Buried Secrets

by Ted Tayler

  Gus went inside and started cooking from scratch. A takeaway wouldn’t cut the mustard tonight, and Suzie didn’t need a crowd of people around her while she made her deliberations. His role was to support her and avoid putting his size ten feet in his mouth. Least said, soonest mended.

  Friday, 3rd August 2018

  Gus and Suzie left the bungalow together at half-past eight. As she opened her car door, she turned back.

  “I love you, you know,” she said. “It helped last night, just the two of us. I think I’d like to do the same tonight. This time, I’ll cook.”

  “That’s fine by me,” said Gus. “All things being equal, I’ll arrive home by half-past five. If something crops up to change that, I’ll call you.”

  Suzie blew Gus a kiss and got in her car, He followed her Golf through the gateway, and they travelled into Devizes in convoy. When Suzie turned into the London Road HQ, Gus spotted Vera Butler walking to work from her cottage. He waved, but Vera was studying the pavement.

  Thirty minutes later, Gus eased the Focus between Blessing Umeh’s Micra and Luke Sherman’s motor. He was the last to arrive.

  When Gus entered the office, Blessing stood up and brought a folder to his desk.

  “I imagine this is the fruit of your labours, Blessing,” said Gus.

  “It’s the fruit of Divya’s labours with a little help from me,” said Blessing.

  “Okay, everyone,” said Gus. “Blessing’s ready to give her report.”

  “Me, guv?” asked Blessing.

  “DC Umeh, if you wish to become a DS one day, you need to be prepared to present your work in front of senior officers, and convince them you are ready for promotion. Practice makes perfect, DC Umeh. Carry on.”

  Blessing posted copies of the nine photographs they were interested in on a whiteboard.

  “The same device took these photographs,” said Blessing. “A Nikon D1; the first fully integrated digital SLR camera. It had a 2.7-megapixel sensor and provided 4.5 frames per second shooting—a respectable speed even today. These photos haven’t changed since the day they got taken. Nobody Photoshopped them.”

  “When did that camera come on the market?” asked Neil.

  “Six months before that first photograph in Egypt,” said Blessing.

  “How can you be certain that they came from the same device?” asked Lydia.

  “A small chip contained within all digital cameras tracks the metadata of that device,” said Blessing. “They’re known as Charge-Coupled Device chips. CCD chips are light-sensitive circuits that come with minor factory flaws unique to the individual CCD chip.”

  “What did Divya include in your report?” asked Alex.

  “There should be plenty to satisfy what we need in this case review,” said Blessing. “If we find our killer and need additional detail when the case gets to court, we only have to shout. Divya’s given us camera settings, such as ISO speed, shutter speed, focal length, aperture, white balance, and lens type. We know the make and model of the camera. We now have the date and time relevant for each photograph. In eight out of nine cases, the location was obvious. The last photo was the one that could prove to be the most significant. We’ve identified the location. Alan Duncan took this photograph at the Moscow Zoo in the Presnensky District on Saturday the eleventh of May in 2004.”

  “Do we know the exact date that Alan Duncan left the Royal Navy?” asked Gus.

  “The thirtieth of June, guv,” said Alex.

  “Duncan must have known he was leaving the service in seven weeks,” said Alex. “How much notice do you have to give?”

  “Twelve months,” said Luke. “I checked last night. The Navy can make you stay the full term if they wish. We would need to check with them whether they let Alan Duncan go earlier.”

  “It’s safe to assume that Alan Duncan took that picture,” said Blessing. “The time in the Exif file recorded it at two-fifteen in the afternoon, which gels with the St Basil’s picture of Alan Duncan himself. The camera settings were the same, and the time recorded that photograph at eleven forty-five in the morning that day.”

  “Duncan and our mystery man visited several of the typical tourist attractions in the Russian capital,” said Gus. “Where were his submariner friends?”

  “Could Divya identify Alan Duncan’s companion?” asked Lydia.

  “Yuri Kovalev,” said Blessing. “He was twenty-seven at the time of that photo. Divya found his profile on the usual social media sites, but it proved impossible to discover his current or past occupations. He was born in Moscow in 1977 and left University in 1998. Yuri is an only child whose parents died in a car crash in 2007. His hobbies are learning foreign languages and running.”

  “That sounds manufactured,” said Neil.

  “Like ninety percent of social media profiles,” said Lydia.

  “How did they meet?” asked Gus. “Don’t bother, Blessing. We can’t expect you to know.”

  “I don’t think Bob and Elizabeth Duncan will know either, guv,” said Alex. “The running could be a clue. Perhaps they bumped into one another.”

  “That’s not as daft as it sounds,” said Luke. “The district where the Zoo is based straddles the Moskva river. According to Trip Advisor, there are several great runs on both sides of the river. As Gus said though, where were Smudger, Taff and the others? Did Alan Duncan visit Moscow alone? If so, why? We need to talk to the submariners in these photographs.”

  “Can Bob Duncan tell us which of Alan’s mates were in that missing photograph from Happy Valley?” asked Lydia. “We need to get him to pick them out from the photos we have.”

  “That might be a stretch,” said Gus. “Let’s try something else first. Blessing, take us through the photographs in date order, please?”

  “The first one was from December 1999 in the Valley of the Kings,” she said. “The men present with Alan Duncan were Taff, Smudger, Andy, and Gooner.”

  “Taff, or Max Hughes, should be our first contact, Luke. I think he appeared in every photo,” said Gus. “If Bob can’t help with the names from Happy Valley, then Max Hughes will.”

  “Max should be able to tell us who took the photo too,” said Alex.

  “Got it,” said Luke.

  “The gang visited Sydney in August of the following year,” said Blessing. “This picture under the Harbour Bridge got taken on the ninth. The only change is that Lofty replaced Gooner.”

  “Perhaps they took it in turns to take the photos,” said Lydia.

  “It could be as simple as that, guv,” said Neil.

  “Taff should confirm that, Neil,” said Gus.

  “There was an eight-month gap to the next trip, guv,” said Blessing. “The picture of the gang with Table Mountain in the background is dated the twentieth of April. Chuff this time joined Taff, Smudger, and Lofty. No sign of Andy or Gooner, but one of them could have been behind the camera.”

  “We can’t put too much emphasis on the time gaps, Blessing,” said Gus, “not at this stage. They could be significant, but Alan would have had two or three holidays per year, and only sent his parents a small selection.”

  “True, guv,” said Blessing, “and Alan might not have been the only man with a camera. His friends could have dozens of photos available.”

  “Good point,” said Gus. “Luke, forewarn each submariner when you contact them. They need to rescue their photograph albums from the loft.”

  “The fourth photo was from Paris, guv,” said Blessing. “Taff was there as usual, with Smudger, Andy, Gooner and Lofty. The photo Alan sent to his parents featured the Eiffel Tower.”

  “Remember what Wayne Phillips said, guv?” asked Alex. “Wayne and Anna went to Paris for a romantic weekend. Alan told him he wasn’t interested in the Eiffel Tower; Wayne thought the gang had gone to Paris for the racing out at Longchamps.”

  “It dates the photo to the twenty-fifth of October 2001,” said Blessing.

  Luke checked on Google.

  “That’s ar
ound the date when they run the Prix de L’Arc de Triomphe, guv,” he said. “The racecourse is a ten-minute taxi ride from the Eiffel Tower.”

  “Where in the world do we go next, Blessing?” asked Gus.

  “Waikato, New Zealand, guv,” she replied, “in early February 2003. Taff, Smudger, Lofty, Chuff, and Tarby accompanied Duncan on that trip, plus the photographer.”

  “Waikato’s a famous heritage site, guv,” said Lydia. “They’re noted for the volcanic black sand beaches and fine surfing conditions.”

  “Everyone deserves a holiday, Lydia,” said Gus. “I’m interested in the gap this time, Blessing. Could the missing Happy Valley photo come somewhere between Paris and Waikato?”

  “We have no way of knowing that before we talk to Max Hughes and the others. The gang ended up in Tokyo in September that year, guv,” said Blessing. “Taff, Smudge, Andy, and Chuff joined Alan in the city's heart. That’s the Shibuya Crossing.”

  “I hate crowds,” said Gus. “You wouldn’t catch me there in a month of Sundays.”

  “The last one comes from Dubai on the twenty-seventh of March in 2004,” said Blessing. “Taff, Smudger, Andy and Lofty appear in front of the camera with Alan. Divya reckoned they were on loungers at a hotel in the Al Jaber complex. It’s probably the Shangri La.”

  “Well done, Blessing,” said Gus. “Where do we go from here?”

  “Scotland, guv,” said Blessing. “HM Naval Base Clyde—commonly known throughout the Navy as Faslane—it’s the Royal Navy’s major presence in Scotland. The base is home to the Submarine Service's core, including the nation’s nuclear deterrent, and the new generation of hunter-killer submarines. The Royal Naval Armaments Depot at Coulport, eight miles from Faslane, handles the storage, processing, maintenance, and issue of key elements of the UK's Trident Deterrent Missile System. Faslane is the base for three thousand service personnel, eight hundred of their family members and four thousand civilian workers. Freddie Watts, to give him his actual name, would be in his late fifties now. He retired after twenty-eight years’ service. If we wish to speak to him, it will require a trip to the Isle of Man. Freddie Watts runs a pub in Douglas.”

  “Are the others still in the Royal Navy?” asked Neil.

  “How old are they, anyway?” asked Lydia.

  “They’re between forty-seven and fifty years old,” said Blessing. “Four still serve at sea. They are Craig Anderson, Bryan Tarbuck, Rico Menghini and Drew Taggart. Max Hughes and Keith Smith work at Faslane in a training capacity.”

  “Well, that’s the first stroke of luck we’ve had on this case,” said Gus. “The two guys who appeared in every photograph are virtually on our doorstep. Supposing the others are still at sea, how would we get hold of them?”

  “We can’t call them on the numbers that we have from Alan Duncan’s pocket diary, guv,” said Blessing. “No cell phones allowed on submarines.”

  “Right, Luke,” said Gus. “How far have you got with fixing a meeting with Max Hughes?”

  “Waiting for a callback, guv. The same goes for Smudger Smith. Do you want me to try the innkeeper on the Isle of Man?”

  “Do you honestly think Geoff Mercer will let us go on a day trip in the Irish Sea?” asked Neil.

  “Either the ACC wants this case wrapped up, or he doesn’t,” said Gus. “I’ll ask nicely and see what he says. I don’t suppose we can just wander onto the Faslane base. We may need to arrange video calls with the first two men. No doubt they’ll have Naval legal representation present. It could get messy. That Moscow trip concerns me. If Alan Duncan and his pals had a holiday in Dubai at the end of March, how did he wangle a weekend break to Moscow in the second week in May? I thought these submarines stayed deep underwater for up to ninety days.”

  “As my mother says, that will come out in the wash, guv,” said Neil. “Alan Duncan’s crewmates will know the full story. Just because they aren’t in those two photos that Blessing has, it doesn’t rule out them being there. We’re looking at a series of snapshots of our victim’s life; not a joined-up feature film.”

  “Neil’s right, guv,” said Lydia. “It’s so easy to fabricate a story around the images we have on the whiteboard, but his friends will add context, and perhaps provide extra photographs that blow any conclusions we might draw out of the water.”

  “Right,” said Gus. “I’ll contact London Road for permission to speak with the three most significant submariners, Hughes, Smith, and Watts. Blessing, you need to return the originals of those loose photos Elizabeth Duncan steered you towards. Ask Bob Duncan what he remembers of that Hong Kong photograph. There might still be a missing name.”

  “Will do, guv,” said Blessing. “I’ll also ask Bob what he knows of the final few months of his son’s naval career. We didn’t have the dates for those photos when we interviewed him before. Perhaps he can explain the brief gap between holidays.”

  “Alan couldn’t say much about what they did on those operations, guv,” said Neil. “It’s a long shot to expect him to have had a heart-to-heart with his parents. Everything we’ve learned about Alan since he died suggests that he had closed that chapter in his life and moved on.”

  “He didn’t spend his Saturday afternoon’s regaling Wayne Phillips with stories of life at sea either, guv,” said Alex.

  “It won’t hurt to ask, Blessing,” said Gus. “There’s something else you can ask them while you’re there. Were there occasions when Alan came home during his periods of shore leave? Surely, he didn’t go to Dartmouth at eighteen and not return until he was thirty, or did he?”

  “I’ll give Bob a call before I drive over to Corsham,” said Blessing. “I’ll try to get as much as I can out of both of them, Elizabeth won’t stay in her bed today.”

  “Do your best, Blessing,” said Gus. He phoned London Road, and Vera answered.

  “Vera, Gus here, is Kenneth free?”

  “Good morning, Gus. Yes, he is. Just a minute.”

  “What is it now, Freeman?” asked the ACC.

  “Sorry, sir,” said Gus. “Have I called at an awkward time? You know that I only bother you when I’ve wrapped up a case or I need to ask your much-valued advice.”

  “I doubt you’ve solved the Duncan case so soon, Freeman, and when you throw compliments around, I know you want something. What is it this time?”

  Gus saw the opportunity to turn this conversation in his favour.

  “One of my team spent the day in the Hub yesterday,” said Gus. “What a valuable tool the place proved to be in this case. We’ve made great strides thanks to the service the technical staff could provide. Your people helped identify several witnesses that we now have an urgent need to interview. One is a retired naval officer who lives on the Isle of Man. Two others are now at Faslane on the Clyde. Could you liaise with your counterpart with the Ministry of Defence Police so that we can talk to these serving officers without treading on anyone’s toes?”

  “Consider it done, Freeman,” said the ACC. “It’s taken you long enough to wake up to my championing of the Hub and what it offers the modern police officer. What would you intend to do, drop into the Isle of Man as part of the round trip?”

  “That’s a good idea, sir,” said Gus. “If we get it done in one go it will reduce the costs.”

  “Who will you take with you?” asked the ACC.

  “One of the lads, sir,” said Gus, “we must book a room. We can’t get it done in a day.”

  “I’ll get Vera to phone you back once we’ve made the arrangements with Faslane,” said Kenneth Truelove. “I presume you plan to travel up to Scotland first thing Monday morning?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Gus.

  “Carry on, Freeman.”

  Gus ended the call and congratulated himself on a job well done.

  “How long will it take us to get to Faslane?”

  “It’s an eight-hour drive via the M6, guv,” said Alex.

  “You would need to change trains more than once, guv,” said Neil. “I
don’t reckon you would get there any quicker; just less knackered.”

  “Did the ACC sanction the trip to Douglas, guv?” asked Luke.

  “He did, Luke. If we leave here at eight in the morning, we can interview Hughes and Smith, then drive to Liverpool for an overnight stay in a budget hotel. Get us on the first available ferry in the morning. If memory serves, it’s a three-hour trip, give or take. We can talk to Freddie Watts at lunchtime, catch a ferry back to Liverpool mid-afternoon, and be back here by ten o’clock at the latest. Don’t worry, whoever gets the short straw to accompany me; I’ll not expect you in the office until noon on Wednesday.”

  “Will those of us who stay here get to set up video calls with the remaining submariners, guv?” asked Neil.

  “I’ll reserve judgement on that, Neil, until I see what we learn from the first three interviews. If they point us toward a particular crew member, we’ll follow it up. It could be a logistical nightmare trying to arrange meaningful calls with Taggart and the others, thousands of metres under the surface of the sea in four corners of the world.”

  “Fair enough, guv,” said Neil.

  “Have you decided who you want with you, guv?” Lydia asked.

  “Alex,” said Gus.

  Blessing was ready to leave for Corsham.

  “I’ll be off then, guv,” she said. “I’ll see you later.”

  Gus gave her a nod as she passed his desk. He was about to speak when his phone rang.

  “Freeman speaking. How can I help?”

  “It’s Phil Banks. I decided I ought to call you back in person. There’s something odd that I can’t explain.”

  The case had moved in several directions since he’d spoken to Phil Banks. It took a moment for Gus to remember what Phil had agreed to look into for him.

  “Kyle Ellison,” said Gus when the fog cleared.

  “I asked someone to find him,” said Phil. “They got back to me this morning with the news that they can’t find a trace of him.”