by Sibel Hodge
A shudder spasmed through me.
‘I’ve tried to trace other residents of Crossfield and other members of staff, but the council’s records were apparently lost in a fire after the home closed in the early nineties.’ Simon carried on, raising his eyebrows in a gesture of disbelief.
‘How convenient,’ I said.
‘Very,’ Simon agreed. ‘I’ve been unable to find Trevor Carter from Ian’s list. Maybe he did go to America, or maybe he’s just vanished.’
‘Maybe he’s been vanished,’ Mitchell said.
‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised.’ Simon pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘And there’s more terrible news. I tried to visit Sean Davidson at the psychiatric unit, but he’d been discharged after he was responding well to his treatment. He…’ He glanced between Mitchell and me. ‘His body was found yesterday, on an abandoned industrial estate not far from his flat. He’d been beaten to death.’
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out.
Mitchell stood up and paced the room. ‘Shit.’
I forced my mouth to cooperate, but my voice was barely a whisper. ‘It was my fault. They must’ve known I’d spoken to him.’
‘Or they knew I was digging into previous residents of Crossfield or that Jamie had spoken to him. I very much doubt it was a random murder.’ Simon shook his head sadly. ‘Also, I’ve been doing some more digging into the people involved in The Friday Club, and I think this could possibly be about more than a VIP paedophile ring. Felix Barron isn’t just the owner of Barron Private Banking Group, which is huge, by the way. He also owns four TV stations and eight major newspapers. Douglas Talbot, the defence secretary, was the former finance minister who brokered a deal to receive fifty million pounds in party political donations from hedge funds managed by Barron Private Banking Group, and in return, Talbot delivered one hundred fifty million pounds in tax breaks to the very same hedge funds! And Talbot, of course, has a direct part to play in the country’s military budget.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Then you have Eamonn Colby, the children’s minister, who is a shareholder of Petrogas, which is the seventh biggest oilfield services company in the world. They’re based in London but operate out of thirty offices worldwide, with extensive interests in the Middle East. A subsidiary of Petrogas is a major international construction company called Recon5, which I’m sure you’ve heard of.’ He glanced at Mitchell.
I recognised the name as the company Mitchell had told me about in Iraq.
‘Heard of?’ Mitchell’s eyes narrowed. ‘I was there in Iraq and had first-hand knowledge of their accounting scams.’
‘Exactly,’ Simon went on. ‘It was the biggest legalised, government-sanctioned fraud, and although allegations were made against them, they were all brushed under the carpet.’ Simon took a breath. ‘And then we come to Chief Constable Colin Reed, whose wife just happens to be the director-general of one of Barron’s TV stations.’ He pursed his lips and waited for that to sink in. ‘So you see the circle of power here. A revolving door that links them and their shared interests and common mentalities together. And that interest is oil, finance, and war. Which is worth trillions to them. So even though the child rape and murder they’re also involved in is vile beyond belief, I think it’s just the tip of the iceberg that connects them.’
I glanced over at Mitchell and caught his eye, thinking back to his previous impassioned outburst. If you control the media, the money, the politics, and the military, you control the whole system.
‘The whores of war and power,’ Mitchell spat.
‘Are MPs and government ministers allowed to have businesses and financial interests in companies in which they have major conflicts of interest?’ I asked incredulously. ‘Surely that would affect their policy decisions.’
Simon leant his elbows on the table. ‘Well, there are ways around everything. Legally, Douglas Talbot didn’t do anything wrong. And Colby is the children’s minister, not the minister for energy, so they’re all avoiding a visible conflict of interest while at the same time being inextricably linked. God only knows who the hooded man is, but you can bet it’s someone far more powerful than even these people. So yes, of course their private interests are going to affect political and decision-making policy which positively influences them, and that in turn affects every single member of the public by transferring money from the poor and the taxpayers to the financiers and super rich. That’s the heart of Recon5’s scam and why they got away with it. It’s what the Establishment—the System—has become. It’s not there for the people’s needs, rather to serve the elite.’
Mitchell’s lips thinned into a tight line. ‘We’re living in a perverted and twisted smokescreen of democracy that’s nothing short of dictatorship, where the unelected actually rule. And behind it lurks a powerful and arrogant network of people who are raping us all and are totally unaccountable for their actions. It’s a lose-lose situation for everyone except the elite few.’
I felt like giving up then as the magnitude of it all rained down on me. How could I beat these people? How could I win against them when all the power was on their side and they’d go to any lengths to silence this? Like Jamie had said in his diary, they really were untouchable. What did I think I was doing?
I was stupid. Crazy to think I could get justice. And part of me wanted to stop it right there. Just give up. Try to move on. Get on with my life. Try to be happy again. Maybe eventually I’d forget. It would take years, but it would stop at some point. Wouldn’t it?
Of course it wouldn’t. I could never forget.
‘What’s happening with Alistair’s side of things?’ Simon carried on, oblivious to the chaos exploding in my head.
I told him how Alistair had passed a dossier directly to the Home Secretary eight weeks ago, detailing the sexual abuse and murders, along with the photographic and video evidence, but minus Jamie’s diary in case they pieced together who I was. ‘But Alistair hasn’t had any response yet,’ I explained. ‘I can’t believe it’s been two whole months and no one’s accountable for anything.’
‘It’s ridiculous!’ Mitchell finally stopped pacing and slammed his hand on the conference table. ‘If you or I made an allegation of murder about Joe Bloggs who lived next door, they’d be onto it straight away.’
Simon shook his head slowly. ‘Given the crimes and stature of people involved, I’m not at all surprised. But it totally rocks your faith in British justice, doesn’t it?’
‘I’m not sure there is such a thing,’ I muttered.
‘If I get anything else, I’ll let you know, but I wanted to keep you in the loop so far.’ Simon stood to shake our hands.
I stood up too quickly, and all the blood drained from my head. I saw black-and-white stars, felt dizzy, and sat down again.
‘Are you okay?’ Simon asked.
Despondently, I let him take my hand in his and nodded, trying to push away images of Sean, battered and broken and dead. ‘I just need a moment.’
He enclosed my hand in both of his and patted it soothingly.
I stood again, more slowly, pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head, put my sunglasses on, and Mitchell and I exited from the rear of the building that led out onto a back alley. We made sure no one was watching before we cut through to a parallel street on the other side and joined the crowds. Now Simon’s story had broken and Sean had been killed, things were getting more risky.
We went into a pub with two entrances on the corner of the road and stood at the bar, neither of us saying a word as we watched the doors and windows, searching for someone paying too much of an interest in us. Mitchell’s shoulders were tense, his eyes alert, ignoring his pint on the bar. I gulped down my double vodka and Coke as if it was water.
When he was satisfied his counter-surveillance hadn’t shown a tail, he said, ‘Do you want to get some lunch? We should probably get some calories down us while we can.’
‘Thanks, but I don’t feel like eating.’ I stared down into my empty
glass. ‘I can’t believe they murdered Sean, too.’
Mitchell embraced me, almost crushing me in those hugely muscled arms of his. ‘Don’t give up. Don’t let them win.’
‘Sometimes I think it might be easier.’ A lone tear slipped out and snaked down my cheek against his shoulder. ‘How long will it be before they find out about my involvement and come after me?’
He pulled back, his face rigid. ‘We’ve covered your tracks well. There’s no reason for them to suspect you know anything. Jamie would’ve been so proud of you, you know.’
His words reverberated around my head until my Samsung rang, and Mitchell released me. It was Alistair, who was using the same pay-as-you-go number as Simon, contacting me to say that the dossier he’d put together, along with the evidence, which he’d previously passed directly to the Home Secretary, had now been forwarded to the Director of Public Prosecutions for them to assess it. Alistair was confident it would then be passed to the police for an official investigation to be launched.
Finally, we were one step closer.
I hoped.
Chapter 39
‘He said his first word today.’ Ava bent over Jackson’s buggy, ruffling his hair as we walked around the park.
‘What was it?’
‘Flah.’ She laughed.
‘Is that an actual word?’ I smiled despite the dark fog that had settled over me for weeks since I’d heard about Sean.
‘Well, I think so,’ she said proudly.
The weather had warmed up, although I’d hardly been outside. I knew it wasn’t healthy to be cooped up at home or at Mitchell’s, but I couldn’t bring myself to care anymore.
I’d missed Ava, though. Before, we were so close and spent loads of time with each other. But now I couldn’t tell her the things I wanted to. Not yet. Not until those men were behind bars and I knew for certain we’d all be safe. There was more waiting to be done. I was isolated and lonely and scared and disconnected from everyone, and a million other things. And it was taking every ounce of strength I had to hold it all together. I was living with a secret I couldn’t share with anyone except Mitchell. It was just too horrible. Too dangerous to know what I knew.
‘I’m glad I finally managed to coax you out. I’ve missed you.’ She put a hand on my arm and stopped me. ‘I thought things were getting better. You seemed a bit brighter for a little while. But now…’ She trailed off. ‘You need to start letting go and move on to the next chapter in your life with some kind of peace, rather than bitter turmoil, or anger and regret. I know Jamie would’ve wanted you to be happy again.’
I let out a mirthless laugh. If only she knew the half of it. The only thing keeping me just about sane was my effort at hanging on to reveal the truth. Nothing else would ever matter to me now. I couldn’t fail Jamie and all the other kids who deserved better.
‘Why don’t you go and get a job? Concentrating on something else might help you get over Jamie.’
‘I’ve got a job,’ I said.
‘Oh, wow! Doing what?’
I thought about what I did with Mitchell. The chat messages with the paedophiles, hunting for their latest victims. Last week a man had been convicted based on Mitchell’s evidence, and that made it all worthwhile. For a few days after that, I’d been on a high. At least I was doing something to help protect the voiceless. But even the high didn’t last long because nothing had changed for Jamie. His killers were still out there, walking around, living their lives, going to parties, laughing, working, spending time with families, pretending they were upstanding members of society, preaching to us about moral standards. Nothing had changed, and I was sick of it. Time was racing by, and there was no sign of any official investigation on the horizon. The hatred was eating away at me.
‘I’m doing some admin work from home,’ I told her vaguely.
‘Oh, that’s great! And then, maybe you could save up and go on holiday. We could all go! I’ve been thinking, actually, about going to see Mum and Dad now Jackson’s a bit older. Yes, let’s do it.’ She beamed at me. ‘That’s a great idea, isn’t it? We could both do with a break, and Mum and Dad keep on at me to meet Jackson. A change of scenery will be good for both of us for a while, and they want to see you, too. What do you say?’
‘I’ll think about it.’
She opened her mouth as if to say something else, try to talk me into it, but something changed her mind. ‘Okay. Don’t think too long, though.’ She wagged a finger at me. ‘Shall we walk up into town? Maybe a spot of retail therapy will cheer you up.’
I forced a smile. Anything to deflect the conversation away from me. ‘If you like.’
We spent the afternoon traipsing round the shops while I pretended to be interested in the latest fashions and looked after Jackson when Ava tried on some clothes in the sales. I pretended to enjoy myself, be carefree, be happy. Smiled in the right places. Pretended I had a life again in a nice, safe, normal world.
Ava splashed out on a new pair of cut-off jeans, and while she was at the till with Jackson, paying, I headed towards the doors to wait for her outside where I could get some fresh air. It was one p.m., and the streets were busy with shoppers and workers running errands or whiling away their lunch hours. Just as I stepped out onto the pavement, a man walking past bumped into me, his shoulder colliding with mine, forcing me to stumble sideways.
He grabbed hold of my arm to stop me falling. ‘Sorry.’
I glanced up at his face, startled. ‘It’s okay. It was just an accident,’ I said automatically.
He stared into my eyes with a strange expression, a barely there smile on his face, and said in a tone that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, ‘You should be careful. You’re going to get hurt if you don’t watch out.’
It all happened so fast, and before I could register what he’d said, he’d walked away again, leaving me standing there, staring after him.
Just fourteen innocuous words. Words that anyone would say in the same circumstances, but it was the way he’d said them, with a hint of some underlying message beneath them. A warning? Or a threat? I couldn’t tell.
Goose bumps rose on my skin. My heartbeat cranked up. Was he a perfectly harmless man who’d genuinely bumped into me, and I was reading too much into it? Were anxiety and stress making me see things that weren’t really there? Or was there something more sinister to it?
‘Hey.’ Ava tapped me on the shoulder from behind as I stood, still gawping after the man.
I jumped.
‘Are you okay? You look a bit ill.’ She frowned.
I shook my head, trying to shake the fear away. Of course it wasn’t a threat. They didn’t know who I was. My existence had been kept a secret by Alistair and Simon.
‘Um…yeah, I’m okay,’ I said.
Ava linked one arm with me as she pushed Jackson’s buggy with the other. She smiled. ‘All right, how about we go to New Look next?’
I spent the next two hours trying to convince myself there was no ambiguous message in what that man had said as Ava dragged me round more shops. When I got back home and peered in the fridge, I realised I’d forgotten to go food shopping yet again.
I was just about to walk up to the corner shop for some essentials when my Samsung rang. It was Alistair, finally announcing some good news. The Department of Public Prosecutions had passed the file over to the police for them to launch a criminal investigation. Operation Highland, they were going to call it.
After we hung up, I poured myself a glass of wine, picked up Jamie’s photo from my bedside table, and kissed it, then I traced his face with my finger.
We’re going to get them, Jamie. We’re really going to get them. They thought the dead would stay silent.
They were wrong.
Chapter 40
But my high was replaced by frustration. There was no word from the police, despite Alistair’s repeated pressure. One month passed. Then two. Then three. After four months, still no arrests. What were they waiting for
?
I wanted to punch something. Or someone. I was livid. With the photos and the video, the police had everything they needed to arrest the people involved. The bloody proof was right in front of them! What were they doing? Filing their fucking nails?
I stomped about the house one day, screaming to myself. Or maybe I was screaming to Jamie to come and get me. Take me away from everything. I often felt as though I was going mad these days. As though everything was slipping away from me. I didn’t know who I was anymore. So much murky darkness was in my head. The world no longer made sense. I drank too much. Hardly ate. Clothes hung off my bony frame. I was scared. Exhausted but wide awake, with nervous jangling and relentless energy at the same time. My mind hummed endlessly, but when I did manage to eventually fall asleep, I had nightmares, where images of what I’d seen wouldn’t leave me alone. I was still drowning in grief. And consumed by anger and hopelessness and sadness.
I went through the motions of living, but I thought about ending it all more and more these days. I hated everyone else out there in the real world. In their safe little bubbles where I used to live. Their worlds were still spinning, but mine had stopped and shunted me off with brute force, and I was still scrabbling around, broken and scabby, trying to pick myself up.
Jamie, Moses, Billy, Sean, Dave, the anonymous boy at Crompton Place with the curly hair. How many innocent people had to die to keep them untouchable?
How had I ever thought I could expose them? Nothing was going to happen. Nothing would change. They could act with complete impunity to do whatever they wanted. And they would come after me. They were probably trying to find out from Alistair or others who had leaked everything to him. How long would it be? How much time did I have?
I slid a sharp knife from the drawer in the kitchen, running my finger along the blade. A bead of blood broke through my skin, stretching across the surface.