Ruth’s radio crackled. ‘Three-six from Gold Command. Echo-charlie-three and four are in position, over.’
‘Three-six, received,’ Ruth replied.
The codes referred to the two police helicopters on standby should Gates try to do anything that required him being tracked from the air.
Ruth then radioed the teams of AROs, who had been positioned out of sight at either end of the aqueduct, to check they were ready to go if anything went wrong. Marksmen were hidden up in the thickly wooded areas on the adjacent hills. Everyone was in place and ready to go.
The North Wales Police Media Department had negotiated a twenty-four-hour media blackout to prevent members of the public being drawn to the aqueduct by live news reports.
Now feeling anxious, Ruth wondered how this was going to play out. Had Gates had enough of being on the run and was now willing to hand himself in? On the one hand, Gates had an ego the size of a planet and clearly took delight in thinking that he had made the police look stupid. He had escaped from custody once, as well as luring police to a fake hideout and hoodwinking officers when he returned to kill his wife Kerry. Keeping one step ahead of them clearly got him excited.
However, she also knew that Gates was keen to tell his story to whoever would listen. And to do this, he would need to stand trial and go to jail. There would be journalists, writers and even filmmakers queuing up to add Gates’s story to the growing canon of true-crime books, television and films that were now part of a multi-million-pound business. Ruth hoped that Gates’s ego would get the better of him and he would sacrifice his temporary freedom for his day in the sun.
The snow turned to sleet, pattering on Ruth’s stab-proof jacket. She could feel the tension in her stomach and took a deep breath. She needed this operation to go well.
Her radio crackled again. ‘Three-six from alpha-one. Eyeball on unidentified male crossing the canal on the footbridge at the north end of the aqueduct, over.’
Ruth thought for a moment. The north end was the other side of the valley. ‘Received. Alpha-one from three-six, do we have a description of unidentified male, over?’
‘Three-six. Male is middle-aged, medium build and height, wearing a dark-red jacket and black woollen hat, over.’
It was Gates.
That wasn’t what had been planned. Ruth’s mind was whirring. Why was Gates coming from the north end? There could be a simple explanation, but it worried her. Why had he changed the plan? Maybe it was his ego showing them that he would do it his way.
‘Received. Three-six to all units. Target is heading for the aqueduct from the north end. If target attempts to cross, all units to stand down until target is at the south end, over.’ Ruth had arranged to meet Gates at the south end and she wasn’t going to deviate from that. It was far too dangerous to try to intercept Gates as he walked across the aqueduct with the massive drop either side.
‘Three-six, eyeball on target, now proceeding over the aqueduct.’
Ruth could see Gates in the distance strolling along the towpath, which she had learnt was three hundred metres long. She calculated that it shouldn’t take him more than five minutes to get to the end. It was time to move.
Moving out of her hidden position, Ruth walked alongside the empty canal. It was silent except for the wind that buffeted her.
Now at the middle of the aqueduct, Gates stopped and looked around as if he wasn’t quite sure if he was going to continue. He looked down at the enormous drop and the River Dee that splashed and swirled around the rocks below. What was he doing? Was he planning on jumping to his death? Surely, he was too arrogant for that ...
The tension rose as Gates hesitated. Then, thankfully, Gates continued to walk towards where Ruth was waiting.
‘Three-six to all units. Target is approaching. Stand by, over,’ Ruth said.
‘Received, three-six.’
Out of the corner of her eye, Ruth could see the black figures of two AROs crouching a few yards down the bank, ready and poised for action if needed. However, Ruth intended to stick to her agreement with Gates. She would arrest him, cuff him and take him to the car. Gates wasn’t going to attack her.
As Gates approached the final fifty yards, the wind switched direction blowing sleet directly into Ruth’s face. She wiped it away from her eyes, squinting through the ice and water. Gates stepped off the end of the concrete towpath.
‘Gold Command to all units. Apprehend target. Repeat, apprehend target!’ It was an order from the Armed Response commander and Ruth was furious.
The two AROs trained their Heckler & Koch MP5 sub-machine guns on Gates who had now stopped.
Ruth turned to face the AROs. ‘No! What the bloody hell are you doing? This is not what I agreed!’
‘Please step out of the way, ma’am!’ the ARO said sternly.
‘Armed police! Get down on the ground!’ the other ARO bellowed at Gates.
No. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t what she had agreed with Gates. Once he was arrested, he would never cooperate now.
‘Lie flat on the ground!’ the ARO thundered. Gates nodded, sunk to his knees and then lay flat on the sleet-covered concrete.
‘What’s going on? I haven’t done anything!’ came the voice from the figure on the ground, who was roughly cuffed, frisked and then brought to his feet.
Ruth wiped her eyes again and looked at Gates. Except the terrified face that looked back at her wasn’t Gates. It was someone else!
‘I haven’t done anything!’ the man pleaded.
‘Who are you?’ Ruth asked.
The man, wide-eyed with fear, looked at the guns that were still trained on him.
‘What’s your name, sir?’ Ruth asked, realising that somehow Gates had tricked them again.
‘Ewan Harris. I ... d-don’t understand. What’s going on?’
‘Where did you get those clothes, Ewan?’ Ruth asked, starting to piece things together.
‘Some bloke in the pub over there. The Trevor Inn.’ He gestured to the north side of the aqueduct. ‘He gave me the coat and hat and said he’d give me a hundred pounds to walk over the aqueduct and back. Said it was part of some practical joke he was playing on a mate of his. They’re on a Christmas work do or something.’
‘When was this?’ Ruth asked, wondering if Gates was still in the area.
‘About an hour ago. He said it had to be at four o’clock to get the money.’
‘Thank you,’ Ruth said, forcing a smile and signalling for the AROs to stand down.
It was another operational disaster and Gates was still on the loose.
NICK CAME INTO INTERVIEW Room One where Rosie Chivers was waiting for him. He had contacted her and asked her to come in for a ‘voluntary’ interview. She was slim, with neatly bobbed blonde hair and a tanned face as though she had been abroad. Fiddling nervously with her long cardigan, she looked up. Nick saw her chest rise as her breath quickened. He didn’t know if it was the prospect of a police interview or underlying guilt.
‘Miss Chivers, thank you for coming in today,’ Nick said in a friendly tone as she sat down and opened the case file.
‘No problem.’ She smiled and avoided eye contact. ‘It’s Rosie.’
Nick nodded as he thumbed through the case file. ‘Rosie, right.’ He let her stew in her nervousness for a few more seconds. ‘I’m looking into the murder of Harvey Pearson, which happened on Mount Snowdon on the afternoon of Sunday the ninth of December. We’re trying to establish who was on the mountain at the time of the murder. We spoke a few days ago when you told me your whereabouts on the afternoon of the ninth. Is that correct?’ Nick looked up at her and gave her a kind smile.
‘Yes.’ She nodded, but she looked like she was struggling to hold it together.
‘According to my notes, you said you were with a friend at the Llancastell Odeon cinema and that you went to see the three-o’clock performance of They Will Not Grow Old?’ Nick explained. He needed to get her to confirm she saw the film, whi
ch was a provable lie. That would put her in a very difficult situation.
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Rosie nodded uncertainly.
‘You saw the film?’ Nick asked as he looked down as his notes. It was purposefully delivered in a nonchalant manner.
‘Yes.’ Rosie visibly gulped at her lie.
Nick looked up at her. ‘You saw the three-o’clock performance of They Will Not Grow Old at the Llancastell Odeon on Sunday the ninth of December?’
Rosie had no choice but to hang on in there. ‘Yes. I don’t understand?’
‘Unfortunately, I’ve watched the CCTV footage from that afternoon. You didn’t watch the film, so you need to tell me right now what you were doing.’ Nick’s tone became grave.
Rosie leaned forwards on her seat and moved awkwardly. She put her lips together and blew out slowly, trying to control her nerves. ‘I can’t tell you.’
‘I’m afraid you need to tell me where you were, Rosie.’
Rosie’s hands were now shaking. Whatever it was, Nick could see Rosie was under a huge amount of stress having to admit where she had been. ‘I just can’t.’ She put her hand to her forehead and then a tear rolled down her face.
‘It’s okay. Whatever it is, Rosie, you can tell me.’
Rosie closed her eyes. ‘I was ... with another man. Not my boyfriend.’
‘Okay. I will have to confirm that,’ Nick said.
‘No, I’m not lying, I promise you. If my boyfriend finds out, it would kill him,’ Rosie said as the tears rolled down her cheeks.
CHAPTER 29
Ruth sat on the patio, wrapped in a thick turquoise blanket, smoking a ciggie. A cold breeze blew the fragrance of the countryside in from the neighbouring fields. It was perfectly silent. Until her phone pinged with the noise that signalled she had an email. Tapping it open, she saw it was from Steven Flaherty.
Hi Ruth. Results from the police in Berlin confirm that the fingerprints on the passport belong to Jurgen Kessler. I think we can safely assume that it was Kessler that was trying to get a job at Bournemouth University. I have the CCTV to watch tonight and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Steven x
Ruth took this in. They finally had a solid lead on Kessler, and he may not know they were onto him. The tiny fragments of hope every few months in the search for Sarah were exhausting, and Ruth could spend the whole night with ideas and scenarios whirring through her head. But she had to be pragmatic. She would wait to see the CCTV and go from there. She would park that part of her mind away for the evening.
Ruth’s thoughts turned to the Gates case, which was becoming absurd. The only saving grace was that there had been a media blackout, but it was only a matter of time before the story broke. They couldn’t hide the fact that there had been helicopters, dogs and armed units at the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct. Anyone could put two and two together and guess that the operation had been connected with the hunt for Andrew Gates. It had been another failure.
Ruth drank an inch off her large glass of red wine. She was definitely drinking more these days. She looked up at the dark sky and tried to relax. Ella had text earlier to say she was looking at some flats up in Aldford in Cheshire. Then she was coming back to report to Sian and her. Ella had thought it was hilarious that the estate agent taking her was called John Kipper. What a funny name! She had sent emojis of fish at the end of her text. Ruth was glad that she was so much more involved in Ella’s life now. When she had moved to Liverpool, and Ruth was still mourning Sarah’s disappearance, they had drifted apart. It would be nice to have her living up the road.
Sian came out wrapped in a coat. She plonked down her wine glass and filled it from the bottle on the table.
‘You’re meant to keep red wine at room temperature, you dope,’ Sian said as she sat down. ‘And you’re not meant to be smoking.’
Ruth gave her the finger. ‘Fuck off, Mum.’
Sian gave her a sarcastic smile. ‘What did Drake say when you got back?’
‘He said it was a fucking shambles ... again.’
‘He could do with a better vocabulary. Although I’m not sure what’s worse than “a fucking shambles.”’
Sian had been based at Llancastell nick with Drake in the Gold Command control centre. ‘He had a showdown with the Armed Response commander. And Drake has got to explain wasting thousands more of taxpayers’ money on another botched attempt to get Gates. Jones was there for a bit and he was very quiet. He went visibly white when you realised it wasn’t Gates. Where’s Ella?’
‘She’s gone to look at a flat in Aldford.’
‘Ooh. Very posh.’ Sian raised her eyebrows.
Ruth gestured to her phone. ‘Estate agent’s name is John Kipper. Ella thought it was hilarious.’
Sian smiled and sipped her wine. She took a moment then looked concerned. ‘John Kipper? Mr Kipper?’
Ruth shrugged. ‘That’s what she said.’
‘Kipper? As in fish?’ Sian asked.
‘Yes. What’s the problem? The man has a comedy name,’ Ruth said.
Sian pulled her phone out of her coat pocket and began tapping furiously at the screen.
Ruth was concerned by Sian’s reaction. ‘What? What’s the matter?’
‘I know the name and ...’ Sian’s eyes flicked over her phone screen.
‘Bloody hell. What are you talking about?’ Ruth’s impatience was turning into concern. Sian wasn’t easily spooked.
Sian’s face was anxious as she read aloud. ‘Suzy Lamplugh, a British estate agent, went missing on the twenty-eighth of July 1986 in Fulham, London. She was eventually declared dead in 1994 with the presumption that she had been murdered.’
Ruth was none the wiser as she nodded. ‘Yeah, I remember. I was a teenager and just down the road.’
Sian continued to read. ‘The last clue to her whereabouts was an appointment to show a house to someone she had written down as “Mr Kipper.” Although it has never been confirmed, many believe that convicted murderer and rapist John Cannan was guilty of her murder. Cannan’s nickname in prison had been Kipper.’
Ruth couldn’t take in what she had heard. It had to be a coincidence, didn’t it? Was someone using the name as some kind of dark joke? There must be other people with the surname Kipper. The whole experience with Gates was making her paranoid, wasn’t it?
Ruth grabbed her phone and rang Ella. It went straight to voicemail. That was even more worrying – it was almost never turned off.
‘She’s not answering.’
Sian looked at Ruth. ‘John Kipper? Neither of us believes in coincidences, do we?’
‘It’s just a surname, isn’t it? You think someone has a twisted sense of humour?’
‘Maybe ... How many Kippers have you met in your career as a police officer?’
Ruth was feeling sick with fear. ‘None.’
‘Me neither.’
The tension mounted and Ruth’s mind lurched from rationality to utter fear.
‘Gates?’ Sian asked, thinking out loud.
Ruth felt her insides whirl and drop. ‘I don’t know.’ But her instinct was starting to tell her that she did know.
Standing up and dropping the blanket, Ruth moved for the back door. ‘We need to go to Alford. It’s all we’ve got to go on.’
Sian followed and picked up her phone. ‘I’ll see if I can get someone in CID to triangulate Ella’s number.’
A vibration buzzed in Ruth’s hand. It was her phone and the sound of a text. In that split second, she prayed that it was Ella texting to say she was okay and she was coming home.
The text message was from Ella. Ruth felt the tension begin to leave her as she opened up the message. ‘It’s from Ella. “Hiya. The flat is perfect. I’ve got some photos to show you.”’
Sian sighed. ‘Thank God!’
Ruth’s pulse slowed as she continued to read. ‘“There’s another flat up the road that John’s going to show me. He made me send you this photo with me in a Christmas hat! LOL. See you in a bit
xx.”’
Ruth and Sian exchanged a look and smiled. Maybe the job had just made them hypercautious or paranoid? Thank God for that, Ruth thought.
Ruth looked down at the photo as it opened. It was a selfie. There was Ella’s big beaming face with a red Santa hat. Ruth noticed that her forehead and nose were a bit shiny. Ella wouldn’t like that.
And just over her shoulder, there was a man’s face, which must be John Kipper.
Except ...
It was the face of Andrew Gates.
Ruth’s world slowed and darkened as if time had stopped. And then she felt physically sick.
Andrew Gates had her daughter.
CHAPTER 30
Amanda had recovered from her alcoholic ‘slip.’ Nick could see that she was feeling a lot better, although she had spent the last hour apologising and generally beating herself up.
As Amanda tried to step over Nick, who was lounging on the sofa, he playfully put out his leg and held her arm so that she fell slowly on top of him.
‘Easy, tiger,’ she said.
Nick looked into her eyes and ran his thumb down her cheek and then onto her lips. She looked back, her eyes moving around his face and then back to his eyes. She smiled.
‘You okay?’ he whispered.
She nodded. ‘After what happened to me last year, I didn’t think I could ever do this again. But you’ve made me feel so safe, so secure.’
Nick pulled her close and they kissed, pulling each other tighter. She stood up and without a word led him to her bedroom. She undressed, never taking her eyes from his. She walked over and pressed her naked body to him, her hands unbuttoning his shirt and feeling his chest underneath.
Nick could feel her skin against his. Her hair smelt of coconut shampoo and a hint of cigarette smoke. He didn’t care. He liked it. He had always liked the hint of booze, smoke or perfume on a woman. That ‘just washed’ fresh smell wasn’t sexy to him.
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