As this mini briefing unfolded, Hooley was increasingly impressed by the way Brooker was laying out the information. She had a good style which allowed her to make the point without over complicating it.
She went on. “The attack on John Ryder was the easiest to build an argument for. He’s the driving force at Ryder Corporation so we have several rivals who would benefit from him being taken out. But we were also able to put an argument together about an ambitious colleague wanting to take his job. Again, it was surprising how many names that gave us – but none that we could point at as the favourite.”
“When you look at Valentina Ferrari from the same perspective, you do get some possibilities. She was seen as an important politician, especially with her attacks on the big social media companies. Jonathan was able to make an argument that the same person who attacked John Ryder would have also killed her because they might have benefitted from losing such an outspoken critic of the business. To be fair, we don’t think that’s very likely, but I suppose we must keep it in mind until we can prove otherwise. Plus, we’re waiting for the accountants to report on her finances.
“But, when we come to Diamonds and Pearls, it gets kind of interesting. You can see they have lots of enemies – there are plenty of people on Twitter making all sorts of threatening remarks – but why attack Ryder and Ferrari as well? Again, it could be something we don’t know yet, so we’ll leave it as a possibility.
“So, then we looked at Jonathan’s theory about industrial espionage and you can see a connection. If Diamonds and Pearls gives you access to what rivals are up to, then suddenly you can make an argument linking all three attacks.”
Hooley said, “It feels like you two haven’t missed me at all. Anyway, good briefing. I need to touch base with the Chief and then hopefully Jonathan will be back.”
Mayweather was tight for time, so his conversation was short. Hooley put the phone down and said to Brooker, “I should have asked this already, what do we know about their private lives? Love interests, gambling, drugs… the usual suspects?”
At that point Roper walked back in and effortlessly picked up the conversation. “MI5 and MI6 are in charge of all that. I don’t think they’ve dug anything up, but they weren’t keen on talking to me. I kept getting put on to different people. At first, they even denied they were investigating anything at all. I had to get quite cross – but finally I was given a very brief outline. Ferrari is said to be spotless, which is why she could risk getting a big media profile. Ryder’s not married and doesn’t currently have a partner – but he does have a good reputation for behaving properly towards women. The actual phrase they used was, ‘He’s no powerful Hollywood producer.’ As to Diamonds and Pearls, they didn’t have anything to tell me. But it does worry me that MI5 and MI6 were so difficult to extract anything from. I’m worried that they might be hiding something.”
Hooley sighed, “I’ll ask Julie to lean on them. That’s the trouble with spooks, they do love their secrets. I think they worry they’ll lose their power if they have to talk about them.” He tugged at his earlobe as he put his thoughts in order. “I think you two have covered a lot of ground in a very short period of time and I like the sound of what you’ve been thinking about, especially being able to make a link to all three attacks. So, I guess the big question is – has all your theorising thrown up any leads yet?”
They both spoke simultaneously. “We might have found the first mistake they’ve made.”
Chapter 49
Mary Lou Healy felt like banging her head on the wall. She normally boasted an excellent memory but was struggling to remember who Jonathan Roper was. She guessed her short-term memory was being affected by a combination of stress and the drugs they’d given her. She could feel the information she sought floating just beyond her reach.
“Think, think,” she told herself. She decided to try and think her way through the problem. If Street was that interested, he must be either a rival or part of the police team. Impatiently, she tapped her head – but still she felt nothing. She took a swig of water.
Suddenly she had him. There had been two detectives, one older than the other. The older man was one of those people you liked straight away; he had an open manner about him. She smiled as she recalled that she had thought he had that “sexy older dad” thing going on, in a charming way.
His partner, however, was quite different, giving nothing away about himself. He had said little but listened intently. He didn’t make any notes and she had guessed he had a perfect memory.
To her relief, their names came back to her. Brian Hooley and Jonathan Roper. Well, now she had the name – but it wasn’t going to do her much good if Street thought she had War and Peace on the man.
She could recall what he looked like: tall, very skinny and pale with thick curly black hair. She also remembered his outfit, a close-fitting black suit and white shirt combo that had last been fashionable before he, or her, had been born.
Then there were his shoes, excellent quality and polished to a shine in which you could have seen your face. It was the sort of thing, she reflected, that you might expect from a former military man. He was one of those silent types who observe everything and say nothing.
Well, it was more information than she’d had a few minutes ago – but she doubted it was enough to make Street happy when he came back.
As she sat on the edge of her bed, waiting for the door to open, she flicked through the bag of sandwiches. They still had some residual coolness from the chiller cabinet they’d been stored in – so she decided a “ham salad’ would be safe enough to eat.
For some reason, fear was making her hungry, which was annoying. In the normal course of life, she avoided pre-prepared food of any kind, but she needed to keep her strength up. So far, she hadn’t seen any opportunities for escape – but, if something did come up, she would have to be quick.
She was halfway through her sandwich, which didn’t seem to have any taste at all, when the door finally opened, and Street was back. That unpleasant smile he was so good at was still plastered on his face.
The big man was with him. Perhaps Street was concerned that she might try and attack him. He wasn’t the biggest man around, and she recalled that this was something he was very sensitive about.
With or without Mr. Big, she would be sorely tempted to knee him in the “unmentionables” – as her mother liked to refer to them – if the opportunity presented itself. The thought of her mum made her smile; she would have had no hesitation in giving Street a piece of her mind.
“You find this amusing?” Street seethed. “Care to share the joke with the rest of us?”
Healy shrugged, giving him a defiant stare. “I was just thinking that my mum wouldn’t have taken any nonsense from you two.”
Street returned the look with his face expressionless. She could see the madness dancing in the backs of his eyes.
He surprised her when he burst out laughing. It wasn’t a warm laugh, more an unpleasant gurgle. Tears came to his eyes, which he wiped away with the back of his hand. It was a troubling performance, not helped by Mr. Big remaining impassive throughout.
Either he’d decided Street was so mad there was nothing to be gained by worrying about it, or it was being done to get under her skin. She wondered why he was going to so much trouble. She’d already rolled over and promised she would help.
The big man had brought the video camera with him again. It looked a complicated piece of equipment and, while any decent mobile could handle video clips, this was a big step-up from that. It looked like the kind of thing professional film makers would use.
The last time around, he’d just taken some footage of her sitting on the bed. She wondered what he was going to do this time.
He interrupted her thoughts. “So. Jonathan Roper. What can you tell me?”
Her mouth went dry. “Not a lot I’m afraid. He came to the office with another, older detective. I didn’t speak to him. In fact, I don’t re
call him speaking at all. I can tell you what he was wearing, if you like. He had very shiny shoes.”
“Good job I’m not relying on you for information then.” Street’s voice was cold. “It turns out that Mr. Roper is quite the man at Scotland Yard. He’s different, but he gets results. This older man you mentioned, was that Brian Hooley?”
She nodded.
“It seems they’re the dream team. Well, they may be a dream team – but I’m going to be their worst nightmare.” He finished the sentence with a little snort, obviously thrilled with his own wit. Then he handed her a sheet of paper with words printed on it.
“I’ve got a message for Jonathan Roper. You can read it out for the camera.”
Chapter 50
Brooker spoke the names carefully. “John Palmer and Tony Cross. They might be the first major clues our people have left.”
That grabbed the DCI’s attention. He waited patiently, taking a careful mouthful of coffee as he leaned back in his chair. He had a feeling he was going to enjoy listening to this explanation. Brooker and Roper were both clearly delighted at what they had turned up.
“Palmer and Cross?” Hooley looked from one to the other. “I can’t say that those names leap out at me. All I can think of are the biscuit manufacturers, Huntley and Palmer.” His attempt at comedy was ignored.
Roper took the lead. “The first thing to tell you is that it was thanks to Susan’s algorithm tweaks that all this was picked up so quickly.”
“John Palmer died after his ride-on-mower exploded. Someone attached a bomb to it, killed him and his wife. The irony is that it took a few days to confirm it was a bomb because everything’s been so focused on these three attacks. At first it was quite low priority, but Susan’s algorithm still flagged it. That link gained in importance with another discovery yesterday.”
“Is this where Tony Cross comes in?”
“Yes. His body was found in a remote cottage in Wales. At first it was treated as suicide – it appeared as if he’d killed himself with a pistol shot to the head, and the situation wasn’t helped because the body had been got at by wild animals. In the end, it was a local farmer who raised the alarm. He saw a large flock of crows at the house so feared the worst. He went to investigate and found Cross with the gun at his side.” Roper paused. “It was information provided by his brother that made all the difference. Tony Cross was left-handed, you see, but it appeared the gun was fired with his right. That meant it had to be a set-up.
“Cross operated a warehouse, out near Heathrow. Well, when the police uploaded the information locally, Susan’s algorithm started making multiple links – and from that we learned that the guy killed on the lawn mower also worked for Cross as his head of logistics.
“Even though the owner is dead, along with Cross, the warehouse is still operating with a team of managers staffing the place. There’s enough work backed up in the system to keep it running for a few weeks.”
Roper paused and looked over at Brooker.
“It’s a 24-hour operation so Susan and I were thinking of going down there just to see what there is to see. It could be the workers there have also seen this “big man” – maybe he’s been caught on CCTV. A place like that will be loaded with cameras.”
Hooley was delighted. “That’s all great news. And you should get down there. I’ll need to alert the Commissioner and the other teams working on this but no reason why you two shouldn’t go. I’ll liaise with everyone else and arrange for a CSI team to follow you down.”
◆◆◆
Brooker was gripping her hands as the police driver executed yet another brilliantly skillful overtaking manoeuvre. This was the first time she had been driven at such speed and she was both scared and elated. Next to her, Roper was a picture of relaxation. He’d done this many times before.
They were in the back of a dark blue Jaguar saloon, being driven by a petite female officer who handled the vehicle with an ease that Brooker could only admire. It was equipped with a siren and blue lights built into the front grille. Both had been used almost constantly since leaving Victoria.
The driver spoke over her shoulder.
“We’re less than five minutes out. Local officers are on scene waiting for you before they do anything else.” She had been fed the information through a discreet earpiece in her right ear. The entire journey was going to take less than forty minutes – frankly miraculous, since they had had to contend with the rush hour traffic.
A few miles out of London, they turned off the M4 and completed the journey to the industrial estate through suburban roads. As they turned in to the estate, Brooker got her first sight of the warehouse. It was big, a huge grey and green oblong constructed from corrugated metal. Largely functional, it had a massive loading bay at one end and offices at the other end that looked as if they’d been tacked on, almost as an afterthought.
Local police officers stood at both ends and around the perimeter. They had been given one instruction: “No one leaves until the London team gives permission.”
The car dropped them outside the office area and they both jumped out, Brooker appreciating the warmth of the evening after the cold of the highly effective air conditioning. Moments later, a uniformed sergeant approached them.
“We’ve been here for almost two hours and have stopped anyone leaving.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of some large, glass double doors, which were directly behind him. “Can you see the bald man in there?”
They both spotted a very thin man anxiously looking out and nodded.
“Well, he’s the day manger and he’s been badgering me to be allowed to leave. I’ve told him he has to wait – but, just to warn you, he’s persistent.”
Thanking him, they headed towards the man who rushed out of the doors as they got close.
“It’s my wife’s birthday. I need to get home now.”
Brooker smiled at him while narrowing her eyes. “I’m afraid we’ll be a little while yet. This is a terrorism investigation and we need you to cooperate. Otherwise we might have to consider you’re trying to obstruct us and that would see you in a world of trouble.”
He paled and backed away. “I’ll ring my wife and tell her.” Behind Brooker, the Sergeant had walked up. He was having a hard time keeping the smile off his face.
With the aid of the now helpful manger, Roper established that there was a total of six staff on duty, working the 6pm to 8am shift. It was also soon clear that everyone present was working quite legitimately and that the owner and Cross were keeping the illegal part of their work under wraps. Everyone’s story would need double checking, but Roper was convinced there was nothing here.
A now mournful looking manager was the last to be quizzed. As with everyone else he had nothing to add until they asked about the big man.
“There was a man who fits that description. He turned up here one morning in one of those huge SUVs.”
“Was it a Range Rover?” Brooker asked
He shrugged. “It might have been. It had blacked out windows. I was on a break and saw it arrive. The man who got out was huge, much taller than the car. I hadn’t realised but Mr. Cross was outside. He must have been waiting. He’d got about halfway to the car when the other man started jabbing his finger at him. Mr. Cross looked really worried. I’d never seen him like that before. You could tell the big man was shouting. Eventually he drove off, leaving Mr. Cross standing there.”
“Is that front area covered by CCTV?” asked Roper.
The manager nodded.
“I can let you have the footage, no problem. I can remember perfectly because it was my birthday. All CCTV is backed up on computer and kept for twelve months. I’ll go and get what you need.”
Ten minutes later he was back, looking flustered.
“I don’t understand this – but there’s no footage from that day. I’ve checked a couple of days either side and there’s nothing there either.”
Roper looked frustrated. “We’ll need to get ou
r experts to double check that.”
They journeyed back in silence. As they hurtled back through the traffic, Roper seemed especially lost in his thoughts. Even returning to Victoria didn’t immediately snap him out of it.
Finally, Roper returned from wherever he’d gone. He looked carefully at both Hooley and Brooker, as though he wasn’t sure who they were then took a breath and nodded.
“I think our target has given us a clue.”
Chapter 51
Healy had once sat in on an advertising shoot. It had been hard, monotonous work which required huge concentration, enlivened only by interventions from the director. Now, that experience was being repeated as Street and Mr. Big tried to set up the perfect shot. So far, she’d been “filmed” from a variety of angles before it was decided that the original position worked best.
She’d sat patiently throughout, and the preparations appeared to have relaxed Street a little – just enough for her to risk trying a conversation that would give her a chance to judge his frame of mind. He seemed relaxed enough for her to try a question.
“Where is this place?” she asked.
For some reason, this seemed to please him. His face lit up and he became far more expressive.
“What do you think? Maybe this is underground, part of a cellar?”
Her shrug showed he was right. That was exactly what she thought.
“Well, you’d be wrong. You’re at ground level – and this isn’t the first time you’ve been here.” He swept his arm around. “Not that it looked like this, to be fair. But you do know this space.”
She looked puzzled. She couldn’t think of anywhere that might have been like this.
“I have no idea where we are. My guess is you’ve brought me out of London.”
“Top marks. Do you remember when we drove out to Surrey one afternoon and I showed you that house, the one my parents used to live in?”
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