by L M Krier
'I try to but I spend too much time driving a desk these days,' Ted said ruefully.
'Right, we've not all that much light left, you break out the basha and get us sorted for the night, I'll fix something to eat. This spot should do us well enough.'
Ted rummaged in the rucksack and found the basic nylon sheet that would make a cover of sorts, strung between a couple of scrub thorn bushes, the only kind of tree around, and fixed down with bivouac pegs. He was pleased to see that there were two ultra-light sleeping bags, folded away to next to no volume in compression sacks. He had feared there might be nothing more luxurious than a space blanket apiece to keep them from hypothermia in the night.
Ted thought his reflexes were still pretty good. He tried to practise judo and karate once a week and fitted in his krav maga training whenever he could. He saw the blur of movement out of the corner of his eye as he crouched, hammering home tent pegs, whirling and attacking as fast as he could. He pulled out every blocking move he knew. He still finished up in short order on his back in the rough grass, Green straddling him, with the cold steel of a knife hard up against his throat.
Green wasn't even breathing hard. He clicked his tongue in disappointment. 'Sloppy, Gayboy, very sloppy. Be thankful it's friendly, cuddly me holding this knife and not some nasty Spook. I can see now why you asked for training.'
He held Ted down for just long enough to make him feel vulnerable and totally humiliated, then sprang easily to his feet and carried on preparing their supper. It was basic army ration packs, high in calories, low in imagination, but it would sustain them.
Ted sat warily down, not too close to Green, to eat the plateful he was offered. Green grinned at him and said, 'Don't worry, I'll declare a truce for mealtimes. I also need to eat.'
Green ate quickly and methodically, refuelling rather than savouring his food, always alert, ready for action. He was ten years older than Ted, yet his reactions were those of a man half his age. He couldn't help Ted solve the case but he could, hopefully, bring him to a mental and physical state where he would be more capable of doing so.
Darkness fell fast in the mountains at that timer of year, where the only light pollution was away in the distance. Before they crawled into their sleeping bags under the basha, both men scrupulously examined their feet for injury and cleaned them with medicated wipes. Neither would be any use out on a training hike with infected blisters.
Ted remembered from his previous training with Green to put his boots back on and sleep in them, just loosening the laces. Tired feet risked swelling and he might otherwise find himself unable to put them back on in the morning.
'On your performance so far, Gayboy, I don't see how you think you can crack a case like this, when bigger fish than you have tried before and failed,' Green said as they crawled under the basha.
'Because I want to badly enough,' Ted said simply. 'You have just two more days to make it possible.'
CHAPTER Thirty-three
There was barely the faintest streak of light in the eastern sky when Ted was unceremoniously kicked awake by the toe of a boot in his ribs.
'Get up, Gayboy, where's my breakfast in bed?' Green demanded.
Ted opened eyes which he felt as if he had only just closed, and managed to crawl out of his sleeping bag. Every muscle in his back seemed to be screaming at him at once. He groaned silently to himself at the thought of hoisting the bergen back on to his shoulders shortly, its weight lightened only to the extent of two meals.
Breakfast was high-energy muesli bars and a hot drink. Ablutions consisted of a quick face rinse in cold stream water, which Ted followed up with a brief scrub of his teeth with his folding toothbrush. Then he was left to break camp and reload the rucksack, working as fast as he could because Green was already disappearing over the skyline without a backward glance.
They didn't hike all that far during the day. Every time Ted caught up with Green he was ordered to take off the bergen, then confronted with another martial arts session. Although his hiking boots were light and flexible, they still hampered him. He was a long way from making any impression on Green, although he mostly managed to keep himself upright and out of knife range, at least.
By the end of the day, Ted was fighting a rearguard action, barely able to keep upright long enough to defend himself. Green called a halt and ordered him to pitch the basha for the night.
'And you think you're ready to go back and face the world tomorrow?' Green asked him scornfully. 'You need three more days' training at least.
'I haven't got three days,' Ted panted. 'I need to be back tomorrow night.'
Green held out a hand. 'Give me your car keys,' he ordered.
Ted hesitated.
'Give me your cars keys,' Green repeated. 'Don't make me take them from you.'
Reluctantly, Ted fished the keys to the Renault out of his pocket and handed them over.
'When you can get these back from me, then you're ready to go back,' Green told him.
'Like that's going to happen,' Ted said despairingly.
'What happened to wanting something badly enough to make it happen?' Green sneered. 'PMA, Gayboy. Positive Mental Attitude. First you have to believe.'
That night seemed even shorter to Ted than the one before, partly because he made several unsuccessful attempts to take the keys from Green when he appeared to be sleeping. He was lucky he didn't get himself seriously injured on the first attempt, in the seconds before Green was fully awake enough to know who his attacker was.
The next day was one humiliation after another as Ted tried ever more desperately to get hold of his keys. He had promised Trev he would try to be back by the third night, which was tonight, the morning of the fourth day at the latest, but it was looking increasingly impossible.
He woke up on the fourth morning with a mounting feeling of frustration, bordering on desperation. As they hiked, he dug deeper into his reserves to try to find the elusive PMA. He was feeling even less capable of tackling Green successfully than he was of breaking the paedophile ring.
Unusually, Green called a halt mid afternoon and told him to make tea. Then he sat down opposite him, looking relaxed, with no hint of imminent attack in his posture.
'What's stopping you, Ted?' he asked, in a quieter tone than usual, softened by dropping the nickname. 'You're capable of doing it, you've had me down before. What's stopping you believing you can? I'm not just talking about getting your keys back. I'm talking about your case. Where's your self-belief?'
The thing that Ted found hardest to handle. To look deep inside himself for answers and then share them with someone else. He would rather have fought toe-to-toe until he collapsed from exhaustion, but he was cornered, with no way out. He looked desperately off towards the horizon, searching for something on which to focus.
'The case has brought a few skeletons out of the closet,' he said finally. 'Stuff I've not worked through yet.'
'Then sort it, man,' Green said impatiently. 'It's blocking your energy. You're no use to man nor beast if you let shit from the past into your brain. Find something to replace it with. Hate, if necessary, but deal with it, or you'll never solve the case. Or get your keys back.
'On the subject of your case, no matter how high up it goes, in my experience I find these things have a way of getting sorted out, one way or another. It may not be exactly the result you're looking for, but I think you'll find there will be a result.'
Ted was at a low ebb by the time they stopped for the night. He was desperate to get back to Trev, aware he would now be getting worried by his unexplained, extended absence. Part of him knew Green was right. He had to start dealing with his demons but he felt he still lacked the moral courage to do so.
But Green had been right about using hatred if he could find nothing else. As Ted saw the man calmly going about preparing their supper, something deep within Ted finally snapped. When he leapt at him from behind, it was with a speed and ferocity that took even Green by surprise. Ted had the
huge satisfaction of seeing him go down, albeit briefly. But he was dealing with a master of martial art, so Green's time on his back was fleeting, just enough to give Ted a flash of hope and satisfaction. The next minute the tables were turned and Ted was on his back, completely immobilised.
To his surprise, Green was laughing. 'Nice try, Gayboy, your best so far. So because of that, tomorrow morning, you can have your car keys back and trot off home to your toy boy.'
Thinking of that prospect, Ted fell into his deepest sleep of the hike so far, finally feeling that he had crossed some mental barrier. He only woke when the first tentative rays of sunlight fell on his face. At that moment, he snapped awake and sat bolt upright.
The sun's rays were hitting his face because the basha had gone. Green had gone, so had everything else, including the bergen. The only things he could see, sitting on a flat stone nearby, were a couple of high energy bars, a bottle of water and his car keys.
Ted looked around, disorientated, desperately trying to get his bearings and work out in which direction his car was parked. It took him the best part of the day, using all the survival skills Green had ever taught him, to find his way back to the car park where his Renault was waiting. Green and the Land Rover were long gone.
Ted threw the lightweight sleeping bag, squashed down in its compression sack, the only other thing Green had left him, into the back seat, and grabbed his mobile phone from the glove compartment, praying for a signal. There was a weak one, enough to show him a long list of missed calls from Trev, ending with a text message which simply said, 'Where are you? Worried sick. Call me!'
Ted hastily sent off a text reply. 'So sorry, no phone. Leaving now. Back in under 4 hours', then floored the accelerator and headed back north, keeping up the speed as much as he dared, only just missing a police radar trap near Wrexham.
It was early evening when he wearily turned the Renault into the driveway of their modest house. Trev's red Triumph motorbike was already in the garage as Ted put his car away and headed into the house.
He found Trevor in the kitchen, surrounded by cats.
'I'm so sorry,' he said as soon as he got through the door. 'I've had no phone all week, I couldn't contact you. I didn't mean to worry you. I honestly meant to be back by yesterday morning at the latest but it just wasn't possible.'
He moved closer to Trev, arms out to hug him. Trev sidestepped and held up a hand to repel him.
Ted laughed. 'Yes, sorry, I probably smell like a badger's arse, I've not washed or changed any clothes all week. Let me go and have a shower then I'll explain everything and make it up to you.'
Trev's blue eyes were colder than Ted had ever seen them. 'Five days, Ted,' he said. 'Five days. You said three. I've been out of my mind. I didn't know where you were or what had happened to you. Nor did any of the team, I phoned Sal to ask. Have you any idea how that made me feel?'
'I really am sorry, I didn't mean to worry you.'
Then Ted noticed Trev's holdall sitting on a kitchen chair, and looked at him questioningly.
'I need some time away now, Ted,' Trev told him, his voice tight. 'You're in too dark a place, I can't go there with you and I can't make it right for you.'
Ted looked at him, astonished, seeing a raw emotion on his partner's face which he couldn't identify. 'Are you leaving me?' he asked, with a catch in his voice.
Trev reached out and gently touched Ted's face, his thumb stroking the stubble on his cheeks.
'I don't yet know the answer to that.'
CHAPTER Thirty-four
After Trev had gone, Ted knew he needed a hot shower, a change of clothes and something to eat. He couldn't find the motivation for any of them. He felt totally numb.
He and Trev had hardly spent any time apart in the eleven years they had been living together. He was just back from five days away, now Trev was gone and he had no idea for how long, or even if he was coming back.
He drank several glasses of water as his mouth was suddenly dry, then curled up on the sofa, at last able to take off his boots H pulled a throw over himself and decided to try and sleep. The cats climbed cautiously on top of him. Although they knew and liked Ted, it was Trev they all worshipped unreservedly.
He fell into an exhausted but fitful sleep, punctuated by the usual nightmare, repeated over and again. Deep water, the feel of lungs exploding, nakedness, scornful laughter. Every time Ted was catapulted awake, one or other of the cats would hiss reproachfully at being disturbed.
Somehow he got through the night. The first thing he did when he woke up was to check his mobile phone, although he had left it on all night and not heard any alerts. There were no calls and no texts.
He took a long, hot shower, put on clean clothes and put those that he had been wearing all week into the washing machine. He felt as if he was running on autopilot, going through the motions of everyday tasks, feeding the cats, tidying the house, cleaning the litter trays.
About mid-morning, he phoned Mike Hallam, apologising for disturbing his Saturday, and asked to be filled in with what had been going on during the week. There was nothing much more to report. Evans had been further remanded in custody and bail had been refused once again.
Ted left it until after lunch before he tried phoning Trev, thinking it might be best to give him some space. His call went straight to voicemail and he had no idea what he could say to make things right. He left a stumbling, clumsy message of apology and hung up.
When he had heard nothing by the evening, he tried calling Willow. He and Trev had known her for a comparatively short time but they had become close friends, Trev especially, with both her and her fiancé Rupert. He thought Trev might possibly have gone there. He had no family, or none that he was on speaking terms with.
Her voice was guarded when she answered, knowing from the caller display that it was Ted. 'Hang on a minute,' she told him when he began to speak, and he heard the sound of a door opening and closing, realising she had moved to a different room.
'Yes, Ted, he's here, with me and Rupert,' she told him. 'Just at the moment, I think you'd perhaps better leave it, give him time. He was so worried about you, so scared of what might have happened. He just needs a bit of time away to calm down.'
'Can you at least tell him how sorry I am?' Ted pleaded. 'How can I make it right?'
'Be patient,' she said. 'He's not punishing you, he's just hurting. I know you're having a hard time with this current case but perhaps you've lost sight of how much it's affecting Trev as well.'
'What has he told you?' Ted asked.
'Do you really know him as little as that?' Willow replied. 'Nothing, of course, only to say that it's been hard. We're pampering him and making a fuss of him. He will come back, Ted, just give him time.'
After another night on his own, Ted faced the prospect of a long and lonely Sunday. He realised that he had long since lost track of what single people did with themselves at the weekend. He ironed a couple of shirts ready for starting back to work the next day, then decided he might as well go in to work to catch up. He had nothing else to do. At least he could go in wearing his favourite casual clothes. If he happened by chance to bump into the Ice Queen he wasn't officially on duty, so even she couldn't insist he should be in suit and tie.
It was quiet and orderly in the main office. The rota showed him that Sal and Virgil were on duty over the weekend, both out working somewhere. The white board they had started for Aiden's murder showed nothing more recent. It didn't take long for Ted to clear the paperwork on his desk and catch up with internal emails. Not nearly long enough to occupy his time.
He had a computer with Internet access on his desk, but he was not all that adept with it. But he decided that, as he had nothing else to do, he would see if he could find out more information from the sites Steve had been showing him. He was particularly interested in taking a closer look at the senior police officer.
After a couple of false starts, he successfully navigated to the PIEdpiper page. He s
earched around until he found the link he wanted. No real names were used, except where someone had been convicted. Ted knew the officer, a chief superintendent, was called Simon Danielson. He was not surprised to find him under the nickname of Simon the PIEman.
Everything was vague speculation and allegation, but there was a common theme in his case. There were recurrent suggestions that he particularly enjoyed inflicting corporal punishment on young boys, with a sexual connection.
Ted read on with mounting revulsion and incomprehension. There were links to follow to other sites, all making the same sorts of claim. But they were often so subtly made that their meaning defeated Ted, and increased his sense of frustration. He knew Steve could have made sense of it in seconds. It was likely to take him hours, but then he had nothing else constructive to do with his time, and at least it was distracting him from thinking about Trev.
What he was looking for was something to link Danielson to their patch and, in particular, to the Hotel Sorrento. It was like trying to decipher cryptic crossword clues. If someone told him what the clue meant, Ted could often come up with the correct answer, as his general knowledge was not bad. But some of those clues, and some of the subtle hints in what he was reading, may as well have been written in secret code.
He decided to make a day of it, so slipped out at one point for a smoked salmon bagel from a nearby delicatessen. He kept himself topped up on green tea as he worked. As well as toggling between sites claiming to expose known paedophiles, he also took time to check Danielson's police record, which looked exemplary. His rise through the ranks had been swift and seemingly unstoppable. Friends in high places for sure, Ted thought to himself. He wondered just how high.
There were plenty of photos of the man, showing a tall, somewhat gaunt figure, with slightly rounded shoulders and a hooked nose, which gave him the look of some sort of bird of prey. As well as his own senior position in a Midlands force, he seemed to travel around the country delivering lectures on various police matters. Ted noted that he had been in Stockport on a few occasions. He could find no specific mention that he had been there on the night that Aiden Bradshaw died, however, although he had been not far away, as had the Knave of Clubs. But that was based on his own limited search skills. He made a mental note to ask Steve to dig deeper.