Black Quarry Farm

by Iain Cameron

  ‘That fucking Iraqi swine,’ Shah said, sounding agitated. ‘Thought he was a big man, didn’t he, because he used to work for Saddam. He got right up my nose, but I got my own back when the dog tried to rape my cousin, Cheema’s daughter. We sorted him out good and proper.’

  ‘Stop it!’ Ali said. ‘You are saying too much!’

  Client and brief went into a huddle for a few minutes.

  ‘This interview is over,’ Ali said when they’d finished their confab. ‘My client will no longer answer any of your questions.’

  **

  At two, Walters, Neal and Wallop trooped into Henderson’s office. He joined them at the meeting table, his head still full of the malevolent attitude of Kazem Shah when he’d interviewed him this morning.

  ‘Right, this feels like a wrap-up,’ Henderson said, ‘but whenever I say something like it, I often have a nagging feeling there’s something missing.’

  ‘It will soon disappear once we’ve dealt with these,’ Walters said, nodding at the thick files littering the table.

  ‘You’re probably right. Let me start by telling you about the interview Vicky and I did with Kazem Shah this morning.’

  Henderson summarised the fruitless discussion, but also the satisfaction he felt at having such an evil man in custody, someone who wouldn’t be tasting freedom anytime soon.

  ‘So, we didn’t get much from him. Did you fare any better with his brother?’ he asked Walters.

  ‘It sounds like he was a bit more talkative than Kazem.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be difficult.’

  ‘In a short interview, as the poor man was in such pain, he told us that Cheema was livid when he found out they’d shot John and Lara Beech by mistake. He said the police and the public wouldn’t give a stuff about Robert Saunders, a washed-up, divorced, middle-aged man whose past life was a mess, but they would take notice of the shooting of a white, middle-class couple.’

  ‘He’s right in a way,’ Wallop said. ‘Surrey got nowhere with the Saunders investigation, and it was only when the Beeches investigation was included did the dots begin to join together.’

  ‘Tariq also said it was Kazem who shot Robert Saunders and Ibrahim Nazari, although he admits he was with him at the time.’

  ‘The ballistics concur,’ Neal said.

  ‘Yes, but whereas Kazem seems unwilling to say what he did, Tariq was happy to admit his involvement. Perhaps his brush with death made him see the light.’

  ‘Fat chance. What did he say about Faisal Baqri?’ Henderson asked.

  ‘He and Kazem kidnapped him the day he was heading for an audition, and were present at his interrogation, but it was Cheema who pulled the trigger.’

  ‘His death seems such a waste,’ Henderson said. ‘Why didn’t Cheema move his daughter to another educational establishment where she wouldn’t see Baqri?’

  ‘Or, why didn’t he just let their relationship be?’ Neal said. ‘In all likelihood it would have fizzled out when she realised he came from a very different background.’

  ‘Well,’ Henderson said, looking round at the tired but happy faces, ‘I think we’ve covered everything. It just leaves me to say, make sure your files are up to date for the CPS and–’

  There was a knock on the door. ‘Excuse me interrupting, sir,’ Sally Graham said, ‘but I’ve got Kayleigh Beech downstairs. She insists on speaking to you.’

  ‘Thanks Sally, I’ll deal with it.’

  He turned to the officers around the table. ‘I told you at the start I thought there was something missing. It’s because I haven’t been harangued by Kayleigh Beech.’

  ‘At least,’ Walters said, ‘this time you’ve got something more positive to tell her.’

  ‘I have,’ Henderson said, rising from his chair, ‘but something tells me she won’t like it.’

  FORTY-FOUR

  Henderson returned from the bar with two drinks and placed them on the table. They were in the lounge of a hotel on Brighton seafront, not far from Henderson’s new apartment. It was the sort of place frequented by weekend holiday makers and beach strollers, not coppers from Malling House or nearby John Street.

  CI Edwards lifted her glass in a toast and he did the same with his pint of Harvey’s.

  ‘A case brilliantly solved Angus, let me offer you my congratulations.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll drink to that.’

  ‘It’s the ‘in’ thing to do nowadays,’ Edwards said, ‘to say sorry. I mean, errant politicians do it, film stars, even footballers, so why shouldn’t I? Angus, I’m sorry I didn’t approve the raid on Cheema’s place earlier. Who knows, it might have saved young Faisal Baqri’s life.’

  ‘Lisa, you can’t go around beating yourself up about it. We all take decisions based on the facts available at the time, and you did what you believed was right. I would imagine, faced with the same information today, you would still make the same decision.’

  ‘You’re being kind.’

  ‘I’m not meaning to be. Sure, luck played a big part. Even when Customs got us into S&H and we found the drug factory, at that stage, we still didn’t have the evidence to justify a search warrant.’

  ‘I’m so glad you solved it. I won’t have to talk to the insufferable Kayleigh Beech again.’

  ‘She’s been buttonholing you too?’

  Edwards laughed. ‘I did it after that newspaper article, with the sole purpose of keeping her away from you, and give you some space to get on with the investigation. If I knew she was still talking to you, I would have given her short shrift.’

  ‘I spoke to her again yesterday and I could tell she was looking for a way to criticise us for not spotting the killers earlier, but she couldn’t. She went away, not quite happy, but content at knowing the truth. She, would you believe, thanked me.’

  ‘Praise the lord, now there’s something to treasure.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I will.’

  ‘I don’t foresee any problems with the CPS, do you?’

  ‘No. Cheema will go down for masterminding and running the drugs business, and killing Baqri. We’re in possession of the drugs recovered from the warehouse, and the ballistics from Cheema’s gun to back it up. In addition, he’s been charged with being an accessory to the other killings. He’ll spend the rest of his life in jail.’

  ‘He deserves it.’

  ‘Kazem will go down for the killing of the Beeches, Robert Saunders, and Ibrahim Nazari. His brother Tariq also pulled the trigger at Black Quarry Farm, and he’s an accessory to the other three murders. Ballistics are conclusive. Guns recovered from both their houses were covered in their fingerprints, and the striations made when fired match up with the bullets found at each of the murder scenes. We’re still analysing their bank accounts, and I’m confident they’ll prove Cheema’s and the Shah brothers’ wealth didn’t come from the textiles business.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Early indications from the work done by Revenue and Customs suggest the S&H Oriental Fashions company is a sham. The product was sold at market prices to shops and traders, but no way did the profit cover the cost of the building and the staff.’

  ‘A glorified sewing class. It’s so blatant.’

  ‘For sure.’

  ‘They say blatant works. Look at workmen wearing yellow jackets. Stick one on, and nobody takes a blind bit of notice. Perhaps this was Cheema’s logic rather than trying to hide it.’

  ‘You could be right. Another?’

  ‘No, no, I’ll get it.’

  Edwards walked to the bar with the empties, giving Henderson a chance to look around. It struck him as strange, but only a block away in St James’s Street, the average age in the pubs dropped by about thirty years. For some reason he couldn’t quite fathom, few of the bars and hotels along the seafront were popular with younger drinkers. He could point to the décor, which was a bit old-fashioned, a limited choice of beers, or maybe it was a chance to keep out of the severe wind that whipped up from the sea in winter, making wa
lking outside from a place like this a test of endurance, and for most women, an assault on their hair more powerful than any hairdryer.

  ‘Here we are,’ Edwards said, ‘a pint of some strange brown liquid for you, and a vodka with a hint of lime for me.’

  She sat down. ‘I never used to drink vodka, but ever since John buggered off, you know, wine doesn’t seem to hit the mark any more.’

  Henderson nodded, but he had no wish to open old wounds unless she did. Everyone dealt with the stress of the job in their own way and, unless the drinking or whatever it was started to interfere with their work, who was he to criticise?

  ‘There’s something I wanted to talk to you about other than the Beech case, Angus,’ She paused for a second. ‘It’s about the new job I’ve applied for.’

  ‘Chief Superintendent in the Met, Anti-Terrorist Branch?’

  ‘Yes, the very one. Well, the news is, they’ve offered it to me.’

  ‘Congratulations! I’m sure you’ll do an excellent job there.’

  ‘Thanks. It’s what I’ve always wanted. It’s high profile, well-resourced, and a good opportunity to utilise the knowledge I gained in the anti-terrorist training I did last year.’

  Henderson nodded. ‘You said you’ve been offered the job. Does that mean you’ve accepted it or are you still considering the options?’

  ‘No, I haven’t accepted it yet. I’ve been waiting to speak to you.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes. I’d like you to come with me. You’re the best DI I’ve ever worked with, and I think we make a great team. It’ll be a promotion for you. What do you think?’

  The End

  About the Author

  Iain Cameron was born in Glasgow and moved to Brighton in the early eighties. He has worked as a management accountant, business consultant and a nursery goods retailer. He is now a full-time writer and lives in a village outside Horsham in West Sussex with his wife, two daughters and a lively Collie dog.

  Black Quarry Farm is the eighth book to feature DI Angus Henderson, the Scottish cop at Sussex Police.

  For more information about books and the author:

  Visit the website at: www.iain-cameron.com

  Follow him on Twitter: @iainsbooks

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  A Small Request

  If you have read any of my books, I would be grateful if you could leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads. All reviews are read and comments noted. My thanks to every reader for your continued support.