noting the make of each of the boys’ shoes. I was trying my best to do the same, though
aware that I wouldn’t be able to tell one Adidas shoe from another.
‘Now, blood stays on things for a long time. And just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there. A quick squirt of luminol on each of your shoes, and
we’ll soon have all we need. So, who’s first?’
I initially thought it was the heavy-set boy who ran, but in fact it was the youth in the puffed jacket and hooded top who had grabbed him and flung him towards the fire, before he began
sprinting across the deserted remains of the factory floor towards the mounds of rubble at the far end.
Hendry was after him instantly, shouting into his radio for assistance as he did so.
The boy was running parallel to the roadway where the reconstruction was being held. As far as I could tell, there was only one entrance into the grounds, at the front gate, but I had not seen
the bulk of them arriving that night, which meant they had entered the grounds from another spot.
Rather than follow Hendry I cut back out the front gates and followed the road alongside which the two of them were running. I rounded the corner in time to see the young man leaping from the
roof of the post office and landing with a thud on the bonnet of one of the police cars parked in front of it. He rolled with the fall, landing on the ground, then picked himself up and began
sprinting again.
I glanced up to see Hendry pull to a halt at the edge of the roof. For a second he seemed to be considering leaping as the boy had done, then instead he turned and began lowering himself over
the edge, all the time gripping the roof. I left him there and took off after the boy.
I saw him cut left and begin running up the Melmount Road, the slight gradient of the street doing nothing to slow him but leaving me regretting I’d ever started smoking.
He glanced back and, for a second, lost his footing, sliding off the kerb and going over on his ankle. He lifted himself out of the gutter as quickly as he could and resumed his run, but his
foot was bothering him and he kicked it out sideways a few times as he ran, as if trying to shake the injury he had incurred. I heard the siren behind me as a Land Rover joined our pursuit,
presumably called by Hendry. It roared past me, its roof-mounted spotlight picking out the boy’s figure as he widened the gap between us. To his left now was a school, and he stopped, trying
to pull himself over the fence surrounding it, but his leg seemed to prevent him giving himself the thrust he needed to clear the top. By now the Land Rover had squealed to a halt and officers were
beginning to jump out. The boy panicked and started running again, further up the road; then he dived over a low wall to his left and vanished from our sight.
When I drew level with the spot, I realized he had dropped down into a graveyard, across the street from the area’s main church. Someone in the Land Rover was slowly sweeping the beam of
the spotlight from side of side, running along the straight rows of the graves.
We moved into the graveyard, the PSNI officers splitting up and taking a row each. Further down the road I could see Hendry hobbling up towards us, finally having made it down from the roof of
the post office.
I had not seen the boy as the spotlight made its broad sweep. At the far end of the final row, I noticed a small mechanical digger aside a mound of clay. Beside it, as the spotlight swept the
grounds again, I caught a glimpse of the green baize that the gravediggers lay over an empty grave.
I slowed down a little to catch my breath, then called one of the uniformed PSNI officers. It was a young female officer who came across to me.
‘Sir?’
‘I need your torch. Come with me.’
We moved up through the row, trying not to step on any of the graves. I could hear the woman beside me singing a hushed tune to herself as we walked.
‘Not a fan of
aware that I wouldn’t be able to tell one Adidas shoe from another.
‘Now, blood stays on things for a long time. And just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there. A quick squirt of luminol on each of your shoes, and
we’ll soon have all we need. So, who’s first?’
I initially thought it was the heavy-set boy who ran, but in fact it was the youth in the puffed jacket and hooded top who had grabbed him and flung him towards the fire, before he began
sprinting across the deserted remains of the factory floor towards the mounds of rubble at the far end.
Hendry was after him instantly, shouting into his radio for assistance as he did so.
The boy was running parallel to the roadway where the reconstruction was being held. As far as I could tell, there was only one entrance into the grounds, at the front gate, but I had not seen
the bulk of them arriving that night, which meant they had entered the grounds from another spot.
Rather than follow Hendry I cut back out the front gates and followed the road alongside which the two of them were running. I rounded the corner in time to see the young man leaping from the
roof of the post office and landing with a thud on the bonnet of one of the police cars parked in front of it. He rolled with the fall, landing on the ground, then picked himself up and began
sprinting again.
I glanced up to see Hendry pull to a halt at the edge of the roof. For a second he seemed to be considering leaping as the boy had done, then instead he turned and began lowering himself over
the edge, all the time gripping the roof. I left him there and took off after the boy.
I saw him cut left and begin running up the Melmount Road, the slight gradient of the street doing nothing to slow him but leaving me regretting I’d ever started smoking.
He glanced back and, for a second, lost his footing, sliding off the kerb and going over on his ankle. He lifted himself out of the gutter as quickly as he could and resumed his run, but his
foot was bothering him and he kicked it out sideways a few times as he ran, as if trying to shake the injury he had incurred. I heard the siren behind me as a Land Rover joined our pursuit,
presumably called by Hendry. It roared past me, its roof-mounted spotlight picking out the boy’s figure as he widened the gap between us. To his left now was a school, and he stopped, trying
to pull himself over the fence surrounding it, but his leg seemed to prevent him giving himself the thrust he needed to clear the top. By now the Land Rover had squealed to a halt and officers were
beginning to jump out. The boy panicked and started running again, further up the road; then he dived over a low wall to his left and vanished from our sight.
When I drew level with the spot, I realized he had dropped down into a graveyard, across the street from the area’s main church. Someone in the Land Rover was slowly sweeping the beam of
the spotlight from side of side, running along the straight rows of the graves.
We moved into the graveyard, the PSNI officers splitting up and taking a row each. Further down the road I could see Hendry hobbling up towards us, finally having made it down from the roof of
the post office.
I had not seen the boy as the spotlight made its broad sweep. At the far end of the final row, I noticed a small mechanical digger aside a mound of clay. Beside it, as the spotlight swept the
grounds again, I caught a glimpse of the green baize that the gravediggers lay over an empty grave.
I slowed down a little to catch my breath, then called one of the uniformed PSNI officers. It was a young female officer who came across to me.
‘Sir?’
‘I need your torch. Come with me.’
We moved up through the row, trying not to step on any of the graves. I could hear the woman beside me singing a hushed tune to herself as we walked.
‘Not a fan of
Similar Books
