The George Elms Trilogy Box Set

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘Well, this ain’t right.’

  George caught up with him. He had moved through a large door — similar in style to the front door. Only this one was hanging open. Part of the door had broken away and there were clear tool marks where the lock was. Someone had broken in. The guard clumsily pushed through it.

  ‘They can’t get at much in here. I’m just worried about damage or squatters. You get a hell of a time getting squatters out, you know.’

  George stopped to survey the place while the guard moved some distance in until George couldn’t see him. The room was completely open plan. With all the windows, George had been expecting a number of segregated rooms. The ceiling was high, the floor a dusty concrete. It was dimly lit. The windows all had solid shutters with steel winding mechanisms to open them. George moved to the one closest. The mechanism whirred and squeaked and the sudden light lit up the Able Security guard, who looked out of breath.

  ‘I’ve done a quick look round. I can’t see any damage or anything. There’s nothing to nick, really. They ain’t even touched my milk!’

  George walked out into the huge space and his movement kicked up the dust. Thick and acrid, it got to the back of his throat and he coughed. On the far side he could see silhouettes of dark objects that looked like they were laid out next to one another. He moved towards them. The light from the open shutters near the door didn’t reach this far so he opened another. The mechanism was harder on this one and he grunted with the exertion. The sunlight fell upon a row of sombre-looking copper tanks. Each was distorted in some way, with one end pulled up into a slim funnel. Some were conjoined together and the body of one was pulled out so that it looked like it had a couple of misshapen legs. George sucked in a lot more dust all at once and coughed hard. By the time he had recovered the guard was back with him.

  ‘I told you. Weird, ain’t they? I never get art.’

  ‘I need to make a call.’ George moved back across the room. He bundled through the splintered door, which hung limp as he moved back out onto the gravel. He filled his lungs with the spring air as he tried to work his phone. Emma picked up on the second ring.

  ‘George.’

  ‘When you searched his house, did you film it? You would have done EGT, right?’ he spluttered. He took another breath. He needed to be calmer. He was certain that something as important as this would have had an Evidence Gathering Team sent in to film the location before anything was searched or moved. But he needed to be sure.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The Roberts house. Where you searched, did you film it? An evidential film?’

  ‘Jesus, George, I know what EGT is! Why the hell would you ask me that?’

  ‘Please, Emma, just answer me.’

  ‘I thought you were heading back. Where are you right now?’

  ‘Emma — this is really important. Please, humour me for just a second. I will explain.’

  ‘Yes, George, of course we did. I never watched it myself. It wasn’t used in court. We used some stills.’

  ‘The stills. Were they of more Brazen Bulls?’

  Emma took her time. Her voice came back quieter. And angrier. ‘We used a lot of evidence for this case, George. I’m sure you can imagine. But, yes, we found a number of similar contraptions.’

  ‘He practiced, didn’t he? At the house. Until he got it right.’

  ‘Where are you, George?’

  ‘I’m right, aren’t I? Why weren’t they seized? As part of the investigation. They’re evidence, right?’

  ‘They are, yes. It was a decision at a higher level than me. Some were seized, George. We still have six of the damned things in storage. No one knows what to do with them now. They were all very similar to the ones we found out in the woods. A decision was made that we just needed to take photos of the others. We took DNA from them to cross the Ts. The defence never argued that he made metal . . . well, whatever you might call them. They confirmed he had a fascination with metalwork.’

  ‘How many were there?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Left. How many did you leave?’

  ‘For Christ sake, George! I don’t know.’

  ‘Do you still have the EGT tape? To hand?’

  ‘It’s in storage, the actual tape. We had a digital copy on a shared file. It will be in the network. I could probably—’

  ‘Watch it, Emma. Can you do it now?’ George could feel his stomach turning. He moved over to a row of bushes in case he had to vomit. His breathing was quick and shallow. He was feeling a little light-headed.

  ‘It’s not that easy. Hang on . . .’ George reached out for the bush. He let the branches run through his fingers. Beyond it a blossom tree was shedding a rich pink bloom like gentle snow as the breeze blew. Nature’s beauty. It was in such contrast. He strained to hear a muffled conversation down the phone where Emma was talking to someone else. She came back after a couple of minutes.

  ‘We’ve got it on the shared file. Its forty minutes long, George. What do you want from me?’

  ‘Can you get to the bit where they film the workshop? Where the copper tanks were?’

  ‘I don’t know. Hang on.’ He heard her bark instructions at someone. She came back to him. ‘Yeah. We’re just walking into the extended bit. It’s pretty much empty.’

  ‘Do they film the copper tanks individually? I need you to tell me how many there are, Emma.’

  Emma huffed, making her frustration clear. ‘Right. Here we are. We’re getting a detailed viewing of each one, George. Stand by.’

  George took his last breath of the fresh air. He moved back through the door to the workshop, back into the open room. Immediately he could feel the thick dust moving to the back of his throat again. The guard was to his right. A kettle hissed. He called out something. George ignored him and moved back to where the copper tanks lay. He squatted down at the end of the row.

  Emma was back. ‘Seven, George. Looks to me like there are seven all in. Yep. Confirmed. Now, what’s this all about?’

  George pushed his fingers into the fresh, rutted tracks that ran through the concrete floor all the way to the door he had just entered. They were unmistakable as drag marks. He slunk to a sitting position.

  ‘Someone’s been to his house, Emma. There’s one missing.’

  Chapter 19

  There it was again. A solid thump from the back. She shouldn’t be able to do that. She shouldn’t be able to do anything. He had tied her up good and she was secured to a down-pillar that was bolted to the chassis of the van itself. It happened again. He swore loudly. Signposts on the left side counted him down from three hundred yards to the next exit off the motorway. He took it. He came to a roundabout, turned left and the next thump was the loudest yet. By the time he pulled the van over hurriedly on a muddy bank next to a sturdy-looking metal gate, he was furious. He slammed the driver’s door and stomped to the rear doors. He pulled one open so hard it rocked on its hinges. The road was busy; cars were passing both ways. He had angled the rear so it was facing into the field. One last check. He was sure no one could see in. The interior light came on with the opening of the door. She was still there, where he had left her, her hands so tight around the post they showed white. Her eyes were wide open, washed out and red, and they met his own. Movement caught his eye as the tank rolled lazily into the middle of the van.

  ‘Ah!’ All his anger immediately drifted away. ‘I thought it was you! I thought you were banging my van!’

  He hadn’t tied it right. He could see the rope at the top, where it had been secured to the opposite side of the van to the girl. It had come loose and it had just enough leeway to roll out and then thump back against the side of the van.

  He climbed into the back. It took just a few seconds to loop the rope back over it and tie it off firmly against the side — tighter this time, and he knotted it twice to be sure. He turned to the girl. She was still looking at him. He had her full attention now, just like he’d known he would. He smiled broadly. Ev
en with blotchy eyes, her hair messed up and a gag pulling at her cheeks and making her mouth hang open she was still beautiful. He reached down and rested his palm on her soft, white skin. She felt wonderful too. Soft, gentle and warm. Perfect. She closed her eyes to his touch. Savouring it maybe? He moved his lips closer to her ear.

  ‘Don’t worry. Soon you will be free. I’ll show you freedom like you never dreamed possible!’

  He stepped out of the van and slammed the door shut behind him. He checked his watch. He needed to get back on the road.

  Chapter 20

  ‘George! How goes it up there?’ Whittaker sounded cheery on the other end of the phone. George was anything but.

  ‘I’ll explain all later, Major. We have a bit of an issue up here. I need to talk to Roberts. I know you have contacts at the prison. Can you make it happen?’

  ‘Roberts? Henry Roberts? I can try and sort that out for you, George. I am a little surprised though, friend? The last time we spoke it seemed to me like the last thing you might want to do.’

  ‘I still don’t want to. I can assure you of that. But I’m going to need to.’

  ‘I’ll make some arrangements. When did you want to sit down with him?’

  ‘Today.’

  George heard the Major suck in a lungful of air. ‘Today! Well now, that does give me a bit of a problem. Today is moving day, George. It’s quite an operation, as you can imagine. You’re lucky I kept you out of it. We have all sorts of top brass down here flapping about, making farting noises. It’s not pleasant. I have to say, old boy, getting you in front of our subject will not be easy. I would go as far as to say not possible. Tomorrow some of the heat might be off us long enough to sort something. It can’t be that urgent, surely?’

  George rubbed at his face. It was that urgent. Maybe leaving it a day would be a good thing. Something that he could use to his advantage. George reckoned Roberts knew who had their missing female. He just had to. He also knew that Roberts would be delighted to be asked about it, to have the power to decide whether he told them or not. He was equally certain that Roberts would never tell them; why would he? Not without something to offer in trade. It was too late to put a stop to his move. George couldn’t prove that he knew anything anyway. His legal team would never let the move be delayed while George couldn’t actually prove any links. But he knew.

  ‘Okay, Major. Can you get me that sit-down for as soon as possible? I really want to speak to him. Until then I’ll stay up here and see what can be done before that conversation.’

  ‘What’s going on, George?’

  ‘The short version? We have a missing person. A female. She fits the profile of the Roberts’s previous victims perfectly. It’s massively out of character and everyone’s very worried.’

  ‘Okay . . . I’m missing something here, George. Henry Roberts definitely didn’t abduct a girl in the last few days. He has an airtight alibi.’

  ‘Sorry, yeah. I know he didn’t. Roberts’s last victim, the biker who got away . . . when she was giving her evidence she couldn’t be sure that the van wasn’t being driven by someone else. A second offender.’

  ‘A second . . . shit, George! And you’re inclined to agree it would seem?’

  ‘No one was sure. But there is other evidence around this girl’s disappearance. Circumstantial stuff, for sure, but enough for us to take it seriously.’

  ‘And you think that talking to Roberts might help? He would love that — you know that, right?’

  ‘I do. I can’t say I relish the thought of talking to him about it but we are going to have to at some point. You never know with him. I might be able to play on his thirst for power. I don’t expect him to help, but I’m certain he knows where this female is.’

  ‘I assume you are staying up there to help with the search?’

  ‘I am. I’m on my way to the missing girl’s house. We’re going to revisit the parents.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Yeah, Emma Rowe is meeting me there.’

  ‘Ah, so she’s letting you help, then? You must be getting better with the old charm offensive.’

  ‘Well, no actually. I didn’t give her a choice, Major! I think deep down she’s actually a little relieved I’m here. I can tell that by the way she told me to fuck off!’

  Whittaker laughed heartily. It was catching. George felt some of his nervous tension ebb away.

  ‘Only George Elms can find an invite in a fuck off! Yup. Go easy with her, George. She seems like a good egg to me.’

  ‘Oh, she is. I get the impression she doesn’t want to involve her team in all of this just yet. I don’t think she wants to have the conversation where she suggests that they have another Henry Roberts on their patch.’

  ‘Another Henry Roberts. It’s been a few years though, George. If that were the case, where has he been all of this time?’

  ‘I agree, and I don’t know. Strange coincidence that this girl goes missing just as he gets his move.’

  ‘And we both agree that detectives aren’t keen on coincidences, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  George ended the call. He was sitting a few hundred yards from the address where he had told Emma Rowe he was going. He hadn’t waited for her answer but he knew she would show. This was a sensitive address where he could do a lot of damage. He saw a car pull onto the drive. He guessed it might be hers. He edged forward and walked up towards the house. Someone was looking out. He was committed now.

  The house looked around thirty years old. It was detached with brown uPVC windows and guttering. It had tiles that came half way down the front in a fancy pattern. A handsome place. The door was answered before George could knock by a blonde woman with a slight build. She had her head bent and wore an oversized jumper, the sleeves covering her hands, just the fingers poking out. He guessed she was around fifty, maybe a little younger. She looked meek, vulnerable almost.

  ‘You must be Inspector Elms,’ she said. Her voice suited her demeanour. George strained to hear it.

  ‘I am. I assume my colleague is here already?’

  ‘Yes. I’m Annie’s mother. You can go through. Don’t worry about your shoes.’

  George moved into the lounge as directed. An angry-looking man turned to him immediately. George guessed he was the dad. He was much taller than his wife. His chest was puffed up and his arms were by his sides but they were stiff and held away from his body, as if he were ready for a fight. His hands were fists. He stared George up and down.

  ‘Maybe you can tell me exactly what you’re doing to find my daughter?’ he spat.

  George offered his hand. ‘Inspector George Elms,’ he said. The man ignored him. He turned to where Emma was standing near to the front window.

  ‘Is no one going to answer me?’

  ‘I’ve told you already, sir. I have a team of officers working on finding your daughter. We are doing all we can.’

  ‘So why are you here? And two of you? That’s two more that could be out looking for my daughter, am I right? We’ve had police here pretty much non-stop since she didn’t come home. I’m fed up with it. When you came out the first time it made a lot of sense to me. The officer — what was her name? Whatever. She told me why. She told me that you search the house, Annie’s bedroom — that you look for any reason why she might have gone missing. That all made sense. But you didn’t find any. That should have started the alarm bells, right? She’s never done this before. She’s in trouble. I can feel it. She’s out there somewhere, in trouble, and you people keep coming round here telling me how much you’re doing—’

  ‘My colleague has told you that we are doing all we can.’ George cut in, his voice a little louder and more forceful. Emma was staring at him, as if making it clear that George needed to answer the man.

  ‘Talk is cheap. Do you have any idea how this feels? To be sat here waiting? I went out earlier, with other people from the area. We were looking for my daughter in the woods, in the rivers, in sheds and outhouses. We were
looking everywhere. Have you any idea what it’s like to be out there, terrified that you might find your daughter . . . I can’t even say it.’ He slumped to a sit on the sofa. George gave him a second to compose himself. His body language changed. He finally relaxed a little. George sat next to him.

  ‘My daughter was missing. She’s a lot younger than Annie. She was six at the time. The difference was, I knew she had been taken. And I knew that I might not get her back. I can’t explain the feeling. It’s like a constant pressure, but from the inside, pushing out. I’ve never felt anything like it before or since. I’m not saying that is what has happened to Annie, but from experience, I know exactly how you are feeling. You are the most important people to us now. You are some of the last people to see her. And you know her best. If she has been taken by someone, the statistics tell us that it’ll likely be someone who is known to her. The people that can best tell us about the people she knows are you and your wife. So I make no apologies for coming back here again and again, and I will keep coming back until we have exhausted every last avenue. Every last enquiry. Is that okay?’

  The man huffed. His stance softened though. ‘You know what it’s like then. Did you get her back? Your daughter?’

  ‘I did. It was the worst time of my life. But I kept myself as calm as I could manage and I did everything I was told by people who knew what they were doing, who were emotionally separate from the investigation. You can’t make the right choices on something like this when you’re so wrapped up in it. You won’t be thinking rationally. You can’t possibly.’

  ‘When I get hold of whoever has taken my baby girl, I tell you, I won’t be thinking rationally then.’

  ‘I wouldn’t expect you to. She works in the city. She commutes there every day. That’s right, isn’t it?’ George wanted to move him on.