An Urgent Murder

by Alex Winchester

  John opened the boot again and tidied up the mess he had made before getting back into the car and turning his Sat Nav on. There were three contacts: two faint ones were from Alison and one strong one from the van. He hadn’t realised how close he was to Lagness. Tuning the Sat Nav, he enlarged the map and isolated the bug on the van which he saw was now back on the drive. Happy as he could be, he went back to the Police Station via a Chinese take away in South Street. ‘What’s good for the goose is good for the gander’ ran into his mind.

  84

  Monday 13th June 2011

  Leaving his car in its usual spot in the car park, he climbed the stairs to the office, sat at Doreen’s desk, and after a quick search, located a fork and set about his Chinese meal. There was no rush so he turned on the unofficial office radio and listened to Sussex Gold playing the hits from the sixties. ‘Proper music that you can hear the words to’ he ruminated. The recent burst of activity had cleared his head, and he no longer felt tired or had any urge to rest his eyes. 11.30pm saw him return to his car and set the Sat Nav in motion. No need for him to leave the yard now until he had a reason. That would be at midnight.

  The Sat Nav told him the van was on the move and travelling along back streets, sometimes zigging and zagging about, practically doubling back on itself, which indicated to John it was avoiding cameras. Twice he watched as it travelled down tracks which cut through farm buildings. It was mostly heading East, and after thirty minutes, John left the yard and took the main road out of Chichester and along the A27 passing Arundel and parking up at the roundabout by the junction with the A280, just prior to the outskirts of Worthing. When he stopped, he was already three miles further East than the van. John watched the blip on the Sat Nav as the van slowly, and by a ridiculously circuitous route arrived at Angmering.

  John kept watching, his eyes now glued to the Sat Nav. Seeing the blip slow right down to a practical halt for nearly a minute as it ventured along a side road off the village spurred him into action. He gunned the engine of the old Vauxhall holding it in as low a gear as possible for maximum acceleration to get to the road. The van, according to the Sat Nav, had resumed speed and continued to the first turning which it took on the right. It was plain as day to John looking at the map that the van was likely going around a large block. The Vauxhall lurched and rocked about as John forced it faster and faster to the road and then stopped with a screech of tyres and a shudder. A gap between a couple of vehicles was just large enough for the Vauxhall to squeeze between and park. John killed all the power leaving just the dull light from the Sat Nav which showed the van over half way round the block. As soon as it was due to enter the road, he killed the Sat Nav and ducked low in his seat.

  The van passed him and braked to a crawl, and John saw the nearside light cluster with the small white light circled by red. As it was about to pass the entrance to a large detached house, it again practically came to a standstill and John could see the glow of what looked like a computer screen illuminating the cab area. For virtually forty-five seconds, John watched the van and the glowing light inside the cab: then the light was extinguished, and the van started to accelerate.

  Staying where he was, he reactivated his Sat Nav and watched the bug on the van show that it was doing what looked like a reciprocal route. When it was a mile off, John eased away from his parking spot and drove to the entrance where the van had practically stopped. He took note of the house details before driving back by a direct route to the Police Station, and parked in his usual place over all the accumulated debris. Before turning his Sat Nav off, he saw that the van was still on its reciprocal route currently weaving around Oving.

  Searching his pockets for his ID to open the back door, John went upstairs to the office and fired up Paul’s computer to look at the mapping system of the area round the house in Angmering. Satisfied, he opened the CAD (Computer Aided Dispatch) system of all calls or incidents recorded by Sussex Police, and typed in the full address. Declining to search, the computer returned a help screen asking for additional information, which John read and then completed. Logically, the computer required a date to search by, and he thought that incidents going back six months were ample, and all other parameters requested by the computer would be left as default. Now reasonably satisfied, the computer deemed to complete a search.

  It wasn’t fast as it was an old system, so John relaxed with his hands linked behind his head. Slowly, it displayed a call to the emergency services four months previously by a neighbour requesting Police but mainly an ambulance as the elderly occupier, Peter Masters had collapsed with stomach pains. Then less than a month previously, again a call for an ambulance, this time by Police themselves who had been stopped by a postman who had discovered Peter Masters in his garden unconscious. Two calls only, and the computer divulged full details about Masters including his age of eighty-three, no known relatives, telephone numbers, Doctor’s details, Hospital details, and social services information. The printer burst into life from its night time slumber, and spewed out sheets of paper, some with useful information on, others with no more than two lines of gobbledegook on. Reading it all, John saw similarities with George Armstrong, and worried for Masters.

  85

  Monday 13th June 2011

  Simon had spent a few hours in the flat mooching about in the dark, and had taken advantage of some food from Alison’s kitchen cupboards which he had cooked on the gas hob by the moonlight coming through the window. Dozing on the settee with Hannibal next to him completing his nightly ablutions, he considered when he would leave to go to Lagness. Midnight would be best and he should arrive at the barn about 1.am. A shower appealed to him as he was going to spend at least a whole night and day dug into a field and by the end, he would stink, so starting clean would be a benefit.

  Getting to his feet, he made his way into the bathroom, and instinct told him to check the lay by. Stepping onto the toilet he looked out of the window. No van as he knew Barry had finished his contract, but he was astonished to see the bronze BMW shining in the fluorescing glow of a street light. Surely Petrovski hadn’t seen him arrive back, and if he had, why would he park so patently obviously in the lay by where he stuck out like a sore thumb. As he watched, Petrovski got out of the vehicle with slight difficulty due to his bulk, and started towards the flat. Simon darted out of the bathroom and to the bedroom grabbing his butterfly knife and then into the hall facing the front door. No lights were on and only his phone was on charge in the kitchen face down and on silent. Nothing disclosed that the flat was occupied.

  Simon waited apprehensively in the hall, and soon heard movement on the stairs outside. Then as the sound got louder he heard Petrovski puffing slightly as he reached the front door. Petrovski lent on the door with his left hand as he bent to examine the cotton, and the door moved slightly with the borne weight but held firm. Tension was building in Simon as he braced for him entering the flat. He decided he would have to hit him hard in the throat to keep him silent and disable him, and then if necessary he was going to use Alison’s new vase from the hall table to render him unconscious. Hannibal walked into the hall, and sat down next to Simon also watching the front door.

  No sound of any key in the lock, but then Simon heard Petrovski talking apparently making a phone call from outside the front door. His gruff voice clearly audible and carrying clearly in the late evening’s tranquillity. It was to let his shorter compatriot know that the cotton was still intact. Simon knew a little Russian and realised that he was asking what he should do.

  After what felt like hours, Petrovski said “OK” and started clumping noisily back down the stairs.

  Moving silently into the bathroom, Simon jumped onto the toilet seat and watched him walk slovenly back to his car, and drive off. Hannibal now bored, ambled into Alison’s bedroom, jumped onto her bed, curled up and went to sleep.

  Standing under the hot water of the shower, Simon knew that he was still not trusted, and was astonished that Petrovski h
adn’t entered the flat. He could only assume that the smaller man did not trust Petrovski to enter as he may destroy something or get caught inside. There was always the possibility that he didn’t have a key with him, but Simon didn’t dwell on that for long.

  Just after midnight, he left the flat having first checked the lay by and then making sure he didn’t break the cotton. Lifting a riled Hannibal from the bed, he deposited the spitting animal outside and onto the stairs and then with his bag over his back, he jogged to the hospital to collect his car. Putting his camouflage clothes on in the unobserved car park, he set off driving to the parking space used before when he was with John. Taking his bag and additional items from the boot, he jogged to the rubble pile, remembering an old army instructor who used to say, ‘repetition leads to complacency which leads to mistakes that lead to disclosure and then you die’.

  Once through the camouflaged gate in the hedge, he scanned the barn with the night sights and then switched to the thermal imaging. Still no persons present, or more to the point, no one visible. With slightly more of a cavalier attitude, he made his way to the barn but used the opposite side of the track in a similarly ploughed and recently planted field. The stick with the cotton was roughly where he expected it, and on arriving at the barn there were still no vehicles. Making a cursory check of the outhouse to be sure it was clear of humans, he moved stealthily as he entered the barn.

  Something was different: and he saw a video camera balanced on a brick which immediately caught his eye. In fact, he couldn’t miss it, it was nearly in his way. The recording device was to the side of it. Noting how he had entered the barn, he knew he hadn’t yet crossed its line of vision. Where it had been placed was where it would capture movement and light emitting from the hatch should anyone decide to open it. Even the power lead ran out of the barn and into the outhouse where it was attached to the power supply by the generator. It was not very subtle and not one that Barry or any of his acquaintances would have used. Simon wasn’t sure if it was the only one, or if it was a decoy.

  The next two hours were spent checking the barn thoroughly by climbing over the broken-down walls in order not to cross the camera lens’s view, and then going back through the outhouse checking it a lot more carefully. Then just to be sure, he retraced his steps to the road finding nothing but the stick with the cotton.

  ‘Strange. One camera. Senseless. Why so obvious? Why not leave a guard?’ His army instructor’s words flitted into his mind. ‘What the hell have I done to cause anyone to suspect I was here?’ He crossed the track and started back towards the barn on the original side that he and John had used.

  Five yards before the cotton he found it.

  A very small digital camera concealed in a furrow a yard off the track in the field pointing across the road. The little recorder with its battery pack was encased in polythene and totally covered by a layer of soil. It’s what he would have done and he cursed himself for being so predictable. Someone knew any one travelling towards the barn would probably not use the same side each time. Had he or John left a tell-tale footprint to cause suspicion? The camera was going to confirm the wary jailers inkling; someone was going to be aware of his presence.

  Simon knew he had to disable it in some way so as not to arouse any further doubt, and uncovering the recorder, he turned it off. It was an older type unit with its own power source and had proven efficient in the past and was still used by many people and some private agencies. There were a lot better systems available, but they were much more expensive. Simon lowered the camera slightly a few degrees and turned it at an angle as though knocked by a passing animal or not properly checked when deployed.

  Now it just showed part of the track but not the opposite side of it or the edge of the opposing field. A problem that he knew may occur was if the date and time had been set to show on the video. Most people: and he hoped the person who set this one: never bothered as they only needed to see if anyone passed by. Checking the video picture, he saw it had been set and he swore under his breath as he disabled it. Depending on who originally set it up and whether they were confident that it had been done correctly would determine any further scepticism.

  Restoring the recorder to its covered position, he set it to start recording from the beginning of the disk knowing it would record over the time it had caught him as he passed by on the other side of the track.

  86

  Monday 13th June 2011

  Returning to the barn as carefully as he could not to leave any footmarks in the soil, he climbed over the lowest part of the wall to move to the rear of the camera on the bricks. It was aimed across the entrance towards the door to Alison’s prison and would only pick up movement in the gloom. Should the hatch in the bottom of the door have been opened, or the door itself, the image would just have shown a slight light emitting from the room. That would have been enough to alert anyone who viewed the video as to his presence. It appeared to Simon that whoever had placed it there expected an intruder to find it and then turn it off again notifying the viewer to his presence. He gently put his camouflage hat over the camera lens so preventing any light reaching it and then went to the door.

  Holding his small torch in his mouth, he illuminated the lock on the door which had a simple three lever deadlock that he knew he could pick and had come prepared for. In the boot of his car, he had an electric ‘pick gun’ but he tended to use that for better quality serious locks or even five lever deadlocks. The ‘pick gun’ was very quick but made a little noise so he was using the old fashion method of using a lock pick set. Taking what looked like a penknife from his pocket, but was actually marked as a ‘jacknife’, he opened it up and removed the tension tool. Fanning all six lock picks, he selected the one he needed pushing the other five picks back into the knife handle. The bolts top and bottom of the door were superfluous to a person outside and moved without noise, but to anyone inside, were an additional deterrent to exiting. Within ten minutes he had the door open and went inside to find Alison asleep in bed with a blanket wrapped round her.

  Gently he shook her shoulder through the blanket and she woke with a start. Turning to face him, she started to rise before she remembered she was completely naked having washed out her underwear in the sink the night before. He could see that one of her eyes was puffy and was badly bruised and there was a minimal trace of dried blood on her nose. The blanket fell off her shoulders exposing the top half of her body, and she grabbed the fallen blanket pulling it back up over her breasts.

  “Why do you do this? Is it to embarrass me?”

  “Sorry. I thought I would come and keep you company for a while.”

  She held the blanket to her as she sat up and told him she was naked so she wouldn’t be getting up. Simon sat on the bed having tapped her on the leg to get her to move them to make room for him, passed a non-committal reply and noticed in the dim light her unmade up face was smiling.

  They spoke for nearly an hour about what had been happening to each of them and her Father. She became tearful as she told him that she had been given two meals and a two litre bottle of water via the hatch but saw no one. When the food was passed through she had asked for books or something to read but got no response. The only time someone had entered the room, she had been told to put the cloth bag on her head. Whoever had entered took the remnants of the chocolate from her bed and asked her where she had got it from. Although she claimed it had been in her bag, the person had called her a liar and hit her several times round the face. Slowly, tears welled up filling her eyes and she started to cry and grabbed hold of Simon hugging him to her as the blanket fell.

  “Get me out of here, please.”

  Simon knew straightaway what had given her captors the suspicion. The bar of chocolate was so big it would have filled her whole bag and no one had seen it or could remember having seen it. The doubting was not enough for them to leave a night guard. He held her tight for a few minutes.

  “You know you have to stay her
e a day or two longer?” and she cried more than she had done since she was at school.

  She hung on to him as though her life depended on it, “Promise you will come and see me every night?”

  He swore he would and prised himself away from her. She sat in the bed no longer worried about her modesty, trying to compose herself for his leaving.

  Making the comment as he left the room, “If you’re going to parade around naked, may I suggest you cover the spy hole” turned her tears to feigned rage.

  “Make sure you bring chocolate tonight you bastard.”

  87

  Monday 13th June 2011

  Simon had locked the cell door and recovered his hat as Alison buried herself under the blanket and cried herself back to sleep. He believed that the person who had found the chocolate was the one who had set the cameras. Or more likely, ordered one of his minions to do it. The little Russian. If he had been convinced that Alison was lying, Simon was sure he would have had someone there all night.

  ‘That would have been predictable. This guy knows what he is doing.’ He wouldn’t have settled for a couple of cameras and a piece of cotton. Now he knew he had to be extremely cautious but capricious.

  Instead of digging himself a hole to stay in under the hedge near the rubble entrance which would have been the accepted position, he went past the barn and to a dirty drainage ditch in the field beyond and dug into the damp bank with his little fold out spade from his bag. As day was playing host to the dawn chorus, Simon had settled down in his temporary pit on his groundsheet and under his tarpaulin covered with camouflage netting and bits of undergrowth he had added to it for aesthetics. Setting his binoculars in front of him with a small voice activated recorder and mobile phone, he knew he would not move again until midnight.