French Leave (21 page)

Stung, he retaliated. ‘That applies in reverse. I told you on the phone I wanted to have a serious discussion, but you deliberately obliged me to join a group of strangers for cocktails instead. If it had been an official do to entertain VIPs Andrew has to keep sweet, I would have understood that you couldn't get away, but you weren't there as his ADC tonight and could have left at any time. You cancelled our planned long weekend because duty called. You put me off coming at the weekend just gone because you had to catch up on the backlog of work. I also have a heavy workload; that's why I'm over here now. And I have to return in the morning. Surely Andrew's little drinks party wasn't so important you couldn't have left it to spend this one evening with
someone you have allowed to become your lover
?' He emphasized those words that had hurt him quite deeply.

Starting the engine, he put the car in gear with unnecessary force and pulled out, the windscreen wipers oscillating madly. At the junction he eased out into the flow of buses and taxis heading for the bright lights of Knightsbridge. Her comment about ownership had really got to him. So much for his bid to strengthen their present relationship. She had more or less told him she valued her independence too much to consider becoming one of a couple.

When he pulled into the parking space allotted to Livya's flat he was half-inclined to let her out, then drive to a hotel for the night, but he knew that would be immature and solve nothing. They sat staring at the wall beyond the bonnet until she turned to him.

‘Sorry. I wasn't expecting your call; wasn't expecting you to be in London. Made a hash of it, didn't I? Andrew was so pleased when I told him you were here that I simply passed on his wishes without really taking in what you said.' She put her hand on his, which was still gripping the wheel. ‘I didn't know you were having to fly back in the morning.' After a few moments of silence she said, ‘Please come in.'

So he went in. They ate a light meal and drank chilled wine; they talked about the important and the trivial aspects of their work during the past week. They went to bed together. The tight strapping around Max's chest inhibited lovemaking, but their earlier exchange of words had dominated the mood of the evening so passion was at a low ebb anyway. After a swift breakfast they kissed goodbye and went their separate ways. Future plans had not once been mentioned.

At that midweek morning briefing Tom had plenty to get his teeth into. ‘Our first breakthrough is that John Smith is an alias.'

‘Didn't I say right at the start that it sounded phoney?' cried Piercey triumphantly.

‘Real name is Jack Carr; son of Edward Smith's half-brother, who deserted Carr's mother on learning she was pregnant,' Tom continued, glaring at Piercey. ‘His criminal tendency began not long after the toddler stage, taking anything chance offered as a means of buying affection, according to his mother. She's now on the game and into drugs small time. The Boss thinks she had just shot up before he interviewed her. There was no indication that Carr was in the house or had been there recently. Ms Carr was even unaware that her son is a soldier.

‘There seems little doubt that Carr is the man who police along the south coast want for a series of minor thefts. Most probably that's why he enlisted, using his stepcousin's identity, stolen during the days leading to John Smith's funeral. The lad was killed in a hit and run last year.'

‘The ultimate theft,' murmured Connie Bush.

‘So, is there a possibility he did it again before going on that exercise?' Heather asked. ‘Could that be why we've had no reports of him at ferry ports or airports?'

‘We issued a picture,' Beeny reminded her. ‘It was picked up on very fast in the UK.'

Tom followed up on that. ‘It's certainly something we should consider if, as we suspect, Carr is still in this country and determined to remain here with someone who assisted his getaway.'

Connie put forward her usual thoughtful angle on the subject. ‘He started trying to buy affection as a small boy. He was still doing it up until he disappeared. With no success, apparently. The men in his platoon all hated him, were disgusted by his constant attempts to muscle in where he wasn't wanted. So, the only way he would gain an accomplice to aid his desertion would be by bribing someone. With the rifle and ammo he stole from the Armoury?'

‘Good point,' said Tom. ‘I think we accept that both are gone beyond recall.'

‘Then why leave the SA80 with ammo and the rest of his kit in the wood when he ran off?' asked Melly. ‘They'd bring in a handy sum for his future plans.'

‘Because he didn't abscond. He's out there in a shallow grave,' put in Piercey. ‘Dug by Dan Farley.' When everyone turned to stare at him, he grinned. ‘I'm going to be right one of these days . . . and he had every chance to bury Carr during that so-called search no one had ordered him to make.'

There was a vocal hiatus, because they had no proof that Carr was alive and, in theory, Dan Farley could have buried a body with ease during his solo visit to the exercise ground. Heather then recalled that she had earlier checked on who had operated near the missing man on the day of his disappearance. Farley was not one of them, and she put that fact forward.

Piercey was reluctant to abandon his theory, however. ‘What if Carr had been taken ill and collapsed somewhere – a possibility Farley insisted on investigating when Carr was initially discovered to be missing. The officer comes across him during the search he made without informing anyone of what he planned, decides his platoon would be better without the creep and finishes him off.' Further inspiration dawned. ‘Maybe Carr had offered Farley stolen goods in return for promotion and friendship. Being the Platoon Commander's favourite would be a real sock in the eye for all those who had spurned him. Or maybe Carr had a hold over Farley and was blackmailing him.'

This experienced team had come across most human weaknesses and complexities, so they knew everything Piercey put forward was possible. Even Tom privately admitted it, despite his reluctance to do so. Unfortunately, until Carr or Dan Farley was traced, nothing could be proved.

Connie was still pursuing her theme. ‘All through his short life Carr had been thieving; not for his own benefit, note, but to buy friendship. That list of items sent by UK police should give us some clues. DVDs, mobile phones, top of the range trainers: all objects of desire for his contemporaries. Beer and spirits to please a boss or substitute father figure? Sexy underwear to gain girls' interest?'

‘How about the silver golfing trophy?' jeered Piercey.

Heather was ready with a snap answer. ‘Another cruel trick similar to that played by Corkhill and White.
If you had enough bottle to snatch that trophy from the snotty club that turned down my dad's membership, it'd really turn me on
.'

Connie nodded. ‘There's hundreds of kids whose fathers disappear before they're born. It's down to the mothers how they handle it. Some women marry or shack up with a man who'll treat the child as his own, or at least give it a decent upbringing. Others take in a succession of “uncles” who view the kid as a nuisance: an annoying obstacle to a life of sex on demand and domestic ease with a woman desperate for any kind of partnership. A few are so besotted with the brutes who impregnated them that they live in a fantasy world that turns the absent fathers into heroes who rightly deserved someone better than they. Their kids are fed a load of romantic lies about the missing parent, and they believe them until the inevitable revelation by someone who knows the truth. Depending how old they are when this happens, they either believe everyone looks down on them and consequently withdraw into themselves, or they're so desperate to prove to the world how lovable they really are that they actually arouse the reverse emotion. Like Jack Carr.' She pursed her lips. ‘I'd say he's a psychological mess who needs straightening out. Prison will only make him worse.'

‘That's where he'll go when he's caught,' said Tom firmly, knowing Connie tended to look for reasons behind criminal acts. ‘The list of Carr's thefts is growing longer the more we probe into his background. Now, let's move on to Lieutenant Farley. Following the posting of his details on HOLMES, police in Sussex are making enquiries of the girlfriend's family, the taxi drivers and residents bordering the road to Lewes from the village, hoping for sightings of a young man carrying a blue holdall. George says Panda patrols in Lewes have a description of Farley and are keeping a look out for him. He was last seen at fourteen thirty when he left the kennels. Someone
must
have seen him after that.'

‘Are we regarding this as a possible kidnap and hostage situation?' asked Beeny.

‘Not until the Sussex boys have come up with a few answers.'

‘Or until his people receive a ransom demand,' put in Piercey. ‘Have they been told he's missing?'

‘Our lads checked that he wasn't with them. Mrs Farley is very upset. Her husband is the colonel of a tank regiment at Tidworth. He's been warned that it could be a terrorist situation and he could be next on their list. I personally have doubts on that, but it has to be considered.'

Tom moved on to something that had been bothering him since yesterday. ‘I've been made aware of a newly-formed club run by some sixth-formers in the summerhouse of an officer's married quarters on the base, and I want it checked out. Quietly and unobtrusively. I can't get on it because my girls are involved.'

‘What's the prob, sir?' asked Melly.

Tom outlined his concerns. ‘The boss of this group is a cocky seventeen year old named Jake Morgan, whose father is with the REME detachment. Jake's henchmen are Scott Pinner, Tim Jackson and a girl called Zoe Rogers, who takes the money. According to my daughters, almost every pupil at the school participates. Now, this club might be perfectly straight and I've no wish to spoil something the kids enjoy, but I get the impression that there are far too many “unwanted presents” being sold. DVDs and CDs still fully packaged are linked in my mind with our friend Carr's locker.

‘From what I've gleaned with casual questioning, used items can only be swapped or hired. The “unwanted presents” have to be bought. The hook is the reduced price. Fair enough, but what I've not yet discovered is who gets the purchase money. Or the hire fees. My three are too enthusiastic about the venture to delve into that aspect of this club, but the amount of new stuff they're acquiring on regular weekly payments set alarm bells ringing for me. When I asked which members had contributed “unwanted presents” I was told, somewhat impatiently, that they were put on a separate table if they were for sale and were already there when the club door opened.'

He glanced at the faces of his team and asked, ‘Does that smell rather unsavoury to you?'

‘Carr was targeting kids instead of adults?' Melly suggested.

‘
In addition
to the troops,' Heather added. ‘He'd not earn enough from the kids alone.'

‘You think these sixth-formers were buying the stuff from Carr and selling it on to the kids?' asked Connie. ‘What's in it for them? Unless Carr reduced the cost considerably, Jake and Co. won't make a profit if they're also selling at reduced prices.'

Tom gave a grin. ‘Any further input if I throw in the fact that this club was only set up two days after Carr vanished?'

‘Jake's taken over the business,' several said in unison.

‘Maybe,' Tom replied. ‘That's why I think we should check this enterprise out. If there's a link with Carr, we might get lucky with evidence leading to where he is now.'

‘If he's not in a shallow grave on the exercise ground,' murmured Piercey, although it looked as if his mind was very much elsewhere.

TEN

‘
T
here
is
a God,' Dan breathed, offering up a vote of thanks as the fox finally caught his prey and trotted from the barn, all interest in human flesh put aside for now.

A pigeon had sought refuge in the barn soon after daybreak. Dan saw that a shotgun pellet had disabled it, so when the inquisitive fox paid his daily visit, the bird instinctively tried to fly up out of his reach. The ensuing chase was more like a cat and mouse hunt. Unable to fly, the pigeon simply flapped and hopped in its frantic bids to escape, while the fox pounced and missed so many times that the barn was soon filled with flying dust and small wisps of hay kicked up by the thrashing animals.

Reynard won, as he was certain to and, with the bird held firmly between his jaws, went out past the blue holdall and disappeared from view. It was then that Dan saw the animal activity had achieved what he had been unable to do during his three days of captivity. One end of the greatly disturbed coils of rope was now lying within his reach, and escape had become a certainty. His sense of relief was so great that his legs grew weak and he drooped in the chains, fighting the onset of tears.

Having had three days to plan the details, Dan prepared to put them into practice. It would take patience, dexterity and considerable time, but he would keep at it until he was free. Yet, now it was a possibility, he found it difficult to get his brain around the matter. Dear God, it had been a masterpiece of ingenuity; a classic example of a tactical solution to a tricky problem. Why was he having trouble remembering it?

Pushing back a rush of panic, he stared at the rope for inspiration. Ah yes, draw the end of it to him, then pick it up with his feet and raise it until he could seize it with his hands. Several minutes passed before he recalled the next step. Make a lasso to throw over the drum of lubricant. Haul the drum up to rest on the cross-beam. Open the drum. Remove his trousers and underpants, then thickly smear his lower trunk with the grease. His shoulders were too wide to make a downward slither through the triple links, so he must pull himself upward. To do this he must then throw the rope over the second cross-beam, several feet above him, and make handhold loops in both ends. With these he would pull himself up like an Olympic gymnast.