She Will Rescue You

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She Will Rescue You Page 20

by Chris Clement-Green


  The four members of staff found at Mountain View appeared shocked by the arrival of so many blue lights and sirens. Mick immediately told the local officers about the small cottage nine miles from the farm where he thought Alex Campbell lived, but no, he had no idea why the police would be interested in him.

  The local duty DS arrived half an hour later and was annoyed to find the dishwasher and washing machine in full cycle.

  ‘What the fuck?’ He glared at the bobby sat with Mick at the kitchen table and nodded towards the appliances.

  ‘They were in full swing when we got here, Skip.’

  ‘Who’s this?’ The DS glanced at Mick.

  ‘Evening, Officer — or should I say morning. I’m Mick and I run this place.’

  ‘This place stinks of bleach.’ The DS ran his finger along the pristine worktop.

  ‘Aye, well, hygiene’s important when you’re dealing with sick and diseased animals.’

  ‘Huw’s outside.’ The bobby felt the need to make amends. ‘Mick here was by the garden incinerator when we arrived. Huw doused the flames but there’s only mush left.’

  ‘So, Mick, what were you burning at two in the morning?’

  ‘Foul waste — used dressings — that sort of thing.’

  ‘At two in the morning?’

  ‘I’d just changed the dressing on a horse with an infected leg. He has to have an antibiotic jab every four hours.’

  The DS sighed. ‘Where’s everyone else?’ he asked the bobby.

  ‘Dai’s with them in the converted barn.’

  ‘Well, let’s get them over here — everyone in one place while we wait for Metpol.’

  Mick was grateful he’d had time to submerge the mobile Barrington had called him on in neat bleach before burying it in the middle of the farm’s enormous muck heap.

  ‘Tell me about Doctor Mia Langley, Mick.’ The Metpol DI smiled at the old farm hand, who was playing the I-know-nothing game surprisingly well. ‘How did she come to be at Mountain View?’

  ‘Well now, she sort of just turned up about a month before Ellie died. It seemed to me that Ellie was sort of expecting her. They had tea and cookies in Ellie’s bedroom and then she sort of stayed for a few weeks. I assumed she was an old friend.’

  ‘And what about Alex Campbell — was he an old friend too?’

  ‘God, no! He was a paid hand like me and Craig. Helped us convert some of the outbuildings and he’d sometimes go with Ellie to help rescue animals.’

  ‘Tell me more about that.’

  ‘How do yer mean?’

  ‘How often? What animals? What time of day?’

  ‘Well now, I can’t recall exact times and dates, can’t recall specific animals either — oh wait, he did bring the one-eyed cow back here with Ellie!’ Mick looked pleased with himself for remembering the detail.

  The DI resigned himself to going through the motions with a man whose loyalties were subtly obvious.

  ‘Did they ever go out at night?’

  ‘On a sort of date?’ Mick looked puzzled.

  ‘No, not on a date — on rescue missions, to save animals.’

  ‘Well, yes. Animal rescue’s not a nine-to-five job you know. If an animal needs rescuing it sort of needs rescuing.’

  The DI sighed. This simple statement of fact could lift suspicion with a jury about any nocturnal activities at Mountain View. He refocussed on Mia.

  ‘So what did Mia and Ellie do while she was here?’

  ‘Do? Nothing. What can someone dying of cancer do?’ For the first time Mick’s voice held an edge. ‘They just stayed in E’s bedroom, talking.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘How should I know? Woman’s stuff probably.’

  Mark was really pissed that Campbell had got away, but Mia couldn’t know that. As they were booking her out for interview, he got Matt to poke his head around the custody office door and shout, ‘Got him, Boss!’ It would have been unethical, not by the book, to lie to her directly about her lover’s arrest, but no one was saying anything to her and no names were used — she’d be left to draw her own conclusions and put herself under pressure.

  Mountain View was contained by the time he and Matt were once more seated opposite Mia, in an interview room at Paddington Green. At her side was the sharply dressed John Barrington QC. His handmade shirt, silk tie and Saville Row suit made an impressive statement at three in the morning when matched against his crumpled Marks and Spencer’s effort and Matt’s jeans and jumper.

  He’d been surprised when Barrington agreed to Mia being interviewed at that time in the morning, but the interview had turned into nothing more than a ‘prepared statement’ read out to the tape by Barrington. The statement contained only information that confirmed what Mark and his team already knew, but it would make Mia seem helpful and cooperative.

  Interrogation, as such, was a thing of the past — in police circles at least. Video interviews meant there were no more good-cop-bad-cop routines accompanied by table thumping and chair throwing. Even ‘interviewing’ was viewed as an old-fashioned concept. Nowadays it was all about ‘conversation management’, using open questions to steer the suspect into disclosing relevant information. But Mia was as much of an expert as him and Matt, and it grated that she actually seemed to be enjoying the process.

  It was noon the following day before an interview proper commenced. Mia had been allowed to sleep — the custody sergeant confirming that she had indeed slept, and eaten a fairly hearty brunch. Bitch.

  ‘So, Doctor Langley, tell me about your relationship with Ellie Grant.’ Mark leant back in his chair. His continued use of her title did two things: kept her at an emotional distance and reminded the jury she was an extremely intelligent woman who was totally responsible for all her actions.

  ‘She was a suspect but, as she was so clearly dying, I decided it would be more productive to spare her the rigours of arrest and detention and, by seeming to befriend her, I could coax out information about her operations.’

  ‘But not under caution, making anything she said inadmissible.’ Matt’s frustration was all too evident.

  ‘Look, Matt, you’d never have got a doctor to clear her as fit to interview, so you could argue that I aided rather than hampered the investigation.’

  ‘Only you didn’t, did you, Dr Langley? You didn’t tell us anything.’ Mark stared at her.

  Matt continued. ‘So, did Ellie Grant tell you about all her dark-ops work?’

  ‘Not all, no. The cancer had spread to her brain by the time I got to her and she was doped up on morphine most of the time, so the information came in rather disjointed spurts. But the Danish job was never discussed. Nothing about the use of ricin. The first I knew about its use was when you told me about the badger baiters’ death. If I’d known what she intended in Denmark I’d have told you immediately, Mark. I’m not a terrorist.’

  ‘And you expect me to believe that?’

  Nobody in the room believed it. They all knew what she said was for the benefit of the camera.

  ‘What I expect from you, Detective Chief Superintendent, is to prove anything to the contrary.’ Barrington’s voice was as smooth as his swept back hair.

  Mark ignored him. ‘In his YouTube video, Campbell — I take it that it was Campbell?’

  Mia’s face remained passive.

  ‘Stated, and I quote — my boss does not agree. Who was his boss, Mia? You? Ellie was already dead.’

  ‘I think you’ve established that I’m Alex’s lover — not his boss. As far as I know his only boss was Ellie Grant.’

  ‘So you’re putting all the blame for the ricin attack fairly and squarely on the dead Ellie Grant and your boyfriend’s shoulders?’

  ‘Yes, if that indeed turns out to be Alex in the video. His shoulders are certainly broad enough.’

  The smugness of her observation grated. She had changed beyond all recognition and Mark’s embarrassment about his earlier feelings for her had been replaced by a differen
t sort of longing. He now wanted her rotting in a prison cell instead of rolling around his bed.

  Matt broke the building silence. ‘But you fully admit trying to pervert the course of justice by tampering with evidence and, in doing so, aiding terrorist activity?’

  ‘What can I say — it’s a fair cop, guv?’

  Barrington shot Mia a warning glance. He too was not overly happy with the growing flippancy of his client’s attitude.

  ‘But only to the first part, tampering with evidence.’

  ‘Look, what I did was stupid and misguided, but I took the roll-up to protect Alex, to try and stop him from going to prison. It may well have been an attempt to pervert the course of justice, but it was not an act of terrorism — it was an act of love.’

  Mia was using her couldn’t-care-less attitude to mask the waves of panic crashing about inside her since she heard of Alex’s capture; they were in danger of capsizing her. Life without Alex would be unbearable. She’d be emotionally stranded for the rest of her life. That gently rolling slope of occasional depression had suddenly turned into a sharp-edged abyss of despair.

  The DI at Mountain View continued talking to Craig, who had split a bale of hay and was chucking slices of it over the stable doors of four horses — including the one with the infected leg. Interviewing witnesses in their own environment kept them relaxed and open to the possibility of unguarded remarks.

  ‘Tell me what you know about Mia and Alex.’

  ‘Well, you know they’re an item, right?’ The DI nodded. ‘It was the real thing as far as I could see. Alex practically lived here since Ellie died and Mia comes down most weekends from her London job.’

  ‘What do you know about her job in London?’

  ‘She was something to do with you lot, wasn’t she? She never talked about it, not with us lot in the barn anyway.’

  And so it went. Jo and Gill, the lesbian couple, were friendly and open. Everyone — uniform, detectives and CSI — all enjoyed the endless cups of tea and homemade cookies Gill provided. Mick and Craig continued to talk about the great work Ellie Grant had undertaken but, like the others, their faces turned blank when asked about ‘dark-ops’ and black feathers. None of them could believe that their E was the black feather lady.

  The only suspicious but coincidental fact the DI could uncover, was that the centre’s vet was out of the country on a six-month secondment to a primate sanctuary in Africa. Intelligence had strongly suggested the presence of a vet on some of the dark-ops, but he was not present at Mountain View now.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  A storm of justice and revenge.

  After forty-eight hours at Mountain View, despite the apparent full cooperation of all the residents, the DI and his team had got nowhere. There were no forensics and no confessions.

  He was fairly convinced that Craig and the lesbians didn’t know much about dark-ops. But Mick — Mick was another matter. It was Mick who had cleaned the house so thoroughly — even putting Mia’s bedding in the wash at the same time as switching on the dishwasher at two in the morning. According to the others it was also Mick that lit the garden incinerator every night and placed the ashes on the muck heap every morning. His explanation for this activity had been that he liked the job; he found it a good way to relax after a busy day. The DI was fairly happy that Mick hadn’t actually taken part in the revenge side of things — he’d even offered to take one of those lie detector thingies — but it was obvious to all he’d been Ellie’s right-hand man.

  Over the following three days Mia was interviewed five times. Barrington had brought her a change of clothes, insisting that there was no reason to keep his client in the one-size-fits-all paper boiler-suit. Mia’s flat was a crime scene, so he’d sent his assistant out with his company credit card and told her what to buy. The replacement Armani suit and silk blouse still had the four figure price labels attached and they were accompanied by some expensive toiletries. Mia was still under arrest, but with Barrington’s help she was winning small daily battles in both the interview room and custody office.

  During each of the interviews Barrington fought her corner in a quiet, considered and obviously well-briefed way. They acted as an equal partnership with Mia being allowed to do all the talking. When the interviews were shown to the jury she would come across as open and honest, not hiding behind ‘no comment’ answers. But she only ever gave them what they already knew or could guess about her, and it was Ellie Grant who was fast becoming the star of the show.

  ‘What do you know about the missing Leeds lads and the Pole?’

  ‘Darren, Kai and Lee are working at a rescue centre in the Highlands of Scotland — you’ll have to get the exact location from the RSPCA, I only went there the once. But don’t hold your breath on them saying anything bad about Ellie.’

  ‘And the missing Pole?’

  Mia enjoyed the flatness of the SIO’s tone. She was holding her own, despite not knowing where Alex was, or what was happening to him — the security services wouldn’t think twice about enhanced interrogation on him. She forced herself to focus on her interview.

  ‘Still missing as far as I know, but not because of anything Ellie did. She described him as the one that got away.’

  ‘But before she died, Ellie Grant admitted having the other Pole and David Robbins killed?’

  ‘As I said — Matt, you’ve been taking notes and will be able to back this up,’ she smiled at the DI, ‘the Pole appears to have been a manslaughter case rather than murder, a beating that went wrong. But yes, Robbins was a straightforward execution, as were the deaths of the two badger baiters.’

  ‘And Ellie was present at all three deaths?’

  ‘So she said.’

  ‘So you did know about the use of ricin on the badger baiters?’ Mark leant forward.

  ‘I knew about their deaths — not the manner of them — until you told me. If you recall, I was shocked by that information—’

  ‘It seems to me, Detective Chief Superintendent, that my client did the best job possible in getting a lot of useful information from a dying woman.’

  ‘Which she clearly failed to pass on!’

  ‘Perverting the course of justice is a far cry from terrorism—’

  ‘Not when it allows a terrorist act to take place! Failing to disclose information which a person knows or believes might be of material assistance in preventing an act of terrorism, or in securing the apprehension, prosecution or conviction of a person involved in an act of terrorism is contrary to Section 38b of the Terrorism Act 2000! Your client has pretty much ticked every damn box!’

  ‘But has she, Detective Superintendent? My client maintains that she had no idea about the Danish assault and, as she so rightly observes, you have yet to present us with any evidence to the contrary.’ Barrington’s face remained closed but his voice was steel hard.

  ‘Tell me again about the money, Mia. It must be good to be suddenly given so much of it. You’re obviously enjoying it.’ Mark indicated the new suit. ‘How much did that cost?’

  ‘May I ask what relevance the cost of my client’s clothing has to alleged terrorist offences?’

  ‘Many of the black feather assaults, as your client pointed out when she was still batting for the good guys, required the use of money. Digging dog pits, flying chimps to Africa and helicopters full of ricin to Denmark doesn’t come cheap. I want to know where that money is now.’

  ‘My client will be happy for her accountants to give you details of the rescue centre’s finances. But I’m sure you’ll find no connection to terrorism or indeed anything that could be used for POCA.’

  Apart from ensuring he was already in receipt of a very substantial retainer, Barrington had been careful not to get involved with Mia’s finances. He’d specifically asked no questions about them because under anti-terror legislation, it was an offence for anyone not to disclose any knowledge regarding terror-related monies. So he’d followed the old barrister’s adage of ‘don’t as
k’’.

  Mark ignored Barrington. ‘We both know that rescue centre revenue is only a fraction of your inheritance, and I agree that the Proceeds of Crime Act could not impact on a lottery win, but I want to know where the majority of the money, the dark-ops money, is.’

  ‘So you can freeze and seize it?’ Mia’s tone remained matter-of-fact.

  ‘Obviously.’

  Dream on, buster.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mark, I’d tell you if I could . . . but I can’t. Ellie knew she was dying and she had enough time to get the help of all sorts of experts. I wouldn’t know where to begin looking, but I’m sure your experts will track it down — eventually.’ She looked disappointed in her inability to help. ‘I’ve already supplied you with my bank details and, as I’ll obviously be spending quite a few years at Her Majesty’s pleasure, I won’t be able to make much use of the allowance Ellie gave me for taking over the executive management of the rescue shelters she set up.’

  Mark gave up. He was on a fool’s errand. Let the security services have a go at the bitch. He was done with her.

  In the end Mia was never interviewed directly by the security services. They’d had an operative remotely monitoring all her interviews, and he felt Mark and Matt had done a good enough job, leaving no relevant questions unasked. Doctor Langley was also a British citizen, on the radar of a high profile barrister; there would be little to gain from showing their hand. All their efforts were now directed at capturing Alex Campbell.

  Following the publicity of his YouTube proclamation, Campbell was occupying the number one slot of ‘most wanted’ — as much for the international embarrassment he’d caused as his actions in Denmark. But, although they now had recent photos, and his DNA profile and fingerprints, they did not have him, and he could probably afford to buy all the avoidance he needed. He could already be lying in some private European hospital undergoing major cosmetic surgery, with people ready to provide new identity papers once the swelling went down.

 

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