wanker!’
He hesitated, his eyes unable to meet hers. A second later he was through the door and trotting down the stairs.
The only way out of the flat was through the veterinary surgery which occupied all of the ground floor. A Doberman was on the operating table and the vet was carrying out an unsavoury operation on the dog’s bottom. She looked up and nodded at Henry as he drifted through to the back door which led out into the rear yard and then the back alley.
Outside he came to a bone-jarring halt and caught his breath. He felt as if he were about to hyperventilate. What the hell had possessed him to pick her up, he demanded of himself.
He shook his head in a physical attempt to overcome this early morning mental haze. His eyes felt like sandpaper as they scratched over the eyeballs beneath. He rubbed at them with his knuckles and then looked up at the day.
The rain had stopped. A weak yellow sun was poking its nose through some broken grey-white cloud. There was some blue sky beyond. Seagulls circled overhead and the salty smell of the Irish Sea hung in the air.
It was a nice day for the start of a major criminal trial.
He unlocked the driver’s door of his recently acquired twelve-year-old Austin Metro and clambered into the small car. The engine fired up on the third attempt. He rattled down the cobbled back alley and pulled into the light traffic on the main road. He headed out towards the motorway, his eventual destination — if the car kept going — being Lancaster, almost thirty miles and fifty minutes away.
Once again he had time alone; time to consider just how radically his life had been turned upside down.
On the stroke of 8.30 a.m. the gates at Risley remand centre were flung open to release a convoy of police vehicles. Lancashire’s force helicopter hovered above.
They were scheduled to arrive, all being well, at Lancaster Castle approximately one hour later. This would leave ample time for the prisoner to be given his new cell at Lancaster prison, confer with his lawyer and prepare himself for his court appearance.
The hooded figure of a police marksman in a dark green combat-style anorak patrolled the battlements of the medieval castle. He was equipped with his personally issued, personally adjusted sniper’s rifle and a pair of high- powered binoculars. He paced the ramparts slowly, policeman’s pace, keeping an ever-vigilant eye on the scene below. Pausing briefly to talk to a similarly dressed and armed colleague, he pointed to something in the distance across the rooftops of Lancaster. Both men put their binoculars to their eyes. It was nothing to worry about. Moments later they resumed their beats.
Down at street level, all the approaches to the castle were covered and kept under constant police surveillance. Dozens of uniformed officers, some with dogs, either patrolled the streets or maintained strategic static points.
Many of these officers were armed too, handguns hidden as discreetly as possible in hip-holsters covered by their tunics. So that the weapons could be drawn quickly if necessary, the tunics were fastened with Velcro strips rather than buttons. Each officer was well practised in flipping up his tunic with one hand and drawing with the other before bouncing down into a firing position, weapon aimed and ready.
High-ranking officers with tense faces paced nervously around, checking and re-checking their Constables and Sergeants, keeping them on their toes, never allowing their watchfulness to waver.
The Chief Inspector from Lancaster had already had just about enough of Chief Superintendent Fanshaw- Bayley that morning. Despite constant reassurances that everything had been covered, FB mithered and moaned, and was getting on the Chief Inspector’s nerves.
Fortunately the Superintendent was called back to the station, giving the other officer some much-needed relief and an opportunity to have one last slow look around the perimeter of the building and then check inside the courtroom itself, which had already been searched several times by specially trained teams.
Near the entrance to the Crown Court, which, paradoxically, was at the rear of the castle, three Portakabins with eighteen telephone lines had been installed for press use. TV companies were setting up transmitting equipment. Press men and women mixed with TV reporters, comparing notes. Every national British newspaper was represented, as well as all the radio and TV companies. There were also many American journalists and TV companies present to cover the trial, which was expected to last a month and had caused a storm in the States.
The Chief Inspector walked past the melee of media, many of whom had arrived several days before and checked into hotel rooms which had been pre-booked for several months.
There was an expectant, circus-like atmosphere amongst them.
At the Crown Court entrance, more armed officers were on duty. The muzzles of their revolvers poked out from beneath the hems of their tunics.
Public access to the building had been restricted and everyone entering the court was searched three times: once manually, twice electronically. Even the Chief Inspector.
The officer submitted to the search with dignity and patience, scanning the entrance foyer as the searches progressed.
Here the presence of armed officers was less subtle.
Two officers from the district firearms team lurked at the back of the room. They were dressed in their dark blue work overalls, complete with Kevlar body armour and ski caps. Holstered pistols hung at their sides. One had an MP5 machine pistol slung casually across his chest; the other had a pump action shotgun held firmly across hers, loaded with heavy shot capable of smashing a car engine block to pieces or bringing down a charging bull elephant.
Both officers looked sinister.
Once the searches were over, the Chief Inspector walked through the court. Because of the showpiece nature of the trial, it was being held in the Shire Hall, possibly one of the most magnificent courtrooms in the country. Built in a neo-Gothic style with a high vaulted ceiling, its inner walls decorated with one of the largest collections of heraldic shields in the world, it was an ideal setting, steeped in tradition and legend.
The Chief Inspector looked round the room.
Two PCs patrolled it. They were unarmed. The High Court Judge who was presiding over the trial had been consulted and had stipulated that armed police officers would not be allowed into her courtroom, no matter what the apparent threat was. No amount of reasoned argument from the police could shake her.
The Chief Inspector consulted her watch. 8.45 a.m. Something should be happening.
Suddenly the personal radio crackled into life.
On a cue from the force control room, officers in reflective jackets strode out into road junctions and stopped all traffic. Lancaster city centre came to a standstill.
A chauffeur-driven car escorted by police motorcycle outriders threaded its way through the streets, past the stationary traffic and up to the castle, parting at the entrance to the Crown Court.
Already decked out in wig and robes, the High Court Judge stepped out of the back of the car, accompanied by the High Sheriff of Lancashire. Smiling affably, posing momentarily for the media, she walked into one of England’s most secure courthouses and gaols.
The police officers on guard around the castle breathed a sigh of relief. That was the first hurdle over with. At least the Judge had arrived alive, safe and well.
The Chief Inspector smiled with a trace of triumph. Time for breakfast.
She left the court and made her way on foot towards the police station which was on the other side of town.
For the first time in six months, Karen Wilde felt reasonably content with herself and life in general. She was back in the land of the living, instead of that dazed state of rape trauma which seemed to dog her every hour, asleep or awake. There was light at the end of the tunnel at last.
Yet she also felt slightly nervous.
Karl Donaldson was listed as one of the essential prosecution witnesses and it was very likely that they would meet at some stage. After all, she was in charge of the security operation at the castle and she would be in attendance every day the trial was running.
