23. Sam
Sam
S moke plumes from the building as we approach, and I immediately know we’re too late.
Who the hell had tipped them off?
‘Fire brigade are four minutes out,’ a voice crackles over my radio.
We don’t have four minutes.
Six police cars pull up out the front of the burning warehouse. I shout instructions over the radio for half the team to keep their guns trained on the building and the other half to use the fire extinguishers from our vehicles to fight the flames blocking our entrance.
The contents of the fire extinguishers do barely anything to tame the flames, which are tearing up the front of the warehouse.
‘ETA on the fireys?’ I ask through my radio.
‘Three minutes,’ the response comes through.
Shit .
‘Herring, Armstrong, cover me. We’re going round the back.’ The two constables drop their fire extinguishers and draw their guns, following me around the side of the warehouse.
The fire hasn’t reached the sides or back of the warehouse yet but the smoke that is likely pooling inside can do as much damage.
‘Look for any way to get inside the building,’ I shout, as we round the corner to the back perimeter.
There’s a window, high up on the back wall, barely big enough to fit a person through. But even if I can get a look at what we’re dealing with on the inside, it could help. ‘Give us a boost,’ I say.
‘The fire trucks will be here in a minute, they’ve got ladders. They’ll get the fire out at the front. This isn’t safe,’ Herring says.
I shoot him a warning glare. ‘My wife might be in there. Give me a fucking boost.’
He does what he’s told, and together with Armstrong, they manage to lift me high enough that my hands can grab the ledge of the window. Kicking my legs and drawing on all my upper body strength, I manage to hoist myself up so that my elbows are on the ledge and I can see inside.
The building is thick with smoke. There’s a group of children huddled against the back wall below the window I’m looking in. To the side, there’s two more children, kneeling over a crumpled form. Much bigger than a child. Iris.
I carefully climb down and race back around to the front of the building. Flames or no flames, I need that door open. Thankfully, when I get back to the front of the warehouse, the fire engines have pulled up but I need to get in there now.
Going to my car, I pull my jacket from the front seat and wrap it around my lower face and head. I grab a battering ram from the boot and run toward the flames.
‘Stop!’ one of the fire fighters calls, but I ignore him. There’s no way I’m stopping when my wife is in there.
I gulp in air before ramming into the front door of the warehouse. The heat is intense and I feel it singe my eyebrows and the hair on my arms. I’m grateful for the jacket protecting the rest of my head. Inside, I can’t see anything. Smoke completely blinds me in all directions.
‘Iris,’ I call, over the loud crackling of the fire.
‘Help!’ a young voice shouts, and I run in the direction of it.
Further back in the warehouse, the smoke is not as thick but the kids back here are coughing and I still can’t see Iris.
After a few minutes, the flames are out and more officers enter the warehouse, followed by firefighters and paramedics.
They carry flashlights and I use the light to find the adult-sized body slumped in the corner. I rush over to where the two children sit alongside it.
It’s not Iris though. My knees buckle and I fall to the ground next to Brent. He’s been shot and doesn’t look good. Further into the dark corner is another body, unmoving. I can tell from their shape it’s not Iris and leave them for the other officers to tend to.
‘Where’s Iris?’ I ask the two kids. The girl I immediately recognise as Carly.
‘We need to get all the kids off to hospital,’ a paramedic interrupts before Carly can answer.
‘Wait!’ I snap. ‘Did you meet my wife, Iris?’
A tear falls from Carly’s eye. ‘She saved us. They were going to take us away, she went instead.’ She begins coughing and the paramedic glares at me before taking Carly out of the warehouse.
I try to press the boy for more answers but he’s taken away too.
In the end, we rescue fourteen children.
They’re of varying ages, all suffering the same look of fear and malnutrition, as well as significant smoke inhalation.
But as huge as this accomplishment is, I’m not relieved.
My wife is still missing. She gave herself up to save all these kids, of course she did, that’s who she is. I have to get her back.
I punch the warehouse wall and pain shoots up my arm. Fuck.
Back outside, I glance around at the chaos surrounding me.
There are emergency vehicles everywhere.
Ambulances take off with their lights and sirens blaring.
And each one that leaves carries a child with information I need right now.
I know the kids need help but I need to know everything and we’re running out of time.
‘Boss,’ a voice calls to me. It’s one of my senior constables and she’s standing at the back of the ambulance. ‘It’s Brent. He’s trying to speak.’
I look past her to the body in the back of the ambulance. Brent is in a bad way. His clothes are soaked with blood and his skin is a lifeless grey.
He looks at me, his eyes straining to stay open.
‘Brent, where is Iris?’
He groans. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says.
I shake my head. ‘Why? Where is she?’ I grab his hand. ‘Tell me.’
‘They knew you were coming.’
‘I know,’ I say nodding. ‘What did they say? I need to know where they’ve taken her.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers. Brent closes his eyes and a paramedic slams shut the back doors before speeding off with the others.
I run a hand through my hair before letting out a half scream, half roar, ignoring the looks everyone gives me. Iris is missing. Brent is barely hanging on. And I have fourteen missing children with smoke inhalation to reunite with their families.
It wasn’t meant to go like this. How did they know we were coming this morning and at that time?
My team is scattered around the scene, collecting evidence, talking with firefighters and then I see him. Alan.
I march over to him and grab him by the arm. He drops the notepad and pen he’d been using.
‘Whoa, Sam. What’s going on?’
I know I should wait. I should calm down. I should get someone else to take over now. But fear is eating me alive and I need to know.
I grab him by the collar. ‘It was you, wasn’t it?’
Alan’s eyes narrow, but he says nothing.
‘You tipped them off. Told your mate, Matteas, we were coming.’
Alan shoves me away and colour creeps up his neck. ‘Check yourself, Sarg. You’re out of line.’
‘How do you know Matteas Bishop?’
‘I told you last night. He’s from the kids’ kinder.’
‘Are you friendly with every parent at kinder or just the child trafficking criminals?’
Alan clenches his fists at his sides. His face is completely red now and beads of sweat trickle from his hairline.
‘Sam, I know you’re worried about Iris and I’m going to forget this conversation because we’re friends.’
‘How do you know him?’ I grit my teeth and swallow hard.
‘Matteas donated money to the committee last month to help fund the upcoming playground renovations. I’m on the grounds committee and met him when I thanked him.’ Alan takes a long breath. ‘Are we done here?’
My shoulders sag. I’ve fucked up.
‘Alan, I’m sorry.’
He holds up a hand. ‘I get it. You had to ask.’ He picks up his notepad and pen and walks away.