‘Neither do I. But I’m going to bloody well find out.’
‘How?’
‘By discovering exactly what Forsyth was doing last night. Because whatever it was, it was important enough for him to go to great efforts to make sure that we knew nothing about it.’
‘But we don’t have even a glimmering of an idea about what it might have been,’ Beresford protested.
‘No, we don’t,’ Paniatowski agreed. ‘But while we might not know what it was, we know where it happened, don’t we?’
‘Do we?’
‘Yes, we do. Or, at least, I do.’ Paniatowski took a map out of her drawer and laid it on the desk. ‘This is the road that Forsyth took last night,’ she continued, tracing it out with her finger. ‘This is where the West Yorkshire Police pulled DC Crane up. Now where is the road leading to?’
‘You could get to Skipton by it,’ Beresford suggested.
‘You could, but Forsyth was already on a faster road to Skipton when he turned off onto this one. So where else could he have been going?’
‘There are two or three small villages just off the road,’ said Beresford, studying the map.
‘And the key word here is small,’ Paniatowski said. ‘They probably all have a post office-general store. They may even have a pub. But that’s it! So what possible interest could Forsyth have in visiting any of them – especially late at night?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Use your bloody brain!’ Paniatowski urged. ‘What else is there on that road, Inspector?’
‘Well, there’s the moors.’
‘Yes, there are,’ Paniatowski agreed. ‘What we’ve got here is one of the remotest parts of Lancashire, which shouldn’t have been of any interest at all to a man like Forsyth. But it was! Something was happening on the moor last night that he felt he needed to take a special interest in. And I want to find out what that something was.’
‘But since it did happen last night, and is therefore over and done with now, you’ve no chance of finding out, have you?’
‘Unless it happens again, tonight.’
‘But you’ve no reason to think it will.’
‘And you’ve no reason to think it won’t.’
‘You’re clutching at straws, boss,’ Beresford said.
‘It is a long shot,’ Paniatowski admitted reluctantly. ‘But let’s be honest, until we can track down one of the men who went missing this morning, the investigation’s pretty much stalled anyway – so why shouldn’t I go after a long shot?’
‘Because by doing that, you’ll be as good as proclaiming from the rooftops that you’re not actually very interested in solving the murders any more,’ Beresford thought. ‘By doing that, you’ll be showing that all you care about now is getting something on Forsyth.’
‘I asked you why I shouldn’t go after it?’ Paniatowski repeated.
‘And just how do you propose to “go after it”, ma’am?’ Beresford wondered. ‘Let’s just suppose that Forsyth does make the same journey tonight – and that’s a big supposition. If you follow him, you’ll be stopped just as DC Crane was yesterday, which means that all you’ll get out of the experience is a night in the cells at Skipton Police Station.’
‘And that’s precisely why I have no intention of following him,’ Paniatowski said.
‘Then how do you expect to . . .?’
‘I’m going to get there ahead of him.’
‘It’ll be a waste of time,’ Beresford said.
‘Perhaps it will. But it will be my time I’m wasting.’
‘You shouldn’t be putting me in this position, Monika,’ Beresford thought. ‘You shouldn’t be making me say something I never thought I’d have to say.’
He took a deep breath.
‘With respect, ma’am, it won’t be your time you’re wasting at all,’ he told her. ‘It will be the investigation’s time.’
She’d known Colin Beresford since he was a young bobby still wet behind the ears, Monika Paniatowski thought, as she moodily sipped at her vodka in the public bar of the Drum and Monkey. She’d helped him, she’d encouraged him – she’d played a big part in making him into the kind of bobby he was. And now he’d openly rebuked her – in front of a sergeant and detective constable, no less.
And she deserved it, she conceded. She deserved that – and more. She’d let him down in a way she wouldn’t have believed possible even a day earlier. And the worst thing of all was that she was going to continue letting him down.
‘Are your lads not comin’ in today, Chief Inspector?’ the landlord called from across the counter.
‘Shouldn’t think so,’ Paniatowski replied.
Her lads! Even now, before she’d even started on the course she had plotted, those words were starting to acquire a hollow sound.
She was taking on the British Secret Service single-handed, and if things went wrong, she wouldn’t have her lads any more. And even if her career survived the night – even if the team remained intact – would things ever be the same again?
She became aware that someone had walked over to the table and sat down opposite her, and looking up saw DS Cousins with a pint of best bitter in his hand.
‘Me and DC Crane have been talking it over, and we don’t think you should go out on to the moors alone,’ Cousins said.
‘Well, you and DC Crane can mind your own bloody business!’ she snapped back at him. Then the last word of his comment finally registered in her mind. ‘Did you say alone?’ she asked.
‘That’s right, ma’am,’ Cousins agreed. ‘We think you might need backup, and we decided we’re just the men to provide it.’
‘Why?’ Paniatowski asked.
‘Why, ma’am? Because if it comes to a punch-up, you’ll need a chunky feller like me by your side, and even young Crane – who doesn’t look as if he could fight his way out of a paper bag – will come in useful, because we’ll need somebody to hold our coats for us, won’t we?’
Despite herself, Paniatowski smiled. ‘Why do you want to come with me?’ she said. ‘Is it because, unlike DI Beresford, you think I might actually be on to something?’
‘Jack Crane thinks you might be on to something,’ Cousins said evasively.
‘And you?’
‘I’m older, and inclined to be a bit more cautious,’ Cousins admitted. ‘But that doesn’t mean I’ve quite given up hope that you’ll still manage to pull a rabbit out of the hat,’ he added hastily.
Which was about as much of a vote of confidence as she was likely to get from him on this particular matter, Paniatowski thought.
‘If you don’t really believe we’ll find anything, why do you want to come along?’ she asked.
‘For the ride,’ Cousins said lightly. ‘And because you’re my boss,’ he added, more seriously.
‘Tangling with the security forces could ruin your careers, you know,’ Paniatowski cautioned.
‘We do know,’ Cousins replied. ‘And we’re prepared to chance it.’
It was tempting to accept the offer, Paniatowski thought – because nobody likes to meet the Devil on their own.
She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Paul, I can’t allow it.’
‘With respect, ma’am, this is a free country and there’s nothing you can do to stop us,’ Cousins said. ‘We’re going up to the moors whatever you say, so the only question you have to ask yourself is whether you’re going to have us floundering around there on our own, or whether you’re willing to provide us with some leadership.’
‘If it looks like things are turning nasty up there, and I order you to go, you will obey that order, won’t you?’ Paniatowski asked.
‘Of course, ma’am,’ Cousins replied, unconvincingly.
Cousins was right, Beresford thought, forcing himself to gaze down, once more, at the file on the desk – the missing men could have lived their whole lives without their paths ever crossing. And Crane was right, too, there wasn’t a Catholic among them – though, by all the laws of
probability, there certainly should have been.
So what was the message of these files?
And why couldn’t he see it?
He became aware of someone watching him from the doorway, and looking up, saw Monika Paniatowski standing there.
She looked so very sad, he thought.
‘I’m sorry, Colin,’ she said.
‘Sorry, ma’am? What for?’
‘You know what for. For not giving the team the leadership it needed, and leaving it up to you instead. For wasting time by going off on what will probably be a wild-goose chase.’
‘For wanting to find some way – any way – to hurt Forsyth as he’s so obviously hurt you?’ Beresford suggested.
‘Yes, I suppose that’s what it does boil down to in the end,’ Paniatowski admitted. ‘I have to do it, Colin. I don’t want to, but I have to. But I promise you that after tonight, that’s it. Whatever happens, you’ll have the old Monika back with you in the morning.’
‘I’ll hold you to that,’ Beresford said.
‘I know you will.’ Paniatowski replied. She paused for a second, before adding, ‘When I drive out to the moors, DC Crane and DS Cousins want to come with me. They were quite insistent on it.’
‘Were they?’ Beresford asked, noncommittally.
‘But they couldn’t do that if you assigned them a duty that kept them in Whitebridge, could they? So why don’t you come up with something?’
Beresford thought about it. ‘If you must go off chasing phantoms, I’d be happier if you had them with you,’ he said finally.
‘And I’d like to be there myself,’ he thought, ‘but somebody has to hold the fort.’
‘I could order you to assign them duties,’ Paniatowski pointed out.
‘You could,’ Beresford agreed. ‘But it’s not an order I’d obey.’
Paniatowski shook her head slowly from side to side. ‘Well, I suppose that when you stop acting like the boss, you lose the right to be treated like the boss,’ she said.
‘So it would seem,’ Beresford concurred.
‘I’ll see you in the morning, then,’ Paniatowski said.
‘Yes,’ Beresford replied, pointedly turning his attention back to his notes. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
From the corner of his eye he saw her turn, then heard the clacking of her heels as she walked away.
He stood up, though he’d never intended to, and rushed over to the door. By the time he reached it, she was almost at the end of the corridor.
‘Good luck, boss!’ he called after her.
She turned, and smiled gratefully at him.
‘Thank you, Colin,’ she said.
TWENTY-THREE
They had used Crane’s Vauxhall Victor for their journey out to the moors, and Paniatowski had decided to leave it parked at the far side of a small hillock, some distance from the road and invisible to traffic travelling in either direction. Once that job was completed, she’d selected the crest of that same hillock as her observation post, and that was where she sat now, with the seemingly endless rugged moorland stretched out in front of her.
‘Me and the missus used to come out here with the dog, ma’am,’ she heard DS Cousins say wistfully, as he looked down at the parched grass and sea of purple heather. ‘We’d walk for bloody miles, trying to tire the young bugger out, but he’d still be as playful at the end of it as he was at the beginning. Sometimes, I’d get quite cross with him over it. But my Mary didn’t. She hardly ever got cross with anybody or anything.’
‘I can’t imagine how much you must miss her,’ Paniatowski said.
‘And I miss Bob,’ she thought. ‘I miss him desperately! But at least I’ve got Louisa to console me.’
Cousins sighed. ‘Do you know, even after two years, there’s still always a moment – just after I wake up – when I expect to find her lying there next to me.’ He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. ‘Look at Jack Crane over there,’ he continued, pointedly changing the subject. ‘He’s another bugger who refuses to be tired out.’
There was no disputing that. Ever since they’d arrived at the hillock, an hour earlier, Crane had been scouring the area around it like an eager Boy Scout out on a treasure hunt.
Ah, to be young again, Paniatowski thought, as she watched the detective constable climb the slope towards them with an effortlessness which, though athletic herself, she found enviable.
‘I’ve checked our position from all vantage points, ma’am,’ the detective constable said, when he’d reached the crest.
‘Have you?’ Paniatowski asked.
And she was thinking, ‘You could at least pretend to be a little out of breath, Jack.’
‘The thing is, ma’am, anybody with a pair of binoculars could pick us out from miles away,’ Crane continued.
‘That doesn’t matter,’ Paniatowski told him. ‘Forsyth won’t come until night has fallen, and the darkness will give us all the cover we need.’
‘Are you sure he will be coming?’ Crane asked.
‘So even you are losing confidence in me now, are you, Jack?’ Paniatowski thought.
‘I’m not sure of anything,’ she confessed. ‘It’s just a gut feeling.’
‘Oh, I see,’ said Crane, weakly.
‘Besides, if he came last night, why shouldn’t he come again tonight?’ Paniatowski asked.
‘True, but then again, why should he?’ Crane countered, echoing her earlier argument with Colin Beresford. He paused for a moment, they continued, ‘But supposing he does come, ma’am?’
‘Yes?
‘What do you think will happen when he arrives?’
‘I don’t know,’ Paniatowski admitted to herself. ‘I’ve absolutely no idea!’
Gut feelings like the one she had now simply didn’t work like that. They might be hard task masters, but they were rarely very specific.
Still, she had to tell Crane something.
‘My best guess is that he’ll be coming here to meet some of his mates from the security services’ dirty tricks department,’ she said.
‘But why here?’ Crane persisted. ‘Why not hold the meeting back in Whitebridge?’
‘I imagine that’s what he would do, if all their nasty little games were centred on Whitebridge. But as far as we know, Forsyth is the only spook in town. The rest of his team are probably spread throughout the north, which makes this area very convenient for a rendezvous, doesn’t it?’
‘I suppose so,’ Crane said dubiously.
‘And from the security viewpoint, it’s perfect, isn’t it?’ Paniatowski continued, aware, even as she spoke the words, that she was arguing the case as much to convince herself as to convince the detective constable. ‘If they met in a pub somewhere, for instance, they’d be running the risk that somebody would remember them, but they had this place to themselves until we arrived.’
‘Do you think it will be a big meeting, ma’am?’ Crane asked.
Damn the child! Why did he have to keep persecuting her like this?
‘I don’t know how big a meeting it will be,’ Paniatowski said. ‘We’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?’
As the sun sank lower on the horizon, the brilliant purple of the heather became more muted, and then was finally lost in the darkness.
With the onset of night, different forms of life began to emerge. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance, insects began to chirp busily from the undergrowth, and small furry creatures darted hither and thither.
The moon rose, casting a pale, silvery glow over the moors, and Paniatowski, sitting there and watching it, found her mind drifting back to the past.
It was not only DS Cousins who had memories of this moor, she thought. She and Bob had often visited it – lying down in the heather and making passionate love, all the while aware that when it was over her lover’s sense of duty would drive him back to his blind wife.
She could almost smell the crushed heather of that lovemaking now – could almost feel it stickin
g to her legs and breasts. She wondered if she would ever get over Bob, and decided she probably wouldn’t – decided that, even if she did find love again, she would never be able to banish him entirely from her heart.
A dark shape, which had been sitting at the other end of the hillock, stood up and walked over to her.
‘Do you mind if I sit down, ma’am?’ it asked.
Paniatowski smiled into the darkness – partly through amusement, partly through relief.
‘For God’s sake, Jack, you don’t need to ask my permission,’ she said. ‘This is the bloody moors, not my office,’
‘Oh right, ma’am,’ Crane said. He sat down next to her – though not too close. ‘There’s something I’ve been wanting to get off my chest, ma’am,’ he continued. ‘Or rather, there’s something that DS Cousins has advised me I should get off my chest.’
‘I’m listening,’ Paniatowski told him.
‘I’ve . . . er . . . been lying about my education, ma’am. Well, not so much lying, as concealing the truth, which I suppose is lying in a way, and I thought it would be best if I . . .’
‘Vehicles approaching!’ DS Cousins called out, ending Crane’s confession before it had even really got started.
They came from the north, cutting through the darkness with their headlights. There were five of them – and even from a distance, it was clear from the height of those headlights that whatever the vehicles were, they were much bigger than cars.
‘Bloody large meeting, ma’am,’ DS Cousins said. ‘More like a party, if you ask me.’
‘Maybe they’re just passing through,’ Paniatowski replied.
But she didn’t believe they were, because this road was no short-cut to anywhere, and besides, her gut was starting to send out messages of self-congratulation.
The lorries – and they could definitely see that they were lorries now – pulled off the road about a mile away from the hillock, and, despite all the space available to them, parked in a straight line.
‘Bloody hell, it’s the army!’ Cousins exclaimed. ‘With that sense of neatness, it has to be.’
It certainly looked like it, Paniatowski thought.
But what business could Forsyth possibly have with the army?
The Ring of Death Page 20