Beckett sat impassive. ‘If you’ve finished, we’ll continue.’ Caelan smiled at her, while Penrith looked thunderous. ‘I know you’ve been focusing on finding Glen Walker, but I think we need to track him down immediately. How can we do that?’
She waited, but there was silence. Brady knew that Beckett was looking at her and Achebe for ideas. This was their case, after all.
‘I could go back to the Wheatsheaf,’ said Caelan.
‘No,’ said Nasenby.
‘You could have been killed there yesterday.’ Achebe finally lifted his head.
Caelan folded her arms. ‘It’s a link to Walker.’
‘You think he’ll go back there? But he knows we’re aware he used to visit the place.’ Beckett tapped a fountain pen on her notepad. ‘I’m not sure it’s worth the risk.’
‘And someone knew we were heading there yesterday,’ said Nasenby. ‘It’s dangerous.’
Beckett turned to him. ‘Why did you go to the Wheatsheaf, Michael?’
Nasenby smiled. ‘I knew Caelan would march straight in, not worry about the risks. I didn’t want her doing it alone.’
‘She had,’ Beckett consulted her notes, ‘Ewan Davies with her.’
‘I’m sure he was excellent in the army, but in our line of work, he’s inexperienced, untested. Unarmed.’ Nasenby risked a smile at Caelan, who ignored it.
‘You were all unarmed. A shame the person who attacked you wasn’t.’ Beckett looked over the top of her glasses at Achebe. ‘Any news on the bullets recovered from the scene?’
‘I received a call on the way over here. Again, the bullets were fired from the same gun.’
‘The weapon used to kill Charlie Flynn and Ronnie Morgan?’
‘Sorry. Yes.’
‘In my mind, this adds weight to the theory that Glen Walker is behind the shootings.’ Beckett looked around the table. ‘Thoughts?’
‘Why would he kill Lambourne’s son?’ Penrith said immediately.
‘We don’t know their history, we don’t know what’s happened since Charlie Flynn’s death and their escape. Lambourne killed Nicky Sturgess and we assume Charlie Flynn – Walker could blame him for events escalating, meaning he had to go on the run.’
‘We can’t be sure, and I know we’ve all spent lots of time thinking about it, discussing it. I agree we should concentrate on finding Walker. He could lead us to Lambourne,’ Nasenby said.
‘Have we spoken to Ronnie Morgan’s mother again?’ Caelan asked the question of Achebe, who shook his head.
‘There’s a family liaison officer with her, but since breaking the news of Ronnie’s death, no. We searched his bedroom at her house, but came up with nothing.’
‘Go and speak to her, Caelan,’ Beckett ordered. ‘Then tonight, go back to the Wheatsheaf. Not as yourself, of course.’
Nasenby was frowning. ‘Ma’am, I—’
Beckett held up a hand. ‘I understand your concerns, Michael, but the time for caution is over. Caelan knows the risks, and I’m sure she is as capable of looking after herself as ever.’
Brady met Caelan’s eyes, gave a tiny nod. Beckett knew about the gun she had taken to Caelan’s apartment, but she hadn’t mentioned it. Why?
* * *
Half an hour later, after more largely pointless discussion and coffee, the meeting broke up. Caelan remained in her chair, watched Ian Penrith stalk out of the door without speaking to anyone. Achebe hurried off too, eager to get back to his team, while Brady remained in her seat, took out her phone. Elizabeth Beckett rose, collected her glasses and briefcase. Her chauffeur would be waiting.
Richard Adamson approached, flashing a hopeful smile.
‘How are you, Caelan?’
She stretched her spine, not wanting to speak to him. ‘Fine. How are you? What’s Ian got you doing today?’
The smile vanished. ‘Caelan, listen. I was—’
‘Obeying orders? I know. Not a defence, though, is it, as proven many times before.’
He blushed. ‘You think I wanted to follow you? I knew you’d see me.’
‘I didn’t when you took the photographs.’
‘First time for everything.’
‘Maybe Ian wanted me to notice you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He’s trying to end my career, Richard. Haven’t you realised?’
‘I …’
‘And you’re helping him, whether you’re intending to or not.’
Adamson lifted his chin. ‘I told him you were the best officer we have. I stand by that.’
Caelan laughed. ‘Well thank you. I’ll be sure to add it to my CV. Might come in handy when I’m in the queue at the job centre.’ Adamson scowled, turned away. Caelan felt a pang of guilt, and called him back. ‘Look, Richard, I’m sorry. I know you were in an awkward position. But how would you feel if I’d been told to keep tabs on you?’
His smile was rueful. ‘There’s a difference, Caelan.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I wouldn’t have known you were there.’
He walked away, left the room. Nasenby had been listening.
‘I meant what I said about the Wheatsheaf,’ he said.
‘I know. Please don’t turn up again, Michael.’
‘I won’t.’ He laughed. ‘Didn’t help yesterday, did I?’
‘None of us expected what happened. I doubt it will happen again.’
‘Stay in touch and—’
‘Don’t get killed?’ She smiled.
‘If you can help it.’
* * *
When Nasenby had gone, Brady finally moved in her seat.
‘They’re afraid of you,’ she said.
‘I doubt it. Nasenby and Penrith both outrank me, Richard has several years’ more experience.’
‘They know Beckett’s relying on you, and they don’t like it.’
A cough came from the doorway. A man stood there, unfamiliar, wearing a dark suit and an earpiece, the wire from it disappearing under his clothes. ‘Could you follow me, please?’
Caelan stared at him. ‘Where to? Who are you?’
He walked over, smiled, handed her a square of paper. ‘She said you’d be wary.’
Caelan unfolded the handwritten note, read it, handed it to Brady.
* * *
The chauffeur opened the car door. Elizabeth Beckett was waiting inside. She smiled, waved them in. When the door was closed behind them and the chauffeur had started the engine, she finally spoke.
‘I’m sorry for the cloak-and-dagger approach, but I needed to ensure we weren’t overheard. You have the gun, Caelan?’
‘It’s at home.’
‘I’d suggest you carry it. No, I’m ordering you to.’
Caelan cleared her throat, concerned. ‘Ma’am …’
‘Allow me to explain, then you can ask questions. Detective Chief Superintendent Brady came to me yesterday, voicing concerns about the Charlie Flynn case. About Nicky Sturgess’s death, about Sam Clifton. About you.’ Caelan glanced at Brady, who resolutely kept her face turned away. ‘As you know, Ian Penrith has been extremely vocal about his belief in your failings. Why?’
Caelan stared out of the window, watching the street whip by. ‘I don’t know. Because he needs someone to blame for Charlie’s death?’
‘Tell me, Caelan, what were you expecting to find when you arrived at the house with Sam and Nicky?’
Caelan felt as though she’d been punched in the stomach. ‘Charlie, held captive but safe. Sam and I had been undercover for months, creeping closer to Lambourne. Nicky had been working on a different assignment, unrelated.’
‘She was infiltrating a drug-dealing network,’ said Beckett.
‘Yeah, though I didn’t know that at the time.’
‘Why did Nicky go into the house with you? Why was she part of the team detailed to rescue Charlie Flynn when she hadn’t been involved in the case before then?’
‘She’d worked on other kidnappings. We didn’t k
now Lambourne and Walker were waiting for us.’
‘No, you didn’t.’
‘You’re telling me someone else did? It was a set-up?’
‘We think so.’
‘You think so? It’s a hell of an accusation to be throwing around. There were teams of officers, dogs, the helicopter, all on standby. If what you’re saying is true, why do it so publicly? Why not turn up with Charlie safe and well, and take the plaudits?’
‘Charlie couldn’t live to tell the tale.’ Beckett’s voice was cold. She was discussing the death of a child with no more emotion than if she were talking about swatting a fly.
‘Why?’ Caelan managed to say.
‘Because he knew Lambourne and Walker hadn’t snatched him. They weren’t his kidnappers.’
‘Who was?’
Beckett smiled, lifted her shoulders. ‘We don’t know.’
‘You … what?’
‘Lambourne dabbled in extortion, owned successful pubs, nightclubs, had a profitable drug-dealing operation. Walker didn’t have much in the way of brains, but he could do as he was told. Why would they suddenly decide to kidnap a child? A ten-year-old, remember, not an infant who would be easy to snatch and conceal. A child old enough to understand what was happening, old enough to talk, to describe people.’
‘What are you suggesting?’
‘Why take Charlie Flynn?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
Beckett pursed her lips. ‘His mother was reputed to have inherited a fortune from her grandparents.’
‘And had she?’
‘Depends what you call a fortune. A couple of million.’
Caelan snorted. ‘Sounds like a fortune to me.’
‘More than Nicky Sturgess left, for sure.’ Beckett gave her a sidelong look, and Caelan flushed. ‘The problem was, Charlie’s parents had blown the lot on a house, holidays, cars and coke. No one realised it, but they had no money left.’
‘You’re suggesting they were involved?’
‘No.’ Beckett exhaled, a sign of frustration. ‘It makes no sense, none of it.’
‘These questions were asked at the time.’ Brady spoke up for the first time since getting into the car. ‘The consensus was that Charlie’s kidnappers had expected his parents to be able to pay a hefty ransom. When they couldn’t, Charlie was killed.’
‘But the Flynns denied the kidnappers had made any contact,’ Caelan said.
‘Doesn’t mean they told the truth,’ Brady pointed out. ‘Maybe they were told that Charlie would be punished if they rang the police.’
‘Then why would they not say so afterwards, when they knew Charlie had been killed?’ Caelan rubbed her eyes. ‘Would they really stay silent? What happened to them anyway?’
‘The press turned on them, as you know. The longer Charlie was missing, the more rumours circulated. They were suspected of killing him, or of hiding him away themselves. They wouldn’t have been the first to try it. In the end, they sold everything, moved away.’ Beckett glanced at Caelan. ‘They’re both dead.’
It was another hammer blow. ‘What?’
‘It’s never been reported in the press, not acknowledged. They changed their names, but we kept track of them. Their bodies were found in the garage of their new house. They’d hanged themselves.’
‘Jesus.’ Caelan’s hands trembled. She folded them together, clenched them between her knees.
‘I know I’m raising more questions than I’m answering, but you need to understand the depth of this …’ Beckett fumbled for the word. ‘This tragedy. We need to determine who’s involved, and to what extent.’
‘And we know you’re not.’ Brady managed a smile, though Caelan couldn’t return it.
‘How?’ she said.
‘The way you’ve behaved since Charlie’s death. Your anger, your resolve.’ Beckett lifted her hands. ‘We know you.’
‘I resigned.’
Beckett was nodding. ‘As we expected. And if you’d been involved, you would have stayed away, kept your head down. You wouldn’t have come back, especially not to tail Lambourne’s son. And then Ronnie Morgan was shot with you a few metres away. The spotlight was firmly centred on you.’
‘Because someone was trying to set me up.’
‘Precisely.’
‘I …’ Caelan felt overwhelmed. She had begun to have suspicions, but this was beyond belief. ‘Who’s doing this?’
‘We don’t know,’ Beckett said. ‘It could still be Walker and Lambourne, or Walker working alone. We need proof, evidence, and it’s so far proved impossible to obtain.’
‘Who else are you looking at?’
‘You already know. Detective Adamson. Deputy Assistant Commissioner Nasenby. Commander Penrith.’
Caelan closed her eyes, nausea rising. Three men she had worked with for years. Hearing Beckett use their ranks made the situation even more unbelievable. ‘What about Achebe?’
Brady turned sharply. ‘Tim?’
‘He was involved in the Flynn case, wasn’t he?’ What had he said at the meeting the day she had returned from Egypt? I’m only involved because the Charlie Flynn kidnapping and murder was on my patch.
‘Tim was seconded to the case at a late stage,’ Brady said. ‘We both were. It felt like the whole Met was on it by then.’
Caelan nodded, remembering. She had been on the periphery, detailed to gather what information she could, but Charlie Flynn’s face had beamed out of every television, every newspaper front page for days. Brady worked on the case too. Caelan shivered. Was this how it was going to be? Suspecting all, trusting no one? What about Beckett? Who could vouch for her?
‘Why haven’t you arrested me?’ she said, pushing down her doubts. She would examine them later, when she was alone. Now was the time to keep her head. Her freedom, her life, could depend on it. ‘Whoever’s behind all this, if they thought their plan was working and I was out of the way …’
Beckett shuffled, stretched her legs as far as she was able. There was a glass screen between them and the driver, and as her feet touched his seat, he glanced over his shoulder. Beckett smiled, and he focused on the road ahead. Calean realised they were circling around the same streets, with no destination in mind. They were in the car so they could speak freely, with no witnesses. The thought gave her no comfort.
‘We will arrest you,’ Beckett said, with a glance at Brady.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Later today, you’ll be arrested.’
Caelan stared at her. ‘What?’
‘Once you’ve spoken to Ronnie Morgan’s mother and been to the Wheatsheaf, officers will be waiting at your flat. We’ll have to make it look real, of course. Discreet but convincing. No publicity, no press. You’ll be taken to a local station for the night, then spirited away in the morning to a secure location.’
Caelan swallowed. ‘Where?’
‘A hotel room. It’s a charade, Caelan. We want you to continue tracking down Walker and Lambourne.’
‘Secretly?’
‘It’s what you’re good at, isn’t it?’
‘What about the others? Richard, Michael, Ian?’
‘We’ll be watching them.’
Caelan considered this. ‘You don’t trust me, do you?’
Beckett turned her head. ‘Yes we do. I do.’
‘From the day Richard Adamson came to me in Egypt, I’ve felt someone behind the scenes, pulling the strings. I thought it was Lambourne.’
‘It could still be, but why kill his own son? And why would Walker do it, regardless of whether he was working with Lambourne or not?’
‘But why would any of my colleagues, your colleagues, risk everything for money? A ransom they didn’t even receive? The only person who profited from the whole mess was …’
‘You,’ said Brady.
Caelan nodded. ‘Me.’
There was a silence.
‘You told me you didn’t know Nicky had left you her apartment.’ Brady’s voice was soft.
‘The photograph …’
‘Ian’s photograph?’ Caelan sneered. ‘I agreed to pick Nicky up from the solicitor’s. She was giddy when she came out, laughing, wanted us to book a holiday together. I didn’t know what she’d been doing in there.’ She met Brady’s eyes. ‘That’s the truth.’
Brady held up her hands. ‘Okay. My point is, there’s no one involved in this case we can’t consider as a suspect.’
Caelan nodded. Even the three of us. ‘How did Ian know about Nicky and me? How did he know where to find us? Her past wasn’t a secret, especially at work, because there were concerns about how she would cope with what had happened, but …’
‘Who knew about Nicky’s abusive marriage?’ said Beckett.
Caelan paused. ‘Adamson, Nasenby and Penrith again. Her family. Whoever did her psych assessments.’
‘Friends?’
‘Possibly. I never met any of them.’
‘She didn’t introduce you to her friends?’
‘There wasn’t time.’
‘You didn’t seem to know her very well,’ said Brady.
Caelan stared out of the window. ‘I thought I did. We were both other people most of the time.’
‘You don’t think …’ Brady hesitated.
‘What?’
‘You don’t think Nicky could have been involved?’
‘Involved? How?’ But Caelan knew.
‘Working for Lambourne. Helping him.’
‘Then he killed her to protect himself? That’s ridiculous, you know. You’re throwing accusations around like …’ Caelan paused, unable to think of a simile. ‘You haven’t got a clue.’
Beckett laughed. ‘You’re right.’ She leaned forward, tapped on the glass partition. The driver nodded, indicated. ‘Thank you for your time, Caelan.’
The car neared the kerb, stopped. Caelan looked at Beckett. ‘Am I to report back to you, or …?’ Beckett might have overall responsibility for the Specialist Crime & Operations directorate, but Michael Nasenby was in charge of Intelligence & Covert Policing within it. Caelan had reported to both Nasenby and Ian Penrith during recent operations, but she saw Nasenby as her boss. Adele Brady had told her not to report to anyone but herself, but as a chief superintendent, Brady was outranked by Beckett, Nasenby and Penrith. Her impartiality and Beckett’s apparent faith in her was clearly placing her temporarily at Beckett’s right hand.
Ask No Questions Page 18