December 18, 1:00 pm
Barbara yawned. Even though she had managed several hours of sleep in her own bed, she was mentally and physically exhausted. The morning had been spent with the Hayes and the minister hastily organising a memorial service. It had to be real to attract her son, and, in fairness to what the woman had been through, Barbara wanted to make it meaningful and a fitting tribute, even if her secret had to remain hidden. They had included Walter in the secret, as he and his wife had photographed the life of the street over the years and had a collection of music that he and Bob agreed Barbara had enjoyed listening to with her limited friends.
She saw Tommy entering the churchyard. He had insisted on the older, traditional church of St John rather than the newer churches with modern buildings that were harder to surround and monitor. Her reservations vanished when she saw the beautiful brick building with its twin spires, buttresses and tall arched entrance, which gave it an almost medieval solidity.
"Everything set?" he asked.
"Yeah, you?"
"I hope so. I organised a live feed, and the technicians will scan the audience using facial recognition. We have snipers in the adjacent buildings covering all angles. There are armed plainclothes officers stationed inside, and well, there's us. We just have to hope that he shows up, and that he gives himself away."
"Do you think he's really a threat? Besides scaring his mother and chasing her, he hasn't terrorised anyone."
"You don't think walking around dressed as a werewolf hasn't terrorised people?"
"Frightened, yes, but I think he's disturbed."
"He's also ex-KGB, Barbara, so let's not forget that and feel too sorry for him."
"It's not like he volunteered though."
Tommy sighed. "No, I know, but he has to be apprehended. It'll be up to the courts and doctors after that."
"Yeah, I'm just getting sentimental in my old age."
He grinned at her. "About time."
"Sir," Michael said as he came running up. "This might be him."
Barbara and her boss both turned. Winston trailed Michael. "This man here," the lad said, "fits our description, and he was seen here… look."
The team watched a clip of a man with short black military-styled hair dressed in jeans and a heavy serge overcoat reading the poster at Piccadilly. He stood still for several minutes, then slumped to the ground.
"Is he crying?" Winston asked.
Michael nodded. "Howling his eyes out, look." He skipped the video forward to another clip of the same man resting against the wall. His face was red, and tears streamed down his cheeks. Then the man returned to the display board and kicked it repeatedly before running deeper into the station when a security guard approached.
Tommy and Barbara exchanged a quick glance. "That may or may not be good," Tommy said.
"My take is not good," Barbara replied. "Well, we'll know in an hour."
December 18, 2:00 pm
The service was about to begin. "Any sign of him?" Tommy asked. Across the radio, he received only crackled negative reports.
Winston paced up and down. "What if doesn't take the bait?"
Tommy stood tall, which Barbara knew was a sign of him faking confidence. "He will. Now, Winston, I want you in the choir loft scanning the pews below. Barbara, you look after Michael."
"I don't need babysitting."
"You're a trainee under my care, so I shouldn't even let you in the field, but you've got great eyes and know his face better than anyone, so unless you want to stay here, you will be partnered with Havers. Am I clear?"
"Yes, Sir. Thank you." Michael gave her one of his lost puppy looks, making it hard for her to resent looking after him.
"Sit near the church entrance," Tommy continued, "and observe anyone who comes and goes. No one must approach him alone. Report it in and let the armed response unit apprehend him. If he turns up."
"I'm sure he'll come," Barbara said.
December 18, 2:54 pm
Almost an hour later, she was not so sure. The service had gone well. There were about a hundred mourners, some from the local area who knew Barbara Evers, but most had responded to the announcement of the memorial to honour Barbara as a symbol of single women dying needlessly. Bob and Walter had both given amusing eulogies. The music had been uplifting and even AC Hillier's speech about care on the roads and the fragility of life had been well-received. But, there had been no sign of Edward/Pter Allmond.
As the service ended, Barbara turned to Michael. "You stay here, and I'll stand on the other side of the door. Scan everyone who leaves just in case we missed him."
Michael had studied the faces of at least thirty people before he saw the deepest dark eyes that he had noticed on the video. But they belonged to an elderly woman. He reached for his radio, then remembered Barbara had the one assigned to them. He tried to signal her, but short of calling out, he couldn't attract her attention. The suspect was almost level with him. What do I do? If he waited until the woman left the church, she might get away before he explained to Barbra and she called it in. No, I have to follow her and hope Lord Asherton sees me doing it and calls in support.
As the woman passed, Michael slipped into the crowd and followed her out the door.
December 18, 3:00 pm
Bob and Walter were the last to leave. They stopped and thanked Barbara, expressing how disappointed they were that her son hadn't turned up.
"Let's hope he's left the country," Walter said.
"That'd be best for everyone, " Bob agreed. "I want to think that it was an accident, and that once he got to know Barbara, he would have been a good son to her. That would have made her so happy. After reading that letter. The poor, poor soul. If only she had told us."
"Yes, it's quite tragic," Barbara said. "But thank you both. It was a lovely memorial."
As they left, she looked across the aisle expecting to see Michael, but he was gone. She cursed under her breath. "What part of stay here is so damned difficult?" she muttered as she stepped outside. She glanced around, but there was no sign of him.
"No sign of the son," Winston said from behind her. "Where's Michael?"
Barbara frowned. She had expected him to be there. "I don't know."
Michael had only received one day's surveillance training, mostly training videos. What looked easy on film was harder in real life. He tried to stay about 30 metres behind his suspect, who was waiting at the traffic lights to cross west onto Harrow Road. Michael wished he knew more about the area and where the 'woman' was headed. It was likely she was real and simply going home. When she crossed, he dashed to the lights and followed before letting himself drop back again. Then she ducked behind the bus stop, checked behind her, and illegally jogged across the road. For an elderly woman, she had quite a pace on. His suspicions were firming. He looked behind him, hoping support was on its way.
"How the hell did you lose a grown man?" Tommy said so loudly that he was technically yelling.
Barbara shrugged. "I told him to wait across the aisle. He can't have gone far."
"He's not a toddler. He saw something and he's acted."
"I thought he'd stay put," Barbara said, pleading her case but inwardly agreeing with her boss. She has stuffed up.
Tommy raked his hand through his hair. "I know. The lad's too keen."
An officer dressed in black armed response gear jogged up to them. "One of my men spotted him heading towards to cemetery. They think he might be following an old woman."
"An old woman? Okay, thanks. Wrap it up here but can you deploy a few officers to follow and retrieve my… officer."
The man frowned. "Yeah, okay. We can babysit him."
The suspect entered the white arch that led to what looked like a leafy park. Beside the arch, a high brick wall stretched for miles. Oh, geez. Against his better judgment, Michael followed the suspect through the arch. It wasn't a park but a huge Victorian cemetery with wide gravel paths that led down to a waterway where he could see canal boats through the old oaks and birches. To his left was another path leading to a mix of elaborate old limestone monuments resplendent with angels and cherubs, and to his right, dotted amongst the trees, was what looked like a mile of similar monuments broken by the jarring brutality of dark mausoleums. Michael shuddered. Ahead of him, by some distance now, was the fleeing figure of his suspect. As he hastened along the path parallel to the canal, the figure removed items and stuffed them into the rubbish bins that seemed to be placed at the corner of each block of graves for, Michael presumed, old flowers.
By the time they had gone 200 metres, the woman had doffed her wig and overcoat to reveal a well-dressed man. Michael now did not doubt that this was Edward/Pter, the KGB werewolf.
Tommy, Barbara and Winston hurried up the road looking for Michael. Unlike Michael, they knew the cemetery stretched over a kilometre to the west and was 600 m between Harrow Road and the Grand Union Canal at its widest. That was too big to search effectively with limited resources.
"Which way?' Winston asked.
"If I were trying to escape, I'd head west," Barbara said, "and re-emerge at the crematorium, then head for Kensal Green tube."
Tommy frowned. "That's the Bakerloo line, which goes straight back to Picadilly Circus. Winston, get an armed response team up to the station now. And another one to follow us. Let's hope Michael doesn't do anything stupid."
Michael saw a looped path that curved back towards the high wall, then ran parallel to the central path Edward was hurrying along. Taking the punt that this would be safer, he began to run and soon caught up. He slowed his pace to remain about 20 metres to the man's rear and about 30 m to his right.
He focussed so much on the man that he didn't notice his next problem. The two roads began to converge. When the man turned and looked directly at him, Michael knew he had made a mistake. The man quickly checked the area, then turned and ran. The young officer had no choice, he ran after him.
"I don't like this one bit," Barbara said as they walked steadily but carefully along the main path, scouting in all directions for any sign of their suspect or Michael.
"Well, at the moment, I don't have a better plan."
Barbara stopped. She had glimpsed movement out of the corner of her eye. "Over there," she said, pointing. "That's Michael."
"And… yes, see, and there's the man he's chasing." They both start running towards the men, Tommy calling directions to the armed response team on his radio.
Barbara regretted the few pounds she had put on in the lead-up to Christmas.
Michael was only ten metres from the man when Edward suddenly stopped and turned. "Why are you chasing me?" he asked in surprisingly good West London English.
Michael didn't even have a warrant card he could produce. Technically, he wasn't a police officer. "I work for the Met. We want to talk to you about the death of your mother," he said as he slowly approached.
Michael jumped when the man let out a cry. It was more of a howl and one that his werewolf persona would have been proud of. The man's pain was visceral.
"I hated her. I… I thought she'd abandoned me. I…" Edward fell to his knees. "I was told she was a whore and an addict and that she abandoned me to get a fix and that my father was an alcoholic who had drunk himself to death."
Michael squatted beside the man. "You couldn't have known. The Soviets weren't the most honest of people."
The man began to laugh. "I've seen so much. Done too much."
There was a noise behind them, and both men turned. Michael saw Tommy and Barbara, with armed police officers pointing weapons straight at them. He held up his hand. "It's okay. Don't shoot," he yelled, but the guns were still trained on them.
"They will kill me," the man said.
"No. No, they won't. They don't need to kill you."
"You seem like a nice kid. But I've lived in London for 20 years spying on you all. They need to tidy me up, I'm a loose end. Now leave, and let them do what they have to do."
"Your mother loved you," Michael said.
"I know that now. It was a beautiful letter, and my mum sounded like an angel when those men spoke about her," Edward said. "I'm glad I know that, but it also makes this worse. I… I just wanted to frighten her. Show her how scared I had been as a child. She didn't recognise me. She didn't even give me time to tell her why. She just ran, and I followed her. Then she screamed and ran out onto the road, straight under the wheels of that damned cab."
The armed men moved to within 30 metres. Michael saw Tommy take a loud hailer from one of them.
"Give up now. You have no means of escape."
"They will have all the entrances covered," Michael said.
"I know, but I'm not leaving here am I? I'm sorry about this, truly." Before Michael could react, Edward had a knife pressed to his throat. "Just stay still, let your body go limp, and you'll be fine."
Michael heard the sharp clicks as the officers flicked off their safety catches and aimed their weapons. "Don't make them shoot you," Michael pleaded. "We can work this out."
"Maybe I'll find my parents in the next world and will finally know love."
Michael braced, knowing Edward was about to push him to the ground. Instead, he pushed in front of him. The pain was excruciating as the bullet, or maybe bullets ripped into his chest. With his last ounce of strength, Michael pushed Edward to the ground and fell on top of him. As mist rose around him, he heard Barbara scream in the distance.