Those Who Feel Nothing

by Peter Guttridge

  ‘Only last year the war crimes tribunal freed a former leader of the Khmer Rouge,’ Windsor continued. ‘Ieng Thirith. She was Pol Pot’s sister. They were a middle-class pair, both educated at the Sorbonne. She was a Shakespeare scholar. She was also the Khmer Rouge’s highest-ranking woman, the social affairs minister – there is an ironic title if ever there was. She faced charges of crimes against humanity, genocide, homicide and torture. But she was eighty and suffering from Alzheimer’s so she was declared mentally unfit for trial.’ Windsor waved his hand. ‘And I was supposed to leave the world’s treasures in the hands of people like that?’

  Watts was trying to remember.

  ‘What happened to Pol Pot?’ he said.

  ‘He ran his own, mad illegal state on the Thai border until 1998. On the evening before the twenty-third anniversary of his takeover of Phnom Penh he either killed himself or was murdered. He was under house arrest in the hands of a faction of the Khmer Rouge. One version has it that he heard on the Voice of America that the Khmer Rouge faction holding him had agreed to hand him over to be tried for war crimes, so he killed himself. The other story goes that the faction poisoned him so he couldn’t be handed over.’

  ‘Time’s a ticking, Mr Windsor,’ Gilchrist said. ‘We’re going to have to impound this boat.’

  ‘Oh for God’s sake. Rogers – get in here!’

  Finally they heard footsteps from the back of the room. A man ducked into it. When he stood and looked round the room he saw Gilchrist and grinned.

  ‘Hi, Sarah,’ Agent Merivale said.

  Watts looked from him to Gilchrist.

  ‘I’m not sure what to call you,’ she said. ‘Merivale or Klingman or Rogers.’

  ‘Not Rogers, but try “Killer”,’ a voice behind her said. Merivale looked beyond her. They all turned. Jimmy Tingley was standing there, with Bellamy Heap on the steps behind him.

  ‘Do I know you?’ Merivale said.

  Tingley stepped down into the room and walked up to Merivale. The American dwarfed him.

  ‘I know you,’ Tingley said. He nodded at Windsor. ‘The mechanic for this gentleman.’ He looked at Gilchrist. ‘Klingman here killed an art expert who had been working with Mr Windsor – while she was in prison. Very ingenious and very nasty.’

  Merivale shrugged. ‘Anybody can be bought,’ he said. ‘Especially prison guards.’

  ‘Hilary Black?’ Gilchrist said, remembering Merivale’s description of the poor woman’s death. ‘Did you have to make it so horrible for her?’

  Merivale glanced at Windsor. ‘Following instructions.’

  Windsor was saying nothing. He sat in the corner, looking from person to person. His tongue darted out to lick his lips and he took another sip of his drink.

  ‘You killed Rafferty too, didn’t you?’ Heap said. ‘Tried to pass it off as suicide.’

  ‘He couldn’t be trusted,’ Merivale said shortly. He smiled down at Tingley. ‘So – what is to be done?’

  ‘Give up your cargo,’ Tingley said.

  Merivale grinned. ‘Which cargo?’

  ‘These relics,’ Gilchrist said. ‘And the others from the Pavilion tunnels. We know what you have.’

  ‘Fuck the antiques,’ Tingley said. ‘We want the rest of the children.’

  Gilchrist spun to face him. He kept his eyes on Merivale.

  ‘What?’ Gilchrist said.

  ‘This was only partly about antiques,’ Tingley said. ‘Mostly it was about trafficking children for sexual exploitation. Am I right, Klingman?’

  ‘Whatever,’ Merivale said. ‘The point is, we’re leaving here in about five minutes and your raggle-taggle army isn’t going to stop us. What you have to decide is whether you all want to come along for the ride – well, half the ride, until we’re mid-Channel where we can dump you – or you want to get off now and let us get on with our work.’

  ‘No way any of that’s happening,’ Tingley said, fronting up to Merivale.

  Watts stepped forward. ‘I think he’s mine, Jimmy.’

  Merivale ignored him and looked at Gilchrist.

  ‘Look – just let us go on our way. We made a mistake here. Let us go and we won’t bother you any more.’

  ‘There’s the death of a young boy to be paid for,’ Gilchrist said. ‘Youk Chang. I’m guessing that was you too, Merivale.’

  Merivale flashed his American choppers. ‘How’s that make you feel about your night with me, Sarah?’

  Watts hit him. Gilchrist knew Watts was fast – she’d seen him in action before – but there seemed no gap between thought and execution. But the punch was precise. A short uppercut to the point of Merivale’s chin. Merivale’s head snapped back and he crumpled to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

  Windsor looked sour. ‘All right,’ he said gruffly. ‘What will it take for me to be allowed to leave here?’

  ‘If you’re people trafficking you’re not going anywhere,’ Gilchrist said. She was puzzled that neither he nor Merivale had seemed unduly concerned at their arrival.

  Tingley walked past the prone Merivale and stopped in front of Windsor. ‘Where is Will Rogers?’

  ‘Right here,’ a deep, tired voice said from the stairs.

  They looked round. A man about Tingley’s age: big, broad-shouldered, bit of a belly on him, holding a semi-automatic in meaty hands.

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ Windsor said.

  ‘On shore, sir,’ Rogers said. He looked at Tingley. ‘Hello, Jimmy.’

  Tingley nodded at him.

  Rogers sighed. ‘Well, this is a mess,’ he said. ‘Mr Windsor, sir, I think we have to cast these people loose and make a run for it.’

  ‘Do you, Rogers. Do you really?’

  ‘We can hardly shoot them all or drop them over the side.’ He glanced down at Merivale. ‘Frankly there has been too much killing.’

  ‘What happened to Michelle?’ Tingley said to Rogers.

  ‘Sal must have told you,’ Rogers said.

  ‘How did she die?’ Tingley said. ‘Did you kill her because she was slowing you down?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Rogers said, almost indignant. ‘It was in an ambush. I believe you were told that a long time ago.’

  ‘What I was told and what is true are very different things,’ Tingley said.

  ‘A fib more than a lie,’ Rogers said. ‘Howe and I got away. Everyone else died.’

  ‘How did you get away?’ Tingley said.

  Rogers gave a little shrug. ‘Ran like hell,’ he said.

  ‘You abandoned Michelle and her father,’ Tingley stated.

  ‘It was every man for himself. And every woman.’

  ‘She was helpless!’ Tingley said, raising his voice for the first time.

  Rogers looked round the room and sighed. ‘Jimmy, this is something we should be talking about over a pint. The timing isn’t exactly great just now.’

  ‘I killed Howe,’ Tingley said.

  ‘Is that some kind of veiled threat?’ Rogers said.

  ‘Not so veiled,’ Tingley said.

  ‘I know you killed him. Sal was very pissed off about that. Said if I was to see you I should do my worst.’

  Tingley spread his arms. ‘Go ahead.’

  Rogers nodded at Windsor. ‘I work for Windsor, not Paradise.’

  ‘How does that work, exactly?’ Gilchrist said.

  Windsor scowled. ‘Paradise works for me and does exactly what I say if he wants to keep living his sordid life.’

  ‘You’re one to speak,’ Gilchrist said, surprised at the heat in her voice. ‘You think your love of art justifies your abhorrent exploitation of children.’

  Windsor looked at her coolly. ‘Not just children, my dear. But who cares? What world are you living in? Mine is a world where there are exploiters and exploited. Anyone with half a brain wants to side with the former rather than the latter.’

  ‘I live in a world where people look out for each other,’ Gilchrist said. ‘Where fairness is
the norm.’

  Windsor bared his teeth. ‘Your name is Pollyanna? No such world exists.’

  ‘How can you have become so warped?’ Watts said. ‘Is there no decency in you at all?’

  ‘Decency.’ Windsor savoured the word. ‘Do you want the long or the short answer?’

  Watts didn’t respond. Windsor cracked his knuckles. It sounded like a gunshot in the cabin.

  ‘OK – long answer,’ he said. ‘No, there isn’t. Short answer: no.’

  Merivale started to stir, rolling on to his side. Gilchrist walked over and looked down at him. She took out her Taser.

  ‘Ma’am,’ Heap said. There was a warning in his voice.

  She looked at him. Merivale sat up. She stepped back as he stood.

  ‘Careful, sir,’ Heap said.

  Merivale looked at the torch in Heap’s hand. He frowned. He looked at Rogers and took a step forward.

  ‘Look away, ma’am,’ Heap said as he turned the torch on.

  Watts too turned away from the witheringly bright light. Merivale was caught in its beam. He tried to shield his eyes with his hand then reeled against the side of the cabin.

  As he began vomiting, Rogers said: ‘Very clever – but if you turn it on me I’ll shoot you.’

  EPILOGUE

  ‘Here’s to Jimmy Tingley,’ Watts said, raising his glass, the blue light on his balcony turning its contents an aqueous green.

  ‘Jimmy Tingley,’ Sarah Gilchrist, Kate Simpson and Bellamy Heap said in unison.

  Tingley bowed his head but said nothing.

  Watts walked over and put his arm round him. ‘Welcome back, Jimmy.’

  Frankly, he was relieved that Tingley was still alive. Watts had seen him move on Rogers whilst Rogers was focusing on Heap’s torch. Rogers was big but slow and Tingley had him down on the floor in moments. However, Rogers still had hold of the gun and started firing wildly.

  Watts moved to help Tingley but stopped when he saw Tingley raise his foot and bring his heel down. The crack as Rogers’ neck broke silenced the room. Silent except for an odd wheezing coming from Windsor. The wheezing explained by the blood spreading across his black jacket as he lay sprawled on his back.

  Watts looked round to see if anyone else had taken a stray bullet. Everyone looked OK, though seemingly frozen in time. Tingley’s movement broke the tableau. He swept the semi-automatic away from Rogers and walked over to Windsor and looked down on him.

  Watts walked over to join him.

  Windsor’s eyes were open, watching them both.

  ‘Does it hurt?’ Tingley said.

  ‘I feel nothing,’ Windsor said. And died.

  Watts kept his attention on Tingley now for a moment until Kate turned to the telescope in the corner of the balcony.

  She peered through it then called out to Watts: ‘You know, you wasted your money if you were expecting to see the nudist beach from here, Bob. As you’ve probably discovered, the beach-front curves.’

  Watts smiled. ‘It’s for the night sky.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ Kate said, fiddling with the focus.

  Bob Watts was fond of Kate. He had discovered too late in his – and her – life that he was her half-uncle. He had decided it was not worth doing anything about that. Not that he was sure what to do about it anyway.

  Heap went and stood beside Simpson.

  Watts turned to Tingley and Gilchrist. ‘I was certain there would be children on the boat,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t think Windsor wanted to sully himself with that side of the business,’ Gilchrist said. ‘He left that to Prak Chang and Rogers.’

  ‘I’m still not clear what happened with her and her son,’ Watts said.

  ‘Prak Chang had a rough time of it in Cambodia,’ Tingley said. ‘Gang-raped – that’s why she didn’t know who Youk’s father was. To get out she had to go into business with Paradise. She’d been forced to work for him as a prostitute anyway but he agreed to let her come here if she ran the human trafficking for him from this end.’

  ‘And Youk knew about this?’ Watts said.

  Tingley looked to Gilchrist to answer that.

  ‘At some point, but I don’t know for how long.’

  ‘The children were in his mother’s basement,’ Watts pointed out.

  ‘Only after he left home, I think,’ Gilchrist said. ‘And those children hadn’t been put to work yet. Thank God. Among Prak’s things we found the name of the nursing home she mentioned. That was where the brothel was. We found another dozen there.’

  ‘But Youk was in on the antiques smuggling?’ Watts said.

  Gilchrist nodded. ‘He was down in the tunnel, presumably because he was helping to store all the stuff we found. When he found out about the more disgusting side of the business I’m not sure. Hornby is not talking yet but our hypothesis is that Youk told him about the trafficking when he moved in and they concocted a half-arsed plan to blackmail the traffickers. Youk approached them and they – or rather Merivale – killed him.’

  ‘Why wasn’t Hornby killed?’

  ‘I presume they didn’t know about him. Yet. But he was clearly planning a move that would have been fatal for him.’

  ‘About that tunnel?’ Watts said.

  ‘You mean how did the stuff get in there?’ Gilchrist said. ‘Well, Windsor was being investigated and needed somewhere to hide his stuff. He came to some sort of agreement with Rafferty. You can actually reach the Royal Pavilion from Windsor’s house – it’s circuitous but do-able. You go right under the Theatre Royal, actually.’

  ‘But it was blocked at the Pavilion end.’

  ‘Only very recently and just enough to make it seem there was no way through.’

  ‘Why would Rafferty collaborate?’ Watts said.

  Gilchrist’s expression turned sour. ‘They both liked young boys.’

  ‘And Prak Chang wandering around the town lamenting the loss of her son?’

  ‘She thought her son had either run off or was dead but didn’t know her employers had killed him. She hoped he was coming back and felt she was somehow responsible. When she found out he had been murdered she knew her employers must have done it and felt she really was responsible. She blamed herself for his exposure to them. Hence her attempt to slash her wrists.’

  Kate and Heap came in from the balcony.

  ‘This place is great,’ Kate said. ‘But the balcony is noisier than I thought it would be. The traffic.’

  ‘Do you remember Philippa’s flat out beyond Hove?’ Gilchrist said to Watts. ‘The racket on her balcony?’

  Watts nodded. Philippa had been another officer in the debacle of the armed intervention gone wrong in Milldean. He couldn’t remember her last name but had heard she’d gone into social work after leaving the force.

  ‘This isn’t quite as noisy,’ he said. ‘And, to be honest, you get used to it.’

  Kate turned to Gilchrist. ‘What’s going to happen to the bones now that Rafferty is dead?’

  ‘They’ll be reinterred somewhere appropriate,’ Heap said.

  ‘He dug up the trunk murder victim’s remains,’ Kate told Watts and Tingley.

  Gilchrist raised her eyes.

  ‘You’ve found the trunk murder victim’s remains in his house?’ Watts said.

  ‘Maybe,’ Gilchrist said. ‘But we’ve no way of knowing. All the bones are jumbled up together.’

  ‘I think it’s worth doing DNA on all the bones to find her,’ Kate said.

  Watts saw Gilchrist’s mouth tighten as she said: ‘Kate – I’ve told you, that’s only of any use if the DNA is taken from every bone to figure out who is who. And that’s a non-starter.’

  ‘What do you think, Bob?’ Kate said.

  Watts set his glass down. ‘I think it would be good to know but I take Sarah’s point. I certainly couldn’t approve of such spending.’

  ‘Oh yeah, I forgot, you’re the police commissioner now,’ Kate said with a little salaam gesture.

  ‘That I am.’r />
  ‘Are you going to appoint a commissioner for youth like that young girl over in Hastings?’

  ‘Given how well that turned out, you mean?’ Watts smiled.

  ‘OK then – a deputy for you at least?’

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘You don’t think deputies should be elected, as you were?’ Gilchrist said, glancing at Heap.

  Watts nodded. ‘Of course – but I don’t make the rules.’

  ‘But you’ll do all that equal opportunities stuff, won’t you?’ Kate said. ‘Advert in the paper and all that.’

  Watts shook his head. ‘It’s entirely down to me.’

  ‘Democracy is a wonderful thing,’ Gilchrist said flatly. ‘In that case, in the best traditions of cronyism you should give the deputy job to Kate.’

  ‘Me?’ Simpson said.

  ‘Sure – you said you wanted to get out of Southern Shores.’

  ‘I think you’d be very good,’ Heap said.

  Gilchrist looked at him in surprise, then at Simpson.

  ‘Bellamy – what a sweet things to say,’ Simpson said. Heap flushed and ducked his head. Gilchrist smiled to herself.

  Watts looked at Kate. She was bright, young and energetic. Certainly she was too intelligent to be on the dopey local radio station. The problem was that he needed somebody less naïve, someone good at nuance. He had such a person in mind.

  Simpson and Gilchrist caught something in his expression.

  ‘Hey, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot,’ Gilchrist said.

  ‘I’d probably be hopeless,’ Kate added quickly.

  ‘You’d probably be bored,’ Watts said. He reached over and squeezed her hand. ‘The truth is I already have someone in mind. But, you know, I’m not sure if mine isn’t just a Mickey Mouse job, which means my deputy’s job would be even more – what’s the term I’m looking for …?’

  ‘Minnie Mouse?’ Gilchrist said.

  ‘Exactly! And I can see by Sarah’s expression that she doesn’t have much respect for the job – or probably the man who is doing it.’

  ‘Hey,’ Gilchrist protested. ‘I’ve got nothing but respect for you, you know that.’

  He turned to Tingley. ‘Actually, I wondered if you might like the job.’

  Tingley looked startled. ‘What – I look like Minnie Mouse and it’s OK for me to be bored?’