‘By the way, what about the future of Pity Wood Farm?’ said Fry. ‘I understand the amounts of toxic waste produced by the methamphetamine manufacturing process are huge. It can take months to decontaminate a site.’
‘They won’t be decontaminating that place,’ said Superintendent Branagh.
‘No? But surely, ma’am — ?’
‘There’s no point even trying,’ she said. ‘The experts have examined the levels of contamination. And, yes, they’re extraordinarily high — not just in the outbuildings, but in the house itself. Not to mention the land around it, where they disposed of the by-products. Decontamination is an impossible job. Pity Wood Farm would always be toxic and uninhabitable. So they’ll be taking the only available option — demolition.’
34
‘Jack Elder is in magistrates’ court this afternoon,’ said Fry. ‘He’ll be bailed, of course. Let home for Christmas.’
‘I wonder if he’ll be safe,’ said Cooper. ‘He must be aware of the possibility that the same individuals who killed Tom Farnham will come after him.’
‘I wouldn’t worry too much about his welfare. But I’m hoping he’ll lead us to his associates. Elder is a worried man, and he’ll want to get away from the area. He’ll need money for that, and some help in disappearing. I think he’ll make contact, and quickly.’
‘But wasn’t Tom Farnham his associate?’
‘There’s someone else,’ said Fry. ‘I’m certain of it. There’s a brains behind the operation. Someone with the right influence, the ability to cover up and call in favours.’
‘OK. So how do we act on this certainty, Diane?’
‘I already have. I’ve got authority to put surveillance on Jack Elder.’
‘We’re going to follow him?’
‘As soon as he leaves court and is discharged from custody.’
‘Brilliant.’
Towards the end of the afternoon, Elder went home from Edendale Magistrates’ Court in a taxi, which returned him direct to his home in Rakedale. Fry and Cooper stayed well behind the rear lights of the cab as it approached the village and turned into Field Lane.
‘Does he have a car as well as the lorry?’ asked Cooper.
‘Yes, a green Nissan.’
‘Pity. The DAF would have been easier to follow.’
Up ahead, there was a strange blue glow in the dusk, as if a UFO had landed behind the trees. When they got closer, the glow turned out to be Jack Elder’s Christmas lights. They were strung along the eaves of his bungalow and looped over his windows in festive abundance. It looked the sort of house where the Christmas tree would play you a carol if you got too near it.
They were fifty yards up the road past the house when they saw Elder’s green Nissan backing out of his drive, almost before the taxi had driven away.
‘What do we do?’ said Cooper.
‘Has he seen us?’
‘No, I don’t think so. He won’t recognize my car, so long as he doesn’t get a view of our faces …’
Cooper swung into a gateway and turned round to wait. When the lights of Elder’s car went past, he could be seen fiddling with the touch screen of a satnav device attached to the dashboard of his Nissan.
‘OK, Ben. Let’s find out where he’s going.’
Elder drove past Matlock to reach the A6, where the evening traffic from Derby was building up, shoppers and workers making their way home in the December darkness. He turned on to the A610, skirting Ripley and passing right by Derbyshire Constabulary headquarters before crossing into Nottinghamshire. Four miles further on, his car joined the M1 motorway at Junction 26, heading south.
‘He could be going anywhere,’ said Cooper. ‘We don’t want to end up in London for the night.’
‘We’ll see,’ said Fry. ‘I don’t think he’ll be going that far.’
She didn’t have to wait long to be proved right. Elder’s Nissan didn’t even make it as far as the next junction. After a couple of miles, he started indicating left and turned into the brilliantly-lit surroundings of the service area at Trowell.
‘Pass on our location, Ben,’ said Fry. ‘You know the drill.’
Cooper contacted the Nottinghamshire control room to alert them to the presence of Derbyshire officers conducting an operation on their territory. Meanwhile, Fry called Gavin Murfin and asked him to rendezvous at the service station. He was only a couple of miles away, keeping in touch with their location.
‘Why do we need Gavin?’ asked Cooper.
‘We might have two vehicles to follow when we leave here.’
‘I see.’
They watched Elder park up in front of the amenities building where there were some free spaces. At least the area was well lit for security, otherwise the gathering darkness would have defeated them. Cooper found a spot as near to the exit as he could get while still having the Nissan in sight. Then they sat and waited for something to happen.
‘He doesn’t know Gavin,’ said Fry. ‘So he should be able to get nearer to the Nissan when he arrives.’
Cooper looked around the parking area and the buildings beyond it. If he had to imagine a place where no one belonged and everyone was just passing through, this would be it — a motorway service area. The ultimate nowhere land.
He’d often wondered why they bothered displaying information about local attractions inside the amenities building. Surely anyone who called at a service area was on the way somewhere else, by definition. Nearby attractions were the ones that motorists were least likely to visit, since you couldn’t actually get off the motorway at this point.
Well, that wasn’t quite true, of course. If you were an ‘authorized vehicle’, there was always a local service road over at the back somewhere. But law-abiding motorists weren’t supposed to know that. If they saw a sign that said ‘no unauthorized vehicles past this point’, they obeyed it, didn’t they?
Cooper scanned the exit lanes that ran past the petrol station, and located the service road on the southbound side. According to his map, this one twisted back towards the A609, the Nottingham road.
‘You’re sure Elder is going to meet someone?’
‘Well, he isn’t doing anything else, is he?’ said Fry reasonably. ‘He hasn’t got out of the car yet. It’s my guess he’s waiting, like us.’
They saw Murfin’s car turn in from the motorway, then disappear from view. A moment later, Murfin himself opened the back door of the Toyota and slid in.
‘Anything happening?’
‘Not yet. I need you to get closer to the Nissan over there.’
As they spoke, a liveried police car cruised into the parking area, did a slow circuit, and drove out again through the petrol station forecourt, back on to the motorway.
‘They didn’t even stop for a piss,’ said Murfin. ‘What do you make of that?’
‘Maybe it’s a Nottinghamshire thing.’
‘Aye. They don’t have bodily functions over here. Like the Queen.’
Cooper watched a minibus pull in a few places away from Elder’s Nissan, but a dozen laughing women scrambled out. A hen party on the way to the airport for a couple of days hitting the bars of Prague or Vilnius, probably. This was the way Eastern Europe got a taste of British culture these days.
‘Speaking of having a piss — ’ said Murfin, opening the door again.
‘Gavin, you can’t.’
‘I won’t be a jiffy. You said there was nothing happening.’
‘Well, stay away from the cafe, won’t you?’
