Deep Cover

by Leigh Russell

  While Ariadne organised visual images identifications and detections officers to scrutinise as much CCTV footage as they could gather from the area surrounding Hagg Wood, Geraldine went to the location to talk to the team who were examining the van. There was nothing she could usefully add to their work, but she was impatient to find out what they had discovered, and curious to see the van itself. Somehow she felt it might give her a sense of what the killer had been thinking when he left it there. It was snowing again as she drew up in Hagg Wood, and she shivered as she left the warmth of her car. Standing some distance away from the forensic canopy visible through the trees, she hung around on the narrow roadway until an officer emerged from the trees, carrying a handful of evidence bags. Calling out, she asked him how they were getting on. He made his way over to her, treading carefully on the icy ground, and nodding at her in acknowledgement of her question.

  ‘We have a number of individual black hairs that are straight and quite long, and probably come from a woman, and there could be skin cells as well, we think,’ he replied, his breath forming a white cloud in front of his ruddy face. ‘But we haven’t found anything else inside the vehicle, and we haven’t found any hairs or prints that might have come from the driver, not yet anyway. It’s been wiped clean inside.’

  ‘He could have been wearing a hat, or a hood,’ Geraldine said thoughtfully, rubbing her hands together to warm her fingers.

  The scene of crime officer nodded. ‘Indeed.’ He looked around. ‘He must have really forced his way through the trees here. Several branches have been completely broken off, and the van is horribly scratched and dented along both sides. Whoever drove it into the woods was certainly determined to get it off the road.’

  Geraldine considered what he was saying before asking her next question. ‘Can you tell when it was left here?’

  The scene of crime officer shook his head. ‘It’s difficult to be precise, but there’s been no thaw in the last few days and that certainly helps, plus there’s only a thin covering of snow on the bonnet, with a deeper layer on the roof. From the depth of the snow on the bonnet of the vehicle, which would have melted while it was being driven, it appears to have been here for no longer than a day or two.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m sorry if that sounds a bit vague. We might be able to come up with a more precise answer for you once we’ve checked our exact measurements against the detailed weather reports. In addition to what we can ascertain from the vehicle, there are tyre marks still visible in the snow, with only a thin dusting of flakes covering them so we can still see the indentations. That seems to confirm that it was driven here within the last day or two, no longer.’

  Geraldine nodded briskly. ‘Can you measure the exact depth of snow that’s fallen since the van was left here, and give us a reasonably accurate estimate of the time it was abandoned? If you can, that would be extremely helpful to the VIIDO team searching for it out on the roads.’

  ‘We’ll certainly do our best to come up with a more definite time frame.’

  No one was surprised when Pansy’s DNA was found in the back of the van, nor that male DNA in the interior matched that of the previous owner, Bill Riley. What was more interesting was that they also found traces of DNA from the unidentified male whose DNA had been found on both Pansy and Vanessa’s bodies. There was no longer any doubt that the killer had used the van he had purchased from Bill Riley to transport Pansy’s body to Acomb Wood three weeks earlier.

  ‘He must have bought the van especially for the purpose of moving the body,’ Eileen said. ‘But there’s a gap of three weeks between the time he purchased the van and used it to move Pansy’s body, and the time he abandoned the van in Hagg Wood. So where was he hiding the van all that time?’ Eileen asked. ‘And more to the point, where has the killer disappeared to now?’

  The team were still looking, but so far there had been no sighting of the van entering York by any of the approach roads after it was purchased. It was looking as though it had never left the city again, meaning it had been kept out of sight somewhere in York itself, probably in a garage. The killer must have realised the police would trace the van eventually and try to track its movements, and he had been careful to avoid CCTV on his way to Hagg Wood. All the same, it was strange that no automatic number plate recognition camera around the city had registered the van passing.

  ‘Where the hell is he hiding out?’ Eileen repeated, scowling. ‘And how has he managed to stay below the radar all this time?’

  No one answered. Any man in York who had brown hair and brown eyes could be the killer they were hunting for. So far the odds of finding him were virtually impossible, and the DNA evidence they had gathered was no help as long as they had no match for it on the database. Eileen tasked Geraldine with setting up a press release asking anyone who thought they might have seen an old dirty grey van, with its specific registration number, anywhere in York. Although it was unlikely anyone would have spotted it, anything was possible, and they had to try every avenue.

  ‘With the trail of DNA he’s left behind him, at least he won’t be able to evade conviction once we find him,’ Geraldine pointed out.

  But first they had to find him.

  50

  The room was illuminated by an electric chandelier, which Ian had not seen switched on before. In its unforgiving light he saw Tod’s large desk was covered with a fine film of dust, and the deep pile carpet was littered with barely visible wisps of fluff, specks of dirt, shreds of paper, flecks of cigarette ash and other detritus. Despite its luxurious furnishings, the room had a grimy air, as though everything in it had been contaminated by the sordid scenes played out there. Previously, Ian had felt an urge to shower after spending time in Tod’s office. Now his overriding feeling was terror.

  The ginger-haired brute, Wills, was there again, standing guard by the desk. Although his gigantic hands hung loosely at his side, his eyes were fixed on Ian. All things being equal, Ian would have had no difficulty subduing him, but he had no doubt Wills was armed, besides which Tod kept a gun in his desk drawer. Muffled by the baize door, a shot wouldn’t be heard above the din of music and voices in the club. If one of them plugged him full of bullets, Ian would simply disappear. He might be escorted out of the club by two bouncers, in full view of the punters, his feet dragging on the floor like a man barely conscious after an excess of alcohol or drugs. Alternatively, his body could be smuggled out at night through a back door. Either way, he would doubtless be thrown into a van and driven out to the countryside to be buried, or weighted down with rocks and disposed of in some deserted body of water. Whatever the preferred method of disposal, he would vanish without trace.

  He wondered whether Geraldine would try to investigate his disappearance. She was the only person who might care enough to wonder what had happened to him, but perhaps he was fooling himself to believe she would even notice. Jack would instigate a brief investigation which would soon be consigned to a file no one opened again, and the case would become as cold as Ian’s vanished corpse. Before long, no one would even remember him.

  Wills continued staring fixedly at him, fists now clenched at his sides. Ian wasn’t bothered by the other man’s aggressive stance. He expected that kind of a welcome from Tod’s heavies. He squared up to Wills, returning his glare.

  ‘Chill, Archie, my man,’ Tod said. ‘Wills, why don’t you go fly a kite?’

  ‘But, Boss, I got to stay.’

  ‘You deaf? Sod off. Archie and me, we got business.’

  At the periphery of his vision, Ian saw Tod wink at him. He continued staring impassively at Wills. Grumbling under his breath, the ginger-haired bruiser marched out of the room, slamming the door on his way out. A clamour burst fleetingly into the room as Wills opened the door, leaving only the muffled thump thump of music and a distant hum of voices to disturb the silence after he had gone.

  ‘So what’s with Frank?’ Tod enquired, leaning forw
ard in his chair. ‘Tell me he’s bought it.’

  Ian laughed as easily as he could, given his swollen face. ‘Let’s put it this way. He won’t be bothering you again.’

  Tod flushed darkly although his voice remained steady. ‘What you blathering about? Either he’s kicked off or he hasn’t. Don’t get slick with me, you cretin. What’s the deal with Frank? Tell me straight.’

  As he was speaking, Tod’s hand drifted behind his desk. Ian heard the soft creak of a drawer opening and understood that Tod was reaching for his gun. He decided his best option was to appear nonchalant, although inwardly he was shaking. At any moment Tod could shoot him, or summon Wills to do away with him if he didn’t fancy doing it himself. Ian had a feeling Wills would enjoy carrying out that particular order. With a dismissive sniff, he sat down and crossed his legs, flicking an imaginary speck of dirt from his jeans. Tod’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly, but the movement of his arm indicated that his hand had shifted away from the drawer. A moment later he leaned his elbows on the desk and rested his chin on his clasped hands. He was listening.

  ‘Frank’s gone,’ Ian said, and was relieved his voice sounded steady. ‘But here’s the thing. Before I had a chance to neutralise him, he met with one of my colleagues and dropped you right in it. I heard them arranging a raid on the club.’

  Tod swore.

  ‘As soon as he walked away from his police contact, I was on to him and I didn’t lose sight of him for a second.’ Ian sniffed, and winced as his nose hurt. ‘At the first opportunity, I dealt with him. You won’t be seeing his ugly mug again and nor will his police contact, not unless they dredge the river. But now, we have to act fast. They’ll be here soon.’ He glanced over his shoulder as though he thought the police might come marching in at any moment. ‘We should still have an hour or so before they turn up here. That gives us a window.’

  ‘A window? What the fuck you yapping about?’

  ‘I’m talking about the police,’ Ian replied. ‘Pay attention, will you? They’re preparing to raid the club. I’m telling you, Frank dropped you right in it.’

  Hearing that, Tod was on his feet, all pretence at composure gone. ‘When’s it going to happen?’ he cried out in alarm.

  ‘Some time soon. That’s why we’ve got to act fast.’

  ‘What the fuck, Archie! I got to get away.’ He took a step back from his desk, knocking his chair over in his panic.

  ‘Sit down,’ Ian replied firmly. ‘There’s no point in running. What we need to do is remove anything incriminating from the premises. Drugs, records, contact lists, unaccountable wads of cash, anything that could link you to your suppliers. Let the drug squad come here and take the place apart. It’s a gift, knowing when they’re planning to bust you. Don’t you see? You let them come here and find nothing and after that, you’re in the clear. They won’t come bothering you again. I know those guys. I know the way they think. This has given you the perfect way to get them off your back. All you need to do is remove any evidence before their visit, and they’ll never come back. But you can’t leave anything incriminating on the premises, so you’d best get moving.’

  Tod nodded his head slowly, his eyes wary. ‘You’re making sense,’ he said. ‘But how am I going to hide my gear? Where am I going to stow everything? They’ll have dogs, won’t they? It’s no good hiding stuff under the carpet, is it? What the fuck. I should have ripped that fucker apart with my own hands, the snitch. To think I trusted him.’ Tod bared his teeth and snarled like a dog. ‘Call the boys in. Someone’s going to have to stash my gear, and if anyone fingers what’s mine, I’ll tear them apart.’

  ‘Wait,’ Ian said. ‘You can’t tell your guys to take stuff off the premises. The police are bound to search all of their lodgings. They’ll take their rooms apart.’

  ‘I wouldn’t trust any of them with an ounce anyway,’ Tod growled. ‘But what else am I supposed to do? First you tell me I got no time to waste, and now you tell me to wait. What the fuck, Archie? You’re messing with me. You gotta help me out here.’

  ‘Calm down, will you? You’re forgetting you’ve got me. All you need to do is gather up anything and everything you don’t want the police to find, every last scrap, and I’ll take it home with me. They’re not going to search my apartment, are they? Remember, they think I’m one of them.’ He grinned. ‘Your gear will be safe with me until they’re done searching every inch of this place. Once it’s over, I’ll return everything to you, just as it was when you handed it to me. If there’s so much as an ounce missing, you can shoot me yourself. How’s that? Listen, Tod, you can trust me. You know too much about me for me to drop you in it. And with me on your side, you can’t lose. It’ll cost you,’ he added, ‘but we have to act fast.’

  Tod nodded. ‘You’re my boy,’ he said. Suddenly brisk, he went on, ‘Let’s do it. Call in my boys and we’ll gather everything up. You’ll need bags. No, a case. A large one. What do you think?’

  ‘Whatever it takes. And don’t forget to include all the lists of contacts you have. You’ll need to print them out or write them down and then delete them from your computer and your phone or they’ll find them.’ He paused. ‘Anyone who’s been in contact with the place needs to be eliminated from all records. All the mules, all the suppliers, all the importers. Everyone in the chain. Especially the importers, the big guys. They’re the ones the police will be looking for, not the small-time guys you pass gear on to. But they’re dangerous too, because you don’t know who might squeal. I know a way of deleting contacts permanently from your hard drive and your sim card so the police can’t restore them. And I’ll need to do the same for the phones of everyone who works here.’

  He hoped Tod wouldn’t know he was making this up as he went along. A police technology expert might be able to permanently delete information, but there was no way Ian had the knowledge to access Tod’s hard drive, or to wipe every contact from computers and phones within minutes.

  ‘I’ll get all the mobiles in here,’ Tod said at once. ‘I’ll have my boys bring them in, and you can wipe them all after you wipe my devices. All of them. And all the lulus too,’ he added. ‘All their punters, everyone. We won’t leave a trace.’

  Ian nodded. ‘After that, everyone will have to work quickly to restore innocent contacts, like family, and suppliers of drink and whatever, anyone legit. The police will smell a rat if no one has any contacts on their phones. Come on, we’d better get started. We don’t have much time and there’s a lot to do.’

  With Tod on board, the rest was relatively plain sailing. Ian slipped away and sent Jack a preset alert that he was about to receive details of a stream of contacts: drug pushers, dealers, suppliers, mules and everyone else associated with Tod and his drug empire, all the way up to the top of the chain. Once Ian had completed his job, he would let Jack know. The following day, Jack would send in a team to take Tod’s club apart. The drug squad wouldn’t find anything there but, unknown to Tod and his accomplices, their operations would already be over. The incriminating information would already have reached Jack by the time the drug squad descended on the club. Within a few days, Tod and his contacts would all be behind bars awaiting trial for their illicit activity. Within a few weeks, Ian had achieved what the drug squad had been trying to do for months. As he reached his apartment with a large case of evidence that would see Tod and all his associates behind bars, he felt an overwhelming sense of achievement. His resolve to return to York began to waver. Working for the drug squad was proving more satisfactory than he had expected. A few beatings were a small price to pay for putting so many villains behind bars. Even Geraldine would be proud of him.

  51

  Thomas and Emily were sitting in the living room together watching the local news when a message from the police popped up, asking for information concerning a grey van. Of course he had known the van could not stay hidden forever, but he hadn’t expected it to be discovered so q
uickly. Disappointingly, it had been found in no time at all, a mere twenty-four hours after he had hidden it in the trees. Anyone who might have seen the vehicle recently was encouraged to contact the police urgently. Thomas was vaguely aware of a faint ringing in his ears as he stared at the screen. He had considered Hagg Wood to be a good hiding place, but clearly he had been mistaken.

  It might have been better to have stored the van in a lock-up garage where no one could have come across it, but it would have been difficult to organise that without leaving a trail that led back to him if it ever was found. As it was, the police had no way of discovering who had driven the van into the woods. That had been the best place to leave it, after all, even if it had been discovered far sooner than he would have liked. But it didn’t really matter. He was not in any danger. No one had seen him. He had made sure of that.

  One consequence of its swift discovery was that the tracks he had made walking away from it were probably still visible. He was pleased he had thought to wear wellington boots that were two sizes too large for him. In addition to that, not only had he been careful to avoid being seen in the van, but the man he had bought it from had hardly seen his face, and certainly not clearly, since Thomas had been wearing a hood throughout the entire transaction. Thomas inhaled deeply and concentrated on feeling perfectly calm. It didn’t matter that the police had come across the van he had used. He had been too cunning to give himself away.