Carrington Forest, on the south side of London, was once a place of affluence, erudition and respect. The research facility built inside the catchment zone was home to many figures who made their mark in London's history. They went on to achieve feats of scientific excellence, pursing new careers at home and abroad. They became invaluable to the war effort and helped make the impossible, possible.
To keep the scientists, researchers and guard content, the main area of the town became a place of security and prosperity. Shops, schools and a health centre were just some of the amenities added to the neighbourhood. Homes were built to house happy families; streets were filled with the laughter of children, and many wanted for nothing. Dad brought home the bacon and Mum did what she did best to keep the home a happy one. The enemy had its secrets as did the victors and the research facility was unharmed during the war. It survived an attempt at the total domination of Great Britain.
The residents lived as well as they could.
Before long, people started to leave, homes were becoming abandoned and what was once a place filled with happiness and joy had now become desolate and dangerous. Shops were boarded up, buildings were damaged, graffiti became the new paint on the brush against red brick filled with racial slurs, gang writing and derogatory comments aimed at the police had become the new slogans of the town.
Each house on its street had a terrible story to tell.
It was decided by the Greater London Council that those who opposed the police would find themselves here. Known as Hell to many of its residents, the town had become a prison with an invisible wall. The initiative to curb criminal activity in the city spread throughout London.
Before long those deemed a contributing decay to society were forced here, keeping those who meant to do harm to the system in one place. It meant that the police could keep a watchful eye. Sadly, Carrington Forest became too dangerous even for the police. Attacks on the local constabulary caught the attention of Scotland Yard. It was decided that the police would not enter the town unless absolutely necessary.
History tells tales of imprisonment throughout the many kingdoms of science.
There was much debate about whether containing these individuals was a prudent course of action, with one council member being quoted as saying: 'what one can glean from imprisonment is that one cannot be caged forever, there's a need to escape – to be free, and live a life of autonomy and exhilaration.'
The council knew this day would come, they had to move the people out of the area.
Inside the abandoned school building, Alex Kiernan broke open the glass door to the back of the once thriving educational hub. With their own school being on half term there wasn't much else to do in Carrington Forest. The park had become dangerous, there wasn't much else around, Alex decided this would be a great place to hide.
The scared heavy breathing filled the small space. As Alex gasped a breath of air watching the killer dressed in a black cloak killing a well-dressed man in a suit and tie and sporting a double-breasted jacket. The body fell on the ground and his personal effects spread across the floor. The killer looked at Alex and turned around running out towards the back of the building.
"Sir, are you okay?" Alex said quivering, poking the body. The ten-year-old was very brave, Alex had read enough scary stories to fear nothing. The body lay flat on the cold concrete graffitied floor. The victim's expensive watch broke at the 9AM hour. His leather skin wallet flapped out onto the ground, with some high denominated notes peeking out the edge of the leather inside.
Alex picked up the brown envelope with hundreds of pound notes bursting out the tightly packed brown paper. A lot more than what was in the wallet. Counting them out Alex dropped the brown package on the floor. There was so much money, it could mean Alex and family could move far away from the village and live new and exhilarating lives. Running through the building, trying to find a working telephone, Alex had no luck. The damage to the phone boxes was extensive in the town and so the young child ran out of the main entrance and hurtled down the street, heading towards the river Thames.
There had been talk in the town that a police presence was needed. Carrington Forest was being examined under the microscope. Many places were being looked at, deciding whether they should be razed to make way for this new endeavour. Thankfully for WPC Trewlove, the young, blonde bright officer of the newly formed violent crimes investigation department of Scotland Yard, things were somewhat quieter than she thought they'd be.
When the call came in about a lack of officers who could chaperone the council, she was one of the few who drew the short straw. What she did aboard the QE2 hadn't helped her career, it seemed that saving the lives of 150 people meant nothing and her ability to foil a diabolical plot was overlooked. She felt it was about who she was, a threat to those looking to add another badge to their uniform, or the proverbial feather in their cap. Being a woman in a job like this had its challenges, most men thought she was nothing more than a typist or tea's maid, but she was a lot more than that.
Standing outside the abandoned inn a few yards from the main river through to Carrington Forest, she waited outside as the big wigs went about their business. She looked behind at the rickety old rest home. What was before a place for the headquarters of the Thames River Police, had then been turned into a port for travellers of the river, had now ended up being a place of respite for drug addicts, harlotry and other such criminal activity.
Harriet Lemington, an overzealous journalist tried to barge her way past Trewlove and Sergeant John Adams, who was standing watch on the door of the inn. "Sorry, no one is permitted to go any further," Trewlove said making her mind up about the young woman, in front of her. The journalist's little handbag could only hold her purse, notebook and pen. Her frizzy brown hair looked unkempt, as though she'd been awake all night and in some kind of hurry to get some answers.
"Have they found the body?" Harriet's words were met with shock. Shock to Trewlove, as she wasn't from around London, but Sergeant Adams had heard the tale too many times.
"What body?" Trewlove asked, the words from the journalist had piqued her interest.
The sergeant once again began to hear the story of the missing scientist who was last seen at the inn. He was part of the team that searched the place high 'n low to no avail. He, among the detectives who were assigned the case were adamant that the young woman hadn't been buried in the building.
Harriet finished telling the story, pointing at the homes over the river. "Hell waits patiently for those to arrive," she said staring at the officers.
Trewlove was taken aback by Harriet's words. She was interested in the disappearance of the young woman, now more than Sergeant Adams was. The journalist could see the council members walking out of the building. "You do know who she is don't you?" she said moving away from the area.
The plump conservatively dressed Councilwoman Linda Brahms, looked around the entrance. "Hasn't Councilman Haversham shown up yet?" She looked at Trewlove, as though she'd know the answer. There was one person missing from the group that made up the trio on the project.
The next man to walk out the building, was a large round man, with a large grey beard. He had the look of distinction about his person and his words echoed his ideals. He too was surprised their friend and colleague hadn't arrived.
"Help me…please…" Alex came running down the tow path, watching the officers from the bridge as the young child made their way toward the large group. Trewlove ran over to console Alex as she could see tears running down Alex's face and blood stains dripping from the hands of the young child.
"Call DI Crenshaw," Trewlove shouted to Sergeant Adams.
This wasn't the first-time officers at Scotland Yard's Criminal Investigation's Department had been down here. For Trewlove, though, she had never been to Hell before. Looking at the place she had made her mind up along with the other officers accompanying her, this place had to be torn down and rebuilt.
Detective Inspector Harry Crenshaw made his way through the broken halls of the annex attached to the old school building. He was a man of experience, nothing fazed him. He believed he had seen it all. This attitude of his, was one of arrogance and agnosticism. A folly of inappropriate jokes and callous humour, followed with him too, on occasion.
He spotted Trewlove standing near the body of Councilman Haversham. Sprawled out on the floor. "This way sir," she said to Crenshaw, guiding him past the brokenness of the old building. Each step he walked; he couldn't believe a place like this was still standing.
"Trewlove, you shouldn't be here." Crenshaw talked down to the young female officer. He could see the thugs standing outside next to the burning car, peering through the windows, he knew this was a dangerous place for anyone to be here.
"I don't think anyone should be here sir," she said smiling, realising she was safe. With the ten police officers scattered around the building, she felt protected, that no harm would come to her.
"Has the CSM been informed?" Crenshaw took out his notebook and looked at the body, as Trewlove confirmed Crime Scene Investigators were on the way, along with the forensic pathologist. Being careful not to disturb the body Crenshaw walked around taking notes. "Why don't you take a couple of officers and canvas the area, check to see if anyone saw anything?" He said calling Sergeant Adams to the scene. "Who found the body?"
Trewlove pointed to Alex who tried to call the police, but no one believed the tale so they ran out on to the street in the hope they could find someone. WPC Maud Summers was looking after Alex in the other room.
"Alex is being looked after by Maud sir." She said pointing at the room near the old classroom. As she walked past the door, Trewlove peered in looking at how nervous Alex appeared to be, a sign of concern about where they were no doubt. She thought to herself.
Sergeant Adams knew this was going to be a waste of time, no one was going to have seen anything, heard anything or say anything. He looked around, what appeared to be a war-torn part of London. He could still see some of the old 1950's signs of a new home for the working man, and a place for the wife to do her baking.
Trewlove looked at the signs and can see more than just a story. "Somewhat sexist and misogynistic of an era, but we hope to grow and break away from some of the chains that we've been tied to for so long." She smiled, knowing the world would change.
"I can't see you baking, Shirl," the sergeant joked, looking at the hardnosed woman police constable, she didn't look the prissy, happy-go-lucky housewife depicted on the billboard, instead she had the mannerisms found in a detective.
Walking past the parade of boarded up shops they came to a Jamaican man in his forties looking like he was ready to talk. He put his bat down at the side of the barely mobile car. He walked over to the officers.
"So, what you wantin' ere then officers?" the Jamaican man said looking at the old school building. "I saw Mrs Kiernan's lad, go in dere, always up to no good dat boy." He said looking over at the house which didn't look as rundown as some of the others on the street.
"Is Mrs Kiernan home?" The sergeant asked, looking at how quiet the place is.
"Me not get involved, wit' the Kiernan's mon."
Trewlove thanked the man for his time and walked over to Mrs Kiernan's house, knocking on the door she got no response. The sergeant walked around the building, "looks like no one's home." He said pointing at all the curtains being closed.
They begin to knock on other doors and tap on windows. No one was forthcoming with the information. "Hear no evil..." Trewlove said realising this truly was a waste of time. What would normally be done by two officers was now being doubled, an escort was needed to walk around the streets of the community. The street they were on was just one place in Carrington Forest, considered the most dangerous of areas.
Within the confines of the neighbourhood the residents were ones with infractions that fell off the paper they were typed on. Many were capable of such an act of violence; and each would have to be interviewed. But without evidence to the contrary, they'd be hard pressed to know if one of the residents was responsible for the death of the councilman.
"No one saw anything, heard anything, to them nothing happened." Trewlove said to her colleagues, they were getting nowhere – fast. They decided to head back to the old school building.
Pushing the metal panelled doors open, Trewlove returned to Detective Inspector Crenshaw, who had been standing by the pathologist, Doctor Rufus Attwa. Trewlove pointed out where they are and how destroyed the streets looked, telling the inspector that canvasing the neighbours had resulted in nothing much at all. She didn't want to have to go over the see and hear thing anymore, it was obvious no one was willing to talk to the police.
"What do we have then doc?" Crenshaw walked behind the doctor as he'd examined the scene. Being one of sound body and mind the West African pathologist explained what had happened. "A single shot to the head, point blank range." He said, "time of death is consistent with the young lad's story." He concluded closing his medical bag. "How's the boy doing?" He asked.
No one answered the doctor.
Trewlove looked at the councilman, remembering where she'd been and had just experienced a little more of this hellish environment. "What was going through his mind for him to be here?" she pondered trying to get involved in the case. Crenshaw looked at her, holding back the urge to ask her to leave.
"I would say the last thing going through his mind was the bullet," Crenshaw smiled, looking at faces for a laugh. The room was not amused. Trewlove glared at him.
"For goodness sake sir, this man was loved by many. Out of the fog of politicians that spread lies in their campaign – he didn't." Trewlove became angry, she had read Councilman Haversham's accounts, listened to his speeches, had seen how in touch he was with his constituents and the citizens that asked him for help. It was clear from his approach, that he had their feelings at the forefront of his mind. It wasn't too hard to be sure that one of the people from the village killed the councilman. His wallet and watch were still present though.
"I'd of thought anyone here, might want to grab his stuff." Crenshaw added. Trewlove also thought on the same lines, she had seen how the people here lived. This was turning out to be less like a robbery and more like a hit.
"Could the young boy have shot him?" Crenshaw asked the doctor.
The doctor looked at the fall and the position needed to answer that question. "Unlikely, the trajectory was at an angle, consistent with a smaller person…but unless the boy was standing on that chair over there," the doctor pointed to the dusty chair at the back wall, "I wouldn't like to say."
Crenshaw walked over to the chair to check if there were any footprints, it was too hard to tell. There appeared to be multiple prints, but whether they were used in the killing of the councilman or simply stamped when reaching something up high was anyone's guess.
Trewlove knew that it could be anyone on the street they were knocking on the doors at. The councilman was tall, at least six-foot-two and the potential suspect was much smaller, according to the doctor around 5ft 8inches.
"Detection is not part of my remit. Good morning officers." The doctor concluded before leaving the officers to start their investigation. The pathologist signalled his team to remove the body. "I will let you know what else I find inspector after the PM."
Crenshaw looked at Trewlove, "If there's nothing else, see if you can't find out more from the boy, find out where his mother is. We'll need to talk to them both. DS Graves and I will handle the investigation from here." Crenshaw pointed to the exit.
Crenshaw looked at the pathologist's men removing the body.
Taking out a Hilden branded cigarette from the red and white packet. Striking a match, he wafted out the flame and dropped it on the floor, staring at his reflection in the white graffitied lettering on the mirror at the back wall, which read: Welcome to Hell's waiting room.
Leaving the scene, he too wondered what the councilman was doing here in a place like this.
The chill of the Autumn was making its way through the school corridors. Old posters were blowing as the breeze made its way to where WPC Maud Summers and Alex were sitting. Trewlove was still remembering the heat aboard the cruise liner she was on in the Summer, before arriving as part of DI Crenshaw's team.
Looking at Alex, reminded her of a young child aboard the vessel and how frightened they were when the captain told them there was a threat to the ship.
"Are you okay miss?" Alex spoke with a soft voice, as though they'd been raised well-mannered and careful of their words. The young child didn't seem to fit in a place like this. Trewlove asked Alex how they're feeling and how they ended up in the village.
"I was born here miss, my dad's inside and my mom worked at keeping us all together." At a glance for Trewlove, she could see a small tear appearing in Alex's eye. "Most people don't know me, they think I'm something else." Trewlove can see hatred in Alex's eyes, as though something is troubling the young person. "It's not all bad though, everyone seems to leave us alone." Alex said waiting to be asked a question.
Unfortunately, without an appropriate adult present or Alex's mother, Trewlove couldn't interview the young child, she was there to make sure Alex was okay. And to tell them they'd be going back to the Yard. She had posted a note through Alex's mother's letterbox, to inform her that her child was being taken to the station. She can see Alex looked worried about something.
"What school do you go to?" Trewlove asked, knowing that it was half term, but she knew Alex had to go to school somewhere. "St. James', is it?" She remembered seeing the school on her way through Carrington Forest, although Saint James' school was for boys.
"Not quite miss, but my mum teaches me – she doesn't work of course, but she's smart." Alex smiled showing clean white teeth. From the many people they'd seen today, Alex looked different to the others. There was still some order left in a household, and Trewlove admired Mrs Kiernan's attitude towards her child.
"I hear you're a bit of nuisance," Maud said having heard what Trewlove had mentioned about the young person, "beating up kids, breaking and entering – surprised you're not in Kalkirk Boy's Home."
Alex had now heard a number of references to her being a boy. She could tell that her father was right, and many people saw her as a young boy.
Alex told them about her past, she admitted she was wrong, but her reasons were justifiable. She'd helped a few less fortunate than her children on the street from subjugation. She had built to protect.
"What about breaking into an old person's home?" Maud asked. Alex had an answer to everything. She broke into an old lady's house after she could smell gas. For every crime relayed to her, she offered a valiant reason for the cause.
"Quite the hero, then aren't we." Maud continued. "What do they call you around here?"
Alex smiled, "Joan of Arc." She said as she knew the officers would smile back. Maud recognised the heroine.
"Wasn't that a girl?"
Trewlove, added to the conversation, "Joan of Arc wasn't like most women, she had an XY chromosome, although mostly female there were parts of her anatomy that didn't work as one would expect." Alex revealed an operation she had, explaining that she was a girl, but many mistook her for a boy.
"I thought you were a boy." Maud said realising her mistake. Trewlove wasn't entirely sure, just like Joan of Arc it was a little hard to tell in her younger years.
"Don't worry we'll get that straightened out," Trewlove made some notes in her notebook. "Is there anything you want to tell us before we head to the station?"
Maud knew asking a ten-year-old if there was anything they wanted to say was as a sillier question as it got. If Alex did know the killer, Maud believed she wasn't going to say anything. To their surprise Alex said something they weren't expecting, "Did you see all that money?"
The officers looked at one another. "What money?" Trewlove asked. She had seen the notes in the wallet, but she didn't think it was that much, not in the way Alex was describing.
"The money in the envelope. Me and mom could start a new life with that kinda bread and honey." Alex said.
Trewlove started to make notes in her notebook. "What about the tie pin, did you notice that was missing?"
Maud looked at Trewlove, wondering what she meant by that question.
