“I’m to come and get you.”
This teenager had a pale pug face and a hen-toed walk, as if he was gripping a book between his knees. As he was only marginally taller than him Joey wondered for a moment whether he could fight him and escape. A thick wooden stick produced from behind the visitor’s back quickly put paid to such thoughts.
He indicated the door with it, but Joey defiantly remained where he was.
“Where are you taking me?”
The guard seemed unperturbed by his attitude, as if he’d seen it many times before. He scrutinised Joey’s determined face at some length before speaking again.
“I was like you at the start too.”
“What do you mean?”
“All mouthy and fighting. I used to swear at the boss man an’ all.”
Joey screwed up his face quizzically. “Is the dark boy the boss?”
The pug boy shook his head. “Nah, that’s Alton, he’s the deputy. Max is the boss. He runs this place most of the time, and we all do what he says.”
Joey folded his arms stubbornly. “I won’t.”
The guard had had enough and brandished his stick menacingly. “Yes, you will. You’ll come with me to the kids’ room now, or I’ll bash you.”
It was curiosity not weakness that made Joey finally decide to comply. He wanted to know more about the place and peering out of a tiny window could only tell him so much. As he walked slightly ahead of the stick wielding teenager he asked more questions.
“How long have you been here?” and “How old are you?”
The boy responded in a conversational tone, seemingly glad of the chat.
“I’m fourteen and I’ve been here a year.”
“Where were you before?”
The boy scowled. “Before doesn’t matter. We don’t need it any more.”
Mentioning the past seemed to trigger a mood change in him and he prodded Joey in the back.
“Stop being so bloody nosy. It’ll land you in the shit.”
They’d reached a door and he nodded Joey to open it. It swung back to reveal another large room.
“Alton says you’re young for your age, so you’re in here for a few months.”
It was a virtual copy of the original playroom he’d visited, but with occupants who ranged from around ten years old to his own age. All boys. Joey’s curiosity reared again.
“There are no girls.”
“No shit, Sherlock. The boss says they’re too much trouble, so there’s just us. It’s better fun this way.”
With no warning the teenager raised his stick and shoved Joey hard across the threshold, slamming the door shut behind him with a warning.
“Get used to being here or you’ll be no good to us, and you’ll be gone.”
Joey Parfitt was left staring at his new companions, wondering what sort of hell he was in.
****
High Street Station Carpark.
“Where to now, boss?”
Craig glanced up from the number he was dialling. “Nowhere for a minute. Think about your plan and do something else.”
Liam tried to recall what he’d said twenty minutes earlier. It took him a minute; in his experience things always came faster to him when he didn’t actually think.
He’d already asked Harry if he’d seen any adults, but the boy’s answer had been no, although he couldn’t be certain of the blond boy’s age. Now things were being set up for him to view the CCTV and meanwhile they’d called the alert for Joey, organised Miranda to supervise it, and the Castlederg troops were heading out to search. Annette had been tasked with chasing up the boy’s disappearance from the care home and collating a list of possibles, and everyone else was busy doing their own thing.
The D.C.I. shook his head emphatically. Nope, he couldn’t think of anything else they should be doing until Mike gave them more on the cocaine.
“The bases are covered, boss. All I need to do is get the gen on the coke and then contact Karl Rimmins in Drugs.”
Craig looked up from his call. “And the van?”
Liam tutted. He’d completely forgotten about that. He clambered out of the car and re-entered the station, arriving back a minute later.
“Got the description and passed it to Davy.”
Craig nodded, still on the phone.
“I’ll talk to you in a minute. I’ve another call to make.”
“Who to?”
He gestured at Liam’s phone.
“I’ll tell you after you’ve chased up Mike and Karl.” Any further questions were prevented by Nicky responding to his call. “Nicky, is Mary there, please?”
She was, but as she still hadn’t removed her jewellery, using the excuse that she needed to buy some sleeper studs to keep her piercings open before she did, as if anyone would believe they’d close up in a few days, Nicky was disinclined to pass anything or anyone across to her.
Craig could hear his PA gearing up for a rant and pre-empted her.
“Yes, I know her piercings aren’t out yet, but she assured me they would be after the weekend when she’s bought the suds or something.”
“Studs, and she could go out and get them now.”
“No, she couldn’t, because I need her to do something, so transfer my call now, please.”
She muted the line in protest and the next sound that Craig heard was Mary Li’s eager voice.
“Hello, sir, what can I do for you?”
“Mary, I need you to get down to Traffic and look for a van. It travelled down the M1 West on Tuesday. Check from eleven a.m. to around four, just to be safe.” Harry’s watch could have been wrong. “I’m not sure what colour it was, but Davy has the details, and it had a shuttered opening at one end.” He suddenly remembered that Liam was sitting there.
“Liam, what colour did Harry say the van was?”
The D.C.I. said, “hang on, Karl” and covered his mobile before answering, “white.”
“Markings?”
“He didn’t see the sides, just the back as he was running away, but it was a Ford. And before you ask, no, he didn’t hang around to get the reg.”
“I don’t suppose he saw whether the outside of the shutter was painted on not?”
“Hardly. It was rolled up when he ran.”
The ubiquitous white Ford van; somebody up there hated them.
Craig returned to his call. “Sorry about that, Mary. It seems the van was a white Ford with a shutter at one end, which would probably have been steel coloured or white as well. The vehicle may or may not have had markings. It’s important that we find it ASAP, there’s a missing child involved, so go down to Traffic now, please.”
The constable’s heart sank; back in Gabe Ronson’s domain only five days after she’d left. But she could understand why Craig had asked her. If anyone should know Traffic’s systems it was her.
“OK, sir.”
“Good. I’d like you back for the briefing at six, please, with or without the information.”
He hung up and stared straight ahead, thinking of his next steps while he waited for Liam to finish his call to Drugs. As soon as the D.C.I. was free Craig threw him the car keys and swopped seats.
“The Aerial Support Unit, please, Driver. We need to look at some maps.”
Chapter Seventeen
The ASU. Holywood. 4 p.m.
An hour later the detectives knew more about the geography of County Tyrone than they’d ever wanted to, specifically the terrain and vegetation of Killeter Forest. Craig stared at the various maps Theo Sheridan had provided for them in turn, starting with the least foreign to him, the Ordnance Survey map. From there it was Google Earth images of fields and trees, followed by virtual travelling down the local roads and tracks, and then higher level aerial surveillance views that had been plotted by aircraft over the years. When they got to the satellite and drone images that Kyle and Andy had viewed previously things finally began to make more sense.
Craig tapped the map table.
&
nbsp; “How old are these, Theo?”
Sheridan answered, his approach more cordial than it had been with Kyle.
“Four days, but if you tell me what you’re looking for in particular, I might have some newer information. We have ultrasound, ground-penetrating radar, and ’copter fly overs as recently as yesterday.”
“Buildings”, and, “a van”, came from the detectives in turn. Craig deferred to his deputy and they took the van first.
“OK. When?”
“Tuesday. Harry said he looked at his watch on the way there and it was two p.m., but to be safe let’s check between eleven and four.”
“Where?”
“The van came from Belfast but arrived near these GPS coordinates.” Craig passed across his phone. “It’s a farm near the forest owned by a Bartholomew Dwyer, so a few miles either side of that is the area we need to check.
They watched as Sheridan pulled up a map that covered the five miles around Dwyer’s farm. He ran a finger between the motorway and the farmhouse.
“OK, the only route between the motorway and that farm is this side road, so that’s where we’ll look.”
Before the detectives could respond he began flicking through images for the designated time period on a separate wall-screen. When the flicking ceased, Liam shook his head glumly.
“No van on those.”
Sheridan was undeterred. “Those were five-minute cuts. It’s just possible that the van got down that road and disappeared in less than that time. Let’s try two-minute slices.”
They watched as the flicking restarted, and as the images flew past Craig suddenly shouted, “STOP!”
“This one?”
“No. A bit farther back.”
The images backtracked slowly until both detectives were nodding their heads. At the edge of the woodland there was a rectangular shape that could have been a vehicle’s roof, and as Sheridan enhanced the image they could see that it was white.
“It looks like a van, boss. The high-sided, panel sort.”
“It certainly does, and fingers crossed that it’s a Ford. There can’t be many makes of vans that would fit. Give Davy a call with the info, will you.”
As the D.C.I. did that, Craig asked for the image to be magnified several more times, then he rose to his feet and peered at the screen.
“Take a look at this, Liam.”
The deputy ended his call and joined him, watching as Craig ran a finger slowly around a smaller, more blurred shape.
“Does this look like a person to you? Someone with fair hair?”
“Aye, it does.” He tapped the screen alongside. “Here’re the others, you can just make out the tops of their heads. The kid was right, there were six of them.”
Craig turned to their host. “I know it’s the wrong angle, but is there any way of estimating heights from these images?”
Sheridan considered for a moment before replying. “Not the group standing together, but maybe the one that you ringed first. It was a bright day by the looks of it, so the length of their shadow could give us a clue. Shall I do it now?”
Craig shook his head. “Call me with it later, if you would. Are there any more photos of the van?”
The unit commander played the next set of images but there was nothing more to be seen.
“They must have shifted it bloody fast. Those slices are only two minutes apart.”
He was surprised when both detectives said, “Good”.
“Why good?”
Craig gave him his answer.
“Because if the van disappeared that quickly then there are only two places it could be. Either they hid it inside some nearby building, or they drove it deeper into the forest and the foliage is too dense for your camera to see through. That takes me us on to the second thing I wanted to ask you to look for. Buildings.”
“What size?”
“Let’s start with any buildings within five miles, and can you adjust your filters to show any there might be inside the forest as well?”
The commander didn’t answer, busy changing the parameters. The first image that appeared revealed a series of large and small buildings, the majority of which were on what they knew was Bartholomew Dwyer’s land.
“Those three are probably his barns, and that one looks the right size for a farmhouse.”
Liam squinted at the shapes. “Those barns are easy big enough to hold a van, boss. And the one nearest the forest could have been reached in two minutes.”
It wasn’t ringing Craig’s bell, but the logic deserved to be played through.
“OK. I’m not sold on it, but give the search party leader a call and tell them to search all of Dwyer’s barns and outbuildings for the van and boy. They’ll need a warrant if he gets stroppy.”
“You think it’s him, boss?”
“Unlikely, I don’t think he’d have taken Harry to the cops if it was. But we have to check. Plus, he gave the boy a hard time, so he deserves the hassle.”
Craig tapped a smaller shape just outside the forest. “I think that might be the gamekeeper’s bungalow. Just give me a minute to check.”
A quick call to Aidan provided the address, and after translating it into GPS coordinates his belief was confirmed. While Liam was still on his call Craig asked for a change of scene.
“Can we look at the forest itself, Theo? Whatever you need to do to show any sort of man-made dwelling within it.”
Sheridan played around with density readings and filters until they could just make out three buildings inside the wood, one which the commander knew was Appside from Andy’s and Kyle’s visit the day before, and the second was a tiny structure, barely larger than one room. The third building had a larger footprint and sat right in Killeter Forest’s heart.
Just then Liam came off his call, nodding.
“They’ll search Dwyer’s place ASAP.” He gazed at the wall-screen. “Where are you now?”
“Killeter Forest.” Craig gestured at the largest of the three shapes. “That one’s Appside.”
Sheridan interjected. “The visible portion. It goes back for miles beneath that hill, and down for at least six storeys. I checked it out for your guys yesterday. A large portion of it has a metallic shield.”
Liam gave a snort. “And we know why.”
Craig’s shake of the head told him the radioactivity wasn’t up for general discussion, so he changed the subject hastily.
“Davy’s just told me the place was built in two thousand and nine.”
The information made Craig frown. “Nine years and nothing ever hit the press? The governments certainly kept a lid on it.” He stored the information and moved on. “OK. If the building just outside the forest is the gamekeeper’s house it would make sense that the tiny one inside is his hut.”
Liam’s eyes were already on the third building. “What’s that one then? A forest doesn’t need two keeper’s huts, does it?”
Craig gave a slow smile. “No, it does not…”
****
Tyrone. 5 p.m.
Aidan Hughes was feeling chuffed with himself. Not only had he not had a cigarette all day, but he’d just dragged some interesting information out of Jeannie Underwood, and he hadn’t even had to shine a light in her eyes. He held off from outright congratulating himself because he knew he’d had an unfair advantage. The director had been vulnerable, so vulnerable that a first week probationer could probably have cracked her, courtesy of just that morning having been informed that she’d been exposed to radiation for God only knew how long.
A sense of one’s own mortality tends to have an effect on most people, ranging from a sudden conversion to religion and beseeching of an ever-loving God, although, the D.C.I. reflected, even the most tolerant deity must get fed up of only ever hearing from people when they found themselves in schtuck, through a desire to cry or scream and then run and hide, to the sort of laissez faire phlegmatic approach that Andy seemed to take every day of his life.
Jeannie Underwood h
ad fallen firmly into the middle group, and Aidan had felt quite sorry for the woman despite the toxic facility over which she’d presided, so he hadn’t pressed her hard and his light-touch questioning had yielded a result. One that he was calling to tell Craig about now.
Aidan caught his boss heading for the labs, Liam’s drive back to the office interrupted by a call from John asking to see them again. Where Craig had really wanted to be going was Killeter Forest; the building they’d just seen at aerial support needed to be reccy-ed ASAP. He could have sent in the local search party that was already looking for the van, but he wanted to wait till they’d checked everywhere else for it and Joey Parfitt, to give the forest building’s eventual search legitimacy. Plus, he wanted to check the place out himself, not only to satisfy his own curiosity but because he had a hunch that the local uniforms might be seriously out of their depth with what they’d find.
Craig stared at the caller’s ID before he answered his phone.
“Aidan. Why are you calling? Aren’t you coming to the briefing later?”
“I am surely, I’m already on the road. I just thought you’d like to hear what I found out. Jeannie Underwood and Niall Canavan are an item.”
Craig’s eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t seen that one coming. “A romantic item?”
Liam, who’d been listening in, was tempted to say, “no, an unknown item in the bagging area”, but topical as it was it was a tad too long to be pithy, so he left it alone.
“Yes. Apparently, they’ve been together for nine years, although it’s been on and off.”
Nine years. Around the time Appside had been built.
Craig wasn’t sure what to make of the information, but it was certainly interesting.
“OK, thanks for letting me know. We’ll see you later.”
The detectives had just arrived at the Path Labs’ carpark, so the topic was discussed as they walked in.
The Running of the Deer Page 28