The Anglesey Murders Box Set

by Conrad Jones

  ‘They’ll close all the roads off and we’ll never get that shipment to the Karpovs today. If they don’t get it today, I’m dog meat.’

  ‘That psycho has got April hostage,’ Anwen snapped. ‘She’s my best friend and she’s got four kids. This isn’t even open for discussion, Joss. I’m calling the police and telling them what he’s seen, right now.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Anwen,’ Joss moaned. ‘Have you not listened to a word I’ve said. They’ll kill me.’

  ‘Well, you’ll just have to deal with that. She’s got four children and you’re a drug dealing idiot, so she takes priority.’

  ‘She’s right,’ Naz said. ‘You’re an idiot.’

  ‘Shut up, Naz. Give me an hour,’ Joss said. Anwen checked her watch. ‘Just one hour. We can cut the gear out and be away before the police get here. Please, Anwen. One hour.’

  ‘And what if he hasn’t killed her yet and we don’t call the police?’ Anwen was furious. ‘She has children, Joss. I remember when you were a decent man. What the fuck happened to you?’

  Joss stared at her as if he’d been slapped across the face. He looked at Naz for support but the expression on his face told him he needed to look elsewhere.

  ‘We need to phone the police, now, Joss,’ Naz said. ‘Why would they come near here?’

  ‘Because they have to pass it to get to the farm.’ They glared at him with disgust. He sighed and shook his head. ‘Just one hour.’

  ‘Not another minute,’ Anwen said. ‘Or you can take your stuff and get out of here right now.’

  ‘Shit!’ Joss moaned.

  ‘We’ll get it away from here,’ Naz said, reassuring him. ‘You know we have to call this in, and we have to do it now. This guy is a total fruitcake.’

  Joss didn’t say anything. He just nodded and put his welding goggles back on, going back to cutting the floorplan to get shipment out. They were right. April Bifelt was a lovely human being with children. His concern for himself was embarrassing and he felt ashamed of himself. He just hoped karma wouldn’t be a bitch this time around.

  CHAPTER 34

  Mathew was less than thirty yards from the security fence which surrounded the museum. A movement sensor had triggered a spotlight and he ducked behind a large sycamore tree. He waited until the light had gone off before taking out the mobile and switching it on. There was less than half a charge left. It cycled through its starting mode and a voicemail popped up. There was no way he was listening to it, no matter how curious he was. It would be the police trying to reach out and make contact and trace the phone at the same time. Not today. He pulled up the Internet and logged into the O9A site. His fingers were shaking as he uploaded the pictures, he’d taken at the Gould home. There were eighteen in total. They would be visceral and sickening to the majority of the human race but not to other Niners; they would be salivating like rabid dogs on heat. Within seconds, his post began to attract likes, comments, and shares; several of them at first, then it was dozens; quite quickly, there were hundreds of interactions. His notifications were in triple figures and heading for the thousands, then the one thing he’d been waiting for, happened. Fabienne messaged him directly into his inbox. He felt like his heart was going to explode.

  ***

  Alan looked at his mobile. The call was directed from a switchboard. He answered it and was surprised when the voice belonged to the emergency service, based in Chester. The operator said the caller had been transferred from the 999 switchboard to Holyhead and they’d asked the caller to wait while they transferred them to Alan directly.

  ‘DI Alan Williams,’ he answered.

  ‘Inspector Williams,’ the operator said. ‘We have a caller with a sighting of the fugitive you’re looking for. I thought it best they spoke to you in person.’

  ‘Have you checked they’re genuine?’

  ‘Yes, inspector. She’s genuine.’

  ‘Put them through please.’

  ‘Hello,’ a female voice said.

  ‘Who am I speaking to?’ Alan asked.

  ‘My name is Anwen. I own the Transport Museum.’

  ‘Hello, Anwen. Is that where you’re calling from?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay. What have you seen, Anwen?’

  ‘My friend saw it, actually. He saw a Renault Scenic driving across the field on the old Geurtjens horse farm down the road from here.’

  ‘And have you seen it there before?’ Alan asked, writing the address down.

  ‘No. The place has been empty, for years. I haven’t seen anyone there since I bought this place.’

  ‘How long ago was this?’

  ‘Maybe an hour,’ she said. ‘He didn’t think anything of it until we heard it on the radio that you were looking for a Scenic.’

  ‘What’s his name?’ Alan asked.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Your friend, who saw it?’

  ‘Oh. I see.’ Anwen hesitated.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hello, sorry.’

  ‘What’s your friend’s name?’

  ‘Naz,’ she said. ‘He’s a friend of my cousin, Joss.’

  ‘Okay, Anwen. We’ll check it out, thank you. We might need to talk to him later on.’

  He was about to ask her for some more details about Joss when another call flashed on the screen. It was Richard Lewis from the Holyhead station. ‘Thanks again, Anwen.’ He ended the call and answered the incoming one. ‘Richard. What is it?’

  ‘Alanio,’ Richard said. ‘I have good news. Hudson has logged into O9A, but he’s gone straight through the portal. I can see he’s online, but I can’t see what he’s up to.’

  ‘Do we know where he is?’

  ‘He’s logged on from the BT broadband hub at the Transport Museum at Tacla Taid.’

  ‘Thanks, Richard.’ Alan felt adrenalin coursing through his veins. He turned to his team of detectives, who were gathered around a table, looking at maps of the area. ‘Listen up. We need all available units to Tacla Taid. Hudson is logged into the Wi-Fi hub at the Transport Museum so, send half the units there and have half the units drive onto the Guertjens horse farm next door and check it out. The Renault was spotted driving across the fields about an hour ago.’

  ‘Do we need armed response, sir?’

  ‘Yes, we do. We’ll meet you there.’

  CHAPTER 35

  Mathew floated across the field in the dusk, his feet hardly touching the ground. Fabienne had told him how special he was to her. She told him that most of the followers of O9A didn’t have the backbone to cause real chaos. Many of them spouted about the anguish they caused in secret but when challenged for proof, their claims didn’t stack up. Most of them were losers who didn’t fit into society and were looking for something to believe in but when it came to putting the hard graft in, they fell short; they didn’t have the gumption to kill. She told him he would be remembered and revered for centuries and she told him that he must stay at liberty as long as he could. It was better to be blown away in a hail of bullets than to rot in a cell. Live your life like a firework. She encouraged him to carry on down the left-hand path until he reached his natural ending. He told her he had a policewoman and she told him to, ‘Go and create something hideous. Channel into the evil inside you and let it guide you; make something the world will despise. Make them shake their heads in anguish; make their hearts break, and their tears saturate their clothes. Let them see hell on earth. They need to see what is coming for them in all its terrible splendour.’

  He could have talked to her forever, but she told him he had to go and prepare the next step of his journey. Her words took all the doubts from his mind. Any thought of having empathy for April and her family was gone. She would be offered to the dark forces of the universe and he wouldn’t give it a second thought. He felt strong and special and powerful as he walked back to the farmhouse. As he reached it, he felt a chill wind from the west. It was dark now. He thought he’d heard her voice on the breeze. She was warning him
about something. He ran to the back of the house and found the drainpipe. It was a cast-iron pipe that ran from the ground to the roof gutters, fastened to the wall with metal bolts. There was a thick layer of rust on the surface; the paint was blistered and peeling. It would do. He went back to the porch and ducked under the grill into the kitchen and closed the door behind him. Running up the stairs, he went into the bathroom and tried to open the window. The handle creaked and groaned as the latch moved reluctantly. It clicked loudly as it slid, and he had to use all his weight to force open the window fully. He stood on the toilet and then climbed onto the cistern. The screws holding it shifted; the fittings were old, and the plaster was powdery now. He put one leg through the window into the night. His foot found the wastepipe and he tested to see if it would hold his weight. It seemed to be solid. He put his other leg outside and sat on the window ledge, standing to put all his weight on the pipe. It held. He looked up at the night sky and felt the dark energy of the universe. It was the most powerful thing he’d ever felt.

  Mathew scrambled back inside the bathroom and ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time. The steps protested with every tread. He opened the kitchen door and slipped outside, closing it behind him; he tidied up the porch by scraping some wood splinters from the mat. There was the sound of engines in the distance. He bent the metal grill straight against the frame and then replaced the screws, one at a time; his fingers felt clumsy and he dropped one, losing it in the darkness. He switched on the torch and scanned around; it had landed on the edge of the mat. Five minutes later, he’d fastened the hoarding back into place. It looked like it had never been touched since the eviction happened. He ducked low and ran around the back, checking around before beginning to shin up the drainpipe. The paint crumbled in his grip and he slipped and fell onto his back, staring up at the dark sky; clouds skidded across the darkness, playing hide and seek with the stars. He was winded for a moment. The sound of engines grew louder, and they were approaching the area fast. He jumped to his feet and tried again. This time, his grip held, and he reached a tee-joint where the bathroom wastepipe met the drain. He reached for the window ledge and scrambled inside, pulling the window closed behind him. The sound of the outside world was muffled. He smiled in the darkness and walked towards the bedrooms. There was nothing but the odd creaking sound of the old building settling in the cold night air. He unlocked the door and stepped inside; April was lying there waiting for him.

  ***

  Anwen and Joss were close to finishing one of the Defenders, Naz had already finished stripping his. The next stage was cutting through two layers of chassis to reach the cavity which would be lined with box-steel. Burning through steel was an artform. Get it wrong and everything inside would be cinders before it could be removed. Charcoaled cocaine wasn’t worth a penny. It was a slow, painstaking process and only Naz had the dexterity to carry it out without losing any of the product. He finished and had gone outside for a cigarette before they began cutting into the chassis to remove the cocaine. His hands were tired and aching and they had a tremor. He only had the tremor when he was nervous and right now, his nerves were shot. They were in possession of a million-pound shipment of cocaine and they’d made a 999 call to the property next door. It was a nerve-wracking situation. He stepped outside and it was cold now so he made his way to the bus and climbed upstairs. The lights on the bridges were mesmerising and it relaxed him. A moment later, the sound of vehicles approaching at speed came to him. He turned to see a convoy of blue flashing lights through the trees. The convoy was approaching fast. It seemed to reach back as far down the road as he could see. He felt good. Nervous but good. They might be responsible for saving April’s life and stopping the nutter from doing any more harm. One car sped past towards the farm which was a relief but when the second and third turned into the museum, his heart stopped a beat. Every second vehicle went to the farm, but the rest parked at the front of the museum; armed response officers were swarming the forecourt and surrounding the museum. Naz called Joss on his mobile.

  ‘What now?’ Joss asked. ‘We could do with a hand in here.’

  ‘Don’t open those chassis, Joss,’ Naz warned. ‘The old Bill are here. Lots of them. They’ve got guns; lots of guns.’

  CHAPTER 36

  Mathew lay next to April and put a finger to her lips. She pulled away as far as she could. Her heart was pumping to its maximum. Was this the time she would die?

  ‘Now then,’ he whispered. ‘I need you to be very quiet so I’m going to have to gag you.’ He grabbed her chin and she resisted but he was stronger and forced her mouth open. ‘Don’t struggle. You’ll only make it worse for yourself.’

  ‘How can it be worse?’ April said, her voice hoarse. ‘Will you tell me exactly how it can be worse?’

  ‘It can be much worse,’ Mathew said, frowning. ‘Things can always be worse. My nan used to say, there’s always someone worse off than you are.’

  ‘Your nan was clearly old school and I can tell you that things in here are going to get much worse if you don’t take me to the toilet and I mean right now.’

  ‘No, not now. You’ll have to wait,’ he said.

  ‘I can’t wait even if I want to, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Of course, you can. Hold it in.’

  ‘You obviously don’t know much about females who’ve had kids. When I need the toilet, I need it right now. Basically, I’m about to shit myself,’ April said. Mathew looked shocked. He was taken aback by her straightforward language. She took advantage of his confusion. ‘And I’ve had a really bad period this week and I need to sort myself out.’ He didn’t know what to say or do. His mouth opened, but no words came out. ‘Hello, hello, hello. Earth calling Mathew.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Are you deaf? I need the toilet now or this room is going to stink of shit to high heaven.’

  ‘Don’t talk like that,’ Mathew said. He blushed. ‘There’s no need for your potty mouth to talk like that. My mum never swore, not ever.’

  ‘I’m not your mum. I’m the lady you kidnapped so I’m your responsibility. Are you going to take me to the toilet, or shall I just let go of it all here?’ April asked. She watched his expression change. He was embarrassed. The teenager inside him surfaced for a moment. ‘You’ve got about five seconds to decide before this bed is fit for nothing but burning.’

  ‘All right, just stop being so crude.’ Mathew looked angry in the gloom. He stood up and tutted. His eyes were on her as he cut through the ropes which held her feet. ‘Try anything and I’ll slit your throat.’

  ‘All I’m trying to do right now is keep the contents of my bowels inside me. Hurry up!’

  April was freed from the bed, but her muscles were dead. Mathew pulled her up to a sitting position and then put her legs over the edge of the bed. He dragged her up and her knees gave way. She toppled over heavily onto the floor.

  ‘You’ll have to help me. My legs are dead.’

  ‘Get up!’ he said, angrily. He put his hands beneath her armpits and lifted her. The blood began to return to her legs, and she stood shakily. ‘Move,’ he whispered. They made their way to the bathroom and he took her to the toilet and pushed her towards it.

  ‘Undo the cuffs, quickly,’ she said. ‘Hurry up!’

  ‘No. I’m not undoing them.’ He folded his arms and shook his head. ‘You’ll try to get away.’

  ‘Unless you want to undo my trousers and take down my underwear, wipe my arse, and change my tampon, you don’t have any choice.’

  ‘There you go again, potty mouth,’ Mathew said, blushing. He saw a dark patch spreading across her trousers. ‘What is that?’

  ‘I’ve pissed myself,’ April hissed. ‘Undo these cuffs before this gets ten times worse. Hurry up!’

  Mathew looked flustered. He fumbled for the key and undid the cuffs. They fell away in the gloom, rattled off the lid and splashed in the toilet. April had never felt relief like it. She clenched and unclenched her fists. Her cir
culation returned. She undid her pants and pulled them down in one motion and sat on the toilet, before he could retrieve them. The sound of her urinating and emptying her bowels filled the quiet. She had wind too and she made the most of it. Mathew looked horrified. It was good to see him so rattled. He was capable of inhuman acts of violence, yet he was struggling to watch a female on the toilet.

  ‘Are you going to stand there and watch me or are you going to find me something to clean myself with, please?’ April said. His discomfort was liberating. He was very awkward in that situation. ‘There’s a cupboard behind you.’ Mathew opened the door and there were two toilet rolls. ‘Pass me one of them please.’

  Mathew passed her the toilet roll and half turned away from her. April did what she had to do as slowly as she possibly could. She reached into a pocket on her trouser leg.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asked, angrily raising the knife.

  ‘Taking this out of my pocket. I need to sort myself out if that’s okay? Unless you want to do it?’ she said, holding up a tampon. He blushed again and turned away while she changed it.

  ‘Don’t be disgusting. Potty mouth.’ He looked into the toilet and nearly gagged. Any thoughts of fishing the cuffs out disappeared. ‘Flush the toilet,’ he said. April pressed the handle and the cistern gurgled. A trickle of water ran into the bowl. She tried again with the same result. ‘Disgusting, leave it.’

  April smiled inside. ‘I need to wash my hands in the sink.’

  ‘Just hurry up.’ The engine noise was growing louder. He ran into the bedroom and opened the top drawer. What he needed was on the top. He went back into the bathroom. ‘I need to gag you, right now,’ he said. April nodded that she would struggle.

  ‘Listen to me, Mathew,’ she said, calmly. ‘I have problems with reflux.’

  ‘What does that have to do with anything?’