A Killing Frost (47 page)

   ‘Mullett wants you,’ Lambert told him.

   ‘And I thought it was urgent,’ sighed Frost.

   ‘Putting you through now,’ said Lambert.

   ‘Frost,’ said Mullett, sounding annoyed as usual. ‘We’ve been trying to contact you.’

   ‘Sorry, Super. Radio went on the blink. We’ve just managed to fix it.’

   ‘We’ve had Taylor’s wife on the phone. She’s frantic. She and Taylor are separated. He doesn’t have access to their one-year-old son. Taylor picked the kiddy up from the childminder and didn’t take him back home.’

   Frost went cold. ‘Shit. He must have the kid in there with him. I need back-up.’ This completely changed the situation.

   ‘DCI Skinner is coming over to take command.’

   ‘Terrific,’ muttered Frost. ‘Our troubles are over!’ He turned to the others. ‘Taylor’s got his one-year-old son in there with him.’ He opened the car door. ‘Let’s have another bleeding fireside chat.’

   He moved as far up the path as he dared and yelled, ‘Mr Taylor!’

   Movement at the window. ‘What do you want?’ 

   ‘Have you got your son with you?’

   ‘He goes where I go.’

   ‘He could get hurt. Let’s get him out of there.’ 

   ‘He stays with me.’

   ‘What’s the point of all this, Mr Taylor? You’ve got to come out some time. This is doing no one any good. What do you want?’

   ‘I’ll tell you what I want.’ The man was screaming now. ‘I want the world to know what that bastard supermarket has done to me . . .’

   ‘And what has it done to you?’

   ‘I had a market garden. I supplied all their vegetables - top-quality stuff, but they kept cutting the price they wanted to pay me. And then they wanted to cut it to below the cost of production. When I couldn’t meet their price, they dropped me. I lost everything.’

   ‘Tough,’ said Frost. ‘But how does this help?’ 

   ‘I want the world to know what that bastard Beazley did to me. I want the press here . . . I want television . . . I want the bloody world to know what a shit he is.’

   ‘All right, send your son out and I’ll get the media here.’

   ‘My son stays with me.’

   ‘Is he all right, Mr Taylor? He’s very quiet.’ 

   A long pause.

   ‘Mr Taylor,’ repeated Frost. ‘Is he all right?’

   ‘He’s sleeping . . . peacefully sleeping.’

   ‘If I get the media here and you give them your story, will you end this? Will you come out quietly with the baby?’

   Again a pause, then a none-too-convincing ‘Yes.’

   ‘Leave it to me.’ Frost returned to the car and lit up. ‘I don’t like this,’ he said. ‘I don’t like it one sodding bit. Still, we’ve got no choice. We’ll have to go along with him. I get the feeling the bastard might make his point by doing himself in in front of the TV cameras and before the bleeding watershed.’

   Headlights flared in the windscreen as DCI Skinner’s car pulled up alongside. ‘Our troubles are over,’ muttered Frost. ‘The United States Cavalry has arrived.’

   Skinner yanked open the car door, then jerked a thumb for Morgan to get out so he could slide in beside Frost. He scowled as he noticed Kate Holby. ‘What the hell are you doing here? Didn’t I tell you - ’

   ‘We need her,’ cut in Frost. ‘Taylor’s got a baby with him. We could well need a woman.’

   ‘I told her to stay in the office. She’s disobeyed orders once too often. By the way, I’ve checked with that tart . . . She’s twenty-three.’ He turned to face the WPC. ‘You’re out, sweetie.’ Back to Frost. ‘Fill me in.’

   Frost brought him up to date.

   Skinner frowned. ‘And you haven’t called in Armed Response?’

   ‘I don’t want to escalate things. I want to keep it as low key as possible.’

   ‘Firing at police officers is hardly low bleeding key, is it?’

   ‘He fired in their direction. He could have hit them if he’d wanted to.’

   ‘OK, we’ll keep them out of it for the time being. Those bastards like to steal all the flaming glory. And he’s got the child in there with him?’

   Frost shrugged his shoulders. ‘He says he has, but we haven’t heard a peep out of the kid. He says the baby is sleeping peacefully - that’s got me worried.’

   Skinner stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’

   ‘With all the shouting and noise, I’d expect the kid to be bawling its head off. He might have done him in.’

   Skinner frowned. ‘Done him in? You’re a cheerful bleeding sod, aren’t you? You’ve got no bloody proof of that.’

   ‘Of course I’ve got no bloody proof. I hope I’m wrong, but Taylor’s gone round the bend. He’s not talking logically any more.’

   The DCI chewed this over. ‘Suppose we rushed him - drove the car at speed to the door, bashed our way in and charged up the stairs?’

   ‘Even I’m not prat enough to try that,’ said Frost. ‘He’s got suicidal tendencies. He’d have shot himself and the kid before you were halfway down the passage.’

   ‘We can’t just bloody well sit here,’ said Skinner.

  
Then think of something
, thought Frost.
I’m out of flaming ideas
. Aloud he said, ‘He wants to pour his heart out to the media.’

   Skinner shook his head. ‘I don’t want the media here at this stage. If anything goes wrong I don’t want our mistakes broadcast all over the flaming country.’ He tugged at his nose in thought. ‘I’ll talk to him. Do we know his phone number?’

   ‘If he’s got his mobile on him, we know that number. It’s written on the side of the lorry.’

   ‘Then try it.’

   Frost dialled and handed his mobile over.

   The call was answered on the first ring. ‘What do you want?’

   ‘Mr Taylor?’

   ‘Who the hell did you think it would be? Who are you?’

   ‘Detective Chief Inspector Skinner.’

   ‘I don’t want to speak to you. Let me talk to the scruffy one.’

   Skinner handed the phone to Frost. ‘He wants to speak to you.’

   ‘What is it, Mr Taylor?’

   ‘The media. Where’s the media?’

   ‘On their way,’ lied Frost. ‘How’s the baby?’

   A pause, then, ‘He’s fine. He’s at peace.’

   A cold shiver crawled down Frost’s spine. ‘You’re sure he’s all right?’

   ‘He’s at peace.’

   ‘Can we see him?’

   ‘No. I want the media. I want Beazley. I want him here.’ The line went dead.

   Frost stared at his mobile, then turned it off. ‘Did you hear that?’ he asked Skinner.

   Skinner nodded. ‘Yeah. I don’t want the flaming media here yet. Hold on. Do nothing. I’m going to take a recce.’ He opened the car door and stepped out into the darkness.

   ‘A reccy?’ said Frost to Morgan. ‘Is that another name for a slash?’

   ‘Reconnaissance, Guv,’ explained Morgan. 

   ‘Oh!’ said Frost, as if he didn’t know. He lit up another cigarette he didn’t want and watched the smoke writhe its way up to the roof. ‘It might not be a bad idea to get his wife down here.’

   More car headlights shone through the wind screen. A blue Porsche Superintendent Mullett. ‘Shit,’ groaned Frost. ‘Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse.’

   Mullett tapped on his window and beckoned Frost over. ‘Update,’ he snapped as Frost slid in beside him.

   ‘Up what?’ asked Frost innocently.

   ‘I want an update,’ barked Mullett. ‘What is the current position? Where is DCI Skinner?’

   ‘Taylor’s in that upstairs room. He’s got a shotgun and is threatening to shoot anyone who comes too near. We think he’s got his one-year-old son with him, but we can’t be sure.’

   ‘What does he want?’

   ‘He wants the media and Beazley brought in so he can let the world know what a load of bastards Beazley and his supermarket are.’

   ‘If that’s what he wants, get the media here,’ said Mullett.

   ‘In case we make a complete balls-up, DCI Skinner doesn’t want it splashed all over the TV screen,’ said Frost.

   Mullett nodded gravely. ‘Yes, of course. Good point. But what do you intend to do, Frost? We can’t just sit it out.’

   ‘I’m waiting for Skinner. He’s in charge.’

   ‘Then where is he?’ The possibility of a balls up was making Mullett nervous. If things went disastrously wrong, he didn’t want to be in the vicinity. He was already mentally composing his defence.
I knew nothing about it. I would never have sanctioned it if I had known.
‘Ah - here he is.’

   Skinner emerged from the dark and slid into the back seat. He nodded to Mullett. ‘Good to see you, sir. Do you want to take charge?’

   ‘Good heavens no,’ blurted Mullett, vigorously shaking his head. ‘I’m sure things are in capable hands.’

   The DCI grunted his acceptance of authority ‘The way I see it is this. The longer we leave things, the worse they could get. He’s on the verge of cracking up completely. God knows what the hell he’ll do when he does.’

   ‘We should back off and let him calm down,’ said Frost.

   ‘That’s just delaying what has to be done. We’ve got to bite the bullet. I managed to get round the back of the house without being seen. The back door doesn’t seem to be locked. Since I’m an official police marksman, I drew a gun from the station before I came. I want you to keep him talking, Frost, while I sneak round the back with the gun. I reckon I can get in without him knowing, creep up the stairs and ram my gun in his guts before he has a chance to do anything.’

   ‘But if he hears you . . .’ protested Mullett.

   ‘If he hears me and comes at me with the shot gun, I’ll have no alternative but to shoot. I hope it won’t come to that. The important thing is to save the child if he’s still alive.’

   Mullett blinked nervously. This could well go wrong and he didn’t want to be around when it happened, but he could see no way of getting out of it. ‘I don’t like it,’ he said. ‘It’s too risky.’

   ‘The alternative could be him killing the kid, then topping himself. Do you want to risk that?’

   Mullett winced. He hated being put on the spot. ‘You’re in charge of the operation,’ he told Skinner. ‘I must defer to your decision, but I’m calling Armed Response as a back-up just in case.’

  
Use your flaming authority, you spineless prat. Veto it,
urged Frost mentally. This was going to end in disaster, he just knew it.

   ‘Right, Frost,’ ordered Skinner. ‘Get him on the phone and keep him talking.’

   ‘Hold on,’ said Frost. ‘Let’s make one last attempt to get the kiddy out.’ He climbed out of Mullett’s Porsche and beckoned Kate Holby, then walked up the path with her so she was fully illuminated in the headlights. He called Taylor on the phone.

   ‘What now?’

   ‘I’ve got this young WPC here. She’s trained to handle children. Why don’t you let us have your son? He shouldn’t be placed in danger like this.’

   ‘No. He stays with me. She’s not having him. Where’s the press? Where’s that sod Beazley?’

   ‘On their way,’ said Frost, aware that Skinner had slipped out of Mullett’s car and was circling round to the rear of the house. He was sure Taylor wouldn’t spot him behind the glare of the headlights. ‘The local TV boys are sending a team and I’ve arranged for ITV news to send a full crew, but it may take a little time. I expect they’ll want to send a cameraman into the house.’

   ‘No!’ cut in Taylor. ‘No one comes inside the house.’

   ‘Let them see your son. You’ll get everyone on your side if they can see the kiddy.’

   ‘No!’ screamed Taylor. ‘No one sees him. He stays with me.’

  
He’s dead
, thought Frost.

   ‘And I want that bastard Beazley here. I want the world to see what a shit he is . . . what that bastard has done to me.’

   ‘So you said. My colleague is on the phone now, trying to get him to come,’ said Frost, glad to spin things out. ‘We can’t force him to come, but we’re trying.’

   ‘I want him here,’ shrilled Taylor, his voice rising to a scream. ‘Do you hear me? I want him here.’

   ‘We’re trying now,’ said Frost, signalling to Mullett to make the call. The Superintendent was speaking quietly into the mouthpiece but didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. ‘He wants to speak to you,’ he said, handing the phone over to Frost.

   ‘What the hell are you playing at?’ demanded Beazley. ‘If you think I’m coming in front of the flaming TV cameras you’ve got another thing coming. I’m not the bloody villain here. I didn’t try to kill bleeding babies. If he couldn’t meet our prices there were plenty of people who could. You keep my bloody name out of this, do you hear, or I’ll have your guts for flaming garters.’

   ‘Thank you,’ grunted Frost, handing the phone back to Mullett and returning to Taylor on the other phone. ‘He’s on his way.’

   ‘Right . . . I . . .
What’s that?'

  
Shit
, thought Frost.
He’s heard Skinner
. ‘Mr Taylor . . . Mr Taylor . . .’ But Taylor had put the phone down. Frost could hear the thud of foot steps, and muffled voices.

   The sound of a shot blasted through the phone and echoed over the open ground.

   The colour seeped from Mullett’s face. ‘Did you hear that?’ he croaked.

   Frost nodded grimly. ‘What’s going on?’ he yelled down the phone. ‘Answer me, you sod, answer me . . .’

   Slow footsteps. A rustling as the phone was picked up. Heavy breathing.

   ‘Who’s this?’ demanded Frost.

   It was Taylor. ‘You tried to trick me,’ he screeched.

   ‘What the bloody hell has happened?’ yelled Frost down the phone.

   ‘You sent someone up with a gun. He was going to kill me.’

   ‘What happened?’ asked Frost again.

   ‘I shot him. I’ve got his gun.’

   ‘Is he dead?’ Everyone around him held their breath, waiting for an answer.

   ‘No, but he’s bleeding badly. He could bleed to death.’

   ‘We’ve got to get him out of there . . . get him to hospital.’

   ‘No. If you want him, you do what I say. I want a car, with a full tank of petrol. I want that WPC to come with me. If anyone follows or tries to stop me, I’ll shoot her. I’ve nothing to lose. So help me God, I’ll shoot her.’

   ‘And if we do what you say?’

   ‘When I’m sure I’m not being followed, I’ll let her go. I won’t hurt her.’