Worse Than Dead

by Stephen Puleston

  ‘We had two visits from Jade Beltrami with her clients about the investigation and she was with that barrister. Guy with the expensive suit,’ Drake said, his thoughts unordered. ‘And she asked Thorsen to review the case. Damn.’

  Caren looked bewildered.

  ‘And each time she learnt more about the case,’ Drake said.

  ‘Do you mean?’

  ‘Those two calls. She’s a qualified flying instructor. And she’s got a plane registered in her own name. Damn it, she was right under our noses.’ He slammed the other hand onto the desk.

  ‘And do you remember talking to Beltrami about the second reference – the one for Daz Green?’ Caren said.

  Drake was standing now, hand on hips.

  ‘I was convinced he didn’t recognise it at first. Then he must have realised it was Jade’s handwriting,’ Caren added.

  ‘You’re right, you’re right.’

  ‘So where are they landing?’

  ‘They must be flying into RAF Mona,’ Drake said, reaching for his car keys.

  ‘Too risky. You know what Special Branch in the port at Holyhead are like about the paperwork.’

  They exchanged a look of shared suspicion.

  ‘Do you think someone at SB is involved?’ Caren said.

  ‘It would make sense of all this secrecy with Lance.’

  Drake reached for the car keys and strode for the door. ‘You follow me once you’ve checked out the inventories from the ferry to Liverpool.’

  He was out of the door before Caren had a chance to reply.

  * * *

  Drake blasted the car horn and screamed obscenities at a bus that pulled out in front of him just as he left headquarters. Ten minutes later he was driving on the outside lane of the dual carriageway, flashing his headlights at the cars ahead of him, nudging the Alfa to a hundred miles an hour. He guessed it would take him another forty minutes to reach RAF Mona. He dismissed the idea of calling ahead; he’d had enough of things not going to plan. He hoped the patrol car in the opposite lane would ignore him and even if they didn’t, by the time they’d have turned round he’d be onto the island.

  Approaching the bridge the traffic slowed to single file but soon he accelerated again. The car shook as he raced down the long, straight section of road for the turning he needed. At the junction he had to slow the car but the adrenaline was still hammering from the pace of his driving. Another five minutes he said to himself. It would be dark in a couple of hours so time was against him. There’d been an urgency in Valencia’s voice on the tapes, a sense of purpose. Nearing the airfield he looked up into the sky, hoping that he might spot a plane about to land. But maybe they’d already landed and left and an unshakable doubt gripped him, that they’d done everything wrong so far.

  He parked by the entrance alongside a couple of cars that he didn’t recognise and the anxiety returned. He ran to the building, but it was empty, and then he emerged on the other side and saw a car in the distance in the hangar. He sprinted over the grass and tarmac, his lungs burning in his chest. He reached the hangar door and almost fell, gasping for breath. A van covered in the livery of an electrical contractor was parked near the door and two men looked up at Drake from beneath the engine cover of a light aircraft.

  He bent double, his hands on his knees, before running back to the control building. This time the stitch in the right side of his body throbbed but he carried on before pushing open the door and running up the stairs. Halfway up he had to stop and draw breath. At the top he pushed open the door and found a young man sitting on a small chair, his feet up on a desk, reading a car magazine.

  ‘Are you in charge?’ Drake managed between gasps for breath.

  The man hauled his feet off the table and squinted at Drake’s warrant card.

  ‘Are you expecting a flight from Dublin?’

  ‘Nothing. I’m packing up once this training flight is finished.’

  ‘So what happens if a plane was flying at this time of the day?’

  The man peered out of the window of the control tower. ‘But it’s going to be dark soon.’

  ‘What happens then?’

  ‘They’d have to divert to RAF Valley.’

  ‘What, the RAF base?’

  ‘Yes. We haven’t got lights on this runway at night.’

  Drake peered out, hoping he could see something.

  ‘Or they go to Caernarfon,’ the man said.

  Chapter 44

  Drake stood by the bottom of the control tower, pondering. He thought he heard the sound of a light aircraft approaching and he lifted his head and watched as the small plane dipped towards the runway, the wheels hitting the ground with a squeal.

  He fished out his mobile from his jacket pocket.

  ‘Caren. Anything on the ferry?’ he said.

  ‘Just finished, nothing.’

  ‘Nothing here either. They might be flying into RAF Valley.’ He walked back to his car. ‘It could be the perfect cover.’

  ‘They land at night. Small bags never examined,’ Caren said.

  ‘Hell of a risk.’

  ‘There’ll be military police on duty.’

  ‘Call the military police and warn them. I’m going over to Caernarfon airport. Meet me there. And find out where that operational support unit could be. Get them over there.’

  Overhead he thought he heard the sound of an engine. He jerked his head skywards, hoping he’d see a plane approaching, but the visibility was poor and he could see nothing and having almost swerved into a refuse lorry, he decided to concentrate on the road.

  Lance made single-word replies when Drake told him what he was doing. It only confirmed for Drake that he preferred, and missed, Wyndham Price. A long queue was waiting for him at the bridge and he cursed the early evening traffic. There was time enough for him to be thinking about the case and to ruminate at every wrong turn they’d taken. He thought about Jade Beltrami and then he slammed his hands against the steering wheel when the realisation struck him about Maguire. He had mentioned the name of the Blue Parrot to Jade at the first interview, or was it the second? She’d drawn him into telling her where the investigation was going. And for a split second he thought that Maguire was dead because of him.

  He was stationary in the queue. A horn sounded somewhere.

  But, Drake realised, it had been Winder who’d discovered the link to the Blue Parrot. Valencia must have seen Drake in the club talking to Maguire. Killing him was probably just tidying up another loose end.

  Another horn sounded. Why don’t you fucking shut up?

  He wanted to picture Maguire’s face but somehow the image wouldn’t focus. Connors must have had him killed because he could. Or was it because Valencia knew from Jade that they’d made the connection to Connors?

  There were shouts now. Loud.

  He looked out and saw the road ahead clear. More horns blasted and he fumbled to get the car into gear.

  Dusk was falling when he approached Caernarfon. He glimpsed over towards Anglesey, convincing himself that the bright dot he’d seen in the sky was a plane heading for the airfield.

  He pulled to a stop in a layby by the junction down to the airport. He called Caren.

  ‘I should be there in ten minutes,’ she said.

  ‘And the SOU officers?’

  ‘They’d already left for Cardiff. But I managed to get them to turn around and they should be with us in about an hour.’

  ‘An hour!’ Drake said. He peered out of the windscreen, certain now that he could see the flickering lights of an approaching aircraft. His hands were sweaty on the wheel but he couldn’t decide if there was anything else he could do. If there was any other explanation. And more than anything he wanted to arrest Valencia for murder.

  It was twenty minutes before Caren pulled up behind him. She opened the car door and sat down and he pointed into the distance. ‘There’s a plane approaching now. Can you see it?’ He pointed out over Caernarfon Bay.

  Caren leant
forward and squinted. ‘How long have we got?’

  ‘Call the SOU car.’

  Caren found her mobile while Drake stared out into the greying sky. She spoke in short, incomplete sentences and then turned to Drake. ‘At least another half an hour.’

  Drake said nothing at first. He could just make out the light aircraft making its final approach to the airfield. He thought about Valencia and Jade Beltrami and the pleasure it would give him to arrest them. He pondered who else might be at the airport waiting. It had to be DS Wallace, of course. He had access to the Special Branch records, making it easy to disguise Valencia’s trips to Dublin.

  ‘We’ll have to go in,’ he said.’ I’m not waiting half an hour.’

  ‘But—’

  Drake had already started the engine.

  He headed down the narrow lanes around Dinas Dinlle that led to the airfield. He lost sight of the plane, guessing it had already landed. Along the seafront the road was straight; the houses and bungalows protected by a high sea wall seemed grey and lonely in the gathering gloom. A light flickered on in a bungalow down a lane lined with weeds. After a couple of sharp bends he reached the gate to the car park and braked hard. He jumped out and saw the fence surrounding the airfield. He thought he heard shouts and voices, but couldn’t make them out. He ran between the old control tower and the main airport building towards the perimeter fence, hoping there’d be a gate. Caren stood beside him as he put his hands up against the tall fence, threading his fingers through the mesh. Caren’s mobile rang and she fumbled to take the call. She turned to Drake.

  ‘The SOU won’t be long.’

  He heard the sound of a car engine starting and he turned and ran back towards the Alfa, Caren following behind him. As he ran to the opposite end of the building he tried opening a metal door but it was locked and he cursed. At the far end another long fence stretched out along the perimeter.

  He turned and hoped he could spot an entrance onto the airfield. The Museum building behind him was closed and an old jet aircraft stood towards one end of the car park. He had to get into the airfield. There was only one exit from the airport and no one had passed them so there was every possibility that the plane’s passengers were still there. He raced over to his car, yelling at Caren to join him. He fired the engine, drove the car towards the fence before braking hard and parking alongside it. After getting out he clambered up onto the roof and then climbed onto the top of the fence and over and down onto the grass. He heard the cloth of his jacket tear and a shout from Caren, as she fell onto the ground beside him. He didn’t want to think about the possibility that he’d lose them, so he ran.

  By the time he reached the hangar door his chest was heaving, his pulse beating wildly. Caren was by his side taking deep breaths.

  The lights were blazing, the door of the plane open and a BMW and Audi were parked in one corner. A radio was playing a pop song too loudly. He hesitated for a moment and then saw the office at the back of the hangar. He ran over and kicked at the door, hard, and it smashed open. He almost fell into the small room. Two men in white overalls playing cards by a table looked up at him.

  Chapter 45

  Drake held his hands onto his knees and breathed deeply, unable for a few seconds to say anything. Caren stood gasping by his side.

  ‘Where have they gone?’ Drake asked between deep breaths.

  One of the technicians stood up. ‘Who are you after?’

  ‘The plane that just landed.’

  ‘We didn’t see them. They drove towards the old fort in a Range Rover.’

  ‘What!’ Drake said, straightening up. He ran out of the hangar and stared into the distance towards the sea and Fort Belan. It was dark and all he could see was the dim outline of the sand dunes as they stretched for miles into the bay.

  Caren was by his side now. ‘Should we tell the super?’

  ‘We don’t tell the super anything,’ he said, turning back into the hangar and shouting as loudly as he could for someone to open the gate in the perimeter fence.

  The same technician came running out and soon Drake was accelerating down the road towards Fort Belan.

  ‘He could be up to his neck in all of this. He was living in that new development in the fort. I saw him there during his first week.’

  Drake grasped the steering wheel and pressed the accelerator hard as the bits of the jigsaw all fell into place. He’d been removed as the SIO, Lance had wanted everything to be channelled through his office and any contact with Special Branch had to be his responsibility.

  ‘Damn it. Why the hell didn’t I see it before?’ Drake said. ‘He must be involved. The lying bastard.’

  Caren gave him a troubled look. The car hurtled towards the fort before speeding over the small causeway, the seawater lapping at the tyres. Drake drew the car to a halt behind the Range Rover just in front of the old wooden drawbridge. The pair ran over it and then through into the courtyard. There was a light in the first of the cottages on the left but otherwise the buildings were in darkness. He gripped the old door handle on the first cottage and stepped into a small hallway. A narrow staircase led up to a landing, light seeped around the door frame to his right, and there was a faint noise from a television somewhere in the building. Caren pushed open the door slightly but then stepped back, shaking her head. Drake motioned to the door in front of them. It led into a corridor that stretched the whole length of the building, joining all the old cottages together.

  The television seemed to be blaring more loudly now. They walked down the passage. A door to Drake’s right was locked when he tried opening it. They reached a small hallway and in a room to their left Drake saw an old toilet with a wooden seat. A faint electric light was on in the room and he pushed open the door further. He noticed a window with old glass, its surface rippled, and an old wash basin on a stand trimmed with mahogany.

  Drawn against the far wall, hanging from the ceiling, were curtains that could be pulled around the huge Victorian bath which stood in the middle of the floor. Drake stepped over towards it and when he looked inside he caught his breath. Bile gathered in his throat and for a moment he stood, unable to think.

  Caren moved towards him and peered down. ‘Jesus.’

  MC Hughes lay in the bath, almost unrecognisable, his face a mass of bruises and his shirt soaked a deep red. Drake leant down and touched MC’s arm – it was cold and lifeless. Then he barged past Caren and out into the courtyard just as the two officers from the SOU ran over the drawbridge. He stood still, drawing deep breaths. In the distance they heard the sound of an engine.

  ‘Let’s get down to the dock.’ Drake started to run down the same passage that Lance had used when he’d seen him. He considered what he might say to the superintendent, face to face. He balled a fist in anticipation of what he might do. They reached the dock but there was no sign of a boat. All the properties were darkened except for a small square of light from a narrow window in one of the old buildings in the far corner.

  Caren followed Drake over the quayside towards the building, with the SOU officers trailing behind, their pistols drawn. As they drew closer they heard the sound of conversations and then laughter. Drake tightened his fist until his fingers hurt. He thought of MC and then he barged through the door.

  Valencia turned sharply and gave a narrow smile, but Jade Beltrami couldn’t hide the surprise in her eyes and the fear behind them. Behind them Inspector Glyn Newman sat at the desk. He got up and made for a gun on the edge of the table top. Before his fingers curled around the butt the SOU officers stepped into the room, pistols drawn.

  * * *

  Drake sat down at the narrow table and ran a finger along the tacky surface. His eyes were burning and he couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten. He glanced over at Caren standing by the counter and ordering food from a pimply youngster. Winder came into the restaurant, Howick following close behind him. They said something to Caren that Drake couldn’t hear and came over to his table.

 
‘Great result, boss,’ Winder said, slipping into the bench opposite Drake. ‘And all three of them together.’

  Howick came over with a tray holding four plastic drinks containers.

  ‘I didn’t think Newman was involved for one minute.’ Howick slid a drink each towards Winder and Drake.

  ‘It was only because of him that Valencia could operate on such a scale.’ Drake examined his cup.

  ‘And Special Branch in the port weren’t involved at all,’ Winder said.

  Drake fumbled with the straw before piercing the top of the container. The cold fizzy drink felt refreshing. Caren arrived with various boxes full of burgers; Winder and Howick were the first to reach into the tray, lifting out their choices. Caren had eaten her way through half of her burger before Drake had touched his. She pushed over a small paper bag.

  ‘Onion rings?’

  He shook his head.

  He finished his meal and for once hadn’t noticed whether Caren ate with her mouth open. Perhaps she’d stopped that habit. Tiredness would hit him later, but for now he listened to her telling Winder and Howick what exactly had happened at Caernarfon airport. They each made exaggerated gestures of surprise when she recounted that Newman had mysteriously fallen and lost two teeth, sustained a couple of chipped ribs and acquired a black eye.

  ‘That’s what happens when you don’t cooperate with an officer trying to restrain you,’ Winder said.

  ‘Wait until he gets inside,’ Howick added.

  Winder finished the last of his burger and licked the salt from his fingers. Howick was taking his food at a gentler pace and finished as Drake crumpled his tissue, discarding it in the food packaging. He straightened his posture, knowing that he felt better for having eaten, despite the fatty, greasy residue that coated his mouth and tongue. Tomorrow, it would be back to healthy eating.

  ‘Job well done all of you,’ he said, looking at each of them turn. Caren gave him a warm smile of acknowledgment, Winder blinked energetically, surprise evident in his eyes, and Howick gave him a serious-looking nod.