by Ted Tayler
Before he knew it, the clock had ticked around to half-past eight. The minicab waited outside the old stable block. He collected his gear and jumped in beside his driver.
“Here we go again then Phoenix.”
“Same old, same old. A few days of fresh country air, what could be nicer?” Phoenix replied.
When they pulled up outside Bath Spa station Colin got out of the cab, bought his ticket and waited for the Plymouth train. Once on board, he knew a three-hour trip via Temple Meads in Bristol lay ahead. He bought a newspaper to give him something to do and to help ward off any fellow passengers who had the urge to engage him in conversation. He managed that with ease as his carriage was only half full.
The number of platforms at the station when he arrived gave him a big surprise. He always thought Devon and Cornwall were filled with quaint picturesque villages, with roses round the door. Colin hadn’t expected a city. At least, he was relieved when he got outside the station that a five-minute walk took him to the town centre.
Colin found a pub that looked as if it served a reasonable pint and a pie. He stayed there an hour discovering that it was far better than that. Colin was in no rush to go outside. It was a miserable day, wet and windy. Typical for an autumn day in that part of the world. Colin had checked the weather forecast and knew he could expect this throughout the weekend, and overnight temperatures would drop to freezing or thereabouts.
Once you took everything into consideration; they were perfect conditions.
At just after half-past two, Colin set out towards Plympton. He then headed for the south-west corner of the national park and a village called Shaugh Prior. He wanted to get half of the journey to Princeton done tonight. The walking route was signposted most of the way. When it got too dark to use his map and compass, his torch would help him stay on the right track.
The weather helped keep most of the dog walkers at home and the minor roads contained little traffic. If a car or van headed towards him Colin ducked under the shelter of the trees by the side of the road when he spotted their headlights.
At last, he arrived at the tiny village and made his way into the fields behind the old church. Colin found a sheltered spot and erected his one-man tent. The training sessions he had endured with Rusty and his colleagues were now paying dividends. The former SAS men had schooled him in living rough for long periods of time. If necessary, Colin could have waited until next weekend for Sir Godfrey to arrive. He knew how to hole up in the woods with nobody knowing he was there, except for the small animals he would need to kill to sustain himself.
Colin was happy knowing he would meet up with his target tomorrow. He had brought enough tinned grub and a spirit burner and stand to cook up a meal tonight and in the morning. A few bars of chocolate would keep hunger at bay while he waited up during the day tomorrow for the opportunity to dispense with Sir Godfrey.
He survived cooking with alcohol, and a night in the tent. Not without a disturbed sleep though as a fox paid a brief visit to the newcomer to the neighbourhood.
Before dawn broke in the morning he packed away his kit. He tidied the ground where he had pitched his tent. Then he set off to walk the eight miles to Princeton. Colin stuck to the tracks and minor roads at the start as there wasn’t much chance of any traffic that early. He set out across the country as he got closer to the village.
Colin took a pair of field glasses from his rucksack and scanned the surrounding scene. North Hessary Tor lay to his left. The prison straight in front of him. He hurried on with his search, he didn’t want to think too much about that place. To his right, he made out the small cluster of buildings that included Sir Godfrey’s weekend retreat.
He moved across the rough terrain towards the village. Colin looked through the glasses again. The Range Rover was parked outside the cottage. There was no sign of anyone being up yet. He checked his wristwatch again. Half-past nine, Sir Godfrey was having a lie-in.
Colin spotted movement outside the cottage. He recognised his target. He wore a familiar brand waxed jacket; faded red cord trousers and a flat cap. Sir Godfrey threw a large blanket and a holdall into the back of the vehicle and carefully placed a sizeable wicker hamper in the passenger seat. With a glance left and right to see if his near neighbours were watching him, he jumped into the driver’s seat and sped away.
Colin watched as the Range Rover headed towards Tor Royal Lane and set off on foot in the same direction. Colin’s map showed that the village surrounded by moorland. Several footpaths across the moor passed through the village, including one leading west to Sampford Spiney and one leading south to Nun's Cross and Erme Head.
Tor Royal Lane itself appeared to lead from the village to a disused tin mine, two miles to the south-east. If Penrose headed there, it would take Colin thirty minutes at least to catch up with him. He tried not to think what the old sod might get up to while he trudged across the moor. He looked again at his map, then he scanned the surrounding fields for signs of life. Right across the moorlands, he saw splashes of colour.
“Anoraks,” he whispered, not being derogatory. They were anoraks, highly coloured ones, with boys and girls aged fourteen to nineteen inside them. They were walking from what his map informed him was the National Park Visitor Centre. An activity hub based where an old hotel once stood.
“What is he doing?” thought Colin. A look at the map showed that further on from the tin mine were the Fox Tor Mires. He had read somewhere this sometimes boggy region was the basis of the Grimpen Mire in that story about Sherlock Holmes. A load of tosh, though, according to the picture they had put in the book he read. That showed a herd of sheep grazing slap bang in the middle of it without a care in the world. There wasn’t much chance of the Mires swallowing up Sir Godfrey.
The distance between the walker and the Range Rover closed. Colin spotted that the open rear door. As he continued his steady yomp across the wet moorland, he worked out the old man’s intentions.
“The crafty bastard. He’s posing as a volunteer. In an hour, the first bunch of kids will arrive near the Mires, and they still have around an hour’s walking; probably longer because they’ll be knackered. That hamper has got lots of food and hot drinks I’ll bet. The blanket in the back will be there to give them a comfortable dry place to rest up for a while if they’re struggling. Sir Godfrey will be the perfect host for groups of two or three as they stumble across his unscheduled pit stop. The ones in danger are the poor souls that get detached from the group and are soldiering on alone. The first sign of a blister or a touch of cramp and he’ll have them in the back of the Range Rover. Penrose could take them somewhere they don’t want to go. What did he have in that holdall he threw in the back with the blanket? Shit. It doesn’t bear thinking about.”
With the weather closing in, Colin got as near as he dared. There wasn’t much cover out there. At least the kit he selected on the advice of Rusty gave him as much camouflage as possible. He baulked at wearing the hat that looked like a clump of earth. That might be fine in the movies, but walking along the side of a B-road, he would stick out like a sore thumb.
Colin was prone now as he watched the scene unfold through his glasses. Here they come. Penrose sat on the tailgate of the Range Rover holding a thermos flask up high in his left hand. Three kids stop to chat. Others walk on by. Good for you, keep going. The pattern continues. Colin had four squares of his chocolate to keep him going. It’s freezing and wet out there, but he knows he has to keep watching and waiting. The anoraks thin out and the gaps between them get longer and longer. It won’t be long now.
Three or four minutes after a group of boys had set off again towards the Visitor Centre, warmed with a cup of coffee or tea. Across the bleak stretch of moorland, a single red anorak appeared. Colin saw a girl of about fifteen, blonde hair plastered to her head with the rain. She was limping.
Sir Godfrey hurried towards her. With one arm around her shoulders and the other under her legs, he swept her off her feet and hurried ba
ck to the Range Rover. Colin watched as the girl collapsed onto the blanket, too tired to sense danger. At first, Colin thought Sir Godfrey would drive off straight away, but he leant into the back and started touching the young girl.
Colin looked in both directions. There were no anoraks in sight. This was his only chance. He got up and started running. His field glasses bounced on his chest and the rucksack hit his back with every step. He soon covered the distance between his hiding place and the Range Rover. The girl lay on her back, her anorak had been removed, and Sir Godfrey was talking to her in a soothing tone: -
“Jessica,” he said “I’m just going to loosen your clothing. I’m worried your core body temperature is low. You may be suffering from exposure. I recommend we get you warmed up with a brisk massage.”
Sir Godfrey jumped when he heard Colin scrambling on the wet grass and loose stones. He found it difficult to stop once he reached the vehicle.
“What the hell,” Godfrey began, but Colin held him by the front of his coat. It was no contest. The younger man overpowered him in seconds. Colin would have liked to brain him there and then. There were enough small rocks on hand to do the job. The red face of the man beneath him and the heavy breathing he heard when he leant over the defenceless girl was evidence enough for Colin. There was no first aid coming her way. Sir Godfrey planned to rape her.
Colin bundled Penrose into the passenger seat of the Range Rover and twisting his arms back above his head he handcuffed him to the headrest; he wasn’t going anywhere. Sir Godfrey cursed and swore, telling Colin what would happen to him when his friend the Lord Lieutenant heard of this outrage. Colin had heard enough. He grabbed a roll of duct tape from the rucksack and once he tore off a strip and wrapped it around the old man’s mouth, silence reigned.
In the back of the vehicle, Jessica was confused and semi-conscious. Colin realised she didn’t have a clue what had happened. He found a flask in the hamper with plenty of tea to spare, he poured her a cup and added three lumps of sugar. Penrose came well prepared. Colin eased Jessica out of the Range Rover and gathered up the blanket. He wrapped it around her shoulders and encouraged her to finish up the warm drink.
Colin looked across the moorland behind the vehicle and spotted more dots of colour two hundred yards away. He left Jessica the flask and food. He pointed towards the approaching youngsters.
“Your mates will be along in a minute,” he said, “they’ll get you back to the Visitor Centre.
“Where are you going?” she asked, “what happened to the other man?”
“He had a nasty turn,” said Colin, “I’m rushing him off to get medical attention.”
“Okay,” the young girl said. “I hope he’s OK. He was so keen to help. I felt faint and so cold. I must have gone for a minute or two.” Jessica nodded at the cup she cradled in both hands. She smiled up at him and said, “thanks for this.”
Colin gave her shoulder a squeeze; he didn’t tell her what a lucky escape she’d had. He fished a pair of gloves out of his pocket. After he slipped them on he closed the rear door and climbed into the driver’s seat of the Range Rover. He found the keys in Sir Godfrey’s jacket. The old man started writhing around trying to get free. Colin thumped him hard in the stomach and told him to stop wasting his time.
Once they got underway, he started to re-evaluate his plans. He was doing things off-the-cuff today, and that wasn’t the norm. The map showed the disused tin mine on the route the walkers may well be taking. To hide up there for a while was out of the question. Colin drove back towards the top of Tor Royal Lane. He had about two hour’s daylight left. Sir Godfrey was a frequent visitor to Princeton. The Range Rover was unlikely to attract much attention parked outside his own house, but it was too risky to take him back there just yet.
The surveillance team hadn’t found evidence of Sir Godfrey forming many social contacts in the region, apart from the Lord Lieutenant and possibly a few other notables. They were the acquaintances a creep like Penrose was prone to attach himself. Colin doubted if the ordinary man in the street would blink if the Range Rover parked up in the countryside, somewhere off the beaten track. There were a few unnamed roads and tracks within a five-minute drive towards Two Bridges. Colin headed off to find a suitable hiding place until it got dark. A quiet spot that gave him a chance to put the finishing touches on his new plan for Sir Godfrey.
CHAPTER 17
The rain continued to fall. The dark clouds that heralded the night almost touched the roof of the farm buildings in the distance. Colin sat huddled up in the driver’s seat while Sir Godfrey Penrose huffed and puffed next to him. Time to move.
Colin took the minor road back through the scattered communities surrounding Princeton and edged the Range Rover into its parking place outside the cottage. He killed the lights as he approached. He wanted to keep his arrival a secret from a neighbour poking a nose through a window in a nearby property. The last thing they did before drawing the curtains and preparing for a long autumn evening.
Colin looked at the keyring in the ignition. There were half a dozen other keys on the chain. It was his lucky day. He got out, flicked through the options, picked one and opened the front door. As he returned to the passenger door, he stared hard at Sir Godfrey; a pair of beady frightened eyes stared back.
“We’re going inside now Penrose. Don’t cause me any grief.”
Colin grabbed the holdall from the back of the vehicle and then released the old man from the headrest. He bundled him in through the front door of the cottage. With a quick glance to check they hadn’t been seen he closed the door behind them.
“Right, let’s get you sorted,” he said. The old man was uncomfortable due to the length of time and the awkward way he was handcuffed. Parts of him were numb; others had the life coming back to them. One part needed emptying. Overall, he wasn’t a happy bunny. Colin showed him no sympathy.
He dragged the old man upstairs into a bedroom and shoved him onto the bed. Colin retrieved the handcuffs from his coat pocket and Sir Godfrey found himself firmly secured once more.
“This place must look as if it’s shut up tight for the night,” said Colin. “So you’ll lie there while I’m working.
Sir Godfrey mumbled something, but the duct tape made it unintelligible. Colin didn’t listen, he drew curtains, switched on a light or two and wondered what was on the TV. He channel-hopped for two minutes but nothing took his fancy. He spotted a CD player and a collection of classical albums. After a few minutes, he found a copy of Vivaldi’s ‘Four Seasons’ among them and started it playing. It wasn’t Iron Maiden or Judas Priest, but it would do.
Colin wandered around the cottage, peering into drawers and cupboards. He had no specific reason for this search, he was just being nosy. He didn’t expect to discover anything to further incriminate Sir Godfrey here in Devon. The surveillance boys hadn’t found evidence on any of his phones or computers to suggest he was into pornography via a digital medium. Penrose was a ‘hands-on’ person, pure and simple. But not too much emphasis on the pure.
When he got fed up with mooching around the cottage he opened the holdall he had left in the hallway when they entered the cottage. He found a camera, several lengths of rope, a phial of something or other and a cloth; a packet of condoms and a packet of wet wipes. Colin stopped rummaging. He had seen enough. Sir Godfrey had been going to take his time with this victim. Chloroform or something similar had been in the phial he planned to knock out Jessica. He needed her out long enough to find a remote spot. Somewhere he could do what he liked with her and then take pictures of the poor girl.
Colin returned to the bedroom and looked in on Sir Godfrey. He had wet himself. Colin shook his head and tutted.
“Oh dear,” he said. “I suppose I’d better get on with it. No sense keeping you waiting any longer. You have been abusing young people since your early days in the Territorial Army. Young Jessica today was fortunate that I stopped you adding another victim to the list. How many others you
abused between the TA and today, we may never know. It might amuse you to learn we uncovered your secret by accident. When you worked for Defence Personnel, Welfare and Veterans you didn’t defend the moral obligation this country owes its service personnel when they finish active duty. You left veterans to struggle, mentally and financially on your watch, while you lived in luxury. My superiors felt you needed to be brought to account. To have the best evidence available, they dug deeper. As soon as they discovered the truth, statements were taken from the men and women you molested. They agreed your account could not be settled. It needed to be closed.”
As Colin spoke, Sir Godfrey’s eyes grew wider and wider as he realised just how much this man knew. Who were his superiors? What statements were these? Account closed? These thoughts crowded into his head as he grasped the seriousness of his situation. He crawled away from Colin until he hugged the headboard; in a vain effort to get away from the devil standing at the foot of his bed.
“We’re taking a trip,” said Colin.
He left Sir Godfrey and walked downstairs to the lounge. He emptied his rucksack onto the carpet and replaced the items one by one. Colin checked those things he needed to have to hand lay at the top. Colin resumed his search of the cottage. Just to see items lying around that could be identified as belonging to Penrose. When the police inevitably found his body, the fewer unexplained items the better.
In the spare bedroom, he found what he wanted. Sir Godfrey didn’t entertain overnight guests it appeared. The bed lay unmade; piled up with clutter. The floor space was littered with unopened cardboard boxes that looked untouched since the old man moved here. Colin collected a tent, a groundsheet, a lamp, propane cooking stove, matches, paper plates and plastic cutlery. When he returned to the kitchen, he found cans, a tin opener, and a mug. He put a few teaspoons of coffee granules into a ziplock bag and ripped a trash bag off a roll he found in a cupboard.
