‘How come the carpenter bloke fell out with Roman MacFarlane then?’
Barnes clung on to the strap above the passenger window, his backside clenching as Kay took a narrow bend without lifting her foot off the accelerator.
‘Gavin says Chilton was commissioned by one of the streaming companies to make a documentary series about true crime, and they needed to hire some replica weapons for a few scenes in one of the episodes. They were on a tight budget and didn’t want to hire real ones.’ Kay slowed to a crawl as she approached a crossroads, then took off once more, swerving to avoid a pheasant. ‘While he was in the shed with Roman, he spotted that one of the handguns he picked up from the workbench had no valid proof marks…’
‘So it was imported into the UK, then sold illegally.’
‘Exactly. And Roman realised that he’d worked that out. Chilton didn’t push the matter – he said Roman had a funny look in his eye as if he was daring him to say something. He got worried, especially as he was on his own that day, so he just took the weapons he’d hired for the production and left as quickly as he could. He asked one of his assistants to drop off the guns the next day and told them not to hang around – he says he was too frightened to go back there himself.’
Barnes frowned. ‘What scared him?’
Kay’s lips thinned. ‘The fact that Roman phoned him at one in the morning threatening what he’d do if he told anyone. Chilton closed down the production company as soon as they finished the documentary.’
‘Shit.’ He waited until the car rumbled over the cattle grid at the end of the MacFarlanes’ driveway, his thoughts tumbling. ‘Do you think Porter is part of this as well?’
‘I don’t know, Ian. They live in the middle of nowhere and neither of them have ever been flagged for a misdemeanour or anything else to give Daniel’s team cause for concern. But who knows what the pair of them have been up to?’
He loosened his grip on the strap as she slowed to a standstill outside the house, then held up his hand. ‘Wait here. I’ll see if anyone’s in first.’
Shutting the car door, silencing her protests, he strode across the gravel, his gaze roaming the windows facing the driveway.
No one stood looking out, and not a single curtain twitched.
Throat dry, he forced himself to relax his shoulders and bounded up the steps to the door in case either of the MacFarlanes were watching from a distance, not wanting to alert them to why he was there.
Just a routine call, he thought with a grim smile.
He rang the bell and took a step back.
No answer.
He pressed the bell once again, the chimes resonating through to where he stood.
Turning, he shook his head and hurried back to the car as Kay wound down her window.
‘Nobody there.’
She climbed out, pointing to a path that ran around the side of the property. ‘Let’s see if the back door’s open. If Porter’s out in the garden or something…’
‘Hang on.’ Barnes went around to the back of the car, opened the boot and pulled out two telescopic batons before handing one to her.
‘Thanks,’ she said, her face grim.
Neither of them voiced the fear that the batons would be useless against a gun, but as Barnes flicked his open, he felt slightly better being armed with something.
He paused, hearing sirens on the wind.
‘There are two patrols on the way here,’ Kay said. ‘I asked for back-up to meet us here before we left Maidstone.’
‘But you don’t want to wait.’
She exhaled, and he saw the strain she was under.
‘We could just have a look,’ he ventured. ‘They’ll be here any minute.’
‘Come on, then.’
He crept around the side of the house, trying to place his feet as slowly as possible to prevent the noise of crunching gravel alerting Porter or Roman, then held up his hand and peered around the corner.
‘Back door’s open,’ he hissed over his shoulder.
‘Anyone in the garden?’
He looked down the expanse of undulating lawn that led away from a pretty patio area, squinting as he tried to spot any dark-clothed figures lurking amongst the trees at the bottom of the garden that formed a border between the house and the outbuildings, then shook his head.
‘Coast is clear.’
‘Slowly, then.’
He checked over his shoulder as the first of the patrol cars braked beside theirs, then crouched and shuffled along the back of the house.
Passing beneath a window that overlooked the garden, he stopped and raised his head enough to be able to see over the sill.
An empty dining room was beyond the glass panes, a large elongated table in the middle set for twelve, but there was nobody present.
Nobody aiming a gun at him.
He ducked and hurried towards the open door, then paused and peered around the frame.
‘Empty,’ he murmured. ‘It’s the kitchen.’
‘Maybe they’re out,’ said Kay.
‘Huhmmph.’
‘What was that?’ Kay grabbed his jacket sleeve. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘Stay here.’
After taking a couple of deep breaths to try and still his thrashing heartbeat, Barnes stepped into the kitchen, baton raised.
‘Help me…’ said a weak voice.
It came from an open door off the side of the main kitchen, and as he approached he saw shelves laden with bags of flour, potatoes, and sugar while bunches of fresh herbs stood in jars on a counter underneath.
He heard voices outside, and realised the uniformed patrol had joined Kay.
Then he saw two feet poking out from behind a washing machine and tumble dryer next to another exterior door.
Dropping the baton onto the counter, he rushed forward.
Porter MacFarlane lay sprawled on the tiles, his forehead bloodied and his eyes closed.
‘Kay? In here!’ Barnes called over his shoulder as he dropped to the floor.
Running steps followed his words, and then: ‘Where are you?’
‘In here – butler’s pantry.’ He reached out and gently patted the man’s cheek. ‘Porter? It’s Ian Barnes, Kent Police. Can you hear me?’
MacFarlane’s eyes flickered open. ‘He hit me. My own son…’
‘Where’s Roman, Porter? Where’s your son?’
The man mumbled under his breath, his eyes closing.
‘He’s concussed, guv.’ Barnes straightened and signalled to the young constable who peered past her, his radio already to his lips. ‘Get an ambulance here.’
Kay knelt on the floor beside him and leaned closer to MacFarlane. ‘Porter, stay with me. We think Roman could hurt someone. Where did he go?’
‘He said… He said he had to get the other rifle. He said he was going to make Redding pay…’ MacFarlane frowned, then ran his tongue over his lips. ‘I don’t know who Redding is. I didn’t know he owed us any money.’
‘It’s not that sort of payment I’m worried about,’ Kay muttered, then beckoned to one of the uniformed officers hovering at the door. ‘Stay with him.’
Barnes followed her out of the kitchen and along the hallway, opening the front door in readiness for the ambulance crew’s arrival. ‘Roman will be armed, guv. We need Disher’s lot to meet us there, or someone could get hurt.’
‘Christ.’ Kay stumbled across the front step, her face turning pale. ‘I told Kyle to go to Redding’s house and pick up Patricia if he couldn’t get through on the phone.’
He pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial for the constable’s mobile number.
‘Fuck, there’s no answer,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Who’s with him?’
‘Phillip.’
He shook his head. ‘No answer from his phone either.’
Spotting another constable on the path beside the house who was pacing back and forth while he listened to his radio, he raised his voice. ‘Tell control we’ll need tactical to meet us at Mark Redding’s house. I want you and another car to follow us there, got it? Tell them it’s urgent – there are two constables on scene and they need to make radio contact with them. They might be in danger.’
The young constable froze, too stunned to move for a split second, and then took off at a sprint towards his vehicle, relaying Barnes’s instructions as he ran.
‘Let’s go.’ Kay turned towards their car.
‘Hang on – we need to check the shed to see if there’s anything else missing,’ Barnes said. ‘At least then we can give Disher a head start on information about what he and his team might be walking into.’
‘Get in. I’ll drive.’