Chapter Ten – Double Trouble
Nick's jaw was set and his hands lay crossed over his chest where he stood just outside the lorry garage. Annoyed he glanced at his wristwatch and deduced that they had just wasted almost an hour whilst attempting to search for stolen goods that obviously weren't there.
Shiner was furious as he got into the car after having found only a few broken shreds of porcelain that could have been a left over from the workers a long time ago.
Mike looked miserably after the CID officers as their car disappeared around the corner of the old building. He refocused on his sergeant, wondering what to do next. "I don't know, Sarge," Mike began, "this doesn't make sense."
Nick looked over his shoulder, his brown eyes hard and cold. "They knew we were coming," he returned cryptically as he started to walk back toward the garage.
The two police officers moved swiftly through the door and into the local once again, their flashlights cutting through the darkness illuminating empty crates and old tools that had been spread over the floor in haste.
"Charlie Chadwick," Nick mumbled angrily, barely audible. "I don't believe for a minute he's got nothing to hide."
Mike sighed in frustration as he walked over to take another look at the bench in the far corner of the room. He raised his eyebrows in confusion as the beam revealed a broken porcelain cup. "Sarge," he called.
Nick walked over to him.
"Look at this," Mike said as he pointed toward a marking at the bottom.
"Well, it looks like something is going on here, it's just the question of what and how it's connected to the thefts," Nick returned as he recognized the marking of a much valued collector's item, something the lorry workers certainly wouldn't use.
The constable was about to say something when he caught movement in his peripheral vision and whirled around, trying to illuminate the movement with his flashlight. "Sarge!" he spoke up, surprised.
Nick took off, making his way over the floor, heading toward an old stair. Mike wasn't slow to follow. They both ran upstairs and up on the second floor where Mike had spotted someone hanging around.
There was a foreboding quirk as the wooden floor structure protested the weight of the two policemen. Nick ignored it setting after the man who was halfway across the large storage area, heading for the next flight a bit further down.
A foreboding feeling swept over Bradley as he came across a sign that warned of imminent danger due to construction weaknesses. The floor was much worse up here and several planks appeared to be rotten. The factory had been abandoned for years and the decay was obvious.
Once upon a time there had been a flourishing industry in the large brick building with its ornamented façade and low windowsills. It was once a popular and proud part of Ashfordly that many people had as an office address. Then, after several years of overstocked supplies when demand was low, the old company finally went under.
After a while the area lost its charm and became a place where illegal affairs were made up. The owner of the company had no money left and to sell a factory wasn't an easy task so he simply left the buildings to their own fate and left them to whither. There had been talks about whether or not to preserve the buildings but, as usual, proceedings in the council could be very slow.
Joyce Jowett and Oscar Blaketon was obviously involved one way or another and had managed to divide the council in two stands.
Phil used to be on patrol certain nights in the area and he hated it, called it plain scary sometimes.
The unknown man, all dressed in black, suddenly sidestepped something and almost fell as his foot went through the floor. In panic he stumbled on with a slight limp and grabbed the railing of the spiral iron stair leading further up and away from the room filled with crates.
Although the beam from the flashlight had only briefly landed on the man's face it didn't take long for Nick to recognize him as the man that had bought the garage from the factory a year before.
"Jones, I know it's you!" Nick hollered, taking in on the man, sidestepping the hole in the floor and headed upstairs.
Only two steps behind, Mike climbed up after his sergeant.
Nick sprinted across the floor, gaining ground. Jones dared a glance over his shoulder and saw to his despair that the policeman was only an arm's length away. Another flashlight appeared only a short distance after the first and he knew he couldn't shake them off any longer. Sergeant Rowan jumped for his legs, managing to grab his left ankle, causing Jones to slam into the floor.
The planks shrieked under the weight and Mike swallowed as he directed the flashlight at his superior officer and the fleeing man.
Jones fought with everything he had to avoid capture, he flailed with his arms and legs, trying to kick away the police officer. Nick grimaced as Jones landed a well-placed kick in his gut. He lessened his grip of the man for a moment. Jones used that to his advantage and managed to squirm out of Nick's grip. He crawled over the dust covered old wooden floor but Nick wasn't that easy to get rid of. Jones lashed out once again, this time managing to hit Nick hard in the shoulder.
"Sarge, are you alright?" Mike asked worriedly as he came to a halt next to his superior officer.
Nick nodded in the semi-darkness, one hand clutching his shoulder.
Mike pursed his lips and immediately went after the fleeing man. The policeman rugby tackled the shady businessman and they both crashed to the ground. Mike didn't care about the pressure he applied, he retrieved the handcuffs and forced Jones's hands together behind the back.
"Ted Jones, I'm arresting you for resisting an arrest and causing bodily harm to a police officer," Mike said in low tones.
"Anything you've got stored around here that you want to show us?" Nick asked testily as he got up on his feet, his left hand still pressed to his right shoulder.
"What makes you think I have anything to hide?" Jones challenged.
"Maybe the fact that you've followed every step taken by the CID, and that you ran from us," Nick returned. "It makes us a little suspicious; that, and the whole business with a man that doesn't really exist."
Jones smiled creepily at the sergeant and then all of a sudden tried to break free of Mike's grip but the constable was prepared for it and grabbed him harder.
"I wouldn't recommend that," Mike said harshly.
A look of defiance crept over Jones face as he spun around and stomped on Mike's foot.
As Bradley let go Jones pushed forward but he only managed two yards before Rowan slammed him to the ground. Unfortunately it didn't stop there. The floor creaked forebodingly before cracking up and giving away beneath their feet.
One moment Nick felt Jones struggling beneath him and in the next he was freefalling. He was aware of flailing arms and muted voices and then there was only darkness engulfing him and he knew no more.
PC Mike Bradley groaned, coming to awareness slowly, his senses dazed and his mind uncomprehending of what had just happened. There was movement next to him and awkwardly he realized he was lying face down on the floor, surrounded by old rotten planks. He shook his head as if trying to clear his mind and gingerly rose into a sitting position. Not without effort he reached over to get the flashlight that had come to rest a bit further away, the beam still casting a hollow glow over the immediate area. The young constable coughed as dust still swirled around him and reached up with his left hand to his aching head. Dismayed he felt a bump the size of an egg forming above his left temple and traced it down to his cheekbone, whereas his fingers came away red from where the skin had split open. He let the flashlight sweep over his surroundings as the left hand absentmindedly returned to the bump.
"Sarge," he suddenly mumbled as he remembered he hadn't been alone.
Mike swallowed and felt the bitter taste of blood in his mouth and then froze as the beam of the flashlight illuminated a hand next to him.
"Sarge," he tried again, this time a little louder.
The light traveled up the length of the arm, over a once black police uniform, and further up to reveal Sergeant Rowan's face. His eyes were closed and the color had vanished from his cheeks. The paleness of the skin stood in stark contrast to the bright red blood that covered the left side of his forehead and trickled down over his ear, staining the beam beneath him.
Forgetting his own injuries Mike gently reached out with his hand to tap the side of Nick's face. When he got no reaction he steadied himself before placing two fingers on his superior officer's throat, trying to find a pulse.
Mike let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding as he felt a rhythm under his fingertips and sank back on his knees. "Hang in there, Sarge," he said hoarsely. "I'll go and get some help," he managed.
OOOOOO
To be continued
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