Book Extract: Lone Wolves, Steve Blandford – Part 3

This is the last of three extracts from Steve Blandford’s new novel Lone Wolves, which have been published on Nation.Cymru over the past weeks. The first and second are available here. 

Author’s Note

This is a story set in Wales in the period after the shock of the Brexit result in 2016, but before the mutation of UKIP, first into the Brexit Party and then into Reform UK.

The novel happily leaves it to others to concentrate on the machinations of those closely involved in right wing political parties. However, UKIP’s electoral success in Wales in 2016 and Reform UK’s subsequent rise in the opinion polls in Wales do form an important backdrop to the fictional events of the story.

Chapter 3.

Anna showed David out through a rear entrance. Not that anyone would have particularly associated him with the events of the morning, but, as Anna said, it was amazing how things spread on various forms of social media, so it would be easier if he were able to slip away. In the old days they would have been able to offer him a lift, she said.

‘Is there anyone you could call?’

They had given him his phone back after he had unlocked it for them to take a quick look at any calls in the few hours before the 999. He decided, with a lot of reservations, to call Lucy. Not that she would mind really; it was more that it felt abject to be calling your estranged wife when you were in any sort of difficulty. He just told her that he found a body, that it had been a difficult morning, and would she be able to give him a lift? He knew that it was her day working at home on research and writing her new book. This was good in one sense in that she was free and contactable, but a potential difficulty because he knew how much she hated that precious time being eaten into.

Luckily the gravity of the situation had registered with Lucy. David could see this from her face as soon as she drew up. Lucy could be fierce if she thought he was being, as she put it, “pathetic”. There was a small scratch on the front wing of the red Polo. David assumed that it was probably a practice driving session with their eldest daughter, Meg. It reminded him that he said he would start taking her out at the weekend, but he had no idea how confident she was yet.

‘You look rough,’ said Lucy as he got in.

‘Thanks. Nice to see you too.’

‘I’m sorry. But stubble has never quite been your thing. And I know that you say that it’s not worth ironing running clothes, but you never know where you are going to end up.’ She was just teasing him, of course, and the pleasure she got from that was infectious. David started to feel a little better already.

‘Thanks for coming down. I could have got a taxi, but…you know…I did feel a bit weird.’

‘I’m not surprised. Do you feel like telling me a bit more about it?’

‘I don’t suppose you have time for a coffee. Maybe a bite to eat? I’ll pay you back, only I don’t have any money on me at all.’

There was some hesitation, but they headed across the city centre to a place in Roath where they used to go after they went to the gym together. Brunch on a Saturday. When did that become a normal British word, David thought to himself?

Lucy wouldn’t eat anything, but he was hungry now. Callous bastard, he thought to himself. Poached eggs on muffins, two flat whites. Could have been very civilised if he hadn’t just discovered a man in the woods who had been decapitated.

Despite what Anna Dodds had told him, he told Lucy everything, including the idea that the police were pursuing the theory that this was linked to the attacks in Madrid and Vienna during the past month.

‘Fuck!’

‘I know. That’s what I thought, but I couldn’t say it out loud because I was talking to a police officer.’

‘I wouldn’t have been able to help myself.’

‘Perhaps you wouldn’t. No.’

‘Was this poor guy targeted in some way?’

‘I’ve no idea. They didn’t tell me anything. Some of those in Europe have been completely random, haven’t they?’

‘I’m not sure. I often don’t get beyond the headlines now. It’s just too depressing.’

‘Everybody says this, I’m sure. But here? In Cardiff? It just seems so unlikely.’

‘The last one in France was in the middle of nowhere, I think.’

Lucy and David sat in silence for a few minutes. It was partly the enormity of what seemed to be landing in the middle of their lives and partly that the sense of urgency that had made them sit in a café together was wearing off.

‘You should get back. I know how much you have got to do.’

The half of a poached egg was congealing on the plate. It had looked perfect when they brought it. David finished his coffee and went to the counter to pay the bill with Lucy’s card.

‘Are you sure that you are alright? It’s a horrible shock.’

‘To be honest, I just feel tired now. I think I’ll lie down for an hour or two.’

‘Probably a good idea. I’ll run you back.’

‘If you don’t mind, that would be good, actually.’

In the car David had a lot to say but said none of it. He glanced at Lucy once or twice and wondered how on earth they had parted. He would have loved to lie down with her beside him. 

‘David?’

He found that he couldn’t answer for a moment.

‘What is it? You’re crying.’

‘It’s the shock I expect. I’ll be fine.’

‘Do you want me to come up and make you sweet tea, or whatever it is?’

‘No. Really. And I think that might be an old-fashioned idea.’

‘You think? You’re a doctor; surely you should know?’

She was just teasing him. David got out of the car feeling ridiculous in his running gear. He went around to the driver’s side and gave Lucy a peck on the cheek.

‘Are you sure that you are ok?’

‘Yes. Now go on and write your critical masterpiece.’

‘I’ll see you when you pick the girls up.’

‘Yes. Fine. Thanks again for this morning.’

His flat looked more desolate to David than it really was. He knew that but felt it anyway. It had come furnished but David had brought over a few pieces from the house to try and cheer it up. The Afghan rug that they had bought in Brixton market and lugged back on the train. The painting done by their friend Richard was tough and abstract. He liked it more than she did, so there it sat above the leather sofa. He had never liked leather to sit on; it was too unforgiving.

Lucy had offered to come and help him when he moved out, but that was going too far. The girls had brought a few things for the second bedroom but in practice neither of them stayed the night very often. He had new things in the kitchen. The utensils and so on that came with the flat were dangerously close to taking him back to student accommodation, so he went to IKEA and added some new bowls and glasses to the shiny toaster and kettle he had found online.

Now he stood inside the front door; his need for sleep deserted him, and he slumped in front of the very new television. Much bigger than he needed and able to do everything except make his breakfast. Another attempt to make the place attractive to the girls. Until it dawned on him, too late, that they rarely watched television at all. Certainly not here and with him. The BBC rolling news had it on the banner under the main picture: “Police treating Cardiff killing as suspected terror attack.” Clear and simple.

Then, with a start, he saw the woods near the hospital take up the whole screen and a reporter, at a distance, pointing to a white gazebo erected over the site where he had found the remains of Atif Nasir.

‘It was around eight-thirty this morning when the body of Atif Nasir, a nurse, was discovered by an early morning jogger. It is not yet confirmed, but it is believed that the victim had been beheaded, linking the killing firmly to the attacks in Vienna and Madrid late last week. The UK’s terror alert has been raised to the highest possible level, but currently the Home Office has not commented on a link to any specific group.’

The report cut to a local journalist discussing the shock of residents living nearby and the general surprise that something like this could happen in such a quiet and peaceful area. An old lady looked terrified; a middle-aged man looked pompous and pronounced on how nobody could feel safe anymore. Mercifully, the interview was cut short as it inched towards a discussion about immigration.

David left the television on, but his attention drifted in and out. He was both tired and overcome with thinking about Atif. His memory of him was very generalised, but there was a time he overheard him talking to an elderly male patient about Cardiff City. The old man’s memories probably meant little to Atif, but he stood patiently, allowing him to talk, especially about how soulless the new stadium was compared to Ninian Park. The old ground had disappeared about ten years ago, and houses had gone up overnight, it seemed. Cardiff now played a few hundred yards away in a stadium identical to a large number built across the UK in the 1990s and 2000s. It was much safer and more efficient, but “could be anywhere” was the gist of what the old man was saying. Atif was a fan but could only go rarely because of his shifts, he was telling the old man. David wondered if the same old man had connected the television news reports with the man he had talked to in hospital.

He had drifted off, and David woke to the sound of the buzzer at the entrance to the block. He stumbled over and picked up the receiver.

‘Hello?’

‘Dr Kelston?’

‘Speaking.’

‘My name is Caroline Watson. I’m from the Western Mail.’

‘Bollocks,’ thought David, slowly coming back into full consciousness.

‘Yes. Can I help you?’

‘I believe you were the person that found the body near the hospital this morning?’

The only place that they could get the information from was the police, surely. And it was The Western Mail rather than one of the UK nationals. This all suggested somebody had a mate in the police and they had given them his address. He took a deep sigh. This had all been horrible enough without some gruesome version of his side of events appearing all over the Welsh press in the morning.

‘I think that it’s best not to discuss any details of such a horrible case just now, don’t you?’

‘We just want to be accurate, sir. And it sounds as though you are the person that can best help us be that. I won’t take up much of your time, sir.’

‘I’m sorry, but the police…’

‘Your daughters attend Cardiff High School, don’t they, sir?’

‘What?’

‘Megan and Chloe, I think?’

‘What has this got to do with anything?’

‘I just wondered how they might feel about their dad being involved in such a high-profile investigation?’

‘Involved? Oh, for god’s sake…’

David pressed the entry buzzer and heard the woman coming up the stairs. He was furious, but the last thing he wanted was someone going to the girls’ school. There was a knock on the door and when he opened it, he saw someone who didn’t look much older than Meg. The second time today.

‘This is completely out of order.’

‘As I said, sir, it’s important to be accurate. And, if I’m honest, to build up the local side of the story. Once it’s been on Sky, ITV and the Beeb, we’ve got nothing to tell, but we can make people relate to it. Remind them that it happened just up the road.’

‘So, I have to be all over your stupid rag, just so you can have a “local angle”?’

‘That’s not very kind. Don’t you think that local news is a good idea then?’

David supposed that he did, but he also hoped that this day wasn’t going to get any worse. His anger had subsided, but his weariness hit him like a mild anaesthetic. If he could have just lain down on the rug and slept, he would have. Instead, here was Caroline bloody Watson standing in front of him, affecting self-righteousness.

‘You’d better sit down.’

‘Thanks’

Out of habit he nearly offered her tea, but that seemed to be taking détente just a bit far, at least at this stage.

‘Have you been running?’

David realised that he had been in his old running clothes for the best part of ten hours. 

‘No. I fell asleep. It’s been a tiring day.’

‘I imagine that it has. Did you find the body when you were running?’

‘Come on. That’s been on BBC News 24 since lunchtime.’

‘Just checking.’

‘What do you really want, then?’

‘A bit about you, maybe? Anything you can tell me about the victim?’

‘Some grizzly details, you mean?’

‘Not necessarily. As I said, something that gives people here a connection to the story. You’re a doctor, aren’t you?’

‘I am a radiologist.’

‘What does that mean exactly?’

‘I look at the results of X-rays, MRI scans and that sort of thing.’

‘A pretty important link in the chain then.’

‘Sometimes, yes.’

‘You must think running is good for you.’

‘What?’

‘Well, you get some people saying it’s bad for you, don’t they? Bad for your joints.’

‘It depends on who you are, where you run, lots of things.’

‘What about me? Would it be good for me?’

For the first time David was forced to notice her properly. She was very slight, which probably made her look younger than she was. She was dressed very casually. A short denim skirt, black tights and a black sweater. Heavy black shoes. David’s mind went straight to the pair of Doctor Martens that he had seen that morning. Her hair was blonde and cut short.

‘I guess so. You aren’t overweight for a start.’

‘Well, thanks for that at least.’

David was forced to smile. Caroline was good at getting people in the right frame of mind to chat to her; he’d give her that.

She looked around at the flat, appraising the slightly dismal surroundings.

‘I take it your wife and daughters don’t live here, Dr Kelston?’

‘No. Well, not all the time. My daughters mainly live with my wife.’

‘Are you divorced then?’

‘Separated.’

Why was he telling her all this? Twice in a day he had been interrogated by smart young women who seemed to have the ability to wheedle out of him whatever they wanted to know. At least the policewoman had the advantage of him being locked in.

‘Is the running part of a mid-life crisis?’

‘What? No. I’m just trying to stay healthy.’

She looked at him too intently. It was true that he was carrying a few pounds, but she had no right to jump to conclusions every thirty seconds. He wondered about just asking her to leave. In what way, after all, could she be a menace to Megan and Chloe? She was a reporter on the Western Mail, not a gangster.

‘I’m sorry. Thank you for agreeing to see me. I appreciate it; I really do.’

The sudden change of direction floored him.

‘I didn’t really ‘agree’ to see you, did I. You gave me a sense that I didn’t have any choice.’

‘I’m sorry about that. But as you can see, I am not going to bite.’

Again, she was teasing him. Christ, he might as well give in now.

‘So how did you first find the body?’

‘I just saw a shoe sticking out of the bushes. A shoe a bit like one of yours.’

His turn for a bit of teasing, but she didn’t bat an eyelid.

‘Go on. What did you do next?’

‘I first thought, or perhaps hoped, it might be someone who had fallen. Maybe drunk. But sadly not.’

‘How could you tell?’

‘I just picked up one foot and let it fall. It was obvious that there was no life.’

Caroline did pause for a moment to take this in.

‘Then what?’

‘I used the torch on my phone to look further into the undergrowth.’

David had not really allowed himself to dwell on this part of the morning before. In many ways he had little or no recollection of gruesome details, but the absence of a head on a body was enough.

‘It must have been a terrible shock?’

‘Yes, it was. I hadn’t thought about much until now.’

‘Did you call the police straightaway?’

‘Of course I did. What else would I do?’

‘I’m not sure. Perhaps look further? You are a doctor.’

‘Not that kind of doctor.’

He remembered Anna Dodds telling him not to talk about the case if he could. Surely, he hadn’t really said anything that was not already out there and on the news?

‘Can you tell me anything about the victim?’

David decided to draw the line. He could at least give Atif some dignity by not allowing some lurid stories about him to appear in the Western Mail.

‘I don’t know anything more than you do. The police took over as soon as they arrived.’

‘I heard that he worked at the hospital.’

‘I have no idea.’

‘You could have known him, couldn’t you?’

‘Do you know how many people work at the University Hospital?’

‘I do, actually. About eight thousand. So, the person did work there then?’

‘I told you. I don’t know.’

He was definitely getting better at this, but now he was tired again. He wanted her to go.

‘Look. I let you in and I’ve told you all that I know. I genuinely am exhausted now. Do you think you could leave me in peace? I’ll ring you if I think of anything else. Leave a card or something; isn’t that what you do?’

‘Ok. I understand. I’ve got a bit to add to the main story. Thanks.’

As he heard Caroline’s footsteps on the stairs, David’s heart sank a little as he imagined how he might come across once their conversation had gone through a couple of sub-editors. They probably couldn’t afford those anymore, could they? Either way, appearing in print wasn’t something he looked forward to. He must ring Lucy and get her to warn the girls.

Lone Wolves – Steve Blandford, May 2026, Cambria Publishing. Available at: www.cambriabooks.co.uk