by Edward Figg
When they were seated, he said. ‘I’ve just been given some information and I think I know why Harris is down on the coast. He’s making for Dover.’
‘Why?’ asked Baxter. ‘What’s in Dover?’
Carter told them about Margaret Keane’s visit with Tom Crane.
‘He’s after Margaret Keane. He’s going to try to kill her and I think he’s going to attempt it on Monday,’ he said.
‘But she’s still here in town and, the last sighting we have of Harris was in Folkestone. Surly he won’t head back up here again?’ queried Marcia Kirby.
‘Partly true, Marcia,’ said Carter, looking at the notes on the phone pad that lay in front of him. ‘She’s here until Monday evening. She sails from Dover to Calais at six-thirty, then drives on down to Saint-Omer. They bought a property there. She and her husband will be there for a couple of months.’
‘We know Harris’s passport is out of date and it’s not been renewed because Bill checked it. There’s no way he can follow her to France. The only way he can do that is to steal a boat and try to cross at night or hide away on a truck that’s going onto the ferry. Is he that desperate?’ asked Mike Reid.
‘We need to keep a watchful eye on her. Call it invisible protection. Every move she makes, we’ll be watching. We have to make sure she gets on that ferry. With that in mind, straight after this, I’m going to see if we can get the okay from Superintendent Watkins to take a team down to Dover. With what we know now, I don’t think that will be a problem. We’ll have to let Dover know we’re on their patch. I’m thinking of going down on Sunday. That way, we’ll have time to set it up with the local force as well as the Port of Dover Police. It’s the only place we know where he’ll be and it’s there we can grab him. I’ll want you three to come with me.’ He looked from one to the other. ‘Do you have any problems with that?’
They all shook their heads.
Suddenly sitting bolt upright in her chair, Marcia Kirby looked at Mike Reid. ‘Jesus, I’ve just remembered something! That map Mike? The one we found in that bolthole of his. It was of France. It clearly had the town of Saint-Omer ringed.’ She looked at the others. ‘How can we be sure he hasn’t got plans to follow her all the way there?’
Carter, with a determined look, stared at Kirby. ‘We’ll bloody well stop him before he has the chance. We’ll arrest him at Dover. There’s no way he’s getting aboard the bloody ferry.’
‘So how the hell did Harris know the date she was leaving?’ queried Baxter.
‘That puzzled me too for a while,’ said Carter, ‘but remembering how chatty she was with Tom Crane, it set me thinking. She gave him every little detail, including the time she was leaving home and the time she was sailing plus the name of the ferry she was crossing on. They’re sailing at six-thirty. If she told Tom all that, I wondered just how many others she told?’ He took a deep breath. ‘So, before I called you all in, I made a few calls, one was to Alice Wainwright and the other to Albert Streeter. They both confirmed what I thought. Everyone working in the library knew all about what Margaret Keane was up to, where she was going and when she was going. So, it’s no great surprise that Harris knew.’
Kirby nodded her head in agreement. ‘You’re right about that sir. When Jill and I spoke to her about Harris, she did tell us in great detail about it as well. You remember? I told you about it when we came back from interviewing her. In fact, I even think she told Jill her address over there.’
‘We didn’t miss out,’ said Carter, holding up his notepad. ‘She gave that to Tom Crane as well. Marcia, we’ll need the registration number of her car, so can you get someone onto that? I think we can safely guess that Harris already has it. Any questions?’ He paused. ‘Nope. Right, OK, that’s about all for now. I’ll get things moving.’
The three left and went back to their desks. Carter, following them out, strode purposefully off in search of Janice Watkins.
Carter sat in Janice Watkins’s office telling her about the latest developments and the plan to take part of the team down to Dover. When he’d finished, she looked at him for some time thinking it over. She eventually got up from her chair, and walked over to the window. With her hands behind her back, she stood looking down into the parking area. She then turned and without any hesitation said. ‘OK Bob, do it. But just remember not to lose focus. Your priority is to keep Margaret Keane safe at all times, is that understood?’
‘She’ll be under surveillance every step of the way. I’m going to have Jill Richardson and Bill Turner follow them from their home all the way to the port terminal. They’ll be in contact with us at all times.’
‘Good. That’s fine. You start to set wheels in motion. Get on to the Port Police and the local force and let them know. Give them a full briefing. We don’t want to tread on any toes. You’re going to need the full co-operation of both if you’re going to pull this off. Any problems, get them to call me.’
A couple of hours later he called back to her office.
‘I’ve contacted Dover and explained the latest developments. It’s been arranged that a DI Marchbanks there will be my contact. I’ve also been on to the PoDP and explained things to them. They know DI Marchbanks because he has worked with them on many occasions and knows who to talk to there, so he’ll organise that,’ he said.
‘OK’, she said. While you were organising that I booked you into a hotel. Here’s the address.’ She handed him a slip of paper.
He recognised the name. It was right on the Esplanade and only minutes away from ferry terminal. A good spot.
‘I’ve also made tentative bookings for Richardson and Turner. If you don’t need them, you can send then straight back.’
‘Thanks. I’ve got to get a few more things organised.’ He left her office and went off to find Turner and Richardson.
A little later that afternoon, Carter called them all together. He told them to be ready to leave first thing Sunday. ‘I want everybody fully alert on this one, I don’t want any cock-ups. Keep one hundred per cent focused on the task. I don’t want him slipping through the net. This time I want him.’
Chapter19
Sunday 17th October
They arrived in Dover early. As they drove down Ladywell, the road on which Dover Police Station stood, the town hall clock was just striking nine. Being a Sunday morning, the town was quiet. As they pulled up beside the red brick building, the rain started. Heavy black clouds had threatened rain before they left Kingsport. These same rain clouds had followed them all the way down the A2. The sun, twice, had attempted to poke through but both times it was swallowed by dark clouds. As they drove down the A2, Carter’s thoughts went back to the warmth of the day before, when he had spent the whole day at the flat with Christine He’d been helping pack her stuff ready for her move out to the cottage. That evening they went out to the Indian restaurant for a meal then back to the cottage where they shared a bottle of wine in front of a log fire.
‘How long will you be gone?’ she’d asked.
‘If all goes to plan, I should be back on Tuesday.’
She snuggled up to him and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Bed time,’ she said. He made no protest.
******
In the foyer of the red brick building that housed the Dover Police, they were met by Detective Inspector Marchbanks and after the introductions and being told his first name was Jerry, they all trooped off to his office.
After everybody was seated and given coffee, Marchbanks said, ‘I’ve arranged for you to meet Sergeant Mick Taylor of the Port of Dover Police. I’m not sure if you know how it all works but I’d best explain first?’ He went on to tell them about their structure, explaining how they were a totally independent police force and were responsible for the policing of all of the harbour and its property and about their jurisdiction area of one mile. That mile, he said, took in almost all of the town.
‘I’ve arranged for a meeting with Mick at twelve-thirty down at the ferry terminal. He knows the termin
al like the back of his hand so he should be able to give you all the assistance you want. I did explain why you wanted their assistance, but apparently, he’s been put in the picture and said he’d already started to get things moving. He’s a very competent and dedicated copper and knows his job, so you’ll be in good hands. There’s nothing about the docks he doesn’t know. Born and bred Doverite.’
‘Yes, our boss did get in touch with PDP and put them in the picture,’ said Carter.
‘I’ve put two of my guys at your disposal as well, should you need them. Just let me know, when and where you want them. Well… If you’d like to go to your hotel and get settled in.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’ll drop by in about an hour and take you down to the terminal. I believe you’re on the seafront? Very comfortable. Nice views.’
‘We might even get time to stroll along the prom and take in the views?’ said Reid.
‘There’s only one view I’d like right now,’ said Carter, as he stood up, ‘and that’s one of Harris in handcuffs.’
*******
The Port of Dover Police Station stands just inside the main entrance to the port terminal. On their arrival, screeching seagulls, lying in wait, heralded their arrival. They strutted around, pecking at anything that looked like food. One went around inspecting the tyres for any possible roadkill. Two were squabbling and squealing in the gutter over what appeared to be a cold chip.
DI Marchbanks had picked them up from the hotel in an unmarked Range Rover which he had just parked on Athol Terrace and as they climbed out of the car, the front windscreen of the Land Rover took direct hits from one of the low level aerial bombers. From high above the white clifftops and along its face, large flocks of gulls dived and whirled, their white bodies standing out against the dark sky.
After DI Marchbanks introduced Sergeant Mick Taylor, the latter took them directly to the control room. Taylor exchanged a few words with one of the operators then turned and addressed the four new comers.
’From the control room, here,’ he said, ‘our surveillance cameras can monitor the whole of the terminal. You can see on these screens, the parking area and the loading ramps. It’s a massive area. It’s a big operation. Twenty-four-seven, virtually non-stop.’ He pointed to one of the screens. That area there, is allocated for trucks, that one over there, for cars.’
‘Impressive setup you have here,’ said Marcia Kirby, looking around at all the monitors. ’A traffic controller’s nightmare.’
‘It runs pretty smoothly considering we have about seven thousand vehicles through here daily. The only time it gets hairy is when there’s a strike or when bad weather prevents sailing. That causes chaos as trucks are backed up for miles.’
‘Let’s hope things don’t come to that tomorrow,’ said Carter.
‘OK, now, once your target car has come through French passport control, there,’ he pointed at one of the screens that showed a row of booths. ‘They will then go on to the ticket check-in.’ He pointed to another screen. ‘Here it gets allocated a lane. That is where your car will be parked until it’s time to be driven on board. We can watch its full progress from the moment it arrives in the port to the moment it goes up the ramp and into the ferry. I will have men stationed, watching the foot passengers as they come in and also on the loading ramp, just in case he tries to get on board. You can give my guys a briefing beforehand and give them pictures of Harris as well as the car’s details.’
Carter, turning to Bill Baxter, said, ‘This will be the best place for me to be stationed, Bill. It can all be co-ordinated from here. I can stay in touch with you all by radio.’
‘You don’t want to spook Harris, so I thought the best thing to do, would be to get you all kitted out as loading marshals. That way you’ll blend in and won’t be so conspicuous,’ said Taylor.
‘Great idea, good thinking. Thanks, Mick. I’ve always wanted to direct traffic,’ said Reid jokingly.
Taylor turned to Reid and briefly smiled. ‘Depending on what time your targets arrive, they may not want to sit in the car and wait but instead, go to the Port Services and get a coffee. We do have cameras in there as well but, it can get crowded and you could lose them. I would suggest, sir, that you put one of your or my people in there with them just to be on the safe side.’
‘I see you’ve already put quite a bit of thought into this sergeant. Nice forward thinking,’ commented Carter.
‘Runs in the family, sir’ said Taylor, smiling. My brother is in the Met. Dad was in the job too. He died eight years ago; he was at Canterbury.’
Carter stopped and looked at Taylor, and said, ‘I knew a Taylor back in the days when I was a beat bobby at Canterbury. Archie Taylor, a sergeant?’
‘Yep, that’s my dad. Retired an Inspector. Cancer got him.’
‘Bugger me… He was a great character. Cancer… sorry to hear that’.
‘Thanks, Chief Inspector, ’said Taylor. ‘If you’d all like to come with me, I’ll show you an office you can use. Then, I’ll introduce you to my boss, the Superintendent. I know he’s keen to meet you and he’ll need to be in on the planning as well. After that, I’ll give you the grand tour. I think by then we’ll be ready for a spot of lunch. I’ll also organise security passes for you. Those will get you access to all areas and onto the ferry. I will also have an unmarked car and a driver standing by should you need it.’
‘Thanks sergeant. Fine. OK, lead on. Let’s away and see your boss.’
It was late afternoon by the time they had got back to their hotel. They had planned to meet up in the bar before dinner. Carter had told DI Marchbanks that he would keep him informed and meet him and his men back at the control room the moment Carter got news of the Keane’s departure from Kingsport. That would give them about an hour and a half before they reached the terminal. Plenty of time for a briefing.
After tossing his electronic room key on the bedside table, Carter took a small bottle of wine from the mini bar and stood outside on his verandah, sipping it. Looking out across Dover Harbour he watched the ever-changing scene unfold. Small craft scurried back and forth across the water. He watched as a big ferry set out from the harbour entrance on its twenty-one-mile journey across to France. He finished his wine then went back in, closing the doors behind him. He sat on the bed and pulled his mobile from his inside jacket pocket and called Janice Watkins. He spent a while updating her and told her what was set up for the following day.
When that was done, he laid back on the bed and thought about Christine for a while. His thoughts brought on a smile. He decided to call her straight after dinner. With her face clear in his mind he closed his eyes. Within a few minutes, he was asleep.
******
When Carter walked into the lounge bar, Mike Reid, Ted Baxter and Marcia Kirby where sitting at a table in front of a large glass panorama window that stretched from floor to ceiling with views of the harbour. Carter judged that they’d been there for a while because Reid’s pint glass was almost empty.
‘What can I get you sir?’ asked Baxter, beckoning the waiter over.
‘I’ll have a Stella please Ted.’
The waiter came over to the table.
‘Three Stella’s please and…’ he looked across the table to where Marcia Kirby sat gazing intently out of the window, ‘Same again for you Marcia?’
‘Thanks,’ she paused. ‘I could get used to this style of living,’ she said.
‘And a Sauvé Blanc please.’
The waiter walked off to get their orders.
Later, as they sat around the table enjoying dinner, they only exchanged small talk about the great meal, lovely views, how nice the rooms were. Most of the time they ate in subdued silence. There was no talk about tomorrow. They all knew what they had to do. There could be no failures. Each of them knew the part he or she had to play. There was a certain amount of tension around the table. They all knew what the other was thinking… Harris had to be caught!
Chapter 20
Monday 18
th October
They were just finishing breakfast, when Carter noticed a smartly dressed man standing in the doorway to the dining room. He was good looking with a healthy, Mediterranean tan. He could have easily been mistaken for Greek. Carter guessed his age to be about thirty-five. The man paused and looked around the tables. He studied each one in turn. His gazed finally came to rest where Carter and the others sat. He walked briskly over to them, then looking from one to the other he addressed Carter.
‘Good morning. Chief Inspector Carter, sir?’
‘Aye lad. That’s me.’ Carter tried to place the man’s accent. South West, Devon. Cornwall maybe?
‘I’m Detective Constable Dave Penrose sir.’ He looked at Marcia Kirby and smiled. She smiled back.
Carter introduced those around the table. Penrose looked again at Kirby, seeming not to notice any of the others. They both looked at each other in silence. The others were quick to notice and exchanged glances.
Carter broke the silence. ‘I assume you didn’t come here to join us for breakfast constable?’
‘Err, no sir. Sorry.’ A look of embarrassment crossed his face. ‘DI Marchbanks sent me sir, and asked if you would please come to the station as soon as possible.’
‘What’s it all about?’
‘Not quite sure, sir, but I think it has something to do with a stolen car that was found this morning.’
‘OK Penrose. We’ll be there shortly.’
Penrose looked at Marcia Kirby one more time, smiled, said his farewells, then turned and left. Kirby’s eyes followed him all the way until he disappeared through the doors of the dining room.
Carter grabbed the last piece of toast from the rack, spread it with liberally with butter and said. ‘OK, Ted. You drop me off at the nick and then get on down to the terminal. I’ll meet all of you there later.’
*******
He walked slowly along the bench and examined the items that were laid out. He picked up the camouflaged jacket and examined it closely, then laid it back down. He sorted through the other items: a pair of trainers, a dirty shirt, jumper, a pair of jeans, a scarf and a crumpled packet. He picked up the backpack and peered inside. ‘This is the same one that Harris had with him when he got off the bus at Folkestone. Security tape at the bus station has him with it,’ said Carter. ‘He was also wearing that jacket.’