SHADOW OVER THE FENS a gripping crime thriller full of suspense (9 page)

‘But they disappeared too?’

‘They accomplished their mission, retrieved the hostages and got the rest of the staff extracted by helicopter, but they went back to Zutu.’

Nikki frowned, but said nothing.

‘They contacted HQ with their coordinates saying that they had discovered something else, something that intelligence had not briefed them about.’ Joseph shifted uncomfortably in his chair. ‘After that, they sent just one communication, regarding a neighbouring village called Ituga. A terrifying report about women and children being taken as slaves and forced to opencast mine minerals, sometimes with their bare hands, and give everything they found to their rebel captors. These women were also expected to prostitute themselves, and if they refused you can guess what happened to them. The unit’s plan was to recon the other mine, assess the potential for an evacuation, and either request assistance or deal with it immediately. It was a covert mission, and imperative that the identity of the sponsor was concealed. It couldn’t be known that the British government was involved, not in that hotbed of political shit.’ He drank more brandy. ‘My team was Kilo Charlie Zero. We were a four man patrol, and we shipped out as soon as communication with Ituga broke down.’

Joseph stood up and walked slowly around the kitchen, touching ordinary homely objects, as if trying to ground himself in the present. ‘We found the unit in a cave close to the mine. Three of them had been butchered, and the fourth was sitting there with the bodies, too traumatised to speak.’ He ran his hand across the cold surface of a marble chopping block. ‘I’d served with one of them before, Terry Bourne, he was a fine soldier, and an extraordinary human being.’ A picture of the tousle-haired man with a boxer’s nose and a big smile came unbidden into his thoughts. Rough and tough on the outside, but inside, a rare gentleman. ‘We radioed our findings in, got the bodies to a place of safety ready to be brought home, and took the remaining soldier with us. We requested a helicopter evacuation for him and our dead, but there was heavy rebel fighting close by and they couldn’t comply. My commanding officer made the decision that we go in and finish the job ourselves.’

‘Find out what was going on at the Ituga mine?’

‘Yeah, and send back full intelligence,’ Joseph sighed, ‘And that’s where it all went pear-shaped.’ He flopped back down into his chair. ‘I’m not sure if any of us really knew what happened, but we got a radio message telling us that a group of rebels had been seen bringing in a new batch of women and children. According to our information, they were being held in a large hut prior to selection for duties, and the rebels were regrouping ready for their next sortie in a cave close to the perimeter of the mine.’

Joseph licked his lips and steeled himself to speak. ‘Our intel was wrong. It was the women who were in the cave that we attacked. Somehow in the bedlam that followed, we managed to get only two of the woman out, most of them died.’ He glanced across at Nikki’s face. It was set as if in stone, and he had no idea what she was thinking.

‘And the children?’ She finally asked.

‘There were no children this time.’

Nikki’s face softened. ‘Thank God for small mercies. And Billy Sweet? Where does he fit in?’

Joseph took another gulp of his drink. This was the worse bit. The bit he had relegated to the deepest, darkest part of his memory. The accidental killing of the women had been devastating, life-destroying. But what had come next was the stuff of nightmares. He rubbed his hand across his mouth.

‘We were hopelessly outnumbered, and we’d lost the element of surprise. We fell back, taking the two women and the silent soldier.’ He stood up again, and began to pace. ‘As night fell, we found a deserted building, an old shelter, a store of some kind. It was way outside the perimeter and well hidden.’ Joseph saw it in his mind’s eye, saw the sun-bleached wood and the corrugated metal sheets that served as a roof, and suddenly he was there, back in Africa.

‘All clear!’ he called out, as he checked the last part of the deserted shack. He relaxed a little, but kept his rifle at the ready. ‘Get the women inside; it’ll get cold pretty quickly.’ He stood back as his comrades entered the building.

‘It’s going to be a long night, Bunny.’ His friend, Cameron McBride, hitched up a rag of material that was hung at the glass-less window and tried to decide how best to keep guard until morning. ‘The terrain sucks. Too many dead spots for snipers to hide in. Two hour watches, two men awake at all times, I reckon.’

‘Yeah.’ They called him Bunny because of his surname. He was the Easter Bunny.

‘I’ll take the first watch.’

‘Me too,’ added Teddy Churchill, wiping grime and other unspeakable substances from his boots.

‘I’ll sort out some rations, get the women and this lad fed.’ Kenny Williams’ dirty face crinkled up in frustration. ‘Daren’t risk a fire though, its cold grub or nothing.’

Joseph’s stomach was in no fit state for food, hot or cold, and he was grateful to get outside into the night. The bloodbath in the mine was still playing itself out in his head. How could everything have gone so wrong?

He was still hearing the screams echoing around in his mind, when Teddy sidled up to him and whispered.

‘There’s movement down on the track, 500 metres south.’

They moved together into the darkness and watched the narrow road.

Joseph flipped down his night-vision sights, and saw figures huddled in the scrubby trees that flanked the track. ‘Go get Cam and Kenny.’

Moments later, the four soldiers eased themselves further down the incline, to get a better look at their ghostly intruders.

They watched for a while, then Cam tapped his arm and gestured towards the shadows. ‘They are women! Thank God! Some of them must have escaped!’

‘Are they alone?’ whispered Kenny.

‘Can’t see.’

‘Bait,’ murmured Teddy grimly. ‘It’s a trap.’

Joseph suddenly froze. ‘Or a lure. To get us away from the shack.’

Cam inhaled sharply, then said, ‘No, the squaddie’s with them, the girls will be alright. He’s a mess, but he’s still a soldier.’ His confidence faded. ‘Surely they wouldn’t . . . ?’

‘I’m going back.’ Joseph knew something was terribly wrong. ‘One of you come with me.’

As he began to climb back up towards the shack, he felt Cam move in behind him. ‘Bad vibes, man.’

Joseph didn’t answer.

Like wraiths in the night, they drifted up to the door, and slipped inside.

The coppery, metallic smell hit them instantly, and it was something they were both horribly familiar with. Then they heard the sound. A weird, sing-song keening; like nothing Joseph had ever heard either before or since.

‘Oh God, oh God,’ whispered Cam.

The women were dead. They had been hogtied and their throats neatly slit. And sitting on his haunches in front of them rocking backwards and forwards, was the young soldier. When he realised that he was no longer alone, the horrible noise that was issuing from his throat ceased, and for the first time since they arrived in Ituga, he spoke.

Actually he screamed. ‘They made me watch! The bastards made me watch!’

Joseph stared at him.

‘They were waiting! They came in! They came in as soon as you’d gone!’

‘And you let them do this!’ Cam’s voice was even louder.

‘I couldn’t do anything,’ blubbered the young man.

‘And they left you alone, did they? I don’t fucking think so!’ Cam sneered at the soldier. ‘You ran away, didn’t you? You shitty little coward! You left these women to be slaughtered, and you hid!’

Until then Joseph had said nothing, then he asked, ‘What’s your name, soldier?’

‘Sweet, sir. Billy Sweet. And I didn’t run. They held me and made me watch, I swear. Then something scared them. They pushed me to the floor and ran off.’

Joseph’s powerful flashlight lit up the man’s eyes, and he shivered. It might have been the trauma he had suffered, or it might have been the light, Joseph was never sure, but the soldier had the unblinking pale eyes of a fish. Cold, dead eyes.

Suddenly Joseph was back in the kitchen, his breathing laboured, and Nikki was beside him, pressing the glass into his shaking hands.

‘Take a sip, Joseph, go on. It’s okay.
You’re
okay, honestly.’

He took a long shuddery breath. ‘Yes, I am aren’t I?’

‘Are you up to finishing the story, or . . . ?’

‘I’ve come this far, let’s get it done with.’ He fought to control the shaking. ‘When it was light, I searched for signs of intruders. There were none. I looked for a knife, but the terrain was too difficult. You see, the others believed he was a coward. I believed he was a murderer.’ He stretched, trying to unknot his cramped muscles. ‘A week later, I went back to that area to help mop up the rebels, and I heard talk. Talk about a baby-faced white soldier who had killed his own comrades.’ Joseph looked at Nikki. ‘I knew then I’d been right about Billy Sweet.’

‘
He
butchered his friends?’ Nikki’s voice rose several octaves. ‘And the women?’

‘I believe so. But no witnesses came forward, and there was no proof. He was sent for psychological evaluation, given a long holiday somewhere nice, and allowed back on active duty two months later.’

‘My God! How come they didn’t see through him?’

‘Psychopaths are brilliant and convincing liars.’ Joseph shrugged. ‘Ironic, isn’t it? It was me that finished up on the scrapheap. I couldn’t cope with what had happened at the mine. Those poor women died, and we killed them. They were supposed to be the rebels.’ He gave one last sigh. ‘Billy Sweet marched back to war, and I threw my rifle into a river and went home.’

‘You never saw him again?’

‘Just once. A week or so before I got my honourable discharge. I was helping out at a training camp in the Brecon Beacons, and I heard a group of soldiers complaining about one of the men. I heard them mention the name, and I
had
to go take a look at him. That’s how come I know his face. He’d changed, of course. I don’t think he was ever as young as he seemed. He’d got older, got tougher, and uglier. But his eyes were just the same.’

‘Did he see you, and did he recognise you?’

‘Oh yes. From the derisory smile on his evil face, I’d say, most definitely.’

Nikki looked across at him, her face drawn and sombre. ‘And you believe that that was the man who jumped in front of your car in the Greenborough High Road?’

When he answered, the words were slow and deliberate. ‘Yes. The man I saw was Billy Sweet.’

* * *

They talked on until one in the morning. They talked about families, about his soul-searching journey after he left the army, about the police force, and of living on the fen. She talked about Martin, and she even managed to let Joseph talk about Bryony, although she still felt that inexplicable feeling of discomfort deep inside when he mentioned the other woman.

Whatever, it was good to have him there. She had told the super that she could take care of herself, and she had never been frightened to be alone, but like it or not, Cloud Fen was a remote spot when there was a violent thug on the loose, and Joseph’s presence was a distinct comfort.

She had given him the guest room, the room that had been hers as a child, and told him to try to catch the sunrise. The dawn over the marsh was as beautiful as anywhere in the world.

As she slipped into her own bed, she thought about Joseph, lying just a few feet away from her, and sighed. She hoped he would see the sun come up, sending dazzling flame fingers across the oily dark waters of the marsh. He could do with some bright light to warm the sadness that lived inside him.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Joseph had certainly seen the sunrise, as he had seen every other hour of the night. It had nothing to do not being tired. He had been exhausted, totally drained by everything that he had dredged up from the mud of his past. He was simply scared to sleep. He knew only too well the nightmares that were lurking in his head, waiting to crawl and slither into his dream sleep.

So he had got to see the dawn. And as Nikki had said, it had been spectacular. For a moment or two he had been able to lose himself in it, as the deep, blood-red orb that was the sun broke free of the dark horizon. He wished he could stay there, basking in its breathtaking beauty, but there was a killer close by, and the time for relaxing would only come when Sweet was behind bars, or beneath the ground.

Joseph had showered and gone downstairs to find Nikki, already dressed, and trying to prise a hunk of burnt toast from the toaster with a knife. He had declined the offer of a cooked breakfast and settled for coffee and a cold croissant, then after thanking her for both her hospitality and the incredibly good brandy, drove away from Cloud Fen and headed towards the swimming pool. He had time for a half an hour’s swim before he started work and it might help to wash away the shadows that still clung to him.

He had just completed his twentieth length, when the changing room door opened and Bryony walked in. She waved brightly and went to one of the poolside showers, allowing him time to take in the sight of her.

She was wearing a black sports swimsuit with a scarlet flash down the sides, and looked every inch the athlete. He ducked under the water for a moment and tried to understand why he felt such an idiotic delight in her being there.

‘Hi, you!’ she said as she broke the water inches from his face.

‘Glad you made it,’ he said, pushing his wet hair back from his face.

‘As if I’d miss the chance of seeing you.’ She grinned at him, then rolled over on her back and glided effortless up the half empty pool. ‘Keep up, slowcoach!’

He pushed off and took a few powerful strokes, but he was still not even close to her. Bryony was completely at home in the water and moved through it with both grace and ease. He was not a bad swimmer, although nothing like he had been, even so he was not rubbish, but right now he felt like a lumbering whale next to a dolphin.

It took him about ten minutes to find a stroke that enabled him to keep up with her, and even then he was sure that she was slowing down to let him catch her.

The water felt good, and he didn’t want to leave, but the big clock at the end of the pool was telling him otherwise. ‘I’ve got to go.’

‘So soon?’ Water glistened on her smooth skin, and Joseph silently cursed the fact that he had to work.

‘We’ve got a lot on, I’m afraid.’

‘Big case, Mr Detective Sergeant?’

Joseph bit his lip and thought, yeah, big as they come and the timing stinks. ‘Something like that.’ He swam on his side towards the steps. ‘So how about Saturday? Are we on for dinner?’

Bryony swam towards him and planted a light kiss on his cheek before plunging down beneath the bright blue water and swimming off.

‘Take that as a “yes”, shall I?’ He called after her, then realised that he was not supposed to know where she lived. ‘Where shall I pick you up?’

‘I’ll meet you at seven, outside that dreadful pub of yours,’ she shouted.

He waved to her and pushed open the changing room door. That was just fine, but this time he’d make sure it was not heaving with policemen.

* * *

‘We’ve got a match, Joseph.’

Nikki was already in the murder room, and sifting through a pile of fresh reports.

‘On?’ He threw his jacket over the back of his chair and moved to her side.

‘Our execution victim. His name is Chris Forbes. His fingerprints turned up on the police computer. Nothing heavy, just some trouble over taking a car without the owner’s consent.’

‘Was he a local, ma’am?’ asked Joseph.

‘Yes, he’s from the Carborough Estate. Bit of a rough family, but other than that one incident, he seems to have been clean.’ She paused, then added, ‘So why did he finish up dead?’

‘I would think wrong place, wrong time. He simply had the misfortune to bump into something nasty in the night.’ Joseph’s eyes narrowed. ‘None of Billy’s other victims had done anything wrong either.’

‘Maybe. The family has been informed and there’s a liaison officer with them. Dave was in early so he went straight over, we’ll talk to them later.’ Nikki looked at him pensively. ‘And Joseph, I suggest we keep everything that we discussed last night, just between us for the time being. And you need to try to keep your emotions under tight control, even if you see this man again.’ She shook her head. ‘Otherwise everything will have to come out in the open, and I don’t want you to have to face all that, not officially, unless there is absolutely no other way.’

Joseph nodded. ‘If we catch him it will be a different ball game, but until then I’ll do my best to keep a lid on my reactions.’ He gave her a relieved smile. ‘I really appreciate that, thank you.’

‘No problem. Now grab a pile of these reports and help me check them, and a very strong coffee may help.’ She held out a sheaf of paperwork.

Joseph took them and grinned. ‘Can you believe that brandy?

‘I can’t believe we drank half a bottle of the stuff, that’s for sure!’ She grimaced, ‘Or maybe I can.’ She flopped into a chair and looked up at him with a pained expression. ‘You didn’t actually go swimming earlier, did you?’

‘Yup.’ He felt a thrill run through him as he recalled those soft lips touch his cheek, ‘And I’m glad I did.’

‘Ah, Bryony.’

Joseph smiled and nodded, although he wondered if he had imagined a slight hint of disapproval.

‘Then just keep your wits about you, Sergeant. Don’t get too distracted.’ Her old tone was back, so he just grinned and went to get the coffee.

As he placed the cups under the dispenser and waited, he glanced through the reports. Nothing leapt out, other than a memo from the SOCO who had checked Knot Cottage.

He returned to the murder room and put the drinks on the desk. ‘You were right about whoever turned over Martin Durham’s drum. The SOCO says it was a pro.’

‘I said he was!’ His boss frowned angrily. ‘Your average blagger would never have disabled me that easily.’ She scanned the memo and made a snorting noise. ‘No trace evidence found at scene. No fingerprints, footprints, stray hairs, no bloody nothing.’

‘Are we surprised?’

‘No, not at all. I just half hoped that we wouldn’t have to wait for the DNA on that hair that I managed to yank from his scalp.’

‘Makes it even more important that you did.’

‘I suppose. I just wish things happened as fast as they do in
CSI
or
NCIS
.’

‘I don’t think the Fenland Constabulary’s budget could run to a dedicated state-of-the-art forensics lab like Abby Sciuto’s. We are lucky to have
cars
, even if half of them are clapped out! Sadly this is the real world.’

‘And it’s a psych ward run by the inmates.’ Nikki threw up her hands. ‘We’ve got this fabulous building, cost a fortune, and we have to sign in triplicate and wait for three weeks if we need a new stapler!’ With a disgusted grunt she picked up the telephone that had shrieked out from the desk in front of her.

‘Yes, DI Galena here. Oh, hello Rory.’ She listened for a moment, then holding the receiver between her chin and her shoulder began sorting through the remaining reports. ‘Got it! Yes, hang on.’ She opened the thin envelope and began to read. After a second or two she said, ‘But I don’t understand.’

Joseph looked at her. Her voice had dropped to little more than a sigh.

‘That seems impossible, Professor.’ After a while she thanked him and hung up. ‘The tox report on Martin. His bloodstream was flowing with doxepin hydrochloride, in the form of a drug called Sinepin. The professor thought he should draw my attention to it prior to delivering his full opinion.’

Joseph frowned. ‘I don’t remember seeing any drugs of that name at Knot Cottage.’

‘There weren’t any. I have a list of all the medication that he was legitimately taking, and all bar one were present in the report, and Rory is very concerned.’

‘What kind of drug is this Sinepin?’ he asked.

‘No idea. The professor is bringing his preliminary findings over at lunchtime and he’ll give us the details then.’ Nikki picked up her coffee cup and stared into it. ‘They couldn’t have been recreational. Martin
never
took drugs. Hell, I’ve spent half my life with drug users, I’d have spotted signs.’

‘They sound like prescription drugs,’ said Joseph. ‘So how did he get hold of them?’

The boss shrugged. ‘This is getting more shitty by the hour.’ She looked worried. ‘And we should be getting our heads around Chris Forbes’ murder.’

‘I’ve been thinking about that. The type of rope that was used may be of help to us.’ He sucked in air, then lowered his voice so that only she could hear him. ‘Soldiers always have string or twine in their kit. I’ll be interested to hear what kind it is.’

The boss said nothing, but just nodded.

‘And the knots the killer used. I should have been more attentive, but the shock of seeing the body in that position, I just . . . I just had to get out of there.’

‘Don’t be too hard on yourself, Joseph. It’s hardly surprising, is it?’ There was compassion in her voice. ‘But if you can, check the photographs as soon as we have them, I’m sure the report will pick up on the way the victim was bound.’

‘I’ll certainly be able to tell you if it was a military-style attack.’

‘Let’s just wait and see, shall we? Part of me is still hoping that this is nothing to do with you.’ The boss gave him a un-enthusiastic look. ‘Although the other part is pretty sure that’s not the case.’ She closed a file with a snap. ‘But let’s not jump the gun. Hard evidence is what we require.’

Joseph nodded, then looked up as the door opened and Dave Harris walked in. His face was drawn and his eyes deep and sad. ‘That’s one side of police work that I hate.’

‘Don’t we all,’ said Nikki. ‘So, anything helpful from the parents?’

Dave sat down heavily and shook his head. ‘All but useless, guv. Chris Forbes lived at home, he was thirty-four, but he was not bright, if you catch my drift?’

‘Learning difficulties?’ asked Joseph.

Dave nodded. ‘Not severe, but his younger brother said that the lift never went up to the top floor. Chris was happy in his own little fantasy world, and sadly the family were happy to let him live there.’

‘Something they are no doubt regretting,’ murmured Nikki.

‘He didn’t work, and spent most of his time in pool halls with his drop-out mates. To be honest, I don’t think he was bad, just highly impressionable and very trusting.’

‘And no one took him too seriously, I suppose?’

‘That’s the point, Sarge. Who listens for long to a Walter Mitty? His brothers admitted that he’d been going on about some “brilliant bloke” who bought him drinks, but as none of them had actually met him, and as they didn’t give a toss who Chris was drinking with, we have no description.’

‘Where did he drink? Or play pool? Maybe we can track this new friend that way?’ said Nikki.

‘The Plough
on River Street was his local, guv. Cat’s checked it out already. He
was
there with a stranger recently, but no one took any notice of him. The description was hazy, just kind of ordinary, non-descript, and he always wore a knitted beanie hat.’ Dave pulled a face. ‘The only thing that did come up was that Chris called this new friend by a nickname.’

‘And that was?’

‘He called him Snaz, ma’am.’

Joseph fought to stifle an involuntary gasp, and when he glanced up he saw Nikki staring at him.

‘Well, that’s a start, Dave. Go grab yourself some breakfast, okay?’

As the door closed, she raised her eyebrows enquiringly. ‘Right, Joseph, what spooked you?’

Fighting to keep his voice level, he said, ‘The Russian special forces soldiers are called
Spetsnaz
, ma’am. Billy Sweet held them in pretty high regard, and he always referred to them as the Snaz.’ He looked at her enquiringly. ‘Now where do you sit on the subject of coincidences?’

* * *

An hour later, Cat knocked lightly on Nikki’s door and stuck her head around. ‘Got a minute, ma’am?’

‘Only if you’ve got me something on Chris Forbes’ friend Snaz?’

‘I went back to the Plough, ma’am, to see one of Chris’s old friends. This bloke Liam mentioned seeing Chris with a stranger outside a dodgy pool parlour down by the docks. A dirty dive called the Paper Wall.’

‘Want me to check it out, ma’am?’ asked Joseph.

‘No offence, Sergeant, but I think we’ll leave it to Cat. She has the knack of blending in rather well in dubious joints, don’t you, detective?’ She smiled at Joseph. ‘Sorry, but she’ll get more than you from their kind of clientele. You look a tad too wholesome for the Paper Wall.’