Purification

Chapter 7
Closing In

Chapter Description: Scott isn't sure his superiors have made the right choices in pursuing a lead.

VII

Police Headquarters was a mad house by the time Scott walked through the doors. Cops and support staff were running back and forth trying to relay the latest information and pull together everything they had on this psycho who had just attacked a cop. Scott hadn’t been to headquarters often as he was in charge of the investigation in Manukau only. But now information was being pulled together from the detectives working the case in Waitakere, North Shore and the city centre and combined with his to get the big picture.

Scott wasn’t really surprised the case hadn’t gotten a lot of attention before now. Almost all the victims had come from the dregs of society and plenty of his colleagues had just written it off as the results of a tainted batch of drugs making their way through the underworld. Despite the evidence that there was a single man behind it all, many people simply didn’t want to believe that one guy acting alone could have escaped them for so long. The attack on one of their own had changed all that. Now the case would finally get the attention it had too long deserved.

The chief of detectives himself was standing before a large map pinned to the wall. He noticed Scott and waved him over. “Newcomb, get over here!” he called gruffly.

As Scott arrived at the chief’s side he noticed that all the other detectives running this case from other parts of the city were also now present. Apparently everyone had been called in and fast. The city map before them was covered in pins marking the sites where their man was known to have struck before. Though Scott had never seen the full city map before it did little to help him now. He could discern no pattern from the spider web of red dots.

The chief turned to Scott and gave him a sympathetic look. Scott could see in his watery blue eyes a man under a lot of pressure. The chief was a bit overweight, not uncommon for a man in his fifties. He was balding with just enough grey hair left for a bad comb over. His skin was pale from spending most of his time in the office, and the dark circles under his eyes betrayed the long nights he’d been working recently. Scott felt sorry for the chief. Every time he looked into those sunken watery eyes he feared he was seeing a glimpse of his future.

“We were all very sorry to hear about Graham,” the chief told Scott. “He was a good cop.”

Scott gave the chief a perfunctory nod. Pity always made him feel uncomfortable. “Yes he was,” Scott quickly agreed, hurrying to change the subject. “Now the best way we can help him is to catch this bastard.”

The chief nodded and gestured to the map. “This shows every place our man has struck in the past six months. You’ll notice clusters around areas with brothels, gang pubs and other areas known for their disreputable activities.”

Scott studied the map carefully. He could now see the pattern the chief was talking about. Of course this wasn’t particularly surprising given the perpetrator’s vision of himself as a biblical warrior for God, smiting the wicked. He’d noticed the same pattern on his own smaller map of South Auckland. But as Scott looked the map over he noticed one glaring omission.

The chief looked the detectives over and then asked, “Now, do you see what’s missing here?”

Scott nodded immediately. “K Road. There are no dots on or near K Rd.”

“Exactly!” the chief declared.

Scott could have smacked his forehead at this revelation. Karangahape Road, colloquially known as K Rd, was the seedy red light district of Auckland. Known for its many brothels, transvestite street walkers, and sex toy shops K Rd should have been the centre of this lunatic’s campaign. So why hadn’t there been a single attack in that vicinity?

“We think this means one of two things,” the chief told Scott. “Either he’s saving K Rd for a big finale, or he lives in the area and can’t risk drawing police suspicion near his home.”

“Or possibly both,” Scott posited.

The chief nodded.

“We should get every available cop to the area to canvass it immediately,” Scott suggested.

The chief smiled. “We’ve done better than that already. The registration came back on that Mazda you chased down the Southern Motorway. Guess where the owner lives?”

“K Road,” Scott gasped, watching the chief nod. “We’ve got him!”

“The car belongs to a Tamati Kingi, aged 26, formerly of Ponsonby but currently a resident of that fine district, K Rd.”

Scott’s smile faltered as the chief read the description out. “Did you day Tamati Kingi?”

“Yes, does the name ring a bell?”

“No, no. It’s just that it’s a Maori name.”

“Yes, exactly,” the chief declared. “It explains all the letters he’s been leaving with references to Maori sovereignty.”

But Scott was shaking his head now. “I’m sorry sir but that just doesn’t make sense to me. I think all the Maori stuff is just a ruse to throw us off the trail.”

The chief frowned and shook his head, he didn’t want to hear doubts about it now. “Look Newcomb we have the registration from the car you chased to prove it. We’re moving on this lead before the guy has a chance to get away.”

“Sir I talked to this guy. He didn’t sound Maori, he didn’t even sound Kiwi! Besides, he must have known I’d see his number plate, why would he go back to a place he’d have to realise we now know about?”

“This is the only lead we have at the moment Newcomb. If you have something else for us to follow then by all means tell us. In the meantime the Armed Offenders Squad is on their way to the suspect’s flat right now and with any luck they’ll catch him there.”

“You sent the armed offenders squad!” Scott gasped.

“After what happened to your partner? Of course I did.”

Scott shook his head. “Sir, if anything you should have sent the bomb squad. Something about this doesn’t feel right. I don’t think Kingi is our man. He doesn’t meet my witness descriptions.”

“What witnesses?” he chief demanded.

Scott hesitated. He knew what the chief would say about his witnesses, but he had no choice but to tell him now. “The last victim’s younger siblings both saw the man. They said he was white and blonde.”

“And how old were these siblings?”

“Well, I’m not sure about the girl but the boy was about ten,” Scott admitted.

The chief gave him a sceptical look. “And the boy saw this man doing something to his brother?”

“Well no, he didn’t see the actual act, but...”

With a wave of his hand the chief cut Scott off. “I’ve heard enough Newcomb. We’ll look into your lead if this is a dead end but for now this is the only ?real’ lead we’ve got.”

The chief and the other detectives headed for the communications centre so they could hear the reports of the AOS. Scott let them go without him. He knew this was all wrong but he wasn’t sure how to prove it. He thought the man in that car was white but he had no proof to stand up to the evidence of the car rego. Then Scott remembered an important detail of the chase.

Racing to the nearest desk, Scott picked up the phone and dialled the number for his friend Alistair at the NZ Transport Agency. After a couple rings and what felt like an eternity to Scott, the line connected.

“Alistair Parks, Traffic Enforcement Division,” a voice declared.

“Alistair it’s Scott, I need your help mate.”

“Oh hey Scott! Sorry dude but I’m a bit busy right now. Can I give you a ring back in a...”

“No! Look mate Graham has been attacked. He’s hurt badly and I need to catch the guy who did this to him. I need your help now!”

“Jesus Scott, I’m so sorry. Dude, I had no idea. What can I do though?”

“I need you to pull up speed camera photos for Ellerslie-Panmure Highway between 7:20 and 7:40 this morning. Can you do that for me?”

Scott could hear typing in the background now as Alistair replied, “Yeah no worries dude, I’m doing it right now.”

“ Thanks mate. I’m looking for a white Mazda, registration GBH747.”

“Okay, I’m looking now.”

There was a long pause and Scott felt every second that ticked by. “Any luck?” he asked.

“Sorry dude, there’s just a lot of fucking speeders, y’know. Just give me a minute.”

Scott held his breath, hoping the camera had caught them. After another long moment Alistair was back. “Okay, I got it! GBH747 right?”

“Yeah, that’s it!” Scott exclaimed. “Okay, can you e-mail me the photo?”

“Sorry dude, system won’t let me do that. But I could print it out and fax it to you.”

“Perfect. I’ll get you the number now. Just do it quick as you can.”

**

Senior Constable Jeff Davis was already riding the adrenaline high he always got just before it was time to make a major raid. As the leader of the Auckland Central Special Tactics Group he was more than just an ordinary member of the Armed Offenders Squad. He was the best of the best. Davis had trained with the SAS, New Zealand’s most elite military unit, and then put in a dozen years on the AOS. Now he was the leader of the unit that was called in when the situation was too dangerous not only for normal cops, but even for the regular AOS. The STG was called in for counter-terrorist situations and the most dangerous offenders, often involving hostage situations. Today he’d been informed they would be executing a search of the apartment of a man who’d just kidnapped and assaulted a cop. This was the kind of raid Davis lived for.

The AOS van parked in an alleyway around the corner from the target building. Davis quickly briefed his four man team on the situation. “We have been informed that this suspect may be armed. He is known to have abducted a detective so he has no qualms about harming police. The apartment is located on the third floor of the building and we will need to access it by the front door. We’ll use a standard breach and contain plan. The Waitakere AOS is on back-up if we need them. All other units will hold back until we give the all clear. You all know the drill. Just be careful today guys.”

The briefing done they did a quick weapons check then raised HQ on the radio. “This is Davis, we are at the target location and we are ready to go. Waiting for clearance.”

A moment later the dispatcher’s voice crackled over the radio. “Roger STG, you have clearance to go. Secure the location.”

With clearance given Davis and his men jumped out of the vehicle and rushed around the corner onto K Road. The only entry to the building was through the front doors, so they covered the distance as quickly as possible. Wearing all black including helmets and body armour whilst carrying heavy weaponry the team was a sight that caught the eye of every person on K Road. They were only visible briefly though as they quickly breached the building and disappeared within.

Davis pounded up the stairs to the third floor. He held his Remington 870 pump-action shotgun tight at his side. He could use it to help breach the flat door if necessary. All the other members of his team carried fully automatic Bushmaster A4M3 carbines. Each was ready to use their weapons if necessary. The team proceeded in silence down the dark hallway towards the target flat, number 34. Reaching the door Davis signalled his men to surround the entry. He counted down from three on his fingers, then nodded to the junior officer across from him. The man swung back the battering ram and sent it crashing into the door with a reverberating thud.

**

Scott Newcomb stood anxiously by the fax machine, awaiting his all-important evidence. Well, if it turned out he was right that was. Other officers and admin workers gave him dirty looks as they passed by. He knew they were pissed he was jamming up their fax when he didn’t even work in this office. Finally the fax began to ring.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Scott mumbled, willing it to hurry up and print.

There was a beep and a piece of paper began to be sucked into the machine. Finally a printed page dropped out and Scott flipped it over, looking at the image. He looked over the sheet carefully, finally seeing the face of the man he was after. He had him now. Scott also registered that his friend Alistair had sent him not just the photo but the full description sheet that went with it. Scott scanned the details and then stopped in shock at what he saw.

“Oh, fuck,” Scott muttered, then took off running for the communications room.

**

It took three hits from the battering ram to break the door in but once the deadbolt gave way the team was in. Davis and his men rushed into the flat screaming “Police, stay where you are!” even though they didn’t immediately see anyone.

In fact they couldn’t see much at all. The apartment was very dark with all the lights off and the windows covered by curtains that allowed only a little light in. They could tell that the place was very dirty and it absolutely reeked of something foul. The first room they entered was apparently the living room. There was a stained old couch covered in empty pizza boxes and bags of chips. An old TV with bunny ears was facing the couch. The floor was littered with all sorts of rubbish.

As they turned into the kitchen though, they saw something that made them all stop. “Sir we have a subject!” one officer called out.

Davis hurried out of the living room and looked where they were pointing. A large man was visible standing at the end of the hallway in the entry to a bedroom. They couldn’t make out exactly what he looked like because he was only back-lit by sunlight coming in through the windows of the room behind him. The man didn’t move at the sight of the officers.

“Sir, please get on the floor and put your hands on your head!” Davis ordered.

The man did not move and did not reply. He simply stood there. Slowly Davis began to move down the hallway towards the man and the rest of his team remained close behind him. “Sir I need to see your hands. Please raise your hands!” he called, holding his shotgun even tighter, finger ready to yank the trigger if necessary.

**

Scott burst into the communications room with the fax in his hand. The chief of detectives and his colleagues were gathered around the dispatch radio but looked up as he barged in. “Where are they now?” Scott demanded.

“They’ve breached the flat and they have the suspect cornered,” the chief replied.

“Shit,” Scott cursed, “You have to get them out of there, now!”

“What? Why would we do that?” the chief barked, not sounding convinced.

“Look at this,” Scott explained, handing the chief the fax.

The chief looked at the photo and frowned. “Okay, so the driver is clearly a white man. But you know plenty of Maori look pretty white. This is still the best lead.”

“Not that,” Scott insisted, “Look at the details. It says the car that got this speeding ticket, registration GBH747, is a red 1996 Ford Festiva.”

The chief looked confused. “I don’t get it, why would this be?”

“Don’t you get it? He switched the plates! He had to know I’d at least see his number plate even if he hadn’t crashed it. He knew we’d run the registration. He put that plate on that car because he wanted us to find this apartment. He wanted us to go there! It’s a set-up!”

Horror etched itself across the chief’s face as he realised his error. Dropping the fax he jumped to the radio and grabbed the transmitter. “Abort the operation immediately! Abort now!” he screamed into the radio.

**

As the chief’s words screamed through Davis’ earpiece and he wondered why on earth he was being told to abort at this crucial moment, he was unable to keep from taking one more step down the hallway towards the frozen but defiant suspect. And as he took that step Davis felt something tight push into his leg then go limp.

All at once the team was bathed in light as the apartments lights all flipped on at once. In the sudden brightness Davis could just make out the trip wire he’d crossed. Looking up he had just a second to see the suspect they’d been headed towards and to realise why he’d been so defiant. It was a big Maori man, but he wasn’t standing at all. He was seated in what appeared to be a giant baby bouncer suspended from the ceiling. His toes just brushed the ground. He was naked but for a thick white nappy that appeared to be very dirty and likely the source of the overpowering stench. There was a big pacifier in his mouth, held there by a tight strap around his head. The oversized baby was gazing at the assault team with wide glassy eyes, completely innocent to what was going on. His whole front side glistened in the light from the sheen of drool coating it.

“Oh fuck me,” Davis muttered, realising he was screwed, just before the light fixtures above them exploded, blasting them all with a white powder.

Davis couldn’t help but inhale and he knew it was all over then. Years of training and experience as a police officer, training that made him into one of the finest officers on the force, were instantly wiped away. Jeff Davis lost all his experience, his schooling, his language skills, even his toilet training. The chief continued to scream at him over the radio but he could no longer answer the man. He could no longer understand his words. All little Jeffy could do now was chew on the plastic radio and giggle to himself as he peed his pants.