The Paderborn Connection Read Online Free Page B

to go straight up, the doctor has finished his rounds although I don’t if your father is awake or not,” said Mrs Carmichael, the lady at the front desk. Mrs Carmichael was the perfect receptionist for the hospice, an attractive fifty something, smartly dressed and friendly but very efficient at the same time.
    Mick walked up the stairs and along the corridor, past the watercolour pictures on the walls, mostly scenes of the Lake District. The carpets were fairly new and had that distinctive smell that new carpets have. He reached the room where his father was spending the last days of his life and slowly opened the door, looking into the room when it was opened far enough. The room was nicely decorated in neutral colours, a beige carpet and flowered curtains and two upholstered armchairs for visitors.
    He could see his father, asleep in his bed near the window, and quietly went in.
    â€œHello dad,” he said but there was no answer of course. He sat down in the armchair and leaned back, looking around the room.
    â€œIs this what it’s like for everybody,” he thought to himself, “the last days of your life sleeping a drug induced sleep until the inevitable moment arrived.”
    He thought about how Phillip Austen had died, bleeding to death in a supermarket service yard. Just a different way to die he thought to himself. He sat there for about an hour, then stood up, said “bye dad,” and left.

CHAPTER FIVE

    Mick got into his car and rang Bob on his mobile. “Any joy with the CCTV?”
    â€œI’ve got the locations of four or five possibles, I’ll get the recordings this afternoon and see if we can see anything,” said Bob.
    They drove back to Hatfield, parked and went in through the secure yard and then the rear door.
    â€œOne of these days I’m going to forget all of these security codes and have to stand here in the rain till somebody lets me in,” said Mick.

    *
    Mick entered the incident room where Matt and Emma were tapping away at their laptops. He waited for Bob to join them and announced
    â€œWe now have more information on our victim. He is definitely Captain Philip Austen of the Royal Military police based in Paderborn, Germany and we have a photo of him, probably with his wife and sons. That suitcase contains his belongings in his hotel room. We have his passport which gives his address in Guildford, together with his security pass for the Garrison base in Germany and a file with some sort of coded references. His passport gives his next of kin as Ann Austen. You and I will go there in the morning Emma and do the necessary. Anything from the car yet?” he asked.
    Matt replied “Mileage reading was four thousand six hundred and one so just two hundred and sixty five miles since he picked it up. Oh and a waterproof coat on the backseat with a receipt for coffee and Danish at a place in Cambridge.”

    *
    On the Wednesday morning, as they drove to Guildford Mick asked Emma to get the passport from his document case on the back seat.
    â€œWhen was it issued?”
    â€œSix years ago,” she replied.
    â€œLet’s hope Mrs Austen still lives there.”
    As they turned into the road looking for number forty nine Emma remarked that these houses were in the half to three quarters of a million pound bracket. “I didn’t think even Captains earn that sort of money.”
    â€œYou can never tell these days, it’s quite common now for people to inherit serious money if they were only children for instance and they were left even a relatively modest detached house,” replied Mick.
    Suddenly Mick pulled in and stopped outside a Victorian semi-detached house.
    â€œThis is only number twenty seven boss.”
    â€œI know but look at that man getting out of the blue Rover, even without his tie or epaulettes showing his rank, he is definitely a senior police officer. That white shirt and those trousers are standard