Dead or Alive Read Free Page B

had never been great. He looked up and asked, ‘Anyone know what to do with him? Kiss of life, maybe. Or do we think he’s just trying it on?’
    â€˜He’s having an epileptic fit, sir,’ said a uniformed sergeant. ‘We need to put him in the recovery position and put a cushion or something under his head to stop him injuring himself.’
    â€˜Epileptic fit?’ said Sep. ‘Oh, bloody great! There’s no mention of epilepsy in the report we’ve got on him.’
    â€˜That’s definitely what it is, sir. My nephew’s epileptic. I’ve seen him in this state a few times.’
    â€˜Right, do your best, sergeant. With him being an MP, we’ve been ordered to treat him with kid gloves … which we have up to now.’ He added the last bit as he looked around at the circle of his subordinates and waited for them to nod their agreement, which they all did.
    The sergeant and two constables struggled to place Johnstone in the recovery position. Sep took off his coat, folded it up and put it under the MP’s head. Johnstone continued to gurgle and convulse.
    â€˜If he hasn’t come round in five minutes,’ said the sergeant, ‘we need to call an ambulance. Apart from that there’s nothing we can do. He’ll probably come round in a couple of minutes, sir.’
    Johnstone was now having difficulty breathing. His skin had turned pale. This worried Sep.
    â€˜A couple of minutes? Are you sure, sergeant? He’s not looking so good.’
    â€˜I only know about my nephew, sir.’
    Sep bent down and took Johnstone’s pulse. ‘His heart’s racing like mad. Better get the duty doctor here … quick!’
    Even as he spoke Johnstone gave a great shudder and stopped moving. His body went limp. No noises came from him now. Fearing the worst, Sep checked his pulse again.
    â€˜Is he OK, sir?’
    Sep shook his head and looked up. ‘Not really, sergeant. I think he’s dead.’

FOUR
10 March

Allerton Police Station, Leeds
    S uperintendent Ibbotson was sitting at his desk, his uniform immaculate as usual. Sep was standing opposite him, looking less than immaculate. He was wearing a tweed sports jacket with a pen in the top pocket and a regimental badge in the lapel, grey flannels and an open-neck rugby shirt. It was an outfit that fitted the bill of a man not wanting to look like a plain-clothes copper. The leather patches on his elbows made him look more like a Geography teacher. He’d been summoned there to be brought up-to-date on the investigation regarding the death-in-custody of the MP. That was what he’d been told, but he had good cause to feel pessimistic about the outcome. The superintendent studied him.
    â€˜You could do with a haircut. Senior officers have to maintain standards.’
    â€˜I know that, sir, but this case I’m working on requires that I’m not known to be a copper.’
    â€˜You’re not undercover as far as I know.’
    â€˜Not officially, sir, but the people I’m currently dealing with don’t know that.’
    â€˜You’re an unorthodox man, Sep. Sometimes this goes against you.’
    Sep shrugged. ‘I am who I am, sir. It seems to work for me.’
    â€˜According to the IPCC investigators your colleagues aren’t being very helpful to you.’
    â€˜So I believe, sir.’
    The superintendent frowned and sat back in his chair, rubbing his mouth with the palm of his hand in the manner of a benevolent doctor trying to diagnose a patient with a mystery illness.
    â€˜Any idea why not?’
    Sep gave his answer a few seconds’ consideration. He knew his boss wouldn’t like it, but it was the truth so what the hell?
    â€˜The new man who came up from the Met last month is adept at stirring up malcontent.’
    â€˜You mean DI Cope?’
    â€˜I do, sir. I believe the Met are carrying out a big internal investigation to root