by Ian Andrew
His black brogues were polished but even they seemed to strain at the seams. The man wasn’t really that tall but Kara thought he looked like a halfway point on the transition to the Hulk. All his clothes looked like they would burst if he so much as sneezed. His top button was undone, his tie loosened off and Kara wondered if this was simply due to the fact that he couldn’t get a collar size large enough for his neck. As he shrugged back into the chair and looked over at her she noticed his right ear was slightly more cauliflower’d than his left and that his nose must have been broken a dozen times or more. Like Zoe, he wore no rings but she could see the distinctive tri-colour of a Help for Heroes wristband poking out from his right cuff. The watch on his left wrist was either a real Breitling Galactic, or an outstanding replica. Kara thought it was much more likely to be the former.
“So, Michael, Zoe. You said your parents are missing. May I ask, have you reported this to the Police?”
Michael turned to look at his sister. She nodded almost imperceptibly whilst keeping her eyes focussed on Kara.
He spoke with a slight London accent that had just enough of an edge to tie him to the City. Kara filed another observation away. “Yes, we went to our local station last week”
“And where was that?”
“In Fulham. We went to Fulham but they wouldn’t do anything. They said there was no threat. It’s a crock of-”
His sister cut him off, “They said there was no apparent threat of danger. Then they said they would keep it under review but wouldn’t be actively pursuing it.” Her accent was equal to her brother’s, but a little more refined. Either she had concentrated on making it sound that way, or had mixed with a slightly different sphere of people. “Excuse me?” Zoe asked in a manner that was not haughty or arrogant, but held a firmness of conviction that halted any thought of progressing until she had been responded to. It was the ‘Excuse Me’ of a teacher to her student.
The question and its delivery caught Kara off guard. She looked directly at Zoe, “Yes?”
“Are you not going to take notes, write something down?”
“No. No, I’m not,” Kara said it quietly, calmingly. She continued, “I’d rather just listen to you and Michael and get an understanding first. If I need specific details recorded later then my colleague will join us and we’ll sort it out from there. But for now, all I want to do is hear what’s happened. Can you tell me why you believe your parents are missing but the Police don’t think there’s a threat?”
Kara hadn’t thought it possible, but Zoe managed to sit a little straighter in her chair before speaking again, “They said that because there was a message left and there’s no sign of violence then there’s nothing they can do.”
“Sorry Zoe, can we start with the last time you and Michael saw your parents?”
“On Sunday last week. Eight days ago. We usually go see them for Sunday lunch at least once a month. It depends on whether Michael’s playing or not.”
“And is their house in Fulham too?”
“No. Michael and I share a house down here. We both work in the city. Mum and Dad live up in Arlesey. It’s a little village about halfway between Bedford and Cambridge.”
Kara knew where Arlesey was but didn’t interrupt Zoe.
“We went up there, had lunch and came back down. Then I phoned Mum on Tuesday but her mobile went straight to voicemail. Same with Dad’s. So I phoned the house and got a recorded message. Michael and I went straight up there and the house was locked up. We tried to get the Police interested but they won’t take us seriously. We’ve spent the week trying to figure out what to do but all we seem to have done is go round in circles. We contacted Mum’s friends at the WI but they hadn’t heard from her. Neither had Dad’s friends in the Legion, but it isn’t right. He would have told us if they’d been going away. They would have told us.” Zoe’s voice was becoming strained. Her clasped and neatly manicured hands beginning to twist slightly in her lap. Her brother reached an arm over and gently patted her hands with surprising tenderness for such a big man.
Kara paused and waited but neither of the siblings offered anything more. It seemed to her on first impressions that the Police might well have been right. Two grown-up children worried about their parents being away for a week seemed quite thin for a Missing Persons investigation. But the siblings didn’t seem to be like the usual nutcases. They were obviously reasonably well-off, well-spoken, well-dressed, probably well-employed. ‘Mind you,’ Kara thought, ‘Doesn’t stop them from being well-crazy.’
She prompted them, “You said you listened to a recorded message and went straight up to their house. What did the message say?”
Michael reached into his pocket and drew out his mobile phone. He pressed a few buttons and handed it to Kara. The contact on the screen simply said ‘Home’.
“Before you ring there’s something you should know,” he said. “My Dad was an ex-Royal Navy photographer. He went all over the world for work and he and Mum have been on holidays all over the world as well. But not once has my Mum ever flown. She’s got an acute fear of flying. I’m not talking just frightened, I mean it’s debilitating. The medical term is severe aviophobia and it’s not something she can master. She’s been on courses of hypnotherapy and medication and none of it ever worked. In the early days of their marriage they even got as far as the airport but had to cancel the flights when she couldn’t get through the arrivals hall. So when we went on holidays we always went by car, boat or train. We travelled all over the UK and Europe but not once to anywhere that needed a plane ride. Since the tunnel Mum and Dad would take trains through to Europe and they’ve even taken a number of roundtrip cruises to further afield. But no flying. Ever.”
“Okay Michael,” Zoe said, having reclaimed her composure. “I think Kara understands. Let her listen.”
Kara pressed the call button. The home phone in Arlesey rang five times before the message service kicked in.
‘Hello. Brenda and I can’t take your call at the moment.’ The male voice had a distinct north-eastern accent. Smoothed out and made more generic over years spent far from home but definitely Newcastle. Kara registered it in the first few words and pegged it for Wallsend. She had a thing about accents and trying to get them to not just the area or the city but to the distinct vagaries of the individual town sites was something she did instinctively now.
She heard a hesitancy, slight but definite, before the male voice continued, ‘We’re going on a fly-drive holiday to America and will be away for a few weeks. Our mobiles won’t work over there so if you need us just leave a message and we’ll get back to you as soon as we get back into Heathrow.’ There was a second of silence and then the beep. Kara ended the call and handed the phone back to Michael.
Chapter 6
Camden, London
Kara concentrated on keeping the frisson of excitement that she felt out of her voice. Cases like this offered to raise her heart rate like a surveillance plan on a pub never could. “Before we go on,” she said alternatively looking at Zoe and Michael, “May I ask how you’ve ended up at my office?”
Zoe answered, “When no one would help us we contacted some of Dad’s old Navy mates. They put us in touch with some other people. Eventually a woman called Victoria gave us your details.”
Kara nodded and once more made sure to mask her rising interest in the Sterling family. She buried the flood of questions that had tumbled into her head upon hearing Victoria’s name and instead conveyed a sense of surprise at the mention of an old friend.
But Kara needed to confirm a few things, “Victoria! Goodness me! Where did you meet up with her, what did she say?”
“We didn’t meet her. It was all done over the phone. We were given a number to call her on yesterday. It seemed a bit strange to be honest. She told us to come see you and said you and Teen would be able to help us,” Michael said.
Kara knew at the very least this part of their story was genuine. There was no chance they would eve
r have met Victoria in person and by Michael’s mispronunciation of Tien’s name she knew it really had been Victoria that sent them. It was just Victoria’s way of leaving a calling card that was an easy and clean way of achieving corroboration.
“Yeah, that sounds about right for Victoria. Oh and I hope you don’t mind, but my colleague’s name is pronounced T-N, not teen. Just for when you eventually meet her. Anyway, let’s get back to your parents. I can understand why the message would concern you. Surely you explained all this to the Police?”
“Yes, but they ran some checks and said that Mum and Dad had flown out of Heathrow on Tuesday morning. We told them it was impossible but they said their checks were conclusive.” Michael sounded frustrated at the memory.
“Did they happen to mention what these checks were?”
“They said they’d cross-checked against the Border…” Michael hesitated, searching for the right word, “Patrol?”
Zoe spoke up, “Force. They said they’d checked against the Border Force and that Mum and Dad had left Heathrow heading to Miami on BA 207. Then they rang British Airways and the airline confirmed it.”
“Okay,” Kara paused, “Your parents said they were going to be away for a few weeks. Why not just wait for them to turn up?” Zoe’s eyes flared angrily. Kara thought there was almost a viciousness in them, but then she thought again. It wasn’t anger or viciousness, it was a deep hurt and a deeper fear.
Michael lent slightly forward, his gentle voice at odds with his bulk, “Are your parents alive Kara?”
“Yes.”
“Would you wait?”
Zoe’s eyes had taken on the shimmer of tears and Kara retrieved some tissues from a small kitchen area set off to the far side of the office. She knew that Zoe would have her own in her bag but Kara needed the half minute of time to consider her options. When she sat back down she had already made up her mind. “I’m just going to hold it there if we may, I think I’ve heard enough.” Kara saw deep disappointment in Michael’s eyes. “No, don’t be sad. I’m going to help you. I’m taking the case. I’ll get Tien to join us from upstairs and we can get everything started properly. We need to get some details recorded, establish a few facts and have you and I sign some documents. There’s also the matter of agreeing a fee.” The light returned to Michael’s eyes and he smiled broadly, turning to his sister and laying his hand on hers again. Zoe didn’t seem to share his conviction. Her fear and tears had once more been masked with the composure and carriage she had exuded when she had first walked in.
“Excuse me?” Zoe said it in the same manner as she had previously.
“Yes,” Kara said and turned toward the sister.
“You’ve decided just like that? I mean it sounds terrific but we haven’t necessarily decided on you. You didn’t come recommended, you merely came referred from someone we’ve never met. There’s a difference. I’d like to know if you have the pedigree or the capacity to do this type of work. I don’t mean to be churlish and neither do I mean to belittle you or your business but a ground floor office on the Kentish Town Road, with your colleague upstairs, was not what I had in mind for a detective to investigate the disappearance of my parents.”
Kara relaxed back into her chair. She was impressed. Zoe hadn’t sounded churlish or belittling and had actually spoken in a pleasant and gentle tone. Nevertheless, the calm delivery had an inner strength, an edge that definitely communicated what Zoe had needed to say. She had basically told Kara she didn’t trust her, didn’t have much faith in the surroundings and wasn’t that keen on engaging her. Yet she had done it in a way that made Kara want to genuinely thank her. That was a skill. In another setting, in days gone by, Kara would have seen a potential recruit in the woman that sat opposite.
“I appreciate your candour Zoe. I can only tell you that my colleague actually owns the apartment upstairs and where we are sitting was once her parent’s business premises. They’ve retired and now live in a very fine Georgian Terrace villa a few streets back from here. They also own the freehold on this building and I get a very reasonable rent for an office that is convenient for central London, has excellent road and rail access and is a five minute walk from my own apartment. As for me, I can’t really provide details of other cases I’ve been involved in as client confidentiality prevents that. What I can tell you is this. Your brother is an amateur rugby player. I’d hazard a guess at the Hammersmith and Fulham Senior men’s first fifteen. They play in the London North West League 2 and mostly play their games on Saturdays. Occasionally they’ll play Sunday Cup games. I reckon he’s a loosehead prop and is an impressive size of a man but just not quite tall or broad enough to carry into the semi-professional or professional ranks. Instead he concentrated on studies and now holds a lucrative job in the City but the hours are irregular and so I would think he’s an international trader or similar. The wristband he wears might be in recognition of your Father’s service but is likelier down to some of his City colleagues and friends having been ex-Service,” Kara paused momentarily and looked to Michael. She saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes. “Given the circles he mixes in I’d say some of them are ex-Guards, Household Cavalry or perhaps even Honourable Artillery Company.” She had watched him carefully as she spoke and saw each assessment hit the mark. Kara looked back towards Zoe.
“You’re a professional dancer. More specifically, a ballerina. It could be the Royal Ballet but if I had to make a call I’d be inclined to say probably not. More likely to be one of the other London Companies, maybe the English National. You’ve always been a dancer and probably graduated from one of the London schools. Obviously your hours are quite irregular, like your Brother’s, hence the shared house in town. As for your parents, I don’t know what’s happened to them but you’ve already told me your father was an ex-Royal Navy photographer and I reckon he was at a Joint Service base near Arlesey for his last tour of duty. That means really only one place and that was confirmed by the fact that his ex-colleagues ended up putting you in touch with Victoria. Not many people have access to that lady. I really don’t know if what’s happening now has anything to do with his time in the Service but it’s a possibility. I think that outgoing message was left as a diversion but whoever came up with the cover story didn’t know about your Mother’s fear of flying. That means something’s not right.” Kara paused and then couldn’t resist adding a little icing on top, “Oh, and your Father was originally from Wallsend, just north of Newcastle and I’m not a detective. I’m a private investigator.”
Zoe Sterling didn’t quite smile but glanced across to Michael before looking back at Kara, “That’s a very persuasive display. I would suggest it’s okay for your colleague to join us now.”
Chapter 7
Camden, London
As the Sterlings were making their way back to Fulham, Tien had already broken into the various Global Distribution Systems that the major airlines used to validate bookings.
“So, what am I looking at?” Kara asked.
“On the left is Sabre, then Amadeus, Galileo, Apollo, Travelport and Worldspan. If the Sterling’s parents made a reservation with BA it’ll be in at least one of these.”
“How the hell did you penetrate them so quickly?”
“Ah, these are easy and I’ve broken into them so many times I might as well have a login.”
The computer screens beeped almost in a perfect sequence left to right and all of them flashed up the same record. British Airways Flight 207 departing Heathrow to Miami, Florida. Two seats. One for Christopher Harold Sterling and another for Brenda Joyce Sterling.
Tien interrogated the record details and compared it to the information Zoe and Michael had provided. “The names, address, dates of birth and all the other data we have matches. They got on a flight on Tuesday morning and went to America according to this.”
“Well, someone did. Did they book business, first class?”
“Cattle class. No frills. Seats 45 B and C. Flight was booked and
paid for,” Tien paused a beat, “Oh that’s interesting.”
“What?” Kara said as she leaned over trying to interpret the screen of abbreviations and unfamiliar character sets that filled the central display.
“It was booked and paid for at 03:30, Tuesday morning from an Internet access. Paid for by a credit card registered to Christopher Sterling so no details needed that wouldn’t be on the card. Certainly no pin or signature required. It does show an IP address so if we can get the Sterling’s home computer then I should be able to verify if it came from there.”
Kara laughed, “Interesting is an understatement isn’t it? According to this Chris Sterling decided, on what appears to be a complete whim, to get up in the middle of the night and book himself and his airplane phobic wife on an impromptu flight across the Atlantic?”
“Yep, that would seem to be exactly what happened,” Tien said as she swivelled her chair round. “So now what? There’s no bookings in these systems for a hotel or a hire car. Their kids don’t have a hotel name for them and according to the search I ran a couple of minutes ago, Trip Advisor says there are over 4000 hotels in Florida alone. The chances of us finding them are nil.”
“So all we know is that someone booked a flight?”
“No,” Tien said. “We also know that someone got on that flight and went to Miami.” She swivelled back and pointed to the screen. “That ‘pcf’ next to each name means that the passengers completed the flight. It wasn’t a no-show. Two people got on and sat in 45 B and C and then they got off at Miami without incident. They even had hold luggage of one bag each.”