by L M Krier
‘No, sir, we haven’t seen anyone. The church is locked up and there’s no vehicle parked close by. Would you like us to start PNC checks of the registration numbers of anything parked in the area?’ one of the PCs asked him.
‘Please. Let’s have one of you on doing that, one on shepherding the rubberneckers and the other two staying here. I want to be sure no one goes in or out until we’ve thoroughly checked inside. Once we get access, it’s a potential crime scene search, so gloves on and please don’t handle anything more than you have to.’
He was probably teaching his granny to suck eggs. But he didn’t know any of the officers and he didn’t want to find out the hard way that any of them made basic procedural errors which would affect his chances of a successful conviction.
Ted went up to the church door, followed by Mike and Maurice. As he’d thought, it was an impressive arched wooden one, solidly built, with black metal hinges and studding, clearly locked by a sizeable key, judging by the hole it would fit. Even if it caused a slight delay, he felt he’d made the right call in asking for a key.
The three of them walked right round the perimeter of the building. There was no sign of life, not a sound from anywhere. It was frustrating, thinking that Gary Heath could be being held within yards of where they were.
As they got back to the entrance, a sleek silver car was trying to park as near as possible to the church gates, the PC in charge there leaning in at the window to check the driver’s identity.
A woman in a neatly-tailored trouser suit teamed with impossibly high heels marched up the path, clearly not happy. Ted stood in front of the church, flanked by Mike and Maurice. All three were wearing their ID visibly but without peering at it closely, it was impossible to tell rank. She addressed herself to Mike, the tallest of the three. People tended to dismiss Ted with his small, slight stature. He was used to it.
‘I’m Yvonne Dixon. Are you the detective who phoned me?’
‘I’m DS Hallam. This is DCI Darling, who’s in charge of this investigation.’
The look she gave Ted said it all.
‘Thank you for coming, Mrs Dixon. As I said, it would be a shame to have to break this door down to gain entry. Here’s the warrant, if you want to check it. Then I’d be grateful if you could let us in as soon as possible, please.’
She barely glanced at the document he was holding out for her inspection before flouncing up to the door, a bunch of keys in her hand. She selected the largest, inserted it in the keyhole and tried to turn it. It resisted her efforts.
Ted stepped forward, trying to remain calm and polite. In reality he felt like kicking the door down. Gary could be inside and every precious minute lost felt too long.
‘May I try?’
With a scornful look and a noise like a tut, she stepped aside. Ted took hold of the heavy ring handle and pulled the door towards him as he tried to turn the key. This time it yielded easily. Before he swung the heavy door inwards to open it, he withdrew the bunch of keys and kept hold of it.
‘Thank you, Mrs Dixon. If you wouldn’t mind waiting for a few moments, perhaps in your car?’
Whatever they were about to find in the church, he didn’t want the woman there to see it. He nodded to one of the uniformed PCs to make sure she was safely out of the way before he and the others made their way through the arched doorway and into the cool of the church’s interior.
It was surprisingly impressive, with high pillars and vaulted archways on either side of the nave. In its day, it must have been a fine building and, judging by the number of pews still in place, a popular place of worship. With the rapid decline in church-going, it had clearly become a liability to its owners. It was also, at first glance, empty of any sign of life.
‘Where’s this soundproof bit then?’ Maurice asked, looking all around him. ‘Doesn’t look like anyone’s been in here for ages.’
‘We’ll search everywhere. Under pews, inside the altar, if it’s hollow underneath. Is there a vestry? A bell tower? Spread out, all of you. He must be here somewhere. All the info we have so far points to it being the likeliest place.’
They did as he said. They searched every square inch of the old building, more than once. In the end it was Mike Hallam who told Ted quietly, ‘He’s not here, boss. There’s nowhere else he can be hidden. Unless there’s some secret entrance to a crypt or something, under a flagstone with a ring set in it. And that stuff only happens in the Famous Five books.’
Ted was feeling bitterly disappointed. He’d been so sure they were going to find Gary, in time to get him to safety.
‘We could get a dog team,’ he suggested. ‘Just in case there is somewhere underground. They might be able to pick up a trace.’
Mike spoke again, patiently. ‘We have to admit it. He’s just not here. And it doesn’t look as if he ever was. We tried our best, boss, but it’s not the right place.’
Ted was just about to give the word, reluctantly, to stand down, then go and hand the keys back to the agent when his mobile phone rang. Steve Ellis calling him.
‘Yes, Steve?’
‘Sir, have you found him?’
‘No. There’s no sign, and it doesn’t look like anyone’s been inside the place for some time.’
‘Boss, there’s another building. A church hall. It’s also part of the lease. Round the back somewhere. Hazel, from the agency, phoned me again. Her boss was bringing the keys over to you and she wanted to chat to me. I hope I didn’t give her the wrong impression, inviting her for coffee.’
‘Steve, you little belter, that is brilliant news! You be nice to her. Take her out to dinner if you have to. I’ll pay. We’ll go and look now. And thanks to you both.’
He looked much happier than he had before when he ended the call. They were getting close now, he could sense it.
‘Right, everyone, wrong building. There’s a church hall somewhere. We need to find that and hope that the key for it is on this keyring.’
They hurried out of the church, looking around. There was no other building in sight. Tall trees around the edge of the graveyard masked anything from their view.
‘Do any of you know this place? Do you know where the hall is?’
The local officers were shaking their heads.
‘Not a church-goer, sir, never have been,’ one of them said.
‘Boss, there’s a path there that goes off through the graves,’ Maurice said, pointing.
They made their way along the narrow gravel walkway. The graves to either side of it were unkempt, overgrown, but the path itself had clearly known feet on it more recently as weeds like plantain were trodden down. It led to a lychgate which Ted opened. In front of them, through the trees, the path continuing straight to its front door, was another building. Single storey, brick, with a slate roof and a derelict air. They could see from a distance that the diamond-pattern leaded windows were missing a few panes here and there.
The double doors, when they reached them, had what looked like quite a new lock. Ted could see straight away that there was nothing on the bunch of keys which would open it.
Mike spoke again, keeping his voice down, not wanting to say too much in front of officers none of them knew.
‘Boss, the warrant is for the church, not for any other buildings.’
Ted was eyeing up the door and its locking mechanism.
‘Tell me, DS Hallam, if it was your lad in there, what would you be saying?’
Mike was looking from his diminutive boss to the obstacle confronting them.
‘I’d say that lock looks new but the door seems a bit ropey. So it’s a good job that no burglar who was an expert at the kick-trick happened to come this way.’
Ted was still studying the woodwork, gauging distance and force.
‘That’s pretty much what I was thinking, DS Hallam. And church hall is only one word different from church, after all.’
The speed with which Ted’s foot shot up and impacted with the door startled the uniformed
officers. They’d clearly not heard of Ted’s martial arts skills and certainly weren’t expecting a visiting DCI to be a man of action.
‘Whoops,’ Ted commented as the wood split under the impact.
The door didn’t quite burst open on the first kick. It took a couple more before it sagged in on its hinges and allowed them access.
It was much more gloomy in the old hall than the church had been. The windows were high up and filthy, green with some sort of mossy growth which obscured the light. The uniformed officers produced high-powered torches and shone them around.
The hall itself was empty apart from a covering of old leaves which had clearly blown in through gaps in the windows. At the far end was a raised area, some sort of stage. On that platform had been constructed something almost like a film set of a room, but closed on all sides, including the top, in some sort of heavy chipboard. It formed an apparently completely sealed unit. There was no sound of anything or anybody.
‘We need to get in there.’
Ted led the way across the old and dirty parquet flooring, heading to the side of the stage where three steps led up to it. He could see there was a door in the side of the unit. There was no handle of any description visible on the outside, just a keyhole.
‘He’s in there, I know he is.’
His first couple of kicks produced nothing. On the third, there was a cracking sound, but it wasn’t giving fast enough for Ted’s liking.
‘Everyone together, shoulders, feet, anything. We have to get inside.’
Finally, under the combined assault, the door was ripped from its hinges, falling flat into the unit with a loud bang. Inside, some kind of harsh lighting was rigged up. The first thing they saw was a naked youth, wide-eyed, clearly terrified, tied to a chair and struggling hard against his bonds, screaming in terror. The sound-proofing panels lining every inch of the room’s interior explained why they had heard nothing when they first entered the building.
Then their eyes were drawn to the sight of a man’s body, hanging from a rope attached to a hook in the ceiling, a fallen chair near to his feet. The legs were still twitching and jerking as the body swayed slowly from side to side.
Maurice rushed towards the youth but Ted stopped him with a barked order.
‘I want this bastard alive, DC Brown. All of you, help take his weight. One of you find something to cut him down with. Get on the radio. I want two ambulances. These two are both going to hospital separately, and I want them kept separate at all times.’
Ted’s height was frustrating him. He couldn’t do anything to lift the body high enough. It needed the taller officers to do that. Ted could only stand and watch as they took the weight and raised it. One of the PCs found a knife on a nearby workbench then used the chair to get up to cut the rope. As soon as the body was cut down and laid on the floor, Maurice rushed to the boy in the chair, pulling off his jacket to cover him with, speaking soothingly to calm him as he carried on shouting in fear.
‘Shush, Gary, you’re safe now. I’m Maurice. I’m here to help you, lad. Let’s get you untied. He can’t hurt you now.’
Ted went closer to him, keeping his own voice quiet and gentle. He crouched down in front of the chair and made eye contact with Gary Heath.
‘Can you tell us who he is, Gary? Do you know this man’s name?’
‘Simon! Redemption Song!’ The youth’s voice was like a strangled scream. ‘It’s Simon Saviour.’
Chapter Twenty-seven
Once he’d seen that Gary appeared to be all right other than terrified, Ted turned back to where Mike and one of the uniformed PCs were checking the vital signs of the man they knew only as Simon Saviour.
‘Is he alive?’
‘No breath sounds, boss, but there’s a very weak pulse.’
They had the man on his back. Mike had carefully lifted and positioned the lower jaw to clear his airway. The face looked puffy, an angry red weal around the throat from the rope, the lips with a blueish tinge. It was impossible to recognise the features as either of their remaining suspects.
‘Don’t lose him, Mike. I want to be able to put this piece of work in the dock for what he’s done.’
‘I’m just going to try a rescue breath, on the grounds that we’ve not got much to lose.’
He sealed the man’s nose with his hand, covered the mouth with his own then exhaled fully. They watched the chest rise then fall again slowly. There was an agonising pause as nothing happened. Then the man took a ragged, seemingly painful breath of his own and his eyelids fluttered.
‘Yes!’ Ted exclaimed in triumph. ‘Stay with him, Mike. Don’t let him go. Has he got any ID on him anywhere?’
Still monitoring the man closely, Mike patted down his pockets looking for something, anything, to tell them who they had their hands on.
‘Nothing, boss, unless it’s in his back pocket and he’s not stable enough yet to move him, I don’t think. It would need a really careful log roll in case of a serious spinal injury and I’d rather not risk that until the paramedics arrive. I’d prefer to keep him like this for now in case he needs more assisted breathing.’
‘Sir, there’s a set of car keys here on the workbench where I found the knife,’ one of the PCs said.
As instructed, he was wearing gloves but he waited for authority from the SIO before touching anything in the crime scene.
‘I need you to find that car and get the registration checked. But do it very carefully so you don’t contaminate evidence. Slide the keys into an evidence bag, please, then take them outside into the road and point them at any car you find parked nearby. Come back to me when you know who the car belongs to.’
‘Sir.’
‘Make sure your colleagues know that this is now a confirmed crime scene. No one in or out at all without my authority. Tell them they can let the agent go now. I’ll be holding on to the keys but they will be returned in due course.’
The PC went in search of the car. Ted turned to the remaining constable.
‘Which is the nearest A&E department to here?’
‘They’ll probably take them to Fairfield, sir, at Bury.’
Ted nodded his thanks.
‘Maurice, I think you should go with Gary in the ambulance. I’ll follow on in my car. Mike, you stay here and control the scene. I’ll get hold of SOCO next then get some more bodies to seal the whole site off and start searching.
‘Gary, I’m going to call your parents now, to let them know you’re safe.’
Despite Maurice’s jacket, the youth was trembling violently, his teeth chattering so hard he could barely articulate.
‘Roger. My boyfriend. Please call him. Or get my mum to. Please. He’ll be worried sick.’
‘Yes, of course. Gary, this man, Simon Saviour. Is he Roger’s brother Simon?’
The youth looked in astonishment at Ted, as if suddenly doubting he was really a policeman.
‘Roger’s brother? No, I don’t think so.’
‘Have you ever met Simon Ashton?’
‘No, never. He’s away on a special mission. But the house is full of photos of him. That isn’t him, I’m sure. That’s Simon Saviour. He’s the keyboard player in a group, Redemption Song. I’ve seen him at a couple of gigs. That’s why I accepted a lift from him. Why did he do this to me? He started doing things, torturing me. Why?’
Ted was saved from answering by the arrival of a paramedic, a motorbike first responder. Ted introduced himself and explained the situation.
‘We’ll need two ambulances. The hanging is the presumed perpetrator. He wasn’t breathing independently but my sergeant got him back. Gary, over there, is the victim, so obviously I need him kept separate at all times from the other man.’
‘You’ll be lucky, mate,’ the paramedic told him. ‘There’s a big multi-vehicle accident on the other side of town so they sent me on ahead to triage and assess what’s needed. We’ll certainly need an ambulance and a spinal board for the hanging but I don’t know if we can get
two out here quickly.’
‘If you can clear the lad for me to transport, I can take him in the car. I need my DC to go with him, whatever happens.’
The paramedic went first to the prone figure on the floor. Simon Saviour’s chest was now rising and falling with his own unassisted breathing, although there was a harsh sound in his throat with each laboured breath he took. Mike had stayed with him, keeping his head still, monitoring him constantly.
‘Right, that’s looking good, you’re doing everything right. I’ll just put a cover over him, maintain his body temp, until we can get an ambulance for him. He’s definitely going to need one, and as a priority.’
He opened his medical kit, took out a space blanket, undid the wrapping, and laid it over the person lying on the floor. He did a quick check to assess consciousness levels. Then he moved across the room to where Gary was still sitting shivering on the chair, Maurice with a protective arm around his shoulders, comforting him. He squatted down in front of him.
‘Hello, I’m Frank. Can you tell me your name?’
‘G-Gary.’ His teeth were chattering, as much from shock as from cold.
‘Gary what, my friend?’
‘Gary Heath. Can I go home now? Please?’
‘I just need to check you out first, Gary, if that’s all right with you? Can you tell me what happened to you?’
Gary jerked his chin towards the figure on the ground. ‘He kidnapped me. He brought me here and tied me up. Then he … he did things to me.’
His face crumpled as he dissolved in tears, instinctively turning his head towards Maurice, hiding away against his chest as he sobbed.
Ted nodded to the paramedic to move away so they were out of earshot, then he explained.
‘It’s likely that he’s been held here since late Monday night, perhaps Tuesday morning. He probably won’t have had anything to eat in that time and maybe very little to drink. It’s also likely that he’s had some kind of electric shocks applied to his genital area.’
‘Ouch,’ Frank said with feeling. ‘Well, I need to examine him, if he’ll let me, and I need to radio for an ambulance for the other one. Do we have a name for him?’