A Perfect Likeness

by Roger Gumbrell

  ‘How about the canteen?’ said Deckman closing the door behind him.

  Fraser was on the phone when Deckman got back to Serious Crimes. He replaced the handset and shook his head. ‘Still trying to get Surveillance, Guv, the poor admin girl is getting fed up with me. Bob has managed to get some interesting detail on our Mr Rawston. Have you got a couple of minutes?’

  Deckman sat at Kensit’s desk and couldn’t help noticing how tidy it was compared to the other desks, in particular that of his sergeant.

  ‘Rawston was born in 1964 and joined the Royal Marines as soon as he was old enough. After three years he was accepted into the SBS and excelled during his training, as he did throughout his career. He saw service in both the Falklands and Gulf wars, but it was during the latter he received a letter from his wife telling him she wanted a normal life with a normal man and she was divorcing him. He was sent home on compassionate leave to sort out his problems and found out that the ‘normal man’ was his best friend since school days. He promptly smashed his wife’s lover to within inches of death. Rawston called the ambulance and went straight to the police and confessed. Got six months for his trouble and kicked out the service. Poor bugger, I’d say. Should have got promotion. He started a one-man business out of Draycliffe Marina doing fishing trips, but when his boat developed expensive problems he chucked it in and joined Star Boats. He paid all his taxes as a self employed person and as an employee when he joined Star Boats. What is interesting is that within twelve months of him starting work with Star Boats he had moved out of his rented room and purchased, without mortgage, his current accommodation. A luxury flat on the coast road. I’d say that was pretty good going.’

  As Fraser finished DC Kensit walked in, stopping in his tracks on seeing the Inspector sitting at his desk.

  ‘Sorry, Bob, just trying it for size. I don’t think it will be long before you take over my job with all this information you’re coming up with.’

  ‘Thank you, Sir. Oh no, Sir, couldn’t do that, Sir.’

  ‘Relax, Bob, and tell me if you’ve had any more thoughts?’

  ‘Well, Sir, I have to say, on the strength of the latest info we have and I guess that is what the sarge has just told you, I feel real sorry for Rawston. I think he’s had a raw deal. However, his ability to pay cash for such an expensive apartment so soon after going broke needs a bit of explaining. Another thing that has been rolling around in my head concerns Miss Page. We’ve statements saying she speaks perfect English, although there was one person who felt she might not have been English. My point is, she went to America when she was about three years old, so we understand and, surely, after more than thirty years she should have one hell of an American accent. I reckon that would be pretty hard to hide. The same would apply to the father, to a lesser degree perhaps. All in all, Sir, I’d say we’ve got more than enough to be, at least, a little suspicious.’

  *

  Trish Lister’s first job of the day was to check the electricity meter readings at certain locations around the harbour. She noticed Rawston returning in Blue Star after a scuba trip and adjusted her route to ensure she met him.

  ‘Hi, Mr Rawston, have a good trip?’

  ‘I love them all, Trish. I am more at peace with life when I’m at sea than at any other time, but don’t tell Sylvia I said that will you. I feel the sea like a good mechanic can read the condition of an engine by its sound. I can pick up the slightest weather changes long before the forecasters can with all their technical equipment.’

  Trish was surprised at Rawston’s willingness to talk. She put it down to the fact Miss Page was not about. ‘Don’t you ever get frightened when the weather gets bad?’

  ‘Never, I’m always prepared and if it’s going to be that bad I will never leave the harbour. I love the sea, but I will never cease to respect it. It doesn’t think much of the fools who put other peoples lives at risk through their own stupidity. By the way, Trish, Sylvia has just informed me we have an extra trip tonight; we leave around midnight and should be back about four. Can you let the night man know. I will give him a call on departure as usual.’

  ‘Of course. I won’t see him, but I’ll leave a note for him. Does he need to know how many on board?’ She hoped he didn’t think she was digging for the information she wanted to know.

  ‘No, it’s not necessary, but it will be the usual five including Edward Page and myself. Best go as we have to plan the trip.’

  Trish read the meter alongside Red Star, checked that Rawston was out of sight and telephoned Inspector Deckman. For the first time she began to feel a liking for Rawston. He seemed a different person away from the boss’s daughter.

  *

  Deckman was drinking his coffee and wondering how he would do justice to the meal his wife was preparing for that evening; he had not told her he was dining out. CI White had asked for the bill on the way to the ladies and the Chief Constable was trying to convince Deckman not to get too obesessed by the idea Michael Campbell was imprisoned as a result of his failure.

  ‘A lot of us have been there, Terry. In fact I’ve been there twice and I know Joan has suffered the experience as well. At least you are going to put matters right, if they were wrong in the first place.’

  Deckman’s mobile rang, much to his embarrassment. ‘Sorry, Sir, the kids insisted I used the barking dog tone, must get it changed. Hello, Trish, how can I help you?’

  ‘It’s tonight, Inspector, an additional trip. It is three weeks to the day from the last one and, interestingly, Edward Page is going to be aboard. It seems he always goes so it must be important, don’t you think? There will be a total of five on board, leaving at midnight and returning four hours later.’

  ‘Nice work, Trish, thanks. I take it you will not be on duty?’

  ‘No, I won’t and I hope to be tucked up in a nice warm bed. Inspector, if it is any help, Star Boats have been allocated four parking places in the ‘Berth Holders’ car park, numbers twelve to fifteen. The places directly opposite are vacant at the moment should you need to park there. Mind you at that time of night you could park just about anywhere. You won’t need a barrier card as it’s out of use at the moment.’

  ‘Sounds about perfect to me. Many thanks, will keep in touch.’

  CI White had returned during the conversation and, like the Chief Constable, listened to Deckman’s side of the dialogue.

  ‘Good news, Terry?’ asked DI White, assuming the call was to do with the Michael Campbell case.

  ‘Yes, Ma’am, it seems Star Boats have one of their ‘unexpected’ night trips and I am keen to get Surveillance on to them.’ He looked towards the Chief Constable. ‘Sir, we have discussed all the information that is available, are you in a position to agree to us reopening the case?’

  ‘I don’t think we need to officially reopen the case. Look, you have every justification to suspect Star Boats are carrying out illegal operations, more than likely to do with drugs. I suggest you proceed with that line of inquiry and should you find a connection with the Victoria Campbell murder then that is going to be a bonus. I recommend that you get your surveillance operation organised straight away.’

  *

  Trish was full of smiles when Jackie arrived to pick her up after her AA meeting. Jackie already knew the reason why as Mack had phoned her to find out where Trish was.

  ‘Surely it’s not seeing me that’s making you so happy? Did you not expect me to remember I had to come?’

  ‘You know I’m always pleased to see you, but no it isn’t. Had a call from Mack, he’s back home. Asked me to go and see him when I’ve finished the meeting and I feel quite excited about it. Haven’t felt like it for years.’

  ‘In that case we’d better not keep him waiting. How did you get on at the marina today? Any sign of Sylvia Page?’

  ‘Fortunately no, but I did speak with Tom Rawston and, I have to say, I don’t dislike the man. In fact, for some reason and I don’t know why, I feel
sorry for him. He told me they have one of their ‘extra trips’ tonight so I’ve told Inspector Deckman. He said he would keep us informed, but didn’t say whether the case was to be reopened. If he doesn’t call me, or you, tomorrow we ought to go and see him to find out what is happening.’

  Jackie was a careful driver, rather than slow, which would normally not have bothered Trish. Today she wanted to get to The Study quickly and wished Jackie could feel her urgency.

  ‘What about tomorrow?’ said Jackie leaning forward and looking past Trish to make sure it was all clear to turn. ‘I’m on early shift so will you be using your own car?’

  ‘Yes, I’d better get back into the habit, although it’s nice to be driven.’

  Jackie stopped on the road outside The Study car park. ‘There you are, madam, there will be no charge for this trip.’

  ‘Are you not coming in?’ asked Trish.

  ‘No, I don‘t think so. I have the feeling tonight may turn out a bit special for you. You have Mack and also his mother to contend with. Call me when you get home, no matter how late. Okay. I need to know everything.’ She leant over and kissed Trish’s cheek. ‘And I mean everything, okay? Don’t forget to call me.’

  *

  Trish knew she looked alright; she had adjusted her make-up whilst waiting for Jackie. There were only two cars in the car-park, her Ford Fiesta and Mack’s Volvo, so she guessed the pub would only have a handful of ‘walking’ drinkers inside. She was right and Mack was this side of the bar chatting with one of his regulars. He looked up when he heard the door and made a controlled dash to meet the woman he’d loved for years.

  They stood face to face, he wasn’t sure how to greet her. She, likewise. He raised his right hand to shake hers, changed his mind and gently took hold of both her arms as they rested by her sides.

  ‘Hi, Mack, you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine, Trish, and you?’

  ‘Feel better now, thanks.’ Trish took courage. ‘Did you mean what you left on the answer phone?’

  ‘You know I did. I’ve been telling you for years and I missed you so much.’

  ‘I missed you too, Mack.’

  ‘Trish… Trish I want to hug and kiss you.’

  ‘Then what are you waiting for, you silly old fool.’

  Chapter 15

  Rawston manoeuvred Blue Star out of the marina entrance having informed Marina Control of their departure, as he always did. The weather was as forecast with clear sky and near perfect sea conditions. Like Edward Page, Rawston was happier on these occasions to have some sort of cloud cover, but he kept his irritation well hidden.

  ‘What’s the matter, Edward, you’re not yourself tonight?’

  ‘You know me, Tom, no clouds and I get the idea I’m being watched by the whole world.’ He hadn’t taken his eyes off the radar screen since taking to open sea and nervously tapped the glass where he could see two other craft. One east of their position and the other west south west, both on the limit of Blue Star’s radar coverage.

  ‘Relax,’ said Rawston, ‘they haven’t moved since we picked them up. Probably on a night-fish and found some good bites for their punters.’

  ‘I’m sure you are right, but it doesn’t stop me being nervous.’

  The two surveillance officers in the back of the unmarked van parked in the marina car park had photographed the arrival of Page and Rawston and already had the registered keepers of the three cars that had accompanied the Star Boats van. The occupants of these cars were sitting at the stern of Blue Star enjoying the final bites of salad rolls prepared by Sylvia Page.

  Edward Page looked over his shoulder towards the men before speaking. He lowered his voice. ‘To be honest, Tom, today is a bad day for me, it is the anniversary of the death of my wife. It was thirty-four years ago today that she was killed by a hit and run driver. We had only been married three months and I’ve never got over it. It gets harder for me every year. They never caught the person responsible, but I live in hope.’

  ‘Christ, Edward, sorry. I had no idea.’ He placed an arm around Page’s shoulder appreciating he was a very private man and would never talk this freely to others, particularly an employee. Despite working outside the law, Rawston felt privileged to be in the position he was. He had an affection for Edward Page that he never had for his own father, or any member of his family.

  Both men looked skywards as a large jet flew overhead.

  ‘Don’t even think about it,’ said Rawston, ‘it’s full of lucky families off in search of some decent weather. Nothing more.’

  Page managed a hint of a smile and slapped his colleague on the back. ‘Glad you are with us, Tom.’

  ‘Me too.’

  Thirty minutes before delivery time Page gave the instruction to set engines to idle. Rawston allowed the boat to drift, making occasional corrections to ensure they remained in their required holding area.

  Page had been following a large blip since it appeared on the screen, travelling east to west it was now only three nautical miles from where Blue Star waited.

  ‘Must be our man,’ said Page again tapping the glass. ‘It should be offloading any time now.’

  The crew of a third surveillance craft, to the south of Blue Star and not showing on its radar screen, had already picked up the suspect ship and were busy checking it out. All three surveillance crews had instructions to monitor only, maintain radio silence and not give any passing vessel cause to believe they were under suspicion. A clear distance was to be maintained at all times.

  Rawston switched on the direction finder and waited for the response. It didn’t come.

  Page was anxious and reset the frequency. ‘It should have been activated by now, what the hell’s gone wrong?’ he said checking his watch for the third time. ‘It’s now ten minutes since delivery.’

  Rawston, too, was uneasy and toyed with the Blue Star’s throttle controls as if he was astride the Harley Davidson he would love to own.

  ‘Another five minutes and we go hunting, with or without the signal,’ said Edward Page. He was feeling the strain. Rawston had never seen him so distressed.

  Within two minutes the signal came through, Rawston sighed and Page issued his instruction. ‘Okay, Tom, go. Heading one-nine-zero degrees. Full throttle.’

  Rawston’s response was immediate. He pulled back on the throttles prompting the twin Volvo 370 hp diesels to react instantly and lift Blue Star’s bow clear of the water. Rawston was stimulated by the action; it never failed to bring back his SBS days which were the happiest of his life, especially when on active service. Ten more minutes with a minor change of heading and he had found what they were looking for. The three packages were clearly visible some fifty metres ahead. Throttles closed, the bow dropped and the three men in the stern struggled to retain their balance.

  ‘Right, get them aboard without delay and let’s get out of here,’ said Edward Page without taking his eyes from the screen. He considered this the most critical time.

  The final two surveillance boats had disappeared off the screen and all that remained was the delivery ship now well to the west. Page turned in anger, the direction finder signal was still being transmitted from the packages. ‘Tom,’ he screamed, ‘get that bloody transmitter shut down.’

  ‘Fuck it,’ shouted Rawston handing the controls over to Page. Within a minute he was back at the controls having appropriately chastised the ‘fisherman’ who had the responsibility to switch it off. ‘Sorry, Edward, he won’t do it again.’

  ‘Okay, Tom, let’s go home.’ Page took a final look at the radar screen which was now clear of any contact and went on deck to supervise the next stage.

  The individual packages were released from the netting and placed in three custom-built plastic drums. One package in each drum. The deeply recessed lids were secured and filled with crushed ice and fish.

  Rawston had turned on to an easterly heading as instructed and now waited for Page’s next cha
nge of course. He knew exactly when and what it would be and had begun his turn as Page spoke.

  ‘Zero-one-zero, Tom, should be about right.’ He stood erect, stretched his arms wide and arched his back. He began to half whistle and half blow a tune that Rawston could not place. The same tune he always whistled at this stage of the operation.

  Rawston grinned. He assumed it meant Page was satisfied that it had all gone well, despite the delays in receiving the signal and switching it off. Approaching five nautical miles from the marina they picked up the harbour light positioned on the western breakwater. Thirty minutes later he tuned to channel fifty and made radio contact.

  ‘Draycliffe Marina Control, this is Blue Star, we’ll be entering the harbour in five minutes, over.’

  ‘Roger, Blue Star, message received. Hope the fish were biting well. Out.’

  ‘That means he wants his usual couple for dinner,’ said Rawston. We need to be careful as he will be lurking nearby.’

  Blue Star berthed at 4. 20am. The ‘catch’ was loaded on to the trolleys along with three sets of fishing equipment. The marina’s night security officer just happened to be waiting at the end of pontoon eleven, as Rawston had predicted.

  ‘Morning, Jack,’ said Rawston, ‘how’s your night been so far?’

  ‘Very quiet, Tom,’ he reported as he peered into the leading trolley with eyes targeting the catch. ‘You are the only person I’ve spoken to. One day something exciting may happen here, like a drugs raid for example. Anything to break the monotony. Were the fish biting well tonight?’

  ‘Like there was no tomorrow. How would you like a couple of nice ones to take home for your dinner?’ Rawston took the two largest from ‘out’ of the drum and gave them to Jack in the plastic shopping bag the night-man conveniently had handy in his pocket.

  ‘Great, cheers, Tom, you’re a pal. The missus will appreciate these.’ And he appreciated he didn’t need to visit the supermarket on the way home.