“She normally cleans the toilets in the house and the bathroom if she feels up to it. More often than not, she just sits and chats or makes one of her bizarre cups of tea.”
“I never asked: what’s her name?”
“Sally.”
“When did she first approach you?”
“Strange really: she was conducting a survey in the area to make sure that the Social had everyone’s details on record if they were over eighty. It was the day before I first collapsed. She visited me when I got home from hospital and insisted that the Social Services should monitor me weekly. Unfortunately for me, she was assigned as my carer. Is it apparent I am not enamoured by this woman?”
“Have you thought of acquiring a ‘lifeline’ system?”
“Claire has recommended that I should get one,” and he nodded in Claire’s direction, “but Sally told me that they weren’t much use as most people didn’t like wearing them.”
“Moving onto security, I notice you have a burglar alarm. Can you tell me; do you have panic alarms?”
“Yes. A few. One in each of the three bedrooms, one in the hall and one in here by the phone.”
“Who services your alarm?”
“To be honest, I can’t remember but I could find out from the service paperwork. It’s done annually.”
Masters was completely at ease answering all and every question that John put, but said his voice was going because he was talking so much, and asked Claire if she would be good enough to make him a coffee. He told her where the kitchen was at the end of the hall and where all the paraphernalia could be found. Both officers also accepted the offer of coffee, and Claire left to complete the task.
As the door shut behind her and before John could ask any more questions, Masters said, “I know you’re a Policeman. The questions you are asking are relevant to something you are dealing with and that is obvious to me. They have no bearing on helping others who may be quote, ‘in a similar situation as me.’ Please answer me this. Am I in danger?”
Without hesitation, “Yes.”
“How can I negate it?”
“Do not talk to Sally or anyone at social services or to the alarm engineer without first calling me. If you can afford it, have a few weeks’ respite care somewhere away from here.”
He thought for a while and decided where he was thinking he may go, and then they exchanged details.
John said, “Would you have any objections if I arranged for an alarm engineer to visit and test your system. Sussex Police would of course pay any charges?”
“If it would assist in any way, I have no objections. I’m here every day.”
“You never know. You may be back out and about as a councillor before you know it.”
“In that case, what else do you need?” John spoke quickly and Masters continued to be as frank and co-operative as he could be and it soon became clear to John what was happening to Masters, and what had probably been lined up for Armstrong.
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Monday 13th June 2011
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Tuesday 14th June 2011
As the day wore on, Simon lay in his pit half dozing, trying not to move as the sun bore down on the tarpaulin warming him to the extent that beads of sweat began gathering on his forehead. Vibration from the phone now in his pocket forced him to move his right hand as he searched for it and then clamped it to his ear. John was talking, asking how things were going, and how Alison was holding up. Simon was concise but thorough as he explained the night’s activities and the morning visit from the two Russians. He requested that John update Graham and find out if Alison could be fully included in the loop.
Replacing his phone, he started to settle down when he noticed the sun glint off something by the hedgerow near the rubble bridge. Through the binoculars, he searched the undergrowth and brush and thought he saw movement but couldn’t be certain. Suddenly his attention was lured back to the wattle gate as it was pushed briskly aside by the front of the bronze BMW as it cleared the rubble bridge. Was that what had drawn his eye? He wasn’t sure. The occupants he thought, were too lazy to even get out and have one of them hold it open for the car that would be terribly scratched by the briars and scrub.
Revving more than necessary, which produced excessive engine and exhaust noise, the BMW continued recklessly towards the barn along the track throwing up a small dust cloud in its wake. Arriving just prior to the twigs with the cotton, it slithered loudly to a halt. Both occupants, the two original Lithuanian kidnappers, who had been inside the car got out and slammed the doors excessively noisily behind them. Chatting amicably, one moved a twig and then they both stood by the car lighting, and then smoking, cigarettes.
Simon knew they were a diversion.
The little man was setting his trap. It had taken him a day to arrange which was a day too long. The cameras had been placed in their respective positions to be found. Once discovered they were easily avoided. The one in the field would have had two main purposes. If found, it would let the little man know by the timing being out. More importantly, it would have conveyed the fact that whoever had found it was no slouch. As a rider, it may also have made the finder more confident and blasé leading to a serious blunder.
Simon knew there had been too many coincidences. The chocolate. A possible footprint somewhere. The camera’s timer being wrong. It would have worried him too and he would have taken steps. The puffa jacket had only been used to conceal the little man’s binoculars. Taking them out of the jacket in full view had been the little Russian’s mistake. The time he had spent in the outhouse and the barn had been used to scan the area without being observed himself. Something Simon would have considered if he had been in the opposing position.
He turned his attention back to the hedgerow and saw movement at its base. Someone was crawling along on their stomach dressed completely in dark clothing but wearing a wristwatch that caught and reflected the sun. Whoever it was did not realise their presence was being announced by the small piece of glass strapped to their wrist. Maybe the little Russian had seen him earlier: but then he would have taken instant action: perhaps he’d spotted a footprint: more likely thought Simon. Watching carefully, he saw the shape move under a large green wayward shrub and disappear. Keeping his binoculars to his eyes, focusing hard on the shrub virtually three quarters of a mile from his pit, he saw a dark shape break off a few lower branches and toss them to one side. A watcher was in place, and from his actions, was going to stay for some time.
Simon glanced towards the two stooges at the cotton trap who were getting back into the BMW. Again, slamming the doors behind them. He was more interested in the quality of the watcher than them, and had not witnessed any bag being carried as he had crawled into his hiding place under the bush. Keeping all his attention on the large innocuous unruly shrub, he could just make out the dark shape of a person’s head looking out but without binoculars. This was someone new. An unknown quantity.
The BMW had reached the barn and stopped to allow the passenger to leave the vehicle carrying a polystyrene box from a Chichester cafe company. Simon checked the time: 3.30pm. It was a lot too early for an evening meal. No plate came out with him as he exited the barn, rubbing out a few, but definitely not all footprints and tyre marks before getting back into the BMW which had manoeuvred and was waiting for him by the mouth of the track. It was obvious to Simon that the watcher was to be there for a long time and the apparent removal of the tell-tale marks was therefore only a token gesture.
Once the cotton had been replaced by the passenger who was now doing all the chores, the BMW arrived at the false hedge. This time it had to be held open for the vehicle to pass through and over the rubble bridge. With a blatant glance towards the watcher under the hedge, the false gate was closed, and the BMW joined the side road, now driving normally without any over revving of the engine.
The man under the shrub, although originally in the glare of full afternoon sunshine, soon found as the evening progresse
d, that the temperature was dropping steadily. His lunchtime meal was acting upon him as were the several expresso coffees he had drunk. Being diuretic, they soon ensured that he had to relieve himself. Simon watched as he crawled out from under the shrub and urinated to the furthest side of the bush from the rubble bridge before crawling back into his hideout. Smiling to himself, Simon knew he carried a special bottle for such occasions so he did not have to break cover. One thing he now knew was that the watcher was not very well equipped, probably not trained and categorically not that dedicated.
As dusk turned to night, the moon casually lit the hedgerow and fields when ephemeral clouds permitted. Simon who was quite comfortable in his pit half dozing saw movement by the shrub and brought his binoculars to bear. He’d changed them to night vision earlier by the flick of a switch, and could see the bush and surrounds clearly, but in a ghostly green hue. The figure of a man had broken the cover of the concealing shrub: not crawling, but nonchalantly walking along the track towards the barn unaware that he was visible to anyone with night vision capabilities. At the cotton trap, he casually stepped over it, then stopped and waved at the camera on the earthen ridge before continuing to the barn. The nearer to the barn he got, the nearer he got to Simon and the clearer he became in the binoculars.
Skirting the parking area, Dimitri moved to the back of the barn and climbed over the lowest part of the broken wall. He passed in and out of Simon’s view as he mooched about finally settling for a perceived position of concealment by sitting in a corner on a higher part of the wall facing the entrance. He couldn’t resist a short spell at the spy hole before taking up station. The square prison holding Alison was laid out in front of him with the door to it now just out of his eye line. His back was towards Simon who had decided on his course of action. Covering the glow emitted from his mobile, and lowering himself further under his tarpaulin, he rang John.
The conversation was short, and John told him, “Do as you think fit.”
As the call terminated, Simon saw the time displayed as just past midnight.
Crawling from his pit, he edged slowly and silently towards the barn and the back of the man. Checking through his night monocular every few yards he ensured the man did not move position. Forty minutes to cross the field, another five to establish he was still undetected. The last fifty yards were painfully slow, but Simon knew any noise could be a catalyst for him, and maybe Alison. He had to keep out of the view of the camera on the bricks as well while he dealt with the man on his perch. Ten yards from him, Simon stopped: there was a peculiar noise! Listening intently, he realised the guy was asleep, and snoring! Picking up a chunk of the broken wall that filled his hand, he moved up behind the slumbering man and struck him with it viciously on the side of his head.
Whilst asleep, Dimitri had been wedged in the corner: when struck, he was dislodged and sank to his side lying as though fallen from his roost. Simon climbed over the broken wall and raised the man’s head and placed the piece of the wall he had used under it. To all intents and purposes, it may have looked to a blasé observer like the man had fallen and struck his head on the broken piece of wall which now bore a slight smear of blood. Simon doubted it would fool the little Russian, but had no reservation about his cohorts.
Balanced on another piece of the broken wall close to where Dimitri’s right hand had been, was a black GSH-18 Russian handgun with the safety catch off.
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Tuesday 14th June 2011
He’d covered the camera lens again with his hat and was inside the prison in less than five minutes. The lock was getting easier for him to pick the more often he did it. Alison was wide awake and waiting for him. She was in her bed and wearing just her brief underwear.
“You’re late. I’ve been waiting ages.”
“I had something to do before I came in here.”
She shuffled her feet over to one side. As he sat on her bed, she hugged him.
“How much longer have I got to stay here? I’m going mad.”
“There’s been a little problem” and he told her how he had been engaged during the day. “The man who was watching came to the barn and was sitting on the wall. I had to wait until he fell asleep and then I knocked him out by tapping him on the head with a bit of a brick. He will be out for some time.”
“I’m going to cop it in the morning. I can’t take too much more.”
“I’ll keep an eye on you. You’ll be fine. Trust me.”
“I actually do” and she held him tighter.
They chatted on and off for over an hour, and occasionally, Alison, who had hung onto his hand since he’d entered, pulled him to hug her which he willingly complied with.
As he was about to leave, she told him, “You smell a bit you know.”
“So would you if you lay in a ditch for getting on 24 hours.”
“By the way: where’s my chocolate?”
“I couldn’t find a shop in my ditch: sorry.”
“I’ve got a couple of cold chicken wraps if you want?”
Simon grabbed one and crammed it into his mouth whole.
Then swallowing it said, “I’ve got this if you’re interested?” and took out of a pocket a large flapjack.
“You can be a right bastard at times. Give.”
He passed it to her and told her, “No crumbs on the bed and I’ll take the wrapper” and held out his hand. Once the wrapper was off and in his pocket, he stood to leave and she practically jumped out of the bed and kissed him.
“Look after me.”
He made his way back to his small dug out pit, clearing away footmarks that he had left on his sluggish journey towards the barn. Recovered all his gear and putting it into his bag, he made a final thorough search ensuring nothing of his was left. Then with his spade, he replaced all the moved soil and turves back to their original positions before checking that everything was as it was prior to his arrival. It looked alright in the moonlight, but he knew a person would find it if he looked closely enough and knew what to look for. Now he had to move further away just in case.
Traversing in an arc, he came across an electricity pylon that he’d seen the day before. There was rough ground around the base and a small foot track leading away from it and the barn. He followed the track for about twenty-five yards and then went into the field just prior to one full of yellow topped mustard. Digging into a large ridge, he carefully placed the removed soil further along it. Reversing his tarpaulin, he brushed it as clean as he could with his hands and then covered it in as much mud as he could manage to get to stick before crawling under it. His view through the binoculars was good even at the further distance. Settling down for a few hours’ sleep, he knew he was going to have to be alert from early morning.
The starlings woke him as they sat on the power lines at the pylon, seemingly chatting to each other as loudly as possible. There was a soft red glow in the sky and a thin mist sitting a few inches from the ground. He was warm enough and aware the sun’s summer rays would soon burn it off with any residual dew. Putting his binoculars to day time viewing, he could see the barn from a different angle: still the back and one side but not so much to the front of it. There was a restricted view of the parking area at the front, which he considered was sufficient.
It was 8.45am when the BMW came bouncing over the rubble bridge and pushed the gate open with the bonnet. The abrasive damage caused, apparently, was of no concern to the occupants who only stopped on arrival at the cotton trap. One of the brothers alighted from the passenger seat and went to the cotton trap first and then back to the camera uncovering the monitor. His brother sat in the driver’s seat smoking a Turkish cigarette. Crouching down on his haunches, he had no problem staying in such a position as he watched the night’s activities unfold on the monitor. When he reached the part where Dimitri had waved at the camera, he called his brother over to watch it as well.
They both laughed.
Both men continued to watch the remainder of the tape wit
hout taking their eyes from the monitor until they completed the night’s recordings, and then reset it. Getting back into the car, they resumed their journey towards the barn and then out of Simon’s view. He knew it wouldn’t be long before they found the body where he’d left it at the back of the barn. One brother had gone to the outhouse to check the generator and other equipment there, and the other had entered the barn.
Even at the distance he was: Simon heard the yell.
“Dimitri.”
Alison heard it as well, and it filled her with dread and fear of what was to come. All the starlings heard it, and the chatter stopped for ten seconds before they decided it was not worth taking to the sky for. The brother in the outhouse heard it and knew something was badly amiss. He ran to his sibling’s side. Both men stood stock still and gawked at the cold corpse on the ground not wanting to touch it. Thirty seconds later, they were on the phone and it wasn’t for an ambulance.
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Tuesday 14th June 2011
The Saab drove over the rubble bridge and stopped allowing Petrovski out. Simon watched from over a mile away as he started to systematically search the hedgerow to the right of the bridge. He could see a long machete in one hand and a small item in the other which Simon knew must be a gun. Petrovski was being thorough this time, slashing at bushes with the machete when he couldn’t see right in to them. Already the Saab had disappeared from view at the front of the barn, and Simon expected a full search was about to take place.
The two Lithuanians walked rapidly into view from the front of the barn and down the track towards the rubble bridge and started to search the hedgerow to the left of it. They were being thorough, but a lot more cautious than Petrovski as they moved along. Through the binoculars, Simon watched the smaller Russian walk casually down the track to the camera and monitor. He watched the complete footage as though not believing what he had obviously been told. His eyes never left the screen. At the conclusion, he lifted the monitoring kit and camera onto the side of the track. Grigoriev knew that if anyone was responsible for the corpse in the barn, they knew how to avoid the cameras and it was now pointless.
An Urgent Murder Page 29
