Backlash (37 page)

‘Goodnight,’ Anna said as the night duty officers set to work and the main lights were lowered. In the centre of the board were the enlarged mug shots of Henry Oates, with his wide
pale eyes, his flattened nose and thick lips, his face dominated by an evil energy of its own. Only a few more days and if everything went according to plan they would be able to take his
photograph down and rip it to shreds.

I
n the darkness of the early morning, the preparations were well under way. The forecast was gloomy and heavy rain was expected, so teams of
officers were being kitted out in protective overalls and boots. The catering wagon ‘Teapot One’ had already opened up. It was very cold and the caterers would be kept busy all day with
so many people to serve. On one side of the quarry there was a vast area of flattened ground, which became the operation’s main base as the vehicles could park up with ease.

Fifty metres from their base was the cavernous quarry pit with many ridges and smaller pits, and a crumbling cliff edge. Officers began to cordon off the area with crime scene tape. Anyone
entering the location would have to show identification. The two sniffer dogs and their handlers remained in their van, and the barking of the animals echoed across the vast quarry.

Mike had commandeered a large tent, inside which there were tables and chairs, and a board propped up on two easels with photographs and maps of the area divided into squares. Four of the search
teams were already exploring the easiest route down to the deep pit. Abseiling equipment, rope ladders and steel extendable ones were being unloaded. A coach with more officers drew up and twenty
men and women alighted to await instructions. The marine support unit van was also on site with two large inflatable dinghies and dredging equipment to search the large water-filled areas at the
lower end of the quarry. The divers were busy putting on their wetsuits and testing the breathing apparatus. Mike gave them the go-ahead to start searching the pond area as soon as they were
ready.

Anna arrived in her Mini and parked beside the coach. Remembering the state of her shoes after her last visit, she was wearing wellington boots and a thick fleece jacket with a hood. She joined
Mike and Barolli for a coffee at the catering wagon just as Mike received a call on his mobile to say that Oates had left the station and was on his way with a large escort. They made their way
over to the big tent and Mike pointed to the map of the wood.

‘We get him here and then, as he says he came up to the quarry from the wooded side, we start from there, let him guide us to where he says he tipped the bodies over. He claims he also
went down into the main pit. How the hell he got down there and back up he’ll have to show us, but it’s bloody steep.’

Anna looked around.

‘I suppose if he’d parked near here someone might have seen him, so coming in via the woods would have been better cover for what he was up to.’

Mike made sure his earphones were working as his phone began to ring constantly. He used a microphone attached to his earpiece to relay messages to the teams, which were still arriving. The
police helicopter,
India 99
, was on standby at its base in Lippitts Hill, Essex, all ready to take off when required, although the thermal image sensor on board would not be of much use
unless Oates had recently buried a body. But even after five years they would be able to identify from the air possible ground disturbances in the open parts of the quarry and the Nitesun
high-powered searchlight would also help the officers on the ground.

‘Is Langton going to show?’ asked Barolli, who’d just arrived.

Anna smiled and said she doubted that he would miss such a big event.

‘Well he should watch out for himself, this place is lethal – there’s potholes everywhere and the clay makes it like an ice rink.’

‘Yeah, but at least the rain is holding off.’

A large tent with rolled-up sides and a tarpaulin floor had also been erected for the forensic team and they were unpacking boxes of equipment inside. At the same time officers from the POLSA
support van began taking out the huge arc lamps.

‘Well it looks like everyone’s here except the star of the show,’ said Barolli. He looked around, impressed: this was a major operation. ‘Eh, look who’s driving up
– his nice shiny BMW’s gonna be caked.’

Adan Kumar was showing his identification to the uniformed officers standing by the cordoned entry to the parking area and was directed to park alongside Anna’s Mini. They watched as he
got out and looked at the ground. He was wearing his cashmere coat and toggled leather shoes.

‘Silly bugger’s not got wellington boots, and it’s a pity we don’t have any extra protective gear to help him out.’ Barolli grinned.

Mike glanced at his watch. ‘He made good time, I only gave him the location an hour ago, woke him up. Mind you, I never mentioned it was gonna be a mud bath.’

They laughed as the elegant Kumar threaded his way across the potholed muddy ground, side-stepping and hesitant. The hem of his beautiful coat was already covered with white splashes of chalk
and he drew it up to avoid a really slithery area as he reached the duckboards set down around the catering van.

‘Do you have any extra boots?’ he demanded.

Mike shook his head and apologized. ‘I regret to say they’re all allocated to the officers. I suggest you sit in your car, Mr Kumar – nothing will be happening for a while, as
we’re waiting for your client.’

Kumar asked for a black coffee and brown toast. He then did a tripping dance back to his car with his breakfast balanced on a paper plate. By now the back of his coat was covered in stains as
well.

‘Well, that’s him out of the way,’ Barolli said and then he looked up.

‘That’s not ours, is it?’

Mike and Anna followed his gaze skywards. A helicopter was making a slow circuit around the perimeter of the pit.

‘It’s not fucking press, is it?’ Mike said angrily.

‘Can’t see, but it’s moving off.’

‘Can we check with air traffic control if there’s clearance? If it’s press it’ll be a bloody pain in the arse.’

‘I don’t think you need permission to fly at certain heights, but it’s moved well off now.’

Their attention was then drawn to the black-out armoured wagon surrounded by police motorcyclists. It was held at the cordon and they saw an officer gesturing for it to drive on towards the
coaches. Behind this was an armed response vehicle, with two armed officers on board. Oates would be handcuffed at all times and the armed guards would be close at hand.

Oates looked clean and well in a police-issue grey tracksuit. He had asked to have a shower and for clean clothing before leaving the station on what he referred to as his big day out. He was
asked to remain in the wagon and given hot chocolate with, as he requested, four teaspoons of sugar. The marine unit had warned that the climb down into the pit would be very hazardous. They had
attached abseiling ropes to deeply buried anchor poles, but it was a steep drop down to the bottom of the quarry. As more ropes, harnessing and descending equipment were laid out it began to look
like a mountaineering expedition. The last vehicle to enter the cordon was an open-backed Land Rover with a high-powered rear winch. The winch was to be fitted with a stretcher and body bag, ready
to be lowered when required. It was also decided that the winch could be used alongside the abseiling ropes to lower officers down into the quarry and speed up the descent time. The forensic
archaeologist had told them that bodies buried in chalk for a year or more would be badly decomposed due to the limestone content, but the bones themselves should remain in good condition. They
felt they had covered every possible problem that could occur and Mike didn’t want any further delays.

It was almost seven when the operation began. Anna and Mike joined the armed officers in their van and were driven along the dirt road leading to the wooded area. They drove
for almost two miles, half the perimeter of the quarry. The officers with Oates radioed back to warn them they were close and to slow down as the prisoner thought he recognized the area where he
had usually pulled over. The wood had become much more dense and they could see that the wired fence had a break in it.

‘This is it,’ Mike told them. He turned to look back as the prison van stopped. Their own vehicle backed up a few yards to halt directly in front of the police wagon, which was now
parked between the armed officers and the backup team of six more men.

Anna and Mike got out, and the armed officers followed as they took their positions by the rear doors of the prison van. Oates had now been given an all-in-one protection suit and wellington
boots.

‘Can you step down, please, Mr Oates.’

Oates, with an officer either side of him, his hands cuffed in front, was helped down the steel steps of the wagon.

‘I was gettin’ claustrophobia in there,’ he said irritably.

Mike apologized and with himself and Anna either side of Oates they all turned towards the ditch and the wood.

‘You see that big tree there, one with the black marks up it?’

They did.

‘That was from me setting light to the Jeep, so I know I’m in the right place, it’s been my marker, but mind the ditch, it’s wider than you think.’

It was. Anna jumped over, and Mike helped Oates steady himself before he too jumped to the other side. Oates stood peering at the trees, then he pointed.

‘Just a bit further up, there’s a gap between two firs.’

They made slow progress as the ground was very uneven, but after a short distance they found themselves on a narrow path covered in thick rotting leaves and branches. There were thick brambles
with sharp thorns on either side, making it necessary to walk in single file. The wood was becoming increasingly dense and Anna was growing suspicious, it seemed impossible that Oates could have
come this way carrying a body.

‘You sure you’re on the right track?’ Mike asked Oates, who was now leading them.

‘Trust me, I can be certain in a few minutes. All right, everyone halt.’

Oates held up his handcuffed arms and everyone behind him stopped. It would have been comical if the reason for their being there hadn’t been so dreadful. Oates turned around, squinting
upwards, but the branches were so dense they could only see glimpses of the sky.

‘No, not yet, forward.’

Mike threw Anna a look and she shrugged.

They continued walking slowly and whether or not Oates knew where he was going they could do nothing but follow in silence. He was like a little sergeant major and obviously enjoying himself as
he kept on stopping and looking up, before ordering them to get going once more.

‘How much further?’ Mike asked.

‘Not sure, but I’m on the right track. I’ll know for certain in a minute. See, the trees are wider apart now.’

It was true, they were. Yet again he stopped and turned around, looking upwards, but then shook his head. On they went for another fifty yards or so before he did the same thing, stopping and
looking upwards. This time he gestured for them to look up.

‘See, I’m right, there in that tree, can you see it?’

‘What are we looking for?’ Mike came close to Oates.

‘Can’t you see it?’

‘I don’t know what I’m looking for.’ Mike was getting tetchy, but Oates lifted both hands to point.

‘It’s up in the big branch that curves over your head.’

‘Is it a ball?’ Anna asked, gazing upwards.

‘No, it’s a riding hat. See, the strap is caught, the chin guard is hooked over a branch and it’s probably full of water by now, but that’s my marker.’

‘How did you get it up there?’ Anna asked.

‘Threw it, of course, chucked it up. I mean, you’d never notice it was there if you didn’t know about it, right?’

They left two officers to get the hat down, while the rest of them walked on.

Oates still led them and gradually the wood began to get less dense and the ground beneath their feet grew soggy. It looked as if at one time a number of trees had toppled into the quarry, as
there were many dangerous roots just waiting to trip someone up and a couple of trunks lay on their sides rotting in the wet clay. There was a shout from behind them and yet again everyone halted.
It turned out to be the officers who had retrieved the riding hat, which they now handed to Anna. The velvet was covered in moss, and inside it was full of cones and broken twigs. She gently rubbed
the moss away from the protective padding and although it was badly faded she could make out the name Rebekka Jordan written in marker pen. She asked one of the officers to take the helmet back to
the forensic tent. Oates was getting impatient. ‘Come on, what are we waiting for?’

The path was now wide enough for Anna and Mike to walk either side of Oates and then it opened up onto flat ground.

‘Watch your step, this is all crumbling, so take it easy cos you slide and you’re going down into the pit,’ Oates warned.

Rather ominously they were now at the edge of the wood overlooking the giant quarry. From their position they could see all their vehicles and men waiting across on the other side of the quarry.
To their right, about two hundred metres away at the lowest part of the old quarry, they could make out the pond area and the marine unit busily working away searching through the cloudy water.

‘Step back, please, Mr Oates.’ Mike was concerned he would jump and kill himself, but he laughed.

‘You’ll have to get a bit closer, pal. Look down and you’ll see a ledge, it’s about twelve feet down, then there’s another one below that, and then it’s free
fall to the bottom.’

Oates was not at all out of breath and made a gleeful point of telling everyone that he was more athletic and fitter than any of them. He indicated where he had slithered over the sloping side
of the quarry.

‘I was shit-scared, I admit it, cos it was pitch-black and I didn’t know if I was done for, but I was on me back as I slid and I almost dropped her. I had her by the hair and we just
came to a stop. Got to remember I had the shovel in me hands as well.’