by Bill Kitson
Kovac was completely unnerved. For a second, his mind flashed back to his childhood, to the hazard of war-torn, shell-ruined streets of his native country where an unseen marksman could take down anyone bold enough to hazard venturing forth; even if their need was desperate. His sister had been cut down by one such, the precious loaf of bread she had secured for her family still clutched in her hand. He froze, unable to move, paralyzed by fear.
Shakila was not aware of the English phrase, ‘the last straw’, but this latest outbreak of violence was enough for her. Bullied by her family, threatened with death and forced to flee for her life, then she had been an unwilling witness to her friends being cut down on the boat. Now, the people who had rescued her were under threat. Shakila lashed out with her foot and kicked hard – hard and accurately, sending the pistol spinning from Kovac’s hand. Panic-stricken, he turned and thrust his way out of the motorhome. Ignoring the step, he jumped clear and began to run. The man he had been threatening gave chase, ignoring the protests and warnings of his partner.
Kovac headed straight for his office. In his blind panic, he had no clear idea where he was aiming for, as long as it was beyond the range of the sniper who had shot his deputy. He had almost reached his safe haven when he halted abruptly. The risk from the hillside sniper forgotten as he faced the new, more immediate, and far more potent threat facing him.
A few yards to the rear, Kovac’s pursuer had also stopped running. The instructions issued by one of the two armed police officers were terse, and to the point. They were reinforced by the automatic weapons pointed at them. Obeying these instructions, Kovac knelt on the ground before lying spread-eagled, face down on the grass that was still wet from the overnight dew. His pursuer followed suit and within seconds both men had been handcuffed.
Fleming’s radio crackled. ‘Two suspects detained and secured,’ one of the officers reported. ‘Vehicle secure. One casualty.’
She gestured for the uniformed men around her to approach. As they got close to the motorhome a young woman emerged with her hands on her head; her expression one of terror. She was closely followed by a second adult clad in jeans, checked shirt, and baseball cap. An armed officer’s instructions were being ignored.
‘I said hands on head,’ the officer ordered.
There was a loud sigh as the baseball cap was removed to reveal a woman. She looked across the caravan park towards the office, then glanced at the police officers surrounding the motorhome. ‘Who’s in charge here?’ she demanded.
Fleming looked at the speaker. ‘Detective Superintendent Fleming. I’m in charge, and you are under arrest. Do as the officer says.’
The woman ignored her. Instead she pointed to the man who had been chasing Kovac. ‘Kindly instruct your officers to release my partner,’ she told Fleming. ‘He isn’t one of the gang.’
Before Fleming could act she heard Mironova’s voice over her radio. ‘The perimeter is secure and we’ve detained the shooter, complete with his rifle. We’re entering the park now. I’ve detailed a couple of men to investigate a suspect vehicle parked on the other side of the hill. We think it might be the sniper’s car.’
‘Meet us by the site office,’ Fleming told her. She turned to the TSG leader. ‘Have you ordered the paramedics to the injured man?’
‘On their way,’ he replied.
‘Now,’ – she turned to the woman from the motorhome and was about to question her further, when, to her annoyance, saw the woman was attempting to use her mobile. ‘Put that away! And when you can spare me a moment of your valuable time I want some questions answered,’ Fleming snapped. Her irritation deepened as the woman raised one hand, commanding Fleming’s silence.
‘Get the phone off that woman,’ Fleming ordered one of the officers as she turned away, striding angrily towards the office and the detained men. As she did so, she saw Mironova approaching.
‘What’s going on?’ Clara asked.
At that moment, they were interrupted. ‘Will you take those handcuffs off my partner immediately?’ It was more of a demand than a request.
‘Nobody gets released until I know exactly what the hell’s going on around here,’ Fleming snarled angrily.
The woman reached for her jeans pocket and the ARU officer raised his weapon. ‘Hands where I can see them,’ he ordered.
The woman sighed, exasperated. ‘OK then. You get my ID out. Let me be perfectly blunt, Superintendent what-ever-your-name-is, you aren’t in charge here. I am! And if you have any doubts about that I suggest you refer to Chief Constable O’Donnell. And do it now!’
‘Jackie,’ the man on the ground called out, ‘do as she says. I’ll explain everything.’
Fleming and Mironova looked at each other, astonished and more than a little apprehensive. The voice was familiar – very familiar. This wasn’t going quite as they’d planned.
Clara walked over and peered down at the prisoner. She gestured to the armed officer standing alongside him. ‘Do as he says. Let him go. He’s a police officer. But what the hell he’s doing here is another question entirely. He’s supposed to be on leave in France with his son.’
Chapter twenty-five
Once the handcuffs had been removed, Nash rolled over and got to his feet. ‘Thank you.’ He nodded to the officer, then, to Mironova and Fleming’s further surprise, he walked past them without a sideways glance and went to where his companions were standing. ‘Are you OK, Alisha?’ they heard him ask. ‘And how about you, Shakila? Are you all right?’
The younger woman looked even more terrified. ‘You are police?’
‘It’s all right, these are friends of mine. You’re safe now. We are all police officers. I promised you that we would help you and I meant it. It’s all over now, you’re quite safe.’ He slipped a reassuring arm around Shakila’s shoulders. ‘Jackie, Clara, I’d like you to meet Shakila. This extremely brave young lady is our star witness in a shooting.’
The detectives watched; their bemusement furthered when they saw the older woman put her hand on Nash’s arm in a gesture that was almost a caress. ‘We’re both fine, Mike, but that phone call I took before this blew up means I have to leave immediately. There should be a car arriving any minute now. The French police have identified some suspects and a possible location in Brest and they want me there to liaise.’ She glanced around. ‘Anyway, we’re done here. Can I leave you to sort this lot out? All that needs doing is tidying up the odds and ends, doing the paperwork, and taking care of Shakila, of course.’
‘No problem,’ Nash assured her.
Alisha turned to Shakila and hugged her. ‘I’m sorry I must leave, but Mike will look after you. I promise. Without you we wouldn’t have solved the case so quickly.’
As she was speaking one of the officers on the gate came on the radio. ‘There’s a car here from the DIU. The driver says he has instructions to collect a Mrs Nash and drive her to the airport.’
‘Tell them I’ll be there in a minute after I grab my bag.’ Alisha instructed him. ‘Walk with me, Mike.’
Nash looked across at his colleagues and saw the astonished speculation in their eyes. He managed to suppress a smile, turning away to speak to Shakila. ‘Don’t worry; I’ll be back in a minute.’
He turned to leave, and missed the words Clara mouthed to Jackie. ‘Mrs Nash?’ Nor did he see the helpless shrug that Fleming gave by way of a reply.
As they walked to the car, Alisha saw Nash grin, the humour of the situation unable to be contained any longer. ‘What are you laughing at?’ she asked.
‘My colleagues. They’re consumed with curiosity now having heard you described as Mrs Nash.’
‘Come to that, so am I. Did I sleep through the ceremony?’ Alisha asked.
‘Well I had to sign us in as a married couple, didn’t I? I wasn’t sure who we could trust.’
‘But why should that intrigue your team so much? Surely they’ll realize it was part of the act?’
‘Possibly, possibly not. Besides
, I haven’t told them yet that we’re not married! When I do, they’ll probably be wondering how far we carried the husband and wife act.’
‘Oh, I see.’ They had reached the car, and Alisha turned to him. Nash could see her eyes were alight with mischief. She glanced back, and sure enough the detectives were staring in their direction. ‘It would be a shame to disappoint them,’ she murmured. ‘It was great fun working with you again, Mike. Almost like old times in the Met.’ She reached forward and kissed him, long and passionately. ‘That should get the rumours going nicely.’ She patted his arm and got into the car. ‘I’ll be back to give a statement as soon as the job allows.’
Nash waited until the car had disappeared from view then turned to walk back up the hill. Clara, who knew Nash better than most, thought he looked sad. She glanced at Fleming. ‘Yes, I agree,’ Clara told her.
‘I haven’t said anything.’
‘No, but you were thinking it.’
For once, Clara had read Mike wrong. His expression wasn’t sad, merely thoughtful. Whatever he’d expected from Alisha it wasn’t a teasing farewell kiss.
Fleming signalled to the ARU team leader, who was waiting to report. ‘We’ve removed the sniper we arrested on the hillside, together with his weapon. We’ve run a DVLA check on the car we found. It’s registered to a man by the name of Ronald Mason. He has form, but not in this country. When we gave the car the once-over we found something very interesting in the boot, so we’ve left it for CSI.’
‘What did you find?’ Fleming asked.
‘An Indian club, the sort used by fitness fanatics. It was covered in what looked like dried blood. I thought you’d be interested, given the report about the men killed at that picnic site. I’ve suggested that CSI liaise with the garage to pull the vehicle in for detailed examination.’
‘Good work,’ Fleming thanked him and turned to Nash. ‘Well, go on then,’ she demanded. ‘I think you owe both of us an explanation. Not least about “Mrs Nash”.’
Nash shrugged his shoulders. ‘It was a deception operation. We were tasked with finding where the drugs coming into our area were entering the UK. DIU knew from information received that the North Yorkshire coast was the entry point, but weren’t sure exactly where and how they were getting inland from the coast. I was co-opted to help Alisha. We posed as a married couple acting as tourists in the motorhome. That meant we could drive up and down the coast at will as information was passed to us, and investigate without attracting suspicion.’
‘Where did you get the vehicle from?’ Clara asked.
‘I borrowed it from a friend. The Range Rover’s in their garage.’
‘Friend?’ Clara muttered acidly. ‘I didn’t know you had any.’
Nash ignored the barb and signalled Shakila to come and join them. ‘What we didn’t bargain for was this young lady. ‘Clara, Jackie, I told you that Shakila is very brave, and I think you’ll agree that she had to be in view of what happened. Shakila was on board the vessel, Blooming Rose, in the North Sea when the owners were shot. She was a witness to the murders, and saw the killer. This morning she spotted Ivan Kovac on site here and identified him as the man who committed the murders; which is when Alisha texted for backup. You arrived in the nick of time.’ Their eyes widened as Nash told them the rest of the youngster’s story. ‘Shakila’s details and involvement have already been given to the chief; I had to spell it out for her – literally. She has arranged a protection order for her and is fully aware of what’s been happening. In exchange for her evidence, and because of her special circumstances, the chief has already obtained the Home Secretary’s permission to grant Shakila permanent asylum is England.’
‘If the chief constable is fully aware of what’s happening that is more than I am,’ Clara muttered crossly.
Nash ignored her for a moment. ‘We need to run a ballistics test on that pistol of Kovac’s. It’s inside the caravan; Shakila kicked it out of his hand. I told you she was brave. I think the weapon will prove to be the same one that was used in those shootings on the boat.’
‘So all this time when we thought you were on leave, you were working.’ Jackie smiled. ‘No wonder the chief wouldn’t let me ask you to come back.’
‘Yes, we thought you’d taken Daniel off to France on an extended holiday to get over the news about Becky,’ Clara added.
Nash looked from one to the other of them. ‘What date is it?’ he asked, suddenly looking alarmed. ‘You lose track of time in one of those things.’ He gesture to the motorhome.
Fleming glanced at her watch and told him. ‘I wonder,’ Nash said, ‘with a bit of luck I might just be able to save my reputation. Excuse me for a minute, will you?’ He wandered away and they could see he was using his mobile.
Fleming turned to Mironova. ‘I’m going to supervise the transfer of the arrested men. As the cells at Helmsdale are full, I’ll send them to Netherdale. That way, not only can I interview them, but I can also get the chief constable to give me a full briefing about what Nash and this DIU woman have been up to. It will be nice to find out exactly what’s been going on. Will you see to the crime scene? Once CSI have finished with the motorhome, get Pearce and the TSG to help you go through the office of that guy, Kovac. I understand he’s the park owner. From what little the chief told me, she believes the DIU think he’s the head of one of the drugs gangs, so you should ask CSI to do a chemical sweep as well. I want every building searched, shop, storerooms; everything. Get TSG to bag all the paperwork and you can take it back to Helmsdale. I want to know what else this guy is into, and what contacts he has. The same with any mobiles you come across. I want names and addresses of everyone on this site. Nobody leaves or enters, until we’ve finished. I’ll get the team on the gate to ensure that.’ Fleming paused. For breath? Clara wondered.
‘Sorry,’ Jackie apologized. ‘I should know better. You know what to do just as well as I do. I’ve also got to sort out this bloke called Stanley. We’ll have to get some proper identification and charge him.’
Fleming was busy with the prisoners when Nash returned. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked.
Clara told him.
‘Oh, good.’ He smiled. ‘She can give me, I mean us, a lift.’ He gestured to Shakila, who was waiting uncertainly nearby.
‘Mike, will you please explain what’s going on?’
Nash smiled. ‘Tomorrow afternoon,’ he told her. ‘It will all become clear then. Now I really do have to go.’
Clara watched the vans containing the prisoners leave. The wounded man was already en route to hospital under guard, and with the departure of the escorting officers, her forces were depleted. The forensic officers and the TSG team were now tasked with searching Kovac’s office; she and Viv, along with two uniformed officers, were the only ones left on site.
As they awaited the completion of the CSI search the officers spoke to the residents of the static caravans and interviewed members of the caravan park staff. These were the receptionist, the employees in the shop and cafe, and a couple of cleaners whose principal task was to care for some of the vans that were hired out. None of the employees was able to add anything to their less than adequate store of knowledge about the park owner’s activities.
It was well into the evening before the scientific officers had completed their initial work. The team leader, reporting to Clara, told her they had found no drugs on the premises, although there were traces that indicated heroin had been stored at some point in a cupboard within the caravan used as an office. Clara and Viv accepted the evidence bags containing all the paperwork and the laptop from the leader of the TSG team. ‘You might be interested in this,’ he said as he handed Clara a small evidence bag.
She squinted at the tiny object inside. ‘What is it?’
‘Some sort of bugging device, I think. But forensics will confirm it. It was secreted on the underside of the desk. Someone else must have been curious as to what was happening here as well as you,’ he suggested, before he heade
d back to the team’s van.
‘Let’s get this lot back to the office and then go home. You can drop that device in at Netherdale on your way, please, Viv.’
‘No problem. It’s a good job there wasn’t too much paper to sort through,’ Viv suggested as he watched Clara lock the door. ‘This guy obviously didn’t trust people around him enough to commit himself to hard copies. There was a shredder in there too, and it looked to have been very well used.’
Clara handed the key to the uniformed officer charged with guarding the caravan overnight, and the detectives set off back to Helmsdale where they got a pleasant surprise. Lisa Andrews had been called in from her day off at Jackie’s urgent request, and had begun preparing and collating reports.
‘Jackie said to tell you neither Kovac nor Mason will say anything, beyond giving their names. Apparently, according to what Jackie said, they’re not called Kovac or Mason. They’re both called “no comment”, which Jackie wasn’t happy about. The other thing she mentioned was about Mr “No Comment” Mason. His driving licence shows he lives in Nottingham and to the best of our knowledge he has absolutely no connection with anyone from this part of the country, and yet, as soon as he got to Netherdale he demanded to speak to his solicitor. He gave the name, and recited the local phone number without being prompted or needing a phone book. It transpires he uses the same practice as our fishermen friends.’
As with the earlier arrests of the drivers of the fish vans, as soon as Ron Mason had spoken to his solicitor, news of his detention reached Tony Hartley only minutes after the call. But Hartley already knew this from his man employed as a seasonal worker on site. Within half an hour of hearing this, just as Mason was greeting his legal representative, Hartley was locking the door to his operational premises for the final time. As he walked over to his car, the only evidence of his involvement lay inside the laptop he was carrying.
