by Lee Weeks
‘Can we find out what happened to Tanya’s organs? Is there any way we can access lists of people waiting that would match her?’
‘We can try,’ answered Harding. ‘But I doubt if these were sent to people waiting on the national register. More than likely her organs were sold on the black market. But it would all have to happen very quickly. Somewhere there will be patients recovering now.’
‘How long does the heart last from donor to receiver?’ Davidson asked Harding.
‘They must be a slick operation,’ said Harding. ‘It takes time to harvest someone on this scale. It must have taken more than one person to get it all done at the same time and end up with usable organs. With the heart, you have a small window of use conventionally, but there are other methods available now. There are a few ways of doing it. You can inject the heart with potassium chloride: that stops the heart beating before they take it out and then they pack it in ice. It can last four to six hours depending on starting condition. Or there is also a new machine which keeps the heart beating like it would in the body and it could last a relatively long time in that state, twelve hours even. Or they can perform a “beating” heart transplant, where the donor is still alive, technically, and their organs are transplanted directly into another. All of these operations would have to be done in a hospital.’
‘What about Blackdown Barn? Could they have operated in the house?’ asked Ebony.
‘In the master bedroom with the plastic on the floors and walls?’ Carter said.
Harding thought for a few seconds.
‘In theory, yes. But, the smaller the team of people around the surgeon the more equipment he will need to help him. It would have taken a lot of equipment and would have been a big task getting it all up to that floor. You’d be creating an intensive care unit in there . . . very tricky. The patient would need twenty-four-hour specialized care. Better to have made it on the ground floor, converting one of the rooms there to an operating theatre.’
‘Maybe the operation was done in a hospital and the recovery period took place in the house,’ said Carter. ‘What about the van, Robbo?’
‘If that’s the kind of van we’re looking at then it’s tall enough to stand up in,’ said Robbo. ‘Yes, it’s the right size and type to be an ambulance.’
‘You might be able to do emergency surgery in it,’ said Harding. ‘You could use it to transport a patient and keep them alive. You would need it to move a recovering patient. But not a heart and lung transplant.’
‘So if the operation was done in a hospital,’ said Davidson, ‘they could move the patient in the ambulance and put them into the sterile room in Blackdown Barn to recover.’
‘To recover or to wait,’ said Carter. ‘And not just the patient. Patient and donor. Blackdown Barn had it all – recovery room and holding pens. That’s why they picked that house. They really thought it through. Location-wise it’s close to London, close to the M25 to get to airports small and big. It’s a place where people don’t bother to talk to neighbours and it had an owner who never came near it.’
‘What was it the letting agent said Chichester wanted, Ebb?’ asked Jeanie.
‘He wanted semi-remote but near a major road. The manager remembered that Chichester said he’d pay a lot to be left alone. It didn’t matter about the house being in poor cosmetic shape.’
‘So basically he paid a lot of money for a house that wasn’t worth it. He must have been a dream client.’ Jeanie answered.
‘So before Chichester the house had been empty for a few months?’ Robbo asked.
‘Nearly a year. It must have been hard to let,’ said Ebony. ‘Then Chichester had the work done to it; that took two months.’
‘So we’re not looking at a snap decision here, are we?’ said Davidson. ‘Chichester took a few months to find this place, another two to make it ready. This was no heat-of-the-moment thing. He planned it meticulously for a predetermined purpose. That was to harvest kidnapped victims and sell the organs to wealthy clients. So why did he leave there? Did he talk about staying on there to the estate agent?’
‘Apparently there was an option on it, sir. Chichester hadn’t decided. The estate agent was waiting to hear.’
‘He wasn’t in a hurry?’
‘The agent said he knew he wouldn’t be able to let it again till after Christmas. He thought Chichester would stay. That was his impression.’
‘Maybe he intended to.’
‘Think everything Chichester does is intentional, sir. If he left early it was because it fitted with his agenda; it was for a reason.’
‘A holding pen keeping them till when? What about Silvia and her pregnancy? asked Davidson. ‘Why allow her to carry the child at all if they didn’t harvest it?’
‘I can answer that,’ said Harding. ‘I had the results back for the section of skin above Silvia’s left eye. It has traces of the rubber from the treadmill. She fell whilst she was running on it.’
‘Why would she be running at eight months pregnant?’ asked Jeanie.
‘When you’re pregnant the heart and lung size increases to cope with the demands of the unborn child.’Answered Harding, ‘they are a muscle like others; they respond to demand. You can train them and make them even bigger. So maybe they were waiting till they were at their peak condition. The gym could have been part of preparations and perhaps the baby was “an option”.’
‘Option?’ Davidson looked at Harding and shook his head. ‘I don’t follow.’
‘Well, it’s insurance for later, isn’t it? They could harvest the mother and keep the baby as part of the family, bring her up as their own, in case other organs failed later in life. In case they needed to harvest her.’ She shrugged. ‘Why not? If you’re that ruthless and calculating?’
‘What about thirteen years ago?’ asked Jeanie. ‘What about Rose Cottage?’
‘The piece of hospital gauze that the gardener found by the gatepost?’ said Robbo. ‘That must mean thirteen years ago Louise Carmichael was carried back into Rose Cottage from having been operated on somewhere else.’
‘Yes . . . has to be,’ said Carter. ‘The bodies of Chrissie Newton and Louise Carmichael had a large amount of anaesthetic in their bodies.’
‘It would answer a lot of questions,’ replied Harding.
‘The cross-contamination theory, for example.’ said Ebony. ‘Maybe there was no mistake made, after all. Chrissie and Louise were taken away to be operated on and brought back so that their bodies could be discovered at the house. That’s why they had each other’s DNA on their backs. They had both lain on the same place after death. That must also be why the lividity had a small discrepancy; they had been moved but then laid down again in the same position.’
‘And their organs were missing.’ said Jeanie.
‘Not all their organs; they only removed their hearts,’ Harding corrected.
‘Are we sure they didn’t harvest anything else?’ Carter said and glanced nervously Davidson’s way. ‘I mean, samples got contaminated, reports had sections missing from them. I’m not being funny but how do we know?’
‘I know,’ said Harding, about to lose her rag. ‘At the time we didn’t make the full report public because we didn’t want the panic that would ensue but it didn’t mean to say that a full and accurate report wasn’t written, because it was.’
‘I meant no disrespect.’ Carter held his hands up in a surrender gesture. ‘Thirteen years ago the gang may have worked differently, been inexperienced, who knows?’
Harding composed herself. ‘Three hours passed between first Chrissie and then Louise dying. There was definitely time to remove their hearts.’
‘Then we need to find a hospital near Rose Cottage where they could have taken them.’ Davidson moved to the front of the room to wrap things up.
‘There are hundreds of private hospitals within range,’ said Robbo. ‘They could have driven to an airstrip and taken the organs a long way. We know there are illegal immigrants co
ming in by small aircraft on makeshift landing strips around the UK. They could easily take something like organs out on a small plane.’
‘Or someone could have been waiting here for the organ,’ said Ebony.
‘Yeah . . . I think that’s most likely,’ said Harding. ‘There are many hospitals within reach. I’ll look into it for you. I’ll find out who was working in them at that time and who was the kind of surgeon to do it.’
‘I want a list of all aircraft activity after Tanya’s death. If those organs were flown out of the country they would have gone minutes after her death.’
Ebony had been watching Harding for some time. It was the first time she’d ever seen her really nervous.
Chapter 37
After the meeting Harding went to Davidson’s office.
‘Can I have a word?’
‘Of course.’
She closed the door behind her. ‘I had dinner with Martingale last night.’
Davidson felt bitter betrayal well up in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t sure whether it was because he had been sidelined or whether he still wanted Harding and he knew that dinner meant dessert.
‘Congratulations . . . and?’
Harding sat down. She knew he’d be irritated but she had more important things on her mind. It wasn’t even as if the night had been any good. ‘He seems to be perfectly at ease with the new investigation, hopeful of a better outcome this time.’ Davidson looked away towards the window. He took that as a criticism. His face had become gaunt in the last few days. His eyes were dark-rimmed. ‘He isn’t so keen on being visited at his house. He’s a very private person.’
‘I know . . . I have warned Carter to be discreet; but, after all, I am doing what you suggested: handing it over to someone who I know will keep it transparent.’
‘He wants me to keep him personally informed of the investigation.’
Davidson looked at her curiously. ‘As in?’
She stared back. ‘I think he was implying that he’d like me to supply him with inside information.’
‘Bloody cheek.’
‘Yeah. I know.’ She smiled. ‘Don’t worry, John. I’m not that wet behind the ears. I can spot a bribe even when it’s disguised inside a trip to his house in South Africa, a new CT scanner and enough flowers to fill a crematorium.’
‘Why would he need to?’
‘You know him better than me, John. You’ve been to more corporate dinners with him. You tell me? My guess is he’s a control freak. He wants to be one step ahead: hates surprises. Hates being out of control. I think we both need to keep our distance from him, John. We don’t want to be seen to be giving preferential treatment.’
‘I don’t intend to give him anything but what he deserves: respect and consideration. None of this can be easy for him.’
Harding looked at him incredulously, with a hint of pity as she shook her head. ‘Don’t, John. There’ll be other opportunities . . . retirement-wise. Other boards to sit on.’
‘I’m not thinking about that,’ he snapped back.
‘Of course you are.’
Ebony came back from the canteen and went back to her desk. She looked across at Jeanie. Jeanie wasn’t looking good. She’d gone down with the pre-Christmas mini-flu that was going round the office. Her eyes were glassy, her face flushed. Ebony saw Carter disappearing in the direction of Davidson’s office in the corridor outside.
‘You alright, Jeanie?’
‘Yeah . . . I’ll survive.
‘Where’s Carter going?’
Jeanie raised her eyebrow in the direction of Davidson’s office. ‘Results from Sonny’s post-mortem are back.’
Carter stood alone in Davidson’s office.
‘Sonny was killed by drowning but he was unconscious at the time. No sign of him struggling. There is a swelling to the side of the head which has the shape of someone’s knuckles in it. There are distinctive scars on the knuckles.’
‘Trevor Bishop is pretty sure we’ll be able to match it to someone’s fist if we get a suspect. He has ketamine and diazepam in his bloods not to mention a large amount of cocaine present in the urine in his bladder. Someone would have had to make sure he was going to sleep for a long time. His wallet was still there but no house keys.’ Davidson handed Carter a slip of paper with a hint of amusement in his eyes. ‘His mother had an address for him.’
Carter looked at it and read it.
‘Result, sir.’ Carter looked up at Davidson and grinned.
‘Yes, the deeds show the flat belongs to Digger Cain.’ said Davidson. ‘Sandford’s on his way round to the flat now.’
‘Okay, sir. I’ll swing by the flat on the way to see Digger, sir.’
‘Has Robbo got any further tracing Tanya’s last movements when she left Cain’s?’
‘He’s looking through the CCTV film sir. The surveillance team opposite Cain’s caught her coming out and getting into a cab. They’re trying to get a better image of it from other cameras on the street.’
‘Okay. Before you do, Carter, how far have you got with reassuring Carmichael? Has he been in touch since Ebony went up there?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Is he still at the farm?’
‘I’m not sure, sir.’
‘Find out and if he’s not? We need to find him. We don’t want him running loose and possibly intimidating people connected with this case. A court would throw the case out for that.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You have heeded what I said about being thorough but being discreet, haven’t you, Carter?’
‘Yes, sir.
‘Don’t go near Mr Martingale understood?’
‘Yes, sir.’ He pocketed the piece of paper with Sonny’s address and left.
Chapter 38
Sandford was waiting for them at Sonny’s flat. Ebony stood in the hallway outside the kitchen door. Sandford wasn’t letting them go any further.
‘Okay . . . we understand . . . we’ll check in with you again later . . . but what are your first impressions? Anything interesting? Documents, clothes, PC?’
Sandford shook his head. ‘Someone’s been through the place before we got here. We’ve been through the drawers – nothing. Whoever went through Sonny’s flat wasn’t looking to burgle it. They left some very expensive music kit behind: a Bose sound system, antiques. They would have ransacked the place. They didn’t. The person didn’t break in, no sign of forced entry: they had keys or someone let them in. We might find prints but I doubt it. I tell you what I did find is this.’ He held up a bag with the contents of a U-bend. ‘This is from the bathroom. The hair is an identical length and shade to the hair I found at Blackdown Barn; my guess, same woman. There was also hair in the bed, same woman. There are two toothbrushes here. We should get DNA from those. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear back.’
‘We’ll take a trip back to Blackdown Barn in the next couple of days,’ said Carter. ‘How’s it going out there?’
‘Slow. The cellar floor is proving a massive task. There are previous building works beneath it. We haven’t even started on the garden yet. Cadaver dogs are due in tomorrow.’
They left Sandford to it.
Carter steered Ebony towards a café.
The café was gaudy at the best of times but now at Christmas it had been overloaded with tasteless decorations and fake snow that clung to the window and looked suspiciously real. They collected their cutlery and sat down.
‘We’ll keep on leaning on Digger.’ Carter ordered the same as Ebony: a Full English, which was served all day even though it was past lunch time. He didn’t even bother to ask them to grill the bacon. He waited for her to pass the salt. ‘Sonny’s death will shake him up a bit and now we have the link directly to him and Sonny,’ he said as he buttered his toast. ‘It’s bound to make him nervous. If Sonny sold him Silvia then Digger must have sold her on to Chichester. We’ll tell him about Sonny now. Maybe he’s got himself involved in something he won’t like.’ Carte
r stopped and peered past the window decorations at the darkening day outside.
‘Christ, I hope it isn’t snowing again.’
‘It’s fake.’
‘Thank fuck for that.’ He stopped and looked across at Ebony. ‘What’s the matter, Ebb? You can usually talk and eat.’
‘Carmichael . . . I can’t get hold of him; I’ve been trying, every hour.’
‘What’s on your mind?’
‘Carmichael. If he’s involved, it’s murder.’
‘Not technically.’
Digger was eating lunch at his usual table in Cain’s when they got there: eel pie and mash. He ate it with a white cloth napkin and ornate silver cutlery.
He looked up and groaned when he saw them walking towards him.
‘Not again, surely?’
Carter showed Digger a close-up of Sonny on the autopsy table. ‘Fished out of the Thames along with his car,’ said Carter. ‘Twenty-four hours in the water, the bottom feeders have been busy.’
‘Good-looking chap, whoever he is.’ Digger shook his head as he mopped up the gravy with French bread. ‘Such a pity, a waste.’
‘The car, you mean?’ Carter grinned. ‘Yeah, tragic. A red Ferrari deserves better.’ Carter looked around, swivelled on his heels. ‘You sleep here, Digger?’
‘When I’m working, yes. I have an apartment upstairs. It’s not palatial . . . why?’ The look on Digger’s face said he knew what was coming.
‘You have a flat anywhere else?’
‘I have a few properties in London. Why?’
‘You let people like Sonny stay in them?’ Carter tapped the photo.
‘That’s Sonny?’ He leant in to get a better look at the photo. ‘Sorry . . . apologies, Sergeant. I know Sonny . . . Oh goodness, what a shame. Digger picked up the photo of Sonny’s bloated, damaged face. ‘Any idea who did that to him?’