The George Elms Trilogy Box Set

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘Not even close.’

  George pulled out the chair and slumped into it. ‘What more do you need from me?’

  ‘Henry Roberts. He’s given up the site for one of the missing girls. For Ellie Smith.’

  ‘One of them?’

  ‘Yes. One of them.’

  ‘I thought it was both? I thought that was all part of the deal?’

  ‘It is, you’re right. He’s giving us Ellie Smith and then Chloe Pope after.’

  ‘I thought he was in a hurry to move? And what is he saying? That we either do what he says or the deal’s off and he doesn’t move? We’ll go with that one then! Fuck him, he can stay and rot where he is.’

  ‘You know how important those sites are. For the political aspect of this, I mean. I think Roberts knows that too.’

  ‘And for the families. I don’t care about the politics. That doesn’t matter to me a jot. I’m taking small comfort in the fact that the families get something out of this. That’s all.’

  ‘The families then. It’s massively important for them. We’re going to retrieve Ellie tomorrow. Early. It’s really important—’

  ‘We? You mean “we” as in the royal we, right? Like the police?’

  ‘Me and you, George.’

  ‘Why the hell do I have to go?’

  ‘I was just going to tell you. It’s really important that you at least go to the site. It’s part of his conditions. He’s—’

  ‘His conditions? Roberts? Why am I suddenly part of this? I just met the guy! There’s a whole other police force that put him there. I’m just the twat who turned up to listen to his rantings.’

  ‘I know what you are, George. But, for the first time, the police have a contact that Henry Roberts is talking to. We can’t lose that, George. He’s insisted that you go to the site. Then he’ll tell you where the second one is. But only you.’

  ‘Fucking hell, Major!’ George pushed off the table. He walked quickly to the window and fixed on a small boat that bobbed against the waves. From this distance he could just see a flash of the white surf.

  ‘You need to get your head around it, George. I know it doesn’t sit comfortably with you. It doesn’t with me either. We do what we’re told for a couple of days. We play this man’s game, do what the politicians need and then we’re done. He can have his view and he can have his death. And one should follow the other pretty damned quickly.’

  ‘I just don’t . . . it’s control again! He craves it, we know that much, and we’re just handing it over to him. He’s thoroughly enjoying himself, Major, and I’m at the centre of that. That’s what I can’t get out of my head. Why can’t we just tell him that I’m going? He wouldn’t know any better.’

  ‘I don’t want anything going wrong. I don’t want him striking up a conversation with you about the colour of the scenery up there or the rare plants that are growing over it or some other crap and working out that you didn’t go. I don’t want anything to threaten this. It makes no difference anyway. We go up tomorrow. It’s a day out in the woods. We’re meeting the locals who will take us to the site. As soon as that’s done, we can come away. CSI and the search teams will do their bit and then we can go back and meet Roberts for the last time. We’ll listen to his bullshit for just a few minutes, just long enough for us to get the other site out of him and then we’re done. I’ll pass the details up the line and another family gets their daughter back. You will have made that difference, George. You said you saw one of the mothers, you said she was waiting for her daughter to come home. You can make that happen.’

  ‘I don’t see this being the end of it. Every time I do my bit you’re asking me to do something more. You know I don’t mind normally. I’ll do whatever you ask, whatever is needed of me. But I catch bad people. That’s what we’re all here to do. I don’t move them somewhere nice when they’ve already been caught. I don’t get used as part of their games.’

  ‘That’s what I like about you, old boy. You’re here for the right reasons. But we have to play this game, this time. Give me one more day, George.’

  George sighed. ‘Look, I appreciate that you’re asking at all. I know you can just order me up there. If it was anyone else I would dig my heels in, Major. Let’s just get this done. It needs to be an early start though. I’m taking my daughter to the cinema tomorrow evening.’

  ‘Excellent. I’m glad you’ve come round. I was giving it one more go and then I was going to order you up there. Now, pick up your bottom lip and let’s get the hell out of here, shall we? You’ve got a caseload on back at the office.’

  George chuckled. As they walked back through the house he took one last, lingering look out through the huge glass window. He tried to focus his mind on Mary Pope. On repairing some of the devastation at least. That was his job now.

  Chapter 12

  Whittaker wrenched open the car door. ‘What sort of time of day is this, eh, George?’

  ‘Five a.m., Major. I thought you army boys were used to the crack of dawn?’

  ‘I retired, George, remember? I figured the police would be a bit like getting a little Saturday job to tide me over.’

  ‘Of course you did. May I suggest an early stop for a cup of coffee, then?’ George pulled out of a marked bay at the front of Langthorne Police Station. ‘I assume I’m heading back to the same village? That area at least. The Forest of Dean?’

  ‘No actually. We’re going a little further afield.’

  ‘Further?’

  ‘Yeah, not much. We’re going over the border into Wales.’

  ‘So not the Forest of Dean?’

  ‘No. Still a forest, I think. Afan Forest.’

  ‘Afan Forest? Do you know where that is?’

  ‘I have the postcode for where we are meeting the people that do. Don’t you worry, we’ll get there.’

  ‘Might have to skip the coffee then, Major. I need to be back down here at a reasonable time today.’

  ‘I know. You’re taking Charley out to the cinema. Is she choosing?’

  ‘She has already. I think the film is described as a High School dance epic.’

  ‘I see. Are you sure she’s choosing?’ George joined in with Whittaker’s chuckle.

  ‘I’m sure. And even if I enjoy it, I won’t admit it.’

  ‘Well, don’t worry. I’ve made arrangements. We should be in, find what we need to find and then out.’

  * * *

  George found the car park four hours later. The entrance was via a sudden break in thick woodland. He had to slow as he pulled onto the grey shingle and exposed rock that made up the surface. The scenery really opened up and he could see they were at the base of a steep tree-lined bowl. The parking bays were defined by long, filed-down tree trunks that were fixed roughly together with exposed joints. There were a few parked cars scattered around. Most had some sort of bike rack. He saw two mountain bikers head off as he approached. He pulled in next to two identical-looking trucks. They looked brand-new, their bodies lifted high over thick, knobbly tyres. Both had Warrior emblazoned on their respective rumps. A cheery-looking woman in waterproof trousers and a fleece walked over with her hand held out.

  ‘George Elms?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Becca Moors. I’m on the tactical support team by day, but I do a bit of search and rescue in my spare time. Round here mainly. We’re all volunteers but no one knows the woods like we do.’

  ‘Sounds like we’re going to need you.’

  ‘I think you’re right. I’ve had sight of the map you people want us to follow. It’s barely a sketch.

  ‘Oh, really? I’ve not seen it myself. Is it going to be a problem?’

  ‘Only if it’s not where we think it is. There are some landmarks that we’re pretty sure we know between us. I’m confident we can get you there.’

  ‘Well, we are in your hands. We struggled just to find the car park!’ George turned to the sound of another engine. A Ford rolled up nex
t to them. Emma Rowe stepped out. She looked more casual. It didn’t suit her so well. She was in dark jeans, a fleece top and hiking boots. George smiled at her as she walked over. She smiled back but it looked fraught; it barely reached her lips and it fell away quickly.

  ‘Hey, Becca,’ she said. ‘George.’

  ‘Morning, Emma. Apologies. I wasn’t expecting you or I might have brought the biscuits this time. This is John Whittaker. The chief inspector I told you about who had me stitched up from the start.’

  ‘Ah, yes. We’ve spoken on the phone. Nice to finally meet you, sir.’ Emma’s smile now looked a little more genuine. She shook Whittaker’s hand. ‘He did say that too, sir.’

  ‘I bet he did. The problem I have is that I can’t really deny it. This was a bit of a stitch-up to be honest. In my defence, I didn’t realise quite how much of a stitch-up. Not that it would have changed a thing, of course.’

  ‘It might have made you quicker to send me if anything,’ George said.

  ‘You might be right. Still, it didn’t quite work. I still ended up here.’ Whittaker suddenly sounded awkward and hurried. ‘Not that this is a bad part of the world, Emma. It’s lovely here. You know what I mean?’

  ‘I do. Don’t worry, sir. For the record, I would rather be anywhere than here today.’

  George’s gaze lingered on her. She carried herself with authority and grace, but she didn’t hide stress well. George believed her. She really would rather be anywhere else.

  A rugged-looking man came out of the second truck and stood next to Becca. He was just as cheery and was also in waterproof trousers and hiking boots. George was in his standard formal trousers with tired leather shoes, a cheap shirt and an even cheaper tie. He had a long jacket that hung open. He suddenly felt unprepared. The man smoothed out a large map on the bonnet of one of the trucks, then introduced himself as Dan. He moved a finger to a central point on the map.

  ‘This is the car park, where we are. Afan is like a bowl, as you can see. The sides are covered in trees and trails. That’s why the bikers love it here. Our site is up one of the sides, much higher. Up here.’ His finger moved to the top left of the map. Any paths or roads seemed a long way off, even with George’s basic understanding of maps. ‘We can drive some of the way. The rest is a hike. I don’t think it’s too far off the track, but I’m not going to say that in case you all end up getting very upset with me.’

  ‘Okay. Are we going to follow you up?’ George looked back over to the family hatchback that he had managed to rent for the day. Becca must have seen him because she started chuckling.

  ‘Not in that! We’ll take the trucks up. Dan is going to take the lead. He’s our EGT camera man. Emma needs it filmed. Where did you want me to start from, Emma?’

  Emma’s own gaze had been lifted to the hills. ‘Sorry, Becca?’

  ‘The recording. You said you wanted it filmed? Dan here will be in the front truck with his camera. Where did you want him to start from?’

  ‘Are we leaving now?’

  ‘We can. We’re ready.’

  ‘Then he can start now.’

  ‘From here?’ Becca looked a little taken aback.

  ‘Yes, I would rather he got too much than too little.’

  George sat in the front of the second truck. Becca took the driver’s seat. Whittaker and Emma were in the back seats. Dan was being driven in the lead truck. George looked out. He could see numerous trails leading away from the car park. All of them were uphill. They moved back out onto the road at first. The climb was gentle. Nothing his hatchback couldn’t have handled. It was a few miles before they turned onto what was more like a forest path. The Warrior bumped and dipped over the rutted trail, but it was easy enough. George took in the scenery through the window. The further they moved into the Afan Forest, the more dramatic their surroundings became. George had been in woods before, forests even, in England. But they were nothing like this. This was otherworldly stuff. It was stunningly beautiful and changing all the time. They moved past trees on the outskirts with trunks that were gnarled and matted. They looked like they had been standing as guardians on the outside for centuries. Further in, the trees got taller and thinner but much closer together. Some were wrapped together, their slender trunks tightly intertwined, jostling to reach for the sunlight. It was so dense that the light dipped to twilight levels. George was trying to follow their progress on the map. He quickly gave up. Luckily for him, the lead Warrior ploughed on as if the driver was confident of where he was going. George moved back to staring out of the window. Nature continued with its show. The dense greens and browns gave way to reveal a sudden cliff of solid rock with water slithering down its front. It was twenty metres tall and appeared from nowhere. And they were still climbing.

  The going became harder: the track less of a track at all; the rocks more pronounced and obtrusive. He could see brake lights ahead. They stayed on; the lead truck had stopped. The passenger door pushed open and Dan stepped out, his camera levelled. It was pointed forward and he walked straight ahead.

  ‘This is it, then,’ Becca said. She pulled on the handbrake and killed the engine. George stepped out. He immediately regretted his choice of clothing again. The floor was coated in long grass and mulch. It was damp. He followed the group. His trousers soaked through almost instantly. They had stopped on a gradient, the trucks pointing up. He walked past them. The tree canopy was a little thinner at this height and he could even see the sky. They found a path of sorts. Comprising compressed mud, pine needles and sharp rock, it was barely wide enough to walk on — probably a wild animal run. It pushed back into an area of dense trees. Dan was still leading, capturing every step on camera. George could hear him giving the occasional line of commentary. The terrain changed again. The track ran out and underfoot was now a vivid green moss. It was springy to the step and, when George moved off it, it recovered immediately as if he had never been there. The moss got thicker, its colour even brighter and coating everything. The tree trunks and branches, the flat rocks, every inch of ground was lurid green. It was as strange as it was beautiful, like photoshopped reality. George was a few steps behind the two guides and Dan with his camera.

  ‘I’m too old for this, George,’ Whittaker said.

  ‘I was thinking the same, Major.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, man! You’re not even forty yet!’

  ‘I meant about you!’ Both men chuckled. George turned to find Emma. She was a few more steps behind. He didn’t think she had any desire to catch up with them. He was just about to call out and check that she was okay when he heard a shout.

  ‘This is it!’ He looked up. Dan held his camera steady. Becca had given the shout. George walked up to her. Beyond where she stood he could see a circular clearing where the ground levelled out. They were at the top of the incline. George could see the trees sloping away now, back towards where they had started. It was even clear enough for him to see the trees on the other side of the bowl. Just about every inch of the clearing was coated in the same moss he had just walked on. The exception was a small, round tree stump right in the centre.

  ‘This is it? Any idea where we need to look?’ George scanned the area then called back to Emma. ‘There was a big cross the last time, right? Marking the grave?’

  ‘The grave, yes.’ Emma moved forward a few paces. When she stopped she was still a few feet short of George. Her eyes flicked around the clearing. They rested back on George. ‘This isn’t where he buried her,’ she said.

  Becca rustled the map. ‘It’s the place on the map—’

  ‘This is where he killed her,’ Emma said.

  George turned to see her step back. ‘How could you know that? It’s a load of moss and a tree stump in the middle of nowhere. What do you know that we don’t?’

  ‘That’s not a tree stump.’

  The stump was maybe ten metres away and George moved towards it. He nodded at Dan who turned his camera back on. Dan said the time out loud and stepped besi
de him. It took just a few paces for George to see that Emma was right. It wasn’t a tree stump, it wasn’t even wood. It looked like it was made out of a rusty metal — copper, maybe, or brass. It was on four stumpy legs and the moss had made a start on curling around the bottom of each. As George got closer he thought it looked like a water tank, or maybe even two grafted together somehow. It had a distorted shape, a wide, rounded bottom that pinched up to a slim neck that was off-centre. The moss underneath it was thinner than everywhere else and a slightly different shade of green. He was close enough to see a line in the metal surface. It ran all the way around the side like the whole structure might come apart. George held back so Dan could move around it with the camera. He paused the footage and lowered it.

  ‘Any idea what you’re filming here?’ George said.

  ‘Not a clue. I was hoping you might.’

  ‘No. But I know someone who does. Don’t touch it for a minute.’

  Emma had moved quite a distance back through the trees. She was facing away. She looked like she was taking in the view of the forest on the other side through a break in the trees. George’s approach was loud with the cracking and snapping of twigs and branches underfoot but Emma did not turn around.

  ‘Emma, any chance you could help me out with what I’m doing up here?’ George said.

  Emma’s shoulders shook. Her head dipped forward, she sniffed loudly.

  ‘Are you . . . okay?’

  ‘Sorry, George. I didn’t want to come up here today. But I didn’t want to ask anyone else. It wouldn’t be fair.’

  ‘What’s going on, Emma? Are you speaking in riddles on purpose? What’s the matter?’

  She turned at last, her face flushed, her eyes filled with tears. ‘What did you see?’ she sniffed.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Up there. What did you see?’

  ‘What did I see? Something that looks like a water tank. The sort we’ve all had in our lofts at some point. But it’s odd. It looks like it’s been beaten out of shape. I thought I was coming up here to find the shallow grave of a murder victim. What’s going on?’