Time to Play (North East Police) (3 page)

‘Yeah, they’ve put us all on the “at risk register” again. Crime scene investigators are still not classed as frontline staff, which is ridiculous. Half the time we’re at the scene before the cop gets there these days. It sucks.’

‘Sorry, honey. Am sure you’ll be fine though, you’re an old hand now. Hasn’t Cass put you forward for the crime scene manager training?’

‘Yeah, she’s fab bless her. There’s four of us been put forward. I’m just keeping my fingers crossed. Johnny got accepted for the Arson Investigation course last month so hopefully he’ll be out of the running for the CSM one; but you never know. You know what Hartside’s like. He’s a complete prick.’

‘Hate to say it, but bosses usually are. Especially one’s like him with their head so far up their own arse they can practically see daylight.’

Marlo’s phone interrupted their conversation with a loud buzz. Seeing it was her sergeant, she swiped and answered.

‘Buchanan … yup, OK, Sharpie. See you in a bit.’

She didn’t even need to explain. Hanging up the phone, she watched Deena curl her legs up underneath her.

‘Yes I’ll lock up when I leave, and no I won’t forget to wash the cups. Go to work, Marlo.’

Marlo grinned at her friend and made her way to the bathroom.
At least it’s a late call in.

2
^nd
November, 0625 hours – Container on truck, Washington Industrial Park

The truck braked hard, jolting Elvie from a disturbed sleep. She rubbed her eyes, trying to rid them of that feeling of sandiness. She glanced down at Nita who was laid beside her. Nita’s skin was pale and clammy and there was a thin sheen of sweat over the girl’s forehead. She occasionally whimpered as the fever tried to tear her body apart.

There was no water left now. Elvie’s tongue felt swollen and cracked inside her mouth. The initial gnawing of hunger that had started when the food had run out was now nothing more than a dull ache. Her eyes were heavy and hot; she really didn’t feel too good.

The smell in the container had intensified overnight and Elvie suddenly leaned over herself and heaved. There was nothing to come up, but her body kept heaving. When she sat back up, her eyes were glassy with tears. She hated being sick.

Elvie knew that some of the other girls had died, releasing their weak hold on whatever life they were heading into. She envied them in some ways. They were free, not cooped up in the stinking container where the only light was artificial and the only warmth was each other. She cocked her head to the side, listening. The truck was no longer moving.

There was a loud clatter as the container doors were suddenly wrenched open. Two men leapt inside and started kicking at the girls on the floor.

‘
Pataas
,’ they said as their toes connected with ribs and legs. The men obviously didn’t know much Filipino; their pronunciation was all wrong, but ‘
pataas
’ was up, and ‘
puminta
’ was go. It was all they needed, they weren’t paid to chat.

The girls who didn’t move, whether through illness or death, were left behind. They would be dealt with later.

Elvie was more scared than she had ever been. She had to get Nita up. She moved to her knees and shook her friend hard. Eventually, Nita opened her eyes, struggling to focus. She felt rather than saw Elvie’s fear, and turned to pull herself to her knees. Elvie helped her up, taking pretty much her full weight as Nita leaned into her.

‘
Puminta
,’ said one of the men, nudging them towards the open doors.

The security cameras that should have been watching the industrial estate had been disabled earlier in the night. There was no one to see or hear as the girls were herded from the container into nearby vans in the car park of the abandoned factory. Years ago, it had been one of the most productive factories in Washington. Now though, the only thing it was used by was the rats and pigeons.

Elvie clutched Nita tightly, knowing if she let go then her friend would fall. There was no one to help them to the ground. Elvie leaned her friend against the side of the container and clambered down, wincing as the glass shards on the tarmac cut into the soles of her bare feet. She reached up and helped Nita to the ground, flinching as the men jumped down beside them.

‘These two aren’t bad. I can put up with the stink if there’s a nice warm mouth round my cock,’ said one with a sneer.

‘Boss lady said no touching,’ said the other one, looking bored. He put up with the same or similar on every transportation.

‘Come on, no one would even have to know,’ whined the first man. He wasn’t well built, verged on skinny in fact. He was well dressed in a white shirt and black trousers, his hair neatly styled. In contrast, the other was well built and muscular, also dressed in the same uniform of sorts. He lost his temper suddenly, one hand wrapped around the skinny man’s throat and he threw him against the back of the truck.

‘No … Fucking … Touching.’

The skinny man gasped and nodded, trying to catch his breath. As he was released his hands instinctively touched his neck, almost as if he were checking it was still there. He watched the other man make his way to the driver’s side of the transit van, and only able to vent his frustration one way, he gave Elvie a sharp kick.

Elvie gasped as hot pain seared up her thigh.
Why did he do that? I didn’t do anything.
Tugging Nita alongside, she climbed into the back of the van. Only one of the other girls from the container was inside, huddled in the far corner, looking as afraid as Elvie felt. The doors slammed shut behind them, and within seconds the van left the car park.

2
^nd
November, 0710 hours – Dive Team HQ, South Shields

By the time Marlo arrived at the dive team’s headquarters, her appearance had changed completely. The dishevelled, just-got-out-of-bed look had been banished and replaced with something more functional. Her hair was swept up in a tight bun, and her figure disguised with the loose folds of the non-descript black t-shirt and combat pants that made up her work uniform. The coffee had kicked in making her look like she’d been awake for hours.

She made her way down the stairs to the wet room at the base of the stairs. The room wasn’t actually wet, it had a waterproof coating all over the floor, and drains strategically placed around. When the team came back from a dive, this was where the equipment was stored and cleaned. It was also where the team would congregate.

True to form, the dive team sergeant, Colin Sharp, looked up as she entered.

‘Hey, Marlo. Since you’re first here you’re lead diver. Check your gear. We’re taking the small RIB,’ he said, referring to one of the rigid inflatable boats used by the team for rescues. ‘It should be big enough. The body’s in the weir at Durham Cathedral. River’s high `cos of the rain. Body’s probably snagged as the report from the cop on scene is that it’s not moving from the weir.’

‘Have we got a rendezvous point?’ asked Marlo, as she checked her mask and lines.

‘Yeah, the RVP is at the small car park next to the cathedral. DI Ali McKay is running point. The guy who handled that murder in Sunderland a few months ago, the one that got away?’

‘Oh great, so we’ve landed some tit who probably doesn’t know his arse from his elbow?’

‘Now that’s no way to talk about Mac,’ joked Doc entering the room and receiving a punch to the arm from Mac in response. Mac and Doc were like chalk and cheese. Complete polar opposites but they got on like a house on fire. Mac aptly nicknamed from a shortening of his surname, MacDonagh, and Doc after an incident involving the rescue of a dog from a pond whilst he was walking the beat. He’d given the dog mouth to nose resuscitation and the nickname Doc Dolittle had been his reward.

All the team had nicknames. Marlo’s was Buck, a shortening of her own surname, though some of the cops would dispute that if asked. The sergeant was known as Sharpie. The only member of the team that didn’t have a nickname was Connor Maynard, the crew’s youngest member at only twenty-seven years. He’d transferred into the force a couple of months before with full qualifications and breezed through his entrance interview. Once in, he’d been seconded to the dive team when a spot became available. 

Sharpie stopped the comments about the DI with one look at Marlo. His mouth set in a line, he told Mac and Doc to go and prepare the RIB, before turning towards her.

‘Buck, you know what I’m going to say. You don’t even know the guy, and he out-ranks you. Bite your tongue.’

Marlo had the grace to blush slightly, knowing her mouth often spoke before her thoughts had caught up. ‘Sorry. I’ll rein it in. Won’t happen again.’

Sharpie nodded and went back to lining up the oxygen tanks ready for removal into the vehicle.

With all of them working together, they were briefed and ready to leave inside of half an hour.

2
^nd
November, 0720 hours – detached house, outskirts of Hetton-Le-Hole

Elvie was terrified. She and Nita had been herded out of the van and in through the front door of a house. They’d been shepherded upstairs to a tiny room, thrown inside and a key had been turned. There were two single beds and a lamp on a small table. The walls were bare and the only other thing present was a tray containing a large jug of water and a plate with some dry sandwiches on.

Elvie had never really eaten bread. She knew what it was but was more used to the flat breads her Noni had made, or, of course, rice. But her hunger and thirst won over any doubts she had. She pushed her fear to one side, helped Nita to the bed, and slowly held a plastic cup to her friend’s lips.

‘
Mabagal
,’ she whispered as Nita tried to gulp the water. Nita nodded and slowed down as ordered. After Nita finished downing the water, Elvie handed her a piece of sandwich. Slowly Nita took a bite of the strange food, and chewed. Cheese. She’d had that before. Nodding at Elvie, she took the sandwich and took another bite leaving her friend free to eat too.

From the language of the men at the car park, Elvie presumed they were either in the United Kingdom or America. For a moment emotion clogged her throat as she silently thanked her Noni.

Noni had taught her to speak, read and write English. When Noni had been young, she’d fallen head over heels in love with a British soldier, stationed at one of the nearby camps. The soldier had fallen for Noni too; his name had been William Grant. William and Noni had begun a relationship. He had wanted her to come and live with him in Suffolk, England. But Noni’s parents had been unhappy with the relationship. They had kept Noni inside and after a few weeks, William had had to leave to return with his platoon. Only days after he had left, Noni had discovered she was carrying his child, Elvie’s mother, Myrna. Luckily for Noni, her parents supported her throughout. They’d had no idea that Noni had kept in touch with William, who went on to marry and have his own children. The letters between the two continued, until a few years ago they had stopped coming. And when they stopped both Noni and her granddaughter presumed that William had passed away.

Elvie had fond memories of sitting on her Noni’s lap reading all of William’s letters. She hadn’t let on she knew English to the men, of course, and there were some words she hadn’t understood. But, she understood the gist of it. She knew what was implied and was grateful the big one had stopped the thin one from forcing them to do something they wouldn’t want to do.

Whatever this place was, it wasn’t a good place to be. They had to find a way out.

Elvie felt her eyes grow heavier, her legs felt like weights. She looked at Nita, confused at the depth of her tiredness. But Nita was already laid out on the bed with her eyes closed, breathing deeply. Elvie had nothing left to fight with; she sank back onto the bed and let the darkness take her away.

Neither girl noticed the bedroom door open or saw the two males enter with two other young girls. Between them they picked Nita and Elvie up, and took them to another room.

2
^nd
November, 0740 hours – Car Park, next to Durham Cathedral, Durham City

Marlo jumped out of the 4x4 used to tow the RIB and made her way with Sharpie over to the melee of cops stood around an unmarked vehicle. The dawn had just broken and the cathedral loomed in the background, ominous yet protective. It had seen its fair share of war and was still standing, though some of it had been rebuilt and restored over the years. Marlo shifted her attention to the conversation as they reached the man who was obviously the DI.

‘DI McKay? Sergeant Colin Sharp, dive team. This is my lead diver, Marlo Buchanan.’

‘Just Ali is fine. Thanks for getting here so quickly. Don’t envy you the job of getting in the water on a day like this. It’s bloody freezing. Guess winter’s definitely on its way.’

‘The suit keeps me warm enough,’ replied Marlo, making eye contact with him. His suit jacket was fastened over his shirt, and his dark hair moved with the wind. His grey eyes held her gaze and her cheeks flushed again as she remembered her comments of earlier. She really needed to learn when to shut up. ‘Show us the body?’ she added.

The river was high, not far from the top of the bank and almost at breaking point. Any more rain and the river would flood the nearby cricket field, not to mention immerse the ‘Lovers chair’ that sat not too far away on the footpath. The chair had been there for a long time. It was made of stone and from the front looked like a normal chair, but the back had gargoyles pulling from the stone as if trying to escape.

Marlo and Sharpie glanced at each other as the body came into sight.

It was still in the same place, caught in the water tumbling at the base of the weir. The body was being battered but held solid in place. It had to be snagged; otherwise the river would have carried him off towards the ocean at Sunderland.