Nick arrived at the estate and stopped the bike along the green leading toward it. He strode over and scanned the area. There were poles pushed into the ground toward the house and barbed wire fencing around the outskirts. Nick was surprised by the newly fitted barriers and noticed there were no cranes or diggers on site; from an onlooker's view, they'd think the council were preserving the estate, not destroying it. Nick trudged over to the two council members in charge, standing just outside the perimeter the poles and wires had set. The two men turned immediately to Nick and nodded. "Ah, PC Rowan. Good of you to come. I expect this is somewhat of a closure for you," one of them said. Gerald Hopkins was his name if Nick's memory served him.
Nick looked at the estate, keeping his opinions about how it was a waste to simply demolish it, but simultaneously knew it was for the best. "Am I early? Only I expected a noisier and more chaotic atmosphere by now. It all seems a bit organised."
Hopkins laughed. "We'll begin in about," he checked his watch, "Exactly forty minutes. Better to be early than late I always say."
Nick raised an eyebrow. "Two 'o clock sharp, ay?"
Oliver Watson, the other council member in charge, tapped his watch with a smile. "Right. Timing is imperative when dealing with a demolition such as this, PC Rowan. We're responsible for everyone's safety and ensuring they're all aware of each detail. That's what the barriers and wires are for. The explosive team have done a grand job of calculating the safety distance to keep us from any harm. It's actually quite exciting if you ask me."
Nick frowned slightly and looked at the house, then back to them. "Hold on, an explosive team? You mean there's dynamite involved with the demolition?"
Hopkins clapped his hands. "Fully involved. There was a box of dynamite recovered underneath an old quarry bank a few miles from the radomes. Not lit by fuse mind you, so it was discussed they be used for a less violent purpose to avoid risk of falling to the wrong hands. Don't worry, PC Rowan, all precautions have been taken and the explosive team assured me there's no risks. The dynamite has been well placed and packed into tight spaces to prevent any outward harm."
Nick couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You mean implosion? And that's guaranteed, is it?" Nick scanned the area, clocking four men scattered about, the explosive team, he presumed. Nick expected military professions, but their overalls suggested otherwise, and their general appearance just didn't fit the criteria. Nick scoured the site until he spotted a van close by and stalked forward to examine it.
He ran his hand over the side until he noticed a small corner of the PSBD was peeling. Nick frowned because why would professionals like the Public Safety Bomb Disposal brandish a tacky sticker on their vans? And he found it hard to believe that dealing with dynamite with a detonator to demolish a home was their MO. Nick peeled back the sticker halfway before glancing at the men to check if they were watching, but they seemed to be too preoccupied with the setup. He started to get a bad feeling as he smoothed the sticker back and pulled out a pad to jot down the number plate of the van.
Nick turned to jog toward his bike but was called by one of the council members. "Not going anywhere," he said casually, "just gotta check something with my sergeant." Nick smiled when they seemed satisfied and made a sprint for his bike. "Delta-Alpha two-four to control." Nick kept his eyes on the site while he waited.
"Control to Delta-Alpha two-four receiving. Go ahead Nick."
Nick turned his back slightly. "Alf, I think we have a big problem."
Alf looked at Phil before shouting for Blaketon. Oscar appeared in seconds, demanding what the urgency was. "It's Nick, Sarge. Sounds worried."
Blaketon clicked the radio. "What's the problem, Rowan?"
"I'm at the demolition site now, Sarge. They're using dynamite."
Alf pulled a face. "Dynamite? What the `eck for?"
Blaketon frowned. "I assume every precaution has been taken, and it's a safe distance from the village mind you."
Nick chewed his lip. "So they say, Sarge."
"What does that mean?"
"It's the men who were called to deal with the explosives by the council. They're not who they say they are."
The three at the station shared a sudden, worried glance. "Go on."
Nick glanced at the van. "There's a PSBD emblem on the van, but it's nothing but a sticker already peeling away."
Alf looked up at Oscar. "They're shams."
"That's not all, Sarge. Alf, how long have Oliver Watson and Gerald Hopkins been council members?"
"Oh, not long like, mebbe a couple months tops. Why?"
Oscar frowned. "I hope you're not suggesting they're involved, Rowan."
Nick sighed. "As members of the council, they would surely be able to notice when the explosive team shows up in casual overalls, but those two are acting like everything's strictly professional, and I find it hard to believe that the setup they've got here is standard procedure for this type of destruction. Sarge, could someone calculate the distance of the explosions to pinpoint the safety standing point for observation?"
"Hmm, a professional perhaps, but even then they certainly wouldn't allow civilians, even council members to be present because it's no guarantee."
Nick drummed his fingers on the bike seat, feeling his anxiety grow exponentially. "Hopkins and Watson said the dynamite was recovered just a few miles from the radomes. I thought the whole area was thoroughly searched and any recovered explosives were kept tightly locked and guarded regularly."
Oscar glowered. "It was. I was there myself. Of course, it's possible they missed summat, but I wouldn't bank on it."
Nick swallowed dryly. "Is it possible then, Sarge, that this dynamite was stolen somehow?"
Blaketon scoffed. "That bunker is heavily guarded, Rowan! No one goes near it without strict authorisation."
Phil and Alf were becoming anxious, realising the severity of the situation.
"What about insiders? We know it happens. What about infiltration? Wouldn't seem so unheard of if they formed a moving act would it? A small case of dynamite like this wouldn't pose too many questions."
Oscar's expression was grave. "Aye, that'll be plausible, lad. This van they used…"
Nick smiled and looked at the pad. "Already got the license number, Sarge. Lima Romeo five five Alpha Sierra Foxtrot."
Alf frowned. "Lima Romeo, that's London way in Stanmore, if I'm not mistaken."
Nick nodded. "That's right."
Oscar frowned. "And Stanmore is the location of the former RAF Bentley Prior station, a base of the fighter command during both world wars. Developing suburb in the district now mind you, but happen there's still some unidentified sources about if they haven't completely developed the area by now."
Nick suddenly paled. "Sarge, when I was with the met, we busted some men in fifty seven posing as RAF to illegally acquire recovered bombs on the site. They were amatuers at best back then, and so my sergeant at the time, thought it would boost my experience on the force to go undercover and act as an inside source. It seemed like a sure plan because of my former occupation as a pan am pilot for London airport. The group of men were easily convinced I was bent and told me everything." Nick huffed a laugh. "I was even named as the leader's right-hand man. The bust was successful, and my constable position was secured with a medal, but when it went to court, the leader got a reduced sentence when he admitted to everything and basically handed the rest of the team, myself included as the sole runners of the operation, making him seem like a victim so to speak. It was then that he found out I was a copper."
Alf shared a glance with Blaketon, who looked steadily at Phil, and they all came to the same conclusion. "Listen, Rowan," Blaketon began, "it's probably just a coincidence and an unrelated situation just because the van is registered in London, but do you recognise any of the four men posing as PSBD?"
Nick realised what the sergeant was theorising and tried to keep composed as he subtly scanned the site where the men stood. "Hard to tell for definite from this far, Sarge, but…." Nick soon locked eyes with one of the men when he turned to talk to Hopkins. It was a brief recognition on the man's part, but it gave Nick the time to clarify. "Sarge, it's him. Looks like the time inside did nothing to his conscience. Hasn't learnt a thing."
Oscar sighed agitatedly. "Rowan, can you be sure they're unaware that you're onto `em?"
Nick regarded them carefully; they hadn't shown any other signs of concern toward him except for that brief recognition. "Yes, Sarge."
"Good! Keep it that way, and don't do anything until we get there, understand? And if at all possible, keep your bloody distance from that manor. Heavens knows what that menace has planned for you. It could be some kind of setup, and that's the least of worries. Out!"
Oscar grabbed his jacket from the hook. "Bellamy! With me! We'll radio for backup on the way. Ventress!"
Alf looked up. "Yes, Sarge?"
"Chase up that number plate and see if the van was reported stolen. I find it hard to believe that's a legally acquired vehicle of theirs, and while you're at it, get a hold of that bunker and ask them if they've identified any removal of dynamite without proper clearance!"
Phil immediately stood up, grabbed his jacket and rushed to follow Blaketon out of the station. Oscar wasted no time and quickly pulled out of the car park and turned sharply onto the road. Phil glanced worriedly at his sergeant. "Sarge, how much trouble are we in here? Shouldn't we warn the village like?"
Blaketon swiftly turned a corner onto the moors. "No time for that, Bellamy! Besides, if those pillocks are still as amateurish as Rowan says, then chances are that dynamite is either not enough to cause much damage, or it won't go off at all!"
Phil nodded and looked ahead nervously. "Let's pray for t`latter, ay Sarge?"
Blaketon kept his solemn expression on the road. "Aye."
Nick approached the council members casually and stopped beside them, hands clasped behind his back. "I've never seen a building blow up before. Quite exciting really." Nick hoped his façade stalled their secrecy long enough for backup to arrive and tried his best not to let on to his former teammate that he knew anything. "Must have been your lucky day when this recovered dynamite showed up. I mean, crawler cranes cost some to hire and more depending on the job. I'm no expert when it comes to the council's proposals and legislation, but I imagine this saved you quite a bit of bother….or got you out of some." Nick gave them a side smile when they seemed slightly nervous.
Hopkins nodded slowly and glanced at Watson, who smiled in response. "You're right, PC Rowan. It's as we said, though. Using the dynamite for this demolition seemed like a good idea. It makes sense to use it for such a purpose other than violence, wouldn't you agree? Who knows what sort of hands it could get into."
Nick glanced at the ex-prisoner. "Who indeed." He then regarded Hopkins thoughtfully. "Is that why I'm here? A witness to make sure it's used where it should be?"
Hopkins and Watson looked quizzically at each other before turning back to Nick. "Well, not exactly. When the announcement of the estate's demolition reached the papers, we were contacted by those men there working for the Public Safety Bomb Disposal, a local approach so to speak, who deal with the less dangerous operations."
Nick felt annoyed that these council members could think he was that gullible, but he swallowed his disgust and continued. "Makes sense, and what about my presence then?"
Hopkins nodded to the former prisoner. "It was his suggestion really. The story in the papers placed you at the scene of what happened here, and he suggested it would be a good idea to have you present when the demolition happened. Neither I or Mr Watson were really bothered which officer was present, but he insisted, and, well, it seemed fitting I suppose."
Nick tried to steady his breathing, but it appeared that his sergeant was right.
Ian Wakefield, the ex-prisoner, was there because of him.
"Control to Delta-Alpha two one," came Alf's voice on the radio as Blaketon turned up the hill toward the estate.
Phil took the radio. "Delta-Alpha two one receiving. What've yer got, Alf?"
"The van they're using was reported stolen in London two weeks ago, belonging to a Mr Bridstone, a bank manager on the East end."
Phil looked at Blaketon, and the sergeant took the radio from him. "What about the dynamite, Ventress?"
"Same situation, Sarge. The inspector came around the bunker and questioned the removal of the explosives, but when no one could give a straight answer, they were interrogated further, and the four men were discovered as infiltrators having none of their names listed down as officials, not even drafters."
Blaketon cursed when the car jolted as he drove up the uneven green. "That's good work Ventress, we'll have backup behind us in less than two minutes!"
"There's something else, Sarge."
Oscar sighed irritably. "What is it?"
"I took the liberty of contacting the council office headquarters in Whitby. It seems they've had their suspicions of Hopkins and Watson for some time, something to do with mishandling the money deliberately, pocketing and the like."
Phil gasped. "Embezzlement?"
"Aye. Nick's suspicion of their involvement wasn't entirely theoretical after all."
"Sarge lookout!" shouted Phil, causing Blaketon to break hard when a young teen ran across the green toward the estate.
Blaketon breathed deeply and looked at Phil. "Are yer alright, Bellamy?"
Phil seemed shaken, but he nodded. "Yes, Sarge."
The two looked at the boy running. "Isn't that Harry Carson whose brother went missing before?"
"I think so, Sarge. The bloody hell is he doin` up `ere?" Blaketon stared after the boy thoughtfully, and Phil felt anxious. "Aren't we goin` ter stop him?"
Oscar took a deep breath. "If they spot us prematurely, they'll know Nick's onto `em. We'll wait for the backup."
"But Sarge…." One look from Blaketon, and Phil shut up, glancing toward the estate nervously.
Nick checked his watch – ten minutes until the dynamite was set to go off. Just then, Nick looked up sharply when he heard someone shout his name, eyes widening when a familiar boy came running toward him. "Harry!" Nick glanced at the council and checked the four men before grasping hold of the teen. "What are you doing up here? It's dangerous."
Harry was in a state, which was understandable since his mother probably gave him a right telling off when she found out about Derek's previous disappearance. "It's me brother, Mr Rowan."
"I know, Harry, and I promise I'll help look for him again once I'm finished here."
Harry shook his head frantically. "No, you don't understand!"
Nick sighed and pushed Harry back lightly. "Go on, Harry. We'll sort this out later, alright?"
Harry grasped Nick's arm desperately. "Me mum said he were missing, and that he wanted a police costume like."
Nick closed his eyes for a moment before addressing Harry apologetically. "I'm sorry, Harry. We'll sort it."
"It's the story, Mr Rowan."
Nick suddenly grew curious. "What story?"
"The story I told him. That you found me `ere like, about yer patrolling the manor…." Nick began to worry. "I think he's in there Mr Rowan."
Nick paled considerably. "What?" He snapped his attention to the manor, his breathing uneven. Nick turned and spotted his sergeant and Phil in the car near his bike and pointed. "Harry, those two in the car are with me, go and tell them what's happening."
Phil narrowed his eyes confoundedly. "Summat's going on, Sarge."
Harry rushed toward them as Blaketon and Phil quickly exited the car. "Calm down, son," Oscar commented as he grabbed the teen. They listened intently to the terrified explanation before the sound of cars coming up behind them let them know their backup had arrived. "Stay in this car, and don't move!" Blaketon told the boy, gestured to Phil, and motioned for the officers exiting the vehicles to follow.
Nick looked toward them and snapped his attention to Ian when he shouted, "We've been made!" The other three scattered wildly but were immediately pursued by five officers. The two council members surrendered without struggle and were taken to a different car. Nick could see Blaketon and Phil coming to his position and turned to Ian, who was legging it toward him. "I won't go down again because of you, Rowan! I'm taking you with me!"
Nick frowned and rushed forward, diving at Ian to tackle him, but spotted the pen knife at the last second and grasped the man's wrist, keeping the knife away. Nick threw a hard punch at Ian's face, which floored him, and before Ian could get up to try his luck again, Phil and Blaketon were on him; they turned him harshly and attached the cuffs before slinging him toward two other officers to haul him to their van.
"Let's get them out of here and move as far away as possible. We don't know how that dynamite was set up!" Blaketon turned to Nick to ask if he was alright, and fear struck him as he caught his constable running across the estate toward the manor. "Rowan!"
Phil gasped in fear. "Nick! Yer can't!"
Blaketon swallowed the lump in his throat and ordered everyone to vacate the area, but he and Phil were reluctant to move, having stood just before the fence.
Nick rushed into the house and called out breathlessly. "Derek! Come on, son, where are you!" Nick ran through the first level: kitchen, sitting room. He was about to risk the stairs when a thought came to him, and quickly doubled back toward the basement, throwing the door open. "Derek! It's PC Rowan. Are you here?"
"Mr Rowan!" The little boy came running up the steps toward him, and Nick sighed in relief. "I were scared ter come out!"
Blaketon checked his watch gravely. "One minute."
Phil chewed his lip with worry, and before he could make a beeline for the estate, Blaketon grabbed his arm. "We gotta do summat, Sarge!"
Blaketon narrowed his eyes. "You don't think I know that, Bellamy! It's bad enough to have one of my men in severe danger, but I'll not have another on my conscience! Is that clear!"
Phil answered shakily, "Y-yes, Sarge."
Nick picked him up and held him close. "It's alright, I've gotcha now." Nick turned for the open hallway, but before he could make it toward the exit, a loud crash was heard from above, followed by an echoing crack across the ceiling.
"Mr Rowan!"
Holding Derek close to him, Nick tried to run, but debris fell in chunks, and he had no choice but to drop and cover Derek with his body as best he could before the ceiling cracked and caved in around them. Nick seethed when large planks of wood pelted his back and trapped his legs; he heard Derek cry in terror beneath him before darkness took over when something struck his helmet.
Phil stared in horror at the manor as half the entrance caved in, along with the left side. "Sarge…."
"God help us…" Oscar snapped out of his shock and turned to Phil. "I want an ambulance and the fire department here as of yesterday!" Blaketon noticed Phil's state of shock and gave him a light shove. "Bellamy! D'you hear me? Nick Rowan needs us to be wi` it if he has half a chance of survival!"
Phil blinked and took a shaky breath. "Yes, Sarge."
