The Anglesey Murders Box Set

by Conrad Jones

  ‘Shut up.’ she screamed. She watched the torches flickering in the trees.

  ‘They’ll be here in five minutes and when they search your bag, they’ll love your little playthings.’

  ‘Shut your mouth.’

  ‘The other women in jail will love you when you get there. They’ll eat you for breakfast.’ I laughed and she swung the pipe at my head. I ducked and heard it thud against the tree. There were five yards between me and the edge of the gorge. I ran full pelt. I didn’t want to be captured that night and the loneliness that I’d been feeling drove me to despair. I didn’t care if I lived or died anymore, so I jumped.

  CHAPTER 14

  The feeling of weightlessness lasted for what felt like minutes and combined with the ice-cold spray and the deafening roar my, senses were overwhelmed. I didn’t hit the water; it hit me like a locomotive travelling at ninety miles an hour. The freezing torrent took the breath from my body as I plunged beneath the icy waters. I was thrown about like a ping pong ball in a washing machine, gasping for a mouthful of air whenever the current pushed me to the surface. I was spinning around and lost all sense of direction. I couldn’t tell if I was going up or down. Although I was using all my strength to stay on the surface, I was powerless against the force of the river and exhausted, I gave up fighting and let it take me where it would.

  I don’t know how long I was in the river, but I know where I got out. It was a half-a-mile south of the railway station at Betws. I lay on the bank freezing and numb from the battering that my body had taken on the rocks. Fearing that I would die from hypothermia, I dragged myself up and staggered through the fields towards the village. I could see the helicopter in the air, two miles north above Miners’ Bridge. Relieving a chestnut gelding of its horse-blanket; I trudged back towards the Land Rover. The car park was virtually empty, and the Land Rover looked like an oasis to me. I threw off the blanket and sprinted across to the Land Rover unhindered. Ten minutes later, I was heading south towards Llangollen with the heater blasting and the radio on. Being alive felt surreal, as I’d given up back at the bridge. I’d chosen to die there but God didn’t want me dead yet. I think he knew that I had more of Satan’s followers to kill before he would let me leave. The temple master, a man named Williams was next on my list and he would tell me where I could find Fabienne Wilder before he died.

  CHAPTER 15

  My limbs ached to the bone and although the heater was blowing hot air towards my hands and feet, my fingers and toes were painfully cold. I had brain-freeze behind my eyes, similar to the feeling when you eat ice-cream too quickly. I could have pushed a needle through my cheek painlessly, my skin was so numb. There were two directions to choose from, north up the Conwy Valley or south down the A5 towards Llangollen. I knew that any police backup would be coming from the coastal towns to the north, so I ruled it out immediately. I headed south and debated my next move. I had to act quickly. Max Blackman had told me that Glynn Williams was the master of the temple in Carrog and as such, he was my only link to Fabienne. I needed to find him and interrogate him as to her whereabouts. Both he and his remaining associate, Gwillam Hughes were still out there somewhere, although I wasn’t convinced that Hughes was in possession of the information that I needed.

  Williams was the head of the nexion. He was the one I needed to keep alive long enough for him to tell me how to find her. There was no doubt in my mind that I had to act quickly. If I’d chosen to wait until the morning, they may have followed the local news. I’d hoped that the police would be convinced that Harris and his wife were connected to the murders in Carrog, but they knew that I was there too. I wasn’t sure if they would flood the news with my image, in the hope that the public would report any sightings of me. If they did, Hughes and Williams might connect what had happened to their nexion associates at Betws-y-Coed and realise that there was someone hunting them. If the police decided to focus on finding me, then I knew that my face would be all over the newspapers by morning which would make staying at liberty while I searched for them difficult.

  I felt that I was running on borrowed time. Hate and loneliness were my only companions and while they were my driving forces, they demanded a heavy toll for their company. They fuelled my determination but sapped my will to live. I could see nothing but death before me, theirs and mine. As long as I killed Fabienne Wilder first, I didn’t care what happened to me. My only objective in life was finding her and killing her.

  The drive down the A5 towards Llangollen was surreal. My body was frozen to the bones and my hands were shaking from the cold. The adrenalin in my blood stream was waning and I felt weak and exhausted. The road follows the course of the river as it snakes its way south from Betws. The bends are so sharp it is difficult to reach higher than third gear for much of the first few miles. Blue flashing lights screamed towards me periodically, heading in the opposite direction to support the search operation I’d left behind. The thought that they were coming for me never crossed my mind. Somehow, I felt like I had a cloaking device which stopped them seeing me. Part of me wished they would and then it would be over but the other part of me, the angry part, the killer in me, wanted to carry on until I’d found them all.

  As the blood began to circulate back into my fingers and toes, a burning hunger hit me. I needed food before I did anything else that night. Something else niggled in my mind too. I had to get to the other two men before the local news identified Harris as missing, or dead, with his wife as the main suspect for his death. I couldn’t risk going back to my bed-and-breakfast. The chances of arrest were slim at this stage as the photographs which the television was broadcasting held only a passing resemblance to the man I saw in the mirror. However, the big man at the surplus shop had recognised me so I had to be cautious. I was more concerned that if I made it to my room, I would sleep for days and lose the element of surprise. Hughes and Williams wouldn’t be aware that I was coming for them yet. With that in mind, I turned left at Pentrefoeles and headed up the road, through the moors, towards Denbigh. A few hundred yards on was the last fuel station for miles. I pulled in and stopped next to the diesel pump, checking out the CCTV cameras before climbing out of the Land Rover.

  I pulled my hood up to hide my features a little and popped the fuel flap open. The wind made my damp clothes feel like they were frozen to my skin; the material stiff and heavy. The kiosk was empty as the pump clicked around to over £70.00. I placed the nozzle back into its holster and took a deep breath before heading towards the door, my hands pushed deep into damp pockets.

  The overweight attendant buzzed the lock on the door, allowing me access. Her greasy brown hair hung lankly down each cheek hiding the arms of her thick black glasses. I grabbed a basket and an empty fuel canister, stuffing two packets of sandwiches, four bags of prawn cocktail crisps and a litre of semi-skimmed milk into the basket. The woman eyed me suspiciously as I moved quickly between the chilled counter and the aisles. I wanted to fill the canister with petrol but didn’t want to take it outside before paying for it.

  ‘Do you want to put fuel in that, love?’ she asked in a chirpy voice.

  ‘Is that okay?’

  ‘Yes, no problem.’ She smiled. ‘Let me scan it first and then you can get your fuel.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I kept my head down. She studied my face as she scanned the item.

  ‘You’re not from around here, are you?’ It wasn’t a question.

  ‘No, I’ve been camping but I’m heading back to London tonight.’ I turned and walked towards the door. Her voice made me jump.

  ‘Excuse me.’

  ‘What?’ I opened the door, ready to run to the Landy.

  ‘Could you leave the fuel outside, love please,’ she nodded seriously. ‘You’re not allowed to bring it back in here you see.’

  ‘No problem.’

  The wind bit through my clothes and my limbs were shaking as I filled the canister. The mountains were huge black silhouettes against a darker sky. Beams of light caught
my eye. Headlights illuminated the hedgerows halfway up the mountain. I gauged that the vehicle was about a mile away, heading down the mountain road towards me. Quickly, I opened the back of the Landy and wedged the fuel canister against the wheel arch. I jogged back into the shop to settle my bill. The attendant was glued to portable flat screen TV. She pulled her eyes away from it as I approached.

  ‘£95.62 please.’ She smiled thinly. Her eyes gave her away. ‘So, you’re heading to London now, then?’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid so,’ I looked her straight in the eyes. She looked away quickly and her face flushed red. ‘I’m booked onto the Eurostar tomorrow. I should be in Paris by teatime.’

  She frowned confused. ‘United are playing in the European cup,’ I picked up my supplies and scurried out of the shop without another word. I didn’t know if she’d pass on the duff information or not and I didn’t care. If she did recognise me and picked up the telephone to the police as soon as I left, I’d be long gone, anyway. I climbed into the driver’s seat and threw the carrier bag of food onto the passenger side. The vehicle that I’d spotted weaving down the mountain was a few hundred yards away and indicating to turn into the petrol station. The headlights dazzled me, and I couldn’t make out the shape of the vehicle behind them. My heartbeat quickened as I turned the ignition key and the engine roared to life. I steered the Landy in a wide arc and the tyres squealed as I accelerated onto the road heading back towards Betws. As the darkness swallowed up my Landy, I saw the approaching vehicle pulling onto the forecourt of the garage. Illuminated by the station’s lights, it was clearly a traffic police car. My breath caught in my lungs and I cursed my luck. The attendant would get her chance to tell the police about her encounter with a fugitive much sooner than I’d hoped.

  CHAPTER 15

  I pushed the Landy as fast as I dared without looking too suspicious until I turned a bend in the road. Once the petrol station was out of sight in my rear-view mirror, I floored the accelerator. As I reached the A5, beams of light searched the night sky behind me. The traffic patrol was on to me. I could see their headlights in the near distance, but I knew they wouldn’t be able to see the Land Rover until they reached the straighter sections of road on the A5. I turned off the lights, accelerated and turned left off the main road onto the Blaenau Ffestiniog road. The road was a narrow, single track with grass growing in a green stripe along the centre. Spiny fingers of hawthorn grabbed at the sides of the vehicle sounding like the fingernails of a giant scratching to gain access. Two minutes later, I rounded a sharp bend and the road descended at a steep gradient. There were no street lights for miles and my visibility was zero. I eased off the accelerator and slowed the Land Rover down to a crawl. If the traffic police realised that I’d turned off, then I couldn’t outrun them, anyway. Wrapping myself around an oak tree didn’t seem an attractive alternative to jail. I crawled along the track for a few hundred yards, my eyes straining against the blackness until it became obvious that the police had gone the wrong way. Probably south on the A5 looking for a fugitive who told the petrol station attendant that he was heading for London.

  I took a deep breath before turning on the headlights. A hundred yards ahead of me, green orbs of light seemed to float above the crumbling tarmac. My nerves were on edge as I locked my gaze with the animal, instinctively accelerating towards it. It held its position and stayed in the centre of the road. There was no stoop in its posture, no fear in its eyes. It didn’t try to skulk away, nor did it look frozen in terror. It stared defiantly as the Land Rover hurtled towards it. I couldn’t decide if it was a big cat or small badger and if I’m honest, I didn’t care. Did I think it was a servant of Satan, or the eyes of Fabienne Wilder searching for me? Who knows what insane thoughts ran through my mind at that time? As the Land Rover neared, it seemed to grow in size as its fur stood on end. I felt more in fear of it than it did of me but as it thumped against the front bumper, realisation gripped me. There were no evil spirits tailing me, transmitting telepathic images of me to Fabienne and her master. There were no animals taking sides in the war of good against evil. There was only flesh and blood, life or death. The Niners I’d encountered so far had no magical powers to protect them. They breathed the same air as I did, and their bodies were as fragile as mine. Under the force of a heavy blow, their bones would splinter and snap. Their skin could be penetrated by a sharp object and their organs could be ruptured without much effort. They would bleed and die as easily as the animal beneath the Landy had. That’s what I thought until I saw the rear lights of the Landy reflected in its eyes. It was very much alive, and it was watching. The rear-view mirror reflected two orbs of piercing red. I braked hard and looked again. The animal was gone.

  ‘Bollocks.’ I put my foot down and told myself that the pressure was getting to me, but my hands began to shake, nonetheless.

  CHAPTER 16

  I drove for a few miles, just to put some space between myself and the police search. I was worried that the helicopter would move away from the epicentre of the village and pass over me looking for the southbound Land Rover. I was heading west slowly, but the road was so narrow, it was dangerous to go over thirty miles an hour. I couldn’t be seen from the A5, but from the air my headlights sweeping across the remote spaces between the redundant slate quarries above Blaenau would be clearly visible. I needed to get off the road and decide how I was going to get to Hughes and Williams. My intention was to use the mobile which I took from Harris to contact them. As I concentrated on finding somewhere to stop, a devastating thought hit me. I’d been in the water for ages. I hadn’t come across a mobile, yet which could survive being submerged. If I had a pound for each time someone had told me about dropping their mobiles down the toilet, in the sink or in a puddle, I would have a pocket full of gold coins. I can’t recall any happy endings to the stories. Hair driers, tumble driers, radiators, ovens, fan heaters and airing cupboards had all been tried, but I’d never heard of a successful resuscitation of a drowned mobile phone. My spirits crashed to an all-time low as I thought about the mobile in my pocket. It was probably as good as useless.

  I switched on the radio and tried to find a local news broadcast, but a million tons of granite and slate blocked any signals. All I could hear was static. As I searched for a station, the strangest thing happened. There was a polyphonic ringtone piercing the silence which was joined by vibrations against my right thigh. Instinctively, I quickly touched it through the damp fabric of my jeans. I wasn’t imagining it; the mobile was ringing. The road was too narrow and winding to allow me to take my hands from the steering wheel for more than a second. Struggling to remove the mobile from my pocket would end up with the Land Rover in a ditch. I cursed beneath my breath as the Landy trundled over the lumps and bumps. The road twisted sharply to the right and the answer to my problems loomed before me in the darkness.

  Slate gateposts towered above adjoining walls which seemed to run endlessly in both directions until they were swallowed by the night. Rusted gates hung from ancient hinges at odd angles. A splintered sign on the left-hand post read ‘Plas Craig Slate Works’. The lettering was blistered and peeling but it was readable. The wrought-iron gates were offset enough for me to navigate the Landy between them and the sound of shale crunching beneath the wheels joined me. I was surprised that the gates weren’t secured but as I rounded a curve in the road, I understood why. The headlights illuminated three concrete blocks the size of a family saloon car. They completely blocked the access road and were far too big to move. The Land Rover had a tow bar fitted but the sheer size of the blocks made that irrelevant. The Landy would snap in half before it would pull such a weight. The sides of the access road were lined with slate piles so high that I couldn’t see what was behind them.

  I pulled the Landy up to the blocks and killed the engine. The headlights went out plunging everything into inky blackness. I waited a few minutes until my eyes adjusted to the darkness. Beyond the blocks I could make out the silhouettes of two low bu
ildings and a chimney stack. Behind them the ground rose almost vertically blotting out the night sky. I was nervous when I reached into my jeans to retrieve the mobile. There is something unnerving about sitting in the dark with the engine turned off. I felt much safer when the vehicle was moving. Alone in the pitch-dark I could only feel vulnerable and frightened. I gripped the phone and looked at it closely. The manufacturer was JCB, which explained how it had survived the icy water. I suppose you would have to live in the mountains to purchase a waterproof mobile phone, but I was grateful that he had. The screen displayed that there was one missed call. I clicked the menu button, but the caller had used a withheld number. Scrolling through the contacts list, I found two numbers listed as Glynn. One of them had the letter ‘W’ after the name. It had to be Glynn Williams.

  CHAPTER 16

  Everything that I did from that point onwards was purely to find Williams. Hughes was on my list; there was no doubt about that. If I could kill two birds with one stone, then it would be a bonus, but my one true goal was to find Fabienne. I sent a text message and then searched for Geraint Hughes in the contact list. The message was simple, and I knew it would depend on whether Williams was aware that the members of his nexion were dying. If he did, then he would realise that it was a trap. If he didn’t, he may come to me. I couldn’t pretend that Fabienne wanted him. If he was in direct contact with her, then he would simply phone her and ask her what she wanted. My message was meant to frighten him enough to provoke a reaction.

  ‘We are in big trouble. The police know everything. Bring that bastard Geraint with you. He’s a grass. Don’t call me I think they’re tapping my phone. I’m at the old quarry at Plas Craig on the Blaenau road, get here quickly’