The Skeleton Man

Dryden didn’t understand. ‘So we’re saying these people are taking orders from someone smart? You reckon? They’ve kidnapped some dogs, a herd of rats, and they’ve mustered enough loose change for two telephone calls. It’s not al-Qaeda, is it?’

The heat in the room was fetid, a layer of dust drifting in a box of sunlight which fell through the frosted glass of the bar windows. Shaw produced a cold box from behind the bar and extracted a can of sparkling mineral water. Dryden accepted another coffee. The can finished, Shaw lobbed it perfectly through a toy basketball hoop which had been fixed to the wall above an oil-drum dustbin. An electric gizmo in the hoop produced the sound of a crowd cheering.

‘I agree. But despite being inadequate, and possibly violent, they are also clearly ambitious. They’re trying to get noticed, Dryden. They wouldn’t have phoned you otherwise. But they don’t just want to be famous in the local paper, or even the national papers. I think they want to be admired by the nasty bastards, the leadership. Yes, they’re out of their depth, and they’ve already made a string of mistakes, but it would actually be in our interests if they did attract the attention of the people we’re really after. And they’ll do that if they succeed, or at least think they’re going to succeed. Which is where you come in.’

Dryden held up both palms by way of surrender.

‘So this is the deal. They have your mobile number. They told Peyton they would ring you for his decision and expect a story in The Crow. We want you to tell them Henry Peyton will shut Sealodes Farm down, and go into early retirement, but only if he gets back the bones of his beloved wife first, or more accurately the old bones they think are his wife’s. He also wants the dogs – up front and unharmed – before he makes any irreversible decisions about Sealodes Farm. Peyton’s in his late sixties, there’s been talk of him retiring anyway. Tell ’em he’s had an offer for the land and he’s going to take it. In effect they’ve struck gold, they hit him just at the moment he was at his weakest.’

‘And we expect them to swallow that, do we? They can’t really be that stupid,’ said Dryden.

‘Well, I wouldn’t count on it. I’ll talk you through the forensics on the Peyton tomb later but I think we can say that we’re dealing with some consummate idiots here; they’re only still at large thanks to beginners’ luck. But as I say, there’s evidence they are not just a renegade group – there are links up the chain. And that’s where we need to get, Dryden, up the chain.’

‘Evidence?’

‘Phone taps. There was some local radio coverage of the first raid on Sealodes Farm, a bit in the evening papers. One of the men in the East Midlands the central unit is tracking was followed shortly afterwards to Ely. Our guess is he was checking the locals out, trying to get a handle. Either they’d contacted him or he’d seen the story.’

‘Where’d he go?’

Shaw’s blue water eyes were unblinking. ‘Local surveillance lost him.’ The detective brought his hands together in a church.

‘Anyway, our friends want an answer. And they want you to give it to them. They told Peyton they’d ring you tonight – before The Crow’s Thursday deadline. They’ll use a call box again. If you give me your details we’ll try to get it traced – presuming they’re still under the impression you haven’t talked to the police. I think we’re pretty safe here.’ He smiled, and Dryden found it difficult not to respond.

‘When they call I’d like you to tell them there’s nothing going in the paper about the closure until they hand over the bones. I’d like you to ask to meet them to hand over the goods. Perhaps you could tell them you want a brief interview – that it isn’t much of a story without it, just try and make it clear that if they want publicity you want to meet. We have local ALF sympathizers under surveillance, all run from here. If one of them is involved we’ll get the lot, and the bones, and you get the story.’

Dryden tried to think it through, knowing something was wrong. ‘But why would Henry Peyton play ball? You catch ’em and there’s a court case, then every animal rights nutter in the country will be heading for Sealodes Farm. They haven’t got his wife’s bones, just the dogs. Why not call their bluff?’

Shaw got himself another mineral water. ‘Well, firstly because that might not work. Does he really want a long slow war of attrition? He’s no spring chicken but he’d like to leave the business to his son, or possibly sell it as a going concern to one of his big customers, and neither of those options is that attractive if the farm is an ongoing target. He’d like to solve the problem. We’ve offered him a solution.’

‘Which is?’