“I can explain all. I was asked the pick up the lady. I was told I had to make my car invisible to the cameras.”
“Is this something you are asked to do often?”
“Sometimes I do. Sometimes I do long journey jobs and I have to put the plates on. The man who pay me, he insists on this. I do as I am told.”
“And the man who told you to pick up Kathy Hopkirk told you to put the plates on?”
“Yes, it was part of the deal.”
“Where did you drop Kathy Hopkirk off?”
“In Ashton, it was countryside near Ashton and Mossley. I was told it was a secret business meeting. I was paid a very good fee. I was happy Sir, very happy. But then, I see on Sunday that my passenger was on the television and she was missing. I have been scared about this. I was going to speak to police about this. But then, they said everything was okay, that the lady turned up so I felt relief. You must believe me.”
“So you dropped her off in Ashton?”
“Yes, well, it was Mossley really. It was in the country, a place called Hartshead Pike. I drove there, as far as I could get along the track. And then the lady, Kathy, she thanked me, gave me a twenty pound note and got out. And that was all I know. I went straight away.”
“Who organised this fare?”
“Sorry Sir, I cannot remember…”
“Mr Sardar, who told you to put your dodgy plates on, and pick this woman up in Manchester city centre?”
“I must not confess to this, I will be in great danger.”
“Mr Sardar, calm down, and listen to me. Whoever organised this fare has information that we need urgently. If you do not give me this information right now, then you will take all of the blame, and all of the responsibility for this crime. I would advise you to tell me, right now, who organised this fare?” Saunders was not messing, he had his most intimidating stare drilling into Nazir’s eyes.
“Okay, okay, it was my boss man, my cousin. He owns the taxi company. He trust me not to mess up. He’s going to make trouble for me now.”
“Don’t worry about that. What’s he called, your cousin?”
“Shamim Sardar.”
“And what’s his taxi firm called?”
“Central Cars.”
Saunders stood, and went to leave the interview room, but Nazir continued to speak. “But he has gone away, very suddenly. He has gone home to Bangladesh.”
Chapter 36
Suddenly, things were starting to happen, and Miller couldn’t be happier, despite the fact that it was gone 11pm. He was at home, on the phone, orchestrating the operation now that this new information had come to light. The DCI was speaking quietly in his study, because the twins were asleep in the next room. He was talking to Saunders, who was at Rochdale police station.
“Right, we need his taxi bringing in for a full forensic search, I mean inside and out.”
“That’s already in progress Sir, his taxi is still at the rank in Rochdale town centre. We’re waiting for a lorry to take it to CSI.”
“This taxi driver’s car… has he got a dash-cam in it?”
“Don’t know.”
“Well find out, if it has, see if we can pull that out before it goes down to CSI. You never know, Kathy’s journey might still be in the memory.”
“No worries, I’m on that now.” Saunders sounded enthusiastic, despite the fact that he should have gone home hours earlier.
“As soon as those phone numbers come back, e-mail them across to me please. I’ll get on to Tameside police and request an exclusion zone around the Hartshead Pike area, and we’ll get a crime scene search going at first light. If anything else comes in, let me know.”
“No probs Sir. What am I doing with the taxi driver?”
“Bang him up for the night. It might be enough to make him remember something else.”
“Are you sure? He’s been an absolute star, he’s answered everything.”
“Well why don’t you just tell him it’s for his own protection.”
“Are you sure, Sir?”
“Yes, of course I’m sure. He’s only going to go and batter his wife for grassing him in, so it’s best all round if he spends the night there. We can get specially trained officers to assess the situation in the morning. One thing is for certain, I’m not being blamed for a dead wife, I can’t be arsed with all that shite at the moment, I’ve enough on.”
“Okay Sir. Cheers.”
* * *
By eleven PM, the hills above Ashton and Mossley were being illuminated by revolving blue lights. It was quite a spectacle for the people in the town beneath the famous hill, and this sudden burst of police activity had lots of local folk talking.
Facebook was bursting alive with community reporters speculating on what this extraordinary blue light show up at Hartshead Pike was all about.
“Our Dan’s just been up for a nosey but police have closed the road. They wouldn’t let him go in the lane.” Said one commentator on Ashton Buy and Sell page.
“I think they’ve found a drug stash up at the Pike. There’s meant to be hundreds of stashes up there!” suggested a group member on The Tameside Hangout page. The activity was certainly creating lots of debate, and people were desperate to know what was going on. Especially the really nosey ones.
“It’ll be a helicopter crash. I bet it’s that Noel Edmonds.”
“I’ll bet you a tenner it’ll be an unexploded bomb from the war. There’s thousands of them up there.”
“I’m telling you, it’s a rave. They’ll have closed the lane so no more ravers can get up there. There used to be raves all the time up there in the nineties you know. That’s where I met my ex-wife.”
From over one hundred comments which suggested various explanations for this most unlikely of places to have such a heavy police presence, not one of the commentators linked this exciting activity to the disappearance of Kathy Hopkirk, which was quite surprising as it was still the main news topic in the UK, and especially in Manchester, the city where she was last seen.
The Tameside police officers had secured the entire area around Hartshead Pike with police cordon tape, and had closed the area to the public. This was a huge undertaking, particularly in the pitch-dark. The second phase of the police activity was to reassure the locals. This involved knocking on the doors of the dozen or so farmhouses and cottages dotted along the mile long country lane from Mossley Road, the main road which links Ashton through the rural climb to its neighbouring, and much prettier town, Mossley.
“Its nothing to worry about,” said one officer to a rather bemused, middle-aged home-owner who was standing at his front door in his pyjamas. “We’ve launched a police investigation here this evening, and the road is closed to the public. But there is no risk to any people or property. We just want you to be aware.”
“What’s the investigation about?”
“That’s classified information I’m afraid Sir.”
“Aw go on. My wife will get a right cob on her if I don’t tell her what’s going on.”
“I’m afraid I can’t add any further comment to this Sir. We just want you to be reassured that you are safe and that you are in no immediate danger. Goodnight.”
Things were very neat and tidy, and the residents were extremely calm and relaxed considering the circumstances. By midnight, just a couple of police vans remained at the site. The road was closed from the junction with the main road, and everything was calming down. However, somebody within the Manchester police community had tipped off the press, and reporters began arriving at the scene in the early hours of the morning.
It wasn’t clear what they had heard, but it soon became apparent that they were pretty convinced that they were reporting from the final resting place of Kathy Hopkirk.
* * *
Saunders was the only person working in the SCIU offices. It was almost one am when he accepted that he had finally had enough for today, and decided that
it was time to get himself home and grab some sleep. He headed off on the short walk across the city centre, to his apartment on the Piccadilly side of town.
As he walked through the brightly lit, bustling and noisy centre of Manchester, his mind was racing with thoughts, but for the first time that he could remember, these thoughts weren’t about work. Saunders’ mind was focused solely on his colleague, DC Helen Grant. She’d smiled at him earlier, and his mind was replaying that smile, that look she gave him, over and over. He realised he was walking really quickly, and it made him smile when he noticed what he was doing. Saunders felt an inexplicable urge to punch the air, or jump for joy. It was so weird, so corny how he felt. But it was the idea that Grant was also interested in him that really kept him going. Usually, Saunders would start analysing this type of scenario, and would start trying to think of reasons why it wouldn’t or couldn’t work out.
But as far as Helen was concerned, he couldn’t think of a single pit-fall. Saunders couldn’t think of anything negative to put in the way of pursuing a relationship with his new DC. Tonight, he had worked late, as he often did when a major case was live. He had made the conscious decision that he was going to focus on his work, and that the distraction of his thoughts and feelings for DC Grant were not going to get in the way of his work. It had been a personal test, and Saunders had passed. He was absolutely buzzing with the results.
As he walked past Piccadilly train station, and got closer to his flat, he was feeling delighted that he had managed to put a really productive shift in at work, that he had managed to play it cool with Grant, as well as his other colleagues. This proved to him that he was capable of managing a relationship with the stunning, beautiful, gorgeous, funny, cute and sexy new team member. The thought made his guts somersault.
Tomorrow, he had to make his move, and the thought gave him such a buzz, he almost walked past his apartment block.
Chapter 37
FRIDAY
“Good morning, and welcome to Britain’s Breakfast news. Our main story this morning centres on that continuing search for Kathy Hopkirk, and those sensational revelations yesterday, when it was announced that Kathy’s infamous resignation video was not genuine, and that police are treating the video with great suspicion, a fact that was demonstrated with the re-arrest of Kathy’s husband, the veteran radio DJ Jack Greenwood.”
The newsreader almost gasped for breath, as she tried to keep up with her autocue. “This morning, Mr Greenwood remains in police custody. And, there have been even more dramatic developments overnight, as a police cordon line has been erected around a popular beauty spot in Greater Manchester. Police haven’t provided full details yet, but here are the aerial camera views taken from our helicopter in the past few minutes. These images really show the extent of police activity at Hartshead Pike, one of the most popular viewpoints across the Manchester area.”
Breakfast TV viewers were being treated to some stunning, sweeping views across the lush, green countryside at the edge of Greater Manchester. This is where the sprawling urban metropolis which is home to three million people, finally gives way to the Pennines, the place where the moors and mountains gradually take-over the land and build their hardy divide between Lancashire in the West, and Yorkshire to the East.
Hartshead Pike is still a very popular picnic spot for walkers, boasting one of the best viewpoints in the region. This spot is famed for its seemingly endless views of the four counties, Lancashire, Cheshire, Derbyshire and Yorkshire. On a very fine day, visitors to the pike can see as far away as the Welsh Mountains. The Pike itself is marked by an imposing, gothic looking construction. This imposing, circular, stone built tower, looks very similar to a church spire. The building’s prominent position at the top of Hartshead hill dominates the horizon from the city below.
The tower was first built in the late 1700’s, and rebuilt in the 1800’s after the tough Lancashire weather had worn it down. It became a hugely popular walking location and between the two world wars, it served as a sweet shop for the thousands of visitors who ventured up there for the magical views, in an age before video-games, TV or app-stores.
The breakfast viewers continued watching the footage from the helicopter, as the presenter updated the public on the overnight developments in the story.
“So, this is the area known to most people in Manchester, Hartshead Pike. There is growing speculation this morning that this location holds specific interest in the Kathy Hopkirk mystery. Our pictures clearly show that all of the investigating officers from the Serious Crimes Unit are at this location as we speak. DCI Miller and DI Saunders can be seen discussing something, these are the two detectives who are leading the Kathy Hopkirk investigation.” The newsreader looked as though she was struggling to catch her breath as the director panned away from the Manchester beauty spot, and focused the camera shot on her face. “And, it does look like the police officers will be working there all day, so let’s see if the weather is going to be favourable for them, here’s Julie Prole with the forecast.”
It was the only news item on every channel, on every radio breakfast show and on the front of every newspaper in the land. Nothing like this had ever happened before. This was the most enthralling news story that the presenters and journalists and editors could remember covering, and it all seemed a step closer towards reaching some kind of a conclusion this morning. A real conclusion this time.
The lack of information from the police was extremely frustrating for the media. The papers, the TV, and radio journalists were desperate to know what this heavy police presence was all about. There were three separate news helicopters roaming around the area, desperately trying to figure out what had prompted all of this activity. But there were no obvious clues. There was plenty of police vehicles, and several detectives on site. But there was no digging taking place, no forensic tents had been erected. Without any explanation of what this police activity was, the media had no choice but to ad-lib, and try to create a plausible reason for the dramatic pictures which clearly showed the Kathy Hopkirk detectives, and a huge police presence, but very little else.
Sky News were the masters of making-it-up-as-they-went-along. Especially with these types of breaking news stories. And, in their inimitable fashion, they broke away from the pack with their 9 am headlines.
“Our top story this hour is the breaking news that police in Manchester believe that they are close to finding Kathy Hopkirk, and the information that we are receiving from the north is extremely depressing news. We are told that police officers are currently awaiting the arrival of mechanical digging machines, and that they are soon going to be excavating an area in the vicinity of the tower which you can see from our Sky-copter pictures. We will of course bring you the latest as soon as we have it. But the breaking news from Manchester this morning is the very grim news that police are expected to start digging, in the search for Kathy Hopkirk’s remains, at some point in the next hour.”
Chapter 38
Miller was standing on the visitor’s car park at Hartshead Pike, roughly two hundred metres away from the famous tower on the peak of the hill. He was just outside the exclusion zone, standing at the edge of the police tape, which was flapping furiously in the wind. The tape was whipping and clapping against it self, creating a hell of a noise. He was on the phone, trying to hear what his colleague in London was saying.
“Jo, speak up, I can’t hear a word. It’s blowing a gale up here!”
“Sir, can’t you go and sit in your car or summat?” Rudovsky sounded irritable.
“You what?” said Miller, becoming tetchy himself.
Jo hung up. “He’s a dud sometimes you know. Does my fucking head in!” She was talking to her partner, DC Peter Kenyon who nodded as he looked at her.
“Why have they sent us down here? It’s a piss-take. Can’t the CID down here sit here and listen to this prick saying no comment? It doesn’t make sense.”
Kenyon exhaled loudly. The two
DC’s from Manchester were sat in a disused office in Shepherd’s Bush police station. Miller had sent the pair down the previous evening. It was still a mystery to the pair, who had been pulled off their own case.
“It’s bollocks Pete.”
“Well, I guess DI Saunders and DC Grant will have had a hand in this. They’ve spent hours interviewing him. Maybe they thought we’d be able to get somewhere?”
“Or maybe we’ve been stitched up! If Saunders knew that this guy was such a tit, why didn’t they leave it to the Met to deal with?”
Kenyon shrugged. “Jo, I don’t know.”
Rudovsky’s phone started ringing. It was Miller. She pressed the green button to answer the call, and pressed the loudspeaker function too, so Kenyon could hear the conversation too.
“Jo, soz, I’ve got a better line now. What’s up?” Miller sounded pretty wound-up. At least that blast of wind was gone now.
“Oh, this guy is just taking the piss Sir. He’s no commenting everything. We’ve done three hours with him, over three separate sessions because his brief keeps saying he needs a rest. The brief is interrupting everything we say as well. We’re no further forward.”
Miller couldn’t hide his disappointment. “Well if you can’t break him Jo, I don’t know what to do for the best.” It was a well-meant, and well earned compliment. Jo Rudovsky was absolutely first-class at cracking no-commenters. The SCIU had a list as long as Miller’s arm of instances where she’d managed to encourage the most obstinate people to talk and answer questions. She had a variety of tactics that she used, from being over-friendly, to being downright provocative and antagonistic. Rudovsky had excellent intuition for how to play her interviewee. Many detectives had quizzed her about how she’d learnt the knack to do it, how she could work out in twenty seconds what her opponent would respond to. Jo couldn’t answer it, she just put it down to an instinctive gift. Miller always said it was because she was a sociopath herself, and it was commendable that she used her mental health problems for the benefit of Manchester police. Jo didn’t mind, it was quite a compliment.
Gone Too Far : DCI Miller 4: Britain's Most Hated Celebrity Has Disappeared Page 16
