by Ian Brett
“I wasn’t crying for him I was crying for me, I’ve never killed anyone before and I….”
Of course, I’m a total shit - only thinking about destroying evidence and sailing away with Louise. I forgot how she would feel. Till she met me her place in the world was saving lives not taking them. Now to save me, she’d killed a man. She’d spent 20 years around one of the most powerful gangsters in London and not been corrupted till she met me… now I’d ruined it.
“I’m sorry Darling, I can be a damn fool sometimes. I’m worried that we need to get away from here. I don’t want you involved with the police I’ll come aboard and sort it now.”
She stood with her hands on her hips. “No need for that, I’m quite capable. You float him round and I’ll get the rope, let’s just get on with it.”
It took us over 20 minutes to winch Patterson’s body into his dingy. He was as brutish in death as he had been in life. Eventually after tying the small boat to Smoking Cloud’s side I landed his body then zipped him in one of the body-bags. I attached two of the concrete blocks to his legs and torso. I did the same with his mate.
The shallow shelf area around the islands ranges from about 50 to 200 meters deep but there are a few narrow troughs, over 1000 meters deep that are not suitable for modern fishing or diving where a boat or a body could lie undisturbed for years. One was about two miles from where we were anchored. I hid the dingy with a tarpaulin and left it tied to Smoking Cloud. It was an unseaworthy arrangement but if we sailed slowly it would suffice. I thought it unlikely that we’d come across any boats but I didn’t want them remembering an image of us towing Patterson’s boat.
***
We sat in the galley talking over a cup of coffee.
“After we’ve dumped the evidence we should head back to Oban, berth the boat and fly back to London.”
“You don’t want to finish our holiday?” She said it without a smile but I could hear the irony in her voice. It was obvious I needed to talk to Howard and Octavian and she needed to see her father. Neither of these conversations could take place over a phone if we wanted to guarantee their privacy.
“Bugger!”
“What now?
“Just thinking about phones. It made me think of Patterson and his mate. If they had mobiles on them we don’t want anyone checking the records and noticing that their final movements mirror ours up to the moment the signal dies.”
“Unlikely ‘cos I doubt there’s a signal here but you never know.”
“Not really something I know much about.” I said. “But even if there’s no signal a techie may be able to track via GPS.”
“So what are you going to do?”
I sat thinking for a few moments. “If you look out of the porthole you can see Stociagh Isle behind us. I think it would take me about an hour to get there in the dingy if I put the sale up. I’ll land find somewhere to dump the phones then get back here.”
“You really think it’s worth all that effort?”
“For peace of mind, yes. I don’t think anyone except birdwatchers go there nowadays, so it’s ideal. Can you tidy up a bit here? Check that there’s no blood, obvious bullet holes or spent cartridges lying around. By the time you’ve done that I’ll be back.”
I unzipped the bags and searched the bodies. It was an unpleasant job - I ended up covered with blood and the stench of death in my nostrils but two mobiles secured in my hand. I zipped the bodies back into their bags and covered them both with some spare canvas and tied it down. I was unlikely to meet anyone but again, it’s better to be sure.
For now I was lucky, there was a single sail in the dingy and a decent wind so it took me less than 40 minutes to reach the island.
I jumped out and pulled the dingy a way up the beach and anchored it - I didn’t want the damn thing floating off and marooning me.
In the distance I could just make out a lighthouse. They’re all unmanned now so I was able to search without concern. The island has no trees or notable features apart from a few abandoned buildings. No life but seabirds and today, no visitors but me. I acted the birdwatcher for a while, playing with my binoculars and making notes but eventually I was sure. I was alone.
So where to hide the phones? I went back to the boat and collected them. I needed the signals to continue for as long as possible, but one of them was dying already so I just dropped that in the sea, the tide could take it where it willed from there.
I took the other and scrambled up to one of the shepherds’ huts. There was a small cleft in the earth by what must have been a barn and I left it there. It had enough power to last few hours so I was satisfied. I’d worn gloves and left no fingerprints. I ran back to the dingy and headed back to Smoking Cloud. The wind was against me now so the return journey took an uneventful 90 minutes.
I’d been away just over two hours and Louise had made a fine job of the boat. She’d weighted the canvas spray canopy and dumped it over the side and taken an axe to parts of the wheelhouse that had been sprayed with bullets. Now the boat looked as if we had had been in some sort of careless boating accident not a minor battle.
“What do you think?” She was obviously apprehensive about what she had done to the boat, but I sang her praises - she’d been imaginative.
I tied the dingy up and we slowly detoured back to Oban via my hideaway - I was right. A glance at the sonar revealed a narrow gully covered by over 1000 meters of ocean - a permanent hiding place. We anchored and I lowered Patterson’s dingy back into the sea and cast off from Smoking Cloud. I rowed a few yards off and tried to dump the bodies. I’d imagined that it would be easy to just tip them out, but it wasn’t.
I tried heaving them over the gunwale but their weight combined with the concrete blocks was too much and I almost capsized the dingy. To be confident that they would never be found I needed a controlled decent. They had to sink straight down to the bottom of the gully not slew sideways into shallow water. I had one chance to get this right
There was no way I was going to let Louise be involved. After much argument she’d agreed to sit in Smoking Cloud’s galley and read a book. If she was ever asked she could truthfully assert that she had never seen the disposal of any bodies. She’d agreed reluctantly so I wasn’t going to change my mind now. I’d planned to tip the bodies here and then take the dingy and scuttle it elsewhere, but that plan needed to change
Clearly Patterson had planned carefully what he was going to do with our bodies and had recognised the difficulty of heaving bodies over the side - so how was he going to do it? I sat on the centre beam and looked round for some tools. Nothing.
Then I noticed a small chest built into the stern, it held a saw and a short crowbar. After a few moments thought I got his plan. It was a good one and would work for me too. I removed the sail stowed it in the chest, using the crowbar I prized off the bottom boards exposing the dinghy’s wooden frame, then cut the mast in two.
I cut one end to a sharp point and used this to smash jagged holes through the hull. It was a beautiful boat and she deserved better but I had no choice. It was the work of seconds but I kept smashing till there was a huge gash. She and the two weighted bodies sank quickly. All that was left were a few boards floating on the surface and they were soon dispersed by the tide. I swam back with the final piece of evidence - the sharpened stave of the mast - I would burn that later.
I took Smoking Cloud straight to Billy’s boat yard. I’d known him for years, he’s done several alterations to Smoking Cloud in the past. He loves the boat and gave me a sad but appraising look and agreed to start the ‘renovations’ the following week. Till he was ready to start she would stay covered up in his boatyard. We didn’t talk about price.
Chapter 10. Resolution.
“So how do you think he found you?” Howard asked, he likes to tie up loose ends.
“Don’t know, my best guess is that he followed Louise from London. Wouldn’t have been difficult for him or even Ray to do that - she’s not used to swee
ping for tails. But we’re not sure. Obviously she’s seen Ray before from when he worked with her father and she’s fairly sure she never saw him tailing her but she’d never met Patterson, so my money is on him.”
“Well whatever, Octavian and his lot are pleased. Patterson is out of the picture for good, it’s been given out that he went on a sailing trip to hide himself away after some dodgy financial deals and has gone missing - probably managed to drown himself.
“The powerboat he hired has been found abandoned but the small dingy that went with it is missing. Nothing suspicious in the boat apart form a half-used stash of coke. The police think that he probably fell into the water when he was high. The guy who rented him the boat only met Patterson so the Police don’t know if he had company. End of. I’m assuming that it’s unlikely that he will bob up anywhere in the near future?”
I shook my head. “Almost impossible I would think. Are they all agreed that he killed Miller now?”
“We’re sure your right. The original problem was that all the evidence, from the pub, the taxi driver and CCTV showed Miller leaving about 40 minutes before Patterson.”
“I know.”
“The new bit is that Phil has managed to hack into the local CCTV, from the cops, council and private shops.”
I whistled. “That kid is a genuine menace, we’d better make sure we don’t lose him, if he wants more money - just pay him.”
“He seems happy with the money he’s getting- and so he should. What he really wants is to go on more ops with you Max.”
“As long as he can do as he’s told, he’s got it. But what did he find?”
“It all kicks off some 20 minutes after Patterson arrived home. There’s a CCTV on a shop at the end of the next street which covers part of the service road at the back of Patterson’s house. Have a look at this.” Howard flicked a key on his laptop and a CCTV clip powered onto the overhead screen. It wasn’t very clear but it showed a cyclist, with crash helmet, goggles and a back pack shooting across the lights.
“So you think this is Patterson?” I said.
“Were almost sure of it. Cameras at traffic lights along the way show him cycling towards Miller’s house. There’s a crossing just before you get to Miller’s road and we see the same cyclist again. See, he turns right into Woodland Road. Miller’s house is half way down. At the end of the junction there is another set of lights and we never see the cyclist down that far. He stopped somewhere in Millers road.”
I pursed my lips. “So not conclusive but good circumstantial evidence.”
“There is a bit more.” Howard set the CCTV in motion again. “You may recognise this. It’s the top of Miller’s road again but this time about 40 minutes later. Remember we saw the cyclist turn right off the main road to come down here. Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Well here he is again coming back up the road and turning left at the lights to go home. Notice anything different about him?”
I looked carefully and couldn’t see anything till he passed the camera and was cycling away. “Stop it there. Can you stop the recording?”
Howard did so and looked at me expectantly.
“The first time we saw him the bag on his back looked full, now it seems to be almost empty.”
“So?”
“So I assume that the ropes and kit used to tie Miller up were in there along with other stuff like magazines and the drugs that Patterson left in Millers house to incriminate him - hence the empty bag”
“Precisely, not only that but I got one of our guys to break into Patterson’s garage and he found a bike exactly like the one in the CCTV footage. He flicked the key again and a picture of the bike came up.”
I nodded. “I can imagine how it took place. Patterson was a self-obsessed loser who blamed every misfortune or failure on others. He would have loved the high of planning a murder to get back at them. I’m guessing that by the time he got to the house that evening, Miller was unconscious. He probably found him on the bedroom floor.
“We know that Miller was light, it wouldn’t have taken much effort for Patterson to drag him to the door and set him in that kneeling position. I see him strapping the collar to his neck then hoisting Miller up - the weight was on his neck and toes.”
I could see that Howard was buying this, so I continued. “You said Forensics had shown that the collar pressed on Miller’s carotid. I’m guessing the Vagus receptors were crushed and would have slowed his heart down. He probably died within minutes of being strung up. I can imagine Patterson sitting on the bed waiting till he was sure Miller was dead, then strewing the pictures and other stuff on the floor.”
“I’m sure your right,” Howard said
I came back to the present. “So how about Octavian’s lot, will they accept this?”
Howard sat back and put his feet on the desk. “No one needs watertight evidence. Because Prof worked for the government sometimes there were ‘security issues’ so the Coroner’s court was held in camera. There were no reporters.
“As we expected the official verdict was that Miller died from a heart attack. Octavian just wants a verbal report. I think he always accepted your theory that Patterson was the murderer. He just wants to be sure that nothing unforeseen is going to show up and embarrass them.”
“So we’re finished and their happy?”
“Very happy, in fact they have another ‘sensitive’ case they want us to look into now your back. Something to do with a missing girl - the daughter of a key defence contractor. They’ve asked if he can come and see us tomorrow. Octavian is very keen that we help, I don’t know why.”
“I’m fine for tomorrow. Anything else from our Lord and Master?”
“No, just that he was pleased that you seem to be able to work with Bacon. They’ve come up with some sort of deal that Octavian feels will pay dividends.”
“I know but more to the point, what about Charles’s reputation with the Government, is he clear again?”
“That’s fine. I don’t think anyone really thought he was involved. Nowadays there’s always concern relating to abuse allegations, especially citing MPs and others in power - so things had to be seen to be checked. But that’s all over with now. The select committee will be visiting Zanic sometime next year. With the new finance in place they’re cracking on with the research. No publicity and no scandal - another embarrassment averted.” Howard raised an eyebrow “You’re sure Patterson’s body won’t pop up somewhere aren’t you?”
“It won’t” I said.
About the series. You can read more of Max and the Consultancy in Ian Brett’s new novel Death Farm which will be published in January 2015. There are be five books planned in the series.
Thank you for taking time to read this book. Please don’t forget to leave your reviews, it’s good to hear what you like and how to improve.
About this book
Max Blake’s life is torn apart by murder and political intrigue as he tries to help a friend who is being blackmailed.
Copyright and chapter click to
First published in 2014 by 21st Century Publishing (C21P) Copyright © Ian Brett. The moral right of Ian Brett to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are products of the author's imagination and are complete fiction. Any resemblance to individuals either living or dead is unintended.
Chapters
Chapter 1 Crash
Chapter 2 Meeting
Chapter 3 Max
Chapter 4 Lab Work.
Chapter 5. Capture.
Chapter 6. Escape.
Chap
ter 7 Proposal and Retribution.
Chapter 8 Take Over bid.
Chapter 9 Smoking Cloud.
Chapter 10. Resolution
About the series
Thank you
About this book
