Taken to Die: A chilling crime thriller (DCI Danny Flint Book 4)

by Trevor Negus

  ‘I’ve no idea what that cold, unloving excuse for a man is capable of anymore.’

  ‘Is he capable of harming a child?’

  ‘You mean Dominic’s daughter, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.’

  ‘Detective, I’d love to sit here, be outraged and say, “Don’t be ridiculous, of course he isn’t!” The truth is, Brandon does possess a very cruel streak. I’ve been unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of his cruelty on a number of occasions during our marriage.’

  ‘Has he been violent towards you?’

  ‘Never physically. But he enjoys playing cruel mind games all the time. He constantly tries to make me feel small and insignificant. He genuinely believes that nobody can compare to his own soaring intellect. My husband possesses an ego the size of a small country.’

  ‘What’s your husband doing today, Angela?’

  ‘As far as I know, he’s working from home. He was just having his breakfast when I left for work this morning. Why?’

  Brian said, ‘We may wish to speak to him later today. It’s vitally important that you don’t contact him. He mustn’t know that we’ve had this conversation. Is that understood?’

  ‘As far as I’m concerned, Brandon and I are already finished. I won’t be going back to that bloody awful, draughty cottage. I’m done with all of that. As soon as Dominic leaves his wife, we’ll be spending the rest of our lives together.’

  ‘Thanks, Angela, that will be all for now. Could you ask Mr Dawson to come back to his office, please?’

  Angela Temple looked teary-eyed and tired. With a resigned air, she nodded her head, stood up and left the office. She always knew the affair would have to be revealed one day. Now that day had finally arrived, and she desperately needed to be with Dominic, it wasn’t possible. She felt angry and frustrated. She just needed to spend some time on her own.

  As they waited for Dawson to return to his office, Brian said, ‘What did you make of that?’

  Rachel replied, ‘I’ll bet my house and everything in it that Dominic Whitchurch has absolutely no intention of leaving his wife. That love story is definitely only felt one-way. In a strange way, I feel sorry for her.’

  ‘And what about Brandon Temple?’

  ‘He doesn’t sound capable of hurting someone physically, but who knows? At least we know he’s still at home. That means the regional crime squad surveillance team will be able to pick him up if and when he leaves the cottage.’

  Brian spoke into his radio. ‘DI Hopkirk to DS Travers. Over.’

  DS Travers, who was leading the regional crime squad surveillance team, quickly answered, ‘DS Travers. Go ahead. Over.’

  ‘We have confirmation that the suspect is now alone at the target premises.’

  ‘Received that, thanks. Will let you know the moment we have any movement. Over.’

  Brian replaced the radio back inside his jacket pocket, turned to Rachel and said, ‘I think we should go and see Stacey Bloom at the university. Can you call her and see if she’s available for a chat at the university this morning?’

  Rachel reached inside her handbag and retrieved the card given to her by Stacey Bloom. She picked up the telephone on Sebastien Dawson’s desk and dialled the number. After a brief conversation with Stacey, Rachel replaced the telephone on its cradle just as Sebastien Dawson entered the room.

  He ignored the fact that his telephone had been used and said, ‘Productive conversation?’

  Brian said, ‘Very. Thanks again for the use of your office, Mr Dawson.’

  ‘Anything you need to share with me, Detective Inspector?’

  ‘Not now. When the time’s right, I’ll be in touch. Thanks again, Mr Dawson.’

  As the detectives walked out the door and closed it behind them, Dawson muttered to himself, ‘Don’t mention it, I’m sure.’

  81

  10.00am, 18 October 1986

  Nottingham Midland Station, Nottingham

  The announcement over the tannoy system on the train was surprisingly clear: ‘Your next stop is Nottingham Midland Station, repeat, Nottingham Midland Station. The service from Manchester Piccadilly terminates at this station. Please ensure you have all your belongings before leaving the train. Thank you.’

  Freddie Fletcher started placing documents back into his briefcase. He retrieved his black Crombie coat from the overhead rack.

  He made his way along the first-class carriage to the door. As the train pulled into the station, he scanned the platform. He couldn’t see any sign of police activity. No uniforms, no detectives in ill-fitting suits waiting to pounce.

  He allowed a smile to form on his face. His plan had worked.

  He had needed time to get rid of the incriminating items from his luxury flat in The Park. That was why he had lied so blatantly, and so effectively, to the two detectives in Manchester. He knew his lie would be found out as soon as the detectives spoke to Virginia Drew. He was fully aware that the old lady would remember exactly what time he’d arrived at her house on the afternoon of the second of October. He also knew that she would quickly inform the police of that fact.

  He didn’t care.

  It had provided him with a window of opportunity to do what he needed to do.

  As soon as all the incriminating evidence had been squirrelled away, he would go to the police and offer up some other spurious reason why he had lied in the first place. The police were stupid. They would swallow his plausible lies. Even if they didn’t, without any evidence there would be nothing they could do. Telling lies wasn’t against the law. One thing Freddie Fletcher knew everything about was the law. He knew all the limitations and restraints it placed upon the police when dealing with individuals.

  With a confident air, he stepped off the train and sauntered along the platform. He was feeling very pleased with himself. Not only had he just successfully defended his client at the trial in Manchester – the jury had only taken five and a half hours to return a not guilty verdict – but by the look of the deserted platform, he had also managed to outwit the police.

  The telephone call made to Mulberry Chambers late afternoon yesterday had formed the final part of his elaborate cover story. He had called to inform Sebastien Dawson of the verdict at Manchester Crown Court. During the conversation with the barrister’s clerk, he had let slip that he intended to remain at the hotel in Manchester for another day. He wanted to properly relax and recharge before returning to the office on the nineteenth.

  Fletcher was convinced that if the police discovered the discrepancy in his account, the first thing they would do would be to contact Mulberry Chambers to see when he was due to be back in the office. As soon as they had made that telephone call to the office, they could then plan when they would come and speak to him about his untruthful alibi. If they thought he would be back in Nottingham on the nineteenth, they would come and question him then.

  He walked slowly up the stairs of the railway station to the taxi rank. He hailed the nearest cab and directed the driver to take him to his apartment in The Park.

  The journey from the railway station to the upmarket suburb of the city only took five minutes. He paid the driver and walked towards the front door of the stylish apartment. He retrieved the door keys from his coat pocket, walked in and closed the door behind him.

  82

  10.00am, 18 October 1986

  The Park, Nottingham

  Freddie Fletcher had been totally oblivious to the nondescript Ford Escort that had followed the taxi from the railway station. He never noticed the car as it came to a stop behind the van that was parked twenty yards from his front door. He had also been completely unaware of the two men who watched him leave the train, walk along the platform and up the stairs to the taxi rank.

  Those two men were now sitting inside the Escort parked outside his apartment.

  Seated in the passenger seat, Rob Buxton grinned and said to the driver, Glen Lorimar, ‘What did I tell you, Glen? I
knew that slippery bastard would be back today.’

  ‘It’s a good job you checked the Hilton in Manchester to see when Fletcher was booking out. He really does have a low opinion of us, boss.’

  Rob said, ‘He’s not nearly as smart as he thinks he is. After I spoke with Sebastien Dawson last night, it was obvious that something wasn’t right. He wasn’t due back until the nineteenth anyway, so why make such a fuss about telling Dawson he was staying another night? He didn’t have to say anything. A quick telephone call to the hotel confirmed that he was booking out at eight o’clock this morning, and that he’d ordered a taxi to take him to the railway station in Manchester. You didn’t have to be a brain surgeon to find that out.’

  Glen laughed. ‘Are we going to have a word with him now?’

  ‘No, not yet. Let’s give it a minute or two. He’s obviously up to something; let’s hang fire and see where it takes us. We know the missing girl isn’t in his flat, because the secretary spent the night there four days after the girl went missing. We’ve got nothing to lose, and everything to gain, by playing things slowly.’

  Glen Lorimar removed his seat belt and got comfortable for the possibility of a long wait. He said, ‘That sounds like a plan.’

  83

  10.30am, 18 October 1986

  Honeysuckle Cottage, Papplewick, Nottinghamshire

  The regional crime squad surveillance team had been in position outside Honeysuckle Cottage since seven thirty that morning.

  The briefing at the MCIU office at seven o’clock had been concise.

  Maps had been produced, and a plan quickly formulated to cover all possible routes away from Honeysuckle Cottage. Lessons had obviously been learned from the ransom drop debacle, as there were now two officers riding motorcycles attached to the surveillance team. The team would be using the two motorcycles and three other vehicles. The three cars were all double crewed. This would allow for the passenger of each vehicle to do foot surveillance if it became necessary.

  Each car had been designated a different radio call sign: Charlie One, Charlie Two and Charlie Three. The two motorcycles were Mike One and Mike Two.

  The message relayed to the team from Brian Hopkirk earlier that morning, confirming that the suspect was definitely still inside Honeysuckle Cottage, had raised everyone’s morale.

  DS Travers, coordinating the surveillance, was the passenger in Charlie One. He glanced at his watch; the time was now almost ten thirty. He would need to change the vehicle parked nearest to the cottage in the next few minutes. He had changed the vehicles every thirty minutes so the same car wasn’t seen parked outside the address for too long. He was just about to give the order to change when his radio crackled into life. ‘Charlie Two to Charlie One. We have an off, repeat we have an off, from the target premises. Suzuki motorcycle, one rider no pillion, has just left the target premises towards the junction at Griffin. Over.’

  Everyone in the team now knew that the motorcycle was heading towards the junction where the Griffins Head pub was located.

  DS Travers said, ‘Charlie One has the eyeball. Suspect has turned left at the junction and is heading towards the A60. Mike One, can you take the eyeball as soon as possible, please?’

  ‘From Mike One, fifteen seconds before I pass you.’

  The powerful motorcycle roared past the surveillance car.

  ‘Mike One has the eyeball, staying back, no vehicles for cover. Speed is four zero, traffic lights ahead.’

  The surveillance team then carried out a convoy check on the radio so everyone in the team knew their position in relation to the target vehicle.

  The two motorcycles maintained the eyeball, alternating as they sped along the main A60 towards the city.

  DS Travers monitored the radio, coordinating the surveillance.

  The rider of Mike Two spoke over the radio: ‘At Redhill roundabout. Target vehicle has indicated and is into the service station. Repeat, into the service station. I’m going past. Mike Two no longer has the eyeball.’

  Immediately, Charlie Two came on the radio. ‘From Charlie Two, we’ve got the eyeball. We’ve pulled in for petrol. Not blocked at the pumps. Footman down into services, following target. Over.’

  There was silence for a few minutes.

  The surveillance team quickly got into position to cover all exits from the services.

  Charlie Two spoke: ‘From Charlie Two, target is now out of service station. It’s definitely our man. He took his crash helmet off inside the services. He’s purchased a couple of two-litre bottles of water and several packs of sandwiches. Target has placed all the purchased items in a plain white carrier bag, which is now inside the top box of the target motorcycle. Helmet now back on, starting motorcycle. It’s an off off, and it’s the first exit, towards the city. Over.’

  ‘Charlie Three, we have the eyeball. Mike One, take it when you can, please.’

  ‘From Mike One, will do.’

  The two motorcycles alternated the surveillance as they sped first through Arnold and then Sherwood. The motorcyclists kept pace with the target easily as he weaved in and out of the traffic. The three cars kept up as best they could.

  DS Travers picked up another radio, which was on the channel being used by the MCIU. He said, ‘DS Travers to DI Hopkirk.’

  Brian was walking into the Newton Building when he heard the message. He grabbed the radio from his jacket pocket. ‘DS Travers, go ahead.’

  ‘From DS Travers: We’re following the target into the city. We are currently going through Sherwood, approaching Carrington.’

  ‘From DI Hopkirk, keep me informed. I want to know if you have a stop.’

  ‘Will do. Over.’

  At the MCIU offices, Danny Flint was also monitoring the radios for both the surveillance channel and the MCIU channel.

  He was in the office with Andy Wills, finalising the figures for the crunch meeting with Detective Chief Superintendent Adrian Potter that would determine the future of the MCIU.

  Danny turned to Andy and said, ‘I wonder why Temple’s bought all that food and water. Still, it sounds like things are moving. Have you got car keys?’

  Andy nodded. ‘Yes, boss.’

  ‘Good. I think we might be going to the city very soon.’

  ‘What about your eleven-thirty meeting with Potter?’

  ‘That might have to wait.’

  84

  10.30am, 18 October 1986

  Nottingham Trent University, Goldsmith Street, Nottingham

  Brian and Rachel walked into the Newton Building.

  Rachel could see Stacey Bloom waiting in the reception area for them. She approached Stacey while Brian spoke to the surveillance team on the radio.

  Rachel said, ‘Hi, Stacey. Thanks for taking the time to see us again today.’

  ‘No problem. What’s up?’

  Brian had finished speaking on the radio. He joined the two women as they made their way to Bloom’s office. He said, ‘Hello, Stacey. I just want to run a few matters by you again so I’m clear about things.’

  ‘Happy to help, Inspector.’

  ‘It hasn’t rained for almost eighteen hours now. How dangerous will those caves be right now?’

  ‘Sandstone does dry out fairly quickly. I would think it’s still going to be pretty treacherous down there. Why?’

  Rachel said, ‘Stacey, has Professor Temple been okay lately? He seemed extremely stressed when he was talking to us yesterday.’

  Stacey was thoughtful for a second; then she said, ‘Professor Temple’s normally really laid-back. In fact, he’s so laid-back, he’s almost horizontal. Just lately though, he’s been a bit uptight and snappy.’

  ‘Can you think of any reason why?’

  ‘I suppose it could be frustration.’

  ‘About what exactly?

  ‘We normally go down into the cave system every other day, to monitor things. He hasn’t allowed anyone underground for just over a fortnight now.’

  ‘Why is that?
’

  ‘Because they’re so dangerous.’

  Brian said, ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘If you haven’t been in the caves for over a fortnight, how do you know they’re dangerous?’

  Stacey was silent.

  Rachel asked, ‘Is there anything else about him, or his behaviour, that you’ve found a little odd recently?’

  Stacey was again deep in thought, as though wrestling with a decision. She looked at Rachel and said, ‘Yesterday, when Professor Temple said he had to rush off to another meeting.’

  ‘Go on?’

  ‘It was a lie. He told you that he had an urgent meeting with members of Bassetlaw Council, at Creswell Crags. I telephoned the council later that day, to discover what the outcome of that meeting was. Nobody at the council knew what I was talking about. There was no meeting.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’

  Stacey shrugged. ‘I’ve got no idea. He’s done it a lot lately. Made an excuse to leave the office and then not come back for the rest of the day. It’s all been a bit weird and not like him.’

  As they walked into Bloom’s office, Brian said, ‘Stacey, I’m going to be straight with you. I genuinely believe that a young girl could be being held against her will in the caves around the Forest Road East area. I’d like you to take us down into the caves so we can have a look.’

  ‘I can’t do that without obtaining permission from Professor Temple first. I don’t think you understand the situation. I could lose my job here.’

  ‘And there could be a young girl in those caves, who may be in serious danger. At least take us down into the Peel Street entrance. If the caves are still too dangerous, I’ll accept what you’re saying, and we won’t go any further. Would you consider doing that?’

  Stacey looked troubled for a minute. Then she grabbed two heavy bags from the floor of the office and said, ‘These bags contain all the equipment we’ll need. Let’s go.’