The Sound Of Crying

by Nigel Cooper

  She walked over to the chest of drawers and systematically looked in them all, reluctant to lift up the clothes to feel under them and towards the back, but she did anyway, carefully, but there was nothing hidden there. She walked over to the wardrobe and opened the door and found the usual scruffy bachelor things hanging up and a black and red Slazenger sports rucksack sitting at the bottom. She got down on her haunches and took the rucksack out and unzipped it, it was empty, she put it back, quietly closed the wardrobe door and turned to walk out of the room, but then she paused momentarily. She turned and went back to the wardrobe and opened the door again and looked down at the rucksack and pondered. There was something vaguely familiar about it, not the fact that it was black and red, nor that it had the Slazenger logo written across it, it was the large sticker that someone had stuck on it, a black sticker of the movie, V For Vendetta, a black square sticker with a red painted circle with the letter ‘V’ with and the words V FOR VENDETTA written in white over the top. She’d seen that logo somewhere before, not the V in a circle logo, but that actual sticker, but more importantly, that sticker attached to that very Slazenger rucksack – but where? It wasn’t going to come to her so she headed back downstairs, pausing to flush the toilet on her way, using a piece of toilet roll as a shield between her hand and the toilet handle.

  ‘Mr Fairhead, if you hear from your sister I’d like you to call me right away,’ said Rhodes, handing Dean one of his cards.

  ‘You got it,’ he said.

  ‘Ok, we’re done,’ said Rhodes, to Sakki.

  They both headed out of Dean's living room towards the front door, Dean’s eyes glued to DC Sakurai’s arse as they walked along the corridor to the front door. DC Sakurai turned to Dean, ‘Oh, by the way, your housemate, Brandon Clifford, where would he be?’

  ‘Er, he’s not here anymore, moved out,’ said Dean.

  ‘When was that?’ she asked.

  ‘Err, not sure exactly … about a year ago.’

  ‘Do you have any idea where he’s living now or where we could find him?’

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘No reason. Thank you, Mr Fairhead,’ she said, turning and opening the front door.

  ‘Did he seem overly nervous to you?’ said Rhodes, as he started the car.

  ‘Oh yeah, but he did have dope and a syringe lying on his coffee table in the middle of the living room,’ said Sakki.

  ‘It wasn’t the bit of dope, there was something else bothering him, he was really worried about something, or scared … maybe both. Even through his doped up state he looked like a man with the world’s worries weighing heavily on his mind.’

  ‘Yeah, I noticed.’

  ‘Did you find any clues upstairs?’ said Rhodes.

  ‘No, not really,’ said Sakki.

  ‘Not really?’

  ‘I don’t know, there was a rucksack in the bottom of his wardrobe.

  ‘What was in it?’

  ‘It was empty, but there was something about it, it looked familiar, unique, I think I’ve seen it somewhere before but I can’t place it.’

  ‘And there was definitely nothing in it?’

  ‘No, well, I don’t think so. I only had a quick look inside the main compartment, but it felt light and empty when I took it out of the wardrobe. I didn’t want to take too long looking in all the zip compartments. I was kind of pressed for time and wanted to look around, under the bed, you know.’

  ‘So what kind of bag was it and what did it look like? I mean, what was so unique and familiar about it?’ asked Rhodes.

  ‘Well, it was just a regular black and red rucksack, a sports one made by Slazenger, with the Slazenger logo written across it.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound overly unique, there’re probably hundreds of sports rucksacks like that out there, you can buy sports bags like that from shops like JD Sports or Sports Direct in Cambridge.’

  ‘Well, aren’t we the knowledge of Cambridge retail commerce all of a sudden,’ joked Sakki.

  ‘Not really, I was shopping for some new badminton trainers last week,’ said Rhodes, smiling.

  ‘Anyway, it wasn’t the rucksack itself that was so unique, it was the large sticker that someone had stuck on it.’

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘You ever see that movie, V For Vendetta?’

  ‘Yeah, Hugo Weaving and Natalie Portman.’

  ‘Don’t tell me, you’re a film buff too?’

  ‘Yup,’ said Rhodes.

  ‘Ok, well you should be able to picture the sticker.’

  ‘Depends what the sticker is?’

  ‘It was a large black square sticker with the V logo on it; a red painted letter V in a red circle, with drips of red paint coming off it with the words V FOR VENDETTA written in white letters over the top of it. You know what I’m talking about?

  ‘Vaguely, have you seen the film?’ said Rhodes.

  ‘Yeah, it was pretty good from what I remember, well, except that part where he’s frying an egg in his kitchen, he looked as camp as hell during that scene.’

  ‘Ok, so tell me more about this sticker,’ said Rhodes.

  ‘I’ve seen it before, I don’t must mean the sticker, I mean the sticker on that actual rucksack. I agree with you, there probably are lots of black and red Slazenger sports rucksacks out there, but how many do you think there are with a large V For Vendetta sticker?’

  ‘Hmmm, and you can’t recall where you saw it?’

  ‘No, I just can’t place it, but it seems to have a bad connotation, maybe it’ll come to me in time.’

  Chapter 28

  Back at Hinchingbrooke FHQ Rhodes grabbed a coffee, sat at his desk and got on his computer. He Googled ‘V For Vendetta’ then ‘V For Vendetta logo’, then he clicked on the Images tab and there it was, just as Sakki had described it, a hand-painted red letter ‘V’ in a circle with the words V For Vendetta in white letters over the top. He pondered for a moment before doing another Google search, this time for ‘Black and red Slazenger rucksack’. He enlarged one of the images then, in a new window, he enlarged the V For Vendetta image and placed the two windows side-by-side. He imagined the V logo, as a sticker, on the Slazenger rucksack. Come to think of it, it was vaguely familiar to Rhodes too. At the end of the day, it might be nothing, or it might be something. But, Rhodes didn’t like little mysteries like this that sat, unsolved, in some far corner of his memory bank. If it were the name of a movie actor that he was trying to recall, he’d be mentally going through the alphabet about now, possibly several times, until the correct vowel or consonant triggered the name in question. Where the hell had he seen that rucksack and sticker before?

  ‘I’ve got it,’ said Rhodes, walking up to Sakki’s desk.

  ‘Got what?’ she said.

  ‘The Slazenger rucksack and V sticker thing,’ he said, gesturing for her to follow him over to his desk.

  ‘Right there,’ he said, pointing at his computer.

  ‘Oh my god, that’s it, what is that?’

  ‘It’s CCTV footage.’

  ‘I can see that, I mean what is it?’

  ‘You’ll never guess,’ said Rhodes.

  ‘You’re right, I won’t, tell me.’

  ‘I’ll give you a clue. It’s CCTV footage that we checked just over a year ago. More to the point, it’s CCTV footage that we checked when we were looking into the Kramer twins kidnapping. And even more to the point, this clip right here is from one of the cameras that we were looking at while looking into the ransom drop.’

  ‘Ok,’ said Sakki, pondering, ‘but I’m not quite there yet, you’re gonna have to bring me up to speed.’

  ‘Ok, we interviewed the Kramers about this, both John and Helen. John Kramer told us that there’d been a ransom demand and that he’d actually paid it, but even though he kept up his side of the bargain, he didn’t get his boys back, remember?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Ok, Mr Kramer gave us the details, all the details, where the kidnapper, or kidnappers
, had told him to go. They bounced him around Cambridge, told him to go to different phone boxes, remember?’

  ‘I’m still with you.’

  ‘So, John Kramer gave us the exact times and places that he was told to go, the various streets and phone boxes etcetera. At the time we examined all the CCTV footage from the areas that were covered during John Kramer’s walkabout between phone boxes. Not all the areas had CCTV, but some did, including this one. This footage right here,’ he said, tapping the man on the bicycle with the Slazenger rucksack on his computer screen, ‘was recorded on Castle Street, just three streets away from Northampton Street, where John Kramer was told to drop the money off in the bin by the bus stop, and more to the point, this footage was recorded just under six minutes after the time that John Kramer dropped the cash in that bin. Now, John Kramer said he was told to get on the first bus that came along. At the time we checked the timetable, we still have all these details in the case file, I’ve been through it,’ he said, tapping a stack of papers on his desk, ‘and from the exact time that John Kramer got on that bus it was precisely three minutes later that this footage was recorded, the exact amount of time that would be required to grab the bag out of that bin, put that money into a Slazenger rucksack and cycle up to this point right here.’

  ‘Oh my god.’

  ‘I mean, look at that guy, could that be Dean Fairhead?’ said Rhodes.

  ‘He’s certainly got the same build from what I can see.’

  ‘I’d be willing to bet that if we go and pay Dean Fairhead another visit we’d find that hoodie, that baseball cap and those sunglasses in his house too,’ he said, while tapping the screen to indicate the man on the cycle wearing those exact items. Although the man was wearing a hoodie, the hood wasn’t up in this shot, revealing a blue baseball cap with a white stripe down the middle.

  Rhodes brought his DI up to speed on his findings and after showing him the footage from a year ago, DI Carver told Rhodes to take Sakki and go and arrest Dean Fairhead and bring him in for questioning.

  Rhodes took a pool car, a seriously high millage bag-of-nails diesel Skoda Octavia that had seen better days, the damn thing sounded like a Sherman tank, with about as much acceleration, where’s a nice new BMW pool car when you need one.

  They arrived at Dean Fairhead’s house on Histon Road, Sakki rang the bell, which was loud enough to be heard all over the house. No answer, she leaned on it again while Rhodes stepped to the side and peered in through the living room window.

  ‘No sign of life, I’ll go and take a look around the back, wait here,’ said Rhodes.

  Sakki instinctively tried the front door handle, it was open. ‘Wait, it’s open,’ she said, gesturing to the two-inch gap between the door and the doorframe.

  Rhodes pushed the door open, ‘Mr Fairhead, it’s the police,’ he shouted, but there was no answer. ‘Mr Fairhead,’ he shouted, louder and stepping into the hallway. He turned to Sakki, ‘Ok, let’s take a look.’

  A few minutes later it became abundantly obvious that Dean Fairhead was not at home and, upon closer inspection of the place, it was just possible that he’d legged it, in a hurry. After searching around Rhodes and Sakki couldn’t find anything of importance: no passport, wallet … or drugs, he’d even taken his block of hashish resin too. The furniture was all still there, but it was mostly rickety old junk, the kind that even charity shops would turn down. The portable TV over in the corner was pretty old too, an old CRT job. Upstairs there were a few items of clothing knocking about, stuff that wasn’t fit for a charity shop, but basically there was nothing of any value, probably not even to Dean Fairhead. The Slazenger bag had also gone from the wardrobe, probably used it to pack a few things in.

  ‘Ok, if he’s done a runner, where did he go, and why?’ said Rhodes.

  ‘Maybe he knew we were onto him. If he’s run away it certainly smacks of guilt,’ said Sakki.

  ‘That it does, but where’d he go?’ said Rhodes.

  ‘Check this out,’ said Sakki, walking over to the coat hook rail on the wall, which had previously been obscured by the open front door. She removed a blue baseball cap from the hanger, a blue baseball cap with a white stripe down the middle.

  Back at FHQ Rhodes had spoken to his DI about Dean Fairhead, that he’d probably done a runner and that Sakki had found a baseball cap that matches the one worn by the man on the CCTV footage. This, coupled with the other evidence – the rucksack and V sticker, the time, the date, the place – was enough to land Dean Fairhead on the police ‘Wanted’ list.

  Rhodes had got busy on the Police National Computer. He didn’t have to input a fresh entry for Dean Fairhead, he was already on the PNC for some random petty crimes, scattered here and there throughout his life, mostly drug related offences and some petty theft. Rhodes marked Dean Fairhead on the ‘Wanted’ list so if he did get picked up for any reason it would flag up that he was wanted by the MCU at FHQ, Huntingdon. Rhodes had also alerted the UK border agencies, just in case Fairhead felt compelled to skip to Europe, unlikely, but possible.

  Rhodes’s DI agreed that it was suspicious that Dean Fairhead’s housemate, Brandon Clifford, had suddenly vanished around the time of the kidnapping and ransom demand so he too should be put on the PNC ‘Wanted’ list on suspicion of kidnapping and ransom. As with Fairhead, Clifford was also already on the PNC, be it with a slightly longer, and equality pathetic, rap sheet.

  If Fairhead and Clifford were behind the kidnapping and ransom it was starting to look like Clifford was the one who’d made off with the cash, it was plain to see that Fairhead wasn’t living the high life. The intelligence bulletins that Rhodes had put out for Fairhead and Clifford were, in turn, sent out to all the other forces Central Intelligence Bureaus, who would then distribute them to all their officers.

  DI Carver had also got permission from the ACC to put a small stakeout team of four detectives on Derek Stanton – two to cover the days and another two for the graveyard shift. So far nobody had the faintest idea where Helen Kramer could be and if she really was hell-bent on getting some sort of revenge on Stanton then having him watched, day and night, was the best chance the police had of finding her. Stanton had already outright refused police protection so the ACC didn’t have any qualms about using the son of a bitch as bait. The four detectives assigned to watch Stanton were not so much going to be watching him, more watching out for Helen Kramer, who had god knows what planned for Stanton.

  Chapter 29

  Helen

  I rang the doorbell at Peter’s place in St Albans with mixed emotions. He’d invited me to dinner at his house; a somewhat more personal setting compared to the high street restaurants we’d been to so far. I’d accepted, but with an agenda, this was all part of my grand master plan. Now that I was trained in the art of killing from a distance with great accuracy, and with total consistency, from ranges of both 400 and 600 yards, the only thing I needed now was an instrument of death: Peter’s Accuracy International AX308 rifle complete with Schmidt and Bender PM2 police marksman series scope, tactical suppressor and a box of ammunition, all of which were kept locked in two separate safes in Peter’s house. If getting close to the rifle meant getting close, and even intimate, with Peter, so be it. But I would have to tread carefully, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to just dive right in with questions about exactly where in his house he kept his rifle and the key to his gun safe, or what the combination was. Based on a brief conversation we once had I only know that he keeps the rifle and ammunition in two separate safes in two separate parts of the house, but I had no idea of their exact locations or if they had key or combination locks. So far, I’d been strategic, careful, calculated and patient, and I wasn’t about to change that. What concerned me a little were my internal emotions, most of which had died when my boys died, the few that remain intact are hate and anger with deep feelings of revenge thrown in. But, Peter had managed to create a few flint-like sparks in the pit of my stomach on more than one occasion now, I just h
ad to make sure I didn’t allow any of them to fully ignite, but I didn’t know for sure if that was even possible, I mean, it’s not like I have a little red button with EMOTIONS ON/OFF sticking out of my chest that I could just press whenever I feel like it. No, I couldn’t allow any kind of emotional attachment to happen with Peter, it would cause me to lose focus and it could mess up my plan.

  ‘Hi, wow, you look amazing,’ he said, opening the door.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. Actually, I hadn’t made that much of an effort. I’d bought a new dress only because I didn’t want to turn up in jeans. It was smart, pretty, and practical all at the same time.

  ‘Come on in.’

  ‘Wow, it’s a nice place you have.’

  ‘You sound surprised, what did you expect it to be like?’ he said, with a smile.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know, something more manly, bachelor-like I suppose.’

  ‘Well, sorry to let you down,’ he said, smiling.

  ‘Oh no, I really like it, I’m pleasantly surprised.’

  Peter was a perfect gentleman, which made this all the harder – he got me a small glass of red wine and then offered to give me a grand tour of his house, which, naturally, I accepted. It was a nice three-bed semi in a nice part of town. As we moved through the house he proudly showed me the modifications he’d made to the place since he’d been there, some small, some more substantial like knocking the wall through from the lounge to the kitchen to make it open-plan, or the totally re-fitted (and very tasteful) bathroom. And yes, I hadn’t expected it, but he showed me where he kept his rifle and ammunition, well, the rifle anyway, but he did tell me that he kept the ammunition locked in a small safe that was bolted to the wall at the bottom of his built-in wardrobe. The rifle was kept locked in a safe that he’d had built into the under-stairs cupboard, a safe that had a key, not a combination lock.