The Eleventh Grave, page 14
She fell into step behind him, casting her gaze beyond the tape to where the nearest tent had been erected. A team of three SOCOs passed in and out of the opening, the flap falling back into place and obscuring what was inside before she could catch a glimpse of what lay beyond.
‘Here.’ The forensic lead had stopped beside the third tent, and held it open. ‘This one’s more recent than the rest so it’ll be easier to show you what I think we’re dealing with.’
Jan’s heart ratcheted up another notch before she shuffled closer and peered over Turpin’s shoulder. ‘Bloody hell.’
Jasper’s team had cleared a shallow grave that had clearly been dug in a hurry.
The edges were jagged, the blade marks from a shovel still evident amongst the loose soil that clung to thick tangled grass roots.
The naked body within had somehow survived the trampling of sheep hooves, but had given way to insect activity and decay.
It was a man, and she reckoned he would have been no more than thirty at the time of his death, although she would defer to Gillian Appleworth’s expert opinion once the post mortem had been completed. His neck was twisted in such a way that his chin fell behind his left shoulder and she could see that his eyes were missing, the empty sockets staring at her accusatorially.
And, as she circled the grave in Turpin’s wake, she saw that his abdomen had been slit open, exposing the cavity within. His lower ribs had been smashed apart, leaving jagged stumps that protruded from what remained of muscle and fatty tissue.
Turpin led the way out of the tent, and turned to Jasper. ‘What the hell?’
‘Told you it was different.’
Jan’s stomach threatened to turn to liquid, and she swallowed as she took in the other tents scattered close by. ‘What about the others?’
‘We’re currently working through those, so I can’t show you those yet but this one’s the most recent burial,’ said Jasper, gesturing to the other tents. ‘It’s hard to tell with the older remains – three of them are too decayed for us to ascertain what happened this side of a post mortem – but there’s a woman over in tent three that might yield some useful clues, and another man in tent seven who can only have been in the ground for a few months.’
‘What about this one?’
‘We’re going to get him over to the morgue right now, and I’ve asked Gillian if she can do the PM this weekend given the amount of decay already in place,’ said the forensic expert. ‘She’s been over here to take a look and conduct the formalities, so she’s expecting him. We’ll get the others over to her as and when we’ve finished our assessments here.’
‘What was Gillian’s first impression?’ said Jan. ‘Did she have any theories about how he died?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Jasper. He glanced over his shoulder towards the closed tent flap. ‘That was relatively easy. She reckons he was missing both of his kidneys as well as his eyes before he was buried.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Three hours later, Mark stared at the viscous liquid spurting from the vending machine nozzle, took one look at the end result, and promptly dropped it into the rubbish bin, his stomach lurching.
The reception area smelled of fresh bleach. A junior constable was using a mop and bucket to wash away vomit that had been left by a man who had started drinking at home at six o’clock that morning before starting a fight in a local gift shop – one he said was owned by his ex-wife – at eleven.
The man was now in one of the custody suites attempting to sleep off what would be an enormous hangover and several weeks of regret, and the constable whistled tunelessly while he worked, only stopping to give Mark a brief nod as he passed.
There was a stunned silence to the incident room when he walked back upstairs, a reserved quiet that spoke volumes and caused gooseflesh to pepper his forearms.
When people did speak, it was with a sombre reverence, the shockwave from Jasper’s findings casting its net beyond the team and through the entire building.
Caroline was standing beside a group of desks in the far corner, talking to four administrative assistants that she had wrangled from another investigative team whose DI had willingly told Kennedy he should take whoever he needed. Their faces were troubled while they listened to her, their voices no more than a murmur when they spoke to the detective constable. Her face was etched with a renewed determination though, and she gave him a slight nod when she saw him watching.
He walked past Alex who was staring at the CCTV images on his computer screen, and patted the young detective’s shoulder without saying a word before joining West beside the whiteboard.
She flicked through a stapled document before looking up at him. ‘Jasper emailed through his notes so far to give us a head start. All eleven grave sites are noted in here together with a rough sketch he’s provided with regard to locations in relation to the airfield buildings.’
‘Caroline? Can you get that enlarged to A3 size and pin it to the board?’ called Mark, peering over West’s shoulder. ‘And add to that where Barry’s office and the officer’s mess are. It seems that he could’ve been right about feeling like he was being watched. Whoever’s responsible for this must’ve had to change their plans once he started making noises about starting the planning application process and getting site surveys carried out.’
‘No problem.’
Kennedy beckoned to the rest of the team to join them before walking over, his face harried. ‘So we’ve gone from an accidental drowning death to an illegal organ harvesting scheme that’s managed to operate under our noses for… how old does Jasper think the earliest grave site is?’
‘He’s not saying anything at the moment, guv,’ said West. ‘And nor will Gillian, not until the PMs are complete.’
‘About those,’ said Alex, hurrying over with his phone in his hand. ‘She says she’ll start the first one later today – that’ll be for the later grave – and then she’ll do the earliest victim, or what they think is the earliest victim, as soon as Jasper releases it from site.’
‘Good, so we might have a rough idea of timescale by Monday, that’s something at least,’ said Kennedy.
‘I also had a quick look at illegal organ harvesting numbers in the UK,’ said the young detective. ‘A lot of hospitals have tightened up their safeguarding processes after some high-profile cases in recent years, but there’s still a shortage of organs––’
‘And people are desperate,’ said West. ‘If they’ve got the money, they’ll pay anything to save a family member, right?’
‘Right, and those prosecutions have only served to drive the trade even deeper underground,’ Alex added.
‘Not to mention this lot are reducing their risk by ensuring none of the donors survive to tell the tale,’ said Kennedy, his eyes grim. ‘Let alone not having to pay them or their families. Can you go through the organ donation register and waiting lists and flag anything that gives you cause for concern as well?’
‘Will do.’
‘Here you go, guv.’ Caroline added the A3 sketch of the airfield to the notes and photographs on the whiteboard. She had used a red marker pen to add crosses where the site office and officer’s mess were located, and rapped her knuckles against the diagram. ‘I checked the angle of buildings in relation to the graves – Windlesham could’ve only seen the airfield once he was well clear of the converted shipping container. He’d have had to have been standing beside that old hangar to see anything.’
‘What about the officer’s mess?’ said Kennedy.
‘He couldn’t see that from the site office, but you can see the grave site from the front windows of the mess,’ Caroline said.
‘As would anyone held against their will,’ said Mark. ‘They would’ve known what was going to happen to them.’
A silence followed his words, until Kennedy cleared his throat.
‘Right, moving on with the rest of today’s briefing. We’ve got a patrol scheduled to pass Windlesham’s house every two to three hours at the moment. I can’t secure any more than that due to staffing constraints rather than the usual budget issues, but I want Gaynor Alton and her husband brought in for formal questioning in light of this morning’s discoveries, and another search of Windlesham’s home and office.’
‘Are Gaynor and her husband suspects now?’ said Caroline, pen poised above her notebook.
‘Not yet, but gauge that during the interview and proceed as you see fit.’ Kennedy updated the notes on the board while he spoke. ‘And ask her why she’s decided to take on the project and didn’t tell us last week. You can let her know from me that we didn’t appreciate yesterday’s surprise announcement.’
‘Will do, guv. How long can we expect the patrols to be in place?’
‘Until we work out whether they’re involved, in danger from whoever is, or we arrest someone.’ Kennedy turned to Caroline. ‘And you can tell them that I would strongly recommend they return to Wales if they’re not involved, just to put some distance between them and that site.’
‘Got it.’
‘Next, we need to follow up with the interviews from yesterday’s pre-planning meeting and your discussion with Felix Darrow, Mark. What’s your suggestion?’
‘I think we need to start with Adrian Mackleton, guv. He’s a GP, so in my mind that makes him highest on the list of potential suspects at the moment.’
‘Absolutely. Do you want me to get a patrol to bring him in?’
‘I’d rather interview him at home, but without giving him a chance to prepare.’ Mark glanced across to West. ‘I reckon we should head over to his place as soon as we’re done here, and see what his reaction is.’
‘Given that these people may have worked undetected for a number of years, we can safely assume they have an exit strategy in case something like this happened,’ said Kennedy, pacing the carpet. ‘Mackleton could be a flight risk so bear that in mind.’
‘Will do.’
‘Right, follow up tasks from this week,’ Kennedy continued. ‘Do we have the full list of formal objections to the pre-planning process yet?’
‘Got it here,’ said Caroline. ‘Belinda sent it through from site before leaving yesterday. Aside from Adrian Mackleton, there’s a Charmaine Abbott and three others who raised concerns. Barry was apparently working through those objections and in the middle of organising meetings with those people to discuss what might be done.’
‘We can interview Charmaine tomorrow morning first thing,’ said West. ‘She was on the panel last night so she’s a priority.’
‘Agreed,’ said the DI. ‘Okay, where are we up to with the lab testing on the dry bag that was found?’
‘All tests are complete, but there were no fingerprints in the system to match those on the bag,’ said Alex. ‘I’m also planning to arrange for the lab to run tests against some DNA that was found in the officer’s mess by Jasper’s team – there were some hair and clothing samples in the splintered wood in the door that might yield something we can use.’
‘What about the phone that was fished from the river?’
‘It’s still a work in progress, guv.’
‘Let me know the minute they find anything.’ Kennedy paused in his pacing and faced the team. ‘Well, what are you waiting for? Go, go, go.’
CHAPTER THIRTY
There was a blustery breeze in the air as Mark and West hurried from the incident room.
The wind whipped at the navy tie Mark was fastening under his chin, flapping it over his shoulder and billowing his suit jacket before he climbed into the pool car, which smelled of fat and grease and stale coffee. When he looked down he saw several balls of scrunched up fast-food wrappers scattered in the footwell, and a discarded takeout cup shoved into the door pocket.
West muttered under her breath while she drove the four-door hatchback under the raised security barrier and out of the car park.
Mark looked up from his notes when she braked at a roundabout and then floored the accelerator to beat a grubby panel van that was avoiding the diversion still directing traffic away from the front of the police station. A pair of junior constables had been ordered to keep pedestrians away, and the traffic division’s forensic team were working behind a screen that sheltered them from prying eyes, especially given the number of television news crews and social media vultures that were gathered on the opposite side of the road.
His colleague huffed her fringe from her eyes and swore as a car overtook them as soon as she had joined the A34, then slouched in her seat.
‘You were having to give back the keys to the other one this morning anyway,’ he said. ‘Might as well accept the fact.’
‘This has got no go in it at all,’ she grumbled. ‘And I can’t believe that someone over at Kidlington now has the other car. We’ll never see it again.’
He laughed. ‘You sound bereft.’
‘I am.’ Her mouth quirked before she grew serious. ‘Okay, so how do you want to run this interview with Adrian Mackleton?’
‘Carefully.’ He flicked through the notes that Caroline had collated. ‘Given that he objected to Windlesham’s project from the start, and that as a doctor he’s got plenty of access to the sort of drugs and surgical kit that might be used to carry out organ harvesting.’
‘It’s a huge leap from being a GP to the sort of surgery we’re talking about for a human organ transplant though,’ said West. ‘Even if the donors weren’t expected to survive. He’d still have to ensure the recipient lived, and didn’t reject the new kidney.’
‘I know, so let’s see what he’s got to say for himself.’
‘Are you going to tell him about the airfield finds?’
‘Not yet, and as long as Jasper and his team can keep the place locked down, we’ll keep it that way. I agreed with Kennedy last night and we’ve confirmed with Belinda Masters’ agency that her services are no longer required so that’s one less person going back and forth to that site too.’
‘What about helicopters, or drones?’ West checked her mirrors before overtaking an articulated truck, then swept past it, her face determined.
‘I spoke with Alex before we left the station – he’s arranged for a temporary no-fly zone to be set up and he’s advised the local gliding club as well. I’m sure we’ll get some complaints. As for drones, the team on site have been told to report any sightings, and Kennedy’s somehow managed to wrangle some more manpower to patrol the perimeter of the airfield, the woodlands and surrounding footpaths to prevent anyone getting too close. Jasper reckons he’ll be finished there soon.’
He fell silent as she turned down a narrow tree-lined lane that snaked through undulating woodland, the thick branches of oak and ash closing in above their heads forming a green tunnel before it gave way to a small livestock farm on one side and a large detached brick house on the other. A sign on the left-hand verge announced their arrival in Ravenswood village, and the road narrowed as older buildings jostled for space along the main street.
‘Over there,’ he said, and pointed to a parking space behind a mud-spattered Land Rover. As West manoeuvred the car into it, he took a last look at his notebook, and then tucked it into his pocket. Craning his neck, he spotted the doctor’s surgery farther along the street and checked his watch. ‘Okay, according to the website it’s open until twelve. It’s ten to, so he must be onto his last appointment by now. Perfect timing.’
Approaching the surgery, he noticed that the front bay window had frosted glass to prevent anyone looking in, and the front door was solid oak, much like the neighbouring properties. At some point, he reasoned, the building had once been someone’s home and looked up to see a date carved into the stone lintel that was several centuries old.
Pushing open the door, he entered a wide reception room with a low wooden desk on the right-hand side, and six fabric chairs fringing the other walls, above which were healthcare posters depicting various messages from best practice for washing hands to the latest advancements in asthma drugs.
A harried-looking woman in her twenties looked up from a computer screen on the far side of the desk and frowned. ‘I’m afraid we’re not taking any more appointments for today unless it’s an emergency.’
Mark held up his warrant card. ‘We’re looking for Adrian Mackleton. Is he around?’
‘He’s in with his last patient.’ The woman’s eyes widened. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Sally Abordale.’
‘Okay, Sally – could you let Dr Mackleton know we’d like a word with him?’
‘What, now?’
‘Now, yes.’
Sally’s gaze shifted to the frosted window, then back. ‘Would you like to come through to his office? It’s more…’
‘Convenient?’
‘I was going to say comfortable. I’ll be locking up as soon as his current appointment has left, and we tend to turn off the heaters in here to save money when there aren’t any patients around. These old buildings get cold really quickly, even at this time of year. Especially the ones on this side of the street – we don’t get any sunlight until later in the day.’
‘Lead the way,’ said Mark.
They followed Sally through a narrow doorway and along a short corridor that was lined with cardboard boxes of different sizes. Some had been opened and as Mark passed, he spotted packets of antiseptic swabs, plastic dispensing bottles, and various sealed packets labelled with health and safety warnings.
Stopping beside an open doorway at the end of the corridor, Sally waved them inside. ‘Take a seat. I’ll let him know you’re here as soon as he’s finished.’
Mark watched her hurry back to the reception area, then turned to West. ‘Mind if I lead this one?’
‘No problem.’ She wandered over to a bookshelf that was cluttered with lever arch files and journals, some with sticky notes poking out from the pages.
Mark glanced over his shoulder before crossing to the desk and ran his gaze over the paperwork strewn across it, noting the various invoices and delivery notes associated with the running of a popular village business. He turned away at the sound of footsteps.
‘Here.’ The forensic lead had stopped beside the third tent, and held it open. ‘This one’s more recent than the rest so it’ll be easier to show you what I think we’re dealing with.’
Jan’s heart ratcheted up another notch before she shuffled closer and peered over Turpin’s shoulder. ‘Bloody hell.’
Jasper’s team had cleared a shallow grave that had clearly been dug in a hurry.
The edges were jagged, the blade marks from a shovel still evident amongst the loose soil that clung to thick tangled grass roots.
The naked body within had somehow survived the trampling of sheep hooves, but had given way to insect activity and decay.
It was a man, and she reckoned he would have been no more than thirty at the time of his death, although she would defer to Gillian Appleworth’s expert opinion once the post mortem had been completed. His neck was twisted in such a way that his chin fell behind his left shoulder and she could see that his eyes were missing, the empty sockets staring at her accusatorially.
And, as she circled the grave in Turpin’s wake, she saw that his abdomen had been slit open, exposing the cavity within. His lower ribs had been smashed apart, leaving jagged stumps that protruded from what remained of muscle and fatty tissue.
Turpin led the way out of the tent, and turned to Jasper. ‘What the hell?’
‘Told you it was different.’
Jan’s stomach threatened to turn to liquid, and she swallowed as she took in the other tents scattered close by. ‘What about the others?’
‘We’re currently working through those, so I can’t show you those yet but this one’s the most recent burial,’ said Jasper, gesturing to the other tents. ‘It’s hard to tell with the older remains – three of them are too decayed for us to ascertain what happened this side of a post mortem – but there’s a woman over in tent three that might yield some useful clues, and another man in tent seven who can only have been in the ground for a few months.’
‘What about this one?’
‘We’re going to get him over to the morgue right now, and I’ve asked Gillian if she can do the PM this weekend given the amount of decay already in place,’ said the forensic expert. ‘She’s been over here to take a look and conduct the formalities, so she’s expecting him. We’ll get the others over to her as and when we’ve finished our assessments here.’
‘What was Gillian’s first impression?’ said Jan. ‘Did she have any theories about how he died?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Jasper. He glanced over his shoulder towards the closed tent flap. ‘That was relatively easy. She reckons he was missing both of his kidneys as well as his eyes before he was buried.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Three hours later, Mark stared at the viscous liquid spurting from the vending machine nozzle, took one look at the end result, and promptly dropped it into the rubbish bin, his stomach lurching.
The reception area smelled of fresh bleach. A junior constable was using a mop and bucket to wash away vomit that had been left by a man who had started drinking at home at six o’clock that morning before starting a fight in a local gift shop – one he said was owned by his ex-wife – at eleven.
The man was now in one of the custody suites attempting to sleep off what would be an enormous hangover and several weeks of regret, and the constable whistled tunelessly while he worked, only stopping to give Mark a brief nod as he passed.
There was a stunned silence to the incident room when he walked back upstairs, a reserved quiet that spoke volumes and caused gooseflesh to pepper his forearms.
When people did speak, it was with a sombre reverence, the shockwave from Jasper’s findings casting its net beyond the team and through the entire building.
Caroline was standing beside a group of desks in the far corner, talking to four administrative assistants that she had wrangled from another investigative team whose DI had willingly told Kennedy he should take whoever he needed. Their faces were troubled while they listened to her, their voices no more than a murmur when they spoke to the detective constable. Her face was etched with a renewed determination though, and she gave him a slight nod when she saw him watching.
He walked past Alex who was staring at the CCTV images on his computer screen, and patted the young detective’s shoulder without saying a word before joining West beside the whiteboard.
She flicked through a stapled document before looking up at him. ‘Jasper emailed through his notes so far to give us a head start. All eleven grave sites are noted in here together with a rough sketch he’s provided with regard to locations in relation to the airfield buildings.’
‘Caroline? Can you get that enlarged to A3 size and pin it to the board?’ called Mark, peering over West’s shoulder. ‘And add to that where Barry’s office and the officer’s mess are. It seems that he could’ve been right about feeling like he was being watched. Whoever’s responsible for this must’ve had to change their plans once he started making noises about starting the planning application process and getting site surveys carried out.’
‘No problem.’
Kennedy beckoned to the rest of the team to join them before walking over, his face harried. ‘So we’ve gone from an accidental drowning death to an illegal organ harvesting scheme that’s managed to operate under our noses for… how old does Jasper think the earliest grave site is?’
‘He’s not saying anything at the moment, guv,’ said West. ‘And nor will Gillian, not until the PMs are complete.’
‘About those,’ said Alex, hurrying over with his phone in his hand. ‘She says she’ll start the first one later today – that’ll be for the later grave – and then she’ll do the earliest victim, or what they think is the earliest victim, as soon as Jasper releases it from site.’
‘Good, so we might have a rough idea of timescale by Monday, that’s something at least,’ said Kennedy.
‘I also had a quick look at illegal organ harvesting numbers in the UK,’ said the young detective. ‘A lot of hospitals have tightened up their safeguarding processes after some high-profile cases in recent years, but there’s still a shortage of organs––’
‘And people are desperate,’ said West. ‘If they’ve got the money, they’ll pay anything to save a family member, right?’
‘Right, and those prosecutions have only served to drive the trade even deeper underground,’ Alex added.
‘Not to mention this lot are reducing their risk by ensuring none of the donors survive to tell the tale,’ said Kennedy, his eyes grim. ‘Let alone not having to pay them or their families. Can you go through the organ donation register and waiting lists and flag anything that gives you cause for concern as well?’
‘Will do.’
‘Here you go, guv.’ Caroline added the A3 sketch of the airfield to the notes and photographs on the whiteboard. She had used a red marker pen to add crosses where the site office and officer’s mess were located, and rapped her knuckles against the diagram. ‘I checked the angle of buildings in relation to the graves – Windlesham could’ve only seen the airfield once he was well clear of the converted shipping container. He’d have had to have been standing beside that old hangar to see anything.’
‘What about the officer’s mess?’ said Kennedy.
‘He couldn’t see that from the site office, but you can see the grave site from the front windows of the mess,’ Caroline said.
‘As would anyone held against their will,’ said Mark. ‘They would’ve known what was going to happen to them.’
A silence followed his words, until Kennedy cleared his throat.
‘Right, moving on with the rest of today’s briefing. We’ve got a patrol scheduled to pass Windlesham’s house every two to three hours at the moment. I can’t secure any more than that due to staffing constraints rather than the usual budget issues, but I want Gaynor Alton and her husband brought in for formal questioning in light of this morning’s discoveries, and another search of Windlesham’s home and office.’
‘Are Gaynor and her husband suspects now?’ said Caroline, pen poised above her notebook.
‘Not yet, but gauge that during the interview and proceed as you see fit.’ Kennedy updated the notes on the board while he spoke. ‘And ask her why she’s decided to take on the project and didn’t tell us last week. You can let her know from me that we didn’t appreciate yesterday’s surprise announcement.’
‘Will do, guv. How long can we expect the patrols to be in place?’
‘Until we work out whether they’re involved, in danger from whoever is, or we arrest someone.’ Kennedy turned to Caroline. ‘And you can tell them that I would strongly recommend they return to Wales if they’re not involved, just to put some distance between them and that site.’
‘Got it.’
‘Next, we need to follow up with the interviews from yesterday’s pre-planning meeting and your discussion with Felix Darrow, Mark. What’s your suggestion?’
‘I think we need to start with Adrian Mackleton, guv. He’s a GP, so in my mind that makes him highest on the list of potential suspects at the moment.’
‘Absolutely. Do you want me to get a patrol to bring him in?’
‘I’d rather interview him at home, but without giving him a chance to prepare.’ Mark glanced across to West. ‘I reckon we should head over to his place as soon as we’re done here, and see what his reaction is.’
‘Given that these people may have worked undetected for a number of years, we can safely assume they have an exit strategy in case something like this happened,’ said Kennedy, pacing the carpet. ‘Mackleton could be a flight risk so bear that in mind.’
‘Will do.’
‘Right, follow up tasks from this week,’ Kennedy continued. ‘Do we have the full list of formal objections to the pre-planning process yet?’
‘Got it here,’ said Caroline. ‘Belinda sent it through from site before leaving yesterday. Aside from Adrian Mackleton, there’s a Charmaine Abbott and three others who raised concerns. Barry was apparently working through those objections and in the middle of organising meetings with those people to discuss what might be done.’
‘We can interview Charmaine tomorrow morning first thing,’ said West. ‘She was on the panel last night so she’s a priority.’
‘Agreed,’ said the DI. ‘Okay, where are we up to with the lab testing on the dry bag that was found?’
‘All tests are complete, but there were no fingerprints in the system to match those on the bag,’ said Alex. ‘I’m also planning to arrange for the lab to run tests against some DNA that was found in the officer’s mess by Jasper’s team – there were some hair and clothing samples in the splintered wood in the door that might yield something we can use.’
‘What about the phone that was fished from the river?’
‘It’s still a work in progress, guv.’
‘Let me know the minute they find anything.’ Kennedy paused in his pacing and faced the team. ‘Well, what are you waiting for? Go, go, go.’
CHAPTER THIRTY
There was a blustery breeze in the air as Mark and West hurried from the incident room.
The wind whipped at the navy tie Mark was fastening under his chin, flapping it over his shoulder and billowing his suit jacket before he climbed into the pool car, which smelled of fat and grease and stale coffee. When he looked down he saw several balls of scrunched up fast-food wrappers scattered in the footwell, and a discarded takeout cup shoved into the door pocket.
West muttered under her breath while she drove the four-door hatchback under the raised security barrier and out of the car park.
Mark looked up from his notes when she braked at a roundabout and then floored the accelerator to beat a grubby panel van that was avoiding the diversion still directing traffic away from the front of the police station. A pair of junior constables had been ordered to keep pedestrians away, and the traffic division’s forensic team were working behind a screen that sheltered them from prying eyes, especially given the number of television news crews and social media vultures that were gathered on the opposite side of the road.
His colleague huffed her fringe from her eyes and swore as a car overtook them as soon as she had joined the A34, then slouched in her seat.
‘You were having to give back the keys to the other one this morning anyway,’ he said. ‘Might as well accept the fact.’
‘This has got no go in it at all,’ she grumbled. ‘And I can’t believe that someone over at Kidlington now has the other car. We’ll never see it again.’
He laughed. ‘You sound bereft.’
‘I am.’ Her mouth quirked before she grew serious. ‘Okay, so how do you want to run this interview with Adrian Mackleton?’
‘Carefully.’ He flicked through the notes that Caroline had collated. ‘Given that he objected to Windlesham’s project from the start, and that as a doctor he’s got plenty of access to the sort of drugs and surgical kit that might be used to carry out organ harvesting.’
‘It’s a huge leap from being a GP to the sort of surgery we’re talking about for a human organ transplant though,’ said West. ‘Even if the donors weren’t expected to survive. He’d still have to ensure the recipient lived, and didn’t reject the new kidney.’
‘I know, so let’s see what he’s got to say for himself.’
‘Are you going to tell him about the airfield finds?’
‘Not yet, and as long as Jasper and his team can keep the place locked down, we’ll keep it that way. I agreed with Kennedy last night and we’ve confirmed with Belinda Masters’ agency that her services are no longer required so that’s one less person going back and forth to that site too.’
‘What about helicopters, or drones?’ West checked her mirrors before overtaking an articulated truck, then swept past it, her face determined.
‘I spoke with Alex before we left the station – he’s arranged for a temporary no-fly zone to be set up and he’s advised the local gliding club as well. I’m sure we’ll get some complaints. As for drones, the team on site have been told to report any sightings, and Kennedy’s somehow managed to wrangle some more manpower to patrol the perimeter of the airfield, the woodlands and surrounding footpaths to prevent anyone getting too close. Jasper reckons he’ll be finished there soon.’
He fell silent as she turned down a narrow tree-lined lane that snaked through undulating woodland, the thick branches of oak and ash closing in above their heads forming a green tunnel before it gave way to a small livestock farm on one side and a large detached brick house on the other. A sign on the left-hand verge announced their arrival in Ravenswood village, and the road narrowed as older buildings jostled for space along the main street.
‘Over there,’ he said, and pointed to a parking space behind a mud-spattered Land Rover. As West manoeuvred the car into it, he took a last look at his notebook, and then tucked it into his pocket. Craning his neck, he spotted the doctor’s surgery farther along the street and checked his watch. ‘Okay, according to the website it’s open until twelve. It’s ten to, so he must be onto his last appointment by now. Perfect timing.’
Approaching the surgery, he noticed that the front bay window had frosted glass to prevent anyone looking in, and the front door was solid oak, much like the neighbouring properties. At some point, he reasoned, the building had once been someone’s home and looked up to see a date carved into the stone lintel that was several centuries old.
Pushing open the door, he entered a wide reception room with a low wooden desk on the right-hand side, and six fabric chairs fringing the other walls, above which were healthcare posters depicting various messages from best practice for washing hands to the latest advancements in asthma drugs.
A harried-looking woman in her twenties looked up from a computer screen on the far side of the desk and frowned. ‘I’m afraid we’re not taking any more appointments for today unless it’s an emergency.’
Mark held up his warrant card. ‘We’re looking for Adrian Mackleton. Is he around?’
‘He’s in with his last patient.’ The woman’s eyes widened. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Sally Abordale.’
‘Okay, Sally – could you let Dr Mackleton know we’d like a word with him?’
‘What, now?’
‘Now, yes.’
Sally’s gaze shifted to the frosted window, then back. ‘Would you like to come through to his office? It’s more…’
‘Convenient?’
‘I was going to say comfortable. I’ll be locking up as soon as his current appointment has left, and we tend to turn off the heaters in here to save money when there aren’t any patients around. These old buildings get cold really quickly, even at this time of year. Especially the ones on this side of the street – we don’t get any sunlight until later in the day.’
‘Lead the way,’ said Mark.
They followed Sally through a narrow doorway and along a short corridor that was lined with cardboard boxes of different sizes. Some had been opened and as Mark passed, he spotted packets of antiseptic swabs, plastic dispensing bottles, and various sealed packets labelled with health and safety warnings.
Stopping beside an open doorway at the end of the corridor, Sally waved them inside. ‘Take a seat. I’ll let him know you’re here as soon as he’s finished.’
Mark watched her hurry back to the reception area, then turned to West. ‘Mind if I lead this one?’
‘No problem.’ She wandered over to a bookshelf that was cluttered with lever arch files and journals, some with sticky notes poking out from the pages.
Mark glanced over his shoulder before crossing to the desk and ran his gaze over the paperwork strewn across it, noting the various invoices and delivery notes associated with the running of a popular village business. He turned away at the sound of footsteps.
