by Tim Ellis
E3:1
Walsh turned and vomited through her fingers down the side of the tent.
‘Do you have to, Walsh?’ Quigg admonished her. He wasn’t feeling great himself, but she looked decidedly peaky. ‘You could have gone outside.’
She took a paper handkerchief from her coat and wiped her hand and mouth. ‘Sorry, Sir. I wasn’t expecting that.’
‘Anybody got any ideas about what the hell it is?’ Quigg asked, looking around.
They all stared at each other and shrugged.
‘It could relate to the Bible,’ Walsh offered.
The three men turned to stare at her, expecting further information.
‘Well, it could be Ecclesiastes, Chapter 3, Verse 1, or something like that,’ she elaborated.
‘It could also be the Old or New Testament,’ Perkins said. ‘There are a number of chapters beginning with E besides Ecclesiastes. Exodus from the Old Testament and Ephesians from the New Testament spring to mind.’
‘You’re a brick, Perkins,’ Quigg said. ‘Good suggestion, Walsh.’
‘I hate to throw a spanner in the works, but it looks like a chemical symbol. I have no idea what it might be though.’
‘Well, Perkins, you’re the scientific expert. Is it a chemical symbol?’
‘No, there are no chemicals symbols beginning with E on its own.’
‘Thanks for that, anyway, Jim. Is there anything like this on any of the other bodies?’
‘I’m not even going to look, Quigg. Let’s get them back to the mortuary so that I can do a proper examination of each one.’
‘What about cause of death?’
‘Can’t see anything obvious.’
‘I don’t need to tell you there’s a rush on, Jim.’
‘There’s always a rush on, Quigg. But it’s the holiday period and I’m all you’ve got, so I’ll do what I can.’
‘Good enough for me, Jim, but can you do post-mortems on the first and the last bodies first?’
‘Will do, Quigg. I’ll meet you in the hospital cafeteria at twelve tomorrow, my turn to buy I believe?’
‘OK, Jim.’ He turned to Perkins. ‘What about you, Perkins? Anything for me?’
‘Forensics collects things, analyses them and then gives a considered opinion sometime later - probably tomorrow at about three o’clock.’
‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that antiquated system, Perkins. So, have you got anything for me?’
‘This place is called Angel Brook; I don’t know whether that’s relevant in light of the religious connection.’ He smiled. ‘I was glad to hear Debbie woke up.’
‘Yeah, and me.’ Debbie Poulson had been Jim’s predecessor. Quigg had asked her out and she ended up getting shot in the head on their first date.
‘But why did she leave?’
‘She’d reached a watershed in her life, needed time to mend and consider her options.’
‘Shame. Jim here is OK, but he hasn’t got Debbie’s curves.’
Quigg and Walsh walked outside through the flaps in the tent, ripped off the suit and gloves and put them in the waste bin provided. Quigg thought the snow appeared heavier than before as he put his duffel coat and scarf back on. The time was ten past twelve, and now that he was away from the bodies Quigg felt hungry. He was surprised that he hadn’t been more affected by twenty-three dead bodies all in the same enclosed place, lined up next to each other and demonstrating a range of deadness. There were considerably more dead bodies and deadness than he had ever seen together at one time before. Except on television. On television you could watch dead bodies all day long if you wanted; that’s why he very rarely watched television – it was too much like real life for his liking.
A uniformed copper was guarding the entrance. He had on his dark blue great coat, but the snow was gradually turning his helmet and coat white. ‘Where are the kids who found the body?’ Quigg asked him.
‘Over there, Sir,’ the PC said, and pointed to the group - of mainly boys - who were standing just beyond the tape, hoping for a sight of the crime scene.
Quigg said, ‘Thanks,’ and walked towards the group of children.
‘Which one of you found the body?’
One of the boys, aged about ten, put his hand up as if he was in the classroom and Quigg was the teacher. He had on jeans and a heavy anorak with a hoodie underneath. Dirty blond hair sprouted from the hood. There was a smirk on his face, and he wore his attitude like armour. ‘Is there a reward, Mister?’
Quigg smiled. ‘Yeah, if you tell me everything you know now, I won’t have to take you down to the station and torture you with hot irons.’
The boy gave a nervous laugh. ‘You’re kiddin’, aren’t you, Mister?’
‘What’s your name, boy?’
‘Joey… Joey Hazel.’
‘Well, Joey Hazel, tell me what you know, and I’ll see what I can do about a reward.’
‘We were…’
‘Be specific. Who are "we"?’
He pointed to similar aged boys in the crowd as he said their names. ‘Robbie, Baz, Skeet and Toady.’
‘Good - go on.’
‘We was on our sleds racin’ each other down the slope. I was doin a ton and winnin’…’ His statement generated heated debate from the other contestants.
‘Can we leave out who was winning and get on with the story,’ Quigg advised.
‘I must have been winnin’,’ Joey said, turning to the others, ‘cause my sled hit the dead arm that was stickin’ up first.’
‘So, you were hurtling down the slope when you hit the arm of a dead body that was sticking up from the ground?’
‘Yeah?’
Quigg looked at how close the frozen stream was. ‘Another couple of feet and you would have ended up in the freezing water, Joey.’
‘Yeah, we was lucky. We don’t normally come this far down, but we was trying to see who could travel the quickest and the farthest, and I won.’
Quigg held up his hand as the other boys were about to take issue with this unilateral decision. ‘Did you do anything with the arm or take anything from the body when you found it?’
‘No, thank you, Mister,’ Joey said, pulling a face. ‘Skeet called the bill on his mobile.’
‘Have any of you lads seen anyone near the stream at all?’
They looked at each other, shrugged and shook their heads.
‘Well, thanks for your help, Joey.’
‘How many dead bodies you dug up, Mister?’
Quigg ignored Joey’s question and looked at Walsh. ‘Give the boy a tenner, Walsh.’
‘Me, Sir?’
‘I’m skint - that’s why you’re buying lunch.’
Giving Quigg a filthy look, she took her purse out of her bag, extracted a ten-pound note and gave it to Joey.
‘Thanks, Mister,’ Joey said.
‘You’re welcome, Joey. And if you think of anything else, ask for Detective Inspector Quigg.’ He gave Joey one of his cards.
‘Sure will, ‘spector Quigg.’ The crowd of children ran off, dragging their sleds with them.
‘Don’t look at me like that, Walsh,’ Quigg said. ‘I’ll give you a tenner back when I get paid.’
***
Bartholomew, Thomas and James had taken advantage of the holidays to visit the Churchill Museum and Cabinet War Rooms, which none of them had seen before. They had met at Westminster tube station and walked the short distance down Bridge Street, along Parliament Street, and onto King Charles Street to the museum.
After reading a short history of the underground shelter at the entrance, they ventured into the Churchill Suite. They saw Mr Churchill’s bedroom, the kitchen, the dining room and Brendan Bracken’s room.
‘All a bit dingy-looking to me,’ James said.
‘Well, it is underground, James,’ Thomas reminded him.
‘Exactly,’ James said.
They had moved on to the War Rooms, and were squeezed into the Map Room.
‘
What were the findings of your internal investigation, James?’ Bartholomew broached the reason the three of them had met. ‘How did Quigg find out all our names and about the estate in Surrey?’
‘Hackers.’
‘Hackers?’ Bartholomew repeated.
‘We should have seen it coming, gentlemen. Quigg is a resourceful detective. He received help from a hacker called Surfer Bob, who, as you know, burrowed into the MOD database, which allowed us to track him down.’
Bartholomew laughed. ‘Surfer Bob! It sounds like someone on children’s television.’
‘These hackers invent weird and wonderful nicknames to hide behind, such as Prophet, Seducer and Ecstasy.’
‘I suppose it’s much the same as us hiding behind the names of the twelve apostles,’ Thomas suggested.
‘Exactly,’ James agreed. ‘Anyway, once that journalist woman…’
‘…Ruth Lynch,’ Bartholomew reminded James.
‘…once she had given Quigg our collective name, it was only a matter of time before Surfer Bob was instructed to hunt us down.’
‘I didn’t realise our secrets were on the Internet?’ Thomas mumbled. ‘Nobody warned us that our secrets were in the public domain.’
‘Do you understand how the Internet actually works, Thomas?’ James asked him, with a slight edge to his voice.
‘I thought I did. Don’t misunderstand me, James - I’m not blaming you. It’s just that…’
‘Nearly every computer in the world is connected to the Internet, and if it’s connected, then it can be accessed by a third party.’
Thomas’ eyes opened wide. ‘Surely not?’
‘My knowledge is rudimentary, but as I understand it, when your computer accesses the Internet it becomes part of a worldwide network, and the only thing separating you from other people are the passwords you use.’
They had moved from the Map Room to the Cabinet Room. James was sitting in the large wooden seat at the far side of the room where Winston Churchill used to preside over his wartime coalition of ministers. Bartholomew was sitting next to James, thinking of himself as James’ Chief of Staff. There was a large coloured world map on one wall and an eight inch oak-cased iron dial clock manufactured by Stockhall, Marples & Co., which had been stopped at 6.30 a.m. Tuesday 6th June 1944 to commemorate Operation Neptune and Operation Overlord – D-Day.
‘That can’t be right,’ Thomas said.
‘Oh, there are other security measures which can be used, such as antivirus and spyware software, firewalls and so on. But from what I gather, it is like putting up a chocolate fireguard to stop a child burning itself.’
Bartholomew sniggered. ‘A chocolate fireguard… Yes, very good, James.’
‘Unfortunately, not very good, Bartholomew. Although I have redesigned our business enterprise and changed our name, a determined person…’
‘Like Quigg?’
‘Like Quigg… could eventually find us.’
‘The explosion in Fulham…’
‘Surfer Bob won’t be surfing anymore.’ James smiled at his little joke. ‘There is also another hacker who acquired information for Quigg called Uptown Girl, and I have people tracking her down.’
‘What can we do to help, James?’ Bartholomew asked.
‘Thank you, Bartholomew, but everything is in hand. I have, however, found a potential new member of the Apostles who will take control of our Internet security. You will meet him at the Last Supper.’
‘We’ll look forward to that, won’t we, Thomas?’
‘Most definitely,’ Thomas agreed.
Before terminating the visit, they took a quick look in the Transatlantic Telephone Room and pressed a few buttons on the computer-sized telephone scrambler codenamed ‘Sigsaly’. Then they popped in to see Churchill’s bedroom, and Bartholomew stretched out on the single bed while no one was looking.
####
About the Author
Tim Ellis was born in the bowels of Hammersmith Hospital, London, on a dark and stormy night, grew up in Cheadle, Cheshire, and now lives in Essex with his wife and five Shitzus. In-between, he joined the Royal Army Medical Corps at eighteen and completed twenty-two years service, leaving in 1993 having achieved the rank of Warrant Officer Class 1 (Regimental Sergeant Major). Since then he has worked in secondary education as a senior financial manager, in higher education as an associate lecturer/tutor at Lincoln and Anglia Ruskin Universities, and as a consultant for the National College of School Leadership. His final job, before retiring to write full time in 2009, was as Head and teacher of Behavioural Sciences (Psychology/Sociology) in a secondary school. He has a PhD and an MBA in Educational Management, and an MA in Education.
Discover other titles by Tim Ellis at http://timellis.weebly.com/
Warrior
(Adult Historical Fiction)
Path of Destiny
Scourge of the Steppe
The Knowledge of Time
(Young Adult Science Fiction)
Second Civilisation
Orc Quest
(Young Adult Fantasy)
Book I: Prophecy
Adult Crime:
Harte & KP
Solomon’s Key
Stone & Randall
Jacob’s Ladder
Parish & Richards
A Life for a Life
The Wages of Sin
The Flesh is Weak
The Shadow of Death
His Wrath is Come
The Breath of Life
Quigg
The Twelve Murders of Christmas (Novella)
Body 13
The Graves at Angel Brook
The Skulls Beneath Eternity Wharf
Collected Short Stories/Poetry/Anthologies
Untended Treasures
Where do you want to go today?
Winter of my Heart (Poetry)
With Love Project – The Occupier
The Killing Sands – As You Sow, So Shall You Reap
Also due out in 2012/13:
The Gordian Knot (Stone & Randall 2)
The Timekeeper's Apprentice
Orc Quest Book II: The Last Human
The Dead Know Not (Parish & Richards 7)
The Terror at Grisly Park (Quigg 5)