Read Poisoned Ground: A Hakim and Arnold Mystery (Hakim & Arnold Mystery 3) Online
Authors: Barbara Nadel
For a moment she thought she might come up with a sarcastic answer and then she said, ‘We’re looking for my amma.’
‘Your mum?’
‘Yes.’ She sighed. She was worried and needed to tell someone and Tony Bracci was nice really. ‘She’s been working at Ilford Hospital,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what she’s been doing. But Lee thinks she might have gone home with some doctor who works up there. We found her car in the hospital car park but she wasn’t at the hospital.’
‘Why did you come here?’
‘Because Lee found out this doctor lives here.’
‘Do you know where?’
‘In one of the flats.’
‘These gaffs here?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Lee tried to get him at his flat but no one was in. Then he saw a light or something in that other place, that old hotel. And the doctor’s car is down by the old hotel.’
‘That S-class Mercedes belongs to the man Lee Arnold’s looking for? The one your mum might be with?’
‘Yes,’ Shazia said.
Tony looked at PC Jackman. It made Shazia uncomfortable.
‘What is it?’ she said.
‘It’s OK.’
‘Not it isn’t! There’s something wrong. Tell me!’
‘Jackman, call the station. And get a WPC for the young lady.’
‘Guv.’ Jackman made a call.
But Shazia wouldn’t be deterred. ‘You want a WPC for me? Why?’ she said.
‘Because I think you should get out of the area,’ Tony said.
‘Out of the area? I’m not a kid! What’s going on?’
Tony said nothing. Jackman spoke softly into his phone.
‘DS Bracci,’ Shazia said, ‘if you don’t tell me I will …’
‘Keep your voice down!’
‘… keep my voice up until you do!’
He didn’t answer. Then he said, ‘Look, the man who owns that car is, we think, a bit of a villain.’
Suddenly Shazia wished she hadn’t asked. ‘Does he kill people?’
‘Not that we know of, but he does do a few hooky things and we have to assume he could be dangerous,’ Tony said. ‘If he’s in the old Gallions Hotel with Lee and your mum they could be in danger. And it’s a much bigger place to search than you might think.’
‘Oh no.’ On the verge of tears Shazia said, ‘Oh dear.’
PC Jackman got off the phone and said, ‘They’re on their way.’
‘Good.’
Then Shazia asked, ‘What do you mean it’s bigger than you might think, DS Bracci?’
‘Gallions has a lot of rooms on its upper floors where people travelling on ships going abroad used to stay,’ he said. ‘There are stables in the basement and then there’s the tunnel, if it hasn’t been bricked up or fallen down.’
‘What tunnel?’
‘Used to go from the stables underground to the Albert Dock,’ he said. ‘It was for posh people, so they wouldn’t have to get wet when they went to get on their ships.’
Under normal circumstances, Shazia would have found that story fascinating. But now it just made her sick. The old hotel had creeped her out as soon as she’d seen it. Now that she knew it had a tunnel it made her even more afraid. Whether Amma was inside or not she didn’t know, but Lee was and she liked Lee.
They were talking, but Mumtaz couldn’t hear what they were saying. Trying to disentangle the wire Cotton had tied her wrists with, all she was doing was cutting herself. Someone was going to take her car away from the hospital and so even if Lee did go looking for her there, he wouldn’t find anything. Shazia would have called him by this time and so they were searching for her almost without a doubt. But they’d be looking in all the wrong places.
Whatever happened, she’d go down with a fight. She couldn’t let them throw her into the dock and drown. That was no end to a life. A roaring noise above her head obscured the men’s whispers and her thoughts. A plane landed at City Airport, tearing down its short runway, braking hard. Compared to other airports, where a plane could often taxi for up to half an hour before coming to a halt, passengers disembarked quickly at City. Like tiny model railway people, their small size made Mumtaz realize how large the dock was, how far away the airport. Even if she had been able to wave at the plane as it landed, nobody would have seen her.
More silence punctuated by whispers. Irritation overwhelmed her. ‘You’re going to kill me, so why whisper?’ she said. ‘What are you trying to do? Save my feelings?’
Cotton stepped out of the tunnel. ‘Yes, actually,’ he said.
‘Oh, because you’re a doctor? Is that it?’
‘You’re an unwitting and unfortunate victim, Miss Huq,’ he said. ‘If you hadn’t found el Masri’s body …’
‘I didn’t find it,’ Mumtaz said. ‘I found some blood in a cupboard. Then someone hit me. I didn’t know Dr el Masri was dead until I found myself lying next to his body.’
‘But you would have found him,’ Cotton said. ‘And then you would have called for help.’
He took something out of his pocket, which he held behind his back.
Mumtaz felt her face drain. ‘What’ve you got there?’
He said nothing. She thought, He’s a doctor, he’s going to drug me.
‘Whatever it is, I don’t want it,’ she said. ‘Throw me in the dock. Do what you have to.’
‘Drowning is not an easy death,’ Cotton said. He looked sad. Was it genuine or just his bedside manner? Did it matter?
‘For you watching, maybe.’
He looked away. She’d hit him below the belt and she was glad. But it wouldn’t change anything. He took his hand from behind his back and she saw the syringe. Although her first urge was to close her eyes, she kept them open.
‘It won’t hurt,’ he said.
She watched him knock the liquid up into the syringe. He undid the buttons of her coat. As he leant forward she thought she might try to bite him but she was distracted by something else. Someone else. Or rather the absence of someone. Dr Golding had disappeared.
*
Tony Bracci pointed his torch down at the floor. His colleague, a young woman, nodded. Footprints. Lee Arnold had left the door
open after he’d broken in. Gallions Hotel widened its Dickensian mouth and swallowed Tony and four others, folding them into its silence. Tony was riveted. He’d thought about getting inside and finding what remained of Gallions former glory, but he never thought he’d get a chance.
‘Guv?’
‘Take Jackman and Hall and get upstairs,’ Tony said.
The young woman, DC Rose, said, ‘The stairs?’
‘I dunno. Look for ’em.’
Alone with DC Rock, a man of Tony’s own vintage, he whispered, ‘Done every training course on everything, can’t find the fucking stairs.’
Rock shrugged.
Footsteps over their heads told Tony that DC Rose had found the stairs. He swept the beam of his torch close to the floor. Keeping it low meant that it was less likely to be seen from outside. The place was pretty much empty except for a pile of sacks. He walked over to them and found the stairs himself. Rock said, ‘Looks like fertilizer, guv.’
‘Ah.’ Tony knew what that could mean. Explosives. He stopped for a moment, looked at the bags and, seeing nothing that looked like a detonator, he ploughed on. At the top of the stairs he paused. ‘Follow me down.’
When they got into the basement Tony wished he’d brought his camera. An almost completely preserved subterranean Victorian stable. The amateur historian in his head went into overdrive. How would
this
look on his Newham: Old and New website? How unprofessional would it be to take some shots with his phone? He took it out of his pocket.
‘Guv, there’s a tunnel.’
Rock was behind him. Tony turned. The DC was shining his
torch into a rounded brick-built cavity. On autopilot, Tony photographed it.
‘What you doing?’ Rock said.
‘It still exists,’ Tony whispered. ‘Can you believe that?’
Bracci’s eyes shone. Rock said, ‘Guv, I can hear voices down there.’
*
He must have seen something change in her expression because he said, ‘What?’
Not waiting for her answer, Cotton turned his head and saw that Golding had gone. He looked back at Mumtaz.
‘Hadn’t you better find him?’ she said.
He lifted the syringe again. Mumtaz looked him in the face. Then she saw two large hands circle Cotton’s neck.
‘Put it down, mate,’ Lee Arnold said. ‘And I don’t mean in the lady’s arm.’
Cotton didn’t move
‘I’m an ex-copper,’ Lee said. ‘I know how to kill you if I want to. Do it.’
He put the syringe on the ground.
‘Put your hands behind your back.
Cotton didn’t try to resist. Lee secured his hands.
‘Sorry, Mumtaz, had to use your scarf,’ he said.
‘Where’d you find that?’ she said. ‘Oh my God, Lee.’
‘In Dr el Masri’s office,’ Lee said. ‘Where’s he?’
He forced Cotton on to the ground and laid him on his side.
‘He’s dead,’ Mumtaz said.
Holding on to Cotton with one hand, Lee unwound the wire on Mumtaz’s wrists. He used it to secure Cotton’s ankles.
‘How?’
Mumtaz flexed her fingers and then began to peel the wire from her ankles. ‘El Masri’s throat was cut. I think he did it.’
‘This geezer?’
‘Mr Cotton, Consultant Psychiatrist,’ she said. ‘Oh, but there’s another one, Lee! Dr Golding! He just disappeared.’
She stood up shakily and looked around. ‘Don’t know where he’s gone.’
Lee followed her gaze. ‘When I was in the tunnel I heard a voice,’ he said.
‘No one passed you in the tunnel?’
‘No.’
‘Then he has to be out here somewhere,’ Mumtaz said.
The ground shook as a plane prepared to take off. ‘What the hell’s been going on?’ Lee yelled above the sound of the engines.
‘I don’t know,’ Mumtaz said. ‘You’ll have to ask him.’ She pointed at Cotton.
The plane took off and Lee dropped to his knees. ‘So what’s the deal here, pal?’ he asked the psychiatrist.
But before Cotton could answer, Mumtaz said, ‘Lee!’
‘What is it?’
‘In the tunnel,’ she said. ‘I think I can see someone.’
*
DC Rock’s attempts at blending in with the wall of the tunnel were hardly a success. The even larger figure of Tony Bracci stood out even more. As soon as Tony recognized Mumtaz he moved out into the light. As well as Mumtaz there was also one figure on the ground and another one squatting down. The one squatting turned his head.
‘Lee!’
‘Tony? What you doing here?’
Tony shook his head. ‘I’ve just had young Shazia ask me the same thing. And like I told her, I’m the law, I don’t have to tell you anything. What are
you
doing?’
‘My Shazia?’ Mumtaz said. ‘What …?’
‘It’s all right, she’s fine,’ Tony said. ‘Now what’s going on here?’
‘I’ve no idea, Tone,’ Lee said. ‘All I do know is that this bloke here just tried to kill Mumtaz and he’s got an accomplice out there somewhere.’
‘One of them killed a psychiatrist called el Masri,’ Mumtaz said.
Lee said, ‘They’re all psychiatrists. You couldn’t make it up.’
‘Some sort of psychiatric war …’ Tony began.
‘Don’t be flippant!’ Mumtaz said. ‘Dr Golding has run away. You need to get after him.’
Tony called DC Rose and told her to get the rest of the team down to the basement and through the tunnel. Still shocked at Mumtaz’s tone he said, ‘Did you see which way this geezer went?’
‘No.’
Lee pulled on Cotton’s shoulder. ‘Where’d he go?’
But the psychiatrist said nothing.
‘Not gonna get much change out of him.’
‘What does this Golding look like?’ Tony asked.
‘Thirties, white, dark hair, handsome,’ Mumtaz said. ‘And the handsome bit isn’t just my opinion. Most of the women at Ilford Hospital fancy him.’
‘Lucky him.’
Rose and the other plods arrived.
‘All right,’ he said, ‘we’re looking for a young bloke, thirties, IC1, dark hair, good-looking.’ He watched DC Rose smile. ‘Yeah, yeah, I know you’ve been looking for that all your life.’ He looked at Mumtaz. ‘Is he dangerous? Armed?’
‘I don’t think he’s armed and I’d say he’s more scared than dangerous,’ she said.
‘All right,’ Tony said. ‘I’m gonna call for back-up. You lot spread out and I’ll go back and secure the pub.’ He looked down at Lee. ‘Can I leave you with him?’ He nodded his head at Cotton.
‘Yeah.’
‘Mumtaz, you coming?’
‘Where’s Shazia?’
‘I sent her back to the station with a WPC.’
‘Then I’ll wait here with Lee,’ Mumtaz said.
Tony shrugged. ‘OK.’ He went back down the tunnel.
*
For a while, neither of them spoke and then Mumtaz said, ‘How did you track me down to the hospital?’
‘Shazia was worried. She said you’d gone off to Ilford in the morning and so I made that my starting point. Found your car in the car park.’
‘Cotton told Golding they were going to get someone to dispose of it,’ she said.
‘That hadn’t happened when we arrived,’ Lee said. ‘Were you there all day?’
‘Yes,’ she said. Now that she was no longer afraid, she began to feel the cold and started to shiver.
‘Why?’
‘I heard a rumour el Masri had changed a detail on the notes of the girl who committed suicide on Hatem el Shamy’s ward,’ she said. ‘It won’t seem much to you. El Shamy ordered fifteen-minute observations on Sara Ibrahim, what you’d call suicide watch, then after her death el Masri replaced Hatem el Shamy’s
name with his own. I wanted to know why and so I searched the archives for her records.’
‘Did you get permission?’
‘No.’
‘You’re learning.’
‘Not very well,’ Cotton said. ‘I saw what she was up to.’
‘Then why didn’t you stop me going into el Masri’s office?’ Mumtaz said.
‘I was otherwise engaged.’
She ignored him.
‘It took time but I found them,’ she told Lee. ‘And I saw that the rumour was true. I also found out that Sara was pregnant when she died.’ She looked down at Cotton.
He said nothing.
‘These professional types don’t say anything without a brief,’ Lee said. ‘Might as well ask the dock.’
Mumtaz looked across at the airport. While she’d been beside the water, flights into and out of City Airport had decreased. Soon they would be suspended for the night. A hard frost was developing on the ground. It made her feet feel dead.
Lee said, ‘Why don’t you go back to Tony, get to the station with Shazia?’
‘I don’t want to leave you. Not with him.’
‘He can’t move,’ Lee said.
‘No.’
‘Well, at least take my jacket. You’re shaking like a bloody cork in a storm.’
‘No. I’m OK.’
‘For fuck’s sake, stop martyring yourself!’ He took his jacket off and threw it at her. ‘And if you have to stay here, then get
inside the tunnel. You’ll fucking die of cold sitting by the water. Now, look, you’ve made me swear twice.’
Mumtaz picked up Lee’s jacket and put it on.
‘And get in the fucking tunnel!’
Smiling, she began to move.
‘That’s three times now,’ he said. ‘It’s not big and it’s not clever you know, Mumtaz.’
As she walked towards the tunnel, Mumtaz said, ‘You don’t know what a relief it is to hear you swear and not apologize.’
He’d always done that and it had irritated her. She tried to be a good Muslim and she covered her head but she was also a human being. Mumtaz pulled Lee’s jacket around her shoulders and sat down just inside the mouth of the tunnel. The old bricks, though not warm, did provide insulation and protection from the cold wind outside. And now that she was no longer in danger, Mumtaz felt exhausted.
*
The handsome doctor couldn’t have got far. To her right, DC Rose had the University of East London campus, to her left, where she was headed, a group of old buildings on the shoreline. Jackman and Rock had gone off to the university while Hall had gone on ahead of her towards the new council buildings. This left Rose alone in a vast wasteland.
Even though she was only in her twenties, she could remember when all the land around the docks had been derelict. Strange and forbidding industrial structures, some not much more than piles of bricks, had reared up from time to time by the dockside, recalling times when her grandparents had made good money from British sea trade. Efforts over the years to rehabilitate the area had been partially successful. But in spite
of the university, the new council offices and the airport, there was still a bleakness to the place that made it feel haunted. Maybe it was. Thousands had died in the docks in the Second World War, and thousands more had left when containerization killed traditional dock-work back in the 1970s.
What had the good-looking doctor done anyway? Bracci hadn’t said. Rose had seen some strange collections of suspects and victims over the years but an elderly psychiatrist lying on the ground with wire round his ankles was a first.
Rose saw something. A darker spot in the blackness. Just for an instant. It moved so fast she almost missed it. Part of her, a side removed from her modern pragmatism, shuddered. Her granddad had told tales about the war when she was little. About bombs so powerful they made whole families disappear. Vaporized, he’d called it. Then there were the children he’d found in a house in Silvertown who’d looked as if they’d been sleeping. Her granddad had always said there had to be ghosts.