Before It's Too Late (29 page)

Jackman thanked Mr Edwards, left Davies to take his details, donned his overshoes and gloves and climbed over the tape.

The vista from this point offered excellent views over the patchwork of fields that covered the surrounding countryside and reached down to the A3400. The two adjoining barns were situated behind a mound of soil, broken wooden crates and rusted farm machinery. He walked around the exterior. An elder bush almost covered the nearside, so much so that the barns faded into the background, their view obscured from further down the hill. A small copse was set back into the hill nearby. He glanced down. The main road must be at least a quarter of a mile away. He wondered how long the captor had searched for this location – something isolated enough that pedestrians wouldn’t hear any calls, but with a track that led up from the highway to a dead end next to the barns. That was his route to transport his prisoners. And with cloned plates, any camera footage that may be available from the industrial units nearby wouldn’t help to locate the van. Clever.

A mixture of rubble and broken roof tiles crunched under his feet as he walked into the barn. The first thing he saw was a battered old wooden ladder that leant against the far wall. He sidestepped a CSI who was photographing the entrance to the pit from various angles and turned to find Davies scrabbling over the tape to join him. “What were these barns used for?” he asked as she joined him.

“Nobody knows. They were built during WWII. Part of the old airfield, but of course that’s all gone now. This land was bought by the Edwards family around forty years ago.”

“Looks like they’re about to collapse.” Jackman turned and felt the edge of his shoulder catch the sidewall that made a feeble attempt to join the two barns together, loosening a spray of mortar dust that fell to the floor. “What about the pit?”

“The farmer thinks that maybe it was used to store some kind of weapon during the war, but he doesn’t know for sure. Says it was there when they bought it, complete with grill.”

Jackman bent down and took a closer look at the blisters of rust that littered the rungs of the metal grill. “There’s only a pit on this side?”

“Yes. The farmer fixed up the chain to secure it so that either a dog-walker or kids didn’t wander in and fall down, although I don’t think you get many dog-walkers up here. There aren’t any supported paths through this part. The road we took up is privately owned by the farm. There’s an entrance further up the A3400 into a bridle way, but it veers off to the other side of the wood and leads in the opposite direction. I’m guessing the kidnapper replaced the lock. It wouldn’t have been too difficult to cut the old one off with bolt-cutters.”

Jackman looked up to see daylight streaming in through wide gaps in the roof. It cast distorted shadows over the CSI inside the pit who was now knelt down examining a blanket in the corner. He was just about to climb down and join him when a voice spoke up behind him.

“Careful, sir.” Jackman turned and followed the voice to another CSI in the corner. “We’ve only just started down there.”

Jackman nodded and instead crouched down beside the entrance to the pit. Immediately he reeled at the thick stench of urine. The smell was powerful in the confined area and he raised his hand to his nose. The blanket in the corner was so ingrained with dirt that he could only just make out the original tartan effect. He pointed, shouted back to Davies, “We need to get those bagged up, see if we can locate the seller.”

He scanned the four-metre-square area. At the moment it appeared that Min had been trapped in there for five nights. Lonny for two. The debris in the far corner of the pit indicated their captor had provided blankets, food and water. Why go to so much trouble to keep them alive when the ransom was paid? And why keep them together?

Something in the concrete caught his eye. “Excuse me?”

The CSI examining the blanket looked up.

“What’s that?”

Jackman watched him lean in to take a closer look.

“It looks like she’s carved her name into the brickwork and a date. 19.5.14.”

“The date she went missing. Thanks. Get a photograph of that, will you?”

The CSI nodded and continued with his work. Jackman stared at the powdery floor. Reilly would be strutting around the station as if he’d won the lottery. The discovery of the pit would enable him to gain another twenty-four hours on the custody of Whittaker while forensics meticulously examined the area and a team searched the wider vicinity to see if he had a provable link to the crime scene.

As he wandered out of the barn, Jackman remembered Graeme Ward’s claims of seeing a white van matching the description of the one they suspected was used in the kidnapping on the main road. In view of his son’s involvement in the Readman murder they’d speculated that he’d possibly got it confused with Carl’s van. But his statement said that he walked the fields all around Clifford Chambers. Maybe he had seen the van with the rust mark around the petrol cap along the A3400 after all.

Jackman turned back and looked at the old wooden ladder that leant against the side of the barn that he assumed the kidnapper would have used to transport his victims into the pit. He pictured Whittaker carrying Min down. It would be a struggle. He was a small man, but she was slight so it was feasible. Maybe he drugged her to make it easier. But Lonny? His picture indicated that he was tall and heavier built. He must have had a weapon. Either that or some help.

Jackman reached for his phone and dialled the incident room. Keane answered on the third ring.

Jackman didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Check with the officers at the hospital and make sure that both victims have a police presence with them at all times, please.”

Chapter
Fifty-Two

Jackman and Davies nodded to the officer standing outside the hospital room and slowly entered. Min was fast asleep. Her skin was pallid and drawn. Dark circles hung beneath her eyes; a crusted graze ran the length of her chin.

They turned as another figure entered behind them, dressed in a dark suit. An ID tag hung loosely from her neck. “Can I help you?”

Jackman and Davies flashed their cards. A messy ponytail bounced as she introduced herself as Doctor Carpenter and shook their hands. “She’s in no fit state for questions right now,” the doctor said, picking up the charts at the end of the bed and perusing them.

“How is she doing?” Jackman asked.

The doctor scribbled something on the chart and replaced it in the metal partition at the end of the bed. “There are no signs of any long-term physical damage. She was very distressed when they brought her in, so we’ve given her a gentle sedative. We’ll keep her in overnight for observations.”

“What about the baby?” Davies asked.

“All seems fine.” Doctor Carpenter moved towards the door and gestured for them to exit. “But I don’t think you guys will get much out of her today. She needs to rest.”

They approached the door. Just as the doctor opened it, Jackman asked, “Did you treat the other victim, Lonny Cheung?”

The doctor nodded. “He’s in a better condition, but then he wasn’t kept for so long. He’s on the next floor. I’ll take you to him.”

They followed her along the corridor, through a door and up the side stairs to the next floor. The corridor they emerged into was a mirror image of the one below, with different paintings of landscapes lining the walls. Davies’ phone buzzed and she hung back to check the message.

“Mr Cheung sprained his ankle?” Jackman asked the doctor.

She took a few more steps, then halted outside a room that was almost directly above Min’s. A uniformed officer stood outside, gave them both a single nod. “Not a sprain as such, more of a nasty twist. He just needs to keep his weight off it for a few hours. It’ll be fine with some rest.”

She tipped her head to indicate her task was done, smiled at the uniformed officer and continued down the corridor.

Davies’ feet squeaked on the linoleum as she rushed up the corridor to join Jackman. She grabbed his arm, “Just had a text from Keane. The search team has found a holdall buried deep in the undergrowth of the old copse behind the pit. They almost missed it. Contains some rolls of duct tape and a memory stick.”

Jackman raised his brows.

“The stick is full of photos of Min Li, almost fifty of them, in various different locations around Stratford. Keane said it looks like they were taken without her knowledge before she was kidnapped.”

“What about Lonny Cheung?”

She shook her head. “Only Min at the moment, but they’re still searching.”

“Anything to indicate who it belonged to?”

“Not at this stage. They’re sending it all off to be examined.”

Jackman pushed open the door. Lonny was sat up in bed, staring out of the window. He looked up as they entered the room.

Jackman introduced them both. “You’ve had quite an ordeal,” he said.

Lonny stared at him and gave a sombre nod.

His body looked odd in the single bed, almost as if it didn’t quite fit. “Feel up to answering some questions?”

“Have you seen Min?” Lonny looked from one detective to the other, his face full of apprehension. “Is she okay?”

“Yes,” Davies said. Her tone was soft and reassuring. “She’s asleep at the moment but she’s going to be fine. Don’t worry.”

“They wouldn’t tell me.” His face relaxed slightly, but he looked tired, drawn.

“What can you remember?” Jackman asked.

“Not much.” He swallowed, bowed his head.

“Anything will help,” Davies said, but he didn’t look up. “Let’s start from the day you disappeared.”

He gave a loud sigh, nodded. “I was heading down to class on Thursday when I felt a bump on the back of my head.”

Jackman edged forward. “Where were you?”

Lonny looked up at him. “What?”

“Where were you when you were attacked?”

Lonny thought for a moment. “On the Alcester Road, walking towards town. Almost opposite the college.”

“What time?”

“Around nine. I was late for class.”

“Did you see anyone?”

He shook his head. “Next thing I knew I was in a van. When it stopped I was taken across some wasteland, a knife to my back, and led into the pit.” He explained how he was bound up and eventually managed to break himself and Min free.

“What did they look like?”

“He wore a mask, never saw his face.”

“Any accent?”

He shook his head. “Didn’t speak.”

Jackman narrowed his eyes. “He?”

Lonny met his gaze. “Sorry?”

“You said, ‘He’.”

“Must have been a man. He was tall, broad.” He raised his hand above his head. “Taller than me.”

Jackman tried a few more questions, to seek a description, but it became obvious that Lonny was exhausted and they were getting nowhere. They excused themselves and said that an officer would be sent in later to take a statement after he’d had time to rest.

Jackman replayed the account in his mind as they wandered down the corridor. It was broken, sketchy. Maybe he was drugged? Something else bothered him – there was a vague look of familiarity when Lonny met his gaze, although he couldn’t work out why. He didn’t recall them ever meeting before. His phone interrupted his thoughts. He glanced down and saw a message from DS Gray.
We’ve found Qiang Li. Dead
.

Chapter
Fifty-Three

An hour later, Jackman and Gray nodded at the lone officer guarding the entrance and climbed over the police tape that stretched diagonally across the doorway. Qiang Li’s flat, in a dingy side street not far from Birmingham’s centre, was barely the size of the living area at Min’s student apartment. A sink, small piece of work surface and hob filled one corner, a sack of rice another. A folding door sat slightly ajar at the far end revealing a tiny shower room and toilet. The grey sofa that leant against the wall opposite the window still bore the bloodstains of Qiang Li’s body, now removed for examination. A roll of duvet wedged down the side indicated that it doubled up as a bed. The room shared the aroma of dirty bedclothes, stale air and chips with the acrid smell of death.

Jackman’s eyes rested on a beige blouson jacket that still hung from a hook on the back of the door. He wondered if Qiang wore that jacket to Kitzy’s Casino. The place he’d frequented so regularly. The place where he’d indulged his gambling habit. An insatiable habit that had nibbled at his pockets until there was nothing left, then cast him aside for a new victim.

“The house is owned by a Mrs Boston,” Gray said. “She converted this area into a granny flat for her mother, then rented it out after she died. Qiang Li has been living here for around six months, although she’s been trying to get him out for a while. Says he’s dirty, doesn’t pay the rent. Anyway, she’s been away all week. First thing she noticed when she returned today were the flies on the inside of the windows and the smell. When she couldn’t get any answer from his door, she called us.”

“Do we know how long he’s been dead?”

“The pathologist estimates around forty-eight hours – so sometime on Thursday.”

Thursday, Jackman thought. The day of the second drop. That could explain why it was never collected. It was also the day Davies and he were camped out in Birmingham, waiting for him. “Anyone see or hear anything?” he asked.

“We’re questioning everyone in the local community.” Gray’s face fell and he shook his head as he continued, “But they’re all on shutdown. This has all the hallmarks of an organised crime killing, possibly even Triad. Cameras on the main road did pick up three motorbikes with pillions, round the corner at 8.30pm on Thursday. Five minutes later they left and raced off in different directions.”

“Anything on the bikes or owners?”

Gray shook his head. “False plates. All wore crash helmets with tinted visors. We’re awaiting the complete pathologist report, but you don’t need a doctorate in medicine to work out that a very large, sharp knife caused the wounds. And meat cleavers are the favoured weapons of the Triad community,” Gray said. “That combined with the fact that Kitzy’s was a regular haunt of our Mr Li just about sums it all up. He lives in a tiny bedsit, works as a waiter yet flashes copious amounts of cash on the gaming tables. He’s either into something very dodgy, or he owed someone big time.”