by M. C. Dutton
Jazz wished he hadn’t asked, it was more information than he needed to hear. But he did wonder why they used barges and lorries. Gary, now in full swing, said, ‘A barge can carry about ten lorry loads in one go, and it takes eight hours using the tides to get here. Simple!’
Jazz was disappointed; he’d really thought The Bird Man would have a finger in this pie.
They sat in silence for a while and then Gary went back into his commentary which Tom found very interesting. The RSPB was something he belonged to. He enjoyed shooting birds for eating but he liked the wildlife of birds. He was fascinated to hear the types of birds that came to Wallasea, he had no idea Essex had such interesting places. He turned to a bored Jazz and said he might come here again on a day off. Jazz looked at him as if he was mad.
Gary said that if he liked birds he could see Avocets, Black-tailed godwits, Redshank, Spoonbill and of course Brent geese, there were lots of them around. He lowered his voice and said that even the Great White Egret had been seen at Wallasea together of course with the little egrets. Tom was quite impressed by that.
They continued on the journey, with Gary talking about various types of birds. Jazz, bored, tried to light a cigarette but had great difficulty owing to the gale that seemed to be blowing up. After a few minutes he got a bit concerned; the boat bobbed up and down ferociously, and he discovered he suffered from seasickness. After a further thirty minutes of torture as they passed round the back of Potton Island and under Potton Bridge, they arrived in Paglesham Reach. He was looking forward to getting onto firm land. They moored on the floating pontoon, which was rocking and rolling with the small boat. The water in the Reach was turbulent and aggressive. The waves weren’t big but they were strong and persistent. It took several minutes and a torn pocket before they were able to scrabble off the boat onto the pontoon.
Tom and Jazz made their way down the pontoon looking like a drunken pair of mobsters in their city suits. Gary, following behind, laughed at the sight. ‘What a pair of tossers,’ he thought.
There were six barges moored at Paglesham Boatyard. Something went ker-ching in Jazz’s head. Aggregate: who else moves aggregate and who would work with the barges? He tried to ring Ash but the bugger wasn’t answering. Pissed off he asked Tom if one of his lads could make some enquiries for him. When he finally got off the phone both he and Tom looked intently at the barge in front of them. They noted the tide was in but it didn’t come in very high. Gary confirmed that when the tide was out the barge sat in mud, and the water usually only came up about three or four feet. He also confirmed that barges only needed three feet of water to move, when empty, of course, and not full of aggregate. Jazz asked if the barges were busy working back and forth from the X Rail project to Wallasea Island. What the heck were six barges doing sitting in Paglesham? Why weren’t they busy on the river? According to Gary, the coastguards liked a couple of days a week break from having six barges going up and down the Thames to Wallasea Island. And the barges had a few days overhaul. It all made sense and Jazz began brimming with excitement. If he got the answers he hoped, then he had a link to The Bird Man.
They would need to organise for the barges to be moved and for a camera to check out whether a body was found under the mud. The quayside looked like the only place at Paglesham in which a man could be stood in mud until water came up to his mouth and ebbed out, and a barge came forward. A DVD could be filmed from the quayside, and the angle looked right. They needed to get back to London to process the information and organize a search of the mud. They turned to Gary who was walking back to his boat, and shouted that they were ready to return to Wallasea. Gary said there was no need. He pointed through the boatyard and said if they followed the road, it would take them to their car at the Plough and Sail. It should take about ten minutes to walk. It took a few minutes for this to sink in. The bastard had taken them the long way round and cost them a fortune in an unnecessary boat trip. They were ready to throttle him. But by now Gary had fired up his tug and was out of reach. He waved to them and shouted his thanks for their business. What had they been told by the Marine Police? He was as slippery as a handful of eels in a bucket of snot! And they hadn’t believed anyone living in the sticks could be cleverer than they were. They felt like a pair of dickheads and promised each other never to mention it again.
Tom got on the phone to Eddie Willoughby at Essex Police Marine Unit. Now Eddie had to help. Reluctantly Eddie agreed to take a few of his men off a patrol and do the checks Tom asked for. As Tom was about to say goodbye Eddie asked if he had seen Gary. By Tom’s tone Eddie knew just what had happened and he laughed. The London Police were always full of themselves and it was good to hear that a local had got one over on the London lot. He would hear about it later when he went down to his local pub. Gary would tell all his story of how he had duped the London Police, and it would keep him in free drinks for quite some time.
Tom and Jazz walked back to the pub, disgruntled that a six-fingered bastard of a carrot-cruncher had stitched them up. They decided to have half a Wallasea Wench and a pub burger and chips before they returned to Ilford. The beer was cold, tasty and hit the spot, and with the food, it all went down a treat.
When Jazz’s phone went and Peter confirmed what he’d thought, Jazz let out an excited whoop of yesss we’ve got him which made the locals look up. The journey back to Ilford was full of ideas and thoughts; both men were excited by the thought of getting The Bird Man. No one had done that before and they were going to be the pair that had done the impossible. By the time they arrived at Ilford Police Station they were giggling and saying to each other, You are the man. Other officers thought they were drunk but although half a Wallasea Wench was potent stuff, it wasn’t enough for a seasoned drinker like Jazz.
He tried to ring Ash again but still got no reply. No one had seen him all day. Someone said he had burned the midnight oil the other night and perhaps he was sleeping. Jazz wasn’t happy at all; he’d read Ash the riot act next time they spoke. For now, it was late, and he and Tom wanted to get together the following morning and plan the next stage. They knew they had to be careful when dealing with The Bird Man.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Sting in the tail
The time had flown by; it was past closing time and the pub was empty. Ash needed to go to the gents. He’d been banged up in the storeroom for what must have been a couple of hours. No wonder he was tired, hungry and wanted to pee. George took him to the gents which seemed highly unnecessary but Ash reckoned it was George’s way of making up for locking him in the storeroom. He thought George was very affable but not very bright.
A meal was produced for Ash and a cup of coffee brought to his table. George was still being very attentive. It was getting on Ash’s nerves: too much overseeing of what he was doing and too much niceness. It was beginning to feel claustrophobic and he wanted to go home. He’d been promised that someone wanted to meet him but as yet they hadn’t appeared and he didn’t want to wait any longer. It had been an evening of false promises. He finished his bangers and mash and got up to go. He was in the middle of thanking George for his hospitality and for his help but at that point George jumped in and said the man he wanted to introduce him to was here, and he pointed to the corner. Surprised and shocked, Ash looked over and there was Freddie Link.
The pub was completely empty. Freddie Link was a monster of a man and not someone he wanted to meet in public, let alone in a deserted pub at this time of night. The graveyard shroud of fear crept from his feet up to his head; as the feeling rose, it sent icy fingers into every part of his body and he felt cold, so cold. He had never felt such fear before. It paralysed him and he couldn’t move. There was no smile or acknowledgement from Freddie Link. He rose from his seat and walked to Ash. One punch in the side of the face and he was on the floor out cold. George and Freddie picked him up; although he was quite slim he weighed much more when unconscious. They grunted as they carried him through the back door to a car in the b
ackyard. They pushed him in the boot of the Mercedes and Freddie nodded at George and drove off. All of this happened without a word. Each knew what they had to do.
It was the next day before Ash fully recovered. He found himself on a bed in a dark room. He saw there were blinds, which were closed. He had no idea how he’d got there or why he was there. Again, the fear of what was happening over took him and he shook with terror. He scrabbled in his pockets for his mobile but couldn’t find it. ‘Oh Jesus, what have I got myself into?’ he thought in panic. He didn’t know what anyone wanted with him. Now it was coming back to him; as his face throbbed with pain, he remembered the pub and George and Freddie Link. What had he done?
He was not tied up so he got up and tried the door. It was locked. He went to the window to look through the blinds but they turned out to be metal shutters and he couldn’t move them. He felt tears of frustration and fear rising up and quickly he wiped his eyes; he didn’t need to break down now, he needed to think. He went back to the bed and sat down. There was nothing else in the room except the bed with a pillow and duvet, and a light switch on the wall. At least the light worked. He wanted to bang on the door and demand to be let out but he was too scared. He wasn’t sure that he wanted anyone to enter the room. If someone came into the room they might try to kill him. He knew Freddie Link, and if free he could arrest him and George. There was no way they would allow that to happen. They were going to kill him, he knew that. He wanted to tell his wife and his mother how much he loved them. His children – his gorgeous, clever, bright and loving children – he might never see them again. Now he cried loud and hard; it was all too much to bear.
Just as he was trying to sleep, as he had been awake for hours and wanted to escape the torture of not knowing what was going to happen, he heard the door being unlocked. Instantly he was wide-awake; his heart was pounding and his breath was laboured and making him dizzy. Freddie Link entered the room. He had a bottle of water and a McDonald’s bag. He threw them on the bed, said, ’Get on with it,’ and left.
Ash heard the key turn in the door and a bolt being shut. He sat for a moment wondering why and when and if. He didn’t know what to make of it all. He sat and ate the lukewarm Big Mac and chips, and drank some water. He was hungry but his taste buds were on strike and nothing had any flavour. He felt numb.
Whom had he upset? Obviously it was The Bird Man but how could he kill a Detective Constable in the Metropolitan Police Force and expect to get away with it? Alone in the room with no visible means of escape, Ash sat in fear and spent the hours contemplating his death.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Payback time
Jazz was to meet Tom in the canteen and he found himself an empty table in the corner. Milly was pleased to see him again. There was a queue of police officers waiting to select their breakfast from the hot buffet but she stopped serving them to take a fresh cup of tea over to Jazz at his table.
Tom Black arrived a little later. He’d been held up by one of his detectives. Apparently no one had seen Ash for over a day. He didn’t add that the last time this happened Jazz’s detective was found shot dead. He’d made enquiries and found out that Ash hadn’t gone home; he hadn’t rung his wife or his mother for a day and that wasn’t like him. He felt as sick as a pig but he had to tell Jazz there was trouble brewing. Okay, it might mean nothing, Ash might have gone on a bender and be holed up somewhere with a massive hangover – but it was highly unlikely. Reluctantly he sat Jazz down and told him that no one had seen or heard from Ash for at least twenty-four hours.
Jazz’s first instinct was to jump up and go and look everywhere, but he held back. The sinking feeling in his stomach made him feel sick. What had he done? He’d said this would never happen again. He promised Tom that when he found Ash he would rip his face off for doing this to him. Tom nodded sympathetically but urged Jazz to get into the office and find out what he had been doing and where he might be. Jazz tried his mobile number just in case this was just a storm in a teacup. He hoped and prayed Ash would answer his phone, but it just cut off with no voicemail. Sombre and quiet, he and Tom went to the office in which Ash had been working and searched his desk. Going through the paperwork there Jazz repeated the mantra of ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.’ It didn’t make him feel any easier.
In the meantime, a search was made for Ash’s mobile phone. No signal had been picked up. It seemed as if it could have been dismantled but the last place it had been picked up was Longbridge Road. It looked as if he was in The Pig and Poke. The feeling of uneasiness overtook Jazz and he tried to control his breathing.
He searched Ash’s computer. He knew Ash’s log-on code and he checked out what he’d been looking at and working on. He picked up the report on The Pig and Poke affray and read what Ash had read. It was frightening to think he might have taken this information and gone to research it. Jazz showed Tom what he’d read. The look on Tom’s face confirmed his fears. ‘The stupid, idiotic, fucking prick of a bastard has gone to the pub, hasn’t he?’ asked Jazz, wanting to hear ‘no’ but Tom nodded. A detective given the job of checking number plates on the cameras in most areas had picked up Ash’s car travelling from Barking to Longbridge Road, and the last camera showed him heading in the direction of The Pig and Poke.
In a second Jazz was off down the corridor with Tom running behind him. ‘Where the fuck are we going?’ asked Tom. ‘To The fucking Pig and Poke, I presume?’ Jazz nodded and they headed for the station car park, where they grabbed an undercover vehicle.
It was morning and the pub wouldn’t be open yet, but they would find the landlord who lived above the pub. On the way Jazz tried to calm down. He didn’t believe anything had happened to Ash; this was all a mistake and he and Tom were jumping to conclusions. My God, why would anyone want to take Ash. He was a medal-winning dipstick of the first order. He couldn’t solve anything above bike thefts. Even The Bird Man knew Ash was a numpty and not worth much. But then Jazz stopped trying to convince himself and wondered if Ash was a better detective than anyone had seen. He hoped to God he was wrong and that Ash was the load of rubbish he thought he was. There was only so much he could tell Tom. The Bird Man was dangerous and he didn’t want to put Tom in danger by giving him too much information. Tom wasn’t stupid, he knew that anyone involved in any way with The Bird Man could be in deep trouble; he also knew that Jazz and Ash had been to see him recently and there was a problem. Tom was a better detective than Jazz gave him credit for.
They parked the car in the empty car park of The Pig and Poke. Jazz felt chilly and shivered slightly. The day was bright and sunny but there was an edge to the air; it felt as if someone had walked over his grave and he didn’t like that feeling. They banged on the pub door and shouted, ‘Police! Open up.’ It took a few moments but in a little while they heard bolts being thrown open and the key turning. The smiley, friendly face of George appeared around the crack in the door.
When they questioned him, George thought hard and long and said he just couldn’t remember a DC Ashiv Kumar coming to the pub last night. He said it was busy as usual and he might not have seen Ash. Jazz went through the motions of describing him to George, who shook his head and confirmed that, nope, he just couldn’t remember seeing anyone of that description. They asked if they could look around and George opened the door wide for them to enter; he took them around the pub and they checked chairs and tables. They went into the toilets and any door they could find that opened. They came to the storeroom and tried the door, which was locked. George explained that he kept drink and cigarettes and money for the tills in there. They nodded understandingly and asked if he would mind opening the door. George got the key immediately and showed them into the room. They found nothing to do with Ash there. With a thank you to George for his help they left. Jazz drove the car around the corner and stopped. He didn’t want to talk to Tom within earshot of George or his cronies.
They discussed what they knew and why they both thought The Bird Man had somethi
ng to do with this. As yet they were not totally sure Ash was missing. Just because it had happened before to Jazz didn’t mean it was going to happen again. But neither of them believed that. There was a link to The Bird Man on the barge murder. It was a pretty good link and by the same token they could link the other two murders to The Bird Man.
The three murders were unusual. There had been nothing like them before. If one was attributed to The Bird Man, could the others? The two men, James Kent and Peter Daly, were at The Pig and Poke according to the statements Ash had been looking at. Jazz looked at Tom and ventured, ‘I don’t know about you but I wouldn’t go near a pub that had anything to do with The Bird Man. He is a serious piece of bad news and can do a lot of damage if he feels like it. Now what are the odds of James Kent and Peter Daly going to a pub like that and being there at the same time?’
Jazz looked at Tom and asked “Is this making sense to you or am I making it up as I go along to fit the pieces? Tom said slowly, ‘It all fits but why is Ash a problem? That’s the question. What did he make of it all?’
‘Perhaps he had also made the connection between the murders,’ said Jazz, ‘and the stupid fucking idiot came here and asked pointed questions. It would have been like poking a stick in a hornets’ nest. Someone could have got upset.’
So the question again was Where is Ash and was he still alive. Jazz ached with tension. What the fuck should he do now and where the fuck should he go? He had to find Ash and keep him alive. At present it looked as if he had pissed off The Bird Man or his men, especially Freddie Link who, although not in the pub when the statements were taken, was known to have slipped out the back way. He spent a lot of time in The Pig and Poke. His girlfriend went there and so did his mates. He wouldn’t have been happy to have a Detective Constable walking around his territory asking questions. Freddie was funny like that. The pub was his territory and most people who went there were as frightened of Freddie as they were of The Birdman. Freddie lorded it by taking up residence in the seated booth in the corner where he could watch everyone come and go and he would invite his cronies to join him at his table. Jazz thought that Ashiv would be stupid enough not to realise you don’t mess on Freddie’s territory.