Steps to Heaven: A Sgt Major Crane Novel (26 page)

Chapter
Forty-Seven

“Ah, Sergeant Major, glad to see you’re awake.” The efficient sounding voice was complemented by efficiency of movement, as the nurse began the routine of noting Crane’s blood pressure and taking his temperature.

“Well,
if I wasn’t I certainly am now, sister.”

Ignoring
the sarcasm, she continued as if he hasn’t spoken. “You’ve got a visitor.”

“Tina?”

“No, I’ve sent the poor woman home for some rest. She’s been here constantly for the last week, refusing to leave your side.” She lifted Crane’s hand and felt for his pulse, her other hand holding her watch as she timed the beats. “How are you feeling? Any pain?”

Crane
moved slightly in his bed and wasn’t sure which hurt more, the pain in his shoulder, or the pain in his stomach. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he assured her, fed up of being dosed up to the eyeballs with morphine. At least this way he can think straight, even if he can feel the pain.

“Very
well. Just push this button if it gets too much, won’t you? You can self-medicate whenever you need it. Don’t worry, you can’t overdose, the machine monitors how much you’ve taken.”

The
morphine wasn’t the only thing monitoring him. He had a heart monitor on, which beeped away in the background. A blood pressure machine that woke him every hour with the automatic constriction on his arm. A catheter snaked its way through the sheets and under the bed and a drip attached to his hand that fed him all sorts of stuff that he couldn’t remember the names of.

Satisfied
that she had done her job, sister adjusted Crane’s pillows after raising the head of the bed and walked back to the nurses’ station.

A
few moments later, Anderson entered the ITU at Frimley Park Hospital.

“Ah,
Crane, they got you ready for me then?”

“I
was asleep,” grumbled Crane.

“Oh
well, never mind. The long arm of the law and all that.” His joviality seemed forced. “Anyway,” Anderson cleared his throat, “it’s much better to see you in here, than down there.” He indicates with his head to the ICU.

“How
long was I there? Nobody’s telling me much at the moment.”

“Long
enough,” Anderson’s voice dropped. “We, um, thought we’d lost you at one point. Well, several times actually.” This small speech was accompanied by much clearing of the throat.

“Maybe
someone was looking down on me,” Crane joked to lift the mood. He’d never seen Anderson with tears in his eyes before.

“Well,
if anything, I reckon love and faith got you through.”

Crane
frowned at Anderson, not understanding.

“Tina
and Padre Symonds. Neither of them ever left your bedside. If they had to, they took it in turns, so one or the other was always here.”

Crane
took a few moments. “I don’t remember much,” he admitted. “I remember you and Tina and being very, very hot.”

“That
was the fever. The wound in your shoulder became infected. The bullet was lodged in there for quite some time and caused serious infection. The one in your gut was better though,” Anderson smiled. “A clean through and through.”

“Oh
joy. Pass me a drink would you and then you could tell me the rest of the good news.”

As
Crane sipped the water through a straw, Anderson explained what happened after Crane was shot for the second time. The black boots Crane thought belonged to the army were worn by the Armed Response Unit of Hampshire Police. Anderson and his team had realised the cinema door was barricaded and were planning to storm the building when they heard the faint sound of the first gunshot.

After
a hurried conference, it was decided to risk taking a battering ram to the front doors and everyone was ready when they heard the second shot. The local commander lost no time in ordering his men to force their way in immediately. The explosion Crane heard were the old oak doors falling to the floor. The wood had been stronger than the hinges, which gave way under the unaccustomed force.

“I
must admit we were lucky there was no one standing in front of them, but the risk to anyone trapped in there was too great to wait.”

“Thank
God for that,” was all Crane managed to say. Not wanting to relive those moments again he encouraged Anderson to continue. “What about Billy?”

Anderson
then regaled him with the tale of Billy’s bravery. He reminded Crane that Billy crept up on Elias, armed only with a knife against a gun. After Crane had bitten a bullet, so to speak, Billy pounced from behind. But the door falling in distracted him and Elias managed to escape through to the back of the stage.

Calling
to the officers that entered the cinema first, Billy directed them to Crane, shouting that Elias was Zechariah and then ran off in pursuit. Anderson followed the armed officers inside, making sure the paramedics had been called for Crane and then pursued Billy.

“How
did you know where he’d gone?” Crane asked as he handed Anderson back the cup of water.

“Simple.
I followed the blood.”

“Blood?”
Crane’s eyes widen. He sat up, winced with pain and settled back against the pillows.

Anderson
explained that at the time he hadn’t known whose blood it was. Billy’s or Elias’. Nor, to be fair, did he really understand the message that Elias was Zechariah. That bit hadn’t computed.

The
trail of blood led to the back of the auditorium. Once Anderson was through the curtains which hung at either side of the stage, darkness enfolded him. The main room was blocked by the old cinema screen. Anderson could still hear shouts from the other side. Officers directing the men and boys out of the building. Paramedics working on Crane. As he moved deeper into the bowels of the building, those sounds became muffled and eventually faded altogether.

Something
clattered on the floor to his left and he quickly followed the sound. Not daring to speculate what had caused it. Feeling his way through the gloom across the back of the screen, Anderson failed to see the two figures at his feet, until he fell over them. Landing on something soft, which grunted under his weight, Anderson screamed for someone to put the lights on. Luckily his foray to the back of the auditorium hadn’t gone unnoticed and he was being followed by armed officers, who immediately put on their torches.

In
the sweeping beams, Anderson saw a gun on the floor. Immediately picking it up he swung it at what appeared to be two bodies intertwined. One black male. One white male.

“Billy,”
croaked Crane.

Anderson
nodded, poured more water into the beaker and handed it back to Crane.

Chapter
Forty-Eight

Anderson opened his mouth to continue his story but Crane put his arm out to stop him.

“No,
I mean Billy’s here. Now.”

Crane
drunk in the sight of him instead of the water, which lay forgotten in his hand. A sight more refreshing than any drink. The blond hair was still as unruly as ever. A sling bound his left arm tightly to his body. He was dressed in a hospital gown, sitting in a wheelchair, being pushed by the same formidable sister who looked after Crane.

“Hello,
sir,” the boyish grin lit up his eyes. “Just needed to see for myself that you were okay. They told me you were. But I didn’t believe them.”

“No,
he kicked up a bit of a fuss down on the ward and managed to charm a young inexperienced nurse into bringing him up here.” Sister sniffed to show her disapproval. “Now, Staff Sergeant Williams, you’ve seen your Sergeant Major. So back to bed for you.” As she turned and wheeled Billy away, she called over her shoulder, “And rest time for you Sergeant Major Crane. If you don’t press that morphine button right now, I’ll come over and do it for you!”

“Must
admit you are looking a bit rough now, Crane.”

Crane
could feel sweat breaking out on his forehead from the pain. Derek took the beaker which was slipping out of Crane’s hand and put it back on the locker by the side of the bed.

“Feeling
it too Derek.” Crane fumbled for his morphine feed and his thumb presses the button. “Second instalment later?” But he’d drifted away and didn’t hear the answer.

***

The muted sound of a television woke him and he lay there for a while listening to the beeps of his hated monitors. He was beginning to concentrate on them too much, listening to see if there was a skip of his heartbeat and constantly checking his blood pressure.

He
struggled to sit up, a movement which sent searing pain through his shoulder and he collapsed back with a groan. But he tried to get up again, damned if the pain was going to stop him. His efforts were seen by the nurses, who came straight over, raising the head of the bed and making him more comfortable.

“If
you don’t stop doing that,” one of them admonished, “you’ll open the stitches. As it is you’re aggravating the wound. Next time you want to sit up, just push the call button.”

Crane
groaned again, this time with frustration and looked around for something to distract him.

“When’s
Tina coming in?” he called after them.

One
of the nurses returned to his bedside. “You know we sent her home for at least a day and a night. She had to get some rest otherwise…” her voice tailed off.

“Otherwise?”

Refusing to look him in the eye she continued, “Otherwise she’ll end up being as sick as you. Now stop fussing. Oh look,” she said brightly, “here’s Detective Inspector Anderson to see you,” and almost ran from his bedside.

“Derek,”
Crane asked without preamble, “have you seen Tina?”

“Not
since last night. Should I have done?”

“How
did she seem?”

“Knackered.
Now do you want the second instalment of the story or not?” Clearly Anderson was refusing to discuss Tina, so acquiescing, Crane leaned back on his pillows.

“As
I was saying this morning, we found Billy and Elias in a tangle on the floor. Elias had a graze on his head, but otherwise seemed uninjured, although he was struggling to breathe. Billy had a knife sticking out of his arm. I arrested Elias for the attempted murder of Billy, which was the best I could think of at the time and then they were both carted off by the paramedics. Elias was briefly examined outside and pronounced fit to interview, so we hauled him off to Aldershot nick. Billy was brought here by ambulance, where he underwent emergency surgery for the damage to his arm.”

“Will
it be okay?” Crane asked, worried about Billy’s future career.

“So
they say. He’ll need some recuperation and physiotherapy, but in time will be back to normal.”

“Good
old Billy,” Crane grinned. “Always was a brave soldier.”

“Yeah
well, he nearly throttled Elias.” Anderson didn’t seem to share Crane’s enthusiasm for Billy’s actions. “Why are you so concerned about Billy anyway?”

“Well,
you know,” Crane hedged, “he’s one of my men.”

Anderson’s
eyes narrowed in suspicion, “Are you sure there’s not more to it than that?”

“Of
course not, Derek.” Crane changed the subject, “Where’s Elias now? Locked up somewhere I hope?”

“Yep,
Broadmoor. Bloke’s as mad as a hatter. Spouting religious rhetoric, threatening everyone in sight with eternal damnation, that sort of thing.”

“You
know he told me he was responsible for my three soldiers?”

“Yes,
he confessed to those. Very proudly in fact. Bastard. When I think of those kids…”

Crane
asked for a drink.

“So,
I think that’s pretty much brought you up to date. Oh, by the way the powers that be, or upper echelons, as you call them, are all very happy. They think you’re quite the hero of the hour, albeit a bit unconventional. So that’s one less thing to worry about. Better leave you to rest now, otherwise I’ll get my head chewed off by sister over there.”

“Just
one more thing before you go,” Crane put out his hand to stop Derek. “Who the hell kept ringing my mobile when I was in the cinema? Was it you?” Crane feigned anger.

“No,
not me.”

“Then
tell me who it was, Derek. They won’t let me have my mobile phone so I can check. Because of all the monitors or something. If you don’t tell me now, I’ll find out later anyway.”

“Well,
the first two times were the Padre and the third time was Mrs Morrison. Why does it matter?”

“Because
they saved my life and the lives of the poor idiots trapped in the church with me.” Crane could clearly remember the times when his mobile vibrated. “What did they want?”

“Would
you believe they both realised why the police artist’s image of Zechariah looked familiar. They’d worked out it was Elias and had phoned to warn you.”

“Well,
they were a bit too late for that, but their intervention did the trick. Will you pass on my thanks to them?”

“Sure,”
Anderson patted Crane’s arm. “But you’ll be able to thank them for yourself soon when you’re transferred to a general ward. Both of them want to come and see you. Although they might change their minds if you carry on being so grumpy and demanding. Oh by the way, Crane, talking about people being grumpy and demanding, Diane Chambers keeps turning up saying she needs to urgently interview you for her paper. Apparently she’s been given the promise of an exclusive.”

Smiling
Crane said, “I think that’ll have to wait for now, don’t you Derek? Get her off my back and I’ll owe you one.” Falling back against the pillows, Crane let Derek leave and pushed his morphine button once more.

As
he drifted off, he was pleased that Anderson hadn’t rumbled him. He must make sure no one ever found out that he set Billy up. When he realised Billy had disobeyed a direct order and was going to the church, he should have stopped him, but decided not to. Wanted to let things play out, used Billy and his nephew as bait, hoping he could cover their backs. He’d have to make sure Billy’s career didn’t suffer too much. It was the least he could do.