at point blank range, two of his employees at Bainbridge Developments PLC. Returning home to his large Wimbledon mansion, he had shot a neighbour, a visiting friend and his housekeeper. Bainbridge had then attempted to burn his home down, before escaping into the night with his twelve year old daughter ,Naomi ,in the back seat of his car.
And now Bainbridge sat calmly aboard his beloved Thames barge with his shotgun on his lap and his traumatised daughter huddled in the corner. The last few hours had been a blur. A blinding rage. An overpowering madness that had only now begun to dissipate and be replaced by a cold understanding of what he had done. He also knew what he now had to do.
It had come as some surprise to Sullivan that Bainbridge had demanded to speak to her and her alone. She had met the man eight months earlier under tragic circumstances. The property tycoon’s wife had been murdered in a car mugging that had gone terribly wrong. Stopping late at night at traffic lights, Madeleine Bainbridge had been attacked by two youths who had smashed the driver’s window and pulled her from the car. Finding her cash card in her handbag, the thieves had demanded that she take them to a cashpoint and draw out money. Madeleine had stubbornly refused and been smashed over the head with a metal crow bar. She had died instantly. Sullivan had been an investigating officer on the case and had interviewed Bainbridge on several occasions. It was also a lead that she had followed that eventually led to the arrest of the assailants.
And now she stood a few yards away from the barge, the chill November wind in her face, wondering what she could possibly do to end the terrible events of the evening. Sullivan was quickly briefed by Chief Superintendent Reid on the things she couldn’t do.
‘Bainbridge has demanded that you speak to him.’ Reid told her. ‘In short, he has agreed to let his daughter go free if you replace her onboard the barge.’
‘I see,’ Sullivan replied.
‘That, of course, cannot happen. The risk to you would naturally be far greater than the potential threat to his own daughter.’
‘Can you be sure of that?’ Sullivan questioned. ‘Has Bainbridge given any assurances?’
‘He’s told us that no harm would come to you. He says he needs to talk to someone who
understands him.For some reason he considers that to be you.
‘With respect sir, the main task here is to get that girl off the boat and out of harm’s way. I’m prepared to co-operate with the exchange. I know him. I think I could persuade him to give himself up.’
‘ The man has just committed four murders. It’s a classic psychotic murder rampage and I’m not prepared to let anyone else put themselves in danger’s way. We’ll stick to protocol and negotiate from here. You speak to him by phone. Understood?’
‘ I still feel...’
Reid interrupted her. ‘That’s an order, detective sergeant.’
For the next hour and a half Sullivan and the special police negotiator, DI Graham had attempted to persuade the gunman to come ashore and give himself up. Bainbridge, however, was becoming increasingly irrational at the refusal to accept his demand.
‘ I need to speak to you alone, Sullivan.’ Bainbridge’s voice crackled through the mobile phone. ‘I’m not kidding here. If you don’t come aboard I’ll have no choice but to kill Naomi and myself. You know I will. You’ve left me no other choice.’
Something in his voice suggested to Sullivan that the end of the road was most definitely approaching. The man had sounded exhausted and over the last few minutes had been increasingly distracted and rambling. Though no one mentioned it, she and her colleagues knew that Bainbridge would most likely follow through on his threat and that two more deaths were now imminent. Chief Superintendent Reid pulled Sullivan to one side.
‘He’s given us no real choice but to board the boat. Commander Laine has told me his men are in position and will make their assault on my order. You’ve done your best Sullivan, but there’s nothing more you can do.’
As Reid strode off towards the Commander, Sullivan realized what had to be done. An assault could lead to a blood bath. She couldn’t allow that to happen. With out further thought, Sullivan moved towards the barge. She held her hands high in the air. She was at the side of the boat before any of her fellow officers could attempt to stop her.
‘Malcolm!’ she called. ‘ It’s me, Sullivan. I’m coming aboard.’
Behind her, she could hear Reid and DI Graham shouting for her to return to safety, but she would not obey.
‘Let me onboard and then release your daughter, Malcolm.’ Sullivan called. ‘I’m going to trust you to do that. Okay?’
From the boat Bainbridge yelled, ‘How do I know you’re not armed?’
‘That’s where you are going to have to trust me, Malcolm.’ Sullivan replied.
Slowly Sullivan walked the narrow plank connecting the river bank to the barge. Placing her hands once more above her head, she moved towards the lighted cabin. As she got to the doors, they were pushed open forcefully by Bainbridge and Sullivan descended into the boat.
Inide, Bainbridge simply stared at her, his eyes on fire. After a few desperate moments of silence he murmured, ‘Thank you.’
Naomi was still huddled in a corner of the cabin. Sullivan looked across to the petrified girl.
‘Let her go, Malcolm. She’s your daughter. It’s what Madeleine would want, you know that.’
The mention of his wife’s name seemed to calm the man. It seemed as though by using it, Sullivan had confirmed that she was somehow still with him. Two minutes later, Naomi Bainbridge made her way ashore to be greeted by police officers and a paramedic. Back on the barge, Sullivan and Naomi’s father sat and talked. They talked for two more hours, Sullivan listening to the man’s story of madness brought on by grief and despair. The anger and rage that had filled his life since the murder of his dear wife. He talked of the blackouts and missing periods that had begun to haunt him during the last few months. He talked of death as being his only choice.
At 3:17 am precisely, Detective Sergeant Sullivan escorted Malcolm Bainbridge ashore to be met by an armed police escort. No further life would be lost that night. Her fellow officers congratulated her on her immense bravery- all except Chief Superintendent Reid . Grave -faced, the commanding officer pulled her to one side.
‘You may think that you’re a hero, Sullivan. Don’t fool yourself. What you did tonight was unprofessional and fool- hardy in the extreme. You disobeyed a direct order from me and seriously put at risk the entire operation.
‘Please, sir...’
‘Don’t interrupt me officer!’ Reid shouted, red -faced. ‘Just because you managed to pull it off doesn’t mean it was the right thing to do. You risked the lives of everyone here on a simple hunch. If it had gone wrong, who knows what catastrophic events may have occurred. I’m going to make sure that this is investigated Sullivan and when it is, your career as a police officer will be finished. You may think that the end justifies the means, but that’s not how this police force operates and never will. Now get out of my sight.’
Sullivan moved to the waiting police car. She knew Reid was right. She knew she had been a fool. But right now, as she looked across at Naomi Bainbridge being treated for shock in the back of the waiting ambulance, she couldn’t give a damn.
Sullivan was at her desk, her back turned towards Broderick. The sun shining through the office window was warm on her face as she went through the motions of organising her desk. In reality, she was letting her mind wander back to that night on the River Crouch eight months before. It was a process she had repeated a hundred times. She had asked every question as to how differently she might have handled the situation. In the cold light of day, it was clear that she had thrown the rule book into the river and then jumped in herself without a life jacket. At the time, the danger of the situation and the adrenalin running through her system had made her feel certain of the course she had to take. It was madness and she’d known it, but her instincts had pulled her firmly away from the procedures she would normally have unquestioningly followed to the letter. Her intervention had undeniably brought the situation to a positive close – for the twelve year old hostage at least – and most probably kept her fellow officers from having to step into the firing line. The accusations made by her superiors that lives had been put at risk by her actions had hurt the most.
Breaking the rules she would plead guilty to. Risking her colleagues’ lives was something she knew she would never have countenanced. Therefore it was a great relief when the official enquiry into the events had cleared her of that last charge. The fact that it found her guilty of breaking the chain of command and wilful insubordination was
