In The Name Of The Father

Chapter 5

5

Wendy spotted Jack Culverhouse’s car parked up on a grass verge as she pulled up behind it on the rural track known as Wellfield Lane. Culverhouse got out of his car at the same time as Wendy and Steve, the two of them both surprised to see the DCI in attendance.

‘Didn’t expect to see you here,’ Wendy said, trying to gauge his mood.

‘You know me, Knight. Never one to pass up a chance for some hippy bashing. Any sign of the bosher?’ he called to the two uniformed officers at the main entrance gate to Hilltop Farm.

‘No, sir. But it shouldn’t be long.’

The bosher, or Enforcer, was the colloquial police term for the piece of equipment better known as a battering ram. Culverhouse looked up at the wrought iron gates that led into a small walled courtyard. The courtyard had a huge wooden gate behind it. Culverhouse wondered what good the bosher would do in this instance.

‘You tried this?’ Culverhouse asked, pointing to the intercom box on the wall.

‘Yes, of course,’ the young uniformed officer replied.

Culverhouse jabbed the button on the box. ‘Police. Open up,’ he barked.

‘I’m sorry, but this is not a public area,’ came the muffled and distant reply. ‘Please vacate the driveway.’

‘Sorry, no can do. We’ve had a report of a crime and we need to enter the farm.’

The tinny voice returned over the intercom. ‘This farm is the land of Christ. No-one has committed a crime here. We are people of God.’

Culverhouse leaned forward and spoke into the intercom. ‘I couldn’t give a rat’s arse if you’ve got Noah and St Peter in there doing the f*****g can-can. We’ve got two ways of coming in, and one of them means you’re going to need to get a new gate. Do I make myself clear?’

There was silence for a few moments.

‘Perfectly,’ came the eventual reply. ‘Someone will be with you in a few moments.’

It took longer than Culverhouse would have liked for someone from the farm to make their way to the front gates. The high walls made it impossible to see inside the farm. It looked more like a prison than a working place of agriculture.

One thing was for sure, though: It was huge. The wall seemed to go on forever, and Wendy considered what they might find behind the gates. Should they have called for even more backup? She could see now why the two uniformed officers felt a little out of their depth when they first arrived. But further backup needed to come from around twenty miles away. It would be some time before they’d have any more strength in numbers.

Going into a place like this was always a risk. Most police officers would put their lives on the line most days. Granted, the same couldn’t really be said of CID. But, once again, Mildenheath was different. Here, plain-clothes detectives did a lot of the legwork, as opposed to uniformed officers. Mildenheath and the surrounding area had a high level of crime in general. With the government slashing policing budgets left, right and centre, a different approach was often needed just to cope.

But that wasn’t the biggest concern at the forefront of anyone’s minds as they waited for someone to open up the farm. The largest worry was that someone could be hiding or destroying evidence during the ensuing delay. That could jeopardise any future investigation, and was one of the main reasons for searching the property as quickly as possible.

When the solid wooden gate opened, a large man appeared. He seemed to be of African origin, and looked to Jack and Wendy more like a bouncer than a vicar. They watched him as he walked through the first gate and went to open the wrought iron ones at the front of the farm. Culverhouse leaned forward to get a better look. The man’s hand disappeared from view for a moment, and seemed to be fiddling with the wall.

‘Don’t worry,’ the man said. ‘I’m turning a key. The gate’s locked with electromagnets.’

‘Electromagnets? On a church?’ Culverhouse asked.

‘It’s not a church,’ the man replied, offering no further information as he opened the gate and stood aside.

‘Whatever it is, don’t you think it’s overkill? That sort of security tends to make us think people are hiding something.’

The man just smiled.

‘Where are we meant to be going?’ Culverhouse said aside to one of the uniformed officers.

‘The old grain store, apparently,’ came the reply.

‘It’s over there, to the right of the white building,’ the man said. ‘Let me know if you need anything else.’

There was something in his tone that told Wendy they were being set up for a fall. Whatever evidence there was — if any — would have been hidden or destroyed by now. There was no other reason why the man would be so helpful all of a sudden. She’d almost discounted the possibility of an ambush. Almost. The small chance was something that played on her mind as she walked a couple of paces behind Jack Culverhouse, toward the grain store.

What struck Wendy most was that there seemed to be no-one else around. There were many buildings scattered around the vast farm, but no people. The only people she could see were her own team and the man who’d opened the gates and was now leading them towards the large, looming grain store. The whole place just felt spooky and wrong, somehow.

It was clear that no-one had used the building for storing grain for quite some time. At least, that’s what Wendy hoped. The missing tiles on the curved roof and the white paint flaking off the exterior walls gave the grain store a feeling of neglect. Indeed, the whole farm seemed to feel somewhat forgotten and abandoned in some ways, but fresh and invigorating in others. She supposed that was one of the hallmarks of a community locked away from the outside world.

The door creaked as the man unlatched it and swung it open, that being the only sound save for the officers’ own blood thumping in their ears. Wendy swallowed as her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she tried to take in the sight in front of her.