Karl took a deep breath, and got out of the van for what might be his last five minutes as a free man.
‘Pray when will that be, say the bells of Stepney’ was a line from a famous poem that mentioned St Dunstan and All Saints Church. But that was the last thing on his mind as he walked along Stepney Way, heading east. He saw the tall Anglican church past black gates beyond a mini-roundabout, 160 feet away, and slowed down to pause at a bus shelter. He couldn’t see much happening at the church, but his view of the grounds either side of the building was restricted. He took a breath and started walking, expecting a swarm of cop cars to target him at any second. Once he got to the roundabout, it would be too late to turn because he would be exposed.
‘Here we go,’ he said to himself.
* * *
South of that roundabout, Katie sat in her car a hundred feet from the entrance to the church grounds, and twenty feet in front of a police car. She ignored the activity around her, including a bunch of teenagers shouting at each other in the park to her left, and two police officers talking to them about a report of a man waving a baseball bat around. There was no bat-wielding lunatic, though. Katie had called in the lie in order to get the police to the church. If she had called them about Karl, they would have arrived mob-handed. This way, when she told the two officers who she was and what was going on, nobody would be able to stop her getting to Karl. When she saw a man in a hi-vis jacket and carrying a bag, she tensed. She just knew it was Karl from his walk. It took every milligram of will to prevent herself from running to him.
‘Here we go,’ she said to herself, then turned and shouted to the policemen in the park.
* * *
North off that mini-roundabout was Danny’s van, parked on a zigzag white line just short of a zebra crossing. Parking here was a big no-no, and many honking cars had let them know this, but from this location the occupants could see McDevitt waiting by the church. In the mirrors, they saw a man in a hi-vis jacket cross the road and enter the church grounds.
‘Here we go,’ Danny said to Liz.
* * *
Two hundred and fifty feet east of the van, McDevitt stood by a tree near the church’s rear. He saw a man in a hi-vis jacket pass through the single black gateway. Into Mick’s world.
‘Here we go,’ he said into his phone, literally shivering with excitement.
* * *
East again, 280 feet away, just beyond the perimeter fence, Brad and Dave were sitting in the Mercedes Vito, chosen for its sliding side door. Both men had arrived only minutes earlier, at roughly the same time. Dave’s bike was in the cargo space, near Mick’s bags.
They didn’t even get time to relax before Mick called with the news: Seabury had arrived.
‘Here we go,’ Brad said to Dave.
* * *
Karl saw him almost immediately. On the left side of the church as he faced it. Some way back, under a large tree, leaning on it casually. He was in jeans and a black jacket, which Karl hadn’t expected from a detective.
But where was Katie? There was a black car in the driveway, but it was empty. And there was a sign in the rear passenger window advertising horse-riding lessons, so he doubted it was the detective’s anyway. He wondered where the man’s ride was, then figured he might not have one. He might be planning to call a police car. But where was Katie?
Karl stopped at the end of the main driveway. The man raised a hand and rubbed his forehead. Then gave him a thumbs up and waved him over.
‘Where’s my wife?’ Karl shouted.
‘In my car. Back this way. I didn’t want to park on main roads.’
Karl continued walking. His eyes ran over every tree, bench, nook and cranny, seeking armed cops ready to pounce. But he tried to relax, because by entering the church he’d passed the point of no return. If they were out there, hidden, it was game over already. His best bet was to go quietly.
He stopped thirty feet away. The guy was in the tree’s shadow. Big guy, grey buzz cut. There was something familiar about his face, but he couldn’t place it.
‘Where’s the car?’
‘Where’s Liz Grafton?’ the guy asked.
‘She didn’t want to come. She’s going to hand herself in in her own way. She didn’t want to do this without help.’
The man looked upset about that. He tried to hide it behind a smile, but the truth was in his eyes. ‘That’s good. So we need your statement, Karl. Shall we go?’ He pointed behind him, deeper into the church grounds, beyond thick trees. Something was wrong here.
‘I’m not coming in until my wife’s with me.’
‘She’s waiting. Don’t keep a pregnant woman waiting.’
He sounded impatient now, almost angry. Karl didn’t move. Something was definitely off. He wished he’d listened to Liz. The detective put a hand into his pocket.
‘Let me see your ID.’
The guy pulled a warrant card. It couldn’t be scrutinised from this distance, as the guy well knew. But Karl wasn’t about to step closer.
When he realised Karl wasn’t going to step up to check the ID, he slotted it away and laughed.
Right then, Karl heard the crunch of gravel and turned. A police car had appeared from behind the corner of the church, slowly, like a cruising shark. So, the detective had called in backup after all.
‘You lied to…’ he said as he turned back, ready to shout at the detective. But the guy was gone.
‘Karl!’
Katie’s voice. He turned back to the police car. Katie was there with two police officers.
‘Stay right there, Karl,’ one said, and both quickly made their way towards him.
‘Katie, what’s going on?’ he asked as the cops grabbed him, forced him down onto his front, and cuffed him.
‘Karl Seabury, I am arresting you on suspicion of murder—’
Katie pushed past and kissed his head. She was crying. ‘Are you hurt, Karl?’
‘You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence—’
Her hands ran over his face, neck, shoulders. He closed his eyes, overcome with shame.
* * *
‘Oh shit, this went wrong,’ Dave said. Brad looked past him, out the driver’s window, and saw Mick running across the grass. Alone. And he did not look happy. He slammed into the fence and started to climb.
Brad climbed into the back and opened the sliding door. Mick burst inside, knocking Brad back. Mick’s face was pure anger and there was spit on his lips.
‘Fucking piece of shit!’ he roared as he slammed the door. The spit flew from his lips.
‘What happened?’ Brad asked as he climbed back into his seat. Mick slapped the metal floor hard three times.
‘Drive. Fucking reverse. You should have been parked the other way anyway.’
Dave and Brad looked at him. ‘What went wrong?’ Dave asked.
‘Turn. Back the way you came in. Fucking go.’
‘Mick, what’s—?’
Mick kicked the back of his seat, hard. ‘Fucking go.’
He was clearly in no mood for explanations, so they had no choice but to get moving. Dave Y-turned in the road and headed back towards the gate they’d entered through. Mick kicked his seat again to urge him to go faster. Brad looked around and saw Mick pull out his gun before pulling down his woollen balaclava. Which meant this wasn’t over yet.
‘Bitch wife of his called the fucking cops. The police got him. They’ll go to Carr Street station probably, which means coming east past us. Stop at the end, at the junction.’
‘What are you planning, Mick?’ Brad asked.
‘Balaclavas on unless you want your faces all over the news.’
Brad and Dave looked at each other, panic rising. Dave’s foot eased off the accelerator.
Mick slapped the back of his head. ‘Faster. To the end.’
‘What the fuck, Mick?’ Brad said. ‘The cops have him? I hope you’re not—’
‘We are. We fucking are.’
* * *