Andy peered towards the agent, whom was familiarising himself with the broach by flicking through a copy of the folder from the valuer. In a mere instant, the agent managed to change Mike's opinion on him with a single well thought comment.
“There's one thing that bugs me here,” He began, in a well-spoken manner. “If the broach was bought as a - presumably rather expensive - gift, then why did he, or his descendants not make any reported attempt to try and get it back off the Nazis when it went missing? This wasn't just something you could go to a jeweller and buy.”
“Unless it's already back in his family,” Said Mike, rising to his feet in an instant, “Jesus. That could explain how they got to England. These women could have given it to the family in exchange for safe passage over here. It'd explain everything. But then... why the robbery?”
“What if,” Began Andy, “The boys were unaware of such a deal – If one exists – and as far as they were concerned, those women still had their mothers' broach?”
“That's plausible,” Nodded Tim, “I can get behind that theory.”
“Humph,” Smiled Mike, “I've worked with a few agents in my time. You're not bad... for your type.”
Tim let out a half chuckle before the three men began to plot their next move, though it was seemingly already decided for them when they received a call from Dr. Stanton, who had now finished his full autopsy report.
The two detectives invited the agent down to the basement level with them, where the doctor had prepared several x-ray scans ready for viewings from the detectives. They were not prepared for the news that Dr. Stanton was about to deliver them – yet another horrid twist to the tale.
“Have a look at the neck area – do you see how the individual bones have warped ever so slightly? This is a sign that the bones were broken at a very young age and had then been left to heal. Obviously, over 60 years or so, they're looking somewhat better than what I imagine they would have at the time, but still, this is very nasty business.” Dr. Stanton sighed, scratching his forehead with his index finger before he continued. “It's present in both women. Personally? I don't believe that they wanted to torture their victims. I think they were forced to or risked torture themselves – and judging by the scars it left within their body, they put up a pretty good battle.”
Mike and Andy examined the x-rays, noticing that both ladies had fractured tibiae – an injury which would have left them crippled for months on end. Once more, Mike could feel a rage begin to surge through his bloodstream like molten rock that flowed into his fists, which he began to clench so tightly that his knuckle cracked.
“I'd say that these ladies were probably surgeons before the war broke out – the torturers were generally hand picked thanks to their knowledge of the human body,” Explained Stanton, “I just hope that the years of performing their dreadful procedures didn't stain their pure intentions. Sometimes, it just becomes the norm. I dread to think what they went through.”
Suddenly, these ladies went from being no better than terrorists to being the true victims of the case – it was just the motivation that Mike needed to spur him on – Now, he felt like there was a true reason to battle on these ladies' sides, even if it was years to late to help them avoid the real horror that they had already been through.
It became increasingly obvious to Mike that these ladies had been killed for their keys. The three men hurried to the conference room, beginning to establish a timeline. The bank robbery occurred just after noon, a few hours after the murders. The poor ladies must have died in excruciating pain, or even the fear alone could have given them a heart attack at such an old age. Now, they just had to establish what happened in the time between. Where did the robbers go? They must have had to have hidden the dogs somewhere – it was unlikely that they would have taken them to the murder location, and there was no evidence of any canines at the ladies' apartment. Stanton's estimated time of death was around half past nine, to ten 'o’clock in the morning, though per several witness statements, no noise, not even the drop of a pen, was heard in the surrounding flats.
“They must've known the assailants,” suggested Andy, “That'd explain why there was no forced entry or commotion. They must have been gagged in order to stop them from screaming.”
“Is it possible, do you think, that the princess's descendants had something to do with this? Maybe they 'befriended' the women, got to know all about the items in her possession, and then killed them to get what they believed to be rightfully theirs? It could be that the broach was still in the possession of one of these women, and that was the reason that they both met their ends. Well, that, and the revenge factor,” Spoke Tim.
It seemed like a perfectly reasonable explanation, though they still needed to find out what the criminals did within the few hours between the robbery and the murder, to see if there was any indication of their origins or indeed, proof of their identity, especially with so many agents in the office – they liked to work in a little bit less of a reckless manner than Andy and Mike generally preferred, making the least amount of arrests possible.
Chapter Five
Whilst Mike and Tim plotted the group's next move, Andy strolled through the corridor at a leisurely pace, attempting to locate Jason. The I.T technician had seemingly vanished from his usual spot. Obviously, the nerves of having the agents leaning over his shoulder had gotten to the youngest member of the team. Andy pondered – what would his twenty-year-old self have done in such a situation? His inner youth began to wake, prompting Andy to follow his instincts and ride the elevator to the parking lot.
On the ground level, the aroma of fried onions and greasy burgers radiated from the van that had parked on the street corner. In his younger days, this would have been Andy's haven. It was the place where he and Mike had shared many political and philosophical conversations. Part of him almost longed for those days to return, though his matured senses glanced towards one of the towering, monstrous burgers. Spotting the amount of oil that glistened the surface of the meat, he realised that it was a heart attack in waiting, and turned his focus to finding Jason.
Sure enough, his gut lead him in the right direction. Jason was balancing on the edge of a sodden wooden bench, taking any last resort to get away from the office. Andy approached him secretively, until he was stood behind the bench, peering over the young technician's shoulders.
“The pressure got to you, eh?”
Jason jerked so viciously in surprise that he struggled to maintain his balance on the slippery wooden surface. Trying to maintain face, he turned to Andy. “Just grabbing a bite to eat,” He smiled, “Something I can help you with?”
Andy nodded. “Yes sir! I need you to get into London's traffic cameras and run the registration of this van between 10 o'clock and 12 o'clock. I want to know every single petrol station, field, port aloo they stopped at. I want to know how they killed three hours.”
Jason, sensing that the two senior detectives were in somewhat of a hurry over this, reluctantly left his spot of safety and trawled back into the corridors of the precinct, leading Andy to his computer room. He pulled one of several screens towards himself before tapping away at a keyboard. The monitor pinged several times before several windows opened – one notifying them that the van had been stolen several days ago, and one showing the route that had been taken the morning of the crimes. Andy narrowed his eyelids – it was a route that he himself had taken not too long ago.
He needed answers now – and answers he would get. He had a sense that the dog trainer knew more than he was letting on.
Assembling the troops, Andy met back with Mike and Tim, and following a brief call to the two men that were initially tasked with finding where the dogs' owners had resided, the team agreed to meet at the compound in a joint effort to close in on the individuals whom had committed the homicides. Andy always enjoyed this part of the case most – things were starting to make sense, and they were hurtling towards the case's conclusion like homing missiles.
Andy vary rarely preferred to drive a marked police vehicle, but this was one of the few occasions where he needed the advantage of being able to burst through the traffic with ease. The team clambered into the back of a large transit van with Andy at the wheel, the screeching siren sounding from the rooftop of the car as the engine roared into action. In a marked vehicle, they managed to slice through the busy city traffic like a knife through butter as other vehicles mounted the curbs to allow them past, and thus, they arrived at the luxurious kennels before the other team.
Not wanting to waste any time, however, Mike, Andy, and Tim vigilantly stepped out of their vehicle and towards the several buildings in the vicinity. Andy's eyes scanned the horizon, aware that if the men were here, they could be armed and extremely dangerous. He noted and analysed everything; from the shaded area under the trees to his right, to the alleyway between kennels to the left – his eyes registered every possible nook and cranny that the fugitives could be hiding in.
Even mike could admit to feeling a little kick of adrenaline beginning to set in, but they knew that if they didn't catch these criminals soon, they could well be on their way out of the country. There was not a single second to waist.
The group's footsteps sloshed across the sodden fields, the liquid mud oozing through a hole in Mike's trainers, which would soon be celebrating their tenth anniversary of being selected from the discount rack in a sale many years ago, Still, it didn't seem to bug the youngest detective of the three, whom like Andy, was icily focussed on the hunt in their hands. Aside from the raucous growls of hounds, the place seemed desolate and abandoned, without a single soul in sight. They made their way to the largest building in the compound, where the rain had begun to billow from the side of a busted rain-pipe. The group cautiously approached the building, noticing a figure moving hurriedly through the reception. Mike cornered himself against a windowed door, exhaling sharply as he tried to get a better view of the man inside.
Getting the best glimpse that he could through the frosted window, Mike decided that the man was too puny to be a threat, and threaded his way silently through the door before announcing his arrival in a booming voice and ordering the man, who in turn appeared startled, to place his hands behind his head and turn towards him. Mike approached him, with Tim and Andy following closely, patting the man down to confirm that he had no concealed weapons.
“I don't know what you want from me,” He spoke desperately, “I'm just the groundsman.”
“Where's Steven?” Hissed Andy, “Have you seen him today?”
The young man hesitated before delivering his response. “No... No, he called in sick with the flu. He won't be in for a few days.”
“Where does he live?” Asked Andy, to which the man continued to hesitate, “Where does he live!?” Andy repeated, this time in an infinitely fiercer tone. The man began to shake violently as if he was about to have a fit, but still refused to answer.
Andy sighed, brushing off a speck of dirt that had managed to violate his blazer before he charged towards the unsuspecting man, grabbing a fistful of his polo shirt before hoisting him up against the wall.
“Listen, punk,” Andy growled, “I've had a really long week, and I'm not happy with the answers that you're giving me.”
The groundsman flinched, caving into the pressure instantaneously, aware that Andy could shatter his puny bones as easy as tearing a scrap of paper.
“There's a garage through the back,” The man gasped, “He's in there.”
“Okay,” Spoke Mike bluntly, “Wait around. We'll want to talk to you later.”
The three detectives hurried towards the garage, a small structure to the east of the compound that had been largely taken over by vines that had sprouted through cracks in the white-painted brick walls. The wooden door leading into the back of the converted stable block had been battered into shards. Something had obviously happened here. Approaching the entrance, the rich scent of fresh blood was carried into the nostrils of the detectives by the strong winds, and in the centre of room lay a stiff body – It was Steven.
“Go and get the kid,” Commanded Tim, “He knows something about this.”
Mike nodded obediently, and scurried out of the room and back towards the reception, whilst meanwhile, Andy approached the body, kneeling carefully as to not stain one of his favourite suits with blood.
“He's not got a pulse,” Whispered Andy, “Shit, he's not got a pulse. He would have been our key in this.”
Tim, meanwhile, an expert in the medical field as well as a detective, refused to believe that their main source of information could be gone. He desperately mounted the body, trying everything in his power to revive him whilst Andy struggled to find a spot of signal to call the ambulance. Tim exhaled, eventually finding a pulse, albeit a very faint one.
Outside, Mike's trainers sunk into the sloshing mud beneath him as he viciously engaged in the pursuit of the grounds-keeper, whom he had discovered to be missing from the lobby where had had agreed to wait. Mike had serious concerns about the man's role in the attack of the dog trainer, and he was not one to hang about when it came to chasing down his suspects. His athletic frame tore across the compound's front field with his target locked firmly in his sight. The other man barely stood a chance, only managing to sprint a short distance before his muscles began to seize. Despite his determination to escape, his leg finally gave way and sent him hurtling towards the ground as the detective, somewhat resembling a barraging bull, slung himself straight into the man's waist to pin him to the floor. Mike released a few deep breaths as he reached into his utility belt, his fingers locking around the cold metal surface of his trusty handcuffs before he restrained his suspect against the murky earth beneath them.
Mike rolled over triumphantly, stretching his legs out in front of him as he took a few moments to regain his breath. By the time he had hurled the groundskeeper onto his feet, the bleat of sirens had begun to sound in the distance, echoing between the compound's buildings as the emergency crew drew closer – Two ambulances were the first vehicles to arrive, followed closely by the other team of detectives that were working the same case. Mike hauled his rather guilty looking suspect, who had chosen to remain silent, to the courtyard between the buildings with a slight grin upon his face as if he had won a prize at an amusement park, pushing him towards the other detectives, who in turn ushered him into the waiting patrol vehicle. No doubt, if this man had anything to do with the murders, he would know where to find the rest of the team. It felt like a victorious day, even if they would have to wait a little longer to capture the rest of the fugitives.
With the suspect in the car and the victim in the ambulance, the team made their way back to the base.
“I'm going to rip right into that bastard,” Growled Mike, “I'm going to find out what he knows.”
“No,” Responded Andy, coolly kicking the car into action with his right foot, “No, he's weak. Let him stew over it in a cell for the night. We'll let him share a room with one of the biggest fuckers we've got in there and see how much he wants to get out in the morning. He'll tell us everything he knows, then.”
And so, their plan of action seemed settle, though it left Mike a little eager to capture the team sooner – though he reasoned with Andy in that it would probably the most efficient way of getting their job done. After-all, if they laid a hand on him themselves, it could be charted as an unlawful way of gaining evidence and they could lose their case in court.
Chapter Six
Bright and early the next morning, Mike and Andy met one another at the precinct's lockup. It was far from a pleasant place to be, with minimal light filtering through the barred windows on the wall opposite the cells, though both Mike and Andy had a smug smile beginning to spread across their cheeks as they pulled a small metal hatch across a cell door. Inside, their suspect could be seen cowering in the corner, seemingly desperate to stay away from a man whom the detectives had nicknamed 'Big Jim' during his short sta
y at the precinct.
“Wake up!” Called Andy Cheerfully.
“Would you just let me out, already!?” Came the angry response of their suspect with a grunt, “I know my rights! You either need to charge me or let me the hell out!”
“Oh,” Chimed in Mike sarcastically, taking a glance at his watch before continuing. “We have a law expert on our hands. Well, let me tell you something; we can take fourty eight hours of your time. See, me and Andy here are a little bit slow at doing our paperwork, so we handed in our report at around midnight. That's put you in here for six hours so far, so you'd better get comfortable for the rest of your stay. Or are you a little more talkative than you were yesterday?”
The man made a dash towards the cell door, meeting the gaze of the detectives through the hatch.
“Here's the deal,” He pleaded, “Get me into witness protection and then I'll talk. Not a second before.”
Mike was a little hesitant. He generally preferred karma to take its course with his suspects, yet he admitted to himself that they were a little short on time. If the rest of the crew had been at the dog compound yesterday, they could be on a ferry out of the country this afternoon.
“Well, you'd better be able to tell us something we want to know.”
The men made their way towards the interview room, where they invited their suspect to take a seat at the table.
“You can definitely put me in witness protection, can't you?” The man asked once again anxiously.
Death by Torture: Gripping Detective Murder Mystery (Detectives Ruskin & Ashley Book 3) Page 4
