Hunter Hunted, Jack Gatland [good story books to read .txt] 📗

question that morning. Declan showed his warrant card for identification, and was pointed to the left, and Ward 4F.

The ACCU was filled with more officers and detectives than the average crime scene. There was a small sign on the wall beside Declan stating that there were twenty-two beds in this ward; four bedded bays of four beds each, where privacy was nothing more than a screen around the bed, and six side rooms for single patients. The rooms to the sides were closed, the blinds down, but one room, a single patient room had the door open, a continual movement of officers and medical staff passing in and out. Declan took a breath in as he looked around; there was a sickly sweet, antiseptic smell that made him shudder with suppressed memories from his childhood. He’d always hated hospitals.

Standing outside the door, looking up as Declan arrived was DS Anjli Kapoor. She was also in a suit, her short black bob pulled back, but like Declan gave the impression of someone who’d dressed in a hurry.

‘How is he?’ Declan asked as he approached. Anjli looked back into the room for a moment before looking back to him.

‘He’s in a coma,’ she replied. ‘Bugger’s lucky to be alive.’

‘Do we know what happened?’ Declan tried to look through the door but there were too many people in his way to gain a glance at the figure in the bed. Anjli pulled out her notebook, flipping it open.

‘Doctor Marcos is going over the crime scene now, but it looks like someone or some ones came into the Crime Unit around ten pm last night. Monroe was the last person out, and it looks like that he emerged from his office to confront them, in the process being attacked.’

‘He was the target?’

‘No idea yet,’ Anjli said, looking up from the notes. ‘He had defensive wounds, but there was nothing that stated that he had been specifically hunted.’ She looked back down to the paper, mainly to hide the fact that she was close to tears.

‘Anyway, there was a fight, and he lost. Badly. Marcos said that the amount of GHB in his system would have slowed him right down; he wouldn’t have had a chance. They slammed his head through one of the glass partitions, Declan. You know when you see someone go through a windscreen? Crime scene apparently looks like that. He lost so much blood that they must have thought he was dead, and they left before security arrived.’

She looked away now, trying to gather her emotions, but the main one, anger, was there in force.

‘We took down two of the biggest gang leaders in the UK yesterday,’ she said. ‘We bloodied The Twins noses too. And eight hours later Monroe’s beaten almost to death. It can’t be a coincidence.’

‘Why was he still there?’ Declan was angry too, angry that he hadn’t stayed to ensure that Monroe was alright, angry that he’d left to meet up with what had turned into a one-night stand. Anjli shrugged.

‘Probably didn’t want to go right home,’ she said. ‘I mean, when you’re drugged and almost killed, you probably don’t want to be in a place where it can weigh on you.’

‘I need to see him,’ Declan went to enter the room, but Anjli raised a hand to stop him.

‘There’s a Guv here that wants to see you first,’ she said. ‘Wanted to speak to the most superior officer on the team—‘ she frowned as a thought suddenly struck her.

‘How did you get here so fast?’ she interrupted herself. ‘There’s no way you made it here from Hurley in half an hour.’

‘I was in the apartment in Tottenham,’ Declan lied quickly. ‘I give the keys back soon, so needed to check it out. Dozed off there.’

‘That explains yesterday’s clothes, then.’ Anjli seemed content with this explanation and pointed over to a man in the middle of the ACCU corridor, currently talking to two assistants. He was tall, with short grey hair, whiter on the temples and under thin, black-rimmed glasses. Jacket-less, he wore the white shirt and black tie of a police officer, but the diamonds on his black epaulettes gave him the rank of Chief Superintendent. Looking up, he noticed Declan’s gaze and waved him over.

‘You DI Walsh?’ he asked. Declan nodded.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I’m Bradbury,’ the officer continued, and Declan didn’t need to ask anything more. Ch Supt David Bradbury controlled the City of London’s police force. Effectively, he was Declan’s boss’s boss’s boss. ‘Terrible situation we have here.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Declan replied. ‘And we’re ready to start on the case. Our Divisional Surgeon is already examining the crime scene, and we believe that—‘

‘Don’t film flam me, Walsh,’ Bradbury replied. ‘You just got here. You don’t know what your team believes.’

‘With respect sir, I know the team, and I trust their opinions,’ Declan stated. ‘We’ve solved crimes with less than we have right now.’

‘But that’s the problem,’ Bradbury said, leading Declan to the side, away from the other officers. ‘You don’t yet know what you have here. I’m guessing you believe that it’s connected to the gangs you put away yesterday?’

‘That’s a possibility, sir.’ Declan was wondering what kind of conversation this really was. ‘Unless you know of another?’

‘I do, actually,’ Bradbury nodded. ‘How well do you know a reporter named Kendis Taylor?’

Declan paused for a moment, blindsided by the question. ‘I, that is we, Monroe and I know her,’ he replied. ‘She grew up in my village.’

‘You can vouch for her character then?’ Bradbury enquired. Declan wanted to scream, to shout that of course he did, he loved her, but he stopped himself.

‘I would prefer to answer that when I know what else you have here, sir.’

Bradbury nodded. ‘Monroe was apparently working on a document when he was disturbed,’ he explained. ‘One that stated that there is a strong possibility that an extreme terrorist faction radicalised Kendis Taylor, while in Syria for The Guardian newspaper.’

Declan wanted to laugh at this, but the dead pan manner in which