Missing Years ( Part 6)

“Spencer? It’s Alan Swan from the SIS (Secret Intelligence Service, formally known as MI6), I understand you’re waiting for someone who may or may not be Ray Samuels?)

“Err yes Sir, should be here in a few hours time, why do you ask?”

“Where have you arranged to meet him and who’s bringing him in?”

“He’s coming down with the local Sergeant and he’s coming direct to the station, why all the questions?”

“I am on my way from London, I’ll be with you within the hour, when I get there you’ll need to have a quiet office ready where we can have a chat about Mr Samuels”

Swan hung up the phone.

DCI Spencer was now intrigued, he was only 47, he hadn’t been around very long when Ray Samuels went missing. But when he started out as a PC at Romford 25 years ago it was the talk of the station. There was this aura about him, a mystique.

He had gone missing, nothing unusual about that, but then all these people started to turn up. They took over the whole investigation. They were from Special Services, MI5 and MI6; they wanted to know everything about this man. They questioned his wife for hours, knocked on every door on the route that they thought he had taken, they had so much man power and they wanted every inch of the route covered, all bloody 9 miles of it. It took forever. He remembered they were particularly interested in Peter, an old tramp that used to camp at the side of the road. He had seen Ray that morning. They kept him locked up for ages, no solicitor for Old Peter; he was just kept for as long as they wanted. No idea what he said to them, but after a few weeks they let him go. Then of course there was Eddie Samuels, Rays father, some kind of religious nut, wouldn’t stop going on about how his son was so special. The general opinion by everyone at the time was that Ray had been a victim of a car accident. Maybe someone had run him down by accident, panicked, bundled his body into their car and drove off and buried him somewhere. That wasn’t his own theory; he always thought there was more to it than that. Why so much man power, why so many forces involved, why the relentless search for this man for the next three years. Didn’t make sense, none of it!

But the local Sarge had said that he was still 28, that of course WAS impossible. But then why were SIS so interested in him. There must be something special about him.

He had an hour before Swan came down. He had to do his own digging.

Spencer shouted to a young admin lad.

“Roberts come here, go down to archives and get me everything you can on the Ray Samuels case from 1982, and look fucking lively!”

Roberts nodded and went away. Fifteen minutes later he was back with a trolley. It has 2 Archive boxes on it.

Spencer knew he didn’t have much time. He went through the files as quick as he could. He was looking for the notes from Old Peters investigation. He found them. He read through them as quickly as he could.

The one thing that stood out in the notes, was Old Peters answer to all the questions he was asked “The Rain took him, it was the rain!” he said it over and over again.

What did he mean “The Rain took him?”

Swan arrived at the station an hour later. Spencer was waiting for him at the front desk.

“Commander Swan, welcome to Romford”

“Cut the crap Spencer, do you have somewhere quiet we can go; I need to bring you up to speed about Samuels”

Spencer led him down a corridor into a small office; there was a fresh pot of coffee on the table. Spencer poured them both black coffee.

“Milk and Sugar Sir?”

“Just black thanks”

Swan made himself comfortable and looked across the table at Spencer.

“Ok, I’ve read your file, you’re a good copper, done your time, I’ve made some enquiries, you can be trusted!”

“Thank you Sir”

“If this is Ray Samuels, and from what I am being told, it is likely to be, then we need some discreet people to look after him. You will look after him for a while, starting now. The plod from Buxton driving him here will be your number two. I’ve squared it with both your seniors”

“But I’m involved with other cases Sir”

“Not anymore, they’ve been sorted. You now report to me direct, from this moment on, so does the northerner. Ray Samuels is special, special for a number of reasons, reasons we will go into later. But for now your main task is to confirm that it is definitely him and keep him somewhere safe and quiet. If his existence gets out we are all in trouble. So find out if it is him. If so great, lets get him settled somewhere. If not, fuck him off. But if it is him, it’s your responsibility to make sure that no one else knows about it. Do I make myself clear?”

“What about everyone at the station, there is a rumour that he’s turned up after all these years”

“The northerner has now been told to take him to a local Travel Lodge and wait for us there, you need to convince everyone here that it was all a huge wind up by Buxton, say it was a drunk that made up a name, tell them anything, I don’t care, but they must believe that it isn’t Ray Samuels!. Clear!”

“Yes Sir”

They drank the coffee and left the small meeting room.

Spencer was even more confused than he was an hour ago, but had no option but to go along with it all. Then he decided to throw a curved ball.

“What about the Rain sir, are you still concerned about the Rain?”

Swan stopped in his tracks and pulled Spencer to one side roughly by his arm.

“What the fuck do you know about the Rain?”