Wass (The Leopold Dix Thrillers Book 2)

by mark mctighe

  It was now just after 3.00pm and the lunch time rush had subsided. The changing rooms were quiet. Leo pulled on his running kit, ‘New Balance’ shoes; and as he tucked his phone into the locker it vibrated from the incoming SMS. Leo shook his head, ‘it’s going to be difficult to say no’ he thought. The message..... ‘Leo, thanks for the lift, back recovering slowly. I think I owe you a drink for getting me out of there so fast. Give me a call. Victoria X’. He left the secure site through a key pad activated side entrance; through the compound and past the guys on the gate. Leo raised his hand in salute.

  Victoria’s text was clouding his thinking so he dealt with that first. ‘I’ll text back and tell her I’ll take her up on the drink after the case is closed’ he thought. ‘Sounds dismissive but there’s bugger all else I can do about it’. His head started to clear again as he pushed Victoria Sharpe’s body out of his immediate thoughts. ‘Shit, I need to call Simone’ he thought, ‘I can’t continue a relationship with someone living in Switzerland, impossible, I’ll call tonight.’ With his personal ‘to do’ list complete Leo was able to concentrate on the case at hand. He was good at that, compartmentalizing his life, keeping his work separate from his other life, when he had time for another life.

  Leo fell into a steady jog cutting through the side streets and down onto the embankment. He liked running alongside the river. ‘Family, colleagues, friends’ he thought; ‘someone knows more’. Thoughts of family and Leo was thrown back six months, back to his son Rufus. He was sure he’d never be able to recapture the closeness, the dependence; they’d been inseparable. ‘Recapture, no’ he thought, ‘but at least I had it’. He missed Rufus, missed his humour, his endless cups of tea. Two more strides and he was thinking of Oscar Whittaker; the fear; Ziggy said Whittaker had broken two toes kicking the locker. He must have known he was never going to get out alive; ‘where to push next?’

  10. Peter Sasse.

  Wass sat at the kitchen table and played with the ‘flip up lid’ mechanism of Oscar Whittaker’s address book. The hinge was starting to overextend; fatigue in the plastic washers and they were starting to crumble. It wouldn’t last much longer but then he really only needed to open it twice more....... It was all there; Peter Sasse, James Horsham; email, mobile, home, office, numbers and addresses. He’d got the lot; jackpot. Wass had been patient, they’d only interviewed him twice and that was only as a matter of routine. No breaks in the case. The narrow eyed fat police woman was like an old vinyl record; stuck in the groove; revisiting, re-questioning the same people over and over. Nobody had seen a thing. Whittaker’s replacement had been found and now a black Maserati sat in the CEO parking spot instead of the white Porsche. Wass wondered where the Porsche had gone.

  Wass inhaled the air freshener free atmosphere of his new home. He’d moved the furniture a little and the fish tank looked perfect. Time..... Enough time had passed; nearly two weeks and he was ready to move forward; finish the job. Wass hated leaving things half done. Wass decided he’d eat an early Indian tonight. His father hated the smell of Asian food but it was his favourite and now that he was the boss he’d eat as much Indian, Thai, Vietnamese as he liked. Wass had spent the last five nights scouting and now he knew every nuance of Peter Sasses’s night time routine. ‘Yes, early Indian, then back over to Farnham’ he thought. ‘Should be back home around two.’ He checked his Swatch for no real reason, he was just thinking about time.

  Wass glanced out of the window, the ‘All Office’ Luton van sat parked on the opposite side of the street; plain white, ubiquitous and invisible. He twiddled his thumbs. The house was already clean; no one was on his back pestering him to do this and that. He was going to have to get used to filling his own time. He probably needed to develop a hobby; something where he might bump into a few girls. Wass thought about Victoria Sharpe. Was she upset? Had he upset her? He didn’t like to think that he’d caused her any pain, any heart ache. Perhaps she was secretly pleased. ‘Yes’ Wass thought, ‘I got rid of a problem boss for her, she owes me one.’ Wass hadn’t had time for a girl before and now that his Dad had moved on he really ought to get on with it. Wass didn’t want to be a Dad. He just wanted the close attentions of an attractive girl. Victoria was the best he’d seen around. The ‘pig eyed’ police woman, enthusiastic, but clearly beneath him. He snorted out loud like a pig.

  For the sixth consecutive night Peter Sasse was out late walking his black pug Horatio. The dog sniffed and snorted noisily through its constricted nasal passages. Wass knew exactly how it felt. Wass dabbed his nose with the back of his index finger. It felt wet. ‘Not again’ he thought. It was a quiet country lane; unmade surface; gravel and grass. It was too dark to see if it was blood or just snot on his finger. Wass braced himself and waited; still; steady breathing through his open mouth.

  Sasse walked past the gated entrance to the ploughed field; past the stile; he was probably 500 yards from his home and just entering a small copse. Wass stood up, clicked on his head torch and started walking towards him on the same path but approaching from behind. Wass called out for his imaginary dog. “Oscar, come here, Oscar where the devil are you?” Wass thought the Oscar thing was funny. Peter Sasse stopped, turned, and looked at the approaching torch. It was unpleasantly bright. He turned his gaze away and walked on; leaving the man to find his ‘Oscar’. He didn’t want to be embroiled in the saga of finding a missing dog. The torch light approached more quickly, “Oscar come” the voice more forceful, the tone something to recognise. The man was moving much faster than a meandering Pug. Peter moved to the side of the now narrow path to allow the man to pass; a fizzing sound; rapidly followed by a body collapsing charge of electricity. Sasse was down and out, his yelping dog gone, scampering deep into the copse ahead. Wass held the chloroformed rag over the face for a count of thirty; ‘now you’re mine’. Wass pulled out a large plastic sheet from his backpack and rolled the body on. Wass had had time to think about this one, time to fit a makeshift harness onto the sheeting. He walked towards the Luton dragging the contraption behind like a spent parachute. Wass was pleased with his ingenuity, his forward thinking; this way he didn’t twist his back or damage his nails and it was quick.

  The tail lift was already down. Wass manhandled the floppy body into the open metal locker. It was exactly the same model as Whittaker’s. Same bolts fitted top and bottom; he’d even nicked the same padlock from the ‘All Office’ stores. It clicked with a sense of finality through the centrally fitted clasp. Wass buzzed the lift up and pushed the locker onto the insulation material and into the middle of the van. It was a 90 to 100 minute journey and if Wass had got the adrenalin shot right , then Sasse would be coming to about then. As an added precaution he had layered loft insulation and cardboard on all walls, floor and ceiling of the Luton, ‘you can’t be too careful’ he thought.

  After about 70 minutes Wass could hear shouting on the baby monitor. Wass turned the monitor off and listened........ ‘Nothing, absolutely nothing, the insulation’s working a treat’ he thought; monitor on and the screaming and kicking resumed. ‘Right about now he’ll be thinking of Whittaker’. Wass picked up the two way monitor and spoke slowly and clearly. It was next to the locker and the volume was right up. He was certain he’d be heard in the insulated void; despite the road noise from the concrete motorway surface. “I’m Simon Wass. Just think about that for a minute.” There was silence, just the engine’s drone and tyres. Wass indicated, changed down and prepared to leave the motorway. The last 10 minutes were on small, twisting, deserted, country lanes. Wass could hear Sasse’s constant struggle to free himself.

  The Luton pulled slowly onto the remote bridge. Wass was careful to edge the van to within an inch of the bridge wall. He turned the engine off. Out of the cab in a flash; tail lift flipped down; head torch clicked on, and the rear doors were opened. Sasse was sobbing quietly in the metal enclosure.

  “What do you want Simon? No one deserves this.” He uttered between gasps for air and tears. ‘I
f Oscar couldn’t buy his way out of this, then what fucking hope have I got?’ he thought.

  “I’m going to push you off a bridge and into a deep section of the Thames. It’s actually only a tributary, but it’s deep...... That’s why you’ve got all those lead weights in there.” Wass had really thought it through; he didn’t want the locker sailing off down the river. He wanted it to go straight down, and deep. There was silence as Sasse realized that this was it. He drew as much air into his lungs as he could and screamed.

  Wass knew no one could hear. He stood the locker up and walked it out onto the tail lift. Once there he picked up a drill and ran hole after hole into the bottom section of the cabinet. Wass wanted it to sink fast. It was a long drill bit and on three occasions it bit into Sasse’s leg and tore through the muscle. The screams were no louder than before and still they couldn’t be heard. With the final couple of holes Wass drilled into Sasse’s abdomen, the shouting and screaming stopped.

  “This is how I felt” Wass began, “drowning in blood from my bleeding nose, inhaling blood, blood running down my throat. I needed stitches and my nose has never been the same; every breath, every waking hour and I remember what YOU did to me.” The tail lift sat an inch below the bridge wall. “Bon voyage” Wass spat as he tipped the locker over. Wass stood and watched as the silent metal cube disappeared rapidly under the water.

  11. Scarlett.

  Leo looked at the bedside radio clock, 4.30am and his mobile was ‘on fire’. “Yes” he answered. There were tears; a stammering voice and more tears. “Deep breathing” Leo said, “no rush, slowly, now who are you?” The call felt important.

  “Amanda Sasse, I’m Peter’s wife... I’ve reported it to the police but he’d left your card out on the table, so, well it’s not like him, not like him at all and the dog.....”

  “Back to the beginning Amanda” Leo prompted. “Keep it simple and tell me what’s going on.” His notebook was out and he was ready to write.

  “Peter’s missing...... He went for his usual dog walk at 10.00 last night. We found the dog around midnight but no Peter. He never goes far, at first I thought heart attack, but we’d have found him. I called the police and they can’t find a trace of him either.” She stopped. “He’s never done anything like this and he just loves that dog; he’d never leave Horatio. I think someone’s taken him and maybe it’s got something to do with this Oscar thing.” She dissolved into tears.

  “Call me the minute he shows up; I’m coming over to see you.” Leo noted the address, grabbed a coffee and left. Wimbledon to Farnham and he arrived in the dark at 6.15am. Amanda Sasse looked ill with grief. She held on to Leo’s arm imploring him to redouble the police effort. “Put your coat on and take me on Peter’s normal evening walk” Leo began.

  Amanda’s mother looked concerned for her daughter. “Off you go, I’ll sort the kids out” she reassured.

  Amanda led and Leo followed. “We ought to take the dog” Leo said. Five minutes later they set off on Horatio’s daily walk. Leo stopped after a couple of minutes and opened the gate to a recently ploughed field. He shone his torch up and down the hedgerow. The grass had been flattened a little way up. He surveyed the area, ‘human size’ he thought, ‘and that could be blood’. He called Mikey and spoke quietly into the phone. “Let Surrey Police know what we’re up to and I want Ziggy here.”

  “What is it?” Amanda’s voice was starting to shriek.

  “Nothing yet; lead on” Leo gestured for Amanda and Horatio to lead.

  She turned and faced him; confrontational; “that’s not good enough, you know something, I heard you....... Tell me, I insist on knowing.”

  “I want a forensics team to come down and look things over. It might be nothing but it looks to me as though someone was lying in wait alongside that ploughed field.” He gave it to her straight; he knew she wouldn’t accept anything else.

  “I knew it, knew it.” She started to cry again. Leo led Amanda back to her home. He didn’t need to see anymore, it was a job for Ziggy. He arranged for the path and surrounding area to be secured.

  Leo leant against his car and drank the ‘real coffee’ that Amanda’s mother had kindly made. His phone rang. He didn’t recognise the number.

  “Leo Dix”.

  “Hello, is that DI Leopold Dix?” The voice was formal.

  “Yes, speaking.”

  “It’s Oxfordshire Police. The alert you put on the system.... Oscar Whittaker” Leo could hear him shuffling his papers. “We’ve got a match. We fished a locker out of the river this morning and there’s a body inside.” Leo stiffened.

  “Any ID?”

  “Yes,” the paper shuffling continued. ‘Come on, get a move on man’ Leo thought.

  “Yes, here we are, no formal ID, it’s too soon, but a driving licence with the name Peter Sasse on it. We thought we’d better get straight on to you. I’m sending you an image of the body and the locker from the crime scene, they should be with you in, well about now.”

  The call was ended; he’d get Ziggy straight up there, he wouldn’t like it but Zigs could work alongside their forensics team. ‘Dylan can cover the bases down here’ he thought. ‘Mandy can oversee the Farnham end of things’; he placed the calls.

  “Mikey, Peter Sasse has been murdered over night and that puts James Horsham directly in the firing line. Find him now, it’s serial. Call me as soon as you’re with him.”

  Leo put his phone on silent and moved towards the house, it was Sasse, unmistakable. The family wouldn’t get to see the horrific pictures. No, the formal ID could be done when they’d had a chance to dress the body up. Leo nodded gravely at Amanda’s mother. He shook his head and she went a paler shade of pale. “I need to see Amanda immediately”.

  “I’ll get her” Her mother knew it was the end. “Wait in the snug, I’ll send her in.”

  ‘Worst part of the job’ Leo thought, but there was no benefit in delay, Sasse’s wife should know immediately. He stood waiting, looking at the closed door. He could hear the weeping before the door actually opened. Amanda was dragged in, clutching hold of her mother.

  ‘No deliberation’ he thought; “I’m sorry to say that your husband has been found dead..... Murdered.” She ran out of the room as if her absence could change the position, reverse the clock. There was never an easy way to break this news. Amanda’s mother remained in the room for a further couple of minutes as Leo outlined what and where it had happened. He made his excuses, took his phone off silent and marched to the car.

  Five minutes into the journey and Leo’s phone rang, ‘it’s Mikey, good’.

  “Horsham’s in New York; he’s on business and due back in four days, I’ve got his return flight details.”

  “Make contact Mikey, let him know what’s happened and tell him to get back ASAP, we’ll meet him at the airport. Make sure he knows that we think his life is at risk. That knowledge should get him moving. And keep me posted.” Leo ended the call and made his way to the small remote bridge in Oxfordshire.

  Jack was already there and waiting. He took Leo to one side and explained the situation. “Even the padlock’s the same make; identical locker, same bolts; it’s serial and all yours, Oxfordshire are happy to assist in any way. Oh and a word of warning, Ziggy’s as irritable as hell, looks like he’s chewing on at least half a dozen wasps.”

  Leo briefed Jack on the likely abduction site alongside Sasse’s home. “Mandy’s greasing the wheels for the forensic team we’ve got there” He glanced at his watch; “I’d say briefing meeting around 6.00 tonight Jack.”

  “I’ll be there” Jack raised a hand and was gone......... The politics of the situation had been resolved, the cross force cooperation fixed and that was the only meaningful input that Jack could have at this stage.

  Leo ducked under the tape and moved onto the bridge. The river banks were full of uniformed police officers and a couple of divers were carefully examining the river bed. The water looked dirty, muddy, ‘god awful job’.r />
  “Anything immediate for us to go on?” Leo looked at Ziggy.

  “Divers arrived an hour ago, forty bloody minutes of risk assessments and they’ve just gone in. What is the world coming to? It never used to be like that...... It used to be so simple; plan, equipment check and in. I think I liked things better the old way.” It was getting right up Ziggy’s nose.

  “Anything?” Leo stuck to his point.

  “Yes and no; same locker, identical in fact, same locks and bolts, same precision fitting. I’ve had a quick look and he was also electronically immobilised.”

  “Tasered” Leo prompted.

  “No, electronically immobilised, if I’d meant Tasered I’d have said Tasered. We don’t know the make of the equipment yet. The locker’s full of lead sheets and difficult to shift so my guess, and it is only a guess at this point, is that the vehicle stopped here; back of the vehicle here and it would have to have been a van.” Ziggy stood and gestured with open arms where the corner of the vehicle had most likely stood. “The locker was pushed over the wall here. This damage to the brickwork matches a dent on the back of the locker. It would have had to have a high back; van, small lorry and possibly a tail lift. It’s too heavy for one man to offload and lift over.” Ziggy paused in thought. “I’m taking the body and locker back to our lab. There’s probably another couple of hours scratching around for these guys.” He pointed at the frogmen and uniforms along the river bank.

  “Where is he?” Leo asked.

  “I don’t want him out of the locker yet; there are a couple of tests I’d like to conduct first. He’s behind the Luton.” Ziggy nodded towards a dark blue Luton van.

  Leo moved behind the vehicle and asked the white coated technician to open the locker door. The body lay foetal, dishevelled; the skin grey and loose. Death was never pretty. ‘What did you do Peter and to whom?’ Leo thought. ‘And why is there so much anger and entrapment in these murders?’ The phone brought Leo out of his thoughts; “yes Mandy”.