Depth of Despair (13 page)

Armistead was red in the face at this humiliation. Before he had chance to reply the Chief Constable said quietly, ‘What do you have to say about that, Superintendent Armistead? Have you denied vital information to my officers?’

‘I’m not answerable to Nash.’

‘Answer this carefully. Who are you answerable to?’

‘The Home Office,’ he snapped angrily, ‘And to them alone.’

The Chief Constable’s measured, quiet delivery was in direct contrast to Armistead’s hectoring tone. ‘Wrong! When you set foot on my territory you and your officers became answerable to me. Those are the terms of reference under which MCU was set up. I should know. I was one of the working party that wrote them. So from now on you’ll cease to ride roughshod over this enquiry. You and your officers will share all the evidence at your disposal.’

Nash’s attention was caught by Fleming. As the Chief Constable laid down the law to Armistead he saw a glint in Fleming’s eyes; it was approval.

The Chief Constable continued as if nothing untoward had happened. ‘We need to make a policy decision as to whether to involve the media.’ She smiled warmly at Nash, leaving the others in no doubt where her sympathies lay. ‘In the light of the discovery of further victims, Mike, what’s your opinion?’

‘I’d rather leave them out of it. It’ll be a few days before we can get the post-mortem results with Mexican Pete, I mean Professor Ramirez, being away. I’d rather get them before we say anything.’

‘Very well, we’ll take that as read. Now I’d like a word with you in Superintendent Pratt’s office, Mike. Is that okay, Tom?’

She closed the door of Tom’s office. ‘I’m well aware Ramirez is known to everyone as Mexican Pete. I’ve three brothers who played rugby. That wasn’t why I wanted a word.’ Her tone became serious. ‘It’s obvious you and Armistead can’t work together. What about his officers?’

‘I wouldn’t trust DS Thomas, but I think I could work with DCI Fleming.’

‘Then I suggest you liaise with her.’ The grin reappeared, ‘But don’t take liaison too far.’

‘No, Ma’am.’

Zena had left to visit Anna Svetlova and check on Milla, leaving word she would ring later. Clara told Nash when he emerged from Pratt’s office. ‘She had a call from the embassy, Svetlov’s on his way back. Zena said he’d spoken to the Kremlin, deferred the meetings he was due to attend.’ She inclined her head towards the office. ‘What went on in there?’

‘The Chief wanted to know who I could work with at MCU in view of Armistead’s attitude.’

‘And?’

‘I suggested Fleming. So she told me to liaise with her.’

‘I hope that doesn’t mean—’

‘Don’t you start. It’s bad enough the Chief Constable making innuendos.’

‘Okay, okay. If you don’t need me any more I’ve got something to do.’

‘No, that’s fine. There’s not much we can do tonight. See you in the morning.’

During the drive back, Nash was thinking. He felt sure there was something significant he’d missed. Somewhere, someone had said something he’d failed to pick up on. The others on the task force seemed to accept the fact that Vatovec and Martin Hill were the ringleaders of the trafficking operation but Nash was less than convinced. There was more to it than that, but what?

DS Thomas had been smarting since the humiliation of his ejection from Nash’s office. His mortification was only offset by the
knowledge
that he could hear everything inside. The bugging device he’d planted was working perfectly.

Although DCI Fleming was notionally Thomas’s superior, he didn’t recognize her as such. Thomas had been with the
organization
since its inception, felt aggrieved at the interloper. Her presence baulked his chances of promotion; and she was a woman. Thomas saw no reason to trouble her with this operational detail.
He’d applied directly to Armistead for approval, who’d no hesitation in giving it.

Armistead had the case file open on his knee. The two sat in Thomas’s car a discreet distance from Helmsdale Police Station, well within transmitting range of the device secreted under Nash’s desk. As they listened to Nash reviewing the progress of the enquiry with his DS and Dacic, Armistead scanned the paperwork.

‘I’m still trying to work out how the death of Dr Stevens ties into this case,’ they heard Nash say. ‘I’m absolutely convinced it does. But until we can get hold of his phone records there’s little we can do.’

‘How long is this going to take?’ They recognized Dacic’s voice.

‘I’d hoped to have them by now but the mobile phone company’s been uncooperative. Waiting for a warrant didn’t help.’

‘In Russia we’d have demanded the records. They’d have given them without question. We don’t need a warrant.’

‘Viv’s gone back to the phone company,’ Clara told them. ‘He was pissed off by their attitude. The woman who’s dealing with it wasn’t available. The receptionist seemed to think we’d already got them.’

‘Good for him. He’s starting to use his initiative. Without them, we must concentrate our efforts on locating Vatovec and Hill. It would have been helpful if MCU had come across with their
information
about how the girls were smuggled in, but after yesterday’s fiasco I can’t see Armistead popping in with his case notes.’

‘You’re dead right there, sunbeam,’ Armistead muttered.

‘What do you want me to do next?’ Thomas asked in a low tone.

‘Trace some of the numbers on here,’ Armistead gestured to Stevens’s phone logs, which lay uppermost on his paperwork. ‘Concentrate on those he called frequently and pay them a visit. We can steal a march on the yokels.’

‘Should I let Fleming in on what we’re doing?’

‘No, let’s keep the credit for ourselves. When I’m head of MCU I’ll reward those I trust. Fleming can go back where she came from. You’ll be my right hand. Pulling off a high-profile case like this will go a long way to achieving what we’re after.’

‘I need to go to Cauldmoor, find out how the Rubber Johnnies are doing. Want to come along?’

‘I might as well.’

The sun was shining as they left Helmsdale.

‘How was your evening off?’

‘It was very interesting,’ she said without marked enthusiasm.

‘What did you do?’

‘I went to visit a friend in Netherdale.’

‘Anyone I know?’

There was no dodging the issue. ‘I went to visit Stella.’

Nash was surprised but not shocked. ‘She didn’t throw you out, then?’

‘No, she seemed pleased to see me.’

‘How is she?’

‘She had a bit of a setback when you had that row, but I think she’s looking better than last time I saw her.’

‘Hang on, we didn’t have a row. She told me to “f” off.’

‘Whatever, she’s certainly more cheerful and she’s started taking an interest again.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Before your spat she wasn’t concerned about anything, even what was happening to her body. Now she’s putting herself through some rigorous exercise sessions. Calls her trainer a
physioterrorist
. I spoke to the woman and she told me Stella was pushing her constantly to extend the regimen. Pushing herself to the limit to get fit again.’

‘That’s good news.’

‘That’s not all. She’s also taking an interest in her surroundings. She was telling me about the clinic, her routines.’ Clara laughed. ‘She even knows how many security guards there are. Thinks they must have some very privileged patients to need so many. Or doing highly secret research.’

‘That’s even more promising. She’s right, too. I wonder why?’

‘Perhaps they’ve been plagued with intruders or scared of thefts. Maybe they’ve got some mentally ill patients. The point I was trying to make is if Stella’s started to spot things like that it’s a good sign.’

‘Did she mention the letter?’

‘What you mean is did she mention you.’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’

‘What else do you think we talked about?’

‘You’d better tell me the worst.’

‘You can’t get Stella off your mind. You may be kidding yourself carrying on with Zena but you’re not fooling anyone. It isn’t fair on Zena, it isn’t fair on Stella and it isn’t doing you any good.’

‘You’re getting to sound like an agony aunt.’

‘Stella wrote that letter because she’s convinced you were only visiting her out of sympathy.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘I told her that. I told her how upset you were, getting the letter when you’d so much else to worry about. I told her how you’d reacted. And I told her about Zena.’

‘Oh thanks. That’s blown me right out of the water.’

Clara laughed. ‘That proves you don’t know Stella half as well as she knows you. I didn’t need to tell her about Zena. She’d already guessed there’d be someone. She said you wouldn’t be interested in her because she’s crippled.’

‘That’s a load of bloody rubbish.’

‘Don’t tell me. Tell her.’

Nash caught on. ‘Does that mean she’ll see me?’

Clara grinned. ‘I thought that’d cheer you up. You owe me a pint.’

‘It’s worth it. Thanks, Clara.’

They were three-quarters of the way towards Cauldmoor when Nash overtook a coroner’s van. Nash’s lips tightened. The
implication hadn’t escaped Clara either. ‘That doesn’t look good,’ she commented.

Nash was normally easygoing. She’d never seen him
demonstrate
such impotent rage as he showed then. ‘The lousy stinking bastards,’ he banged his fist on the steering wheel. ‘I’ll kill them if I ever get hold of them. I’ll cut their bollocks off and feed them to the cats, I’ll—’

Clara put her hand on his arm. ‘Cool it, Mike,’ she urged. ‘It won’t do any good. We all feel that way. We all want justice for those kids. Revenge isn’t our business. We don’t do revenge.’

Nash cooled down, the fire dying as quickly as it had flared. ‘You’re right; sorry, Clara. Just keep me at arms length when we get them.’

‘That could be difficult,’ she attempted to lighten the moment. ‘You’ve got longer arms than me.’

When they reached the moor, Stark Ghyll was invisible behind a curtain of fine drizzle. The windscreen wipers had been on for the last few miles, dragging their way to and fro with a rubbery screech as they removed the fine droplets of rain. ‘You know something Clara, since this thing started I’ve had a feeling that I’ve missed something that should have rung alarm bells but I’m damned if I can figure out what it was.’

‘Maybe being back here will help.’

‘I hope so. It’s beginning to bug me.’

They started to climb the ridge separating the lakes. It got steeper as they neared the top. Both of them were fit but they needed to pause for breath when they reached the summit. Nash looked back towards Lamentation Tarn, still searching his mind for that elusive memory. Before them, the mist writhed and swirled, hiding Desolation Tarn from view until it cleared fractionally. Clara looked down to where the diving team was working.

She clutched Nash’s arm. ‘Mike!’ Her voice was filled with horror, ‘Look!’

Alongside the tarn were four unmistakeable black shapes. Body bags.

They half stumbled down the treacherous slope. They slipped and slid over moss-covered rocks rendered dangerous by the rain,
tripping once or twice as their ankles caught in clumps of heather and bracken roots.

Saunders, the head of the diving team, looked weary. His normally cheerful face lined and etched with the grey pallor of distress. ‘This is the worst job I’ve ever had.’ He kicked savagely at some unoffending reeds.

‘What’s the score?’ Nash winced internally at the unintended double meaning.

‘We’ve finished, thank God. There are no more down there. For God’s sake catch these evil sods, Mike. When you’ve done that lock them up and throw the key in the middle of that bloody lake where the bastards put those kids.’ He turned away and Clara saw tears welling up at the corner of his eyes.

She put a consoling hand on his arm. ‘Come on, Johnnie. You know if anyone can catch them, Mike will. He’ll make sure they go down for so long they’ll never be able to harm youngsters again.’

Saunders braced himself, ‘I hope so.’ Nash had taken a couple of paces towards the body bags. ‘Don’t go there, Mike!’

Nash looked back, more at the tone of Saunders’s voice than the words. ‘Don’t open those bags. Leave it for Mexican Pete. You don’t want to see what’s in those bags.’

His tone changed, became more urgent, appealing. ‘Believe me, Mike, you really don’t want to look. What’s in there, it’s … it’s an obscenity. I had to see it; my lads had to. You don’t. I’ll never forget what I’ve seen here. I’ll want to, desperately want to, but I know I won’t be able to.’

There was a short silence. Nash walked back to where Clara was still holding the diver’s arm. ‘I’m sorry we put you through this, Johnnie,’ he said quietly.

‘Not your fault, Mike,’ Saunders said wearily. ‘At least the job’s over. We can guarantee there’s nothing more down there. I just hope I never have to come to this bloody hell hole ever again. Now leave us to clear up and move these poor creatures out of here.’

The detectives turned and walked in sombre silence back up the ridge. Eventually Clara spoke. ‘It’s unlike Johnnie to take things so hard.’

‘When they first started, it was just another recovery. But
Johnnie’s read the case notes, he knows what those kids suffered. His imagination got to work and did the rest.’

They sat on the steps of the bothy whilst the diving team carried the body bags one by one to the waiting vehicle. Nash felt the weight of depression heavier than on his previous visits. The burden of responsibility was his, he knew it. Knew he had to get justice for the victims. Whoever drove them out to this dreadful spot and cold-bloodedly executed them showed callousness beyond his comprehension.

Clara turned her coat collar up and gave an involuntary shiver as she felt the bone-numbing cold strike through her jacket. She burrowed her hands deep into the pockets.

Her words broke so exactly across Nash’s thoughts that for a second he believed he’d given voice to them. ‘What sort of monsters are these? To bring those girls here to this desolate spot, kill them and dump them in the lake with no more feeling than if they were tipping rubbish? It’s inhuman.’

‘I don’t know Clara. It’s beyond me how these kids finished up in such a godforsaken place as this—’

His voice trailed off as his words and Clara’s collided in his brain. The conjunction of ideas yielded a thought he should have had long ago. He leapt to his feet so suddenly he cracked his head on the veranda lintel. ‘Shit!’

‘You alright, Mike?’

He rubbed his head as he began pacing to and fro across the veranda floor. ‘Why didn’t I think of this before,’ he muttered.

‘Think of what?’

‘I knew there was something.’ Clara looked bemused. ‘I should have twigged it long ago. You were right when you said being here might cause me to remember. I’ve asked myself the question, not once but several times, without realizing the relevance. How did they end up here?’

‘Presumably because Vatovec and Hill brought them.’

‘How?’

‘Sorry, Mike, I must be missing the point.’

‘Don’t worry about it; I’ve missed it for ages. We suspect Vatovec and Hill of running this paedophile ring, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘There has to be someone else. Look at it this way. Vatovec hails from the other side of Europe. Hill was born and raised in Nottingham. Neither of them would have a clue this place existed. There has to be someone who did know. They had to know the area well enough to be confident of it being a safe dumping ground.’

‘Of course,’ Clara breathed. ‘It’s been staring us in the face all along and we never twigged. But who the hell is it?’

Nash had a flashback to their first day at the tarn, his interview with the angling club secretary, the man’s extreme agitation. He remembered everything he’d said.

Like collapsing dominoes one thought collided with the next, then the next.

They returned to Helmsdale in sombre silence, following the coroner’s van and the diving team’s Land Rovers slowly down the narrow lanes in what seemed like a cortege.

They peeled off at the relief road back to the police station. ‘I need a hot drink,’ Clara said. ‘Want me to bring you one?’

‘Thanks, Clara,’ Nash’s tone was as muted as hers, the
experience
of Cauldmoor still sitting heavily with both of them. ‘I’ve a couple of phone calls to make.’

He located his Filofax and searched for a number. ‘Long time no see. I need some background information, and if it tells me what I suspect, it’ll shorten a major enquiry no end. Yes, I understand it might be difficult, but given the circumstances I hoped you could pull a few strings.’

Nash explained what he needed. ‘I appreciate it may take a bit of arm twisting, but this is more than a bit urgent. Yes, if you could call me here or at Netherdale,’ Nash reeled of the phone numbers. ‘I’m very grateful.’

Clara caught the tail end of the conversation as she brought his drink, ‘Mexican Pete’s just phoned. All Paris airports are fogbound and likely to remain shut for at least twenty-four hours. He won’t be able to fly back tomorrow. The post-mortems on the Desolation Tarn victims won’t get done until the day after next at the earliest. That’s if the fog lifts.’

Nash was interrupted by a knock on his office door. He looked up and saw DCI Fleming standing in the doorway. She looked nervous. ‘I’m not disturbing you, am I? I want a word, if you don’t mind.’

‘Come in,’ his tone was wary, his expression guarded. ‘What can I do for you?’

Fleming was dressed informally. A pair of skin-tight slacks and a low-cut top.

‘It’s about you and Armistead. If I’d said my piece at the meeting yesterday it would have made matters worse. Armistead would have excluded me from the enquiry.’ She paused and sighed. ‘The thing is, I suspect Armistead and Thomas are cooking something nasty up between them.’

‘Why are you telling me? How do I know this isn’t one of Armistead’s little tricks?’

‘Look, I’ve been trying to pluck up courage to come here. If Armistead knew we were talking he’d go through the roof. I’ll tell you what I suspect. Then it’s up to you.

‘I’m fairly sure they’ve got hold of some evidence they’re keeping to themselves. Don’t ask me how because I don’t think they could detect their way out of a paper bag. I think they’re going to keep this information the same way as they kept the evidence about how the girls were smuggled into the country.’

‘I thought you were involved in that?’

‘That’s what Armistead told you. I was sent to London to liaise with the Home Office and the Russian Embassy. I thought at the time any middle-ranking officer could have done it. I didn’t realize Armistead had his own agenda. He’s got a track record for
grabbing
the kudos for other people’s work. It was Armistead and Thomas who went to check up at the ports.’

Fleming sat a little straighter in her chair. ‘Those two are as thick as thieves and I’m beginning to discover how devious they are. They were appointed to MCU when it was set up and I hear Armistead did a lot of arm twisting to get the job. Anyone who came in after them was seen as an intruder. As if that wasn’t enough, I had the disadvantage of being a woman.’

‘I’d say that was an asset.’

‘In their book, women are only good for shagging, having
children
and housework.’

‘That’s bullshit. I don’t believe there are still people who think that way.’

Fleming smiled sadly. ‘There are plenty in other forces who think just like Armistead and Thomas. You don’t know them, Mike,’ she shook her head. ‘About the only thing I’ve got going for me is that I’m not black.’

‘Idiots,’ Nash said dismissively. ‘No wonder they don’t take us seriously. We’re a team of three, one white, one black and one female. Is that why you came here, to warn me?’

‘Yes, Mike.’ She leaned forward. The action brought the low-cut top she was wearing into the centre of Nash’s vision. ‘I couldn’t stand by without warning you.’