by steve higgs
‘I have it waiting for you in the fridge. You didn’t say how much so I have a pint, but you can have as much as you want. It is not much use to me at the moment.’ His voice betrayed his irritation.
We disconnected just as I was arriving at his farm. With three farms to cover and no idea what I might find at any of them, I had simply driven back to the one I knew. I would start there and let the case lead me. Pulling on my parking brake, I was looking around to see if Jack Hammer was anywhere in sight. Thankfully, there was no sign of him.
In the boot of my car, was an old pair of wellies I hadn’t worn in years. If I was going to be in this environment, I needed them, although I was shocked I had enough presence of mind to remember them with Brett in my house this morning.
As I stuffed my feet into them, the ancient rubber creaking and resisting as I did, I spotted a pair of lads in their twenties. They were leading cows from a barn to a field, the cows mostly following one another and not seeming to need much encouragement.
‘Hey, guys.' I called as I approached them. ‘Can I ask you a few questions?'
‘Babe, you can ask me anything.’ One said. Both were younger than me, maybe twenty-two or twenty-three and not much to look at. Neither one had styled their hair this morning, perhaps if the likelihood of getting cow shit in it was high, I wouldn’t bother either, and both were a bit spotty and scrawny, but it didn’t stop either one from coming on to me the moment I spoke to them.
‘Yeah. I might have a couple of questions for you too.’ The other said with a leering sneer.
I gave them a bored expression. ‘Boys I am here at Kieron’s request to investigate the luminous milk. Your boss expects you to answer my questions so let’s not start with me having to teach you some manners, huh?’
Mentioning their boss had the desired effect. ‘Sorry, Miss.’ Said the first.
‘Yeah, sorry, Miss.’ Echoed his friend.
I forced my smile to return – I needed answers and wanted them to feel willing to give them. I indicated to some hay bales stacked a few feet away, ‘Shall we sit?’
I was already moving, the two chaps followed, taking up positions next to each other and just across from me as if the hay bales were arranged around an invisible coffee table. ‘I’m Amanda, can I take your names, please?’
They gave them willingly as Gavin Crawford and Anthony Daniels. They both watched as I noted their names in my book. Then I asked them what their job at the farm was.
It was Gavin that answered. ‘We mostly move the cows around and look after their feed. Take them from the high field in the morning, move them to the pasture in the afternoon and back to the high field at night.' A few more questions filled in the picture of general farm labourer. I had never worked on a farm and had only visited a working farm perhaps twice in my entire life, both times in my capacity as a police officer. Quizzing Gavin and Anthony was just giving me a background picture of the daily routine.
From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a person peering at me from the side of a grain silo. I think it is a grain silo anyway. Whatever it is, there was someone quite conspicuously trying to be inconspicuous by hiding behind it to look out. The person was wearing a dark hoody with the hood up to disguise their face. Was it the same person that had been trying to get my attention by the milking shed last night?
I turned my attention back to the boys, conscious that I had stopped talking and was looking away from them. ‘Who do you report to? Who’s your boss?’ I asked next, wanting to understand the dynamics of farm relationships.
Again, it was Gavin that spoke. ‘Mr. Fallon is the boss, him and Mr. Adongo and Mr. Tanner, I suppose, but it's Mr. McIntosh that tells us what to do.'
‘Mr. McIntosh?' I asked as I wrote his name down.
I glanced across at the grain silo again. The person there beckoned with one hand and slipped back out of sight. Anthony had just said something that I hadn’t been listening to. ‘I’m sorry, can you say that again, please?’
‘You met him yesterday.’ Anthony supplied. ‘Gordon McIntosh. Grumpy old bastard.’
‘He’s ex-military.’ Gavin explained. ‘But he still acts as if we are his soldiers to command.’
With perfect timing, the grumpy old bastard appeared. ‘Oi, what’s all this sitting around? Get back to work.’ The two lads were immediately on their feet.
I turned to face the voice. ‘Good afternoon, Gordon. These two gentlemen are helping me with my investigation. I won't keep them long.'
His ruddy face made no attempt to smile. ‘You won’t keep them at all, Miss. Back to work, you two.’ He instructed.
I reached to grab Gavin’s arm. ‘Stay here, chaps, won’t you please? Gordon may I have a word?’
I attempted to move Mr. McIntosh to one side for a quick chat. He clearly thought that the tasks he had for the boys to complete were too important to wait. I needed no more than a few minutes of their time and wanted to speak with Gordon next.
‘Gordon, I need them for a few minutes, that's all. I am here at Mr. Fallon's request. Do we really need to involve him?' I was hedging that he would back down rather than argue with the boss, but I was wrong.
‘I run this farm, Missy, not him. This farm and the other two. Those three clueless idiots and their wives couldn’t get through a day without me, so I’ll do what is necessary and everyone else, you most especially, can stay out of my way.’ He folded out a meaty index finger. I thought he was going to poke me in the chest with it, but it stopped short of making contact with my clothes. ‘You leave my boys alone and don’t be snooping around the sheds sticking your nose in where it isn’t wanted.’
He turned away from me. I was dismissed. ‘You two, hop it.’ He commanded. Gavin and Anthony scurried away, leaving me standing by myself in the farmyard as Gordon walked off, never once looking back.
I debated having a word with Kieron. He had assured me that all the staff would cooperate and answer my questions. They had a vested interest in seeing the farm thrive as much as the owners did. It felt too much like running to daddy though, I would fight my own battles and there was something about Gordon's attitude that… what? Something. My notebook was still in my hand. Gordon's attitude felt out of place unless he was hiding something. I made a mental note. Then I considered my next move. If Gordon was here, maybe I should go to one of the other farms where he was not.
Before I did that though, I wanted to see who was in the hoody and what they wanted. Gordon was no longer in sight, so I checked around to see if I was being watched, then walked across to the grain silo. There was no one there. I glanced around but there was no sign of my mystery figure.
Where he been standing just a few moments ago was a message written with a finger in the dirt on the silo wall.
Look at the University pictures.
What on earth did that mean? I took a photo of it with my phone.
Back at my car, my wellies went into a plastic bag and I left Brompton farm and the unpleasant Mr. McIntosh behind me as I drove to Richard's farm just a couple of miles away. On the map, it bordered Kieron's farm, but to get there I had to wend my way around the countryside, once again pulling in for tractors to pass.
Much like Brompton farm, there was a large sign just before the entrance that announced Wendle Farm. I had to wait in the road for a large tractor towing an evil-looking machine behind it to exit before I could continue toward the farm buildings.
My phone pinged with an incoming text as I parked my car.
On the screen, it said, "Thinking of you x." It was from Brett. What would be an appropriate response? I considered my options:
I love you, please put a baby in me. - Too soon for that one.
My hoo-hah misses you, get over to my place. - Too overtly slutty.
Oh, I haven’t thought of you at all. - Too cool and not even slightly true.
In the end, I went with, “Me too XXX”
Richard's farm was arranged differently from Kieron's but, in essence,
it all looked about the same. There were cow sheds and there was cow shit everywhere and it stank. Ahead of me was an ancient stone farmhouse, a large one that appeared to have been added to over the last century. Next to it was a more modern building, the double-glazed windows, and spotlessly-white, rendered façade showed how new it was.
Curious, I went to investigate. I am an investigator after all. As I neared the doors, two women came out. They were barely more than girls. They had on wellington boots, stark white overalls with a matching apron and a hair net. The open door carried a stink of cheese.
‘Hello, ladies. Is this the dairy?’ I asked. I wasn’t aware that they made cheese or butter, or any other products. It made sense that they would though.
‘Yes.’ They both said at the same time.
‘I thought there was no milk being produced. What are they working with in there?’
The two girls were in their teens, maybe as young as sixteen or seventeen. Working in a dairy they were devoid of makeup which made it easier to see the fresh youthfulness of their skin.
The taller, broader, least pleasant looking one of the two sneered at me, ‘Who's asking?'
I didn't respond in kind. Instead, I kept my smile in place as I answered. ‘I'm Amanda Harper. I'm here to investigate the problems the farmers have been having with their milk.'
It was the other girl that took up the reply, ‘How can we help you?’ She was barely over five feet tall and was very slight of build. I doubted she would tip the scales at much more than ninety pounds and had a pinched, narrow face and mousy, brown hair.
‘As I said, I am here to investigate the recent events and the luminous milk that is threatening to bankrupt the farmers.' As soon as the words left my mouth and I saw the girls react, I knew I had revealed a confidence. Richard hadn't told his staff there were problems.
The two girls suddenly looked worried and I tried to recover my position. ‘I’m sure that is an exaggeration.’ I pressed quickly on. ‘Can I ask your names?’
I recorded them as Gemma Pavely and Carmel Cooper. They worked in the dairy along with nine other women making cheese and butter and yoghurt. They had joined the team in the summer when they left school which made me right about their ages. They knew that the milk was being bought in at the moment and that there was something wrong with the milk the herds were producing but beyond that, they had taken little interest.
‘There have been a few odd events recently, crop circles, lights appearing in the sky, and the milk turning luminous. Have you seen the lights?’ I asked.
‘Nah, I ain’t seen nothing.’ Replied Carmel, the larger girl, so fast that she hadn’t had time to think. It reminded me of the criminal, delinquent youths I had to deal with as a police officer. They would deny any involvement with anything. Even when we had them on CCTV wearing the same outfit they were standing in, they would still deny it was them.
I swung my gaze to Gemma, she was hesitating. She had something to say but was wondering whether she should. ‘Carmel, can I speak to the lady alone, please?’
Carmel’s eyes flared. I sensed that she was not used to being dismissed by the smaller girl and maybe was more used to using her size to get her own way. With me standing next to her though, she simply pulled out a packet of cigarettes and stomped off.
‘Moody cow.’ Gemma muttered once Carmel was out of earshot.
‘What have you seen, Gemma?’ So far today I had not had much luck getting anything out of anyone.
She looked about, checking that no one was listening, then leaned in close so she could whisper to me. ‘My boyfriend knows what is going on.’ She watched my face, probably making sure I was taking in the gravity of the information she was giving me. ‘I can take you to him. He will tell you everything you need to know.’
My heart rate sped up a little. Was it going to be this simple? Had someone seen or overheard the person responsible and could reveal the motivation behind the odd events?
‘Does he work here?’ I asked. She shook her head but didn’t say anything. ‘When can I see him?’
‘Tonight. It won’t be safe during daylight.’ Her tone of voice made it clear that she believed there was danger involved. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t tell you any more now. I don’t know who might be listening.’
I stood up straight and looked around. There wasn’t a person in sight and we were miles from anywhere on a farm in the countryside. The nearest neighbour was at least a mile away.
Gemma wouldn’t be budged though. Her lips were sealed until tonight and she would contact me later with instructions on where to meet. I gave her my card.
Inside the dairy, I could see other women, but before I could get to them, a mud-covered Series-Three Land Rover skidded to a halt behind me.
‘Here, are you the lady hunting the aliens?’ The voice came from the driver, a man in his late fifties with thick glasses and a thicker mustache. He wore a flat cap on his head and an ancient-looking Barbour wax jacket undone to reveal a hand-knitted woollen jumper beneath.
Rather than correct him, because I was investigating milk tampering, not hunting aliens, I said, ‘Yes.’
He beamed a huge smile. ‘I found a spacecraft landing site.' He announced proudly. ‘Hop in.'
I turned to speak to Gemma, but she had already nipped back inside and was hurrying away.
I turned back to the man, he was now hanging out of the Land Rover, one muddy wellington boot on the dirt and one still in the car.
‘My mother taught me not to get into cars with strange men.’ He fell squarely into the strange category.
‘Nothing strange about me, love.’ This did nothing to modify my opinion.
‘Tell me what you found please.’
‘It will be better if I show you.’
‘Perhaps, but I am not going to see it unless you convince me that I should. Maybe we should start with your name. I’m Amanda.’
The man pulled out a camera. An expensive digital one with a telephoto zoom lens thingy on the front. I was no good with cameras, so I didn’t know what I was looking at, but it looked expensive.
‘Oh, err. Fred Carter.’ He said as if remembering himself. ‘I came here to capture images of the lights. I arrived a few days ago and have been moving around to find the best spot.’
‘Have you seen anything yet?’ I asked.
‘Oh yeah!' He replied with glee. ‘The aliens are here quite often. I think it is a reconnaissance mission ahead of an invasion.' He was fiddling with the camera as he talked. ‘Here it is.' He said, offering me the camera screen to look at. ‘I was a British Army Officer for many years, their movements represent a typical tactic before a big offensive.' He claimed knowingly. ‘Now that I have proof, the Ministry of Defence will have to listen to me.'
There were several pictures of a clearing in a wooded area. The grass in the clearing was scorched, a dozen equal sized circles evenly spaced to look exactly like something with twelve rocket engines had blasted off to the sky. I didn’t know what to make of it, however, I was curious enough to want to see it for myself. It could be nothing, but it felt connected to everything else that was going on here.
He started speaking again as I handed the camera back. ‘I found the site this morning. I have been trying to track the lights to see if they touch down anywhere. The Defence Secretary will want to know about their weapons, what they look like, whether they are armoured or have shields our weapons will not penetrate. I think the reason I have had so little luck tracking them to a landing site until now is that they have cloaking technology. The lights we see are nothing more than ion particles from the fuel dissipating in our atmosphere.'
Okay. So, the chap with the moustache was bat-shit crazy. I still wanted to see the landing site for myself.
‘I’ll follow you.’ I indicated my car.
He laughed. ‘You won’t get that anywhere near the site, love. It’s cross country most of the way.’ He was waiting for me to get in the car with him. It was not an appealing cho
ice but if he planned to attack me, I had dealt with worse.
‘Okay.' I conceded and went around to the passenger's door. Sliding in, I asked, ‘How do you know about me?'
‘It’s all over the news. A lady was shot by an alien with a freeze gun last night and an alien was seen at Brompton farm. I went there earlier today because the Supernatural Times ran a story on it.’
The Supernatural Times?
‘One of their reporters was there trying to get a story and she told me that there was a woman hired to investigate it all. I asked around and it wasn’t all that hard to track you down.’
I had yelled to be let in yesterday. The reporter must have been in the crowd of space nutters trying to get in to see the footprint.
Every Idiot They Could Find. Thursday, November 10th 1451hrs
I didn’t have to worry about making conversation with Fred while I was trapped in his car being taken into a wood because he wouldn’t shut up. The journey took less than fifteen minutes but felt longer because we were going slow most of the way. He wasn’t lying about it being cross country. He had the Land Rover in crawler gear half the way because the tracks were slick with mud after the recent heavy rain. He prattled on about alien invasion theories, about government conspiracy to cover up previous alien contact and how there was an entire branch of the Ministry of Defence that was dedicated to alien invasion preparedness.
‘That was why they kicked me out of the Army, you know.’ He said at one point, finally eliciting a response from me.
‘What was?’ I asked to fill the brief silence.
‘I found out about BARF. BARF is the British Alien Response Force, a secret branch of the MOD that monitors and makes ready for repelling alien invasion when it comes. I tried to join them. Put in my papers six times and they kept writing back saying I had it wrong and there was no such branch. I couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t want me to join their ranks. I had an exemplary service record. I had deployed on numerous operational tours and I had combat experience. Instead, they said I was nuts and discharged me.’ His tone turned bitter as he spat out the final few words.