by Bill Kitson
‘It could mean he’s implicated in his wife’s disappearance, which would have very sinister connotations,’ O’Donnell pointed out.
‘Agreed, although I don’t think it’s likely.’
‘Why not?’
‘For one thing, he was well aware that Dr Grey was going to visit her sister this weekend. If he’d been intending to harm his wife I believe he’d have chosen a time when she wouldn’t be missed as quickly. In addition to that, he wouldn’t have needed to break a pane of glass in the back door to get into the house; he’d have a key. I know he might have faked it to look like a break-in, but he certainly wouldn’t have needed to eradicate the fingerprints.’
‘Sorry, you’ve lost me,’ the chief constable said.
‘The forensic team found that the fingerprints had been wiped from every surface in the ground floor of the house. They believe whoever did that used antiseptic wipes. Dawson wouldn’t have done that. His prints had every right to be there.’
‘That makes sense. So, where do we go from here?’
‘I’m afraid we ought to consider the possibility that this is another of the Cremator’s abductions. From what little I know about those cases, which is no more than has appeared in the press, it seems to fit the general pattern.’
The chief constable winced. ‘I was afraid you might say that. I suppose we should consider ourselves lucky that he hasn’t struck round here before. Has anyone got any alternative theories?’
Her question was greeted with silence. ‘In that case I’ll make it a priority to request copies of the case notes from the various forces involved.’ She turned to Viv. ‘DC Pearce, as our resident computer expert, will you download all the stuff that’s on the PNC about the incidents. I believe there have been four, or else five.’
Pearce nodded his agreement and the chief constable continued, ‘Maybe if we all look through the notes on each case we might come up with something that will lead us to this pervert before he can harm another victim. I certainly hope so. It doesn’t help that it’s likely to be tomorrow at the very earliest before the hard copies get here. That makes the computer files even more important.’
O’Donnell turned over a sheet of paper. ‘Now, let’s turn our attention to the case of the vanishing van. Lisa, will you tell me precisely what happened yesterday evening?’
DC Andrews related the events. When she’d finished, the chief constable said, ‘I think the fact that the GPS tracker was disabled is highly significant. This doesn’t sound like a set of amateurs. To me this looks like the work of a really professional outfit. I think it might be worth checking to see if there is any intelligence on the subject. Try the Major Crimes Unit first. Then have a word with Scotland Yard. If one of the big mobs has started operating in our area we’ve got to put paid to it immediately. Have you found out how much the van was carrying?’
‘Just over six-hundred-thousand pounds,’ Andrews said quietly. ‘I had the MD of the security company phone all the clients where that van collected. It took him most of the night. The reason for the larger than normal amount, was twofold. One, Guardwell Transport has been laying men off and reducing their fleet size, so each van makes more collections. Two, there were very few collections on Friday because of the storm. A lot of retailers rang in to say they’d taken so little that day they hadn’t reached their insurance ceilings.’
Lisa noticed Pearce’s puzzled frown. ‘That’s the maximum they can keep on the premises allowed by their insurance policy. If they go over that, the insurance company can disallow the claim if they are robbed.’
‘Any thought that this might be an inside job? You mentioned that Guardwell are pulling their horns in. Does that mean the company’s in trouble?’
‘According to the Managing Director, things certainly aren’t going well,’ Lisa agreed. ‘His comment was that with the recession, competition is savage, with everyone chasing a reduced amount of business. He said their actions were a prudent response to the state of the economy, which I took to mean desperate measures to stay afloat. As I see it, there are three possibilities to consider. One, that the MD has orchestrated this to raise desperately needed capital. Two, that the crew of the van are implicated, either acting alone or as part of a larger unit, or three, that it might be down to one or more ex-employees. They’d have a double axe to grind. Revenge plus gain: two very powerful motives.’
‘There is a fourth alternative,’ O’Donnell pointed out. ‘That it is a totally outside job, organized and carried out by a set of professional criminals. Apart from the question of who did it, the other thing we need to find out is how. This is a supposedly totally secure vehicle on a lightly used road at a time on a Saturday night when there would be little, if any, other traffic about. So, any ideas how they did it? The first question I need answering is, what about this GPS tracker? What’s the technology like? Is it possible to pinpoint the location of the vehicle when it was disabled? And how difficult is it to do that?’
‘I’ve looked into that already, ma’am,’ Pearce told her. ‘Unfortunately, the system isn’t the most sophisticated on the market. In fact, it’s one of the very earliest models, which means it isn’t that accurate. Nor did the manufacturers think it necessary to be too cunning when it came to protecting the tracker. I assume they thought it would be quite secure where they sited it. But once someone has access to the vehicle cab it would only take a few minutes to put it out of action.’
‘Thanks, Viv, you’re really cheering me up,’ O’Donnell retorted. ‘Did you think to check the MO out on the computer?’
‘I did, ma’am. I widened the parameters not concentrating wholly on security vans, but there’s nothing similar recorded.’
‘How about this business of the radio not working?’
‘There again,’ Pearce told her. ‘I had a look at the equipment they use: not brilliant. It might have developed a fault, but that seems a bit too much of a coincidence. Alternatively, if someone was close enough to the van they could jam the signal so that all the crew or their control room would hear would be static.’
‘I think our first priority is to investigate the inside connection. Make that your priority for today. I’ll talk to other forces, MCU and the Met about the gang theory. I suggest that unless anything crops up beforehand we meet again tomorrow at 9 a.m. By that time Nash should be back.’ O’Donnell paused for a moment. ‘I learned on Friday who your new superintendent will be. In view of what has happened, I’ve asked them to take up their post immediately. They should be available from Wednesday.’ She looked up, noting their slightly apprehensive expressions. ‘I realize you want to know who it is, but you’ll have to wait. Seniority gives Nash the right to be the one to tell you.’
chapter eight
As soon as Nash reached the CID suite he knew something serious must have happened during his absence. Nothing trivial would have brought the chief constable from Netherdale at this time on a Monday morning. The presence of DC Andrews, also a rare visitor to Helmsdale, merely confirmed his suspicion.
The first part of the meeting was spent updating Nash on what had gone on over the weekend. The chief constable began with the security van hijack. Despite the cooperation of Scotland Yard and the Major Crimes Unit, she told them there was nothing to suggest that known organized crime gangs were operating in their region.
Nash’s contribution was immediate and positive. After listening to O’Donnell relating the events of Saturday night, he turned to DC Andrews. ‘How many patrol cars went out?’
‘Two, one from here and a second from Bishopton,’ Lisa said.
‘And how long after the van disappeared was it before our cars went looking for it?’
Lisa consulted her notes. ‘About forty minutes after the controller spotted it was missing from his screen.’
Nash shook his head in disbelief and walked over to the area map on the wall. ‘Going from the time that van made its collection at Good Buys in Helmsdale they should have reached somewhere ar
ound this point.’ He indicated a spot more than halfway to Bishopton. ‘That means the hijackers would still have to be somewhere along the Bishopton to Helmsdale road when our patrol cars started searching it. But the officers reported very little traffic, only a couple of saloon cars. So, if they hadn’t got time to get clear, where did they go?’
‘That’s what we’ve been trying to work out,’ Mironova said. ‘Are you suggesting they went the other way, towards Bishopton? Is that your theory?’
‘No. Why would they go that way?’
‘Sorry, Mike, you’re not making sense,’ the chief constable’s tone was impatient, waspish even.
‘The road leads to Bishopton and Bishop’s Cross, nowhere else. I don’t think they’d risk going into what is effectively a bottleneck. They sound far too professional an outfit to chance trapping themselves like that.’
‘All right, mastermind, you tell us where they did go.’ This time there was no disguising the irritation in O’Donnell’s voice. ‘Or are you suggesting the van was abducted by aliens? Should we be looking for reports of UFO sightings?’
‘What I’m suggesting is that they weren’t on that road at all.’
There was a moment’s silence before O’Donnell said, ‘So where were they? On the M25?’
Nash grinned. ‘Look at it from the gang’s point of view. They need to complete the hijack with the minimum risk of being disturbed. They also want the vehicle to disappear without trace. However, the van has radio communication with a central control room, plus an onboard GPS tracker. The first thing they must do is disable the radio. There are two ways they could do that. Either with the cooperation of someone on the inside, or by the use of a jamming device. Of the two, I’d go for the second option. An extra man means more chance of discovery, particularly as they’d know we were bound to check out everyone at the security firm. Added to which an extra man means less of a share for the others.’
‘All right, I accept that, but why didn’t our patrol cars see anything?’
‘Because I think they were looking in the wrong place.’ Nash noticed the others looking at one another, obviously mystified. He pointed to a junction halfway along Bishopton Road. ‘Call it luck if you want, but I know that area quite well. Last summer I took Daniel on a few outings around there, when we were getting to know one another. I wanted to show him some of our lovely scenery. That fork leads to Wintersett village. However, if you follow that road, it eventually winds over Black Fell and down the other side to Bishop’s Cross and ends up in Bishopton. It’s a heck of a long way round, and nobody in their right mind would opt to go that way normally. However, if you had to get to Bishopton, and you had no other choice, you could use that road.’
‘How would they convince the crew of the van to take that road, unless they were in on the robbery?’ Clara asked.
‘There is a way,’ Nash told her. ‘I’m guessing, but after the recent weather I think it’s credible. All they would need is some form of diversion. As soon as the van took the Wintersett road, they come along and remove the evidence. By the time our officers went past, there would be nothing to suggest the van hadn’t continued on the main road to Bishopton. Once they’d got the van where they wanted it, all they had to do was arrange something to get the van to stop. How they got the crew out is another matter, possibly they were in on the robbery, possibly they were threatened. Once the gang had access to the interior, it would be the work of minutes to disable the GPS tracker. I think we ought to search the Wintersett road. It’s a bit late in the day now, but we might find something. If we can establish which way they went we might be able to discover where they’ve secreted the van, and what has happened to the crew.’
It was Mironova who told Nash about Vanda Dawson’s suspected abduction. Nash listened in silence until she’d finished. ‘So, in the space of a weekend, a woman’s been kidnapped, her husband has vanished and a security van with two guards inside has gone missing,’ he commented ruefully. ‘I’m bloody glad I didn’t go away for a fortnight.’
‘Where do you plan to start?’ O’Donnell asked.
‘I think I’ll go to the missing woman’s house, have a look round there and then talk to her sister,’ Nash said thoughtfully. ‘We ought to continue trying to locate Dawson. If Tom finds he didn’t go to Spain, we must assume he’s still in this country.’ He turned to Clara. ‘Dr Grey told you he’s an accountant. Does he work from home, or has he an office here, or in Netherdale?’
‘I didn’t think to ask,’ Mironova confessed. Why hadn’t she asked? It was the one question she’d missed, the first thing Nash had pinpointed.
‘Find out, will you? And let Viv know.’ Nash turned to Pearce. ‘Viv, if Dawson does have an office, go and ask if anyone’s seen him recently, or knows where he can be located. I’d also like to have a look at those files when they arrive. If this is a Cremator abduction, we all need to study them, see if we can spot anything that might help. Will you man the fort here, and I’ll take Clara with me? I’ll check the Wintersett road after I’ve been to Dawson’s house.’
The chief nodded her approval and indicated to Nash she wished to speak to him in his office.
On his return, Nash and Clara headed for the car park. ‘Do you want me to collect Dr Grey?’ Clara asked.
Nash looked up in mild surprise. ‘I suppose that would be best,’ he replied after a moment’s thought. ‘To speak to her at the house, I mean, rather than in her hotel. Then you can drive her back. I want to see if I can find any evidence of this van hijack.’
‘I’ve also had an idea,’ Clara said. ‘As you’ll be on your own with Daniel away, I thought the flat might feel a bit lonely and cooking for one isn’t much fun. So David and I wondered if you’d like to come round to our place this evening?’
‘That’s really considerate, Clara, but the way things have been happening round here, let’s wait and see what develops during the course of the day.’
In daylight, Mill Cottage looked to be a truly impressive property. Not only the house itself, but the nearby mill and the extensive grounds added to what was a highly valuable residence. Nash looked at the white Tudor walls with their blackened timber crosspieces with admiration. He wondered if they were original, or a later replica. It didn’t matter, certainly not to the onlooker. The cottage was a long, low building. He stared at it appreciatively. When the time came for him to settle down it was the sort of house he had always dreamed of owning. Now he had Daniel to consider, that prospect was even more appealing. Somewhere like this would be the ideal place for them. Here, he could ensure peace from the stresses of his job, and here Daniel could grow up in safe and peaceful surroundings.
Nash shook his head to rid himself of the daydream. He culled the description of the interior from his memory of Mironova’s report. Having got his bearings, Nash’s gaze shifted to the bank of mature woodland that covered the far side of the stream. There was a narrow walkway across the water, too narrow to be classed as a footbridge. He guessed that its principal purpose was to house a sluice gate that would regulate the flow of water entering the millrace. Could the missing woman have fallen in the stream? Nash wondered if that had been checked out, and made a mental note to ask Clara. He turned his attention to the mill itself, and his memory shifted back to his school days. One wet summer afternoon, when bad weather had caused the cancellation of all cricket. A substituted history lesson had been rescued from boredom when the master had arrived bearing a sliced loaf and a block of butter. Having doled out slices to the ever-hungry boys, he commenced teaching them about the workings of the corn mill and butter churn that had processed many of the ingredients of the food they were devouring with all the appetite and lack of social grace only a group of twelve-year-olds can muster. Nash smiled, wondering if Daniel would be as fortunate in the quality of his teachers.
He walked across the paved patio area in front of the cottage and climbed the four shallow steps that led up to the long front lawn. This was flanked on three s
ides by rustic fences to which the stems of roses, bare at this time of the year, were clinging. This would be a beautiful garden in summer, Nash thought. He turned to view the rest of the grounds. The different angle showed him how steeply the land fell towards the stream, a fact that wasn’t apparent from the rear of the building. Ideal, Nash thought, remembering that history lesson, for the construction of a corn mill.
A flash of movement to the left of his peripheral vision announced the arrival of Mironova and Dr Grey. Nash strolled round the end of the house to meet them. He looked in appreciation at the doctor’s attractive features and shapely figure, a fact that didn’t escape his sergeant.
Clara introduced Nash to the missing woman’s sister. ‘This is a bad business,’ Nash told her as they shook hands. ‘Hardly the weekend you were hoping for, I’m afraid.’
‘There’s still no news, I take it? Sergeant Mironova said there hadn’t been any developments.’
‘That’s true, but it isn’t necessarily a bad thing.’ Which wasn’t accurate, because Nash knew that in cases such as this the first few hours were critical; and at least three days had passed without any activity.
‘Have you managed to locate Brian yet?’
Nash shook his head. ‘It would help if we had a mobile phone number for him. Do you know if he has one?’
‘I’m sure he does, but I’ve no idea what the number is.’ She smiled faintly. ‘We were never that close. I told Sergeant Mironova he has an office, but it isn’t in his own name.’ Jo frowned, trying to remember. ‘Vanda did tell me the name once. He took over an old-established practice, one that had a settled clientele and he thought it would be better if he kept the name, which was well known locally. It’s somewhere on Helmsdale High Street, I think. I believe …’ she frowned as she tried to remember, ‘Vanda told me it was next door to a place where the owner got in some sort of trouble, but I can’t remember what she said.’