A Cut Above the Rest

by C B Barrie

  Caplin needed time to arrange matters; it would involve a trip to Milbank to determine Gregson’s movements and where and how he could be intercepted. As to the exact method by which Gregson was to be eliminated; well, that required a little more thought, but no doubt there was a way that was clinical and would not create any suspicion.

  It was fortunate that the spring bank holiday was imminent, he needed at least five days to be sure of his approach and if he was sensible, it was not something he would rush. Ellis needed to be placated by Caplin’s absence, and needed to be warned not to take measures which would, or could, jeopardise their plans. So, Ellis first, then to Metlab personnel to arrange a short ‘sabbatical’ at M.I.M.C Milbank, and then a trip to London; all to eliminate someone in order to assure the award of a Nobel Prize, and the gleaming distinction it would endow.

  As usual, Ellis was hard at work and Caplin was only able to draw his attention by putting a cup of coffee down by the side of the keyboard.

  ‘Winning?’

  Ellis took a sip from the cup, ‘Yeah, but it’s hard going. I’m starting to fill in the gaps from the first paper without revealing what needs to go in the third and final one. Incidentally, how are you getting on with the patent spec’ – any movement?’

  Caplin shook his head, ‘Not as well as I hoped, I’m not experienced enough in that quarter and it has to be done properly. I’ve got a pal in the commercial section at M.I.M.C Milbank; he’s a qualified patent agent, and I’m going to see him over the next few days for a short course in writing patent specifications. It means I’m going to have to leave you for the rest of this week and we won’t be together again until after the forthcoming bank holiday. So I’m AWOL until next Thursday. Dare I ask, can you cope without me until then?’

  Ellis smiled. ‘You presume too much sir – I imagine I’ll get by. Won’t your pal get suspicious, you wanting to know how to write a patent?’

  Caplin nodded his agreement, ‘Probably, but I can always say it is to draft a patent proposal, something that the commercial boys will find easier to tidy up. It’s to save them time I’ll say.’

  Ellis turned back to the VDU and his keyboard. ‘Good luck then, I should have most of this finished by the time you get back, I’ll let you have sight of it then.’

  Caplin turned and started to exit the office. ‘By the way Nathaniel, don’t lose sleep over Gregson and CM, I’m convinced we have nothing to worry about.’

  Ellis looked up and gave a wry smile, ‘Okay Michael, I hope you’re right.’

  ‘I am, that’s a promise.’

  Neilson had only been in the St Ives police station for a short time, but it took no longer for him to absorb what little remained of Meredith’s notes and diary entries.

  As he scanned what had been left of Meredith’s entries on the Holden case, he noted the fragmentary interview records that Meredith had made and his scribbled opinion about the Forensic report on the alloy sample that had been sent away for analysis. There was no doubt that there were human remains in the alloy sample; indicating, as undoubtedly Meredith had concluded, that the disappearance of Holden, the foundry worker, had resulted, by some means, in him being immersed in the molten alloy contained in the smelter. Neilson had no idea if Meredith had viewed this as a wholly suspicious death, or whether he had taken the view that is was probably accidental.

  According to Nichols, Meredith did not seem particularly open to the idea that Holden’s death was a crime, but for Meredith to vanish, as he had, simply spoke of the likelihood that he had latched on to something that was viewed as a threat by someone. Perhaps this someone had been involved in the death of Holden and, fearful of detection, had either abducted or murdered Meredith. It struck Neilson that in the absence of any clues or evidence of where and how Meredith had vanished, the only recourse was to go where Meredith had intended to go on the morning of his disappearance. Perhaps he had actually got as far as the Metlab complex, but so far no direct enquiries had been made to see if he had actually arrived at, or got near, Metlab on the morning of his appointment.

  It could easily mean he had arrived at Metlab but no further. And what of his car? Perhaps it was driven away, with Meredith still in it; or perhaps not, because Meredith was elsewhere - incapacitated or dead.

  There was no doubt; Metlab was where the next set of enquiries needed to be made, if only to eliminate it.

  He found Nichols at the station reception desk, ‘I’m going to visit the Metlab people, just to satisfy myself that Meredith definitely never arrived. It’s a long shot but you never know.’

  Nichols concurred. ‘We assumed they would have confirmed his arrival after we queried his absence. I can’t believe anyone would have failed to notice him turning up, or his car being parked. A white Ford Escort RS is pretty obvious. Charles Felton, the assistant personnel officer was adamant that Meredith had not only failed to arrive on time for the meeting but had not been seen by anyone – not even the entrance security guards.’

  Neilson nodded an agreement. ‘True, but this is a stone we haven’t turned over yet to see what’s underneath it; we’ll have to see. I’ll be back later, when I do I need to speak to all of your constables.’

  Nichols raised a farewell hand.

  It was a long drive to London but Caplin had no intention of trying to get to M.I.M.C at Milbank behind a steering wheel – what with charges and congestion, it simply wasn’t the sensible thing to do.

  But more importantly he didn’t want his car spotted by either individuals or CCTV cameras. He wanted absolute anonymity; he wanted to remain entirely obscure outside of M.I.M.C - there was to be as little evidence as possible that he could have got anywhere near the Consolidated Mines main building.

  He drove to Richmond, parked his car in the car park next to the underground station and then boarded a tube train to take him in to central London. By the time he reached the M.I.M.C. building he was already calculating his next move – it depended on Gregson being where he expected him to be – in the CM HQ not far from where his own company was located in Milbank.

  His Metlab ID card, and the excuse that he was visiting an old colleague, got him into M.I.M.C. He was relying on his recollection that the expansive glazing of the staff canteen allowed an unrestricted view of the Milbank architecture; so without further delay he took a lift up to the fourth floor and took himself and a fresh mug of coffee to a table near an easterly window; a window that allowed him a direct view of the CM building. His recollection was accurate; from where he was sitting he could see the complete layout of the CM site - the reserved car park fronting the building, the three converging walkways leading to the main doors and the ten stories of offices and administration superimposed over the ground floor entrance.

  He had brought a small pair of binoculars with him and using them as if to innocently scan the whole Milbank area, he was able to focus on the CM car park. He knew that given his seniority Gregson would have been allocated a car parking space – a precious asset in central London. He could see no less than twenty cars in the car park with only two bays presently unoccupied. There was a good chance therefore that one of the cars in the car park belonged to Gregson - all he had to do was to wait until Gregson left the CM building and drove away for his car to be identified.

  Looking a this watch it was ten minutes to twelve and the chances were that Gregson might make an appearance for a lunch date somewhere. If so, he would be able to identify Gregson’s car sooner rather than later. If Gregson failed to appear he had a very long wait in the canteen before Gregson left the CM building to make his way home. Either way he had to wait, he had decided that what he intended to do was too important to hurry and thereby risk a mistake. Too much depended on this mission.

  As he periodically scanned the CM building he was able to see people come and go at the entrance and so could avoid using the binoculars unless he definitely wanted to be sure of identifying someone. It was as he saw two men loitering by the entrance for some time
that they took his interest. They were both smokers and managed to consume three cigarettes each without any apparent reason to be near the CM building or to have any intention of going in. Their obvious impatience was borne out by their constant smoking and nervous movements. He kept the binoculars on them and remained puzzled at their behaviour until they suddenly threw down their cigarettes and turned towards the entrance. The man exiting the CM entrance, and who was now approaching the two outside, was none other than Gregson. Of that he was sure, Gregson’s picture on the website, the man’s stature, bearing and facial features made the identification unmistakable.

  As Gregson walked out, the two men came abreast of him, one on each side. They were clearly known to each other and were apparently conversing on friendly terms; one even started to laugh. It took only a few seconds for Gregson to steer all concerned towards a large Jaguar parked in bay number three. In a short time the three had climbed into the car and without any delay it drove off.

  Caplin was relieved; he pocketed his binoculars and penned a note in a small notebook. Now he had the make and model of Gregson’s car, its registration, and ultimately he would have his home address.

  Therein lay Gregson’s downfall, and the end of the unwelcome pressure he was applying.

  15

  The weather was becoming threatening as Neilson drove his blue Volvo Xc60 SUV down from St. Ives on the Friday morning.

  The 3066 was an unfamiliar road, and he disliked the constant changes in visibility and outlook. Sometimes the road gave a driver a clear and distinctive pathway ahead but that could change as the road curved to the left or right and became obscured and threatening by rock formations to the side, or the openness at the cliff edge with the huge expanse of sea in view. It appeared to be an interminable journey and when at last he saw the signs announcing M.I.M.C. - Metals Research Laboratories Centre, he breathed a sigh of relief.

  He drove up to the security gate and as he approached a uniformed man left the security guardhouse and waved him down.

  ‘Morning sir, may I ask your business here?’

  Neilson showed his police ID card. ‘I’m here to follow up on the recent disappearance of one of your foundry men. I need to see your personnel officer Mr. Charles Felton.’

  ‘Oh, right sir, but Mr. Felton is the assistant P.O, Mr. Grieves is the senior personnel officer. Shall I see if…’

  ‘No! It’s Mr. Felton I want to see, he was expecting to see D.C. Meredith recently I understand.’

  The security man leaned further towards the open widow and gave a weak smile, ‘Yes, I was questioned about that by your sergeant Nichols a short while back. As I told sergeant Nichols, nobody on the security team saw DC Meredith that day and I can vouch for the truth of that statement, because it was me who was on duty that morning and I assure you Meredith never arrived here. I had seen his car before, and his car definitely never appeared.’

  For Neilson it was unwanted news and for a moment he was tempted to abandon the whole expedition and return to St Ives, but he was nothing if not tenacious and he decided to do what he had intended to do, even if it was futile.

  ‘What’s you name?’

  ‘Roscoe sir,’

  ‘Good… thank you Roscoe. As a matter of interest, did any other cars arrive here, say past ten a.m., in the morning on that day in question – that is, after Meredith was expected?’

  Roscoe squinted and then gave a genial nod of his head.

  ‘Hang on sir, I need to go back over the security log, it won’t take long.’

  Nielson sat waiting as Roscoe disappeared into the guardroom. He still felt it was pointless but his experience told him that all he needed was just a hint of a new lead and everything might then change.

  Roscoe returned holding a clipboard. ‘Only one that day sir, Dr. Caplin arrived at just after twelve thirty. Nothing else until three deliveries by suppliers in the late afternoon, one was an ore delivery, the other two were laboratory equipment deliveries.’

  Neilson nodded, ‘Let Mr. Felton know I’m on my way - at his convenience.’

  Roscoe lifted a hand in acknowledgement and turned away to raise the security barrier. Neilson drove on, less optimistic than he should have been.

  He was granted a cup of tea as he sat in front of Felton’s desk and was impressed by the three padded chairs that formed a semicircle around Felton’s desk.

  He had to admit it, the office was very tastefully decorated and laid out – Felton had gone to great lengths to ensure his working environment was as comfortable as possible. However, there was no doubt that Felton took the disappearance of Meredith very seriously, he made no effort to disguise the fact that with Holden lost, and now Meredith, the whole episode was ominous.

  ‘I’m no experienced police officer Inspector, but I doubt anyone would treat the inexplicable death and disappearance of these two men as inconsequential. Let’s face it; your DC Meredith was about to tell me the outcome of the forensic report you say showed human remains in the smelt, I can’t believe he wasn’t suspicious in every respect.

  Neilson shook his head, ‘We’re not to know for sure Mr. Felton, but what little he did disclose to sergeant Nichols at the St Ives station seems to indicate that he thought the death of Holden wasn’t suspicious, apparently he deemed it accidental. If so, my main objective at the moment is to try to establish if Meredith ever made it to this facility. So far, I can’t believe he actually did. If not, where did he go between here and the St Ives police station? It’s a mystery that can only be solved by the possibility of finding an eyewitness, somebody who was on the road at the same time as Meredith and may be able to offer a clue as to what happened to him. Now, I understand from your security people that only one member of your staff arrived later than Meredith’s appointment time with you that morning, a Dr. Caplin that is. I would be very grateful if I might have a word with him – just to eliminate the chances of him being able to offer us something new, something vital.’

  Felton nodded in agreement and picked up his phone. He dialled a five-digit number and as Neilson heard the faint sound of a ring tone Felton slipped the receiver back from his mouth and spoke.

  ‘I know Michael Caplin very well, one of our senior research scientists. I’m sure he will… oh, hello… ah, Dr. Ellis –I’m trying to contact your senior, Dr. Caplin, can I have a word? He’s where, at M.I.M.C HQ in Milbank? Three days you say – oh yes, I’m sure he logged a three-day break with our office prior to and beyond the bank holiday. Okay, thank you anyway.’

  Felton replaced the receiver and gave a regretful twist of his mouth. ‘Well, looks like you may have to come back Inspector, Dr. Caplin’s in London at our HQ – reasons’ unknown I’m afraid. However, according to his assistant he’s due back next week, do you want me to let you know when he’s back in his laboratory?’

  Neilson gave a soft sigh of annoyance - his eventual return to Camborne was going to be delayed, and for some time.

  Felton gave a sympathetic smile, ‘Chief Inspector Neilson, let me offer you lunch before your drive back – we have an excellent dining room and an even better silver service menu – please, you’d be very welcome.’

  Neilson took the invitation well, there had to be something to compensate for a wasted journey.

  ‘Thank you, much appreciated.’

  Gregson had made no bones about it, as he drove Prescott and Davies to their office he made it clear that he wanted his objectives to succeed by any means necessary.

  The man he wanted to be dominated, a certain Nathaniel Ellis, was far away in a research laboratory. Their first job was to find his home, detail his movements and ensure there was a time when he could be tackled by Gregson and all concerned so as to impose a certain amount of fear and persuasion. They were to be paid by results, first by identifying Ellis’ movements, and then arranging for Gregson to appear at a time when Ellis was most vulnerable. After that, with Ellis in hand, Gregson had promised a bonus.

  Since Prescott and Davi
es styled themselves as private investigators, Gregson had sarcastically pointed out that for once they were to do a job that P.I’s carried out routinely – so they had no excuse. He gave them four days to notify him that they had the information he wanted. Thereafter they were all to take a trip Cornwall and there to indulge in the amusing pastime of scaring the hell out of someone.

  He made his way to the M.I.M.C car park and gave himself another few moments to determine his forthcoming moves.

  In theory, Gregson’s address was the first priority because that made it possible to locate Gregson, and once that was established it could subsequently reveal all of Gregson’s routine movements. Those movements determined where and when Gregson was most vulnerable, and where and when he could be intercepted. He need not concern himself with Gregson’s family, colleagues or associates; it was only Gregson himself who dictated everything that constituted a threat to Ellis and ultimately to himself. Once Gregson was eliminated there was no particular reason for him ever to need to take drastic action again.

  And so, Amen.

  His first job was to find Gregson’s lair; the next to decide on the best way for him to be eliminated, and prior, during and thereafter, to ensure nothing could be traced back to him or Metlab.

  It was Thursday, and from a practical point of view he had only the next day to find Gregson’s house and plan his attack. The weekend and the forthcoming Monday bank holiday were unlikely to find Gregson making his way to CM’s HQ. It had to be this coming Friday, or he would be forced to wait until next Tuesday - an expensive and unnecessary delay while he kicked his heels in London.