Maikel was magnificent throughout. He neither complained, nor showed any irritation, and appeared to have developed an overnight rapport with Siân. His presence made what might otherwise have been an awkward or grave situation seem quite casual. I was even more glad to have him at my side now than I had been in Sangin, seven years ago. There were plenty of soldiers who’d have done as good a job in battle. I didn’t know any who’d have been as good with Siân.
Maikel wanted to go and see a film that evening, and I thought that anything normal would probably aid Siân’s recovery. She certainly seemed a little better for the ice cream calories and her ramble through the cobbled streets of York. We decided on an eight o’clock showing, and the three of us were just about to leave when my mobile rang. I was hoping it would be Collier, but it was Lawson.
I accepted the call. “Hello, Alex.”
“I got your message. Bavister isn’t the only one from Colchester who’s in York.”
“No?”
“Remember Vaughan, the poof?”
“Yeah.”
“You should, because he works with you. Colour Sergeant Vaughan is currently serving in 15 Brigade HQ.”
15 (NE) Brigade was based at Imphal Barracks. “We haven’t met.”
“Turns out Haywood couldn’t keep his cock in his trousers and swung both ways.”
“Haywood was bisexual?”
“I think Gordon was as well, which makes everything more complicated. I’ll pick you up at ten tomorrow night.”
I opened my mouth to speak, then realised he was gone.
Wanker.
*
I was up early next morning, to make Maikel a proper breakfast before he left. Bacon, eggs, sausages, black pudding, white pudding, beans, mushrooms, tomatoes, and toast were all on the table for half-seven, with plenty of orange juice to wash it down. I didn’t attempt to make tea, having had little success in the past, but Siân took care of her and Maikel when she joined us. I was glad to see her eat two slices of buttered toast in the time it took Maikel and I to demolish the rest. Maikel had a four-hour drive up to Edinburgh, where he was staying for three nights before heading to London. It seemed an energetic way to spend convalescent leave, but he wanted to see both his cousin and his uncle. Assuming his fitness was passed, he’d be flying back to Afghanistan at the end of the month. He left at nine, giving me a souvenir as a parting gift. I wasn’t sure when I’d see him next.
After I’d washed up the dishes and tidied the flat, I adjourned to the balcony with Lawson’s folder. Siân joined me, wearing her cord jacket and my woollen beanie despite the spring sunshine. She knitted, I smoked a cigar, and we lapsed into a comfortable silence.
After Lawson’s phone call, I was especially interested in Vaughan. I found a copy of his service record. Kevin Vaughan had managed to avoid all but one operational posting in sixteen years as an infantryman; a remarkable achievement. He was from Manchester and had joined The King’s Own Border Regiment in 1997, aged twenty-two. The majority of his career had been spent in Germany, where was promoted to corporal in 2005. Two years later, he was sent to ATR Winchester as a Common Military Syllabus instructor, rejoining 3 LANCS in Colchester in 2009 as a sergeant. I spent the next couple of hours poring over the rest of the pages in the file, but failed to find anything of use.
Mac arrived at half-twelve.
Edwin McBride was a Mackem – AKA native of Sunderland, not to be confused with neighbouring Geordies from Newcastle – in his mid-thirties. With his gelled, highlighted, black hair and sun-bed tan, he often passed for ten years younger. His interests were women, football, and beer – in that order – which pretty much matched his boy-band appearance. Few knew that the slight limp in his left leg was from combat over the water, in Northern Ireland, where he’d been the sole survivor of a Provo ambush. His current claim to fame was that he was going out with Deborah Donnelly, an actress from Emmerdale.
I introduced Mac to Siân and poured us all Diet Cokes. She was happy to stay on the balcony, so I shut the door for privacy, and we sat in the lounge.
“I bet she was a right honey before the coke,” said Mac, looking at Siân.
“Yeah, she was. Let’s hope it’s not too long before she’s that way again.”
“Far too good for the likes of you.” He was still staring.
“Funny.” I clicked my fingers in the air. “I’m over here.”
“Aye, sorry. Fucking drugs.” He shook his head sadly. “Alright, you want to know about Bavister?”
“Haywood first, after I’ve told you about Gordon.”
I briefed him with what little information I had.
When I was done, Mac said, “In that case, Haywood is completely opposite, like. He was popular with his peers and superiors, involved himself in all aspects of Army life, and a Jack the lad in the bargain. So far, they’ve turned up at least three women and one bloke he was knobbing.”
“He was definitely bisexual?”
“Aye.”
“Openly?”
“No, I think he kept it quiet. It wouldn’t have gone down well with his rugby mates. He was really into his sport, even had Theresa Cowan as a running coach.”
Captain Theresa Cowan OBE was an Olympic athlete who was currently serving at the Army Foundation College at Harrogate. “I wonder if he knew Vaughan?”
“I don’t know about that, but I know he was going to Bavister’s parties.”
“What parties?”
“You haven’t heard about them?”
I patted Lawson’s folder, on the table between us. “I’ve only got his details up to 2009, plus what I read in the newspaper. But I was wondering how he ended up working in an Army Careers Information Office after being pulled off a tour for sexual misconduct.”
“So is everyone, believe me. He was sent back to his battalion in September, started at the York office in October. I reckon his wife has some pull with a general somewhere. She’s posh totty, a barrister. Her father has money and knows all the right people.”
“Is she involved in all this?”
“Apparently she thinks he’s a saint.” He grinned. “Can’t be all that bright even if she is a barrister.”
“Before you tell me about these parties, I don’t suppose you know what Vaughan’s been doing for the last four years?”
“Aye, of course. A training detachment with the Namibian Defence Force for six months in 2010, then back to 3 LANCS in Hohne. He was promoted to colour sergeant at the beginning of last year, and joined us at brigade HQ at Imphal.”
Another training assignment for Vaughan, followed by a staff posting. “Have you met?”
“No, but I recognised his face when Paul showed me the file. Back to the parties. Never mind the shite he was already in, Bavister didn’t wait long before setting up a sex club in York. He calls it, ‘The O Club’. O as in officer, and O as in orgasm. Get it?”
“Thanks for explaining that, Mac.”
“No bother. I don’t know all the details, but it’s a private members’ club and he runs it from a place in Barker Lane, around the corner from his office. He has an S&M party on the second Thursday of every month, and a swingers’ party on the third Saturday. You’re probably wondering what my interest is?”
“No. I assumed you were sniffing around him as a potential serial killer.”
“That’s your interest, because of that twat Lawson. My interest is because Bavister made a new friend when he came to York. Any guesses?”
“If he’s as rampant as he’s portrayed in the Sun, I’m sure he’s made lots of new friends. No idea.”
“Justin Strong,” said Mac through grit teeth.
“Jesus.” Captain Strong was a Training and Development Officer who’d been commissioned from the ranks and was currently serving at the Infantry Training Centre in Catterick. Mac believed he was a borderline psychopath who hated women and had committed at least one murder and several rapes over the last fourteen years. Mac detested him and had been pu
rsuing him to the best of his ability for the last seven years.
“Aye, what a pair they make. I’ve got a favour to ask you.”
“Okay, but let’s stay with Haywood. Was he going to these parties?”
“He went to at least one of the swingers’ evenings. Bavister’s been doing the rounds at Catterick and York, inviting selected single soldiers to join the club. Always the best looking ones, men and women; and only the youngest, all in their early twenties. No officers – except for one – never mind the name. The other officer is a Lieutenant Lyle from 3 LANCS. Bavister’s 2-i-c, is the rumour. I reckon Bavister deliberately picks youngsters, because they’re easier to manipulate. There are some civvies in the club as well. All wealthy, older. I don’t know where he finds them – do you know where he’s from originally?”
“Sheffield. How come none of this was in the papers?”
Mac took a drink from his glass of Diet Coke before answering. “Because it’s still being investigated. Mark my words, Bavister is fucked. Even if he gets off the charges this week – and I doubt it – Graeme and his boys have about half a dozen more on the way, including the O Club.”
“He’s running the O Club during his court martial?”
“Lyle took over while he was on honeymoon and I think he’s still hosting them at the minute. Seems like Bavister’s actually had the sense to back off while the court martial’s in session. But I reckon the bloke’s a lunatic. Did he really expect to get away with everything?”
I’d been thinking along similar lines myself. “But he has so far, hasn’t he? He’s served for fourteen years; God knows what he’s been up to in that time. I wonder if he’s arrogant enough to bump off his conquests.”
Mac shrugged. “I don’t know. About that favour, I have it on good authority that Strong is going to be making his first appearance at the O Club this Thursday.”
“How the hell do you know that? You’re not supposed to go anywhere near him.”
Mac tapped the side of his nose. “You don’t want to know, mate. So long as I’m in the same part of the world as he is, I’m going to hound the bastard to death.”
I suddenly realised the implications of this favour: “I’m not going to an S&M club – not for you, or anybody.”
Mac chuckled. “You wouldn’t get in – invitation only, remember. But I want you to stake the place out for me and take photos of Strong.”
“Let me just get this straight. You want me to hang around outside an S&M club with a camera?”
“No, nowt so obvious. I’ve got keys to an empty building across the way. All you have to do is take a couple of photos from one of the windows.”
“What time do these orgies start?”
“Doors open at nine o’clock.”
I hesitated for a moment. “Okay, I’ll do it. So long as you realise I’m not trained to take surveillance photographs.”
“That’s no bother; I’ll have everything ready. All you’ll need to do is point and press.”
“Far too much information for an S&M party, thanks.”
Siân slid the balcony door open. “Sorry to interrupt, boys, but I feel like a snack. It doesn’t happen very often, so I have to make the most of it.” She smiled sadly at Mac.
“You timed your entry to perfection,” I said. “Mac’s just invited me to an S&M club.”
She turned so that Mac couldn’t see her and winked. “I told you he was gay.”
“I’m not gay!” he pleaded. “Not that there’s owt wrong with it, but I couldn’t live without the ladies.”
“They say all the best looking men are gay. Not that I fancy anything more than tea and biscuits right now, if I’m honest. Would you like some tea?”
Mac blushed slightly. “Aye, NATO please.”
“White with two sugars,” I interpreted.
Siân put the kettle on and we all chatted for a few minutes. She put a cup of tea in front of Mac and a plate of chocolate digestives on the table, before taking her own out to the balcony. I noted she had two biscuits perched on her saucer.
“I bet she’s a right goer when she’s fit.”
“I seem to recall I’ve heard that kind of comment before – about almost every woman you meet. Anyway, if you can drag your attention back inside for a second or two, I’ll tell you what this O Club crap is going to cost you.”
“Cost me?” He had a sip of tea and chomped on a biscuit.
“No free lunches, and certainly no free S&M stakeouts. Gordon was murdered in 2009, Haywood four years later; probably by the same person, and possibly by Bavister or Vaughan. With me, so far?”
“No, you’ll have to slow down a little.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry. I forgot that under that Gareth Gates exterior you’re actually quite bright. If the two squaddies were killed by a serial killer, then…” I gave him the floor.
“Then he might have killed someone else between the two of them.”
“Great minds think alike. Or, there might be another victim before Gordon. And if that victim was a soldier then the murder will be on our records at the Crime Bureau. If the murder was committed abroad there’s a chance it might not have been registered on PNC or any of the other police databases.”
“Sounds about right to me.”
“So I want you to either do a search yourself, or have the Crime Bureau do one, and find out if there are any other dead soldiers out there. Paul might be doing all this already, but I’d like you to look as well.”
“If we set a few parameters for the search, I don’t think it’ll take very long. I mean, how many murders are there in the Army?”
“That’s what I’m thinking. Let me get pen and paper.” I picked up a chocolate biscuit as I went to fetch a pen and notepad. “Right, first thing, dates. We’ll start from now and go back to 1997, when Vaughan joined. Second, cause of death. Let’s just go for a gunshot wound rather than shot in the head. Third, we’re obviously looking at unsolved crimes, as opposed to deaths on operations or accidents.”
“What about suicides, like?”
“Obviously the murderer’s MO could have changed, but seeing as Gordon and Haywood were killed in almost exactly the same way, we’ll leave suicides. I don’t know a lot about serial killers, but I think MO rarely varies. Ignoring the suicides should save quite a bit of time on the search as well. So far it appears only male soldiers are being targeted, but because of the relatively small numbers of female soldiers I don’t think we’ll specify sex. Similarly, let’s not exclude the Navy or Air Force.”
Mac frowned. “All service personnel killed by gunshot wounds from 1997 to 2013 – excluding suicides, accidents, and casualties – with no subsequent convictions. That right?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know how long it’ll take, but I’ll start this afternoon.” He stood. “I’ve got to get back to the office. No, I don’t need the notes, even I can remember what we’re looking for. I’ll give you a shout if I find owt, but I’ll be speaking to you about Strong anyway.” He said goodbye to Siân and I saw him out before rejoining her on the balcony.
*
Four hours later, I heard a knock at the door while I was cooking supper. Siân was watching TV, and the noise startled her. I told her I was expecting Lawson, even though it was too early for him, and went to answer. It was Mac.
“Hello. Did you forget something?”
“No, this is for you, but you didn’t get it from me.” He handed me a slim A4 envelope. “Paul’s been too busy running around for the coppers, so I was the first to find out. I haven’t told anyone yet.”
“What?” I took the envelope.
“The identity of the third victim. Private Peter Keogh, killed in Germany last April.”
“Was he –”
“Aye. Shot in the head with a .25 calibre round and found naked.”
CHAPTER SIX
Peter Keogh was nineteen, from Liverpool, and a private in 1 YORKS – Bavister’s battalion. Keogh had been based in Hohne
, in Lower Saxony, when he was posted AWOL on Monday the 16th April. He failed to report for duty and no one had seen him since the Saturday morning. A week later, on Tuesday the 24th April, Corporal Aucott of the PWO found his body in a shallow grave in a forest in the Bergen-Hohne training area. Aucott was on exercise and happened to stand his section down for a break near the body. One of his men noticed the smell and their curiosity resulted in the discovery of the corpse, which had been partially dug up by foxes. Keogh was naked and the cause of death was a .25 round to the right temple. The case was investigated by 70 Section SIB and the local German police, but no suspects had been identified, let alone arrests made.
There were only four pages in Mac’s envelope, but the limited details were more than enough. Another young male soldier killed using the same modus operandi. I didn’t know where Bavister had been posted in between Colchester in 2009 and Afghanistan last year, but Keogh was in his battalion. Although the British Army still follows the regimental system, the battalion is the basic fighting unit. Battalion strength is around five hundred soldiers, augmented as necessary for operational deployment as a battle group. Bavister would have known Keogh, as one of only five hundred-odd other men in 1 YORKS. If Mac’s information on Vaughan was accurate, he would already have been in York by the time of Keogh’s murder.
I knew I was being selfish, but I was glad that Paul hadn’t had time to find out about Keogh. I’d be the first to tell Lawson, and he’d be the first to tell his boss, all of which was good for me. I’d not heard from Collier yet, and was planning to enlist Lawson’s services for my return visit tomorrow night. I considered how best to approach the subject while I finished cooking. I was adding the finishing touches to a Waldorf salad when my mobile rang. The call was from a withheld number.
“Hutt here.”
“This is the Doc.”
I wanted to punch him all over again. “Yeah, what?”
“Mr Bell will see you tomorrow at six, at a shop called Leeds Army Surplus in Call Lane. Bring Siân if you want –”
“I’ll be there.” I rung off.
Bloody Reckoning Page 5