by Trevor Negus
Rebecca smiled and walked into the hallway.
She picked up the telephone and dialled a number.
She said, ‘Hello, Sebastien. I just wanted to let you know that the police have found Emily, and that she’s back home safe and well.’
Sebastien Dawson gushed, ‘That’s wonderful news, Rebecca. You and Dominic must be so relieved. How on earth did they find her?’
‘Apparently, the police followed a man by the name of Brandon Temple to some caves where she was being held captive. Temple was arrested, and Emily was brought home to me.’
‘That’s brilliant. I’m so happy for you.’
‘Don’t you recognise the man’s surname?’
Dawson mused, ‘Hmm, Temple. Should I?’
Rebecca said, ‘I’ll help you out. Brandon Temple is married to Angela Temple. Junior barrister at Mulberry Chambers, and the woman my wonderful husband has been fucking for months. It appears that Mr Temple was less than happy about this arrangement. He decided to exact his revenge against my errant husband by abducting our daughter. I’ve no doubt that eventually this monster would have let her die in those fucking caves.’
Sebastien Dawson was trying to process what he had just heard. He mumbled, ‘I’m so sorry, Rebecca.’
‘I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be leaving Mulberry just as soon as I can find a job elsewhere. Obviously, Dominic and I can no longer be together. I really hope that the policeman who is still trapped underground makes it out alive, or the publicity for Mulberry Chambers could be disastrous.’
Dawson blustered, ‘What trapped policeman? What are you talking about?’
‘I’m sorry; didn’t I mention that? The police detective who found our daughter is still trapped in the caves where she was being held by Brandon Temple. If the officer dies, I’ll make damn sure the press knows the full story. I’ll give them the true reason why my daughter was abducted and hidden in the caves that eventually claimed the life of the hero detective.’
‘But if you do that, it will ruin Dominic’s legal career.’
‘Yes, it will, won’t it? At least he’ll always have the beautiful Angela Temple to keep him warm. Goodbye, Sebastien.’
100
3.00pm, 18 October 1986
Caves below Forest Road East, Nottingham
Ray Machin was lying on his stomach, immediately behind Pete Millership. Both men were in the claustrophobic confines of the crawl space they had excavated by hand. They were both attached by a lifeline to other members of the team, who were waiting at the entrance to the crawl space. It was a precaution against further roof falls. The only light in the small passageway was provided by the helmet lights of the two experienced miners.
The Mines Rescue supervisor grabbed hold of Pete Millership’s boot and shook it. He whispered, ‘We’re ten yards in now, Pete. You should be at the entrance to the pot cave by now.’
Using a small hand shovel to move the loose sandstone that had fallen into the tunnel, Pete Millership scraped back another load of soil. Reaching forward, he grabbed at what he thought was loose soil immediately in front of his face.
Suddenly, he froze.
Ray Machin sensed his colleague had found something. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s his hand, Ray.’
‘Can you feel a pulse?’
Pete Millership carefully wiped the soil away from the exposed wrist and felt for a pulse.
There was nothing.
The skin felt cold and clammy to the touch. Pete Millership said grimly, ‘There’s nothing, Ray. He’s gone.’
The miner began to scrape more soil away from the hand, exposing the dead man’s arm and chest. He said, ‘It looks like his top half is lying on the floor of the tunnel, and his bottom half is still in the pot cave. Poor sod must have almost made it before the roof came down.’
Ray said, ‘Can we get him out?’
‘It’s going to take a while, but yes, I’m sure we can. We’ll need to dig right past him and shore the crawl space up properly before we dig down to free his bottom half. Be another hour or so of digging, I reckon.’
‘Are you alright to keep going?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get this poor bugger out of here.’
‘I’m going to send Stan in to help you. I need to let everyone up top know what we’ve found.’
‘Okay. Sorry it’s bad news, mate. At least he would have been killed instantly. He hasn’t suffocated down here.’
Ray backed out of the crawl space and said, ‘We’ve found him, lads. It’s a recovery job, not a rescue. Stan, get in and give Pete a hand to complete the recovery.’
Stacey Bloom had remained in the tunnel while the miners searched. She said, ‘Is he dead?’
‘Yes, lass, I’m afraid he is. I need to go up top and tell Danny. There’s really no need for you to stay down here now. You might as well come up top with me.’
A sad Stacey Bloom just nodded and followed Ray Machin towards the entrance.
As she trudged along, Stacey thought to herself that this was now a journey that Detective Inspector Brian Hopkirk would only be able to make with the assistance of the Mines Rescue Service, as they carried his crushed body out.
101
3.20pm, 18 October 1986
Forest Road East, Nottingham
Danny saw the lamps approaching from within the entrance to the cave system. He saw Ray Machin emerge first, followed by Stacey Bloom. The grim expression on the face of the Mines Rescue supervisor told Danny all he needed to know.
As soon as Ray took off his helmet, Danny said, ‘You’ve found him, haven’t you?’
‘We have, Danny. I’m sorry. It’s not good news, I’m afraid.’
‘Was there no air pocket in the pot cave?’
‘There was nothing. The whole lot had collapsed. We found your colleague right on the edge of the pot cave. It looks like he’d made a last desperate attempt to get out just before the lot came down.’
‘Can you get him out?’
‘Yes, we can. We’re in the process of recovering his body now. I’m sorry it’s such shit news.’
A clearly upset Danny said, ‘So am I, Ray. I really appreciate the courage and the efforts of you and your staff, trying to rescue him.’
Ray said nothing and just gripped the shoulders of the man standing in front of him.
The tough miner made eye contact with Danny and said, ‘To get that young lass out of there took real guts, Danny. All my lads have said so. My men appreciate courage, and your man had it in bucketloads. It’s the least we can do to get him out of there.’
‘Thanks, Ray. How long do you think it will take to get him out?’
‘Probably another hour, I reckon. I’ll get back down there now and make sure there are no hitches. I’m really sorry.’
Danny nodded and watched as Ray Machin put his helmet back on and crawled back through the hole in the wall and into the cave system.
Stacey Bloom said, ‘Are you okay?’
Danny brushed the tears from his face. ‘Yeah. I’ll be okay. Thanks for all your help today, Stacey.’
He walked out of the tent and into bright sunlight. It had finally stopped bloody raining. He could see Jack Renshaw in his full uniform, standing next to Adrian Potter outside the Mobile Incident Room.
The chief constable saw Danny approaching and took his hat off. He knew instantly from the expression on Danny’s face what had happened. He said, ‘It’s bad news, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, sir, the worst. Detective Inspector Brian Hopkirk’s dead. They’re recovering his body now. It’s going to take at least another hour to get him out of there.’
Jack Renshaw gripped his cap tightly and said angrily, ‘Bloody hell!’
The three men stood quietly on the street, taking a moment to remember their fallen colleague.
It was Danny who broke the silence. ‘Sir, I need to go and talk to his next of kin. Brian was divorced from his wife, Maggie, but he also has a thirteen-yea
r-old daughter, Laura. Sorry, he had a thirteen-year-old daughter.’
Jack Renshaw said, ‘We’ll go in my car. Adrian, you hold the fort here?’ Adrian nodded. Then Danny said, ‘Can you give me a minute, please, sir?’
‘Take as long as you need.’
He walked into the Mobile Incident Room, where Rachel and Rob Buxton were waiting.
Danny broke the sad news and then said, ‘Rachel, I’m going with the chief constable to tell Brian’s ex-wife and daughter what’s happened. Are you okay to come with me? Maggie may need your support.’
Rachel brushed away her tears and nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’
102
11.00am, 25 October 1986
Wilford Hill Cemetery, Nottingham
The weather matched the sombre mood of the day. The sky was a grey leaden colour, and more rain was a distinct possibility. A strong wind buffeted across the open spaces of the cemetery, making it feel very cold.
Danny raised the collar on his overcoat in a futile attempt to keep the frigid wind at bay. At the specific request of Maggie Hopkirk, the police presence at the graveside for her estranged husband’s burial was minimal.
Only Danny and Rob Buxton had been invited to stand and pay their respects with the family.
The service of remembrance earlier that morning had been a different matter. The small, picturesque St Wilfrid’s church in Wilford had been packed inside and out as officers of all ranks attended to pay their own final respects to a friend, colleague and fallen hero.
After the service, as Danny and Rob had walked to their car to make the short drive to the cemetery, Chief Constable Jack Renshaw had approached.
He had taken Danny to one side and said, ‘Obviously not today, Danny, but we need to get things sorted out between you and Adrian.’
Danny replied, ‘You’re right, sir. Now is definitely not the time, but we do need to straighten things out. I don’t know if I can, or if I even want to, continue working for that man.’
‘I’ll see you both in my office at ten o’clock on the twenty-seventh, okay?’
Danny nodded, caught up with Rob and continued walking to the car.
In the car, as they drove slowly behind the hearse and the funeral cars, Rob had said, ‘What was all that about?’
Danny had brushed off the question. ‘Nothing for you to worry about, Rob.’
Now, standing at the graveside, as Danny watched the coffin that contained his good friend being slowly lowered into the cold earth, he glanced over at Maggie and her daughter, Laura.
His thoughts turned to the recent conversation he’d had with Brian. About his concerns over losing touch with his precious daughter when she moved to the United States of America with her mother and her new husband.
How cruel life could be, thought Danny. That unique, loving relationship between a father and his daughter had now been ripped apart for ever.
As the priest began the interment service, Danny’s thoughts turned to his own impending fatherhood. He wondered what the future held in store for him and his child.
The thought of it made him shudder and rejoice all at the same time.
The short service over, Danny waited in turn to take soil from the box held by the clergyman. He stood at the side of the grave and bade his own silent goodbye before dropping the handful of soil onto his friend’s coffin.
Danny had been surprised when Maggie had chosen burial for Brian, bearing in mind the circumstances of his colleague’s tragic death.
He was torn away from his melancholy thoughts when Maggie approached him and said, ‘Thank you for coming, Danny. Brian thought the world of you.’
‘I feel honoured that you asked me to attend, Maggie. It was important to be able to pay my respects. Brian was a great detective, a good man, and he still thought the world of you and Laura.’
‘We always loved each other, Danny; we just couldn’t live together. I couldn’t have wished for a better father for Laura.’
‘When do you leave for the States?’
‘Brian told you?’
‘Yes, he told me. He was concerned about losing touch with Laura.’
Tears formed in Maggie’s eyes. ‘I would never have let that happen.’
Danny put his arms around her, hugged her and said, ‘I know, Maggie, I know. And more importantly, so did he.’
She found her inner strength and resolve, stepped back from Danny, smiled and said, ‘I hear you’re going to be a father soon?’
‘It won’t be long now. I can’t wait.’
‘Be a good father, Danny. Always make the time to be part of your child’s life.’
‘I will, Maggie.’
Maggie nodded and walked on. Her young daughter, Laura, ashen-faced, walked behind her.
103
10.00am, 27 October 1986
Nottinghamshire Police Headquarters
Danny Flint and Adrian Potter sat stern-faced opposite an equally stern-faced Jack Renshaw.
Renshaw said, ‘I’ve asked you both here this morning to clear the air and start again. I’m willing to go on record right now and say that, as far as I’m concerned, the MCIU is an integral part of this police force’s ability to investigate and detect major and serious crime, and will remain so. Is that understood?’
Danny said, ‘That’s always been my point of view, sir. I don’t think the chief superintendent shares that opinion.’
Adrian Potter said, ‘I’ve never doubted the abilities of the MCIU. My only concern was that it was never going to be cost-effective.’
Danny said, ‘Everything isn’t about pounds and pence. The day that happens, we can forget about police work and giving good service to the public. Our role is to protect people and detect crime. We’re coppers, for Christ’s sake, not bank managers!’
Jack Renshaw said, ‘I applaud your passion, Danny, but you must temper that passion with a sense of realism. Unfortunately, it’s a fact of life that we operate on fixed budgets. The work that Adrian does is just as vital to the well-being of this force as good detection rates. I think you both need to accept that you have very different approaches to police work, but that basically, you’re on the same side.’
Danny said, ‘I do appreciate the need to run on tight budgets, and I’ve always strived to keep the costs of my department to a minimum. Nobody on my team takes liberties with the overtime and expenses budget.’
Adrian said, ‘I never really got the chance to say, one way or another, whether I had found your department to be cost-effective.’
Danny scoffed, ‘You made it abundantly clear to me on several occasions, with your barbed asides and snide comments, that you wanted the MCIU disbanded. You can’t deny that?’
‘When I first arrived here, and from the outside looking in, the MCIU did seem to be a very expensive luxury. I’ve since had the opportunity to have in-depth meetings with all the detective chief inspectors on the various divisions across the county. They were all adamant that the MCIU is a wonderful idea, because it stops major crime enquiries impacting on their own meagre budgets. I’m always open to change, Chief Inspector. I’ve never been so blinkered in my approach that I cannot admit when I may have been wrong about something.’
Danny said, ‘I appreciate that, and accept that I am a little overprotective towards my department. Every single one of my staff are bloody good detectives, who always give one hundred per cent on whatever case they’re working on. I just want you to acknowledge that fact from time to time.’
Potter said, ‘I’m willing to wipe the slate clean and start our working relationship afresh, if you are. I think we can both accept that we’ll never be bosom buddies, and I’m sure there’ll be times in the future when we clash again. Let’s take the personalities out of this and work together in a professional manner.’
‘That will suit me down to the ground. I don’t want any more cheap stunts like the Emily Whitchurch case. That should never have been given to the MCIU to investigate.’
Potter held
his hands up and said, ‘Understood. You need to know that request didn’t actually come from me.’
Danny looked at Jack Renshaw, who said, ‘That was my decision. I was getting a lot of heat from various sources, and it was my first week in post. In hindsight, I should have played it differently. The bottom line is, I made the wrong decision then, and I can’t change it. What I can say is that I wouldn’t make the same decision today. We all have to learn from experience.’
There was a pause. Nobody spoke.
Jack Renshaw broke the heavy silence. ‘Do I take it that I haven’t got to advertise for a new head of CID or a new detective chief inspector for the MCIU?’
Danny said, ‘I’m staying put, sir.’
Potter squirmed a little in his seat and said, ‘I’ve got unfinished business here, sir.’
Renshaw said, ‘Good. In that case, let’s all get back to work, shall we?’
Epilogue
3.30am, 3 May 1988
Sevenoaks, Kent
Sam Jamieson was parked in a secluded layby on the country lane that led to Sandford Manor, the luxury barn conversion that was now the home of Rebecca Whitchurch. She shared the house with her teenage daughter, Emily, but whenever Emily was away at Roedean School in Brighton, she lived there alone.
Sam Jamieson had carefully studied all the newspaper reports about the abduction of Emily Whitchurch by Professor Brandon Temple. He had been as shocked as everyone else when the motive behind the abduction had been revealed. Rebecca Whitchurch had delighted in telling the whole sordid story to the media. She had divorced Dominic Whitchurch, obtained custody of her daughter and left her job at Mulberry Chambers. She then relocated and started work in London. It had been a simple task for Jamieson to locate her at a firm of barristers that were located on King’s Bench Walk, in the city.