Dangerous Games

Chapter 3 part 1

"So, Pritchard, would you care to fill me in on this missing girl?"

"Well, Inspector, you're not going to believe this, but the last two people who appear to have seen her claim they were all playing some occult game which sent her off to the netherworld."

"The netherworld?"

"You know, sir, the Astral Plane."

"Are you serious, Pritchard?"

"Well, it's rubbish, of course, sir, but I've had a look around and telephoned all the likely places and she doesn't seem to have run off to one of her friends. At the moment, the Astral Plane theory is looking quite good."

"Oh, great. So all I have to do is get a group of volunteers together and comb this Astral Plane of yours until we find her. Easy."

"No, sir. I'll set up an incident board and we can start searching this world rather than the next one. I couldn't help noticing that there's a CCTV in the entrance lobby of Lakeside House. I've arranged with the building manager to get the recording from last night onwards. At least that will tell us when she left the building."

"In the meantime, carry out a door-to-door throughout that tower block. No exceptions. If you can, get the officers to ask for a quick look round the flats if possible, but keep the whole thing low key. The wretched girl has only been gone for a few hours, and the chances are she'll find her own way home."

"Wagging her tail behind her, sir?"

"Hmmm." The Inspector gave me a don't-be-flippant look. "Just don't let it get out of hand. Right, off you go."

Downstairs, the incident board had already been set up. You've all seen things like this on detective programmes on the telly – the white board on which photographs of the victims are placed and the whole case is summarised. Well, they're real, and we had one for the disappearance of Anita Patel.

Getting together a team of officers was proving harder. For years, government cut-backs have constantly whittled away at the number of front-line staff in the Metropolitan Police Force and Kingston has not been spared. As a result, only two uniformed officers could be spared from other equally vital duties. Three of us in total, to search all fifteen floors of a tower block!

Of course, on our way out of the station, we had to run the gauntlet of Mr. and Mrs. Patel. As soon as I showed my face in reception they jumped up from where they were sitting and hurried over.

"Is there any news about Anita, Constable? Please tell me you know where she is."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Patel. We're not quite there yet, but I'm confident that she will turn up soon safe and sound. Now, please, go home. After all, if you're here, who will let Anita in when she makes her own way home?" – my use of the word 'when' rather than 'if' was deliberate – "She might be sitting on your doorstep as we speak. Don't worry – we'll call you the moment we have any details."

"You promise?"

"You have my word." I tried to look reassuring, but couldn't help noticing as the door swung closed behind us that they were making no attempt to leave.

I won't bore you with the details, but suffice it to say that the dragnet came up empty. We managed to get into most of the flats, through a mixture of politeness and judicious timing – visiting at about six o'clock in the evening, just as most people were sitting down to their evening meals – and Constables Harker, Beale and myself, we managed to take a brief look around most of the ones we visited. Once people realised that a child was missing, they were only too happy to co-operate.

And we didn't have to tell them why we were there either. News travels up and down these communities in the sky like lightning, and on many occasions people opened the door with the words "Oh, you must be here about Anita Patel. Come on in." It was heartening to know that a child going missing – even some annoying teenager – was enough to bring the community together in an attempt to help.