Costa Crew 2: They Walk Among Us

Chapter 18 - Not-So-Protective Custody

"Interview commencing with Michael Arnott regarding the murder of Amelia Murphy," Ben began. "Interview led by Detective Superintendent Houston, assisted by Detective Sergeant Foster and Detective Constable Davis. Mr Arnott, this is a voluntary interview and no further charges will be brought against you. You may return to your cell at any time."

Arnott nodded, but didn't say anything. "Four years ago you were arrested by DS Foster for the theft of important documents from Harry Corbett," began Paul. "You were later connected to the crime boss known as The Godfather, and during an interrogation by DI Raymond Drake you revealed that The Godfather planned to kill Rebecca Hidgens because of a personal grudge. Is this information correct?"

"It is," grunted Arnott.

"And how did you come by the knowledge that Rebecca Hidgens was the Godfather's target?" Paul asked.

Arnott shrugged. "I don't remember. There was a lot of talk about it down at Joanne's, I think. I must have heard it from one of the messengers."

"Joanne said she didn't know who the target was, only that they were an old grudge," Samantha said. "And nobody knew the identity of the Godfather, they couldn't possibly have figured it out. Why are you lying to us, Michael?"

"Because if I do, my family gets to live!" cried Arnott, his face going bright red. "You didn't know I had a family, did you? If I got caught my life would be over but at least my wife and daughters would be okay!"

"We can protect them," Ben pressed. "If you just tell us the truth."

"Anthony came to me," said Arnott, taking slow, deep breaths. "He told me to make sure I got caught on my next job, and to tell the cops that the boss was coming after Hidgens. If I didn't, Murphy would have killed my family! She'll be coming for them now!"

"Amelia Murphy is dead," Paul said calmly. "There's nothing she can do to hurt them any more."

Arnott stood up. "That's what you think."

As the guard escorted him away, Paul turned to Ben and Samantha. "Amelia makes sure that someone who knows that Becky is her target gets arrested and talks to the police. Our next move is to make sure that Becky has officers stationed at her home for her protection. John Goodman doesn't want her to die so he releases the address to our team."

"And the corrupt officer relays it back to Murphy," finished Samantha.

"That's why she waited," Ben added. "Because she couldn't risk alerting the police that The Godfather existed. When we were closing in she had no choice. Is that right, gaffer...gaffer?"

Paul's eyes had hardened, his face going red and his fists clenched. "Someone in my team nearly killed my best friend," he snarled. "Bring them all in. Raymond Drake. Greg Daniels. William Tyler. Jane Cross." Then, after a moment's hesitation, he added, "Charlotte Monroe. Edward Green."

***

Becky had always found comfort in having a routine to live her life by. It had kept her sane during her years in MI5: she'd wake up at the same time every day, eat the same thing for breakfast, go to work at the same time and same place wearing the same thing every day, go home at the same time, work for a while, and watch TV before going to bed at the same time. That was the status quo, and it had worked.

What didn't work was waking up on what felt like a sheet of cardboard, to pounding and the yell of "Stand away from the door!". What didn't work was the locked door, forcing her to remain in this dull and lifeless cell, or the prison clothes which as well as being far too warm, were also incredibly itchy. What didn't work were the prison meals that tasted as if they had been made the day before, and made school dinners seem like a royal banquet.

As Becky sat alone in her cell contemplating this, she heard the familiar pounding and knew that she was about to face the worst part of the day. But there was nothing she could do except wait for someone to make a breakthrough in her case as Bradshaw and Turnbull marched her down the corridor to the exercise yard. "Your thirty minutes start now," Bradshaw said as she removed Becky's handcuffs.

Becky sighed and walked towards the only available machine, an exercise bike. As she climbed aboard and started pedalling the other prisoners exchanged glances. Becky's heart sank as she realised that the scenario before her mirrored the setup for one of the most horrific scenes in one of her favourite TV shows, where the police officer wrongly accused of murder is badly beaten up while exercising with other prisoners.

She pedalled harder, and the woman on the bike next to her kept staring. "What's the hurry, Hidgens?" she asked. "You've got plenty of time. They don't look kindly on killing the Godfather."

"I didn't kill the Godfather," Becky muttered, keeping up this vigorous pedalling. "The cops'll realise that and I'll be out of here."

"I didn't mean the cops," the woman snarled, leaping off her bike.

Becky looked round to see that almost 20 prisoners had gathered around her, each of them fixing her with a cold, hard stare. This woman, who Becky took to be the leader of the pack, advanced towards her and with one almighty shove, knocked her off the bike and onto the ground. "Copper SCUM!" she screamed.

The other prisoners closed in and started launching kicks. Becky could take the first few, but it quickly became very difficult to breathe as all the rage that these prisoners felt towards the police force was taken out on her, the one member of the police force that they could get their hands on.

Her arms flailed, trying to fend off the incoming feet, but regardless they kept coming. As her ribs broke, she tried to call for help, but tasting blood, couldn't manage any words. "Can't even fight back," snarled one prisoner. "You're nothing compared to Amelia Murphy."

A kick was slammed into her head and everything went black.