by Hylton Smith
*
Bradstock rushed into the office and asked Eva Roberts and Stephanie to give him time with Renton, who had almost forgotten he was around.
“Jack, I am sorry, but these clowns who are trying to patch up the leaky Intranet have made absolutely no progress. The have all but admitted defeat, so I must return and oversee recruitment of more expertise. Can you give me a summary of what I have missed by continually being on the bloody telephone?”
A deep intake of breath provided the fraction of thinking time to avoid giving Bradstock any glimmer of a reason to stay.
“Do you want the short version Sir, or the one line alternative?” His confident manner helped Sir Nigel to plump for the one liner. “Ok,” said Renton, “we have made decent progress in our dialogue with Frank, and he has even agreed to give us information ahead of posting on the internet, and we have new, relevant DNA to look at.” This was good enough to get Bradstock to pick up the phone and inform the poor sods in London of his expected descent into their midst.
*
At last the tests had conclusively proven that there were only five sets of DNA from inside the coffin. Donoghue had been afraid that there may have been remnants from the manufacturer’s craftsmen, but it seemed as if either they or Frank had given it a very thorough cleansing. Sam Gibson reminded Donoghue of the urgency of testing Rory Davenport’s DNA. While they were alone Renton suggested to Eva Roberts that they shelved any effort to second guess the motive for now.
“We have to heed what Frank said. He has convinced me that he’ll kill again if we give him cause. I want to have another conversation with his ‘assistant’ to ascertain whether we can let him go.” Eva agreed and asked to join him.
Ben Adams put his head into the office and said he was going to ask the walkers in the photo to come in and recap their time in the woods.
“I can’t help feeling that if Frank was going to get the poor soul in the cells to give you the finger, he wanted that as his prize photograph. If he was so close to us, maybe the picture will jog the memories of the ‘last of the summer wine’ walking group.” Renton nodded in agreement and led Eva to the cells. As they entered the man looked up and smiled. He didn’t appear to be distressed in any way.
“Hello again, I’m sorry but I don’t know your name. I’d like to hear your name before we have a chat about what to do next. Can you tell me your name?” It was such an effort for the young man to respond without stuttering.
“F- Friend, that is my – my name. I have information for the Inspector.”
“Yes, I’m the Inspector, and I want to thank you very much for helping us. Did you know what the information was?
“No, I did it for Friend and he told me it was only for the Inspector.”
“Who is Friend?”
“Everybody is Fr-Friend for me. It is important to have all Friends.” Eva asked if she could take a turn and was given the nod.
“Have you always had Friend?”
“No, Friend only helped me after I was sick.”
“Oh, were you very sick?”
“Yes, terrible sick, horrible sick, always sick.”
“Didn’t you go to hospital to see what was wrong with you?”
“Hospital did not know this sickness, but Friend always knew”
“How long have you known Friend?”
“All of the time.”
“All of your life?”
“No. All of the time.”
They both noticed a tear trickle down the man’s cheek, and his chest began to heave. He still smiled and murmured in a low voice.
“This is my life. Friend knew me all of the time.” Renton returned the smile and held the man’s hand while he comforted him by asking what he wanted.
“Do you want to leave now and go back to see Friend?”
“Friend will not be there, other friends need him. I can stay here to help the Inspector.” Eva asked if he would like something to eat, and the first unrestrained joy came to his face.
“Yes, I like chocolate.” They decided to keep him there until Frank called again, which they felt must be imminent.
Sam Gibson studied the message from the Atecana boot stockist who had responded. It looked promising, but he also wanted to check with the other two. He drew blanks, as they had not sold any for a long time and decided to stop carrying stock. He reported this to Adams and it produced a frown.
“Hang on a minute Sam - I think we might be missing something right under our noses. Let’s check this out with the Boss.” They asked Renton if anyone had noticed the footwear of the man in the cell.
“Well I haven’t, why would I….oh shit, you’re thinking of the footprints at the Priory aren’t you? The poor guy is in such a pitiful state we never even glanced at his feet. Let’s do it now. It seems rather obvious now that as Frank’s assistant, he could be involved with the coffin. I suppose we were a little obsessed with the finger he brought in, and his difficulty in articulating whatever he wants to say.”
He was wearing brown boots, and when they asked him to take them off, he showed the first signs of aggression. He backed into a corner and brandished a fist.
“My boots are always my boots.” Adams lifted his own foot to expose the sole and coaxed the man to copy him.
“We just want to see the bottom of your boots; we don’t want to take them from you.” Slowly he raised his foot and the wear pattern looked as if there could be a match with Donoghue’s prints. Adams was about to call the forensics chief when Renton asked the man straight out if he had helped his Friend with the coffin at the Priory.
“Yes. I always help Friend.”
“Did you help Friend with making the body in the coffin?” The man looked puzzled.
“Coffin was empty.”
“Oh I see, and how did you know that it was empty?”
“There was no lid. It was easy to see.” Renton told Adams to make his call to Donoghue.
“We still need Clive to take a photo and make a cast, even if we let him keep the boots on. We should take our friend here to forensics.” It was a relief that they had some concrete reason to keep the man in custody for now. He seemed happy enough and they were worried that he could not fend for himself, having told them that Frank was moving on.
*
Ben Adams and Sam Gibson settled the Chopwell Woods walkers down with a cup of tea. Adams asked them to think hard about anyone else they had passed on their route that day.
“Don’t just confine this to the area around this photo where we spoke to you on that occasion.”
Alan Atkinson and Terry Featherstone were deep in thought when Don Jameson pointed to the picture and raised a query.
“Are we going to be on the news or in the papers?”
Adams smiled and replied, “I would think so. Do you have computers?” Two of them nodded. “In that case just keep checking these websites and blogs. Unfortunately this case is being discussed all over the world and we expect this photograph to appear amongst the posts at some time. I can’t say more than that. Now please take your time in reconstructing your walk as any little detail could help us.”
Adams then produced a still of the Alpha-Omega symbol and the computer image of the man in the Atecana boots.
“The photo was obviously taken close to where we were talking and we’re led to believe that a man with this likeness was also in the vicinity. We’ll leave you to chat about it. Just press the buzzer when you are ready to tell us anything.” Don Jameson had a request.
“Is there any chance of a sandwich or even a biscuit? It’s near my lunchtime and if we’re going to be here for a while the hunger pangs won’t really help me to concentrate.” Gibson said he would see to it and get another pot of tea sent in.
After almost an hour Adams was alerted and they re-entered the interview room. Atkinson said that there was something familiar about the man in the still from the video, but they couldn’t agree on precisely where they may have
passed him that day.
“I do remember passing a man and thinking he must have had some kind of accident which affected the skin on his face, but I can’t place him at a particular point in the woods. I think it was before we bumped into the bikers.”
Terry Featherstone was sure it was after the bikes had passed them. “I almost got knocked over by one of them. It was after that when you remarked about the man’s skin. I didn’t see him close up because I was still looking out for the bikers coming back past us again.” Alan Atkinson eventually agreed, and in fact they all then recalled an additional lone biker coming past them before the reckless kids returned. Alan claimed he wasn’t riding a mountain bike like the youngsters, but he was wearing a helmet and an orange waterproof jacket. Because of his dark glasses it was not easy to see much of his face, but they guessed he was about mid-thirties. They were now fairly confident that they could take Adams to an approximate area in which they encountered both of these individuals.
*
The first real breakthrough came when Rory Davenport’s DNA was a match for the arms of the body from the Priory, and therefore by deduction, the 22 year-old armless corpse on the second video. It was now a priority to track his double life in recent years to find a connection with a possible motive and any of the other victims. They now knew that the finger delivered in the envelope was not taken from Rory Davenport, because the Priory corpse - and therefore Davenport’s fingers were all present.
Adams and Gibson pondered whether it was from either the legless body or the one without genitalia. It could have been from a totally unrelated person, but they both agreed to push on with tracking the five shortlisted 18 year-old missing persons from Manchester and London.
*
Paradoxically, Renton was relieved to take another call from Frank.
“I have to ask about Friend. You have not released him.”
“No, that’s because we are worried about him. He claims that you are moving on to help other ‘Friends’ and that he will not see you now. He’s a vulnerable individual and just putting him out on the street would seem to be callous. Strangely, he claims to be able to help us, but we believe this is what you have told him.”
“Well done, I think he can help you. However please spare me the concern you have for him; that is a little late, nobody cared for him when he really needed help.”
“We didn’t know him then, we’ve only just met him. What’s his name?” There was a distinct change in Frank’s demeanour and Eva Roberts urged Renton to ease off a bit.
“Do not pursue this. His name is Friend, as is mine when we are together. His birth name is irrelevant and painful for him. Nobody ever cared for him when he used his birth name. Do not call him by any other name than Friend. I hope you enjoyed the photo in the woods; it is now time to post it to the net. You would be well advised to nurture Friend without digging into his past.” The call ended.
The tracer people had once again thought they tracked him, but the GPS coordinates just began bouncing around in a random fashion indicating he was in many places at the same time. They decided they should back off until they had a better plan to propose. Eva Roberts admitted that Frank’s behaviour pattern was confusing her.
“There doesn’t appear to be a clear objective at this stage with respect to his contact with the police, which is in total contrast to the internet. I get the feeling that we’re being primed for the next phase.” Renton scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders.
“I haven’t got a clue what he wants, other than to keep the story in the news. It’s just as well I can resort to looking at evidence to keep me occupied until he does make a mistake.”
*
Adams sent Sam Gibson to Manchester and London in pursuit of direct leads on the five missing eighteen year-old candidates as possible owners of the finger. His experience told him that standing over those officers who had promised information was necessary, if urgency was paramount. Ben Adams looked at his watch and realised he was going to be late in arriving in Chopwell Woods to meet the walkers again. He called in to Renton’s office to tell him he was not hopeful as there were no uniformed officers available.
“Why don’t you take ‘Friend’ with you? In fact I’ll come with you as well. Eva, can you stay in case Frank calls again?” She was happy to do so, but betrayed the same sceptical expression as Adams regarding Friend.
“What?” said Renton, “what do we have to lose? He helps Frank. Come on Ben let’s go, I need to get out of this office and get some fresh air. I want to call in and see my son anyway. I was a bit rough on him when he rang the other day.”
Chapter 6
The Amazon Rain Forest
2017 had been the most difficult year of his life. He needed a complete change, but not a challenge. God knows he had already been challenged to breaking point. He now had to set the challenge for others to undertake. The environment did not seem as hostile as he had imagined. His guide was a German-born explorer with decades of experience in ferreting out indigenous tribes, hitherto largely unknown in the civilised world. Navigating one of the smaller tributaries of the mighty river was tricky in the small boat with an outboard motor. This stretch was particularly dangerous so they killed the motor and took to the oars.
According to Kurt Eisel, the perils ranged from piranha, to caiman, to blowpipes from unseen sources. Eisel was fluent in many Spanish dialects, and even more in those of tree dwellers. This was one of Frank’s most desired criteria in choosing his companion. Interaction with simple people was the kernel of his self-prescribed road to recovery. He believed the study of a way of life in which virtually every activity was borne out of necessity, would be therapeutic. It was hoped it would help obliterate the wider world of layered distractions. He was almost correct.
This particular tribe was different in many ways and unique in others. The hushed activity which changed his life was Cunecao. Many cultures in the Amazon basin indulged in substance addiction, but Eisel claimed that these people – he knew them as the Manakalia – had a monopoly on the practice. It was a jealously guarded secret, and had probably only stayed that way because of the extreme difficulty in nurturing a plant which had roots imbued with very special properties.
For centuries, these people had used Pannevava root as part of their medicinal armoury against all kinds of natural and predatory threat. The knowledge had been passed through generations of Shamens in order to minimise the risk of it falling into the hands of their enemies. The Manakalia were one of many protected tribes. Despite the burgeoning juggernaut Brazilian economy, mainly driven by timber exports and decentralisation of the population, preservation of such tribes became enshrined in the strategic progression. The Manakalia in particular attracted government support for their isolation from the outside world. Kurt Eisel was the solitary exception, at the request of the Chief Elder of the tribe. There was a story behind this very unusual request. Frank asked Eisel how this had come about.
"On one of my earlier encounters with the Manakalia, over twenty years ago, and before the present exclusion policy, I had an accident. I was bitten by a huge spider and my ankle quickly turned dark purple. One of the Elders summoned the Shamen, and he applied a paste every couple of hours. The pain was excruciating and I was told that I had been hallucinating most of the night. They were adamant that I would have died without this paste. As each day passed I got stronger. During my recuperation, a young boy had contracted an infection and they said he had only days to live. Although I could not be certain what infection he had, I had brought my own stash of antibiotics, and I asked them if I could treat the boy. The Shamen wasn’t happy, but the Elders decided the boy had no other hope. After three days he began to recover and I explained that the course of antibiotics had to be completed for the treatment to be successful. Another objection from the Shamen was overturned as apparently nobody had ever survived this illness. When the boy had fully recovered, I was treated like a God. My subsequent visits were l
ike the return of the prodigal son. Over time they must have discussed the subject many times, and I was eventually elected to the chosen few who could participate in Cunecao. The Pannevava root is very difficult to find, and a person has to have done some very special service for the tribe to be considered for this ritual. Subsequent election to Cunecao involves unanimity from the vote of the Elders and a rather dangerous test of faith."
Frank was fascinated with this account. "So was it as special as they made it out to be?"
"Absolutely, but it wasn't really a normal medicine, it was an escape for the mind."
Frank said that he didn't understand. Eisel informed him it was a peculiar type of narcotic.
"It’s like nothing I’ve ever heard of before. Pannevava itself is used to treat almost all ailments for everyone in the tribe, but Cunecao involves other ingredients. The root is ground up in a pot and allowed to dry out in the sun. The juice of a local berry is added to the dry powdered root and heated until it solidifies. This is in itself a treatment for certain fevers, but only for the Elite. Unauthorised use or appropriation of this compound is punishable by death. Those convicted of this most serious crime are entombed in a separate burial ground to the rest of the tribe. Even after death they are outcasts.
