by Conrad Jones
“What happened to them?” Alec grimaced as the thick stench of offal and excrement drifted across to him.
“They were obviously being used as mules, if you’ll pardon the pun,” the doctor explained.
“I don’t follow.”
“They were force-fed condoms full of crystal meth. It would appear that the smugglers changed their plans and had to recover their drugs from the horses’ intestines before nature could take its own course. They must have been in a hurry.” She pointed to the piles of intestines, and a swarm of flies took off as they neared them.
“Jesus,” the detective muttered.
“It is common practice nowadays, detective, especially now sniffer dogs are so prevalent. The dealers have developed new ways to trick the dogs. Horses are often used.”
“Why here though, how was the vehicle found?”
“According to our uniformed officers a local man, who knows the area like the back of his hand, was passing on his way home from a shift on the docks at Heysham. He’s a customs officer and they had been alerted to keep an eye out for the vehicle earlier in the week. He saw it parked here, thought it was unusual and called us.”
“Do you think that the port was their destination?”
“Without a doubt. Thoroughbred horses are shipped over to Ireland every day of the week to be used for breeding racehorses.” The doctor stepped into the workshop away from the smell of the rotting horses. “This vehicle and those horses would have sailed across the Irish Sea without a hitch if there hadn’t been an alert put out.”
The detective nodded, and processed the information that he’d been given. Their investigation had been focused on the ports to the south, assuming that the twins were destined for the continent. He followed the doctor round to the back of the horsebox. The walls of the building were made from corrugated iron, and it was covered in rust and a thick curtain of cobwebs. The smell of congealing blood filled the air, and he longed to be back in the sunshine away from the stomach-churning stench. The ramp of the vehicle was sticky, and he could feel blood squelching beneath his shoes.
“We think there is a hidden compartment behind that wall.” The doctor pointed at the bulkhead of the stable box. “There seems to be about eight feet of space missing from the inside of the vehicle when it’s compared to the exterior dimensions.” The doctor smiled at her colleagues who were clearing bridles and saddles from the tack wall. They walked past the detective and nodded silent hellos, and the bridles clinked as they placed them into neat piles on the workshop floor.
“It would be the ideal place to smuggle two small children,” Alec said excitedly.
“We didn’t notice it at first, but don’t get your hopes up, we haven’t heard any signs of life in there I’m afraid.”
“We’re ready to pull the wall down, Doctor,” one of the scientists said, as he stomped back up the ramp. He was a portly grey-haired chap, and his paper suit was stretched to its outer limits.
“Okay, if we’re all ready then let’s see what’s behind there,” the doctor sighed. She turned to the detective and rolled her eyes. “I’m not looking forward to this,” she said.
“How long would the twins have been in the horsebox, assuming that they are actually in there?” The detective asked. Two forensic officers set to work with electric screwdrivers, and the high-pitched whining noise that they made reminded him of a dentist drill. He pressed his teeth together at the thought.
“Who knows?” She shook her head without committing herself to a speculative guess. The panel came away easily once the screws which held it in place were removed, and the secret compartment was revealed.
“Dear God,” the pretty doctor said under her breath. She put her hands over her nose and pressed her fingers into the corner of her eyes, trying to stem the tears that were forming there. One of the forensics began to click photographs of the terrible scene before them, and it was all Alec could do to stop himself from vomiting.
“That’s identical to the sleeping bag that the twins were taken in,” the detective said to himself, referring to a blood soaked quilt.
“How could anyone do that to another human being?” The Doctor shook her head.
“I guess she was a mule too.” Alec sucked air between his teeth as he looked at the carnage. Ramah had been a sexy young woman when she entered the horsebox with the twins. Her role was to nurse them on the ferry journey across the Irish Sea. She was also made to swallow fifteen condoms full of cocaine. It would appear that she had suffered the same grisly end as the horses had when the deal went sour and the voyage had to be cancelled. She was spread-eagled on a cot bed, her chest had been ripped open from her neck to her groin, and her intestines had been sliced open and strewn across the floor. The compartment was small and compact, and apart from Ramah’s savaged corpse, it was completely empty. The twins were gone.
Chapter Thirty-four
Cheshire, two days later
Sylvia Lees stubbed out a cigarette in the overflowing ashtray of her car as she tried to gather her thoughts. The nicotine hit had only succeeded in making her feel lightheaded, and hadn’t calmed her nerves one bit. She reached for her packet of Benson and Hedges Gold, and swore when she realised that it was empty. That meant that she had smoked twenty cigarettes since teatime yesterday. Considering that she was trying to give up, it wasn’t good.
She had parked a few hundred yards down the road from the Kelly residence in order to avoid the crowd of paparazzi that were still encamped outside, waiting for a shot of a devastated mother to plaster on their front pages or a snippet of information about the case. The disappearance of the twins was news enough to cause a media storm, but the torrent of violence and intrigue which had dogged the investigation over the last week was unrivalled by anything that had happened before. The fact that Karl Kelly hadn’t been seen at the house for a few days had not gone unnoticed, it had fuelled speculation of a marital split, and that wasn’t helping to quieten the furore either. The police were not coming out well in the newspapers, as the broadsheet editors dissected one blunder after another.
In a very long meeting, superior officers briefed Sylvia about the findings at both Delamere, and Heysham. Now she had to relay the bad news to an emotionally broken mother, who was grieving both for her children and for the breakdown of her marriage. This had been a particularly difficult assignment for Sylvia, complicated by betrayal within the marriage and the arrival of Major Stanley Timms and his affiliates, and she was not looking forward to being the bearer of such bad tidings.
She opened the car door, took a deep breath and prepared herself to run the gauntlet of the press. Sylvia was less than fifty yards away from the house when the first reporter spotted her approach. He broke away from the pack and ran towards her, camera clicking and voice recorder thrust in her face. It was seconds before the others joined him in the scrum.
“Is there any news on the children’s whereabouts?”
“No comment.”
“Can you confirm or deny whether the explosion in Delamere Forest is connected to the investigation?”
“No comment.”
“Are the incidents at Warrington police station and Warrington General Hospital connected?”
“No comment.”
“How many police officers lost their lives in the forest?”
“No comment.”
“Can you confirm whether the main suspects in the kidnapping have escaped from custody?”
“No comment.” Sylvia had finally reached the garden gate and a burly uniformed officer opened it for her and let her through.
“Stand back and let the lady through please,” the officer shouted. The reporters continued to fire questions at the back of her head, despite her obvious insistence on remaining silent.
“Has Karl Kelly left his wife?” The last question was the most cutting, and she treated it with the same silent contempt as she had with the others. She reached the door and rang the bell. The curtains in the front windo
w twitched as Hayley looked out to see who her visitor was. Sylvia waved her hand and offered an empty smile, but Hayley didn’t return the gesture. This was going to be a difficult encounter, especially if Hayley’s father was around. Sylvia needed to speak with him urgently, but she didn’t know how to go about it without compromising herself and the investigation. The fact that the investigation was in such turmoil had forced her hand, and after a sleepless night tossing the options around in her head, she had finally made her decision. It would be very difficult to broach, but she had to try. The handle twisted and the Major opened the door.
“Good evening, Officer Lees,” he said curtly as he stepped back to let her in.
“Good evening, Major,” she replied. Sylvia wiped her feet and waited to be asked for her coat, but the Major didn’t offer to take it. She took it off anyway, and hung it up. “I need to update Hayley on the investigation.”
“Rather you than me, from what I’ve heard,” the Major frowned. He nodded his head towards the hallway, and walked into the living room, Sylvia following him nervously at a distance. Hayley sat on a brown leather corner unit, which matched the colour of the wooden laminate floor. A white woollen rug covered half of the room, and Sylvia reckoned that it would need vacuuming everyday at least if Hayley wanted it to remain that colour, especially if the twins were recovered. A large plasma television was fixed to the wall opposite, and Sky news was replaying a roll of the latest pictures, which suggested there was a link between the previous week’s events and the abduction of the Kelly twins. Hayley held the remote, and she lowered the volume as Sylvia walked into the room.
“How are you holding up?” Sylvia asked sympathetically.
Hayley picked up a cushion and hugged it, but she did not reply. She was shattered and emotionally drained: being polite was not on her list of priorities right now. The Major seemed to be just as on edge as his daughter was, but at least there was no sign of his huge colleague – despite being built like a Greek god there was something about him that Sylvia found intimidating.
“Do you have anything new for us, Officer Lees?” The Major broke the ice.
“How much do you already know, Major?” Sylvia fronted him. She didn’t like the fact that he always seemed to be one step ahead of the police, and the death of her colleagues had frayed her patience to zero. She wasn’t in the right frame of mind to play mental chess with the Major.
“We know what we have seen on the news. Pretty much the same as yourself really,” Hayley said sarcastically.
“Okay then, I’ll tell you what I’ve been told – ask me whatever you like, and I’ll answer you honestly.” Sylvia sat back and tried to build some kind of trust in them. There was an awkward silence for a few moments.
Hayley looked at her father and held out her hand. The Major took her hand and sat down beside her. Hayley tried a half smile, but her lips were quivering as she spoke.
“I’m sorry Sylvia, but I’m at my wit’s end.” Hayley apologised for her hostility.
“I’m not surprised, Hayley,” Sylvia replied. “I don’t know how you’re holding yourself together.”
“I’m not sure that I am to be honest,” tears filled her eyes. “I believe they found the horsebox, didn’t they?”
“Yes they did, not far from the ferry port at Heysham,” Sylvia replied. Only the Major could have known that it was the vehicle that they were looking for. The press had been told that it was similar, but they couldn’t confirm that it was the actual vehicle at this stage.
“Do they know if my babies were in it?”
“They found a sleeping bag which matched the description of the one that you said had been taken with them.” Sylvia watched the Major’s reaction, and she was certain that he didn’t know about the sleeping bag. Hayley glanced sideways at her father, questioning him silently, and that confirmed it to Sylvia that he didn’t know the details from the scene yet. “The twins had been moved somewhere, but there was no sign that they had been hurt in any way.”
“So the vehicle was empty?” The Major asked.
“No Major, it wasn’t empty.” Sylvia would have to pick her words very carefully. “We found evidence that the horsebox was being used as the carrier for a large drug consignment destined for Northern Ireland, but the perpetrators aborted the journey before they reached the port.”
“What kind of evidence, you said you would tell me what you know, Sylvia?” Hayley squeezed the cushion again. Her cheeks were hollowed and her eyes were bloodshot from crying.
“I’m sorry, Hayley, we found four dead horses and the body of a Moroccan woman that we can’t identify.”
“Oh God,” Hayley said. “Sarah loved horses, I mean she loves horses. Why would they kill them?”
“The drugs were placed into condoms and then force fed into the horses’ stomachs. The idea was to pass them off as breeding stock, and to take them to Ireland in the horsebox, and then sell the drugs over there.”
“So what happened?” Hayley asked naively. The Major shifted uncomfortably on the seat, as he had an idea what was coming.
“We think that the smugglers aborted the run when the news broke about the horsebox, and they killed the horses to recover their drugs.” Sylvia was as honest as she could be, leaving out the gory details.
“What about the woman?” Hayley was open mouthed as the images went through her mind, and it became obvious how the smugglers would have recovered their drugs.
“The same thing happened to her,” Sylvia replied to the question that she was hoping Hayley wouldn’t ask.
“What if they did the same to my babies?” Hayley’s face greyed and she stared at her father for reassurance.
“We think that the twins had already been moved before the horses were killed, Hayley.” Sylvia jumped in and rescued the Major from an awkward question. “The woman was found in a secret compartment that had been screwed back into place by the smugglers. We don’t think that they ever planned to take the twins to Ireland.”
“You’re saying that they’re still in this country, aren’t you?” Hayley whispered. A spark of hope glinted in her eyes and she squeezed her father’s hand tightly.
“We have no reason to believe that they’re not at this stage,” Sylvia replied and tried a smile. Hayley broke down into tears and buried her head into the cushion that she held.
“How did Jack Howarth escape?” The Major held his daughter and stroked her hair. “Did he have help?”
“The Moroccans cut his thumb off to slip him from the handcuffs and helped him out of the hospital dressed as paramedics. We lost the officer that tried to stop them, I’m afraid he was shot during the escape,” Sylvia replied.
“I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s a pity that your colleagues weren’t around to help out, Major.”
“Why do you say that?”
“One of our uniformed officers has reported a large-built man with a shaven head who apparently apprehended the arsonist that petrol-bombed the police station, and left him handcuffed to a lamppost. Sounds like your colleague John Tankersley to me,” Sylvia raised her eyebrows questioningly.
The Major shook his head, and remained silent. He was mulling over the information that Sylvia had parted with. The fact the twins may still be in the country reassured him somewhat that they could find them.
“I’m assuming that it was your people that intervened with the hijack on a police prison bus near Risley which was transporting Alfie Lesner,” she pressed.
“I doubt that my people had anything to do with it, Officer Lees,” the Major batted the question away. There would be no comebacks, because there were no witnesses.
“Really? This Mitsubishi was found at the scene.” Sylvia took a Polaroid from her pocket and passed it to the Major. The picture showed the wreckage of a black Mitsubishi Shogun being craned onto a low-loader. “We ran the usual checks on this vehicle, and guess what, we hit a dead end. It’s registered to the Ministry of Defence, full stop; we can�
��t access any further details.”
“There are limits to everyone’s access levels, Officer,” the Major replied abruptly. He wasn’t sure where Sylvia was headed with this conversation. Hayley had stopped sobbing and she was listening intently to the conversation.
“I’ve been trying to do some research into your unit, Major, but I can’t find anything to suggest that one exists.” Sylvia sat forward. Hayley wiped her eyes and stood up. She’d heard enough.
“If John Tankersley is out there looking for my children then I for one don’t care what he does.” Hayley walked out of the room sobbing like a baby.
“I can’t find any information on you or your team, Major,” she grinned nervously. The Major remained silent.
“If your people are as good as I think they are, tell them to follow this.” Sylvia handed him a folded piece of paper. “Our computer geeks were working on this – before the station burned down, that is. I’ll go and make us all a drink.”
The Major watched Sylvia Lees walk out of the living room, and he could hear her voice in the kitchen, soothing Hayley and offering words of encouragement. She meant well, that was for sure, and she obviously had empathy for his daughter’s plight. He ran his fingers over the fold in the paper and then opened it up. There were several web addresses written on it, but they all had the same keywords in them, forbiddenfruitcompany.com. He took out his mobile phone and called Tank.
Chapter Thirty-five
Canning Place, twenty-four hours later
Canning Place, on the banks of the River Mersey, is the home of the Merseyside Police Force, a branch of army intelligence and a counter-terrorist unit. Standing on the banks of the river, overshadowed by the giant gothic Anglican cathedral, the smell of the sea and the sounds of ferryboat engines drifted up to the windows. Tank headed from the truck to take the lift from the car park. As he crossed the tarmac, a four-mast wooden sailing ship drifted majestically into the Albert Docks, the first of a flotilla of tall ships sailing to the port. Her sails rippled pristine white as the sun reflected from them.
