The five o’clock shadow on Gordon Stokes’ elongated jaw looked as though it had been there for more than a day. His trouser bottoms were half-mast, khaki uniform socks prominent.
When Sasha learnt that Point had gone for the day, she had no option but to explain her concerns for the safety of an inmate.
‘Unlikely anyone’s here now, given visiting hours are over.’
‘Can you check, please? Trevor Thomas.’
Stokes tapped a keyboard, a single finger circling like a predatory eagle, ready to dive. Sasha saw him stumble over the password, getting the entry wrong. Finally, ‘No visitors here outa hours, specially for lifers,’ he said.
‘Forget about ordinary visitors then,’ said Sasha impatiently. ‘Is there anyone else?’
Stokes frowned as he punched a couple of keys. ‘Computer says a Mr Battersby saw Thomas, with the super’s approval.’
‘Battersby,’ muttered Sasha. The name on the paper in Albertson’s living room. Sasha could hear laughter in a nearby room and the smell of pizza wafted into her nostrils. Then it came to her. The ads in the paper: Battersby was the name behind the AFR initiative. Ron’s words in her mind: Overall I’m down nearly two hundred grand to bloody Thomas & Donaldson.
Could Albertson be Battersby? ‘Is there any video of this visitor?’
Stokes thrust out his jaw. ‘Not easy to organise. No good reason to do that.’
‘I can give you two. One, you have a prisoner whose life is in danger. It’s one thing for prisoners to suffer assaults from other prisoners on the inside. It’s quite another if you’ve let an outsider in to cause harm.’
Stokes’ bottom lip came out as he considered the possibilities. This idiot would lose a sprint race with a lamppost.
‘Second reason?’ he asked.
Her irritation levels rising, Sasha replied, ‘You have at least one, if not two people wandering around here unaccounted for. That’s an obvious potential breach, if not an actual threat to your security.’
Stokes stared at Sasha. Again, no obvious impact. ‘And how do you fit into this?’ he asked.
‘I’m a barrister. I do work out here from time to time. But for now my role is to determine whether people like you freeze like road kill, or whether they act as they’re paid to in potentially threatening circumstances. Or indeed, whether they put their end-of-day socialising ahead of everything else.’
As Sasha leant forward to emphasise her last point, Stokes involuntarily took a step back. ‘Which prisoner did you say?
Sasha rolled her eyes. ‘Trevor Thomas.’
‘He’s Lonny’s. We mightn’t need video.’ Stokes reached for his intercom radio. ‘You far from Titman, Lonny? Over.’
‘He’s asleep in his cell. Hypnotised. I was told not to let anyone near him until after the hypnotist come back from the super. But he seems to have fucked off. Over.’
‘Got someone with me asking about Tit… Mr Thomas. Asleep on his bunk, is he? Over.’
‘On a chair, like a baby all tuckered out. Not sure how long. Been there more than half an hour. Over.’
‘Stand by, Lonny. Over.’ Stokes looked at Sasha. ‘You hear that?’
‘I'm sorry to be pedantic, but can Lonny check on him and see if he’s all right. That is, he’s actually still alive?’
‘Lonny, check Thomas’s status. Over.’
‘Roger. Stand by. Over.’
It was two minutes before Martini was back, panic in his voice. ‘Gordon?’
‘Roger, Lonny.’
‘Thomas is dead. He’s fuckin’ dead, Gordon. I shook him and he toppled off the chair still with the cuffs on. Over.’
‘Shit. Stand by. Over.’ Stokes looked at Sasha for direction.
‘If there’s a rope or ligature mark on his neck he’s been murdered.’
‘Lonny, can you look at his neck? Is there any mark that might indicate he’s been strangled? Over.’
There was a pause, interminable to Sasha, who’d linked the fingers on each hand and was tapping her thumbs together.
‘Gordon, there’s a mark. It had to be that creepy hypnotist. No one else has been near him. Over.’
‘Leave the body and secure his cell, Lonny. I’ll call the super and the cops.’
Sasha ran back to her car and seized her phone – a weak signal. She called Black, whose phone continued to ring. She guessed he’d see it was her number and deliberately not answered.
She left a curt message. ‘I’m sorry to say that the police 111 line has just received a call from Paparua Prison. Albertson has just called there, not as the prison doctor, but as the Mr Battersby whose name came up in your investigation. He managed to persuade the authorities out there to let him interview Thomas. Thomas is now dead – murdered by ligature according to prison staff, no doubt preceded by an injection of succinylcholine. If you’re interested, he’s heading for Mt White, as am I.’
Chapter 50
Albertson decided to get food at Flock Hill, as much for Freddie as himself. They were just less than a hundred kilometres past the prison. A journey that would usually take about an hour had been much longer because of the weather. With another twenty clicks to go, this was the last opportunity. He pulled into an area with no reflected light, then reached over and placed masking tape over Ben’s mouth. ‘Listen carefully. This is while I get supplies, understand?’
Tyler nodded.
‘I don’t have to remind you of the irrevocable consequences for bad behaviour, do I?’
The journalist shook his head.
Albertson got out, noting car lights extinguish a long way behind them. He saw no one get out. Four minutes later he returned with a bag of food and soft drink that he placed in the back seat.
‘Okay?’
Tyler nodded and Albertson removed the gag.
‘Where are you taking me?’
‘Not important. I’ll untie your legs when we arrive. But you’ll wear this blindfold. If you’re stupid enough to make a run for it when your legs are free, you’ll have no idea where to go and likely die a miserable death from hypothermia. Stay sensible and you see Sasha again.’
‘I need a pee,’ he replied.
Albertson sneered. ‘Give me some credit. I’m not going to fall for that old line.’
‘I’m seriously busting. I didn’t get the chance to go before you dumped me in the boot of your car, did I? If I have to piss all over the front seat, I will.’
Albertson heard the assertive tone, instinctively knew he was telling the truth. ‘Okay, we go in together. They’re flat out in there with meals for a group on some management retreat.’
He reached over to the glove box in front of Tyler and extracted a syringe and needle. He checked the level and said, ‘I suspect you know what this is?’
‘More of the same?’
‘You got it. Any smart tactics to stuff things up for me means you get a fatal dose of this in your kidney. It’s better than any knife or gun because it’s bloodless. No one will be any the wiser about your sudden collapse. I’ll say that you’re a friend and you’re feeling ill. I’ll show them my hospital ID and say I’ll get you to Arthur’s Pass, where we can get you treated. I know you sat through the trial so you already know that your first signs of paralysis will be the loss of your vocal chords. Got it?’
Tyler nodded compliance.
‘Good. I’ll walk in and escort you straight to the toilets. If anyone makes eye contact we’ll both smile. I’ll have my right hand level with your kidney.’
‘Back so soon?’ The staff member’s tone was friendly but she was busy and paid no attention to Albertson’s reply of ‘Toilet stop’ and a subtle nod in Tyler’s direction.
‘You were sensible back there,’ he said, when they were back in the car. His lips were still deathly pale.
Without further comment, he reattached Tyler’s blindfold and settled himself behind the steering wheel. Tyler estimated it was about fifteen minu
tes before the car slowed and made a right-hand turn off the road. Depending on his speed, he reckoned they were twelve to fifteen kilometres from the café.
Now, they were on gravel. Another right turn before driving downhill. He tried to keep track of the car’s deviations and turns. Albertson’s silence helped and it felt like he was being cautious in his driving.
Even through the blindfold Tyler could see flashes of lightning. Then a left turn, across a wooden bridge.
‘Shit, it’s high,’ Albertson said.
Back on gravel, another right-hand turn.
Tyler’s hip and neck were still aching. Beginning to feel insects on his skin that weren’t there, he scratched his right leg with tied hands. If he kept focused on the travelling time and direction, maybe he could guide himself out when an opportunity presented itself. He had a strong intuition they were in the area that he and Sasha had once visited.
A right turn followed by another suggested they were heading in the opposite direction from which they had come. Was this an attempt at deception? They’d clearly crossed a river and this had taken them further away from the main road. After an estimated ten minutes of slow driving they came to a stop. Albertson removed the blindfold. It took a second or two before Tyler made out lights a few metres away.
Then a lightning flash lit up the countryside and in that split second he saw hills and torrential white water running right to left, a short distance beyond the hut. But that was it. So frustratingly little. He clenched his jaw.
‘Time you came in and met my partner,’ Albertson said, his tone cheerful. ‘He’s still very grateful to you for putting him onto your partner. She provided sterling service in his defence.’
Tyler said nothing.
‘Freddie’s been our advance party, warmed the place up a bit.’
Albertson paused at the hut door. ‘There’s a caravan around the other side of the hut. You’ll sleep in there. There are two bunks in this hut for Freddie and me. Toilet’s in the caravan, okay?’
He opened the door of the hut and stood aside to let his prisoner go first. The interior was dimly lit and it took Tyler a few seconds to see a man hanging from one of the rafters in a corner.
When the sight registered, Tyler grunted and turned his head away.
When Albertson saw what had made Tyler react, he screamed.
Chapter 51
Almost knocking Tyler over to get to the body, Albertson cried, ‘Freddie, Freddie, we were nearly there. Take the weight off his legs.’
Tyler hadn’t moved.
‘Hurry.’ Albertson said, a demand.
Tyler shook his head. ‘I’m not touching him.’
‘Just do it,’ he screamed. ‘I’m taking him down.’
Tyler slowly approached as Albertson relieved the effects of gravity on his lover’s legs. ‘Here, take his ankles and lift a bit.’ Albertson sobbed. Tyler did as instructed. Albertson returned with a carving knife from the drawer under the sink. Righting the upturned chair, he climbed up and sliced the rope just above the neck.
‘He’s already cold,’ Tyler said. ‘I can tell by holding his legs. He’s stone cold.’
Albertson ignored him. The body slumped to the floor. In the dim light, Tyler could see Fowler’s swollen and pale face. Albertson was frantically doing mouth to mouth and chest compression.
‘I’m sorry, but your friend is no longer with us.’
Albertson still said nothing. Then, cupping his hands under the dead man’s head, he pulled him into an embrace.
In a lightning flash, Tyler saw Albertson kiss his dead partner’s grey lips. He held this position for several seconds, then gently lowered Fowler’s head to the ground. ‘I’m going to have dinner with Freddie, one last time.’
He lifted the body under the shoulders and dragged it to the table. ‘I don’t expect you to stay in here. I’ll open the caravan for you. Help me put the chair under him, please.’
Tyler did as he was asked. Once again he noticed the doctor’s politeness – as incongruous as it had been when they entered the hut. Fowler was slumped in the chair. Albertson adjusted him so his head was back but this exposed the ligature mark. Tyler turned away. He’d covered many trials, seen many gruesome photos as prosecution exhibits, but this was different.
‘Come with me,’ said Albertson.
Once locked in the caravan Tyler felt entombed. He drank some of the lemonade Albertson had left him, the first liquid he’d swallowed since taking the killer’s message to call him. Where would he be now if he hadn’t responded? A drink with Sasha? Dinner out maybe? She wouldn’t even know where he was. She’d be worried. His colleagues would assume he’d simply been delayed, and gone straight home afterwards.
Howling wind had replaced torrential rain. If it wasn’t a pitchfork thrusting at the sides of the caravan, it was whipping around the corners in long blasts, like a shepherd’s whistle.
****
In the pitch black, he saw Albertson’s torchlight as he escorted Tyler to the caravan. It was his signal to make a run for the hut. Leaving the car he’d stolen off to the side of the wet gravel road, Freddie Fowler covered the three hundred and fifty metres to the building.
He was inside, grinning, when Albertson returned. ‘Fuckin’ good likeness, eh?’ said Fowler, standing next to his wax double.
‘Rupert did a good job of the ligature burn,’ said Albertson. ‘Years of working at Madame Tussauds has turned him into a real craftsman.’
‘Told me it was an unconventional way of repaying a debt, but it suited him,’ said Fowler.
Albertson smiled and leant forward to kiss his partner. ‘And your placement of the lead weights was perfect.’ He paused. ‘We’re in the home straight, Freddie.’
Fowler was aroused, but realised there was no time for sex. ‘You left the notes?’
Albertson nodded. ‘You love that whole deception lark, don’t you?’
Grinning, Fowler said, ‘You think?’
‘Okay, back to business,’ said Albertson. ‘Gas cylinders rigged?’
‘You bet. How long do you reckon we’ve got?’
‘Another fifteen to twenty minutes. The nearest cop’ll be the one on call at Arthur’s Pass and the...’
Fowler cut in. ‘His vehicle’s already taken care of.’
‘So it’s a road race between the cops from Hokitika and the cops from Christchurch. No choppers in these conditions.’
‘Yeah. But we’ll still have to be quick.’
‘Boat organised?’ asked Albertson.
Fowler smiled and winked.
‘I never doubted you.’
‘I’ll just grab some of this food. It’s been full on. I could eat a horse.’
Albertson was peering out the window. ‘Okay, but get a move on. They’ve been a bit quicker than we thought.’
Chapter 52
Sasha had seen headlights flash in her rear vision mirror as she turned off State Highway 73. She’d hoped to see them in red and blue as well but it was too early to expect that. Who else would choose to be out on a night like this?
Once over the almost submerged bridge she was faced with two choices, left or right. Her instinct, based on picking up a copse of trees in the high beam of her lights, was to go right – that was where seclusion was possible. She followed the gravel road until she saw a faint light. She rubbed her eyes, to make sure, then drove at glacial speed along the track, nursing the car’s suspension through the black puddles. Within minutes her intuition was confirmed when she saw the tell-tale reflective red of car tail lights catch her beam. Heart beating hard, she recognised a BMW, the only car she’d seen since turning off the main highway.
Crawling up, but parked well back, she pulled a torch from the glove compartment, managed to get her door to cooperate and sneaked up to the other car. Shining the torch in, she saw it was empty. Crouching behind the driver’s door, Sasha eased it open, reached in and ac
tivated the boot release. She could barely hear it herself in the wind – no danger of anyone else catching her. The torch beam picked up a mobile phone near the tyre well. She quickly checked it – Ben’s!
Now on the veranda, she turned on the recorder before pushing the door open.
‘This is a nice surprise, Sasha,’ said Albertson. His smile was lop-sided and Sasha didn’t expect the change in appearance she now saw in him from the man she presented in court.
Peering through the gloom Sasha could see, next to Albertson, Fowler’s body lolling grotesquely in a chair, part of a ligature mark obvious on his neck. She gasped. Fowler had outlived his usefulness. He’d been betrayed and killed.
She swallowed and tried to keep her voice even. ‘You’ve killed your partner, I see. Presumably he knew too many of your darkest secrets.’
Albertson scowled. ‘I would never have killed Freddie. Tyler and I cut him down from the rafter behind me when we arrived.’
Sasha’s eyes wandered, checking out the cabin. He had the upper hand but strangely, as she stood before him, she felt less fear than she expected. Was this because his calculated murder of four men was, for him, completely justified? Yes, he was very dangerous but not indiscriminate. Her heart had actually slowed since she entered the hut. ‘Where is he?’ She hoped her demand conveyed confidence.
Albertson stared at her, delaying an answer. He spoke softly, in control. ‘He’s safe, Sasha. But you’re in no position to make demands. So far, he’s come to no harm. It will remain that way if you cooperate. You’ll have checked out the car. I’m your only hope of locating him.’
Apart from a tin roof, the place was constructed entirely of wood, very simple in layout and austere in its furnishings. There were two chairs at one end of the table, occupied by Albertson and Fowler’s body. A wooden plank forming a seat was placed at the side of the room where bunk beds had been built. Sasha detected the smell of gas competing with the scent of the two kerosene lamp wicks. Each was turned down low, but the glow of the LPG heater was bright orange. Her eye settled on a long nylon bag behind two gas cylinders. Not bulky enough for Ben to be inside it.