Kymiera

by Steve Turnbull

  ‘DI Mitchell,’ she hissed. ‘I might have expected to see a murderer like you here.’

  ‘I’m only doing my job, Dr Majeed,’ he said, crossing the room and handing one of the bottles to Graham.

  ‘Well, since you’re so familiar with the end results of a rampant S.I.D infection,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you’d like to advise your associate that releasing someone on this evidence is potential murder.’ Mitchell sat down in a chair at the side of the room and unscrewed his bottle. ‘I’m just the tour guide, Dr Majeed. Special Agent Graham is calling all the shots.’

  She stared at him for a moment as if her glare might drill through him and drop him dead where he sat. Then she turned back to Graham. ‘I can’t stop you, can I?’

  Graham, who had remained seated the whole time, slowly climbed to his feet. ‘No, Dr Majeed, you cannot. When her tests come back negative, you will release her.’

  Back in the car, Mitchell stared out into the grey. ‘You’re not releasing her out of the goodness of your heart.’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Graham. ‘You and I want the same thing here, DI Mitchell. You want to apprehend the people who are kidnapping these girls, and I want to know why they are kidnapping these girls.’

  Mitchell sat back and stared straight ahead, not really seeing the back of the passenger seat ahead of him. ‘So you want to use her as bait.’

  ‘I think it is the most efficient method, don’t you?’

  ‘It might be efficient, but it is not usual police policy to put an innocent at risk.’

  Graham laughed. ‘Well, lucky for you that I’m here then. Since I don’t have those limitations, we’ll get to the bottom of this considerably faster than you would with your simple police work.’

  Mitchell did not respond.

  Chapter 9

  Yates

  Yates steered the car in towards the kerb, mounted it and came to a halt. He killed the engine and stared down the road at the line of vans already parked.

  ‘You know,’ said Lament’s disembodied voice, ‘if you’d let me drive more, there would be less wear and tear on the vehicle.’

  ‘No, thanks,’ said Yates.

  Men and women with microphones and cameras stood around open van doors chatting to one another with their coats pulled up around their necks to keep out the cold and damp. Yates wished it would rain heavily but it was one of those days where the dreariness hung in the air like its own cloud. The sky was slate grey and it was already going dark.

  ‘Bloody vultures.’

  ‘Well, the press is certainly on top of this one.’ The artificial face of Lament emerged on the screen from its own cloud of grey.

  ‘I wasn’t talking to you.’

  ‘Want me to get rid of them?’ said Lament. ‘I could suggest that there is something really interesting to be filmed elsewhere.’

  Yates shook his head. ‘That would just get us into trouble.’

  ‘Speaking of which,’ said Lament. ‘You’re going to be interviewing Chloe Dark’s parents. Doesn’t that conflict with the order to stay clear of that case?’

  Yates opened the door, climbed out and grabbed his coat from the back. ‘I am merely following a line of investigation related to the death of one Ali Najjar, chiropractor, who died accidentally last night.’

  Lament started to say something else but Yates shut the door on him. The locks clicked on automatically. Yates stepped up onto the side of the road and started to walk in the direction of the Dark household. The members of the press jerked their heads in his direction like hyenas, preparing to pounce on their prey. Yates swung his coat behind him and began to shrug his arms into the sleeves. Merely by chance, this action opened his jacket to reveal his shoulder holster and gun. He doubted anyone there didn’t recognise him, since he generally spoke for Mitchell, and they certainly recognised a gun when they saw one. They did not try to speak to him but watched hungrily as he walked past.

  He used the knocker to announce his presence, firmly rapping it three times before letting it fall back. All the curtains at the front of the house had been closed. A wise precaution considering the powerful cameras owned by the besieging forces.

  ‘Who is it?’ It was a man’s voice that Yates recognised.

  ‘Detective Sergeant Yates,’ he said loudly. ‘If you wouldn’t mind letting me in, Mr Dark.’

  There was the rattling of the security chain and a bolt being drawn back. There were camera flashes from the street, but Mr Dark kept himself behind the door. Yates slipped in when the door was wide enough. It was slammed back behind him and the bolt locked in place.

  ‘Let me take your coat,’ said Mr Dark.

  Yates shook his head. ‘I won’t be staying long; I just have a few questions.’

  Mr Dark looked expectant, as if Yates was going to question him here in the hall without Mrs Dark.

  ‘Is there somewhere we can sit?’ said Yates.

  Mr Dark jerked into sudden motion. Pushing past, he led the way back to the kitchen. Yates followed, taking in the dreary furniture and old decorations. The kitchen itself was clean and relatively new. Yates knew from what Lament had told him that Mr Dark ran the local FreakWatch, and had a fairly decent job.

  The kitchen was empty.

  ‘I would like Mrs Dark to be present as well,’ said Yates.

  ‘She’s at the hospital with Chloe.’

  Yates examined the room. He noted the photograph of the much younger Darks, with the baby he assumed to be Chloe and another couple whose faces looked familiar—the Voglers. So, the Darks knew the parents of one of the other girls who had been abducted. That was interesting.

  ‘What can I do for you? I mean, I already gave a statement to the police.’

  Yates fixed a smile on his face. ‘I do understand, Mr Dark, however this is a separate enquiry into a murder.’

  Yates did not really consider himself to be a vindictive man, but the wave of horror that went through Chloe’s father at the mention of murder was impressive.

  ‘Murder?’ He blinked. ‘Who’s been murdered?’

  Yates settled himself into one of the kitchen chairs, which gave Mr Dark permission to do the same.

  ‘I don’t know anything about murder. This is nothing to do with Chloe, is it?’

  ‘It’s only indirectly to do with your daughter, Mr Dark. I am not part of the abduction investigation. Can you tell me the name of your daughter’s chiropractor?’

  Unsurprisingly, Mr Dark looked at a complete loss. Yates imagined his wife was the one who kept track of that sort of thing.

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t know.’

  ‘Perhaps Ali Najjar?’

  ‘It does sound familiar. That could be it.’

  Yates studied him. It didn’t take a genius to see that the mention of the murdered man definitely meant something to him. He wondered how far the man would push ignorance considering the evidence available. ‘We saw him last night, but then you already know that.’

  Yates was almost disappointed, but it did make things run more smoothly. ‘Yes, it’s in your riffy records. And his.’

  A look of horror came over Dark’s face. ‘He’s the one who died? You’re saying he was murdered? We didn’t have anything to do with that.’

  It did not take a lot of effort to make ordinary people say everything. All you had to do was stay silent and they filled in the gaps themselves.

  ‘Was Chloe there?’

  Yates leaned back in his chair and rested both hands on the table. ‘I’m afraid I can’t comment about Chloe; that would be too close to the other case. We have to keep them separate. But I have to ask you why you met with Ali Najjar in the department store last night?’

  ‘We didn’t go there to meet him,’ said Mr Dark. ‘There were thousands of people there. It was just a coincidence.’

  Yates stood up, pressed his fists on the table, and leaned towards him. Dark was a large man but Yates had the authority, and he knew it. ‘Mr Dark, we have already interviewed some
of the other people in your vicinity when you met with Ali Najjar. They unanimously report that what went on between the two of you was more an altercation than a coincidence. Now, perhaps you could enlighten me as to the nature of your disagreement.’

  ‘Clothes,’ said Mr Dark. ‘We wanted the same clothes. We almost didn’t recognise him. You know what it’s like when a place like Debenhams gets new stuff in: it’s more like a riot. Everybody gets angry if they can’t get what they need.’

  Yates sat down. ‘That doesn’t seem too bad; why would you hide it?’

  ‘I was embarrassed,’ said Mr Dark. ‘Someone in my position—I know it’s not much to you but I have a place in the local community—if it was found out I was brawling in a shop sale what would people think?’

  ‘And that’s all it was?’

  Dark nodded, as if he didn’t trust himself with words. He was lying.

  Yates got to his feet, smiling. ‘Well, that’s fine then, thank you very much Mr Dark. I’m so sorry to have trespassed on your time. I’m sure that your daughter will be fine and will be home very soon.’

  ‘Is that all?’ said Dark in surprise, also getting to his feet.

  ‘Certainly, that’s everything for now,’ he said. ‘Certainly everything I need to know. If anything else comes up about the problem we will be back in touch.’

  And with that he headed to the front door, allowed Mr Dark to unlock it for him, and left in deep thought.

  There’s something strange about this whole thing.

  Chapter 10

  Chloe

  There was a man in the back of the ambulance with Chloe and her mother as it headed back towards the house. He had a hat, which he cradled in his lap, a heavy overcoat, and was slightly unshaven. Chloe wasn’t sure whether he was a policeman or someone attached to the hospital, but either way he was not very encouraging.

  ‘This is not going to be very enjoyable,’ he said. ‘Your house is overrun with vermin.’

  Her mother gasped. ‘Vermin?’

  ‘He means the press, mum,’ said Chloe.

  ‘Sorry, yes, the members of the press.’ He pulled a newspaper from inside his coat and unfolded it. ‘This morning’s edition of the Guardian.’

  Covering half of the tabloid sheet was a slightly fuzzy picture of Chloe. It was at least three years old and looked like a school photograph. The headline read THE GIRL WHO ESCAPED.

  Chloe stared at it.

  ‘Where did they get that picture from?’ said her mother.

  ‘It’s like this, Mrs Dark,’ he said and re-folded the paper, tucking it back inside his coat. ‘Chloe, your daughter here, is now a celebrity.’

  ‘Because I didn’t get kidnapped?’

  ‘Exactly. It makes you a hero. And that means the press are now encamped outside your house awaiting your return.’ He leaned back, put his hands behind his head and stretched his legs. ‘And that means it’s going to be slightly unpleasant getting from the ambulance into the house.’

  ‘Won’t the police be there to help?’ said her mother.

  The man shook his head. ‘Unfortunately she is not that much of a celebrity. The police have rather more important things to do, I should imagine, like finding out who the kidnappers are. So there’s a few things you need to decide: Do you want to go in with a coat or blanket hiding your head? To prevent them from taking any further photographs.’ He ticked off the points on his fingers, that was point number one. ‘You could choose to stop and make a statement to the press, though that is not something I would recommend, on the whole. And thirdly we could go somewhere else completely.’

  ‘Like where?’ said Mrs Dark.

  ‘Maybe a friend, or a hotel,’ he said. ‘Although, to be frank, I suspect most places would not make you welcome since there’s always the risk of infection.’

  ‘But Chloe was declared free of infection,’ said her mother.

  The man raised his hands almost as if he were appealing to some god. ‘I know, it makes no sense whatsoever, but that’s just the way it is. People panic when it comes to S.I.D.’

  ‘So how are we going to get into the house?’ said her mother.

  Just at that moment the intercom with the driver’s cab activated. ‘Two minutes to arrival.’

  ‘Well, they are not allowed to obstruct you,’ said the man. ‘But there might be some jostling. You are not required to speak to them as they have no authority. So my best advice to you is once you’re out of the ambulance is just to walk directly to your house. Do not engage with them; do not listen to anything they are saying. If you do get touched, do not respond; just pretend it didn’t happen and keep moving. Your husband has been apprised of the situation and I understand he will be in the house ready to unlock the door for you and let you in.’

  ‘You’re not coming with us?’ said Chloe.

  He shook his head with a sad smile. ‘Not part of the job.’ He turned his coat and rummaged in one of the pockets. ‘Here,’ he said and handed a bag to Chloe’s mother. ‘These are her medicines, the instructions are included.’

  The ambulance took a right turn at speed and its sirens blasted out. The horn blared as well as if the driver was trying to get people out of the way. The man glanced forward though he couldn’t see anything through the barrier. ‘The reporters try to get in the way so the passengers will have further to walk,’ he said. ‘We have to be careful otherwise we’ll be taking them back in place of you.’ He laughed.

  Chloe didn’t think it was very funny.

  When the ambulance came to a halt, Chloe could hear the noise from outside. There was banging on the ambulance itself, and what seemed like a huge crowd shouting her name.

  Chloe grabbed her mother’s hand. ‘I’m scared.’

  ‘No need to be scared,’ said the man. ‘I’ve done this a dozen times.’ He headed towards the back of the ambulance.

  ‘But you never get out of the ambulance,’ said Chloe.

  He frowned. ‘Come on, let’s be having you.’ He gestured for them to follow. Chloe got up still holding her mother’s hand. At this point she wasn’t entirely sure who was reassuring whom—it was probably mutual.

  Through the constant barrage of noise she thought she heard someone say ‘who’s your boyfriend?’

  ‘The way this works,’ said the ambulance man, ‘is that I jump out and hold the door while you get down, then you set off to the house. I get back in, shut the door and off I go.’

  Easy for you then, thought Chloe. But she had no time to think about anything else. He unlocked the door, and pushed it open. At least one person got slammed in the face and cried out, but that was all that could be heard over the shouting.

  There was a semicircle of men and women with cameras calling to her. Chloe realised she had forgotten to get a blanket to cover herself but it was too late. Already lights were flashing, and above the crowd drones floated back and forward. The man jumped out and the crowd backed off a little.

  Chloe’s mother went first. The distance to the ground was awkward and she stumbled slightly as she landed but the ambulance man caught her arm and supported her. Chloe grabbed the side of the door and stepped down directly behind her mother. The racquet redoubled as she exited the ambulance.

  Instinctively she grabbed the belt of her mother’s coat and hung on, keeping her head down.

  Behind her Chloe made out the ambulance door slamming shut and the engine coming to life. Her mother stepped forward and the crowd parted. The man had been right about one thing, the reporters did seem reluctant to touch them. As the two of them moved it was as if they were in a bubble; the members of the press parted before them, and enclosed ranks after them. It was surreal.

  The constant noise was so great she could barely make out a single word and the fact her name was being used so often made it blur and become a meaningless mush of kl, oh and eee. They reached the gate, its squeak distinct against the wash of sound. The gate seemed to be a barrier they would not cross. They massed against the wall and di
d not seem shy about going into the garden next door.

  Chloe was terrified they might somehow attack and consume the house like locusts. Her mother was reaching up to ring the doorbell when there was a movement in the glass inside. The door opened almost magically before them. They slipped inside and it shut behind them.

  The noise cut off, replaced by the sound of locks and bolts being engaged.

  ‘Hi Dad,’ she said turning to him.

  ‘I’m so glad you are safe,’ he said. But he didn’t hug her. He moved awkwardly to the side as if trying to avoid her and that hurt more than anything. She knew what it was: she had been touched by a freak and he was scared.

  But whether it was for his health or his reputation she was not sure.

  Chapter 11

  Yates

  DS Yates sat in the passenger seat of the police car and allowed Lament to steer it towards its destination. He didn’t like it, he preferred to be in control, but this was probably going to be the most delicate of his interviews and he’d stayed up waiting for Ria. He smiled for a moment and then came back to reality. He was not supposed to be investigating the kidnappings but he needed to talk to Ellen Lomax because Mitchell needed her information and Graham seemed in no hurry.

  There were plenty of rundown parts of Manchester nowadays; in fact the majority of it was completely empty. But some were worse than others and this was one of the bad ones. Not bad because there was a great deal of crime, but simply that it oozed hopelessness. As if to reinforce his opinion, it started to rain as the car pulled up by the kerb. The street had probably been quite prosperous in the old days; it was wide and there were trees on each side of the road. Each house had a small garden at the front, and probably a larger one behind. They were terraces, but of decent quality.

  But most of the gardens were untended and overgrown. The houses had smashed or boarded-up windows. You could tell which were occupied: They were the ones that still had the majority of the glass intact—probably cannibalised from the other buildings. Nobody had repainted the woodwork on any house in years.

  In the old zoning laws, which were still technically valid, this would have been classed as a smoke-free zone. But again the occupied houses tended to have a stream of smoke emerging from the chimneys.