by Anita Waller
David had been chastised. He walked into the building followed closely by Alan. They travelled in the lift together and as the doors opened at the top floor Alan placed an arm across David’s chest.
‘I go out first,’ he said.
David waited without speaking and then moved as soon as Alan indicated it was safe to do so.
‘Do you really think he will come here?’ he asked.
‘We have absolutely no idea but after the sighting in the field we take no chances. He was definitely there, Mr. Farmer. He could be anywhere now.’
David nodded. ‘And please can you call me David? If there’s a bullet coming for me, it’s quicker to shout get down, David. I could be dead by the time you’ve said Mr. Farmer!’
Finally, Alan smiled. ‘David it is.’
They went into the room and David went to the coffee pot. He held up a cup and waved it at Alan.
‘I’ll have a very quick one until your fellow attendees arrive. Then I’ll be outside the door until your meeting is finished. Have they all worked here for a long time?’
‘All of them. Normally Pilot would be here taking the chair but after yesterday...’
Alan nodded. ‘His family comes first.’
The meeting was uneventful. There was much discussion about Sally Hardstaff, the new author who was climbing various charts at the speed of light and about two new authors who had submitted first novels that looked promising with a little editorial work on their part.
It was agreed that Pilot would continue to mentor Sally and two of the younger editors would take one each of the new authors. After the business was formally closed, there was quietness in the room that was unusual for a meeting at Farmers. Usually there would be a babble of sound, a palpable excitement at new responsibilities handed out, future commitments made; today the room was almost silent.
David looked around at the young staff and waited.
‘Mr. Farmer...’
The tone was hesitant.
‘Yes, Lynne?’
‘Can we help in any way?’ Her words came out in a rush.
‘Thank you, thank you...’ His words were hesitant. ‘But no, you can’t. This man is after our family, our extended family, and until he’s caught, we are in considerable danger. So above all else, you must not attempt to help us. Don’t put yourselves in dangerous areas, stay safe. But thank you...’ and he began to clear his notes from in front of him. He felt overwhelmed.
Slowly the room cleared and he walked across to the window to look down of the car park. It was starting to feel as if they would never be safe again and not for the first time he thought about leaving Cornwall for good, going travelling where Treverick would never find them. And then he thought of his grandchildren; the ones produced by Pilot and the ones still to be produced by his other offspring. He sighed. No travelling then.
Alan was waiting outside the door for him and lifted his eyebrow in query. ‘All done, Alan,’ David confirmed. ‘Let’s go home.’
Alan moved towards the lift and they stood quietly waiting for it to travel up to their level. When it arrived they both entered and Alan pressed for the ground floor. David bent down and picked up a small piece of paper, which he slipped into his jacket pocket.
On the ground floor, he crossed to the reception area and threw the piece of paper on to the desk.
‘Put that in your waste-basket, will you, Claire? Thanks.’
He walked out of the door and round towards the car park, Alan never more than two feet away from him.
Claire picked up the piece of paper to throw it away and then smoothed it out first to check it wasn’t something important. She froze momentarily.
Farmer, you’re next
She stumbled as she left her chair and negotiated the large teak desk. David had disappeared and she ran to the main car park before realising he wasn’t there. She came back across the front of the building and round to the rear car park.
Alan’s car was already moving and David was locking his seat belt into place. She waved frantically but only Alan saw her.
He started to get out of his car just as David’s arm came up to turn on the ignition. The explosion and the flames lit up the sky; the barrage of noise, the intense heat was horrific and Alan dropped to the floor, unconscious. He had been only a few feet away from the Lexus and his body had shut down.
Claire screamed and more and more people came from Farmers and other local buildings to stare in horror. Several of them were on mobile phones summoning emergency services and many were in tears. Farmers Publishing had always been a family based company and now they had lost one of their own.
It was obvious that David’s car couldn’t be approached and Alan’s car was too close for comfort to the flames. Two of the men who had arrived at a run reached Alan and pulled him by his feet, screening their faces with one hand and holding on to a foot each with the other. They managed to get him into a safer area and one of them knelt down. He felt for a pulse both on Alan’s neck and his wrist. He looked at the other man and shook his head.
It seemed hours before emergency sirens were heard in the distance. It was about five minutes in reality. The police were first on the scene and they moved everybody away from the danger zone.
The man in the white overalls that were emblazoned on the back with Transit Lifts picked up his toolkit, pulled his baseball cap a little lower over his eyes and walked away.
Claire confirmed a lift service man had been earlier to service the lift that took visitors up to the board-room. CCTV pictures showed a fleeting glimpse of him but Dunbar knew exactly who he was.
Chapter 20
Dunbar looked around the room at his team and began to speak.
‘I know we have been over strategies and protocols so many times but we’re going to go over everything again. There must be something we’re missing at this point in time. I don’t want another death to happen and for us to ask why didn’t we think about that possibility. We have to understand Treverick. There will be more deaths if we don’t.
He once more cast a sweeping glance over everybody. Nobody spoke. They were waiting for him to continue.
‘We believe he spent the entire time he was banged up making plans to get back at the entire family of Amelia Andrews. He blamed them for his imprisonment and he hatched a complicated plot involving a complete change of identity in order to get close to John and Amy Thornton. He succeeded to the extent that he married Amy Thornton on the day that he killed her. He became known as Brian Lazenby at that time. Then he disappeared.
‘He then began to plot and plan again, this time targeting Amy’s adopted daughter Lauren. Christmas Day 1995 Lauren and Pilot had a baby daughter. He stole her from under their noses.
‘This man is capable of anything. We must never underestimate him. He is clever, he is very good at disguise and he is plausible. Ask PC Johnson,’ he said grimly.
Johnson flushed. He knew he would never live it down that he had been a couple of feet away from Treverick and hadn’t known it.
‘So, we don’t know where his plans will lead us next. David Farmer’s death, along with Alan Shimwell’s, is a tragedy. More will follow if we don’t catch this man very soon. As I said, he has considerable brain-power. Not everybody can make a bomb that will stick magnetically to the underside of a car and be remotely detonated. He did it.’
There was a shuffling of feet and a small murmur of voices as they thought about what they were hearing.
‘Any questions?’
‘Yes. Excuse me, sir, but are we involving the press enough? Surely somebody out there knows something, probably without realising that they know it.’
‘I’m doing a press conference later. Having no idea what Treverick looks like now hampers us somewhat but we do have a couple of names he has used at various points in his life, so we can issue those. It may not throw anything up but we won’t know if we don’t try.’
‘And the family?’
Dunbar paused. ‘
As you can imagine, they’re devastated. They’re trying to keep it away from Grace and Olivia but Grace is a particularly bright young lady and she knows something is very wrong. Don’t forget it’s her grandfather who has been killed and eventually she’s going to connect all the dots and blame herself.‘
Sarah Miller stared at Dunbar and ached for the little girl she had grown to care for in hospital.
‘So, I’m going to give out the list of names that we know Treverick has used before and see if that throws anything up.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘We have to find him. He can’t take out anyone else. We thought we had the family covered but we are now looking at moving all of them to a safe house. But I’m telling everyone in here, that even that will not stop this man. I think he is possibly the most evil criminal I have ever come across and his ability to disappear is the most worrying aspect. He is one step in front all the time. But one day it will be us one step in front of him.’
There were murmurs of agreement all around the room.
‘Okay, I’m going out to Hillside after the broadcast. Sarah, come with me, please. I understand Mrs. Farmer is with them at the moment and I may need your calmness. Right,’ he said to the rest of the team, ‘on with whatever your assignments are, and find me this fucking bastard.’
The room fell silent and he looked round sheepishly. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Sorry, ladies.’
The press conference was short and to the point. They had very few leads, were baffled as to where the perpetrator was even though they knew who he was and they needed the public’s help.
Dunbar handed out a printed sheet of names to the reporters and then went outside to do a television interview.
‘We are looking for an individual named Ronald Treverick. He knows the locality very well and is dangerous. We are looking for information from the public, but please do not approach him.’
He read out the dedicated telephone number and added what he hoped would be the one thing that might produce results.
‘His birth name is Ronald Treverick. He has also used the aliases Brian Lazenby and Liam Ryland. Did you employ somebody in the late sixties who then disappeared? Did you have a friend around that time who you are no longer in touch with?’
He paused briefly. ‘We are now going to show you six pictures. The first one was taken while Treverick was in prison. The second is when he was known as Brian Lazenby. You will notice they in no way resemble each other. The other four pictures are mock ups by our police artist as we attempt to show how he could possibly look now.’
Again, he paused while he gathered his thoughts.
‘Search your memories and I repeat, whatever you do, do not approach this man.’
His own face disappeared and the six pictures of Treverick began to cycle across the screen.
Dunbar walked back into the police station and headed for his office. He had no idea whether the appeal would work or not but they were getting desperate. The sight of the burning car was etched into his brain; this man had to be caught, and soon.
Chapter 21
Hillside was shrouded in silence. Dunbar had phoned ahead to say they were calling round and had been answered by a simple ‘ok’ from Pilot.
It was a haggard-looking Lauren who opened the door to them. Noah was sitting astride her hip-bone and Olivia was holding on to her skirt.
‘Come in, Jake, Sarah,’ she said quietly. ‘We’re all in the lounge.’
Grace was playing with the doll’s house with Jess sitting by her side.
Dunbar was lost for words. He looked around at all the faces; Lauren moved to sit by Pilot and Pat was ensconced between Ken and Brenda. Freda was rocking slightly in the old rocking chair by the fire.
The grief was palpable.
‘Thank you for gathering together for this. Did you all see the news broadcast?’
Only Pilot spoke.
‘Yes and what good will it do? Is he going to pick us off one by one? Is that his plan?’
Dunbar looked at him. ‘Probably.’
Grace gave a small cry and Jess pulled her close.
‘Sssh,’ she said soothingly.
Lauren looked towards her daughter.
‘Jess, would you mind taking Grace to her room, please? Maybe do a little reading with her?’
‘Of course. Come on, Honeybun, let’s go see what Harry’s up to today.’
They left the room and Lauren explained. ‘We’ve employed Jess as a live-in nanny to all three of our children now, instead of her just being here to tutor Grace. She’s brilliant with all three of them and it just makes sense. She’s fully aware of the situation so you can feel free to say anything when she is here.’
Dunbar nodded.
‘Thank you for clarifying that. I have very little to tell you about the investigation itself. We know the perpetrator and that’s not what this investigation is about. We have to find him and he’s excellent at covering his tracks. What I can tell you is that the bomb was attached to the underside of the car at some point during the meeting that David attended. That conference room overlooks the rear car park and is actually the only room in the building where you can see that car park. Of course, during that meeting, everyone was sitting around the large table and it is unlikely anybody would have been looking out of the window. Treverick not only had skill on his side, he had luck. It would have only taken him seconds to place the bomb because it was magnetised and then all he had to do was wait out of sight until he saw David and Alan get into their cars. I actually think he panicked slightly when he saw Alan getting out of his car and the young girl trying to attract their attention because he didn’t hang about. He remotely detonated it.’
Dunbar turned to Pat. ‘I’m so sorry you have to hear all of this, Pat. It’s hard enough losing David without having to hear the details but I have to make you all aware of the danger you’re in.’
Pat briefly waved a hand in acknowledgement of his words and then wiped away her tears.
‘Just get on with it, Jake. Tell us what you have to tell us and leave us to grieve.’
He nodded. ‘We would like to move all of you to a safe house...’
Pilot interrupted angrily.
‘No!’
‘Listen to me, Pilot…’
‘Jake, I said no. We have full protection here round the clock and now we have Jess who sleeps in the room at the side of Grace’s room. We have four of Mark’s men allocated just to this house now; they work shifts of two operatives at a time and everyone in the family is in one place.’
Dunbar opened his mouth to speak and Pilot continued. ‘We also have two police cars parked permanently here, one at the bottom of the drive who check out our cars and us every time we move, and one at the top of the drive. We are protected, Jake. We are not moving out. And to be honest, have you got a castle that’s a safe house? Because that’s what you would need to make us secure, and to accommodate all of us. Plus Dawn and Josh.’
Inwardly, Jake Dunbar groaned. So Dawn and Josh would now be added to the mix.
‘When are they coming?’
‘Tomorrow. They fly over tonight.’
‘We’re running out of rooms,’ Pilot smiled. ‘Dawn, I’ve had to put you in with Freda, so behave yourselves, you two. Josh, you’re in a tiny little box room on a camping bed near the children’s rooms. You’ll be comfortable enough, if a little cramped.’
‘No worries,’ Josh said. ‘We’re here to help, not to be cosseted. What can we do?’
‘Absolutely bloody nothing,’ Pilot said grim-faced. ‘Both of you come with me into my office and I’ll fill you in on everything that’s happened. You need to be aware.’
The police received many calls following the television broadcast. All were logged and as each member of the team checked them out, they were either discounted or placed in a file for further investigation.
Dunbar activated his screen and went into the file. He glanced down to see who was doing what and saw that there were still quite a few
for follow-ups. He looked down the list once more and his eye fell on one where the caller had rung in from Bude. His name was Anthony Taggart and he used to have a photography studio in Bude. He said that he thought he recognised the man but wasn’t sure as he had left around March 1966. He wasn’t called Ronald Treverick, he had been Carl Jameson.
Logging out the link in his name so that nobody else would duplicate the call, Dunbar dialled Taggart’s number.
‘Mr. Taggart? My name is DI Jake Dunbar and I’m leading the investigation into the Ronald Treverick case. I understand you’ve called us?’
‘Yes, Detective Inspector. I’m not sure, of course, but there’s just something... I’ve looked at your photograph and mine several times...’
Dunbar cut him short. ‘You have a photograph?’
‘Yes. It was my business,’ Taggart said.
‘Would you be available to speak to me soon, Mr Taggart? I can leave Padstow now and be with you in about an hour.’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll get the stuff out ready for you.’
Dunbar thanked him, put his address in his pocket and went downstairs to his car. He reached forward to start it and it hit him. Stuff, the man had said. Stuff.
He drove down a tree-lined road and slowed down looking for number 103. It was a bungalow, well maintained from the outside and with an immaculate front garden.
He followed instructions and went round to the back where he saw an old man sitting inside the conservatory that looked to be a fairly new addition to the property.
The man waved and Jake opened the door.
‘Mr Taggart?’
‘Yes, sir. Come in.’
Dunbar went in and a much younger woman popped her head round to ask if he would like a drink.
‘I’d love one, thank you. Tea, milk, no sugar,’ he smiled.
‘My daughter. She pops in most days to make sure I’m still alive.’
‘Well the sooner you’re gone, the sooner I’ll inherit!’