The Alex King Series, A BATEMAN [good books for high schoolers .TXT] 📗

no threat to life, so the rest of the firefighters were milling around, waiting to take a turn with the hoses. “I’d offer you a cup of tea,” King paused and shrugged at Neil Ramsay, the designated officer for the operation. “But the kitchen is in a bit of a mess.”

“So…” he said, looking at DCI Trevarth. “This little lot is down to you, is it?”

The detective was about to speak, when King cut in. “I heard that an off-duty officer heard gunshots, couldn’t get a signal on his mobile and roused the troops personally.”

“Really?” Ramsay said incredulously. “Which station?”

“Fal…” King was cut off.

“Camborne!” Trevarth interjected. “I’ll file a report later. Your orders crossed with the duty sergeant, who got this lot together.”

“I think the DCI was just a few minutes too late to stop the procession,” said King. “Shame, but those are the breaks.”

“Right,” Ramsay said, somewhat dubiously. But he had a story to go back with and years in the field mopping up mistakes had taught him not to dig too deep, and not to question enough to know all the facts. If he didn’t know everything, then the buck could be passed on. “Well, I can tell we’re in the bloody countryside. Something to do with all the bullshit I can smell around here…”

  King shrugged. “Well, nobody could have foreseen the incendiary device. The fire brigade would have to have come out for an explosion.”

“The what?” Trevarth frowned. “Incendiary?”

“He means the gas explosion,” Ramsay said nonchalantly. “Left the bloody gas on. Careless really.”

“Incredibly,” said King. “Seeing as I have an electric combi-boiler and a log fire.”

The flames were dying, but the firefighters were still busy with the hoses. The walking wounded had been taken to hospital in Truro and two detectives were assisting the Home Office coroner and forensic scientist who had travelled in one of the helicopters. Two MI5 officers, both ex-Metropolitan police MIT detectives, were comparing notes next to the body, which was now being secured in a body bag. The FAMAS rifle had been declared safe by one of the firearms officers, and bagged and tagged. King’s Smith & Wesson revolver was still inside the burning building. As a piece of evidence, it would surely be useless. The MI5 officers had gathered the local police and medical crews together, along with a rotation of firefighters, to go through what events had transpired and sign the Official Secrets Act.

King watched the smouldering building. He was left feeling confused, his emotions torn. In some way, the destruction of the cottage signified the final materiel piece of his wife’s existence, severed forever. He knew that he should feel devastated, but in truth, it came as a relief. As if hanging onto this one piece of her had curtailed him from moving on completely. The flames had not yet died, but he already knew he would move on without looking back. The insurance would be paid and the property re-built, but he would sell. His life was with Caroline now and they would buy a place together, start from scratch. Build their own memories, good or bad, create their own history. The feeling was almost invigorating. Caroline had made this past year better, but he now knew he could look forward to better things to come.

“…wouldn’t you say, Alex?”

King looked away from the fire. Ramsay stood there with his cell-phone. DCI Trevarth was walking away towards the police vehicles. “Sorry?” he asked.

“I said, I suppose a bed for the night is out of the question,” Ramsay repeated. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he said. “Just got shot at, killed a man and watched my marital home burned to the ground.”

“Well, you could have my problems. I mean, is there ever a fucking phone signal down here? We came a couple of years back for a few days, I don’t think I had a two-bar signal for the entire holiday. Do you know how bloody tedious teenage girls can be without a phone signal?” He tapped on the home screen once more, then held the phone aloft, as if an extra half-metre would solve his problems. “Bloody place!”

“You could use my house phone.”

“Funny.” Ramsay scoffed. “Have you got funds?”

“Company card.”

“That will do,” he said curtly. “I’m flying back to London with the body. You have a return to London from Newquay, am I right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, better not waste it then. Get back to London by the afternoon for a briefing. You’d better find a hotel for the night. I would offer you a lift, but I’m sure you need to get your hire car back to the airport. Besides, there will be no room with the body and all.”

“The car’s full of holes.”

“Bloody hell,” he said. “That’s the company’s deposit lost now.”

King did not know whether the man was joking or not, but he suspected he was quite serious. He shrugged like it didn’t matter. He’d get back to London when he was finished here and not before. He had other matters to attend to. He wasn’t about to tell Ramsay that, the man was on a clean-up mission and would not take the news well. All he was focused on was getting MI5’s presence out of this mess and back where it could be controlled effectively.

Ramsay pocketed the phone and shook his head. “You’ll need to file a report back at Thames House. Take your time and get it right. I don’t want repercussions, just something that will close the file and keep it closed,” he said.

King nodded. “You can get a signal at the end of the lane. There’s a lot of granite here, and the trees seem to cut the signal off further in spring and summer.” Ramsay looked at him incredulously. King added, “In winter, the trees are bare, so it doesn’t affect the signal so much. In