Authors: Huw Thomas
Friday, 4.08pm:
Harper was still arguing with Brendan when Cash arrived. The artist strode into Brendan’s flat with brisk enthusiasm and a sardonic salute. He had abandoned the grey cloak of the previous day in favour of a tattered black leather jacket, torn combat fatigues and paint-spattered Doctor Marten’s boots. With his greying hair swept back and hawkish features, he looked like an ageing punk.
Cash looked around curiously, taking in the room and both occupants. Brendan nodded at the artist warily.
‘Paul,’ said Harper. ‘This is my friend, Brendan Teague.’
Cash grinned. ‘Oh yes, the photographer. I remember you well.’
Brendan’s smile was sheepish in response. ‘Ah, you may have the advantage of me there, Mr Cash. Some of my recollections of last time we met are, shall we say, a bit lost in the mist.’
Harper raised his eyebrows. ‘You’ve met before?’
Cash gave him a sly look. ‘You don’t remember?’
Harper frowned then nodded. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘The party. You told me about it the other morning.’
‘Yes.’ Brendan gave a sigh, lost in the regret of good times gone. ‘Now that one must surely be in the running for being the mother of all parties. I’d be surprised if anyone can remember the night well.’ He shrugged and gave a sheepish grin. ‘I hope we didn’t behave too disgracefully, Mr Cash.’
The artist smiled. ‘No, I’d say you behaved suitably disgracefully, Mr Teague. I doubt if anyone present would have been offended and the two of you certainly kept quite a few people entertained. Some of your routines were quite an eye-opener.’
Brendan shook his head. ‘I’m not sure I want to know too much more.’
‘Well,’ said Cash. ‘You’re probably fairly safe. I don’t imagine many people were sober enough to recall what went on. I won’t say any more and your partner in crime here apparently isn’t the same person anyway.’
Brendan gave Harper a sideways glance and nodded.
Cash pulled out a chair from the dining table and sat down backwards, resting his arms across the back. ‘So?’ he said.
Brendan looked surprised. ‘Er … a cup of tea or would you prefer something stronger?’
The artist grinned. ‘That wasn’t actually what I was implying but a coffee would be good if you’re putting the kettle on. What I meant was, what plan have you two come up with?’
‘Ah,’ said the photographer. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’ He glanced again at Harper and made his exit to the kitchen.
Harper gave a wry smile. He leant back against the windowsill. ‘We hadn’t got very far. I was trying to come up with a plan but Brendan’s a bit wary of getting involved. I’m not sure he believes me about Van Hulle.’
‘I didn’t say that,’ came a voice from the kitchen. Brendan poked his head around the corner. ‘It’s just… well, to me it seems more like the sort of thing we should leave to the police. I mean, it’s not as if we’ve got any proof or anything.’
Harper scowled. ‘But that’s what we need to find.’
Brendan shrugged: unconvinced. He disappeared back into the kitchen and they heard a clattering as the photographer began to wash a couple of the mugs stacked beside the sink.
‘And how do you propose to find your proof?’ asked Cash languidly.
‘That’s the problem. The police didn’t find a body in the sewer off Smith Street, so pointing them down there didn’t work. If there had been someone there, they would still be all over the place and it would probably be on the news by now. I’m not sure there’s anything else I can safely do to point them in the right direction.’
Cash raised his eyebrows. ‘So what do you know about what happened. And how did the police get onto Van Hulle?’
Harper shook his head and pulled a face. ‘Well, like I told you yesterday, everything started with the accident at the Kavanaugh Centre site. A wall collapsed and they found Stacey Cole’s body buried inside. The wall gave way the Sunday before last. The bizarre thing is, Brendan says I wrote a news story that ended up disrupting work on the site and putting it back a couple of weeks.’ He looked uncomfortable. ‘They’ve only just finished preparations for the wall now. I’m assuming that if I hadn’t interfered maybe the same thing would have happened again.’
He closed his eyes, trying to recall the sequence of events. ‘They found the body on the Monday morning during the clear-up operation. Van Hulle was arrested the next day but I’m not certain how they linked him to the murder. There was some connection to the security firm guarding the site. The police went to their offices and were going through all sorts of stuff. Maybe there was CCTV footage or something.’
Cash nodded. ‘But you said there were other bodies? How many?’
Harper looked uncertain. ‘I can’t remember for definite. It was an absolutely massive story. First there was just this one body. Then the police arrested Van Hulle. It came out a couple of days later, on the Thursday I think, that they were investigating the disappearance of a number of other women.’ He exhaled and shook his head. ‘That’s when it started to get really huge media attention. A whole load of places across the city were cordoned off and police investigations were going on all over the place. They weren’t giving much away but it sounded like Van Hulle was going to turn out to be another Fred West or Yorkshire Ripper.’
He shook his head. ‘There was something odd about the police statements too. They said a person had been arrested in connection with the murder of Stacey Cole and they were investigating a number of other cases involving missing women. And they confirmed Van Hulle had been arrested but… how did they put it? It was something like “the person known as Isaiah Van Hulle”.’
Harper shrugged. ‘There was much more going on than the police were letting on. They were being even more tight-lipped than usual. I don’t know for definite if they had actually found more bodies at that stage. We were told about Stacey Cole and we picked up rumours the other missing women were prostitutes. There was certainly a forensic team at work in the sewer off Smith Street; that’s why I thought that was where there was another body. They’d sealed off Van Hulle’s offices and his home, plus the security firm.’ He bit one of his thumbs and frowned, trying to remember. ‘I wasn’t dealing with the story direct. Tony Wright was organising the reporters; we had practically everyone working on the story. I wasn’t working at the weekend and the last update I got was on Friday afternoon. I think the police had sent teams to a couple of other locations but I can’t remember for definite where they were. I think one was out near the hospital.’
Harper sighed. ‘Trouble is: things have obviously happened differently here. We know something’s going on. That’s clear enough from what Nelson Cole has said. But if Van Hulle doesn’t know anyone’s onto him, he could still be snatching women off the street. We don’t even know for certain whether Stacey Cole is dead in this world. He might still have her and be looking for somewhere to dispose of her body. And although things here haven’t taken place in the same way, we do know that Stacey Cole
has
disappeared. And if Van Hulle is looking for somewhere to get rid of her, or any other woman, the Kavanaugh site has got to be a prime contender. He chose it once, he may well choose it again.’
Cash nodded. ‘And so?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Harper. ‘There’s not much point saying anything to the police. If there’s nothing there, they’re not going to just sit and wait for something to happen. They want to question me already and I can hardly tell them what I’ve told you. We need to have some kind of evidence; then perhaps I can go to the police. That’s why I think the Kavanaugh site is the obvious one to try. Me and Brendan talked about staking it out, hiding down there with a camera, but I don’t think he’s convinced.’
Cash nodded. ‘It could be a long wait. And what if your killer uses somewhere else to dump the body? If there is another body.’
‘My point exactly.’ Brendan’s voice came over the sound of the boiling kettle.
‘But, the thing is,’ said Harper. ‘If he follows the same method, I know where on the site he’s going to hide the body. And if he’s going to use the same spot, he’ll have to do it soon or otherwise it’s going to be built over.’
‘And what if he uses somewhere else entirely?’ called Brendan.
‘Ah, but,’ said Cash, switching sides of the argument without missing a beat, ‘if there’s a spot he’s picked as ideal once before, the chances are he’d choose it again. And if he were going to dump a body, it would have to be when the site isn’t in operation. And he’s unlikely to do it in daylight. It’s Friday now. The next three nights would seem ideal.’
‘Exactly,’ said Harper.
‘And why not Monday night? Or Tuesday night? Or Wednesday night?’ added Brendan’s voice. ‘Or somewhere completely different?’
‘Hmm.’ Cash tilted his head to one side. ‘He’s got a point? Any other ideas?’
Harper smiled. ‘Well there is one other option.’
‘What’s that?’
He shrugged. ‘Well it was partly your idea. You said something last night about rattling Van Hulle’s cage. I suggested to Brendan we go and call on him. Say we’re investigating reports of women being abducted and murdered and that his name has come up. Try and interview him for the paper and see how he reacts.’
Brendan reappeared in the doorway, steaming mugs in his hands. ‘I told him it’s crazy. The boy got himself beaten around by some dodgy characters on Wednesday night when he tried to do a bit of late-night snooping. Now the police are looking for him this afternoon and he still wants to go waltzing into the offices of some property developer accusing him of being a mass murderer.’
Harper shook his head. ‘I didn’t say I was going to accuse him of anything. I just want to see if I can rattle him.’
Cash smiled. ‘Sounds a fine idea to me. Can I come?’
Friday, 4.20pm:
Cole nodded at Harrison. They were back in the city councillor’s office but this time with Harrison behind the desk. It was starting to grow dark but neither man made any move to turn on the lights in the room. A hazy glow from the lights in the corridor outside filtered through a series of glass panels in the dividing wall. Shapes passing in the corridor hinted at the gradual drifting away of staff as the weekend exodus began. The door to the office was shut.
‘That’s it?’ asked the redhead in a low but unsatisfied tone.
Harrison spread his hands apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, Nelson,’ he said softly. ‘I really am. And like I said, I’ll keep listening. I’ve got a few people who will let me know if they hear anything else but well… for the time being…’ The councillor’s groomed features gave an exaggerated wince and he leant forwards, sympathy oozing. ‘Trust me: if anything else comes up, anything at all, I’ll call you straight away.’
Cole pursed his lips. ‘Can’t you give me the name of your contact?’
Harrison smiled at the suggestion. ‘No,’ he said slowly, ‘I don’t think so.’ He shrugged. ‘It wouldn’t make any difference anyway. The man’s told me what he can. He’s got nothing to hide. This is… his business. He doesn’t want anything messing that up. If he knew more, he’d tell me. If you speak to him, whether you offer him more money or try and put the fear of Christ into him, you’re not going to learn anything else.’
The other man exhaled with slow resignation. ‘Okay. Got to be grateful for small mercies, I suppose.’
Harrison nodded. ‘Something like that.’
Cole sat for a moment, his hands clenching and unclenching. ‘Not much to go on is it?’
‘No.’ Harrison leant back and folded his hands behind his head. ‘I guess it’s not. Four names and half a description of a van? Doesn’t add up to much.’
Cole sighed. He looked weary. As the days passed, the strain was starting to show. His sister was his only family and the thought of what may have happened to her was corrosive: an acid eating away at his emotions, his esteem and his control. He ran a hand slowly through the curls on his head; the fingernails that raked across his scalp ragged and bitten to shreds. He pushed himself away from the desk and went to stand up.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I guess I should say thanks. You’ve done what you can. More than I can say for some who claimed to be my friend.’
Harrison lent forwards again. ‘Hey, you’ve never done me any harm, Nelson. I’ve got every sympathy for you, I really have. I’ll do what I can. If anything else comes up, I’ll let you know and if you want anything else just ask.’
Cole smiled briefly. ‘Thanks. Likewise.’
He stood and walked toward the door, his posture that of a fighter who had just taken a beating. The ex-dancer was about to open the door when Harrison suddenly slapped the desk in remembrance.
‘Oh. Nelson. One other thing.’
‘What’s that?’ Cole turned swiftly, his response quick.
Harrison held out a hand, an apologetic look on his face. ‘Sorry, nothing to do with your sister. Just something I found out. Wondered if you’d heard anything.’
Cole wandered a couple of paces back into the room, the interest fading from his features. ‘What’s that then?’
‘Isaiah Van Hulle. You know him?’
The redhead’s eyes narrowed and he stilled: his focus on Harrison suddenly sharp. ‘Van Hulle? What about him?’
Harrison noted the change in attitude but didn’t comment. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I ran up against him in a business matter and decided to do a bit of digging: try to check him out a bit.’
Cole still had not moved and Harrison had the impression the other man had not blinked or drawn breath either. ‘And?’
‘Sit down again, Nelson.’ The councillor gave a cagey smile. ‘I wasn’t even sure whether you knew him. But something tells me the name Van Hulle is ringing a few bells. Something you want to tell me?’
Cole remained silent. He frowned at Harrison and then moved back to the desk. The redhead took hold of the back of the chair he had been sitting in a few moments before but remained standing. As he leant forwards and stared at Harrison, the councillor could not help noticing the veins standing out in his visitor’s neck and the tic that had appeared on his temple.
‘Nelson, please.’ He smiled with a slight unease. ‘Sit down, I’ll tell you what I can. Like I said, I’m on your side. If this has any connection with your sister, tell me for God’s sake.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘God knows I’m no friend of Van Hulle’s. Any enemy of his is a dear friend of mine.’
Cole blinked and gave a quick apologetic smile. He pulled the chair back out and sat down again. ‘Sorry, John, you took me by surprise, my friend.’ He nodded slowly and spread his hands. ‘It’s just there may be somethin’ that connects Van Hulle with this business. It’s no more than a rumour at the moment, which is why I didn’t say anythin’ to you. Fact is, I’d almost forgotten about it. But then you go and mention his name. But not connected you’re sayin’?’
Harrison smiled, not believing for an instant that Cole had forgotten anything relating to the matter. Wondering what else the redhead knew, he shrugged. ‘Not connected as far as I know.’
‘So what’s up?’
‘Well,’ said Harrison. ‘It’s all a bit odd. Background is: I’ve had a couple of run-ins recently. Legitimate business: some property deals I’m involved in.’
‘Legit eh?’
‘Well.’ Harrison grinned. ‘Let’s say they’ll be fine as long as no one checks the paperwork too carefully. Anyway, there are a couple of bits of property I’ve been trying to get my hands on: land that’s apparently on the market. But I keep running into little obstacles.’ He shrugged. ‘Now, I’ve been around a bit and you get used to the fact that things don’t always run as smoothly as you’d hope. But this is different. Someone’s been actively making life tricky, trying to block deals.’
Cole nodded. ‘Aimed at you in particular?’
Harrison shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. Now, I’m not totally thick-skinned. I know Van Hulle can’t stand me. Stupid prick always acts polite. He couldn’t bring himself to actually be rude. But you can see it in his eyes; he looks at me as if I’m something he’s found under a stone. I’m sure that on the police authority he sometimes votes against me on a matter of principle. But I’m not sure this is personal. I’ve got a feeling he’s trying to protect these bits of land from anyone else. I presume he’s got plans for them but isn’t in a position to move at the moment so he’s trying to stop anyone else doing anything.’
Cole nodded, his expression giving nothing away. ‘So what’s unusual about that?’
Harrison smiled. ‘Nothing. That’s just the background. You see, it took me a while to work out who was behind my problems and, to be honest, I was going on a bit of a hunch when I pinned it on the Dutchman. But, a few things pointed at Van Hulle. So I decided to do a bit of digging.’
He chuckled to himself. ‘He always comes across as such a fucking holy man! He’s so dull and worthy I wanted to see if he had any skeletons in his cupboard. He’s not married and he always acts like some kind of martyr or saint. I was hoping I’d find out he was the kind who fiddled with boy scouts or something like that. Or went off to Thailand to have sex with underage girls.’ Harrison gave a slightly embarrassed grin. ‘You know the kind of thing.’
Cole’s shoulders twitched. ‘I know what you’re sayin’. And where you’re comin’ from. It’s the ones who act the holiest that are sometimes the really evil fuckers.’
‘Yeah, exactly,’ said Harrison. ‘Anyway, I got this guy to do some investigating. Started off local, trying to get a bit more of an idea of how our friend operates. Didn’t turn up much, although the Dutchman’s got a few business interests I wasn’t aware of previously. Most interesting one is Vigil Site Security.’
‘Vigil?’ Cole frowned. ‘I used them for a couple of my studios for a while. That was a while back though.’
‘Yeah?’ Harrison smiled. ‘Well Vigil belongs to the Dutchman. It’s not something I’ve ever heard him mention but Companies House has got him listed as the main man.’ The councillor gave a nasty grin. ‘As you might have gathered, I never trusted all his holier-than-thou talk. I mean, he goes on about his building firm and all the social housing and community projects he’s involved in as if he was doing it all out of the goodness of his heart. To listen to him, you’d think he was running a charity. But Vigil Security, they’re not exactly social enterprise are they?’
Cole snorted. ‘No. They were cheap but they weren’t much fuckin’ good. Some right shifty characters on their books too: most of them seemed to have hardly enough brain cells to rub together.’
‘Right.’ Harrison nodded. ‘But the interesting thing about Vigil is the number of jobs they’ve got looking after development sites. They’ve got contracts all over the city and I reckon that’s why Van Hulle set them up.’
Cole’s eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well,’ said Harrison. ‘Vigil work cheap; they’re always undercutting other security firms. Which means they get most of the contracts to look after the big redevelopment sites. They do the old Pine Mill Warehouses, the Kavanaugh Centre, Caledonia Barracks: loads of places. Plus they look after a lot of building sites, although never ones run by Van Hulle’s firm. There’s got to be some reason he’s running an outfit like that. I reckon he uses them to get information, find out what his rivals are up to, that kind of thing.’
Harrison leant back and grinned. ‘But Vigil isn’t the most interesting thing I turned up about Isaiah Van Hulle, not by a long chalk.’
Cole raised his eyebrows. ‘No?’
‘No. You see, as well as doing a bit of digging locally, it occurred to me it may be worth seeing if there was anything back home in Holland our Mr Van Hulle wanted to forget.’ He shrugged. ‘It could have been anything. To tell the truth, I just wanted to get on his case a bit. I wanted to be able to prove he wasn’t as holy as he made out. The idea wasn’t even necessarily to tell anyone else. Just so long as he knew that
I
knew he was a fake.’
Cole’s eyes closed briefly. ‘And?’
‘Well,’ said Harrison, reluctant to spoil the story by getting to the point. ‘I’ve got a friend based in Amsterdam I do some business with from time to time. He’s got some contacts and I asked him to see if he could dig up any background on Van Hulle. I thought if he was a bit dodgy, he might have a police record in Holland. Even if it was something he’d done as a kid. Or he’d got some girl pregnant and done a bunk. Even getting chucked out of school would have done.’
‘And?’ The impatience in Cole’s tone was more obvious this time.
Harrison smiled. ‘Thing is, our man doesn’t seem to exist.’
‘Huh?’
The councillor shrugged. ‘Well, perhaps the information we’ve got is wrong but something about Van Hulle’s past doesn’t add up.’ He gave a shark’s grin. ‘I haven’t put all the pieces together but there’s definitely something dodgy about our sainted Dutchman and I’ve got a suspicion it’s going to turn out to be better than I ever hoped.’ He chuckled. ‘I mean, you don’t fake your background unless you’ve got something bad to hide.’
Cole shook his head. ‘You’ve lost me there, John. What do you mean he doesn’t exist?’
‘There’s no such person as Isaiah Van Hulle.’
‘What?’
Harrison grinned. ‘Exactly what I said. There’s no such person as Isaiah Van Hulle. At least not according to the facts our Dutchman claims are true.’
‘Explain.’
‘Well.’ Harrison pulled a guilty face. ‘One way and another I managed to see a few bits of Van Hulle’s personal records. Date of birth, place of birth: that kind of thing. And, according to these papers: things he’s signed as being the truth; he’s supposed to come from a little place called Buren out on the Frisian Islands. Thing is, the Dutch are pretty good at keeping records. And the name Isaiah Van Hulle is conspicuous by its absence.’
Cole frowned. ‘Nothing?’
Harrison shook his head. ‘Not completely. You see: there was a family called Van Hulle lived there at the right time. But they only had one child and it wasn’t called Isaiah.’
‘That doesn’t prove much,’ said Cole. ‘He could have changed his name. Maybe Isaiah’s a nickname or somethin’ like that.’
Harrison smiled. ‘That was my thought too. But you see, this child was born on the right day. And it had the right initial. But it wasn’t called Isaiah, it was called Inge.’
Cole frowned. ‘Inge?’ he said slowly. ‘Isn’t that…?’
Harrison nodded. ‘Yep. Inge is a girl’s name and that’s what the authorities recorded the child as.’ He grinned. ‘So I reckon our Dutch friend isn’t who he claims. I reckon he’s done something pretty dodgy somewhere in the past. Which is why he’s left Holland. And, to cover his tracks, he’s taken someone else’s name. Trouble is, he made a mistake. Maybe he was in too much of a hurry or maybe someone sold him a false identity without checking it out properly. He’s taken a girl’s identity. Which proves he can’t be who he claims to be.’
Harrison laughed and leant back. He looked triumphant. ‘Now all I need to do is find out who he really is and what he’s done. Then I’ll have the bastard by the balls. And believe me, when I know what I need to know, I’ll squeeze them so tight I’ll make him scream.’