by Sarah Flint
He let Makary go and he slumped down on to the bench, with hands held up as if in capitulation.
‘If I tell you all I know, will you put in a word for me?’
‘It depends on what you have to say.’
‘I can tell you that the FM on the notes is not me, but I know who it is.’
‘Carry on.’
Makary paused, appearing to weigh up whether he should continue. Hunter took a step towards him. In that moment he knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself if the bastard didn’t talk. Charlie’s life could literally rest on what he said. He had never felt so angry, nor so helpless and neither were emotions he wished to relive.
Makary sighed heavily. ‘FM stands for Father Michal.’
‘Who the hell’s Father Michal and what’s he got to do with the registration numbers?’ Hunter had never heard the name before.
‘Father Michal was a priest. He worked for many years at a church in West Norwood, until a girl who I know as Tash made an allegation against him. The story goes that she was a good kid to start off with but then she changed. She started working the streets and got mixed up with the wrong crowd, kids who did robberies and burglaries, pimps, other prostitutes. Some of them came to me for help, if you know what I mean?’
Hunter nodded. ‘Go on.’
‘I got to know Father Michal through her and the other kids who got into trouble. He was all mixed up with many of them through his work. We were both Polish so we did business together. After Tash made her allegations there were rumours that others had said similar things but before any of those could be heard properly Father Michal disappeared. The elders at the church said that he’d gone away to continue his ministry elsewhere in Europe.’
‘So if he went away, how come he is now linked with the registration numbers?’ It was a good story but he didn’t see how it was relevant to what was happening now.
‘Because he came back. He had changed his appearance. He was wearing glasses and had a thick beard that covered his previous features. He’d always looked so fresh-faced and now he looked old. I didn’t recognise him. His speech was different too, as if he had taken elocution lessons. His accent was gone and he sounded posh. He asked me to make new identity papers and some fake CV’s and work references for him, so nobody would know it was him. I agreed because he was a friend once and we had known each other for many years. He paid me for my work and I didn’t see him again until a few weeks ago when he turned up on my doorstep.
‘He asked me to make him up some vehicle registration documents and insurance certificates so he could get some new plates made up. They were all to relate to dark blue Vauxhall Vectra Estate’s, like the one he owns. I did some research with a policeman friend of mine and came up with those three numbers, so I wrote them down on a piece of paper and put his initials on the top. He came back a few days later and collected the documents.
‘I have not seen him since that day, although I did hear that Tash was murdered. I do not know what he has done and what he used those documents for but I fear he has taken his revenge.’ Makary shook his head. ‘Officer, he is not a good priest, or a good man but he paid well. I have heard many things about him through the kids on the street. I hope this helps and that your officer is OK. Is she one of the young ones that came to my house?’
Hunter nodded. He was processing everything that Makary had just said but there was something still missing. ‘So who did he become? And who is D?’
‘I knew you were going to ask me that and I can’t remember. All I can remember is that he said he was working as a teacher. He was teaching Latin. The references had to be from previous school employers in Poland. It would make it difficult for the authorities here to check them. I remember thinking that he should not be working with children again.’
Suddenly it all fitted, the school, the church, the connections, the description, the man in the tweed jacket, with bushy hair and thick glasses. ‘Father Michal is Daniel, Daniel Roberts?’
‘Yes, yes. That’s his name. He said he wanted to be called Daniel because it meant God is my Judge and he wanted Roberts because he’d known someone he loved called Roberts. I remember now. He was very pleased when I said I could do it.’
Hunter closed his eyes. Shit. How could they have missed it? Susan’s maiden name was Roberts, Mickey had told them, but it was such a common name. How could they have ever known a respected teacher in a city academy was using a false name?
‘Feliks, I’ll see what I can do for you, if it’s not too late.’ He threw the keys towards the custody sergeant and ran out.
‘I hope you find your officer.’
He heard the words as they were shouted. He hoped he’d find her too, otherwise he’d be responsible for sending one of his best to her death.
*
‘It’s Daniel Roberts. He’s a teacher at Harris Academy. He used to be a priest at St Matthew’s Church and was known as Father Michal. He left the country in shame a few years ago after allegations that he had abused youngsters but he came back and changed his identity to Roberts. That’s who’s got Charlie.’
Hunter’s cheeks were burning red from the exertion of running as he shouted out his findings. The vein in his forehead was throbbing conspicuously. Paul, Naz and Sabira gathered round him as he sat down, breathing heavily behind a computer. He typed in Roberts’ name and waited.
‘Oh my God. Father Michal. That’s the name of the person who reported JJ missing that last time.’ Naz looked horror struck. ‘On the initial entry it said he was making the report on behalf of a male anon so I didn’t pay much attention to him. I was concentrating on who the unknown informant was, but it must have been him trying to track JJ down.’
‘And I remember looking at Daniel Roberts’ personal documents among the staff records you brought back from the school. He hadn’t been there long. I wondered how on Earth they’d been able to follow up any of his references as they were all from Poland.’ Sabira looked equally upset. ‘But again, it didn’t seem relevant. We were looking at Vincent Atkins, not Daniel Roberts.’
‘Well it seems that all of us have missed things then. I’ve just found his phone number in Charlie’s phone, along with other witnesses but I need to check it against the number shown on his statement to make sure it’s the only one that we know of. Right, here we go.’ Hunter was peering at a copy of Roberts’ statement. He nodded as the number came up. ‘Good, it’s the same. Paul, I want that phone number cell-sited. Phone the tech guys and tell them we have a missing police officer and to get started immediately. You can do the paperwork they’ll need while they’re working on it. We must find out where he is now.’
Paul scribbled down the number and picked up a phone straight away.
‘Naz, Sab, look into everything we can find on either name. Addresses, associates, vehicles. If we can get an address for Roberts we should be able to get the correct index of his Vectra. ‘Phone up Father Antonio at the church if necessary and tell him we need to know everything about their former priest. That sanctimonious bastard kept this information from us. If he hadn’t been so keen to defend his bloody religion we might have realised that Father Michal was a suspect and checked with immigration to make sure of the dates. They would have told us if he’d re-entered the country. He only changed his name after coming back.’
He could feel his anger building again at this realisation.
‘He’s got twenty minutes on us already. I want this all done in ten minutes maximum. I need to know where Roberts is now and I want us to be on our way. I’ll jack up an armed unit. I’m not taking any risks. If we can get to Charlie in time and he gives us the slightest reason, I’ll have the bastard taken out.’
Chapter 40
‘He’s heading into Surrey.’ Hunter was getting a rundown as they headed out.
‘Isn’t that where Charlie’s family lives?’ Paul was driving. They had done what they needed in double quick time and were making steady progress with the blue lights and si
rens blasting a path. A stream of “Trojan” armed vehicles, a dog unit, a couple of ambulances and a few other random police cars completed the convoy. ‘Do you think we should warn them?’
Hunter pulled out Charlie’s phone again. ‘Yes, you’re right. We don’t know what Roberts is planning as yet, but I don’t want him taking any more hostages. Meg, Lucy and Beth could be there.’
‘And Ben. Don’t forget I called him to collect Charlie last night.’
‘Ah yes. I’ll call Ben. He’s a good, strong lad and will make sure the others are safely out of the way.’
Paul smiled to himself. Charlie’s mother, Meg was more than capable of doing the same.
Hunter passed his own phone back to Naz in the rear to keep up with the most up-to-date locations and dialled Ben’s number from Paul’s phone. It was quickly answered.
‘Ben, it’s Hunter. Is Charlie there by any chance?’ He tried to sound as normal as possible. Maybe she’d somehow got home and they had imagined everything.
‘No, she’s not.’ There was a short pause. ‘I thought she’d be with you. What’s happened? Where is she?’
He only wished he knew. Of course he’d known she wouldn’t be safely with her family but somehow hearing the words made the whole situation more critical. There was no point mincing his words.
‘Ben we think Charlie’s been abducted and it looks like she’s heading your way. I need you to make sure everyone’s out of the house.’
‘There’s only me and Mrs Stafford here, Lucy and Beth are both away for the weekend and won’t be coming back until Sunday. I’ll get her out now.’ There was another pause. ‘Has she been abducted by the mad man who cuts his victims fingers off and rips their hearts out in graveyards?’
‘We think so.’ There was no time for explanations and Ben had just put into words his worst fears. He put the phone down and took a deep breath. Ben had also provided the final piece of the puzzle. He knew where Daniel Roberts would be heading.
And Ben would work it out too, if he hadn’t already.
*
‘Where are you taking me, Daniel?’ Her head had cleared as she watched the roads streaming through the sat nav on the dashboard.
‘You’ll see soon enough. We’re nearly there now.’ He’d taken the gag away so they could speak. And speak he had. It was as if he wanted to bare his soul to her; to tell her everything about his family, his motivations, how his mother and father had named him Michal Nowak, meaning ‘who is like God’ and how they’d scrimped to pay for his training as a priest, thereby sealing his fate. From the moment they’d watched proudly as he’d sworn his allegiance to God, he’d been trapped. That life was never what he hoped for, longed for, dreamt of, but it was all he’d ever known. He was never allowed to live a normal life, to love, marry, father children. Instead he had to be ‘father’ to all, loved in his celibacy, admired for the oath he’d taken, but never, ever allowed to be normal.
He’d loved so many times; some before he’d come to this country, some afterwards. He’d fallen in love with Susan years before, but he was just there to conduct the service when what he had really wanted to do was marry her himself. She’d broken his heart; ripped it from his chest, like some before and many afterwards... JJ, Tanisha, others whose names he could not remember, some that would follow.
He’d been tempted many times to give up his calling, his faith, but each time he’d been about to he’d thought of his parents and the look of pride in their eyes as they’d watched him kneel to be blessed by bishops, even the pope. Since their deaths, all that remained of them was a golden box in the shape of an altar, in which he kept his precious memories. It was presented to him on his ordination as a testament to their continuing love for him. It was the only material possession left from his previous life. Otherwise all he had was hatred, loathing and injustice.
‘Do you think they’d be proud of you now?’
‘I’m not troubled anymore about what they would think. They are dead and their bodies are just dust blown in the wind. I don’t care what you think either. I did, but not anymore. I wanted to know all about you, who you really were, your family, where you liked to go...’ He tailed off but all the time he drove.
Charlie recognised each road. It was a journey that she could almost do with her eyes closed. At the last junction she saw a sign that gave her hope, but it also served to reinforce where the final destination was to be. It was the place that she visited every Wednesday morning.
*
Jamie’s graveyard was cloaked in darkness when the dark blue Vauxhall Vectra Estate pulled into the car park.
She’d only realised exactly where they were heading after he’d taken the left-hand turn at the start of the village. The road led solely to the church and a few remote houses further on towards the end of the track.
‘You followed me here the other day, didn’t you? I knew something was wrong. I could feel it.’
Roberts nodded. ‘I wanted to know everything about you.’
He switched the headlights off and sat in silence, gazing into the shadows as if watching and listening for the slightest sound or movement. None came.
After several minutes he climbed out of the driver’s seat, hoisted his bag up on to his shoulder and came round to her side, unclipping the safety belt. She moved her foot out and he pulled her up, taking her by the arm and roughly leading her through the gates. The stillness of the graveyard was overwhelming, the atmosphere taut, but even though she knew what Roberts was intending, somehow, she also knew that whatever happened, it would be all right.
Roberts was obviously not going to replace the gag, they were too far from civilisation to worry about anybody hearing her scream. Just her arms remained bound; he would be relying on his speed and strength. The knowledge that she would be able to talk calmed her further. It was an ability that Hunter had both commended her for and moaned about in equal measures. It might be all that would get her out of this.
She wondered for a second whether her boss had even found the scribbled letters, whether he had worked out who she’d meant, whether he had any idea where she was now. She recalled his instruction to go in to Atkins. If the worst happened, she knew he’d never forgive himself, but he needn’t worry, she’d have gone in anyway.
‘Come this way.’ She indicated the footpath towards her brother’s grave and Roberts seemed happy to oblige. She needed to keep her captor talking for as long as she could if she were to stand any chance of survival; but if that failed she wanted to be as close to Jamie as possible if she was going to die.
*
Daniel Roberts felt at home in these sorts of places. He’d spent half his life coming and going from them, seeing lifeless bodies laid out ready for burial, watching as they were embalmed, committing the dead to the soil. The fact that bodies were buried beneath him did not bother him in the slightest. Bodies were just vessels for the soul; they were just the mortal remains, left when the soul went to wherever God saw fit. The souls lived within the heart and carried the essence of the person, their love, their purity, their goodness, or their badness.
Charlie Stafford’s heart was bad. She had chosen another over him and now she deserved to die. He had enjoyed the drive with his victim, although he was the real victim in all of this, time and time again. So he’d told her everything, enjoying the fact that she was far less comatose than the others, having fought off his attempt to drug her further.
Now they were at her final resting place she’d become placid, almost accepting. He’d thought she would have more fight, but actually she was just the same as the rest. She knew she’d sinned against him and now she was ready to pay the price and surrender. He held her arm, allowing her to lead the way but he still didn’t know if he trusted her.
The small secluded copse was perfect. He watched as she sat down on a grave stone and closed her eyes momentarily. He set down his bag and started to lay out his tools, one by one on a small square of plastic. The sky was dark, clouds bloc
king any light from the moon. He pulled out a small, powerful lamp and switched it on, bathing the copse in an iridescent glow that captured the greens and browns of the autumn leaves. It was as beautiful a place to die as one could imagine. Her disloyalty would be avenged within the sanctuary of a line of conifers and leafy shrubs. Her deceitful ways ended on the point of a stiletto blade.
There was no one to see them and no one to hear her cry.
*
Ben lay in the bushes, next to Meg, watching the man’s preparations. Charlie looked so serene and beautiful, perched high on the grave stone. Her abductor was unkempt, his hair bushy and wild, his eyes wild too. He had never met the man and yet he wanted to kill him for what he was putting her through, but he was under strict instruction to lie low.
From the moment Hunter had spoken and confirmed the direction that Charlie was heading, he’d known instinctively where the mad man in his sights now would take her. There was only one graveyard important to Charlie. He and Meg had jumped in her car, hoping to get to the church first. Luckily they had and he was now able to report back to Hunter what was happening.
Meg had refused to allow him to act alone. Charlie was her daughter and she would not sit back and wait. She would fight to the death for her, if needed. She’d lost one child; she was not about to lose another. He couldn’t argue, he would have done the same.
It had been Meg whose idea it was to leave her old Fiesta at the end of the lane as a sign. It wouldn’t do for the man to get spooked at seeing another vehicle by the church and head off into unknown territory, but if Charlie did spot it she would know that help was on its way. Meg was calm and measured, while he was strong and impetuous. They were a good combination.
Meg had led them to within sight of Jamie’s grave, instinctively knowing that would be where Charlie would want to be. She was right again. As soon as they’d heard the whine of the engine in the car park, they’d known they were correct and had texted Hunter with an update of exactly where to come and a description of the lay out as best as they could. It had taken a while before they’d seen the pair making their way towards Jamie’s grave. Ben had been tempted to dive straight in, but Meg had stayed him. They had to be patient and every second they waited, meant there was more chance that Hunter would get to them.