Fall-Out

Fall-Out

By Alan Rokeby

FALL-OUT is a psychological thriller about protest -- violent, playful and sometimes idealistic protest -- against the construction of a new nuclear power station.  

As the police explore what lies behind an apparent suicide, they uncover a small team bent on mischief and anarchy. The impact on families and relationships are intertwined with the criminal investigations.

A further novel in development has the disposal of radioactive waste as an underlying theme.

Discover more at http://alanrokeby.co.uk

Published by Alan Rokeby at Smashwords

Copyright Alan Rokeby 2011

All characters appearing in this novel are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This e-book is licensed for your personal use only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

1 - Kate - Saturday 1st June

Kate clamped her hands over her grandson's eyes. Overwhelmed by the ear-splitting roar, she was determined to hide the thing being dragged slowly up by the helicopter winch, coated in slimy mud.

Three year old Jake ducked to get free of Kate's hands. Man in mud, he shouted. Naughty!

He's got stuck. That's all. He must have gone for a paddle.

Good heavens, she said to herself. Did I really say that?

Anna, grabbed her son and spun him round, Oh look Jake, an ice cream van! A whispered aside: It's alright Mum, he doesn't understand.

Kate told herself to calm down. Why do I give in? We should definitely not be here. She was furious with herself and with her daughter. They had planned a trip inland to spot newts in the local pond, not to go down to the muddy shore of Morecambe Bay and walk into a tragedy. But as they were preparing to leave, Jake had been pressed against the living room window looking down the road towards the shore. A vehicle had come screeching past with siren blaring.

Grandma, Grandma. Amblance. Amblance.

Kate felt apprehensive – he craved ambulances.

Amblance. Shore. WE GO.

For DCI Kate Campbell, her leave day used to be a shopping trip with a couple of friends or a date with the current boyfriend. But now, Anna and Jake came, so that Grandma could share Anna’s load – and they arrived earlier and earlier. Jake woke at around six and they arrived at half past nine then nine and now eight thirty, if Kate was lucky. In her late forties, Kate was an active grandmother but her own two children had never been as demanding as this, had they? Her son Paul was now seventeen and he just stayed in bed -- till Jake climbed on top of him.

'We’d better take him to see it, Mum."

To avoid another tantrum? But Kate knew he needed to learn that tantrums don’t work.

He loves ambulances and hardly ever gets to see one close up.

GO NOW! said Jake, tugging on Kate’s hand and staring up at her..

But Anna, there might be something down there that…. She shakes her head and indicates Jake. Believe me, I should know.

Jake was turning red. WANNA GO NOW.

Oh dear - sorry Mum. We'll have to go. He's getting near the edge. He's hungry as well. Then she mouthed:- We'll just have to hide anything nasty.

And how will we manage that? Magic? said the Chief Inspector.

Sorry, Mum, we'll just have to try. Alright Jake, bring your anorak.

Oh God, said Kate, as a coastguard vehicle spun round the corner outside her house. This is looking serious. Anna, this is a mistake.

Nevertheless, minutes later, the three of them made their way down the road to the shore at maximum three year old speed. Jake was dragging Kate forward while Anna had the pushchair for when he got tired. As they neared the bend at which the muddy shore would become visible, Jake's sharp senses picked up further excitements.

Copter. Copter. Copter coming.

Kate stopped, forcing Jake to also stop.

Anna, I know that something awful is happening down there. Let's just turn round.

Jake started reddening up. He wrenched his hand from Kate's, and darted off round the corner. They dashed after him, but he easily reached a grassy knoll overlooking the shore before them. Grey ribs of limestone led to twenty yards of sticky-looking mud, still wet from the receding tide. Beyond that, the sea was flaccid and oily, reflecting a cheerless sky.

Beneath the knoll was a makeshift car park, with a few parked cars, the ambulance, the police and coastguard vehicles. A group of uniforms stood at the edge of the wet mud. They were looking at a grey mound, almost submerged and well out of reach from the shore. A helicopter was making an approach, low over the treacherous mud, near where the Chinese cockle pickers had perished. Its roar was beginning to pound eardrums, to dislocate thinking. It diced the air till it was hovering over the mound.

Jake put his fists over his ears as Kate clamped her hands over her grandson's eyes and held him tight against her legs. He struggled to prise an opening for one eye.

A rescuer was winched down, with a red plastic cradle. They all watched mesmerised. He leant towards the mound and tried to manhandle it on to the cradle. With a mixture of dragging and floating he manoeuvred the cradle under the mound. To Kate, the body looked like a six foot man, limp and sculptured in grey mud, pounded by the down-blast. The bright red cradle was splattered with mud as it was pulled horizontal with its load, and both rescuer and rescued were winched up into the body of the helicopter. With a deafening noise, the helicopter rose and sheared off south.

As the ices were drawn out of the machine, the young ice-cream man confided They're saying it was either murder or suicide!

Kate looked closely at the rather spotty lad. Who exactly is saying this?

Those people over there....

Do you mean the police, the coastguards or the ambulance?

Look missus, I'm just making conversation. You owe me £2.

Well you shouldn’t make allegations like that, especially in the hearing of a young child!

Two pound. Thank you.......well you shouldn't bring a child down here, when this is going on, should you?

Kate drew herself up and glared at the young man, who seemed unmoved.

Come on, Mum.

They moved away from the van, with Jake now in his push chair and deep into a messy ice cream. Kate was seething.

From the small group of uniforms, someone stepped out. Kate suddenly realised that it was Sara, her colleague. Slender, of medium height, in dark trousers and top, her springy gait quickly mounted the grassy knoll.

Morning Ma'am. I didn't realise you were around today. Detective Sara Young was a junior in Kate’s team.

I didn’t see you among that lot, Sara. Look, I'm not here. Right?

OK Ma’am. No problem.

I'm just helping my daughter look after this young man. And don't tell me any details. I've already seen far too much.

Sara and Anna had met before.

Hi Anna. How's Jake then? Got a lovely ice cream?

Wanna ride in copter!

Now Jake, said his Mum. You've got to finish off that big ice cream. And you’re having a nice ride in your buggy.

Kate spotted a brightly dressed young woman with long red hair, poking around one of the parked cars. She was taking snaps of the inside of a large Peugeot.

Sara, that looks like that Natalie woman from the Cumbria News. What's she doing down here?

Oh damn! We think that’s the victim's car.....there's a whisky bottle and some other stuff in it.

Quick, see if you can stop her. She’s after cheap publicity.

Anna rolled her eyes at her mother. Come on Mum, before you get trapped.

You're right. And that twerp selling ice-cream got under my skin. He's only Paul's age -- and of course he was right!

Oh Mother, blame me. It hasn't done Jake any harm anyway.

By now ice cream was all over Jake's face and it was dripping from the cone on to his clothes. Anna wiped him up.

So who is this Natalie?

Natalie Brown. Cumbria News latest reporter. Very pushy! She won't take no for an answer.

Attractive, isn't she.

Is she? She's very young.

Oh dear. And that's such a crime….

Kate looked sharply at her daughter who was laughing at her.

2 - Maggie - Saturday 1st June

1st June 2009 1626h

Email BL-M1@yahoo.co.uk to BL-R1@yahoo.co.uk

Hi Sis -- hope you and the kids are OK! All is fine here except the blasted manager has topped himself. We didn’t see that one coming. Anyway as far as I’m concerned, it’s an eye for an eye..

You'd never believe what I look like! I'm almost invisible. Do you remember Auntie Evie? She used to walk through ticket barriers without paying. I've used her as a model for the 'new me' -- dowdy but clean, beige and grey are my favourite colours. I slouch, never look people in the eye, mumble with a bit of a Cumbrian accent. Nobody notices me. It's really weird after being blond and noisy for years. Can’t say I like it. But the point is, nobody would believe that I do what I do! Come to think of it, I look more like you than me (A JOKE!!).

Remember if anyone asks you, just keep to the story. If you absolutely HAVE to speak to me, call my mobile from a call box. If there's no response, it means I've had to dump it and get another. I'll send you an email if I have to change it.

Try to visit Bernard every day and pass on my love.

And look after yourself Becky. You're all I've got (and the kids of course). Give them both a big kiss..

Maggie

xxx

3 - Kate - Sunday 2nd June

Next day, before Kate’s regular team meeting, the Super called her into his office.

Kate, why on earth didn’t you let me know yesterday? I rely on you to warn me about these things.

Kate kept a straight face and thought -- what’s this about? He’s having the jitters and the week hasn’t even started.

Chief Superintendent Johnathon Stanley was tall, bald, and slightly pompous. She was often ill at ease with him. He had a way of hinting at doubts over her judgement.

I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Sir. Do you mean the dead man on the shore?

Of course I do!

Her face showed him her surprise -- I can’t read your mind, you know.

Well, Sir, first, I was off duty yesterday. And second, it was only another suicide.

How do you know it was only another suicide? And what were you doing on the shore in the first place?

Taking my grandson for a walk – and trying to avoid police business. Sir.

She wondered why he was rattled -- sniping, getting things out of proportion.

I see – we couldn’t expect you to know then, could we. The dead man was David Bolton. He was the Project Manager at the new power station.

The nuclear power station?

Yes. And a friend of mine as it happens…

Something personal – she should have guessed.

I’m sorry to hear that, Sir. I didn’t realise…

Well more of an acquaintance. We have an occasional round of golf, that’s all. He’s a bright fellow – was, rather -- a logical mind. Not the suicide type at all. And quite young.

She realised that the Super was a bit shocked and wished she’d kept her cool. But she often didn’t know where she was with the man.

He had a very important job, Kate….it’s all about keeping the lights on when the oil runs out. Look, I’d like you to keep things fairly low-key. We don’t want to make it any worse for his wife and daughter. There’s a son as well -- in Australia.

Wait a minute, Kate thought -- are you after special treatment? We’ll do it by the book…..wonder if he knows about Natalie Brown?

We'll try to be gentle, Sir. I’m afraid the press were poking around yesterday.

Ah yes. Young Sara told me. I’ll ring the Cumbria News editor – tell them to back off.

Right….. is that all, Sir?

Yes thanks Kate. Oh, and if you really do find it necessary to interview David’s wife, just be gentle. Send young Sara; she’ll manage it.

Kate silently added -- and I won’t? I see…

Kate’s two team members were waiting for her in their office, a windowless room with a meeting table, desks, computers and some filing cabinets. Detectives Sara Young and Zak Thandri were both in their late twenties.

I know I’m late. The Super grabbed me. I need coffee…

Standing together at the coffee machine in the corridor, the difference in heights was only too apparent; Kate was six foot, the other two average, with Zak the shortest. Kate often wondered if being in a team with two women was right for him, especially being Asian. And still living with his grandparents? But then he was ambitious….

They sat round the central table and Kate started the meeting. The Super's asked me to take it easy over this incident on Silverdale shore. You’ve spoken with him Sara, haven’t you…

Yes, he caught me on the way in.

David Bolton was a friend of his. At first glance, it looks like a straightforward suicide. What did you make of it?

Yes, straightforward. They're doing an autopsy now; first indications are that he drowned and was drunk. But you saw it, Ma’am.

Zak perked up. I thought you were off duty, boss.

I was off-duty, Zak, and I treasure every moment. But my grandson is mad on ambulances and uniforms. Throw in the odd helicopter and he's in paradise. And all this on my doorstep. I got trapped. Now Sara, there was a car?

Yes, an unlocked Peugeot 407. It was left overnight. An empty whisky bottle on the back floor and a wallet in the passenger glove compartment. That gave us the ID.

No phone?

A Blackberry. Locked. Zak might be able to get into it.

Right. And what was Natalie Brown up to?

Zak looked up and murmured: Was she there too?

Kate ignored this but thought -- just forget her Zak. She dumped you – or was that just a rumour?

Sara murmured: Uh-huh. Lover boy rides again.

Kate glanced her disapproval – if these two start bitching at each other again, I’ll knock their heads together.

Sara resumed her professional voice:- She was snapping the empty whisky bottle on the back seat. Someone had tipped her off. She’ll make a story of it. She’s a cheeky so-and-so.

Zak said You can say that again.

Kate thought -- hope you’ve learned to keep away from her – she’s a journalist – it’s not just your body she’s after. She said The Super’s going to tell her editor to play down the story.

What story? Zak muttered. It’s only a suicide.

He thinks that David Bolton’s job in the power station makes it sensitive – and he’s a golf pal. Kate gave a knowing look. Anything on next of kin, Sara?

The wife's been informed. She's coming to the hospital to confirm the identity – or the daughter, one of them.

Right -- and they’re being looked after?

Yes, the usual arrangements.

Kate drew herself up to conclude the matter. OK, assuming the autopsy produces no more than a drowning and high blood alcohol levels, we ought to interview the wife, to check out any other issues – and then we’ll move towards sorting out the report for the Coroner. OK?

The other two nodded agreement.

Right. Sara will you interview the wife? Special request from the Super.

Oh – who’s the favourite? murmured Zak.

Sara snapped at him:- Shut up Zak. I just walked into him on the way in and he’d picked up the log…..that’s all.

Kate groaned:- Why am I suddenly thinking of squabbling children?.....Anyway, give her a few hours before you visit her.

4 - Gail - Monday 3rd June

The doorbell rang. Gail froze, waiting to see what her step-mother would do. Two days after she’d got the message at her university digs about her father’s death, she was back home, drinking coffee in the kitchen with her boyfriend.

She moaned to Graham, Come on Fay. Answer the door. I’m not your maid.

It rang again. Gail grimaced, crossed the large hall and opened the door. She faced a smart, soberly dressed young woman, a little older than herself.

Don’t stare, Gail thought -- wouldn’t you look a mess if you’d just lost your Dad?

I'm Sara Young of the Police. I know this is a bad time, but I need to speak with Mrs Fay Bolton. She held up her ID.

But the police called earlier. Was that you? I don’t think she wants to see anyone.

That would be the Family Liaison Officer. I’m a police detective. I just need a few minutes with her.

Kate looked at Sara Young and said to herself -- she won’t see you -- she’s in denial.

Hang on. I’ll ask her.

In the living room, Gail faced upraised eyebrows over her step-mother’s dark glasses:- It’s the police again. A detective this time.

Fay Bolton wore a dark suit with no jewellery. A tall woman, with good features and careful makeup. She was sitting on a large reclining chair. She turned her head away in an expression of pained indignation.

Fay, you don’t have to see her, you know.

Gail waited -- here we go again, the tragic heroine -- you’re only the second wife you know, the rebound after my Mum died. And you’re not the only one round here who’s had a loss…...

Fay hesitated, then raised her voice:- I suppose I’d better. Show her in.

Gail gave the slightest of mock curtsies – right madam -- but I’m going to stay to check the police get the right story.

She showed the detective into the living room.

Shall I stay? It’s my father who’s…..

Fay snapped out: That’s alright Gail. I’ll be fine, thank you.

The detective said nothing so Gail had no choice, however she was determined to leave the door a bit ajar and listen from the stairs. When Graham came to the kitchen door, she put her finger to her lips.

She listened to her step-mother’s sharp tones: I won't get up if you don't mind. So what do the police want for heaven's sake? An accident is an accident!

I'm sorry to intrude so soon.

Spare me that -- please. Let's get on with it.

For heaven’s sake Dad, why couldn’t you have waited, instead of jumping into the arms of this prickly bitch? Mum’s cancer was awful, and we all needed time. We were only teenagers -- we needed Mum, not her – and then Pete ran off to Oz. He’s got to come back now – not just for the funeral.

I'm Sara Young of Cumbria Police.

And?

We need to clarify the circumstances of your husband's death.

Well you needn’t waste your time. It was an accident. I would have thought that’s as obvious to the police as it is to me.

Gail made a pained face. She’d already had a row with Fay, to whom suicide was completely out of the question. Fay had snarled at her: I know my husband a good deal better than you, my girl. You've hardly seen him for the last two years. How would you know? It had ended with Fay shrieking at her and Gail sobbing for hours in bed.

Mrs Bolton, have you noticed any changes in your husband recently?

No. None. And I would have! He’s been absolutely fine. Very healthy in fact.

From the stairs, Gail looked at Graham in fury. Even he knew that this was nonsense. Gail could tell over the phone that something was wrong with her father.

Have his work circumstances changed at all?

No. Not since he started on this contract to build the power station. He's two years into a five year contract. He’s the manager you know -- least he was.

And you're saying he’s been fine recently, no stress or anything like that...

Constable, he is doing a very demanding job. Of course there are stresses.

Forgive me Mrs Bolton. I'm talking about medical stress.

I understand you perfectly. You think he committed suicide, don't you?

Oh God, Gail muttered – here we go – just stay calm Gail, keep breathing…..

Mrs Bolton, we have to examine all unexplained deaths and make a report to the Coroner. This is our job. At this stage, we have no views about how Mr Bolton died, but I do respect what you are saying.

I see. That’s something I suppose. Are we finished now?

Not quite. We found an empty bottle of whisky in your husband’s car and the autopsy indicates that most of that had been consumed.

Gail stared at Graham -- no – oh no. He was drunk. I ought to be shocked. He never drank that much – he must