Depth of Despair, page 16
‘No, she’s quite a looker.’ Armistead returned to business, ‘Anyway, let Nash continue his womanizing. You go have a look round this place, get the lie of the land, see if you can spot anyone we’re interested in. Then report back. Don’t tell anyone what you’re up to, especially not Fleming. Even if she didn’t report direct to Nash, she may talk in her sleep.’
chapter twelve
A message and a visitor awaited Nash next morning. He’d been expecting the visitor from a security business in the town. Nash asked the man to sweep the CID office, then looked at the note Clara had left. ‘Gone to investigate ringing burglar alarm in the Market Place. Meeting with Tom and Home Office, Netherdale, this morning.’
The search was negative. Nash was thanking the security man as Clara returned. ‘No problem,’ she reported. ‘The shopkeeper forgot to exclude the zone where his cat sleeps. The animal must have set it off when he returned from visiting his lady friends. The shopkeeper was most apologetic but I told him round here, all the males behave like tom cats.’
‘Thank you, Clara, and good morning to you. What about this message? What do they want me for?’
‘Us,’ Clara corrected him. ‘I’m wanted too and the Russians will be there. It’s to determine what to do about Milla.’
‘Have you heard how she is?’
‘I spoke to the hospital. She’s out of danger, although her condition’s still described as serious.’
‘Where’s Viv?’
‘I sent him to Good Buys. We’re out of coffee.’
‘Bad planning, Sergeant. You know this office can’t function without coffee.’
Clara made a rude and insubordinate gesture. Fortunately, Pearce returned at that moment. ‘Clara’s going to make us a brew. Then I want a word with you both.’
They sat in the CID room. ‘For the time being, my office is out of bounds. Go in there to get files, but don’t hold any conversations and on no account answer the phone or make a call in there.’
They stared at him puzzled. Nash explained about the bug.
‘That Armistead’s a nasty piece of work,’ Clara exclaimed angrily. ‘He’s a shifty bastard and Thomas is a greasy little sod.’
‘Brown tongued as well,’ Viv muttered.
‘Armistead made the mistake of confronting Jackie about our meeting, that’s how we knew. He’s kicked her off his team so now she’s on ours, but she works alongside us.’ Nash looked at Clara. ‘You don’t take orders from her. Okay?’
Clara nodded.
‘I don’t think she’ll try to give you any, to be fair. I reckon she’s alright, just suffered by association with Armistead and Thomas.’
‘You don’t think it’s part of some elaborate plan of Armistead’s to get someone on the inside?’
‘No, I don’t. The thought crossed my mind but by what Jackie said I reckon Armistead’s already one jump ahead of us. He’s never volunteered that information about how the girls were smuggled into the country, despite the Chief Constable demanding it.’
Right on cue DCI Fleming walked in. She smiled at them nervously. ‘Sorry I’m late boss,’ she greeted Nash. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘You could make a start by brewing fresh coffee. We run a democratic system here.’
When she’d rejoined them Nash told her of his and Clara’s impending meeting. ‘After that I’ve a call to make and I want to arrange the post-mortems on the latest victims from the tarn, unless Mexican Pete’s still ogling the girls in the Moulin Rouge.’
‘Mexican Pete?’
‘Professor Ramirez, our local pathologist.’
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Go with Viv to the phone company offices again and demand Dr Stevens’s records. They’ve dragged their feet long enough. They keep fobbing Viv off, so I think it needs a senior officer to bang the table.’
Jackie stared at them. ‘Surely you’ve had them already?’ She saw the blank stares and explained. ‘Armistead got a copy the day before yesterday. I thought they’d come from here.’
Nash was exasperated, ‘No wonder they wouldn’t let Viv have them. They must have thought he was mad.’
‘That bastard Armistead,’ Clara burst out, ‘he wants a good seeing to.’
‘Don’t worry, he’ll get his comeuppance,’ Nash pointed to his office. ‘I want that door kept locked. Nobody but the four of us gets access. I don’t want that evidence disappearing.’
‘What’s the score with Mike?’ Jackie asked as she and Viv drove towards the phone company offices. ‘Armistead seemed to imply Mike spent all his time chasing women. Is there any truth in that? I know Mike’s very attractive but he doesn’t strike me as a lecher.’
‘Maybe that’s part of his charm,’ Viv suggested. Clara’s going to love this, he thought. ‘You have to bear in mind Mike’s only been back in Yorkshire a year or so. He came back from working in The Met.’
‘Yes, they still talk about him at Scotland Yard as if he’s some kind of hero.’
‘There’s been a lot of women he’s befriended. I can think of at least half a dozen without trying.’
‘You mean he’s slept with all those women?’
‘I don’t think sleep had much to do with it,’ Viv grinned. ‘Not judging by the look of him some mornings. To be honest, we don’t think any of them mean very much. To him, it’s just fun.’
‘By “we” I suppose you mean you and Clara?’
Viv nodded. ‘We think he’s only seriously interested in Stella.’
‘Who’s Stella?’
‘Actually her name’s Samantha, but everyone calls her Stella after her favourite drink. Mike met her last year. He fell for her big style and I think she fell for him. It was rather sad the way things worked out. Stella was kidnapped. Mike rescued her but she almost died. When she did recover they found she was paralyzed. We reckon Mike feels guilty, although there’s no reason why he should. The problem is there’s no saying whether she’ll ever be able to walk again.’
‘That’s terrible, the poor girl. Poor Mike, too. Still, it sounds as if he’s found some consolation.’
They pulled into the phone company’s car park. ‘Do you mind if I take the lead?’
‘Not a bit,’ Pearce smiled ruefully. ‘You can’t do any worse than I have.’
‘Have you told Tom about the bug in your office or about Armistead sacking Jackie?’ Clara asked as they drove towards Netherdale.
‘Not yet. I’m concerned Tom would want to play it by the book and call for an enquiry. I think we’ve enough on our plate. We don’t need another distraction.’
‘When will you tell him?’
‘When this is over. Unless Armistead tells him about Jackie first.’
‘What’s the plan after the meeting?’
‘I want to go see how Stella’s getting on. That’ll give you time to see Mexican Pete. He was coming to Netherdale this morning according to the university. See what arrangements he’s made for the post-mortems. Don’t let him try to talk you into a knee trembler against the cabinets, though. Remember those are corpses behind you.’
Clara snorted. ‘Don’t judge everyone by your own standards. Some of us can say no, even to such an alluring offer. Anyway, there’s probably more life in the contents of the drawers than Mexican Pete can muster.’
‘Probably more stiffness too.’
The Home Office representative opened the meeting. ‘I should explain that the Crown Prosecution Service can only make a decision on whether to institute proceedings on the evidence provided. If they believe that to be insufficient to secure a conviction, they will not move on the matter. The rules are particularly strong where the case involves a minor, such as in this instance. Superintendent Nash, I’d be grateful if you’d give us your opinion.’
‘There’s evidence connecting Milla to the house where three men died violently,’ he began. ‘There’s also overwhelming evidence of her being systematically ill treated, physically and sexually abused.’
Then realization dawned. Christ, Nash thought, he wants me to give him a bloody escape route. He wants me to come up with something that will avoid us having to press charges. What does the man think I am; a bloody conjuror?
Nash thought hard as he looked round for inspiration. As his eyes met Zena’s, it came. He held her with his gaze, ‘Commander,’ he asked. ‘Have you been able to establish Milla’s true identity?’
Zena stared back at him trying to guess the motive behind a question he already knew the answer to. ‘Regrettably not,’ she replied guardedly.
Nash smiled. ‘Then I see one major stumbling block to prosecution. Unless we can establish the child’s identity,’ he placed just the tiniest emphasis on the word ‘child’, ‘we’re unable to judge whether she’s old enough to have responsibility for a criminal act.’
‘Then that would seem to be a show-stopper. I’m sure an officer as diligent as Superintendent Nash has used all the means at his disposal to determine the child’s age. Without it, I’m afraid I can’t see how any action can be taken. It’s most regrettable but there it is.’
He didn’t seem particularly upset, Nash thought, nor had he asked the one embarrassing question. Had anyone thought to ask Milla how old she was? Nash concealed a smile and sat back to enjoy the charade.
‘The question remains what to do about the child. I’ve been instructed by the Home Secretary to offer Milla permanent residential status in the United Kingdom if no other alternative is available. Such a decision can only be made when she’s well enough to be told and to understand the implications. Obviously, she’d be entitled to all the benefits and protection of any other British citizen and would receive all the care and assistance Social Services can provide. Has anyone any alternative suggestion?’
There was a moment’s silence before Svetlov cleared his throat. ‘I have an idea,’ he said cautiously. He glanced at his wife. Anna squeezed his arm encouragingly. ‘I wish to propose that my wife and I be given custody of the child. You are aware we have lost our own daughter. We feel Katya would have wanted this. Milla would come to Moscow with us, we would ensure she gets the best education we can provide and give her a home.’
This whole meeting’s a sham, Nash thought. It’s all been set up beforehand. They were all there to witness that the game was being played by the rules. He felt sure there were other gambits available had Nash not provided an excuse not to charge Milla.
When the meeting broke up the civil servant sought out Nash. ‘I’m most grateful for your cooperation and advice, Superintendent. Now you must make every effort to catch the men behind this evil business.’
‘I’m confident we’re starting to make progress. Once the post-mortem results on the latest victims are available I think we’ll be able to start making arrests.’
Clara, who’d been listening to the exchange, blinked with surprise. Nash sounded so positive, yet she couldn’t see why.
Zena and Anna joined them, ‘This is the best for Milla,’ Zena said. ‘She’ll have a good future now.’
Nash nodded, ‘There is a condition. When we arrest the men behind this I’ll want Milla to give evidence against them. Her identity will be protected, of course.’
‘I am sure Milla will want to do that,’ Anna Svetlova confirmed. ‘It will be a small price to pay and from what I know of Milla she will want to do this to stop other girls going through the same ordeal.’
Anna paused, her voice quivered. She appeared on the brink of tears. ‘Commander Dacic tells me more bodies have been discovered. Do you think one of these might be Katya?’
‘I’ll know more once the post-mortem examinations have been conducted. Our pathologist is one of the finest. He’ll do everything he can to identify the victims. Your help will be needed,’ he saw alarm in Anna’s eyes. ‘Don’t worry. I wasn’t speaking of identification. I’m sure you want to remember Katya as you knew her. I need saliva swabs from you and Sergei for DNA comparison.’
As Clara eased their car through the streets she asked Nash, ‘Did you really mean that about making arrests? Because unless there’s something you haven’t told me I can’t see how.’
‘There is something but I’m waiting for confirmation. At the moment it’s just a string of ideas. I’ll tell you once I know for sure.’
‘Where’s this information coming from?’
‘An old friend in London. Then we’ll have the full story.’
Neither of them was aware that Mexican Pete was about to add a whole new chapter.
Clara dropped Nash at the entrance to the CB Clinic and set off for Netherdale General. Nash made his way to Stella’s room, noting a considerable number of men wearing the uniform of a security company.
Stella had just returned from a gruelling physiotherapy session. ‘Hello, Michael. This is a nice surprise.’
He relaxed at the warmth of her greeting. ‘I didn’t ring beforehand because things are fairly hectic and I didn’t want to promise anything then have to renege.’
He perched on the edge of the bed alongside her wheelchair. ‘How are you?’
‘Bloody knackered, thanks to the physio. She knows more ways of torturing a woman than you do. So what have you come to tell me?’
Nash saw his opportunity. ‘I came to tell you you’re a bloody idiot. How many times have I asked you to come and live with me? Do you think I’m bothered whether you’re in that damned chair or not? Stop being so bloody pig-headed and say yes, for God’s sake.’
‘Michael, I’m no use to you in this state. You need a woman who can love you properly. Not one who can’t feel anything from the waist down. If I’d been fit and well, you know I’d have jumped at the chance; any woman with an ounce of sense would,’ she paused and her eyes flickered with some emotion he couldn’t guess, ‘whatever her nationality.’
‘Ouch,’ he said as he took her hand in his. ‘That only happened because I was lonely, because you’d told me you didn’t want to see me again. If I had you I wouldn’t go looking elsewhere.’
He reached across and hauled her from the bed on to his knee and began to kiss her, ‘Michael,’ she protested after a moment, ‘Michael, you’re hurting me.’
‘Where?’ He asked glancing down. Her left thigh was pressed hard against the arm rail of the wheelchair. ‘There,’ she pointed to it.
Nash’s smile broadened. ‘Really? Stella, that’s brilliant!’
It took a moment before she realized. ‘I can feel it,’ she began to laugh. ‘I can feel pain in my thigh, I can feel pain!’
‘Have you had any feeling there before?’
‘No, never!’
‘This is bloody great. Let me call your physiotherapist. She’s got to hear this.’
The telephone rang insistently, ‘Butler speaking. Yes Mr Martin, what can I do for you?’
Both of them knew this was a rhetorical question. There could be only one reason for the call.
‘I have a package for you, Doc.’
‘I see. When would you be delivering?’
‘Tomorrow evening?’
‘I think we can cope with that. I’ll make the arrangements.’
Nash was standing near the entrance staring at the building with a puzzled frown when Clara arrived.
‘Everything alright? Stella okay?’
‘Yes, everything’s fine, couldn’t be better. I was just wondering about what you said the other day. There does seem to be a lot of security men hanging around. I was puzzling out why they need so many. Anyway, that’s not important. I’ve some terrific news. Stella’s beginning to get some feeling back in her left leg.’
He described how they’d discovered the returning sensation. ‘I spent the last twenty minutes watching the neurologist playing darts on her legs. He says she’s now got fifteen per cent nerve reaction. Not much, I know, but it’s fifteen per cent she didn’t have before.’
‘That’s wonderful.’
‘It’s early days. The doctor told her she mustn’t get her hopes up. It may be a long time before there’s any improvement, and there’s still no guarantees. He said this might be all she gets.’
‘How did Stella react?’
‘She wasn’t listening; or she wasn’t prepared to accept it.’
‘That’s good, surely. If she went along meekly she wouldn’t put the effort in. What we need is the old feisty Stella who’ll fight all the way.’
‘You’re right. I left her making plans to increase her daily regimen. What worries me is her confidence is too fragile to stand setbacks.’
‘Let’s hope there aren’t too many then,’ Clara glanced at Nash. Whatever the effect had been on Stella, the development had obviously been good for him. He was looking better than she’d seen him for a long time.
‘What did Mexican Pete have to say?’
‘You mean when he wasn’t busy telling me about the girls in Paris or trying to feel my tits? Tell me, are all pathologists perverts?’
‘There’s nothing perverted about wanting to touch you up. I guess you’re right, though. All the pathologists I’ve ever dealt with have been weirdos. Goes with the job.’
‘He reckons you’re on commission from somebody called Sharon, whoever she is.’
Nash laughed. ‘He’s trying to impress you with his classical education. In Greek mythology, Charon was the ferryman who transported the dead across the River Styx to the underworld.’
‘He’s had a preliminary look at the bodies from Desolation Tarn. They’re much more recent than the ones from Lamentation. He’s also noticed something unusual. He wouldn’t tell me what, but he says we’ve to prepare ourselves for some shocks. He’s set the first post-mortem for 9 a.m. tomorrow. But he wants you there before that, say about 8.45.’
Nash fell silent. What would provide a shock? He considered the possibilities. He remembered Saunders’s insistence they avoid looking at the corpses when they were at the lake.
