by Jay Nadal
“Sounds good for starters.”
“I’m going to add some puffiness to his face, a few wrinkles. What about hair?” Craig asked as he clicked furiously with the mouse, using one editing tool after another.
“Keep it dark, the same with maybe a little bit of creep?”
“So full head, but larger forehead,” Craig verified, before he selected the brush option to work on the eyebrows.
The heat of all the equipment in the room made it increasingly stuffy. Scott felt his eyes getting heavier and stifled a few yawns through gritted teeth in the hope that Craig wouldn’t notice.
“How’s this looking?”
“Could you elongate the nose? It’s quite a young, boyish, thick nose at the moment and doesn’t suit the rest of the face.”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Beard, moustache, earring, glasses, scars, spots?” Craig asked.
“Not sure to be honest. Leave them off for the time being.”
“Once I’ve got the image the way you want it, I can knock up a few more with a beard, without and some specs too?”
“That would be great. Could you email those to me if that’s okay as I’ll need to shoot soon.”
An older face formed on the screen which piqued Scott’s interest. “On second thoughts, can you add a beard in?”
Craig nodded and delivered the request in a few extra clicks. “Bushy, long, tight, neatly trimmed, colour?”
Scott’s skin began to prickle as his eyes narrowed from the confusing number of choices. “Tight, trimmed and the same colour as his hair.”
With a few final rapid clicks, Craig leant back to admire and show off his handiwork. “There you go. That’s probably as best as I can get it with the little time we’ve got. Does that help?”
“One hundred per cent.”
45
Why did traffic always appear to move slower when he needed to get somewhere? Scott fumed as he turned right into Coldean Lane and raced back towards Ditchling. Every learner driver, red traffic light, bus and slow-moving lorry seemed to be in his way deliberately testing his patience.
Scott called Mike’s number, the ringing tone filling his car on loudspeaker. “Come on, come on, pick up, Mike,” Scott barked at the Bluetooth. The evening sun hung low in the horizon, leaving a long eerie tale of red eyes glowing as traffic snaked up the hill and past the university’s hall of residence.
The visit to Sussex University had been more fruitful than he had imagined. Whilst he’d sat behind Craig and watched in awe as he manipulated the image, Scott’s excitement had expanded within his chest, threatening to overflow. At first he’d racked his brain to think of all the times, places and situations he’d been where he might have seen that face. At first, a vague reference flitted across his consciousness, and then he’d been able to figure out exactly where he’d seen it.
His revelation had not only opened up a new line of enquiry, but it had helped lock various pieces of the jigsaw together. Revenge was a plausible motive for the murders, but still left the unanswered question as to why Latin inscriptions and white feathers had been left at all of the crime scenes. Were they a clue? A calling card?
Sure Simon had said that the English interpretation of the inscriptions was in reference to cowards, but the why was becoming clearer. There was the belief that bullies felt powerful in numbers, but get any one of them alone, and their personalities changed. Most bullies were weak individuals in Scott’s opinion. They lacked self-confidence, had low self-esteem and more often than not lacked intelligence. Rather than have these faults exposed or exploited, it was easier to hide behind a wall of violence, fear and intimidation.
“Guv?”
“Mike, are you still at the school?”
“Yes, Guv. Why? What’s up?”
“We still got Collier?”
“Yes, we’ve got him detained. I hadn’t heard back from you so uniform were just about taking him back to the station. Guv, I heard the news about you being taken off the case. Pardon my French, but what the fuck’s that about?”
“I can’t explain at the moment, Mike, but you must listen to me. It’s really urgent. Do not let Collier out of your sight. Yes, he is a suspect and we’ve charged him, but I also think he is now a potential target. I believe his life is in danger. I’m on my way and I’m just a few minutes away. I also reckon that the person who attacked Sian is still on the grounds of the school, and Collier could be the next target.
“The man we need to find is Timothy Saunders. He’s the catering manager for the school. Keep your eyes peeled, and get uniform to check and double-check everything, search the grounds, search the school, his home…find him.”
“Will do, Guv. See you in a bit.”
“Mike, how are you bearing up? We’ve all had a massive shock.”
“I’m okay, Guv. Yes, it’s hard. I’ve been in shit like this before, but we’ve got a job to do.”
On the face of it, Mike’s response could have appeared cold and insensitive. But Mike had often spoken about his time served in the military. Losing a colleague was something he’d experienced on more than one occasion. Whilst serving in Afghanistan, he’d fought alongside soldiers who had lost their lives in horrific and unimaginable ways. Soldiers just a few feet away from him had died in daily attacks by Taliban insurgents.
He’d witnessed one young soldier lose the back of his head after taking a bullet through his eye from a sniper over five hundred yards away. Another rifleman had lost his left leg below the knee after stepping on an IED and Mike had spent the next fifteen minutes with both hands over the stump of the soldier’s leg trying to stem the blood loss from the tangled and frayed mess of veins, arteries, shattered bone fragments and torn tissue. The soldier never made it back to the safety of Camp Bastion. He died in the field despite Mike’s efforts.
What hit him the hardest was losing his best mate Jon Jo, a Welsh rifleman. A cheeky, brave and fearless soldier, who always found a way to make the platoon laugh. He was fit, into his weight training and did regular hikes up Pen Y Fan, the highest peak in southern Wales, just for fun. It was probably the reason he’d initially survived after taking a direct hit from a suicide bomber who’d raced towards the checkpoint they were manning in Helmand province. Mike had momentarily frozen unable to comprehend the loss before he’d snapped back into work mode and defended the ensuing attack.
Experiences like those had left Mike able to function when others struggled. He’d become emotionally detached and resilient from the horrors of losing colleagues on the battlefield and losing Sian.
46
An NPAS helicopter hovered overhead as Scott approached the school. Its bright searchlight flickering in the darkened sky. Its powerful beam widening as it illuminated the grounds of the school. A powerful thermal imaging camera helped to identify any heat sources not visible to officers on the ground. The on-board camera system and the video downlink capability beamed back real-time information to the control room.
The grounds were awash with officers undertaking controlled sweeping arcs, their torchlights dancing erratically in the darkness of the evening. The rhythmic high-pitched whirring from the helicopter engine as its four blades cut through the air interrupted the strange, morbid stillness that hung in the air.
Mike stood beside a police van when Scott drove up alongside and parked up. “Any sightings, Mike?” Scott asked.
“Nothing as yet, Guv, well, nothing concrete. The dog picked up a scent coming out of the forest and back into the school but it seems to end in and around the entrance to the school kitchens and where the school food bins are. The dog was going back and forth. One minute it picked up a scent, and the next lost it. The handler thinks that something’s been put down on the ground to confuse the dog.”
“Anything else from Collier?” Scott asked, peering into the side window of the van. Collier sat solemnly between two uniformed officers, a third officer who was armed sat opposite them. Collier held his head high and
stared straight ahead, choosing not to exchange a glance with Scott.
“No, Guv, I’ve kept him here until you arrived. Even though I’m not sure why we’ve kept him here. Surely, if he’s in danger then we need to get him away from here pronto?”
“One simple word, Mike…bait. Whilst Collier is here, our man still has unfinished business. If Collier is the last target on his list, he’d want to get to Collier, and that means he’ll still be close by.”
“He’d be stupid to try and get to him,” Mike said, nodding towards the van. “We’ve got half the force here.”
“I know, but until I got back, I needed Collier here. For all we know, he could be watching us right now. He knows this place better than we do. It’s safe to say that if he wanted to get to Collier he would have done so by now. Get Collier back to the station, and as much as I hate to say this, make sure he’s well protected.”
“Want me to go with them?”
“No, you stay with me. We’re going to look for Saunders.”
“He can’t have many places to hide out, Guv. The grounds are swarming with uniformed. We’ve got the helo up, a dog unit here and the roads leading to the school are cordoned off.”
“Well, the old music room is being combed over by SOCO. The corridors and rooms are being searched. So where else would he feel comfortable or safe, Mike?”
Mike wasn’t sure from Scott’s tone if he was asking a question or prompting him.
Before Mike had a chance to answer, Scott headed off towards the back of the building. Mike jogged the few steps to catch up, his heavy frame trying hard to keep up.
Scott stepped through a white uPVC door that led to the kitchens. A mixture of smells that were reminiscent of being back at school greeted his nostrils. It was a warming mix of meaty aromas that reminded him of the school meat pie or shepherd’s pie. Then wafts of sweetness from a different part of the kitchen drew him in, the smell of chocolate chip sponge and custard sprang to mind. The overpowering and sanitising odour of cleaning fluids that clung in the air and drifted along the school corridors long after lunchtime was over erased all pleasant childhood memories from his mind.
A distinctive strong smell that assaulted his nostrils differentiated this kitchen from those in Scott’s memories. “Pepper and chilli powder.”
“And a lot of it too,” Mike added, his nose itching as the first signs of an impending sneeze started to gather momentum. “Uniformed have…have…swept this area already, Guv. Back outside is where the dog kept losing the scent,” he managed to get out before a thunderous sneeze broke the silence.
“Bless you. What does that tell you, Mike?”
“That I need a tissue. Sorry, dunno, that he’s trying hard to lose us,” he sniffed loudly.
“Exactly…and that means?”
Mike looked confused, second guessing Scott’s meaning. “He doesn’t want to be found?”
“That’s certainly true, but more importantly, it means we’re close. We’re close to him and he doesn’t like that. Look around you, Mike. The metal work surfaces are spotless, the shelves neatly stacked, but the floor is covered in footprints, and a pungent mix of spices. Admittedly, some of the prints will be the work of uniform traipsing through here, but he’s not going to go far. This is an area of the school he’s most comfortable with. It’s his territory.”
“So you think he’d come back here?”
“Probably. Just in the way that Saunders wouldn’t go into a classroom or interfere with teachers, teachers wouldn’t come in here and interfere, so he’d feel safe here.”
“Right, I get you, Guv,” Mike nodded, looking around.
“On the face of it, he’s just disappeared, but as it stands, he’s not in the school building as far as we know. Nothing showed up on the heat sensors in the forest or grounds. Uniform are sweeping the surrounding area, but we know he’s back here somewhere.”
Scott paused. He crossed his arms and looked at the floor, his eyes darting from one set of footprints to another. Where are you, you bastard? Heavy imprints from Magnum police boots criss-crossed the dark, shiny red tile floor. Dotted in amongst them were paw prints from the search dog. The dog had probably lost some of the scent due to the pepper and chilli powder mix. Nothing stood out; nothing made sense. Then he spotted it. Scott remained motionless as his eyes tracked them. A different set of footprints.
The prints headed off towards a corner of the kitchen furthest away from the door. “Mike, check these out,” Scott remarked as he gingerly stepped around the prints and traced then in the direction they were heading.
“Saunders?”
“No idea, but it’s likely if we can’t place them with anyone else. And as far as we know, no one else has been in here.”
“Kids?”
“Too big for kids.”
The footsteps stopped by a large, industrial double door fridge-freezer that was pushed up against the far wall. Scott glanced around the sides of the unit, then behind it, before kneeling down.
“This has been moved, Mike. Look, there are rubber marks on the floor. Give me a hand.”
Mike and Scott leant into the side of the unit expecting that due to its size it would barely move. They were both taken by surprise and exchanged curious looks when the unit smoothly glided with little effort. Scott knelt down again and peered underneath to see the unit resting on a set of roller gliders.
Pushing the unit aside, the men noticed the footprints carried on and up to the wall. Again they both shot each other a glance before scanning the wall. There was no discernable or designated doorway. However, they could make out a thin line that had been cut into the wall towards the bottom.
“Just enough to crawl through?”
Scott agreed as he stuck a finger into the finger hole that had been drilled into the wall. Giving it a hard tug, a small section of the wall came away revealing a large dark space behind.
“Fairly easy for someone to crawl into and then pull the fridge back towards the wall…crafty,” Mike murmured as he knelt down and peered into the darkened space. From within the blackness, Mike could just make out the outline of a corridor that disappeared into the distance. He reached for his phone and switched on his backlight to offer more illumination. “It goes on a bit, Guv. Judging from the stud wall partitioning, it looks like an old corridor that’s been sealed up.”
“Well, the building is old enough. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a warren of hidden walkways and corridors beneath the school and behind these walls.”
Mike lifted a hand to pause Scott, before sticking his head further into the gap. He waited for a few moments before withdrawing. “Think I can hear something, Guv. Could just be rats, or the big rat we’re after?”
“Only one way to find out. Call it in and get backup,” Scott replied, squeezing past Mike and crawling through the dusty dark hole.
Mike followed whilst relaying their findings and position to the ops room. The corridor was wide enough for just one person to walk through so Mike followed behind, the lights on their phones barely strong enough to illuminate their way. The corridor smelt damp and musky, years of no ventilation and natural light had left an eerie, cold feeling as they walked slowly, feeling their way. Their hands were cold and moist from the dampness that clung in the air and weaved its way into the fabric of their clothes.
A rustling up ahead stopped them in their tracks. Scott strained hard in the darkness to focus and identify the source of the noise. Mike stood poised on Scott’s shoulder ready to barge past in his normal heavy-handed manner. They waved their useless phones in the bleakness that surrounded them. A glimmer of brightness bounced back at them. Then it happened again as they inched further. An outline loomed ahead. The outline of a man.
47
“This is the police! Identify yourself!” Scott instructed as his narrowed eyes searched the darkness.
The silhouetted figure remained still and silent. He stood his ground, the glint of his blade bouncing off the wall
s as the light hit it.
“This is the police, identify yourself now!” Scott shouted, lips curled in a sneer. “We’re armed officers! Put the knife down!”
“Now, now, Inspector, we both know you’re bluffing. CID officers don’t carry arms unless they’re specially trained.”
Yes, he was bluffing, and had been called out on it, but what took Scott and Mike by surprise was the reference to inspector. Saunders? Most people just cooperated or became further agitated when commanded to do something by the police, but not only was his command being challenged, but the dark figure appeared to know his identity.
“Make yourself known to us now, Saunders?” Scott barked again.
“Inspector, Inspector, that’s not how we do things around here. There’s a pecking order. You have to toe the line, oh, the wonderful line.” A hint of sarcasm tinged his cold, measured tone.
“Put the knife down before it’s too late. Let’s talk about this and see how we can help you.”
The figure started to retreat back ever so slowly, the darkness swallowing him up.
“Bit late for that don’t you think, Inspector? You have an uncanny knack of sticking around and that doesn’t help me.”
Before Scott could say anything else, the figure melted into the emptiness, his retreating footsteps the only giveaway of his escape.
“Proceed with caution,” Scott whispered as they followed in pursuit, slow to begin with as they watched their footing in the semi-darkness.
Their laboured breathing drowned out the footsteps of the man they pursued. Each heavy step they took on the bare wooden floor was amplified tenfold in the confines of the corridor as the paced picked up. Scott had lost his bearings, unsure what direction they were heading in and what would greet them at the end. Each cautious turn delayed them further as they travelled deeper into the warren of passageways.
In the back of Scott’s mind, he knew that confronting and pursuing an armed suspect required tact, backup and caution. The very same elements he’d discarded as he’d gone after his man. He knew he’d put his life at risk as well as Mike’s. But adrenaline coursed through his veins, spurring him on. His desire for a result and justice overshadowed any logical argument for stopping the pursuit now.
