by Mark Radford
GAME OF JUSTICE
By Mark Radford
KINDLE EDITION
© Copyright Mark Radford 2011
All characters are fictional and any resemblance to persons alive or dead is entirely coincidental
All rights reserved
No parts of this publication may be reproduced in any form without the permission of the author.
Was published previously in 2007 as a paperback format by Exposure Publishing
CHAPTER ONE
Another tranquil day had embraced the animal kingdom in the countryside. Birds hovered happily in their flights of fancy whilst hares munched away on what precious pieces of grass they could find in the almost barren fields. There was a time when grass was aplenty but many years of ignorance by the past regime of civilised governments had allowed global warming to wreak its havoc. A sunset was in motion over the countryside, the light diminishing. On the fringe of the woods, a man lay on his stomach, partly hidden by an embankment; the scrutiny of the hares seemed to have kept his interest for a little while. Slowly, he reached out for the rifle at his side and silently aimed it in the direction of the hares. A short pause between hunter and prey as his finger rested on the trigger. A shrill shot reverberated through the air. The peaceful sanctuary now thrown into chaos, birds screeched in fright and the hares scampered away scared. The man jumped quickly to his feet.
‘Gotcha’ he exclaimed in delight as he punched the air with his fist. The wait had paid off. He bent down, picked up his bag and hastened toward the downed prey. He grabbed the hare, stuffed its lifeless body quickly into his bag and started his retreat from the scene.
‘Stand right where you are and surrender.’ A voice boomed out through a loudhailer. The hunter had only gone a short distance and his face froze in fear at the order. He knew that he had been rumbled by the A.P.A. and instantly threw his bag to the ground and made a run for it. Engines started up, spotlights flashed on in the faded light of day and the hunter saw jeeps entering one side of the field in pursuit of him. He raced toward the gate on the other side of the field when the purple-clad foot soldiers suddenly bounded over the wall by the gate. They made rapid strides towards him, their guns at the ready, and any hopes he had of escape swiftly diminished. He stopped running and knew he was defeated. The hunter raised his hands as the jeeps jerked to a stop beside him. Blinding beams from the spotlights rained down on him as soldiers piled out of the jeeps to take him prisoner. Two soldiers grabbed him violently; his hands were thrust behind his back, the backs of his knees kicked hard by military boots, the searing pain forcing him to kneel as he was handcuffed. Another soldier roughly jabbed a monitor to the back of his neck and scanned it, in search of identity. The machine beeped his particulars from the microchip embedded in his neck and the soldier signalled to one of the jeeps. A jeep door creaked open and slammed closed and the hunter was aware of someone approaching him. Squinting up into the blinding spotlight, he tried to focus on the figure now looming over him. He stared in horror as he recognised the battle-hardened face and cropped cut grey hair from the media reports on TV and the newspapers. General Osti Skara was a heavyset man with a fearsome reputation. Skara took the ID reader from the soldier.
‘Morgan Forrester,’ he hissed menacingly, reading the name on the monitor as he eyed up the hunter. ‘Did you foolishly believe that the Animals Protection Army would allow you to get away with this?’
‘No, I thought I had it all planned out.’ Forrester responded, and received a savage punch in answer.
‘You address the General as sir,’ growled the soldier. The hunter felt the warmth of blood seeping from his lip where the blow had struck him.
‘Not only are you too stupid to succeed with your crime, but you also showed no respect for an officer upholding the law of the British President,’ the general spat disgustedly. A soldier walked up to General Skara and opened the hunter’s discarded bag. He pulled out the dead hare for Skara to see. ‘You have violated the law on a serious level, Mr Forrester. And you know the penalty for the slaughter of animals for food consumption under the 2020 treaty.’
‘The people should have the freedom of choice to eat meat if they wish,’ a defiant Forrester spoke out to the charge. A barrage of blows by soldiers struck him hard at the protest, and the pain became unbearable.
‘Not when we had won the war and introduced the treaty.’ Skara sharply reminded Forrester and raised his voice. ‘You need to be taught a harsh lesson, Mr Forrester, as once again you have failed to address me properly and you clearly have no regards for the laws. Prison will be too good for scum like you,’ the venom of the general’s words stung Forrester. He tried to get up from his kneeled position and argue his case but was rewarded by a further barrage of kicks and punches. Skara looked at the soldiers around him. ‘I think this man, Morgan Forrester, should do the game of justice.’ The men cheered their approval for the General as much as for his plan for the hunter.
‘What’s the hell is this game of justice…sir?’ Forrester spoke out in his pain and remembered to address the officer to avoid further beatings.
‘All in good time, you will see,’ General Skara said with a hideous glee. ‘Take him away.’
Forrester started to be dragged away towards a jeep. ‘No! Wait!’ he protested, fearful of the general’s plans for him. Skara laughed wickedly.
CHAPTER TWO
Carl Treyer hated call-outs at the crack of dawn. He would much rather be at home, snuggled up in bed with Selena, his fiancée, but duty called. The sun had raise, its warmth penetrated through the gentle breeze blowing on this mild Autumn day. Carl made his way towards the crime scene on the Salisbury Downs and walked up to the entrance of an enclosure, surrounded by a perimeter fence and approached the party of military police personnel.
‘Carl Treyer, Military Crimes Officer.’ He authoritatively held out his official police badge for inspection. Twenty-five years of age, with his swept back, light brown hair, his face boyish and it often took a few moments for most people to acknowledge his authority as a result. But the MPs soon saw that his credentials were in order.
‘Do please follow us sir,’ a member of the MP personnel advised him. They entered through the gate into the open countryside enclosure. Carl always had a fascination over his job as an MCO, especially being a civilian detective with no military background. A previous government from years gone by had changed the jurisdiction over crimes committed on military lands after the many public outcries on recruits whose deaths were left unexplained. The decision to demilitarise the investigations was taken to avoid future cover ups. Carl never knew what to expect on these call–outs, but the job became rightfully his when he achieved top-class status at police training college with his superior knowledge of military law and a keen eye for analysis of criminal motives. It helped that his father had been a military man before he was killed in the battle for democracy that led to the country’s present administration. As they approached the crime scene itself, Carl saw that the forensic team were already on site and he spotted a few colleagues in quiet discussions. Carl glanced around and saw that his team were surrounded by soldiers, their guns at the ready as they kept a lookout for lions that could predate for more victims. He entered the military cordon and was greeted by the sight of a naked man’s body laid on the ground, bloodied, huge chunks of flesh torn away from it, maul marks clearly visible. The face was no longer identifiable.
‘Christ, what the hell happened here Phil?’ Carl asked one of his colleagues.
‘It seems someone in a drunken stupor decided to strip off and get into the enclosure with the lions,’ came the response. ‘A whisky bottle was found nearby.’
Carl took in the surroundings, first running his gaze along t
he perimeter fence. It was high.
‘How could a drunken man climb that fence?’ ‘He didn’t,’ Phil remarked. ‘One of the soldiers found a loose piece in the fencing and he thinks that was how the guy got in. It’s plausible considering that the bottle was found near the fence.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Carl shook his head. ‘Not when there are signs saying the fence was electrified. I noticed them on the way in.’
‘I can explain that sir.’ A military policeman spoke up who had kept close to the civilian party and been eyeing them during this conversation.
‘Please do.’ Carl’s interest was piqued.
‘We interviewed Sergeant Dickens who is responsible for the maintenance of the perimeter fencing after we discovered the loose piece. He informed us that the electricity was switched off yesterday to allow maintenance work to take place on the section in question. However, there was no time for the work to be carried out or to put the power back on at the end of the day. This is an unfortunate incident.’ The MP gave the facts with clarity.
‘Yes, very unfortunate,’ replied Carl. ‘Why was there no time for a simple routine task?’ He enquired further.
‘Classified military commitments,’ the man answered sharply. Was the MP trying to eliminate their line of questioning? It concerned Carl that such a task to keep predators in their enclosure wasn’t a priority.
‘Who raised the alarm?’ Phil asked, a sudden change in tack used in the hopes of steering the questioning back around to where they wanted it. They weren’t finished yet.
‘The night sentry at the watchtower,’ the MP pointed out the tower, in the near distance. ‘He heard screams coming from this direction and shone the spotlight here in time to see the lions attack the man. He fired shots to disperse them and raised the alarm.’
‘We’ll need to speak with him as well.’ Treyer noted politely but firmly.
‘I’m afraid that’s not possible at the moment. He’s been taken off duty and reprimanded over the incident. ’
‘You’ll have to make him available to us,’ Carl responded bluntly. ‘This is a police matter and we need all witnesses present. You cannot interfere in the investigation and it troubles me that you have taken such action in my absence and without my jurisdiction.’
‘You will have to take the matter up with his commanding officer, Captain Bridger.’ The MP began to look annoyed. ‘How much longer will your people be? We don’t want the men’s safety compromised as the lions could return at any time.’
‘Fifteen minutes at the most.’ A member of the forensic team who was within earshot of the questioning had called this out.
‘We do need to escort your party off the premises,’ advised the MP, satisfied that the scene is being wrapped up. ‘Speak to Captain Bridger.’
‘Oh we will do so very shortly’ remarked Carl. ‘Thank you for your assistance. Could you step back please?’ The MP moved swiftly a short distance away from them, to allow them to finish off their investigation at the scene. He kept within earshot. It didn’t escape Carl’s attention.
‘Keep him back.’ He advised Phil over the MP.
Carl walked over nearer to the badly mauled body and mulled over the information that was given to him. He scrutinised the body closely, deep in thought. Would the man really have been so badly mauled that he had chunks of flesh missing if his screams had been heard straight away by the night sentry? How did he get here? They were miles from the nearest road and surely, he should have been caught sooner trespassing on military land. These and many more unanswered questions went through Carl’s mind. He watched the forensic team combed over the area and the body with their nanotechnology gadgets. Where forensics and an autopsy in the old days took many hours separately, such matters now came to a swifter conclusion, the nanotechnology more precise in its delivered analysis than the human eye.
‘Sir, you should see this.’ A member of the team called out to Carl. He quickly looked away and observed that the MP tried in vain to get closer but that Phil kept him at arm’s length. Carl went to the female assistant who had summoned him. She drew his attention to the victim’s lower right leg through her reader. It showed a bullet lodged deeply in the torn calf muscle.
‘Get it out.’ He instructed her and it confirmed his suspicion of what happened. A murder had taken place?
CHAPTER THREE
Carl turned the key and opened the door of his house in London; an open plan lounge with soft decorative furnishing that welcomed him after his investigation of the mauled victim. The place had a feminine touch to it; fresh flowers in a vase adjourned the coffee table by the beige leather sofa that faced the latest entertainment suite of a television and music centre, supported by white fluffy carpets and a brown silken rug. The room was scented lightly of lavender oils and everything packed neatly away into their places.
‘Hello darling. Need warming up?’ a softly spoken female voice called out from the kitchen as he closed the door.
‘More than anything Selena,’ Carl sighed, happy to be home.
‘I’ll put the kettle on then,’
He smiled at her little tease as he took his jacket off and made his way to the kitchen to find his sweetheart. Selena looked up at him with dark eyes set in her lovely delicate face. He still felt the sparkle between them. She was dressed in her working suit.
‘Oh you poor thing,’ she mocked him and duly obliged him with a cuddle, her petite frame fitting nicely in his arms. She finished off with a sensual kiss. ‘How was it?’
‘The kiss? Eight out of ten,’ he enthused, knowing what she really wanted to know.
‘The call–out, dopey,’ she scolded, and playfully slapped his arm.
‘Not a pretty sight to view. A naked guy mauled by lions with flesh chewed off’ putting the subject matter forward to her. He trusted her with the details of his cases and Selena sometimes offered her perspective views on them.
‘OH MY GOD! Are you okay?’ she enquired, now in a serious mood.
‘Yes I’m fine, but there’s something about it that bothers me’ Carl watched Selena go over to the boiled kettle and pour him some coffee. ‘The MP at the scene tried to convince me that the guy was a drunk who had made his way into the enclosure that held the lions, miles from the nearest road and without any soldiers having actually seen him get there.’ Selena returned to his side and handed him his mug. ‘Yet there was a bullet in his leg and no evidence of any other bullets or cartridges or any other signs of shooting!’
‘So you think its murder?’ She asked. Carl nodded. ‘Any idea of who the victim is?’
‘No, face got chewed off and the microchip in his neck eaten away.’
‘Oh please don’t!’ Selena backed mentally away from the grisly details, the image stuck in her mind. ‘What happens now?’ her voice quivered a little.
‘I’ll have to see if I can establish some kind of motive.’ He answered. Selena walked over to her work bag on the kitchen table, opened it and pulled out a notepad and pen.
‘Is there anything that I can report on for now?’ she asked.
‘Hold fire on that until I get the forensic reports back’ he grinned at her. ‘You know that you always get first dibs from me.’ She put the pad away but was itching to get the scoop on this new story but she had never betrayed Carl’s wishes.
Selena was a senior journalist for a national newspaper and Carl had never forgotten the day that they first met. He was working on a murder scene and she was one of the journalists reporting on the case. The attraction between them was instant and mutual with a romance that quickly blossomed after a friendly exchange of flirting between them when their paths crossed several times in their respective jobs. They had been together now for four years and were engaged to be married. The shared information from their professional lives came into play when a notorious serial killer that continually evaded capture took a shine to Selena who had reported heavily on his crimes. He was deeply offended when he found that she was dating Carl, a
police officer and vowed to kill him. Selena confided in Carl, the chilling threats he had made against him and together they pooled their resources to catch him. They succeeded and he was captured, later to died in prison. They knew then that they made a good team but respected the confidentiality of the information from each others profession where required from that day onwards. Selena looked at her watch.
‘I have got to get moving’ she hurriedly picked up her bag and kissed him on her way out. ‘Love you lots’ she called out after him. He responded with the same before the door opened and closed.
Carl sat for a few moments, contemplating the case and sipping his coffee when the doorbell rang. He smiled, thinking that Selena had perhaps forgotten her keys again and went over to the front door hoping for another kiss. He opened it and was a bit disappointed to see a man in motorcycle gear.
‘Courier service for a Mr Treyer’ the man asked.
‘That’s me.’
‘Can you sign here, please?’ the man said as he handed Treyer the paperwork. He signed it and took the package.
Carl closed the door and examined the handwriting on the package, but didn’t recognise it. He opened it up to find a DVD case that simply read Want to solve your morning case? It was hand-printed and sparked Carl’s curiosity immediately. He opened the case and went and put the mini disc in his DVD player. Switching on the TV and grabbing the remote, he sat down and pressed play.
Shaky images came to life on the screen and Carl saw a group of soldiers surrounding a man on his knees. He also saw the well-known figure of General Osti Skara approach the man.
‘Morgan Forrester’ he menacingly spoke the man’s name and Treyer quickly grabbed a pad and pen, jotting the name down. He watched, sickened at the brutality that Forrester was being subjected to. ‘What was that he said? Game of justice?’ Treyer whispered to himself. He watched Forrester being dragged away by the soldiers. Several moments of interference crackled on the screen as a camera was switched off and a new footage appeared on the screen. This time, Forrester was naked and it was night time. General Skara appeared once again.
