“Oh yes I certainly do recognise him,” replied Anderson, after patting every pocket in his signature tweed jacket before finding and putting on his newly acquired specs and looking at the photo.
The spectacles made Crane smile, as Anderson still hadn’t got the hang of his reading glasses. When he needed them he couldn’t find them and when he had them on he kept forgetting to take them off before he got up and walked away, nearly falling over his feet in the process. It was shaping up for the specs to be another of Anderson’s foibles, along with his badly stained tie and his penchant for sweet cakes.
“It’s Josip Anic,” Anderson continued. “A Croatian who came to live in Aldershot about five years ago. Since his arrival he’s been building his businesses. He started with girls and then moved into drugs. His business plan is simple. He finds someone who already does what he wants to do, frightens the shit out of them and then takes them over. Works like a charm every time.”
“Bit of a nasty bastard then,” Crane took the picture from Anderson and studied the face. Anic certainly didn’t look like anyone’s friendly uncle. His features were so chiselled and hard it seemed as though he didn’t know what a smile looked like, never mind had ever tried to pull his face into one.
“More than a bit,” agreed Anderson. “He does the usual transportation of girls, putting them to work as prostitutes and we think he’s responsible for most of the drug distribution chains from here to the coast.”
“So most of Hampshire?”
“Yes. And that’s a bloody large area, over 1,400 square miles. We think he smuggles the stuff in by boat, into a quiet cove somewhere along the long coastline. But, of course, we’ve never been able to get enough evidence against him for a prosecution. So he goes gaily on his way, making a bloody fortune and flooding Hampshire with harmful Class A drugs.”
“Well, Derek, I think that’s about to change, and for once it’ll be us that gets the big payday,” and he went on to tell Anderson about Anic’s meeting with Bob Wainwright. As Crane concluded his retelling, Anderson decided the news called for a celebratory cup of tea and a couple of slices of cake.
Wedding
“The sun was shining on the happiest day of my life. The day you married me. Do you remember it?”
Kerry swung round on her computer chair to face Alan, a photo of the two of them in her hand. Preserved in a silver frame, she kept it on the desk next to her computer so she could see it as she surfed the net and tell him about interesting titbits she came across.
It was taken outside the Royal Garrison Church. He, resplendent in his Army uniform, all glinting buttons and rich colours and her in her white wedding dress, her ginger curls tied back with loose tendrils falling around her face and neck. The dress was artfully arranged around her and they were looking at each other full of love, hope and happiness. There hadn’t been many guests, just Alan’s family and some of his mates from the Regiment. Kerry’s mum hadn’t turned up. A blessing in disguise probably, Kerry realised, as she’d only have ruined everything by getting drunk at the reception and making a fool of herself. Kerry’s mum couldn’t resist a drink. Not ever.
“I’ll tell you what I remember of it. It’s like snatches of a video that I can’t seem to put together anymore. I’m just left with disjoined images. The standards hanging from the arched wall of the Garrison Church. The fragrance of the flowers that had been placed at the end of each pew. The Padre resplendent in his robes. The swell of organ music. And then us, spilling out of the church, into the bright sunshine. Holding hands. Stupid grins on our faces. Confetti softly floating down like coloured snowflakes, settling on us. Nestling in the folds of my dress. Landing along the shoulders of your uniform.”
Kerry turned away from his chair and looked out of the window.
“The guard of honour was waiting for us. The lads from your unit so still, so stiff, so large somehow. They made me feel safe. Strong young men making an archway with their swords for us to go through. Defending us. Enclosing us. As we walked, the sunlight glinted off the ceiling of blades. Sending flashes of light in all directions, like lasers. Some reaching into the sky, some sending shattered sparks of light down upon us that mingled with the confetti. But as we left the safety of the glinting swords, I remember that the sun went behind a cloud and cast a black mark over us. As I turned and looked back at the lads from your unit, still proudly holding their swords aloft, half of them were also dulled by the shadow.”
She went over to his chair and sat on the floor next to it. Leaning against one of its legs. Not wanting to lean against him. His battered and broken legs looked sore and she didn’t want to hurt them. Yet she yearned to be close to him.
“Thinking back on it now,” she continued, looking up at him, “the brave boys who were painted black by the loss of the sunlight, including you, were the ones killed by that bloody IED in Afghanistan.”
She dropped her gaze to the floor and they sat in companionable silence. Contemplating how far the ripples of the disaster had reached, for it hadn’t just ended Alan’s life, but Kerry’s as well.
7
Crane found the stark wording on the autopsy report didn’t make the reading of it any easier. Not when the autopsy was on a three-month old baby. Major Martin had been thorough in the extreme, but had found precious little. In fact, the report had more negatives in it than positives.
Negative 1 – no failing of internal organs.
Negative 2 – no enlargement of internal organs.
Negative 3 – no toxic substances in the blood from a toxicology test.
Negative 4 – no broken bones, cuts, or bruises. In fact no trauma to the body of any kind.
Negative 5 – no identifying marks, blemishes or birth marks.
The only positive thing in the report was that the baby had been well nourished and clearly well looked after.
Forensic examination of the baby’s clothes had produced one clear left hand index finger print on one of the tabs of the disposable nappy she was wearing which didn’t belong to the baby.
The Major’s conclusion was that the probable cause of the baby’s demise was unexplained cot death. Which got Crane and Anderson absolutely nowhere. Billy had run a computer search, but there were no leads from the search of the finger print in their databases.
He threw the report back onto his desk in exasperation. He looked at his watch and saw it was time for him to meet with his new Officer Commanding, Captain Draper. Captain James Edwards, his boss for the previous 18 months had been transferred on and his new Officer Commanding, Dan Draper was the complete antithesis of Edwards. Where Edwards had been young, inexperienced, yet upwardly mobile, Draper was older, vastly experienced and had taken a commission after serving his 22 years, mostly in the Military Police, and achieving the rank of Warrant Officer Class 1.
On the one hand, it was a positive difference for Crane, as he found it much easier to relate to Draper and his experience in the Royal Military Police. Indeed, he had great respect for the man’s service record. However, he couldn’t get over the hurdle of an NCO taking a commission. Normally the general consensus of opinion amongst Crane’s peers about taking a commission was ‘not on your bloody life’. But if Crane, later on in his career, wanted to stay serving in the Army until he was 55, he could feasibly attain the correct rank and then pass selection and be chosen for a commission.
Therefore, Crane viewed Draper firstly with interest and secondly with a damn sight more respect than he’d ever had for Edwards. All the formal hand over from James to Draper and the ‘meeting the team’ bullshit had been done a few weeks ago and things were now starting to settle down into the normal routine, part of which was Crane keeping his boss up to date with ongoing cases.
After all the Army rigmarole had been dispensed with, Crane sat in front of Draper’s desk in silence for a few moments, while his new boss read the autopsy report Crane had just handed him. The salt and pepper short haired head shook in dismay as he put the papers down.
“Well, that gives us absolutely nothing to go on, Crane,” he said. “I understand we’ve not got any decent leads from the CCTV cameras either. Several women can be seen walking around with prams that morning but as there isn’t a camera trained on the entrance to the church, we don’t know which one, if any of them, went inside. And anyway we’ve only shots of their backs and grainy black and white photos at that.”
“I know, sir, that’s why I want to look elsewhere.”
“Where is elsewhere?”
Crane would normally have received a look of distain from Edwards at this point in their meeting and was glad to find an enquiring, interested look from Draper instead. His naturally arched eyebrows rising above crinkled eyes and square chin.
“I was thinking of exploring the Army connection.”
“By that I take it you mean the fact the baby was left at the Garrison Church?” asked Draper.
“Exactly, sir. It’s the only thing we have to work on really.”
“And just how do you think you might identify any soldiers whose wife may have had a baby three or four months ago?”
“By checking those lads who have taken compassionate leave or paternity leave, whatever you want to call it.” Crane received a small frown from Draper and immediately said, “I obviously include female soldiers who have taken maternity leave, in the general term of lads, sir.”
Crane was glad of his short beard at that moment as he hoped it had helped to mask his embarrassment as his face flamed.
“It means running a few searches to see what we can find,” he continued after a brief pause, “and perhaps narrow things down, but we should be able to come up with a list of those who have recently become fathers or mothers on Aldershot Garrison. I’d also like to include surrounding camps, say Arborfield, Borden, Deepcut, Bisley and Odiham.”
A slow smile started on Draper’s face and brightened his brown eyes. “Nice one, Crane. Let me know if anything comes from it. Dismissed.”
“Thank you, sir,” replied Crane, standing to leave.
“Oh, by the way,” called Draper.
“Sir?” Crane stopped by the open office door.
“For goodness sake, call me boss, or Draper will you, Crane? You can even call me Dan when we’re in my office. Or anything you like, as long as it’s not a swear word. Okay?”
“Okay, boss,” said Crane and his smile matched Draper’s as he left the office, impatient to get Billy searching their computer system for likely suspects.
Abandoned
Kerry lay on the settee, staring up at the ceiling. “Empty - that’s my life now, Alan,” she said. “Bloody empty. I’ve got there now. The bottom of the pit. And let me tell you it’s not very nice down here. It’s bland and boring. Grey and fuzzy. There are no colours here. No sunlight. No laughter. No emotion. Life’s just a flat line with no ups or downs in it.”
Her words echoed through the silent, sparsely furnished room.
“I’m finding getting into a new routine difficult, you know? A new routine without Molly in it. So I’m carrying on with the old one. Getting up in the morning at the same time I used to when Molly needed feeding. But instead of my darling nuzzling at my breast, there is nothing. No one. Just emptiness. I am as empty and devoid of emotion as I am of milk, so I just sit and stare out of the window and watch everyone else getting on with their lives.”
She swung her legs off the settee and stood up. She hadn’t bothered to get dressed yet that morning, so was still dressed in one of Alan’s tee-shirts that she had worn to bed. She liked to wear them, imagining they still had some of his scent caught in the fabric, although they had all been washed and ironed many times since he’d last worn them.
Walking over to the window in bare feet she stumbled under the weight of her grief. Catching hold of the sill to steady herself, she said, “Look at them. The people down there on the streets. They’re like ants, scurrying here, there and everywhere. They all seem to have something to do. A reason to get up in the morning. It doesn’t matter if they like or hate what they do, they still have to get out of bed and get on with it. So I get up as though Molly was still here. As though I had a reason for living too.”
She looked over at Alan, immobile in his chair, his Army uniform as tattered as her life. Crossing the room, she climbed onto his lap, curling into a ball like a cat, embracing the smell of smoke, heat, sweat and death emanating from him.
“I’ve never heard from my mum, you know,” she whispered, as if telling him a secret. “I rang her when you died. Left a message about when the funeral was. But she never showed up. Never even rang me back. That’s my mum. Not that she was much of a mother. Mother in name only really. Let’s face it she’s married to the bottle. Always has been. Always will be, I expect. No wonder my father left her before I was born.
“I used to fanaticise about who my father was,” she confessed. “Saw him as this kind, caring, individual who was looking for me. Trying to find his little girl. Trying to get back to me. But looking at the wreck of my mother, I can’t imagine anyone liking her enough to have any sort of relationship with her. Maybe she was a lady of the night and that’s how I came about. Maybe the story of my father leaving her and me was just that. A story.”
She stirred on Alan’s knee, wriggling around to get more comfortable. Wishing he would put his arms around her, comfort her, but they stayed immobile by his side.
“So when I met you,” she carried on, “I couldn’t understand what you saw in me. No one had ever seen anything good in me before. Obviously my mother didn’t. I was just in the way to her. At school I was largely ignored, as I couldn’t keep up with the other kids who had parents at home who cared. Who helped them read. Explained tricky maths problems. Watched them practicing for drama class. I was always the one left out of sports teams. The one forgotten about. The one child never picked by the teacher to do something nice, or responsible. But you didn’t leave me out of your life, did you? You invited me in and then let me stay. You were interested in what I had to say and how I looked. I had finally left my old life behind.
“But I should have known it wouldn’t last. Because you abandoned me as well, didn’t you? Okay so it wasn’t your conscious decision. You didn’t deliberately drive over that bloody IED. You really did want to come back home. Back to Molly and me. So I guess it’s not your fault. But it’s so hard to deal with, Alan. So hard to cope with. My mum and dad left me. You’ve left me and now our baby’s left me. She must have preferred to be with you rather than me.”
She raised her head and looked up at him, his shocked reaction to the explosion still frozen on his face. “How do I get over all that?” she asked him. But he didn’t reply.
8
As Crane looked around the room with a possessive air, his uppermost thought was that he loved his job. He’d faced some troubles during his stint at Aldershot and more recently, in the process, ending up on the wrong side of those of a much higher rank than himself. But in the end it was Crane who had prevailed and was still at Provost Barracks, reaping the benefits of his struggles.
The team were discussing the drug smuggling case they were investigating, that he’d dubbed ‘Operation Repatriate’. A corny name, he knew, but what the hell. Other suggestions had been as equally idiotic, so he made the unilateral decision to go with his own suggestion.
He listened to Billy outlining the current ‘eyes’ on Bob Wainwright. A round the clock rotation of Branch and RMP soldiers was in place and working well. Crane had been concerned that Billy may have been affected by the loss of Kim from the team. Even though they hadn’t been particularly close as individuals, they had worked well together from a professional point of view and Billy seemed to be feeling that loss. Kim had always been the one constant in their investigations. No one else had come close to her devotion to her duties and the strong, quiet calm she had brought to the office. Not forgetting her investigative insight, which often came from her methodical cataloguing of garnered infor
mation. As a result of that loss, Billy seemed slightly wrong footed. Crane hoped that by giving him extra responsibility in the drugs investigation, he would rise to the challenge.
Billy was followed by DI Anderson who talked the team through the Aldershot police surveillance on Josip Anic. The background to the man was fairly standard. A Croatian, who was a small fish in a big pond in his own country, had come over to England to try his luck. God knows why the man had chosen Aldershot. Crane couldn’t see the attraction himself, but over the past few years Anic had extended his reach throughout the whole of Hampshire. As was usual in these cases, no direct evidence had ever been found to charge Anic with. Not for drug offenses, nor for inflicting grievous bodily harm on, or even killing, his rivals, although the Police knew all three illegal activities had taken place. Anderson had managed to charge a few of his foot soldiers and had successfully taken them off the streets, but there were always more to take their place and so the illegal business went on, gaining momentum, like a giant snowball rolling around the county, flattening everything in its wake.
As Anderson wrapped up his presentation and put his reading glasses away in the breast pocket of his jacket, Crane got ready to give his briefing on the timescale and details for the next consignment of returning vehicles. Crane looked around the room and saw the empty chair on which Kim would have been sitting. They were awaiting the appointment of a new Office Manager, meaning Billy and some of the others had to carry the extra work load. But the nubile Sue from the RMP office next door was still doing her best to help out at particularly busy times, much to Billy’s delight. Crane didn’t think Billy wanted a relationship with her, he just enjoyed the view.
Standing and walking to the front of the room, he looked at the assembled men watching him. Billy was blond haired and muscular, wearing his dark suit and white shirt as befitting a Branch investigator. Bald headed RMP Staff Sgt Jones was in his preferred uniform of fatigues. Finally, there was the grey haired, greyly dressed Anderson, a senior CID officer with the Aldershot Police. They had all worked well together in the past, despite, the interference by their Officer Commanding, Captain Edwards. Now, Crane believed, they were set to be a complete and formidable team, with the recent appointment of Captain Dan Draper. Crane was determined to show his new boss how efficient and effective they could be. He wanted them to stand out from other Branch teams and this was their big chance. Crane would do his utmost to ensure they brought the investigation in on time and on budget, as the saying went.
A Soldier's Honour Box Set 2 (Sgt Major Crane crime thrillers Box Set) Page 25