“I’m your what?” Lucy whispered to Smith as they followed Coleman to his office.
“I haven’t decided yet,” Smith smiled.
She nudged him in the ribs.
John Fulton was standing in Coleman’s office when they walked in. His hands were behind his back and he was handcuffed. Two guards were standing on either side of him.
“Detective Jason Smith,” Fulton said, “We meet again. I believe you’ll be taking me away from all this?”
“For now,” Smith replied, “but you’ll be back before you know it.”
Smith read through the release forms and signed them. Coleman made him a copy.
“He’s your problem now,” Coleman said, “good luck.”
“Thanks,” Smith said, “I think we’re going to need it. Move it John Fulton and don’t try anything stupid.”
Fulton walked ahead of Lucy and Smith. His posture seemed to have changed and he looked much older than he did when he gave himself up
A crowd of journalists had already gathered in the car park at the police station when Smith arrived.
“Shit,” he said, “how the hell did they find out so quickly?”
He opened Fulton’s door.
“Get out,” Smith ordered, “and not a word to those vultures.”
Smith Lucy and Fulton half ran and half walked to the entrance to the station. Chalmers was in reception waiting for them.
“Did he give you any trouble?” he asked.
“Quiet as a lamb,” Smith replied, “do you want to sit in while I talk to him?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Chalmers said, “this isn’t a formal interview is it?”
“No sir. I just want to ask him a few personal questions.”
Smith took Lucy aside and whispered something in her ear. She walked back outside to Smith’s car.
“Follow me Fulton,” Smith said and walked towards the interview rooms.
“Sit down,” Smith said when they were in interview room four.
Fulton did as he was told. He had a peculiar smile on his face.
“You’ve got no bloody reason to smile Fulton,” Smith said, “you’re in serious shit. I’m going to make sure you go down as an accessory to all the murders.”
“Calm down Jason,” Fulton said, “what is it you want to know? The whereabouts of the lovely Miss Whitton? What Jimmy has done with her?”
“Enough,” Smith smacked his hand down on the table so hard that the pain made him wince.
“First, you can tell me what the hell this was all about. Why did all these people have to die? Why did Jimmy have to kill them in such awful ways?”
“You should be thanking me Jason,” Fulton said, “if it wasn’t for me Jimmy might never have stopped. I may have even saved your life.”
“What are you talking about?” Smith asked.
“I didn’t even know that Jimmy had it in him. He wouldn’t even kill spiders when he was a kid. He’d put them outside instead. He must have stored years of rage inside him. He hated your father with more passion than is actually healthy. You were going to be the last one Jason. After you, Jimmy’s journey would have been over.”
“I don’t believe you Fulton,” Smith said.
“Whether you believe me or not is immaterial,” Fulton said, “when I showed up I tried to make Jimmy see reason. It’s the truth.”
“You two had this whole thing planned from the very beginning.”
“I knew nothing about it. I found out from the newspapers. You can check. I’ve only been in the country for a week. It says so in my passport. The last time I saw Jimmy was nineteen sixty five. That’s almost forty five years ago.”
“What are you trying to say Fulton?” Smith was confused.
“Jimmy didn’t even know I was alive for God’s sake,” Fulton replied, “he thought I’d been killed in Vietnam.”
Smith scratched his forehead.
“That’s what the records said,” Smith said, “you were ambushed and none of your platoon survived.”
“And yet here I am,” Fulton smiled, “do you have any idea what Vietnam was like Jason?”
“My dad never spoke about it,” Smith replied. “I don’t think he could handle talking about it.”
“He hanged himself didn’t he?”
“This isn’t what I brought you here to talk about.” Smith was getting angry. “What has he done with Whitton?”
“I have no idea,” Fulton replied, “but if you want to find out anything we’ll start at the very beginning.”
“Go on then,” Smith sighed.
“Your father and me joined up together in sixty five. We were inseparable. We were deployed later that same year but we didn’t see much action until the following year. Long Tan. That’s where it all started. That’s where it got crazy. There were dead bodies everywhere. That was also when I started to lose it. A few weeks after Long Tan we were up against heavy fire. I lost my mind completely. I can’t remember much about what happened but Max told me later I had just stood up, put my rifle down and walked towards the VC. Your father came after me of course. He got a bullet in his lung for his efforts. Anyway, we ended up in the same field hospital. Him with a gunshot wound and me as a mental case.”
“I’ve read my dad’s diary,” Smith said, “I know about all of this.”
“This part isn’t in the diary Jason. After a few days in the hospital I started to feel better. My mind was clear again. I met a nurse there. Sophie was her name. Beautiful Sophie. I hatched a plan to pretend to be mad so I could stay close to Sophie. For some reason your dad didn’t like the idea. I think he was a bit jealous of me and Sophie. He fancied her himself I think. I was on leave in Singapore when they came and got me. An anonymous tip off they said but I knew immediately where it had come from. I was arrested and taken back to Vietnam for a court martial. I was given a choice of either prison or combat and stupid idiot that I was I chose the latter. Prison would have been a lot more bearable.
“I know all of this,” Smith was becoming impatient.
“Bear with me,” Fulton said, “I was part of a search and destroy platoon just north of Saigon. We were ambushed and came under heavy artillery fire. All of the men in the platoon were killed. All but me, that is. Two of the blokes were blown apart in front of my face.”
Fulton started to shake.
“Sorry,” he said, “this is still quite difficult for me. I threw myself to the ground and crawled underneath two other men who had been killed. I pretended to be dead. I was terrified. I’ll never forget it. The Gooks walked straight over me. I stayed out there all night in the pouring rain. The next morning, I tried to figure out where I was but I was totally lost. The VC had taken all the radio equipment and weapons and I was in deep shit. I walked through the jungle for days and that’s where they found me”
“I thought you were officially missing in action?” Smith said.
“It was the Gooks that found me,” Fulton continued, “because I was unarmed and had a wild look on my face they decided not to just shoot me on the spot but they should have. They took me to the Hanoi Hilton.”
“Hanoi Hilton?” Smith asked.
“POW camp,” Fulton said, “I wouldn’t send my worst enemy there. The Gooks had supposedly signed some Geneva Treaty on how prisoners of war should be treated but it meant jack shit out there. I won’t bore you with the gory details but I was stuck in there for two years. Two years where I should have been having fun were taken away from me. I got used to the torture but then I managed to escape.”
“You escaped from a POW camp?” Smith exclaimed.
“Me and another bloke,” Fulton said, “Billy Shakespeare. During our morning exercise period, me and Billy just legged it into the jungle. We’d had enough and couldn’t care less if they killed us. We just wanted to get out of there. They shot Billy in the neck but I made it. They didn’t even bother to come and look for me but I still ran like I’d never run before. I ran until I couldn’t run any
more. I made it across the border into Cambodia and from there I managed to get on a boat to Singapore. That’s where I’ve been ever since.”
“Until now,” Smith said.
“Until now,” Fulton repeated, “everybody thought I was dead. Sophie couldn’t handle the news and I found out later she’d walked into the river next to the hospital. She drowned herself. I had nothing left so I stayed in Singapore. I made a nice life for myself.”
“You’re telling me that Jimmy thought you were dead?” Smith asked.
“Not only that,” Fulton said, “he thought I was dead because of what your father did. That’s what this is all about.”
“Where’s Jimmy now?” Smith asked.
“I have no idea,” Fulton replied, “The last time I saw him was shortly after he killed those three lads. He didn’t believe it was me at first but when we met there was no doubting the fact that his brother was still alive. We talked all night. It was then that he came up with the plan for me to pretend to be him to put you off guard. I didn’t want to do it but Jimmy always could be very persuasive. I had little choice. He’s my big brother.”
Smith stood up and walked to the door.
“I need some air,” he said, “stay here.”
He opened the door and walked down the corridor
Smith went into the bathroom and looked at his face in the mirror. He had dark rings around his eyes and he looked old. He splashed some water on his face and walked back to the interview room. He opened the door and saw that John Fulton was gone.
SIXTY ONE
BREITLING
Whitton woke up. Somebody had shaken her awake. It took a while for her eyes to adjust to the light but eventually she stared directly into the piercing blue eyes.
“How did you sleep?” Fulton asked.
“What are you going to do to me?” Whitton asked.
“Did you know my brother was in a prisoner of war camp for two years?” he asked her.
“I thought he was dead.”
“So did I. I only found out recently that he managed to escape from Vietnam and cross the border into Cambodia. Do you have any idea what they did to people in those camps?”
“No,” Whitton said.
“John lost thirty five kilos in the first few months. When he escaped he was skin and bone. He made it out of the pure will to live. Its amazing what the human spirit can endure if it really wants to.”
Fulton took a permanent marker pen from his pocket. Whitton gasped as she watched him bend down and take off her shoes and socks.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said, “you can just let me go. I won’t tell them anything. They’ll never find you.”
“Nice try my dear,” Fulton smiled, “but as you quite rightly pointed out, kidnapping a police officer is a very serious offence. You don’t think they’ll just forget all about it do you? They’ll never stop until they catch me.”
He picked up one of Whitton’s feet and wrote something on the sole. Whitton winced as she felt the marker pen tickle her foot. Fulton did the same with her other foot.
“There,” he said.
He looked at his watch. It was a Breitling. Whitton thought it looked very expensive.
“Swiss timepieces are the best in the world,” he said, “master craftsmanship.”
He pressed a button on the side of the watch.
“Breitling Chronospace,” he said, “wonderful alarm. You do not want to hear the alarm though.”
“Why not?” Whitton asked defiantly.
“Because it will be the last thing you ever hear. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment I need to keep.”
Whitton looked him directly in the eyes.
“You’re going to rot in hell for this you bastard,” she said.
She saw the rage rising in his face. His lips pursed and she watched as he raised his arm. With a clenched fist, he swung his arm and hit her on the side of the face. She saw a flash and she lost consciousness.
“Sorry,” Fulton said, “I don’t usually condone violence towards women.”
Whitton could not hear him.
When Whitton woke up a few hours later she was alone. Her temple was throbbing and her mouth was incredibly dry. She tried to remember something she had read once about how long the human body can survive without water. Her mind was fuzzy and she could not remember how long it was but she knew it was not more than a few days. She could smell vomit. She looked down and saw that her jeans were covered in it. She must have been sick in her sleep. She gazed around the room. The sliver of light that came from the window had disappeared which meant it was no longer daytime. How long have I been in here? She thought to herself. She tried to move but the straps held her securely to the chair and her hands were numb behind her back. They were tied too tightly. She tried to wriggle the chair across the room but Fulton had made sure this was impossible. Her eyes soon adjusted to the darkness and she could see filing cabinets lining the walls behind her. I must be in some kind of office, she thought. She wondered if they were even out looking for her. Surely when she had not shown up for work they would realise that something was wrong. She tried to rock in the chair again but she had no strength left. I need water, she thought, I’m going to die in here. She felt the tears well up in her eyes but she was so dehydrated that the tears would not flow.
SIXTY TWO
BOYS
Smith knew that John Fulton would try to escape. He was banking on it. His only hope of finding Whitton was to let Fulton escape and to follow him in the hope that he would try and make contact with his twin brother. There was no chance that Chalmers would agree to release him so Smith had to break all the rules and leave a prisoner unattended in one of the interview rooms. Smith had whispered to Lucy to wait in his car and watch to see where Fulton went as he left the station.
Smith quickly ran outside to his car. Thankfully, it had stopped raining as he stepped outside. Baldwin was on the reception desk but she was busy typing away on the computer and barely noticed him as he ran past her.
“Did he come out?” Smith asked Lucy.
She was sitting on the passenger seat of his car.
“He walked out about a minute ago,” she replied, “he looked so calm. He headed off in that direction.”
She pointed to where Fulford Road turned onto a small housing estate.
“Let’s get after him then,” Smith said.
“Won’t you get into trouble for this?” Lucy asked.
“Probably,” Smith sighed, “but it’s the only way I can think of to try and find Whitton.”
There were very few people on the streets as Smith and Lucy turned off Fulford Road onto Alma Terrace. The street lights were bright and the estate was well lit up.
“He can’t have got too far,” Smith said as they turned left into Carey Street, “There’s nowhere for him to hide in here.”
They walked around the whole estate of terraced houses but John Fulton was nowhere to be seen. Smith was becoming despondent. They had completed a full circle and they were back to where they had started from. Fulton was not here. Smith had purposefully let a prisoner escape and he was no closer to finding where Whitton was being held. They walked back to the police station car park. Smith’s red Ford Sierra was gone.
“Fuck,” Smith said.
He ran inside the station and headed straight for Chalmers’ office. The door had been put back on its hinges. Chalmers was just about to leave.
“Where’s Fulton?” Chalmers asked.
“Gone sir,” Smith replied.
“What do you mean gone?”
“He’s stolen my car sir,” Smith said, “I left him alone in the interview room. I knew he would escape. I was planning on following him. He might have led me to Whitton. I must have left my car keys in the ignition.”
“You bloody idiot,” Chalmers barked, “what the hell were you thinking?”
“I was desperate. I didn’t know what else to do. We need to find Whitton as soon
as possible. God knows what Jimmy Fulton is doing to her.”
“So you thought you’d just let an accomplice to a multiple murderer escape?”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time sir.”
“Bloody hell Smith,” Chalmers said, “you’ve pulled some stunts in your time but this one takes the biscuit.”
“What are you going to do sir?” Smith asked.
Chalmers sat down in his chair. He thought for a moment and then stood up again. He walked to the door, looked down the corridor then closed the door.
“I see you’ve finally got a door on your office sir,” Smith said.
Chalmers turned to look at Smith, shook his head and punched him squarely in the face. Smith fell to the ground. Blood started to pour from his nose. He looked up at Chalmers.
“What the hell did you do that for?” he said.
His eyes were watering and the blood was pouring into his mouth.
“To save your arse as usual Smith,” Chalmers replied. “This is the story. This is what happened. Fulton attacked you and stole your car. Get that into your thick skull.”
Smith held his hand over his nose to stop the blood flow.
“Thanks sir,” he said, “I think.”
“Let’s get a description of your bloody car out there,” Chalmers said. “In the meantime we’ll go in my car and try to see if we can find this bastard ourselves. Seriously though Smith, what the hell were you thinking about?”
“This is going to look bloody marvellous in the papers,” Chalmers said, “as he drove off at speed in pursuit of John Fulton, “a prisoner escapes and steals a coppers car from a police station car park.”
“That’s quite a right hook you have there sir,” Smith said.
He rubbed his nose.
“I used to box for the police,” Chalmers said, “I won quite a few fights too. I had to stop when the younger blokes started beating the shit out of me though.”
“He hit you?” Lucy said.
She was sitting in the back seat.
“He deserved it,” Chalmers insisted, “bloody idiot. I don’t know what the hell you see in him.”
The York Trilogy: The First 3 DS Jason Smith Detective novels Page 53
