Wilderness (Arbogast trilogy) (12 page)

“How can we find the girl, who did you deal with? Mary Clark told us that you wanted her to meet with you on the night your daughter disappeared. Who was she going to meet?” Arbogast could sense he wouldn’t have much more time, he needed answers.

“It was supposed to be me but I could not leave the club that night – it was too busy. I tried to believe me, but they would not allow it. I had agreed with Mary that her husband could help, that they hide my daughter somewhere. Mary said she had a safe place. Somewhere that could not be found. I trusted her Mr Arbogast. You must help me.”

Arbogast thought for a second. There was something he could sense, something she knew that could help them. He grasped the phone tighter and then it came to him. “Hanom does Kovan have a mobile phone? I think I saw her with a handset at the bus station but I couldn’t make it out at first. The footage was grimy but she held something, could it have been a phone?”

“I don’t know. She’s too young to have a phone. She didn’t have one at home but maybe Mary gave it to her to get in touch with me?” There was a rattle on the phone, the sound of a hand being put over the receiver.

“Hanom, HANOM. Are you still there?”

Her voice returned, distracted, “I am sorry I must go, find my husband,” and she was gone.

Arbogast stared into space.

“Well that was food for thought,” Rosalind said, “John and Mary Clark were tasked with hiding the child in a secure place. They played us well didn’t they?”

Arbogast bit his lower lip as he chewed things over, “It would seem so. I’ll need to get the Home Office to confirm the husband’s address if they haven’t already got back.”

“No they haven’t – not so far. It seems he’s moved about a bit. The address they have is out of date.”

“I think we’re going to have to play a little game of Mr and Mrs. I’ll phone the hospital and let them know we’re on the way.  Get DS Reid to do her family liaison bit, but make sure she’s got someone else with her. We might need to bring him in but we’ll grab him for a chat first.” He smiled and looked up, a wide grin spreading over his face, “At last, something to go on.”

He didn’t buy that Mary and John would kidnap a child to raise as their own but he thought he was starting to see the bigger picture thanks to his brief conversations with Hanom, and he knew that he would need to try and find her. He sent her a text on the phone which he assumed would be switched off now. It would help them to have a decent picture of her and he asked her to send one if she could – even a copy of a physical photo taken on the mobile would be better than nothing. He thought it might also be time for a raid on the club. His mind was racing with the possibilities the case now offered when his day took a completely unexpected turn. PC Frank Simmons knocked on the door to tell them that Stevie Davidson had been found.

Amid the furore and the public soul searching about how a known sex offender could have been allowed to drive a public bus, why psychologists hadn’t picked up on this or that, years ago, emerged the latest version of the truth. As search parties scoured the country looking for Stevie Davidson he hadn’t managed to travel more than half a mile. The discovery had been made by a cub TV reporter at the Kirk o’ Shotts who had, in a careless moment, slid on an ice patch and knocked over both his camera and cameraman, causing all three to tumble to the ground. As the cameraman tried to get his breath back, sitting spread eagled and wet arsed in the snow he felt his hands find the rim of what he thought was a rock. The combined 30 stone collision had displaced a lot of snow and was to make an even bigger impact on the case. Around two hours later the forensics team had uncovered the body of Stevie Davidson who had been lying face down in the snow. His neck was broken and it was assumed he had fallen from the bell tower, which would explain the break-in and the open door above. Stevie had lain there undiscovered while the snow had continued to fall, masking all that had happened in its wake. In the next 12 hours all the snow around the church and its graveyard was removed with expectations that the girl’s body would be the next to be uncovered. But despite the hours of manpower and extensive searching nothing more was found.

Part 2

12

Istanbul, Turkey, June 4
^th
2003

Stopping at the kiosk to buy water and magazines Hanom made her way to Sultanahmet Park. She had no plans other than to enjoy what was turning out to be a fine summer’s day. It would soon be noon, meaning the call to prayer would sound out across the city, but the thought did not stay with her long. Hanom had become preoccupied with plans to celebrate her 18
^th
birthday a week today. That and the small matter of what she planned to do with the rest of her life. Hanom wanted to become a lawyer but medicine was also an option. She had excelled at school and gained top marks in her exams but she wanted to wait and see something of the world before going back to study at University.
‘So much to do and so much time ahead of me,’
she thought,
‘what can’t I do?’
Hanom took her cold water from her bag and as she screwed the top off she counted the number of times she could hear the tiny plastic slivers giving way. Someone had told her once that if you heard thirteen clicks it was a lucky bottle but as usual she couldn’t keep count, it all happened too fast. She smiled as she drank, knowing that in about an hour the water would be warm from the day’s heat and so she decided to enjoy the moment while it lasted. As Hanom sat and thought of her future she also basked in the city’s past. From the peace of the park Hanom looked over at the Blue Mosque, a building she loved. As a child Hanom imagined the Mosque’s six towering minarets as rockets aimed at an unseen enemy. ‘You have quite an imagination child,’ her mother would say, ‘but try to stay in the here and now.’ Her mother was traditional in every sense of the word and had raised her daughter at home while her husband toiled long hours at the family business. She was planning to visit her father at the Grand Bizarre later in the day to surprise him.

“I wonder if he realises I am not made for his world?” she said, thinking out loud.

As she pondered her imagined life, a voice from behind cut through her daydreaming

“Talking to yourself – perhaps you’d like some company?”

Hanom thought she recognised the voice but when she turned she was blinded by the sun and had to raise a hand to shield her eyes to try and make out who it was. As her vision adjusted she could see that it was the Kocack brothers, who she knew as family friends through her father’s business. Onur and Karim were immediately recognisable as brothers, although separated by a year in age they looked very much alike. Hanom knew that Onur worked as some kind of engineer and was only too happy to bore you to death with his underground tales from the city’s new Metro network. Hanom thought Karim a different prospect altogether and was impressed by the fact that he had travelled, which was something she wanted to do more than anything else in the world and the sooner the better. She would listen intently, hanging on every word as Karim recounted in vivid detail his trips to Thailand and America which always sounded so exciting. When she spoke to Karim she felt that she wanted to leave Istanbul that very day and jump on the next flight out, but of course so far she hadn’t.

“Ah the mysterious Kocack brothers,” she said as her eyes adjusted to the bright midday sun, “what brings you here today?”

Onur began to answer but was cut off by Karim, which was just the way Hanom preferred it. “We are celebrating today my dear Hanom and what a day of celebration it will be – fine dining and the best of the city.” he said, his arms spread wide as if he had taken to the stage, causing Hanom to giggle. Onur said that his brother was fuller of himself than usual as he’d just landed a new job.

“A new job brother but you don’t tell the whole story,” Karim turned and winked at Hanom.

“He is jealous as I make much more money than he does now – 100,000 lira a year to do with as I please.”

Hanom was impressed, “And what do you need to do to earn this princely sum?”

“I am to be the personal assistant of one Mr Eser Ozan – you may have heard of him?” Hanom certainly had. Eser Ozan had a reputation as a rising businessman, tipped to join the Turkish elite but his reputation was mired in scandal and it was widely rumoured he operated in partnership with the city’s organised crime network.

“Is that a good idea Karim?” Hanom knew her friend had been wild in his younger days. Karim had once put a man in hospital after being insulted at a party. His actions had landed him in serious trouble but Hanom imagined she knew what kind of man he really was and that violence was not in his nature. Karim always treated Hanom like a sister and she was content to see him happy.

“Oh don’t believe the gossips Hanom,” Karim said, laughing, “Mr Eser is going places and so am I. He invests in the Metro that Onur here has been toiling so hard over. One day soon I’ll be paying my brother’s wages, isn’t that so?” Onur was clearly unconvinced.

“One day at a time brother. One day at a time.”

Hanom was lifted by these little confrontations. She always felt the two were in some way competing for her attention although nothing had ever come of it. She wondered if she would mind if one of them made a pass. All three had known each other for about ten years and it seemed odd to Hanom to think of the brothers as people who might feature in her love life. She blushed at the thought of it and was caught out immediately.

“Ah but Hanom you are turning red in the sun, you must remember to protect that beautiful face of yours. But we must leave now. Until next time,” Karim said, turning to leave with a wave, leaving Hanom to her thoughts once more. She hadn’t noticed but the fountain had come on in the pond and her small world now seemed more alive than ever before. Hanom made a mental note to make sure Karim would be able to make it to her birthday party. Of course she would have to ask Onur too as it would be far too obvious just to ask Karim to come alone.
‘I am a lady after all.’
As she picked up her water to feast on another burst of fresh cool water Hanom didn’t even notice that the bottle was warm. Hanom did not know it yet but her world had already changed forever.

Bishopton, Scotland, February 20
^th
2010

Eric Sanderson did not know what to make of the discovery of Stevie Davidson’s body. The initial press reports suggested his death had been accidental. It seemed that Stevie had broken into the church and taken refuge in the bell tower before somehow falling to his death. It didn’t make sense. Eric was sure the truth would emerge before too long but he was feeling particularly agitated today. He had been getting angry at the slightest of things. Earlier for no good reason he had smashed a chair off the floor after dropping his laptop. He had been surfing the internet looking for more information on the news sites. There was no doubt the stress of the last few days were starting to get to him.
‘Stevie bloody Davidson, what good ever came of you?’
Eric locked his caravan door and made his way to the Range Rover. He looked over at the house and wondered if it hadn’t changed shape again, dipped deeper into its own foundations. His reference point was the TV aerial which was no longer standing straight up but leaned over to one side, and the more it dipped the more anxious he became. As he drove Eric decided he would try to put the investigation to the back of his mind. He hadn’t taken any time off work as he knew this week was going to be an important one at the wind farm. They had reached a delicate part of the process which would require blasting through solid granite, which eventually would form a level base for a 400 foot turbine. He had been surprised at how much he loved the work. Having spent 20 years on the farm he had found he had hidden talents and getting involved with the Madoch Group had been a godsend. The fact that he had money to invest had of course helped his cause. Mr Madoch had been keen to speak to him after he knew the colour of his money. Eric Sanderson had fallen in love with wind power. With expertise in the area from his own small scale effort he had been immediately taken on and was now a senior partner in Moorland Wind, which was majority owned by the Madoch Group. The past no longer mattered, or at least it hadn’t until that copper had turned up and that bloody boy had died. Eric Sanderson cursed the turn in his fortunes as he turned off the M77 and onto the newly laid tarmac road which marked the start of the Moorland Wind site.

The wind farm was already amongst the biggest in the UK with 99 turbines erected and with another 150 to follow. Eaglesham Moor was a bleak and blasted place, with few plus points save for its one abundant asset – the wind. The site office, and Eric Sanderson’s base for the next eighteen months, was a series of drab grey portacabins which had been formed into an onsite village. There was a fully functioning canteen, which catered for the 215 people working there. Once the project was completed there would only be a handful left to maintain the turbines but before that there was land to be cleared and turbines to be erected. Despite everything that was going on around him it was this task that occupied Sanderson as he pulled up outside his office.

“Hi Gill, anything I need to know?” His secretary gave him an accusatory glance as she surveyed the mounds of snow Eric had brought in from the short journey from car to office and then proceeded to scrape off on the carpet.

“Nothing that’s not in your diary, although the weather looks likely to have delayed any blasting we might have planned. Also your partner in crime is running late.”

Eric Sanderson shared the hut with Onur Kocack, a Turkish businessman Mister Madoch had brought in from Turkey on a personal recommendation. He had a first class degree from the Teknick Universitesi in Istanbul and had years of experience working on the Istanbul Metro system. Eric thought they were lucky to have him. Onur seemed distant at times and his English sometimes left a lot to be desired but there was no doubting his value to the operation. Looking at his mobile Eric noticed that Onur had sent him a text saying he was due in half an hour and that they had ‘serious business to discuss’. Eric Sanderson cleared his mind and tried to focus on the day ahead.