Chasing Aquila

by James Hume

  ‘Of course. Makes sense, Jonathan. Right, I’ll bring the team over to meet you at two o’clock. Josef will be the girl’s permanent driver, and he’s a good bodyguard. Can you clear it with your car people? And, if you send me the details, I’ll line up the tracking teams for the girl and the kids to start this afternoon.’

  ‘And if you get the names and addresses of you and your team over to me, I’ll start the deliveries this evening.’

  ‘Brilliant, Jonathan. Really appreciate this.’

  ‘No problem, Hans. Look forward to working with you.’

  ***

  Porritt looked up at the knock on the door. Jane said, ‘You wanted to see me, sir?’

  He waved her in. ‘Yes, Jane. Please, come in. Have a seat.’ He went round the desk and closed the door, then sat down beside her.

  ‘I want a word with you about what you told me after lunch yesterday – about the death of your ex-husband in Glasgow.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Oh?’

  ‘It triggered off a memory of the Aquila incident that has always intrigued me.’

  She sat on the edge of her seat, and stared at him, hardly breathing.

  ‘Most people think, during the war, there were no communications between Britain and Germany, but it’s not true. Lots of official diplomatic communications went via the Swiss embassy, and even more semi-official communications via the Red Cross, mainly about prisoners of war, and missing soldiers and airmen.

  ‘Now, the spy, Brenner, must have been very important to the Germans. The info he carried was of incredible value to them. We did well to close Aquila down. But to my surprise, we never had a question about him from the Germans after his death. I’d expected to see some sort of enquiry about someone that important who had disappeared. It made me wonder about Aquila and how it fitted into the overall German spy networks.

  ‘Then, when you told me yesterday about your ex-husband’s death, in what I thought were dubious circumstances, I wondered whether it was because someone wanted to find out where you are, because you’re the only person who really knows what happened to Brenner.’

  He could see her eyes moisten and hoped she wouldn’t cry.

  ‘So, I asked Sandra Maxwell in Glasgow – you remember her?’ Jane nodded. ‘I asked Sandra to look into your husband’s death to see if he’d been targeted, rather than just fell into the river. And she’s come back and told me, in her opinion, he was targeted.’

  Her hand went to her mouth. ‘Oh, my God. Am I in danger, sir? What about my kids?’

  He saw tears in her eyes and spoke quickly. ‘I don’t think so. And I’ll tell you why.’

  She seemed to calm down a bit.

  ‘At one end of the scale, the searcher could be someone from Brenner’s family who wants closure, and that’s understandable. We buried Brenner in an unmarked grave near Belfast, but I have all the details of the location and would be happy to help them recover his body.

  ‘At the other end of the scale, he could be someone from the remnants of Aquila, who wants to know what happened to their agent and how their organisation disappeared in one night. And I’m happy to tell them that too. So, I don’t think you’re in danger as such. I think you’re just one step in the road they’re following to flush out the ultimate decision maker – me – and get closure on Brenner.’

  She thought for a moment. ‘But why target Tommy, sir?’

  ‘Because, when you think about it, only two people in the Aquila group knew you were alone with Brenner when he disappeared – the guards Brown and Henry. And they might remember your Glasgow address off your contact card at Station 19. But then the searcher finds you’re not in Glasgow now, so he tries to find out where you’ve gone from Tommy. But Sandra thinks Tommy didn’t tell him, and suffered as a result. But he may have got enough hints from others, so she thinks he may turn up here.’

  ‘Does she know who targeted Tommy?’

  He leaned over and lifted the photo from his desk. ‘She thinks it’s this man. He visited Brown in prison and then spent a few days in Glasgow befriending Tommy.’

  She studied the picture. ‘So, who is he?’

  ‘We don’t know. He used a Northern Irish ID when he visited Brown, and a Dutch ID in Glasgow. We’ve got to stay alert. So, I’ve organised the local police to look after you. They’ll provide a permanent driver and bodyguard for you. We’ll also have two tailing teams, one for you and one for your children. So, just be aware, Jane, if a stranger approaches you out of the blue, stall him and call security, and we’ll get the police on to him.’

  She nodded, but looked worried.

  Sophie Silverman, his personal assistant, popped her head round the door. ‘Direktor Wolff and his team now in Conference Room B, sir.’

  ‘Thanks, Sophie.’ He turned to Jane. ‘Would you like to come and meet them now?’

  She sat and looked at him as though she didn’t know what to think, then nodded. ‘Yes, let’s do that.’

  They walked along the corridor to the Conference Room. The men in the room turned as they entered. Porritt guided Jane over towards Wolff and introduced them. ‘Jane, this is Direktor Wolff, Head of the local Police Detectives. Hans, this is Mrs Jane Thomson. Would you like to introduce your team, please?’

  Wolff smiled at Jane and bowed his head slightly. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, ma’am, and we’re very honoured to be asked to protect you and your family, and try to catch this man. Let me introduce my team.’ He led the way and introduced each of his team in turn. Porritt noted Josef, Jane’s driver and bodyguard, was the youngest of the team, maybe in his late twenties, with very blue eyes. They looked an experienced bunch, though.

  After the handshakes, Porritt stood beside Jane, facing the six detectives. He was surprised at her poise.

  She looked at Wolff. ‘Thank you, Direktor. I already feel much safer.’

  Wolff smiled and nodded. She turned to the others and repeated her words in German. They all then smiled and nodded. Porritt thought that a clever touch from Jane. She did surprise him at times.

  She turned to him. ‘What now, sir?’

  He looked at Wolff. ‘Hans? Any questions?’

  Wolff nodded. ‘Two points, ma’am. What time do your children finish school?’

  ‘Three-thirty.’

  ‘How many children do you have?’

  ‘Two boys. Stephen is eight and George is seven.’

  ‘And who picks them up’

  ‘The nanny. A local girl, Frieda Beck. Sometimes my mother goes too.’

  ‘May I suggest, ma’am, that today, we leave here just after three, and Josef drives you to the school and you greet your children – as though you just happened to be passing. Gives us the chance to identify them and get an idea of the route they take back to your apartment.’

  She looked at Porritt. ‘Okay, sir?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, of course.’

  Wolff explained in German to his team what they’d just agreed to do. They all nodded. He turned back to Jane. ‘Second point, ma’am. Where and when do you get picked up in the evening from here?’

  ‘About ten past five from the main front door, though it’s usually a bit chaotic to find the car. Everyone leaves at the same time.’ She glanced at Porritt with a smile.

  He grimaced. ‘We’re working on it.’

  She went on. ‘However, once or twice a week, like tonight, I’m on duty at a VIP reception in the Garden Room, at the back of the building.’ She pointed over behind her. ‘And then I get picked up at the North Door, usually around ten past six.’

  Wolff translated for his team. ‘That’s fine, ma’am. Now, we have some matters to discuss with Commander Porritt. You’re welcome to stay if you want, but it’s not necessary if you have other work to do.’

  ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Thank you, Direktor.’

  ‘You’re welcome, ma’am. We’ll see you about three. Where’s your office?’

  ‘It’s Room Sixteen on the ground floor. The
interpreters’ room.’

  ‘Fine. Thanks.’

  She smiled at them, and left the room.

  Wolff and his team had a discussion in German for a few minutes. Then Wolff turned to Porritt and held up the photo of Huizen. ‘Would this man have a photo of Jane?’

  Porritt pursed his lips. ‘I don’t know. But I don’t think he got much information in Glasgow. On balance, I’d say he doesn’t.’

  The team had another discussion. Josef seemed to make a strong point.

  Wolff turned to Porritt again. ‘Josef asks, if the man doesn’t have a photo of Jane, how does he find her when he gets here? Who would he ask?’

  Porritt thought for a moment. ‘Good question. I suppose he could ask for her at the main Enquiry Desk. I think it’s unlikely, but I’ll alert Gisela Schwartz, Head of Admin here, for her staff to stall any enquirer, call security and then you.’

  Wolff asked, ‘Would Jane be known to any of the lawyers or reporters here?’

  Porritt shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. She’d be known within the interpreters group, but not outside it. A good point, though, and I’ll alert Andreas Schaeffer, the head of the group, in the same way. Of course, if someone asked a lawyer or reporter about her, it wouldn’t be difficult for them to find her.’

  Wolff and his team discussed these points in German. ‘Can we see where she works?’

  Porritt nodded. ‘Sure. She usually works in the Courtroom. Let’s go and have a look.’

  They left the Conference Room and walked along several corridors and around corners until they reached two doors guarded by US Marines.

  Porritt stopped, and the detectives gathered around him. ‘We’re not allowed to talk in the Courtroom. So, let me tell you what you’ll see. We’re going into the Public Gallery. We’ll be at one end of the Courtroom looking down on the length of the room.

  ‘Along the right-hand wall, high above the court floor, sit the main judges. In front of them, we have the prosecuting lawyers and their staff. As we move left across the court floor, we then have the defence lawyers and their staff. Then we have the two rows of defendants, and behind them, standing along the left wall, we have a row of US Marines, who guard the defendants. Below us, we have the international press corps.

  ‘Now, if you look at the left of the far wall, beyond the defendants and the row of marines, you’ll see four desks behind glass panels, two in front and two behind. Each desk has three people. They’re the interpreters on duty. The English desk is the one to the right in the front row, and the three people there interpret from Russian, French and German into English. Jane usually sits at the right-hand side of that group. The Russian, French and German desks operate in the same way. To the right of these desks, you’ll see four people who monitor the output in each language to pick up any errors, and correct the transcript. To their right, you’ll see the witness stand. Anyone in the courtroom can listen through headphones to the proceedings in their chosen language. Okay?’ Wolff had translated each phrase to his team. They all nodded.

  Porritt moved forward, showed the Marine his pass, and entered the Courtroom with the group. They stood at the back of the Gallery. Porritt still got a thrill in the Courtroom, his eyes drawn to the two rows of defendants. As usual, Rudolf Hess looked uncomfortable. Hell mend them, he thought. It had taken a huge amount of effort to get it started, but now we had justice in action. After a few minutes, they made their way back to the Conference Room.

  Wolff had a discussion with his team and then turned to Porritt. ‘I think we’re okay, Jonathan. Let’s collect Jane and get going.’

  They went downstairs. Four of the team headed for the front door. Wolff and Josef collected Jane from Room Sixteen.

  Porritt watched them leave the building. He’d now done what he could to safeguard Jane and her family, and went off to find Gisela and Andreas to tie up the loose ends.

  Chapter 5. Lister

  His distempered roof had become a huge black hemisphere, sparkling with thousands of stars and speared with shooting stars. He held the girl under his arm by her tiny waist and leaped up to catch the fleeting beams. Each time he leaped, the girl squealed and giggled, her laughter echoing like a glockenspiel. They floated for over a minute before they landed again. He wanted to show her the beautiful garden, with the red and yellow flowers, and the bright green mattresses on the sunbeds. As he leaped in the cool air, he saw it in the distance on the other side of the railway tracks, bright, shining, like an oasis of light in the darkness. He needed to make love to the girl on a green mattress. She laughed languorously, taunting him to take her. He showed her the shining garden, and leapt over the tracks . . . .

  ***

  CI Trevor Gault looked up from the post mortem report as ACC Lister entered the mortuary room. ‘Jesus Christ, Trev, what have we here?’

  ‘Another one, sir. It’s like an epidemic. The fourth in two weeks in this part of Surrey. All caused by these bloody methamphetamine tablets.’ He held up a small plastic envelope with a red resealing strip and four tablets in it.

  ‘Are we sure of that?’

  ‘Yeah. Doc says a mixture of methamphetamine and alcohol, probably champagne. Witnesses say he leaped about on his own, like a jester, straight on to the level crossing, and bang. No chance. We’ve got to do something, sir. These men all worked in London, and must have got the tablets up there. Apparently, they’re not illegal. But Christ almighty, sir, they’re causing carnage here and probably elsewhere. And we just shrug and sweep it under the carpet? It’s not good enough, sir.’

  ‘Mmm. Why call me on this one, Trev?’

  ‘Big political connections, sir. Relative of the Home Secretary. This one needs a diplomat way above my pay grade.’

  ‘Oh, shit. Anyone told him yet?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  Lister stood and pondered the mess on the slab. ‘Okay, Trev. I’ll do it. And I’ll pass on the message. On this one, let’s emphasise champagne rather than tablets, eh?’

  ‘Right, sir.’

  Chapter 6. Stukas

  Sandra Maxwell sat at her desk on the Thursday morning, wrestling with her dilemma. She looked up as Tom knocked her open door and came in. He closed the door behind him. ‘Have you seen the morning paper, ma’am?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. What does it say?’

  Tom turned to an inside page. ‘There’s a short piece about Wilson’s death. DI Bruce is quoted as saying the death might be suspicious. They’re making extensive door-to-door enquiries, and would like to talk to two men seen in the area around ten o’clock, and a couple seen earlier in the evening.’ He looked up. ‘I guess that’s us, ma’am. What do we do?’

  She pursed her lips. ‘Well, let’s not panic. We searched Thomson’s place and met Wilson as a logical and legitimate part of our enquiry into Thomson’s death, and his double life as a drug dealer using Wilson’s ID.

  ‘With Wilson’s death, some criminal must be coming from the drug user direction, working back towards the dealer, who they think is Wilson. At some point, they’ll realise Wilson’s not the drug dealer, and someone else used his ID. But how would they find out it was Thomson? If they don’t know what we know, they’ll never make that link.

  ‘Now, the police will almost certainly find Thomson’s fingerprints in Wilson’s flat, and investigate the link. So, I’d expect the police to visit Thomson’s flat to check. But I’m suspicious of the SIO. Why’s the Thomson case file so bland? And why did he close the case so quickly? Is it because he knows Thomson dealt drugs and wants to keep it for himself, or is he in cahoots with criminals?

  ‘So, if criminals visit Thomson’s flat, it tells us two things. They can only know the link because the police told them. But it would also tell us who’s behind Wilson’s murder. So, I want to wait and see what our cat camera shows up.’

  Tom nodded. ‘So, how long do we have, ma’am?’

  Sandra thought for a moment. ‘Not long. I’d say, if we don’t find something today, I go
to the chief first thing tomorrow.’

  She saw Doc Roberts heading across the office towards her door and waved him in. ‘Good morning, people,’ he said. ‘I’m here to make your day even more exciting.’ He sat down with a big self-satisfied smile.

  Sandra smiled back. His shock of white hair, ready smile and breezy manner, always gave her a lift. ‘I take it you have a result.’

  ‘I do indeed, ma’am.’ He went into his bag and pulled out an envelope. ‘Our cat camera’s been busy this morning. At 06.12 it took this picture.’ He pulled a photo from the envelope and passed it to Sandra. It showed DI Bruce and another man entering the hall of Tommy’s flat. ‘The camera next triggered at 06.43, when they left the property and put the hall light off. So we can assume they spent thirty one minutes searching the flat – quite a long time when you think about it.’

  Sandra looked up at him. ‘Who’s this other man? One of his team?’

  Roberts shrugged. ‘I assume so.’

  ‘Mmm.’ She studied the photo. Was he a cop? Heavy coat and hat? She passed it to Tom. ‘Do you know him?’

  Tom shook his head. ‘No, ma’am.’

  ‘Okay, then what?’

  ‘The camera then recorded two more visitors at 07.06, and here they are.’ He pulled another photo from the envelope.

  Sandra didn’t recognise them and passed it to Tom. He shook his head. ‘Who are they?’

  ‘Ah, dear boy. Two fine examples of Glasgow’s criminal elite. The one in front is Sam McFadden, second son and presumptive heir to the Dan McFadden criminal empire. The one behind, his right-hand man, Johnny Bailey, a very effective enforcer for Sam and the group. They’re well known to our Eastern Division colleagues, though neither has ever appeared in court. They spent a total of twenty six minutes in the flat. And, if you look very carefully, you’ll see Mr McFadden has a key in his hand. Now, where do you think he’d get that?’ He smiled at each of them in turn.