Death in July (18 page)

Sat on the floor in the bare room, with his legs crossed and head down, Sam listened to the storm rage all around him. Another bolt of lightning lit up the sky, while the rain and thunder continued unabated. Sam ran the conversation with Jackson through his head once more. The detective didn't know it, but he had inadvertently provided Sam with the answer he had been so desperate to find.

The final name on the list.

The next victim.

Getting to his feet, Sam looked out the window to see another police car zoom past the cottage, cutting through the waterlogged road, sending spray flying onto the pavement. Sam wondered how long it would take for them to pick up his trail. To spot the stolen car up the road and connect it with the nearby cottage. Under different circumstances, Sam would be getting as far away-

As far away as possible.

Something came to mind. Suddenly, the thoughts were flooding into his head quicker than the rainwater gushing down the road outside. He got on to his phone once more.

'Richie, can you run that photo of the mystery man through the system again? Only this time...'

***

Sam continued to wait in the gloom. He looked at his watch. The minutes were ticking by all too quickly, but the task he had asked of Richie couldn't be rushed. Although Sam couldn't afford to hang around, he didn't want to take a return call in a compromising position.

A few minutes later, his phone erupted into life, the ringtone struggling to be heard above the rain pounding against the cottage.

'Richie?'

'I've got it, mate.'

Sam held his breath and waited.

'Karl Schenker...forty-two years old...German national. Border control have got records of him coming into the country each year for the last five years. The guy's like clockwork. He arrives in the first half of July, stays a little over a week, then leaves the country. The same thing every year.'

'That's our man,' said Sam, unable to wallow in this belated discovery.

'Now I know why the photo of him didn't bring anything up on our records,' said Richie. 'It never even crossed my mind to check further afield.'

'Don't worry about it,' said Sam. 'I've only just put the clues together myself.'

The need to hire a car every year. The way the man had vanished into thin air after the attack on Geoffrey. The fact there was no match to his photo in this country. The faintest of accents in his voice after leaving Sam lying spread-eagled in the cemetery.

And, of course, the War...

'I've done a bit of digging as well,' continued Richie, his voice feverish now. Sam smiled. His old friend was like a dog with a bone when he got going. 'Schenker is well-known back home, a member of an underground Neo-Facist group. Rumour has it they train their members in subversive tactics. Unarmed combat, communications, weaponry...'

Sam grimaced. This was no amateur he was dealing with.

'And get this...our man designs computer programs for a living.'

Sam thought about the false leads he had chased over the car rental.

'Well, that explains his talent for hacking into systems and creating false identities, but it still doesn't tell me why he's after these particular men.'

'I can't find anything else, Sam. There's nothing to indicate an interest in any individual soldiers who served in the war.'

'What about the date? The fourteenth of July? Does that crop up with his name anywhere?'

'Nope,' replied Richie. 'I've found nothing on that, either.'

Sam couldn't understand it. There had to be a specific motive for this man's actions. Something exceptional must have caused him to pick out particular veterans the way he had.

'Sam, I really think you should go to the authorities about this now.'

He knew Richie had a fair point, logical under different circumstances.

'I can't for a couple of reasons, Richie. For one, it might put someone I know at risk.'

'Okay, what's the other one?'

'The authorities are the ones after me...'

Ankle deep in the muddy ditch, Sam gazed up at the sky and mumbled a thank-you for the great British summer. Mid-July, and the rain was pummelling him as he hid behind the hedge, the bleak afternoon as dark as any winter day. The thunder and lightning continued to add dramatic tension to the deserted location he was skulking in.

Only he wasn't entirely on his own out here.

He raised his head above the dripping hedge a fraction and peered into the distance. Two lights were on in the property. One in an upstairs bedroom, the other downstairs. Curtains were drawn across both windows.

It was time to make his move.

He scurried along the ditch, water seeping into his shoes, his drenched clothes tugging at him with every movement. He kept low behind the hedge, using it as cover to mask his approach to the building. Moments later, he stopped again. The hedge ran all the way around to the back garden. That was his route in.

He had just re-started when he caught sight of a large object up ahead, standing stationary in the field, using the hedge as cover just as he was doing. Sam ducked even lower and squinted hard. It was the outline of a car, just about visible through the murky light. He was in no doubt as to why the car was there, spying on the same place he was heading.

Sam was impressed by the ingenuity. Surprised, he wasn't.

And it wasn't the only unwanted visitor he expected to be in the vicinity.

However, the vehicle posed a problem for him. It was blocking the one covert passage he could see to his target, and if he moved any nearer to it, he was bound to be spotted. Sam backtracked along the ditch to his original starting point. He was going to have to find an alternative way in, one that offered more risk.

He cut through a gap in the hedge and dashed across the road, keeping as low as possible, hoping the combination of the hedge and gloomy weather would make visibility difficult for those in the car. It wasn't his only concern. If others were watching the scene, he could also be exposing himself to their line of sight.

Sam threw himself into the screen of bushes on the other side of the road. To his dismay, the foliage was as thick as it looked, almost impenetrable, a coarse barrier of thorns and sharp branches. He fought his way through, feeling his clothes snag and tear with each surge forward. Suddenly, he was out the other side and loosing his footing, sliding down a grassy bank. Then his feet were in running water and he was grabbing hold of a tree to steady himself. The stream was flowing in the direction he wanted to go, so he began wading through it, the splashing of his feet drowned out by the heavy rain hammering everything around him.

Seconds later, he was at the back of the property, his unintentional detour having brought him to his destination in double quick time, behind a thicker blanket of cover. His exit out of the stream was slightly easier, the bushes having thinned out at this point. He found himself in the back garden, staring at the rear of the building, its rooms shrouded in darkness. Sam sprinted to the back door, only to find it locked. He leaned back against the adjoining wall, aware how vulnerable he was right now out in the open.

Suddenly, he heard something rustle in the distance. Someone was moving around the edge of the garden. Sam needed to get into the building quickly. He pulled a metal bar out of his waistband and wedged it into the slight gap between the door and frame. Then he went to work, prising the door open, watching the gap widen until the wood splintered and the door flew open. He had just stepped inside when a man charged at him from within the house, roaring angrily, waving an object above his head. Sam ducked as the figure attacked him, feeling a rush of wind as the weapon missed his ear by inches. He grabbed his attacker and threw him against the back door in one fluent motion. The man tried to resist, but Sam had him in a tight grip, and he wasn't letting go.

'Don't you dare touch my grandfather!' the man shouted in his face, still trying to break free of Sam's grasp, his eyes wide with frenzy.

'Calm down!' ordered Sam. 'I'm here to help you.'

The man shook his head, unable to accept the words. He tried to lunge at Sam again.

'I won't let you-'

Sam let fly a right hook, catching the man under the chin, sending him crashing back against the door before slumping to the ground.

Sam sighed and looked down at the prostrate figure.

He really hadn't wanted to knock Joe Sale out.

Sam dragged the unconscious Joe Sale into the front room and threw him onto the sofa. Somebody was banging on the upstairs floor, calling out weakly through the ceiling. Sam ignored the noise and dragged a heavy cabinet out of the room and pushed it up against the back door. Then he did likewise with an armchair, forcing it up against the cabinet, extra weight to stop the door opening inwards. Sam surveyed his handiwork. It wouldn't prevent entry for long, but it would slow down progress.

He heard groaning from the front room. Joe Sale was rousing. Sam went into the kitchen, filled up a glass with cold water and carried it into the front room. Then he threw the water over the writhing figure, who shot up immediately into a sitting position.

'What the-'

Sam leaned over him, grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him backwards in the chair. He needed this man to understand quickly.

'Joe, listen to me! Somebody is coming for your grandfather...and they're going to get him unless you let me help you.'

Joe blinked several times and rubbed his chin where Sam had struck him. He stared back at Sam, aggrieved and confused. The noise coming from upstairs had subsided.

'How do I know you're-'

'You don't!' shouted Sam. 'You're going to have to trust me! If I was going to kill your grandfather, I'd have done it by now, wouldn't I? I'd be out the door, not hanging around having a chat with you.'

Sam watched Joe trying to clear his scrambled mind.

'Well, if it's not you who's after him, who is then?'

Sam thought about the person lurking in the garden.

'I'll explain while we're barricading the back door up some more.'

***

The two men entered the darkened room. Joe went over to the bedside table and flicked on the lamp. On the bed lay an elderly man with sheets pulled right up to his chin. He stared back at Sam and Joe warily. His complexion was pale, and he looked tired and drawn, but he was alive.

Sam stared down at Joe Sale Sr.

He had reached him in time.

The last person on the list.

'Who is this, Joe?' asked the older man tentatively. Strangely enough, Sam saw no fear in his eyes, only uncertainty.

'It's okay, Grandad,' replied Joe Sale Jr. 'He's here to help us.'

Sam stepped forward.

'Mr Sale, my name is Sam Carlisle. I know what's going on.'

It had all become clear to Sam when DI Jackson revealed it wasn't Joe Sale Jr who had made the complaint of harassment against him. Joe had been unhappy at Sam asking questions at his door, but it hadn't been him who rang the police. Sam hadn't been to the War Museum at that point, so there was only one other person with reason to make that call. Someone who had spied Sam's visit to the property and wanted him warned off from returning. The person who wanted to kill Joe Sale Sr.

Sam continued to gaze at Joe Sr. The reinforced barrier at the back door would keep any intruder at bay, buying Sam time to question the old man. Anyway, Sam had the feeling the person in the back garden was waiting for them to come out now before making his next move. That's what he would do.

'You knew somebody was coming for you, didn't you?'

Joe Sr nodded resignedly in answer to Sam's question.

'How did you know?' he asked.

Sam smiled.

'The first time I called, Joe came to the door wielding a hammer. I hadn't heard any banging while I was out the front. So, why would someone answer the door with a hammer in their hand...unless they needed a weapon?'

'You didn't believe him when he told you I had passed away?'

Sam shook his head.

'I checked the registry again before I left for here. Your death would have been recorded by now.'

Joe Sr glanced at his grandson then looked back at Sam.

'He's a good man, is young Joe. He was just trying to protect me.'

Sam could appreciate that. Joe Jr had shown downstairs how far he would go to protect his grandfather. Sam turned his attention to another thing troubling him.

'You also knew this person was coming today. How did you know that? What's so special about the fourteenth of July?'

Joe Sr sighed, sadness spreading across his face.

'I worked out the others had all died on that date. Then, when Geoffrey was attacked on the same date last year, I realised it was more than co-incidence. I rang Geoffrey to warn him, to tell him somebody would be coming back for him on the fourteenth of July this year. When I heard he had committed suicide, I guessed it would be my turn instead. After all, I am the only one left...'

'Why haven't you gone to the police?' asked Sam. 'You could have told them you were in danger.'

Joe Sale's face crumpled. His eyes glistened. Sam watched him bow his head.

'The war...something happened during the war. We all swore never to mention it...we were so ashamed...'

'But what could have happened that was so bad?'

'We killed a man.'

Sam frowned. A lot of people had been killed during the war.

'I still don't understand what-'

Joe Sale Sr raised his head. A tear tricked down his cheek.

'We murdered an unarmed man.'