An Urgent Murder

by Alex Winchester

  “Can I see the video from the camera in South Street?”

  “Yes.” His composure now regained and discussing a topic he was fully conversant with, the sergeant pressed on. “You need to fill out one of our forms and we will view it as and when we can.”

  “Sorry sergeant, but this is incredibly urgent and will be authorised by DCS Prodow, or higher.”

  The sergeant, who was known only by his last name of Murray looked quizzically at John.

  “You do realise that if you view it, and it is later required for court, I am duty bound to disclose you accessed it, and that could be a problem?”

  “Let me be frank. The chances of it getting anywhere near a court room is highly remote.”

  “On your head then so be it” and Murray shifted from his padded desk chair and sat down heavily on a small metal chair that took the strain heroically. His hands darted dextrously across an immaculate keyboard that was sited in front of a large monitor. It looked like a brand new piece of kit but was over a year old and lovingly cleaned every day by Murray when he was in the office. John dragged, rather than lifted another metal chair and sat next to him having first secured the office door. The monitor burst into life with a coloured image from high above the bus station looking towards the Cross along South Street.

  “What times are you looking for?”

  “Between 1pm and 3pm.”

  Fingers caressed the keyboard and the monitor flickered and showed 1pm in the top right corner with the current date. Then the video began to play. John asked if it could be sped up but still viewable. Again the fingers hardly seemed to move, but the video was moving at three time’s normal speed.

  Within seconds, John saw the Audi stop in the disabled parking area outside Tesco Express in South Street facing the Cross in the city centre. He asked for the video to play in normal time, and the Sergeant obliged.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “I’m not sure yet, but it will become obvious.”

  Three men, all apparently quite tall as they seemed to unfold themselves from the vehicle, moved to the pavement. Where the vehicle had stopped was nearly half way to the Cross and as such identification of anyone on the video at that distance when the camera was panned out to its maximum was virtually impossible.

  After a couple of minutes, one walked towards the camera.

  John pointed to the three men and said, “Is it at all possible to get any kind of photo image of them?”

  Murray, without a word pointed over his shoulder to a printer on a separate desk as it erupted into life with a loud clonk. Crossing to it, John waited as a coloured A4 size photo slowly spewed out. He picked it up and saw the clear features on an enlarged image from the video which showed the man who had followed him into the garage. The next two images were good enough for identification purposes, but nowhere as decent as the first. They struck a chord with John as he remembered both from his brief sighting of them as they set about assaulting him.

  “What have they done?”

  “You should see in a couple of minutes.” Both sat back in their chairs and watched the screen as the first man walked back towards the camera and to the Crown Court steps where he stopped and lit a cigarette. Witnesses and defendants from the Crown Court who were nicotine addicts were also outside either having a last gasp before sentence or to calm their nerves prior to giving evidence. He blended in immediately. The other two propped up the building level with the Audi by the entrance to Tesco Express as though waiting for partners who were busy shopping inside. They didn’t elicit a glance from any passer-by.

  Murray said to John but more to himself, “Not a uniform officer in sight. I briefed five of them this morning. Where the hell are they all?”

  After seven minutes had elapsed, Alison strolled into view from under the camera at the bus station and into South Street.

  “Isn’t that PC (Police Constable) Daines? She used to be on my section.”

  The man on the steps jogged across the road in front of a bus and followed behind Alison at no more than five yards. As she approached the Audi, it was clearly obvious that she had noticed it as her face was turning towards it as she drew closer. When she was a few feet away and level with it, she was looking straight into the car as the two men moved from the entrance of Tesco’s coming behind her taking hold of her arms. The following man passed by her and opened the back door of the Audi as he continued towards the Cross. Alison was thrown into the rear of the vehicle.

  “Fucking hell.” The images stopped. Sergeant Murray turned to John and said again, “Fucking hell. What’s this all about?”

  John said, “She’s been kidnapped, but for the moment, no one must know. Can you play a bit more?”

  The video started again and they watched as one man got straight into the back seat after Alison, and the other walked casually to the driver’s door and got in. Then the vehicle slowly moved away from the kerb and completed a U turn travelling towards the camera when the video stopped again.

  “Do you want an image of the Audi?”

  “Yes. It may be useful. I think it’s a hire car.”

  John asked if a full video recording could be put onto a DVD for later use.

  Sergeant Murray agreed and said, “What are you going to do about Alison?”

  “It may sound strange, but it’s all in hand and under control.”

  John told him that Prodow would need the DVD and would explain more to him later in confidence.

  “I’ll have it done within a couple of hours and I will bring it up to your office.”

  “Please only give it to me or Prodow, and make no comment as to what or who it is about.”

  “One proviso. Alison was one of my star probationers. I want in on any rescue and arrests.”

  “You’ve got my word” and John left the office clasping the four coloured photographs.

  73

  Saturday 11th June 2011

  Simon got off the bus and started to walk the last mile towards Alison’s flat via the side streets. It didn’t feel right as he was walking along one of the tree lined roads. He slowed to a practical crawl and looked constantly at his foot as though it was causing him a problem, or he had trodden in something nasty. Slowly he became sure there was someone following him, but he couldn’t see who or where they were and he was the only pedestrian. Using occasional reflections in windows, he scoured the area behind him but saw no one. No one was in front of him nor were there parked vehicles anywhere in the road. All the houses had driveways and some vehicles were parked in these. Simon looked at all the cars he could see, and none looked suspicious in any way. Stopping, he held onto a wooden gatepost and removed his shoe. Hopping about on one foot as he ostensibly tried to sort something out with it: he scrutinised the surrounding area. Whoever was following him had not been on the bus or got out of any vehicle, but seemed to pick him up within a hundred yards of the bus stop.

  Simon was well versed in surveillance techniques as having been trained by both military and Police he was good at it himself. His training had also included anti-surveillance methods, and how to spot a ‘tail’ and lose it if needed. There was no doubt in his mind, there was someone following him, and he knew whoever it was: they were exceptionally good. Putting his shoe back on, he continued, now apparently happy with it, at his original pace towards Alison’s flat. It was irrelevant that someone was following him as it was obvious where he was going and he knew he had not been followed from the cathedral. As he turned into the side road just before the entrance to Alison’s cul-de-sac, he was astonished to see the van still parked in the lay-by. Walking quickly into the cul-de-sac and then up the stairs to her front door, he realised that they must be waiting for him.

  Before he opened the front door, he took his mobile phone out of his pocket as though he had received a text, and pressed a few buttons. Hannibal came up the stairs and showed recognition and no fear as he pressed up against the legs of Simon. Putting the key in the lock he opened t
he door and Hannibal instantly bolted back down the steps as a large fist travelled towards Simon’s face. Simon accepted he was going to have to be subservient for a while, and as the fist hit him, he rode the punch but fell to the floor screaming in deceptive agony. Rough hands hauled him to his feet by his lapels as he snivelled.

  “Please don’t hit me” as he was dragged into the lounge and deposited onto the settee.

  The owner of the fist was a good six feet six tall and built like the proverbial brick outhouse. He was wearing an ill-fitting black suit with a white shirt and poorly knotted blue tie. His face was podgy and reddish and where he had shaved it looked as though the razor had been blunt and just dragged any hairs out. Dark sun glasses covered his eyes, which didn’t add to his menace. It was clear to Simon that he was not very fit, but due to his size, would intimidate the majority of people: a heavy in some parlance. Simon had no fear of him and knew he could deal with him when needed, but for now he played the whimpering coward.

  With a heavy accent, the gorilla said, “Phone” and held out a frying pan of a hand. The mobile was placed into it.

  He heard the front door open and close and a man, entirely opposite to the first, entered the room. This person was only about five feet seven inches tall with no carried fat, and was dressed smartly, but casually, in designer jeans and T shirt with a very light zipped up fitted bomber type jacket. His grooming was stylish, with gelled highlighted fair hair and well clipped eye brows. No glasses were needed by him as his steel blue eyes implied menace. A straight nose and small downturned mouth seemed to augment the threat. Simon could tell immediately that this was someone to be treated with respectful caution.

  “Please don’t hurt me” whined Simon as he cowered on the settee.

  His phone was passed over and the smaller man examined it before pressing some buttons. In a soft accent which was closest to Russian, he asked Simon why he did not have anyone’s names or phone numbers stored in the directory. Still sniffling as best he could, Simon said he didn’t have any friends of note, so did not see the point.

  The smaller man leant forward so his face was within a foot of Simon’s and said, “The girl who lives here, where is her number? Where is your family number?” Simon rattled off the number from memory of Alison’s phone and another number which he said was his family number.

  Then, “I remember the main numbers so I don’t bother with a directory.” Pulling back, the man walked slowly round the room looking at the phone and tapping buttons. Simon had totally erased the directory and log prior to opening the front door and knew that without the right equipment, no one would be any the wiser.

  The little Russian tossed the phone several feet towards the gorilla who seemed to pluck it from the air with one of his racket like hands. Then as Simon watched, he held it in the palm of his right hand which folded around it and slowly squeezed it crushing it beyond repair. Then with slight irony, he dropped it into the empty waste paper basket. Some people that Simon had worked with in the past could do the same party trick, but today for effect, he feigned fear and anxiety.

  Again, the smaller man leant to within a foot of his face and with tacit menace said, “Your girlfriend has gone away for a while. So for now this flat is all yours. Should you make a rash mistake and decide to speak to the Police about what has happened today, my friend here will pay you a surprise visit, and take you on a one-way trip. Do you understand?”

  Simon, simulating as much fear as he could muster, shrank lower into the settee and moaned that he did.

  Without further comment, the little Russian turned and went towards the hall and front door followed by the gorilla. As the large man was passing Simon he raised the back of his hand quickly as if to strike, but strode on laughing.

  Speaking in Russian, the smaller man said, “Leave him Petrovski.”

  74

  Saturday 11th June 2011

  Giving their departure a few minutes, Simon went into the bathroom and recovered his scanner. Flushing the toilet just in case he was being listened to, he completed a full scan of the flat, paying particular attention to where he had located the bugs originally. He was gratified to receive a negative result which was what he had expected. Standing on the toilet lid, he stretched to see out of the high dormer window and saw that the van had already gone. Using the house phone, he called his Dad and asked him to let all the others in the team know his phone had been destroyed and his new number would be forwarded within three hours.

  The two had left the flat and walked past where the parked van had been, and then into the tree lined road and to an entrance of a detached house about a hundred yards from the gatepost where Simon had removed his shoe. A large silver Saab sat in the drive, and they both got into it with the smaller of the two in the driver’s seat. With absolute disdain for his larger accomplice, the little Russian glared hard at him.

  “What?”

  “Can’t you remember simple instructions. I should only have to say it once.”

  He reluctantly directed his larger acquaintance, a Russian as was he, to replace the ‘For Sale’ sign that he had previously uprooted and thrown beneath the front hedge. The broken back door was of no consequence to him. Unenthusiastically, and without good grace, the large man clambered out of the vehicle and complied. Once back in the car, they drove off towards the centre of Chichester each wrapped up in their own thoughts. The smaller man was not comfortable because there was something that was troubling him about Simon although he could not put his finger on it.

  *

  As the little Russian had passed the van on his way to Alison’s flat, the man in the back who loved his job of bugging, watching and listening to people, got into the front and drove off. He was a freelance operator who liked the solitude the rear of his van afforded him. On leaving the army he had considered various occupations but did not want to become some sort of desk jockey tied to the same routine day in, day out. The outdoor life was his goal and the added spice of something unusual had appealed to him. A friend of a lawyer had set him off in the right direction with a request to follow a street trader who was engaged in some extracurricular marital activities. He was hooked!

  Within a year, he had established himself as a credible investigator with a bona fide licence and bought a new car and his van which he had set up himself. All his equipment had been bought from retailers in Tottenham Court Road or Edgeware Road in London where it was freely available to anyone for a price. If he couldn’t buy what he wanted, he had the ability to build it himself. Although in his early thirties, he had acquired a reputation for reliability, confidentiality and accuracy. Mostly, he was self-taught, but had attended evening classes in electronics and computer sciences and kept himself up to date with current trends by reading relevant publications and internet articles, and liaising with fellow experts.

  Mainly, lawyers or private detectives kept him reasonably busy with matrimonial matters for which he was handsomely rewarded, but what he liked most was the ‘off the book’ work which was completely illegal and invariably paid for in large amounts of ready cash. This had been one such job which was paying £1000 a day with an initial retainer of £5000. The whole of the bugging of Alison’s flat, car and phones had been done by him, and he had also cut and made keys for her front door.

  Included in the price was a daily DVD of all conversation within the flat and video of comings and goings, and recordings from her phones. Equipment was also supplied by him within the price that would enable someone to maintain discreet mobile surveillance on her Fiesta and audio on any of his placed bugs. His ‘piece de resistance’ was the ability to listen to any conversation within the proximity of her mobile phone be it turned on or off. However, it was a very cheap hand made device because he wasn’t going to throw money away!

  He had been half asleep reclining in his chair in the back of his van watching his screens the day that Simon had first gone to Alison’s flat. That he immediately recognised him was an understatement as t
hey had shared a bivouac on Brecon Beacons when they were being assessed for the SAS (Special Air Service). This had thrown him into a dilemma: he was being paid well, so did he inform his employer, or did he pass a message to Simon. It was a conundrum that he sat and pondered for just a couple of seconds.

  75

  Saturday 11th June 2011

  to

  Sunday 12th June 2011

  Prodow, who had already been brought up to speed by Graham, had hustled a tardy DC into ferrying him from Littlehampton to Chichester. He slapped his ID onto the reader on the outside of the rear door which was as sluggish as the DC. It eventually clicked its acceptance and was practically smashed from its hinges as he burst through and bounded up the two flights of stairs and exploded into the office. Doreen and Paul were busy arranging papers.

  Puffing from his exertion, “Where’s Oscar?”

  “Here Guv.”

  “Paul, Doreen. Can you give us ten minutes?”

  Both Paul and Doreen looked at one another and Paul shrugged before both left the office. Calling after him, he added, “Paul, can you make sure no one disturbs us?” and he slammed the office door shut.

  John relayed the events in Chichester as Prodow regained his relaxed poise. The four copies of the pictures were pulled from his pocket and unfolded for Prodow to examine. There were two sharp knocks on the door which caused the photos to be unceremoniously stuffed back into John’s pocket.

  “What?”

  The door opened and Murray in full uniform and carrying his flat cap under his arm marched in shutting the door behind him. John introduced him and Prodow told him to sit down.

  “I’ve got your tape” and he removed a DVD from within his cap and passed it to John.