Czech Mate (5 page)

Sergeant Roy Jakes was eating a Mars bar with relish when Tom entered the large main office. ‘If that's a substitute for lunch you'll be dozy by mid-afternoon,' he observed, sitting beside the desk where Jakes manned his computer.

‘Bob went over to the NAAFI, brought back fish and chips half an hour ago,' came the reassuring reply that set Tom wanting some.

‘Give me the stuff on Treeves. Who sent it in?'

‘You're not going to believe it, sir.'

‘Try me.'

Jakes crushed the chocolate wrapper in his large hand and tossed it in the nearby bin. ‘A certain Herr Haufmann returned with his wife early this morning from an emergency visit to his infirm mother, and discovered an army truck parked well down his driveway out of sight of the road. The cab was empty, as was the interior. Or so he thought, until he spotted in the half-light a bundle in the corner that looked like a roll of carpet.'

‘Our man Treeves?'

‘Inside a sleeping-bag stuffed inside the roll of our carpet. Haufmann initially thought he had a body on his hands, but his wife is a doctor and knew better. She helped Haufmann take him in their house and set about reviving Treeves while her husband called the
Polizei
.' Jakes grinned. ‘They passed the buck very swiftly to us.'

Tom grunted. ‘They're very punctilious when they want out of a tricky problem involving one of ours.'

‘They'll soon be back in the thick of it if what Treeves claims is true,' put in Sergeant Bob Prentiss.

‘So he's back in the land of the aware?'

Bob nodded. ‘We initially attempted to get an ambulance to pick him up, but they're only turning out for emergencies. The Haufmanns found Treeves' explanation hard to accept, so he gave them our number to verify his story. We confirmed the fact that one of our trucks was missing with its driver, and described Treeves as well as giving the reg. number of the vehicle. They then allowed their unwelcome guest to speak to us.'

‘Go ahead and amaze me,' Tom invited.

Roy Jakes referred to his print-out of the conversation. ‘Two men on a motorbike overtook the truck on a long, acute bend which hid the rest of the convoy from view. The bike cut in and skidded, causing Treeves to brake sharply and slew across the road. A guy in a balaclava brandishing a gun appeared from nowhere to climb in the cab and demand the keys. He tossed them to the pillion rider who got behind the wheel, made a three-point turn, and headed back a couple of miles before turning right on to a forest track just wide enough to accommodate the vehicle.'

He glanced up at Tom. ‘Treeves reckons these men knew the forest well. They drove through it like old hands at the game.'

‘I suppose they both had their faces covered.'

Jakes nodded. ‘No hope of future identification.'

‘And Treeves was held at gunpoint throughout?'

‘So he says.'

‘Go on,' said Tom, thinking it sounded like the screenplay of a cheap thriller.

‘They broke from the forest as darkness fell. Treeves says he didn't recognize the road they then travelled for two or three hours before entering a long, tree-lined drive that suggested the approach to a large house. They halted before there was any sign of lights ahead. Treeves then realized there was another truck backing up to his.'

‘That's where the stuff was transferred. I guess three men could do it without much trouble. Did they disable their prisoner then?'

‘When they were ready to drive off. In the darkness he didn't see the blow coming. Next thing he knew he was lying on a sofa with two irate Germans bending over him.'

Tom sighed. ‘Everything points to the hijackers being a local trio. They knew we were on the move yesterday, they knew the forest tracks well, and it's likely they also knew the Haufmann place has a long approach hidden from the road. Ideal for their purpose.' Giving a twisted smile, he said, ‘We'll pass the buck back to Krenkel as fast as his guys passed it to us. They can check the whereabouts yesterday of their known gangs with contacts over the border.'

‘This was a gang with very kind hearts,' put in Prentiss with an angelic expression. ‘They brought along a lovely padded sleeping-bag so their victim would be snug and warm until he recovered.'

‘And they ensured they wouldn't split his skull by coshing him with a sock filled with sand,' added Jakes.

Tom frowned. ‘Say that again?'

‘Herr Haufmann found it in the truck beside Treeves. A socking great sock filled with grit.'

The Medical Officer's sons had contrasting personalities. Ten-year-old James Clarkson was forthright and assured to the brink of arrogance, like his father. His brother Daniel, younger by two years, seemed more deeply affected by last night's drama. He sat quietly, allowing James to answer Max's questions. Mrs Clarkson had taken their teenage daughters to a small Christmas market specializing in hand-crafted tree decorations. The Major sat in on the interview but refrained from interrupting, which somewhat surprised Max.

After breaking the ice with general questions about the party, which of their friends were there and what costumes they wore, Max asked, ‘Do you remember seeing anyone on the steps or in the corridor when you went up to the toilet?'

‘No,' James answered firmly.

‘Not even a distant glimpse?'

‘No.'

‘How about footsteps, the sound of someone who was maybe out of sight?'

‘No, nothing.'

‘Did you notice at what point Kevin left the main hall, how long before you did, for instance?'

‘We were involved in team competitions most of the time.'

‘Or eating pizzas and stuff,' put in Daniel.

Max paused a moment, assessing them before asking carefully, ‘Was there any reason why you went upstairs together, apart from the obvious one?'

The boys exchanged glances with their father, then James said quietly, ‘Dan's a bit nervous of empty corridors. They can look a bit creepy at night. Good thing we were together to find what we did. We thought he was dead. All that blood!'

‘Kevin is going to be fine. I've just seen him in the hospital ward. There was blood because he unfortunately fell on his face, cutting his lip and causing a heavy nose bleed.' Max then broached the crux of his questioning. ‘We think whoever attacked Kevin only meant to frighten him. Now, you both go to school with Kevin. He'll be in a more senior class, but you'll know him well enough to be able to tell me if he's fallen out badly with any other boy. I don't mean a short difference of opinion, more a long-term serious hostility.'

Four dark eyes just gazed back at him, so he elaborated. ‘Has there been trouble over a girlfriend, for instance? Or a dispute over ownership of something reasonably valuable? Mobile phone, iPod?'

Still no response. ‘You can't think of anyone at school who would do that to Kevin as a warning to give up his claim to something?'

James tried to be helpful. ‘You mean had Kev stolen something and refused to give it back?'

Max smiled to soften the moment. ‘I'm sure Kevin wouldn't do that. I just want to find out if anyone at school constantly picks on him. A bully. Leader of a tough group, perhaps.'

‘That wouldn't happen,' James replied with certainty. ‘Kev has cred. He's leader of Swinga Kat.'

Max tried to understand that, then asked, ‘Would you please explain?'

‘He's the lead guitar and vocalist of the group.' Sensing that he was dealing with an old, out-of-touch person here, the boy explained further. ‘Kevin's formed a group with his mates. It's called Swinga Kat. Most of us think they're pretty cool. Even the toughies.' He frowned. ‘I really don't think anyone at school would want to hurt him that way.'

Max changed direction. ‘When you both discovered Kevin you ran immediately to tell Sergeant-Major Fellowes. Did you happen to notice if all the other helpers were still in the main hall?'

‘Not really,' said James frankly. ‘We were upset. We thought he was dead.'

‘Yes, of course. You must feel better now you know Kevin will soon be up and about again.' Max stood. ‘Thank you, boys. You've been very helpful.'

Major Clarkson rose to show him out and closed the door leading from the sitting-room to the hall so they could speak privately. ‘Are you seriously considering an assault by another boy?'

Max turned to him, resenting the scepticism in the doctor's tone. ‘We have to consider every possibility. The weapon could easily be wielded by a lad nearing his teens.'

Clarkson held open the door. ‘I thought you'd know knives are the must-have weapons for schoolboys.'

Max would not let that pass. ‘On the last investigation during which our paths crossed, you accused me of telling you how to do your job and assured me you wouldn't dream of telling me how to do mine.'

Clarkson almost smiled, but not quite. ‘Point taken. I'll be in touch if my boys recall anything useful later.'

Max was halfway down the path when a high voice called to him. Young Daniel stood in the doorway pressing against his father's side.

‘I've just thought,' he said. ‘There
could
have been someone there. A lady could have hidden in their toilets next door, and we wouldn't ever go in there to notice her.'

Smiling at the boy, Max said, ‘I think you've just earned some cred yourself, Daniel. That's a very astute observation.'

Deciding to have lunch, Max called Tom from his car before heading for the Mess. When Tom picked up he asked, ‘Finished with McRitchie?'

‘Not by a long chalk. He's off my list of suspects for the assault, but I don't like his attitude with those girls. Or his callousness towards what happened to his son. I'm at Headquarters, by the way. Treeves has turned up alive and well.'

‘He's there being questioned?'

‘No, sir. He was dumped at the property of an international financial adviser whose wife is a doctor. They found him in the truck early this morning and took him in. He called in from there. I've contacted our boys near the border. They'll pick him up and hand him over to Stubble and Meacher when they manage to push through to them. Driving conditions are very hazardous, so they might have to delay their return until the blizzard dies down.'

‘What's the story, Tom?'

‘Of the cock and bull variety judging by what Treeves told Sergeant Jakes. Without a doubt our stuff's in Holland now, and if Treeves wasn't involved I'm a Dutchman's uncle.'

‘Have you contacted Krenkel?'

‘Just about to, but we can't take it far until we have Treeves here and get a full statement. Any useful info from the Clarkson boys?'

‘Only that Kevin is popular with his peers. We're unlikely to be looking for a school bully on this. I'm more inclined to pursue Beeny's frustrated sex offender theory. The location of the assault lends strength to that, and one could say the weapon has phallic symbolism.'

‘On that, sir, if our two assault cases hadn't occurred miles apart on the same night, I'd say there's a nutter running around with phallic symbols as weapons. Treeves claims he was knocked cold by a sand-filled sock.'

‘Strange coincidence! Maybe they're the latest must-haves. Remind me to tell Major Clarkson. I'm going to grab some lunch before I come over. I want the statements given by the adults attending last night checked over. We should look into their backgrounds.'

‘Some of the team have called in to say they've gone as far as they can on questioning the kids, so they're coming in.'

‘Good. They can work on it. Then we'll consolidate info collected so far and explore the most likely avenues. My guts are hinting that the McRitchie case will prove more complex than it appears.'

‘Just what we need in the run up to Christmas.'

‘It was ever thus in this job, Tom.' He hesitated, then asked, ‘Have you ever heard of something called Swinga Kat?'

‘Of course. Listen to it all the time. It's a pretty cool pop group.'

Aware of the amusement in his tone, Max said, ‘And you're a pretty cool liar, Sar'nt-Major.'

Lunch took the traditional Sunday form expected by British officers. Having been deprived of a late dinner last night, Max decided he deserved the luxury of doing it full justice. The tale of Treeves and the sand-filled sock could wait an extra half an hour.

Gazing through the windows at the madly swirling snow while he enjoyed his soup, Max reflected on Daniel Clarkson's afterthought. Anyone could have hidden in the women's toilet on hearing the brothers approach, then left when they ran for help. An adult male assailant would not have Daniel's scruples about entering a forbidden place. But why leave the weapon there to be tested for fingerprints that would incriminate?

‘Hallo. You're our new mess member, aren't you?'

Max came to from his thoughts to see a young, curvaceous redhead smiling down at him. Her uniform bore two pips on each shoulder and the scarlet duty officer's lanyard. He half rose, but she waggled well-manicured fingers to dissuade him and took the seat facing him.

‘Mind if I join you and get acquainted? I'm Lucy Farmer.'

‘Max Rydal . . . and please do,' he replied, wondering at the stroke of luck that sent to him the subaltern who had helped at the party. Pity she was a possible suspect. She was very easy on the eye.

‘You're with SIB, aren't you? We've never had a detective among us before.'

She had an upper class accent and frank green eyes that reflected her smile. Unfortunately, her overture strengthened his feeling of being on duty even when off duty, living in-mess as he was now obliged to do.

‘I don't detect during meals.' He tried to inject warm humour into the words, but apparently failed.

‘Oh dear, did I sound like a police groupie?'

Her alluring chuckle coaxed a smile from him then. ‘A police groupie! Good God, are there such creatures?'