by Edward Figg
‘I was wondering, Mr Archer,’ said Kirby, ‘if you’ve seen any strangers around here in the last four or five days.’
‘Umm, sorry but I can’t help you there. We’ve been away on a ten-day Mediterranean cruise. As I said, it’s good for the wife. We only got back yesterday morning.’
‘Tell me, that track we passed back up the road, the one that runs down the side of your property, does it go to that place over there?’ she pointed to a distant structure.
‘The barn, you mean? Yes, it does, but it’s not used. It’s a bit dilapidated, roof leaks and the doors are near hanging off. Why do you ask?’ he said, giving Kirby a quizzical look.
‘We’d just like to look inside, if that’s OK with you Mr Archer? It just that we’ve had a report of some homeless people that have been causing some problems in this area. So, we’d just like to check it out before we go, just to make sure there’s nobody sleeping in there,’ lied Penrose.
‘By all means. Help yourself. They must be desperate if they have to sleep in there.’
Gordon Archer watched as the three of them drove off up the road. ‘Seems to me to be a bit of an overkill sending two sergeants and a constable just to see off a couple of bloody tramps.’ Archer shrugged his shoulders, picked up his trowel and went back to planting his bulbs.
******
Carter’s phone buzzed. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and removed the phone from the inside pocket. He looked at the number displayed on the screen. It was Superintendent Watkins. ‘She’ll be wanting an update,’ he thought.
‘Carter.’
‘Bob, hi. Listen. We have a situation here. Early this morning a four-year-old girl went missing from the front garden of her mother’s house on Forest Road.’
Carter’s mind did a flashback. He knew the street and its surrounding area well. Two years previously he’d been involved in a full-scale search of the area following the disappearance of a three-year-old child. It turned out to be a tragic accidental death. The little girl’s body was found two days later at the bottom of a disused well, not far from her home.
‘Uniform and ERT Search and Rescue are out combing the area for her as we speak. Hollingsworth and Lynch are down at the mother’s place now. She’s a single parent. Now… I know your investigation is important and I’m sorry to do this to you but I’m going to have to pull out Turner and Richardson away from watching brief on the Keane’s. I need them back here. I’m taking charge of this one myself. I did have thoughts of bringing DI Baxter back as SIO but it would’ve taken him far long to get here and get things organised. We needed to get this up and running fast.’
Carter knew the type of pressure she’d be under. A missing child was always traumatic. He knew just how she felt. ‘Now I know that Harris is here, I don’t really need that surveillance. They’re safe on the road and we’ll have them monitored from the moment they get here. I can manage without them. Just find that kid,’ he said, in a concerned voice.
‘How are thing progressing down there?’
‘Everything is okay here and we think we’ve found where Harris has been hiding out. Marcia and Mike are out there checking on it right now. They’ve got one of the locals with them who knows the area. It turns out that Harris’s brother passed his house on to George. It’s in there or somewhere nearby we think he’s been hiding out these past days. You can trust Dave Lynch. He’s good and methodical. He won’t let you down. I just hope you find the kiddie safe and well.’
‘Ok Bob, good work. Let me know how thing go?’ She hung up.
******
There was just enough gap between the opening of the barn door and the wall for Dave Penrose to squeeze through. Once inside, he stood and listened, then putting his shoulder to the door he pushed against it to widened the gap so the other two could get in. The smell of rotting hay filled the air. A sudden flurry of noise startled Penrose, making him jump. He turned anxiously and scanned the dim interior. Startled by the intruder, a small flock of pigeons that had been roosting on the exposed beams had taken flight. They flew around causing dust and dried droppings to cascade down on top of him before flying out through a large hole in the roof.
‘Shitting, bloody hell. I just had this fucking suit dry cleaned,’ he softly grumbled. He brushed away some of the mess from his shoulder.
Kirby and Taylor came in and looked around them.
Kirby called out to Penrose. ‘There are tyre tracks around the side,’ she said, dusting off some white flecks from her black trousers where she had brushed against the wall. ‘They look fresh.’
‘Someone’s been here,’ called out Penrose from the other side of the barn.
He was looking down on the floor when the Kirby and Taylor came over.
‘Made himself a bit of a bed here.’ He indicated a couple of blankets draped across some bales of straw.
Taylor spotted something and walked off. He bent down and examined his find.
‘And over here, we a number of takeaway food containers. Tesco’s.’
Marcia Kirby picked up one of the blankets. Lying beneath them was a map book. She picked it up and shook it. Nothing fell out. She opened the first page. ‘Well, well,’ she said. At the top was written the name, R Austin. She handed it to Penrose, ‘He was here all right. This came from Richard Austin’s car.’
Penrose nodded. ‘Yeah, you’re right.’
‘What I can’t fathom is why he’d leave the car down there in the car park when he could have left it up here. It could have stayed undiscovered here for ages.’
‘Didn’t they tell you?’
‘Tell me what?’
‘He’d run out of fuel. They had to put fuel in it, to get it back to the nick. I’d doubt he’d risk going into a service station. May have even run out of money?’ suggested Penrose.
‘He’s got money. We know he made a big withdrawal the day he left his flat,’ said Kirby, staring up at the hole in the roof. The muffled theme from Goldfinger suddenly emitted from inside Kirby’s shoulder bag. She rummaged around inside to locate it. She took a moment to look at the displayed number. It was Carter’s. She answered it.
‘Sir.’
‘Marcia, what’s happening up there. Anything?’
‘He has certainly been here sir.’ She went on to tell him about what they’d found at the cottage and the discovery in the barn.
‘So, my barn theory was right after all,’ said Carter, sounding pleased. ‘There’s no point in you three hanging around up there now that he has scarpered. I want you back here. We need to revise our plans because Bill Turner and Jill won’t be joining us. I’ll explain when you get here.’
‘OK sir, we’re on our way. Be there in fifteen minutes.’ She ended the call.
******
‘There they are, just coming out of passport control,’ said Taylor, leaning over and pointing at the screen. ‘They’ll now go to the booth and have their tickets checked, then they’ll be allocated a lane number to go to. When they come out from the booth, one of our cars will follow them to the parking area and sit right behind them. They’ll be departing from Berth three.’
Taylor spoke into the lapel mic attached to his Hi-Viz jacket. ‘Alfa Two come in. They’re coming through lane six now. Do you see? Over.’
‘Roger. Taking up position now.’
They watched on the monitor as the crew of Alfa Two let Keane’s car pull away from the check point then follow behind them.
Turning to Baxter, Carter said. ‘As soon as they’re in the parking lane I want Marcia, Mike and Penrose out there watching. The loading ramp and walk-on passengers will be monitored by PoDP officers.’
Taylor looked up at the clock on the wall. ‘They should start loading in about fifteen minutes.’
‘I’ll go down to the passenger embarkation area and keep an eye on things from there,’ said Baxter, throwing on his yellow jacket.
******
Baxter’s radio buzzed briefly. The voice was Carter’s.
‘All units. The Keane’s are now safely on board without incident. There’s still no sign of Harris.’
Cars, caravans, bikes and trailers were all on and the marshals had all but finished shepherding the last of the heavy juggernauts on board, getting them evenly distributed on both sides of the car-deck to balance the ship. The last vehicle to go up the ramp was a white van with Border Security painted on the side.
‘Do they do on-board checks as well?’ asked Baxter, indicating the van that was about to disappear into the ferry.
The PoDP officer standing next to him, squared off his cap and said. ‘They’re Border Security, Passport Control. That only carries their luggage and other stuff they need over there. They’ll be relieving those from the night shift over in Calais. All three shifts are on a five-day roster. But as to your question, yes, they can, and do passport checks on-board. They’ll be here soon. There’re normally the last ones to board. Don’t know if you’re aware, but the UK border actually starts in Calais? Likewise, the French border starts here in Dover.’
The parking area was now almost deserted. It wouldn’t be that way for long because, soon, it would begin filling ready for the next departing ferry.
Feeling a little more relaxed, he stood back and watched the last of the foot passengers leave the transit buses and head for the covered walkway that enabled them to walk directly on board. He studied their faces looking to see if Harris was amongst them. The last of the passengers came through. There was no sign of Harris. He looked over and saw Reid and Kirby, kitted out as parking marshals, walking across the truck park towards him. He left to PoDP officer standing on his own and walked to meet them.
As they approached, Kirby said. ‘It’s loaded and ready to go and no sign of our man. They’ve forecast strong winds. The weather is getting worse and the wind has to pick up.’ She looked at the waves. ‘In the last few hours the sea has got a lot rougher. Could be a bit of a bumpy crossing.’
‘Do you think we’ve got this all wrong? Maybe Harris had no intention of coming here in the first place,’ said Reid. The trio suddenly got blasted by a gust of wind that raced across the open parking area. Reid pulled up the collar of his Hi-Viz jacket.
Carter’s voice came over each of their radios. ‘Stand down. Everyone back to control.’
‘OK You two go back. I’ll be over in a minute,’ said Baxter. He turned and headed back to the walkway. The others set off across the vast expanse of the parking area, back to the control room.
Dark clouds appeared over the clifftops bringing with them a few drops of rain. Baxter looked up, thinking Kirby could be right. He remembered how this part of the coast was prone to abrupt changes in the weather.
While he was walking back, a small coach had pulled in by the walkway and started disgorging men in uniform. ‘These must be the Border Security replacements the PoDP officer was talking about,’ thought Baxter. Feeling a few more drops of rain, he looked skywards. When his gaze came back to earth, he noticed one of them, with a shoulder bag, sprinting across from the departure area and heading up the walkway to join the rest of his group.
The PoDP officer and the coach driver were sheltering in the entrance of the walkway out of the wind. The officer called to Baxter, ‘There’s a bit of a delay with the sailing. They can’t get the loading ramp up. Some kind of electrical fault.’
‘Any idea how long it will take them to fix?’
‘Nope, they didn’t say for sure but at least half an hour.’
‘Just as well, otherwise that last chap may not have made it on board on time,’ commented Baxter.
‘He must have been a last-minute replacement for someone,’ said the coach driver. ‘Strange. I always bring over ten and ten was wot I dropped off. Anyway, I better hop it. Time for my break.’
The man walked over to his coach, got up into his cab and drove off.
Baxter called up Carter and told him of the delay and said he’d stay down where he was until the ferry sailed.
As he watched the group disappear along the walkway, something suddenly occurred to him.
Baxter turned to the officer. ‘Can you find out if that last man was part of the shift?’
‘Yer, shouldn’t be too hard,’ said the man.
Baxter thought about it for a moment, chewed it over in his mind, then, taking out his phone, he called Kingsport.
Jill Richardson had just finished hanging up her coat and was about to sit down, when the phone on her desk rang. She answered it, then listened in silence, occasionally nodding her head and writing on her desk pad. ‘I’ll get straight on to it, she said.’ She then held out the phone. ‘It’s the DI. Wants to talk to you, says it’s urgent.’
Lynch leaned over the desk and took the phone from her.
‘Yes Guv?’
‘Dave, I want you to get over to Harris’s flat as fast as you can. Call me when you get there, understand?’
‘Yes Guv, what am I looking for?’
‘No time for details, just bloody do it. You got fifteen minutes.’
The line went dead.
‘What’s up? What’s so urgent?’ she said, taking the phone back from him.
Looking perplexed, he shrugged his shoulders. ‘Shit knows. Just wants me to go over to Harris’s flat and ring him from there. Said I’ve only got fifteen minutes to do it.’
‘Then you’d best get your arse into gear and get over there, hadn’t you? I’d suggest you take a uniform PC with you just in case.’
Lynch rose from the chair and walked quickly out of the room.
Picking up the phone, Richardson went about the task Baxter had set her.
The PoDP officer acknowledged the call that had just come over his shoulder radio. ‘Roger that, understood. Out.’ He removed his ear piece. ‘Well. Seems like they have no idea who he was. There was only ten scheduled to go over.’
Before Baxter could comment, his mobile rang. He looked at the display then spoke.
‘Yes, Jill. What have you got?’
He listened in silence while Jill Richardson passed on the information he wanted, then said, ‘Shit. OK, well done Jill. I think I know what the bastard’s up to. Cheers,’ he snapped his phone shut.
The PoDP officer, who had taken another call and had walked a little way away to do it, came back.
‘They’ve located the problem. She should be away in about twenty minutes,’ he said.
Baxter took out his notebook, wrote in it, tore it out and gave it to the officer. ‘Can you check this name with passport control? I need to know if this man has come through.’
Baxter looked at his watch, then glanced over to the control building where the others would now have gathered. ‘Should I tell them or wait ‘til I’ve heard back from Lynch?’ he thought. He looked at his watch. If we must get onboard, time is running out. Maybe I’ve got it all wrong?’ He decided to wait. He stood there willing his phone to ring. He had to be at the flat by now, he thought. He glanced again at his watch. One minute went by… two minutes… three minutes. He stared at his phone. ‘For God’s sake Dave, where are you? What’s taking you so bloody long?’
Another minute went by before it finally rang. ‘Dave!’
‘Sorry for the delay boss but the traffic was hell. We’re outside the flat. PC Hobson is opening the door now.’
‘Dave, go into the spare bedroom and look in the wardrobe.’
‘Hang on. The blasted key won’t work.’
The was a brief moment of panic as Baxter thought that Lynch had taken the wrong key from the property store. The property store was where some of Harris’s personal effects from the flat and the lock-up were stored.
‘OK. He’s got it. We’re in.’
Baxter breathed a sigh of relief, then listened to the sound of Lynch’s feet as he walked through the flat. He heard a door being opened.
‘It’s open’ He heard a muffled voice, Lynch answered. ‘Hobson reckons someone’s been in the flat. He said it wasn’t like this when he left here
the last time. There’s clothes strewn all over the floor.’
‘Dave, do you see any uniforms?’
‘Uniforms? Umm… not on the floor, no, but there is one hanging in the wardrobe. The shoulder tab says Border Security. Is that the one you mean?’
‘Are you sure there’s not another one?’
‘Absolutely boss. Dead positive. Just the one. What’s this all about anyway? What’s going on?’
‘Thanks Dave, that’s all I need to know. Sorry, no time to explain now, I’ve a boat to catch. Cheers.’ He breathed a sigh of relief. He had got it right. He quickly closed his phone, opened it again and called Carter. It all fitted.
‘What do you mean, he’s on board? How the fucking hell did that happen?’ shouted Carter.
‘She’ll be sailing in about ten minutes. I’m going on board after him’
‘Oh, no you’re not. You’re not going on there on your own. That’s an order. You wait for us, we’re coming over.’
Chapter 23
The two crew members stared defiantly at the group standing next to the brightly-coloured tour bus that displayed the sign, ‘London, Paris, Rome’ under its back window.
‘You can’t stay here. You have to go up on deck,’ said one, ‘It’s regulations.’
It had been a race to get on board before the ferry sailed. They made it with less than thirty second to spare before the loading ramp was lifted clear of the car deck.
Carter stood trying to catch his breath after their dash from the control room. He produced his security pass and held it out for the two men to see.
‘We have special priority security passes,’ he said. ‘So, for the moment, here is where we’ll be staying,’ he wheezed.
‘Nobody told us anything about this,’ said the second man.
‘That’s because you didn’t have to know,’ said Reid, breathing heavily.
‘OK, but I’ll have to inform my immediate superior you’re here,’ said the first one. Then addressing the other man said, ‘Come on George, let’s leave them to it.’ They walked off, past the bus, then went through a door in the bulkhead marked with an arrow that said, ‘Passenger Deck’.