Last Gasp

by Robert F Barker

  ‘Phone calls?’

  ‘About a week later, he started ringing me. He said some of the shots hadn’t come out right. He wanted me to do a re-shoot. I kept putting him off, but I was working through an agent at the time and contracts for commissioned shoots usually contain a re-shoot clause. I was worried I could get myself blacklisted or something if I didn’t cooperate. Then one night I found him lurking around outside my flat. I asked him what he was doing and he gave me some bullshit excuse. It was only then I realised he must have followed me to get my address. It freaked me out. I told everyone my mother was ill and came back here to get away from him. I was only going to stay a month. I thought he’d forget about me and maybe, you know, find someone else to stalk? Then I heard from a friend he’d been making enquiries, trying to track me down, so that was it. I decided to stay here. Just to be on the safe side I dropped my old name and started again as, ‘Franky.’ I’ve been here since.’

  Carver sipped his drink. ‘It must have been bad, to scare you out of the country like that.’

  ‘Believe me, it was. But then, she was just as scary’

  Carver started, looked across at Erik, then back at her. ‘She? She who?’

  ‘The woman. His girlfriend, or whoever, whatever, she was. She was into it as much as he was, maybe more.’

  Carver held up a hand. ‘Hold on. There was another woman there?’

  ‘Like I’m telling you. They were both into it. That was what scared me so much. As it went on, they both got involved in setting the scene, doing the rigging, setting up the poses. They were getting off on it. I could tell. It was almost like they were practising. It all had to be just right. Made me wonder what they got up to on their own. Well I wasn’t going to find out.’

  ‘This woman, what did she look like?’

  Franky blew her cheeks out. ‘I didn’t get to see her face much. She was wearing one of those kitten masks. She was blonde, I remember that.’

  ‘Why was she wearing a mask? Wasn’t that kind of odd?’

  Franky gave a snorting laugh. ‘Odd? Listen, my friend. You get used to odd in this business. No it wasn’t odd. People often sit in on shoots, especially if it involves fetish. It’s not unusual some of them like to keep who they are secret. I remember one time there was a man, I’m sure he was a member of your parl-’

  Carver stayed focused. ‘You mentioned she was blonde. Long or short?’

  ‘A bit longer than mine is now.’

  ‘Can you remember a name, anything about her?’

  She screwed her face, summoning memories. ‘I’m not sure. I remember his name alright…’ She closed her eyes, as if trying to visualise the scene. ‘He was Eddie, and she was called…’

  ‘What?’

  She opened her eyes. ‘What?’

  ‘You said his name was Eddie.’

  ‘Yes, it’s her name I’m trying to remember.’

  ‘Don’t you mean William?’

  ‘No, William was the photographer, though I knew him as Willy. The man’s name was Eddie, or Ed, or something like that.’

  Carver froze. He stared at her, blinking. ‘I thought we were talking about Willy. William Cosworth?’

  ‘No, like I say, he was the photographer. I’m talking about Eddie, the scary one. I thought he’s the one you are interested in?’

  Carver held up his hand again. ‘I’m confused. Go back. Tell me again. Exactly who was there?’

  Franky looked impatient, as if she had made it all plainly clear and it was his fault for not listening. She took a deep breath, but then did as asked. ‘There were three people. Four if you count me.’

  ‘Right.’ Carver said. He raised a thumb. ‘William Cosworth, the photographer.’

  ‘Yes, like I said.’ She glanced at Erik as if saying, Who is this idiot? ‘Then there was the couple I’ve told you about. The man I heard Willy call Eddie, and the woman… I’ve just remembered. I think her name might have been Trish, or Tricia. Something like that.’

  ‘Why were they there? What was their part in it?’

  ‘It was their shoot. They’d commissioned it. They were paying Willy to take the shots, at least I assumed they were.’

  Carver dug inside his jacket, produced the copies of the photos he’d brought with him, laid them out on the table. ‘We’re talking about this shoot, yes?’

  Franky examined them, nodded. ‘That’s the one.’ Her face changed, showing distaste at the memories.

  ‘I thought it was for the magazine, Skin-Tight?’

  ‘Yes, for them as well. But it was the couple’s commission. I don’t know what the deal was. I never get involved in those things. I just got paid by Willy, as always.’

  ‘You’d worked with him before?’

  ‘A couple of times.’

  ‘How was he? What was he like?’

  She frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean was he weird and scary as well?’

  She gave a wry look. ‘They’re all weird, in their different ways. But I wouldn’t have said, ‘scary’, particularly. Willy could be a bit creepy sometimes. And pushy. He liked to try his hand now and then, so you had to make sure he knew you were just there to pose.’

  ‘I heard he got into some trouble once with one of his models. Did you hear about that?’

  ‘Yes, I heard about it.’

  ‘Was it true, what she accused him of doing?’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  ‘Might it have been?’

  She thought on it. ‘Maybe, who knows? But then some girls, when they start they don’t know what to expect. If they’re on drugs, and most of them are, they can come out with all sorts of stories. I took most of what I heard with, what do you call it, a pinch of salt?’

  ‘Did Cosworth- Willy, did he seem particularly interested in this scene, the putting the hands together thing, the threatening you with the ribbon?’

  ‘Only as much as he needed to take the pictures and video. Like I said, it was their scene, not his.’

  ‘It was videoed as well?’

  ‘Of course. It always is.’

  Carver noticed her gaze beginning to wander. She was losing patience. ‘I’m sorry Franky, but it’s important that I understand the part everyone was playing.’

  ‘I understand. But maybe you need to find this Eddie, rather than Willy.’

  ‘Maybe. Had you seen him before, or since?’

  She shook her head. ‘Only that once, and the night I found him hanging around outside my flat.’

  ‘Is there anything else you can tell me about him? Height, age, what he looked like?’

  ‘He was quite tall, slim. Fortyish? He had a bit of a beard, not too bushy though. I remember he had very deep voice and a strange…’ She groped for the word.

  ‘Accent?’

  ‘Yes, a strange accent. I think it was what you would call, Northern’

  Carver froze again. His mind started racing. It’s not possible.

  As his face took on a blank look, Franky turned to Erik. ‘Is he alright?’

  ‘Jamie?’ Erik said. ‘What is it?’

  Carver took out his mobile. ‘Just a minute.’ He began navigating.

  Franky and Erik waited. After a few moments, Carver found what he was looking for. It was a PDF file of a magazine article that had come attached to an email one time and which he’d downloaded for no reason other than he could. He brought it up and scrolled through it. One of the pages showed two photographs, both men. He zoomed in, turned the phone to show it to Franky. She leaned forward.

  ‘You look younger.’

  ‘It’s a few years old.’

  She squinted, focusing in on the other picture.

  ‘Imagine him with a beard,’ he said.

  She took her time. ‘Hmm… It was a long time ago but, yes, it could be him.’

  Carver stared at her. Something cold started crawling through his gut.

  Holy mother of God.

  Carver pressed the phone to his ear as the gr
oup that had followed him outside to smoke erupted in laughter again. Turning away, he moved to the edge of the dock, stood looking out across the black water, the lights of Amsterdam reflecting in its stillness.

  ‘Sorry John, I missed that. Say again.’

  ‘I said, ‘Was she certain’?’ The Duke sounded sceptical. Carver didn’t blame him.

  ‘Not a hundred per cent, but close enough.’

  ‘Fffuuuck,’ The Duke said. Carver waited while he digested it. ‘So what does it mean? What can it mean? And where does it leave us with friend Cosworth?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet. I’m still trying to get my head around it. Could be he and Hart got together after the shoot. Maybe he’s the missing accomplice some said never existed.’

  ‘Jesus, that would shake a few up.’ He let out a frustrated sigh. ‘Hellfire, Jamie, how much weirder can all this get?’

  But Carver was still thinking it through. ‘There’s the blonde to think about it as well. Remember the CCTV Alec turned up? Plus the hairs from the scene. It could all fit.’

  They batted it back and forth for a couple more minutes, then The Duke switched tack.

  ‘Whatever it means, wherever it takes us, I need you on the first flight back tomorrow.’

  Carver sensed something. ‘Why what’s happened?’

  ‘Gary Shepherd’s missing.’

  Chapter 56

  The Duke slid the copy of Tony Turner’s Observations Log towards Carver so he could read the entry.

  ‘Two fifteen in the morning?’ Carver said. ‘What the hell was he doing there ‘til that time?’

  The Duke raised a quizzical eyebrow. The inference was clear.

  No way. Even so…

  The Duke spread his huge hands. ‘She says he wanted to go through her statement with her.’

  Carver checked the log again. ‘It doesn’t take five hours to go through a statement.’

  ‘I’m only telling you what she said. She says he went through it paragraph by paragraph, almost like he thought she was making it all up. He kept challenging her on the details. Go see her. Ask her yourself.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I intend to.’

  ‘Good. Either way, she was the last person to see him, apart from Tony and his mate clocking him out. After that-’ He blew on his fingers, the way a magician does when he makes something disappear.

  'Cosworth?' Carver asked, though doubtfully.

  The Duke shrugged. 'We can’t rule it out. But I can’t see him taking Gary. Not on his own. Why would he?'

  Carver crossed to the window, looked out onto Arpley Street. He had his own ideas as to why Shepherd might have called on Megan Crane as soon as his back was turned. They didn’t include going over statements. But he could think of nothing that would account for him disappearing soon after. Like he couldn’t account for the long-dead Edmund Hart being the originator of the Worshipper Scenario. What the hell’s going on? He remembered his last conversation with Shepherd. Time to get another monkey off his back.

  'There’s something I need to tell you.'

  The Duke’s hand came up. 'If it’s about this NCA informant thing, I already know.'

  Carver’s surprise turned quickly to guilt.

  'Danny Roberts came to see me.’

  Carver waited. Roberts was a Superintendent with Professional Standards.

  ‘He had a bloke from the NCA with him. The NCA have suspended one of their DIs for passing information to Gary about this source of yours, Angela Kendrick? Carver nodded. ‘Turns out he and Gary were old mates. We found a printout when we searched Gary’s office.'

  'I’m sorry John. I should’ve-.'

  The hand again. 'I know. You wanted to wait until you had the evidence. I can live with it. But just so you know. If you’d told me? I’d have sat on it.'

  Carver nodded, feeling even guiltier. The Duke deserved better. Another lesson learned. But it prompted a thought.

  'Maybe that’s something to do with him dis-.' But the Duke was already shaking his head.

  'It didn’t break until the day after he disappeared. He couldn’t have known.'

  Carver fell silent again. Shepherd disappearing just didn’t make sense.

  'It’s with Professional Standards now,' The Duke said. ‘They’ll want a statement.’ Then he added, ‘Which reminds me. Danny rang me yesterday. They’re trying to get hold of this Angela, but she’s not at home and isn’t returning calls. He thinks she’s gone to ground and wants you to ring him. He wants your help to get her to cooperate.’

  Carver nodded. ‘Right.’ He chided himself for not thinking of Angie sooner. The discipline enquiry that would now kick in would involve her, big time. He needed to speak with her before he contacted Roberts, let her know what to expect. She wouldn’t be happy. But The Duke was still talking.

  '…also mentioned something about some log-in failures under your user-name on their Intelligence Database a few days ago. They wanted to know if it could have been Gary. I said I couldn’t see you giving Gary your user-name and that it was probably just you forgetting your password.’

  Carver’s mind raced. He nodded. 'It’s been a while since I logged in. Took me a few goes to remember.'

  The Duke tutted. 'Bloody computers. They do my head in.'

  Carver’s gave a sympathetic smile. But behind it he thanked God that The Duke’s renowned technophobia meant he wouldn’t dwell on how an ex-NCA Intelligence Officer could ‘forget’ a Personal Source File password. He was already moving on.

  'I’ve spoken to the ACC about a replacement for Gary. He’s seeing what he can do. But it’ll take a few days.'

  'I’ll manage,' Carver said. 'What else has been happening?'

  He thought he should ask, but his mind was already elsewhere.

  Carver had to wait to see Jess. She was out helping Alec gather statements over CCTV recordings. In the meantime he tried Angie, but the message said the number was unavailable. He made a mental note to try again later, then went and left a note on Jess’s desk.

  It was late in the afternoon when she appeared in his doorway. He beckoned her in. She looked puzzled when he came round his desk, pointed to a chair, and closed the door behind her.

  'How was Amsterdam?' she said as he returned to his seat.

  'I’ll tell you about it. First, what’s everyone saying about Gary?'

  She shrugged. 'There’re all sorts of rumours. Something about Professional Standards being involved? The Duke’s been keeping it tight. Do you know what’s happening?'

  Carver sighed. 'He’s got himself in some trouble.'

  'How so?'

  'Remember I told you about our little fall out?' She nodded. As he told her about Shepherd approaching an old informant of his, a woman called Angie, she listened in silence. When he got to the part about Shepherd accessing Angie’s Source Record, she started to redden. She reddened further when he told her that an NCA DI had been suspended, and Professional Standards had launched an investigation.

  'So he’s going to be in the shit when he surfaces?' Her voice was a little croaky.

  He nodded. 'But there’s something I can’t work out,' he said.

  ‘What’s that?’ she said, innocently.

  'Remember that day I took a call and had to leave. The day I asked you to phone Rosanna?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘The call came from Angie. After I left, someone accessed her Source File Record from my computer. I can’t understand how Gary-.'

  'Alright.' She dropped her head so that her hair fell forward, a cascade of guilt. ‘No need to piss about.' She looked up, met his stare.

  'Tell me.'

  She told him how, after speaking to Rosanna, she remembered seeing Angie’s name in Megan’s file and that it was she who hacked his computer.

  'How did you know the password?'

  She lifted a finger, pointing to the corner of his white board.

  He turned to look. ‘Ah.’

  But he was beginning to understand. He’d sensed s
omething was different when he’d got home from Amsterdam the night before. He and Rosanna hadn’t had long together, but she’d seemed more… patient. But Angie’s NCIS record was fairly bland, so how would she know-. He looked at Jess. The look on her face told him. There’s more. He felt a panic stirring, deep in his gut.

  'After you left, Rosanna came to see me. She said she was worried about you.’ She bit her lip. 'I went to see Angie.'

  Chapter 57

  Jess’s admission came like a hammer blow to Carver’s stomach. He stared at her. 'You did what?'

  ‘I went to see Angie.’

  For seconds he couldn’t move. While waiting for her to get back, he’d worked out most of it. She was the only one who knew his user-logon. The hacker had to be her. After thinking on it, he’d come to accept that her snooping was probably well-intentioned. His plan when he saw her was, to get her to cough, give her suitable ‘words of advice’, and leave it at that. The thought she may have taken things further, as far as actually going to see Angie, never entered his head. His defence mechanisms kicked in.

  'What the FUCK are you doing Jess? These are things that don’t concern you. Christ, I thought we were supposed to be working together.'

  Her eyes took on a glassiness, but when she spoke it wasn’t to apologise.

  'Yes, we are supposed to be working together, but that cuts both ways. You haven’t been prepared to tell Rosanna, or me, what’s wrong, so we… I, had to find out for myself.'

  Carver fought to stay calm. 'Did Rosanna go with you?'

  'No.'

  Thank Christ. 'What did you talk about? What did she tell you?'

  She hesitated, then began. To begin with, Angie had refused to see her. It was only when Jess spoke of her and Rosanna’s worries she agreed to her calling round. Jess had told her about the Kerry enquiry, more than he had it seemed. And about Megan Crane, and how she’d had come close to becoming a victim. She described Angie’s horror on hearing of it. But it got her talking.

  Carver nodded. ‘It would. So what did she say?’ He was resigned to the inevitable, like a candidate at an election who knows he’s lost his seat, but has to stay to hear the result.