by P. F. Ford
I was getting really irritated now.
‘This doesn’t sound very friendly to me,’ I said. ‘So let me tell you what you can do with your advice. Why don’t you-’
‘Oh dear,’ he interrupted. ‘I don’t seem to have your attention. That’s a pity. Perhaps if I was to mention a name it might help you to focus your mind on what I’m trying to tell you. How about Sophia Ingliss? Does that name mean anything to you?’
I had been about to hang up, but he certainly had my attention now.
‘Sophia? What about her? What’s she got to do with this?’ It was no good. I couldn’t disguise the panic in my voice.
‘Oh good. Now I seem to have your attention. Are you listening now?’
‘Yes,’ I said, through gritted teeth. ‘What do you want?’
‘I just want to advise you to keep away from her. That’s all. It’s quite simple. Even someone like you should be able to do that.’
‘But she’s my neighbour. She owns the flat I live in. I can’t just ignore her.’
‘Naughty, naughty, Mr Bowman. You shouldn’t lie to me. We both know you and Sophia are much more than just neighbours, don’t we? And of course you can ignore her, and you must. This is not negotiable. Sophia’s husband made it very clear to me that I must insist. In fact, he asked me to tell you to go and see her tonight and explain to her that you never want to see her again.’
I was struggling to get my head around this. What was he talking about? Sophia was divorced. She told me so. Didn’t she? Why would she lie about something like that?
‘You seem to have gone very quiet, Mr Bowman. Has the cat got your tongue? I understood you were a rather moral person – surely you don’t think it is right to be having an affair with a married woman, do you?’
I could hardly think straight. Surely this couldn’t be right. Could it? And what do I say now?
‘I hate to disappoint you,’ I said, ‘but we’re not having an affair. And anyway she’s not married. She’s divorced.’
‘Is that what she told you? Oh dear, oh dear. How very remiss of her. You just don’t know who you can trust these days, do you?’
There was a brief silence, then he added his final thoughts.
‘Let me put it like this,’ he said. ‘If I find out you’ve been anywhere near her after you have spoken to her tonight, you’re both going to regret it. And trust me, I will find out.’
And with that, he ended the call.
I stared out of the windscreen at nothing at all. I was stunned. What on earth was all that about? Why would Sophia lie about being divorced? I mean, I wasn’t actually divorced – technically I was still married to Gloria – so it’s not as if I was going to judge anyone. And even if she was still married, they obviously weren’t living together. And we really weren’t having an affair.
It all seemed a bit over the top to me, but the threat had sounded real enough. If his threats had just been aimed at me, I would have been tempted to ignore it, but he had mentioned Sophia by name so there was no way I could take any chances. I was going to have to tell her about the threat and ask her what this was all about.
It had taken a long time for the two of us to get our relationship to where it was, and even then it was still a bit hit and miss. Now here was yet another obstacle to overcome. I had the feeling I was approaching a minefield. I was just hoping I could tiptoe through it without blowing our relationship apart.
But then I realised there was something positive about this. Despite the threat, I hadn’t once considered the possibility of just doing what the guy had said and walking away from Sophia. My only thoughts had been about how we might get through it. It was a sign, I thought. It was actually quite clear what I really wanted.
Chapter Eleven
I had been so taken aback by the unexpected phone call, that it was only as I was parking my car I remembered Sophia saying she had been upset by a phone call from her ex-husband. Funny that he should be hassling her, and then just a few days later he’s threatening me. It obviously wasn’t a coincidence, so what was going on? Was Sophia hiding something from me, and if so, why?
I had promised to give her a couple of days, but in the end I decided I couldn’t wait. The only way to find out what I needed to know was to ask the question, and anyway, I felt I had a duty to tell her about the phone call and the threats.
She seemed to be genuinely shocked when I told her why I had broken my promise to stay away for a couple of days, her normal cool and collected demeanour rapidly deserting her. Now we sat across the dining table, Sophia nervously wringing her hands as she told me about a part of her past she would rather forget.
‘I think I only married him because I was all alone. He promised to take care of me, but marrying him was the biggest mistake of my life, and I knew that within a matter of weeks. He was an evil man. He didn’t want a wife, he wanted someone he could use and abuse whenever it suited him. I was like a prisoner – I wasn’t allowed to have any sort of life of my own.
‘I had turned down the chance to come and live in England for him, but fortunately when I escaped from him, your government was still prepared to take me in. So you see, I gave up everything to get away from him. I even took on a new identity. Do you think I would do that if I still wanted to be with him?’
I knew it was true she had been given a new identity, but I thought it was for her own safety because of the role she had played in the Bosnian war. That much was obviously true, but I’d had no idea the deciding factor for her had been to escape a violent husband. This guy must be a real piece of work, and now he was over here looking for her.
‘Do you know how long he’s been over here looking for you?’ I asked.
‘I honestly have no idea,’ she said. ‘He could have arrived last week, or he could have been here for years. But, like me, he must have a new identity. I was promised his name was on a watch list and that if ever he came to England I would be told, but that’s never happened.’
She shook her head sadly.
‘So much for my new identity keeping me safe. He’s the one person I really would want to hide from and he’s found me. And now he’s found you too. I’m so sorry.’
‘What does he look like?’ I asked. ‘At least then if I see him I’ll know who’s looking for me.’
‘I suppose he was quite good-looking,’ she said, ‘in an old-fashioned sort of way. But, of course, he may have changed his appearance before he came here.’
‘That’s a bit of a vague description,’ I said.
‘It was a long time ago, believe me. And I certainly didn’t keep any photos. I just wanted to forget all about him. And I had, until the night he called me.’
She reached across the table and took my hand. ‘That’s why I was so upset when you called round for your key. It was hearing from him that had upset me. It was nothing you did.’
‘I know that,’ I said, giving her hand a squeeze. ‘I just wish I’d known why you were upset. I would have stayed with you.’
‘Always thinking of me,’ she said. ‘You couldn’t be more different from him. And now he wants to keep us apart. But I promise you I am divorced. I have been for years. I can find the papers to show you if you really don’t believe me. But,’ she added, staring intently into my eyes, ‘why would I lie to you about something like that?’
This was exactly what I had been asking myself ever since that phone call. It made no sense that I could see.
‘Come on, Sophia,’ I reassured her. ‘You know I don’t need to see any papers. If you say you’re divorced that’s good enough for me, but I need to understand why we’re getting threatened by this guy. And how come he knows so much about us? He seems to know everything. He even told me he would know if I had been to see you tonight.’
Saying it out loud like that seemed to make the threat all the more real, and it made me realise something else too. Sophia’s grip on my hand tightened and she spoke the words before I had a chance.
‘He must hav
e someone watching us.’
At times like this, I tend to lean towards the attitude of ‘let’s go and confront the guy and sort this out.’ Not because I’m naturally aggressive, but simply because this just wasn’t right. This guy was way out of line and I wasn’t going to just sit back and be pushed around.
‘Right!’ I said. ‘That’s it. I’m not going to let him get away with this. He might be trying to frighten us apart but he’s not going to succeed. I’m going to find him, and-’
‘No!’ She almost shouted the word. ‘You can’t do that. Think about it. If he has someone watching, he will know you’re coming. Listen to me. This is not a normal person we’re talking about. He will kill you and think nothing of it. I can’t let that happen. It’s me he wants, not you.’
‘We’re in this together, Sophia,’ I said. ‘Don’t think I’m going to let you face him on your own. That’s just not going to happen.’
‘I’m not saying that,’ she said. ‘But we need to think. And we need to try and find out how he knows so much. If he has a spy, who is it? And where are they watching from?’
I suddenly found myself looking around the room, as if I was suddenly going to find a spy hiding behind the TV, or perhaps lurking behind the door. But Sophia was still thinking about what to do.
‘Right now,’ she went on, ‘I think we need to let him think we’ve taken his warning seriously. I suggest we don’t see each other for a few days. In the meantime, we’ll try and work out what do.’
I really wasn’t happy about this, but I also didn’t have any better ideas right now.
‘I told you yesterday,’ she said, very quietly. ‘I’ve waited a long time to find you. I’m not going to lose you because of this. We will work it out, I promise. But you have to trust me.’
As I left her that night I was feeling uneasy. I wasn’t sure exactly why. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust her. I’m sure I would have trusted her with my life if necessary. I just had this feeling there was something unsaid.
Chapter Twelve
It was just coming up to seven am and it was raining. Dave Slater was quietly cursing Slick Tony. DC Richie Weir was less forgiving, and was very loudly cursing Slick Tony, DCI Jimmy Jones from the Serious bloody Crime buggering Unit, and just about anyone else he could think of. He was especially pissed off with Dave Slater, who had volunteered him for this stupid job in the first place, but he knew better than to complain out loud. For now, at least, he contented himself with just thinking what he thought of Slater. These were by far the foulest of his curses.
‘Bloody Biddeford should be carrying this stuff,’ he complained. ‘I’m supposed to be the sodding surveillance expert not some friggin’ pack animal humping all the equipment.’
‘Will you stop complaining?’ replied Slater. ‘Biddeford is with the techie guy setting up a camera at the back of the target house. You had the choice and you didn’t want to do it, so you’ve only got yourself to blame.’
‘I would have done it if I’d known what the bloody alternative was,’ grumbled Weir.
‘Yes,’ agreed Slater, ‘I’m sure you would have, but you thought you were picking the easy ride, as usual, so it’s your own fault. Now quit bitching and let’s get on.’
There were three of them in the team: DS Dave Slater, his young, inexperienced, but mad-keen partner DC Steve Biddeford, and the unambitious, untalented, and uncouth DC Richie Weir. If Steve Biddeford was the policeman of the future, Richie Weir was definitely the policeman of the past. In fact, he was from so far back in the past that Biddeford had likened him to a dinosaur, but with worse manners. Needless to say, the two did not get on well.
When Slater had given the other two the choice of helping the techie or helping him, Weir had jumped at the chance to help Slater. Unfortunately for him, he had assumed Slater would have kept the softest job for himself – it’s what Weir would have done – but Slater was a leader who was happy to get his own hands dirty and lead by example. Right now, he was leading by example across a ploughed field, laden with surveillance equipment.
‘I don’t see why we couldn’t just drive the sodding van up to the old girl’s front door and unloaded it like a normal job,’ Weir complained.
‘But it’s not a normal job, is it?’ snapped Slater. ‘If it was a normal job, we wouldn’t have the SCU down here watching our every move, would we? If it was a normal job, we wouldn’t have a guy like Slick Tony on our patch. And’ – he raised his voice for this last bit – ‘if it was a normal job I wouldn’t have to listen to you bloody whingeing, would I?’
‘But look at this mud!’ complained Weir. ‘I’m knee-deep in the bloody stuff.’
‘No, Richie. We’re knee-deep in the bloody stuff. It’s not just you. I’m here too. But it’s what we’ve got to do, alright? And I’m warning you, if you don’t stop complaining I’m going to dump you on your arse in the bloody stuff.’
Slater looked towards the fences at the back of the houses they were approaching.
‘Look, we’re nearly there now.’
They had decided to approach their surveillance house from the back so they couldn’t be seen bringing in all their equipment. The plan had been to drive across the field behind the houses, stop by the fence, remove a panel, and walk their equipment the few yards across the back garden and into the house. This had seemed a brilliantly simple idea. What could possibly go wrong?
Unfortunately, this brilliantly simple plan hadn’t taken into account the fact this was farmland. Farmland that had been freshly ploughed just the day before their arrival. Even when he had opened the gate and waved Weir through, Slater hadn’t noticed what should have been obvious. Weir would later claim he was merely following orders, but he should have seen the danger too.
Even a Land Rover would have been in trouble trying to cross this freshly ploughed field. Their van had no chance. Before they knew it, they were up to their axles and going nowhere. They couldn’t even reverse back out. They had something like two hundred and fifty yards to cover. They hadn’t even covered twenty-five yards before they became stuck fast.
‘Oh shit,’ Weir had announced. ‘Looks like we’re stuck. Better call for some help.’
Having stated the blindingly obvious, he had then started to settle himself for a long wait. He knew it was likely to be two or three hours before help arrived, and he wished he’d brought a newspaper or something. His contentment had been rudely shattered by Slater making his own announcement.
‘Sorry, mate,’ he’d said. ‘We can’t hang around here. We were already late before we got stuck. We’ll just have to walk the stuff across to the house. This is way too important for us to just sit here and do nothing.’
Despite Weir’s protests, Slater had got his way. And, of course, just to punish them even further, the minute they started walking it began to rain…
At last, they reached the fence. It was wooden panels set in grooved concrete posts. At least this part of the operation presented no problem. It was a simple matter to lift a panel out and place it carefully to one side. Roughly twenty yards of lawn remained between them and the back of the house. Just twenty yards more and they could put their equipment down. In the early morning quiet, laden like pack horses, both puffing and sweating profusely, they began to walk across the lawn.
They got just halfway before the silence was shattered in spectacular fashion by the abrupt arrival, seemingly from nowhere, of a snarling, yapping dog which proceeded to attack DC Weir’s ankles.
‘Aaarrgghh! The little fucker’s bitten me,’ screamed Weir, dropping his precious cargo to clutch his freshly gnawed left ankle. He began to hop on the spot, the dog rushing in to snap at his unprotected right ankle.
‘Mind the bloody gear,’ cried Slater, as the equipment Weir was carrying crashed to the ground.
‘Bugger the soddin’ gear,’ yelled Weir. ‘The friggin’ thing’s drawn blood.’
He released his ankle long enough to aim a kick at the on-rushing dog, but the
dog was way too quick and he missed by miles. Seeing an easy opportunity, it rushed in and took another hefty nip at the same ankle.
‘Aya bastard!’ I’ll fuckin’ get you for this.’
Just as the dog seemed to be about to launch another attack ,it suddenly stopped, looked to the back of the house, and then trotted off as if nothing had happened.
Then they heard a voice calling, ‘Bobby, Bobby. Come here, you naughty boy.’
A little old lady appeared at the back door. ‘Coooee,’ she called. ‘Is that you, Sergeant Slater?’
‘Mrs Thatcher,’ Slater called back. ‘Sorry we’re a bit late.’
‘Sorry we’re a bit late?’ hissed Weir. ‘What about my friggin’ ankle?’
‘All I can say is it can’t have tasted very good,’ said Slater, quietly, with a grin, ‘or he’d still be chewing it now. Let’s just hope he doesn’t get food poisoning. And I don’t want you making a fuss about this. We need this lady on our side so you say nothing.’
Slater marched across to speak with Mrs Thatcher. As he approached, the dog peered at him from behind her skirt.
‘I see you’ve met Bobby,’ she said. ‘He does like to say hello in his own way.’
Slater smiled at her.
‘Yes, he does,’ he agreed. ‘He’s certainly made an impression on my colleague.’
Across the other side of The Dump, blissfully unaware of the mess his colleagues had managed to create for themselves, DC Steve Biddeford hummed happily to himself as he stepped back to admire their pet techie’s handiwork. Despite the early morning gloom under the trees, they’d quickly managed to find the perfect place for the camera, and it now nestled up in a tree overlooking the back garden of number 38. It had been safely fixed in place, and was working. He could see the results for himself on the portable screen he was now holding.
‘Great job, Mike.’ He patted the techie on the back. ‘I owe you a pint.’