The Accidental Warrior Page 13

  Harriet rewound the tape to take another look.

  “Thank you both, I think we’ve made progress tonight. See you at nine a.m. sharp,” said Derek, yawning.

  CHAPTER 21

  Kate’s mobile sounded. It was her father.

  “Hi Kate, are you still in Sheffield?”

  “Yep, heading back later today.”

  “I understand from Cyrus, that you had a trying time last night. He is full of praise for the way you kept your head and adapted the plan.”

  “Thanks Dad, I have to admit that I was far from sure that I’d made the right call.”

  “Well, we think you did and are all very proud of you. You made the best of a difficult situation.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

  “Now, I need to bring you up to speed: we have intercepted another call. It was made to Cleo at four a.m. this morning. I’ll play the recording…”

  “Cleo, what the fuck?” shouted a male.

  “What the bloody hell are you doing calling me at this hour?”

  “What the fuck did you think you were doing? You’re an absolute psychopath.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake man, shut up! They were absolute amateurs, idiots, they were making such a bloody mess of it. You should be thanking me.”

  “Thanking you? Thanking you for what? You spectacularly failed to find Harriet Lacey and you murdered the only person who knew where she was. What the hell got into you? I’m reckless but you are far more than that, you’re completely out of control.”

  “Peters, you’re so naive and far too big for your boots. You think you’re untouchable, but you’re far from it. I may have lost my temper, but there is no come-back on you. Harriet will wait for another day.”

  “Will she? Will she? You don’t seem to realise it’s essential she’s silenced.”

  “Important for who? Not for me. Seems you’ve got yourself in a bit of a fix. You should have remained loyal to me, you tosser.”

  “Sounds to me like Cleo has had enough of her boss. I wouldn’t be surprised if she is planning to cut her ties with him,” said Kate.

  “I fear we may have to get more involved.”

  Kate was tired, drained of energy. The past twelve hours had been frantic. She was grateful to the team around her and to Cyrus, who’d prepared her well. But, in truth Cleo had scared her last night. There was an unpredictable darkness about her.

  CHAPTER 22

  After breakfast, Mike and Harriet made for the hospital, arriving just after 10 a.m. It looked like every other hospital Harriet had ever been in. Long grey monotonous corridors, the aroma of over-cooked food and stale urine. On the fourth floor of the main building they came across a private bay, just off the main ward guarded by two armed police officers. Inside, they found the two unfortunate males from the university lying side by side, eyes closed. They looked pale and were hooked up to a series of drips.

  Harriet and Mike stood in the doorway studying the briefing note they’d been handed by one of the officers. So, these were brothers Melvin and Dave Cooke, aged thirty-three and thirty-six respectively. Dave had short dark brown hair, Melvin was completely bald. Dave was stocky, Melvin skinny. They were apparently East End boys who ran a garage and hired themselves out as muscle whenever the opportunity to earn extra cash arose. Both had previous convictions for theft, assault, and handling stolen goods.

  “Good morning gentlemen, I believe you’ve been looking for me?” said Harriet.

  Dave and Melvin opened their eyes and looked at her blankly.

  “I’m Detective Sergeant Harriet Lacey.”

  Both men visibly stiffened.

  “It appears you are none too pleased to meet Harriet then,” said a grinning Mike.

  “Aw my God. We’re officially screwed,” said Dave, turning to his brother.

  Melvin began to sob.

  “Look, we need to know what happened at the university yesterday, it may be that we can help you,” said Mike in a more kindly tone.

  Both men were physically shaking. Melvin continued to sob, whilst Dave repeated, “We’re dead, we’re dead.”

  “Look boys,” said Harriet, “we need your help and you need our help. Tell us what happened yesterday and I promise we will do our best to pursue witness protection with the CPS.”

  Melvin stopped sobbing but looked vacant. He clearly didn’t understand. So Harriet tried again.

  “We will try to make sure you are safe. We will speak to the CPS, the Crown Prosecution Service, as they’re the ones who make the decisions about prosecution, not the police. But I give you my word I will try my hardest to help you, if you return the favour and help us to understand what went on.”

  This seemed to work. Dave, clearly the brighter of the two, started to provide the narrative, with Melvin chipping in every so often.

  “There were four of us – me, Melvin, Craig and his younger brother, but I don’t know his name,” said Dave.

  As Dave talked, Harriet tried to organise what he was saying in her head. So, it appeared Craig had been in charge. His orders came via mobile phone. To help them to identify Harriet, a photo had been sent to his phone, but despite much searching, they’d been unable to find her. They had, however, come across Andrew Hudson in one of the offices and later his secretary, whom they now knew was Harriet and who they had restrained on the orders of Craig and placed in the cupboard. Then another woman had arrived; they knew her only as Cleo. Harriet stopped Dave at this point.

  “Mike, do you have a minute?” They left the room together.

  “Mike, did you pick up on the name Dave just gave?”

  “Sorry, no, I was busy making notes. Why? Was it significant?”

  “Yes, Dave called the woman who turned up last night, ‘Cleo’. That’s the name that was etched onto the stone disc I found in Andrew’s hand.”

  “We should try to get as much information about her as we can, it might help us to identify her.”

  Melvin described Cleo as ‘fucking scary’ and unfortunately for him, his lack of respect towards her resulted in a humiliating physical put down.

  “She fucking floored me and kicked me in the head,” said Melvin.

  “Cleo was dressed from head to toe in black: black boots, black jeans and a black leather jacket and T-shirt. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail. She was also wearing black leather gloves,” said Dave.

  “Yeah, fucking leather gloves,” said Melvin.

  “And carrying a large black bag,” continued Dave.

  “How come you remember so much detail about her?” asked Harriet.

  “Cos she was sexy and, well, I was in bleeding awe,” said Dave.

  “Then what happened?” asked Mike.

  “The big bloke, the one we’d been trying to persuade to speak, was sat on the floor of the office with his back up against a filing cabinet. Cleo knelt next to him and spoke quietly in his ear.”

  “Fucking quietly,” added Melvin.

  “I didn’t catch much of what she was saying, but it was something about suffering at her hands, if he failed to cooperate,” said Dave.

  “Yeah, but then a bit later she changed her fucking mind, Dave,” Melvin reminded him, his eyes wide open.

  “How’s that?” asked Harriet

  “She lost her temper big time, after only about ten minutes. He just refused to speak, so she hit him around the head a few times and when that didn’t work, she screamed he was a dead man. I honestly thought she was joking and I laughed, but she bloody wasn’t, she opened her bag and brought out a syringe. She gave him one more chance to change his mind. He remained silent, he didn’t even try to fight her off,” explained Dave.

  “Fucking brave or was it fucking stupid?” asked Melvin. Harriet shot him a look. “Sorry,” he responded.

  “She then stuck the syringe in his left arm and emptied its contents into him. It seemed to work quickly. I’ve no bloody idea what was in it.”

  “No fucking idea,” agreed Melvin.

/>   “But,” said Dave, “within minutes he looked as if he couldn’t breathe, it was awful to watch, awful, and then…”

  “Oh yeah, and then another fucking woman arrived,” said Melvin.

  “A second woman?” queried Harriet.

  “Yes, a second woman,” said Dave. “Really, really pretty.”

  “Really fucking pretty,” Melvin nodded.

  “Can you remember what she was wearing?” asked Harriet.

  “Yeah, long black boots, and a classy long black jacket. She was upmarket, if you know what I mean? Spoke like it too.”

  “And she didn’t half shout at Cleo, something like ‘For God’s sake Cleo, what’s got into you? Are you out of your mind?’ Cleo didn’t answer, she just laughed. It made me shiver, really evil it was,” said Dave.

  “She knew Cleo then?” asked Mike.

  Melvin answered. “Yeah, they knew each other alright. Cleo had a fucking vile laugh. It made all the hairs on the back of me fucking neck stand up.”

  “The second woman ran across to the bloke on the floor. It looked like she was trying to revive him, she seemed to feel for a pulse and I saw her inject him with something, but it didn’t do nothing,” said Dave.

  “Sorry, did you say she injected him too?” asked a frowning Harriet.

  “Yeah, she looked like she was really trying to bring him round,” said Melvin.

  “Anti-venom perhaps?” said Mike to Harriet.

  “Maybe.”

  “But it didn’t work, and when she got up she was shouting, she made straight for Cleo. When she reached her, she continued to rant and prodded her in the chest.”

  “Do you remember what she was shouting?” asked Mike.

  “Stuff like ‘How much did you use? You’re completely out of control, you make me sick. Don’t you have any boundaries? Are you completely…’” He paused. “‘Pathi’ something,” said Dave.

  “Pathological?” suggested Harriet helpfully.

  “Yes, that’s it, then Cleo shouted, ‘Oh shut up, what is it to you? You’re not of my kind.’”

  “Don’t know what that fucking meant,” shrugged Melvin.

  “Sorry, can I just clarify? She actually said ‘not of my kind’?” asked Harriet.

  “Yes,” both men replied.

  “Then what?” asked Mike.

  “Then the second woman calmly said something like, ‘No, thank God, even your kind would be upset by this. You’ve dishonoured your ancestors,’”said Dave.

  “Yeah, dishonoured your ancestors. Then it fucking kicked off,” Melvin told them.

  “Yeah, Cleo turned to the other woman with a face like thunder,” said Dave.

  “Fucking thunder,” agreed Melvin. “I thought she was going to thump her.”

  “They went outside into the corridor, slammed the door behind them and all we could hear was shouting. Don’t know if it actually came to blows,” said Dave.

  “Yeah, sounded like a real fucking barney,” added Melvin.

  “While they were fighting, Craig and his brother made a run for it. I think Melvin and me must have been in shock, cos we didn’t move at all,” said Dave.

  “Rooted to the fucking spot we was. The fucking spot.” Melvin shook his head as he remembered.

  “So, what happened next?” asked Harriet.

  “So,” said Dave, “we were bleeding sitting ducks for the second woman. We tried to run but it was too late. She floored us and tied us to a couple of chairs. Then she took a syringe from her bag. By this time I thought I was about to be brown bread, and I was pleading with her, I mean really pleading.”

  “And I was shitting me-self,” offered Melvin less helpfully.

  “But she had a kind voice and told us not to worry, she said she wasn’t going to kill us, just slow us down a bit. She had beautiful green eyes and it’s funny, I did believe her. I only felt a little prick,” said Dave.

  Harriet couldn’t help but break into a smile at this and kept her gaze on her note book to avoid looking at Mike.

  “A fucking prick,” said Melvin.

  “Can you tell us how you felt after you’d been injected?” asked Mike.

  “At first I just felt a fuzzy warm feeling, kind of like when you’re happy drunk, know what I mean?”

  Mike nodded.

  “But then, I started to feel dizzy and my body was tingling all over, until everything went numb. I couldn’t move at all, and could barely breathe, yet I was awake. When you came across to look at us, I tried to scream out to you for help, but nothing came out,” said Dave.

  “Yeah, it was the same for me too, fucking nightmare.” Melvin shuddered.

  It was lunch time before Dave and Melvin had finished their story. Despite the length of time it had taken, Harriet felt it was compelling evidence and that the brothers would make reasonable witnesses.

  Harriet and Mike met up with Derek at a little bistro pub around the corner from South Yorkshire Police HQ.

  “Well how did you two get on with Dave and Melvin Cooke?” asked Derek.

  “It was an experience. Never in my career have I met a pair quite like them,” said Mike, laughing.

  “Oh really? In what way?” Derek was grinning.

  “For starters, once we managed to get them to speak they didn’t shut up, but my first impression turned out to be wrong. Initially, they came across as proper uneducated East End boys. But in their own way they had a sound recall of events, and were able to provide useful detail.”

  “Yes, I agree, it was slow going to begin with; they were quite a double act, and Melvin’s politically incorrect asides slowed the whole process, but at the end of the day, we both agree they will make reasonable witnesses. What’s interesting is that they referred to the mystery woman as ‘Cleo’ as etched on the stone disk, so we need to pursue this. But perhaps even more interesting is they claim another woman turned up and I think she may be the woman who came to our hotel reception last night. She is also the most likely suspect for planting the disk in Andrew’s hand,” said Harriet.

  “It’s almost as if she is trying to help us,” pondered Mike. “Good work, you two. Well, I spent the morning at the Professor’s post-mortem. Harriet, are you alright to hear this?”

  “Thank you, but yes.”

  “It was pretty straightforward, as expected. The pathologist found a puncture mark on the left arm with associated bruising. It’s too early to say any more. We should wait for toxicology reports. But I’ll be mightily surprised if the cause of death isn’t snake venom,” said Derek.

  “Well that fits with the brothers’ account of where Cleo injected Andrew. Talking of Dave and Melvin, do we know what they were injected with?” asked Mike.

  “Good point, and the short answer is no, not yet, but their blood is being looked at. It’s intriguing though,” said Derek.

  “What about the enquiries to trace Cleo Morris, how are they going?” asked Harriet.

  “Well, we’ve been able to narrow it down a bit, and with the information provided by our various witnesses we’re now looking at someone in their mid-twenties, in the Essex and London areas. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something. Also, the local police are assisting with statement-taking of possible witnesses in and around the university. Statements have already been obtained from those who had their access cards stolen. Craig and his brother appear to be the main suspects here. Enquires are ongoing.”

  “Well, I think we have pretty much done all we can here for now. We need to think about going home. I need to see the Chief Constable and you two need to write up the Cooke brothers’ statements. Mike, follow up with Rebecca Wood. Harriet, review the Eagle notes and files. We have a choice: we can leave now, or in the morning,” said Derek.

  “Give me minute, would you?” said Harriet, grabbing her mobile. When she returned, she was smiling.

  “It’s all sorted. If it’s alright with you, we are going to see my friend Annie and my children. We’ve been invited to stay the night.” She examine
d their faces, trying to gauge whether they were filled with dread at the prospect, but they both seemed to be smiling back at her.

  “I’d be delighted,” said Mike.

  Harriet’s mobile burst into life. She answered it immediately.

  “Mum, is everything okay?” she asked. She listened for a moment.

  “Mum, it’s okay, just take a deep breath and tell me what’s up. Mum, don’t cry, it will be alright, just take it slowly.” Aware of Mike and Derek, Harriet gestured to them that she would take the call in the hallway.

  “Mum, do you have anyone with you?”

  “Yes,” gasped her mother.

  “Well, hand them the phone will you, please?” Harriet could hear fumbling in the background.

  “Oh Harriet, thank goodness. It’s your parents’ neighbour Mrs Morris speaking.”

  “Hello, Jean, how are you?”

  “Oh, I’m fine, but I am afraid all is not well with your parents.”

  Harriet’s heart began to race; she struggled to catch her breath.

  “Can you fill me in please, because Mum’s too upset to speak?”

  Jean Morris had lived next door to the Rayfields for twenty-five years. She was the local Neighbourhood Watch co-ordinator, or busy body as Harriet’s father used to refer to her. What she didn’t know about her neighbours wasn’t worth knowing. Harriet braced herself.