slowly for fear of slipping over the edge if he went too fast, shouting to the suspect to give up.

Stanley heard the shout. Looking upwards, he could just make out Dexter approaching the suspect high up on the rooftop opposite. He watched as the man made the insane leap, and screamed out to Dexter not to jump, but it was too late. Suddenly there was an almighty crashing sound as the roof gave way. The last verse of the song rang out from inside the Church: ‘How Great is God Almighty, Who has made all things well’, followed by hysterical screams.

Fearing the worst, Stanley ran inside. Lying on the altar in a pool of blood, his head cut to shreds from the sharp-edged tiles, was the suspect. The church choir huddled together by the pulpit, some of them crying. Stanley was desperately scanning the area for Dexter’s body when he heard a voice from above and looked up. Peering through a big hole in the roof was Dexter.