Evil in the Land Without

by Colin Cotterill

  "Look. It's not my case. My sister and her boy are staying here."

  "Well, they aren't here now, and it would appear they've been burgled."

  "Oh, thank God. That's all?"

  The two men looked at each other. "What else were you hoping for?"

  "Have you been through inside?"

  "We have that."

  "And there's no sign of a fight? No blood?"

  "You're a cheerful soul, aren't you. . . . No, there was a lot of mud from the back window to the sofa, but I didn't see any blood. Did you, Ernie?"

  John had a feeling they were mocking him.

  "Can't say I did, Jim."

  But he was mightily pleased at the news. "Well, it's marvelous that you fellows have done such a thorough job."

  Shirley got out of the car to join them. The plain-clothes men looked at her with fascination but didn't say anything.

  "What have you got so far?" John asked.

  "Eh?"

  "About the break in."

  "Ah. The gardener noticed that someone had trampled down his azaleas and broken the back window at about 6:30 when he started work. So either your sister left very early, or she didn't come home last night."

  "Why the uniform at the gate?"

  "It appears the security guard's done a runner. The fellow was supposed to be on duty till ten, but the workers turned up this morning and they had to climb over the gate. No sign of the guard."

  "So he's our most likely suspect," said Jim. He was only doing the job casual like, so he may have seen an opportunity for a little bit of extra income."

  "Have you contacted the earlier guard to see whether his relief came on duty at all?" John asked.

  "It's on the list, mate. It's on the list."

  When the two went off to take care of the things on the list, John and Shirley went into the cottage. If Susan and Eddo had gone out early, they hadn't taken much with them. The tarpaulin and the lunch basket were there, as were Susan's sketchpad and pastels. The beds were made, and cold beneath the blankets. The cooking pots and heater hadn't been used that morning. It was more likely they hadn't been back at all.

  They talked to the gardeners. They'd seen Eddo playing the afternoon before. Then, just before 5:00 p.m., Susan and Eddo had set off across the fields as they often did. The gardeners and workers all went off shift at 5:00. The guard let them out and locked the gate. Susan and Eddo had just vanished.

  "Are we going for a walk?" Shirley asked. She figured they'd have to look in the fields. It wasn't something she wanted John to have to think about, but the empty paddocks would have been a perfect spot for a murder. John knew that too, but he was curious about the break-in.

  "I think, first we'll drive down to the phone box and see if anyone saw them yesterday evening. That would save us a search. Susan wouldn't have walked back over the fields in the dark."

  "Perhaps they've made friends with a neighbour. You said she was cut off from the outside world."

  "Possible. Thanks for thinking positive."

  "I've had a lot of practice. Whatever makes you think Bohmu Din could have found this place? It's in the middle of nowhere."

  "He found me, didn't he? He's persistent, and we don't know what he might have got out of Bruce or Maud before. . . ."

  They got into the car and drove across to the paved driveway. Once the crunching of the deep gravel stopped, they were able to hear the shouts from behind them. John slammed his foot down on the brake. Shirley banged her cast on the dashboard.

  "Sorry."

  They got out and went back to where the gardener stood shouting and waving his arms. They looked across to the pond to the spot he was pointing at. There, amongst the lily pads, a tomb of air in a bright-orange waterproof jacket held up a body. It floated face down, its blond hair spidering out in all directions on the water's surface. The second body they found later at the bottom, weighted down with rocks.

  44

  The dull light that found its way into his bedroom through the thick curtains was only able to leave a light veneer on dark shapes. John had long given up any attempt at sleep. From his place on the peach couch, he could see through the doorway and into the shadows where Shirley slept in his bed. He could make out the slight rise and fall of her chest under the covers, and he imagined he could hear the soft whisper of her breathing. It had been a physically and emotionally draining day, but he was too busy pining for a love he couldn't have, to be able to sleep.

  They had returned late that evening after a dreadful day at the temporary Murder Inquiry Centre they'd set up at the village hall at Mendleton. The team leader—a cocky, good-looking, fast-track deputy-super called Lawless, of all things—was extremely pissed off that John had taken off on holiday in the middle of a murder case. He was even more annoyed when he insisted his 'girlfriend' stay.

  Lawless knew all about John's little drinking problem. The scab that parted his hair, and the bruises on his woman, just confirmed his belief that Jessel had no place in the force. If it weren't for his personal involvement in case, he wouldn't let the drunk anywhere near a murder inquiry. He also knew also that Jessel was holding something back.

  John was frustrated to distraction that he couldn't say anything. They still called it 'The Paw' inquiry, and corrected him when he pronounced it wrongly. Naturally there were no leads as to whom The Paw was, and they had no witnesses that had seen him. John had tried repeatedly to get through to Woods via the Foreign Office after listening to the phone ring unanswered at the IIC.

  The pedants at the FO were insistent there was no Commander Woods, or Commander Doyle.

  "Look. I know there's no such person. Just leave him a message that John Jessel needs to contact him urg— Well, just in case one starts there this afternoon. Please, just—"

  It was the only way. If they could get a photo of Bohmu Din, and a confirmation from Mombassa, he would happily give credit for solving the case to Colonel Muthoga and the efficient Kenyan police force. But Woods didn't get back to him.

  Neither could he find Emma. She'd suddenly taken leave in the middle of cases, and left Somersbee in charge until she got back, which could be any time. It was totally out of character. She didn't answer her mobile or her home phone. He felt short of allies.

  It wasn't just the excitement of having a flatmate that kept him awake. Every sound from the street below, every creak from the old building he lived in sent a warning to his instincts. Before Burma, he’d been single-mindedly irresponsible about advertising himself to Bohmu Din. The bastard surely knew he was back in England, and probably who it was sleeping here just yards from him.

  “First the boys. Then the girls. You will be last, as you are the easiest.”

  "Is it time for me yet, Bohmu Din? I promise I won't make it too easy for you."

  *

  At 5:00 a.m. when the world and John's flat were at their most silent, the phone rang. It jumped him.

  He picked it up quickly so as not to wake Shirley.

  "Jessel."

  The silence at the other end made him anxious until . . . "John. It's Emma."

  "Em. Where have you—"

  "Listen. I want you to drive out towards Raynes Park. Follow the 131 bus route, and watch out for me. Make sure you aren't followed."

  "Em, what—" But she hung up.

  "What is it?" Shirley was awake and standing in the doorway.

  "Looks like we're going for a drive."

  "Oh. Nice."

  45

  They didn't get anywhere near Raynes Park. As they were passing the roundabout at New Malden, a car in the car park of the Fountain pub flashed its lights at them. John did a U-turn and went back to the car park. Emma's Mazda was just pulling out. They had no choice but to follow.

  She led them on a chase through half-lit suburban back streets and leafy lanes. After ten minutes she pulled up beside a factory, but didn't get out of her car. She beckoned for them to join her.

  John locked his car, and he and Shirley
climbed into the Mazda.

  Emma seemed disturbed. "Who's this?" she asked as she pulled away from the kerb.

  "It's a long story, but Shirley is probably the only person in England who can identify Bohmu Din."

  "Who?"

  "Sorry. I mean Te Pao. Emma . . . Dr. Shirley Heigh; Shirley . . . Emma Yardly, my boss."

  They shook hands.

  "Now, what the bloody hell is this all about?"

  "You'll see." She drove three blocks from John's car, then pulled off the narrow street and into an even narrower alleyway. At the end of it was a big metal gate.

  "Get that, John."

  He leapt out and slid back the gate on its rollers. Emma pulled into a tiny yard that was barely bigger than the car. When the gate was shut, she led them inside an old, single-storey brick house. It was cluttered with unmatching furniture and ugly souvenirs. It reminded John of an Oxfam shop. The only colour co-ordination was a layer of dust that covered everything.

  "It was my sister's place,” Emma told them. "She died last year and left it to me. Ugly bloody thing."

  John was impatient. "Em. What are we doing here?"

  "Like it or not, and I don't, I’ve become personally involved in this."

  "Has he been in touch with you?"

  "Not yet. But I get a feeling it won't be long."

  "Why not?" Shirley asked.

  "I think I have something he wants. Come with me. I'll show you. Keep very quiet."

  She led them along the wallpapered hallway to a door at the back. She turned the handle carefully, but couldn't stop the hinges from creaking slightly. The light from the hallway washed across a single bed. On it, Eddo slept soundly in Susan's arms.

  All he could manage was a brief smile. Emma pushed the door to, and they went back to the living room.

  "Em, we've been searching for those two all day. Where the hell did you find them?"

  Shirley was moved. Emma saw beads of tears in her eyes.

  She took Emma's hand. "You wouldn't know it to look at him, but he's really very appreciative and happy."

  "I know, love. I've worked with him long enough. I've never seen him this ecstatic."

  "Come on, you witches. You know I'm relieved. Now answer the question before I thump you."

  Emma spread newspapers on the dusty chairs so they could sit.

  "They found me. Susan had your number at work. She didn't know where to go or who to tell. She'd phoned her husband, and some stranger answered. Her instinct told her to stay on the bus and not to go back to the cottage."

  "Alleluia for the Jessel instincts. He was there, Emma. He knocked off two security guards while he was waiting for Sue and Eddo to come back.

  "Shit."

  "He weighted their bodies and chucked them in an ornamental pool. One wouldn't stay down. He was just some unfortunate student earning a bit of money in the vacation. Long blond hair. I saw the hair and I was sure it was Susan in there. Frightened the daylights out of me. The inquiry team launched a full-out search of the district. All the villagers were out in lines scouring the fields. I expected to hear the whistles any minute.

  "Well, the two in the back room are absolutely knackered. They'd been wandering around all night waiting for the station to open. They got the first train down this morning. Susan called me and I drove up town to get them. I figured this place would be perfect for them. Nobody knows about it, and it's secluded."

  "Excuse me for asking, but why didn't you make this an official case?"

  "I make it official and the press knows. The press knows, and Te Pao knows. It was my professional opinion that the fewer people who knew about it, the better. I hadn't realized you were back, or I would’ve contacted you sooner. The call this morning was just on spec."

  John leaned over and kissed Emma on the cheek. She looked shocked. "Em, you're the best. And if you’re able to rustle us up a hot drink from the kitchen, I'm going to sit you two gals down and tell you one or two government secrets that I shall probably be shot for. But stuff 'em."

  "The coffee's in the kitchen. I'm not your maid."

  Shirley laughed, and all three of them went to make it.

  "John, why didn't you tell me from the beginning that Eddo was your nephew's nickname? I could have helped. You didn't have to do this alone."

  "I know, Em. I'm sorry."

  46

  It was 8:30. Emma had brought enough food for a very long siege. She was preparing breakfast. Shirley was taking apart Emma's mobile phone to check for bugs. It was one of the precautions they'd decided on during their coffee talk. John was dusting. Eddo woke up first.

  "Uunncle Johhhhn. Penguin crash." He stuck out his belly and John stuck out his, and they ran into each other. They bounced back and fell to the ground with their legs and wings in the air. It was a routine Eddo never tired of. Shirley laughed at the two boys flapping their wings.

  Susan, woken by her son's shout, came into the living room drowsy with sleep. She saw John, ran across the room, and threw herself on top of him. They lay there, locked in each other's arms, unmoving apart from the barely noticeable heave of Susan's sobs. Eddo, ever jealous, climbed onto Susan's back and pretended to sleep.

  Shirley was overwhelmed by the closeness of the family. She had never cared enough for another human to imagine missing anyone this deeply. A lump came to her throat. Emma walked quietly over to her, took her arm, and led her into the kitchen. This was Jessel time.

  John and Susan's heads were together and they whispered through the mat of her hair that fell around their faces. It was like their secret conversations under the blankets.

  "I've missed you so much, big brother," Susan was eventually able to say. "I was sure you were a goner."

  "I'm not going anywhere, love."

  "He took Bruce."

  "I know."

  "I felt so alone. My strength's all gone. I really need you now."

  "Stop whispling. It's rude," Eddo said loudly.

  "Edward, little soldier, come up here to the talking end. I've got a super story to tell you."

  Eddo crawled up to their heads and giggled as he buried his face in Susan's hair. His sweet, milky smell filled their nostrils.

  "Ready."

  "This is a story about a great man," he began. "But nobody knew he was a great man because he pretended to everyone that he was just an insurance assessor."

  "John?"

  He squeezed Susan tighter.

  "What's an assy sir?"

  "It's a really really boring job that nobody wants, Ed. But secretly, this man, and we'll call him James—"

  "No. Edward. Call him Edward."

  "Let's listen to the story, pal," Susan grunted.

  "Okay. Edward-James was a secret soldier for the queen. He went off to foreign lands to fight in the queen's name. He was a great hero, and he helped a lot of people."

  "Oh, John."

  "But one day he went to a castle owned by a cruel wizard in a strange land where tiny brown and yellow people lived. He'd heard that the wick—"

  "I've heard this one."

  "Eddo."

  ". . . that the wicked wizard had captured a beautiful princess and was making her do his washing up and ironing all day in his bedroom. Edward-James broke in with his XP-55Z flame-thrower and rescued the beautiful princess, and on the way out, he took the wizard's TV and VCR.

  "The wizard was so angry—because he hadn't finished watching his recordings of ‘Coronation Street’—that he traveled the land in search of Edward-James. He found him sleeping under a tree and he chopped him up into little pieces."

  "Ooh."

  "But Edward-James had two children back home called Jobaba and Sumama. They heard what happened and they chased after the wicked wizard and they chopped him into even smaller pieces and fed them to the pigs."

  "Nice one, Uncle John. I have to pee."

  "Thanks, mate."

  Eddo always had to pee after John's bloodthirsty stories. Once he'd gone, Susan swept back her
hair and looked into her brother's eyes.

  "John. . . ?"

  "True as I lay here getting number and number. He was Secret Service. That lovely but battered girl in the kitchen is the princess."

  "But it's great."

  "Isn't it."

  She rolled off and lay beside him.

  "I feel so . . . proud."

  "Me, too. He was some piece of work, our dad. I listened to some old soldiers in the jungle talk about him as if he were Rambo or something."

  "Far-bloody-out. And the wizard?"

  "Our man himself.”

  "Do you think we knew? When we were making up our stories about dad, do you think we really knew he was something special?"

  "No. I think we wished so hard, we made it happen."

  She kissed him on the cheek. "I can't tell you how much better I feel. It was a lovely story. Thank you."

  "Su, in case I forget to tell you sometimes, I really do love you." And it wasn't just talk. It was real. He could feel it—a big, chunky old love inside him.

  47

  This time the Foreign Office was more accommodating. The receptionist had been expecting his call. “Hold on sir, I'll put you through."

  "Jessel."

  "Commander."

  "Are you on a secure line?"

  "I'm on a mobile nobody's expecting me to be using."

  "Good. Where are you?"

  "Can't tell you. England somewhere."

  "Can you get to the South African Embassy up town? There's a package waiting for you."

  "What is it? Not the photos?"

  "I expect so."

  "But I haven't even told you about it yet."

  "I've been in contact with our friend in Chiang Mai."

  "That's fantastic."

  "We have a very close relationship with the Foreign Service people in Johannesburg. They've also sent copies to your Muthoga chap in Kenya. They're looking for the boys in Mombassa now. But that could take a while. If they get a positive identification, they'll send the photos on to the investigating team here. We've come up with a story that sounds quite convincing."