Carver nodded. ‘As soon as he described his MO, I remembered it. It’s not the sort of thing you forget in a hurry.’
‘I’ll bet….’
But Carver wasn’t the only one conscious of the apparent anomaly. Alec Duncan voiced his puzzlement.
‘But why would he come all this way to kill one family, and then go back just in time to get himself arrested and banged away in some Asylum? And how for God’s sake? It doesnae’ make sense.’
Carver dropped the IO’s report in front of him and leaned back in Jess’s chair. About to put his feet up on the desk, he caught the look in her face, and changed his mind.
‘That’s one thing we need to think about, Alec.’
He saw Jess’s eyes narrow, picking up on it. He didn’t keep her waiting.
‘The other will be finding out why he’s coming here again, and who he’s after.’
In the stunned silence that greeted his words, Carver drew meagre satisfaction from noting that temporarily desk-bound though he might be, he still knew about timing. Wary glances passed between them, before they all turned on him.
‘WHAT?’
CHAPTER 16
Carver didn’t need his detective skills to work out that the slight figure who rounded the screen into Manchester Airport Terminal 1 Arrivals Hall was the man he was there to meet. Most of the passengers were either returning holidaymakers pushing trolleys loaded with baggage, Cypriot students returning to their studies, or older Cypriots visiting family. Somehow, the man sporting circa-nineteen-seventies-NHS-style spectacles, a trilby and a jacket that was too heavy for even the early British summer, had ‘Psychiatrist’ stamped all over him. As Carver started to push his way through the waiting taxi-drivers and relatives, the man spotted him, raised a hand and headed over.
‘Nice to see you again Doctor,’ Carver said, as they shook hands. Close to, he thought he just about remembered him from their brief Staff College meeting.
Mikayel Kahramanyan’s darting smile displaced some of the tiredness in his face. ‘And you Chief Inspector. I’m only sorry we meet again under such circumstances.’
‘Me too. Let me help with your bags. I’m parked just outside.’
As they left the airport complex, Carver decided he ought to check, just in case the long flight had changed his visitor’s mind. ‘Are you still okay to get straight on with it? The hotel’s not far if you need to freshen up.’
Kahramanyan continued to stare straight ahead, the troubled look having returned. ‘If your colleagues are waiting then I think I should meet with them at once. There may be little enough time as it is.’
Carver nodded but said nothing, already sensing the man’s air of foreboding. What are you bringing to us doctor? he wondered.
Taking the M56 spur that would take them into Manchester, Carver checked left for traffic coming up on his inside. As he glimpsed his passenger’s grim expression, he made a mental note to check with Jess later. When they first worked together they had quickly learned how their early impressions of people often matched. He would be interested to know if she also discerned an ‘Angel of Death’ quality in the Armenian’s quiet demeanour.
They arrived at SMIU’s offices to find platters of sandwiches and jugs of orange juice waiting. Kahramanyan’s eyes lit up and the way he wasted no time tucking in made Carver wonder when he’d last eaten a decent meal.
The Duke had arranged for most of the team he had assembled so far – nine - to be present. As they ate, Carver introduced him to their visitor and the three spoke quietly together while Marcus, SMIU’s young techie, set up the psychiatrist’s presentation. After a couple of false starts, he materialised again at The Duke’s elbow.
‘Any time, guv’nor.’ Not long out of college, the youngster had wasted no time slipping into the jargon.
As everyone took their seats, Carver settled himself at the back of the room. It was a SMIU show and he intended - needed - to keep a low profile. Besides, he already knew most of what Kharamanyan was about to tell. There had been other phone calls after the first. Even so, he didn’t intend to miss anything. And he was pleased to see that, like The Duke, the Armenian didn’t waste time on preliminaries. Stepping up to the lectern, he nodded at Marcus who threw up the first photograph.
‘This is Vahrig Danelian. The so-called Monster of Yerevan.’
The gaunt features of a shaven-headed man with what Carver thought were unusually dark pupils, though it could just have been the poor quality image, stared back at them. Had Carver not known the man was only twenty-four when the photograph was taken, he would have assumed they were looking at someone much older.
Kahramanyan paused long enough to let everyone take in the man’s stark features. Apart from their colour, Carver thought there was something manic in the eyes. The longer he looked at them, the more he felt himself being drawn in, like two devouring whirlpools. The effect was almost hypnotic, not unlike someone else he’d known..
‘And this is what he does,’ Kahramanyan continued, nodding to Marcus. ‘His first victim family.’
Carver heard the sounds of people sucking air through their teeth as Vahrig Danelian’s face gave way to a scene that left everyone in no doubt they were facing something extraordinary in its depravity. Bloody Hell, he thought, talk about getting straight to the point.
The photograph showed a family of four, parents and two children, a boy and a girl, not yet teenagers by the look of it. Naked apart from the odd pair of knickers, they were arranged in the same circle-of-death sex-montage - father-daughter-son-mother - they had seen in the Durzlan photographs. What must have gone through their minds? thought Carver. And there was something about knowing they were looking at the start of it all that gave the image added impact. The silence was total as everyone stared at the screen, no doubt thinking the same thought.
What sort of mind comes up with such things?
CHAPTER 17
Having got everyone’s attention, Kahramanyan began. He spoke in clear, precise English, keeping his voice even and not dramatising, as some might have done. Using more or less the same words as when he first spoke with Carver, he sketched in the background.
Vahrig Danelian had been detained in the Armenian State Psychiatric Institute and Correction Facility some twelve years before, having been declared too insane to be tried for the murder of the seven families he was deemed responsible for killing over a period of several years. Apart from the terrible evidence of his grandparents’ bodies in their home where he was eventually arrested, there was nothing to indicate why he did what he did with his victims. The common assumption – that it had to be rooted in some family dysfunction of the most appalling kind - was never able to be investigated, as the rest of his family disappeared around the time of his arrest. One theory was that he killed them and hid their bodies. Another, that having realised the depth of their son’s depravity, and unable to face up to, let alone live with the shame, they left to start a new life elsewhere. Either way, Vahrig decided he would do nothing that may shed any light on his motives.
Outwardly pretty normal, Vahrig Danelian had managed to go about life in the village where he grew up without attracting anything other than a reputation for being, ‘mostly quiet, but given to being easily excited.’ Once he was caught, however, it soon became clear that the ‘Monster of Yerevan’ - as he had by then been christened in the way mass murderers often are in Eastern Europe - had a deceptively complex personality. Unusually, he seemed able to maintain long periods of total silence, as well as abstinence, refusing food and all attempts at communication with no apparent signs of discomfort or ill effects. It also became clear, very quickly, that he was prone to unpredictable outbreaks of extreme violence, weeks, months even of seemingly peaceful contemplation being suddenly interrupted by bursts of violent anger directed at whoever happened to be around at the time. So seemingly out-of-character were these rages that those charged with looking after him had to be given special training to ensure they were not cau
ght off guard. Even then there were lapses, incidents…. Eventually it was realised that the only way of ensuring the safety of his guardian-carers was to keep him isolated from fellow inmates and medical staff alike, any necessary contact with others – administering medication for example - being subject to the most stringent supervision.
Nor did he ever talk about what he had done; lapsing into one of his ‘fugue states’ if anyone tried to raise the subject. Time and again police interrogators and teams of psychologists came away empty-handed, having gained no insight whatsoever into the workings of the man’s psyche, other than an impression he was harbouring secrets about which the authorities still had no inkling. And that despite his incarceration, he remained steadfast in his belief that, one day, something would happen that would enable him to return to his, ‘Missionary Work’. The latter phrase, uttered during a session with Kahramanyan himself, was the only allusion he ever made, and then only once, to the horrors that had brought about his detention.
All this Kahramanyan recounted much as he had to Carver during their telephone conversations. But Alec Duncan was impatient.
‘So what’s his connection with the UK, Doctor? Does he know someone here?’
‘I’m coming to that,’ Kahramanyan said, glancing at The Duke, who nodded back. It was important they knew all of it. ‘After his arrest the authorities were happy enough just to have stopped the killings. They weren’t especially interested in trying to get to the bottom of why he did what he did, particularly in view of his lack of cooperation. They just wanted him put away somewhere where he could do no further harm. At one time they hoped to execute him, but it was around the time Eastern European states were trying to establish themselves as independent from the fragmenting Soviet Bloc. My country stopped executing people who were certified insane to demonstrate how civilised it was.’
‘What does that say about Texas then?’ Alec mused. It drew some ironic grunts.
Kahramanyan went on to describe his attempts, soon after taking over as the Institute’s director, to get to the bottom of the mystery of the Monster of Yerevan. ‘I suspect I was the first person to show any real interest in doing so,’ he said.
As a first step, he visited the village where Vahrig grew up, spending time trying to get to know the locals. At first, they were so wary no one would speak to him, certainly not about the killer the community had spawned, or his family. But eventually, after repeated assurances he wasn’t some government spy out to prove that they were in some way responsible for Vahrig’s actions and therefore liable to share in any punishment, he managed to get some of them talking. Not much, but more than they had done up to that point. Through them he learned that most of the villagers didn’t believe the theory about him killing the rest of his family. The Danelians were thought to have relatives in Cyprus, the Turkish-occupied sector in the north. Some said they fled there to avoid the attention of the authorities.
‘Another thing I learned,’ Kahramanyan said. ‘Vahrig’s mother was part-British. The daughter of an English soldier. Some Second-World-War liaison they believed.’
‘The UK connection,’ Jess said.
‘That and the fact that England has the largest settled Armenian population in Europe. Split between London and, as it happens, here in Manchester.’
‘But what makes you believe he’s coming here?’ Alec said, still focused on the point that had brought them together.
‘After Vahrig escaped the blast that destroyed the Institute, I enquired with the police for information about any incidents that may indicate his handiwork. Eventually I heard a story that came from a border policeman. A Turkish hill-farming family had been found murdered. Supposedly, an itinerant migrant worker was responsible. I followed it up. It was the same as in the photograph behind me.’
The shuffles from his audience indicated their growing acceptance of the conclusion they had been led to anticipate, but needed to hear for themselves.
‘This brings us to the Cyprus connection,’ Kahramanyan continued. There is easy access from Turkey to Northern Cyprus and I wondered if that might be where he was headed. I went there and found another murder. Two weeks ago. A couple in their sixties this time. But like this again.’ He half-turned to the image behind him before nodding to Marcus, who took it down. It had served its purpose.
‘The police there are looking at the possibility they were related to the Danelians. We know they had connections with Armenia and the UK which makes me pretty sure they were. The thing was, the house was ransacked, which wasn’t the case in Vahrig’s other killings. It appears that as well as money, the killer also took all the family’s photographs, documents, family records, that sort of thing. Presumably to stop anyone else picking up his trail.
‘The border between North and South Cyprus is much more open than it used to be. Even without a proper passport, it’s not difficult to get across if you are determined. If he did manage it, all he would have to do is steal a passport from a British holidaymaker who looks something like him then buy a ticket and put himself on a plane to the UK. He already speaks excellent English, learned from his mother. Like most countries these days, the Cypriot authorities are more interested in who is coming into the country than going out.’
‘But he’s still got to get through our own immigration checks,’ Jess said. ‘We’ve tightened up a lot with all the terrorist alerts the last few years.’
Hearing the concurring murmurs, Carver decided a reality check was needed. ‘That’s the spin. But the NCA ran some tests through holiday-flight airports a few months back, at the Border Force’s request. We found that once they’ve looked at a few hundred passports, most border staff tend to be on auto-pilot. They may be looking at your face while they scan your passport, but they’re more likely thinking what they’re going to be having for dinner. It’s a big problem, and the reason they’re looking to get facial recognition into all airports, not just the biggest. But I’d appreciate you keeping what I’ve just said to yourselves. Border Force are a bit sensitive about it.’
‘So he could be here right now?’ Jess said.
Kahramanyan nodded.
‘Okay so the next question is, why? What is he after?’
Becoming pensive, the psychiatrist stepped from behind his lectern. He looked at the floor as he spoke. ‘One of the few conclusions I came to when I was working with him, was that Vahrig hates his family, with a passion I never fully understood. He seems to blame them for what happened to him. My first thought was childhood abuse, but as I said, having lost the family we could never investigate it. Certainly he thinks they abandoned him to his fate when, as he believes, they should have stayed to help him. Not that they could have done anything.’ He paused to look up at his audience as he spoke the words he had come to deliver. ‘I don’t think there is any doubt. Vahrig intends to find his family, then kill them.’
CHAPTER 18
Jess was first to find her voice.
‘You think he wants to kill them.., the way he did the others?’
‘I fear so,’ Kahramanyan said.
Wary glances passed between the detectives as the realisation of what they were facing began to take shape. Jess twisted round to look at Carver. His face was a mask. She turned back to Kahramanyan.
‘A question.’ Kahramanyan waited. ‘The Durzlan family. They were murdered a few months before Vahrig was arrested back in his home country. What are we supposed to make of that?’
The psychiatrist shook his head, regretful. ‘I am sorry. It is not something I can explain. I have seen the photographs and I have no doubt it was him. But how he came to be here and why he killed them, I cannot say.’
For the first time since taking their seats The Duke spoke up, addressing his team. ‘We’ll be needing to establish if the Durzlan family knew the Danelians. There may be something in their background that will explain it.’ Heads nodded.
A few minutes later, Kahramanyan concluded his presentation by taking questions from those wan
ting more detail about their quarry’s personal history. Vahrig’s original case notes had been destroyed in the blast that destroyed the Asylum, but Kahramanyan’s staff had reproduced as many of the psychiatric assessments and police reports as they could get their hands on. He referred the detectives to them. ‘For what they are worth,’ he added, honestly.
After bringing proceedings to a close, The Duke thanked the psychiatrist for his presentation and called his team to order. ‘We’ll talk about where we go next after a comfort break. Marcus, we’ll need plenty of copies of this bloke’s photograph.’
‘Right guv’nor.’
‘Alec?’
The burly DS turned round, mug already, magically, in hand.
‘We’ll be needing to put out a PNC Broadcast when we’ve finished. You can start drafting it soon as you’re ready.’
Alec growled his dismay. ‘Och, isn’t a man allowed to hae a cup o’ tea?’ The Duke ignored him, knowing the draft would be ready when he asked for it. While some continued to button-hole Kahramanyan, the man in charge of SMIU sidled over to where Carver was talking to Jess. Usually utterly forthright, on this occasion he was strangely reticent.
‘ Jamie, we, er-.’ He stopped, took a deep breath and started again. ‘Would you mind looking after the Doctor while we, er, do the necessary?’
Jess turned to her boss, puzzled. ‘Won’t we need Jamie here while we talk about setting up the enquiry?’
Carver stepped in quickly. ‘It’s okay, Jess, he’s right. I’m supposed to be staying out of SMIU ops.’
‘WHAT?’
As Jess turned on The Duke, Carver sensed his discomfort.
‘But it was only through Jamie we even got to hear about this character. And he’s reviewed the Durzlan case. That will be a key part of it. We ought to at least know how he approached it.’
Family Reunion Page 9
