40 Days 40 Nights: A Sgt Major Crane Novel Page 16

  The tarmac roadway soon gave way to track. Neither of which were conducive to silent progress. On the tarmac the men’s army boots thudded like a drum beaten with a cloth covered stick and on the track, the dry twigs, leaves and bracken underfoot became firecrackers on Chinese New Year. Moving as stealthily as they could, Jones navigated their way using only the light of the moon. Gradually the sound of the generator running the lights dimmed to a mosquito hum as they traversed deeper into the Ranges. Startled night animals become their only companions.

  Crane was sweating and regretting keeping on the light coat he had on because of the chill of the night. His shoulder was starting to ache deep in the muscle stretched over the bone and during a short halt whilst Jones got his bearings, Crane tried to manipulate it as best he could. He was just wondering how much further they had to go, when the faint shadows in front of them became looming concrete structures. They had arrived at the flag butts, or buttresses, stretched across a section of the ranges, from where the red flags were raised to warn non-army personnel that the ranges were out of bounds due to army exercises. Jones had brought them to the front and side of the structures, so they could approach unobserved. The four men then circled round to search each structure in turn.

  It was at the third butt that they struck lucky. Crane and Jones hung back as the two Royal Military Policemen inched forwards to the edge of the buttresses before flinging themselves around the sides and flashing their torches into the interior. There they found Captain Niaz, huddled in the small space, curled into a foetal position, as though trying to hide within the safety of a womb. He was cocooned in a blanket and surrounded by debris that included an empty water bottle and food wrappers. As Jones and Crane approached they looked down on the man pinned in the powerful torch beams like a hare in headlights. Too stunned to resist, Niaz allowed himself to be prised from the small area where the red flag raising and lowering mechanism was housed.

  Leaving Niaz flanked by the two Royal Military Policemen, Jones and Crane moved to one side. Jones radioed for a vehicle to take them back to Crane’s car and then onward to Aldershot where Niaz could recover at the Royal Military Police Barracks. In custody, of course.

  “Good thinking, Crane, the flag butts,” Jones said. “Do you think he killed Padam?”

  “Probably, but we’ll have to be careful, strictly following procedure in our efforts to prove it. There’s going to be outrage from the other Afghan officers at Niaz’s arrest, as well as from the Coldstream Guards. No doubt Captain Edwards will join in the general debate as well. Make sure Major Martin sends Niaz’s clothes for forensic processing. Maybe there was some transfer from Padam to him, or indeed the other way round. Whatever, we’ll have to be careful and play it by the book. He may be a suspect but it’s still too early to have any evidence.”

  “And Captain Edwards?”

  “I’ll ring him as soon as I get back home. I’ve been on duty for over eighteen hours now and I’m due back again at 07:00 hours, so I need a few hours sleep before starting any interviews. In the meantime can you arrange for the interpreter to be there at say 09:00 hours tomorrow morning? Oh and Dudley-Jones too, of course. Better not leave him out of this one.”

  Day 31

  TERRORISTS IN OUR MIDST?

  By Diane Chambers

  Residents of Aldershot are in uproar for the second time in a month, at the draconian way the army have used their stop and search powers on innocent residents as they pass in and out of Aldershot Garrison. Long delays are once again the order of the day as people try to go about their normal daily business.

  An army spokesman explained, “There have been a number of thefts from locations around the garrison and it is particularly important, therefore, to monitor traffic in and out. We must put a stop to this ongoing theft problem and I’m sure the residents of Aldershot will accommodate the extra security that is deemed necessary at the moment.”

  But this reporter has discovered this may not be the real reason for the increased security at Aldershot Garrison. It has come to light that there are a number of Afghan Army officers staying there at the invitation of the Coldstream Guards.

  In these troubling times local residents are worried about the possibility of terrorists in our midst. One local resident said, “It’s absolutely appalling that the army could take such a risk and let Afghanis onto the garrison. Everyone knows the problems our lads are having over in Afghanistan at the moment, so why increase the risk to the soldiers serving on the garrison, never mind the local people?” Another resident Jean Cooper said, “I tell you it makes me afraid to go out! Who knows where they will attack and when?”

  The army press office refused to give an interview, or even publish a statement when approached by this newspaper with the concerns of the local population. Is this a case of on a ‘need to know’ basis and the wider area outside the garrison don’t need to know? Until we get an official explanation, the residents of Aldershot can only wait and wonder what might happen.

  Anderson threw the newspaper at Crane across the desk. “Any comment, Sergeant Major?”

  “Come on, Derek, you know we couldn’t explain the real reason behind the increased security at the garrison.”

  “I know, but now it’s been leaked what the hell am I supposed to do?” Anderson ran his fingers through his unruly hair. “We’ve had local residents on the telephone wanting to know if we’re going to put armed police patrols on the street to protect them!”

  “That bloody Diane Chambers.”

  “Wait a minute, did you know about this, Crane?” Anderson leaned over his desk.

  “Let’s just say she threatened me with it. Unless I gave her an exclusive interview on how the army coped with the Team GB athletes on the garrison, after they’d gone of course. So I had to agree with her request, or should I say demand.”

  “And she reneged on the deal?”

  “Looks like it, and before I could give the heads up to Edwards,” Crane scratched his scar.

  To his surprise Anderson laughed. “Well, she got her own back after all. I’d say this was payback for not giving her an interview about the investigation last year. Wouldn’t you?” Anderson was still chuckling.

  “Alright, Derek, don’t rub it in. Anyway, for now the army are going to release a statement. Captain Edwards is working on that at the moment. It’s going to be something along the lines that our Afghani visitors are all upstanding army officers and there’s no question that they could be a terrorist threat.”

  “But is that true?” Anderson shrugged his shoulders, becoming serious again. “What about finding Padam Gurung’s body last night and the lost Afghan soldier? How does all that fit together?”

  “To be honest, Derek, I don’t know what the hell’s going on.” Crane shook his head. “Dudley-Jones and I interviewed Niaz this morning, but got nothing out of him. It was a complete waste of time. The whole thing is bloody chaos. I’ve got another dead body, an Afghan officer who refuses to speak at all, a reporter acting like she trying for a Pulitzer Prize and an Officer Commanding who’s wobbling like a jelly.”

  “Are there any connections between the three deaths?”

  “Lots of connections between lots of events, but nothing that adds up to anything. I can’t even come up with a motive.” Crane smoothed down his tie and then not knowing what to do with his hands as he couldn’t smoke in the office, started to play with his scar again.

  “There’s got to be something, Crane,” Anderson examined his own tie, which sported an abstract pattern of food stains, so he dropped it with apparent disgust.

  “I know, but whatever it is I can’t see it at the moment. And being without Billy and Kim during the day makes me feel like I’m working with one hand tied behind my back somehow.”

  “Are they doing alright on their own at night?”

  “Oh they’re fine. Working well together.” After a pause Crane added, “I rather think it’s me that’s not functioning properly.”

 
; As a grin started to break across his face, Crane stood so fast he knocked over his chair. “That’s it, Derek! You’re brilliant. Thanks a lot,” and rushed out of the office.

  ***

  Crane hadn’t had time to implement his plan when Juliette Stone turned up at the barracks, looking for him. As a result, he was less than pleased to see her and more interested in seeing Captain Edwards and making a couple of phone calls.

  Before she could open her mouth he put up his hands and said, “I know, Ms Stone. I can only apologise but I assure you there is no threat to any of your staff or to the athletes in St Omer Barracks.”

  “Sorry, Sergeant Major?”

  “The piece in the Aldershot Mail,” Crane indicated the folded newspaper on his desk. To his surprise Juliette Stone laughed.

  “Oh that bit of rubbish,” she said. “The stupid girl actually came to me for a comment and I sent her away with nothing more than a dose of reality.” Ms Stone’s jacket crackled like a piece of breaking ice as she perched on the corner of Crane’s desk. “I’m actually here to give you the full report on what’s missing from the stores.”

  Crane took the proffered piece of paper, but didn’t read it. “Thank you, but you could have sent someone over with it.”

  “Sometimes it does us all good to get a way for a while, wouldn’t you agree Crane?” A smile played across her lips as she slowly crossed her legs. The light in her eyes reminding Crane of the way Tina used to look at him, before the demands of the baby on her body became paramount.

  “Of course, but we also need to pick our moments, wouldn’t you agree?” Crane held Juliette Stone’s gaze.

  “Ah, and this is not a good moment for you?”

  “Definitely not, I’m afraid,” Crane tried injecting a sense of regret into his voice, but wasn’t sure he managed it.

  “Some other time perhaps,” she replied standing, but not leaving.

  “Perhaps,” Crane mumbled, picking up and looking at the piece of paper she’d given him, without seeing any of the words written on it. A pose he held until he once more heard the crackle of ice as she left his office. As he breathed in deeply, he smelled her alluring perfume and once again saw the teasing in her eyes. Feeling guilty for finding another woman attractive, he pushed the thought away, together with her piece of paper and got on with his work.

  ***

  Crane eventually got his meeting with Captain Edwards. This time he didn’t need to emphasis the seriousness of the situation. That was something Edwards started on as soon as Crane entered his office.

  Leaving Crane standing to attention in front of his desk Edwards summed up the awfulness of their present predicament in every last gory detail, from the original death of Corporal Simms to the current position of having an Afghan officer in custody and an old Gurkha dead, with all the twists and turns in-between. He finally barked, “So what are you going to do about it, Crane?”

  Edwards allowed Crane to sit once he realised there was a possible solution and listened like a prison inmate eagerly learning of plans to escape.

  Night 31

  Allah is Good! Allah is Great! Allah be Praised! Things are going better than I dared hope. As a result of my carefully laid plans, I have the security services on the garrison running around in circles, how do you say, ah yes, chasing phantoms in the wind, grasping at thin air.

  I had the supposed privilege of meeting your chief investigator the other day. Crane is it? Or some such name anyway. It is of no matter. He struts around like a cock with his faithful chickens running around him, scratching for any bits of praise he may throw down at them. Pathetic. I spit on him, the infidel. He thinks he is so good, so clever, but I had him rattled.

  For let me remind you, that I, with the power of Allah behind me, am more than a match for this evil one. He has no idea that the confusion is being orchestrated by me. Nor has he any concept of the chaos that I am about to rain on his head. No inkling that this torture is not going to end anytime soon.

  He thinks it will, of course. He will think it’s all over and that he’s triumphed over what he perceives as the evil invading his garrison. But that will just be me lulling him into a false sense of security. For he can never win. Never beat the truth that is the one true religion.

  I will grind him down until he turns into nothing but a speck of dust under my boot. Just you wait and see.

  Day 32

  Crane alternated between pacing the corridor and sitting by Tina’s bed. He was woken around 05:00 hours with Tina feeling light headed and breathless with swollen ankles. So he wasted no time in getting her into the car and over to Frimley Park Hospital. At the moment she was surrounded by a doctor and couple of nurses, leaving Crane to kick his heels in the corridor.

  “Mr Crane?” It took a minute for Crane to react to the use of the term Mr. Normally he was addressed as Sergeant Major, or just Crane. Looking up he saw a doctor walking towards him. “Well, emergency over for now, I think.”

  “What’s the matter with her, doctor?” Crane tried not to snap, but worry was making his voice harsher than normal.

  “Flare up of the old pre-eclampsia again, I’m afraid. But we’ve been monitoring the baby’s heartbeat and it’s as strong as ever. So for now I want to leave things be.”

  “Oh good, so she can go home now?” Crane bent to collect his coat from a nearby plastic chair.

  “Most certainly not. Mrs Crane must stay in hospital until the baby’s born.”

  Straightening up and leaving his coat where it was, Crane asked, “When will that be?”

  “One never really knows with babies I’m afraid, Mr Crane.” The doctor consulted his notes. “But we won’t leave her too long before inducing. Still, a few days yet, I should think.” With that the he turned on his heel and walked away, then he turned back calling, “Oh, your wife is sleeping now, Mr Crane, so best leave her until visiting time don’t you think?”

  Looking at his watch Crane realised it was time to go to work anyway, so with one last look at Tina’s sleeping form squeezed into a bed on the Maternity Ward, he sloped off. As he passed the cafeteria near the front doors, it was just opening, announced by the enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Deciding to get a cup to take away and enjoy with his cigarette outside, Crane made his way to the deserted counter. As he was waiting for an assistant to emerge from the kitchen, he was joined by someone else, who began tapping his foot and looking at his watch. “For God’s sake,” the man mumbled.

  “Desperate for coffee?” Crane said glancing at the person who had joined him.

  As the man meet Crane’s eyes he exclaimed, “Bloody hell, Crane! How are you?”

  “Benson! Fine thanks and you?”

  As the two men greeted each other like long lost brothers, an assistant finally came to take their orders. Benson decided to get a take away coffee as well and joined Crane outside.

  The two men strolled down to the car park catching up with each other’s lives. Benson was posted to Colchester a few years ago, at the same time as Crane and the two men worked well together and enjoyed each other’s company.

  “I didn’t know you were posted back at Aldershot,” Crane said when they were far enough away from the hospital buildings to light up. “When did that happen?”

  “I’m not,” Benson said looking out over the vast expanse of empty car park that would soon fill up as patients began arriving for appointments.

  “Don’t tell me you’re out?” Crane was astounded. Benson was one of the most committed soldier’s he’d met. A great outdoors man, he would volunteer for every course going and loved nothing more than to face new challenges and learn new skills. But looking more closely Crane saw slackness around Benson’s face and a thickening stomach almost as big as the man’s barrel chest.

  “Yeah, couple of years ago now.”

  Benson began a close inspection of the ground by his feet. His hair, longer than Crane remembered flopping over his shirt collar, the dark brown now flecked with grey.<
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  “Why? What went wrong? Weren’t you enjoying army life anymore?”

  “Nothing went wrong, Crane, and yes I was still enjoying army life, but the wife wasn’t.”

  “The wife – Carol?”

  “Yes, after we had our first kid, she changed somehow. Maybe it was being more tied to the house, oh I don’t know.” Benson started playing around with gravel under his foot. Rolling the small stones backwards and forwards. “She talked me into leaving. Told me it would be best for the family.”

  “And was it?” Crane looked at Benson keenly.

  “Oh yes. For them, definitely.” Benson finally looked at Crane. His face was smiling but his eyes were not. “It’s been great seeing the kids grow up, you know, look here’s a picture,” and he fumbled in his wallet before passing over a small family portrait, well worn at the corners.

  “Lovely,” Crane tried to sound enthusiastic. “So what are you doing now?”

  “Security.” Benson avoided Crane’s gaze by putting the photograph back.

  “What, private stuff, body guard, that sort of thing.”

  “No,” Benson laughed, the tinge of bitterness clear, “buildings. Anyway, best get back. If I’m not careful Carol will have had the baby without me and then I’ll really be in trouble.” With a wave of his hand, Benson walked off back towards the hospital.

  Crane watched his retreating back and realised they hadn’t made plans to meet up again. He raised his arm and went to call out, but seeing the stoop of Benson’s shoulders and the hesitancy in his stride, Crane’s mouth remained closed and his arm dropped back down. Probably not such a good idea. Best to leave things alone. What would they have in common now anyway, apart from joint memories?

  Crane hurried to his car, glancing at his watch and hoping Billy and Kim would still be at the barracks when he arrived. As he drove away his mind kept going back to Benson’s hunched figure as he walked away, a far cry from the proud, upright man he had known in the army.