by ML Rose
“Yes, I’m fine,” Arla lied. She ignored the chest pains, and the painful swallowing. “There’s a strong chance that carrot juice, or the water bottle, has aconite poisoning in it. Alert the lab technicians to be extra careful in handling it. They need to transfer the bottles to Dr Terence Corrigan at the London school of hygiene and tropical medicine.”
CHAPTER 49
Harry opened the rear door of the van cautiously. It was gloomy inside, but he found a light switch. The interior was spacious enough for a workspace. Builders’ tools were arranged in a cabinet on the left.
To the right there was a bedding area, where a couple of adults could easily lie down. The pillow and mattress had been recently used. That smell which Harry had detected in their van's cabin was now stronger. He inhaled deeper, and frowned. He knew that smell. He called one of the uniformed sergeants, who opened the door wider. The sergeant raised an eyebrow.
"That's chloroform, isn't it?"
Harry clapped the man on the shoulder. "Yes, it is! Thank you."
He eyed the bedding area suspiciously. He put shoe coverings on, gloves and a mask. Then he got inside the van. He left their bedding area undisturbed, and checked the cabinet. The drawers were small, and labelled with letters. He opened several of them.
He found test tubes and files, each labelled in red with numbers. He picked up a vial that said number three, GHB. A colourless liquid was still inside. He put it in an evidence bag, and did the same for a couple of other vials. He came out of the van and wrenched the mask off his face. He thanked the uniformed team, and jogged back to his car. As he drove back to the station, Arla rang. She wanted an update.
Harry said, "I'm going back to the station. Shirley Linklater’s interview should be complete. She is in custody. I'll see if there's anything more she can tell us."
"Have her blood tests been sent to the lab?"
"Yes. I've asked them to check for GHB. I found samples of it in the back of the suspects van."
"Any signs of blue aconite? Or vegetables? The roots of the plant look like small sweet potatoes, apparently. I've been doing some research on the Internet."
Harry shook his head. "If they're that poisonous, maybe he keeps them somewhere else." He paused. "How are you?"
"I'm getting better. I spoke to Rita just now. Nicole's had dinner, and getting ready for bed."
She continued, lowering her voice. "Harry? Please don't go to Dover without me."
Harry shook his head, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "That's not negotiable. You need to stay in hospital, and get better."
"You're not going to Dover tonight, are you? By tomorrow morning I'll be a lot better."
Harry raised his voice a notch. "Didn't you hear what the doctor said? You have lung damage. You need to rest."
"We need to find this boy in the next 48 hours. You know I can’t have this on my conscience, Harry. Come on.”
Harry was silent for a while. Arla asked, “How are we doing with the all-points bulletin?"
"Nothing as yet. Charles Gordon has not been seen in any train or bus station, airport or seaport. We’ve called the Home Office to put an alert on his passport. We don't know what type of car he’s driving, that's now the main problem."
"Shall I come down to the station? It's getting late. You should head back home."
Harry had reached the station, and he parked the black BMW in his usual slot. "Stay where you are, Arla. I'll keep you updated." He hung up and got out of the car. Inside the detective's office, only Rob, Lisa, Rosslyn and Gita were present.
"Any news?" Harry asked, as he sprawled out on his chair. He felt shattered, and he had a headache. But at least he had new leads worth pursuing.
Rob said, "We asked Shirley about Dover. She's been there with Charles twice. He took her to the castle, and they also took the ferry to Calais."
Harry's eyes lit up. "Excellent. What did Kent police say?"
"The castle is closed, and it’s not possible for anyone to get in. If Charles left London by 2 PM, he wouldn't have been at Dover Castle before 4 PM. That's when it shuts down to visitors. Kent police had a look round the grounds, but didn't find anyone. They will keep us updated."
"What about the Coast Guard?"
Lisa said, "They have been alerted. They sent a helicopter out to patrol the beach area around Dover. Apart from the main ferry port, there's a lot of wild beaches around there."
"That's what I'm worried about," Harry said.
"They didn't see anything, but it's getting dark now. They will do another patrol at first light tomorrow."
Rosslyn took the evidence bags that Harry had collected from the van and took them to the lab. Harry clasped his hands behind his head and put his feet up on another chair.
“Did traffic get back with any CCTV about a suspect car?”
Lisa shook her head. “Nothing as yet. No other cars are registered to Charles Gordon. However, we did some background research on him.”
Gita came back with a tray of coffee and biscuits, which she passed around. Lisa said, “Charles, or Charlie as he likes to be called, comes from a middle-class family. His mother worked with Sandra Pitt, as we already know. His father has passed away. He is an only child.”
"He went to a boarding school called St Olive’s in Canterbury, Kent. He was there from the age of 11 to 18."
Harry said, "So that's why he knows Kent so well. As a teenager he must have roamed around the seaside towns. None of them are far from Canterbury."
“He was a keen sailor and president of the sailing club. He took part in several yachting expeditions arranged by his school. He’s sailed to France, Spain and Portugal.”
“You got this from his yearbook?” Harry asked.
“Yes guv,” Lisa said. “His sailing is the reason why he stood out in the yearbook.”
"After school, he dropped out of Cambridge, where he was studying politics. His mother passed away at the same time. He did odd jobs here and there. Around this time, he also had a relationship with Rochelle Pitt. He was also depressed and anxious. He saw a psychiatrist and was on medication for it. Rochelle described him as insecure and jealous."
"Any other psychiatric diagnoses?"
"No. He only saw the psychiatrist a couple of times; his depression was mostly treated by his GP. We are waiting to receive his GP records."
"Is he still on medications?"
Lisa shrugged. "Seven years ago, when he was going out with Rochelle, he was definitely on antidepressants and tranquilizers."
Harry said, "Recently, what did he do for a living?"
"He worked in sales for a telecommunications firm. But recently he lost his job. We've got his tax returns from the HMRC. He’s not submitted any filings in the last two years."
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, lifting his face up to the ceiling. "But what is his connection to Stephen Vaughan? And his ex-wife, Natalie?"
Silence greeted his question. Geeta said, "If he kidnapped Emmanuel to take revenge on Rochelle, why did he wait for seven years?"
Silence again. Harry said, "We need to find him. Only he can tell us."
CHAPTER 50
Emmanuel stared at the steel walls. Charlie had put the lights on, and he had put some framed pictures on the wall to make the place look more appealing. But he knew Emmanuel would have questions, which was only natural.
Emmanuel looked down at the bucket of KFC. He lifted a piece and took a bite. Charlie watched him with relief, glad he was eating something. A surge of affection jolted his heart. With it, came the usual burn of regret. As usual, his fingers floated to his left breast pocket, and he caressed Irene's photo inside.
Emmanuel was clearly hungry. He took several bites of the chicken, then slurped noisily on the drink. Charlie had learned from Shirley that Emmanuel liked fried chicken. Normally, it had to be cut into small pieces, and Charlie did have some cutlery, but he wanted to see if Emmanuel would use his hands. The boy did.
"Glad you like it," Charl
ie said. He observed the boy closely. After waking up, Emmanuel had cried a little. Charlie hugged him, and he went back to sleep. When he woke up, Charlie gave him the food.
Emmanuel put the piece of half-eaten chicken down and stared at Charlie. "Who are you?" The little boy asked.
"A friend. And we are going on a holiday."
Emmanuel looked bewildered. Then his head sunk down on his chest. He looked sad. "I want my mummy."
Charlie sighed deeply. He massaged the boy’s shoulder, then patted him on the back.
"Mummy and daddy will be there. This place we are going to. I promise."
"Where are we going?"
"It's a surprise." Charlie smiled, but Emmanuel didn't.
"Have some chips," Charlie held up the packet of fries. Emmanuel shook his head and turned away.
Charlie rummaged around in the box by his side. He took out a couple of toys. One of them was a tractor, with real rubber wheels that glided on the floor. He gave it to Emmanuel. The boy was interested. But he didn't reach for it. He looked at Charlie with a mixture of fear and shyness.
Charlie gave him the toy. "Go on, take it. It's yours."
"Tractor." Emmanuel pointed at the toy.
Charlie smiled. "Yes, it's a tractor. And it's yours."
Still, Emmanuel didn't reach for it. He folded his little hands on his lap, and stared from the tractor back to Charlie. Charlie reached inside the box and took out a toy truck, a couple of racing cars, and an ambulance. He arranged them in a row in front of Emmanuel. The boy’s eyebrows hiked north.
"Zoom zoom!" He exclaimed, pointing at the racing cars. Then he became shy again, and looked down at the floor. The truth was, Emmanuel was missing his family. He had lots of toys like this in his nice room. He didn't know who this man was. The man was being nice, but he was a stranger. His parents had told him not to speak to strangers.
Emmanuel asked, "Where is Shirley?"
"She went home. Look, don't you want to play with the toys?" Charlie reached out and put one of the racing cars by Emmanuel's feet. The boy remained still, looking at the toys, but not reaching for them. Charlie felt his heart twist. He knew there was no other way to do this. But he desperately wished it could have been different.
As Charlie often did when he was sad, he took out Irene's photo from his left breast pocket. He stared at her hair, her ruby red lips. With the pad of his thumb, he caressed the photo.
When he stole a glance towards Emmanuel, the boy was playing with one of the racing cars. Charlie smiled. He rose and went to the door. Emmanuel lifted his head, and watched Charlie open the door and step outside. Charlie lit a cigarette, and took a deep drag.
From here, he could see the moonlight play on the waves of the English Channel, and shine on the white cliffs of Dover. It was a magical sight, the silvery moonshine competing with the light reflected from the limestone cliffs.
Charlie took the photo out again, and stared at it, then kissed it. "I wish you were here, Renée. I miss you so much."
He blew out smoke, watching the wisps fade away in the still night air. His plans were working. Tomorrow was the big day.
After tomorrow, he would begin a new life.
CHAPTER 51
Charlie was awakened by the shrill ring of the alarm. He slapped his hand down on the device, and the ringing stopped. He peered at the blinking red digits. It was 6:30 AM. It was time to get ready.
Emmanuel was still asleep. It was easier for Charlie to carry him. He got ready first, packing all the essentials inside his backpack. The three passports, and the medical documents he needed for him and Emmanuel to get free healthcare in France. Once he was ready, he stepped out of the caravan.
He was five miles outside Dover, at a popular caravan site on a hillside. The sea stretched out hundreds of feet below, coming to an end in the wild beaches at the feet of the famous white cliffs. Charlie had chosen a secluded caravan spot. He wasn't far from the edge of the hillside. No other caravan had parked within 100 yards of him.
Charlie made sure the caravan door was locked. Then he walked down the hillside, till he couldn't go any more. After this, there was a sheer drop into the rocks below.
To his right, far down, he could see the rock and cave formations were water foamed and splashed. He watched intently, then his shoulders sagged in relief. He could see the bow of his boat. It was a 35 feet sailboat. Charlie had sailed the boat several times in these waters. He knew the sea would be calm today. The waves were gentle, and once he got the breeze, he would rapidly put distance between himself and land.
The cave where Charlie had hidden his yacht was well known among Dover's fishermen. When he was a student at St Olive’s in Canterbury, Charlie used to be an avid sailor. A fisherman turned boat captain had shown him this cove, complete with its own wild beach. No one went down there, because the rocks were too dangerous. Access to the beach was also impossible. But Charlie knew better.
The cave meandered deep underground, connecting to the tunnels inside Dover Castle. One of the reasons Dover Castle was built close to the sea was that its tunnels led to numerous sandy beaches. When the tide rose, these tunnels were flooded. If someone went into the tunnels, and didn't know the tide timings, they could be drowned like rats. But when the tide was low, they were excellent escape routes.
It was through Dover castle’s tunnels that Allied Navy and Army Special Forces in the Second World War launched attacks across the English Channel. To this day, the presence of the tunnels was refuted by the British government. Even historians were refused access to the tunnels. They were hidden from the general public and media, because they could prove useful in the event of a future war.
But Charlie knew. Many of Dover's fishermen had explored their caves, and wandered into the tunnels by accident. Several of them had died, but the ones who had lived had passed the story on.
Charlie finished his cigarette, and went back inside the caravan. It was a shame he couldn’t just climb down the hill to get to his yacht. But the slopes were too steep, and in any case, he had Emmanuel.
He gathered his things, then put the backpack on his shoulders. He picked up the box with Charlie's toys in it. He stashed everything in the back of the Ford Escort he had hired for the journey.
He left the car open, and went to get Emmanuel. Very gently, he lifted the sleeping boy into his arms. Charlie took one last look around the caravan to make sure he wasn't leaving anything of importance.
Then he went to the car, and strapped Emmanuel into the rear child seat. He drove slowly across the grass, till he joined the road. He kept a sedate pace, as he didn't wish to wake Emmanuel up.
The mediaeval stone turrets of Dover Castle rose up in the distance as he crested a hill. Charlie's pulse quickened. He wasn't going to use the main entrance of the castle, obviously. Several parts of the castle's ramparts needed urgent maintenance. At the rear, one section of the ramparts had scaffolding.
Charlie drove past a police car. His eyebrows furrowed together. It was unusual for a police car to be here this early. He wondered if a drunk had passed out near the castle ramparts, and been reported to the police.
Charlie kept driving till he came up to the scaffolded portion of the castle wall. He didn't see any other police vehicles. The scaffolder was inside his truck, and came out when Charlie pulled up next to him. Charlie had spoken to this man already, and for the money Charlie was offering, he was happy to turn a blind eye. After all, how much harm could a man with a child do?
He took the money from Charlie, then showed him the makeshift staircase that went up to the castle wall. Charlie smiled to himself. It was almost too easy. The police were concentrated at the main entrance. Charlie adjusted the straps on his backpack to ensure it was tight. Then he picked up Emmanuel from the car seat. The boy squirmed, but he was still asleep.
The scaffolder drove off. Charlie climbed up the wooden plank staircase into the scaffold boards, testing out each step with his foot to make sure it would take both
of their weights.
CHAPTER 52
At the top of the stairs there was a small landing. The landing led into the walkway that traversed the perimeter of the castle’s ramparts.
For almost 800 years, these ramparts had stood the test of time. Queen Elizabeth’s army and navy had fought off the Spanish Armada from here. But Dover Castle wasn't that well-maintained any more. The army kept an interest, but they didn't have a barracks here like they did up till the Cold War. From the 1990s, the castle had mainly been a tourist attraction.
Charlie held Emmanuel closely. He walked down to the turret, and then to the staircase that led down to one of the corridors. This corridor was huge, and Charlie, having been in the castle several times before, knew exactly where he was going. He used to come here often as a student, and recently also to reconnaissance. He knew the alarms were off due to the maintenance works being carried out.
He walked until he came to the library on the ground floor. The door was shut. Charlie looked around him. Staff would be coming in very soon, it was 7 AM. He still had about an hour to himself. He put Emmanuel on the floor. The boy would wake up now, but that was okay.
Charlie took out his knife. He slipped the edge inside the putty on the window ledge and passed it around till he cut through the old wooden fixing. It gave way easily. He applied some pressure on the old stained glass. With a crack, the glass panel gave way.
Charlie took his backpack off and climbed on the ledge in order to get in. The window was big enough for his body. The library smelt of old wood, paper and dust. Charlie checked the door quickly.
It was massive, and had a series of padlocks, and also two thick wooden beams that lay across it. It would be impossible to unlock it. Charlie climbed out of the window again and picked up Emmanuel.
He woke Emmanuel up and explained to him what would happen. All Emmanuel had to do was keep his head down, and his arms tight around Charlie's neck. Emmanuel rubbed his eyes and looked confused. Charlie gave him a chocolate cereal bar, and some water. Luckily, he ate it. He was silent and watchful, and Charlie felt bad, realising the boy was scared. But he had to get this done, and in due course of time, Emmanuel would understand. He would be alright.