by Ted Tayler
Blessing returned to her car and studied a copy of the map Suzie Ferris had prepared. If she drove one mile straight ahead, she should be able to turn right and head for the Bustard Inn Tea Rooms. If the track was in as good a state as it appeared from here, it shouldn’t be a problem.
Blessing looked in both directions. If she let this car drive past on the way towards Tilshead before moving, she could explore. Her warrant card was in her handbag if she had to talk herself out of trouble. The drive to the top of the hill went without incident. Blessing sang to herself to counter the butterflies in her stomach. She wasn’t used to being reckless, but Blessing believed the situation demanded it.
The Tea Rooms were four hundred yards ahead of her when her heart sank. A car was heading towards her, and whoever was driving wasn’t sticking to the speed limit she’d spotted as she left the A360 ten minutes ago. The driver flashed his lights and swung his car across the track. Blessing braked hard and stopped.
Blessing shivered despite the warm sunshine. A tall, dark-skinned man in uniform got out of the car and walked towards her little Micra. She couldn’t see his face because of the aviator sunglasses he wore. What was that on his hip? Was he armed?
Blessing grabbed her handbag, searched for her warrant card, and got out. She drew herself up to her full height but still had to look up.
“Where do you think you’re going? This area is restricted. You must have seen the signs.”
“My name is Detective Constable Umeh from Wiltshire Police. We’re investigating a murder that took place in 2015. I’m testing a theory.”
“Well, DC Umeh, warrant card or not, you can’t wander on the Plain without permission. It can be a dangerous place. We have live firing exercises almost daily, and an armoured vehicle would soon make a mess of your car.”
“You haven’t identified yourself,” said Blessing. “How do I know you’re in a position to tell me where I can or cannot pursue my enquiries?”
“Your DS Mercer contacted us asking for a liaison officer a couple of days ago, DC Umeh. I’m Jamie Banks-Trewick with the Royal Military Police Special Investigation Branch. I thought your Mr Freeman would contact us before sending Dora the Explorer on a mission.”
Blessing realised the Second Lieutenant was teasing her.
“My name is not Dora. It’s Blessing,” she said.
“Well, Blessing,” said Jamie. “It’s best if you come with me. Lock your car, jump in beside me, and I’ll escort you to the Tea Rooms. I’ll bring you back, don’t worry.”
“That’s not where I need to go,” said Blessing as she slid into the passenger seat of his car. “I want the quickest route from here to Glenhead Farm, Durrington. Do you know it?”
Jamie nodded, swung the car around and headed towards the Tea Rooms.
“What are you doing?” he asked as Blessing checked her phone.
“I want to know how long it takes. Slow down. You’re going too fast.”
Jamie grinned and eased off the accelerator.
“I’ll scoot around to the north of Larkhill Camp,” he said, “and approach the farm on the A345 Netheravon Road into Durrington. It won’t take long.”
“That was what I was hoping,” said Blessing.
“There we are, Blessing,” said Jamie as they stopped at the end of the lane. “Do you want me to drive to the front door?”
“Heavens, no. They’ve tarmacked the drive, but that doesn’t matter. I can work out how long it took.”
“Can I take you back to your car now?” he asked. “With luck, it will still be in one piece.”
“Yes, please,” said Blessing. “That’s it, I’ve done it. I know how the killer got to the farm ahead of Mr Guthrie.”
“I’ve no idea who that is, Blessing. I’ve only been at Bulford Camp for eighteen months.”
“Mr Guthrie drove a Bentley Continental,” said Blessing. Jamie whistled.
“Exactly, a fancy motor, not designed for the terrain we crossed just now. We believe Guthrie stayed on the main roads and covered twelve miles between the pub and the farm. We now know he left the pub close to a quarter past ten.”
“Twenty-five minutes, give or take,” said Jamie.
“The weather was awful that February night,” said Blessing, “and roadworks could have delayed him further. Either way, it was still twelve miles. The distance you and I covered this evening was eight and a quarter miles in total by cutting across the countryside using tank tracks and trails.”
“Public roads on the Plain never take the direct route,” said Jamie. “Since the Army arrived here, crows have been out of work.”
Jamie could see Blessing hadn’t got the reference.
“There’s no such thing as eight and a quarter miles as the crow flies, not out here. Whoever your killer was, he found the closest equivalent to the phrase. He must have local knowledge.”
Jamie and Blessing reached her car.
“It’s safe,” she said. “That’s a relief.”
“Do you want me to escort you to the exit, Blessing?” said Jamie.
“That won’t be necessary,” she replied. “I’m sorry for being a nuisance. It was worth it.”
“Yes, it was, wasn’t it? I hope I see you again.”
Blessing got out of the car and walked to her Micra. The sun was disappearing behind the hills in the distance, and the temperature was dropping.
“It’s so peaceful here, isn’t it?” she said.
“I recommend you get off home, Blessing,” said Jamie. “Tomorrow morning at 0900 hours, a major exercise gets underway. The ground on either side of the valley beyond this hill will swarm with men and armoured vehicles. Over at Copehill Down, they’re running sessions on close-quarters fighting techniques with live ammo.”
“I read about that in our files,” said Blessing. “They call that fighting in built-up areas, don’t they?”
“The top brass uses that phrase,” said Jamie. “The lads on the ground use the term FISH. Fighting in someone’s house.”
“What do you look like without your sunglasses?” asked Blessing.
Jamie whipped off his aviator shades and struck a pose.
“What do you think?”
“I think I’d better go,” she said, giving Jamie the biggest smile she possessed. “Yes, I hope we meet again too.”
Blessing hoped Jamie wouldn’t watch her negotiate a three-point turn on this single-lane track; it could be embarrassing. She needn’t have worried. The radio in his car squawked, and he gave her a wave as he dashed to answer it. As he sped away towards the Tea Rooms, Blessing started her car and eventually had it facing the right way. She remembered having one thing to do before driving back to Worton. Blessing called Jackie Ferris and told her she would be back in half an hour.
As she eased the car along the tracks to the junction leading back to the A360, she spotted a vehicle coming from Shrewton. Blessing waited for the Land Rover to disappear around the bend and on towards Tilshead village. She quickly made her way back to the main road and set off for Worton.
There were no roadworks tonight, but there was the odd car on the road. When she had reached the other side of the village, she relaxed. If only the driver behind would dip his headlights. Why was he driving so close? Blessing felt her Micra jump forward. Had the car behind her hit her bumper? She pulled into the side of the road, grabbed her handbag, and got out. It was that Land Rover again. It looked to be an old Defender.
“What are you playing at?” she asked. waving her warrant card. “DC Umeh, Wiltshire Police. You were driving far too close to my car.”
“I know,” said the driver. “I wanted you to stop.”
“You’re Oscar Wallington,” said Blessing, suddenly feeling very alone. “I know what you did.”
Oscar was out of his vehicle now and stood on the grass verge away from traffic. Blessing followed him.
“As soon as I saw your car at the top of the hill, I knew what you were up to,” said Oscar. “It’s such a
shame. I can’t let you take your information back to your colleagues. I’ve lived and worked on the Plain for years, and I know every inch. It was simple to work out how to get to the farm before Kendal Guthrie. He made it easier by hanging around until we came out of the pub. I knew nobody would patrol the hillside and beyond. They were tucked up in their barracks, listening to the wind and rain. As for Larkhill, my Defender was well known there. If someone looked out of a window as I passed, it wouldn’t have registered as something strange.”
Blessing looked around her. Why weren’t there any cars around when you needed them? Before she could react, Oscar had grabbed her arms, bound them behind her back with a zip tie, and bustled her into the passenger seat of the Land Rover.
“Where are you taking me?” asked Blessing. “You won’t get away with this. I called my landlady before I started back.”
“The Plain covers a vast expanse,” said Oscar. “It will take them hours to find you, even though we’re only driving three miles.”
Blessing could see buildings ahead, but no lights anywhere to be seen.
“Where is this,” she asked, afraid to hear the answer.
“The end of the line,” said Oscar.
He pulled up next to a two-storey building and got out of the Land Rover. Blessing tried to kick him as he opened the passenger door, but he was too quick for her. Oscar grabbed her left shoulder, dragged her out of the vehicle, and pinned her to the ground. He stuffed a rag into her mouth and wrapped duct tape around the lower half of her face to secure it. Seconds later, he had wrestled the frightened young woman through a doorway, up a flight of stairs, and into a bedroom. Oscar used more duct tape to secure her ankles, and Blessing found herself propped in the corner of the room under a window. Oscar left the room and returned, carrying a cardboard figure.
“It will be quick,” he said. “I’ve trained hundreds of men in this makeshift town. A group of young recruits will descend on Copehill Down at dawn. They’ll sweep through the buildings looking for the enemy.”
He placed the cardboard figure on Blessing’s lap.
“Say hello to an ISIS zealot.”
Oscar disappeared again, and Blessing struggled against her bonds and tried to shift her companion.
“You look tired,” said Oscar when he returned and bent over her. Blessing felt a scratch on her neck. Her eyes dropped a minute later, and Oscar Wallington stood up from where he was sitting on a mattress.
“Sweet dreams,” he said. “I need to leave, I’m afraid.”
Blessing was out cold before Oscar Wallington reached the top of the stairs.
CHAPTER 13
Jackie Ferris looked at the clock in the kitchen yet again. Blessing should have reached the farm ages ago. John was in the yard checking the outbuildings and paying one last visit to his precious horses. As soon as he came indoors, they needed to call Gus.
“Still no sign of her, love?” asked John as he walked through the kitchen door. “Perhaps she stopped in a pub for a drink.”
“Please get in the Land Rover and drive out there, John. Blessing inherited her sense of direction from her father. She could have had an accident or got lost in the dark. I’ll phone Gus and put him in the picture. I’m worried.”
John Ferris turned on his heel and returned to the yard. It wouldn’t be any hardship driving to Tilshead and back, but if Blessing went off-piste, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.
Jackie called Gus in Urchfont. Her daughter answered.
“Suzie, it’s Mum. Can I speak to Gus, please?”
“What’s the matter, Mum?” asked Suzie. “We were on our way to bed.”
“Blessing’s late. She phoned from the middle of the Plain and should have got here hours ago.”
“Sit tight,” said Suzie. “We’re on our way. What’s Dad doing?”
“He just left in the Land Rover, heading for Tilshead. We’re not sure where she was going after that.”
“Gus will know,” said Suzie. “We’ll see you in fifteen minutes. Quicker if I drive.”
Suzie pulled up outside the farmhouse kitchen door twelve minutes later.
Gus wondered how many more grey hairs he amassed on that trip. But at least it was for a good cause.
“Any news from John, Jackie?” he asked as they walked indoors.
“Nothing so far,” said Jackie. “Where would she have gone?”
“Durrington, possibly. You say she drove to Tilshead first?”
“She was in a rush as soon as she got home, Gus,” said Jackie. “Blessing called her mother instead of waiting for her to ring. Then she drove onto the Plain at seven.”
“What time did she ring to say she was leaving?” asked Gus.
“Around half-past eight. I’m worried Blessing’s lost and is going around in circles on those crazy lanes and tracks. You know what they’re like, Suzie.”
“I don’t suppose Blessing mentioned where she was when she rang?” asked Suzie.
“Didn’t think to ask,” said Jackie. “What can we do?”
“I’ll call Geoff Mercer,” said Gus. “Maybe he can scramble a helicopter to circle the most likely areas looking for her car. Boots on the ground are what we need. I asked for a liaison officer from the SIB, but unless Alex heard something today, Geoff might not have anyone organised yet.”
Jackie’s phone rang. It was John, so she handed the phone to Gus.
“I’ve found Blessing’s car abandoned on the side of the road half a mile out of Tilshead. She was a little over ten minutes from home. The driver’s door was unlocked, and the keys still in the ignition. Her handbag’s missing too.”
“Right, thanks, John,” said Gus. “Don’t go any further onto the Plain. Have a look around Tilshead village. Hunt for any CCTV we might check.”
“Do you think someone’s taken her?” said John.
“It’s likely,” said Gus. “Blessing must have found the answer to a problem that’s bothered us since Monday. I know who we’re after now, and the man is dangerous.”
“I’ll see what I can dig up, Gus,” said John. “Will you be coming out here soon?”
“Give me a few minutes to speak to Geoff Mercer, and Suzie and I will be on our way.”
“Who do you think it was, Gus?” asked Suzie.
“Wallington,” said Gus. “If someone’s taken Blessing, it can only be him. Alf Collett’s in Portugal, Dave Vickers doesn’t drive, and Jim Thornton is dead. So Blessing worked out how Wallington reached Glenhead Farm ahead of Kendal Guthrie.”
Gus called Geoff Mercer. His boss didn’t complain about the lateness of the hour or waste time asking what had happened. He recognised the urgency in Gus’s voice.
“Whatever you need will be available, Gus. Vera sent contact details for your liaison man from the RMP to Alex Hardy. I assume you were out of the office if you didn’t get them. You want Second Lieutenant Jamie Banks-Trewick.”
Geoff rattled off Jamie’s phone number and told Gus to join the search.
“I’ll get the chopper in the air if practical,” said Geoff. “and get as many uniformed officers as we have available on standby to assist in the search. Anything you can do to narrow the search area, the better.”
“Thanks, Geoff,” said Gus. He nodded to Suzie. They were off to Tilshead. As they dashed outside to the car, Gus called the SIB officer. The call went to voice mail.
“Damn,” said Gus. “It seems as if our SIB contact has gone to bed.”
Gus left a message. He and Suzie raced towards Tilshead.
“There’s Blessing’s car,” said Suzie. “I can’t see Dad anywhere.”
“Carry on into the village. John’s looking for CCTV coverage of the A360.”
“There’s his Land Rover on the garage forecourt,” said Suzie. “I almost missed it behind the fuel pumps.”
John Ferris was inside the twenty-four-hour shop attached to the garage. He spotted Gus and beckoned him inside.
“The lad on the till doesn’t
understand the system, but I’ve used one similar at the farm. I think I’ve captured the two vehicles coming through the village.”
Gus studied the grainy footage.
“This was only a couple of hours ago,” he moaned. “The black and white film of the moon landing is in better shape than this.”
“Here comes Blessing’s Micra,” said John. “The Land Rover pulls out of the junction behind her and speeds up. He’s right on her tail with his headlights on full beam when they pass this place.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing else?” asked Gus.
“You saw where Blessing’s car was, Gus,” said John. “This garage is one mile away. There are only a handful of properties between here and there. If one of them has any security cameras, they’ll be the same as yours, concentrated on access points to the property, not the road.”
“Dad’s right,” said Suzie. “Where would Wallington take her?”
“He lives the other side of Chitterne,” said Gus. “We should try there first. I was with him this afternoon; maybe something I said or did spooked him. We’ll use your Land Rover, John. Tell the lad on the till we’ll collect Suzie’s Golf later.”
One minute later, they were en route to Lodge House.
“Did you suspect this bloke already?” asked John.
“Suzie put a crazy idea in my head,” said Gus. “So, I spoke to Corinne Wallington after her husband left to drive to the manor house. A witness reckoned Collett, Thornton, and Wallington stared at the barmaid, Rosie Ritchens, when she was clearing tables in the bar on Saturday night. Suzie asked whether they were in it together. Alf Collett’s actions after the murder seemed to add fuel to that idea. I asked Corinne where her parents lived, thinking she would tell me they’d retired to Majorca. They still live in the same house near Portadown, County Armagh, where Oscar met Corinne while stationed in Northern Ireland.”
“You thought Wallington flew to Palma on the same plane as Rosie?” asked Suzie.
“He was in the bar on the twenty-seventh when Collett told him where she was going. It made sense at the time. Wallington was meant to travel to Portadown on the thirteenth, the night of the murder. The family was spending half-term with Corinne’s parents. Corinne told me this afternoon that Oscar flew to Belfast for a weekend on the twenty-eighth. It was a boozy reunion with several of his colleagues. He returned on Tuesday morning. Rosie’s death was what the police believed. A hit-and-run involving a drunken tourist at the wheel of a hire car. I got it wrong. There, John, the Lodge House is on the right in one hundred yards.”