Sycamore Gap: A DCI Ryan Mystery(109)

Ryan surveyed him with interest. Gregson’s eyes were awake and alert. He was dressed smartly but his hair was damp, despite the fact that the rain stopped hours earlier.

Either he had stopped for a shower before coming down, which was unlikely given the short timescales, or he had been up and about before the call came in. He glanced down at his watch, which read a little after four-thirty in the morning.

Ryan shook himself. He was starting to suspect everyone.

“Sir, under my orders, a small team conducted a sting operation during which we were able to obtain recorded evidence of Donovan having killed Amy Llewellyn –”

“A sting operation? Have you gone mad?”

“No, sir,” Ryan hoped, at least. “DI MacKenzie conducted a successful ‘honeytrap’ scenario in which Donovan eventually attacked her, then proceeded to begin a confession of his crimes. In anticipation of this, DI MacKenzie was administered a dose of Flumazenil prior to entering the property, which offset the effects of the drug Lorazepam and enabled her to remain lucid. Officers including Phillips and myself were stationed nearby at all times. We had ears on her throughout.”

Gregson continued to regard him with an empty-eyed stare.

“You conducted all of this without my authorisation.”

“Sir, the result was positive –”

“A man is dead, Ryan. A friend of mine is dead.”

Ryan fought to remain patient.

“I regret that you have lost a friend, sir, but that friend was a killer. Three women, probably more, are also dead at his hands.”

“Donovan has committed suicide?”

This question was posed to Phillips.

“Ah, yes, by all accounts. The duty sergeant checked him according to the usual guidelines but it seems that Donovan took the first opportunity to hang himself. He used the material from his own shirt.”

“I see,” Gregson said flatly, turning back to Ryan. “You bring in a suspect using a highly risky entrapment scenario, endangering police staff, despite already having your prime suspect in custody. You then allow him access to the means by which to end his own life.”

“I wouldn’t say we ‘allowed access’ –”

“Shoddy job all round,” Gregson ground out, quieting any defence from Phillips. “You,” he pointed a finger into Ryan’s mutinous face. “I hear young DC Lowerson is out of hospital, after you took it upon yourself to discharge him, without seeking medical advice. He certainly hasn’t been cleared to return to duty. This all demonstrates to me that you have little or no concern for the welfare of the staff under your command.”

“Sir,” Ryan shook his head, disbelievingly.

“You are suspended from duty, effective immediately, pending a full inquiry. I presume MacKenzie is recuperating after the stress of her experience; therefore, Phillips will take over your duties in closing this investigation down, reporting directly to me. You will turn over your warrant card, now.”

Gregson held out his hand for the card.

For Ryan, the world seemed to have slowed to a standstill. His ears were ringing, the blood having rushed through his veins so loudly as to drown out all other noise. After a few seconds, the world filtered back in; the drone of early morning traffic, the murmured voices of police staff and the slurred ones of drunk and disorderly revellers from the previous evening. He watched one professional-looking man stumble into the building alongside two PCs with tired, fed-up faces. Two buttons had popped on his smart white shirt, now stained by alcohol and vomit.

With trembling fingers, Ryan drew out his warrant card and placed it into Gregson’s hand. He didn’t immediately withdraw it, but gripped Gregson’s fingers tightly, forcing the man to face him. Ryan tugged him closer in an unexpectedly quick movement and bore down upon him, silver eyes blazing into brown.

“I’m coming for you,” he ground out, and watched Gregson pale under his tan. He let the hand drop away with disgust and then walked out of the building.

Phillips was torn. He wanted to follow his friend and superior, to take his own warrant card and chuck it in Gregson’s face, on principle alone. But this was the real world. He was now tasked with handling the fall-out with Donovan and Hart, something Ryan should rightly be overseeing. He watched the tall, retreating figure with regret.

Beside him, Gregson put a hand on his shoulder and sighed.

“We need men like you in this department, Frank. Steady, dependable men who don’t take unnecessary risks.”

“You need men like him too,” Phillips shrugged off the hand and trudged away in the direction of the cells.

Gregson crossed his arms over his chest, feeling better than he had in a long while. He exchanged a meaningful glance with the duty sergeant at the desk, the man who had been responsible for booking Paddy Donovan into Holding and for logging any subsequent visitors.