Chapter 12: Boxing Day afternoon

Jessica Lovage-Martin cleared her throat, while gripping her furry microphone, the air still thick with acrid smoke. Dave the cameraman and Pat the producer/director from the Brighton studios had only just arrived and she needed to do an overdue update report for the evening news. She had been off-air for over an hour and a half, after the batteries in her MacBook had died and sending reports by Skype was no longer possible. Jessica had squeezed in a couple of verbal-only reports before her mobile phone also died, the studio no doubt still showing her dramatic footage from her arrival around four or five hours ago. To be honest, she didn’t know how long she had been there, it was almost dark now and she had lost all track of time.

She had already identified the best vantage point, to get the burned out shell of the ancient barn in the frame, with teams of firemen in their reflective clothing standing out in the gathering gloom of the mid-winter late afternoon, as they continued damping down smouldering thatch, raking straw away from thick wooden beams. There was also some frenzied activity by the fireman and other volunteers at the far end of the barn, where they were clearing parts of a collapsed wall, brick by brick along a chain of firefighters. She presently had two witnesses lined up for interviewing, the only ones she was able to agree with to talk to her at this juncture.

She glanced at her notes on the iPad Pat had supplied her with before starting but knew that, once she began, Pat the producer/director had a copy of the same notes and would remind her through her earpiece if she strayed off track. While Dave was still sorting his equipment out and establishing his live feed back to the studio, Jessica thought back to when she arrived on scene.

The flames were fiercely reaching into the heavens then, with six fire engines crowded into and blocking the tiny lane and the Medcalf residence and their crews striving to prevent the fire spreading. She stopped 30 yards down the lane, grabbed her laptop, grateful that she’d had it plugged in on charge during the long journey from the north. No one stopped her as she made her way to the back of the house and set up the MacBook on a pile of tarpaulin covered timber, with its internal camera pointing at the burning barn and the fire crews tackling it. She managed to pick up a decent unprotected wifi signal from the isolated farmhouse and used that connection to contact the newsroom through Skype. To say the newsroom guys were delighted with her feed, was an understatement.

Jessica was able to show Councillor Medcalf’s head wound being stitched up and steadfastly refusing to go off to hospital, until they rescued “Marina and Barbara”. Sir Philip Sands, so recently portrayed in opposition to Medcalf, was shown collapsing, both with grief at the loss of his wife and the effects of smoke inhalation, and consequently being comforted by the injured, equally bereft Medcalf. One of the abductors was taken away by stretcher to a waiting ambulance, apparently with serious burns.

Jessica and Pat the producer/director deduced that “Barbara” was Lady Barbara Sands, but no-one knew who “Marina” was. Dave the cameraman suggested that, as this was a stable, maybe “Marina” was a mare.

Many of the various emergency crews had recognised Jessica as a regular local outside broadcaster, as they took periods of relief and had cheerfully stood to answer questions in front of her tiny camera lens, so Jessica was able to keep the regional news and even, at regular intervals on the hour, the nationwide 24-hours news channel audience up to date. Through Jessica’s earpiece, Pat the producer/director advised her that Dave the cameraman was now ready and the live feed from the Studio to broadcast.

Dave switched on the camera lights and the producer/director called, “five, four,” then silently showed three fingers, two fingers, one, none and Jessica confidently began her latest update on her exclusive scoop.

“This is Jessica Lovage-Martin reporting for BBC News South, from a burnt out barn in Lindon, West Sussex, the home of Councillor Daniel Medcalf, where the drama you can see behind me originally began to unfold, at first light this morning. Eight people, we understand, mostly family and friends of the Medcalfs, were taken hostage, gagged and restrained by nylon ropes, in this ancient barn behind me, where three horses were also kept. The horses were released early on when the abductors first took possession of the barn. The Medcalf family were brought to the barn, which was set alight, while most were still in the barn, in an apparently deliberate act of attempted murder. Four of the kidnappers, mostly young students it seems, are currently held in custody, one of them a much older man, possibly the ring leader of the group, has been taken to hospital with serious burns and is reportedly in a critical but stable condition. He has been formerly identified as James Johnson, a convicted serial rapist of mostly young girls, released from Ford Open Prison just under six months ago, who police sources understand he held grudges against members of the Medcalf family. Also, one of the released hostages has been taken to hospital with undisclosed injuries, but possibly only as a precautionary measure. Two people, both women, are believed to be missing, possibly buried under the rubble of a collapsed wall. One of the kidnappers, a woman, is also missing and may have made a clean getaway. Two bodies, believed to be members of the abductors, have been removed from the wreckage, but not yet formerly identified.

“Now, I have with me, Mister Paul Hammond, who is the farm manager here. He was one of the first victims of this kidnapping and therefore involved in this act of arson and worse almost from the beginning.”

The witness was pushed into the lit area where the camera was focused. He had a thick white bandage wrapped around his head. Hammond, blinked in the lights and stood next to the reporter, while Jessica turned to face him.

“Mr Hammond, can you tell us what happened to you early this morning?”

“Well, I were doin’ me mornin’ rounds when I saw two intruders wearing ski masks, releasing the horses by the stables. As I challenged them, some bugger -er, sorry, one of the kidnappers, slugged me from behind.”

“So what did you see when you regained consciousness?”

“I found I were in one of the empty stalls, about second or third stall in from the north wall. I were tied up and gagged. They used them nylon cable ties on my wrists and ankles, so it were futile struggling, no way you could bite through them, me hands behind my back. I were lying on the floor, alongside Miss Ginny, who were also bound with ties and gagged with white cloth, like cut from an old shirt. She were sitting up, waiting for me to wake up.”

“That is Dr Virginia Medcalf,” Jessica turned to the camera and repeated what Pat the producer/director, in timely fashion, had dictated into her ear, “the daughter of the celebrated Dr Penny Medcalf-Josephs, the cancer specialist who so tragically died of cancer two years ago.”

“Aye, Miss Ginny were expected home for the holidays.”

“So what happened next?”

“Well, there were a different guy to the first two people I saw, who were standing guarding us. He were wearing one of those SandRock Construction hi-viz jackets, one that looked like it weren’t ‘is because it were miles too big for ‘im. Not sure how long I were out for, an’ when I did come to, Miss Ginny ‘n’ me couldn’t talk because of the gags. I think we was left for mebbee another 20 minutes or so, and then more chaps, one of them, a heavy-set bloke, who was also wearing a slightly better-fittin’ SandRock jacket, dragged in Giles, who’s Miss Ginny’s boyfriend — he’s another doctor — plus Miss Sophie — Miss Ginny’s sister — and a woman guest, what I’d never seen before. Finally, this thin weedy old chap, the only one not wearing a ski mask, dragged poor Mr Medcalf in along the floor. He were clearly unconscious an’ bleeding badly from a head wound, much worse than the little bump I got.”

“I’d like to point out that we’ve met Councillor Daniel Medcalf before, not five miles away from this spot, just a week ago,” Jessica addressed the camera, “putting lucid arguments against the SandRock Corporation plans to build a motorway through ancient woodland near here. This is Medcalf’s property that we are standing on.” She turned to Hammond again, “What do you think the significance of those high visibility SandRock jackets were?”

“I think they were trying to fit up SandRock, Jessica, by leaving them jackets behind as ‘evidence’ that SandRock wanted to stop Daniel -”

A snort from another man standing off camera. Dave panned round with his floodlight and camera, picking out a big red-faced man, who happened to be wearing a SandRock jacket that fitted perfectly.

“Aye, it were obviously nowt to do wit’ SandRock, Jessica,” he growled, “or else Sir Phil ‘n’t’Lady Babs would a’ bin raht owt of this murd’rous an’ cowardly attack, instead o’ bein’ victims.”

“Ah, yes, this is Mr Matthew Jamieson, the Southampton depot manager for SandRock,” Jessica declared. “I hear that you burst onto the scene like the U.S. Cavalry and saved the day. Would you like to tell the viewers how you happened to come by this incident?”

“Aye, reet. Well, I were oop cherry picker outside t’big house, like, an’ I cud smell smoke, so I scooted the cage oop another few feet, an’ saw t’smoke comin’ from t’yon barn tha’ was.” Matt indicated behind him with a jerking thumb to the smouldering ruin behind him, where firemen were still picking through the rubble, while others were turning over timbers or piles of material and using water to dampen down any further outbreaks of fire. “I got my mate Bert onto the blower to the Trump- er, the Fire Service. Then I moved t’cherry picker in t’yard so they could use it as an extra unit to get water above flames.”

“We broadcast shots earlier showing the cherry picker being used by the fire service, not long after I arrived,” said Jessica.

“Aye. That’s a SandRock cherrypicker, tha’ knows,” Matt reminded her with a grin.

“We saw,” Jessica smiled as the camera panned back to her before unhooking to include all three in the picture.

Turning to Hammond and Jamieson, standing next to one another, she continued, addressing Hammond this time, “So, Mr Hammond, you were still tied up and more hostages were brought in there with you. It must’ve looked pretty desperate.”

“Aye, it were that.”

‘How did you manage to get away, when you were all tied up as you were? And was the fire an accident or deliberately started by the intruders?”

“They never tied Mr Medcalf up, though, because he were still spark out on the floor. The end stall next to us, like, reeked o’ petrol an’ I could see three or four petrol cans at the end of the partition wall between the stalls,” Hammond replied, “they were in the other stall, but there’s about a nine-inch to a foot space under the partitions, you know for ventilation. We was both gagged, Miss Ginny ‘n’ me, so couldn’t warn ‘em of the danger. Petrol fumes is highly explosive, especially in closed places like the barn, an’ more likely to explode then simply burn. Then them attackers dragged in Lady Barbara and her husband, Sir Phil. I’d never actually met him before but I recognised him straight off, like, from the telly.”

“So what were Sir Philip and Lady Barbara Sands doing there?”

“They were friends wi’ t’owners of this house,” piped up Matt, “that’s why I were int’ lane. Sir Phil asked us to snow plough rahnd ‘ere int’ last week, including The Grange and the row o’ cottages at the bottom, where Lady Babs were stayin’. I ‘ad to coom back ta fix lamp wot I tickled wit’ snow plough.”

“Aye,” confirmed Hammond, “Lady Barbara were Dr Penny Medcalf’s best friend and stayed up here in one of the cottages all during her illness, an’ stayed on afterwards as a comfort for wee Miss Sophie, while Miss Ginny were away training to be a doctor.”

“That explains why they were here.” Jessica added.

“It were getting right bloody crowded in that stall, I tell yer, all pushed down onto the floor. The old guy what came in with Lady Barbara and Sir Philip, who were not only gagged, but blindfolded. He tore his blokes off a strip because, though we’d been gagged, apparently we shoulda been blindfolded an’ all. And then he recognised Mr Medcalf’s female guest. He were right shocked to see her! His jaw fair hit the floor.”

“And what was her reaction?”

“Well, Miss Ginny ‘n’ I had long given up struggling, the bonds were too tight, but the newbies were still trying to get loose, just wriggling like, testing the nylon ties, but when the old man came into the stall, she recognised him straight away and were really struggling hard to get free and try to get onto her feet, like beside hersen with anger. That’s what got his attention, her struggling so much to get up. When he saw who she were, he yelled out, ‘You!’ as if she were like the last person he ever expected to see there.”

“Did this ‘old guy’ give himself away, regarding identity, Mr Hammond?”

As Hammond shook his head, Jessica once more turned to address the camera, “according to an unofficial police source, the leader of this kidnapping gang may well be James Johnson, a convicted rapist and pedophile, who is currently believed to be in...” a finger pressed her earpiece, “Chichester hospital undergoing emergency treatment for severe burns.”

“At the time I hadn’t heard who he were, Jessica. Anyway, I think they’d used all the gags they had on ‘em. One of ‘em thought he had some spare strips of cloth in an haversack, what he had to fetch from the end stall, and so they started blindfolding the newcomers but soon ran out again before they got to the last three of us. I don’t think they had planned on holdin’ so many of us as hostages. Then this classy bird walked in for the first time and kicked up merry hell with the kids when she saw how many of us they were holdin’ hostage. And she was right pissed, sorry, peeved that some of them might recognise the old man. She and the old man stared at each other and openly rowed -”

“Rowed, about how many hostages?”

“No more like, she complained about stupid printed invitations that were evidence that could be used in evidence against him. Then she said that according to their carefully laid plans for an alibi he should never have been anywhere near the place, an’ he replied that neither should she and called her a silly cow, and she got back at him about her only being there because he was, the stupid old b- she called him. She had called him Dad earlier too, now I recall. Then she grabbed the old guy and took him outside, to carry on their row out of earshot, I guess.”

“So, Mr Hammond, do you have any idea who any of these abductors were and what they were after?”

“Not really, most of ‘em were only kids, students I guessed. About four or five guys altogether plus the fat lass. The young guy givin’ all the orders, before the old guy came in, was called Andy and one of the others was Mark. I only know that because one kid called the other Andy and this Andy hissed back at him, ‘no names, Mark!’, which considering the circumstances I thought were quite funny. I never really thought our lives were in danger at that time, that they were just after stealing the sort of Christmas presents that they thought richer people than them would have. Anyway, two of them were definitely related, because the weedy guy Andy, what ended up blowing hisself up, called the older guy, who was also quite thin and weedy, ‘Dad’! So I reckon he were brother to the posh tart.”

“Blowing himself up, you say?”

“Aye, the stupid bugger must’ve struck a match to light a huge twist of paper sacking what he’d tore off a bag o’ pig nuts. I reckon he’s one o’ the two bodies dragged out, couldn’t have happened to a more deserving bloke, I say. Anyway, it were definitely Mr Medcalf, and the woman what was staying with him, they was the ones they seemed out to get and separated ‘em from the rest of us.”

“Get?”

“Kill, I guess. I reckoned the old geezer, Andy’s Dad, must’ve been the woman’s jealous husband or summat. He were furious most of the time, ranting and mumbling. Mad, he were, like foaming at the mouth, like, an’ spoutin’ off a lot of nonsense I could barely understand, but I got the gist that according to him the lass was his and not Daniel’s, that he had no right takin’ her away from him, then or now. The kids had got us all standin’ up while he ranted and the kids began to cut through the bonds holding our legs, so we could walk. An’ then marched us out of the stall towards the double doors, one by one. But just before that, they dragged poor Mr Medcalf and his lady friend out of our stall first and dragged them into the end stall out of sight, where the strong petrol smell were comin’ from. The lass was still bound hand an’ foot, gagged and now blindfold so the poor lass couldn’t a had a clue what were happening.”

“And you could see all this?”

“Aye, me, Miss Ginny and the unconscious Mr Medcalf were the only ones not in blindfolds, because they never brought enough gags and blindfolds with ‘em. Anyway, Ginny an’ me could see the Andy fella carrying the matches and twisted paper is his hands, so we could guess what was gonna happen. Not that we could do much about it. Ginny seemed much calmer about it than me, but she were just biding her time. The others were being led away, after their legs were freed and they were pulled to their feet. They were blindfolded so they didn’t really have a clue what the hell was going on.”

“I suppose you were all helpless!”

“Aye, all except Lady Barbara. When they cut the ankle ties so she could walk, she simply refused to stand up. I could hear her tellin’ ‘em in no uncertain manner to ‘bugger off!’ It was hard to make out what exactly she said but it went something like, ‘You untie us completely and let us all go immediately, otherwise we’re just staying put!’”

“Good old Lady Babs!” chortled Matt Jamieson, “she were one in a million, that woman. Everybody loved her at SandRock, everyone!”

“Wasn’t she gagged?” Jessica asked.

“Aye, but perhaps it wasn’t tight enough, because we could definitely understand what she said. They had just dragged Mr Medcalf and his girlfriend into the other stall, and the old boy said they might as well put Lady Barbara in there with them, so they started to drag her in, while she was trying to kick out with her boots, hopin’ to connect. She couldn’t see nothin’, as she was still blindfolded. Then Sir Philip, who was already being led away, shook off the hand leading him by the arm and started to move quickly back towards where he could hear them dragging her Ladyship. He were still blindfolded though and ran straight into the post at the end of the stall, and the big fella in the SandRock coat dragged him away. The fat lass cut Miss Sophie’s ankle tie and waved to one of the blokes led her away. Anyway, as soon as Miss Ginny’s legs were freed and she were pulled to her feet by this bloke Mark, she gave him a Glaswegian handshake -”

“A what?”

“She head butted him! Very neatly done, I will say, spread his nose right across ‘is face, then she ran off into the end stall before anyone could stop her. Next thing we know, the whole place explodes, filled with flames and all hell broke loose!”

“How did you get out?”

“Yeah, well, more by luck than anything, there was a ball of flame rocked through the whole building, ballooning over the top of the stall. I were still on the ground, my ankle ties uncut. I simply rolled away. I were still on the ground, trussed up like a chicken, but I were right under the flames, which burned away the fumes in the air, they never touched me at all. I could see where I needed to go, so I just rolled over and over until I got to the doorway. I did manage to knock the old guy, Andy’s Dad over in the process, he was trying to run out from the end stall towards the door and I kicked him into the bales stacked by the door. He was burnin’ up like a bleedin’ Roman candle!”

“Were you the first one to get out of the inferno?”

“No, a couple of the kidnappers plus the fat lass got out first. The guys were leggin’ it back to the path by the side of the house, presumably to where their getaway car was if it were out front. The fat lass only ran a few yards but couldn’t get her breath from breathing in all the smoke. Sir Philip, Miss Sophie and Giles were outside and were left gagged, blindfolded and hand tied by the barn door. I was still struggling to get out of the bonds what was still tying my hands and feet up when Matt here turned up.”

Jessica could hear instructions over her earphone, “I’m afraid that’s all we got time for, many thanks Mr Hammond, Mr Jamieson, and back to the Studio,” she said to the camera, then spoke to the two men, “We are not live on air any more, but we will carry on filming, so we can stitch together another report later.”

Jessica turned to Matt, “Mr Jamieson, would you like to take up the story at this point?”

“Aye, well I were on me way rahnd to get t’barn, when these two kids ran rahnt’ corner.”

“They must’ve been the ones that dragged Sir Phillip and Giles, along with the fat girl that took out Sophie. When I got myself out by rolling outside, the two guys had gone.”

“Aye, reckon they left her behind, she’d never ‘a’ caught ‘em, they were travellin’! One of ‘em thumped us as soon as I spoke to ‘em, so I knocked him dahn, an’ then I ‘it ‘is mate, too. When I got in front of t’barn, I saw Mr Hammond here ont’ ground, the silly fat girl standin’ there wringing her hands an’ wettin’ herself, an’ my boss Sir Phil and another guy coughing their guts up, both still blindfolded and hands tied behind their backs. I know the classy bird, that Mr Hammond said he saw earlier. She’s Sir Phil’s PA, and is a reet toffee nosed bitch, who goes by t’name o’ Patience Page-Turner, what all the blokes at the depot call Patty Perknickerty-Twister. She weren’t tied up or nothin’ an’ as soon as she saw me comin’ she hightailed it off dahn that path over there.”