The column descended.
Chapter Fifty-seven
The column suddenly moved, forcing Gardener to jump back. He would have lost his balance had it not been for Briggs.
“Steady, Stewart.”
“Stand back,” said Gardener, “I’ve no idea what’s coming down but I wouldn’t put anything past this freak.”
The column continued lowering, sliding into the earth beneath them. As it did so, the feet Gardener thought he had seen grew into a pair of legs: wearing blue jeans and a pair of small white boots with a heel, certainly not suitable footwear for holding your balance. There must have been countless females in Leeds wearing those kinds of fashionable boots but he knew whom they belonged to.
The person on the column let out a whimper.
“Who the hell’s on that?” shouted Briggs, peering upwards.
“Oh, Jesus,” said Gardener, “it’s Laura.”
“What?”
She had now dropped low enough that they could see up as far as her chest. Laura’s arms had been tied behind her back. As her face came into view, Gardener noticed she had been gagged and a noose had been tied around her neck. Her biggest problem was that the base upon which she was standing was perhaps only a foot in diameter, allowing little room for error.
“What the hell goes through this bloke’s mind?” Briggs asked Gardener.
The slack in the rope was taken up and it started to tighten. Gardener realized – with a panic – that if they didn’t do something, his partner’s wife was going to be hanged right in front of them.
But what could they do? The column still towered above them – well out of their reach. It was impossible to climb because it was a smooth round pole. It was pretty much in the middle of the earth and he could see nothing he could use to gain any height: not that he thought he’d be allowed to anyway.
Gardener turned and glared at Briggs. “How the hell are we going to get her out of this?”
As he said it, the column stopped.
Gardener turned. Laura was still at least six feet above him. There was little or no slack left in the rope and she was now standing on tiptoes. She made no sound but he could see the tears running down her face and the imploring expression in her eyes, reminding him of the night Sarah died.
There was no margin for mistakes. She had to stand absolutely still for as long as it took for both officers to negotiate her release. But did she have the confidence to see that through?
Chapter Fifty-eight
A powerful beam appeared through the rafters, lighting up a theatre box to Gardener’s left, illuminating Corndell.
“If she falls, she hangs,” he shouted. “If you don’t do as I say, she hangs. If you try to save her, she hangs. Not a lot to look forward to, has she, Mr Gardener?”
Gardener’s temper was mounting but he knew at the moment he was the underdog. He held no cards. “Don’t be stupid, Corndell, you’ll never get away with this.”
“Oh but I will, Mr Gardener.”
“He’s right, simpleton,” said Briggs, “you’ve done enough damage, don’t make things any worse.”
The DCI stepped to his left, as if to show some initiative to rectify the situation.
“Take your inspector’s advice, Briggs, and don’t you be stupid. I am controlling the lever, so her fate is in my hands. You will not reach me in time to do anything about it. You will not get anywhere near your sergeant’s wife, and you certainly won’t save her life, so I suggest you stay exactly where you are.”
Gardener could have heard a pin drop, which raised the tension. He glanced at Laura. She was still crying. She was also shivering and Gardener knew that it wasn’t cold. He either needed to buy her some time and alleviate her predicament, or he had to save her, neither of which were likely in the short term. And time wasn’t something she had a lot of.
Gardener glanced at Corndell. “What exactly are you planning, Mr Corndell? If it doesn’t end well for Laura it certainly isn’t going to end well for you. You’re in enough trouble. You’ve already killed four people. You’re looking at life, so how much worse would you like to make it?”
Corndell laughed hard, a high-pitched screech in which he rocked backward and forwards. “I don’t think so, Mr Gardener.”
“What don’t you think?” shouted Briggs.
Corndell stopped laughing and stared at Gardener, as if he were a machine that could simply switch itself on and off when he wanted.
He leaned forward with his hands on the side of the box as if he wanted to fire his words at Gardener.
“I don’t think I am going to get life. Let’s look at the facts, shall we?”
Corndell raised his right arm and started counting off the fingers of his right hand with those of his left.
“Fact one: you have absolutely no evidence against me. Two: neither you nor anyone else has ever seen me kill anyone.” He raised his third finger. “There is no trace of me at any crime scene. No sightings. Your witness statements will sound like they’ve been made up by Mickey Mouse. ‘What did he look like, sir?’ ‘Well, your honour, a bit like a vampire with pointed teeth and wearing a dark cloak.’ Any evidence you think you have is circumstantial at best.
“If you put me in front of a jury, Mr Gardener, you will be completely laughed out of court because you have nothing to back up your statements. My solicitor will have a field day.”
Briggs had his phone in his hand and appeared to be filming the exchange. He stared at Corndell. “What’s this if not evidence,
