by Jay Nadal
Scott slumped in his chair. The vital elements of his case were now complete. He knew the murderers for both cases, two of whom were detained; he had the accomplices, and the motives. He should have felt relieved. But he felt deflated. Even though the perpetrators who committed these crimes were going to be prosecuted, it wasn’t going to bring back Libby Stevens or Christine Newland. Nor was justice going to replace the brutal final moments in both of their lives.
Social services may never be able to identify the relatives of Libby Stevens. But in Christine Newland’s case, her family was going to experience further grief as the final moments in her life were played out in court.
As Scott expected, Tim Coburn was elbow deep in computer paper and various electronic gadgets. Seeing Scott arrive, he frantically scrabbled about his desk trying to find the relevant paperwork that Scott would be demanding.
“Sir, I’ve got the information you requested.” Without letting Scott interrupt him he continued. “I found lots of distinctive messages between the laptop belonging to Robert Shaw and Johnny Wright on the darknet via a private network. However, there were no messages or evidence of any chat history between Johnny Wright’s laptop and Lucy Newland’s laptop. There was, however chat history as we know already between Robert Shaw’s laptop and Lucy Newland’s laptop. So it’s fairly likely that Robert Shaw was using a fake profile in the name of Johnny to communicate with Lucy.”
“Okay, that’s really helpful to know, thanks for speeding that job through, Tim.” Scott had begun to change his opinion of Tim. When he needed to produce the goods, he certainly did. Maybe he wasn’t such a nerdy plank after all.
***
Scott and Abby found themselves once again facing Robert Shaw. The lack of ventilation, and a particularly hot day left the room feeling stuffy and claustrophobic. Scott released a shirt button and pull down his tie before proceeding to roll up his sleeves, his clammy arms sticking to the desk as he lent forward staring Shaw in the eyes.
Shaw was still sneering at the officers. Scott and Abby’s opinion of him had certainly changed. He wasn’t low life, he was the filth found at the bottom of the pond.
After taking a short swig of water, Scott cleared his throat. “Mr Shaw, we will be charging you with the online grooming of a child, together with the murder of Christine Newland. Not that it matters to you, but we have two vulnerable girls out there that we need to find. They have families and loved ones who want them back. If you’re willing to cooperate with us, we will make sure that CPS know that you assisted us in this matter.”
“Why would I help you now?” he replied folding his arms in defiance, his shoulders twitching involuntarily.
“Conscience?” Scott offered.
That suggestion met with a roar of laughter as he rocked his head back. “Bit late for that, ain’t it?” he said, rolling his eyes.
Scott decided to change course. He folded his arms to mimic Shaw, a look of curiosity appearing on his face. “You know it surprises me that the people who should really be sitting in that chair,” Scott said pointing to where Shaw was sitting, “Are the very same people you’re protecting. They will get away scot free, and you’ll end up doing time for them. It hardly seems fair does it? And you know what they do to nonces inside …don’t you?”
Shaw remained apathetic. His eyes firmly fixed on Abby. His mouth becoming moist as his sick perverted mind fantasised over Abby. His eyes focussed in on her breasts. His thoughts were running wild, imagining her there in front of him naked. He was clearly getting aroused as he placed one hand on his groin and proceeded to rub it.
Despite every muscle in Abby’s body willing her to launch across the desk, and gouge his eyes out in the defence of women, she remained motionless.
“Mr Shaw, you’ll have plenty of time to do that for twenty-three hours a day, seven days a week. Where’s Gashi?”
Scott’s question seemed to rupture Shaw’s erotic fantasy and bring him back to the present. Shaw scowled at him, his teeth gritted. “You’re too late!” he laughed. “In an hour he’s gone,” he said waving his arm gently in front of him. “Sailing away.” Shaw began to laugh loudly.
Scott and Abby exchanged a frantic glance before concluding the interview and racing through the corridors of the station.
They took two steps a time, Scott shouting at Abby to arrange for two fast patrol cars with pursuit drivers, to meet them downstairs. Scott notified Mike and Sian who had just come on shift. The race was on to get to Newhaven by 3 PM.
Chapter 25
As they raced out of the station, Abby was still livid at Shaw’s attitude. “He’s a fucking sick bastard,” she fumed.
“We’ve seen worse.”
“Yes, but the way he was looking at me made my skin crawl.”
“I must admit, he did take a shine to you,” Scott teased.
“Don’t. Just the thought makes me shiver. He was … you know … practically tossing himself off in there!”
Scott and Abby were in the second of two marked cars that screeched out of the station, their sirens blaring, the noise bouncing off the nearby tall buildings. They both hung onto the grab handles in the rear of the vehicle as it tore down William Street, before turning right onto Edward Street towards the Old Steine, weaving around cars, throwing Scott and Abby from one side to another.
Normally it would take about thirty minutes to get to Newhaven. In a marked police car, with a pursuit driver at the wheel, they’d make it in fifteen minutes. Scott had already radio’d ahead to inform the port authorities to be on the lookout for two young girls and two men of eastern European extraction. He also had local police units racing to the scene. One way of another, Scott was determined to get the girls back.
They took the first left off the roundabout in front of Palace pier at such a rate of knots, that Scott wondered how they managed to stay in one piece, Abby exchanging nervous glances with him; it had been a while since she’d been in a pursuit car that was being pushed to its limits by an advanced police driver.
The traffic along Marina Parade was flowing but heavy. As the sirens from both cars wailed, unaware drivers swerved in all directions unsure of Highway Code protocols, as they saw the blue lights and heard sirens looming up fast in their rear view mirrors.
This often amused Scott when he saw the sheer look of terror and confusion in drivers as emergency vehicles appeared. He’d seen drivers mount pavements or sit there pressing their horns nervously infuriated that the driver in front hadn’t moved. He’d even witnessed drivers just freeze and not do anything, hoping no one would see them, that they’d suddenly become invisible.
Abby’s phone rang. Reaching into her handbag with one hand wasn’t an easy task at the best of times. Doing it in the back of a police car at high speed was nigh on impossible.
She didn’t recognise the number but answered nevertheless. “Hello?” she shouted. She could vaguely hear the caller above the din of the sirens and police radio chatter. “Hello?” she yelled again, “I can’t hear you. Who is it?”
Abby’s eyes widened as the caller whispered her name again, “It’s Jenna Wade, help!”
Abby thumped Scott’s arm a few times, to get his attention.
“Jenna where are you?”
Jenna was whispering, making it hard to decipher her responses. “I’m trapped in the back of a van, please help, I feel drowsy.”
“Jenna, who else is there?”
“It’s just me and another girl.”
“What’s her name?” Abby could hear a muffled few words on the other end of the line.
“Her name’s Rishi.”
Abby felt a lightning bolt of adrenaline surge through her like an electric shock. She mouthed the name Rishi to Scott, who was sitting pensively, a knot of nerves in his stomach gripping him.
“Can you tell me what you can see?”
The reply was feint. Abby tapped the front seat to motion for the officer to stop. The lead car with Mike and Sian raced ahead into the distance, with Scott
on the radio giving them an update as to why they’d stopped and telling them to hold their position.
“Jenna, I need you tell me what you can see?” Abby pushed.
“There’s no windows,” she replied in a hushed tone.
“What can you hear?”
There was a lengthy pause before Jenna came back. “I can hear seagulls … Wait!” she quickly replied. “I can hear sirens… yes sirens and they’re getting louder. No … no,” she yelled. “They’re going, it’s fading away. It’s gone. No, stop!” She began to cry.
Scott bolted forward, “Drive further up and keep your sirens on,” he instructed before glancing at Abby with a nod.
“Jenna what can you hear now?”
“Erm … I can hear more sirens … there’s more sirens,” she replied frantically. “Please help.”
“It’s the Marina!” Scott yelled.
The patrol car roared off again, the Marina was just below them to the right. The road rose up, leaving the outskirts of Brighton and the tall apartment blocks in their elevated position far behind them.
***
The Marina wasn’t going to be the easiest place to search for the girls. The area covered a large plot with an overwhelming mix of social attractions from bars and restaurants, to cinemas, a casino and health club. It also had a thriving marina with an assortment of marine vessels coming and going. Searching for a needle in a haystack sprung to mind.
The dilemma for Scott and his team was how to locate the girls without drawing attention to them and scaring off those who had brought them here. This in itself was going to be hard with four plain-clothes officers and four uniformed officers. The likelihood was that Gashi or others unknown would see them first and evade capture, leaving the girls in a perilous position if not found quickly.
“What we going to do, Guv?” Abby asked.
Scott didn’t reply, he knew the only way to locate the girls was to use the police siren as a locating beacon of some sorts that Jenna could use to guide them in. It was a risky gamble. Not only would it draw significant attention to them, but would for sure alert the girls’ captives. He needed to act fast and take an executive decision. A decision that would have far-reaching consequences for the girls, Gashi, and his career if it went wrong.
Scott assigned one patrol car to cover the exit route and deployed officers to stop and search all vehicles leaving the area. He dispatched another officer to find the marina management team who could scan the mooring points for any signs of suspicious activity.
Mike and Sian followed on foot as they trailed the patrol car with Scott and Abby in it. Scott felt the best option was to stop at certain intervals, sound off the siren and ask Jenna for feedback.
The first occasion was outside the Subway takeaway food bar, to which Jenna replied that she could vaguely hear it. The next stop was by the Macdonald’s fast-food outlet, to which Jenna replied that the sound was louder and therefore nearer. Scott felt hopeful, but each time the siren sounded, it attracted more public interest, something that made Scott uneasy. Gashi could be amongst the throngs of people and already be making good his escape, they couldn’t scan every person, there was just too many of them. He was starting to regret his plan of action, but had little other choice. Flooding the area with officers would have made the situation worse, and attracted far too much interest and perhaps even started a panic. Speed was of the essence. Scott alerted the officer to sound the siren again when they’d reached the end of the road between the David Lloyd leisure club and the car park.
Again Jenna confirmed that they were close now, a mix of panic and excitement in her voice.
As they rounded the back of the club, the siren sounded once again. To which Jenna screamed down the phone, “I’m here… you’re right here!”
To the right of them were a few isolated parking spaces. Most were empty, but a small white Citroen Berlingo van stood beside a red Vauxhall Astra car that had seen better days.
“That’s it,” Scott bellowed, as the occupants of the patrol car exited simultaneously. Abby was banging on the rear door, “Jenna, are you in there?”
“Yes,” a faint voice came back.
Scott searched around looking for something to prise the door. An industrial bin close by had the remnants of a shop refit loosely piled up in it. Scott raced over and rummaged around before returning with a flat long piece of steel that Scott wedged between the two rear doors.
The doors wouldn’t budge. Both Scott and the uniformed PC leant into the bar hoping to prise the door open, it moved but not enough to free the locking mechanism.
An out of breath Mike closely followed by Sian soon joined them.
“Mike, gives us a hand.” The three on them were now leaning hard on the steel bar, causing the van to lean hard to one side.
Without warning the locking mechanism gave way with a loud clank, components shearing off in all directions. It sent the three officers flying to the floor in a heap. The doors flew open to reveal two girls shielding their eyes from the bright sunlight.
They lay there, looking defenceless, curled up in fetal positions. Tear trails streaked their dirty cheeks. Fear etched on their faces as their eyes adjusted.
Abby knelt in, “You’re safe girls, you’re safe,” she smiled.
Relief engulfed Scott, the knot in his stomach easing. He wasn’t sure if he’d see Rishi Mehta. For all he knew, she could have been taken out of the country earlier. Having found Jenna went some way to vindicating his guilt over letting her down the first time.
Scott and the fellow officers dusted themselves off. They’d only suffered minor abrasions on their hands, elbows and knees from kissing the concrete.
“Abby, call for an ambulance. Jenna looks okay, but probably suffering from shock. Rishi needs medical attention,” Scott said looking at Rishi who appeared to be undernourished, dazed and dehydrated. Her face looked gaunt, her eyes were sunken and her bare legs displayed evidence of extensive bruising.
Scott knelt down to where Jenna was sitting at the rear of the van, her legs dangling over the edge. “Jenna this is really important, who brought you here?”
Jenna still seemed to be dazed from her ordeal, her mind a mixture of emotions. Everything that she had been led to believe over the past few weeks was nothing more than an elaborate set of lies. The hope of love, someone to take care of her for the first time in her life, dashed by deceit.
She looked around trying to get her bearings. She ran a hand through her knotted hair. It was evident to Scott that the abduction had not only been traumatic, but had left her wildly confused.
“It … It … was Ardit. He was talking to someone on the phone when we got here. I just heard him say he was preparing the boat to go.”
The officers exchanged a series of glances. If they were to reach a satisfactory conclusion they needed to apprehend Ardit, and they needed to do it fast. For all Scott knew, Ardit may have already been alerted to their presence by the sound of the sirens and slipped away.
Scott and Mike raced towards the mooring points passing all the shops and restaurants that they’d seen earlier on their arrival. Scott was concerned, his mind processing a multitude of likely outcomes. The warm early summer sunshine had brought out the visitors. With so many people around it was going to be harder to spot Gashi. There was also an overriding concern for the safety of the public in case Gashi did anything rash to protect himself.
The road took them only as far as the first jetty. Scott, Mike and one uniformed officer ran onto the walkway. They were met by the second officer that Scott had dispatched earlier. He was standing with a thin bespectacled man who introduced himself as Harry Silverman, head of security for Brighton Marina.
Scott introduced himself, “I’m Detective Inspector Baker from Brighton CID. We believe that a suspect is about to leave from a vessel moored here. It’s possible that he’s looking to reach Dieppe. Do you have details of anyone that’s been recorded in your log as leaving today?”
&n
bsp; Harry Silverman lifted his glasses and rested them above his eyes so that he could look at his schedule in greater detail. He ran his finger down the page mumbling to himself. “I’ve got one sailing leaving before 4 PM today. Unusual case.”
“How’s that?”
“Well the boat was bought a few days ago for cash. £18,000 to be precise. As you can imagine, we don’t often get people coming in here with large sums of cash wishing to buy boats,” he shrugged. “They bought a Westerly Pentland 32. Then another chap arrived today just an hour or so ago. He signed some paperwork and then headed off to Asda to get some provisions. I saw him come back about twenty minutes ago and head down there,” Silverman continued, pointing in the direction of the long walkway to their left.
“So you’re saying he’s down there now?”
“Well, yes, I’d imagine so. His boat is called Lela Rose. He’s berthed off the second jetty. Number 64, according to the schedule.”
Armed with this information, Scott and the other officers raced down the walkway. The sight of four burly men running past diners enjoying alfresco dining in the sunshine drew looks of curiosity and concern.
Arriving at the second jetty, Scott saw various boat owners milling around. Some were sharing a joke in small groups. Others were comparing their boats proudly with one another. And the odd one or two were avidly undertaking maintenance tasks on deck.
Scott glanced around to identify the berth numbers, “52 … 53 …” Scott didn’t need to look much further; the Lela Rose was berthed at 64. Scott and his team didn’t have an opportunity to reach the boat. His attention was drawn to a melee happening behind them. At the start of the second jetty, owners were being pushed out of the way as a man sprinted off at speed.
“It’s him,” Scott shouted, as the officers doubled back on themselves and raced back down the jetty. There was more confusion than Scott would have liked. He was really hoping to have taken Gashi by surprise. Instead, Gashi had taken them by surprise, and now had the head start.
As they raced back down the walkway, Gashi was trying to slow them down, grabbing chairs from the nearby restaurants and throwing them into the walkway. He was looking for any opportunity to slow down his pursuers as he glanced around looking for a way out.
