by Colin Wade
“Damn, nothing available. I will put an email alert to let us know when vacancies arise. I really think this might be the best option but we might have to be patient.”
“There is one thing though,” said Rob. “Who is going to apply?”
“Hmm, it can’t be Anya, as in theory they will know her face.”
“And the little matter of her being in a coma!”
“Yes, sorry. I guess I was working on the assumption she will wake up.”
Rob was clearly hurt by the exchange but Clark pushed on.
“I have a full-time job, which I can take leave from but it really depends on how long we would need to case the place out and execute any plan.”
“I could do it. If Elisha could cover the gallery, I could in theory take as much time out as we need.”
“Yes, but don’t forget they have you on CCTV.”
“Oh Christ, surely they won’t have kept that.”
“Hmm, I don’t know. If you triggered something by visiting there is every chance someone at the clinic has you and Anya’s identities as a red flag.”
They pondered on this for a bit longer as the pizza arrived. After they finished off most of the food, Clark spoke.
“I can make you a fake ID but we need to change your appearance somehow. Maybe grow a beard, wear some glasses.”
“OK. Sounds feasible.”
“We just need to hope the email alert works quickly.”
They both seemed to be happy with the plan and Clark could sense an intensity about Rob that he hadn’t noticed before. Clark pushed on in the hope that he was reading the situation right.
“What else can we do? I have got the bank work underway. We have got this new idea of getting a job at the clinic. Both might take some time and patience. We need some other ideas.”
“What about targeting the staff at the clinic? See if anyone would tell us more about the sleazy doctor and what he is up to. I am sure that receptionist we spoke to at the gate was covering for him. Her responses seemed too rehearsed.”
“Yes, that might be an angle.”
Clark moved into ‘mission control’, his fingers quickly dancing over the keyboard at his usual blinding pace.
“Right, I have hacked back into the Fairport Medical systems and have the staff database up. The staff list is quite small but there is a receptionist called Janet Wall. I bet that is who you spoke to.” Clark flicked onto another screen and found her home address. “She lives in Leamington Spa. We could give her a visit to see if she would talk.”
“That might be an idea, but do we run the risk of raising the very suspicions we said we need to be careful to protect? What if she is loyal to Dr Normandy?”
“Yes, you may be right but there may come a time when we have no choice.”
“What about disgruntled ex-employees?”
Clark tapped away again and found a list of staff that had left over the last three years. It was a very small list but one name jumped out, Janice Silverman, another receptionist whose reason for leaving was marked as ‘Dismissal for Gross Misconduct’.
“Now this looks promising. Why was she dismissed? Did she cross the dear doctor and lose?”
They both looked at each other excitedly. Could this be their smoking gun?
Clark found her address. She lived near Warwick. A visit to see Janice went to the top of their ‘to-do list’.
“What else?” said Clark. “You are on fire with the great ideas!”
Rob ignored the blatant attempt at flattery and instead sat staring at the picture of Anya on the board. His beautiful Anya. God, she needed to wake up soon.
Clark saw Rob gazing at her picture.
“She will be all right you know.”
Rob looked at Clark, moody and aggressive. “You know that for sure, do you?”
Clark retreated again. He seemed to have developed a habit of triggering Rob at just the wrong time. After a few minutes he decided to take a chance by opening up the conversation.
“Look Rob, I am sorry. I do have one other idea.”
“What?”
“The accidents. I am sure this is all part of the cover-up. I wondered whether there was a way we could make some enquiries to the police. We would need to think of a scenario that would not raise suspicion.”
Rob nodded. A bit calmer. A bit friendlier.
“Yes, let me think about it. We need to come up with a plausible reason for doing that.”
They decided to end it there. Both with plenty to think about and an ongoing test of their patience as they waited for Snap, and for the Loughborough Clinic to have a job vacancy.
As Rob left, Clark sat in his chair, thinking. Talking about the car accidents had pricked that little niggle in his head again, which had started when Rob was telling him about Anya’s spiral into drug addiction and her horrible dreams.
It was something about Anya’s parents. Niggling away. What was it that didn’t seem right about their deaths?
43
The blackness was still all around her but the dreams kept coming.
*
She rolled the £10 note up. Carefully laid out the white powder on the mirror in two nice, neat lines. She snorted them one by one. Ahh, relief from the pain, from the beatings, from the constant sexual assaults. In that moment, she was floating, out of her body. The drugs giving her the hit she so craved. She lay on Bradley’s sofa, in the swanky riverside flat, hoping that he wouldn’t be home any time soon.
The images flickered away. This was when she woke up. Wasn’t it? Anya struggled against the blackness. Why was she dreaming but not waking up?
*
Rob sat by Anya’s bed holding her hand hoping for something. He jumped. Her finger had moved. Hadn’t it? Was he imagining it? He called the doctor.
“Doctor, I am sure her finger just moved.”
“OK, let me examine her.”
The doctor looked at the machines, at the constant stream of information coming out of them, keeping Anya alive. He opened her eyelids and shone a torch in each one. Checked her pulse and vitals.
“I’m sorry Mr Simmons but nothing seems to have changed.”
“But I am sure her finger moved.”
“Look, it is possible and, if it did happen, it is a good sign. Her neurological capacity may be repairing itself. You just have to be patient.”
“It did happen.”
The doctor walked out, leaving Rob in absolute turmoil. Was this good? Should he be jumping for joy? He sat down again and held her hand. Willing for her finger to move again.
*
Clark was getting impatient. It seemed like suddenly he was waiting for everyone. Snap for the bank, the clinic for job opportunities and Rob to come up with a plan about contacting the police and visiting Janice Silverman. He pondered what he could do next.
Follow the money.
The new money. He wondered. Had any more payments been made?
He hacked back into the folder on the Fairport Medical Cayman Island server, where he found the original bank statements.
“Bingo. Another statement.”
The symmetry was back as the remaining £500k per transaction was split into three payments of £225k, £175k and £100k.
Interesting. It seems like everyone is getting a pay increase.
44
A few more days had passed and Rob continued his hamster-wheel existence. He focused on the ray of hope that Anya’s finger movement was a sign she was on the way back to him.
He’d had a text from Clark on the new phone. The rest of the money had been paid out. The game was definitely on.
As it was Sunday morning he had a rare change of routine. He would still visit Anya in the afternoon but for now he could ‘enjoy’, if indeed he could ever enjoy anything at a time like this, the lazi
ness of the only day he had off. The text from Clark had reminded him about the two things he said he would consider. Visiting this Janice Silverman person and maybe contacting the police.
How can I contact the police without raising suspicion?
He picked up the Sunday paper and tried to get some inspiration. He read about the latest Brexit arguments, the Premier League results from yesterday and the cow that had got itself stuck in a ditch. Suddenly, a story gave him some inspiration. A disgruntled relative was bringing a civil lawsuit against a company that had got away with what the relative had thought was criminal health and safety breaches against their father who had been critically injured at work. The police and the Health and Safety Executive had not ruled in the family’s favour. The relative was determined to get justice.
I hear you mate. But, your situation does give me an idea. I could approach the police pretending to be a solicitor following up a civil claim.
He phoned Clark. He answered straight away.
“Hello Rob.”
“Hi Clark. I have an idea about the police. Why don’t I contact them pretending to be a solicitor with the pretence that I am starting a civil claim against the hit-and-run driver?”
“Hmm, that might be a good plan but still a bit risky. This conspiracy definitely has some dodgy police officers on the payroll. The difficult thing is working out which ones are in on it and which are clean.”
Clark went back over his notes about the accidents. “They cover four different police forces as the accidents were in Berkshire, Wiltshire, Hertfordshire and West London. I guess you could target one and see how you get on.”
“Which one though?”
“I reckon the police in West London. Marjit Ahmed’s so-called accident. It is the biggest force and probably maxed out with work. They probably didn’t bat an eyelid at a cold investigation. They must have hundreds every week.”
“OK, give me all the details that you have and I will make a call into their contact centre to see if I can get the name of the investigating officer.”
“OK, let me know how you get on.”
Rob decided to strike whilst the iron was hot and contacted the police about Marjit Ahmed’s accident in West London.
He phoned 101 and got through to the contact centre. He started the cover story spiel and gave the date and details of the accident that Clark had supplied him with. The contact handler found the unique reference number for the incident and sought to verify further why Rob was seeking information about this case. His explanation seemed to satisfy the very helpful lady and she agreed that she would get the police officer who had been assigned the investigation to phone him, as she could not give his direct contact details out to Rob. She confirmed his name as PC Jason Fellows and gave him the reference number for the incident. Rob supplied a false name.
Rob was just getting ready to visit Anya after a quick lunch when his mobile rang and the voice at the end of phone asked to speak to Simon Bentley.
“Oh, hello,” said Rob, jumping quickly into character, “I am Simon Bentley. How can I help you?”
“Hi, my name is PC Jason Fellows. I understand you were enquiring about a road traffic accident that I investigated.”
“Yes, thank you for coming back to me so quickly. I am a lawyer representing the parents of Marjit Ahmed who was killed in that accident. They are distressed that criminal proceedings don’t appear to have progressed in this case and they have asked me to review the civil route. In essence, they would like to know the status of the case and the name of the other driver, so we can try to serve legal proceedings against him.”
“Um, this might be an obvious point, but if we had identified the driver he would have had a criminal charge against him. I have reviewed the case notes and the real issue is that we never identified the other driver.”
Rob hesitated for a minute. That was a good point and maybe their cover story was a bit rubbish. Just as he was about to panic about what to say next, the PC continued.
“However, what I can tell you is that this case was closed as our local police enquiry. About six weeks into the investigation my inspector told me we had been contacted by a superintendent in the National Major Crime Agency, who said he headed up a Major Crime unit that was investigating a series of these types of crimes and asked us to pass all case notes to them.”
Rob was intrigued by this and pushed a little further. “What was the superintendent’s name?”
“Err, let me have a look.” After a brief pause, as the PC tapped away at the system he was using, he came back with “Superintendent Hassan Chandra.”
Rob thanked him and disconnected the call. He had to phone Clark about this new development. Was there really somebody looking at these as a series of connected cases or was this all part of the conspiracy?
Rob phoned Clark and relayed the information he had found. Clark asked Rob to hang on and he heard the familiar sound of Clark banging away at his keyboard.
“Well, Hassan Chandra does exist and he is a superintendent in the National Major Crime Agency. Now, whether he is one of the dirty cops on the payroll is difficult to judge but his rank and the status of the NMCA would probably be enough for him to sound plausible to local police forces about taking over their cases. I reckon you need to approach another police force about their case and see if there are any similarities or patterns of behaviour.”
“OK, good idea. Which one do you think I should do next?”
“I would suggest going to the police in Hertfordshire and ask about Lisa Benbridge’s accident.”
They agreed that is what Rob would do and he wrote down all the information that Clark gave him over the phone. No email. They still needed to be paranoid.
He got in his car, desperate to see Anya again, but with a little bit of excitement that maybe he and Clark were beginning to get somewhere.
“Hmm, maybe this nerd isn’t so bad after all,” he said to himself as he started the now familiar journey down the road from Goring to Reading.
45
The doctor checked Sam and Bianca’s latest blood tests. They were ready, earlier than he had predicted. The packages from the clients had already arrived, he had been paid and he was ready to go.
Right, let’s get this moving. The sooner this is done, the sooner I can get away from all this. At least with all this extra money, I can relocate to the Far East where my friends have me all set up for…
He didn’t need to finish the sentence. He just smiled to himself. The latest pictures of young boys and girls from this secret Far East ‘arrangement’ had really got him excited. This was where he wanted to go. Where he wanted to be. To play out all his fantasies.
He had brought Sam and Bianca round from their semi-permanent drug induced comatose state to try to fool them into thinking they were still progressing through the tough drug recovery programme. It seemed to be working. He explained their long periods of sedation as necessary for their recovery.
The girls seemed to believe his every word. Just like all the others. Except for…Anya Novak. She was always the troublesome one. He wondered what the boss and his cronies were doing about that little problem.
Bianca and Sam were together chatting and watching TV. They seemed oblivious to what was going to happen to them. The doctor asked Sam to return to her room for some medical checks. They obeyed like the little lab rats they had become.
He started examining Bianca on the pretence of giving her a general medical check, but without warning injected her with the drugs that would sedate her… again. She was out within seconds. He went into Sam’s room and did the same.
He wheeled them both into the treatment room, prepared the first samples from the package he had received from the clients and started their first cycle of treatment.
They were both more or less where he needed them to be to make the treatment cycle work but there w
as no guarantee it would take first time. If it did, this ordeal would be over much quicker and he could get on with his life.
He wheeled them both back to their rooms. More than ever, he would keep them in an induced coma for long periods. The less they were cognisant for this phase the better. He would make sure they came out the other side with some time to adjust. Just with no memories of what had happened to them… hopefully.
46
Rob got home after another day of the same old routine. There had been no more body movements from Anya, leaving him a bit deflated.
“It just needs time.”
That mantra from her doctor was beginning to wear thin. He was excited by the progress he was making with Clark, but it would all be for nothing if she didn’t wake up.
Rob decided to put a call into the police in Hertfordshire, as Clark had suggested.
The call into the Hertfordshire contact centre went without a hitch. The cover story was holding up. Within a couple of hours, his phone rang.
The caller asked to speak to Simon Bentley and Rob once again lied that he was indeed that person. She introduced herself as PC Sarah Whalley and confirmed that she had been in charge of the investigation.
The conversation followed a similar pattern, where Rob laid out the cover story about representing Lisa’s parents in a civil suit. The PC seemed to understand and confirmed that the other driver had never been identified.
Rob knew he had to probe. “So, what is the current status of this investigation?”
The PC tapped away at the police crime system. “The case is closed as a Hertfordshire investigation.”
Rob was stunned. Was this going to be the same situation as Marjit’s investigation? He probed further.
“That’s strange, how can a case be closed if the perpetrator has not been caught?”
“Sorry, the case is closed from a Hertfordshire perspective because my inspector told me we had been asked to hand it over to the National Major Crime Agency.”
