Wheel of Fire

Twenty-Five

From the moment of Vogel’s road to Damascus moment concerning Jack Kivel, it took just over two and a half hours for Saslow and Vogel to reach the Kivels’ Wrangway cottage. The heavy rain which had hindered their progress along the M4, from the moment they joined the motorway heading out of London, followed them all the way west, but on the M5 the traffic was relatively light.

It was not a pleasant journey, Vogel had been impatient and unusually anxious, and his mood was not improved by receiving a phone call from Nobby Clarke in which she confessed that MIT had lost Freddie Fairbrother. He chose not to share with her his suspicions about Jack Kivel, preferring to wait until he had at least some evidence to back up what was little more than a hunch. He knew only too well what Clarke thought about hunches. And it remained possible that he and Saslow were about to learn that Jack had not been anywhere that day. Let alone popped up to London to commit a murder.

The two officers hurried from their vehicle and stood outside the front door of Moorview Cottage, huddling beneath the inadequate porch in a bid to find shelter, whilst waiting for an answer to their knock. Vogel noticed the Kivel Land Rover was parked outside, but that didn’t necessarily mean Jack was at home, he could be using another form of transport.

‘Who is it?’ called Martha, after what seemed a very long time, from behind the closed, and almost certainly locked, door.

‘Police,’ called back Vogel. ‘DI Vogel and DC Saslow. Sorry to arrive unannounced. Just something we need to check with you and your husband, Mrs Kivel.’

The door was promptly unlocked. Martha Kivel stood silhouetted in a dimly lit hall, the bright lights of the kitchen, which the Kivels’ clearly used as their main living area, behind her.

‘Jack’s not here,’ said Martha. ‘I never answer the door after dark if he’s away. Not without checking who’s there, first.’

‘Uh yes, quite right, Mrs Kivel,’ began Vogel. ‘I wonder, could we just...?’

Martha Kivel stepped back out of the doorway. ‘You must come in, of course,’ she said. ‘Come on in, the pair of ’ee. Get out of this terrible weather we’m having. Come into the kitchen where ’tis warm.’

Vogel and Saslow did so gratefully. Martha proved to be as hospitable as ever, offering tea and, once again, home-made sponge cake before even asking what the two officers wanted.

‘You said your husband isn’t here, Mrs Kivel?’ queried Vogel.

‘No. E’s away with some of ’is army buddies. They meet up every so often and relive old times, drink more than’s good for ’em, too, I shouldn’t wonder. But I don’t begrudge my Jack. He’s worked hard all ’is life, and he’s a good man.’

Vogel and Saslow involuntarily exchanged glances.

‘I’m sure he is,’ commented Vogel levelly. ‘Might I ask when he left, Mrs Kivel, and when you are expecting him back?’

‘Oh, he went this morning. He got a call from one of his mates. Short notice, but a couple of them had met by chance, somewhere up London way, wanted him to join them, if he could. I drove him to the railway station, and off he went. He won’t be back til tomorrow. They’ll make a night of it, that’s for certain. He asked me if I minded, like, and I said course I didn’t, you go and enjoy yourself.’

Martha Kivel stopped abruptly, her expression suddenly concerned. ‘Why are you asking?’ she enquired somewhat nervously. ‘Has something happened? Has something happened to my Jack—’

‘No, no, nothing like that,’ Vogel interrupted.

‘Is Jack in some sort of trouble?’ Martha Kivel persisted.

Vogel didn’t answer that question directly.

‘I’m sure everything’s fine, Mrs Kivel,’ he said obliquely. ‘We’d just like to talk to Jack, that’s all. I don’t suppose you know the names of any of the chaps he was meeting?’

Mrs Kivel shook her head. ‘Well no, just ’is army mates, I don’t know them, you see...’

She looked puzzled now.

‘Do you know exactly where they were meeting up?’ asked Saslow.

Mrs Kivel shook her head again.

‘Did Jack tell you where he would be staying overnight?’

‘Well no, a B &B, I expect. That’s what they usually do. I mean, I can always get ’old of ’im if I want to, can’t I? I only have to ring his mobile...’

She paused. Her face brightening. ‘Why don’t I do that? Then you can speak to him straightaway. Now...’ She looked around the kitchen. ‘Where did I put my phone? It’s got to be yer somewhere...’

‘No, don’t do that, Mrs Kivel,’ said Vogel quickly. Too quickly, he suspected. He immediately sought to soften his words. He wanted to see what more information he could glean from Martha Kivel before her husband was alerted.

‘I mean, it can wait. We’ll pop back and see him tomorrow. No need to ruin his night out by interrupting him now.’

‘Oh, all right then, if that suits you...’

‘It suits me very well,’ said Vogel. ‘Perhaps you’d give me his mobile number before we go, though, Mrs Kivel. I don’t think we took it the last time we were here. I might call him in the morning to make an appointment.’

He took a mouthful of sponge cake. ‘Even better than last time, Mrs Kivel,’ he gushed. ‘You must give me the recipe for my wife.’

‘Oh, I’ll write it out for you, Mr Vogel,’ said Martha, beaming. ‘I’d be delighted to. Handed down to me from my grandmother, it was.’

‘Well, it’s delicious,’ commented Vogel, trying not to think about what Mary might say to him if he brought her home a cake recipe.

‘I didn’t know Jack had been in the army, Mrs Kivel,’ he added, trying to sound as casual as possible.

‘Oh yes, he went in as a boy. The Parachute Regiment. Sir John was already in. Jack followed him, really. The Kivels have worked for the Fairbrothers for generations. And Sir John and Jack was kids together, you see. Just like our kids and his two. They saw some action too. Northern Ireland, The Falklands. Goodness knows how long they’d have stayed in, but then Sir John’s father died suddenly. And that was that. Sir John had to take over the bank. That’s what Fairbrother men do. Jack followed him out like he’d followed him in, and Sir John employed him straightaway, up the manor. Course, men bond through all that sort of thing, don’t ’em?’

‘Yes, I believe they do,’ agreed Vogel.

‘That was what was so terrible, you see,’ Martha Kivel continued. ‘They was that close. My Jack worshipped Sir John. And then he dumped us, Jack and me, just like that, without a word of explanation. Jack’s never said much, he doesn’t, but I don’t reckon he’ll ever get over it, not ever.’

‘I see,’ said Vogel.

‘So what do you know about their army careers?’ he continued, trying to sound conversational.

‘Oh that’s men’s stuff, isn’t it?’ replied Martha Kivel. ‘That’s what my Jack always says. He did tell me Sir John saved his life, and he owed him everything. He said that when the old bugger chucked us out. Still wouldn’t hear a word against him.’

‘Sir John saved his life? Has he ever said where? In the Falklands perhaps?’

‘No, I don’t think so. I think it was Germany. They were posted in Germany for quite a while.’

‘Not in action, then?’

‘What? Oh. I see what you mean. No, I don’t suppose it could ’ave been in action. Not in Germany.’

‘But he’s never told you any more about it?’

‘No. Only how grateful he was. You see, my Jack, he says real soldiers never talk about stuff. Well you can understand that, can’t you?’

Martha paused. ‘But why are you asking me all these questions? You’ve still not told me.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs Kivel. I’m interested, that’s all. Your Jack’s clearly had a very varied life.’

‘You didn’t come all this way to talk to me because you’m interested in Jack’s varied life,’ said Martha. ‘I’m not saying anything else until you tell me what’s going on.’

Martha’s voice was suddenly quite sharp. Her eyes bright with indignation. Vogel cursed himself. He’d been treating the woman like a fool, largely because of her homely manner and her regional accent. He should know better. Martha Kivel was clearly no fool. And there was still a chance that she was aware of her husband’s covert activities. Assuming of course that there were any such covert activities. But the circumstantial evidence, at least, was growing nicely. He needed to rebuild relations with Martha. He just hoped it were still possible.

‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Kivel,’ he said. ‘I’ve allowed myself to be diverted. I really wanted to ask you and your husband some more questions about George Grey, and what you both know about goings on at the manor after Sir John became ill and removed you and Jack from your positions. I’m not even sure which came first, are you?’

Martha didn’t look totally convinced, but she was, perhaps, a little mollified. Certainly, she answered Vogel in a more normal tone of voice.

‘We’ve never been sure either,’ she began. ‘If he was ill when ’e sacked us, we didn’t know about it.’

Saslow joined in, asking questions neither officer really wanted or needed to know the answer to, or in some cases already did, about Sir John’s behaviour, the nurse who died in the fire, and any other employees.

In fact, by then neither of them could wait to leave Martha Kivel and put the next stage of their investigation into operation. The suddenly executed absence of Jack Kivel from his home made him a far more viable suspect. Either that, or there had been a huge coincidence. And David Vogel, in common with most serving police officers, did not believe in coincidences.

‘Right, Saslow, we need to find Jack Kivel soonest, get his phone pinged straight away, make sure he doesn’t disappear on us,’ he said, once they were outside.

‘You think Martha’s probably already calling him to tell him about our visit, don’t you?’ said Saslow.

‘You’re damned right I do,’ said Vogel.

‘So does that mean she’s in on it, assuming we’re right about Jack?’

‘That he’s at the very least a cold-blooded murderer, and probably some kind of trained assassin?’ queried Vogel. ‘It seems that he may have the military credentials. Fairbrother too. As for Martha, I don’t damned well know. But I’m taking no chances. Get onto district HQ in Taunton. I want surveillance on this cottage right through the night and into tomorrow, until I say so. And then get hold of Micky Palmer. And Polly Jenkins. I need them both back in. Tonight.’

‘Right, boss,’ replied Saslow.

‘I’m going to call Nobby Clarke,’ Vogel continued. ‘Seems likely Kivel’s still in her patch. And I’d very much like the full details of Freddie Fairbrother’s activities, as monitored by her boys and girls before he gave them the slip, on my desk by the time I get back.’

‘Yes, boss,’ said Saslow, who was beginning to look and behave rather more like her old self.

Kivel picked up Freddie without incident, in the genuine black cab he’d hailed as soon as he’d finished so effectively diverting DC Parker. He asked the driver to take them to Victoria Station. There he led Freddie to the Hertz office and hired a car using his own credit card and driving licence. Nobody was looking for Jack Kivel. As far as Jack knew. Not yet anyway.

They were just about to drive away, in a suitably inconspicuous grey Toyota Prius, when Jack’s mobile rang. It was Martha. She had called as soon as Vogel and Saslow left Moorview Cottage, just as Vogel had predicted she would.

‘All right, maid,’ said Jack by way of greeting.

As well as the use of West Country vernacular, Freddie noticed a subtle change in Kivel’s voice, his regional accent just a little stronger, his diction less pronounced.

Jack Kivel’s facial expression changed too as he listened to his wife. For the first time since he had met up with him that day, Freddie could see that Kivel was anxious. He didn’t sound it, though, when he spoke again to his wife.

‘Oh, don’t fret, maid,’ he said. ‘It’ll be some nonsense or other. Nothing to worry about, for sure. Look, I’ll be back in the morning.’

He listened again. ‘No. They ’aven’t phoned me. Not yet anyway. There, that proves it, doesn’t it? Nothing important.’

He exchanged a few more pleasantries with Martha and ended the call, at first without comment.

‘What’s happened?’ asked Freddie nervously. ‘I can tell something’s happened.’

‘It appears the police are taking an interest in my activities,’ said Jack.

‘What does that mean? What happens now?’

‘I’m not entirely sure,’ said Jack. ‘But we both know someone who will know exactly what to do, don’t we?’

Freddie sincerely hoped so.

Jack put his phone in his pocket, and removed a second, pay-as-you go phone to make a call. He quickly related the crux of his conversation with Martha.

‘Look, there’s nothing to incriminate you, is there?’ came the response, soothingly. ‘Nobody can prove anything.’

‘No, I suppose not,’ said Jack. ‘But the police do seem to be closing in a bit.’

‘They’ve still got no idea. I can’t see any reason why the plan shouldn’t go ahead. Although, I may need to disappear off the radar for a bit. As long as they don’t find me, we’re all pretty much OK. We do need Freddie on side, though. How does he seem?’

Kivel glanced sideways. ‘Not one hundred per cent.’

‘No, I thought not. He’s always needed constant guidance and reassurance, that one. You must get him to me as quickly as possible.’

‘Well, we’ve just picked up a fresh hire car. We’re more or less on our way.’

‘Not here,’ came the swift reply. ‘Let me think a minute.’

There was a brief pause. Then he gave another destination, and suggested a time.

‘I’ll have made arrangements for my disappearance by then. But, don’t worry, I’ll sort Freddie out first. He’s going to be my puppet. I just have to make sure he’s prepared to jump when I pull his strings.’

‘OK,’ said Kivel. ‘See you there.’

‘And don’t forget to ditch your other phone. They’ll be putting a track on it, for sure.’

‘I won’t,’ said Kivel.

Freddie, of course, could only hear one side of the conversation. But he got the gist. And he was, by now, a very frightened man. However, he knew he was in far too deep to do anything other than go along with whatever the new plan might be.