Airplane (5)

“Tell me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you,” the man said. Even with his face covered by the balaclava, Kit could make out the contours of a sinister smile grinning underneath.

 

“Well for one thing you’re likely to spend the rest of your life in prison, killing a police officer is the one crime that you’ll never get away with, there’s no limit to the resources thrown at a cop-killer. And life in prison will be pretty unpleasant for you, guards spitting in your tea EVERY meal, accidentally tripping you over seven or eight times every day.”

 

“That the best you can do?” The gun remained firmly pointed at Handsome’s skull.

 

“Well, god will punish you, if you believe in that sort of thing, and on a more practical level you’ll make a noise. Anderson from the mainland police should have arrived by now, and the bang will bring a squad of forty or fifty officers straight to you.”

 

There was the tiniest flicker of a head movement from the gunman, as if part of him believed the tale.

 

“And that’s just from your perspective. Imagine what it’s like from my perspective. I’ll miss out on my pension, not to mention the sponge pudding we’ve got in the works canteen for lunch tomorrow.”

 

“That’s all you’d miss? Sponge pudding and pension?”

 

“Ah, you haven’t tasted the sponge pudding. It’s miraculous. Our sergeant makes it once a week as treat for the rest of the team, we don’t actually have a canteen as such. Of course, I haven’t even started on the impact on the rest of Boonhill. Island communities are very fragile ecosystems, the murder of the head of police, well it would be devastating.”

 

“Are you always like this?” the gunman said, incredulously. “How the hell have you managed to survive this long without anybody else shooting you?”

 

He reinforced his grip on the gun, as if about to shoot, though what his intention was we will never know, as Kit heard a bang, and watched the gunman’s weapon fall to the ground.

 

“Some fucker shot me,” he said, but here the conversation ended as a pair of burly uniformed officers arrested and cuffed him.

 

“Take him to the station for questioning,” Anderson bellowed at his minions, “and fetch a medic.” He turned to Handsome. “You all right Kit?”

 

“Fine thanks. You got here quickly.”

 

“It’s only a small island. You should have waited.”

 

“If I had he’d have gotten clean away.”

 

Anderson pondered this for what seemed a long time. “I hate to say it,” he said eventually, “but you’re actually right. Good work.”

 

xxx

 

 

Handsome didn’t have much to do with the investigation after this. Anderson’s team took over the search of Saville’s house, as well as continuing their work at the crash site.

 

Surprisingly, though, Anderson went out of his way to keep him up to date on the case, calling him at the end of every day to update him and, superficially at least, ask his advice. On one of these occasions he asked Kit to meet him for a drink in the Third Brewer.

 

“Kit,” he called, from his little nook in a corner of the room, where he was hidden from view, but could see the whole pub through a well-placed mirror.

 

“Nice little place you’ve got here,” Kit said.

 

“I’ve been using it as a makeshift office when I’ve been stuck on the island. Fancy a pint.”

 

“Thanks, I’ll have an Over the Boon.”

 

“I’ll join you. I’d like to propose a toast,” he said, when they both had their pints, “to a very successful joint exercise.”

 

Handsome was about to respond, but Anderson cut him short.

 

“Oh, I know, you arrested a man dressed as a duck and we arrested the murderer, but your input was crucial all the same. If you hadn’t stood there boring the killer to death he’d have got clean away.”

 

“I’ll drink to that,” Kit said. It was after all, as close to praise as he could ever expect. “I hear the killer confessed to everything.”

 

“Oh yes, a pushover. Apparently you unnerved him with your talk of the rough time he’d get in prison, he’s decided to be as cooperative as possible. Apparently Saville had been running the animal smuggling racket for a few years, but had started to get greedy, adding secret squirrels to the load, or whatever, using a second supplier. He got found out, and everyone got their rewards.”

 

“So the killer was out for revenge.”

 

Anderson shook his head. “Unfortunately not.  Someone was out for revenge, but the killer was just a hired killer. He didn’t know who he was working for, it was all organised through associates and untraceable bank accounts. We may have got the conviction, but we may never find out who was behind it. Oh, Benson’s doing his best to make the connection, rare animal sale and smuggling is a pretty specialist field, but whoever it is has been covering their tracks.

 

“Thanks for taking the time to update me,” Handsome said.

 

“Not at all. In fact, there’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about. Do remember the Halibut case?”

 

“The missing halibut, the case you took off me. Have you solved it?”

 

“No. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Frankly we’ve made no progress at all. I wondered if you’d do me a favour by taking it back.”

 

“I’d love to,” Kit said. And for that I’ll buy you a pint.”

 

“Thanks, I’ll have the same again.”

 

“No you won’t. This is a celebration. I’m getting you a pint of the Boonhill ‘Not For Mainlanders’ Special Ale.”