by Karla Forbes
“Stop this now,” Mason ordered. “We know that you spoke to Sullivan the same day that I ordered his arrest and he went on the run. Don’t try and tell me that he didn’t come to you for help. If you lie, you’ll only dig yourself in deeper.”
Ed thought quickly and decided on a half-truth. “OK, I admit it,” he said. “Nick did come to me asking for help, but I sent him packing. I’m not stupid.”
“So why didn’t you tell us this before?” Mason snapped.
“Because Nick is a friend of mine and he’s not capable of murder. I knew I couldn’t help him, but neither did I want to turn him in.”
“You could be kissing your career goodbye over this,” Mason warned.
Ed turned to him with a look of innocence. “I don’t think so. When Nick came to me for help, he wasn’t under arrest – so at that point he was a free man. I’m not under any obligation to inform you every time a friend visits. He told me what had happened, and I advised him to turn himself in and not make things worse than they already were.”
Mason fell silent. Ed knew that technically he was right. Although he had withheld some facts during questioning, the interview hadn’t been official – so no law had been broken.
“What happened next?” Mason asked irritably.
Ed shrugged. “I don’t know. He left soon after, and I haven’t heard from him since.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes,” Ed lied, “quite sure.”
Mason hunched forward, lacing his fingers into an arch. “Can you say the same for your sister?”
Ed was thrown off balance. “What?”
“Your sister, Annelies. According to your neighbour, she and Sullivan were speaking for some time together outside your house.”
“So?” Ed asked uneasily. “What about it? They’ve known each other for years.”
“Long enough for your sister to help Sullivan, perhaps?”
“Definitely not,” Ed said with certainty. “Why should she? And anyway, Nick wouldn’t drag her down with him. He knows how much I care about her.”
“Have you spoken to your sister recently?” Mason asked.
Ed thought quickly. “Yes…No… Well, not for a few days.”
“That’s unusual, isn’t it?” Mason said neutrally. “I gather that since your divorce she calls on you frequently.”
Ed had the grace to look uncomfortable. “That’s true, but the last time she called we argued. I assumed she was keeping away deliberately.”
“So it never occurred to you that she could have gone away with Sullivan?”
“No never!” Ed threw back with mounting anger. “I told you, Nick wouldn’t do that. Annie’s just a kid.”
“She’s twenty-seven,” Mason pointed out.
“It doesn’t matter,” Ed protested. “Nick wouldn’t involve her. He’s too…too…” He searched around for the right word, “honourable.”
“So perhaps you could explain why she was seen handing Sullivan her door key?”
Ed sat back, stunned. “No.”
“And why Sullivan’s car has been found in her garage?”
Ed felt the blood draining from his face as Mason watched him keenly. The silence lasted for several long moments.
“I’m waiting for an answer, Sergeant Burgen,” Mason prompted.
Ed curled his fingers into fists. “The bastard,” he said. “I’ll kill him.”
***
Nick stood at the kitchen window watching the van as he filled a glass with water.
“What’s up?” Annelies asked, walking up behind him.
Nick gestured with the glass. “I’ve been watching that van. Somehow it’s important; I’m sure of it. Twice a day Wilson goes in and out, always at the same time. Always carrying something. The others don’t; only him.”
“Actually,” Annelies pointed out, “I was talking about the water. Are you taking more tablets?”
Her continued to stare at the van. “Yeah, just a couple. Why would he do that? And why do they keep it padlocked in an out-of-the-way holiday park?”
“Forget the van for a minute, will you?” Annelies snapped. “That’s the third lot of tablets you’ve taken. Your headache should have gone by now.”
Nick dragged his attention back to her. “Should it? I wouldn’t know. I remember getting a few blinders in my student days that seemed to hang around for ever.”
“That’s different,” she said impatiently. “They were hangovers. You didn’t spend last night drinking.”
“No I didn’t,” he agreed, with an amused grin. “We were far too busy for that.”
He made a playful grab for her but she neatly side-stepped him. “Be serious, will you? You might be going down with something.”
He swallowed the tablets without concern. “It’s just a headache, Annie. It’ll be gone soon.” He turned back to the window. “Somehow, I’ve got to see inside that van.”
“And how do you propose doing that? You told me it’s secured with a chain and padlock. Were you thinking of strolling along and asking for the key?”
He ignored the flippancy. “I could break in, but then they’d know something was up.” He considered the problem. “I might get away with it if I made it look like an attack by vandals. Actually, I’d quite enjoy letting down their tyres and breaking their lights and wing mirrors. I could do the BMW as well just for the hell of it.”
She joined him at the window. “I’ve got a better idea. I’ll have a go at picking the lock. I’ve done it before; it’s easy.”
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned.
“OK then, you pick the lock. It’s a lot quieter than setting about the van with a sledgehammer.”
“I’ve never picked a lock in my life,” he admitted. “I could try if I had enough time, but breaking in would be easier and a lot more satisfying. The only problem is noise. Why the hell don’t they go out sometimes?”
“To stop people like you knocking off their van, I expect.”
He turned away from the window with a frown. “I can’t wait indefinitely. I’ll have a go tonight when they’re asleep.”
She glanced nervously from Nick to the van and back again. “It sounds risky. What happens if one of them goes on one of his night-time rambles again?”
He raised his hands in a gesture of frustration. “I can’t sit around doing nothing, Annie. If that’s the case, I might as well have taken Mason up on his kind offer of accommodation.”
“But…”
“No buts,” he said emphatically. “Somehow or other, I’m taking a look inside that van tonight.”
***
Nick woke from a deep sleep to the sound of Annelies singing in the shower and the sun streaming into his eyes. He heaved himself up on one elbow, looked at his watch and groaned. Five minutes later, when Annelies walked into the kitchen, towel-drying her hair, he was standing by the window glaring with annoyance at the van.
“Why did you let me sleep?” he growled.
“Whoa there, don’t blame me!” she shot back at him. “I tried to wake you, but you were dead to the world. I warned you about taking too many painkillers.”
“You couldn’t have tried very hard,” he complained, unwilling to let go of his anger.
“That’s true,” she conceded. “I could have woken you up by pouring a bucket of cold water over you, but as you’d had a headache all day, I thought that might be a touch harsh. How’s the finger?”
He ignored the question. “I’ll have more than a headache to worry about if I’m serving a life sentence for murder.” He turned to face her. “Right now, the only thing that matters is getting the evidence I need against those murdering scum over there.”
Her eyes widened. “Perhaps this is your opportunity then,” she said, inclining her head towards the window.
He whirled round to see all three men walk out of the house and stroll over to where the BMW was parked. Wilson was carrying something bulky that looked like a large box wr
apped in a black dustbin liner.
“Bloody hell!” Nick moaned. “I’ve been watching them the whole time and when they finally make a move, I’m standing here stark naked!” He ran out of the kitchen and began pulling on clothes.
“What are they doing?” he yelled as he scrabbled under the bed to retrieve his socks.
“Nothing at the moment; they’re just standing around talking,” Annelies called back. She began a running commentary. “No wait! One of them is putting the box on the back seat… One of the others is getting in the passenger door…Oh hang on, he’s getting out again. He must have forgotten something…He’s going back into the house… The other guy is hanging back; it doesn’t look as though he’s going with them… The one who put the box on the back seat is getting in the driver’s side…”
Nick hopped back into the kitchen tugging on his boots. “Quick!” he yelled. “Give me your car key.”
“You can’t drive my car,” she reminded him. “You’re not insured. I’ll drive.”
He looked around, saw the keys and pounced on them before she could reach them.
“You’re not coming,” he told her bluntly. “I’ll also have to borrow your mobile, if that’s OK.”
Annelies didn’t seem to notice that it was a bad time to start an argument.
“I’m coming with you,” she stated.
“No, you’re staying here. Someone’s got to hang around and keep an eye on the guy who stays here.”
“What’s the point if I haven’t got a car or a mobile with me?” she pointed out with irrefutable logic.
He grabbed her by the shoulders, pulled her to him and kissed her hurriedly.
“I only said keep an eye on him; you don’t need a car for that. I’ll leave you with my mobile. They won’t be able to trace it unless you turn it on, but if you need to then don’t hesitate.”
He looked over her shoulder through the window to assess what was happening outside. “I’ve got to go. Now listen to me, Annie: don’t, on any account, be tempted to try anything by yourself. Keep your head down and stay out of trouble.”
“When will you be back?” she asked, sounding unhappy.
“I’ve no idea,” he admitted. “I don’t know where they’re going. I might be back in ten minutes if all they’re doing is nipping to the shops. On the other hand I might not be back at all.”
“What?” she wailed. “You can’t just leave me here wondering what’s going on.”
“I’ll let you know what’s happening as soon as I know myself,” he promised. “But if I’m not back by this evening, you’d better go home.”
“But you’ve got my car.”
“I’ve heard there’s a train service that goes all the way to Brighton,” he reminded her.
She pulled a face. “I used to like you, Nick Sullivan.”
He blew her a kiss. “I must go. Take care now.”
“Put your hat and glasses on,” she yelled after him as he sprinted out of the door.
“Don’t worry,” he called back over his shoulder. “My own mother wouldn’t recognise me.”
It was true. The expensively-groomed Nick had gone, and in his place was a dishevelled layabout with stubble and attitude. The fact that he had rushed straight out of the door without the benefit of a shower or a change of clothes only added to his down-at-heel appearance.
Annelies’s car, parked well out of sight, was comparatively easy to reach without being seen. He yanked open the door and dived in and then waited until he saw the BMW glide past. He gave it a head start and then pulled out, keeping well back until they had joined a main road and he was camouflaged by other traffic. He had no idea where they were going, but when they ignored the first turning to town and kept driving, he was heartened. At least they weren’t on an errand to buy food. They reached the motorway and headed north, keeping well within the speed limit. He assumed they were trying to avoid attracting the attention of the police, and was grateful. He shared this objective.
He was both relaxed and alert at the same time. It was a curious mixture. He guessed it was down to the fact that he was doing something at last. He had always been in control of his life, and sitting around waiting while others called the shots was not something that came easily to him. He wondered about this calmness under pressure, vaguely recognising it as the same quality that had enabled him to succeed in his job. He sat back, trawling through Annelies’s ancient CD collection, and guiltily acknowledged that he was almost enjoying himself.
The men stayed on the M3 until they reached the junction with the M25, then took the eastbound carriageway. Nick was surprised; until then he had begun to wonder if they were heading for Heathrow. The multi-lane motorway was crowded, making it harder to keep them in his sights but easier to stay hidden. He glanced at the fuel gauge and was reassured to find it more than half full. Annelies’s car might not have been in the same league as his Aston Martin, but it certainly had nothing to be ashamed of when it came to fuel economy.
He saw the BMW indicating and cursed. They were taking the turn-off for Epsom.
From here on, things would get harder. He would have to stay right on their tail if he was going to avoid losing them in heavy traffic. He clung to them like a crazed terrier, always keeping at least one car between them and risking the attention of the law by speeding through several amber traffic lights. They kept on towards Croydon, and Nick relaxed, remembering that was where Fox lived. If he lost them now he would soon be able to pick up their trail again. His happy complacency was shattered when they skimmed past Croydon and continued following the signs to central London.
“Where the hell are you going?” he muttered under his breath. Sadly, they declined to pull over and enlighten him. The BMW continued on its way, with Nick cutting up several motorists in his bid to keep the men in his sights. He cringed each time a horn was blasted in his direction, fearful that the men in the BMW would wake up to the fact that the same bad driver had been with them for a while.
They crawled through Thornton, heavy with traffic, and then on towards Streatham, before finally coming to a halt near Streatham Common. Nick was driving too close to stop without arousing suspicion, so carried on going until he could squeeze into a small space several yards away. As Wilson and the other man (who Nick had by now deduced must be Fox) stepped from their car, he hunched low in his seat, fearful of being recognised. But whatever criminal skills the two men possessed, being able to spot someone they had recently tried to kill didn’t seem to be one of them. Nick looked at his reflection in the rear view mirror and wasn’t surprised. In his present condition, he would give a tramp a good run for his money.
The men conferred together on the pavement, evidently oblivious of Nick’s presence, and then Wilson reached into the car and pulled out two coats. As they shrugged them on, Nick was staggered at the change. He hadn’t realised before that they were both wearing plain dark blue trousers, but now, wearing coats of similar style and colour, they seemed to be in uniform. Nick squinted through the windscreen trying to make out a logo on their breast pockets, but the distance defeated him. Again Wilson reached into the car, this time pulling out a briefcase for each of them and two large items from the box. He looked warily around him before dropping the items into a shoulder bag, and then, without a backward glance, the two men walked away.
Nick pulled his baseball cap well over his eyes, slipped out of the car and followed from a safe distance. His instincts were on high alert; he knew that what happened next was important. He could only hope that whatever it turned out to be would provide him with the evidence he needed. It seemed to him that he was running out of options.
***
Annelies riled against her enforced captivity. With neither phone nor car to hand she felt worse than useless, and without Nick for company her time was hanging heavily. She ate a leisurely breakfast, read the newspaper, fretted, watched television and fretted some more. For the tenth time in as many minutes she looked out of the window hoping
to see him coming down the driveway. Once again she was disappointed.
But something else caught her eye: the van.
She peered at it with interest through the kitchen window, wondering how difficult it would be to slip over there unnoticed. It was standing to one side of the lodge, parked up against the trees and overlooked by two small windows. She began to wonder. If she approached the van from the direction of the trees she could remain invisible to anyone glancing casually from the lodge. Nick had been so sure that whatever was inside was important. He had also told her it was locked. That wasn’t necessarily a problem. Being a policeman had equipped Ed with other skills besides solving crimes and upholding the law; he also had a good working knowledge of how to break it. He had often shown off picking simple locks, and she had watched and learnt. Until now she had never tried picking anything more complicated that a locked suitcase. Perhaps the heavy-duty padlock on the van wouldn’t be such a pushover – but there was only one way to find out.
She weighed up her chances of success and came to a decision. The men had never seen her before, and the one who had stayed behind wouldn’t associate her with Nick. If he found her loitering near the van, she would think of an excuse; searching for a lost dog sounded plausible. Being discovered by an open van could be trickier, but not impossible. She would say she had found it like that. She began to formulate her story, picturing in her mind the gang of teenagers she would say had been hanging around the site. She knew it stretched credibility, but there was no point in worrying about it until it happened. The solution was simple: not get caught in the first place.
Having made up her mind, she was keen not to waste time. She rifled through the kitchen drawer, searching for something she could use. Knives, forks and spoons were all rejected, but a meat skewer looked more promising. She put it to one side and carried on searching until she had accumulated a small pile of implements of all shapes and sizes that might, just possibly, get her past the van’s defences. She scooped them up, hurried back to the window and looked warily to where the van was still standing, unattended. It was now or never.
She pulled on a jacket and hurried out of the door, walking quickly in a direction that took her away from the neighbouring lodge. Once out of sight, she started to run, doubling back towards the van from the opposite direction. She stopped dead as she came to the edge of the trees, watching cautiously from the safety of the undergrowth. The lodge seemed deserted. No movement at the windows or sounds from within. The silence was unnerving.