The Secret Dawn

by Solomon Carter

  “Hang on,” said Ecrin. “Isn’t that…?”

  “Yes,” said Simmons. “Yes, it is.” It was Long Melford, and he was on the wrong side of the civic centre, out of sight of the police station and everybody else. “What’s he up to?”

  “Meeting a friend?” was the best Kaplan could come up with. But Simmons knew a dodgy meet-up when he saw one. It was the manner of the men speaking, which did it. One man well-practiced at skulking in his car. Simmons felt the fizz of a secret in the air. The electric tension of hidden wrongdoing was going on right in front of them. He thought about Hogarth and wondered if he knew.

  “What’s going on here, Mark?” said Kaplan.

  “Shhh,” he said. “I don’t know, but we’d do well to find out. Melford could be in trouble.”

  It was a half lie, based on false naivety. But it was the best excuse he could come up with in the moment. He was already half tuning in to the first snippets of the conversation he could hear above Victoria Avenue’s Sunday evening traffic.

  “We need to get in closer,” said Simmons. “Over there maybe, by those new flats. We should be able to stay out of sight and still listen in.”

  “You sure we should be doing that?” said Kaplan. The girl sounded edgy again, reminding him she was still new, still green.

  “Not exactly, but none of this feels right to me,” said Simmons. “What about you?”

  Ecrin paused a moment, then shook her head. “Not really,” she whispered. “This looks more like a Grays’ drug deal than a chance meeting with a friend.”

  “No. There’s nothing chance about this,” muttered Simmons. “When have you ever seen Melford anywhere out of the station.”

  “I haven’t. But I’ve only been here a month.”

  “Doesn’t time fly,” said Simmons, with a smile. “Come on. It’ll be okay. Follow me.” They skulked along the edge of Carnarvon Road, pausing only when the corner of the new Tollhurst flats blocked them from Melford’s view. Simmons crossed on a diagonal, walking to the corner of the block, and pressed himself close to the wall. He felt Kaplan nestled by his side. Her presence, her perfume – it all felt good, but he couldn’t enjoy it. He leaned around the corner to look at the front of the big red SUV in the council car park. Simmons tried to memorise the make and model. It looked like one of those big Audi or BMW X5 things. A four-by-four. But with a Ford badge. It was red. The number plate was out of sight, hidden behind the car park’s low concrete wall. And the driver was hidden in the shadow behind the windscreen, but Simmons made out his shape in silhouette. Bald or shaven headed, muscular perhaps, but not fat. The man’s head turned to look back at Melford. Melford hung away from the open car door, a reluctant scarecrow caught hiding from his own police station.

  “Can you hear what they’re saying?” said Kaplan. Her breath on his face reminded him of their kiss. He nodded and blinked, forcing the feelings from his mind. He needed to focus. He knew Hogarth would want to know every detail. Simmons tuned into their words.

  “…it’s going to work – I assured you of that already.”

  “Your assurances don’t mean anything. That’s why we keep talking. When we talk you get things done. That’s the assurance I need…” the man in the car’s voice was low and gruff, the voice of a man who had smoked too many cigarettes or watched too many gangster movies.

  “You’re forcing this!” said Melford. “You can’t force it. There are too many people involved at my end. You force it and something will give and not in the way you want. I’ve got responsibility, you know that. People have to see me acting a certain way or they’ll know something’s wrong and the wheels will come off. There are murderers to find, dealers to—”

  “I’m not interested in your police work. You brought this on yourself?”

  “Me?” said Melford.

  “As good as. Now you play your part or it gets much worse. Understood?”

  “It’s getting bad enough already. You have to stop pushing.”

  “No. You need to deliver. Okay?”

  Melford stood in silence.

  “Okay?!” demanded the man in the driver’s seat.

  Melford bowed his head, put his hands on his hips and slowly nodded his head.

  “Okay.”

  “Good man. I’ll call you again soon.”

  “Please no more. When?”

  “Whenever I like.”

  “No. It’s too much pressure.”

  “Keep it together, Melford. You look a mess.”

  “And whose fault is that?” said Melford.

  “We both know the answer to that one…” said the man. “I take it you don’t want a lift back to the nick?”

  “Of course I don’t,” snapped Melford, already turning away.

  “Good for you,” said the man.

  The stranger pulled the door shut. Simmons watched as the murky figure pulled the seatbelt over his chest. DCI Melford cut a forlorn figure. He turned away, stoop-shouldered, and slunk towards the foot of the civic centre building. As the big Ford growled into life and its headlights were flicked on, Melford turned to follow the back of the building towards the police station. In more ways than one, the world suddenly seemed a darker place. Simmons and Kaplan pulled their heads out of the light before the Ford driver could see them. The car’s aircon was as noisy as the engine as it sped away out of the car park and didn’t bother to stop for the red light at the end of the street. Instead, it bounded onto Victoria Avenue, even though Simmons noted, it didn’t pick up much speed. The driver was probably still watching Melford as he slunk out of sight. Melford reached the back of the civic centre and carried on his way.

  “That’s unbelievable,” said Kaplan.

  “Let’s get back to the station,” said Simmons, his still eyes on Melford’s back. He moved away from the corner of the Tollhurst flats and started walking down the side lane between the block and the car park which led towards the police station. Melford was on the same lonely lane, but much further ahead.

  “You’re following him?” said Kaplan in disbelief.

  “You asked me what I made of it. I think we need to know more.”

  “But tonight?” said Kaplan. “Isn’t that risky?”

  “Not if we’re careful. Look, Ecrin. I don’t expect you to get yourself in trouble. But if Melford is up to something, Hogarth needs to know.”

  “And you really think he’s up to something?” said Kaplan. “Something criminal?”

  Simmons shrugged. “What do you think?”

  “Maybe,” she said, biting her lip. “But I don’t want to believe it.”

  “It’s okay. Leave it to me.”

  Simmons started walking down the lane in a hurry. “Wait,” said Kaplan, appearing at his side.

  “Go home, Ecrin. I don’t want you to feel like you’ve got no choice about this.”

  “No. I’m coming with you. End of story.”

  Simmons didn’t say another word, he knew she meant it. Kaplan reached out and touched his forearm and Simmons nodded in thanks. From there, they both stayed quiet, and advanced quickly, reducing the distance between themselves and Melford with every quiet step. Melford aimed for the back of the police station where the access lane took him towards the perimeter fence of the car park. On the other side of the lane was the fence of Southend Victoria’s rail sidings. The two high fences made the area darker still. Melford stuck his hand into his pocket, looking for his chipped security pass to get through the back gate. Simmons had gotten close enough to call out, but any moment Melford would be gone, safely back on home ground. Simmons saw he had a choice to make. He considered his appearance and the implications of having Kaplan at his side in a dark area on a Sunday night. But what would Hogarth have done? Simmons wanted to look into the man’s eyes. He sped up, Kaplan followed. He called Melford as the DCI pulled his card and keys from his pocket and moved towards the pedestrian gate.

  “Sir?!”

  Melford stopped and his shoulders jerked upright. H
e stayed where he was and didn’t look back.

  “DCI Melford, sir!”

  This time, Melford slowly turned to face Simmons and Kaplan as they approached. His thick brows fell low over his eyes. They glinted with the light from the lamps which hung over the police car park wall.

  “Simmons…?” said Melford in a slow, guarded tone. “DC Simmons… and who’s that…?”

  “PCSO Kaplan, sir,” she said. Simmons heard her voice waver. He felt sorry for her. He’d pushed her too far.

  Melford shared an accusing glance between them, but Simmons raised his head and put his shoulders back. He knew what Melford’s was implying, and fearful as he was, Simmons wasn’t having it. They’d done nothing wrong – not in this instance, at least. Melford seemed to recognise the young man’s defiance. He shifted on his feet to make himself cut a more imposing figure.

  “You two. What are you doing round the back here? And I take it you’re not on duty, Kaplan.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then I dare say I’ll need a word with PC Yarrow, seeing as you’re hanging around with other officers when off duty. And you, Simmons… You’re on duty? That could be even worse.”

  “Officially no, sir. But—”

  “No? Then what are you doing hanging around the back of the police station on a Sunday night? It doesn’t look very good, if I’m honest—"

  Simmons cut across Melford’s posturing.

  “PCSO Kaplan here came in to the station for her phone charger, sir. And I’ve come in to work to assist with the Reville case.”

  Melford made a bitter face as if he’d just remembered the matter. “The Reville case. Yes. Not much work to be done out here though, eh?”

  “We were going back in, sir,” said Simmons.

  “Reville,” said Melford. “Got to be connected to Grant Dawn going missing, I’d say, eh? A case and a half that one.”

  “It’s entirely possible, sir.”

  “So?” said Melford. “So what were you doing back here?”

  Simmons stiffened under Melford’s gaze.

  “Actually, it’s nothing to do with the case. We were concerned about you, sir.”

  “Concerned? About me?”

  “Yes. For your safety. It looked like some rough looking chap in a big red car was giving you some hassle and I thought you might want assistance. I suppose we were a bit late to the scene.”

  Melford’s eyes narrowed. His attention flicked between Simmons and Kaplan’s eyes. He read them both.

  “Simmons? Did Hogarth put you up to this?”

  Simmons stayed blank faced. “Up to what, sir?”

  Melford shut his mouth and took a moment to compose himself. “Late to the scene, you say? There was hardly a scene. Why? What did you think you saw?”

  “I only caught the tail end, sir. The chap just seemed a bit confrontational, that’s all. Seeing you away from the station like that, I was concerned for your safety. That’s all.”

  “My safety, eh?”

  “Yes, sir. Your safety.”

  Melford nodded. “How very kind. But it was nothing. Just a man I had a little disagreement with some time ago. Nothing to do with the job, you understand. More of a personal matter. As you get older, you only get more of a past to deal with. One day, you’ll understand, Simmons. The past never goes away it only accumulates. Like rubbish. Some of it you can get rid of and some of it you can’t.”

  “Is it a problem, sir?”

  “No! Nothing’s a problem if you deal with it. And I didn’t make it where I am today by letting some blowhard from the old days throw me off track. Trouble, eh? Sometimes it makes us stronger, am I right?”

  Melford nodded at them both and offered a weak smile. It was a question which didn’t want an answer.

  “Thanks for your concern, then,” said Melford. “I don’t think there’ll be any need to talk to Yarrow after all, eh, Kaplan?” He looked at them both, a hint of suggestion showing in his eyes. “Everyone’s got to have a private life, haven’t they?”

  He turned away and walked to the back gate, card in hand ready for the door reader.

  “Coming in?” said Melford.

  “No, sir. We’ll go in the other way.”

  “And the case – going well?”

  “Early days,” said Simmons. “But we’re going at it full tilt. To be honest sir, that case is all I can think about just now.”

  “Good man,” said Melford, walking away. “With that kind of attitude, I’m sure it’ll come good. I’ll wait for Hogarth’s update tomorrow then.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Simmons.

  Melford opened the gate and trudged into the car park, letting the spring mechanism slam the gate after him. Simmons nodded ahead toward the end of the building and he gathered Kaplan with him as he started to walk. He felt her panic and heard her quick breathing as she moved ahead of him. Simmons stole a glimpse at Melford through the slotted gaps in the grey brick wall. Simmons moved out just of sight, then stopped, and took a final look. He watched Melford stop at the door, then turn back and look around. Eyes glinting, Melford stared at the back wall. Simmons felt the man listening, waiting. He watched as Melford pulled his mobile phone from his trouser pocket. Melford dialled a number and stuck the phone to his ear. A moment later, when his call was answered, Melford turned his gaze down to the floor and started pacing outside the back door. He spoke in a rasping whisper, but it was just audible all the same.

  “I told you, you were making things worse! We were seen! Colleagues saw me, just like I warned you. No… No… I don’t think so. Not this time. But you have to stop. Stop the hassle. Stop following me. It isn’t helping!”

  Melford ended the call and marched towards the back door. Simmons pulled away from the gap and turned to face Kaplan. Her face was bright with adrenaline and fear.

  “So? What do we do with that?” she said, with a nervous edge in her soft voice.

  “Don’t worry, Ecrin. Leave it all to me. But whatever you do, you’ve got to keep it secret. Okay?”

  Simmons moved away. Kaplan bit her lip and let Simmons walk on. Keeping a secret that big? But what had Palmer told her during the Baba Sen case? Some confidences were too big, too important, too weighty to be kept without wise counsel. Kaplan liked DC Simmons a great deal, but he had only been in the force a few years himself and she reckoned his judgement was less than perfect. Some confidences were best shared. Kaplan wondered whether this was one of them. She followed Simmons and kept her thoughts to herself.

  Sixteen

  Sunday night was ebbing away too fast. Hogarth sat perched on the edge of the desk in the dark corner of Grant Dawn’s Paglesham lock-up. The old building was beginning to feel as cold as the barren landscape outside. Dawn must have noticed Hogarth shivering because he switched on a big old-fashioned gas heater which stood at one side of the room. He pressed the dial until it clicked, and the gas flames burst into life with an orange-blue flash. Hogarth reckoned the old gas heater would barely dent the temperature at all, but it was a welcome gesture all the same. The two men had argued since they arrived. Hogarth needed answers now more than ever. The intense pressure was beginning to make him doubt himself.

  “But I’ve already told you that,” said Dawn, standing up from the gas heater. “I had nothing to do with what happened to Brett. Please don’t ask me again.”

  “I know what you told me, Mr Dawn. But I was driving. And I needed to look you in the eye,” said Hogarth. “It’s important I know for sure. Because next time someone asks you, it could well be in court.”

  “It doesn’t change a thing either way. I still didn’t do it,” Dawn leaned towards Hogarth and looked hard into his eyes. Hogarth took the gesture as aggression.

  “Don’t push me, Mr Dawn.”

  “I think you’ll find you’re the one pushing, Inspector,” said Dawn.

  “And with good reason. You staged this whole bloody farce. And to prove what?”

  “No. You can’t say that. I d
idn’t drag you into anything, Inspector. You walked into this by choice. You volunteered. Besides, none of this was staged. Someone did try to kill me.”

  Volunteered? Yes, maybe he had. And it wasn’t all Simmons’ fault, either. Simmons’ father carried some of the blame, of course, but Hogarth knew it was his own insatiable curiosity, his own disrespect for risks, which had seen him get sucked into another crisis. That and the allure of a woman far too young for him. Ultimately, there was no one to blame but himself. He’d been a bloody fool. The thought made him want to reach for a bottle of the Portuguese stuff in Dawn’s fridge, but he needed a clear head to get through this one. Monday was looming and his brain was fogged up enough already.

  “Unless I get this mess resolved sharpish this whole bloody thing might unravel and take us both down with it.”

  “Unravel?”

  “I’m going to have investigators and authorities of all stripes crawling all over this case within a day or two, and when that happens you’re in serious trouble and I’ll be in a lot worse.”

  Dawn shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll live, Inspector.”

  “And so might you, Mr Dawn. But not much bloody longer if you keep lying while I lose my job. What else are you hiding, eh? Gurney was a surprise. Is there anything else I need to worry about?”

  “What? No. I’m not hiding anything from you.”

  “Really? Then where is this one hundred and fifty grand you cashed in from your firm? And why did you withdraw the money in the first place? Despite what you said, you sure as hell didn’t withdraw it to pay for any rebrand. A business-to-business transaction like that is almost always electronic – or by cheque if you’re being very old-fashioned. But a modern social media firm like yours, I don’t think you’d be old-fashioned about anything.”

  Dawn checked Hogarth’s eyes closely, and the man sighed. “I’m not going to tell you where that money’s kept. That’s my business. But look. The truth was I had genuinely assigned that money for the rebrand which everyone kept telling me we needed… but by the time I moved the money out, I was already getting suspicious of those around me. Think about it from my perspective. The business was staggering like a drunk from payment to payment, and I could see that money was going to get used to prop it up. And after that was gone, it would only want more. The money was at risk, I knew I didn’t want it drained off by paying debts or for running costs. If the business was going to face a problem then it could do it by itself. I decided to take that money as a down payment for all the work I’d done over the years. Then, if the cash flow came good, I’d put it back in for the rebrand.