The black Mercedes van was still in place in the car park at the hospital where Grigor Pelakais had left it several hours before. Stuck to the front windscreen was a parking ticket. Pelakais tore it off and threw it onto the floor. In the van, he changed back into his wool and silk mix jacket and his soft leather loafers, binning the clogs. He knew that the success of this mission, and his survival, depended on what he did next. Although every cell in his body was screaming at him to run, he started the engine and headed out of the city towards Poltimore.
As he reached the lane that turned off the main road, he saw the children. He recognised the older girls, but they had two new ones with them. They were chatting and teasing each other as they walked along, not a care in the world. He resisted the urge to stop and tell them to run, too. This would be their last time, and, just maybe, the two little ones would have nothing to remember but a bit of excitement at the end of the day. He drove slowly past them and wound his way along a lane bursting with green shoots and signs that spring had arrived. Grigor wondered if this would be the last spring he would see for many years. He didn’t care. Escape from Irina and her father was worth whatever price he had to pay.
Grigor drew into the drive and followed the gravel path around to the rear of the house. He parked close to the back door, leaving room for the other cars that would arrive soon. He didn’t know the men that were coming, only that there would be five of them. He stared at his eyes in the mirror. How low he had fallen. Just possibly, he could do something good now. He switched off the engine, left the keys in, and prepared to face Irina.
He entered through the kitchen, leaving the door on the latch, as promised. There was music coming from the living room and the usual smell of scented candles. These days, the smell of vanilla raised bile in his throat. He walked down the hall towards the living room just as she opened the door and stepped through.
‘You are late.’ She didn’t say anything else. That was bad. She stood, arms folded, framed by the doorway.
‘The children are on their way up the lane,’ he muttered, ‘I just passed them. I need to get the camera set up.’ She grabbed his arm as he made to walk past her.
‘What have you been doing, Grigor? Have you been to the hospital?’ She searched his face. ‘Yes, I can see that you have seen Filip.’ She sneered. ‘Yet, he is not here with you, so you failed in your heroic rescue attempt. When will you understand that you are nothing without me? That I made you, and that I own you? When will you learn to do as you are told?’
She raked a nail across the delicate skin under his eye, leaving a roughened red scratch that wept blood as soon as she took her finger away. She rubbed the blood on her fingertip onto his lips.
Grigor stood still, heart pounding. Better to wait until she had finished, than to anger her further.
The sound of childish laughter came trilling on the early evening air. Irina took her hand away.
‘Go, get ready. We will talk about this later.’
She turned from him and opened the door to greet Jenna and her friends.
Albert Farmer had lived at Castle Farm for more than seventy years. His wife, Josephine, had been with him for the last fifty. Their children were all grown up and gone. None of them had wanted to follow them into dairy farming, and sadly, Albert had to agree that he had seen their point. So they had gradually reduced their livestock and sold land until their farm was less than thirty acres of the surrounding countryside, a size they could still manage. A procession of police cars and unmarked vans in the middle of afternoon milking had been the most exciting thing that had happened to them since Josie had won all the baking categories at the County show, ten years before.
Josie Farmer was waiting for them as Oliver gathered her team in the yard. She had a tray of fresh-baked scones with jam and cream, an industrial size teapot and a dozen china mugs. The milk was still warm, straight from the cow.
Julie Oliver stepped out of the first car and walked across the yard. What on earth was the woman thinking?
Before she got a word out, the men and women who would follow her every order, the men and women who represented the face of the law in East Devon, had dodged around her back. They were stuffing scones in their mouths and slurping tea, nodding their thanks to the rotund lady with the pink cheeks.
Bill Larcombe put a consoling hand on her shoulder. ‘Never mind boss, we work better when we’re fed,’ He grabbed another scone as he headed for the patrol car that would be his base for the operation.
Oliver sighed and raised her eyebrows at DCI Garrett.
‘You have to see the funny side,’ he said. ‘Only in Devon can a major operation be halted by a cream tea.’
Five minutes later, Josie Farmer had a clean plate and the officers had moved fluidly into position. The two senior officers climbed an oak staircase and found their way into a small room under the eaves that had once been a girl’s bedroom. It was ideal as it had two small windows, one overlooking the side of the Abram’s house and back yard, and the other overlooking the lane at the front of the property.
A communications specialist followed them up the stairs and speedily set up a field communications system that would allow them to contact their teams. She put on a pair of headphones and called in each team, one at a time, checking the equipment was working. Once satisfied, she called Oliver over.
‘Ma’am, we have helmet cameras on all of the armed officers, so you can follow the action from here,’ she indicated a laptop screen. ‘They also have live microphones, so we can hear what is happening, too.’
Oliver nodded. The officer pressed one earphone to her head. ‘Just heard back from sniper One and Two, in position.’ She laughed briefly, ‘Sniper One is complaining that if he moves more than foot to either side, he will fall into a cow’s toilet.’
Julie Oliver breathed a noisy puff of air through her lips. All was in place. She said a quick prayer to a god she did not believe in and perched on the end of the pine dressing table so she had a good view through the small gable window.
Garrett picked up the binoculars and scanned the lane. Nothing yet, but Pelakais had returned as promised. Then they waited. It was six-twelve pm.
Jenna led her little gang up the lane. She was feeling sad. She hadn’t expected to miss her sister so much. It seemed weird that she had spent much of the last year hating Carly, but now she was gone, she really missed her. She had put a picture of Carly in the same place as she kept her memories of her mum, a shoe-box under the bed, so she could think about them sometimes, but not all the time, otherwise she didn’t know how she would carry on. And she couldn’t even think about Jamie. She’d nearly had a fit when he came round to the house. At least her dad had chucked him out. But he might come back, and she was scared of what he might do.
And she was worried about Jed. Why wasn’t he answering his phone? She had left texts, too, but nothing. Where was he? She’d been shocked when Irina rang her. She said Jed was away for the night and that she and the other kids should make their own way to a house in Poltimore, not the studio, and she had sent her the directions on her phone. She’d had to find the right bus stop and everything.
It was all a bit weird, and she needed to see Jed. He’d make sure it was alright. She liked Jed a lot, he was the only person she knew that made her feel special, and pretty. He let her smoke and drink in the studio and treated her like a grown-up. Not like her dad, who only had eyes for Carly, and treated Jenna like she was the maid.
Deep down, and only to her-self, Jenna admitted that she knew that what she was doing was wrong. Especially since she and Maddie had started finding the younger kids for Jed. But, oh, she liked the money, and the attention, even if the old blokes did make her feel sick. Irina had some good stuff that she let Jenna have, too. It made her sleepy and feel happy, it took away all her worries and made the whole filming business pass by in a flash.
She cast a quick glance at the two small ones. She would get a lot of money tonight, for bringing them. Then, maybe she could buy her own stuff from Jed and have it all the time, not just when Irina came. Then, she would feel better about Carly and not mind so much about her dad.
Jenna hurried them along and down the long drive of a yellow-brick house that glowed in the evening sun. Irina was waiting at the door with a smile. She was so beautiful.
The first sign of action was the arrival of the children. DCI Garrett spotted two older girls, he thought they might be about twelve or thirteen. They were accompanied by a girl of five or six, and a boy a little younger. He hoped the hothead from Vice was in position and stayed there, because he was finding it hard himself, at the moment, not to leap down the stairs and scoop them up and away to safety. He alerted the Child Protection officers, so they knew how many to expect.
Tom Garrett was a father of three, all teenagers now, but he couldn’t even begin to imagine how he would feel if a police officer had knocked on his door with the news that one of his kids had been involved in this kind of abuse. It was going to be a long hard night for some families.
He nudged Oliver who followed the children’s progress up the drive, and they got their first view of Irina Akis as she opened the front door.
‘Sniper One, close up on the suspect’s face, now.’
Garrett turned towards the seated comms officer and stared at the screen. A blurred picture was instantly relayed. She refined the picture and a coldly beautiful, Slavic blonde stared out at them, smiling for the children. As the woman ushered them in, she cast a quick glance around the garden, and shut the door behind them.
Within thirty minutes, he watched the men arrive who paid for the opportunity to abuse children. Three cars, five men. They drove around to the back of the house, parked and got out. They were carrying cans and bottles. Sniper Two, lying flat on top of the milking parlour got clear pictures of three of the men, which he sent back to headquarters so they could be checked against the Sex Offenders’ Register. Garrett’s heart thudded against his ribs. Got the bastards.
The voice of Carl Manley, the Vice squad officer, came over the speaker. ‘I recognise one of the men, ma’am. Andrew Falkirk. I arrested him last June but he got off with a warning. Kid’s family wouldn’t go to court. Got the bastard now, though.’
Oliver sniffed, ‘Yes, we have, Sergeant Manley, but don’t go jumping in there too soon. We want all of them, preferably alive so they can face prosecution. I don’t think they’re going to wriggle out of this one.’
She glanced at Tom Garrett. She didn’t know him very well, but she was just about to put her team’s safety into his hands. She hoped his reputation was justified. Before she could speak, however, her phone rang. Garrett watched her face change from incredulity to horror as she listened to Sergeant Ellis. Her hand shook as she put the phone down.
‘Are you alright, ma’am?’ he asked.
‘No, Tom, I’m not.’ She looked over his shoulder at the farmhouse behind him. ‘The taller, fair-haired girl who has just walked through that door is the sister of our murdered girl, Carly Braithwaite. And if that’s not a sick enough coincidence for you, it looks like she might also be her sister’s murderer.’
Oliver experienced a series of almost physical jolts as several pieces of this frustrating mess fell into place. Jed Abrams was the key to all of this. Dan’s hunch was right. Abrams was the one who linked it all together. The one responsible for Ian’s death. And he must have recruited Jenna. When or how, she would work out later. For now, she was glad they had him safely in custody.
She focussed on the hands of her watch, willing the agreed fifteen minutes to pass, breathing deeply and taking herself into a state of calm.
Then, ‘Go, Tom. Go now. Get them.’ Eyes clear now, breathing under control, she moved to the window and stared through her binoculars as her colleague assumed command.
The sun had retreated behind the trees at the front of the house, throwing the backyard into shadow. Team One, led by Duncan Lake, rolled over the hedge and scrambled in silence towards the back door. Lake pushed at the door and it fell open an inch.
Team Two followed Carl Manley at a low run along the nearside of the stone wall separating the two farmhouses, and waited for the signal to cross the wall and enter at the front door.
Team Three moved into position at the rear of the house, ready to capture anybody trying to escape.
On the ‘go’ signal, Lake pushed the door wide, swept a glance round the kitchen and slipped into the hallway. Pelakais was waiting in the hall as instructed. Lake gestured at him to get down on the floor, left one of his team to cuff him and opened the front door to admit Team Two. They could hear laughing and the noise of a television coming from the living room to their right.
Team Two positioned themselves at the door and waited for the signal to go in. Lake could hear at least four voices. They were watching the football.
Manley flexed his fingers around the gun, and wiped sweat from his top lip with his free hand. Lake nodded to him, raised his hand in a “wait until I give the order” motion, and waved his own team onward.
Team One ascended the stairs. As Lake paused to work out which bedroom the others were in, the bedroom door to his left opened, and out walked a little boy. He stood at the top of the stairs and looked down. He didn’t seem to know what to do about a group of armed men pressing themselves to the wall. Lake smiled and made a ‘shushing’ motion, placing a finger to his lips. The little boy smiled back, and waved. Calmly, he wandered back inside the room where he let out a huge wail, and called for his mum.
Lake whispered a command and Manley and his team burst into the living room. Two of the men were up and out of their chairs in seconds, scrabbling to get away from the machine guns and the copper with the mad glint in his eye. The other two couldn’t move, rooted to the sofa, mouths slack with fear.
Manley dragged them to the middle of the room, cuffed them with relish and laughed as the men began their protests. He laughed again when he realised that Andrew Falkirk must be upstairs, being filmed.
‘Got you now, Falkirk,’ he yelled at the ceiling, spinning the last one around and pushing him to the end of the line. ‘You won’t get a clever barrister to overturn this conviction.’ He grinned. ‘You won’t terrify the witness into withdrawing their statement this time, you sick shit.’ He stopped and eyed all four men, now standing silent in a terrified row. He realised that the other members of his team were uncomfortable with his outburst, but he didn’t care. He felt jubilant. ‘You couldn’t pick this lot out in a paedo parade, could you?’ He looked at the PC guarding the door. ‘They look so normal. Makes it worse, somehow, that they could be someone’s dad or husband. Let’s get the bastards locked up. Collect all their belongings.’
He turned to the other officer. ‘PC Salter,’ he said, ‘call for one of the vans. It’ll be a long night in the cells for this lot, and then a nice stretch at Her Majesty’s pleasure.’
In the upstairs bedroom, the situation was different. Lake peered through the narrow gap the boy had left. A little girl was on the bed with a large, jowly man whom they took to be Andrew Falkirk. The blonde woman, Irina Akis, was leaning over the side of the bed, holding the naked child still. A film camera was balanced on a tripod next to her. He could just see the bare leg of one of the older girls, perched on a tapestry cushion, and in front of her, the wailing boy. Irina shouted over her shoulder for Grigor, but her voice died in her throat as the door slammed open and the barrel of a gun came through it. The man on the bed cowered away, covering his nakedness and shrivelling erection with a lace cushion.
Irina acted instantly, and in her own interest. She dropped the little girl, picked up the movie camera and threw it as hard as she could at the door, crashing it shut onto Lake’s hand. Then she slipped into the bathroom and out through the casement window onto the eaves. Pressing herself flat, she slid down through the shadows at the rear of the house.
In the yard, DC Sam Knowles had jumped into the Mercedes driver’s seat and started the engine, intending to drive it to the station for forensic examination. He was trying to put it into reverse when his door was wrenched open and he was dragged by his hair from the seat. Irina was in the car and had slammed the door shut before he could even raise a shout.
Sam scrambled to his feet and ran to stand in front of the van, waving his arms and yelling to attract attention. ‘Stop!’ he yelled at Irina. Then, wildly, ‘Someone stop her. She can’t get away!’
Up in the attic bedroom, Garrett barked orders at Team Three.
Officers ran from the fields towards the revving Mercedes.
‘What the hell is she trying to do?’ Sam screamed.
What Akis was doing was taking the initiative, thought Garrett, as he saw her make a tight reversing left turn that took the front side panel off the Mercedes on the rear bumper of a parked car. She drove straight through the hedge, scattering Team Three and forcing the van into a sharp left as she bumped her way over the ploughed field towards the lane. Sam could hear the DVDs sliding around in the back of the van and slamming against the sides.
‘She’s getting away,’ he wailed, his anguish clear in his voice.
Garrett barked at sniper Two, ‘Suspect escaping in black van. Take out her tyres. I repeat, disable the vehicle. DC Knowles, get a grip, man. You’re not helping by stating the obvious.’
Irina judged the low stone wall in front of her. If she could smash her way through it, she could be gone before they were even in their cars. She accelerated towards the wall and was thrown hard against the steering wheel as the front of the van buckled against the ancient granite. She reversed and went again, and again. After the third ramming, enough wall collapsed to let her roll over the top of the rubble, engine roaring. She turned a crazily sharp left and felt the back tyre blow as she straightened up. She fought to control the steering as the DVDs and the loose recorders smashed against the van wall. She wasn’t stopping for anybody. This was her last trip. She was going to Sweden to be with her child. She renewed her efforts to control the veering van and get out onto the lane.
Stuck in the small attic bedroom, Oliver remembered that Dan and Sally were on their way.
She rang Sally.
‘Yes Ma’am?’ came the calm voice.
‘Where are you?’ Oliver shook. She could see the Merc breaking through the wall and turning onto the lane.
‘Almost there, I can see the Farmer’s place. What’s happening?’
‘Sally,’ Oliver shouted. ‘Get out of the car, now!’ Sally stared at the phone and up the lane. Dan looked over at her.
‘What?’
‘Oliver says we have to...’
At that moment the battered van came barrelling towards them, swerving across the lane on blown tyres and smacking into the hedges like a drunk in a pub toilet. Dan reacted on impulse. He braked, slapped the seatbelt holders and pushed Sally out of her door. Then, he slewed the car sideways across the lane and threw himself out of the passenger door as the Mercedes ploughed into the driver’s side of the Audi.
Oliver watched from the window. She screamed a helpless ‘No!’ as she saw what Hellier had done.
Garrett didn’t react. He was still watching the van. He saw the door open and a slight figure stagger out and limp off across the field. ‘She’s still alive, ma’am. She’s going to try to run for it. Just give the order.’
Oliver didn’t hesitate. How could this foreign bitch come into her city and hurt children and hurt her people?
‘Shoot her, Tom.’
Sniper One took two shots to bring her down as she was weaving all over the field. One to the thigh, and one to the shoulder. She limped another six feet before her knees buckled and she dropped.
Garrett yelled. ‘Get out there and arrest her, Team 3. Don’t hang about for Christ’s sake!’
Bennett and Larcombe were first out onto the lane. When they reached the crash site there was nowhere to pass, so they abandoned their patrol cars and ran. The wreckage of the van and the destroyed Audi filled the entire lane. Bennett picked up a piece of the Mercedes’ offside panel and used it to break open a hole in the hedge large enough to let them squeeze through. The scene on the other side was a disaster.
Bill Larcombe would say later he felt his heart stop when he saw Sally Ellis lying on the ground a few metres away.
He groaned, ‘No, not Sally. Not her as well.’
He knelt beside her and felt for a pulse. To his relief it was strong, but she was bleeding from a wound on the back of her head. Had probably knocked herself out. He took off his jacket and used it to cradle her head. Sally opened her eyes slowly.
‘I’ve been having such a weird dream,’ she said to him, her voice high and shaky. ‘Why am I lying on the ground?’
‘You’ve just had a little car accident. Don’t worry, soon get you sorted out.’ He rang Oliver and gave her the good news before he rang for an ambulance. Then he stood and looked round for Ben. And where was the boss?
The force of the Mercedes hitting the Audi had not been so very great. The van was hardly under control and could not have accelerated much. However, it had been moving fast enough to destroy the driver’s side of the car and shunt it into the hedge.
Dan was lying at the side of the road, his legs trapped under the passenger-side door. He hadn’t quite made it. He was stroking what was left of the bonnet. His beautiful car, ruined. Ben Bennett was standing next to him, watching the tears slip down his boss’s face.
‘I think you might have a bit of concussion, boss,’ he was saying, ‘it’s only a car.’