by Bill Kitson
‘Something on the lines of blackmail, do you think?’ Fleming added.
‘If we accept what Turner alleges about the seedy past history of the hotel and the sexual proclivities of more than one generation of the Harland family, it would seem the most likely explanation. However, Jonas also suggested that there might be another, even closer connection. He wondered, given Elijah’s mother being part of the brothel set up, if Elijah might be one of Harland senior’s illegitimate children. That’s of less importance right now than what else this file contains. And that’s sufficient to convince me this line of inquiry is worth pursuing,’ Nash said.
‘Me too,’ Fleming agreed. ‘Did you alert your CSI pal, Viv?’
Viv looked alarmed.
‘Don’t worry. I’m turning a blind eye, as the saying goes.’
‘Er, yes, I did. I asked Alf to check this guy’s prints against that bloodstained one we found in the kitchen of Track End Cottage.’
‘Good. Because if he doesn’t rule it out in the same way as he did Donny Barton’s, we’ll have to consider ways and means of taking the inquiry to the next level.’
As they were sitting with their coffee awaiting a response from the forensics officer, Nash asked Fleming if she had any ideas on the subject. ‘No, to be honest, I haven’t. I’m open to suggestions; in fact, I’d positively welcome them.’
‘There is one thought that occurred to me, based on something Mexican Pete said after he inspected the crime scene. He warned me the person who committed these murders is so far off the radar of normality they should only be approached with extreme caution, having taken the utmost in protective measures; a bit like going into a lion’s cage. To my way of thinking, when we do have a confirmed suspect, that involves everyone being suited up in body armour and with an armed response team present — the latter part of which can only be achieved with the chief constable’s approval.’
Fleming grimaced at Nash’s final words. ‘I agree, and I was thinking along similar lines, but given her previous attitude, how we hope to persuade her to go along with any plan to tackle a different suspect is quite another matter.’
‘Of course, all this theorizing and planning is going to be meaningless if those prints rule Nelson out in the same way they did Barton,’ Pearce pointed out.
‘Being up early after a broken night attending to the baby has done little for your optimism,’ Nash retorted.
Pearce’s apprehension was allayed a while later, when his mobile rang. ‘It’s Alf,’ he said before answering the call. Minutes later, he put the phone back in his pocket and smiled at his superiors. ‘That’s going to cost me a few pints.’ He laughed. ‘And you’d better prepare yourselves to face the wrath of God. Alf says there is an unusual characteristic common to both sets of prints. It’s a break in the pattern that might be genetic, or the result of a severe gash or burn. Alf reckons despite the bloodstained one from the cottage only being a partial, it’s highly unlikely that the two prints belong to different people.’
There was silence for a few minutes as they pondered the news and the problem of the chief constable, until Nash exclaimed, ‘Got it.’
‘Go on, Mike, what have you thought up?’
‘If we were to go to God with Elijah Nelson’s file and the background Jonas Turner provided, we could explain that we’ve identified him as a likely candidate for Barton’s mystery accomplice, via his fingerprint. We could back it up by pointing out the proximity of Track End Cottage to the place where Nelson lives. We could also point to the fact that the abductions started soon after Barton arrived, and Mrs Nelson hasn’t been seen since shortly afterwards. All of which is factually correct; we’re simply not putting the same inference on the evidence as she will.’
‘That’s a great idea, Mike, let’s hope it works. I know it’s early days, but well done,’ Fleming told him. ‘But for your deductions and information gathering, we might never have got as far as we have.’
‘Alf said he’s preparing an email to you, Mike, giving confirmation of what he just told me. I’ll leave you to it while I go to Teesside to collect another DNA sample,’ Pearce told them. ‘We still need to give some form of closure to the victims’ families.’
‘OK, Viv, and thank you — both for your work this morning and your concern for the victims,’ Fleming said. ‘I think, on balance, I’d prefer to be in the car with you than travelling to Netherdale to confront the chief.’
* * *
Contrary to their worst fears, the interview with O’Donnell went extremely smoothly. At one point, the chief constable even suggested that their privately held opinion might be correct. ‘I agree with everything you’ve said,’ she responded; then added, ‘but I think we must surely consider another option — that Nelson is the sole culprit. And that, far from being complicit, Barton could be another of his victims, along with Nelson’s wife. As you said, neither of them has been seen since late last year. I for one find it deeply worrying that they haven’t come forward. Simply because we found four bodies at one of his dump sites doesn’t mean there aren’t more elsewhere. We still have at least one potential victim unaccounted for, and now you’ve brought me evidence that could point to two more.’
‘I agree, ma’am, and I believe we should remain open-minded to both theories until we’ve searched Nelson’s place and brought him into custody for questioning,’ Fleming replied. ‘With your permission, I’ll apply for the warrant and set up an ARU team to back up the officers carrying out the search. He does have a rifle and a shotgun,’ she added.
‘Very well then; off you go.’
As Fleming and Nash walked down the corridor, they both shrugged their shoulders, raised their eyebrows in confusion, and shook their heads.
‘Well, that went well,’ Nash said, as Fleming bit her lip to suppress a giggle.
Chapter Twenty-one
It was still dark next morning when the briefing took place at Helmsdale Police Station, where Nash addressed the officers assembled in the crowded reception area.
‘The man we’re seeking to detain for questioning is called Elijah Nelson. Nelson is a gamekeeper by profession, and as such, we are aware via his firearms licence application that he possesses one high-powered stalking rifle, plus a .12 bore shotgun. Those are the weapons we know of — there could well be others. It is our belief, based on mostly circumstantial, but reasonably convincing evidence, that this man has murdered four people in a most gruesome manner. He might well have killed at least three more. Given that horrifying tally, and if our suspicions are correct, I have absolutely no doubt that he will not hesitate to kill again. I hope that dispels any complacency you might have felt going up against one person. One further word of warning. As I remarked, our suspect is a gamekeeper, so there is the strong possibility that he will already be up and about by the time we reach his house — I think it’s safe to discount the element of surprise. But I want silent approach, is that clear?’
Nash paused and asked for questions. One of the members of the ARU team cleared his throat and asked, ‘Do you have a photograph or description of this man?’
‘Yes, DC Pearce will be distributing photocopies of Nelson taken from his firearms application, plus the one on his PNC record following a conviction for assault. Those are the best we have. Anything else?’
‘Are we to take critical shots?’
Nash looked at the ARU leader. ‘Superintendent Fleming will give the order should critical shots be deemed necessary. I want this man alive if possible.’
‘Sir. Do we have medical backup?’ a second officer asked.
‘We do, but they have been instructed to remain at a safe distance on the main road.’
He looked at Fleming, who was standing alongside him, clearly inviting her to add anything he might have missed. Her response, a headshake, enabled him to end by saying, ‘OK, let’s go. But remember that your own safety and that of your colleagues has to be your first — and most important priority.’
* * *
It was shortly before 6 a.m. As he watched, through the trees, the string of vehicle lights in the far distance heading in his direction, Elijah Nelson sighed. He was in no doubt that the vehicles were those of police cars, and equally certain they were heading for Keeper’s Cottage. There had always been a chance that things would end this way, despite every attempt Elijah had made to sidetrack the focus of potential investigations by leaving sufficient evidence, or lack of it, that would implicate Barton. Elijah was consumed by fresh rage at the thought of the artist’s name and wondered how his efforts had failed. It was obvious he had done so; otherwise those cars wouldn’t be heading this way.
Nelson had watched enough TV documentaries featuring police activity to realize that they were acting at this early hour of the day because they hoped to rely on the surprise factor. The programmes he’d seen often had comical results, as the suspects were hauled from their beds. However, in this instance he believed the police had reckoned without his occupation, which saw him up and about long before the average citizen.
He was pleased that they hadn’t arrived earlier, before he’d finished checking the pheasant pens and feeding the early poults. It would have been most unfortunate if that task had been interrupted prior to completion. He hoped the estate’s other workers would remember to continue the breeding and rearing programme.
The police vehicles were still almost a couple of miles away, he estimated, far enough for him to complete his preparations and take up his selected position. Although Nelson had hoped this day would never arrive, he’d planned for it as if it was a certainty. He would visit the house before relocating to the old piggery, where he had already removed some of the boarding from the windows. That outbuilding offered ideal cover, and was highly appropriate in so many other ways.
He slung his rifle over one shoulder and picked up the half-empty feed sack. Others might have chosen to ignore this seemingly irrelevant item in such dramatic circumstances, but Nelson wasn’t prepared to leave the contents for foxes and other vermin to feast on. Whatever else they said or wrote about him afterwards, no one would be able to accuse him of being negligent.
As he walked towards the house, Elijah refined his plans. He would switch on several lights inside, giving the impression that he was in the building. That would distract their attention long enough for him to gain the upper hand in the early exchanges of the inevitable firefight that would follow. As he was leaving the house he thought of one final touch, literally an open invitation to the unwelcome visitors.
The outcome would be a foregone conclusion; Elijah accepted that fact, but pride demanded that he gave as good a showing as possible. Giving in or surrendering tamely would go against his nature, and he wasn’t prepared to bring such disgrace on the family name. Curious, he thought, but he was actually looking forward to it, now that the moment had almost arrived. But then, violence had been his stimulant for quite some time now.
As he took up position he looked at the weapons at his disposal and the boxes of ammunition at his feet. He’d start with the .12 bore, he thought. Then, once they were convinced that was the only threat, he’d switch to the rifle. He’d taken a stag down at over five hundred yards using that weapon — a man at half the range would be no problem.
* * *
The police vehicles pulled to a halt at the end of the track leading to Keeper’s Cottage. As the ARU team leader dispersed his men, to form a ring that encompassed the front of the house, Nash, together with Fleming and Pearce, surveyed the scene.
‘He’s obviously inside the house,’ Pearce said, ‘there are lights on, and unless it’s a trick of what little light there is, the front door appears to be open.’
‘I reckon that’s exactly what he wants us to think,’ Nash said. ‘It’s all a little too obvious for my liking. I suspect he saw the headlights and guessed we were coming. The only way he could have advertised his presence more openly would be by hanging a sign out of the window saying, “I’m in the lounge, come and get me”. No, I think it’s a bit too good to be true.’
‘What do you suggest we do?’
‘I think we should sit here and wait. If I’m wrong and he is inside the house, there’s nothing lost, but if I’m right, we won’t be in danger of walking into an ambush. My guess is that he’s probably rumbled our presence and is after making a fight of it. If that’s so, he’ll be pumped full of adrenalin, and if the action he’s craving doesn’t materialize, he’ll try and force the issue.’
‘OK, that suits me fine; I’ll go and speak to the ARU leader,’ Fleming said.
After a long wait, stretching beyond a quarter of an hour, nerves on the hillside and in the piggery were becoming stretched like piano wires. It was only a matter of time before someone snapped. In the end, it was both parties. Having tested Nash’s theory without finding any evidence to support it, the ARU team leader gave quiet instructions to three of his men.
Inside the piggery, Nelson darted from one to another of the partially covered windows to observe what was happening outside. The answer for long enough was — nothing. Eventually, the waiting game got too much to bear any longer. ‘OK,’ he muttered, ‘if you won’t accept my invitation at the first time of asking, let’s see if I can persuade you.’
He raised the shotgun and aimed it in the general direction of the nearest police car. The vehicle was almost at the full extent of the weapon’s range, but a blast from both barrels might provoke some reaction.
On the hillside, the police marksman adjusted the elevation on the tripod supporting his rifle slightly. His first shot, taken in response to the hail of shotgun pellets issuing from the outbuilding, had been too high. The sniper peered through the viewer of his telescopic sight caught a glimpse of someone he assumed to be the wanted man, and lined up the shot in the cross hairs. He squeezed the trigger, but as he did so, he saw Nelson move, and reacted quickly to realign the shot. Before he could fire again, the target had disappeared.
Cautiously, not wanting to present a further shooting opportunity to the sniper, Nelson peered around the edge of the window frame. Using the distraction of their colleague’s shot, three armed officers had crept close to the front wall of the house and were heading towards the piggery. Nelson spotted them. He couldn’t allow that. He wasn’t ready. Nelson lifted the .12 bore and aimed it at the man nearest the window, hoping to avoid the string spreading as far as his Land Rover, which was parked close by. He fired, and was sure he’d been successful.
From his concealment behind a clump of bushes at the end of the drive, Nash heard a gunshot. He saw a member of the ARU team half-stagger, then collapse to the ground close to the house. ‘Officer down!’ he barked into his radio. ‘Officer down, take the shooter out. Get him out. Now!’
There was very little cover in front of the house, but Nash could see the injured officer dragging himself towards the Land Rover. If he reached that, he would be safe from further attack, but getting him out of danger and treating his wounds would be far more difficult. Obeying the order on their radios, the rest of the ARU team had withdrawn to a position they believed to be out of shotgun range, and the lull in the shooting made for an eerie, tense silence as they watched their colleague’s painfully slow progress.
Two more shots rang out. Obviously, the besieged man couldn’t stand the silence either. The officers ducked as a curtain of pellets swept overhead, emphasizing the vulnerability of their position.
Nash bent low and ran back to where Fleming was standing alongside her car. ‘Who the blazes ordered those men to make that sortie towards the house?’ he asked.
‘It wasn’t me; it must have been the ARU leader.’
‘Well the result is that one of his men is lying wounded near the shooter and we’ve no means of getting him out or bringing assistance to him.’
Fleming gestured to the bonnet of her car, where she had spread out a large map that was weighted down with stones. ‘I’ve an idea that might work. I’ve been looking at the Ordnance
Survey. There’s what appears to be a track leading to the yard at the back of the house. It looks as if it goes all the way to the main road. If we can distract Nelson long enough to get a vehicle round there and in the shelter of the building, a couple of our guys could get to the far side of the Land Rover and carry our injured man to safety. It shouldn’t be dangerous either, because unless I’m mistaken, Nelson wouldn’t have a clear shot at them from where he is.’
She saw Nash was about to say something and raised a warning hand. ‘This is a job for the uniforms. He’s their colleague, and they’re better protected. Besides which, they can return fire if Nelson does take a shot at them. I’m not having you or Pearce taking any risks. That’s an order. Remember, Mike, you don’t only have yourself to think about nowadays.’
‘OK, Jackie, but all I was going to say was, let me have a look at the lie of the land first, before anyone goes charging in and putting themselves in danger.’
‘All right, you do that while I brief the ARU leader and give him a piece of my mind over that reckless action.’
She summoned the officer and explained what she had in mind. Having delivered a severe dressing down, which included a warning that he would have to answer to the Police Complaints Authority over his actions and disobedience of orders, she told him, ‘As soon as the rescue vehicle gets close enough to the house, I want your marksmen to commence firing at the outbuilding. I need them to keep Nelson too occupied to have any time for what’s happening across to his right.’
Nash, who had returned from his survey, interjected, ‘It might be a good idea for them to shoot at the piggery door as well as the windows, aiming at the lock. If we destroy that, as well as taking out the rest of the barricaded windows, we’ll have a few possible entry points available should we have to storm the building. Alternatively, do you have any percussion grenades?’
‘We can try that. It might disorientate him.’
‘Good, then get going.’