Conspiracy

by Adrian Wills

  ‘You’re holding something back,’ said Blake, watching her reaction.

  She bit lightly on her bottom lip. ‘I’ve told you everything I know,’ she said, toying with a loose strand of hair that hung over the side of her face.

  ‘I don’t think you have.’

  ‘I just need to know my husband’s safe.’

  ‘Do you know where he is?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you lying to me?’

  ‘Why would I do that?’ she said.

  ‘I don’t know. To protect him.’

  Her gaze fell to the floor. An instant giveaway. She twisted the fabric of her dressing gown between her fingers. She was lying. He could always tell. Call it a gift.

  ‘Tell me where he is,’ said Blake.

  She looked up, shocked. ‘I don’t know. I promise.’

  He believed her. So what was she lying about? ‘If you’re not protecting Kyle, then someone else.’

  She looked away, staring down the hall into thin air. She chewed her lip and swallowed.

  ‘Who are you protecting, Claire?’

  ‘I can’t tell you,’ she said, her words sticking in her throat.

  ‘You have to,’ said Blake. He sat on the edge of the sofa and leaned closer. ‘Kyle’s life might depend on it.’

  She wiped her nose with her tissue and folded her arms across her chest. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak as a sharp knock on the door startled them both.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The car accelerated away so hard the seat punched Blake in the back. ‘You’re angry,’ he said.

  ‘Damn right,’ said Parkes, as she slowed to turn out of the cul-de-sac leaving the drab, grey bungalows behind. ‘I could lose my job. You heard Hubbard, but you chose to ignore him.’

  ‘He’s a fool.’

  ‘He’s in charge of the investigation.’

  ‘I don’t answer to him.’

  ‘But I do,’ said Parkes. ‘And if he finds out where you’ve been, it’ll be my head on the block. I told him I’d keep a close eye on you.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to get you into trouble.’

  They dropped down the steep hill into the town, busy now with morning traffic, parents on the school run and lorries making early deliveries.

  ‘So why did you do it?’

  ‘Because, like you, I think she’s hiding something,’ said Blake. He glanced at Parkes. Her mouth was pursed so tightly creases of skin puckered around her lips.

  ‘Which is precisely why Hubbard wants her under surveillance. It’s a good job I found you before Sally arrived.’

  ‘Sally?’

  ‘Family liaison. She’d have wasted no time in reporting back to him.’

  ‘I’m not worried about Hubbard’s ego. I’m only interested in establishing what happened to Kyle Hopkins.’

  ‘That’s not the point. You lied to me. You promised you wouldn’t see her.’

  ‘I agreed I wouldn’t try to speak to her yesterday.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Blake. Don’t treat me like an idiot.’

  They sat in silence as they hit a jam in the high street. A box van had double parked and a guy with a large beer belly and wearing scruffy overalls was taking his time unloading a pallet of cardboard boxes. Parkes ratcheted on the handbrake and ran her fingers through her hair. ‘So did you find out anything useful?’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Blake. ‘She is worried about Kyle, despite her appearance at the press conference. But something’s not quite right, I agree.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know. She was about to tell me something when you arrived.’

  ‘Is that right?’ said Parkes, her voice dripping with scepticism.

  ‘I think she might be seeing someone.’

  ‘An affair? Who?’

  ‘There was a guy in the house when I turned up. A soldier from the training school. He seemed right at home. A guy called Spider. Do you know him?’

  Parkes nodded. ‘Jamie Dobson. He’s another instructor at the school. He works with Hopkins.’

  The car behind sounded its horn in frustration at the delay. Parkes checked her rear-view mirror. ‘Idiot,’ she said.

  ‘What do you know about him?’

  ‘Not much, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Well, he’s either being the perfect gentleman and looking out for Claire Hopkins and the kids in their hour of need, or he’s doing the dirty behind Kyle’s back. She said he was there to help with the school run, but it’s feasible he could have stayed the night. The kids were pretty comfortable around him.’

  ‘And you think he might be involved in Kyle’s disappearance?’

  ‘No, not really.’

  ‘Okay, so where does that leave us? You still interested in this guy from the pub?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Blake. ‘I want to know who he is and what he wanted with Kyle. And the sooner the better. Can I leave that with you?’

  ‘What are your plans?’

  ‘I have a few questions for Kyle’s CO.’

  ‘And I suppose you want me to drive you up to the school?’

  ‘If it’s not too much trouble.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Claire Hopkins sank into the sofa and with her hands shaking put the mobile phone to her ear. The secret phone. The one she hid from Kyle. He’d kill her if he ever found out. She listened for the connecting click and the soft warble of the ring tone, praying he’d answer, her heart racing with anticipation.

  He picked up after only two rings.

  ‘It’s me,’ she said, her voice a warm whisper.

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘I need to see you.’ Silence. Only the sound of his breath rushing against the speaker. ‘Are you there?’

  ‘Yes. You sound stressed.’

  ‘Of course I’m stressed,’ she said. ‘The police are crawling all over the place. And I’m tired. I’m not sleeping.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Can we meet?’

  She heard the deep intake of breath and her stomach lurched.

  ‘I don’t think that’s such a good idea right now,’ he said.

  ‘I need you to hold me.’

  ‘I want that too. But you know we can’t. Not right now.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Soon, I promise.’

  ‘Tell me you love me.’

  ‘Claire, of course I do.’

  ‘Say it.’

  ‘I love you.’

  She thought hearing the words would make her feel better. But it only made her feel hollow. Empty without him. ‘There was a guy here today,’ she said.

  ‘What guy?’

  Was that a note of jealously in his voice? She liked that. It meant he cared. Really cared. ‘Just some guy helping the police.’

  ‘What did you tell him?’

  ‘Nothing!’ She didn’t dare say she’d almost confessed their affair. But in that moment when it felt like he’d peered into her soul, staring at her from the sofa, it had seemed like absolutely the right thing to do. It would have been such a burden off her mind. And she’d almost done it, if it wasn’t for that police officer who came to take him away. Of course, it would have ruined everything. She realised that now. She’d have to be more careful in the future, until they found Kyle. Then she’d find the courage to confess to him. Make a clean break. Start a new life. ‘He was asking about Iraq,’ she said. ‘He wanted to know if Kyle had been traumatised.’

  ‘What did you tell him?’

  Claire’s gaze wandered to the shelf of photographs and she felt a pang of guilt. Had she said too much? She couldn’t really remember what she had told him, but she was fairly confident she’d been restrained. ‘He saw the photos on the shelf,’ she said. ‘He said he’d been in the army, so he knew what it was like.’

  ‘What else did you tell him?’

  ‘That was it, I promise.’

  ‘You have to be careful, Claire,’ he said.

  ‘Are you at home
? I could be there in five minutes.’

  ‘No.’

  She felt the disappointment like an ache in her chest.

  ‘Oh,’ she said.

  ‘It’s too risky. Maybe in a few days.’

  She hated that sanctimonious tone he took, like her old headmaster. ‘I don’t think I can wait that long.’

  ‘It’s for the best, Claire. Try to get some sleep. You need to keep your wits about you.’

  ‘It’s so hard.’

  ‘I know but be strong. We’ll be together soon, when this is all over.’

  She heard the thud of a car door slamming shut outside.

  ‘I will,’ she said. ‘I’ll be strong for you.’

  ‘It won’t be long.’

  ‘I love you.’ A knock at the front door echoed around the empty house. ‘Shit, I have to go,’ she said.

  ‘I love you too,’ he said, and hung up.

  Chapter Twenty

  Two fresh-faced soldiers wrapped up in heavy-duty jackets fell silent as Blake approached the entrance to the school. They watched him closely, a little nervously, clutching their SA80 assault rifles tightly as he drew nearer, their bodies full of tension and anticipation.

  ‘Help you, Sir?’ challenged the older looking of the pair, although neither man appeared to be long out of his teens.

  ‘I need to see your commanding officer,’ said Blake. ‘I’m with the investigating team looking into the disappearance of Sergeant Hopkins.’

  ‘Is he expecting you?’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Blake, on the assumption Patterson would have warned the school about MI5’s interest. ‘Tell him it’s Tom Blake.’

  The soldier regarded him with ill-concealed suspicion, but it was good to see the men were on their toes and security remained tight.

  ‘Wait one,’ said the soldier. He vanished inside a brick gatehouse and reappeared a brief moment later. ‘Someone will be down to collect you shortly,’ he said.

  Blake waited patiently, studying what little he could make out of the site beyond the gatehouse. In the distance he saw a scattering of anonymous-looking red-brick warehouses and a handful of corrugated steel Nissen huts. A row of troop transport lorries were parked on a deserted parade ground fringed by a chain-link fence and topped with razor wire which ran around the entire perimeter. On the other side of the fence, a thick pine wood surrounded the school. And beyond the trees, dark moorland hills capped with mist clipped the grey sky.

  A soldier in shirt sleeves hustled out of one of the Nissen huts and walked briskly towards the gatehouse. ‘Staff Sergeant Sean Van Dijk,’ he said, with a smile and a firm handshake. ‘You can call me Dutch. You’re the guy they sent from MI5, right? Your office called, although we were expecting you yesterday. Follow me. I’ll take you to see Lieutenant Fletcher. He should be just about finishing up by now.’

  Dutch marched Blake across the parade ground and into one of the old warehouses. They passed through a small entrance hall and up a flight of stairs into the back of a modest-sized lecture theatre with steeply raked folding seats. It was packed with attentive soldiers, eyes fixed on Ryan Fletcher at the front explaining plans for a search of the moor with the use of a large map pinned to a board.

  In his own environment, he cut an imposing figure. His eyes were piercing grey, and his forearms smudged red, green and blue with faded tattoos. He was tall and muscular, and unusually had a thick, red beard. The only men Blake had ever seen sporting beards in the army were the Special Forces teams who’d been given special dispensation because of the unique nature of their work.

  Dutch pointed Blake to an empty seat on the back row. As he sat, Fletcher caught his eye and quickly wrapped up the briefing. He dismissed the men who filed out of the room in grim silence with their seats clattering closed behind them, and beckoned Blake to join him at the front with two other soldiers, one of whom he immediately recognised as the man he’d met earlier at the Hopkins’ house.

  Fletcher introduced himself with an overly strong handshake. ‘And you’ve obviously met Dutch already. These are my instructors, Sergeant Jamie Dobson and Sergeant Jake Stone.’

  Both men nodded a stoic greeting. No smiles. No handshakes.

  ‘I’m surprised MI5 is showing an interest,’ said Fletcher.

  ‘It’s a formality in these situations,’ said Blake.

  ‘These situations?’

  ‘A possible abduction.’

  Fletcher smiled. ‘I think we’re an unlikely target for terrorists. I assume that’s what you meant?’

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘Is there any specific intelligence?’

  ‘No, but we know Jihadi cells have been talking for some time about their desire to capture a British soldier on home soil. Sergeant Hopkins’ disappearance obviously rang some bells for us.’ Blake noticed both Dobson and Stone stiffen.

  ‘Christ,’ said Stone. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Deadly,’ said Blake. ‘And until we know differently, you should make sure everyone remains vigilant. I would even suggest confining the men to barracks until we know more.’

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ said Fletcher, holding up a hand. ‘You’re jumping to conclusions.’

  ‘I’m asking you to take some precautions until we know what we’re dealing with.’

  ‘You think we could all be in danger?’ said Stone.

  ‘It’s a possibility. Best to err on the side of caution until we know for sure.’

  ‘You don’t really think this is an ISIS threat, do you?’ Stone shifted from one foot to the other and back again. ‘I mean, I’ve seen what those bastards are capable of. There was this one guy, a pilot they’d captured, and they put him in a cage, all drugged up so he didn’t know what day it was. They poured petrol on him, lit him up and filmed the whole fucking thing.’

  ‘Well, if they’ve laid a finger on Kyle, I’ll personally track them down and rip their fucking throats out,’ said Dobson, nostrils flaring.

  ‘Okay, guys, let’s calm down. Go and get the men ready,’ said Fletcher. ‘I want to be on the moor in fifteen minutes.’

  The two sergeants jumped to attention, saluted and marched out. Fletcher watched them leave, then said, ‘Let’s talk in my office.’

  Blake followed him onto the parade ground, past troops checking equipment and packing day sacks around the parked transport trucks, and into one of the Nissen huts. A beaten-up wooden desk scratched and scraped like it had gone through its own personal war took up most of the room. A bookcase and a row of metal filing cabinets lined one of the walls.

  Blake took a seat on a scuffed, bottle-green Chesterfield sofa that looked as if it had been dragged off a rubbish dump. Fletcher sat on the other side of a low coffee table on a comfortable-looking winged chair.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Fletcher, with poorly disguised sarcasm. ‘You’ve certainly put the wind up my guys.’

  ‘They need to take more care until we know what’s happened to Kyle Hopkins.’

  Fletcher inhaled slowly and pressed his lips together. ‘Look, I know you’re only trying to do your job, but you’re wasting your time. Kyle’s disappearance has nothing to do with terrorism.’

  ‘You’re sure of that?’

  ‘I’m reasonably confident, yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  Fletcher looked pained. He settled back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. ‘I can’t really say.’

  ‘You’ll have to do better than that. Do you know something the police don’t?’

  ‘Just stop talking about terrorists and abductions, will you? I’ve got big enough problems to deal with here.’

  Blake studied him closely. ‘I think you’d better start talking.’

  ‘I made a promise I wouldn’t say anything.’

  ‘Kyle Hopkins is missing. His wife is out of her mind with worry, and there are two kids at home who are currently without a dad. If you know something, you owe it to them to tell me.’

  Fletcher took a deep breath. ‘Look, I’
m pretty certain Kyle drove himself up onto the moor with the intention of never coming back, okay?’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘I suppose you could say he’d lost his desire to live,’ Fletcher sighed, his eyes misty. He tugged at his bottom lip as he seemed to struggle for the right words. ‘Look, I told him I wouldn’t say anything but a few weeks back I found him alone in his office late one evening when he must have thought everyone else had gone home. He was slumped over the desk with a bottle of whisky and two empty packets of pills. If I hadn’t have found him, well . . .’

  ‘Christ,’ said Blake. ‘Did you report it?’

  Fletcher shook his head. ‘He was embarrassed, and I thought I could deal with it, man to man. Besides, I didn’t want Claire and the kids finding out.’

  ‘I guess you were wrong.’

  ‘I made a mistake, and if I could turn back time I’d get him some professional help, no question, no matter how much he protested.’

  ‘Did he tell you why he’d done it?’ Blake asked.

  ‘He was an addict. Online gaming. I think he was losing big.’

  ‘He told you that?’

  ‘Eventually I coaxed it out of him. He promised me he’d get help. He sat in the same chair where you’re sitting, looked me in the eye and promised me. He even told me he’d booked an appointment to see someone.’

  ‘And you never told Claire?’

  ‘I think she knew about the gambling, but not that he’d tried to take his own life. It would destroy her if she found out that I knew and said nothing. Please, I’m only telling you this because this whole terrorism thing is so off the mark, and it’s upsetting the lads. Soon enough Kyle’s body will turn up, and you’ll see I’m right.’

  ‘Why didn’t you report it to the police as soon as you knew he was missing?’ asked Blake.

  ‘Because you know what they’re like. They’ll want to know why I didn’t take him to hospital, why I didn’t report it or tell his wife. They’ll make out it was somehow my fault, and it wasn’t. What difference would it have made anyway?’

  They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Sergeant Stone stuck his head in. ‘Sorry to disturb, Sir. The men are formed up and ready to leave.’