There was a tap on the door and Nasenby strode over to fling it open.
‘Caelan. Lovely to see you.’ His tone was that of an indulgent father welcoming a much-loved child back into the fold. Achebe glanced at Penrith, glimpsing the sneer as the other man made a show of studying the tabletop. Penrith had protested against the idea of Caelan Small’s involvement from the beginning, and he wasn’t a man to take being ignored lightly.
Caelan paused in the doorway, smiling at Nasenby.
‘Hello, Michael. Would you mind telling me where we are? I had a nap in the car.’
Nasenby’s eyebrows lifted. ‘London, of course.’ As if there was nowhere else. ‘The outskirts.’
‘That narrows it down. Is Ewan coming in?’ She glanced behind her.
‘Ewan?’ Nasenby peered around Caelan, clearly confused. ‘The driver? No, we don’t need him.’ He raised his voice. ‘Go and get yourself a drink, but hang around. Good man.’
Achebe winced at Nasenby’s tone. Public school, with a hint of bluff country gentleman. Patronising, thoughtless and offensive. He’d heard it often enough, especially recently. Working with this lot was proving to be an education in itself. He watched Caelan Small’s eyes narrow, obviously unimpressed herself by Nasenby’s attitude.
‘If I agree to do this, I want Ewan with me,’ she told them. Nasenby looked aghast for a second before collecting himself.
‘With you? What do you mean?’
‘I want him to work with me. You’ve spoken before about me having a partner, Michael.’
‘Yes, but not …’ Nasenby paused. ‘I meant one of our own officers. Richard Adamson would—’
‘I’m not working with Richard again.’ Caelan was definite.
‘Mr Davies hasn’t been through our training programmes, he doesn’t have your experience.’
‘You wouldn’t have sent him to collect me if you didn’t trust him,’ Caelan pointed out. ‘I’m serious, Michael. If I’m going after Lambourne again, I don’t want to do it alone.’
Behind her, the man in the corridor blushed. Caelan turned to him with a smile, and he returned it, shuffling his feet.
‘What do you think, Ewan? Is that okay with you?’
He nodded. ‘If my bosses agree. If I’m suitable.’
Half in love with her already, Achebe decided.
‘You’ll do,’ Caelan grinned.
‘But we have plenty of people who could partner you, if that’s what you want,’ said Nasenby. ‘I’m sure Mr Davies is effective in his field, but that doesn’t mean he’s suited for this particular assignment.’
‘I think he is.’
‘It’s not your decision.’ Nasenby’s hands were on his hips.
‘Really?’
‘I’m not going to argue with you, Caelan. The answer’s no.’
‘Then I’ll leave now. You forget, Michael, that you came to me. I’ll listen to what you have to say, and then I’ll make a decision about my future, but if you want me, you’ll have to have Ewan too.’
Nasenby held up his hands. ‘Fine. But if he catches a bullet in the head, don’t blame me.’ He threw open the door. ‘Come in then, Mr Davies. That was the shortest selection process I’ve ever seen. Welcome aboard.’
Caelan stood aside and, clearly bemused at this extension to his assignment, Ewan Davies stepped forward.
‘Have a seat,’ Nasenby told him, as he marched back to his own chair. ‘Why not?’
Caelen stepped further into the room, her eyes missing nothing. Eventually they rested on her own face, still displayed on the laptop screen. Achebe got to his feet and approached her, his hand outstretched.
‘Detective Chief Inspector Tim Achebe. Pleased to meet you.’
She looked up at him with a smile as she shook his hand. ‘Hi, Tim. Have you been looking at my mugshots?’
He laughed. ‘You could say that. We’ve been hearing all about you too.’
Caelan turned away, flashing another smile, to focus on Penrith, who hadn’t moved from his seat. He lifted his head as she neared him, his face blank.
‘Oh, Ian,’ Caelan said. ‘Still hate me?’
His lips parted, grey teeth flashing as he gave a mirthless smile. ‘Good afternoon, Caelan. You resigned. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve been put out to pasture, so I’m not sure why the possibility of you being involved should even be discussed. We have plenty of people who do still want to work for us.’
Caelan pulled out the chair between Nasenby and Davies and sat down. ‘I haven’t said I’ll do it yet.’
‘You should never have been given the option, and now you’re being allowed to recruit your own assistant? Even for you, it defies belief.’ Penrith folded his arms.
Nasenby closed his eyes for a second. ‘Thank you, Ian. Your objections have been noted, as they were well before this meeting. Now, we all know why Caelan’s here.’
Penrith snorted. ‘Because she’s bloody lucky.’
‘Thank you, Ian. Enough. Caelan is one of our most experienced officers, and, of course, she knows Lambourne. Knows what he’s capable of.’
‘She was there in that fucking bloodbath, you mean,’ Penrith spat. ‘Watching while the whole situation went to shit.’
Caelan was silent, but Nasenby frowned. ‘No one was “watching”, Ian, you know that. What happened was … unfortunate, but in the end, unavoidable.’
Penrith’s cheeks were stained deep red. His fists clenched on the tabletop. ‘Unfortunate? Fucking unfortunate? A ten-year-old kid dies, his murderer escapes, and it’s unfortunate?’ Nasenby didn’t respond, and eventually Penrith gave a deep sigh. He turned to Achebe, who was beginning to wish he had never agreed to be at the meeting. Regretting, in fact, agreeing to be involved at all. He had enough crap to wade through at his own station without becoming caught up in all this cloak-and-dagger bollocks. He was ambitious, yes, but fighting amongst colleagues, senior colleagues, he could do without.
Penrith hadn’t finished. ‘The official line was that yes, the child was dead before our people showed up.’ He announced this as if it was news. Achebe opened his mouth, despite having no idea how to respond, but Caelan Small got there first.
‘The official line? Come on, Ian, they killed him as soon as they realised we were on our way. He was dead when we entered the building, you know that.’ Her voice was weary. ‘It’s the truth.’
Penrith gazed at her, his pale-blue eyes desolate. ‘Is it? There were only four other people in that room besides you – I’m not counting the dead child.’
Caelan took a deep breath. Achebe saw the flicker of emotion, watched as she brought her face under control. He wondered where Penrith was going with this. He’d heard about Lambourne and the boy, of course – the whole country had been outraged – but this? What was Penrith suggesting?
‘The dead child? His name was Charlie.’ Now Caelan’s voice was taut.
‘I know what his name was, Caelan. I can hear his voice, see his face. I saw every photograph his parents had ever taken of him, watched every scrap of video, spoke to everyone who knew him. Three weeks: searching, hoping, waiting. Eighteen-hour days, the press baying for blood, everyone up to the Prime Minister involved. And then we track his kidnappers down, move in – and suddenly he’s dead. Ten years old, face down on the floor, hands and feet still tied, a bullet hole in the back of his head.’ Penrith lifted a hand to his face, drew it over his lips. Achebe’s palms were damp, his shirt sticking to the small of his back. He wondered what Davies was thinking. Caelan Small might not be such a paragon after all, whatever they had all been told.
Silence. Caelan’s face was blank, her right foot soundlessly tapping the carpet, over and over again.
‘Ian …’ Nasenby tried again. Penrith glared at him, holding up a hand, his fingers extended.
‘Lambourne was in that shitty house with Charlie Flynn. So was Lambourne’s right-hand man, Glen Walker.’ He folded his thumb and index finger down, his eyes fixed on Caelan’s face. �
��Then, our brave officers of the law: Clifton, Sturgess and Small.’ He made a sound that could have been a laugh but was closer to a snarl. ‘Nicky Sturgess: well, she’s dead. Poor Nicky, but it was an honourable death in the line of duty. More importantly, she can’t tell any tales.’ He folded down his middle finger. ‘Next: Sam Clifton. He was in charge, he shouldered the blame. He was dismissed, disgraced, lambasted by the media, shunned by his friends. Now he spends his days drinking away the memories.’
‘Sam was scapegoated,’ Caelan said.
‘I agree, he was. And so you resigned. A protest against Clifton’s treatment. A gesture, in any case. Designed to protect yourself, of course. Anything Sam said afterwards would be disregarded as the ramblings of a drunk, a broken man. And if he stumbles in front of a lorry or a train one day, well, wouldn’t that be tragic?’ Penrith shook his head, snatched his glass of water up, gulped some down. The others sat as if mesmerised.
‘So, back to that day, that almighty fuck-up.’ Penrith held up his little finger. ‘The fifth and final adult in that house: Caelan Small. Afterwards, when the bodies had been tidied away, you disappeared. Still on full pay, of course – can’t be bad. And here you are: alive, on the payroll, still respected and recommended. Undercover officer extraordinaire. Professional. Capable.’ He sneered. ‘But you fucked up, didn’t you? You underestimated Lambourne.’ His voice was soft now, hypnotic. ‘He killed Sturgess, slit her throat and stepped over the body. But he didn’t kill you, and he didn’t kill Sam Clifton. Why? Lambourne had a knife, so did Walker. They killed Sturgess without a second thought, but you and Clifton – not a scratch. Strange, that. You were all armed, weren’t you?’
‘You know we were.’
‘And yet no shots were fired. Not one. Not by Sturgess, not by Clifton, and not by you. Not when Sturgess was attacked and killed, not even when Walker and Lambourne were making their escape. That strikes me as odd. It’s as if they had a hostage. A young, vulnerable hostage.’ He glanced at Achebe, who was now extremely uncomfortable. ‘Wouldn’t you say, Tim?’
Achebe cleared his throat, totally thrown. ‘Well, I … I wouldn’t like to speculate.’
Penrith nodded, a savage jerk of his head. ‘Sensible. Well, I wonder – I’ll speculate, if you like. Because not only did you have a gun, Caelan, you had an armed response unit as backup. There were vanloads of officers waiting outside, panting to get to Lambourne and Walker. Myself included. We could hear what was going on, see some of it. But not what happened to Charlie. We never heard his voice, never saw his face. Not until it was over.’
‘Nicky was wearing the camera. When she was killed …’
‘Yes, the only thing we saw after that was the ceiling and her blood flowing over the lens.’ Penrith bit back. For a second, Caelan closed her eyes.
‘Ian, enough.’ Nasenby was shaken, the first time Achebe had seen him remotely off balance. ‘This is ridiculous. What’s your point? What are you trying to say? Mistakes were made in the Charlie Flynn case, we all know that, none more so than Caelan. Regrettable as the boy’s death was—’
Now Caelan leant forward, interrupting her boss. ‘What is it you’re accusing me of, Ian? What do you think I’ve done?’
Achebe’s mouth was dry. Penrith took a breath, visibly steadying himself.
‘Done? At best, believed your own press, thought you were untouchable. Gross incompetence. Disregarding orders. Endangering life. At worst …’ He paused. Achebe suppressed a groan, fearing Pandora’s box was about to be opened. ‘At worst, you were working for Lambourne. Corrupt. In his pocket. Whatever you want to call it. And you probably still are. How else did he escape, surrounded as he was by armed officers? Roadblocks, dogs, a helicopter, his name and face on every news channel and all over the internet? Someone had to have helped him. You. Or Clifton. Or was it both of you?’
Nasenby shoved back his chair and lurched to his feet, his hand shaking as he thrust a finger towards Penrith. ‘Get out.’
‘I’m—’
‘Go, Ian. Before I call someone to remove you.’
Penrith smirked, but got to his feet. ‘You’d do that, would you? You’re still protecting her? She’s making a fool of you, Michael.’
Nasenby’s lips were pressed together, his hands gripping the edge of the table. Penrith picked up his briefcase and marched towards the door. He turned as he reached it. ‘I’ll be taking this higher.’
‘Do that,’ Nasenby told him.
Penrith lingered. ‘The truth will come out eventually.’
Caelan gazed at him. ‘It already has.’
‘The inquiry? A joke,’ Penrith spat.
‘There’s no conspiracy here, Ian, I swear.’
Penrith laughed. ‘You swear? You do? Someone who lies for a living? Forgive me if I’m sceptical.’
Then he was gone. Caelan exhaled, while Nasenby picked up his water and drained the glass. Unsure of what to say, how to react, Achebe kept his mouth shut.
‘Well, that was fun,’ said Caelan. She was totally calm now, Achebe realised. Amazing, and not a little frightening.
‘He won’t let this lie, you’re aware of that, aren’t you?’ Nasenby asked her.
‘It’s bollocks, Michael, you know it is. How long has he been cooking up that little theory?’
‘It’s been mentioned before. He came to me a few days ago wanting to discuss it. I told him to bugger off.’
Achebe cleared his throat. ‘I hope this … difference of opinion won’t affect the operation?’
Nasenby guffawed. ‘Because Ian’s had a hissy fit? Of course not. He might think he’s important, but I can assure you he doesn’t have too much sway. Now, let’s talk about how we’re going to approach this.’
‘Tell me how you know Lambourne is back in the country,’ Caelan demanded.
Nasenby flicked a glance at Davies. ‘That’s not important,’ he said.
‘I disagree.’ Caelan looked at Achebe. ‘Tim?’
An easy question to answer truthfully. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’m only involved because the Charlie Flynn kidnapping and murder was on my patch.’
Caelan studied him, and Achebe had the sudden, unnerving impression that she could read his mind.
‘If Lambourne’s in London, we’ll struggle to find him,’ he told them.
Caelan was losing patience. ‘Right. So what exactly do you want me to do?’
‘He’s here in the UK.’ Nasenby held up a hand, silently asking Caelan not to interrupt. ‘How we know that isn’t important? A trusted source is all I’ll say.’
‘A snitch. We could have done with one when we were first trying to find him, when he kidnapped Charlie Flynn,’ Caelan put in. Nasenby ignored her.
‘The problem is, we don’t know where he’s hiding. London is the obvious place, hence Tim being on board, but he could be anywhere. He has the money and the contacts to stay well out of sight for as long as he needs to. However, someone like Lambourne won’t keep quiet for long. He’ll get itchy feet, and that means only one thing: problems for us.’
‘He has a son who’s at university in Lincoln,’ said Achebe. ‘We thought perhaps you could go up there, pose as a student for a while. It makes sense that Lambourne would try to contact him – Ronnie’s his name.’
‘A student?’ Caelan wrinkled her nose. ‘What’s he studying?’
‘Accountancy. You wouldn’t need to enrol, though,’ Nasenby told her. ‘We have places in mind where you could work, as an alternative. Bars, a café, a bookshop. Anywhere you’d have the chance to chat to Ronnie Morgan. Of course, you could simply follow him around for a while, until he meets his dear old dad.’
‘That might be the best approach,’ Caelan said. ‘I’m not sure I want to be tied to a job, working set hours, because Ronnie won’t be, not as a student. He calls himself Ronnie Morgan?’
‘He took his mother’s name after the Flynn case.’ Nasenby nodded. ‘Wouldn’t you? It would ruin a legitimate career, being known as the
son of Seb Lambourne. I’d imagine he keeps it quiet.’
‘Though if you were going to be a criminal, it would be top of your CV,’ Achebe grinned, grateful of an opportunity to attempt to lighten the mood.
‘Okay, I go to Lincoln, find Ronnie Morgan, hope he leads me to his dad. And then what?’ Caelan asked.
Nasenby said, ‘We go after Lambourne. Discreetly, of course. As we know, he’s wanted for blackmail, kidnap, at least two charges of murder, and God knows how many other offences. We capture him quietly, if we can. If he starts his old tricks again, though, especially if he takes another child, we’ll need a different approach.’
‘Sounds straightforward,’ said Achebe. Nasenby gave him a sharp look, as if suspecting him of mockery. Achebe kept his face straight. He wasn’t taking this lightly, far from it, but Nasenby’s pomposity was beginning to grate. Caelan raised her hands, as if she too had heard enough.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll go to Lincoln. Never been there, so why not? No promises though, Michael.’
Nasenby exhaled, a release of tension he immediately concealed in a cough. Caelan heard it, though; Achebe saw her hide a smile. He checked his watch.
‘Can I leave you to confirm the details? I’ve another meeting shortly.’
After another round of handshakes and assurances of continued contact and information-sharing, Achebe left the room and found himself hurrying out of the building. He had wanted to be involved in this, had argued and blagged his way in, but now … now he was feeling the beginnings of regret. In the past, he had kept his head down, played safe. His career had been built on solid foundations. Attempting to capture a criminal such as Seb Lambourne could make a reputation, or it could destroy it. As he unlocked his car and slid behind the wheel, he shuddered. Sam Clifton, someone Achebe knew, had met in his early days on the force, was testament to that.
Ask No Questions Page 3