Death Surge (24 page)

He recalled the lad he’d taken sailing. He’d been consumed with guilt over what he’d done, and Horton remembered what Winscom had told him – that Johnnie had been determined to start afresh. He said, ‘I just can’t see him risking his job and his future.’

‘Maybe he found he had no choice. Ryan, Tyler and Stuart were a threat from his past, about to ruin everything he’d fought against. He’d pulled away from them, probably told himself that it had never happened, or that it had happened to a different person in a different life. But he’s met someone he is desperate to hide his past from. He’s in love or infatuated with her.’

Christ, she was reading his thoughts! She’d put forward another of the theories he’d had but with a new twist. He hadn’t put the woman that Johnnie might have fallen in love with alongside Tyler, Ryan and Stuart. But would Johnnie kill in order to keep his past from her? No, he still couldn’t believe it. She eyed him carefully as she sipped her coffee. He heard a phone ringing but it was answered after three rings, presumably by her brother.

She said, ‘Perhaps Ryan saw Johnnie with this woman and demanded money to keep his past a secret. Johnnie agrees but has no intention of paying Ryan. Instead he makes arrangements to meet him and kills him, but he believes, or is afraid, that Ryan has told the others so he has to kill them and wipe out the past.’

‘But that doesn’t answer why he’d wait four days to kill Ryan.’

She sat back looking thoughtful. ‘You said Ryan’s body was set alight?’

‘Yes. And the fire service was called before the second fire was ignited.’

‘To make sure you found the body.’

Horton silently groaned. God, they’d forgotten that. Or rather lost track of it. There were too many damn theories clouding this investigation. Without the fire Ryan might still be there rotting away, and he
needed
to be found. Why?

She said, ‘You’re fond of Johnnie. Is he a relation of yours?’

‘No.’

‘But there is a personal connection?’

He eyed her closely; she was getting at something. ‘Yes.’ He still wasn’t prepared to tell her who Johnnie’s uncle was.

‘Then that could open up a new dimension. It raises other possible theories which could provide a key to the situation.’

Horton didn’t know how. He was beginning to admire her analytical mind as his own raced to put together the possible scenarios before she spelt them out. He sat forward as she continued.

‘Johnnie is being used as a hostage, and the death of Ryan and the disappearance of the others is a message, which as yet hasn’t been correctly interpreted.’

Horton eyed her with amazement. ‘But Johnnie’s family don’t have any money.’ And he couldn’t see Andreadis coughing up for his release … or would he? Was that what this was all about? Uckfield had expressed his idea of blackmail, but could it be ransom money? But why no ransom note? Or was there one, which Sawyer had sat on?

‘It might not be for money,’ she answered slowly and let her words sink in. They did, and swiftly. Horton felt his nape hairs prick as he grappled with this new angle. Before he could air his thoughts though she pressed on: ‘You say he went missing when he arrived here in Portsmouth, so the locality is important. It is more closely linked with his family than with Xander Andreadis, apart from the fact that Andreadis sails these waters occasionally.’

‘But no demands have been made,’ Horton said.

‘Are you sure?’

Horton couldn’t see Cantelli keeping silent; surely he would have confided in him. But perhaps he was too frightened. Even then Horton thought he would have detected something or picked up a hint of it from Cantelli’s words or actions. ‘I’m sure,’ he answered.

‘Then the kidnapper could be waiting for the right psychological moment.’

Suddenly, he understood perfectly what she meant. ‘Because Johnnie’s family haven’t suffered enough yet. But why should they suffer? What could they have done?’

‘They? Do you mean they?’

Then he saw it, and his expression gave him away.

‘You understand, don’t you?’ she said.

‘But it’s mad.’

‘Tell me what you’re thinking and then I’ll tell you if it’s mad.’

‘Before I do I can tell you that it’s not me they want to make suffer. Johnnie Oslow is the nephew of the sergeant I work with in CID, Sergeant Cantelli, and his father used to have a unit that backs on to the Hilsea Lines where Ryan Spencer’s body was found. You’re saying that the kidnapper and killer want Sergeant Cantelli to know what it feels like to suffer, and he’s chosen to do it through a member of his family.’ Could it be true? His mind swam with the possibility. ‘Why though?’ he asked in exasperation, then posed an answer to his own question. ‘Is it about revenge for someone Cantelli’s helped put away?’

‘Possibly. The kidnapper could have been deprived of someone he or she loves who has been incarcerated, so why not deprive Sergeant Cantelli of someone he loves by imprisoning him?’

It made some kind of sick sense. ‘You said he or she. You think this could be the act of a woman?’

‘Why not? A woman whose husband, lover, brother or father has been jailed. Johnnie could have gone willingly with this woman, quite unsuspecting. She could have been planning this for some time, tricked him into thinking she was in love with him, lured him away and then drugged him. She might even have accomplices, brothers or sons.’

Horton’s head was pounding as he considered this.

‘Or it might be a man who’s been deprived of his mother, wife, son or brother.’

‘Then whoever the kidnapper is trying to avenge must be alive and in prison.’

‘That is one possibility, but he or she could be dead and the kidnapper now sees Sergeant Cantelli as the focus for all his hatred and thoughts of revenge.’

Her words struck a chord with Horton. Was he was seeing Lord Eames as the focus for all his hatred, and therefore wanting revenge on him for his part in his mother’s disappearance, even though he had no proof that he had been involved?

She continued, ‘If that’s so, then the kidnapper will want Sergeant Cantelli and his family to suffer for as long as he did, or at least for some time, before he kills Johnnie.’

Dejected, he said, ‘He
will
kill him then?’

‘Yes.’

‘How long have we got?’

She shrugged as if to say
who knows
. ‘But this killer will find more ways to make Sergeant Cantelli suffer.’

‘Another death.’

‘Yes.’

Tyler’s or Stuart’s?

She said, ‘Sergeant Cantelli and his family, and you, Inspector, have all wondered, even if it is fleetingly, if Johnnie could be involved in this willingly. Is he an accomplice to murder? It’s what I also initially suggested, so others will think it. Has he conspired with someone to capture the other members of the gang, or is he doing this himself and intending to kill the others? The thoughts must be tormenting Sergeant Cantelli.’

She was right, of course. His coffee now lay untouched, growing cold.

‘The killer has made it his business to discover what he can about Sergeant Cantelli’s life and personality. He’s found that he has a nephew with a criminal record, and his sense of injustice is heightened. The sergeant had the gall to help convict him, and yet someone in his own family got away scot-free, as he sees it. Now the killer wants to get even. But whichever scenario, whether justice for an incarcerated loved one, alive or dead, or revenge for himself for being imprisoned, the killer wants to make Sergeant Cantelli suffer, and so he devises a scheme that will put him through the hoops. Sergeant Cantelli will run a gauntlet of emotions starting with concern, developing into worry when Johnnie stays missing. Then comes disbelief and horror when he and others begin to think that Johnnie might actually be conspiring with the killer – or, worse, be the killer himself. And the longer it goes on and the more deaths there are the more anxious Sergeant Cantelli and his family will become. He’ll see his family falling apart as the newspapers and media pick up the story and come to the same conclusion.’

Horton knew that. He felt sick to his stomach. ‘The killer will make sure they do.’

‘Yes. Sergeant Cantelli’s work will suffer. He’ll be moved to another department or go sick. And finally, when the killer thinks Sergeant Cantelli has suffered enough, Johnnie’s body will be found. But even then the killer might make him continue to suffer.’

Horton’s gut tightened. ‘He’ll make it look as though Johnnie killed himself, suicide, unable to face what he’d done.’

She nodded. ‘The police and the coroner might not believe it, but the evidence will leave it open.’

And Horton knew that meant people would continue to ask questions for years to come. People would say
there’s no smoke without fire
. And the Cantelli family and Isabella would suffer for the rest of their lives. This was one hell of an evil bastard.

Grimly, Horton said, ‘What sort of person are we looking for?’

She considered this for a moment before answering. ‘Someone who is clever and very devious. A planner, not a person who acts on impulse; this could be years in the hatching. I would say a loner, or rather someone who feels alone inside even if they surround themselves with acquaintances and friends. They’re still always alone.’

Her last words twisted inside him. That partly described him.

‘Someone who’s been damaged by the experience. He’s deeply hurt and very angry. And that anger is blocking out all reason – or rather I should say the killer will provide reasons for what he is doing, believing them to be just. But of course they can’t be.’

Horton felt uncomfortable with her analysis. It was a little close to him. Yet
he
couldn’t kidnap and kill for revenge. That was the difference, he told himself, between his mission to expose the truth behind his mother’s disappearance and the kidnapper of Johnnie Oslow. But then perhaps the kidnapper had set out not believing he would go as far as he had. Who the devil was it? A question they needed the answer to, and quickly, if they were to save the lives of three young men.

‘You’re probably looking for someone with a paranoid personality disorder,’ she added.

‘Explain that in English.’

‘Someone who is extremely sensitive to insults and rejection. He’s hostile and arrogant, with domineering behaviour. He needs to demonstrate his superiority, so the kidnapping and killing in this ritualistic way fulfils that need. It all helps to bolster his self image.’

And he and Cantelli had met plenty of them in their police career. Now all he needed to do was find the one Cantelli had dealt with. He didn’t know how far back they should look, if, according to Dr Needham, this killer could have been planning it for years. But perhaps Cantelli would recall someone who fitted the profile.

He left after thanking her, feeling even more despondent than when he had arrived, and he hadn’t even asked for the lists of those service personnel she’d referred to Go About as he had intended. But then even with her additional knowledge about the case he knew she would still have refused.

This theory opened up another line of enquiry, and they already had enough of those to follow up. Perhaps Uckfield’s press conference would result in some hard facts, some sightings of Ryan Spencer on the day he was killed.

He made to return to the station but was forestalled by a call. It was Uckfield.

‘We’ve got another body,’ he announced grimly.

Horton’s heart plummeted. ‘Where?’

‘Same place as before, Hilsea Lines, but this time the body’s in the moat at the Airport Service Road end. I’m on my way there now.’

‘Who is it?’ Horton tensed, preparing himself.

‘Don’t know, but the copper who is there says it’s a young man, about early twenties.’

And that fitted three men who were missing: Tyler Godfray, Stuart Jayston and Johnnie Oslow.

H
orton threw a concerned glance at Cantelli as they climbed out of the car in front of bastion number five. Uckfield hadn’t called through with an ID. Horton didn’t know if that was good or bad news. The blue and white police tape left over from Ryan Spencer’s murder was still in evidence, lying limp in the long grass to their left. Fresh tape was stretched across the entrance to the small car park where they’d been admitted by a uniformed officer. Along with two patrol cars was SOCO’s white van, the forensic photographer Jim Clarke’s dark-blue estate and DS Uckfield’s silver BMW. Uckfield had ordered that the whole area be sealed off. It had only been reopened at nine o’clock last night, and the killer must have known this. He certainly hadn’t wasted much time. A small group of workers from Alanco Aviation had come out to see what all the fuss was about, and no doubt one of them would call the newspaper office. Leanne Payne and Cliff Wesley would be here soon.

Cantelli had insisted on coming with him and had been waiting impatiently in the station car park. Horton had said nothing to Cantelli about his visit to Dr Needham. It wasn’t the right moment, and Horton wanted to digest what she’d said and see who they had in the moat first. If it was Johnnie then it blew her theories out of the water anyway.

Cantelli had spoken only once on their way here. ‘I have to know if it’s Johnnie,’ he’d said.

Horton didn’t say that if it was Johnnie then he might not be recognizable. If he’d been killed a week ago and his body dumped in the water then it would be a gruesome sight. But Cantelli would know that anyway. And Horton knew that Cantelli would scour the corpse for some evidence to confirm or deny it was his nephew, something in the physiognomy or in the clothing that would tell him the worst. At least, thought Horton, reaching the summit and staring down at the scene beneath him, they wouldn’t be viewing charred remains, but a water-bloated body was little better.

As they descended he took in the scene spread out before him. Directly beneath them was the salt water moat, where he could see Taylor and his SOCOs at work and Jim Clarke taking photographs. Uckfield, in a scene suit, was sitting on one of the three wooden picnic benches, his mobile phone clasped to his ear. A train screeched across the low railway bridge over the creek on their right where another police officer stood blocking the footpath. It was about an hour and a half to high tide. Horton caught a glimpse of cars on the Eastern Road to his right and beyond that Langstone Harbour and the flat landscape of the western shores of Hayling Island, which made him think of Stuart Jayston.