Before It's Too Late

by Jane Isaac

  I moved back to the pit. “Lonny?”

  “What can you see?”

  “We’re surrounded by fields. There looks like a road in the distance. If we can get you out… ”

  “No!”

  “I can’t leave you here!”

  “I’ll just delay things with my ankle. You go, get help.”

  “I can’t… ”

  “You have to, Min.”

  I hesitated a minute.

  “Step back.”

  I moved away from the hole just as a trainer found its way through. It bounced off the wall beside me, followed by another.

  “Take my shoes,” he said. “They’ll be too big, but at least they’ll protect your feet.”

  My heart was in my mouth. What if our captor returned and found Lonny alone? I was torn, torn between helping Lonny, finding a way to get him out, or running to get help.

  “Go! Quickly!”

  The urgency in his voice kick-started me into action. I pushed my feet into the trainers. He was right, they were too big, like paddle boats around my feet but I tightened the laces as much as I could and stood.

  “I’ll be as quick as I can!”

  I moved forward tentatively, listening hard with every step.

  The sun flexed its muscles from its central position in the clear blue sky. I had to raise a hand to shield my eyes, although the instant warmth on my skin felt blissful. A quick scan of the area showed I was up high. There was a concrete path, wide enough for a single-track road to my right, beyond the mound of concrete and rubble. I shuddered. This was the likely route of our kidnapper. I couldn’t afford to use that. To my left a myriad of patchwork fields tumbled down into the valley below. In the far distance I could see a road. One, two, three cars whizzed past. I turned and headed down the field towards it.

  I swayed and tripped as I navigated my way down. Lonny’s trainers became heavy and clumsy. After only a few minutes, my legs ached, my mouth was parched.

  I passed a copse to my right, moved over the brow of the hill and came face to face with a hawthorn hedge at the bottom. My heart sank. There was no gate, no stile, no way through. I turned and glanced behind me. Perhaps there was a natural opening further back, into the copse maybe? But the thought of retracing my steps back up there, even if I had enough energy in my weary limbs was overwhelming.

  I moved down the hedging, searching for an area where the branches that intertwined together to form a natural wall were less dense. Finally I reached a small gap. If I curled up and moved through on my knees I could just about make it. Armed with a thick stick from nearby I batted the surrounding area in an attempt to increase the size of the hole. Finally, I was through.

  Then I heard a noise.

  It sounded like a loud snort. I turned. A herd of black and white cattle crowded in the far corner, less than two hundred yards away. Fear engulfed me. I’d seen cows before in photographs of the countryside back home, but having lived in a city for all my life, I’d never seen them in the flesh, and certainly never been in a field with them. Primal fear flushed my veins. I kicked off the shoes that were slipping and sliding around my feet, and ran as fast as I could. Through another hedge. Stones snagged at my feet, the sun picked at every inch of bare flesh. My vision blurred, my knees weakened, stomach ached, but I couldn’t stop.

  Another noise. The sound of an engine. I could barely see now, but my ears were sharp. It was in the field, closing in on me. And that’s when I realised the game was up.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Back in his office, Jackman shoved his hands in his pockets, leant against the side of the window frame and stared out into the evening. The interview had been frustrating. Whittaker knew the score – it was up to the police to find proof of his direct involvement in the kidnapping. And without witnesses or camera footage on the stretch of the Hagley Road where he claimed to have met the stranger that persuaded him to send the email, they could neither prove nor refute his account.

  So far, background checks showed no association with Min Li or Lonny Cheung, let alone Stratford College. But Jackman could tell by Whittaker’s reaction to the photo of Min’s uncle that he’d seen him before. Suddenly a flashback from the Skype interview with Min’s parents skipped into his head. Mr Li had said that his brother was good with languages. The ransom notes were sent in Mandarin as well as Cantonese. Did Qiang draft the notes for Whittaker to send? He needed to find the link between them and fast.

  The door creaked as it opened behind him, breaking his concentration. He turned as Reilly entered.

  “Ahh, Will,” he said as he seated himself in the chair opposite. “Good to see that we are finally making some progress. Any news on the victims?”

  Jackman shook his head and shared the details of the interview.

  “A likely story,” Reilly replied.

  “I don’t think it’s him,” Jackman said.

  “We know he sent the email.”

  “Yes, he sent an email. But I think someone else did the kidnapping. I think he had help.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Something about the whole situation doesn’t ring true. The ransom demands are written in grammatically correct Mandarin and Cantonese. What’s his link to the Chinese community? We’ve checked with the DVLA. He doesn’t own a car, a motorbike and he doesn’t even hold a licence. How would he get over here to Stratford? How would he make the ransom collection?”

  “Half the criminal fraternity of Warwickshire doesn’t have a licence. It doesn’t stop them.”

  “That doesn’t answer the Chinese link. I’m still wondering whether we should release him.”

  “What?”

  “We can only keep him until tomorrow morning and, right now, unless he gives us a name or CSI find something at his house, we haven’t enough to plant a charge on him.”

  “Forensics might come up with something. We’ll get an extension.”

  “On what grounds? That he sent an email? That makes him an accessory, but if we charge him with that and he doesn’t talk we’re no closer to the truth. The victims are still out there.” Jackman paused, weariness was creeping into his voice. “Look, we know that he’s involved in this in some way. If he is the driving force, the very fact that we’ve tracked him down is going to scare him. Even if they are dead, he may still need to dispose of their bodies, clothes or other evidence he might have stashed somewhere. And if he’s not in charge, then it’s likely he’s going to try to make contact with whoever is. I don’t think we can miss a chance like this.”

  “Oh, come on Will, I’m not sanctioning surveillance on Whittaker when I see absolutely no benefit. We’ve spent a small fortune on this case – tracking the boyfriend for twenty-four hours… ”

  “He was a strong lead with motive… ”

  Reilly cut through his words, “Search parties at Clifford Chambers.”

  “You organised that!” Jackman could feel his fatigue gradually being replaced by anger.

  “We just need to work him over a bit harder. Chuck him in a cell for the night. That’ll give him a little clarity of mind.” Reilly checked his watch. “Right, I need to be off. Got another press conference at 5pm. Be good to share the developments.”

  Jackman seethed as he watched him stride out of the room.

  He looked back at his notes. Relying on questioning was a risky strategy, especially since Whittaker wasn’t giving them anything. They needed a new lead, some fresh evidence. He reached for his phone, dialled Gray and requested that they step up the search for Min’s uncle.

  Davies’ face appeared around the door as he replaced the receiver. “Sir.” Her face was sombre. “They’ve found a girl they believe to be Min Li. You need to come now.”

  Jackman turned left off the A3400 and onto a single-track road that passed a collection of industrial units on the left before it became rough and uneven. He followed the track up the winding hill until he reached a couple of police cars parked at an angle, next to an ol
d Land Rover. A cluster of uniformed officers stood beside them, one of them speaking into his radio. Blue and white chequered police tape cordoned off the area which included a nearby rubbish tip and two adjoining barns beyond.

  The first person Jackman recognised when he climbed out of the car was PS Barby, the duty sergeant. He approached him and shook his hand. “Thanks for getting everything set up here,” he said. “What do we know?”

  “The farmer, Mr James Edwards, was fencing three fields away,” he paused to point to a patchwork of fields that stretched down to the road, “when he saw the girl who matched Min Li’s description. She appeared from a gap in a hedge. She was weary and almost immediately lost consciousness. When the ambulance arrived she came around for a few seconds. Just kept uttering the same name: Lonny.” They took Min to hospital. We searched the area and found these barns. There’s a pit in one of them, covered by a grate. Lonny Cheung was still in there. He said they were trying to escape when he sprained his ankle.”

  “Are they both okay?”

  “The paramedics said Min Li’s suffering from a mixture of exhaustion and dehydration. They’ve taken them both to hospital.”

  “Great. Get a full search team out here, will you? I want this whole area examined.” He looked up at the sky, which had now darkened into patches of blues and purples like a nasty bruise. Heavy rain was threatening. “As soon as you can.” Jackman thanked him and moved across to the Land Rover. The tall figure of Mr Edwards in an open-necked green shirt, jeans and wellies leant against it. He was twirling a flat cap in his hands, over and over, eyes fixed on the countryside.

  Jackman tilted his head to catch his attention and introduced himself. “Could you tell me exactly what happened?”

  Mr Edwards turned to him. His eyes were slightly glazed. “I’d finished fencing in the willow field at the bottom.” He pointed down in the same direction as Barby. “I’d just climbed into the Land Rover and revved the engine when she appeared through a tiny gap in the hedge, right in front of me.” He gulped. “I only just hit the brakes in time.” He shook his head, as if he still couldn’t believe what he’d seen. “She was dirty, her clothes ripped and grimy, her hair matted. But as soon as I saw her I knew it was that girl on the television. The one that was missing. She had no shoes on her feet. God knows what she’s been through, poor kid.” He paused, continued to twirl the cap in his hands. “She’d passed out by the time I reached her. Only woke up briefly when the ambulance and police arrived. They said they wanted to comb the area, find out where she’d come from and asked me for any landmarks. I couldn’t think at first. I mean there’s a derelict house on the bridle way further back, the industrial units across the way. I didn’t even think of these barns until the last minute. Haven’t used them in years. We only come up here to dump our farm rubbish.”

  Jackman thanked Mr Edwards, left Davies to take his details, donned his overshoes and gloves and climbed over the tape.

  The vista from this point offered excellent views over the patchwork of fields that covered the surrounding countryside and reached down to the A3400. The two adjoining barns were situated behind a mound of soil, broken wooden crates and rusted farm machinery. He walked around the exterior. An elder bush almost covered the nearside, so much so that the barns faded into the background, their view obscured from further down the hill. A small copse was set back into the hill nearby. He glanced down. The main road must be at least a quarter of a mile away. He wondered how long the captor had searched for this location – something isolated enough that pedestrians wouldn’t hear any calls, but with a track that led up from the highway to a dead end next to the barns. That was his route to transport his prisoners. And with cloned plates, any camera footage that may be available from the industrial units nearby wouldn’t help to locate the van. Clever.

  A mixture of rubble and broken roof tiles crunched under his feet as he walked into the barn. The first thing he saw was a battered old wooden ladder that leant against the far wall. He sidestepped a CSI who was photographing the entrance to the pit from various angles and turned to find Davies scrabbling over the tape to join him. “What were these barns used for?” he asked as she joined him.

  “Nobody knows. They were built during WWII. Part of the old airfield, but of course that’s all gone now. This land was bought by the Edwards family around forty years ago.”

  “Looks like they’re about to collapse.” Jackman turned and felt the edge of his shoulder catch the sidewall that made a feeble attempt to join the two barns together, loosening a spray of mortar dust that fell to the floor. “What about the pit?”

  “The farmer thinks that maybe it was used to store some kind of weapon during the war, but he doesn’t know for sure. Says it was there when they bought it, complete with grill.”

  Jackman bent down and took a closer look at the blisters of rust that littered the rungs of the metal grill. “There’s only a pit on this side?”

  “Yes. The farmer fixed up the chain to secure it so that either a dog-walker or kids didn’t wander in and fall down, although I don’t think you get many dog-walkers up here. There aren’t any supported paths through this part. The road we took up is privately owned by the farm. There’s an entrance further up the A3400 into a bridle way, but it veers off to the other side of the wood and leads in the opposite direction. I’m guessing the kidnapper replaced the lock. It wouldn’t have been too difficult to cut the old one off with bolt-cutters.”

  Jackman looked up to see daylight streaming in through wide gaps in the roof. It cast distorted shadows over the CSI inside the pit who was now knelt down examining a blanket in the corner. He was just about to climb down and join him when a voice spoke up behind him.

  “Careful, sir.” Jackman turned and followed the voice to another CSI in the corner. “We’ve only just started down there.”

  Jackman nodded and instead crouched down beside the entrance to the pit. Immediately he reeled at the thick stench of urine. The smell was powerful in the confined area and he raised his hand to his nose. The blanket in the corner was so ingrained with dirt that he could only just make out the original tartan effect. He pointed, shouted back to Davies, “We need to get those bagged up, see if we can locate the seller.”

  He scanned the four-metre-square area. At the moment it appeared that Min had been trapped in there for five nights. Lonny for two. The debris in the far corner of the pit indicated their captor had provided blankets, food and water. Why go to so much trouble to keep them alive when the ransom was paid? And why keep them together?

  Something in the concrete caught his eye. “Excuse me?”

  The CSI examining the blanket looked up.

  “What’s that?”

  Jackman watched him lean in to take a closer look.

  “It looks like she’s carved her name into the brickwork and a date. 19.5.14.”

  “The date she went missing. Thanks. Get a photograph of that, will you?”

  The CSI nodded and continued with his work. Jackman stared at the powdery floor. Reilly would be strutting around the station as if he’d won the lottery. The discovery of the pit would enable him to gain another twenty-four hours on the custody of Whittaker while forensics meticulously examined the area and a team searched the wider vicinity to see if he had a provable link to the crime scene.

  As he wandered out of the barn, Jackman remembered Graeme Ward’s claims of seeing a white van matching the description of the one they suspected was used in the kidnapping on the main road. In view of his son’s involvement in the Readman murder they’d speculated that he’d possibly got it confused with Carl’s van. But his statement said that he walked the fields all around Clifford Chambers. Maybe he had seen the van with the rust mark around the petrol cap along the A3400 after all.

  Jackman turned back and looked at the old wooden ladder that leant against the side of the barn that he assumed the kidnapper would have used to transport his victims into the pit. He pictured Whittaker carrying Min do
wn. It would be a struggle. He was a small man, but she was slight so it was feasible. Maybe he drugged her to make it easier. But Lonny? His picture indicated that he was tall and heavier built. He must have had a weapon. Either that or some help.

  Jackman reached for his phone and dialled the incident room. Keane answered on the third ring.

  Jackman didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Check with the officers at the hospital and make sure that both victims have a police presence with them at all times, please.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Jackman and Davies nodded to the officer standing outside the hospital room and slowly entered. Min was fast asleep. Her skin was pallid and drawn. Dark circles hung beneath her eyes; a crusted graze ran the length of her chin.

  They turned as another figure entered behind them, dressed in a dark suit. An ID tag hung loosely from her neck. “Can I help you?”

  Jackman and Davies flashed their cards. A messy ponytail bounced as she introduced herself as Doctor Carpenter and shook their hands. “She’s in no fit state for questions right now,” the doctor said, picking up the charts at the end of the bed and perusing them.

  “How is she doing?” Jackman asked.

  The doctor scribbled something on the chart and replaced it in the metal partition at the end of the bed. “There are no signs of any long-term physical damage. She was very distressed when they brought her in, so we’ve given her a gentle sedative. We’ll keep her in overnight for observations.”

  “What about the baby?” Davies asked.

  “All seems fine.” Doctor Carpenter moved towards the door and gestured for them to exit. “But I don’t think you guys will get much out of her today. She needs to rest.”

  They approached the door. Just as the doctor opened it, Jackman asked, “Did you treat the other victim, Lonny Cheung?”