Eye of the raven

TWENTY ONE

For a few moments Steven felt like a man who had just awoken from a nightmare to find that it was all true.

‘ The photograph was taken some years ago,’ he said, hoping that Grant might be mistaken.

‘ This is John Mission,’ said Grant. ‘I’m hardly liable to forget him. Damn the man.’

‘ Then you are telling me that the man who engineered David Little’s false conviction and who subsequently treated your daughter so badly are one and the same?’ said Steven.

Grant continued to stare at the photograph, his face reflecting the anguish of painful memory.

‘ His grudge must have extended to your daughter too,’ said Steven. ‘Merton held Little responsible for having ruined his career and for the fact that the girl he planned to marry left him. Putting Charlotte through hell must have been part of the plan.’

‘ What kind of man thinks like that?’ murmured Grant.

‘ Merton’s a psychopath,’ said Steven.

‘ I don’t know how I’m going to tell Lotty all this,’ said Grant, looking as if he’d aged ten years in the past half-hour.

‘ You don’t have to; I will,’ said Steven. ‘Perhaps you could tell your wife while I’m doing it?’

Grant nodded. ‘God, I need a drink,’ he said. ‘Will you join me?’

Steven said not but encouraged Grant to go ahead. He said that he had some calls to make in the light of what he’d just learned. Grant invited him to use the house phone and said that he’d leave him alone until he’d finished. Steven called Sci-Med first and then McClintock in Edinburgh.

‘ Mission?’ exclaimed McClintock. ‘Freudian or what?’

‘ Quite so,’ agreed Steven. ‘I haven’t spoken to Charlotte yet but there’s a chance she might be able to give us some clue as to his whereabouts. I’ll get back to you if I make progress.’

‘ In the meantime I’ll start the ball rolling with an alert for Mission as well as Merton.’

‘ Any progress with the video girls?’

‘ Not yet,’ sighed McClintock. ‘I’m beginning to think that these particular films weren’t made in the local studios. ‘There are just too many people pleading ignorance. Even Verdi seems confident we’re not going to pin these murders on him.’

‘ But they were local girls?’ said Steven.

‘ We’ve established that one of them, a lassie named Sharon Duthie, worked in one of Verdi’s saunas at one time and that two other girls were friends of hers. Our thinking at the moment is that Verdi recruited Sharon for a film and she brought in two of her pals but after that the trail goes cold. None of the people that Tracy listed as being in on the making of the films would admit to ever coming across the three girls.’

‘ Nothing’s ever easy,’ said Steven.

‘ I think you should know that the papers are on to the Little situation,’ said McClintock. He was transferred to a specialised AIDS unit in a hospital in Edinburgh last night. Word is they’ll probably run with the story tomorrow. Little’s already got himself a lawyer who’s talking seven figure compensation sums.’

‘ Que sera sera,’ said Steven.

‘ The civil liberties crowd have been shouting the odds on the phone this morning as have the prison reform lot and half a dozen other groups with axes to grind. You can bet your buns that politicians will be polishing up their outrage as we speak, ready to call for a “full public inquiry”. That’s all some of these buggers ever seem to do.’

Steven looked at his watch and said, ‘Charlotte and her mother should be back in half an hour or so. I’ll call you if I find out anything.’

Steven could see James Grant standing out in the garden. He went out to tell him that he he’d finished making calls.

‘ You know,’ said Grant, still gazing out towards the sea. ‘I have never ever felt so guilty about anything in my entire life. I was absolutely convinced that David Little was guilty. I didn’t even consider the possibility that a mistake might have been made. I know what you said about the strength of the evidence against him but I still feel awful.’

‘ Guilt never sees the circumstances,’ said Steven.

‘ A cross to bear for all of us,’ said Grant. ‘God forgive us.’

Steven put a hand on Grant’s shoulder.

Grant glanced to his right and said, ‘That’s Lotty’s car coming up the hill.’

Steven went back into the conservatory while Grant walked round to the front door to meet his returning wife and daughter. Steven sat and waited while Grant told them of his presence and then stood up when Charlotte appeared in the doorway.

‘ Not more questions about filth on the computer,’ she said, sounding exasperated. ‘What does it matter now, anyway?’

‘ It’s not about that,’ Steven assured her. ‘I think you’d better sit down.’

Steven broke the news to her about Little’s innocence to her as gently as he could, constantly stressing that she was in no way to blame for having believed him to be guilty. John Merton, with his forensic expertise had made sure that there had been no other possible interpretation of the evidence.’

Charlotte’s face paled with the shock she was feeling.

‘ I’m afraid there’s more,’ said Steven. ‘Perhaps you’d like a brandy? A glass of water?’

Charlotte shook her head. ‘Tell me,’ she said, blowing her nose and then crumpling the tissue in her clenched right fist as she straightened her back and looked Steven in the eye.

Steven told her that Little had AIDS and how he’d got it. He watched her fall apart before his eyes.

‘ Oh my God,’ she gasped. ‘This is all my fault. I should have believed in him in spite of… I should have known there had been some kind of a mix up and put up a fight for him. I let him down when he needed me most…’

Steven continued trying to assure her that she had nothing to be ashamed of although he could see that it was a losing battle. He could only hope that at least some of what he was saying was getting through. He took a deep breath and continued, ‘The man who did this to David wasn’t content with ruining his life,’ he said. ‘He wanted to do the same to yours. I know this man as John Merton… but you knew him as John Mission.’

Charlotte remained silent for fully half a minute. She seemed stunned but once she had taken on board what Steven was saying, he could see her take some comfort from the fact that she had to a certain extent shared her ex-husband’s suffering.

‘ He set out to get both of you,’ said Steven.

Charlotte hung her head and said quietly, ‘It all makes sense now, the accidental meeting, the charming manners, the attentiveness, the sympathy and understanding. I was completely taken in. I thought he was such a… sensitive man.'

‘ He’s a clever, scheming psychopath,’ said Steven.

‘ That would explain the change,’ said Charlotte with a rueful shake of the head. ‘Once he had cheated me out of my money he treated me like dirt and enjoyed it. He got pleasure from humiliating me. He actually smiled when he was hitting me as if he was enjoying some kind of private joke.’

‘ The police need your help to find this man,’ said Steven.

‘ I haven’t seen him in years,’ said Charlotte. ‘I can’t think what possible help I could be.’

‘ Maybe not but perhaps we could talk some things through if you feel up to it?’ said Steven.

‘ Of course,’ said Charlotte although she seemed far from comfortable with the idea.

‘ I understand from your father that Mission told you he was some kind of businessman with premises up north.’

‘ He said he was a computer graphics expert. His company made promotional material for other companies, films, advertising material, websites, that sort of thing.’

‘ You never visited the company?’

Charlotte shook her head and said, ‘Never. He said that there was no point as he was looking for premises down here. He’d be moving as soon as the bank had agreed to the loan.’

‘ That’s what he told you he needed the house for? The one you bought but put in his name?’

Charlotte nodded. ‘Fool that I was.’

‘ Did he ever say where his premises were up north?’

‘ He said that they were in the middle of the North Yorkshire moors. They needed absolute quiet when they were making films.’

‘ I’ll bet,’ thought Steven.

‘ Did he ever mention a name? Some place it was near perhaps?’

‘ Not exactly,’ said Charlotte. ‘Just that it was in the middle of nowhere but I once heard him talking on the phone in his study. He told whoever he was speaking to that he would see them at The Abbey on Monday.’

‘ The abbey? Nothing else?’

‘ Fraid not.’

‘ Well, it’s a start,’ said Steven.

‘ I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help,’ said Charlotte.

‘ You’ve been wonderful in the circumstances and I’m very grateful to you,’ said Steven. ‘I’m sorry I had to be the bearer of such shocking news but if it’s any comfort, your folks already know.’

‘ It is,’ said Charlotte. ‘Thank you for being so thoughtful.’

Steven phoned Sci-Med as soon as he got back to the car.

‘ You’re kidding! There must be a million places all over the country called, The Abbey,’ said the duty officer.

‘ You are looking for one in the middle of the North Yorkshire moors,’ said Steven. ‘It may be registered as the business address of a firm concerned with making promotional material for other companies. Films and websites and the like.’

‘ Glossy lies,’ murmured the man as he made notes. ‘I’ll do my best and call you back.’

Steven called McClintock to tell him the state of play.

‘ Not much to go on,’ said McClintock. ‘Want me to contact the Yorkshire Police and ask them?’

‘ Sci-Med’s on the case,’ said Steven.

Steven drove back to London feeling a sense of relief that Charlotte Little had now been told. She had taken it well although he suspected that all the implications of the news had not yet got through to her. The next few days were going to be extremely unpleasant when the press started to camp out on her doorstep.

It was eleven thirty when the phone rang. The duty man at Sci-Med said, ‘It’s about your enquiry this afternoon.’

‘ You’re working late,’ said Steven, recognising the same voice he had spoken to earlier.

‘ I like to see things through,’ said the man. ‘I didn’t come up with any place called, The Abbey, in Yorkshire that wasn’t a pub or a tea room.’

‘ It was a tall order,’ said Steven. ‘But thanks for trying.’

‘ I did however, come up with a place called, Friars Gate Abbey,’ said the duty man. It’s in the middle of the moors and it’s registered to a Belgian company called Cine Bruges. They make PR films.’

‘ Well done,’ murmured Steven approvingly. ‘You are a star.’

The man gave Steven details of the location of Friars Gate Abbey and asked if there was anything else he needed.

‘ Not right now, I’ll go up there in the morning and take a look at the place.’

‘ Do you want us to inform the Yorkshire Police that you’ll be on their patch?’

‘ No need for that,’ said Steven. ‘I’ll contact them directly if the place looks interesting.’

‘ Thought you might say that,’ said the man. ‘I’ve got the number for them in case you need to use it.’

Steven punched the number into his mobile phone memory as the man read it out. ‘You think of everything,’ he said. ‘Who needs a wife when I’ve got Sci-Med?’

‘ You don’t even have to take me out,’ said the duty officer.

Steven was on the road by six in the morning. After some thought he had decided not to go straight to The Abbey. The story of Little’s innocence was due to break in the morning papers and if Friars Gate was really Merton’s place then a fair amount of activity or even panic might be predicted. His plan now was to reach the general area by lunchtime and approach it on foot.

He had dressed for the task, wearing camouflage gear and lightweight combat boots suitable for fell walking. He had packed a small rucksack containing what he thought he might be likely to need. This included Carl Zeiss binoculars and a Canon camera equipped with a telephoto lens. He was also carrying a hand-held GPS navigation unit that would enable him to establish his exact position on the moors to within a few yards thanks to signals from several satellites. He would use this to navigate and record his approach the abbey, for which he had the grid reference thanks to a late night session with the on-line ordnance survey map of the area. He had also packed bottled water and a few energy bars in case he was there for some time. He made sure that his mobile phone was fully charged before setting out.

From the map he knew that there was only one access road to Friars Gate Abbey. It was a single track road stretching for some four miles across open moor land. Leaving his vehicle anywhere along the route would be bound to attract attention so he decided to abandon it well before the turn off from the B road and tab the remainder on foot. He didn’t have a heavy pack to carry so he was counting on being able to cover the distance in under an hour.

There were times on the way north when it seemed that rain was likely — not a cheering prospect for a trip across open country on foot — but a west wind kept the clouds on the move and the sky was still relatively bright when Steven eventually found a secluded place to leave the car. He hid it behind a clump of fir trees about thirty metres back from the road.

There hadn’t been much traffic on the road up to the turn-off but he had passed a couple of large four-wheel drive vehicles travelling in the other direction. They had caught his attention because they weren’t the usual workaday Land Rovers used by farmers. They were Toyota Land Cruisers, fairly new and heavy on polished chrome — the type of vehicle used by the well-heeled to pull themselves out of the suburbs in the morning, or more relevantly, by film and TV crews to move their equipment around. It made him fear that Merton had already been spooked into a move.

Steven checked his location on the GPS and punched in the co-ordinates for The Abbey. He didn’t actually need such sophisticated help at the moment because weather conditions were good but he wanted the machine to remember the route he was taking so that he could retrace it should a mist come down later or if he had to return in darkness.

The terrain wasn’t flat — more a wild, undulating plain with low hillocks and rocky gullies and ditches to negotiate. Steven found it hard going but enjoyed the challenge to his fitness. It had been a while since he had been put to the test. With a mile still to go to the abbey, he finally took a break and a drink of water while he got his breath back.

There was a hillock to his left which he reckoned was about a hundred feet high so he decided to climb it and see if he could see The Abbey. He’d also be able to see the lie of the land ahead and plan his final approach. He crawled up the last ten yards to the crest of the hill on his belly so that he wouldn’t suddenly appear on the skyline. It seemed unlikely that anyone at the abbey would be keeping a lookout but old habits died hard and being over-cautious was always better than taking anything for granted.

Steven found that he had a view of the abbey. Using the Zeiss glasses he could see that the tower and main building of the abbey were now ruins but that various out-buildings to the right of the main structure had been restored using similar stone and were obviously in use. He determined that he should make his approach from the left where the ground was hillier and would offer him more cover than the right, which was almost flat for four hundred metres.

Twenty minutes later Steven was in position. He was about a hundred metres from the ruins of the abbey, lying in a small gully between gorse bushes where he had a clear view of the East side of the buildings that were in use. He had a good view of the single-track approach road so that he was in an ideal position to monitor comings and goings should there be any. There were lights on inside one of the buildings so he kept his glasses trained on the windows.

The room he was looking at appeared to be an office but the two male figures he could see inside seemed to be moving around rather a lot. After a few minutes it became obvious that they were packing things into boxes on the floor as if preparing to move out. Steven was excited at this prospect and what he thought might be the reason behind it although, once again, he had to concede that he might already be too late.

The two men disappeared from sight and after a few minutes Steven heard car doors being slammed and an engine starting up. He didn’t see the vehicle until it had come round from behind the building and emerged through an arch to join the track across the moors. It was a white, unlettered, Ford van. At this point the driver, a young man in his twenties paused to wave to someone at the window. Steven’s view was obscured by the van until it moved off and then he was able to get a good look at who was standing there. He focused the glasses and had no doubt at all that he was looking at John Merton.

‘ Well, well, well,’ muttered Steven as he reached into his rucksack to bring out his mobile phone. ‘Got you!’

He was about to hit the send button on his phone for the Yorkshire police number he’d been given when he noticed with dismay that there was no signal. Hoping that this was because he was down in a gully, he moved back a few metres and crawled up to higher ground. There was still no signal at all.

Steven cursed but had to admit that this was probably not that surprising. The phone companies didn’t spend money erecting masts in the middle of nowhere where there were no customers to use them: he was probably two or three miles from picking up a signal. As he stuffed the phone back in his bag he remembered suggesting once to Sci-Med that they equip their people with satellite phones, which would not be dependent on ground antennae, but budget considerations had won the day. He now had to decide whether to retreat and call in the police or make an arrest himself.

There was no reason to believe that Merton was armed but on the other hand, he could not be sure that he wasn’t. He could not even be sure that Merton was the only person in the building, although there had been no sign of anyone else in the last hour. It seemed increasingly likely that the two Land Cruisers that he’d seen earlier had in fact come from The Abbey and had been staff moving out with their gear.

Steven decided against heroics. He owed it to Jenny not to take any unnecessary risks. He would return to his car along the narrow single-track road that he had been reluctant to drive along. This would be quicker than the cross-country route and would also afford him a view of any vehicle using the road. He felt confident that the sound of an approaching engine would alert him in time so he could move off the road and hide until it had passed while getting its number to pass on to the police.

Steven was preparing to move off when he heard a door bang and he dropped down again to train the glasses on The Abbey. Merton was outside and he was moving backwards while he reeled off cable from a drum he was carrying between both hands. He stopped every so often to make some sort of connection on the ground before moving off again. Steven was in no doubt that he was wiring up a series of explosive or incendiary charges before leaving. Why he was doing this could only mean one thing. There was something to hide inside.