Josiah Dark Thrillers Box Set

by Tim Ellis

  ‘And the cats.’

  ‘You have six murders, with the possibility of a further two. Six is enough. You don’t have to be greedy. Not only that, you still require a killer.’

  ‘We have the Cheshire Cat Rescue Centre Representative.’

  ‘Who is?’

  ‘Well, we don’t know yet, but we will.’

  ‘Okay.’ He held the empty beer bottle out towards Hendrik.

  Hendrik took it, went through into the kitchen and came back with a full one.

  ‘Thanks.’ He turned back to Dixie. ‘Tell me about Blackpool then?’

  ‘Oh God! Did you know they’ve put glass floors in the tower? It’s like walking on nothing a thousand miles up. I said to Hendrik that someone would have to be crazy to walk on that.’

  ‘So you walked on it?’

  ‘Of course. I thought my chest was going to burst open it was so scary.’

  ‘I held your hand,’ Hendrik said.

  ‘You’re as crazy as me. If the glass had broken, we’d have both plummeted to our deaths.’

  ‘So, you saw all the sights while you were there, but . . .’

  ‘Oh yes! We went on the tramway, on the rollercoaster . . . Jesus, fucking wept! Have you been on that rollercoaster?’

  ‘No. I’m a bit old for pleasure.’

  ‘I nearly wet myself it was that scary. Hendrik puked up, you know.’

  Hendrik’s face turned a crimson red. ‘It was the motion sickness, Mister Dark. I’m not very good on things that move.’

  Dixie grunted. ‘Yeah well! The people sitting behind us weren’t very happy that your vomit moved in their direction.’

  ‘It was hardly my fault.’

  ‘We strolled down the Central Pier . . .’ Dixie continued.

  ‘I’m sure you had a wonderful time, but it wasn’t the main reason you went there, was it? Did you speak to PC Tonge’s girlfriend – Milly Howell?’

  Hendrik held up a DVD.

  Dark took a swig of his beer and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘It’s a copy of the CCTV footage that PC Tonge discovered, and which he gave to his girlfriend Milly for safekeeping.’

  ‘Why did Tonge do that?’

  ‘According to Milly,’ Dixie said. ‘He was afraid that the original might get lost.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He didn’t name names, but he told her that he suspected some of his colleagues were either paedophiles themselves, or taking bribes from paedophiles to “lose” evidence, which supported cases against paedophiles.’

  ‘Did he think that he might be in danger?’

  ‘According to Milly, he never said anything about that, but I’m sure he must have realised he was.’

  ‘Why didn’t she pass the DVD onto someone in authority?’

  ‘Who? She saw what happened to Peter when he did that. She had no idea who she could trust. What she did know was that Peter’s death wasn’t suicide, and it made her afraid for her own life. And that fear seemed to be well-founded when, shortly after Peter’s funeral, the house she’d shared with Peter, was broken into and ransacked. She was absolutely sure that whoever did it was looking for the DVD, because nothing was taken.’

  ‘Where was the DVD?’

  ‘She works at the Rainbow Casino on the promenade as a Gaming Inspector – she hid it in an air vent there.’

  ‘A wise decision as it turned out.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Did she report the break-in to the police?’

  ‘No. She had a feeling that’s what they wanted her to do. And then, when she was cleaning the mess up, she noticed that the computer, which she and Peter both used, had been accessed. When she checked, she found that thousands of disgusting pornographic pictures and videos of children had been stored on the hard drive. She dismantled the computer, took out the drive, smashed it with a hammer and set fire to it in the back garden. Then, she searched the house to make sure they hadn’t planted anything else, and found a hidden stash of child pornography pictures in a box in the attic, so she burned them as well. And then, the very next day, the police arrived and said they’d had an anonymous tip-off that Peter had been a paedophile. They had a Search Warrant to search the house and take the computer as evidence. Needless to say, they weren’t very happy when they saw the empty space in the computer where the hard drive used to be, and the burnt and twisted pieces of the drive in the back garden. They left with nothing. And after that, they haven’t bothered her.’

  Hendrik put the DVD into his computer. They watched as a man holding the hand of a little girl walked past Madame Tussauds on Bonny Street. They were both walking away from the camera and their faces weren’t visible.

  ‘It’s not really helpful, is it?’ he said.

  ‘Carry on watching, Mister Dark,’ Hendrik advised.

  He did. The picture switched to a second camera, which showed the faces of the man and six year-old Alicia Glover.

  Dark glanced at Hendrik. ‘Have we any idea who the man is?’

  ‘No. Dixie and I thought we’d show you what was on the DVD before we did anything.’

  ‘Okay.’ He wondered how he was going to proceed. If he logged onto Crimint and began looking at known paedophiles in Blackpool, a flag would be tripped again. What he didn’t want to do was warn them he was onto them. His only motivation was to find Alicia Glover, and return her to her parents. After that, the culprits could all burn in hell for all he cared. He’d have to give it some thought.

  ‘We have more,’ Dixie said.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘We went to see Neil Bowman at the Blackpool Echo.’

  ‘The reporter who wrote the article on PC Tonge’s suicide?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘What did he have to say for himself?’

  ‘He has a brain tumour.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘The doctors have given him a month at best, and he wanted to confess his sins before he died.’

  ‘And what sins were those?’

  ‘He was part of the paedophile ring involved in Alicia Glover’s abduction. He also forged the suicide note, and then wrote the story for the newspaper.’

  ‘Did you ask him to write a statement to that effect?’

  ‘No, but he did give us the names of the other people in the ring, and five of those are police officers.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes.’ Dixie produced a sheet of paper. ‘There are fifteen names on this list.’

  ‘I could do with you two on my team.’

  ‘We are on your team.’

  ‘So, you are.’

  He scanned down the list. None of the names jangled any memories, but there was no reason why they should. ‘All we have is a list of names from a man who’ll be dead within the month, and a DVD of the abduction. What we need to know is where Alicia Glover is now. If we show our hand too soon, she’ll disappear forever.’

  Dixie waved a piece of paper in the air. ‘Will an address do?’

  ‘You’re kidding me?’

  ‘I am not. Bowman gave it all up.’

  ‘Why didn’t he do it before?’

  ‘Who to? He had a similar problem to Milly Howell. If he went to the police, he wouldn’t have lasted five minutes, and Alicia Glover would have disappeared.’

  ‘Mmmm!’ He took out his phone, but held off from making a call. Who should he call? It needed to be someone from outside the Lancashire and Greater Manchester Constabularies, which was a problem, because he couldn’t just call someone up . . . And then it came to him. He called the Child Exploitation and Online Protection Centre at the National Crime Agency located at Citadel Place in London.

  ‘CEOP.’

  ‘Who’s speaking?’

  ‘Sergeant Gary Tucker.’

  ‘This is Detective Inspector Josiah Dark from the Serious Crime Division at Greater Manchester.’

  ‘Yes, Sir?’

  ‘I need to speak to a senior officer about a CEOP matter.’

&nb
sp; ‘Chief Inspector Tom Flowers is on call tonight, Sir?’

  ‘Excellent.’

  He waited while he was transferred.

  Hendrik brought him another beer. He finished off the one he’d been drinking and swapped bottles.

  ‘Chief Inspector Flowers?’

  Dark told him who he was, what he did, the background to the case, and what he’d found out, but he stopped short of giving Flowers the address where Alicia Glover was being held.

  ‘Why are you calling CEOP?’

  ‘I have a list of names who are part of a paedophile ring. Five of those names belong to police officers.’

  ‘Ah! You did the right thing calling us, Inspector.’ Flowers gave him his email address.

  He wrote it down in his notebook.

  ‘Send me what you have. If it holds water, I’ll put together an operation.’

  ‘And how long will that take, Sir?’

  ‘It’ll take as long as it takes, Inspector.’

  ‘In the meantime, and regardless of anything holding water, I think we should get the girl out of there as soon as is practicable.’

  ‘That’ll be our first priority. If the girl is where you say she is, she’ll be out of there by morning.’

  ‘Thanks, Sir.’

  ‘Meanwhile, I don’t need to tell you to keep what we’ve discussed to yourself?’

  ‘No.’

  The line went dead.

  Hendrik and Dixie were staring at him.

  ‘CEOP will look at what we’ve got, and take put together an operation. Either way, if Alicia is at the address, they’ll get her out of there by morning.’

  ‘And you can trust these people?’ Dixie asked.

  Could he? Could he trust anybody other than himself and the two people in the room with him now? Why hadn’t he divulged the address? He imagined that this would be the only chance they’d get of saving Morbid Maud’s little sister, and it would be an unforgiveable tragedy if they couldn’t get it right. ‘You know some people, don’t you, Hendrik?’

  ‘Yes, Mister Dark. Mates from the old days, before I met Dixie. We formed a motorcycle club called the Dark Warriors. There were about fifty of us all told, but there were four original members – me, Crazy Keith, Nutcracker Jack and Psycho Spike.’

  Dixie laughed. ‘You never told me they had names.’

  ‘Nicknames. We all had them.’

  ‘Really?’ She sidled up to him. ‘What was yours?’

  His face turned a bright red. ‘I’d rather not say.’

  ‘You know you have to tell me if you want any tonight.’

  Hendrik hesitated and then said, ‘Hatchet Hendrik.’

  Dixie and Dark laughed.

  ‘We were kids,’ Hendrik defended himself.

  ‘Well, Hatchet Hendrik,’ Dixie said. ‘You can bury your hatchet in me tonight.’

  Dark became serious. ‘I’m thinking that if your three mates staked out the address, and then intervened if anyone other than armed police officers tried to take Alicia Glover out of there. If they could do that, we’d have it covered. What do you think, Hendrik?’

  ‘I’ll make a call.’ He wandered into the kitchen with his phone to his ear, and after a few minutes came back into the living room. ‘They’re on their way, Mister Dark. At this time of night on their choppers, they’ll be there in half an hour. Nutcracker will call me when they get there.’

  Dark passed Hendrik Chief Inspector Tom Flower’s email address. ‘When they’re at the location, send the information.’

  Hendrik nodded.

  Chapter Eighteen

  While they waited for the call from Nutcracker Jack, Hendrik told him what he’d found out about Angela Vickers.

  ‘Prior to July, 2002, she was just a normal police officer who struggled from month-to-month to pay her rent, food bills, car tax, insurance and so on – much like the rest of us. She also had debts of over ten thousand pounds. But after that date, she was a thousand pounds richer each month. And once she’d paid off her debts, she managed to save five hundred pounds each month in a high-interest savings account that she’s kept up all this time. She hasn’t touched any of the money, and there’s over a hundred thousand pounds in the account now. She’s been very prudent with her pay-off of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds, and has gradually turned the dirty money into a nice little nest-egg for her retirement.’

  Dark’s face crinkled up. ‘Was the two hundred and fifty paid into her own account?’

  ‘No. She has a number of other accounts under a second identity – Nina Courtney. In her own account, everything looks normal. Her wages are paid in and her bills are paid.’

  ‘A second identity could very well be her undoing. Get copies of every document you can find in the name of Nina Courtney, especially those with photographs on – passport, driving licence and so on.’

  ‘Will do.’

  ‘Now for the icing on the cake. Where did the pay-off come from?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘That’s not the right answer, Hendrik.’

  ‘Normally, I’d be able to tell you, but this pay-off was different. It was transferred into a numbered account in Brunei, but I can’t trace it back to the source, because the route has been scrambled. I’ve never seen anything like it – very sophisticated, especially fifteen years ago. So, in this instance, following the money isn’t an option.’

  Dark screwed up his face as he wrestled with the news. Would Jeffrey Higham at Whitchurch have had the technological know-how to do what Hendrik was suggesting he’d done? He doubted it. But if Higham didn’t transfer the money – who did?

  ‘I called someone.’

  ‘Someone?’

  ‘Someone who knows a lot more about computers than me.’

  ‘I didn’t think that such a person existed.’

  ‘Very kind Mister Dark, but in the general scheme of things I know next to nothing.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘She said she’d heard a rumour a number of years ago that a Russian hacker using the nickname of Talisman had created an intelligent virus. The virus piggy-backs a money transfer, scrambles the route as it goes and then destroys itself when it reaches the other end. Apparently, he sells this virus on the Dark Web. People pay him a lot of money to remain anonymous.’

  ‘And there’s no way to unscramble it?’

  ‘Not without the source code.’

  ‘Let’s try something else then.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘What we were trying to prove was that a pay-off to Angela Vickers had come from Whitchurch Architectural Partnership, that’s why I asked you to look for a connection between Vickers, Whitchurch, and the owner of the company – Jeffrey Higham. Why not start with Whitchurch, and see if you can find two hundred and fifty thousand pounds that went missing in July, 2002? Or, Higham’s own accounts?’

  ‘That seems logical. Okay, I’ll do that, Mister Dark.’

  ‘Did you have time to look into the boat explosion deaths of the Doyle family in Poole Marina, Dorset in July 2002?’

  ‘I did. It was investigated by the Marine Accident Investigation Branch, who are part of the Department of Transport based in Southampton. I read the online report by the Chief Marine Accident Investigator – Alfred Jackson, and he concluded that the cause of the fire was an electrical fault with the fuel tank. I did some research on that particular model of fuel tank and there had been no previous instances of electrical faults that had led to explosions or fires, so I rummaged around in Mister Jackson’s finances . . .’

  ‘Don’t tell me, another payment was made from an untraceable source?’

  ‘You’ve heard this story before, haven’t you, Mister Dark?’

  ‘I can guess the ending of some stories, Hendrik. Don’t think I’m ungrateful, but what you’ve discovered so far merely confirms my theories. And unfortunately, I can’t use any of it. What I need is evidence that will hold up in court.’

  ‘I’ll keep trying.’


  ‘Thanks. So, have we run out of beers?’

  Dixie shuffled over to Ellie’s wall. ‘You’ll be in no fit state to drive home if you have any more.’

  ‘I’ll sleep on your sofa, if that’s okay with you? In the dark, one sofa is as good as another, so they say.’

  ‘It’s fine with us,’ Dixie said. ‘We’ll be otherwise occupied burying the hatchet.’

  Hendrik came back with another beer, handed it to him and then went to the wall. He tapped the photograph of Ellie dressed in the skimpy black dress sitting with the bald-headed man. ‘I found out who the man was, Mister Dark.’

  ‘Oh?’ This was the part he didn’t look forward to – finding out the truth about his own wife. It was painful realising that he was a detective who had no idea who his wife was. He thought he’d known everything about his ideal life, his beautiful wife Ellie and his two lovely daughters, but he’d been living in a glass house that had now shattered beyond repair.

  ‘His name was Colin Derwent.’

  ‘Was he staying at the hotel?’

  ‘No, and neither was your wife.’

  His eyes narrowed to slits as he thought about what that meant. If Ellie was prostituting herself for money, why meet in a hotel bar and then go somewhere else to complete the transaction? He finger-combed his hair and took a swallow of beer. ‘So, they didn’t book a room?’

  ‘No. It would appear that the bar of the Park Regis Hotel in Birmingham was simply a meeting place.’

  ‘How did you find out the man’s name then?’

  Hendrik glanced at Dixie.

  ‘Tell him, Hendrik.’

  ‘Colin Derwent was found dead in an abandoned warehouse not far away from the hotel three days later.’

  ‘Okay.’ He had no idea what that meant, but it seemed to be too much of a coincidence to ignore it.

  ‘He’d been mutilated.’

  ‘Mutilated! What does that mean?’

  Dixie interrupted. ‘Someone, and I’m not saying it was Ellie, had done a hatchet job on his hatchet.’

  ‘They’d cut off his . . .?’

  ‘Exactly. And stuffed it into his mouth.’

  ‘You may not be saying it was Ellie, but that’s what you’re implying, isn’t it?’

  ‘Implying it, and saying it outright, are two different things,’ Dixie countered.