“I know you partnered with him in Thornwyn’s squad and I’m led to believe you and he were friends. I’m sorry to have to break this to you, Rob.”
I nodded to acknowledge what he’d said. I closed my eyes for a few moments and breathed deeply, picturing Turley in my mind. I thought of what he had been when I’d joined Thornwyn’s team and then of the last time I’d seen him in his flat a couple of days ago, trying to go a few hours without alcohol.
“Yeah. So, what actually happened?” I regained my composure.
“From what I understand he’d been drinking heavily all evening. He was drunk when he staggered out of the pub just after midnight onto the Uxbridge Road. A witness said he walked straight out into the road without looking. Traffic lights were on green and a taxi came round the corner from Wood Lane, couldn’t stop in time. Hit him full on. He suffered massive head injuries. The hospital initially put him on life support, but it was futile.”
Smitherman didn’t embroider the situation. I felt a little moisture in my eyes. I took a few more deep breaths.
A fleeting thought raced through my brain. Had Turley done this intentionally? Was this his way of ending the unrelenting pressure he was under? I hoped not. The thought upset me and I tried to put it out of my mind.
“IPCC were due to begin questioning him next Monday morning about his time in Thornwyn’s team. Saves them a job, doesn’t it?” Smitherman’s tone was less solemn now.
“He’d have gone down, you know,” he said after a pause of a few seconds. “The weight of evidence against him was enormous. No way he’d have got out from under what they had on him. Did you know he had a six-figure sum in an account held under a fictitious name? Money he and the other one, John Paine, had amassed working with Thornwyn.”
Smitherman wasn’t sparing my feelings. I hadn’t expected him to, either. Dirty police were anathema to him and, even though he was probably sorry for the way his life had ended, Smitherman would have no pity for Turley.
He waited a decent interval.
“I know he had a young family and it’s sad for his kids to have to grow up without a father, but they were doing that anyway because he was divorced and was denied access.” He waited a few more seconds before speaking again, with a degree of finality. “I know he was your friend, Rob, but in my opinion he was a disgrace to the uniform.”
I knew Smitherman was probably correct but, despite it all, I liked Turley and he didn’t deserve to die the way he did. I resolved not to mention his role in the death of Noel Partias.
“You okay? You wanna stop for a while?” Smitherman asked.
I was feeling dysfunctional after hearing about Turley but I replied I was fine to continue.
Smitherman again apologised for calling me in last night and said he was aware Tilling was in custody and due to be arraigned before the magistrates’ court later this morning. “Why did he want to speak to you, anyway? How do you know him?”
I explained about Tilling being Paul Sampson’s lover and how Thornwyn had been able to squeeze Sampson because one of his informants had sold ecstasy to them. I mentioned I’d spoken to Tilling twice previously concerning Sampson.
Smitherman nodded. “Obviously he’d know about the blackmail, but did he know about Sampson’s passing confidential information to Thornwyn?”
“Never mentioned it. I don’t think he did. Sampson bottled everything up, internalised it, didn’t talk to anyone about what he was going through. He was under a lot of pressure.”
I told Smitherman about my conversation with Godfrey and the ultimatum he’d given Paul Sampson, as well as the threat to have Sampson removed from Bartolome’s board.
“All this as well as being blackmailed by Thornwyn about his sexuality,” Smitherman said. “Can’t have been much fun being Paul Sampson towards the end.”
“Tilling said Godfrey told him he and Sampson’s wife conspired to get Sampson to swallow all those pills and drink strong liquor he wasn’t used to. That’s why Tilling went for him.”
“Maybe he did, but he’s no longer with us, is he? Martha Sampson’ll be questioned about it today but she’ll almost certainly deny it, so it’ll be Tilling’s word against hers, won’t it? Also, the coroner’s verdict didn’t say anything about those pills being forced down his throat. There was nothing to suggest any kind of struggle, and his body can’t be exhumed because he was cremated. The verdict of suicide’ll stand unless you can prove otherwise, and you know how difficult that’ll be unless she admits to it?”
“So she gets away with it.” I could hear the bitterness in my own voice.
“There’s no proof she even did it, is there? But, anyway, for the moment that’s not the main issue here. I’ve been reading your report. It’s well detailed and seems to explain everything. I’ll fill in the gaps in a moment.”
What gaps? I thought.
He picked up a paper copy of my recent report. “First off, how did you know about the situation inside Bartolome Systems, about the missing materials and in particular their financial position?” He looked at me as he spoke. “This is most confidential. Not many people inside the firm know about it either.”
“One of my sources told me.”
Smitherman fixed me with a stern gaze. “If I said it was in the interests of national security, and I needed to know, would you tell me this person’s name?”
I began to think of a reply. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him I’d initially heard it from Richard Clements.
“Just as well I’m not saying that, then, isn’t it?” He’d read the look on my face and he nearly smiled. “But I think your source is almost certainly someone inside the security service. The Government’s particularly concerned at the possibility of Bartolome going under because the firm provides lots of specialised military hardware and weaponry to the armed forces, as well as to governments abroad. But you know what they’re most concerned with? News getting out of Bartolome’s role in supplying weapons to nations this country officially doesn’t do business with. That’s why I was concerned you knew about Bartolome’s financial situation.”
“Surely they can only export weapons and the like if they get the green light from Government? They’d need strategic export licenses and all that, wouldn’t they?”
“You’d be forgiven for thinking that, wouldn’t you?” Smitherman’s look suggested he wasn’t going to be drawn into responding to my comment.
“Anyway, I’ll tell you who told me,” I said. “It was Jeremy Godfrey. He told me when I first spoke to him in his office about the current state of the firm. Obviously they were concerned about the loss of all the confidential information relating to their finances, not to mention the R&D stuff they’ve also mislaid. That’s how I found out.”
It hadn’t been Jeremy Godfrey, but I saw a convenient way of diverting Smitherman away from knowing who’d really told me. Godfrey, as a director of Bartolome, would have been au fait with the situation inside the firm, and my conversation with him had featured in the report Smitherman was holding. Besides, Godfrey was now dead and wouldn’t be able to contradict my naming him as a source.
“Godfrey?” Smitherman sounded surprised. “Godfrey told you?”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “He told me when I asked him why his firm had put a PI on my tail. He told me what they’d taken and explained it was important they retrieve the financial data because of the harm it’d do the company if it hit the press, not to mention the embarrassment to the Government. He told me they thought I was helping Thornwyn. That’s why I was being tailed.”
Smitherman puffed out his cheeks. “I hope to God my son-in-law never hears about any of this,” he said quietly. “I can just imagine what he’d do if he knew this.”
I supressed a knowing grin.
“This has become a mare, Rob. What I’d thought was simply a case of a corrupt police officer blackmailing a Government minister about his sexuality has become something else entirely. But things have become a little clearer aft
er the meeting I recently attended.”
I was wondering what he meant by that, but he continued. “According to what you’ve written,” he said, nodding to my report, “it’s your belief Thornwyn was directly involved in organising the robbery of those weapons from Byzantium and also having them sold on to some Islamist jihadist, Khaled al-Ebouli.”
“So it seems,” I agreed. “I heard this from one of the people involved, who’s now in custody in Kentish Town. He gave them to the one found dead in his flat, Noel Partias, who I’m told is the weapons guy in the Chackartis. The guy in custody, Bernie Rayes, denies killing Partias. I’ve questioned him and I believe him.”
“But we don’t yet know who did it, do we?”
“Still looking into it.”
I’d resolved not to say it was Brian Turley. I didn’t want his memory besmirched any more than it was likely to be over the next period of time. No one else knew about it, so I wasn’t going to draw attention to it. I was hatching a plan to keep his name out of things.
“And Thornwyn was assisted by the manager at Byzantium?” Smitherman asked.
“Yeah, but not willingly. Thornwyn has something on him and used it to get him to give up the passcode and switch off the alarm and CCTV. He’s being brought in and is gonna be interrogated about it.”
Smitherman was glancing at my report. “Thornwyn steals weapons which he helps get to some Islamist jihadist, and he also knows about the state Bartolome’s in.”
“Paul Sampson passed the requisite documentation on to Thornwyn. What we don’t know is whether he was in it with Thornwyn or was pressured to do it. Hard to believe Sampson was acting voluntarily. I think Thornwyn coerced him into doing it. This is just one of the things I’m gonna ask Thornwyn when I see him, hopefully later today?” I looked at Smitherman, raising my eyebrows to indicate I was asking.
Smitherman shuffled through the papers on his desk, looking enigmatic. “At Thames House yesterday I met with Colonel Stimpson and someone from MI6, whose name I wasn’t told.”
At the sound of Stimpson’s name I felt apprehensive. The feeling that somehow I was part of the reason for their meeting crossed my mind.
“Did you know your name was mentioned?” He smiled. “Oh yeah?”
“Yes. They put me in the picture regarding what you’ve been investigating and what you’ve found out. I spoke to Colonel Stimpson again just recently,” he said, nodding towards the phone, “to bring him up to speed concerning the content of your report.”
“Does he still believe I’m working with Thornwyn to try and steal confidential information from Bartolome?” I asked, concerned. “That’s what Godfrey alleged when I first spoke to him in his office. He said they’d put this PI on my tail because they’d heard from inside MI5 I was one of Thornwyn’s team in what he was trying to do. Not hard to guess who their MI5 source was, is it? Especially as it was Stimpson’s niece on my tail.”
Smitherman chuckled to himself. “And this worries you, does it?” He was evidently trying to keep his voice neutral.
“Yeah, it does.”
He fixed me with one of his inscrutable stares and, for a few moments, I couldn’t tell what he might be thinking. I hoped I never had to play poker against Smitherman. He then smiled, sort of, and sat back in his chair.
“You’re part of my team because I have full confidence in your ability to do this job. You remember what I told you the other week, just after Thornwyn’s trial? If I had any reason whatsoever to think you couldn’t be trusted, I’d have you transferred out of the Branch,” he stated formally, “and you know I’d do it, don’t you?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I do.”
“I told you the IPCC gave you the all-clear, didn’t I? And after I spoke to Stimpson, even though he still believes you let Mendoccini escape too easily, he accepted you were nothing to do with whatever it is Thornwyn’s been up to, so you don’t need to worry about what he thinks.”
I exhaled. I felt relieved. Tonight was going to be beer night after hearing this.
“So, does your meeting have any impact on that?” I nodded towards my report.
Smitherman looked thoughtful. “I can give you the broad outline, but the situation’s complicated and I don’t know the full story. Also there are some things I can’t tell you, but, simply stated, Thornwyn had discovered Bartolome Systems was involved in selling weapons to places and regimes this country supposedly doesn’t do business with. The supposition is he got this information from Jeremy Godfrey. They were known to be friends, and Godfrey would certainly know the situation inside the firm. Arms sales like these were the only thing keeping the company afloat.”
“Government knew this, didn’t it?”
“Of course it did. All governments for the past couple of decades have known this,” he said, looking at me as though this was obvious to everyone, “and whilst they didn’t exactly approve of it, they turned a blind eye to it. You know how strategically important a firm like Bartolome Systems is?” He paused momentarily. The question was rhetorical. “The reverberations if it ever went under, or if its current situation ever became known, or if it was known what they were doing, would be politically seismic. Not only would it be alarming, it’d also flag up a whole lot of questions certain people don’t want to have to answer, and certainly not in public.”
“And probably wouldn’t if they were asked.” My scepticism was evident.
“It won’t come to that.” He ignored my comment. “Bartolome’s not going to be allowed to go under. There’s some kind of rescue package being cobbled together as I speak. I don’t know the financial ins and outs, or the amounts involved, but it’ll put the company on a sounder financial footing. That’s the important thing at present.”
“Of course it is. What else could be as important?” My cynicism was there for Smitherman to see. He looked disappointed at my attitude.
“The national interest, DS McGraw. That’s what important here.” He emphasised both terms. “I don’t like what’s going on any more than you, but this has to be kept in proportion. There are reasons why this is being done. I don’t know what they are either and, as I don’t need to know, they don’t tell me. But they assure me what’s already been done and is being done is very much in the national interest, and I’ve accepted their assurances. So the case is pretty much wrapped up.”
“In what sense?”
“A number of ways.” He looked at me with an odd expression for a moment. “What I’m about to tell you never leaves this room, you understand? There are a few things you need to be aware of, given your recent investigations.”
I nodded my consent. This was starting to sound ominous.
“It doesn’t matter what Godfrey told Tilling about how Sampson really died,” Smitherman said. “He was only half right. Yes, he was involved in killing him, but he had help and, no, not just his daughter. He was helped by MI5.”
“What?”
“I mentioned the national interest just now, didn’t I? Paul Sampson was in the process of arranging an interview with a journalist he knew and trusted, where he was proposing to tell the whole story about arms sales to rogue nations and how the Government knew about this and how ashamed he was to be part of the whole deal. He was also going to tell this person about the state of Bartolome Systems and how near they were to financial calamity. He’d made contact with this writer and was going to give him one hell of a story. Between them they had it all worked out. The paper was going to get a major exclusive. He was going to tell him everything. Sampson wasn’t just planning to rock the boat; he was going to turn the whole bloody thing over.”
Smitherman paused to let what he’d said sink in. I’d heard what he’d said but was struggling to make any sense of it. He’d not mentioned the writer, but I assumed it was the person who’d spoken to Clements.
“A story like this would’ve gone viral in seconds. Every important paper in Europe and the USA would’ve run with it. Can you imagine the impact if this got onto the
front pages of something like the Washington Post? Security here can’t lean on papers in the USA like it can on papers over here and, even if it could, the paper’d just plead the first amendment. There’d have been questions in the Senate and congressional inquiries and all that. The propaganda victory to the enemies of this country would have been enormous.” He waited a moment. “So it was decided: this interview can’t be allowed to happen.”
“By who?” I interrupted.
“People in a position to make such a decision, that’s who.” He was trying not to sound annoyed at my question. “It was known Sampson was suffering from depression and took pills to help him sleep, so . . .” He shrugged.
“Godfrey and persons unknown shove a whole handful of pills down his throat and make him drink something he’s not used to drinking. He passes out. His wife stays away for a few hours, time enough for the pills to do their stuff, and eventually Sampson lapses into a coma and dies. A friendly coroner rules it to be a suicide. Cremated soon afterwards. All very neat and tidy. The papers report a politician suffering from depression, which was why he took his own life,” I said matter-of-factly, as though I was reciting ingredients in a recipe.
Smitherman didn’t respond. He sat, nodding sagely.
“Didn’t anyone query where he got the stronger pills from, or the cognac?”
Smitherman maintained a dignified silence.
“Was Sampson’s wife fully in the picture about this?”
“That was never mentioned, and I didn’t ask.”
“Why didn’t MI5 just lean on the writer, tell him not to do the interview? They could have had a word with the editor, asked him not to run with the story.”
“Presumably they had their reasons for not doing so.”
I didn’t like what I’d heard. I thought about things for a moment. “Sampson was about to be investigated by the Intelligence and Security Committee, wasn’t he? Why was that?”
“He was arranging to do business with a firm, Endgame, which was supposedly a front company funnelling arms to terrorists. The reality is, though, it is a front company, but one set up by MI5 to help it monitor the flow of weapons out of the country. You tried accessing its website a couple of days back, and it triggered an alarm in security. At the meeting yesterday MI5 wanted to know why you were attempting to do this. They weren’t sure how you even knew about it. Knowledge about the existence of Endgame isn’t exactly widespread. You seem to have some good sources, DS McGraw.” Smitherman gave me a look suggesting he was either impressed with what I’d discovered or worried how I knew about it. It was hard to tell. This would also explain Christine Simmons’ surprise when I’d asked her about Endgame. “Sampson was arranging to have arms sold to them. Security was of course all over this and took the appropriate steps to stop it, with a little help from the CIA.”
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