Killing Christmas (2019 Reissue)

by Bill Kitson

  ‘No, nothing like that. Sonya, this is Jessica North. I kidnapped her a couple of weeks ago.’

  ‘What! Did you say kidnapped?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  Sonya looked from Steve to Jessica then back again. ‘This must seem a silly question. But if you kidnapped her, how come she’s carrying the gun?’

  ‘It isn’t a silly question,’ Jessica answered for him. ‘If Steve hadn’t kidnapped me, I’d have been dead by now. Just like my mother and brother. Murdered!’

  Sonya shook her head, not in denial, but to try and make sense of what she’d heard. ‘Let’s sit down, try to relax,’ Steve told her. ‘I’ll explain what’s been happening.’ He looked across at Jessica and coughed gently. ‘I think Sonya might feel a little easier if you put that away.’ He pointed to the gun.

  Jessica looked down. ‘Oops, sorry, force of habit.’ She stuffed the pistol into her coat pocket.

  The story took almost an hour, not least because of the regular need to convince Sonya she hadn’t wandered into an episode of Spooks. It was the final piece of evidence that proved conclusive. Steve produced a photograph and passed it to her. ‘See if you recognize anyone on there.’

  The image was of four men, pictured outside a camouflage tent in the desert. ‘That’s you, on the right,’ Sonya said immediately. She looked closely. ‘And that one, the one in the centre, that’s the bloke who came here. The one who called himself Smith.’

  ‘That’s probably the only thing he’s said in the last couple of years that isn’t a lie,’ Steve told her.

  ‘What do you intend to do?’

  ‘We need a safe house until morning. I left the van behind the lock-ups, charging the batteries. We can’t stay over the road for obvious reasons.’

  ‘I haven’t a bed spare, unless you take mine. I can doss down on the settee,’ Sonya offered.

  Jessica went scarlet. Steve smiled. ‘I told you, it isn’t like that. What we need is a table to work at. We need to decipher the files I stole from the laboratory.’

  ‘Use the dining room.’ She pointed through the archway. ‘I’ll go put the kettle on.’ She led the way, pausing to lift a basketful of ironing and a small collection of soft toys from the table. ‘I’ve a fold-up table in the kitchen if you need extra space.’

  ‘No, this will do fine.’

  When she returned with coffee, Sonya said, ‘I’ve been thinking. Ever since Smith came, there have been cars driving past at all hours of the night. I didn’t notice at first, but after a couple of nights I started listening for them. About three times a night a car would go past, driving slowly, turn at the end of the street and come back. I wondered if it was revellers who’d been out clubbing, but when it happened again and again I began to think it was something more sinister. Or am I being paranoid?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ Steve told her.

  ‘Before you get started, do you want something to eat? I cook a mean egg banjo,’ she added.

  Steve looked at Jessica. ‘Great idea,’ he said. ‘We haven’t eaten since lunchtime and Jessica’s got an appetite like a horse.’

  It took over three hours, with all three of them working at it, before they finished breaking the coded files down into English. They sat round the oval table, their faces a grim reminder of what they’d learned. ‘I can’t believe anyone could be so evil,’ Sonya said at last. She leaned across and put her hand on Jessica’s. ‘I’m sorry I behaved like a cow when you came in, love. This must have come as a hell of a shock, and my attitude didn’t help.’

  Jessica’s eyes were bright with tears. She gripped Sonya’s hand, and Steve knew she was close to breaking point.

  ‘Listen to this.’ He turned a page. ‘This is an extract from the personnel file on me. “Subject, Hirst, Steven. Rank: Sergeant. Training report summary. This man is perfect for infiltration and assassination work. A natural born killer. Description: Tall, black hair, dark brown eyes, swarthy/sunburnt complexion. Would easily pass for a rag-head, especially after period in heat. Touch of tar-brush in ancestry? Personal Notes: Wife and daughters killed in carbon monoxide poisoning. How will this affect performance? Monitor carefully on return to active service.”’

  ‘How absolutely cold-blooded and heartless,’ Jessica exclaimed.

  Hirst turned another page. ‘You think that’s bad, listen to this. “North, Jessica. Student, intelligent, pretty. Boarding school, final year. TBW. Smith to deal when product available. Acc. Preferred.”’

  ‘What does that mean? What’s TBW? And what do they mean by product?’

  ‘Product means you,’ Hirst told her grimly, ‘and the rest is short for: to be wasted. Accident preferred.’

  He saw Jessica’s jaw tighten, her shoulders straighten and realized the strength he’d seen before was going to help her through this ordeal. ‘What are we going to do?’ she asked.

  ‘First of all, I need a photocopier. You can bet these will be the only copies of the disks in existence. That’s why they’re so desperate to find me. They want to retrieve them before they’re deciphered. They also want to kill us both. I’m going to make damned certain they fail at that as well.’

  ‘There’s a copier in my room,’ Sonya said. ‘It’s one of those all in one things that’s attached to my computer. Will that do?’

  ‘Perfect, I hope you’ve got plenty of paper. I’m going to need to make two copies of each file. That’s going to need about a hundred and fifty sheets.’

  ‘No problem,’ Sonya paused and listened. They heard a soft cry. ‘That’s the baby, she’ll want her feed. Come with me, I’ll show you where the copier is.’

  ‘Show Jessica, I’m going to get the van. It should have enough charge in the batteries by now. I’ll park in the alley behind your house. We should be finished in an hour or so, with luck.’

  True to Steve’s estimate, they were on their way before 7 a.m. Sonya hugged Jessica before they left. ‘Good luck,’ she said. ‘If anybody can look after you, Steve will. He’s a good man, and he’s been through a lot. You both have. Don’t forget, if you need anything, at any time, even when this is all over, just let me know.’ She looked at Hirst. ‘Have you any idea what you’re going to do with that?’ Sonya pointed towards the table, and the documents and disks on it.

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘You want retribution, don’t you?’

  Hirst nodded. ‘Why, what have you got in mind?’

  ‘What about Mr Nash?’

  ‘Who’s he?’ Jessica asked.

  Steve stared at Sonya, taking in the implications of what she’d suggested. Whilst he was thinking, Sonya explained. ‘Mr Nash is the policeman who dealt with Steve. He was very nice, and sympathetic. I think he’d be ideal.’

  ‘A policeman,’ Jessica sounded alarmed. ‘Won’t that get Steve in trouble? Get all of us in trouble?’

  ‘Do you care? Do either of you care? Knowing what’s in there? Knowing if their plans had run smoothly both of you would be dead?’

  ‘Sonya’s right,’ Hirst said at last. ‘It doesn’t matter about us. Not compared to stopping what they’re doing. And I think her idea’s a good one.’

  Jessica shrugged. ‘OK, I’ll go along with it.’

  ‘Will you ring him?’ Hirst asked. ‘As soon as you can? The sooner he sees that stuff, the better.’

  ‘No problem,’ Sonya reassured him.

  Jessica got into the passenger seat, pulled her seatbelt on and draped her coat over her lap. She wasn’t cold, but it concealed the pistol she was gripping. ‘Sonya’s nice,’ she remarked after Steve cleared the outskirts of town. ‘Although I thought we were going to have trouble with her at first.’

  ‘That was before she knew the truth.’

  ‘Do you think it was fair, leaving that stuff with her? What if she gets found out? You know, Official Secrets Act stuff?’

  ‘That wouldn’t apply, not with the crimes they’ve committed. In any case, they have no reason to suspect she’s involved.’
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br />   ‘What next?’

  ‘We know Smith’s after me, or at least suspects I’m responsible for the laboratory break in and kidnapping you. We need to take the heat off, give ourselves a few days’ breathing space. It’ll also give Nash time to act on those files, if he can do anything.’

  ‘How do we go about that?’

  ‘By getting Smith to look in another direction.’

  ‘Stop talking in riddles and explain. What are you going to do?’

  ‘Nothing. You are, using your computer skills.’

  ‘It seems we were wrong after all,’ Smith hesitated. ‘It is the animal rights people who are behind this after all.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘We put an intercept on Dr North’s phone calls, text messages and e-mails. He received an e-mail late this afternoon. It came via a character who goes by the name of Eco Sounder. But we know the message didn’t originate from him.’

  He glanced down at the paper in his hand. ‘The message reads, “Dr North, you are torturing animals. This must stop at once. You may not care about the creatures you are inflicting such suffering on so we’ve taken something you might be concerned about. We are holding your daughter prisoner, as a hostage for your future behaviour. She has not been harmed, YET.”’ Smith looked up. ‘The word, yet, is in capital letters.

  ‘“You will make a public statement confessing your crimes and stop this barbarous activity immediately. If you fail to do this we cannot guarantee Jessica’s continued good health or her survival even. She is a very pretty girl. It would be a shame to see her scarred for life. But there are other scars that can be inflicted. Particularly on pretty, defenceless girls. These are not threats. They are promises. And they are the very least of the pain we will inflict on her if you fail to comply. And comply with immediate effect.”’

  ‘Are you certain that message is genuine? Could it be a hoax?’

  Smith shook his head. ‘It definitely isn’t a hoax. For one thing, nobody but the kidnapper knows Jessica’s missing. And if I still had any doubts, this removed them.’ He held up the sheet of paper. The photograph on it showed a young girl, definitely Jessica North, seated on a stool. The background was out of focus but there appeared to be trees in the far distance. Her wrists and ankles were bound with tape. Alongside her was a man, his face obscured by a balaclava. Although his appearance was frightening enough, it was by no means as scary as the pistol he was holding against Jessica’s temple.

  ‘What do you suggest we do?’

  Smith looked from his boss to the photo and back again. ‘I’ve ordered our IT people to trace the origin of the e-mail. Once we have the sender’s IP details, we can pay him a visit. That should enable us to retrieve the North girl and continue with our original plan.’ He stopped and looked at his boss. ‘You still intend to dispose of her?’

  ‘Of course. It’s even more important than before. Once North’s usefulness is over, he can go too. A clean sweep. His disposal will be easy. An overdose, brought on by grief after losing his family. Then nothing can be traced back to us.’

  Smith’s mobile rang. He glanced at the screen. ‘This will be the IT report. Now we’re in business.’ He listened to the caller, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and anger. It changed to disappointment as he spoke. ‘Very well. No, but thank you for trying.’

  He disconnected and looked at his boss. ‘They identified the sender’s e-mail account.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘According to them, the message originated from Dr North.’

  ‘That’s impossible.’

  Smith vented his exasperation. ‘I know that, you know that, but they’re convinced that’s what happened.’

  ‘Somebody’s playing games with us.’

  ‘Yes, and at the moment they’re winning, hands down.’

  There was a message waiting for Nash at the station next morning. He glanced at the number, but didn’t recognize it. ‘Did the caller leave a name?’

  The receptionist shook her head. ‘She refused to give it. But she said it was vitally important and urgent. She did say,’ the woman paused, ‘something strange. She said you’d know her when you spoke to her.’

  Nash dialled the number when he reached his office.

  ‘Hello.’ The answer was cautious, to put it mildly.

  ‘This is Mike Nash. You left me a message.’

  ‘Thank you for ringing. We met recently. After you’d been escorting someone to the mortuary. Do you remember? If so, please don’t use any names. I’m sorry if this sounds mysterious, but I really don’t trust the phone.’

  Sonya Williams, Nash thought. ‘I remember. How can I help?’

  ‘Would you come straight round? I need to speak to you urgently. Very urgently.’

  ‘When you say straight round, how soon do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, now.’

  ‘I’ll have to leave a message for my sergeant to explain why I’m out.’

  ‘Please don’t say where you’ve gone.’ Nash caught the note of panic in her voice.

  ‘No problem, she’s used to me being vague.’

  Nash arrived twenty minutes later. Sonya Williams opened the door as soon as he got out of the car. ‘Now, what’s the urgency?’ he asked once he was inside her hall.

  ‘I’ve been entrusted with some information,’ Sonya chose her words carefully. ‘I’m not at liberty to say how, or from whom, but it’s most important that you see it straight away. The person who gave me it was doubtful, but I persuaded them you were completely trustworthy.’

  She smiled. ‘I know that sounds odd, you being a policeman, but this information is very sensitive. I think the best thing would be to show you it. Once you’ve seen it, I think you’ll understand.’

  ‘Very well.’ Nash prided himself on being able to second guess people most of the time, but Sonya’s remarks completely mystified him.

  She led the way into the lounge and indicated a chair by the dining table. Nash noticed a collection of papers and some CDs on the table. ‘Sit there and I’ll show you the stuff. Would you like a coffee before you start?’

  Nash smiled. ‘That would be nice.’

  Once they were seated, Sonya opened the first of the files and passed it across. He started reading, his curiosity increasing with every line. When he’d finished the files, Sonya passed him a set of loose papers. ‘These are transcripts of what’s on those disks. They’ve been decoded. There’s also a sheet that gives details of the encryption.’

  Nash had only read a few lines when he looked up. Sonya could see the effect in his face. Stunned, barely covered the expression. ‘Where did you get these?’

  Sonya shook her head. ‘I can’t tell you that.’

  ‘You’re sure they’re genuine?’

  ‘If you’ve any doubts, keep reading. There are things in there that prove it. Things only a few people know. I believe some of it refers to an event you’ve been investigating. And it couldn’t have been known, except by the person responsible.’

  Nash read through to the end. By the time he’d finished, he was convinced. But despite his pleas, Sonya refused to divulge the source. ‘Now you know why I wanted you to see them straight away. And why I want them out of this house. I know it sounds paranoid, but I’m afraid the people behind this might be watching me. I’ve already had a visit from one of them.’

  ‘Why was that?’ Nash asked, innocently.

  ‘He wanted to know….’ Sonya’s voice tailed off as she realized how close she’d come to giving Hirst’s identity away. ‘He wanted some information from me,’ she ended lamely.

  ‘The information in here’s dynamite, right enough,’ Nash agreed, ‘but at present, I’m not sure how to handle it. First things first though, I’m going to take this stuff with me. Once I get it to the station I’ll lock it in my safe until I can see how to use it.’

  The failure to penetrate the laboratory’s defences had left Paul Farley feeling angry and humiliated. The e-mail from his my
stery informant hadn’t offered much in the way of comfort. But at least it had offered a solution. As he checked his messages and saw a new one from the sender’s address, Paul hoped the contents would fulfil that promise.

  He opened it up and started to read. His interest sharpened and by the end of the first paragraph, his attention was well and truly hooked. What the sender was proposing was far more radical than anything Paul had envisaged. But it was a great idea. The more he thought about it, the better he liked it. Apart from achieving their original objective, it would restore Paul’s credibility and send an unmistakeable message that they were a force to be reckoned with.

  He noted the passage containing a warning about the potential danger, but paid little heed to it. He made careful notes regarding the set up process; he was quite content to obey the instructions to the letter. Yielding overall control didn’t worry him. He was more concerned with the success of the venture. After all, he’d ignored the sender’s advice last time. Jumped the gun through eagerness, the result had been humiliation. This time he’d do as he was told. This time they’d get it right.

  As he finished reading the message for a third time, Paul was struck by a random thought. The tone of the message, the instructions and the detailed and careful planning, made it sound almost like a military operation. Paul wondered if the sender had been in the forces at some stage. He returned to the task in hand, dismissing the idea as a fleeting fancy. He was going to be too busy for idle speculation. There were messages to send, people to contact, purchases to be made.

  By Friday evening, everything was ready. He’d received confirmation that the equipment would be there. He’d made the booking suggested in the e-mail and paid the rental. Tomorrow evening, St Wilfred’s Church Hall on the outskirts of Helmsdale would act as the meeting place for the activists. Well away from the prying eyes of Nash and any other police officers. Activists would be travelling from all over the north of England. Four of them would be driving the vans they’d hired.

  When they were gathered in the hall he’d finally get to meet their new colleague. Paul was looking forward to seeing their benefactor face to face.