Ask No Questions

by Hartley, Lisa

  ‘But that could have been anyone, at any time since I moved out – the landlord, a new tenant …’

  ‘It could have been, yes. Or it could have been a person who was planning to frame you for murder at some point, even back then.’

  ‘You don’t know—’

  ‘We checked with the landlord. He remembered you, complained that you’d taken the clothes line with you when you left.’

  ‘You’re not serious? He checked?’

  ‘It was on the list of items that came with the property, and that should have been left behind by the vacating tenant. I’m surprised he didn’t chase you for reimbursement.’

  ‘Christ.’

  ‘It was taken by you.’ Beckett lifted her shoulders, let them fall. ‘At least that’s what someone wants us to think.’

  Caelan leaned back in her chair, pinching her lower lip, frowning. None of this made sense. ‘It’s too amateurish,’ she said. ‘If Adamson, Penrith or Nasenby were involved, they would have made a better job of covering their tracks.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘I know. Unless …’ Caelan chewed her lip, thinking about it. ‘Unless it’s deliberate.’ Suddenly she slammed the palms of her hands on the table, causing Beckett to jump. Half expecting the armed officer outside to kick the door down and aim his gun at her, Caelan quickly apologised. ‘The whole case is frustrating. I thought it was over.’

  ‘With Lambourne still out there, it could never truly be closed,’ said Beckett.

  ‘Can I ask some questions?’

  ‘Go ahead. I may not answer them.’

  ‘Why am I here?’

  ‘An easy one to start. Because I need you to find out who killed Charlie Flynn, Ronnie Morgan and Sam Clifton, as you’re already aware.’

  ‘Why this building? If it’s so secret, why bring me here?’

  ‘You’ve answered your own question. I don’t want anyone to know where you are. The people who work here can be trusted to keep our secrets.’

  ‘Why wasn’t Glen Walker arrested earlier?’

  ‘Because we didn’t find him. We know he was on the train, and we didn’t think anyone got off before our officers arrived. Evidently Walker did. We’re still trying to find out how.’

  ‘It’s as though he’s taunting us.’

  ‘Or being used to taunt us, yes, I agree.’

  ‘What about the surveillance on Nasenby, Penrith and Adamson?’

  Beckett blew out her cheeks. ‘Nothing suspicious. They’re going about their business.’

  ‘I told Adamson you suspected that one of the three of them was involved.’ Caelan waited for the onslaught, for Beckett’s anger. It had been foolish, stupid in the extreme. She had no evidence Adamson was innocent, except her own gut feeling.

  The expected outburst didn’t come. Beckett smiled. ‘You trust him.’

  ‘He’s never given me a reason not to.’

  Beckett tapped a finger on the table. ‘Shall I tell you something interesting about Richard Adamson?’

  Caelan eyed her. ‘Is it relevant?’

  ‘It’s not gossip, if that’s what you mean. You remember the operation where you lived with him? Shared a bed?’

  ‘Six months of hardly sleeping in case I rolled over and ended up on top of him?’ She screwed up her face. ‘Yes, I remember.’

  ‘And you recall how the assignment ended?’

  Frowning as she thought about it, Caelan said, ‘Abruptly. We were pulled out with immediate effect, the operation abandoned.’

  ‘Were you told why?’

  ‘No. I never asked.’

  Beckett nodded. ‘And you would no doubt have been told a lie if you had. The truth is, Adamson fucked up.’

  Caelan stared at her, almost more shocked by her language than by what she was revealing. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He managed to jeopardise the whole operation. We had to get you both out quickly, in case your cover was blown.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘You remember what you were doing?’

  ‘Spending a lot of time in dodgy pubs and illicit casinos. Richard gambled, played poker – badly. I’m surprised we weren’t rumbled straight away. I mingled and flirted, tried to make some friends.’

  ‘All with the goal of gaining the trust of a man suspected of all sorts of criminal activity.’

  Caelan scowled, remembering. ‘He was a pimp and a people smuggler. That’s before you mention the property business renting out some of the worst dives in London to people he’d smuggled into the country, as if he was doing them a favour.’

  ‘The same people he employed in his businesses and brothels, working sixteen-hour days for negligible wages.’ Beckett waved a hand. ‘Do you recall his name?’

  ‘Seddon,’ Caelan said immediately. ‘Duncan Seddon.’

  ‘Correct.’ Beckett nodded. ‘Seddon might remember you too.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Like I said, Adamson fucked up. Drank too much one night, said the wrong thing, raised suspicion.’

  ‘He told Seddon my name?’

  ‘No, he kept his head, but the damage was done. Seddon was eventually convicted of murder, despite our aborted attempt to gather evidence. Luckily for us, it wasn’t long before he knifed a bloke in a pub in front of tens of witnesses.’

  ‘Not so lucky for the person he killed.’

  ‘No, but it got Seddon off the street. He’s serving life.’

  Caelan shuddered. ‘And Richard still has a job.’

  Beckett pursed her lips. ‘Not my decision. Anyway, Seddon never found out who you really were. The interesting thing is who Seddon is related to.’

  ‘Related to?’

  ‘It’s come to light thanks to some bright spark on DCI Achebe’s team.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Duncan Seddon is the cousin of Charlie Flynn’s mother.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Entirely.’ Beckett lifted her eyebrows. ‘It may mean nothing, but …’

  ‘But it’s a link. Fuck.’

  ‘We’re interviewing Seddon later today.’

  ‘In prison?’

  ‘That’s where he lives.’ Beckett gave Caelan a hard stare. ‘And before you ask, no, you can’t be the one to talk to him.’

  ‘I wouldn’t expect to. Anyway, I wanted to read the Charlie Flynn files again.’

  ‘Because Ian Penrith told you to?’

  ‘He suggested it. And I haven’t visited Brendan Milne’s flat yet.’

  ‘Why? Walker had never been there, forensics proved that.’

  ‘He doesn’t want to be found. He was a few metres from us earlier today and we didn’t get him. Have you thought about how he knew we were going to be on the train?’

  Beckett grimaced. ‘Maybe he was watching your flat. Maybe he followed us when we left Limehouse. I’ve no idea.’

  ‘You didn’t tell anyone where you were going?’

  ‘No one, not even my husband.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘He knew I was coming to collect you. He didn’t know where we were going. He doesn’t know I use this office either.’

  ‘Can’t be easy to have secrets from him.’

  ‘Don’t be naïve, Caelan. Secrets are part of the job.’ Beckett heaved a sigh. ‘Study the Charlie Flynn files. Maybe you’ll spot something everyone else has missed. I include myself in that.’

  ‘You’ve read them?’

  ‘Of course I have.’

  ‘You’ve known that the truth about his death was covered up for longer than you said.’

  Beckett spread her hands on the table. ‘All right, I’ll be honest. I’ve been looking at this case since the day Charlie died. It’s never added up, none of it. I knew I had to be careful, discreet – I didn’t want to put any more of my officers at risk. You resigned, Sam and Nicky were out of the picture, and I was left with Nasenby, Penrith and Adamson – the three I had an inkling I needed to focus on.’

  ‘Nicky was out of
the picture? She was murdered.’ Caelan rubbed her eyes, exhaustion dulling her vision. Beckett nodded, acknowledging the point.

  ‘I’ve believed for a long time that someone in our department was dirty, but I could never pin down who it was.’

  ‘Dirty? How do you mean?’

  ‘Come on, Caelan. We tried for years to collate enough intelligence on Seb Lambourne to bring him in. The National Crime Agency has been digging around him too, and found out about as much we have. Nothing. Why?’

  ‘Lambourne’s clever, he—’

  ‘My guess is he had inside information. Someone was warning him we were sniffing about, every step of the way, allowing him to move assets around, cover his tracks. Allowing him and Walker to disappear after Charlie died.’

  ‘You think Lambourne was paying someone to keep him informed? Who?’

  ‘If I knew, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’

  ‘You said you’d looked at the financial records of everyone on the team. No clues there?’

  ‘We have, but this is someone who knows how to leave no trace. You said it yourself – we’re not dealing with amateurs here. Cash must have changed hands. Seb Lambourne would have no shortage of notes he needed to be rid of from his various schemes.’

  ‘It must have been huge amounts of cash, though. Why would you take the risk otherwise?’

  Beckett sat back, rubbing her chin. ‘A fortune, yes. But something went wrong – the kidnapping of Charlie Flynn. Suddenly our bent cop is worried. I think Charlie saw him, could have identified him. That meant the boy had to die.’

  Caelan shivered. ‘But why was he kidnapped in the first place?’

  ‘Maybe he saw something he shouldn’t have done and was removed to keep him quiet. I don’t know. Maybe Seddon will be able to help us, though I’m not hopeful.’ Beckett tapped her fingernails on the arm of her chair. ‘Thinking about it, perhaps you should visit Seddon, Caelan. I’ve no concerns he’ll remember you from your operation with Adamson. It was a considerable amount of time ago, and no doubt you played your role to perfection. I don’t want to tell anyone else about these ideas of ours.’

  Caelan raised an eyebrow, uncomfortable with Beckett’s flattery. She was crawling, and it didn’t suit her. What was she up to? Caelan focused on the other woman’s face, unease creeping through her again. ‘Our ideas?’

  Beckett laughed. ‘Okay, mine. But someone is pulling the strings, someone dangerous and with no conscience. Someone who would kill a ten-year-old child to protect themselves.’

  ‘We don’t know that. How would Ronnie’s death fit in with your theory?’

  ‘A brutal and no doubt effective way of telling Seb Lambourne to stay away and keep his mouth shut? I don’t know.’

  ‘Did you ever expect me to be able to find Lambourne?’

  ‘I hoped you could.’ Beckett glanced away, and Caelan pounced.

  ‘I thought you were being honest with me?’

  Beckett held up her hands. ‘All right. I doubted you’d be able to. I had an inkling that Lambourne’s supposed reappearance was smoke and mirrors. Something else is going on here, Caelan. Something we don’t yet fully understand.’

  ‘What about Walker? He’s back for sure.’

  ‘I’m not disputing that.’ Beckett’s mobile began to ring, and she took it from her bag. ‘Excuse me. It’s Adele Brady. I should answer.’ She raised the handset to her ear. ‘Adele. I assume you’re ringing to update me on the situation with Glen Walker?’ Caelan watched Beckett’s expression change as she listened. ‘You’re certain?’ A pause, colour rising in her cheeks. Then: ‘It’s disappointing. Keep me informed, Adele.’

  She placed the phone on the table and closed her eyes. Caelan watched, concerned, until they opened and Beckett said, ‘Walker bribed a Transport for London employee to let him off the train when the announcement was made that people needed to stay where they were. He evidently then managed to disappear in the crowd. We’ve found footage of him leaving St James’s Park station, but then we lose him. As usual, he’s one step ahead.’

  ‘Doesn’t explain how he knew we’d be on the train.’

  ‘All I can think is that he must have followed us.’

  ‘I would have seen him.’

  ‘Perhaps not. We were hurrying, we had the umbrella. You may not have noticed one man behind us in the crowds.’

  She would have. Constantly surveying her surroundings was second nature. Whatever Beckett said, Caelan knew Walker had not been following them. She decided to let it go, for now. Beckett would never agree, never admit there could be another explanation, one Caelan didn’t like to consider. ‘How much did he give the TfL employee?’ she asked.

  ‘Fifteen hundred pounds in cash.’

  Caelan whistled. ‘Tempting.’

  ‘He said he had an important meeting to get to and couldn’t wait around. The staff and passengers weren’t told why they were having to remain on the train; only that it was being delayed.’

  ‘Bit of a giveaway when twenty police officers boarded, though.’

  ‘They were plain-clothes.’ Beckett managed a tired smile. ‘We did try for discretion.’

  ‘Walker must have suspected that we’d stop the train from leaving. Why else would he be carrying such a large amount of cash?’

  ‘It was in a brown envelope, ready to be handed over. The guy he bribed is young, in debt, he has children. He saw the cash, forgot his principles and his training.’

  ‘Good thing Walker didn’t have explosives strapped to his body. Are they going to sack him?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s not our issue.’ Beckett blinked, and Caelan knew she would make sure the employee kept his job. Caelan would have done the same. He would appreciate the seriousness of his actions, how catastrophic the outcome could have been had Walker been a terrorist. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

  ‘We’re continuing to look for Walker,’ Beckett said.

  ‘I don’t think we’ll find him until he wants us to.’

  Beckett checked her watch. ‘He? Who do you mean? Walker himself, or someone else?’

  ‘Whoever Walker’s boss is.’

  ‘He could still be working alone. I want you to go and speak to Seddon. Take Ewan Davies with you.’

  ‘Will he be free?’

  ‘He’s on his way here now. Keep him close, Caelan. Leave the gun at home for now, but I want you carrying it when you return from the prison. Call me when you’ve spoken to Seddon.’

  ‘What do you want me to ask him? He could have friends on the outside, people who know Lambourne and Walker. We might be making a mistake by even going there.’

  ‘I’m not concerned. Walker knows we’re looking for him. There’s no need to be cautious. Seddon’s in the first year of a lengthy stretch. He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t die in prison.’

  * * *

  The room Caelan and Ewan were led to was square and stuffy, empty except for three chairs and a table. Caelan sat in the chair nearest the wall. At some point in the distant past, it had been painted white, now faded to a dismal grey. She heard faint shouting, another voice bellowing a response. On the floor above them, feet were pounding, faint cooking smells conjuring images of hundreds of prisoners queuing for their dinner. She wished she had a bottle of water to hand, knowing her suddenly dry mouth was a result of the trepidation and anxiety being in this place provoked. They had surrendered all their possessions before being allowed into the main buildings, been searched, then ignored by a bored-looking drug detection dog. Beckett had given them police identification bearing fake names to use at the prison. As far as anyone else knew, Caelan Small was languishing in a cell somewhere.

  Caelan had been in many terrifying situations, had felt fear grab her throat more times than she could remember. She had known that her best chances of survival hinged on trusting her instincts, her training and her ability. So far, she had managed to emerge physically unscathed. Here, though, she felt vulnerable. She assumed the
y were being kept well away from the cells, but there was no escaping the sounds and smells of over a thousand incarcerated men. The air seemed charged, tension simmering, tempers constantly close to fraying. It wasn’t the first time she had visited a prison, but she hoped it would be the last.

  Ewan sat down beside her. He folded his arms, looking around the room as uncomfortably as if the door had been locked behind them.

  ‘First time in a prison?’ Caelan asked.

  He nodded. ‘It’s about as much fun as I expected. I want to run.’

  ‘I know the feeling.’

  ‘How do people survive in here for years? I couldn’t get through an hour.’

  ‘They’ve no option, I suppose. They might ask how you survived the army for so long.’

  He grinned, but Caelan could see it was an effort. ‘At least I was there by choice.’

  ‘You made the decision to join up. After that, you were told what to do, same as all the blokes locked up in here.’

  ‘True. Prison food’s probably better too.’

  The door was pushed open and a man appeared, followed by a prison officer.

  ‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ the officer said with a grin. ‘Here he is. He’s promised to behave. No doubt he’ll tell you nothing, but it gets him out of my hair for a while.’

  Seddon looked much as Caelan remembered him. He was in his early fifties, but appeared younger. He wore jogging bottoms and a matching sweatshirt, his dark hair neatly combed into a side parting, turning white above his ears and receding at the temples. The clothes, though clean, were well worn, old stains visible on the thin grey fabric. He was six feet tall and stocky, his eyes deep-set and shadowed. An intimidating presence, especially in the close confines of a prison. Caelan didn’t move, didn’t allow her expression to change as his eyes ran quickly over her face and body.

  Seddon moved to stand in the centre of the room, staring at Ewan, then at Caelan. His gaze was neither challenging nor lascivious; he viewed them both with the same calculated intensity.

  ‘Why would two coppers want a chat with me?’

  The prison officer nodded to the chair and said, ‘Sit down.’

  ‘What if I don’t want to speak to them?’

  ‘You said you would. Now sit.’