Cordon of Lies: A Sgt Major Crane Novel

by Wendy Cartmell

  “What would it take, Harry? What sort of hook?”

  After a moment’s pause, during which Crane pulled deeply on his cigarette, Harry’s solution was simple. “Get the local press involved.”

  “What?” Crane’s loathing of the local crime reporter from the Aldershot News immediately came to the fore. “Please, no, anything but that, Harry.”

  “I think that’s the only way. Get a local reporter to start some lurid headlines and a splash of a story. That gives me a good excuse, because if another paper breaks the story, I’m justified in starting an investigation here. I can put it to my editor that I want to see if the story is true or not, see if there really is an Army cover up. Things like this are notoriously difficult to prove, there is limited access to records and at every turn they use the excuse ‘it’s not in the national interest to give you that information’ or some such bollocks. But I think we may be able to use the Freedom of Information Act to get something at least.”

  Crane could tell Harry was starting to get enthusiastic about the prospect. It looked like Crane’s hunch that give a good investigative journalist the whiff of scandal and he’ll follow the scent to where it leads, had worked.

  “Bloody hell. Well, I suppose I can talk to Diane Chambers, if I have to,” the reluctance in Crane’s voice faked, as of course, he would do anything Poole asked of him to ensure he got some help. “One last thing, Harry. You didn’t hear any of this from me, okay?”

  “Crane, what do you take me for? I’d never reveal a source. I’d go to prison first.”

  “Well, I don’t think you’ll need to go that far, but I’ve been ordered to drop the investigation, so my name mustn’t be associated with this.”

  “Absolutely, Crane. You can trust me.”

  “Thanks, Harry. Not sure I can trust Diane, though. I may have to go another way around that one. The indirect approach would work best with her, I think.”

  “Whatever, Crane. Just give me a ring when the Aldershot paper is printing the story and then I’ll need everything you’ve got.”

  “Thanks, Harry, I owe you one.”

  Crane then went downstairs to tell Tina he’d complied with her wishes to come up with a plan to ‘catch the bastard’. Her fear of Foster, that had turned to anger when he started stalking her, had not abated. It was odd to see Tina so fired up, but at least it was easier to handle than her tears and depression. He was used to anger in the Army and used to channelling it into positive action. He was rather enjoying seeing this new side of his wife. Foster had definitely made a mistake by trying to mess with Tina’s head and threatening her child.

  Chapter 29

  Dear Miss Chambers,

  I’m writing to you, as I know you’re the best reporter we have around here and I know you’ll be interested in anything to do with the Army. I think there’s a cover up going on and no one will do anything about it, so I thought it was time I did.

  Look closely at the recent murder of an Army wife called Mel Green and then compare it with the murder of another Army wife, Carol Newton, about 10 years ago. I know you weren’t here then, but I bet there was some coverage in your paper at the time.

  There was talk when Carol was killed that the Army bloke she was having an affair with, Barry Foster, killed her when she tried to break their relationship off. Lots of us knew about it at the time. Anyways the next thing we knew he’d been spirited away and everyone was told to keep their mouths shut about him. He was a sniper, see, one of the best we had and he was needed for the invasion of Iraq, something to do with the advanced party.

  Now it looks as though he is back. Mel Green was killed in exactly the same way, in exactly the same location. She looked like Carol Newton, was about the same age and there were rumours she’d been having an affair also.

  I hope you can do something with this. Sorry I can’t reveal who I am, but I’m sure you understand. I look forward to reading all about this terrible injustice in your newspaper.

  From a fan.

  Crane smiled as he read through the letter, imagining Diane’s reaction when she got it. As she was the local newshound, he’d had run-ins with her in the past. She was the type who asked for a statement and then twisted the words to suit her article. She had been instrumental in terrifying half the residents of Aldershot when there was a terrorist threat on the garrison last summer. She posted lurid headlines, completely untrue statements and had people thinking there were going to be terrorist bombs planted in the local Tesco. More recently she had warned the young women of Aldershot that there was a rapist on the loose, without offering any sensible advice as to how they could protect themselves, apart from keeping all their windows shut, even if they lived in a flat on the top floor. Anyone would have thought Spiderman was in town and Crane smiled at the memory.

  He printed the letter off and closed down his word processing program without saving the document. Pulling on a pair of latex gloves, he wrote Diane Chambers’ name and address on an envelope, in block capitals, before folding the paper and putting it in. He had used a pre-glued envelope so just had to pull off the paper and press down the flap to seal it. He then peeled off and used a pre-glued stamp. Feeling like a schoolboy planning a hoax he giggled, then pulled himself together and put the letter in an evidence bag to keep it clean and his finger prints off it. He’d post it while he was in Farnborough today, working on a burglary case.

  Chapter 30

  “Crane, what on earth’s going on? Have you seen the headlines?” Anderson spluttered over the phone.

  Crane was sat in his office, a copy of the Aldershot News on the desk in front of him. He’d hoped Diane Chambers would have the news story in this week’s edition, so he had made a short detour to the newsagents on his way to work. The letter had worked a treat. The story was splashed over the front page. Diane Chambers must have thought all her birthdays had come at once, when she’d received his anonymous letter.

  “No, Derek,” Crane said, wanting to savour every minute of this. “Why, what’s the matter?”

  “This bloody article in the Aldershot News. Jesus, talk about Diane Chambers strikes again. Just listen to this. ‘Army sniper kills two women’ and ‘Army cover-up puts young women at risk’.”

  “Ah,” was all Crane could say, as he was trying not to laugh in triumph.

  “Who leaked this?” Anderson carried on as though Crane hadn’t said anything, which he hadn’t really. “Where did she get the story from?” Then, answering his own question said, “There must be a leak somewhere.”

  “Calm down, Derek. All this stress isn’t good for you. Anyway I’ve no idea who decided to leak the information. Lampton perhaps? It certainly wasn’t me.” Crane couldn’t take his eyes off the lurid headlines.

  “Well, my phone’s been ringing like mad all morning and the station has been bombarded with questions about the case from the rest of the local press. They also want to know why they weren’t privy to the same information as Diane Chambers seems to have been.”

  “Oh dear, Derek, how difficult for you.”

  “Yes well, I don’t want your sympathy, just action. I’m calling a press conference for 2pm this afternoon, at the station. You’d better be here.”

  “Of course, Derek, just so long as Captain Edwards says I can. You know my track record with the press.”

  “Fuck off, Crane, stop using Edwards and the press as excuses when it suits you. I’ll expect you here at 2pm, or 14:00 hours to you, complete with a statement from the Army.

  Crane went to say he’d do what he could, but Anderson was no longer on the line.

  As soon as Crane replaced the telephone receiver, it rang again.

  “Crane, have you seen the local paper, what the hell’s going on? Who gave Diane Chambers this information?”

  “I’m sure I have no idea, Captain Edwards. I hope you don’t think it was me? I’ve been as good as my word and dropped the Carol Newton investigation.”

  “Really?”

  “Real
ly, Sir, you’ve no worries on that score. But I’m afraid you have other worries.”

  “I do?”

  “Yes, Sir. DI Anderson’s just been on the phone. It seems he’s calling a press conference for 14:00 hours this afternoon.”

  “What’s that got to do with me?”

  “He wants a statement from the Army. Any chance you could give me one, Sir?”

  Edwards slammed the phone down, making Crane think there wouldn’t be a statement.

  After getting himself a well deserved coffee, Crane heard his phone ringing again and he rushed into his office to answer it.

  “Crane.”

  “Hi,” said Harry. “How are things in Aldershot?”

  “The news has broken, it’s splashed all over the front page and the inside pages of the Aldershot News. Diane Chambers has certainly gone to town on this.” Crane could hear clicking of computer keys in the background. He continued, “DI Anderson has called a press conference for 2pm this afternoon at Aldershot Police Station.”

  “That’s good to hear. I’m looking at the story online as we speak. I’ll get in touch with Diane Chambers right now. Then I’ll see what I can find out from my end before I come to the press conference.”

  “Thanks, Harry.”

  “No worries, Crane. Thanks for the heads-up on the story.”

  “Yes, well, I wanted to thank you now, as I can’t be seen with you this afternoon.”

  “No worries, I understand, speak soon,” and Poole ended the call.

  Crane was just about to head out for a cigarette, when he was stopped by the telephone. Getting a bit fed up of the phone ringing by now, he grabbed the handset and prepared to bark into it. But before he could speak a voice said, “Crane? Did you do this?”

  “Do what, Lampton?”

  “Splash the story all over the Aldershot News. Are you trying to get me killed?!”

  “Now, now, Dave,” Crane soothed. “Calm down and I’ll tell you what’s happening from this end.”

  *

  Captain Edwards was, undeniably, having a bad day. After he put the phone down on Crane, he sat staring at the instrument as though it was going to tell him what to do. He wondered, flippantly, if he rubbed the phone, perhaps a genie would pop out of it and give him three wishes. The first wish would be to make all this go away. The second would be to make Crane go away. Before he could get to the third wish, the phone rang with another call.

  “Edwards? I’ve just been told about this story in the Aldershot News. I don’t know what’s going on, but it better not have anything to do with you, or that Sgt Major of yours.”

  “I can assure you, Sir Peter, it’s nothing to do with anyone in my unit.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Of course, Sir Peter, I’ve spoken to Sgt Major Crane this morning. The leak didn’t come from us.”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  Edwards wasn’t sure whether the man was asking what Edwards was going to do about the newspaper article, or about the allegations contained in it. Luckily he was saved by the bell.

  “Sorry, Sir Peter, but the CO’s calling me on my mobile. I’ll be in touch soon,” he said and quickly put down the receiver before the retired Brigadier could speak again. Edwards quickly answered the CO’s call.

  “Good morning, Sir.”

  His boss didn’t waste time with preamble and went straight for the jugular, “Edwards, how did the Aldershot News get this information?”

  Taken aback, Edwards stammered, “I, I’ve no idea, Sir.”

  “Well, bloody well find out. NOW! I will not tolerate a leak in the Royal Military Police. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, Sir, crystal,” Edwards replied. He opened his mouth to speak again, but he realised the CO was no longer there. Placing his mobile back on his desk and lifting the receiver of the office telephone, he dialled Crane’s number.

  “Crane, my office NOW!”

  “Certainly, Captain Edwards.”

  Edwards didn’t know how he was going to find out who leaked the information to the press, but he’d just been shouted at by the CO, so now it was his turn to shout at the person under him on the ladder. And that person was his Sgt Major.

  *

  Over lunch, Francis Symmonds showed Kim his copy of the Aldershot News.

  “What on earth’s going on?” he asked. “Who leaked this story to the press?”

  “No one’s saying,” she replied, as she put the kettle on to make a cup of tea, “but I think the Sgt Major’s behind it. I bet you he leaked the story to Diane Chambers somehow.”

  The Padre chewed on his sandwich then said, “Maybe you’re right. From what you’ve told me, he’s quite taken this investigation to heart.”

  Kim placed the cups of tea in front of them and sat on the stool next to him in the kitchen. She was enjoying their quick lunches at his house. The change of venue and pace helped her relax. It meant she could take the mask off she constantly wore whilst she was on duty, even if it was only for a snatched hour. They couldn’t always meet, depending on his work load and hers, of course, but when they could, a couple of times a week, it really lifted her.

  “The Officer Commanding really chewed Crane out this morning, you know,” she said. “About the article. The whole office heard him shouting. But instead of coming back and shouting at us, which would be the usual thing, Crane was perfectly alright. He just went back to his office and carried on working as though nothing had happened. He didn’t even go to the car park for a cigarette!”

  “Blimey, that is out of character,” he said and they both laughed. Sobering up, he put down his sandwich and looked across at her. “Oh, by the way, I’ll be away next week. I’ve got a symposium at Catterick Garrison for a few days.”

  Kim paused for a moment, then swallowing her disappointment said brightly, “That’ll be nice for you. What’s the subject?” and she managed to discuss it with him, as though it didn’t matter that he was going away. She pretended she was alright. That she didn’t feel like she had a concrete block on her chest restricting her breathing and that the sun had just gone behind a cloud.

  As she was getting ready to leave he took her arm to stop her and said, “Are you sure you’re alright now, Kim? That flashback you had after the Crimewatch filming was pretty bad.”

  Instead of looking at him, she looked at the floor. “I must admit, that one shook me badly. I thought I was over them, you know?”

  Pulling her close he asked, “Have you had any more since?” She shook her head. But that didn’t seem to be a good enough answer for him, as he held her away and lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. “Honestly?”

  She managed a watery smile, “Honestly, Francis. It was just the whole reconstruction thing. Anyway, you were there for me when it happened. Thanks for that, I, um, well it’s over now, so that’s the end of it,” she finished briskly and turned her back on him to pick up her handbag.

  “When will I see you again?” His words stopped her, as she put her hand on the handle of the front door. “I’ve got a pretty full weekend I’m afraid, church services and all that.”

  Before replying she opened the door, stepped out and then turned to face him. “I’d like to come to Sunday morning service, so I’ll see you there.”

  The smile on the Padre’s face lit up the rest of her day.

  Chapter 31

  Daily Record

  British Army Perpetrates a Cordon of Lies

  by investigative reporter

  Harry Poole

  It seems 10 years ago, parts of the British Army went barmy. Think back to the time when Tony Blair was posturing, George Bush was ranting and Saddam Hussein was being, well Saddam Hussein, with an arsenal of weapons of mass destruction, or so the chattering classes would have us believe. At such times, our politicians do what they always do, call on the brave lads of our military to storm in and solve the problem.

  And so the task fell to our military leaders, such as o
ne Peter Dunne - now Brigadier Sir Peter Dunne (retired) - to provide advanced troops. They were needed to scout around in the Iraqi desert and report back. The intelligence they brought back being vital to the planning of the big push. Thousands of men were being deployed to Iraq, small tented towns were being built in the desert and it fell to their leaders to formulate a plan that would have maximum impact and minimum casualties. Therefore advance parties were essential, to provide intelligence.

  A small band of brave lads were to be a key part of this advance, and one of their number was the sniper, Barry Foster. He was a vital member of his unit, unrivalled in his number of kills, known for his patience and ability to stay still and out of sight until the optimum kill moment presented itself.

  To explain for a moment, this weapon’s expert specialised in shooting from a concealed position over long ranges. The sniper’s mission was to provide detailed reconnaissance from a hidden position and if possible, reduce the enemy’s resources by shooting at and killing, high value targets. The sniper’s gun was specially designed and adapted for his surroundings. In order to succeed in this type of mission, a sniper must have skill in marksmanship, camouflaging his appearance and field craft. A military sniper must prove himself self sufficient, comfortable in isolation and very patient in observation.

  So, it is clear that the sniper plays a vital role in combat strategy, making Barry Foster a very important part of Sir Peter Dunne’s planning.

  From Army records we have been able to obtain, at the time of his call to Iraq, Barry Foster was on down-time in Aldershot, the home of his regiment. Other men in the same unit included Bill Lampton and Dave Richmond, who has recently died of cancer.

  Sir Peter’s problem was that Barry Foster was implicated in a local murder. The gruesome killing of a young woman, Carol Newton, with whom Foster was purportedly having an affair. The Aldershot Police were closing in on him and were on the verge of getting a Search Warrant for Foster’s living quarters and vehicle.