Prodow said, “How did you get past Paul? He’s like a brick wall normally.”
“I told him you had called me to attend in full uniform for an urgent assignment.”
“He’s getting soft if he bought that Murray. Can I call you that?”
“Sir, you can call me whatever you like.”
“OK. Let’s reconvene in your office in ten minutes and view this tape.”
“Then if you will excuse me, I’ll go and set it up” and he opened the door, placed his cap on his head, and marched out shutting the door behind him.
“I like that man.”
Paul watched Murray’s approach along the corridor towards him.
He stopped briefly by Paul and said, “By God, he can dish it out” and then descended the stairs.
In the office Prodow told John that they were to explain Alison’s absence was due to a bout of mild food poisoning and she was to be reported as sick and temporarily unfit for duty.
Prodow opened the door and called Paul back in, “Paul, we’re finished now. I have been told Alison is sick and I’m sending Murray to go and see her and check if she wants anything.”
Paul knew Prodow well enough to know when he was lying, but he knew better than to challenge him.
“OK Guv’nor.” He settled back down with Doreen and his papers.
The three had assembled in Murray’s office. Murray was twenty-five years a uniform Policeman, and twenty years of that, a sergeant. Weight had crept on over the years and he was a stone over what he wanted to be although he could still comply with the fitness regime imposed by Sussex Police. His head was the roundest that John had ever seen and his hair had been practically shaved from it. He could have stood in for ‘Humpty Dumpty’ thought John, and he gave the impression of being a genial mannered officer in the mould of ‘Dixon of Dock Green’. His job for the last ten years had been teaching new recruits the way of Policing. Some of them had incurred his wrath, but all had learnt well, and most had benefited from the experience climbing the promotions ladder. Knowledge was his strong point and his aim was to ensure it would be passed on. They viewed the tape in silence.
*
Simon marched back to the bus stop opposite the one he had got off at earlier, and caught the bus into Chichester bus station, bought a pay as you go phone in South Street and then got a taxi from the railway station to the hospital. He knew he was not being followed. Murray had snagged the use of an enquiry car that was so small, two burley coppers filled it. Agreeing to drop John at the hospital, he reiterated on the way that he wanted to be in at the arrest as he had always thought highly of Alison when she was a uniformed officer on his team. John readily consented although he believed the kidnappers would be dealt with by the Home Office.
Because he was so early, John walked the corridors of the hospital to kill a few minutes and then went into the café run by the WRVS (Women’s Royal Voluntary Service). Normally he would probably have bought a coffee, taken one mouthful and left the rest because it was practically undrinkable. This time he looked round then made his way to the car park and saw Simon sitting in his Lexus fiddling with his Sat Nav. It was in full view in the middle of the dash board as though a standard fixture. John got into the passenger seat and after exchanging greetings watched as two red dots flashed slightly out of sync in what appeared to be the middle of a field near Lagness.
“Two bugs! Taking no chances then?”
“I dropped one into her bag, and stitched one into her jacket just to be sure.”
“You are domesticated. Sewing taught in the army now?”
“Don’t take the piss.”
They updated each other with the events of the previous couple of hours, and John showed Simon the pictures. The smaller man who had attended Alison’s flat was identified by Simon and John stated he was the person who had followed him into Sainsbury’s garage. Studying the other two facial pictures took them no further. Simon described the large man who had struck him and christened him the gorilla but explained he had been referred to as Petrovski. That meant with the two kidnappers from the car, there were at least four and the watcher.
“The watcher is no problem because he has gone now.” John looked at him curiously. “Take it from me. I just know.”
Both agreed a full meal would be beneficial as they were going to be out late, so they went to Frankie and Benny’s where they were fawned over by a nauseatingly effeminate waiter. For nearly three hours, they sat and chatted sipping occasionally from glasses that the waiter took pleasure in filling as often as he could from their one bottle of wine. Each ate their fill working their way through the starters, mains and sweets as if they had not a care in the world.
John needed to get his camouflage gear and some additional items from his car at the Police Station and by 11.30pm, both men were in full dark green outfits. John’s was from the Met Police and Simon’s was courtesy of the military. Each had a pocket containing a small torch and a little electrical device called a ‘dog dazer’ which had come from a place in Battersea. The idea was that any aggressive dog would be rendered harmless by an ultra-sonic noise. It had worked on various occasions in the past, and the fact it came from Battersea gave it credibility. Simon carried a set of skeleton keys and a butterfly knife in easily accessible pockets and a large soft sports bag full of items in specifically designed pouches.
They sat quietly together digesting their meals in Simon’s car and dozing until about midnight. Then having checked the map of the vicinity on his Sat Nav decided that a parking area about a mile and a half away from where the red ‘blips’ were would be suitable to safely leave the car. A single drive along the nearest road to the ‘blips’ would, they hoped, give an idea of the sort of place where Alison was being held. Both knew a single pass was leaving themselves open to detection from an observant person, but it was often worth a risk. Simon set off towards Lagness, and the nearer he got, the less traffic there was until practically none at all. The nearest road was not much better than a badly made up single track lane with passing places that looped off Pagham Road and joined Lower Bognor Road which was the road leading to Bognor. No one would naturally use it as it was infested with pot holes and was a longer and slower route than staying on the normal side road.
As they drove slowly along the road by the beams of his headlights dodging the bigger holes, nothing immediately stood out to them except what looked like rubble had been fly tipped into a ditch completely filling it to the top. Behind it, the hedge was very sparse compared with that either side and of the rest of the lane. No buildings had been visible on the Sat Nav nor were any evident along the road except for an old Norman Church that rested solemnly at the junction with Pagham Road. Simon drove two and a half miles round the block to where they were to park, and left his Lexus between other overnight parked vehicles. He took a scanner from the boot and they both set off on foot along the road ready to jump into the ditch if anyone should approach.
76
Sunday 12th June 2011
Alison had given up her meditation after less than four hours which had only enhanced her irritation as to how long she had been incarcerated. During that time, she conceded reluctantly and still with some slight reservation, that she was probably the target all along. As her reflections had swirled about the fog within her head she came to the logical conclusion that she had been put with John deliberately so he could keep an eye on her, and Simon was only there for her protection not John’s. Simmering with that thought had led to her vexation with both for permitting it to happen. Where had they been in her hour of need? They were meant to be protecting her. She kept running through how she was going to make them pay and continually rehearsed in her mind caustic words that she would use to cut them down to size. Her kidnappers did not seem to currently inhabit her philosophies.
Slowly, as time marched on, Alison started to calm down and began to think plausibly. Nothing had been said to her as to why she had been kidnapped. Her thoughts unjumbl
ed themselves and started to line up in a cogent way. Then she finally accepted it: she had been the target from day one. Both Simon and John had known and not told her. All the others had known and not one had deemed to tell her.
‘Bastards. The canteen staff probably knew’ and she began to boil again. Even her Dad knew and hadn’t bothered to tell her. A tear began to rise in one eye. She fought it. It gave up and retreated.
Words already spoken started to spin round in her head. It was when she was calm that it all seemed to come together. Forcing herself to think, she looked around her gaol. ‘Keep calm and I’ll be all right.’ The first thing she would do was get out of the handcuff. It didn’t take her long with the aid of a fluff stuffed paperclip she found at the bottom of her bag amongst assorted little keys and an old plaster. Straightening the paperclip, she slipped it over the ratchet and using the provided soap rubbed it around her wrist. Slowly pushing the ratchet closed, it stuck on the paper clip and skated open just far enough for her to slip her hand out of the metal bracelet. The ratchet hadn’t been locked, so she ran the clasp through leaving it open and loose enough to slip on and off her wrist with ease.
Then it was to the door. Now a proper examination. The lock and hinges were nothing she could beat but she stumbled upon the spy hole. Considering her options, she decided to leave it uncovered. Lying on her stomach, she lined herself up with the hatch and tried to work out whether or not she would fit through the aperture if she could cause it to be left opened. Tight. Very tight. Too tight. Not possible. She checked the walls running her hands all over them looking for a weakness but came away thwarted. Where the window had appeared to have been bricked up revealed no apparent flaw. The floor was solid concrete and the plumbing came up through it. Pipes were so small a rat would have had trouble navigating through them.
She sat on the bed and upended her handbag’s contents onto it. The junk she carried and never used astounded her. ‘Sods law’ she thought as she spotted an old handcuff key from the same style as had been tethering her. She’d moved it when she found the paperclip. ‘Look at everything. Ignore nothing. Concentrate.’ The new current handcuffs the Police used had a different sort of key. Putting it into the lock of the bracelet she turned it and winced at the pain she’d endured getting her hand out.
Some safety pins all clipped together. An unknown button. Three keys that she would have sworn she’d never seen before. A grubby old nail file covered in fluff. She took it back to the door hinges and tried to use the blunt end as a screwdriver to undo the screws. Not strong enough: it bent. At the window she tried to use the point to scrape out the mortar. It bent.
A note book and an address book. Her new makeup, lipstick, comb, mirror and nail repair kit which she was not going to use for anything other than its true function. Tissues, a purse, seven pens and a pair of trendy sunglasses in a case were the main fillers.
Looking forlornly at the items splayed out across the bed, she could see nothing that would assist her in her quest for freedom. She wanted to become more positive as she scooped them up and tossed them back into her bag. ‘There’s always a way out, it’s just a matter of finding it.’ Swinging her legs onto the bed, she sat looking around. The light cast differing shadows. ‘Stupid putting a light on a wall. What’s wrong with the ceiling?’ and she looked up. She jumped up and stood on the bed and could just reach the ceiling. Pushing with her fingertips, she could feel it give a little. Now she knew there was a possible way out if she needed it.
At 9pm on the dot, the hatch had been lowered and a large pizza box folded in half was pushed through into the room followed by a bottle of water. Nothing was said and then the hatch was slammed shut. Alison stayed on the bed because she was sure someone would be watching through the spy hole. She didn’t move because the handcuff was not on her wrist but resting on the bed behind her and hidden from the spy hole’s view. After twenty minutes she worked on the assumption that anyone watching would be bored and leave, so she picked them up. The pizza was nearly cold and she forced herself to eat a third before giving up. Just past 11, she slipped her hand back into the handcuff, laid on the bed and pulled the blanket over her and fell asleep dreaming of Simon.
77
Sunday 12th June 2011
Simon made allowances for the speed John could manage along the road. He kept himself fit and exercised daily, whereas John was older and hadn’t exercised for some years other than walking to out of the way pubs or liaisons. Eventually they arrived at the rubble filling the ditch and the short sharp use of their small pencil type torches revealed tyre imprints across it.
John was slightly out of breath and whispered, “Thank God for that, I thought we’d never get here.”
They were just starting to cross when the sound of an approaching engine signalled imminent danger and then headlights became visible approaching. Both ran and dived into the base of the hedgerow that was to the right side of the rubble bridge, and waited for the lights to pass or cross the rubble as well.
John watched with trepidation, but relaxed as the headlights did not slow as they approached and then scooted on by. Both were surprised at the speed of the vehicle which seemed to know the location of the pot holes and missed them all with minimum manoeuvres.
Getting to his feet, and glancing after the vehicle, he whispered under his breath, “Shit, shit, shit.”
Simon asked in a quiet but concerned voice if he was alright.
“No. That van that just went past had my mark on the near side light cluster and I still didn’t get its number.”
“Nothing you can do now: let’s crack on” and John knew he was right.
It was an overcast night. The first quarter of the moon provided intermittent light as the feathery clouds parted. Once across the rubble, it became obvious that the hedge had been removed completely and replaced with a large wattle door cloaked with branches and foliage. Close to, even in moonlight it was noticeable but to a passer-by on the road it would have surpassed muster. Examining it, they established that anyone alone would probably be able to open it just wide enough for a car to pass through.
Simon said, “Neat and clever. Someone knows what they’re doing. I’ll take the lead. Stick in my shadow.”
John gratefully replied, “OK.”
They opened the gate just enough for each to squeeze round trying not to disturb it too much.
Stretching away from them was a straight dirt track between two fields and through his night vision monocular, Simon could see the clear outline of two buildings. He switched to thermal vision and one of the buildings showed a concentrated heat source, but no human forms. Moving to the side of the now clearly designated, compacted, dirt track, they snuck off it onto the edge of a ploughed field that had deep furrows which could twist an ankle of the careless. Slowly, quietly and cautiously they stole forward with Simon leading and keeping to the periphery of the field. After nearly a quarter of a mile, he stopped, and when John was close to him, whispered.
“There is a small stick” and pointed close to the track, “with a piece of cotton tied to it. I would think there is another on the other side. It looks like a check to see if anyone passes this way. I don’t think it is any form of warning, just for information.”
They skirted the stick leaving the cotton intact and stretched across the track as they continued warily forward. In the gloom another half a mile ahead, they both saw what looked like a brick built barn. As they approached, the light of the moon showed it to be in a dilapidated state with part of the roof and walls missing, and an outbuilding to one side. No vehicles were visible, and no lights could be seen. Simon checked again with his monocular. Both left the field and moved back onto the track, and as they approached the outbuilding first which had shown the concentrated heat source, they heard the feint unmistakeable hum of a generator originating from within. Simon indicated to John to stay where he was, and then moved swiftly forward taking his scanner from its small box which had been secured in the thigh
pocket of his camouflage gear and activated it, checked the outbuilding.
Inside he found the generator, a large water barrel containing in excess of a hundred gallons, a heating system and some form of sanitation unit marked ‘macerator’. Wires and tubes left the building and ran towards the barn. He returned to John and in seriously hushed tones, told him what was there. Slowly, manoeuvring past the outhouse towards the barn, the pair surreptitiously approached with Simon leading.
The entrance to the barn had no door on it, but the floor which was compacted rough soil, was tiled in a line two tiles wide, leading to a door in the middle of a wall built inside the barn. The small scanner started to flicker as it detected the bugs planted on Alison. Again, Simon signalled John to stay put, and he set off following the wall within the barn and disappearing from John’s view. Less than a minute passed, and Simon came back into view from the other direction. Whispering to John, he told him it was a brick built box within the barn and his scanner indicated that Alison was inside it.
78
Sunday 12th June 2011
“Where are they then?” said John, “They have cleared off leaving her unguarded.”
Simon replied, “Strange. The place seems to run itself. The only thing to let them know anyone has been, is that piece of cotton. Not really high tech considering the gate at the rubble bridge and these two buildings.”
“Suppose we should tell her we are here.”
“You know she won’t be happy. Are you going to tell her?”
“You’re meant to be her minder, you tell her.”
“Coward.”
Simon crept to the door and signalled the spy hole to John. They took it in turn to look through it, and in the dim light, saw Alison fast asleep on the bed.
John said, “She doesn’t seem to let being kidnapped stop her from sleeping.”
An Urgent Murder Page 24