Hooley grinned. He knew she would prefer to hear about action rather than platitudes.
“We’re working on some promising lines. Thanks to Jonathan we got a couple of hours head start on the news that none of our allies was able to identify the group behind this. I know this sounds basic stuff, but time can be such a critical factor.”
He checked with Roper. “Are you happy for me to fill in some details of this?”
A quick thumbs up gave him the go ahead.
“We’re still thinking this through, but we’ve been working on a picture of which people had the strongest links to John Ryder. In other words, if this isn’t one of the big terrorist organisations, our focus is turning to his own family and senior executives, to his PA and gardener. We’re even looking at people who are close to him in a business sense, maybe the sort he meets at these tech conferences that seem to take place every few weeks.”
Mayweather looked delighted but still determined to challenge them. “You’re not doing this in a ‘nothing can be ruled in and nothing can be ruled out’ manner are you?” She meant the type of lazy detective work that saw people covering their backs rather than doing real police work.
“On the contrary. We’ve already brought in extra people to help establish our own list of key players. We’ve also started the first deep background checks. There’s a lot of work but we’re on it and our people know what they’re looking for.”
Mayweather turned to Roper. “So, this works well for you?”
“It does. I did worry at first because I like knowing everything, but Brian and I talked it through and now I find it easier this way. It makes me feel better able to make suggestions and follow feelings.” He paused. “One more thing. As you know, I’ve been hoping to get a few more people involved. One of those is Isabella Morris….”
“Remind me which one is Isabella?” said Hooley.
“She’s a Forensic Linguist.”
“And you’ve told me about her before?”
“Not in so many words.”
“So, what will she be doing?”
“She’s brilliant at language and digging out hidden meanings. It struck me that, since the police have already received a message about these attacks, then she might be invaluable. Her job will be to work out what the real meanings are, or if the words are being made up to send us on a wild goose chase. She’ll be one of those who might be working out of the office. She spends a lot of time in Cambridge but enjoys getting away to Scotland when she can. She enjoys the peace and quiet up there.”
This wasn’t the first time Mayweather had heard of forensic linguistics and would have welcomed the chance to learn more, but there was no time – and she could tell by the gleam in his eye that Roper was close to diving into a complex discussion.
She headed him off. “Sounds fascinating, Jonathan, and I look forward to seeing what a difference she makes. The other thing we need to decide now is the official name of the unit. At the moment I am just giving people your actual names and explaining you work directly to me.”
“Actually, we agreed on that on the way over here,” said Hooley. “We didn’t want anything too specific, so we are going with, the ‘Data and Analysis Support Unit’. It sounds sort of technical and probably a bit boring.”
“I certainly agree about it sounding boring. So, what about the unofficial name? Are you still going with that?
Roper was smiling. “We’d like to be known as the Odd Bods.”
Hooley looked at Mayweather, stood up, and shaped a bow.
“I have reached my pinnacle. I am now the Chief Odd Bod.”
Chapter 12
Josephine Taggert was familiar with the phrase “You could have heard a pin drop”, and now she was finding out, the hard way, what that meant. Her big announcement had been greeted with total silence. If she didn’t front up now, the argument would be lost.
Even though she had heard others say that video conferencing took the emotion away, she could almost feel the intense feelings being directed at her as executives from around the world looked at her on screen. She could feel goose bumps exploding up her arms and fought back a sudden urge to shudder. Now was not the time to fail. She took a deep breath, focused on breathing and regained control.
Taking a firm grip on the phone, she held it aloft. “I know this looks like one of our regular phones, but John believed this would have the power to transform the market and give us an unassailable lead. When I show you what it can do, I think you’ll agree.”
A number of people nodded, but not enough. Taggert pressed on and, holding the phone in her left-hand, it seemed to unfold as she pulled it into a new shape. This had long been one of the most sought-after abilities, a flexi-screen that could fold into a phone or other device. Had Ryder actually succeeded where others had failed? She pulled hard on the screen to show how robust it was.
Holding up a finger, she called up a video clip, hit play then showed her audience how it looked. Now there was tentative applause and several people called out.
Despite her heartfelt anxiety for her boss, Taggert couldn’t help smiling. “This is what John was going to show the world this morning, before he was the victim of that vicious attack.”
It was unbearably poignant. Someone had set off a bomb at the moment of his greatest triumph. She felt herself tearing up but pressed on, conscious that others were dabbing at their eyes.
“As I have already said, John kept this all very secret. All he told me was that he had already arranged for each of you to receive some of these new sets – and he has prerecorded a special message which will talk you through, in detail, their capabilities.” She held up both hands, palms out. “Before anyone asks, I haven’t seen the message yet either. I just know that we are due to get one and, obviously, I don’t know what the subject matter is all about. I don’t even know for sure when it will arrive, but I think it’s soon.” She took a breath then added, “Jenny, I think it might be best if I shut up for a minute and hand over to you. I’ve given you all the news I have.”
The Jenny in question was Jenny Mitchell, at Ryder Corp in Silicon Valley. Her image appeared on everyone’s screen. She had distinctive long blonde hair and, despite being in her late twenties, was acknowledged as the best thinker in the company. She was now in charge of the global operation.
“Jo, thank you for this – and I agree, you have done exactly what John would have wanted. I am amazed, quite frankly, that he managed to keep this to himself and, if it works, well, the sky’s the limit. Just when you start to think that John Ryder has already left his mark on the world, he comes along with another, even bigger, idea. We must do everything in our power to ensure this gets all the success it deserves.” She looked thoughtful. “My instinct is that we’re going to need you over here to make sure that happens, but we both need to think that through. Let’s talk again in a couple of hours and decide what’s best. Given that this has happened in London, there’s an argument that says we keep our best people there, at least for now. But, one way or another, we need to make a firm decision. With John out of the picture, this is no time for being indecisive.”
She stopped talking and the two women looked at each other, both conscious that what should have been a pivotal moment bringing the company ever greater success might actually be the beginning of the end.
The video conference broke up, with Mitchell saying they should all get back in touch once they had received their packages and messages.
Taggert saw that her assistant was looking at her expectantly. “You know what, Mary Lou? What I’d really like right now is an ice-cold glass of wine. But that’s not going to happen any time soon. You and I have work to do. We’ve got to talk to everyone here and get them up to speed.”
The pair were about to leave when Mitchell popped up on the video screens. It was slightly odd to see so many versions of her.
“I think we should delay a public announcement for a few days, to let things die down,” Mitchell bega
n. “Unless John has already got a marketing drive going?”
Taggert shook her head. “Some basic information was released under embargo. I think we can buy a few days by confirming there’s a new product, but in the circumstances, we would rather not do a marketing drive right now. Before all this kicked off, we had a media call booked to follow what should have been the big unveil at the O2. That’s been put back until an hour from now. I can use it to update everyone on his condition and mention the new screens. That will get the basic information out there. We can decide the next steps while we wait to find out what’s happening to John. It will also help give the impression we are being proactive and not just waiting on events.”
A sad smile appeared on Mitchell’s face. “OK. Give me a call the moment you have any news… and definitely speak to me in two hours from now.”
The two women exchanges another look of silent agreement, with Mitchell mouthing “good luck” as she turned away from the screen, leaving the pair in London to make their way out.
As they reached the doors, Taggert stopped and shook her head in frustration.
“Is everything OK?” asked Healy, looking anxious. Ryder was a bit like a father figure to his staff and they were all in deep shock.
Taggert puffed her cheeks out. “In one way it’s a bit silly – but I forgot to pass on John’s joke. He wants to call this new phone the ‘Y’ phone, as in ‘Why are all other phones so useless?’”
Chapter 13
The office had been built in the mid-1990s and was showing its age. This part was normally only used by Roper and Hooley – although another four people could have been easily accommodated in the room they used. A short stride away was a larger space with up to twenty desks.
The bigger office had been unused for weeks, but it was slowly filling with people as detectives were pulled in to work under the pair’s guidance. In reality, it was mainly the DCI’s guidance, since Roper had a unique motivational style that often left people looking like they had steam coming out of their ears.
Hooley found it easier if he dealt with the detectives in this room and made sure to keep the younger man at arm’s length. This was an arrangement which suited all sides; Roper could find dealing with “normals” as exhausting as they found him.
A new batch of detectives had arrived, and Hooley was on his way to welcome them to what he had started to call the “Research Room,” if only to separate it from all the other teams. He was almost out of the office when Roper’s voice stopped him. “I still don’t understand why you keep having to meet everyone. I have sent perfectly clear instructions on email. Only idiots could fail to understand.”
Hooley turned back. “I know this sort of thing goes in one ear and out the other, but you really should try and understand that people don’t like being spoken to like that.”
He broke off and sighed. He’d chosen the wrong form of words, and Roper was now distractedly tugging at his ears.
Thirty minutes later, he returned feeling jaunty. He walked back in to see that Roper was having an agitated telephone conversation.
“No, no. I think you should stay in Washington. We’re talking about the biggest company in the US.”
Hooley knew what was going on here: Roper was talking to his girlfriend Sam Tyler. They normally spoke over a video link, not a simple phone call, so this was unusual – and, from what Hooley could hear at this end, it wasn’t going well. Even from where he was sitting, the DCI could make out the odd word of what was a shouted response.
Roper’s knuckles were going white from the gripping the phone so hard, and he was listening so intently that he lost his bearings and became entangled in his chair, only stopping himself from hitting the floor by grabbing his desk with his free hand.
Finally, he managed to get a word in. “You will be playing a central role. You already know everyone over there, and they can all help you. We desperately need to find out if anyone has ever heard of this lot, the Cohort.”
There was another long pause as he listened. This time the volume had been dialed down, a hopeful sign.
“Of course, I’m not just saying that. You know I never say things just to try and persuade people. I don’t believe in doing things like that.” Pause. “I’m not making things up. I don’t know how to make things up.” Another pause. “No, that’s OK. This is hard for us all. But right now, we can’t say what is going on, so we need to cover the key places.”
When the conversation ended, Roper sat down and stared into space.
Roper referred to Sam as his girlfriend, but most of their time was spent far apart since she worked in Washington in a sought-after role as a data cruncher for various US government organisations, currently with Homeland Security. What little time they had to themselves was spent over a video link, and they could sometimes go months without talking. Hooley had no idea how they coped but Roper insisted they both liked it that way.
The telephone exchange seemed to have left Roper a little dazed, so Hooley decided to leave him be for a few minutes. While he had been out of the room, more and more information had been generated by hundreds of investigators on the case. Half a dozen items on his screen in Victoria were marked "Secret. Top Priority.”
He read the highlights while he waited for Roper to calm down. Despite their markings there was nothing especially startling in the documents, which was a concern since it meant little progress was being made.
Roper interrupted his thoughts. “I can’t see anything new there. What about you?”
Hooley shook his head. “Nah, nothing at all. But we are making progress of a sort, even if it’s partly to do with eliminating things. Your suggestion that it wasn’t Ryder’s family proved right. Our guys were able to track the immediate relatives and they all have alibis. There weren’t that many of them, so it didn’t take long. We’ll keep looking.”
Roper didn’t respond. Instead he became preternaturally still. Hooley recognised the pose - he had accessed his Rainbow Spectrum. This normally took a few minutes, although Roper had told him he had no sense of time while he was doing it.
He blinked his way back into the moment and started talking.
“Eliminating the family members is helping. When I look in my Spectrum there is still a lot that doesn’t make sense and doesn’t fit properly. For a start, that name, the Cohort, is a problem.
“My Spectrum always assigns a colour to a piece of information. It doesn’t matter what the colours are, just that the closer the colour match, the more relevant the different pieces of information.” He paused. “Well, most of the colours are light – but the Cohort shows up as black. That is a big problem.”
Hooley nodded. “I don’t have your Rainbow Spectrum, but my gut has been telling me all along that there’s something wrong. It just doesn’t seem to fit.”
“That’s very interesting,” said Roper. “The other thing I cannot make fit, no matter how many different ways I think about it, is the murder of Valentina Ferrari.”
“Really. What’s making you think that?”
Roper shrugged. “I’ve got a couple of ideas, but it is complicated.”
“Fair enough, but the moment you feel confident let me know.
“Between you and the detectives out there doing the legwork, we need to keep pushing this inquiry forward.”
The DCI decided to re-read the latest reports. Working with Roper, it was easy to fall into the trap of thinking he too had a computer-like ability to absorb information. He was reading a preliminary assessment of the deaths at the O2 when he thought he heard Roper saying something about the gym.
“Sorry Jonathan, I was miles away. Did you just say something?”
Roper looked him straight in the eye. “I said, I’ve booked you in for some over-50s Spin classes. We’re going this afternoon.”
Hooley froze. What Roper had said was plain enough, but given they were just starting out on the biggest case they had yet dealt with; he was struggling to make sense of it. Finally, h
is mind accepted what he had been told and he started to frown.
“I think, in the circumstances, we can leave that. A major terrorist inquiry must take priority.”
For most people, the glacial way the DCI spat out his response would have frozen them in place. But Roper wasn’t most people. Totally unflustered, he said, “Well, you’re quite wrong about that. This investigation is going to put you under a lot of stress, and you need to protect yourself or you will have a heart attack or a stroke. You’re a classic victim – you work hard, don’t eat well or take enough exercise, and no doubt you are still drinking too much.”
Hooley rarely shouted but this tipped him over the edge.
“Not now Jonathan! We can talk about this after the case and I will do all the bloody cycling you like, but for now can we please get on with some detective work!? That is the priority.”
Hooley glared angrily at Roper, defying the younger man to say anymore, but he wasn’t to be deterred.
“You’ve gone red in the face, look a bit sweaty – and the fact you’ve lost your temper shows that the stress is already getting to you. You are going this afternoon and that’s final. I have calculated it very tightly and you will only need to be away from your desk for thirty-five minutes. That includes the walk there and back, getting changed and doing fifteen minutes exercise. It might not sound much but little and often is very effective. Especially for someone like you who has let themselves go and needs to do something about it. I’m doing it to keep you company. I won’t hear no.”
Just Kill Them Page 5