* * *
Millie went to prepare Emma O’Brien and Peter Klinnemann for what would be happening next. While she was doing that, Mariner went to splash water over his face in an effort to wake himself up a bit. Back in his office he put on a clean shirt, kept for just such an occasion as this, and was straightening his tie in the reflection from the window when Millie walked in. ‘Very nice, sir,’ she grinned, and Mariner had a sudden flashback to the occasion a couple of years earlier when he and Millie had worked together on the disappearance of a young Asian girl. It, too, had been an emotionally charged time and on one memorable occasion they had ended up in bed at her flat.
Mostly the incident went unspoken between them, a brief, impulsive episode, but she’d never quite let him forget it. Mariner caught sight of her ring. For the last six months Millie had been engaged to a man her parents had ‘found’ for her, something she’d always sworn she would resist. ‘But he’s actually okay,’ she’d confided, shortly after she and her intended had met. Turned out he was more than okay.
The chain of thought reminded Mariner that he should try again to speak to Anna, but there really wasn’t time before the conference.
Minutes later, under the glare of the press-room spotlights, Mariner flanked DCI Sharp as she read out a prepared statement, looking directly into the camera and appealing to Jessica’s abductor. She was good, thought Mariner. And Emma O’Brien alongside them needed no coaching to look suitably distraught. She wept intermittently throughout. Peter Klinnemann remained composed, his arm around his partner, and Mariner could see the milky gleam of his knuckles as he tightly clutched her hand. The e-fit compiled with Christie’s help was flashed onto the screen while Mariner gave a more detailed description of Jessica’s abductor, omitting a couple of key details so that they could rule out the hoax calls that would inevitably follow. Giving the phone number of the incident room, he appealed to the public to come forward if they noticed any sudden new additions to the families of friends or neighbours, or if they noticed anyone acting suspiciously. The whole performance was to be broadcast on local and national evening news. As Millie ushered Emma and Klinnemann out of the press room, he and Sharp began taking questions.
‘DCI Sharp, this has happened very close to the maternity hospital. Do you see a parallel with the Naomi Carr case?’
‘It’s just one of many possibilities we’re exploring.’
But as Emma and Klinnemann were exiting through the side door, another of the journalists called after them: ‘Mr Klinnemann, am I correct in thinking that you are the same Peter Klinnemann who works for Hamilton Sciences? And if so do you think this could be the work of animal rights activists?’
The question took them all by surprise, horror spreading like a domino effect across their faces. Someone had either made a huge unfounded assumption or had thoroughly done his homework. Judging from the look on Klinnemann’s face it was the latter. Before Klinnemann could say anything, Mariner cut in with the standard reply: ‘At this early stage we’re not ruling out anything.’ His eyes locked with DCI Sharp’s. Christ, if that journalist was right then it took this case to a whole new level.
After he’d finished his stint in the press room Mariner went to see Klinnemann and Emma. Millie was approaching from the opposite direction.
‘You’ve got them in somewhere?’ Mariner asked.
‘The Cedar Wood Hotel.’
‘Good.’ It was a couple of minutes’ drive away, and discreet. The couple would need a break from the press attention. As Mariner and Millie drew nearer to the room they could hear raised voices.
‘If this is down to them, I’ll never forgive you!’ they heard Emma O’Brien shriek. As Mariner tapped on the door, the voices ceased abruptly and Mariner went in to see Klinnemann and Emma O’Brien both on their feet, just inches apart, Emma O’Brien leaning in aggressively towards her partner. Seeing the police officers her whole body seemed to deflate as the adrenaline subsided, and she looked shattered.
‘I’m sorry to have put you through that,’ Mariner said, referring to the press conference and ignoring the tension in the air. ‘But it’s the most effective tool we’ve got for communicating with the abductor.’
‘We understand,’ Klinnemann swallowed hard, speaking for both of them.
‘We’ve booked a room for you at a local hotel, where you’ll be more comfortable. It’s out of the way so you should get some peace from the media. PC Khatoon will take you there. I realise it may not seem possible, but it will be a good idea if you can try to get some rest. If you wish we can arrange for the FME to give you something—’
‘We don’t need anything,’ Peter Klinnemann said quietly, catching on immediately. ‘We just need you to find our baby daughter.’
‘Of course,’ said Mariner. ‘It goes without saying that we’ll keep you informed of any developments.’ God, he got sick of that phrase.
Taking her arm, Millie guided Emma O’Brien out of the room. Mariner moved to follow Peter Klinnemann, but he hung back until the two women had turned the corner, before rounding on Mariner. ‘How in the name of God did that reporter know about my work place?’ he demanded to know.
‘I’ve no idea,’ said Mariner, truthfully. ‘Perhaps your name—’
‘They have no reason to make that connection. One of your officers must have told them.’ Klinnemann was incensed.
‘I can assure you,’ Mariner said, coldly. ‘That none of my officers had even made the link themselves. And even if they had, they certainly not would have disclosed that kind of information without first clearing it with me. I’m very sorry that it came up, but I’ve no way of knowing how the press found out.’
‘Then it must have been one of the nursery staff.’
‘I can’t speak for them, of course. But it’ something that would have emerged sooner or later. I’m disappointed that you didn’t see fit to be more forthcoming about the nature of your work right from the beginning. It’s another obvious line of enquiry and we might have lost valuable time by not pursuing it. You must know how these people operate. They have whole networks of intelligence. It really would have helped if you’d been more open with us.’
‘I didn’t want to make Emma any more afraid than she is already. These people put the lives of animals above human lives and will go to extraordinary lengths to make their point. Can you imagine what it will do to her if she believes that one of those barbarians might have our daughter?’
‘I’m sorry the press found out, Mr Klinnemann, but our priority remains to recover Jessica safely.’
It seemed to bring him up short, the anger dissipating as quickly as it had flared. ‘It was a mistake. I apologise.’
‘It’s a difficult time,’ Mariner said, but they both let the understatement pass. ‘What exactly is the substance of your work?’
‘I’m researching into the effectiveness of a drug that treats Alzheimer’s disease.’
‘And it involves the use of live animals?’
‘Yes.’
While he had Klinnemann on his own it seemed, to Mariner, a good opportunity to raise some other sensitive issues. He steeled himself. ‘Mr Klinnemann, this revelation makes it more likely that, at some stage, we may be contacted by the abductor. Is there something about Jessica, some distinguishing feature that wouldn’t be commonly known, a mole or birthmark perhaps?’
Klinnemann rubbed a hand over tired eyes. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘She has a muttermal, a . . .’ he sketched a round shape on the back of his hand.
‘A birthmark?’ Mariner guessed.
‘Yes, about one inch, but here,’ Klinnemann touched his neck, ‘underneath the hair.’
‘Also,’ Mariner went on, ‘we may need something like a lock of Jessica’s hair.’
‘Yes, I think—’ the significance of the request dawned on Klinnemann. ‘Oh God.’
‘It’s routine,’ Mariner reassured him quickly. ‘Nothing more. It’s just easier to do it now.’ Instead of leaving it until later
when we need it.
‘Yes, yes of course. I’ll see to it.’
* * *
‘What is Hamilton Sciences?’ Millie asked, coming back into the incident room after leaving Jessica’s parents at their hotel.
‘It’s a research centre that’s been a target for animal rights activists,’ Mariner filled her in. ‘It gets in the news all the time, thanks to them.’
‘That’s why it sounded so familiar.’
‘Yes, he told me the name of the company he worked for hours ago, but I didn’t make the connection. I wish to God I had.’
‘Didn’t they follow home some guy who worked there, and beat him senseless in front of his wife and kids?’ Knox asked.
‘Among other things,’ said Mariner. ‘Christ, if they’re involved we’re into a whole different ball game. Why the hell didn’t Klinnemann tell us that?’
Millie looked shaken. ‘Perhaps he didn’t want to consider it a possibility.’
‘More fool him. He leads a research team. He’s a prime target.’
‘If it is them, they’ll have done their homework. Someone will have found out that Emma O’Brien was coming here today and would have done a recce of the nursery in advance.’
‘It’s possible. There are active cells of animal rights all over the country who gather intelligence and communicate via the internet. It would be a big operation, but they are highly organised and something could have been set up. The nursery has the crèche contract with the hospital and details of the children using the facility are passed on. Someone there could have easily seen an opportunity. It might be worth checking if Jimmy Bond has any leanings in that direction, too.’
It added a whole layer of further work to be done. ‘Someone could do with identifying any likely candidates here, and I’ll add that onto the list of things to ask them in Cambridge.’
Mariner returned to his office to make the call to Cambridgeshire police himself. DI Ruth Tunstall had been nominated to liaise with him and Mariner was pleased to pick up the professional tone at the other end of the line. Ruth knew the family from previous involvement and had already made it her business to have the paperwork available. Even so, he was surprised at the level of detail.
‘Peter Klinnemann left his wife Mary in March, when Emma O’Brien was seven months pregnant,’ she told him. ‘Mary took it very badly and was hell bent on revenge on Peter and on Emma. It was all good bunny-boiling stuff, but nothing terribly original. Peter initially moved into Emma’s flat in Cambridge. Mary followed him there and, on several occasions subsequently we were called out to disturbances; mostly Mary standing in the street below shouting abuse at them both, sometimes throwing fruit and eggs at the windows. On one occasion she dumped all Peter’s clothes outside Emma’s flat in black bin bags. It seemed perfectly reasonable until he opened up the bags and found his best suits and shirts liberally seasoned with tomato ketchup, mustard and HP sauce.’
‘Ouch,’ said Mariner.
‘Quite. Mary also admitted to making nuisance calls to Emma O’Brien at home and at work and there were instances of vandalism to their cars — lipstick on the windscreen, a knife in the tyres. It wasn’t so much the seriousness of the attacks as the persistence and in the end Peter Klinnemann was forced to take out an injunction against her.’
‘And has it worked?’
‘Yes. I mean this all happened months ago, and Mary’s been pretty quiet since. I’ve been keeping an eye on her too. We’ve talked a lot and she seems to listen to me.’
Mariner wasn’t surprised. Ruth Tunstall seemed the kind of person who would inspire confidence. ‘When did you last see her?’
‘I’ve just come from her house — their house as I suppose it technically still is. You can rest assured that if she is in any way involved it’s not in the front line, and I would doubt that she has anything to do with it. I don’t think she’s particularly sorry that it’s happened but neither is she up to organising anything like it. She’s on anti-depressants and pretty spaced out.’
‘What about the children?’
‘Lisbet is lovely. She lives away from home now, up in Peterborough, but she’s been spending a lot of time with her mum. She’s been very supportive.’
‘And Paul?’
Ruth Tunstall began to measure her words carefully. ‘Paul is different,’ she said. ‘The whole business has hit him a lot harder. He was pretty angry with his dad.’
Mariner sensed she was holding back. ‘And?’
‘Look, don’t read too much into this, but Paul has had his problems in the past. About three years ago he was cautioned for possession of cannabis and he moved from that to the stronger stuff. I think he’s clean at the moment but his dad’s activities haven’t exactly helped the healing process.’
‘He has a drug habit? Even if he’s not behind this, someone could be using him to get at his father. He wasn’t at home this evening?’
‘No, but as I said, that isn’t unusual. He’s away at university — UCL — he may well have gone back a bit early.’
‘His father tried to contact him earlier today, but his phone was switched off.’
‘Do you want me to see if I can track him down?’
‘I want to know where he is,’ said Mariner.
‘Of course, I’ll talk to Mary and see if she has any ideas about where he might be.’
‘And any close friends.’
‘Sure,’ said Tunstall. ‘But if you want my honest opinion, I can’t imagine that either of the kids would be caught up in this. Okay, they were angry with their father, but they wouldn’t want to hurt him.’
‘What do you know about Klinnemann’s finances?’ Mariner asked.
‘Nothing specific. Naturally Mary is threatening to screw him for everything he’s got, and so far she’s hung on to the house and the Freelander. As far as I can make out, Emma O’Brien sold her flat and the happy couple have moved into a place in Witham, a village just outside the city.’
‘What sort of place is it?’
‘Compared with the family home it’s a pretty modest little cottage, but no property in or around Cambridge is ever cheap.’
‘How much longer has Paul Klinnemann got at uni?’
‘He’s in his final year. You know where Peter Klinnemann works?’
‘We do now, but only because one of the local hacks found out ahead of us. Klinnemann didn’t see fit to mention it. We’ll need to know if there’s been any activity with cells in your area.’
‘I’ve got a couple of people working on it already. They’ll be making a few house calls. There’s nothing yet, but I’ll keep you posted.’
‘Thanks.’
‘And good luck. This is not the sort of case any of us wants.’
Thanking Tunstall again, Mariner rang off. Following the press conference, the phones in the incident room were red hot. Specially trained officers had been brought in to answer them, weeding out the calls they thought might be significant. Tony Knox was overseeing the evidence gathering process.
‘How’s the house-to-house doing?’ Mariner asked him.
‘No one saw anything at that time of day. Most people were out at work or picking up kids from school. One lead though. One of the bus drivers on that route has come forward. He drove past at about two forty. He didn’t pick anyone up, but he did stop to allow a woman across the road who was carrying a baby in a car seat. It’s about the right time and what little he could remember about her appearance fits with what we’ve already got.’
‘So from that we can gather that she parked, or had transport waiting up at the hospital.’
‘Looks like it, boss. We’ve also isolated what we think is the relevant CCTV footage. And there’s another possible sighting by one of the site workmen of a woman struggling to carry the seat up the hill towards the main hospital car park. He noticed her because she was making heavy weather of it, switching from one arm to the other. He remembered thinking that the poor baby was getting a rough ride.’ Knox
took Mariner over to a map of the area that was pinned to the wall beside the white board. ‘It’s most likely that she was going up to the south car park, here.’ He traced the route with an index finger. ‘It’s the nearest one to the nursery.’ Coloured spot stickers littered the map, marking the position of the cameras, but there wasn’t one here. ‘It’s a new car park and they haven’t finished installing the system yet, but the building site where the brickie was working, over here, has footage, so we’ve concentrated on the vehicles they picked up coming down the exit ramp at around that time. Do you want to see it?’
‘Let’s give it a look.’
‘Okay. This is the action between two thirty and three thirty. I can’t imagine she’d have wanted to hang around here any longer than necessary.’ Knox played the video, fast forwarding though the quiet patches. ‘This is what we’ve got starting at half past two.’
Mariner stared at the video. For several seconds nothing happened then a medium-sized, dark car proceeded down the ramp, turned into the road and drove off to the right towards the main road. From then the exiting traffic was intermittent, a couple of cars every minute or so. All these vehicles would need to be traced. The quality of the film was disappointing — grainy and indistinct — and the camera angle meant that, apart from a fraction of a second before each car rounded the corner, the registration numbers were not in view. It was difficult at first glance even to ascertain the makes of the cars. Mariner said nothing. He had every confidence in the tech team to work their magic, and could only hope they’d be able to come up with something.
Meanwhile they could appeal to anyone who may have been in the car park at that time and noticed a woman with a baby getting into a vehicle, but again they were relying on members of the public to come forward, all of which took up precious time. Something that they couldn’t really afford.
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