by DC Brockwell
33
Passion overtook them. They kissed vigorously, as though it was the one and only kiss they would ever get.
“Wait, wait,” said Lennox, as he pulled away abruptly.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“We can’t be doing this, Bea. It’s not a good idea.”
She knew he was right, no matter how much she wanted him to be wrong. “I know… Daddy will kill us if he finds out,” she added, her legs dangling off the desk.
“I’m sorry. It was my fault. I got carried away.”
With a half-smile, she said, “It does take two, Lennox.”
For a few moments there was an awkward, frustrated, and disappointed silence.
She slid off the desk and stood facing him. There were no words to describe her sadness at not being able to kiss him anymore. It wasn’t fair. What did it matter to her dad if she had sex with him? Why could her husband go out and do whatever he wanted with whomever he chose, when she had to stay in and be good? Why couldn’t she have some fun for a change?
“I’m so sorry, Bea. I’ve got to go meet your father.”
Beattie accepted Lennox’s farewell kiss on the lips and then watched as he picked up the suitcase, put on his coat, and walked out, closing the door behind him. He didn’t hide his disappointment well.
Alone in the office, Beattie stamped her foot as tears of sorrow flowed down her cheeks. She sat down on the chair, bent forwards, put her head down, and sobbed, the sad sound filling the air.
The landline phone rang.
Beattie wiped her face and straightened up, trying to hold back the sobs, and when she picked up the receiver and said hello, her voice sounded strained.
“It’s me,” came Walter’s voice. “I followed that bitch to a pub tonight. She met a fat man who saw me. It was eight years ago.”
She sniffed audibly. “How can you be so sure it was the same person?”
“You not forget a man like him… he’s fat, very fat. He drove a lorry past us; he saw us. It was why I had to burn the first van.”
Beattie sighed. “Yes, I remember.”
So, the persistent detective was still out there investigating Danny’s disappearance? She didn’t like committed people, especially not committed detectives. As careful as they’d been for the past sixteen years, if left unchecked, this detective could end up finding her quarry, which would lead her back here. There was no way Beattie could let that happen. “Okay, Walter, let’s pay this bitch a little visit. Give her a warning.”
“This I can do,” replied the Bavarian guard…
Having said goodnight to Mrs Harrison over an hour earlier, Kimiko slipped on her plimsolls, wrapped herself in a floral sky-blue kimono, and looked at the clock next to her bed: 23:36. She tiptoed to the door, opened it a crack, and looked through the gap. The landing was empty, and she couldn’t hear anyone upstairs. The guards were either out or upstairs asleep, or watching television. She held her breath as she slipped out onto the landing.
Still on her tiptoes, she descended the stairs, walked to the front door, and opened it, slipping out into the cold black night. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark, even though she knew the way to the barn well enough – she’d walked it enough times. Turning, she checked no one was behind her. If she couldn’t see two feet in front of her, there was no way anyone would be able to see her.
When she reached the barn, she unlocked it, lifting the wooden locking planks and placing them on the floor. She opened the barn door just a crack, enough for her to creep in, and then closed the door behind her. She froze for a second, deciding to go back out, pull in the locking planks, and bring them inside. To anyone who might pass, the doors looked shut.
Fortunately, the Land Rover wasn’t parked over the hatch, so she didn’t need to worry about moving it. It was one of the obstacles she’d been concerned about. Mrs Harrison sometimes parked it over the hatch, and sometimes she didn’t.
Being careful not to make a sound, she opened the hatch in the darkness and descended the thirty stairs. She was scared, but she also felt alive. Kimiko could feel how excited she was getting in anticipation of finally seeing Danny alone, with no one watching them on the monitors.
Downstairs, the only light available was coming from the bar; the lager pumps and fridges were lit, though they didn’t give her much visibility.
She crept through the bar seating area and into the corridor where the rooms were located, not stopping until she reached Danny’s room.
Using her set of keys, she quietly unlocked the door.
“Danny,” she whispered, closing the door behind her. She could just about make out his shadow on the bed.
“Kimiko, you came,” Danny whispered.
She took small nervous steps towards him.
“Come here, beautiful,” he said, his voice soothing. “I’ve been looking forward to this for ages; I can’t believe you’re actually here.”
She joined Danny, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I very nervous,” came her small voice. “I not done this before.”
His hand found her waist.
Finding the courage from deep inside, she stood and flipped her plimsolls off before letting her kimono drop to the floor. She knew he couldn’t see her properly, but it still felt invigorating to be naked with him.
He patted the bed and she joined him, lying back with her head on the pillow.
It was really happening…
34
Day 28
Wednesday, 7th February
Kimiko felt safer in Danny’s arms than she had in a long time, longer than she could remember. She knew she shouldn’t, given where they were. Sharing her first night of passion with Danny was as delicious as in her dreams. And now it was over. She had to get back to her bedroom before she was found. “I got to leave now, Danny. Mrs Harrison be up soon.”
“Come back tonight, will you? Please?”
“I try,” she replied, sitting up and feeling the carpet with her toes.
Danny sighed. She could tell he was disappointed, although there was nothing they could do; if they didn’t want to be found by the guards – or worse, Mrs Harrison – Kimiko had to get moving. “I be back tonight,” she whispered.
“You promise?”
“It depend on guards and Mrs Harrison, but I promise I try.”
“That’s good enough for me.”
Kimiko found her robe and slipped it on, then did the same with her plimsolls. She didn’t want to leave him, yet their circumstances dictated she must. It took her another ten minutes of kissing him goodbye before she finally opened the door and left the room, locking it behind her.
Fortunately, she’d left just in time; none of the guards had awoken, and there was no sign of Mr or Mrs Harrison. Kimiko crept up the stairs to her room, slowly closing the door, making sure it didn’t creak.
When she closed the door, safe in the knowledge that no one had seen her, she leaned back against it and smiled.
What a night! She was finally a woman. She had made love to a beautiful man. And Danny really was beautiful, from his lovely dark hair all the way down to his cute toes and everything in between, including his… She giggled for the first time in years.
The clock next to her bed said 04:45, and although she had enough time for a tiny nap, she was far too excited to sleep. She couldn’t wait to see her Danny again, and she would in just a few hours, when she had to clean his room, and prepare him.
She had time for a long soak in the bath, and knowing that she would have to wash her kimono before Mrs Harrison smelt it, she took it along the landing to the bathroom, turned on the taps in the sink and soaked it, while she drew herself a hot bubbly bath.
She stepped in, then gradually eased her way under the steaming water. As she lay back, caressing her legs, she thought about her most amazing night. Just thinking about him excited her. Was this it? Was this love?
Beattie awoke to the sound of her burner phone ringing, and she reached ac
ross the bed, feeling Alan’s empty pillow. Away for the whole night again, even though he’d told her he’d be back in the early hours.
She sighed as she picked up her phone, looking at the caller before answering it. “Hello, Daddy,” she said, as normally as she could. She’d cried herself to sleep, her voice was coarse.
“Morning, princess. An acquaintance of mine is on his way to the farm. He’ll be with you in twenty. The usual deal, usual price, okay? Oh, and make sure they back their motor into the barn; our law enforcement friends are taking pictures.”
Beattie sat up suddenly. “They’re taking pictures? Of what, the farm?”
“Relax, princess, relax! I’ve got a source inside; he tells me they’re just gathering intelligence. They haven’t got anything on us. And besides, I’ve got something in the pipeline that’ll make them call off the investigation altogether.”
“But still, Daddy, shouldn’t we cancel all our appointments until–”
“Not a chance. It’s business as usual until I say differently. Now, go meet my colleagues and make sure they back into the barn. If the NCA see what they have in the boot, they’ll have all the intel they need.”
“I’ll be ready when they get here.”
She hung up and pulled herself out of bed. All she wanted to do was lie there, feeling sorry for herself. Now, she had to worry about the bloody National Crime Agency outside, taking photos of the comings and goings here? She trusted her daddy, and felt uneasy, knowing that law enforcement agencies were on her doorstep – literally.
Beattie decided not to shower and got dressed, choosing a pair of dark jeans and a cottage rose tunic. Not bothering to apply any make-up, she brushed her hair quickly in front of her full-length mirror, noticing the bags under her eyes. Awful. She looked awful.
Downstairs, she walked into the kitchen and switched the kettle on, before getting her mug prepped for her first cup of tea. When she opened the refrigerator, she noticed they were almost out of milk, so she made a mental note to have a go at Kimiko for letting supplies get so low. It was yet another example of Kimiko’s new scatterbrain. It hadn’t gone unnoticed.
The clock above the refrigerator said it was 05:55.
With five minutes before her visitors arrived, she was quick making her drink.
After putting on her green Parka jacket, she walked outside into the freezing blackness, armed with only a torch, walking along the two hundred-metre pathway until she came to the barn.
The headlights of an off-road vehicle bathed her in light as she unlocked the doors.
Turning around, she walked up to the Range Rover driver’s side and said that they had to back into the barn, though she didn’t say why, not wanting to spook them. She opened the barn doors, waited while the driver reversed his vehicle inside, then closed the doors from the inside. When she was sure that the NCA couldn’t see what they were doing, she switched on the lights.
The two craggy-looking visitors exited the Range Rover and the passenger went around to the boot and opened it. She looked inside and could see a body shaped object wrapped in a sheet. At one end – she assumed the head end – blood had seeped through the sheet and soaked through to the interior of the vehicle.
As the driver approached her, he reached inside his thick black leather jacket and pulled out an envelope. “Your dad said two gs? That right?”
“If that’s what Daddy said,” she replied, taking the fat envelope from him.
Without talking to them any further, she showed them down the stairs – wishing her father would budge on getting a lift installed – through the bar, past the rooms, and over to the furnace room, where they stopped. She then opened up and led them inside, where the furnace was roaring away.
“What do we do? Just bung him in there?”
“That’s the plan.”
The passenger – who’d carried the body downstairs – dumped it on the floor, took off the sheet, and stood there for a moment, staring down at it. “Should we say something?”
Beattie studied the dead body. Half his face was missing – whoever had shot him had done it with a shotgun, by the looks of it; half of the dead man’s jaw was missing and the rest of one half of his face was pulp, bone, and red tissue. She felt queasy.
“Nah, let’s just get this done and get out of here,” replied the driver.
Judging by the way the passenger had his head down and his hands clasped in front of him, like he was at the man’s funeral, Beattie assumed the dead man used to be a friend of theirs. She could have been wrong.
She stood back as the two men picked up the body, one at either end, and lifted it into the furnace. The fire appeared to go out, but she insisted it would be roaring in a matter of minutes. She closed the furnace door and led the two visitors back upstairs to their Range Rover, where they each shook her hand. She then opened the barn doors for them and watched as they drove away.
These visits were commonplace for her. In the sixteen years that she’d lived here, her dad had probably sent over a hundred visitors to her farm for this very purpose. Over a hundred bodies had been incinerated, never to be seen again. It had made her dad a small fortune and was a very handy service to be able to offer his colleagues.
The first couple of times it had bothered her, but by the time she’d seen three or four disposals, she’d become desensitised to it. Now, none of this stuff bothered her; she still felt queasy, sure, but she felt queasy around blood anyway. The worst body she had seen was a man who’d died from an acid attack; his face was melted. The smell had been awful too…
35
Clive Adams frowned. “Please tell me you haven’t been running around asking potential witnesses about Daniel Rose, Detective Maqsood. Please tell me that.”
Nasreen didn’t know how to respond. She had both Adams and Terrence glaring at her. While she was looking at Adams, she could feel Terrence’s stare. “I’ve been making some enquiries, yes,” she replied.
Adams looked up at the ceiling.
“I did it off the clock, sir.”
He glared back at her. “And that’s why I just got a call from the IOPC! Someone you interviewed said you were questioning them out of hours. And what’s more, they said they saw you drive away in your red Fiesta. So, investigating a case out of hours is fine in your humble opinion, is it?”
“Well, no, but I’m showing initiative,” she said, knowing the rebuke would come. “And can I ask who complained, sir? And why?”
“Jesus Christ, Detective Maqsood! Showing initiative is clocking up extra hours when asked, or volunteering at schools as a police liaison. And no, you can’t ask; it’s not my place to say.”
“But, sir, no one’s actively looking for Danny,” she said, suddenly realising she’d done it again. She really was in the shit now.
“Excuse me, Danny? Do you know the victim, Detective Maqsood?” His voice was getting louder and angrier with every word.
What should she do, lie? Why should she justify her actions to a dirty cop? He was the one who should be justifying his actions, not her. At least she was out there trying to do some good – unlike him, trying to impede her investigation.
“So, do you know Daniel Rose or not, detective?”
“Yes, sir, I know him,” she answered. “I went to school with him.”
“Oh my God! It gets worse.” Adams turned his back on her, his hands clasped on top of his head.
“Tell him the rest, Nas,” she heard Terrence say. “It’s cards on the table time.”
Yeah, thanks, Terrence, thanks a lot, she thought as she turned her head to look at her supervisor. She thought she could trust him.
“Tell me the rest of what?” Adams had turned to her again, his face even more flustered.
“Go on, Nas, tell him!”
“…He’s my ex-boyfriend.”
Adams’ silence said it all. He stood there staring at her, his face getting redder by the second. She thought his head might explode, it was so red. “Your fucking ex
?” he said eventually. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
“It’s why I have to find him, sir, don’t you see? I’ve already made progress–”
“Stop right there!” he yelled, before shaking his head and taking a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, yet full of anger. “I don’t want to hear what you’ve got, not one word. You’ve broken God knows how many rules and regulations, codes of conduct… you’ve put yourself and everyone you’ve talked to in danger… Fuck! You’ll be lucky if you only get suspended for this, you do realise that, don’t you!”
“Please, take a look at–”
“One more word from you and you’ll be suspended immediately! I knew appointing you was a mistake from the start. I knew choosing you to bolster our ethnic intake would result in something like this. Now shut… the… fuck… up!”
Nasreen stood up straight. There was nothing he could do to stop her from continuing her investigation. She might lose her job, but she didn’t care. This guy was a crooked cop. She wasn’t going to let him win. Even so, she kept her mouth shut.
“And as for you, Detective Johnson,” he said, turning to Terrence, “did you know about this?”
“Well, sir, I didn’t know Nas was investigating this on her own, no.”
“But you clearly knew she had a relationship with the victim, didn’t you?”
She could hear Terrence squirming next to her. Good, she thought, backstabber! A smile almost crept over her – almost; inside she was crowing that Terrence was now on the receiving end of Adams’ rage.
“Um, yes, I knew,” Terrence replied, eyes down.
Adams closed his eyes and sighed, and when he opened them again, he asked, “Right, is there anything else I need to know? Anything else you can tell me that will help give me an ulcer?”
They shook their heads.
“Okay, I need to think what my next course of action’s going to be. You two have fucked up on such a monumentally epic scale that I’ll need to speak with the IOPC about this and see what they say. You two are grounded until further notice.”