Gone in the Night

by Mary-Jane Riley

  ‘How can you be sure?’

  ‘Look here,’ she pointed at the chain. ‘See that catch and the extra piece that acts as a safety chain?’ Alex looked, and sure enough, there was a safety chain and the gold links didn’t match the rest of it. ‘I bought him this some years ago and he never took it off. He lost it one day, that’s when we had the safety catch put on, but the jeweller made it very chunky and it doesn’t match the – oh, for fuck’s sake, it’s his, okay?’

  She nodded slowly. ‘I believe you. He was wearing the chain when I found him by the Land Rover.’

  ‘So that means he’s gone back over to the island, doesn’t it? And I think that’s where the other missing homeless people might be, too. I mean. Martin. Lindy. Nobby. It makes sense, doesn’t it? A deserted island with stories about ghosts and UFOs—’

  ‘And anthrax.’

  ‘Anthrax?’

  ‘I’ll tell you later, but go on.’

  ‘That’s where they ship these people after giving them offers of work. But why?’

  ‘If that’s so, why was Lindy’s body found on the railway track?’

  ‘Perhaps they—’

  ‘Whoever “they” are,’ interjected Alex.

  ‘All right. Perhaps “they” had no further use for Lindy for some reason. Oh, I don’t know, Alex.’ She viciously stubbed her cigarette in the ashtray. ‘We need to find out.’

  The increase in bodies washed up on the coast. The number of bodies on the railway line. She shook her head. Surely not?

  ‘I need to go over there.’

  Alex looked at Cora. ‘Go over there?’

  ‘To the island. Somehow. There has to be a way.’ She gazed at Alex earnestly. ‘And you know something. I can see it in your face.’

  Alex shook her head. No, there was no way—

  ‘He’s my brother.’ Cora’s shout made Alex jump. ‘He’s the only family I have left and I need to find him. If you know a way to get across to the island and land somewhere out of the way that doesn’t involve me swimming, then please tell me. Alex, I’m begging you.’

  Cora’s stare was making her feel uncomfortable. ‘There might be a way. But it’s too dangerous.’

  ‘You don’t need to come.’

  Alex sighed. ‘There’s a man – Reg – who spends his time in one of the fishing huts on Gisford Quay. He might do it. Take you over, I mean.’

  A slow smile spread across Cora’s face. Her skin had lost its waxy look. ‘That’s brilliant, Alex. Brilliant. Will you take me to the quay? I haven’t any transport and – look.’ She reached inside her pocket and took out a piece of paper that she spread out on the table. This was a completely different Cora to the one a few minutes before, as if a switch had been flicked. From depressed to manic in one jump.

  ‘A map,’ said Cora, ‘of the island.’

  Alex nodded. ‘I’ve got one of those. Lauren from the paper sent it to me.’

  ‘Ah, but this map is different. Look.’ She stabbed at the map with her finger. ‘I’ve marked where there are security cameras, at least the ones I’ve seen. And these buildings here, and here,’ more finger stabbing, ‘are where I have seen lights, very occasionally. And these buildings?’ Another stab. ‘They’re underground and I reckon something goes on in there. I’ve spoken to people who say sometimes they’ve seen a mysterious and ghostly mist hanging over the middle of the island. I don’t think it’s mysterious and ghostly. There’s something substantial to it, I’m sure of that.’ She stared at Alex, her face flushed, her eyes bright.

  ‘How do you know all this? And why haven’t you said anything before?’

  Cora had the grace to lose the smile. ‘I had to get you onside, didn’t I? I had to be sure you were genuine. For all I knew, you could have been in the Riders’ pockets. After all, you went to their charity thing and you’ve been on a couple of dates with Jamie Rider. How did I know you weren’t working for them?’

  ‘What makes you so sure now that I’m not?’

  ‘Instinct, mainly. And your passion. I really believe you mean to write about people on the streets.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Alex replied, drily.

  Her sarcastic tone was lost on Cora. ‘The thing is, I’ve taken a boat over there before. I haven’t landed it, obviously, but I was able to take pictures.’

  ‘Didn’t they see you?’ Alex couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  She grinned. ‘Once. I waved as if I was a day tripper and didn’t realize I shouldn’t be there. The guard waved back, can you believe it? The Riders should pay more and then perhaps they would employ people who had a bit of brains. It’s that thing, isn’t it, about being confident and looking as though you belong in a place. A bit like holding a clipboard when you want people to think you’re important. I also sat on Gisford Quay for hours on end, watching. And strong binoculars help.’ She looked pleased with herself.

  ‘When did you do all this?’

  ‘A while back now,’ Cora admitted. ‘I know the Riders are not all they seem—’

  ‘And you wanted to get something on them.’

  ‘Precisely. I knew they were up to something, but I couldn’t find out what.’

  ‘And Rick helped you?’

  Cora’s shoulders slumped. ‘He wasn’t meant to, not this way.’ She looked at Alex, eyes shining with unshed tears. ‘And now I’m so worried about him.’

  ‘I think it’s time you told me what Rick has been doing.’

  Cora took another cigarette out of the packet Alex had left on the table and lit up. She nodded. ‘Rick came to Norwich to live, as I told you. He said it was his favourite city and he needed to get his head together. But, like I said, it all went wrong and he ended up on the streets. That’s when he saw Lewis Rider again for the first time since, well, since, you know.’

  Alex nodded. Since Cora was raped.

  ‘He was with a couple of his bodyguard types. Luckily Lewis Rider didn’t see him, but later Rick saw the bodyguards – henchmen I suppose – going round the city talking to rough sleepers. That’s when they started disappearing.’

  ‘How long ago?’

  ‘About a year. Maybe less.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Rick heard rumours they were being made slaves of some sort. Taken to the Riders’ farm, he thought, and made to work in God knows what. Have you heard about that? In this day and age? I mean, slavery? Didn’t that go out hundreds of years ago?’

  Alex nodded. ‘Sadly, it is still around. Modern day slavery. Usually it’s people trafficked from abroad for the sex industry. Though there are families who’ve been imprisoned for holding people against their will in this country – vulnerable people – and making them work for nothing. Building work, mostly. Tarmacking drives. They usually live in foul old caravans, which is why my ears pricked up when Jamie said the workers at the farm lived in them.’

  ‘It’s a fucked-up world, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not entirely.’ Alex smiled. ‘Why didn’t he go to the police?’

  ‘Police? You are fucking joking, aren’t you? For a start he was a homeless guy and who would believe him? Especially when pitted against the most influential family in East Anglia. A family whose social circle includes the Assistant Chief Constable.’

  ‘Are you suggesting she’s involved in some way?’

  Cora shook her head and blew smoke into the air. ‘Not necessarily. Though it makes it difficult to know who to trust. Especially when it comes to the Riders and their friends. I told you how that family crushed me. And my parents. They would pin Rick under their shoe and grind him to dust if he’d gone to the authorities. No, he came up with his own fucking stupid plan.’ She dashed away tears on her cheek.

  ‘Go on.’ Alex hardly dared think what the plan was.

  Cora swallowed hard. ‘Rick would accept a job from Lewis’s two men and see where he was taken.’

  ‘So he wasn’t forced into that white van?’

  Cora shook her head. ‘He’d bought a buttonhole ca
mera off the Internet—’

  ‘He did what?’ Alex wanted to bury her head in her hands. Instead, she took a deep breath wanting to hear the rest of the sorry tale. ‘And what if Lewis saw him?’

  ‘I know. Stupid. He was convinced Lewis wouldn’t recognize him with his horrible long hair and beard. Filthy clothes. Smelly. And people don’t notice the homeless, the down-and-outs, the beggars, do they? How often do you walk past someone sitting on the streets? Especially if they’re rattling a jar or a tin. Sometimes all they want is a look, a smile, maybe a few coppers, but people look the other way. They don’t want to be involved.’

  Alex was uncomfortable. It was true: how much notice did she used to take of rough sleepers? None, in all honesty. And she often justified to herself that she shouldn’t give money because it would be spent on drink or drugs. That gave her the excuse to walk on by. But she should make more effort, like she had with Tiger. Oh, God, poor Tiger.

  ‘Anyway,’ Cora continued, ‘he was going to take photographs with his camera—’

  ‘Bought online.’ Alex shook her head in despair. ‘How did he know it would even work properly?’

  ‘He tried it out first. He’s not that stupid.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘But I knew it wouldn’t work. How could someone who was suffering from PTSD and who’d been living rough for weeks expect to take on hardened criminals? For all he told me he kept himself fit, he wouldn’t have been any match. I told him he should give up on it. We had a row. But he wouldn’t stop. He wanted to see it through. For me. He was doing it for me, and now it’s all gone wrong. I don’t even know if he’s alive or not. Whether he managed to find and photograph any evidence. Whether the whole thing has just been one mega fuck-up.’

  Alex made up her mind. ‘We’d better go and see then, hadn’t we?’

  ‘What?’

  Alex looked at Cora. This was ridiculous. Irresponsible. Stupid. What if something happened to Cora? What if they never found out what happened to Rick, could she live with herself? It was a chance she was willing to take. And besides, she was itching to know what was going on over at Gisford Ness. ‘Let’s go and find Reg, see if he’ll take us over to the island.’

  The adrenaline surged through her, but a little voice was asking her if she had made the most reckless decision of her life.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  DAY SIX: AFTERNOON

  A mist was rising off the water and swirling around the land as Alex pulled up in the harbour car park at Gisford.

  ‘Are you okay?’ She reached across and took Cora’s hand in hers. Perhaps this trip over to the island would answer some questions. Perhaps it would put them in too much danger. Was this the most stupid thing she had thought of doing? Alex almost turned the car around. Back to safety. To home. She would collect Ethel from John and then – and then she remembered Lindy and Martin and Nobby and Rick. And Tiger.

  ‘Cora, do you think Tiger was murdered?’

  Cora put her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. ‘I’m certain of it. Showing that picture around? Bad move. Got him noticed. Got him killed.’ She held her hand up. ‘Before you say it, I did report my suspicions to your friendly police officer and he said he’d look into it, but that it seemed like an open-and-shut case of accidental overdose.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t suppose they spent more than five minutes on it.’

  Alex’s stomach dropped. She had shown Jamie that picture. No use dwelling on that now. Perhaps the island would give them the answers they were looking for.

  She unbuckled her seat belt. ‘Come on. Let’s do this.’

  They made their way down to the shoreline and to the fishermen’s huts. There was a light in one, so Alex peered through the door. Reg in his beanie hat was mending one of his nets by the light of a paraffin lamp.

  ‘Reg?’

  He concentrated on mending his net. ‘Who wants to know?’

  ‘It’s me, Alex Devlin. I met you in the pub yesterday. With Seth. You said you might be able to take me to Gisford Ness.’

  ‘I did.’ His gnarled but nimble fingers continued with the net. ‘But then I got to wondering, why would you want to do that? It’s haunted, you know.’

  ‘I think there’s more to it than that.’

  He stopped working on the net and looked at Alex for the first time. ‘You may be right at that. Lights. Odd noises, especially out of the fog or the rain. I’ve been round the other side of the island a few times, though everyone says we’re not to. Even been shot at.’

  ‘Shot at?’ This from Cora.

  Reg narrowed his eyes. ‘And who may you be?’

  ‘I’m Cora. And I think my brother is being kept prisoner on that island.’

  ‘Do you now. Prisoner, eh? Like in one of them thrillers?’

  ‘A bit,’ said Alex. ‘More serious, though. Real life.’

  ‘Real life, eh? Well, well, well. Yes, I’ve bin shot at. They don’t want anyone anywhere near their precious island, those Riders. They say they’re protecting the wildlife. Though why they need great big fences with barbed wire on the top and men with guns I don’t know.’ He shook his head as if to emphasize how stupid people were. ‘I know a nice little landing place. Round the other side. But I reckon it’s a mite dangerous for you ladies. We have to navigate out of the channel, see.’

  Alex had to curb her impatience – men like Reg didn’t like to be rushed, she knew that, but, oh Lord, she wished he’d just say yes. ‘For a few minutes perhaps?’

  ‘You want me to hang around waiting while you go and get yourself caught and thrown off the island, is that what you want? Didn’t you hear me? It’s dangerous. And cold. We’d have to take the fishing boat or they might smell a rat. They need to smell the fish, you see.’ He chuckled.

  ‘Please, Reg,’ said Cora. She put her hand on Reg’s arm. ‘It’s my brother. I need to find him.’

  Reg sniffed. ‘I think you’re being fanciful. Prisoner? Though I do hear some strange noises at night when I’m here late, or doing some night fishing.’

  ‘A few minutes. To spy out the lie of the land. Please.’

  Alex held out three £20 notes.

  Reg eyed them and sighed. ‘The sea’s calm tonight and the forecast says it will be for a while yet. The fog could be a problem, or a blessing. It could get us there without being seen. Though there are the currents we have to be careful of. I don’t want your money. You can buy me a pie and a pint in the pub.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Alex.

  ‘We’ll wait till it’s darker, a lot darker. Can’t do no night fishing in the afternoon.’

  Two hours and copious cups of tea made with water heated on a primus stove later, they set off in Reg’s small fishing boat, Reg at the helm. Thankfully the water was calm. At first, Alex was tense and nervous. She hadn’t been on a boat since she had almost died on one on the Broads some months before. She made herself relax. This was nothing like that experience. It wasn’t going to happen again. She was here with Reg and Cora. No one was going to hurt her. Not on board the boat at any rate.

  Not having the stomach to call him, she fired off a quick text to Heath telling him what she and Cora were doing, before she lost the signal. He would be furious, but at least someone knew where she was going.

  A spotlight at the front guided them along the river towards the sea. The earlier mist had become thick fog and a blanket of eerie silence wrapped itself around them, with only the thrum of the engine to keep them company. The fog was good, it meant they were less likely to be seen, though it made it harder for Reg to find his landing place. Maybe he wouldn’t go through with it. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to. The guards on the island were used to seeing his boat around at night, Reg said. They didn’t like it but they would probably ignore him. Alex wasn’t sure she liked the ‘probably’. She shivered, pulling her coat around her. The wind and the rain had stopped, at least for now, but the damp and cold of the fog were seeping right into her bones. Reg had oilskins on
over his jumper; Cora wore her thin coat still. Neither seemed affected by the cold. None of them spoke.

  The lights of Gisford gradually faded behind them, and, as they rounded the corner of the spit that was Gisford Ness, disappeared altogether. Now they were out in the open sea and rolling more, although Reg was hugging the land as much as he could. Alex fancied she could feel the currents tugging at the little boat. She put her hand on the inside of the cabin to steady herself. The stench of fish was beginning to make her feel nauseous. Cora was standing on the deck of the boat, looking at the island. She appeared deep in thought.

  A sea breeze suddenly rushed around them. Alex could taste the salt. The sea was not the pond it had been earlier: waves were forming, with tips of white horses. The fog was clearing, to reveal a dark grey sky that was quickly changing into black. She peered through the boat’s window, now splattered with sea spray and saw the outline of the island, together with the abandoned lighthouse. There were no lights at all, as far as she could see.

  ‘How close can you get to shore?’ she asked Reg, pushing her wet hair out of the way and wishing she had a more waterproof coat, wishing she had come better prepared.

  ‘Pretty close. I’ll have to row you the rest of the way.’ The small rowing boat was tied up to the back of the boat and being pulled along. The stern, she should probably think of it as, but she had never been good at boat jargon.

  ‘Aren’t you worried they’ll see your light?’

  He shook his head, while expertly tugging the wheel this way and that. ‘If they do, they’ll only think I’m fishing. We have to be quiet in the rowing boat, though. Then if I take you to the right spot, I’ll show you how to get through the fence.’ He grinned and tapped his nose. ‘I’ve been around far too long not to know how to get into places.’

  Alex returned his smile.

  Five minutes later Reg threw the anchor overboard. They were as close as the fishing boat could get to the island.

  Reg hauled the rowing boat alongside. ‘Hop in.’