Wilderness (Arbogast trilogy) (13 page)

Arbogast had been called to an emergency meeting with DCI Rosalind Ying at the Chief Constable’s office about four hours after the discovery of Stevie Davidson’s body. Norrie Smith had been silent when they arrived. His was a large office, clad mainly in antique mahogany. Norrie would complain, to anyone that would listen, that it was a highly impractical office but that he had been unable to change it because the furniture had been there since the building had opened. Dragged from the 1960s through to the 21
^st
century, the fixtures and fittings struggled to cope with the demands of modern policing. Computer cables were tied together with tape, with a vast array of wires leading to the room’s only socket which was inconveniently located at the door, on the wrong side of the room. Arbogast had been staring past the Chief Constable trying to get an idea of where exactly the panoramic window looked out onto. He could see tree tops so he assumed the office must be at the front of the building looking out onto Blytheswood Square. Norrie Smith poured three small cups of coffee into ornate red edged Wedgewood porcelain tea cups which he assumed had once been meant for special occasions but now looked ready for a charity bin.

“I’ll get straight to the point,” Norrie Smith said. He stopped and looked at Arbogast and Ying, failing to get straight to the point, but they could see that it was in the post. “I’ll be taking over as the Senior Investigating Officer in this case. DCI Ying you have done a great job on this so far and please don’t take this as a personal criticism. After a slow start I think we’re making good progress. But the discovery of Stevie Davidson has changed things. For all the furore of the press about paedophiles on the run, it doesn’t look like our Mister Davidson is the main man in this case. He may have been involved in some way but this is now starting to look like a much bigger deal. Maybe the girl has been abducted by a paedophile ring? For all we know she may not be in the country. This is now an international case and we will have to broaden our scope. With respect, DCI Ying, while you’ve got clout out in Lanarkshire I can get more done more quickly. We’ll be dealing with Europol now while forces across the country are actively looking for this girl. This girl—” he searched his desk for inspiration.

“Her name’s Kovan Kocack sir,” Arbogast said, mainly to save Ying from having to answer. He knew she would be gutted by the decision but she would also understand the reasons.

“—Yes the Kocack girl. DCI Ying, I want you and DI Arbogast to continue as lead detectives, but you will be reporting directly to me on this now on a day-to-day basis. I’ll take the controlling role in the investigation. We’re a few days in now and I’m going to be reviewing the case to see where we are and, if appropriate, make suggestions on possible new avenues. Understood?” The question was rhetorical and they all knew it but Arbogast and Ying both nodded their assent, like plastic dogs in the back of old cars. “OK good, well where are we now?”

Ying began with Stevie Davidson “It was a major shock to have found him where he was, but it looks like he fell from the bell tower. We have matched DNA samples from the splintered door. I’m not sure why he went there and I’m not convinced he was alone,” Norrie Smith nodded and gestured his approval for Ying to continue in a movement which reminded Arbogast of a Royal wave. Arbogast was starting to get angry as he saw the investigation getting bogged down in ego, split loyalties and too much talking,  but forced himself to bite his tongue.

“I’m not sure,” Ying said, shifting in her seat and looking at the ceiling, “that Stevie would have left the bus with the child and then immediately gone their separate ways.”

“Unless something happened before then?”

“Well yes but what could have happened? Why not just go back to the bus where it was warm. There must have been someone else there, a third man if you will. Perhaps they met at the church? It’s an easy landmark to find. I think we can rule out anything having happened to the girl early on. We’ve had half the force over that area and we’ve turned up nothing.”

Arbogast had had enough, “Look we’ve been bursting our arses over this case. The weather out there is atrocious. The snow has covered all tracks and there is literally no evidence from the scene. We should have an autopsy report from Stevie Davidson by lunchtime although it does look as if he’s fallen and broken his neck. I’d agree there must be someone else involved here and the pointers at the moment are looking to Mary and John Clark.”

“Of which I hear there has been a further development?” Norrie Smith said, although the question was more of an accusation than anything else.

“He’s gone missing,” Ying said, wondering who in her team had been leaking information, “We haven’t been able to get a hold of him yet. Arbogast’s source says he was supposed to be meeting with Kovan Kocack and Mary on the bus. We’re still trying to track down the girl’s mother but that should just be a matter of time. I’ve got the tech guys onto it and we should be able to pin her down through mobile phone tracking.”

“But she’s scared boss,” Arbogast said, “She’s scared her daughter will be harmed. I’d say it’s significant she thinks the girl is still alive.”

Norrie Smith was unimpressed, “But you still haven’t been able to speak to her face to face yet and the father also seems to be eluding your powers of detection?”

“John Clark you mean well yes I was coming to that,” DCI Ying was starting to get annoyed. This had been the biggest case she had handled from Motherwell and it wasn’t going to look good that it had been taken off her – she needed to get a result. “The Home Office has finally provided us with a new address but it hasn’t led to anything yet. We’ve tried the house but there doesn’t seem to be anyone home. We have a patrol car outside the flat on Crow Road. It’s been rented in Onur Kocack’s name but his neighbours say they haven’t seen much of him. He’ll turn up. In the meantime we’re trying to locate him at his work. He’s a registered engineer with Moorland Wind which is managing that wind farm at Eaglesham.”

Norrie Smith knew the one she meant, the turbines could be seen from his window springing up on the horizon to the south of Glasgow.

“Arbogast will be going out there after this meeting to try and find him.”

It was Arbogast’s turn to talk, “It’s something of a coincidence that the father of the missing child works with Eric Sanderson don’t you think? I don’t know if they work closely together or not but they are in the same field, if you’ll excuse the pun.” His joke went unnoticed or if not it was certainly unappreciated. Arbogast made a mental note to keep the puns for the pub. I could use a drink now, he thought, “but where was I?”

“You were telling us about the Sanderson tie in with the family,” Norrie Smith said, “although I must say we are putting a lot of stock in the word of strangers. The only one of us to have met with any of the Kocack clan is you, Arbogast, and that was in a strip bar. Meanwhile the person that put us onto the family is currently one of our main suspects, namely Mary Clark – you have to admit it doesn’t look good.”

It was Norrie Smith who was becoming impatient now and the atmosphere in the room was becoming uncomfortable.

“Mary Clark is the key to this,” Arbogast said, “She’s refusing to speak to us just now so we’ll have to apply more pressure. I’m going to put out a missing persons appeal for the husband and hope we get something back from that. In the meantime I’m going to go and see Sanderson again. There’s something in this relationship he has with his daughter, I’m sure of it. She complained in the past that he abused her in a secret location and now we have a missing girl. I also think John Clark’s involved, I just need to establish how.”

When they left the room Arbogast turned to Ying and reassured her that she was still in the driving seat, but she wasn’t interested. Arbogast wasn’t happy either. He had quickly come to trust in Ying. She had welcomed him to the team but more importantly she had let him take risks when he felt they were needed. It was her that had sanctioned the mobile phone drop at the club and it was her direction that had allowed the case to get started. He had thought Rosalind Ying might have had problems with the change in personnel but she was more driven now than before.

“Listen Arbogast I don’t really know you that well as a person but you seem to have good intuition. We need to work fast and find the girl – preferably alive. I suggest we continue to pool our resources and tie these strands together. Norrie’s just doing his job, I know that but it still feels like a kick in the teeth. He’d get carpeted if he let this go on without getting more closely involved. I mean just think about all the bad headlines this has been getting and not just in the local press – I saw the story on the New York Times website – this case is making news in the US, Australia – it’s everywhere – but we’re here and we need to get this done. You’ve been here before and failed and I don’t want that to happen twice. Arbogast watched as Ying let rip. He could see that the meeting had got her adrenalin going and she was as committed as he was to closing this case.

“Fine,” he said, “let’s go.”

He waited and watched as the police went about their business. They had found the driver’s body but that didn’t matter. He knew they knew nothing. The weather had been a gift from god. The child was his now, to do with as he wished. The driver had been unfortunate but it had proved a stroke of luck. How fortunate to find a paedophile just when you needed one. He had watched the TV news when the body was found. He couldn’t always understand the accents but so many people were shocked. One woman ‘Jessop’ had said she would miss ‘her Stevie’ so much. ‘Such a nice man to work with,’ she had said. I could not agree more. Hanom, he noticed, had been acting strangely. She obviously has not realised what has happened yet, perhaps she never will. But of course things have to move on. He had plans for so many people and so long as the police stayed four steps behind he would still be able to make the connection, to escape from this miserable freezing country and so far it had all being going to plan. Satisfied that he had done everything that had been asked of him, he checked on the girl, who was alone. She was quiet of course, as was to be expected under the circumstances. That might change when she was reunited with her mother. But it was not going to be the bright new life they’d hoped for. As he left the room the little girl looked up, he caught her glance for a fraction of a second as the light from the hall was quickly extinguished from her room. He wondered if she might come to hate him. That would be good, and just – let her learn the meaning of hate. It was all her fault after all.

13

Istanbul, Turkey, June 11
^th
2003

Hanom’s family had lived in the same place for the last four generations. The house was built in 1843 and over time the weather had changed the wooden framed building into a weird, warped shambles within the similarly well worn Canturkaran district of Istanbul, overlooking the Sea of Marmara. When Hanom walked these streets she felt part of something bigger, older, something she felt that others did not have. Originally her family home would have been covered with a lime facade and as such was prone to salt erosion from the sea air. Her father had told her that it had been a proud day when they put up the timber cladding to protect their home and still in this street there were few other houses that looked quite like theirs. The timber had shrunk and twisted through the years, giving the three storey structure the look of having melted in the sun. As a child Hanom had thought of it as a fairy tale gingerbread house. Her mother had told her not to be so morbid, but she hadn’t understood what she meant. The top floor had an overhang and perched over the street below as if trying to find a better view of the shimmering horizon. This was a common arrangement in the city which allowed more space upstairs while also giving shade and protection for those passing in the street. And it was here that Hanom spent her 18
^th
birthday. Although the house stretched to quite a height there was surprisingly little space inside, although that had not stopped the influx of friends and family who had squeezed in to the narrow rooms to help her celebrate. Aunts and uncles from the country, friends of her fathers, and people she had known from school, all were here. Hanom blushed at the thought of it, she wasn’t used to so much attention but for all the fuss there was only one person she wanted to see and he wasn’t here. It was about 8:00 when Onur arrived, with flowers in hand and a smile.

“I’m afraid Karim might be late tonight. He asked me to send you his love. He has work to finish and couldn’t get away. I hope you can accept my apology on his behalf.”

And then he did something that took Hanom quite by surprise. Onur went down on one knee and took her left hand in his right. He clasped it and she could see his eyes welling up as he lifted his head to meet her eyes.

“Dear Hanom I know you have only eyes for Karim but I feel I must tell you my heart. Since we have been children I’ve looked on you as someone special. I know I have neither the bravado nor the money of my brother but I’m not a poor man. I have brought you this gift dearest Hanom so that you know that I am here for you. I love you Hanom and if you would have me you would make me the richest man in all of Istanbul.”

Hanom was so shocked that she didn’t know how to react. Onur had got the attention of the room and prying eyes watched on as he waded ever onwards with his declaration of love. Looking back Hanom remembered being angry at his having ruined her day. She had cursed Onur and chased him from the house. They had all laughed at the foolish boy and the laughter had fuelled the atmosphere for what had been one of the greatest days of her life. Karim never did show up and although she could never explain quite why, Hanom could not stop thinking about Onur.

Glasgow, Scotland, February 20
^th
2010