by Ellis, Tim
‘I wonder what SDI Pollock is doing?’ Stick said as he pulled off the M25 onto the A12.
‘He did say he was going to be co-ordinating and tidying up.’
‘What do you think that means?’
‘He’ll sit on his fat arse and let us do all the work. When we solve the case, he’ll tell everyone that we couldn’t have done it without his inspirational leadership.’
‘Maybe we should let him know where we are?’
‘Maybe you should stop being a numpty.’
‘If I recall correctly, it was you who told me in no uncertain terms that I was not to go anywhere without telling people where I was going.’
‘When you’re on your own. Are you on your own now?’
‘Well, no…’
‘Am I on my own?’
‘No.’
‘In fact, would it be true to say that you know where I’m going, and I know where you’re going?’
‘Yes, Sarge.’
‘Need I say anymore?’
‘No, Sarge.’
Chapter Ten
‘What do you specialise in?’ Jerry asked him.
Charlie Baxter was waiting for her in reception. At first, when he approached, she thought he might be a tramp who had wandered into the hospital reception to keep warm, and was going to try and get the price of a cup of coffee out of her. In his early thirties, he wore a dark brown linen suit that had more creases than an old people’s home. As far as she could see, the suit had never been washed. His black hair needed cutting and combing, and it had been days since he’d last shaved.
‘Whatever I’m working on. I’m a man of many specialities.’
‘And is one of those specialities making a good impression when you first meet new clients?’
He smiled, and his teeth were even and white. ‘Do you want me for my mind, or my dress sense?’
‘Can’t I have both?’
‘You could, but then I’d lose my advantage.’
‘Oh?’
‘When people see me, they immediately think I don’t know what I’m doing. By the time they discover otherwise, it’s usually too late.’
‘I see, so you’re in disguise?’
‘You could say that.’
Before she took him to meet Ray, she needed to explain what was going on, so they walked to the café. While Charlie ate an all-day breakfast sandwich, a blueberry muffin, a slice of caramel shortcake, and drank a large mug of coffee, Jerry told him what had happened since she and Ray had been dragged out of bed that morning.
‘I don’t need to know if it’s true or not, but…’
‘Okay, before we go any further,’ Jerry said, her voice as cold as ice, ‘you need to understand that Ray and I are just average people. Our kids are average kids… Well, except the third one – Tabitha – she has a musical gift. Don’t ask me where…Anyway, none of what they’re saying is true. Someone is trying to destroy Ray. We don’t know who it is, but…’
Charlie held up his hand. ‘Okay. So, you’re saying that all the evidence against your husband has been planted?’
‘If none of the accusations are true, I think that’s a safe bet, don’t you?’
‘So, what do you want from me?’
‘If I wasn’t getting the dress sense, I thought I was at least getting the brains.’
He smiled. ‘I like you, Jerry Kowalski. I think we’ll make a good team. As you can see, I’m not a conventional lawyer. I don’t play by the rules. I can give you straight if you want straight, but straight doesn’t usually cut it. Or…’ He shrugged. ‘Well, it depends how far into the darkness you want to travel?’
‘There are a number of things I want. First, I want you to find whoever it is that’s trying to ruin my husband and stop them. Second, I want my children back. Third, I want Ray back in his job. Fourth, I want that bitch Debbie MacGregor to be disgraced in public, and left in no doubt that I was behind it. Now, if I have to start shovelling coal to stoke the fires of hell, then pass me the shovel.’
Charlie Baxter nodded. ‘At this stage, I usually ask about money, but I’m not going to. We’re going to sue the police force for so much money in damages, you’ll be able to buy your own island. My fee will be thirty percent of any payment – agreed?’
Jerry scrutinised his eyes. There was a light in there that she used to see in Ray’s eyes when he was on a case. ‘Twenty-five percent? I’ll need a new wardrobe if I’m moving to a tropical island.’
They laughed and shook hands.
When they found Ray Kowalski on Gardenia Ward he was handcuffed to his bed, and a uniformed police officer was on guard outside his room. Also, DCI Ed Walker and DI Alexis Nutley from the drug squad had just arrived to interview him.
‘Are you crazy?’ Jerry screamed at them. ‘He’s just had a heart attack. You won’t be happy until he’s dead, will you?’ She shouted at a nurse walking past. ‘I want a doctor here now.’
‘I’m sorry…’
‘You’ll be sorry if my husband dies in your care. Get me a doctor now.’ She very rarely swore, but sometimes the situation made it impossible not to, and this was one of those situations. The day just seemed to be getting worse with each passing hour.
The nurse scurried off.
Eventually, a doctor arrived.
‘I’m Doctor Rhian Cutting, what seems to be the problem?’
Charlie Baxter stepped forward. ‘I’m DCI Kowalski’s lawyer. If you don’t want to be named in a medical negligence lawsuit, which will finish your career, I suggest you inform those police officers that DCI Kowalski is in no fit state to be interviewed for the foreseeable future.’
Jerry could see Doctor Cutting weighing up whether Charlie really was a lawyer, and more importantly, whether he could finish her career. She obviously decided that he was and he could. She strode into the room.
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to leave now,’ she said to the police officers. ‘Mr Kowalski is not well enough to be interviewed, and in future all requests to question my patient should be made in advance. However, you should be aware that I will be unlikely to authorise any such interviews until I’m happy he has recovered enough to cope with the stress.’
The two detectives weren’t happy about being thrown out, but they had little choice. In a hospital, a doctor’s authority always exceeded theirs.
At last, she was able to see her husband. She held onto him and cried.
‘You took your time,’ he said. ‘And you’ve brought your lover with you.’
She smiled. ‘I deserve a lover after the shit you’ve put me through, Ray Kowalski, but instead I’ve brought Charlie Baxter. He’s the man that’s going to make everything right.’
Charlie offered his hand and Ray gave it a weak shake. ‘Okay,’ Charlie said, ‘let’s get down to business.’
***
‘Hello?’
They’d just turned the corner into the industrial estate in Hainault. Stick had parked up outside ESP Logistics and turned the engine off.
‘This is SDI Pollock, DS Blake. Can you tell me why you’re not at the post mortem?’
‘I understood that you were going to that, Sir.’
‘Me? No, no, if you recall I’m directing operations.’
‘Well, I’m afraid you didn’t make that clear. In fact, I recall discussing vague orders with you this morning in relation to the military debacle you mentioned.’
‘Yes, yes. Well, let me be less vague. Get over to the mortuary at King George Hospital now, and see what the pathologist has got to say for herself.’
‘Okay, Sir. How are things going at your end?’
‘Yes… very well. Where are you anyway?’
‘Dr Toadstone found out about the batch numbers and provided us with a list of thirty-three churches the anointing oil was distributed to. DC Gilbert and I have been…’
‘Yes, okay. You can tell me more about it when you get back to the station… What time do you think that will be?’
‘I can
’t see us getting back much before eight o’clock tonight, Sir?’
‘Eight o’clock! I’m afraid the briefing will have to wait until tomorrow morning then. It has to be a major emergency for me to work past five o’clock. Let’s say we’ll meet in the incident room at nine tomorrow morning – that’s not vague is it, Blake?’
‘Clear as mud, Sir. See you then.’
‘She ended the call. ‘Knob end.’
‘Did you learn all those colourful phrases at the military schools you went to?’
‘You have a death wish, don’t you?’
‘Just being friendly.’
‘Friendly, my arse. You’re poking your nose into my knickers drawer again.’
‘I never would.’
She checked her watch. It was quarter to five. ‘Stop waffling and let’s go and find out what this ESP Logistics is all about.’
They climbed out of the car and walked up to the door. It was locked, and there were no windows.
‘Shit,’ Xena said.
‘It’s empty,’ a voice came from their left.
A middle-aged man with a crew cut was standing there wiping his hands on a dirty rag. He wore a pair of blue overalls open at the front, and a green T-shirt with “3 out of 2 people have trouble with fractions” printed on the front.
‘I’m sorry?’ Stick said.
‘It’s empty. No one works there.’
Xena’s forehead furrowed. ‘But it has ESP Logistics on the sign.’
‘A sign does not a workplace make.’
‘I see. You’re a philosopher.’
‘When you make fibreglass roofing panels, you have to be a bit of a philosopher.’
Xena showed her warrant card. ‘And you are?’
‘Peter Paxton by name, and Peter Paxton by nature.’
Another bozo, she thought. ‘Has it closed then?’
‘About three years ago, Sean O’Flynn, who runs Alpha Signs at Unit 5,’ he pointed along the road, ‘came and put up the sign. A couple of days later, someone in a white van arrived and did some work inside. Since then, it’s been closed and I haven’t seen a soul.’
‘Do you stand watch twenty-four seven?’
‘Obviously not. They could be having orgies throughout the night in there for all I know, but I’d bet a day’s pay no one’s been in there since that time.’
‘Is there any way we can get in there?’
‘I expect the lettings’ company will have an emergency key. You want Radcliffe Estates in the town centre.’
‘Have you got a telephone number for them?’
‘Sure. Hang on, I’ll go and get it.’
‘What do you think?’ Xena asked when Paxton had gone back into the building.
‘I’m a bit confused.’
‘So, what’s new?’
Stick smiled. ‘Erin said the telephone number was the main number for ESP Logistics, but if there’s no one in there…’
‘Don’t be a dork, Stick. I bet you a penny to a pound of shit that the only thing in there is a relay switch.’
Stick nodded his head. ‘Ah, you mean the telephone isn’t actually in there?’
‘I see you’ve grasped the concept of a relay switch.’
‘Where is it then?’
‘Do I look like a clairvoyant?’
The man came back out. ‘There you go,’ he said, passing Xena a piece of paper with the number for Radcliffe Estates written on it.
‘Thanks for your time, Mr Paxton.’
‘No problem.’
They walked back to the car.
‘Where to now, Sarge?’ Stick asked.
‘I’d like to speak to Sean O’Flynn at Alpha Signs, and then get someone from Radcliffe Estates out here to open up ESP Logistics, but it’s too late, and we’d better get to the hospital before Bollock jumps all over us.’
‘We have a problem.’
‘Oh?’
‘There might very well be fingerprints, fibres, hairs, and other evidence in that unit, but because this is an unofficial investigation we can’t get a forensics team to come here and collect the evidence.’
‘You forget my female charm.’
‘Where?’
‘I won’t forget you said that. I’m seeing Toadstone tonight. I’ll persuade him to…’
‘Break the law, and send a team out here? Good luck with that one, Sarge.’
‘You’re being really negative today, Stick.’
***
Why hadn’t he rung? It had been hours since she’d left the message for him to ring her. She couldn’t run a secret department with a rogue undercover operative. If she couldn’t trust him to follow her orders, then she couldn’t work with him. How many times had she said that? Well this time she meant it. This time, she’d get rid of him. The problem, of course, was that she couldn’t simply call him in and sack him. Undercover operatives working for secret departments had to be sacked in other ways, and she had always been loath to make that final decision.
The same could be said for Epsilon 5 – Jed Parish, or as the nurses had called him – Zachary 5. The locator chip in his right ankle only worked in Europe. That’s why she’d sent Chapman Ryder to keep an eye on him. Now, she’d lost both of them.
It was time to set the dogs onto Ryder. She picked up the phone.
‘Yes?’
‘Ryder – make it look like an accident, or suicide.’
The line went dead.
There – it was done.
She opened up the Epsilon 5 file and wondered whether she should end this game as well. Parish had been the fifth and final clone – the one success. They had used the last of the genetic material brought from Germany after the war on him.
Inside the file was the envelope Ryder had taken from the man he’d paid to kill the woman – Maisie Elliott – the female host who had given birth to Epsilon 5.
She slid out the piece of paper. It had one name on it. Parish must never discover who his father was.
***
As the man who’d been following him slid off the knife onto the floor, he stepped inside the hotel room, put his overnight bag on the floor, and closed the door.
Then, sitting astride the dead man, he brought the knife down ten, twenty, thirty or more times until he ejaculated into the condom and the knife blade snapped on the man’s skull.
He was drenched in blood and breathing hard as he stood up, stripped off his clothes, and climbed into the shower. After washing himself, he closed his eyes and relaxed. The hot water untied the knots in his neck and shoulders. He had never killed a man before. The sucking and squelching sounds of the knife penetrating and exiting human flesh were the sounds of sex. He began to get another erection, and knew that soon he would kill a man again.
Once he’d dried himself, he put a pair of latex gloves on, and then searched the room. Who was this man? Why was he in the Jefferson Hotel following him? He found a British passport in the name of Craig Sampson, but it just left him more confused. He checked the man’s mobile, but there was nothing of interest in it. In fact, he wondered if he’d come to the wrong room. Why was a British man following him?
In the end, he shrugged. There were no answers for him here. He got dressed, took out the accelerant from his bag, spread it about the room and over the corpse, and then set fire to it. Fire cleansed, but more importantly it destroyed all evidence. He opened the door, shifted the “Do Not Disturb” sign hanging on the inside of the door knob to the outside, and then slipped out and closed the door behind him.
The Mountain Pass Hotel didn’t possess CCTV, but there were still guests who might see him. Today, he was a female businesswoman with long dark hair, a dark grey trouser suit, white blouse, and flat shoes. Outside, he smiled when an old man gave him a second look.
***
There was a knock at the door. Parish opened his eyes, jumped up from the chair, and went to open it before the person on the other side banged on it again and woke up Jack.
He’d been wre
stling with the notion of the Chief Constable not taking his call, and specifically mentioning his name to Audrey as a person he didn’t want to talk to. What the hell was that all about? The Chief Constable always had time to speak to Jed Parish. In fact, here he was in America on the Chief Constable’s say-so. So, why wouldn’t he want to talk to him now? What had changed? If Carrie was right, and the Chief Constable had known about Kowalski’s arrest before it happened, then the evidence must be substantial. But how could it be? Kowalski wasn’t involved in satanic ritual abuse – was he? Of course he wasn’t – it was a ludicrous idea. The Chief Constable must know Kowalski was innocent, and if he did, why wasn’t he doing something about it?
And in the back of his mind was Carrie. Why would she exhume something that had been buried for over a year? In fact, why had she come to work at the station at all? For a short time he was in lust with her, but he didn’t want to break up her marriage and take on someone else’s children, and after he’d met Angie he knew straight away she was the woman for him. Having Richards as both a partner and a stepdaughter was an added bonus as well, but he’d never tell her that.
Angie had gone to Richards’ room to rest after lunch. He’d been put in charge of Jack. It had seemed wrong to be eating lunch when Alicia Mae was lying in the mortuary, and Kowalski was fighting for his life, his children, and his reputation. But as he’d said, ‘Hungry is hungry.’
They’d called him a ghoul, but he noticed that they hadn’t stayed in the room and wasted away to nothing. Neither had they declined the food and drink in the restaurant.
Harry thrust a handful of files at him when he opened the door. ‘Tell Richards if she solves the case from those we’ll make her an honorary member of the BAU, with a badge and a certificate.’
‘Thanks, Harry,’ he said, shutting the door. ‘She’ll stop pestering me now. Oh, and can you keep your voice down? I’ve just got Jack off to sleep.’