Hunted on the Fens

by Joy Ellis

  ‘Here we are.’ The young man handed Nikki a sheet of paper with an address written on it.

  She took it and thanked him. As they turned to go, she said, ‘Tell me . . .’ and looked at his shiny silver name badge, ‘Nathan. Was Brookes off sick a few weeks back?’

  ‘Not to my knowledge. I’ve been here for two years and he’s never taken time off for illness.’

  * * *

  There was no answer at 3 Croft Cottages, but Ted Brookes’ elderly neighbour took delight in telling them that Brookes was definitely indoors. She had heard him turn off the “very loud” TV when their car drew up outside.

  Joseph immediately disregarded the bell and the knocker, and hammered on the front door with his clenched fist. ‘Police! Open up, Mr Brookes!’

  On his second, even louder attempt, the door was tentatively opened.

  Ted Brookes was clearly off work for a reason. He looked ghostly white, red-eyed and sick as a parrot. ‘Migraine,’ he whispered.

  ‘Nasty.’ Joseph held up his warrant card, as did Nikki, and said, ‘But I’m afraid so is murder, and we need to talk.’

  Brookes reluctantly held the door back and at a shuffling pace, led them through to his lounge. He pointed to a dark brown leather sofa, then eased himself into a matching reclining chair. ‘I’d offer tea, but I’ve run out of milk.’

  ‘We are fine, sir.’ Nikki leaned forward and slapped a large portrait photograph of Aaron Keller on the coffee table in front of Brookes. ‘Know him?’

  Brookes’ already pasty face turned a sickly grey.

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes, shall I?’ She smiled smugly at the chauffeur.

  To Joseph, Nikki sounded calm and unimpressed by the news that the driver had seen the killer, whereas he was totally gob-smacked. He had had no idea that Keller would be identified so quickly. So, they more or less had the ‘who-dunnit’, and now, in the words of the fire investigator, they just needed a ‘how’ and a ‘why.’

  ‘Time to talk to us, Mr Brookes. And I’d make it an honest, clear and concise account of everything you know’ Nikki gave him an icy stare, ‘because you are going to need a very good reason for not coming forward with evidence when Magda Hellekamp was murdered.’

  At the word ‘murdered,’ Brookes flinched. ‘Oh God! I knew you’d find out. I knew I’d been lied to, but I didn’t know what to do.’ He looked at Nikki beseechingly. ‘He seemed so official, so straight. I had no reason to doubt him.’

  Joseph watched as the man’s eyes constantly strayed to the photo of Aaron Keller. ‘From the beginning?’

  ‘Well, see, I always drove Ms Hellekamp, every time she came to the UK. She was a really nice woman, and I liked her.’ He shivered a little then, hugging himself, went on. ‘Then a few nights before she . . . uh, died, he visited me.’ He jabbed a finger viciously at the photograph. ‘He showed me all these credentials and identity cards. I would have sworn he was the real deal.’

  ‘What kind of identity cards?’ asked Nikki.

  ‘National Fraud Authority. He said he was working for the Home Office.’ Brookes screwed up his face. ‘I even went online and checked the logos on his ID card, and they were the same.’

  Joseph puffed out his cheeks. ‘What brass-neck nerve!’

  ‘What was his name, Mr Brookes?’

  ‘Kershaw. Arthur Kershaw. And he does exist! I Googled him to check him out.’

  ‘With no picture available, I’ll bet,’ murmured Joseph.

  ‘No.’ Brookes sighed. ‘No picture available.’

  ‘Okay, so what did this guy want you to do?’ asked Joseph, although he was pretty sure he already knew the answer to that.

  ‘He said that his department was keeping a close eye on some competitors of Ms Hellekamp’s company, Hellecroppen, in connection with serious fraud — some massive money-laundering organisation. They needed to speak with her privately, but believed that she was under surveillance. They also believed that she was in danger, and there was a chance that the threat came from somewhere inside the police force.’

  ‘Oh, very neat! I’m beginning to see why you got sucked in.’ Nikki’s words might have given the impression that she was softening, but her tone did nothing of the sort. ‘So you took a sickie, and he,’ her stare moved down to Aaron Keller ‘spent the day with Magda Hellekamp.’ Her gaze snapped up. ‘How much did he pay you?’

  ‘Uh, well, two grand.’ At least Brookes had the grace to look crestfallen.

  ‘Funnily enough, government agencies don’t generally pay for your services. They expect patriotic loyalty. Didn’t that give you a tiny clue as to the fact that you were being played?’

  ‘Not the way he put it.’

  Nikki gritted her teeth. Joseph saw a flash of the fiery old-model Nikki straining to get out and bite this moron’s head off.

  ‘Right, Mr Brookes, so what happened on the day you feigned your illness?’

  Brookes stared at his hands that were twisting and turning in his lap. ‘He knew all about Ms Hellekamp and her problems with strangers. He said that he would ask her to ring my mobile number, and I was to put her mind at rest and assure her that everything was okay.’

  ‘Which you did.’

  ‘Yes.’ He swallowed noisily. ‘And I must tell no one. Not even my company, as the Home Office had no idea where the threat was coming from. God, he even told me that he was a high ranking officer, but he was taking charge of Magda personally because he was of Dutch descent and could talk to her in her native language.’ He reached forward and picked up the photocopy. ‘Who is he?’ His voice was shaky and full of emotion. ‘What have I done?’

  ‘He’s not who he said he was, Mr Brookes,’ Nikki stated. ‘And I’m afraid that’s all we can say at present.’ She stood up. ‘We’d like you to come to the station and make a written statement, and we will have more questions for you.’

  ‘Are you arresting me?’

  ‘No. But you are going to help us voluntarily, are you not?’ Joseph threw the man a warning glance.

  Ted Brookes nodded fervently. ‘Absolutely.’ He let out a relieved sigh. ‘I thought you’d be arresting me for perverting the course of justice.’

  ‘Don’t worry, there’s still time.’ Nikki growled. ‘But you’ve been right-royally conned by a master, so at present, all you are really guilty of is being a gullible prat, and I can’t actually think of a section number or an act that covers that.’ She moved towards the door. ‘Be at the station this afternoon at three p.m., okay?’

  ‘I’ll be there.’

  ‘Good.’ She hesitated. ‘Was your Mr Kershaw alone when he came to see you?’

  ‘He was the only one I spoke to, Inspector, but I saw another shadowy figure in the driving seat of his car.’

  ‘No description?’

  ‘I wouldn’t even have known if it was a man or a woman.’

  ‘And the car?’

  ‘Big, silver, maybe a Toyota Highlander SUV? I couldn’t be certain, but it was that kind of vehicle.’

  ‘Okay, thanks anyway. And remember, three p.m. on the dot.’

  As they walked back to the car, Joseph recalled what he had pulled off the computer about Keller’s RTC. ‘Aaron Keller was driving a silver Mazda CX-9 SUV when he totalled himself. And that could easily be taken for a Toyota at night.’

  ‘But he wasn’t alone, and that worries me. From past history, I don’t recall Keller ever working with a partner.’

  ‘Well, not one we know of. But he was always something of an enigma. Perhaps Interpol can give us some extra info on his methods.’

  ‘Mm. Follow that up when we get back to the nick.’ Nikki glanced at her watch. ‘Would you mind if we just called in at Cloud Cottage Farm? It’s only five minutes further on from here. That text I had earlier was from my handyman, Phil Maynard. He and his son are at my place doing a visual check of the damage. He can’t get inside the remains of the garage until I give him the go-ahead, and he wants a word, if that’s all right with you?’
>
  ‘Fine. We aren’t expecting the Kent Police motorcyclist until mid-afternoon. We’ve got plenty of time.’

  * * *

  Phil Maynard and his son, Luke, were the epitome of like father, like son. Both were built like heavyweight wrestlers, and both sported thick thatches of white-blond hair, cut in the original 1950’s pudding-bowl style. Whenever Nikki looked at them, she had a vision of Mrs Maynard, pinking shears in hand, wielding an ancient Pyrex bowl.

  ‘We don’t want to disturb anything, Mrs Galena. We saw the tape was still wrapped round the doorways.’ Luke looked at the striped tape in awe. He was clearly hoping that if he waited long enough a gorgeous red-lipped CSI with long blonde hair and high heels would arrive.

  ‘You can get a good look tomorrow. Someone is coming out this afternoon to double-check for evidence.’ Nikki looked gloomily at her wrecked garage. ‘What can you do with it?’

  Phil clapped a large hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s not so bad, Mrs G. I reckon we could rip out all the timber, take a high-power jet washer to the remaining brickwork to clean it up, then repoint it. We can skim the floor, wang a new roof on, bung in some smart new windows and doors, and Bob’s your uncle.’

  ‘So simple.’ Nikki gave a little laugh.

  ‘Dad always says, “Why make a drama out of a crisis?”’ said Luke, nodding sagely.

  ‘Will I need to order a skip?’

  ‘No, no. We’ll bring my brother’s truck down.’ He looked across to his son, ‘And Luke here can play with his new toy, can’t you, son?’

  ‘Bobcat.’ Luke’s watery grey eyes ignited with enthusiasm. ‘Dad’s invested in a compact excavator. I can rip out all the damaged roof timbers and clear the whole area in no time.’

  ‘Nice one,’ added Joseph, wondering what that would have cost.

  ‘Tired of paying the plant-hire people,’ said Phil philosophically, ‘so I thought I’d get a loan and pay the bank instead.’ Phil looked around. ‘Could we use one of your outbuildings, Mrs G.? To store our tools and our gear while we’re working here?’

  ‘Of course.’ Nikki took her keys from her pocket. ‘Now I’m using my father’s car for a bit, you can use the barn.’ She unclipped the key and walked across the concrete yard. ‘It’s padlocked and there’s only one door, so your stuff should be okay.’ She halted at the big double doors. ‘I’ll show you, then you keep the key until you’re finished, okay?’ She unlocked the heavy padlock, then threw the key to Phil. ‘All yours.’

  Nikki pulled open the doors, then gasped in horror.

  In front of them was an ugly, black, flat-back truck. The paintwork was scratched and gouged and the license plates had been ripped away.

  The grill faced them. It was dented and twisted and stained with a congealing brownish fluid.

  ‘Get back!’ Nikki screamed. ‘Touch nothing!’

  It took Joseph only a moment to understand what he was looking at, and then his phone was in his hand and he was requesting DI Jim Hunter to get there immediately and to bring some uniforms and a forensic team. As he stared at the big Mitsubishi Barbarian, he decided that Luke was going to get his CSI after all, even if they were a middle-aged, motley crew in all-in-one paper suits and masks.

  He moved to Nikki’s side and together they stared open-mouthed at the vehicle that had killed one of their officers and injured their friend. ‘What the devil is going on?’ he breathed softly.

  Nikki looked up at him and he saw both distress and intense anger in her expression.

  And then her phone was ringing. She stared at the display and her brow wrinkled slightly. It was obviously not a number she recognised, and very few people had her private mobile number. As she answered it, she glanced at him and pressed the loudspeaker button.

  ‘DI Galena,’ she said tersely.

  ‘I assume I now have your full attention?’

  Joseph stood rooted to the spot.

  The voice was odd, and it made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. It sounded strange, cold and inhuman. All he could think in that fleeting moment was that it was full of hate.

  Nikki’s eyes were riveted to her phone. ‘Who is this?’ she hissed. ‘And what do you want?’

  Joseph strained to hear the answer, even though he didn’t want to listen to that creepy, sinister voice again.

  ‘Compensation.’

  The line went dead.

  ‘Turn your phone off, Nikki.’ Joseph spoke quickly. ‘We need to get it to IT immediately. Hopefully they will be able to tell us something about the last number that rang.’

  Nikki straightened up, then shook her head. ‘We won’t trace him, Joseph. You heard it. That was a state-of-the-art voice distorter. Not the old kind that makes the speaker sound garbled and hard to understand. That was one of those new generation voice changers. If he’s into all that, then he’ll not allow a trace on his phone, will he?’

  Joseph knew she was right, then he realised that Phil and Luke were still standing, like two frozen giants, just behind them. He indicated with a little jerk of his head, and Nikki nodded.

  ‘Sorry, Phil. The job is on hold until this has been sorted out.’ She smiled wanly at the man. ‘You’d better go now, and I’ll need that key.’ She pointed to the small key, dwarfed by the big clenched fist. ‘And I’m afraid we’ll need to get your fingerprints for elimination. They’ll take them down at the station, if you don’t mind? I’ll ring you as soon as we’re finished here, okay?’

  The two men nodded dumbly, then slowly made their way back across the yard to their ancient Land Rover. Opening the door, Phil paused and called back, ‘We’ll go straight to the nick, Mrs G., get it over with.’

  Nikki waved in acknowledgement. After they had gone, she whispered, ‘What does he want? Compensation for what?’ Her face tensed. ‘Joseph, do you think it’s Stephen Cox?’

  Joseph didn’t rush into his reply. He looked out over the fields towards the marsh and thought carefully. Cox certainly hated her enough. Hated her for losing him a fortune in drug money, hated her for getting half his face destroyed. In fact he hated her for everything bad that had happened to him. But none of this seemed to fit around Stephen Cox. The dealer was nasty, vicious, and as close to evil as it came, but all this? Could he organise something so calculating and so mentally destructive? He would have to say no, because the planning was too devious, too sophisticated. But as Nikki said, he could have paid for help.

  Joseph wanted to give Nikki a definitive answer, but he couldn’t, because he didn’t know. He really didn’t know.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘One thing is for sure, you are not staying in your home alone.’

  Nikki knew that this time there would be no negotiation. But as it was, she was feeling far from her usual confident self. The shock of opening her barn to see the blood spattered bull-bars of the Barbarian had shaken her far more than she would admit. She just didn’t like the idea of being driven out of her own home by someone’s twisted mind game.

  ‘I have a spare room,’ said Joseph. ‘And from Knot Cottage we can keep a close eye on Cloud Cottage Farm.’

  ‘My guest room is empty too,’ added Dave. ‘It doesn’t have the quaint and rural charm of the sarge’s place, but I am only minutes from the police station.’

  ‘Thanks, Dave, but I think I’ll accept Joseph’s offer this time. As he says, we can watch my home for any more unwanted visits, and if I need anything, it’s only a few minutes’ walk up the lane.’

  ‘Excellent. That’s settled,’ said Rick Bainbridge, pulling a pile of papers towards him. ‘Now, we need to decide how we proceed. Nikki? Your thoughts?’

  Before she could answer there was a knock on the office door, and Yvonne and Niall, both dressed in civilian clothes, walked in. ‘We are at your disposal, ma’am, for as long as you need us. I think our sergeant is relieved to get rid of us for a while.’ She grimaced. ‘But I don’t feel right without my uniform.’

  ‘And I miss my utility belt already,’ add
ed Niall miserably.

  ‘I insisted on civvies, Nikki,’ said Rick Bainbridge. ‘Considering everything that’s happened, I think your team needs to keep a low profile until we know what we are dealing with.’ He leaned forward against the desk, pressing his palms together, prayer-style. ‘So where do you intend to go from here?’

  Nikki pulled herself together and went back into work mode. ‘Obviously we need to liaise with Jim Hunter’s team regarding Danny Wilshire’s death, but we must still work on bringing Operation Windmill to a conclusion. The gun will be here shortly and we’ll get it straight down to ballistics. We can now tie Aaron Keller into Magda’s murder. Not just because of the pistol, if it matches, but because Magda’s regular chauffeur, Ted Brookes, fingered him as the man who swapped places with him as her driver.’

  ‘Has he given a formal statement?’ asked the superintendent.

  Nikki checked her watch. ‘He’ll be here in an hour, sir.’

  ‘Magda Hellekamp’s death is undoubtedly connected to some huge corporate organisation. We have only scratched the surface, but it looks like she and an unknown male were on the verge of some kind of scientific advance, something monumental by the sound of it.’

  ‘Something worth killing to get hold of?’ asked Niall.

  ‘Or something worth suppressing,’ said Yvonne darkly.

  ‘Good point.’ Nikki went on. ‘Joseph is going to contact Interpol to find out more about Aaron Keller’s methods. I have to say that the way he duped the chauffeur was mega-impressive. I’ve given the guy a hard time about it, but to be honest, I think Keller could have convinced the sharpest sceptic into believing he was a security agent.’ She eased back in her chair. ‘Three things really bother me. One: Keller had an accomplice, a man who was driving Keller’s car on the night he visited Ted Brookes. Why? What was this other person’s role? Two: Who was the mystery brain-box helping Magda? And three: That damned locked room at Magda’s apartment. I have been assured that there was only one key-card issued to Magda, and the computer access record and CCTV shows no other activity other than Magda herself. Even if Keller spent time with her, there was no way he could have either entered or left surreptitiously.’