“If I had proof that you two had been harbouring a criminal, you’d be following Hinds through that door,” Inspector Salt turned to Ben and Kate.
“Goodbye Inspector,” Kate called out to him as he turned and left.
“He must have watched us go down to the boiler room, the devious sod,” Ben frowned.
“He couldn’t hide indefinitely Ben, at least now he’s got a chance to tell the truth.”
“Let’s just hope they believe him,” Ben’s mobile rang and he answered it.
“Stanley, where the hell are you?”
It transpired that Stanley Austin had left the hotel in fear of his life. The thought of his daughter being responsible for so many deaths was too much to comprehend. Anne may not have been directly to blame for Alex’s death, but she the catalyst that had bought it in to being. He went to pay his last respects to Alex at the hospital chapel, before leaving to return to his London home,” Ben explained to Kate.
“What a shame he must feel responsible,” Kate sank down on the sofa and yawned, she had barely slept, and the events of the last two weeks were taking their toll
“I can’t take any more of this Ben. My heads screaming, I can’t sleep and I don’t know what’s going to happen to us. I thought we we’re happy,” she began to cry.
“Why did you sleep with Emma Lewis; wasn’t I enough for you?” her body shook as she sobbed.
Ben knelt down beside her and gently took her hands in his.
“I never meant to hurt you love; and I know this is all my fault but we can start again, I know we can,” he paused and squeezed her hand.
“How would you feel if it was the other way around Ben? Do you know how humiliating it is to know our marriage meant nothing to you?” she continued to cry.
“I’m sorry Kate, but I just don’t know how to put it right,” he pleaded with her.
“I could have lived with your affair; in time I would have completely forgiven you, but she was pregnant with your child; we’ll never be the same two people again.”
Ben stood up and ran a hand through his hair. He knew she was right, and the truth stabbed at his heart when he realised what he had done to her.
“We could move away, start again,” he pleaded with her.
“No matter where we go Ben, it’ll follow us,” Kate wiped her eyes. The old saying ‘everyone has a skeleton in the cupboard’ sprang to mind, only Ben didn’t have one he had army of them, and they had come out fighting. Kate’s faith and trust in her husband was gone forever. With his head lowered Ben walked slowly from the room.
***********************
Toby Lawrence was proving to be very co-operative whilst being questioned at length by several senior detectives. It became apparent however, that he certainly wasn’t the brains behind the organisation. Like most bullies, he was a coward when there was no one else to back him up; basically he was a dangerous liar. There was no doubt that Anne Parish was solely responsible for arranging and executing the majority of the murders; with the exception of Emma and Charles Lewis. There was no forensic evidence to link Lawrence with any of the victims and consequently, he could only be charged with aiding and abetting a criminal. He had however, revealed some interesting facts from which the police had been able to ascertain Anne Parish's whereabouts. Inspector Salt sent two police cars to the address immediately; but unfortunately she had fled. There was no trace of her at the address Lawrence had given, although after questioning her neighbours it transpired that she had left a few hours previously carrying a large suitcase. Her apartment was thoroughly searched by a team of forensic officers who took away hair samples, clothing, shoes and all her recent correspondence.
Toby Lawrence had eventually admitted that she was planning to kidnap someone connected with Charles Lewis; but denied any further knowledge.
“You’ll never catch her Inspector; she’s always one step ahead of you, always,” Toby Lawrence smirked as he leaned back in his seat.
As he spoke Anne was heading towards the golden-stoned city of Bath with Glen Meadows as her unwilling passenger.
“Turn left at the next junction,” Glen instructed Anne.
“Are you sure; I haven’t seen a sign for Marshfield yet?” she doubted his directions.
“Just drive, I’ll tell you which way to go.”
“O.k., but if it’s the wrong way we’ll miss our target,” she warned him.
“Trust me I know where we’re going,” he peered through his mirror at her.
Anne turned left and drove a few hundred yards before she noticed a sign for Marshfield. Five minutes later, they joined the High Street which was lined with huge Georgian houses.
“There must be some big money guys living here,” Anne nodded.
“This High Street is one of the longest in Britain, nearly a mile long,” Glen pointed out.
“How interesting; it’s a pity your attention span isn’t the same.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“It doesn’t matter, where’s the school from here?”
“I don’t know.”
“What have you done with the bloody instructions I gave you?” she lashed out at him.
“In my pocket,” he flinched in anticipation of another whack.
“Well get them out you moron. I knew I was making a mistake bringing you along.”
Glen took a folded piece of paper from his inside pocket and quickly read through it.
“Turn left at the next roundabout and immediately left. The school should be at the end of the road.”
“What time is it now?” she asked.
“12.30.”
“Right we have half an hour before the children go into the playground. Remember what I said, you don’t speak unless I ask you something.”
“O.k. let’s just get on with it.”
Anne drove the car directly into the grounds of St. Gregory’s Junior School, and parked at the rear of the building, close to an exit. A sign above an adjacent door indicated the whereabouts of the reception area. Anne got out of the car and unbuttoned her coat to expose a dark blue nurse’s uniform. From the boot, she picked up a leather briefcase and with Glen following closely behind, made her way briskly towards the school reception. Behind a small desk sat an elderly lady, who looked up as they entered. A small badge on her lapel displayed her name - Molly Hughes.
“Can I help you?” she asked
“Good afternoon, I’m Nurse Margaret Adams and this is my assistant Mr. Owen Benson. We’ve had a report of an outbreak of head lice in a neighbouring school, so I’ll need to inspect all your children,” Anne explained.
“We usually have Nurse Chadwick, is she ill?” Molly asked.
“She’s on holiday, I’m a relief nurse.”
“Do you have any authorisation; we have to be careful who we allow into our school these days.”
“Of course, Anne opened her briefcase and took out a fake identity card together with a letter of authorisation from the local health centre.”
“There we are, I think you’ll find everything’s in order,” she slid the documents across the table.
Molly read the letter and passed it back.
“It’s just as well you came during the dinner break. This kind of activity is very disruptive to the children’s lessons,” she frowned.
“I know, but it has to be done.”
“We normally use the quiet room for health visits. It’s the second on the right down the corridor. Use the phone in the room to let us know when you’re ready to see the children,” she turned her attention away, but then looked up suddenly.
“I almost forgot. You’ll have to sign the visitor’s book.” She produced a black leather-bound journal and instructed them to sign the relevant page.
“I’ll sign for both of us,” Anne hastily scribbled their aliases and passed the book back.
“Will you get my case from the car please Owen?” Glen stared blankly at her.
“Owen did you hear me? M
y case, it’s in the car will you get it?” she repeated quietly.
“Oh yes,” he remembered his assumed name.
“Could I have the school register please? I’ll see the boys first; they’re much quicker to check than the girls with their long hair.”
Molly took out a large folder from her filing cabinet and handed it to Anne.
“We’re only a very small school; it shouldn’t take too long.”
“Thank you. You can send the first class down in five minutes; I won’t bother with the phone. If you can get them to line up outside the door I can get started.”
Glen returned with a small black case and followed Anne down the corridor to the quiet room. Ten minutes later the first child knocked on the door; Anne quickly checked his hair, and declared him lice-free. This tedious procedure continued for twenty minutes before she found the name of the child she was seeking. George Marshall stood before her with a terrified expression on his face. He was small for his age, with big brown eyes and tight lips.
“What’s your name then?” she knelt down.
“George Marshall,” he replied in a whisper.
“I’m just going to have a look in your hair, don’t look so worried,” she ran her fingers through his cropped blond hair and smiled.
“You can sit down over there now until I’ve finished checking all the other children.”
Anne spent another hour hurriedly flicking through the rest of the boys and then the girl’s hair, before announcing that two girls and one boy, had signs of head lice infestations. This was a lie, but it was Anne’s only chance to get the child out of the school legally; and it could still fail.
“I’ve got the relevant treatments in my case, but if it’s practical, the three children concerned should be excluded from school for the rest of the day,” she informed Molly.
“Well I’ll see what I can do; but George lives quite a few miles from school.”
“I suppose we could drop him off on our way. What time is our next appointment Owen?” she asked Glen.
“Not until 3 o’clock.”
“I’ll try and contact the children’s parents; you can take a seat over there,” she replied pointing to a row of soft backed chairs.
Molly called them back to the desk a few minutes later and explained the situation.
“The mother’s of the two girls are on their way to pick them up; but George’s father can’t be contacted, he’s a policeman on duty His housekeeper is at the family home, but she hasn’t got access to a car today. She’d be very grateful if you could drop him off.”
“No problem at all; but we’d better leave right away,” Anne replied with a smile.
“I’ve written the address down for you; but I’m sure George knows the way. Thanks very much.” Molly willingly allowed one of her charges to be taken away from the school in the trusting company of Nurse Adams.
George Marshall held firmly onto Anne’s hand as she led him towards the car, where she secured him in the back seat with his schoolbag by his side.
“I’ll have to adjust the seat belt it’s much too big for you,” she smiled.
“You drive,” Anne turned to Glen, “I’ll keep my eye on the brat.”
When he was safely strapped in, Anne and Glen drove out of the school grounds and headed north towards the M4 motorway. The car hadn’t travelled very far when George turned to out of the window.
“You going the wrong way; this isn’t the way to my house,” he began to struggle in his seat.
“It's alright we’re going a different way,” Glen assured him.
“My dad doesn’t go this way,” he persisted.
“We have to pick something up before we take you home; it’ll just take a bit longer that’s all,” Anne attempted to pacify him.
“Have you spoken to my dad?”
“You ask a lot of questions. Why don’t you just be quiet and look out of the window?” Anne fought to control her temper.
“I’ve got my mobile phone, I’m going to call him now,” he reached into his schoolbag.
Anne quickly turned around and snatched it from his hands.
“Stop it that’s my bag; give it back,” he shouted.
“You’re not allowed to disturb your father when he’s working. You don’t want him to get into trouble do you?” she threatened him.
“I think you’re too young to be using a mobile phone; it’ll fry your brains to mush.” Glen sneered at the terrified little boy.
“No it won’t you’re telling lies, all my friends have got one.”
“They’ve got too much money if you ask me,” Glen scoffed, “spoilt little brats.”
“I’ll call Mrs. Scot then?” George was defiant
“Who’s Mrs. Scott?” Anne demanded to know.
“She looks after me when my dad’s at work.”
“She must be the housekeeper; how long do you think we’ve got until she realises he’s missing?” Glen whispered to Anne.
“Not long, put your foot down. Join the M5 north of Bristol and head towards Exeter.”
“I want to go home; I’m scared,” George began to whimper.
“Shut up kid, or I’ll shut you up myself,” Anne snarled.
George continued to whimper much to Anne’s increasing anger.
“Pull into the next services and park around at the back,” she ordered Glen.
“Why, what’s wrong?”
“I’m going to shut him up,” she replied through gritted teeth.
“Don’t hurt him,” Glen gripped her forearm.
“Don’t question me Glen, just drive,” she whispered
Glen travelled a further two miles, and then indicated to turn into the services where he pulled into a disused parking area.
“Watch him,” Anne ordered as she opened the door. From the boot, she took a small case and selected a bottle, the contents of which she poured onto a cloth. With it held firmly in her hand, she pulled open the back door. Unaware of her intentions, George had little time to resist, as she thrust the cloth roughly over his mouth. He thrashed and kicked his legs in an attempt to resist, but Anne persisted until his muffled cries died away. When she was certain he was unconscious, she slowly removed the cloth and watched as his head lolled to one side, before he fell into a deep sleep.
“I’ve always agreed that children should be seen and not heard,” she smiled and retook her seat in the front of the car.
“Let’s go Glen.”
“O.k.”
The journey continued in relative silence as Anne flicked through a magazine, and repeatedly checked the time.
“Right it’s time to make the call,” she dropped the magazine and keyed a number into her mobile. The call was answered promptly, and Anne spoke clearly but succinctly.
“I need to contact one of your officer’s, Sergeant Leo Marshall; I believe he’s stationed in Bath.”
“Just a moment madam.”
Anne drummed her fingers impatiently on the dash board as she awaited the connection.
“Can I ask whose calling?” the operator asked.
“My name’s not important; just connect me now. I have some vital information for Sergeant Marshall,”
The operator didn’t reply, and the next voice she heard was that of Sergeant Marshall.
“Listen, and listen carefully Sergeant Marshall, I won’t be repeating this conversation with you. You will now be aware that your son George has failed to return home from school,” her tone changed.
“Who is this?” he interrupted her.
“You’re not listening, are you? Your son has been abducted, and if you want to see him again you’ll do exactly as I say. Are you listening now?”
“Yes I’m listening but if
“Don’t interrupt me or I’ll hang up and you’ll find your son lying in a ditch with his throat cut. No harm will come to him if you do exactly as I say; and I mean exactly there will be no deviations. A drug’s company by the name of Harmen Pharmaceuticals – she s
pelt out the name- in Gloucester is currently testing a new cancer drug on animals. You will see to it personally that this company is closed down, and all animal experimentation is completely and permanently ceased. In addition, you will pay £200,000 in used £20 pound notes for the safe return of your son,” she paused to await his response.
“I don’t have that sort of money.”
“Then you don’t see your son again it’s as simple as that. You have exactly forty eight hours to meet my demands, and the clock is already ticking away.”
“How do I know my son is still alive?” he asked.
“He’s fast asleep at the moment he found the journey rather tiresome. You can either take my word for it, or I can send you one of his tiny little fingers through the post.”
“Time is running out; I know exactly how long it takes to trace this call which is any minute now, you have exactly forty eight hours,” Anne stabbed the call end button.
“I think he’s got the message. Now let’s go before the brat wakes up.”
“You weren’t serious about his finger were you?”
“Of course I was; I don’t make idle threats Glen, you should know that by now. I’ll do whatever is necessary to close that drugs company down. One little finger will hardly be missed, he’s got another nine,” her words were disturbing and Glen decided not to reply.
FRIDAY (LATE EVENING)
Fortune chose to bestow its’ favour on Patrick Hinds, who was contemplating the prospect of losing his liberty. Forensic examination had failed to reveal any fingerprints, other than those of Alex Lawton, on the gun taken from the hotel. It was also confirmed that the same weapon was responsible for his death, and it was registered in Alex’s name. With nothing more than circumstantial evidence, the police reluctantly released Pat without further charges. The only requirement was that he should attend the inquest at a date to be arranged in the near future. After re-claiming his personal belongings, he was allowed to leave.
Outside the station, he lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. The damp night air and heavy rain quickly soaked through his thin raincoat, and he pulled the collar around his neck and rubbed his hands together to keep warm. A few minutes later, Ben’s car turned into the street and drew up beside him.
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