by Ellis, Tim
He retraced his steps and made his way outside onto Portugal Street.
Phone Nancy Green jumped into his head. He sat down on the steps and watched the people moving along the street.
He ignored the thirteen messages from Xena and called Judy Moody at the station.
‘Could you give me the number of the CPS please, Judy?’
‘I’ve often wondered what telephone enquiry staff look like. Maybe I look like someone who works at a telephone enquiry establishment. Do you think I look like one of those people, DS Gilbert?’
‘Absolutely not. You’re a key member of Hoddesdon MIT, and anybody who says anything different is a fool.’
‘Yes, that will get you the number.’ She read it off. ‘Have a nice day, Sergeant.’
You just needed to know how to treat people. He rang the number she’d given him.
‘Crown Prosecution Service. Tracy speaking. How can I be of assistance?’
‘Could I speak to Nancy Green, please?’
‘Who’s calling?’
‘Detective Sergeant Rowley Gilbert from Hoddesdon Police Station.’
‘Just one moment.’
He wondered how far the Tate Modern was from where he was sitting. Someone there would surely know about the Otto Steinert picture.
‘Hello, DS Gilbert.’ It was Tracy again.
‘Yes.’
‘I’m sorry, but we have no one called Nancy Green working at this CPS.’
His heart was in his mouth, and he was having trouble breathing. ‘Surely there’s some mistake?’
‘No, no mistake. I have the list in front of me.’
‘But she had an official-looking CPS identity card. She said she was taking Detective Constable Koll into protective custody. She . . . Oh God!’
***
‘Ian Rome, please,’ Kowalski said, showing his warrant card to the middle-aged receptionist.
They were at the Children & Families building on Wrekin Road in Wellington, Telford, hoping that Ian Rome would give Harry access to the three files on his parents.
It didn’t look as though he was going to get home today. He’d have to phone Matilda later and let her know. It was too much to hope that everything would go according to plan – not that he had a plan.
‘Please take a seat, I’ll see if Mr Rome is available, Sir.’
A squat man with a combover and a paunch appeared. ‘DCI Kowalski, how can I help?’
‘This is Harry Hawkesby . . .’
Harry smiled and shook Rome’s hand.
‘. . . Harry is here to take a look at the files relating to his parents, and I need to look at them as well.’ He turned to Harry. ‘Show Mr Rome the letter he sent you.’
Harry thrust the letter at Rome.
Rome looked at the letter and said, ‘I must sign a dozen of these each day.’
‘Yeah well . . .’ Harry began.
‘You stated in the letter that Harry could see his adoption file, which he’s now done. However, you make no mention of the three files relating to his parents . . . He has the reference numbers there, and he’d like to see those files please.’
‘If you read the letter carefully, it states that you should ring up and indicate your desire to see the file or files. It then takes approximately six weeks to de-sanitize a file . . . three files could take anywhere up to three months . . .’
‘Three months!’ Kowalski exploded. ‘I haven’t got three bloody months.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Rome said. ‘But what’s your interest in these files?’
Bypassing the prologue he got straight to the main story and pulled out the newspaper article from his jacket pocket. He opened it and held it up in front of Rome. ‘Did you see that in yesterday’s papers?’
‘Yes.’
‘The third woman is my wife. The second woman we think is Harry’s sister, but as far as he knows he hasn’t got a sister. That woman has kidnapped my wife. I want my wife back, and I’ll do anything to make that happen if you get my meaning, Mr Rome.’
‘I get your meaning, Chief Inspector. Okay, in the spirit of multi-agency co-operation let’s see what we can do. Follow me.’
They followed him into the lift. He pressed for the fifth floor. Once there he put them in a room and took the post-it note off Harry with the three reference numbers on it. ‘Would you like coffee?’
‘That’d be great, Mr Rome,’ Kowalski said. The files and a coffee! Maybe his luck was changing.
A very pretty young woman brought the coffee and fluttered her eyelashes at Harry.
‘You seem to have a way with the ladies, Harry.’
‘Yeah! Lydia’s noticed that as well.’
‘That’s the receptionist at your garage?’
‘Yeah. I don’t know how it happened, but we seemed to be engaged.’
‘Well, if I recall from my days as a man of means by no means – you must have got down on one knee and proposed to her.’
‘She says I did, but I don’t remember doing it.’
‘Were you drunk?’
‘Yeah, I’d had a few.’
‘What about a ring?’
‘She says she’s happy to wait, so I’m saving like mad and doing all the overtime I can get my hands on.’
‘Sounds to me like you’ve been harpooned, Harry.’
‘You think so, Mr Kowalski?’
‘Definitely.’
‘What do you think I should do about it?’
‘Do you want to marry her?’
‘I don’t know. There’s a lot of nice girls out there.’
‘Here’s my take on it. If you don’t know whether you want to marry a woman or not, then you probably shouldn’t. When you do find the one you want to marry – you’ll know.’
‘Is that what happened to you?’
‘Exactly like that, Harry. As soon as I saw Jerry I knew she was the one, and she’s been the one all these years. That’s why I’m here – if Jerry’s not in my life, then I have no life.’
Ian Rome burst through the door carrying three thick files. ‘Remember, this is in the spirit of co-operation. If you find any glaring mistakes or blatant malpractice . . .’
‘We’re not here to cause trouble, Mr Rome. We’ll just take a look at the files and be on our way.’
‘I’ll leave you alone to read through them then.’ He shut the door.
Kowalski took notes as he pawed through each of the files. Missy and Larry Needle had two girls and a boy. The two girls were called Rose and Poppy. Rose was the eldest. Poppy was only a year older than Harry. The trouble was the Needles didn’t want daughters, they wanted a boy – third time lucky. They kept the two girls in the cellar and abused them in every way they could. In time, the small community forgot that Missy Needle had given birth to two daughters. As far as anyone could recall, they only had a son. Yes, Missy had been pregnant a couple of times, but hadn’t she lost those babies – poor thing.
On the night of May 7, 1995 – when Rose was seven years old – she escaped from the cellar, and she knew exactly what she had to do. She took Poppy and Harry to safety and then went back to the house and stabbed both her parents. Then, she set fire to the house.
The fire brigade found the three children outside. The police and Social Services were called. They interviewed Rose and eventually discovered what had happened during her seven years of life in the cellar of 17 Forester’s Close in Horsehay, and how she had murdered her parents on that fateful night.
Poppy and Harry were adopted by different families, but Rose needed help to come to terms with what had happened to her and was put in Talgarth Psychiatric Hospital in Powys, mid-Wales.
Two and a half hours had passed by the time they’d finished reading the files.
Harry sat back and stared into a place no one else could see.
‘Do you want my advice, Harry?’ Kowalski said.
‘Yes, I think so, Mr Kowalski.’
‘There are two parts to your story. Forget the bad part about
your parents and what they did to Rose and Poppy. Your parents are dead and Rose is lost to you. Find Poppy, find the sister you never knew you had. Make her a part of your life, and be your own man.’
‘I think you’re probably right, Mr Kowalski. Thanks for helping me find out the truth. Are you going to Talgarth Psychiatric Hospital now?’
‘Yes. I want my wife back, and if necessary, I’m going to follow Rose all the way to hell to get her back.’
Chapter Twelve
The satnav directed them along the A404 towards Chelmsford and from there they’d need to join the A12 to Witham.
Richards was busy on the phone.
The sound of her voice disappeared as his mind drifted to the previous night. Jack was asleep in his own room. Digby was lying on his cushion waiting for the opportunity to creep onto the bed and Angie was lying next to him trying to sleep.
He propped himself up on his left elbow and stared at her in the darkness.
‘You’ll be careful, won’t you?’ he said
‘Careful is my middle name.’
She was wearing her white satin pyjamas. He put his right hand on her stomach.
‘I never knew that.’
He slid his thumb into the waistband of her pyjama bottoms and stroked the tight skin underneath. She’d done a good job in getting her figure and her mind back.
‘Oh yes. They call me “Careful Angie” at the hospital.’
‘Well, I never.’
Faint heart never won fair lady. He moved his whole hand inside the waistband and paused momentarily.
‘If you speak to anyone at the hospital . . .’
‘I’ll be careful. Are you going to make love to me or carry on pretending you’re a nervous sixteen year-old on your first date?’
For answer, he ducked under the quilt and pulled her pyjama bottoms down like the assistant to a quick-change artist.
Richards stopped talking and ended her call. ‘Okay I rang Traffic and they’re doing a database search for the green Range Rover. I’ll have a list on my desk by the time we get back.’
‘About time.’
‘Have I ever said what a pleasure it is having you as my driver?’
‘No, but it hardly surprises me.’
‘Forensics said that they found no DNA evidence from the swabs taken in Sally’s mouth, vagina, anus or from her damaged face. Fibres found on the rope and knots are also inconclusive.’
‘When we get forensic evidence it’s like winning the lottery, but when we don’t I feel as though I’ve been mugged.’
‘Well, today you’ve been mugged. I rang Vice as well about the symbol and the removal man, and they know what we know. Except . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘. . . CEOP have linked that symbol to an online paedophile ring, but the ring works differently from the others that they’ve identified . . .’
‘Oh?’
‘This one operates in cells of ten, much the same as terrorist cells. One cell knows nothing about the other cells, so only ten people can be compromised if the cell is infiltrated.’
‘You sound like a secret agent.’
‘I could be one of those. It’s about time that they got rid of the old man who does the missions in Mission Impossible . . .’
‘Tom Cruise?’
‘Yes – him. They should employ a beautiful and talented woman instead . . .’
‘Someone not too far away from where we’re sitting.’
‘You read my mind. I could crawl under laser beams, fly helicopters and shimmy down ropes.’
‘You’d have to get that plastic boot off first.’
‘I’m getting it off next week.’
‘Really? Well, then I can help you with the arduous training you’ll need for missions . . .’
‘You tricked me.’
‘You tricked yourself with your wild fantasies of being a secret agent.’
‘I don’t think they’re so wild.’
‘Of course they are. Your fat arse would get stuck in those drain holes.’
‘You’re a pig.’
‘So, is that all Vice said?’
‘A team from CEOP are leading the investigation, but they’re having problems infiltrating the online cells.’
‘And they need our help?’
‘No. Apparently, the paedophiles are using advanced computer security techniques to keep them out, but they did say that we shouldn’t get in their way, and we’re not to take any action unless we’ve cleared it with them first.’
‘Great.’
‘I also rang Sergeant Tinker in the evidence store.’
‘Oh yes!’
‘Have a guess what he said.’
‘DS Gilbert signed the Smith box in and out.’
‘It’s spooky how you can do that. Maybe some of my mum’s psychic ability has rubbed off on you.’
‘In bed?’
‘Don’t be disgusting.’
‘The only psychic ability your mother has is knowing when Jack needs his nappy changing and when you’re doing something you shouldn’t be doing.’
‘I never do.’
‘If you were in prison, you’d spend all your time in solitary confinement.’
‘If you were the prison governor I would.’
‘I’ve got bad news for you – I am the prison governor.’
‘Do you want to know what I found out about Orvil Lorenz?’
‘Do I have a choice?’
‘No.’
‘Go on then – you seem to have a captive audience.’
‘He’s dead.’
‘That’s a good start.’
‘He died in 1995.’
‘Okay.’
‘Well, that’s it.’
‘You’re the worst researcher in Essex.’
‘I looked everywhere, but . . .’
‘We know he was a doctor in the maternity wing at St Winifred’s . . .’
‘He wasn’t.’
‘Yes . . .’
‘No. There’s no record of him ever having worked there. Remember, the files were top secret.’
‘And you can’t find any information about him?’
‘Nothing.’
‘I suppose we should have expected that. We’ve only acquired the four Epsilon files by accident.’
‘Why did DS Gilbert put the files in the evidence store under the name of Smith?’
‘Next time we see him we’ll have to ask him. For now though, we’re here. And don’t mention that we’re murder detectives.’
Richards pointed at the horde of press being kept back by a thin piece of blue and white crime scene tape. ‘I don’t think we’ll be able to keep that secret from anybody, Sir.’
He pulled up outside 29 Maltings Lane in Witham.
His phone vibrated.
‘Parish.’
‘It’s Inspector Threadneedle.’
‘Hello, Maureen.’
‘I’ve got two officers at a derelict farm building located on the edge of Icehouse Grove.’
‘Please tell me the building is empty?’
‘There’s a Mr Henry Rattinger . . .’
‘You say that as if I should know him.’
‘He’s a barrister from Hornby’s on Hoddesdon High Street.’
‘Never heard of him.’
‘He’s been strung up, his tongue is missing and his throat has been cut.’
‘He’s dead then?’
‘I would say so, but I’m not a pathologist, so you shouldn’t listen to anything I’ve got to say. Also . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘. . . Carved on his forehead are the words: SPEAK NO EVIL.’
‘I don’t suppose Mr Rattinger will be doing much of that now. Thanks for your help, Maureen. Richards and I are at Witham at the moment, and then we’ve got a PM at King George’s, but as soon as we’ve finished there . . .’
‘I’m sure there’s no rush, I don’t think Mr Rattinger is going anywhere. I’ve despatched forensics and let the
pathologist know she has another customer.’
‘You’re an angel.’
‘You should stop drinking on the job, Parish.’
***
He rang DI Tom Dougall.
‘Dougall.’
‘We have a serious problem, Sir.’
‘Since when did you and I begin working together DS Gilbert?’
‘Since you put Chief Inspector Ezra Pine and his cronies behind bars. DC Koll has gone missing.’
‘Not again. You’re getting careless. That’s the second time you’ve lost her.’
‘I know, but it wasn’t really my fault this time. She got a call from the CPS yesterday afternoon saying they were taking her into protective custody . . .’ He waited for some confirmation that Dougall was still on the other end of the call and he wasn’t talking to himself, but there was none. ‘Anyway, I went with her to the hotel and waited while she packed her things. She seemed quite happy that it was moving forward at last. A Nancy Green from the CPS turned up in a chauffeur-driven car. I checked her credentials to make sure she was who she said she was and off they went . . . Today, I thought I’d give Koll a ring to find out how she was doing, but her number had been discontinued, so I rang the CPS to speak to Nancy Green and find out what was happening – no such person works for them.’
‘And what do you expect me to do about it?’
‘I don’t know . . . Tell Pine to give her back.’
Laughter ricocheted down the line. ‘Xena never said you were a comedian, Gilbert.’
‘I have my moments, Sir.’
‘Have you spoken to DI Blake?’
‘Not about this. Apart from the fact that she’s recovering from major surgery, what can she do from a hospital bed?’
‘You’d be surprised. Trust me, she’ll recover a lot faster if you keep her busy. Other people might thrive on lying in a bed all day long doing nothing, but Xena won’t.’
‘Okay, I’ll bear that in mind, but what are we going to do about getting Koll back?’
‘I think it’s a foregone conclusion that Pine has engineered her disappearance.’
‘Exactly, but why?’
‘Possibly revenge, or more likely as a bargaining chip. I suppose I’ll have to go and speak to him.’
