It soon became clear that Robertson feared this man. Even so, he was one of his lovers. Although Cutler dropped and picked Robertson up at will. Casual sex seemed to be a way of life amongst the gay community in Leeds. The contacts between the two men seemed to be about once a month. Cutler would come, unannounced, to Robertson’s flat and leave in the morning. After weeks of watching it became clear to John that there was little more to learn. He would have to find another way to source information or give up. The reality of the situation left him desperate and unhappy.
Over the next few days he went to second- hand shops and bought five mattresses, two chairs with arm rests and a chest freezer. With the mattresses and some cardboard he sound proofed his cellar. The freezer he plugged into a corner of the cellar. He took a ghetto blaster into the cellar and put it on at full blast. Then he went upstairs to his ground floor. Nothing could be heard. He went down and turned it off. He took a pair of socks out of his bedroom and went to his garage. He put one sock inside the other and from a bag of sand he half-filled the socks, tying them with a knot. Holding the end, he swung and hit the socks against the work bench hard. They made a dull thud and shook the bench. Satisfied he left the garage and locked it. Early that evening he waited outside Robertson’s flat. At about six, Robertson arrived from work. He put the key in the door and entered his flat. John waited for ten minutes, left his car and rang Robertson’s bell. Robertson answered the door.
“Sorry to disturb you at home,” said John “but I need some urgent information on Nicky. The police have charged her. They have her in custody and I’m due at the station in twenty minutes to attend her interview. I need to clarify some details and you, as her case officer, know all about her.”
“No problem, please come in,” said Robertson.
He showed John into the kitchen.
“Coffee?” he said, turning his back on John and switched on the kettle. John slipped the sand-filled sock out of his pocket and hit him hard on the back of his head. He dropped like a stone to the floor. He wrapped Robertson’s hands and feet with strong tape and placed a gag over his mouth, taping it securely in place. John left the flat and brought his car to the front door. He opened the boot and went inside the flat. Wrapping Robertson in the front room carpet, he put him over his shoulder and carried him out to the car and stuffed him into the boot. He drove off unhurriedly. He carried the still unconscious body into his cellar and put the body in a chair. Undoing the rope he taped Robertson’s legs to the chair legs and arms to the chair arms. Then he waited until Robertson came around.
Robertson gave a small moan as he slowly opened his eyes. He looked bewildered around the cellar.
“Oh! My head, it hurts,” he groaned. “What have you done to me?” he said in a low voice full of pain.
John moved towards him and opened his hand.
“Take these,” he said.
“What are they?” asked Robertson.
“Paracetamol, for the pain,” replied John.
He opened his mouth and John popped the tablets into it. He went to the bench and took a bottle of water from it.
“Drink,” he said.
Robertson opened his mouth and John placed the neck of the bottle in it. He withdrew it after he had taken a few gulps.
“I want you to listen carefully to what I have to say,” said John. “I’ve been following you for months. Watching who you meet and what you do,” John paused. Robertson looked sulkily at him. He said nothing.
“I’m going to ask you some questions and you are going to give me the answers.”
“O.K. nice joke now piss-off and let me go!” said Robertson.
John ignored the remark.
“For the sake of your health you should realise how serious I am,” John said in cold measured words.
“Look, let me go and we will forget this ever happened, O.K.?” Robertson said with irritation and a touch of apprehension in his voice.
John went over to the bench and picked up some pliers. He moved over to Robertson and took his little finger in the pliers. He bent the finger sharply backwards. Robertson shrieked in pain.
“More paracetamol I think,” said John.
He waited until Robertson had stopped swearing and crying. Then he said slowly and deliberately,
“I have nothing to live for. I don’t care how many people die with me. You could live. It’s your choice. Tell me what I want to know and you will live. Tell me lies or make me think you lie and I will break all your fingers and then I’ll start on your toes. Then if you still have not told me what I want, I’ll start cutting them off. Clear?”
It was a matter of fact statement and Robertson recognised it as such. Robertson nodded slowly in disbelief.
“Another thing,” said John calmly, “If your information is useless, I will take those six inch nails that are on the bench and nail your hands to the chair arms and your feet to the floor. This cellar is sound proof. I will leave you to starve to death.”
He let his words sink in. Then he added, “There’s no way back for me. I made my decision when I abducted you. Understand that and you will save yourself a lot of pain by telling me what I want to know.”
He paused to let his words sink in. Then continued in an even voice,
“First question: Who are the paedophiles and gays that you give the boys to?”
Robertson protested. “John you know that I’ve devoted my life to kids. Christ you’re my boss. You’ve seen my work. I couldn’t harm a fly. Please let’s forget this! Just let me go.”
John went over to the bench and picked up a hammer. He went over to Robertson and brought the hammer down on a finger of the right hand, hard, crushing the finger. Robertson screamed with pain. John went back to his chair. He waited until the sobbing and swearing had calmed down again.
“For the last time, I ask the questions, you answer. Now who gets the boys?”
“Matt,” replied Robertson between sobs.
John got up and saw the panic in Robertson’s face.
“Relax. I’m only going to give you a few pain killers.”
He took a tube out of his pocket and emptied some pills into his hand.
“Swallow these, they will relieve the pain,” he said.
Robertson did as he was told. He waited until the drug took effect. All he had was time. After half an hour he asked, “What does Matt do with the boys?”
“Hooks them on drugs first; then if he fancies them he may keep them for a while. After he’s finished with them he passes them on to a ring in London. That’s all I know, I swear.” He started sobbing. John waited until the sobbing had stopped.
“What about the girls?” asked John.
“They go to the Albanians. They’re easy. We make plenty out of them. Where’s the harm they were given it for free anyway? Now they’re earning.”
Robertson sniggered. The valium that John had given him was working and had loosened his tongue. At that point, the snigger had made John’s mind up. He got up and walked behind Robertson’s chair. Took the sock filled with sand out of his pocket and hit him repeatedly over the head. Cutting the unconscious body from the chair, he stuffed it into the chest freezer, locked the freezer and left the cellar.
Chapter 20
The call came in the middle of the afternoon. Andy was at his desk and took it reluctantly. It was Cathy.
“He wants to see you now,” she said.
“I’ll be right up,” said Andy. He put down the phone and left his office.
Cathy raised her eyebrows as he entered the office.
“He’s in a hell of a mood. Just come back from the police committee meeting.” She got up and moved to the adjoining door.
“Be careful Andy,” she said.
She opened Padwick’s door. Padwick looked up as he entered and pointed to the chair in front of his desk. As Andy sat down, he said,
“I want to know where you are with the Lemmings’ case?”
Andy replied in an even voice,
“We know four of the ring, but we are still waiting to find out where Lemmings is holed up and the identity of Mr S. They are the two principal members of this ring. We must collar them or they will soon form another ring and more children will be harmed.”
“Do you know how much this operation is costing?” Padwick asked sharply.
Andy was taken by surprise by the tone of Padwick’s voice. He thought for a moment.
“Do you have a price in mind for a child’s life sir?” asked Andy.
Padwick held onto his temper with all his might. Then he hissed, “I told you to terminate this operation forty-eight hours ago Rawlings. Now do it, understand?”
“Yes sir,” Andy replied. He got up and left. There was no more to be said. He had made an error of judgement. He should have chosen his words more carefully. He would not make the same mistake again.
He called Newton into his office and gave him the bad news.
“We are going to pick them all up at exactly the same time in eight hours’ time. Orders from the boss so will pick them up at 1500 hours. Not a second before or a second after. Understood?”
“Yes sir,” said Newton.
“Put plain clothed officers on to each of them. I don’t want anyone slipping away at this stage. You will be in charge of the arrests Newton.” Newton nodded.
“DCI Green and I will carry out the interviews. Make sure that they have all been properly cautioned. God, I hope we save the child! Damn Padwick,” he had spoken the words out loud. This was unlike him. He paused and collected himself.
“I want a fast response team ready to move at a moment’s notice, armed O.K.?” said Andy
“Understood sir,” said Newton.
“Right, get on with it,” said Andy.
It was the first time Newton had seen Rawlings so agitated. It must be getting to him, he thought.
Four hours before the arrests were due to be made Newton came into Andy’s office.
“We’ve got a problem, sir.”
“Oh, for God’s sake! What now,” said Andy in an exasperated voice
“There’s a man in the Albanian’s house. Reports are that he’s killed at least one man maybe two. The place is surrounded with armed officers.”
Andy looked down for a moment. Then said, “Have we any idea who he is?”
“No sir.”
“Move the operation forward and make the arrests. I’ll be with Bill Green if you need me,” said Andy. Newton turned and left.
An hour later the suspects and their arresting officers started coming into the station. Bill Green and Andy were in the middle of an interview, when Newton came into the interview room. He whispered into Andy’s ear. Turning to Bill Green, Andy made it clear that he was needed elsewhere urgently. He left the room and Newton took his place. Outside the room Singh was waiting for him.
“Let’s go,” Andy said.
Once in the car Andy was quickly transported to Chapletown where the Albanian brothel was located. The place was surrounded by armed police as Newton had told him. The sergeant in charge approached his car as Andy got out.
“We’ve asked you to come because I believe that you know the suspect,” he said without ceremony.
“I do if you’re right,” Andy replied.
“One of the girls that he released identified him as one John Foster,” said the sergeant.
“Any other confirmation,” replied Andy.
“No sir.”
“How do I talk to him?” asked Andy.
“We have a phone line to the house.”
“Right, lead the way and let’s talk to him and see if you are right.”
The sergeant led Andy down a side street and into the police incident vehicle. Once inside, the sergeant indicated a desk and a phone.
“Just pick up the receiver, sir. It rings automatically at the other end,” said the sergeant.
Andy picked up the phone and waited. After a while the phone clicked and a voice said, “Yes?”
“DI Andy Rawlings here. Whom am I speaking to?”
“Don’t you recognise my voice?” said a tired voice at the other end of the phone line.
“Could you please identify yourself?” said Andy politely.
“It’s John, Andy.”
“Can I come into the house and talk to you John?” Andy waited sometime for the reply. Then it came.
“No.”
“I won’t take up much of your time. Just a short chat,” said Andy.
There came a hollow laugh over the phone line. Andy tried again. “We need to talk to you John.”
“That’s what you’re doing now,” said John in a tired voice.
“It has to be face to face,” replied Andy.
“No and if anyone tries to get in I’ll kill them all.”
“How many will you kill?” asked Andy matter-of-factly.
“I’ve killed some of them but I’ll kill all of them if anyone comes.”
Andy covered the receiver and asked the sergeant,
“What’s he armed with?”
“Shotgun as far as we know,” he replied.
Andy tried a different approach. “You’ve only a shotgun. They would escape before you could kill them all.”
“Yes, but it has two barrels and that’s all I need and besides, I’ve got them all tied up,” said John emotionlessly.
Andy covered the receiver again. He asked the sergeant.
“Do you think there are more than two hostages?”
“We believe there are at least four. He has shot one dead for certain, maybe two,” said the sergeant.
Andy spoke again into the receiver. “If there’s no one left alive, then you have nothing to negotiate with.”
“I’ve got them tied up. All I’ve got to do is walk along the line and blow their heads off.” It was said in a dead pan voice. Andy knew he was serious.
“Why didn’t you tell me that before? How many? What do you want?” asked Andy.
“I want you to come to the door. Call out your name and stand to one side.”
“Now?” asked Andy.
“Yes.”
“I’m on my way.” He put the receiver down.
“I’m going to the front door. Have you got a sniper that can cover me?”
“Yes sir but we need you wired and you must have a vest,” replied the sergeant.
“O.K. How long will that take?”
“Ten minutes, max, sir.”
“Alright, do nothing, unless I give the word.”
With that Andy waited for the kit. When it was on, he got up and made his way to the house.
The house was a typical Victorian through terrace. It had three stories, with large windows. He looked at the clear blue sky as he approached the steps to the front door. He drew his tongue over his top lip and then down on his bottom lip and tasted the saltiness from his perspiration. What had he let himself in for? he thought. He knew John was deranged and extremely dangerous. He knew that he had killed. It was at times like these that he questioned his own rationality and sanity. He climbed the steps slowly and reluctantly. He stood at the top of the steps and the front door. He stopped and stood hesitantly.
“John,” he called out. “I’m here.”
“Stand to one side,” John said from inside the house.
He moved to one side.
“Right, I’ve moved to one side,” he shouted.
A spilt second later, a loud shotgun blast took out one of the top door panels. Andy flinched and ducked. He raised his hand and warned the armed officers to do nothing. Moments later a face appeared at the hole left by the missing panel. A hash and tired voice came from behind the face.
“This Joseph, DI Rawlings,” said John from inside the house.
“He has something to tell you. Speak Joseph or I will blow one of your legs off.”
Andy could see the barrels of the shotgun at the back of Joseph’s head. The man looked terrified.
“I bring children,” said Joseph in a trembli
ng frightened voice.
John gave Joseph a shove in the back of his head with the gun.
“Tell him why and where from.”
“They come from Albania. They are for sale.”
“How many children have you brought from Albania?” asked Andy.
“First time we bring two boys and then second time, one girl and a boy. Third time, we bring four girls and then more.”
“Tell him who you brought the boys for,” said John.
Joseph said nothing. John hit him hard above the right ear with the butt of the gun. Joseph cried out in pain.
“I’m going to kill you, you fucking turd,” shouted John into his left ear.
“He is Judge,” Joseph screamed in panic.
“Tell him his name arse-hole,” John said.
“Judge is Bartholomew Stanford- Grey.”
“John, listen carefully to me. You can’t kill this man. If you do, we will not have the evidence we need to prosecute. Give him to me and I promise I’ll get them all,” said Andy with urgency in his voice.
“Like you got the killers of my son?” said John.
“I’ve got them. They are in the cells as we speak. I’ve caught them John,” said Andy softly.
“I… don’t… believe you,” John stammered out the words slowly.
“Why should I lie? To save the life of that piece of shit,” Andy said, “I’ll take you to them.”
“I need time to think.” John’s voice quaked as he spoke.
“Don’t take too long, there are children’s lives at stake and we could lose the judge and you don’t want us to do that do you?” Andy said.
There followed four hours of negotiations. After which, John Foster was in custody, together with two Albanians and Joseph. Two dead bodies had to be removed after the forensic evidence had been collected. The Albanians and Joseph were singing like canaries. Sometime later, after it had been cleared by the Home Secretary, police were on their way to arrest his honour the Judge. When the police arrived at the judge’s estate and moved along the gravel driveway and entered his manor house, they found the judge. He was dead in his study. Someone had warned him they were coming. He lay with his head on the desk. Around him were several empty bottles of pills and a half-empty bottle of fine malt whiskey. A cut glass tumbler lay broken on the floor.
The Child Predators Page 11