by Bill Kitson
They pulled up outside Sonya’s house and Clara hurried round to help Nash out of his seat. He winced as he stood up. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’
‘Stiffening up, that’s all.’
The door opened as Clara helped Nash down the path. ‘Mike,’ Sonya exclaimed; shock and distress apparent. ‘What have they done to you?’
‘Bit of a beating, that’s all.’ Nash tried a reassuring smile. It didn’t seem to have worked.
‘Sonya, this is DS Mironova, Clara.’ Nash introduced her.
‘Come on in; let’s get those cuts seen to.’
‘What’s she mean? What cuts?’
‘You’ve half a dozen on your face.’
Between them, the two women manoeuvred Nash inside the house and into the dining room, where he was pushed onto one of the dining chairs and told to sit still. A few minutes later they reappeared from the kitchen. Sonya had a washing up bowl, flannel and towels, whilst Clara was carrying three mugs of coffee. ‘This is going to sting a bit,’ Sonya warned him.
Nash winced as the warm liquid stung his battered face. ‘Ouch!’
‘It’s only diluted disinfectant. Know something, Clara? I’ve three youngsters, all under the age of seven. None of them make this much fuss.’
‘Men,’ Clara joined in disparagingly. ‘They’re just big babies.’
‘Oy, they’re my cuts. I know how much they hurt,’ Nash protested.
Sonya finished mopping his face. ‘There’s no fresh blood oozing out, so that’s a good thing.’ She winked at Clara. ‘Mind you, his face is an awful mess.’
‘Difficult to say how much of that’s down to the beating though,’ Clara pointed out. ‘It wasn’t much to look at to start with.’
‘Come on, Mike, on your feet,’ Sonya said. ‘Get your kit off. Let’s see what they’ve done to the rest of you.’
‘I don’t fancy a threesome,’ Nash gasped as he struggled to get off the chair.
‘State you’re in, you couldn’t even manage a twosome,’ Sonya retorted.
They helped him off with his shirt. Both women gasped as they saw the extent of the bruising on his ribs, his arms and his stomach. ‘They worked you over good and proper,’ Clara said. ‘I only hope you think it was worthwhile.’
‘Drop your trousers, let’s see what they did to the lower end,’ Sonya ordered.
Nash undid his belt and allowed his trousers to drop. ‘Bloody hell, Mike.’ Clara stared in horror at the bruised state of his legs and thighs. ‘What a mess.’
‘At least they left the crown jewels alone,’ Nash muttered.
‘Probably couldn’t find them,’ Sonya chimed in. ‘Clara, will you mop any blood up with that flannel. I’m going to get some witch hazel from the kitchen. It’ll help lessen the bruising.’
‘Sit down again, Mike. Before you fall over,’ Clara instructed.
Nash submitted to their ministrations and allowed them to help him dress. ‘You really need a long soak in a hot bath,’ Sonya told him. ‘But no doubt you’ll ignore anything that sounds like sensible advice.’
‘How long did you say you’ve known him?’ Clara asked.
‘Only a few days, why?’
‘Sounds as if it was longer.’
‘Come on, Clara; let’s get off to the station.’
‘What was in the carrier bag they took from Mike?’ Mironova asked.
‘A load of CDs and a copy of the personnel files.’ Sonya paused. ‘I hope they won’t be too disappointed by the CDs. Not everybody’s a fan of Abba and Queen.’
As they drove back to the station, Clara asked, ‘What’s happening with you and Becky?’
‘It’s all over,’ Nash told her. ‘Becky seemed to want it that way. She told me when I took her to the train.’
‘I see,’ Clara thought for a moment. ‘It was good of you to stay and protect Mrs Williams last night. It must have been uncomfortable sleeping on that sofa though.’
‘I didn’t—’ Nash stopped as he realized his blunder.
‘Of course you didn’t,’ Clara laughed. ‘I’d have been disappointed in you if you had. But I was teasing you, I already knew.’
Nash was surprised. ‘Did Sonya tell you?’
‘She didn’t have to. I could tell by the way she looked at you. She seems nice.’
Nash shrugged; then wished he hadn’t. ‘She was lonely, I was lonely. That’s all it was.’
When they reached the station, the CID suite was empty, but Clara froze as she entered the outer office. ‘Mike,’ she said softly. ‘Somebody’s been in here.’
He beckoned her out into the corridor and made sure the door was closed. ‘How do you know?’
‘Last night, I had to leave in a hurry. There was a fight at the Cock and Bottle. Nothing serious, handbags at dawn, you know the sort of thing. Anyway, when I went out, I left a mug of coffee on my desk. Just now, when I looked, it had been moved to the centre table.’
‘You’re sure about that?’
‘Absolutely positive.’
‘It couldn’t have been moved by the cleaners?’
‘They’d already left.’
‘What about Viv?’
‘He’d gone too. He’d another date.’
‘I’d better ring Jimmy Johnson, get him to do a sweep for bugs.’
‘It can’t have happened a second time, surely.’
‘Probably not, but better safe than sorry. For the time being we’ll go foist ourselves on Curran.’
The bug hunt yielded no unpleasant surprises, but when Nash entered his own office he noticed one or two items were out of place. ‘You weren’t being paranoid,’ he told Clara. ‘There has been an intruder, what’s more it was someone with the know-how to bypass our security. I want you to study those transcripts. I’ll field any phone calls. I don’t want you disturbed whilst you’re reading. First of all though, we should check how Viv’s surveillance is working out.’
Pearce had little to report. ‘The van pulled up and half a dozen blokes got out. They looked like army types – short haircuts, the way they walked. They went inside, and about ten minutes later somebody came out. I wasn’t close enough to get a good view, but it could have been a woman. They got into a car that was parked next to the van and drove off. Unfortunately they went the other way, so I couldn’t see the number plate. Apart from that, nothing’s happened.’
‘We’ve managed to retrieve the disks and the files.’ Smith looked triumphant. ‘Nash had them at the Williams woman’s house. We collared him as he left.’
‘You didn’t kill him, I hope?’
‘No, the lads roughed him up a bit. Payback for him having them arrested. We left him out on the moors, took the battery from his mobile phone. He was trussed up, bag over his head. With any luck’ – Smith laughed – ‘he’ll have fallen into a bog or is still stranded there. Anyway, the main point is we have the data back.’
‘You’d better check it though, just to be on the safe side. Let me know. Send me a text or whatever. I’ve a train to catch. I’m due in Whitehall later today.’
Smith checked the documents first; finding them in order was a relief in itself. But the most crucial information was loaded on the disks. He slid the first of these into the PC on his boss’s desk and waited. Seconds later, those of Smith’s men who were in earshot stopped, as the opening bars of Bohemian Rhapsody came from the speakers.
‘Oh, shit!’ Smith scrabbled at the pile of disks. He stuffed another into the CD slot. The Swedish superstars strived to entertain him – Waterloo seemed almost prophetic. ‘Nash, you bastard.’ Smith knew he’d been duped, knew the information they were desperate to protect was beyond their reach. But could it be deciphered? That was the least of his problems. First, he had to break the news to his boss.
Chapter Seventeen
‘You think this is where Dad is?’
Hirst looked at Jessica, not knowing what to tell her. They’d swapped the motorhome for Hirst’s small van. ‘I’m not sure,’ he told her
after a pause.
Jessica stared at him for a second. ‘You mean you’re not sure if he’s still alive.’ Her voice was little more than a whisper.
‘I’m sorry, Jessica, but it’s a possibility. It all depends on how far along they are with their research. If they’ve finished developing the drug, your father may have no further use. And if they’re capable of getting rid of your mother and brother, they wouldn’t hesitate to do the same with him. For one thing, he knows too much. These people are military, don’t forget. The reason for not taking prisoners is that they’ve to be guarded. That takes manpower. Cold, hard logic. The sooner we get to your father, the better.’
‘What if he isn’t here? What if they’re holding him somewhere else?’
Hirst thought about it. ‘In that case, we need something to bargain with.’
‘Sorry, I don’t understand.’
‘We need to get hold of something to exchange for your father’s safe release. We could have used the disks, but that would have meant them getting away with everything. So we need something else. Your father might well be in that building, in which case he’ll be a free man in an hour or two. What we’ve to do is get hold of something to bargain with in case he’s elsewhere.’
‘How do you know he’ll be free if he’s in there?’
Hirst pointed. ‘See that car? It’s been parked there since we arrived. Pulled up just in front of us. Unless I read Nash totally wrong, that’ll be one of his men.’
‘If Nash knows they’re here, why hasn’t he gone in yet?’
‘He’s a policeman. He has to do everything by the book. He’ll be waiting for a search warrant.’
‘Hang on, Steve, there’s somebody coming out.’
‘Let’s get a bit closer.’
Hirst started the engine and they drove slowly down the road. He glanced sideways at the figure opening the car door alongside them, then accelerated away.
‘Did you see who that was?’ Jessica asked, her voice excited.
‘I did indeed, it was our bargaining tool.’
He stopped the van abruptly, reached across and grabbed the collar of Jessica’s shirt. He gave a sharp tug and the garment ripped. ‘Out of the van, now,’ he ordered. ‘Smear some mud on your face and arms. Quick, we’ve only got seconds.’
As he was speaking, Hirst dived out, slammed the door and climbed into the back of the van and opened the rear door a fraction of an inch. Jessica got out of the passenger side and began scrabbling in the verge, smearing mud as he’d told her. She’d no idea what Steve had in mind. He shouted through the open door. ‘Stand in the road, right by the driver’s door. Try to look distressed. Cry if you can. When the car stops, back away. I need the driver out of the vehicle.’
Hirst had only just finished speaking when he heard a car approaching. ‘Is it the right one?’ he asked.
Jessica nodded. He saw the brief flash of blue as the car passed him, heard the squeal of brakes as it pulled to an abrupt halt. He pushed the door a couple more inches, as far as he dare. He heard a voice above the car engine. Loud, excited, and elated. ‘Jessica, thank God you’re safe. What’s happened to you?’
Hirst could see the car driver now. As he watched, Jessica turned towards the back of the van. The driver faced her. Hirst slid the door fully open, thankful the hinges had been greased. He crept out and round behind the car driver. Seconds later it was all over. Hirst bundled the driver into the back of the van. ‘Duct tape, in the glove compartment,’ he told Jessica. In a matter of minutes their captive was bound hand and foot, gagged into the bargain.
‘Now what?’ Jessica asked. ‘It’s going to be a bit crowded in the motorhome with three of us.’
‘Don’t worry about that.’ Hirst looked up from their squirming prisoner, who was attempting to remonstrate through the gag. ‘I’ve somewhere else in mind for this one, later. None of the luxuries of caravan life, I’m afraid. Let’s go.’
As they were driving, Hirst passed Jessica his mobile. ‘Send Sonya a text. Ask her to phone Nash,’ he grinned. ‘She’ll enjoy that, I reckon. We need to know if they’ve got your father out of that house. If so, we can turn this one’ – he jerked his thumb towards the back of the van – ‘over to Nash. Then we can let the law take its course. Our part of it will be over.’
Jessica felt a vague sense of disappointment at the last phrase. But, if it meant her father was safe, that’s all she really needed. A thought struck her. She lifted her head from composing the text. ‘Why did you say Sonya would enjoy phoning Nash?’
‘She sounded so cheerful when she rang this morning. She told me Nash had stayed to guard her overnight.’ He grinned. ‘Make what you want of that.’
After she’d sent the message, Jessica closed the phone. ‘What will you do once this is over?’ Her tone was casual, enquiring, but no more.
‘Report back for duty.’ Out of the corner of his eye, Hirst saw the girl’s look of surprise. ‘I’m still a serving soldier, don’t forget. I’m only on extended compassionate leave. I’m due back soon.’
‘After all this, will they want you back?’
‘Why not? There’s only a handful of people have the slightest inkling of what I’ve been up to. Apart from you and Sonya, there’s Nash and his colleagues. I don’t think any of them will give the game away. As for the others, they dare not say anything.’
Sonya had just put her third load of washing into the tumble dryer when she heard the message alert tone on her phone. She smiled as she read it, then punched in the number of Helmsdale police station. ‘Is Mr Nash available please? Or Sergeant Mironova.’
She waited; then heard Clara’s voice. ‘It’s Sonya. Is Mike there? I’ve a message for him.’
‘Hang on, Sonya.’
She heard Clara’s voice. ‘Mike, your girlfriend’s on line one.’
There was a pause, then she heard Clara again. ‘Sonya. Why? How many have you got?’
She wasn’t sure what Nash’s reply was, but it sounded like, ‘Cheeky devil’.
‘Hi, Sonya, what’s up?’
She explained the text she’d got from Hirst. ‘Obviously Jessica’s keen to know if her father’s safe.’
‘That’s interesting. It means they were watching this morning’s little charade. How did they get to know about that, I wonder?’
Sonya was glad Nash couldn’t see her face. ‘Because I told him what you were planning,’ she confessed. ‘You may have treated the danger lightly, but I wasn’t prepared to take the chance. So I made sure Steve and Jessica were on hand in case of trouble. He nearly intervened too, when he saw you getting roughed up.’
She waited, was she in trouble? Would Nash be angry? When he spoke, his voice was gentle as a caress. ‘That was extremely thoughtful of you, Sonya. As to the other, we haven’t got hold of a warrant yet. It’ll be another couple of hours at least. Obviously I’ll let you know if we do find Dr North, for Jessica’s peace of mind.’
‘What’s happening outside?’
The guard turned from his survey of the street. ‘Nothing much. Some idle bastard of a salesman reading a paper, that’s all. How’s the boffin?’
‘Going to pieces, I reckon. Keeps mumbling away to himself and scribbling little notes on scraps of paper. I sneaked a look at one earlier; meaningless drivel about his wife and family. How he needed to contact her.’ He laughed. ‘The only way he’ll contact her is with a ouija board. I tell you, he’ll do himself an injury or something like that if we’re not careful. I’m surprised Smithy doesn’t just finish him off. I can’t see he’ll ever be any good to the project again, for all they say he’s brilliant.’
‘Do you think he needs watching? If he injures himself on our watch we’ll get it in the neck.’
‘Not at the minute. He’s fast asleep. I looked in quarter of an hour ago, he was snoring fit to bring the house down.’
Need time alone. Need to fool them. Must get out of here. Warn Lara; danger, danger to Jessica. Something about Jessica, she’s
disappeared; kidnapped. That’s it. I was away, you see. Sorry, Lara. I’d have looked after her if I’d been home. But I wasn’t. Where was I? Can’t remember. But I do know I wasn’t here. Must get out of this place. Those men are watching me. Got to fool them. They think I’m going mad. I’m not though. You don’t think I’m going mad, do you? Perhaps I am. But I must get out. It’s dangerous here. I know that. Get out and find Jessica. Warn her, before it’s too late. Warn her of what though? Danger, yes. But what sort of danger? I … wish … I … could … remember.
Here comes one of them now. Pull the blankets over and start snoring. Long, deep breaths, release the air slowly. Again…. Again…. Again…. That’s it, he’s gone. Now, if he goes and talks to the other one, I might be able to sneak out of the back. I saw where they hid the key. Right, come on Richard. Let’s go. Careful down the stairs. The next one creaks. Listen. Good, they’re in the lounge, talking. Past the door. Hope they don’t spot me. Hope there isn’t a third man. There is sometimes; usually at night. Into the kitchen. Phew, nobody there. Find the key. Got it. Back door next. Then away. Ease it open: don’t let it creak. Now, out and close. Lock it back up. I’m out. Now, where do I go from here? I still can’t find Jessica. I don’t know where to look.
DC Pearce saw the approaching figure. A dishevelled old man with greying hair and stooped posture muttering to himself. Viv thought, I hope I never get like that. He wondered briefly where he’d come from. Had he come out of one of the houses, or was he a tramp? He looked and acted like a tramp. Certainly not like a distinguished scientist. But then, Pearce had never met Dr North.
As he watched the old man shuffling along the street, Pearce’s mobile rang. He glanced at the caller display before answering. ‘Hi, Mike.’
‘We’ve got the warrant at last. We’ll be with you in ten minutes or so. Any more activity?’
‘Nothing. I’m glad you’re coming soon. This job’s hardly the most exciting I’ve ever had. I’m reduced to watching old tramps.’
