Dead Lands

by Lloyd Otis

  ‘I take full responsibility at the time of the incident, sir.’

  Bashir’s upper body remained rigid while the soles of his shoes pressed hard against the floor.

  ‘Detective Chief Superintendent Rose is not happy with your account of things that’s why I need this recap from you. Now you say a fight broke out and the suspect saw his opportunity to make a run for it. That bit I understand but Troy was under arrest and you failed to cuff him. Come on, Patricia, you’re an experienced officer.’ Kearns feigned embarrassment. ‘I have no choice but to give you an informal verbal warning. You will get it confirmed in writing and it will remain active for a period of six months.’

  She glared at Bashir for a few seconds. It was all a big show but she knew the drill and daren’t say anything, which left Breck to intervene just to save her from more punishment.

  ‘Sir, we’ve sent the suspect’s details to all ports and airports in case he tries to leave the country. We’ve also checked his home address to see if we can find any clue to his whereabouts. So far we’ve found nothing apart from bank statements.’

  ‘How are we with verifying who’s who?’

  ‘It’s a bit of a struggle if I’m honest. I’m now trying to get access to old files from Alexander Troy’s school. Both men highlighted the same one from what we can see on various documentation we have obtained.’

  Bashir waved them away and Kearns went to get herself a glass of water while Breck headed straight to his desk and rang Morten Hoebeck in Norway. He wanted an update on the POI.

  ‘Ah Allo. Help you, can I?’

  ‘Hello. I need to speak to Morten Hoebeck. It’s Arlo Breck from the SCU in London.’

  That seemed to excite the young man on the other end of the line. ‘Wait, wait. I get him. Yes, wait.’

  After a few moments, Morten arrived.

  ‘Hello, my friend. You good?’

  ‘Yes, well as best as I can be. How are things your end?’

  ‘Ah busting drug dealers seems to be the thing at the moment. You ringing about your POI?’

  ‘Yes, any news?’

  ‘Well my boss has been off ill for a few days so I was able to deploy someone to check with passport control. I’m afraid his details haven’t appeared anywhere. You sure he came this way?’

  ‘That’s the information we have. Can you keep this open for me?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll continue to keep an eye on things here and will let you know if anything arises.’

  ‘Thank you, friend. Take care.’

  When Kearns returned to her seat she placed her water on the desk. Breck joined her.

  ‘What’s next on the agenda?’ he asked.

  She was mindful of keeping the options open for him. ‘Maybe we should be looking into the payments Janet made to Benjamin. Do we believe him?’

  ‘I don’t see why not. He’s got no need to lie about that and he has an alibi.’

  ‘It’s possible he may have had an accomplice.’

  ‘I don’t understand why you’d think that.’ Kearns had no answer for the suggestion either and to herself, blamed it on her desperation to keep him away from the prime suspect.

  ‘Come on, let’s go. I want to get out.’

  They left the building and sat in the car, debating where to go to next. The visit to the B&B would be later. Train tickets had been booked. So what to do now, visit Benjamin Genta again or Peter Clarke? This debate continued until the rear door opened then the conversation ceased. Beatrice hopped in with her coat on and handbag over her shoulder. Breck went first.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Joining the both of you.’

  Kearns stepped in. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I know where Troy’s girlfriend Ceinwen works.’

  ‘Where is she then?’

  ‘I’ll show you where. She holds a senior managerial position within investments.’

  ‘Give us the address and then you can leave our car.’

  ‘Sorry, no can do.’

  Kearns became agitated. ‘Listen, Bea, we’ll need to speak to her bosses and find out what they know.’

  ‘I’ve already done that. She’s been at her place of work for four years, achieved their star award for best yearly performance, and is currently away on business in America. I’ve seen a photo of her on their marketing material so I know what she looks like too.’ Breck half-turned his body to get a better view of Beatrice.

  ‘What’s going on here, Bea?’ he asked.

  ‘Ceinwen returns to the UK today and I know where she is going to be.’ Kearns swore under her breath. ‘We can stay here all day if you want but we’re running out of time,’ Beatrice reminded them, ‘and if Bashir finds out that you’ve let a genuine lead slip then someone will be for the high jump.’

  Breck could see the thunder clouds circle above Kearns but ambition wasn’t frowned upon at the SCU. If someone showed the aptitude for getting things done they’d be encouraged. It’s how Breck got to the rank of detective inspector.

  ‘She’s done well getting this information, Pat. She can ride with us.’

  Kearns couldn’t disagree even if she wanted to, for good reason. Breck turned around.

  ‘That’s settled then,’ he said. ‘Let’s get going. ‘Where to Bea?’

  ‘Heathrow.’

  Kearns spied on Beatrice through the rear-view mirror, secretly proud of the way the detective constable had the audacity to force their hand. It reminded her of when she started out with the ambition and determination to get ahead. Of course, she’d never tell Beatrice that and no other words were spoken on the journey, but they all knew that finding Ceinwen would be one of the most significant steps in the investigation.

  THIRTY TWO

  Hunger had already begun to sting the inside of Troy’s stomach so he bought a sandwich from a kiosk near Waterloo Station. The seller didn’t even look at him. He just wanted the money and Troy paid then devoured the sandwich in seconds. He pulled a hat borrowed from Clarke, down over his head and went in search of a phone box. The last thing he wanted was to be seen, so his heart almost stopped when a police officer walked by. Much to his relief nothing happened, so Troy went on his way, jumped on the Vespa that Clarke had rented for him, and went looking for a phone box. He found one at the other end of Waterloo Bridge.

  He jangled the loose change that Peter Clarke had given to him and recalled their discussion. They had looked at the various ways of clearing his name and being a defence lawyer for a few individuals the law would describe as wrongdoers, Clarke also submitted other options. Last chance options. Troy knew Breck and Kearns’ had visited his friend, knew they were on his tail and wouldn’t let up. And if they caught him then what? He hoped it wouldn’t come to that because if it did, he’d make sure he’d be the last one standing.

  Troy pushed money into the coin slot and dialled a number from memory.

  ‘Hello?’ The velvet voice was female and one he didn’t recognise.

  ‘I’d like to speak to Proctor please.’ He could ring the number another five times in the next few minutes and it’d be a different voice every time. That’s how it worked.

  ‘Primary extension?’

  ‘It’s 445883221.’

  ‘Secondary extension?’

  ‘It’s 900100134.’

  ‘May I ask who’s calling?’

  ‘Alexander Troy.’

  ‘One moment please.’

  Troy hated these periods of silence where he had to wait, hanging on for the unexpected and always fearing the worst. He needn’t have worried.

  ‘Hello, Alex, you well?’

  He recognised the voice this time. It was Proctor. An old Etonian with impeccable manners and a penchant for loyalty.

  ‘I’d love to say yes but I’m in a bit of a tight spot.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘The police pulled me in and now I’m implicated in the murder of a finance director at my firm. It’s bullshit but I guess you may already know th
is?’

  ‘Conversations have already taken place.’

  ‘Did those conversations discuss how to get me out of this mess?’

  There was a long unexpected pause from Proctor which worried Troy. ‘It’s all ongoing but there’s also a lot of other things happening here that is slowing the process.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘Nothing for you to worry about.’

  Troy’s grip tightened around the receiver. ‘Are you sure about that?’

  ‘Yes I am. Now, we don’t know who is behind this yet but we’re working on it. There is the chance that you are being followed too so be aware of that.’

  ‘Anything else that I should know about?’

  ‘Ceinwen will be back in the country today on flight 4407 and when she is, take her under your wing. There’s a safe house for you in Cardiff so I’ll get the address sent to you.’

  ‘But you don’t know where I’ll be, I don’t even know where I’ll be.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that part.’

  ‘Let’s get this sorted out because what’s happening at the moment is becoming very dangerous to everything we’re trying to do.’

  ‘Agree,’ Proctor said then the line went dead. He and Troy never said goodbyes. Didn’t believe in them.

  Troy left the phone box. He jumped on the Vespa and surprised himself by enjoying the ride until he spotted a Ford Capri through the wing mirror. He remembered Proctor’s warning. It followed him at every turn and his first thought was to shake it, but then he had another idea. Troy travelled to Blackfriars and once there, parked the Vespa outside a pub and hooked the open face helmet on the handle bars.

  Inside, photographs of professional and amateur boxers adorned the walls with many of them having trained in the working gym upstairs. Troy had visited once and always felt that it was a good place to ‘hang out’ for a while. He found a spot by the window and waited.

  The silver Capri swept in and stopped outside. Then a man with shoulder length dark hair and blond highlights jumped out and walked across the road, perhaps believing Troy had headed in that direction. Troy left his seat by the window to investigate but by the time he reached outside he had lost him.

  Troy peered into the Capri via its side windows but saw nothing of significance inside. He knelt down in front of the car and toggled the registration number and within moments the fake number plate loosened. He was about to snap it off, then he saw the man return, so he dashed back into the pub.

  Troy skipped up a few flights of stairs to the entrance of the gym. A woman sat behind a desk, flicking through a magazine, with a mesh of hair obscuring one of her eyes. Her lips were full and under a different set of circumstances and in another lifetime, Troy might have asked her for a date.

  ‘I’d like to use the gym. Do you offer a try-out session first?’

  She smiled then reached down into a box beside her chair and pulled out a form.

  ‘Fill this out and you’ll be entitled to one free session.’ She handed it over to him. ‘Just write down your details.’

  Troy filled out the form then slipped it back to the girl. She checked it with a glance and placed it into a tray. When she handed him a temporary gym pass Troy said, ‘Thank you,’ then waltzed through a set of double doors.

  Men sparred with each other in the main single ring, while shouts of encouragement from their trainers floated in between the boisterous clank of creaking iron. The weight machines were located at one side of the gym, occupied by a few males obsessed with rivalry. One or two raised their heads, flexing sculptured bodies, while completing two to three reps with free weights.

  Troy ventured into the changing room which was nothing to sing home about. The lockers were two feet in length and about a foot and a half in width. He needed to have his own padlock to use it which he didn’t, so he placed Clarke’s borrowed coat on a peg then went back into the gym. Troy grabbed two dumbbells and stood near a window. It allowed him to peer straight down onto the Capri to see that its headlights were on. Troy didn’t know what to make of it until the lights went off and the man exited then made his way into the pub.

  Troy prepared for him to come up to the gym and swapped the dumbbells for a curling bar. Then positioned himself next to a group of guys that were shadow boxing.

  A minute passed, then two, then three. No matter how long he waited the man never emerged, so he handed the curling bar to a young hopeful and went back to the window. He was just in time to see the man return to the Capri and start it up. Troy planned to tail him so he bolted into the changing rooms, grabbed the coat, and rushed out to see the Capri fade into the distance once he reached the Vespa. Too late.

  Troy threw a fist into the handle bars, frustrated at his obvious failure without wanting to dwell on it. These things happened so his mind moved onto flight 4407. Go to the airport and collect Ceinwen. However, his frustration continued. After starting the Vespa Troy realised he never had enough petrol to get him there. Troy secured the helmet to the scooter and went in search of a taxi. As luck would have it, he found one but knew he didn’t have enough money for the fare. He played along as if he did and once he arrived at Heathrow, he waited until the driver slowed down.

  Troy bundled himself out.

  ‘Hey, stop. Where’s my money?’ the driver yelled in the distance. ‘You crook.’ But Troy ignored him and merged with the crowd.

  When Troy bowled into the airport, he refused to make eye contact with anyone. Ceinwen’s flight had arrived and he soon found her. A chic pair of sunglasses hid her eyes but it there was no mistaking the swing of her hips. But his smile turned into a look of concern when he spotted a security guard tug the arm of his colleague and point in her direction. He feared the worse before a man emerged from just behind her, well-built in a tatty brown suit. He made a run for it and airport security gave chase. Troy quickened his steps, followed Ceinwen outside, then hooked an arm around her waist.

  ‘Hey, it’s me,’ he said, ‘don’t scream.’

  Ceinwen stopped walking out of fear then she realised it was Troy. ‘Why are you trying to frighten me to death? What are you doing here?’

  ‘I missed you too.’

  Ceinwen flung her arms around Troy. ‘I’ve taken a much earlier flight so how did you know when I’d be returning?’

  ‘I phoned your hotel and took a wild guess,’ he lied.

  He didn’t feel it was right yet to tell her about his new status as a wanted man. Instead, he’d turn his appearance to his advantage. ‘Let’s go to your place and relax,’ he suggested. ‘I’ve missed you.’

  *

  The main décor colours inside Ceinwen’s home were black, white, and grey. Anything with more than two month’s collection of dust she binned. She had the tag of being high maintenance but that didn’t matter to a man like Troy.

  ‘We need to talk,’ he said. ‘A few things have happened to me while you’ve been away.’

  ‘Fill me in.’

  Troy inhaled a deep breath. ‘There’s no easy way to say this but the police think I killed someone.’

  Ceinwen began to laugh. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘They think I killed Janet Maskell.’

  She stopped. ‘Your finance director? Are you sure?. Ceinwen ran her fingers through her hair. ‘I don’t believe this.’

  He waited for her to speak again but the words failed to arrive, and when the passing cars from outside splintered the silence, they both became lost in their own thoughts. Troy still needed her to trust him.

  ‘Say something, please.’

  ‘This is real isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, but I’m going to fix it.’

  Ceinwen had missed him and if it were ever to be them against the rest of the world, then she’d live with that. She pressed her lips against Troy’s mouth which surprised him at first. Then he understood, and ran his hands underneath her blouse. He struggled to unclip her bra but it soon fell away and then he hoisted up her skirt. He ran his
hands over her thighs and their warm bodies pressed together, wedded by the anticipation. Ceinwen felt the urgency of his excitement and drew him in closer still. Maybe it was because she missed him, or because she wished to escape a past that repulsed her. Whatever the reason may have been, when they had sex, it was the best she had ever had.

  THIRTY THREE

  Breck stopped the car outside the airport and lifted the handbrake. Kearns and Beatrice bolted away and he raced out too, determined to keep up.

  The airport was busy as to be expected, and they believed Troy had been beaten to the punch by their arrival. Ceinwen would be able to fill in the blanks on the prime suspect, and give a bit of insight. Apprehending her shouldn’t be a problem. All they had to do was to locate her on arrival and then take it from there.

  Breck caught up with Beatrice and Kearns who had now reverted their run to a trot. All three headed towards the terminal Ceinwen was due to walk through and Breck busied himself observing everyone they passed. Half-a-minute into their journey a large family had converged ahead to block their path. Several of the little children bounced around on space hoppers which made it impossible for the detectives to burst clean through.

  ‘We need to pass, we’re police,’ Breck stated and that line would’ve worked on many families except this one’s grasp on English wasn’t so good and the chatter continued. ‘Come on, we need to get through!’

  ‘Vogliamo mangiare ora o poi?’ one of the family members said which prompted Kearns to comment. ‘I don’t think that gentleman understands you, Arlo.’

  ‘Great, this is all we need.’

  It was then Breck heard someone in the group say, ‘Papa, have you got all of your things?’

  He homed in on the voice and approached the young woman.

  ‘Hello there, we need to get through without delay. We’re police.’

  ‘Oh, so sorry.’

  The woman began to instruct her family to move aside and let the detectives pass, while Breck worried that the delay could harm them.