Unspoken Truths

by Liz Mistry

  Still not sure why or even if they were a threat to him, he lifted his head again. They’d moved to his right, their torches casting shadows in his peripheral vision. Their voices seemed fainter and he thought now was the time. Bracing his forearms in front of him, he began to pull himself forward. Only one leg worked so it was difficult to move. He dug his elbows in and his good knee and tried to propel himself onward. His shoulders ached, his breath froze as he exhaled. Managing mere inches at a time, he collapsed in the snow. It was too cold and he was chittering and yet he had an overwhelming urge to strip off his coat.

  Maybe if he did he’d be able to move more freely. He paused… thought. The two men were still to his right, a little further away now. Perhaps if he just stayed still they’d miss him and go back to wherever they’d come from. Perhaps they weren’t even looking for him. No that wasn’t right – they’d called his name. Or had they? Maybe he was confused, maybe they’d lost their dog. Maybe… maybe nothing. He’d been frightened earlier and had made his escape – from the farmhouse he remembered that now. What else could he remember? A knife? Yes, he had a knife – two knives, one in his rucksack, which he’d left behind him in the snow, where was the other? He moved his arm and scrabbled around near his leg. He touched something hard, stuck inside his wellie boot, but couldn’t quite reach it. It was reassuring though to have it there. He peered to his left and saw some trees. If he could get there he’d be able to take off his boot and get the knife.

  Sighing, he changed his trajectory, pulling his weight, using his arms. Every half foot he stopped for a rest. The voices faded in his mind. Like dull echoes against the snow, he moved on. The wind whistled around, storming up great flurries of snow. That was good, they wouldn’t be able to see him. He could barely see the trees now, just great outlines, barely visible. Never had Daniel been so vulnerable. Never had he been so exhausted, so drained.

  He kept going, dogged, determined. His leg was like a dead tree trunk behind him and all he wanted to do was speed up. He flashed to that film he’d seen with Izzie. The one where the guy fell into a ravine and in order to save himself he’d gnawed off his arm. Could he do that? Was it necessary? If he could get to the trees and get some shelter, even just for a short time he could recoup and think. He stopped for another rest and took the chance to look at the trees again.

  Brilliant! They were closer than he thought. Why were they moving though? Was he hallucinating?

  They were really close now, what the heck – they were yelling at him – but how could trees yell? The two hulking shapes moved through the snow, directly towards him.

  ‘Daniel? Daniel Farrier?’

  49

  06:15 Saddleworth Moor

  Storm Emma had played havoc with Gus and Lewis Gore’s journey. Every route they took placed an obstacle of some description in front of them. And when they got closer to the farmhouse the roads became smaller and harder to navigate. They’d spent forever in Manchester attaching snow chains to Gore’s car. Gus’ fingers were still complaining at the cold that still lurked in his joints. It had been hell, but judging by the number of abandoned cars they’d passed en route, it had been time well spent. Gus hadn’t wanted a repeat of yesterday’s scary journey from Bradford. Sometimes Gus was sure they were only on a minor farm track. The car heating kicked in sporadically, resulting in them alternating between sweating buckets and shivering uncontrollably. The sheer cold had made them have to stop on more than one occasion to relieve their bladders and, each time, Gus was sure the wind would whip his penis off or freeze the urine as it left his body.

  The headlights barely pierced the gloom despite Gore having his fog lights on and Gus wondered whether the SCO19s would have any better luck in getting to the farmhouse. He’d pinned everything on finding Daniel here. It was logical. The men who’d taken Jordan Beaumont had been caught within minutes of the farmhouse he’d inherited. Well, on a good day it would be minutes, on a bad day – like today – it had taken Gus and Lewis hours. He was glad to have Lewis with him. The big man, despite his snoring, was solid and dependable. He was completely on-board with the logic of Gus’ thinking. What they’d find when they finally reached the farmhouse was anyone’s guess – nothing good, if the carnage they’d left at Beaumont’s house was any indication. Was Beaumont still alive, or had he got something stashed away at the cottage that those two wanted?

  His phone rang, startling him from his thoughts – Compo! He flicked it to speaker phone and answered. ‘Y’all.’

  ‘Hey boss. Did a bit more digging and guess what?’

  Gus hated this tendency of Compo’s to make him guess what he’d discovered. There was absolutely no way he could begin to guess what he’d discovered – he was in awe of Compo’s talents, but he really wished the lad would just spit it out.

  ‘What?’ He sensed Gore looking at him. And realised his tone had been sharp. He adjusted his appraoch, ‘Sorry Compo, bad time here. Driving in this bloody weather’s like swimming through my mum’s gravy. Have you got something for me?’

  ‘Damn right I have Gus, damn right I have.’

  Gus heard the distinctive sound of Compo clicking his fingers.

  ‘I put a trail on the movements of that vehicle over the past week and guess what?’

  Gus sighed, ‘Just tell me Compo. I’m all out of guesses.’

  ‘Well, turns out on Thursday, before the storm got really bad, it was caught on the exact same camera near Saddleworth Moor. Bit of a coincidence eh? And an hour before that it was caught around the Manchester Victoria area.’

  Gus grinned. This information made it even more likely that there was a link between Jordan Beaumont’s abductors and possibly Daniel and Izzie. He frowned, it didn’t add up though, that Beaumont had arranged for his wife and child to become victims – obviously Izzie was a different kettle of fish. He didn’t know her and folk would do a hell of a lot for money. It remained to be seen whether Jordan Beaumont was an innocent victim or if he was complicit.

  ‘That’s not all though,’ continued Compo, his words running together, ‘It was also caught twice on the camera nearest to the Worth Valley Railway in Keighley – the one right near Dalton Mill – and,’ he paused in a ta da sort of way, took a deep breath and continued, ‘it’s been hanging around Alice’s house for a couple of weeks – well since Daniel and Izzie moved in anyway.’

  That was interesting. Gave them a concrete link between Jordan Beaumont and Izzie and the car. The sound of Compo taking a bite of something made Gus’ stomach rumble. He was in danger of collapsing like an old Victorian drama queen. He couldn’t imagine Gore being gallant enough to whip out the smelling salts to revive him. On the upside, Compo’s intelligence was great. He was dotting the I’s and the T’s would hopefully be crossed when he and Gore reached their destination. Hell, it was a great feeling when hard work began to pay dividends.

  Through a mouthful of something, Compo began speaking again. ‘Thing is Gus. Taffy suggested cross referencing the number plates and times to see if they were working in a group and… guess what?’

  Here we go again! Gus glanced at Gore who was smirking and shaking his head. If they hadn’t been at risk of getting trapped in the snow, Gus would’ve thumped him on the arm. Instead, he contented himself with glowering at him. Gore responded by briefly raising the middle finger of one hand.

  ‘Go on, Comps. I’m listening.’

  Gore’s grin widened, probably because the expression on Gus’ face belied his placid tone. Gus winked, his face softening. He could well imagine Compo whizzing between screens on his office chair like a demented dervish, music blaring in his headphones – wonder what he’s listening to for this case? – crumbs flying unnoticed, Taffy, in the background, pulling together all of the paperwork. Compo was back.

  ‘We hit Bingo! Well – when I say Bingo, I don’t mean your Bingo. Nobody, least of all me would hit your Bingo. No…’

  Well used to Compo’s digressions, and sensing he was about to go aro
und the houses in order to clarify what Gus already knew, he cut in, ignoring the snort of laughter from Gore. ‘I know exactly what you mean. What did your protégé’s brainwave reveal?’

  ‘Eh?’

  Another snort from Gore as he manoeuvred round a snow covered bump in the road managing to right the vehicle from a very slight skid.

  ‘What did Taffy’s suggestion tell us?’

  ‘Oh, yeah, right, get it. Might be summat or nowt, but we discovered another car that was at Rawsforth when the train Izzie Dimou was on crashed and it was caught on the same cameras as the other car near the mill in Keighley, though significantly not near the railway station. We got a list of all the places this vehicle had been and, gue—?’

  Determined not to offset the question, Gus interrupted, ‘Did the sightings correspond to our other vehicle, by any chance?’

  ‘Brilliant Gus, well done.’

  Gus let that go, amid more snorts from Gore,

  ‘Lewis got a cold, Gus? Is he well wrapped up – it’s cold out.’

  At these words Gore’s smiling face turned in to a frown, ‘What the fuck do you think I’m wearing Compo? We’re in the middle of Saddleworth Moor in the worst storm in my memory and you ask if we’re wrapped up?’

  Gus, now laughing, raised his hand, ‘We’re a bit cold. Heater’s not working very well and Gore’s a tad grumpy. Just ignore him.’

  Gore again shared his raised middle finger with Gus, who returned the gesture. ‘Go on Comps.’

  ‘Well, they’re not always exactly in the same vicinity, but enough of the time to make it suspicious. Thing is, we’ve linked the car plates to those two dead blokes yesterday in Keighley. Turns out they’re Romanian – from Manchester – but the car caught in Rawsforth belongs to their cousin. Nancy’s got them in for questioning. Strange thing is, another one of their relatives was killed on Friday – looked like a drug hit. Their prints were matched to what was left of the car that caused the train wreck.’

  ‘Good work Comps. Any news about Alice, or anymore from the USB?’

  ‘Making progress, will update later, Gus. See ya.’

  ‘Eh, Comps?’

  ‘Yeah’

  ‘What’s your song for this case?

  ‘Unspoken Truth by Shakra.’

  How bloody apt. Too many truths had been left unspoken recently. Something Gus intended to rectify when he could.

  50

  06:45 Holmfield Court

  Taffy couldn’t take his eyes off Compo. He was a completely different person when behind the computer. Taffy had never had the time to study Compo in action, but he was glad he had the opportunity now. Compo had made him swear a ‘what happens at Compo’s stays at Compo’s’ sort of oath and now he was certainly seeing a whole load of stuff he never in a million years thought he would. He sat at Compo’s side watching conversations play across the screen – conversations on the deep web, conversations that made only partial sense to him. After the first few hours, he’d got used to the darkness in the room. Compo had insisted they shut the curtains and dimmed the lights; claiming it got him in the zone. To be honest it was a relief for Taffy not to have to see the worsening weather conditions outside.

  One screen had interactions from the Justice Room, another had ones from Beyond the Pale and a third was running an ongoing data analysis programme Compo had whipped up to isolate the CCTV images that may have a view of both cars’ occupants.

  Compo let out a sudden whoop and wheeled himself over to the Justice Room screen. A message had flashed up

  JayRay: Been sniffing. Followed scent and got goods. You on?

  ReviAeternus: Which hit?

  JayRay: AC

  Taffy had picked up that AC was Alice. Looked like JayRay had come up with the goods.

  ReviAeternus: How many bitcoins?

  JayRay: It’s hot – flaming – on fire.

  ReviAeternus: Again, how many?

  JayRay: Enough. More than enough.

  Compo laced his fingers together and pushed his hands away from him, palms out, creating a cracking sound that made Taffy shiver. His face set, Compo tucked his chair right under the table, took a glug of Coke, rammed a handful of Tortilla chips into his mouth and set to work.

  ReviAeternus: Trade?

  JayRay: What you got?

  ReviAeternus: This piece takes backdoor access to next level – better than Sham door or RoofTop.

  JayRay: Proof?

  Compo laughed out loud, grabbed more Tortillas followed by a large bite of a Mars Bar and pressed a few keys. Turning to Taffy, he raised his hand for a high five. ‘Already breached his back door – had it set up, just in case. He’ll give us what we want for this technology.’ Puzzled, Taffy frowned, ‘Won’t he be pissed off with you for hacking him?’

  ‘Nah, he asked for proof. Had all his protection in place and I still got through. He’ll be begging for this.’

  JayRay: Jammie. Give me 5.

  The conversation went silent and Compo turned to Taffy, his grin wide. Like a kid whose eaten all the red smarties. ‘Hey Taff, he’s going to try to outdo me but he won’t be able to. Give it three minutes and he’ll give in.’

  Intrigued, Taffy glanced at his watch and began the countdown. ‘What’ve you done Comps.’

  Compo shrugged, ‘Nowt much. Just created a programme that can get through his backdoor undetected. He’s trying right now to close the doors and lock me out.’

  ‘And you’ll sell that to him.’

  ‘Nah, not sell. I’ll exchange it for real info about Alice.’

  Taffy wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Last thing he wanted was for some hacker to have access to a programme that could effectively access all sorts of businesses and governments. ‘Eh, Comps, is that a good idea? I mean will Gus be okay with it?’

  ‘You heard, Gus. He said ‘do what it takes’. You heard him, right?’

  Taffy nodded, reluctant, ‘Well, yeah, but not sure he meant this sort of thing. I mean, you’re leaving systems wide open with that.’

  Compo raised his chin, opened his mouth and shook in the last of the tortillas, seemingly unconcerned that half of the crumbs landed on his t-shirt.

  ‘Nah. Don’t be daft. I wouldn’t do that. JayRay is a White Hat hacker. He’ll put it to good use. I’d probably have exchanged it over the weekend for intel on an original retro poster, anyway.’

  ‘So why not just give him it?

  ‘Protocol Taff. Exchanges are fine, but we don’t like to owe each other too much.’

  The Justice Room PC pinged and Taffy jumped to his feet as Compo whirled his chair round to face the monitor.

  JayRay: Dude, you’re tops. Lulz!

  For a minute Taffy was disconcerted, then he remembered Compo had told him Lulz was Internet speak for ‘lol’. Seemed like JayRay was happy. Now, let’s hope he’s got something convincing to help Alice.

  ReviAeternus: Need to see the goods first.

  JayRay: Taster coming your way.

  A window pinged open next to their conversation. It was a video. Compo enlarged the screen and they saw an image of Sean Kennedy in an office – all magnolia and cream with heavy wood furniture. He sat opposite an older, much smarter man, who kept playing with the things on the desk that separated them. It was date stamped Friday. This had the potential to be good. Compo’s fingers flew across the keyboard.

  ReviAeternus: Need more – sound?

  JayRay: Solicitor Allison-Hinton. Harrow. Got sound. Also, RAT’d solicitors PC. You need deeper sniff, let me know.

  As Taffy and Compo watched they saw Sean Kennedy smile. Not a pleasant sight. The man had deteriorated since his pre-coma photos – emaciated, straggly hair and, if that smile was owt to go by, a nasty streak. He certainly made the solicitor look nervous. The larger man couldn’t seem to hold Kennedy’s gaze. His eyes flitting anywhere but directly at his visitor. All the while they talked, his hands rearranged the pens, pencils and the executive toy on his desk.

  The sound kick
ed in, making Taffy jump. It was as clear as if the conversation was happening right there.

  ‘Well?’ Sean Kennedy glared at the solicitor. The word a bullet shot in the quiet room.

  The other man’s face broke into a wide smile and for a moment he suspended his fidgeting. ‘She agreed. Baby Jane’s final bit of persuasion did the trick. She’s signed the statement claiming responsibility for everything and exonerating you from all wrong doing.’

  Baby Jane? That was the bitch that had landed Al in the hospital. Taffy grinned and risked a glance at Compo. Compo’s head was going up and down like one of those nodding car toys, his smile wide. They’d got a definite link between Kennedy, Kennedy’s solicitor and the bitch that had attacked Alice.

  The solicitor continued. ‘That combined with Big H’s statement and the electronic trail we’ve laid, will let you off the hook and confine her to a long stay at Her Majesty’s convenience.’

  Compo’s face darkened as the import of the man on the screen’s words sank in. ‘Fucker,’ he murmured under his breath

  Now Kennedy was grinning, like he’d been expecting this. He leaned back and nodded. ‘Now, we need to get her parents.’

  ‘Fuck!’ The word was out before he could stop it. Taffy glanced at Compo. ‘The bastards are going after Alice’s mum and dad.’ Taffy had only met the Coopers briefly, but he’d liked them. Now, looking at Compo, he saw a side to his friend he’d never seen before. His fingers were flying over the keys, his face unsmiling, a frown dragging his eyebrows together into one elongated angry-looking caterpillar. Taffy could just about decipher the words he whispered under his breath; ‘bastards’ and ‘not on my watch.’

  Taffy turned back to the screen. Allison-Hinton was frowning now and his hands were all over his desk ornaments again – not a happy man.

  ‘What? But... I thought...?’ Allison-Hinton’s voice trembled.