She sat upright when I told her this.
“The person who’s said to have contacted you was shot and killed Monday last. Maybe you saw something about it in yesterday’s papers. Two men shot dead in Bayswater?”
I raised my eyebrows as if to ask her a question.
“I think I saw something about it, yes.”
“One of the two victims was the one who made the claim he’d got in touch with you. As I said earlier, he was a petty crook and it was him who stole your car. That’s not in doubt. But he was adamant he’d got hold of something valuable he was looking to unload for cash, and we think that whatever he took from your car is what got him killed. So, if you have information pertinent to Police inquiries and are withholding it, we’re talking obstruction of justice here.”
She had poise; I had to give her that. She considered what I’d said for about ten seconds.
“A murder inquiry,” she retorted.
“Yes. Two dead bodies and, so far, no official suspects.” I refrained from telling her that, according to me, there was an unofficial suspect. “As I mentioned, we believe the deaths are connected to what Louis Phipps stole from your car, which is why I’m asking you to think carefully about what it was you say you haven’t lost.”
I realised my tone had become more serious as I spoke. I hoped I hadn’t sounded too threatening, though, frankly, I wasn’t bothered if I was.
“I can only stand by what I said, DS McGraw.” She crossed her legs and looked straight at me.
“Were you aware your car was targeted for theft?”
“Huh?”
“Your car being stolen wasn’t just a random theft and you the unlucky victim. Your car was singled out, and I believe what was inside was the reason for its being taken.”
“My car deliberately stolen? Probably because it’s a new car.”
“No, there were other newer, more valuable cars near to where yours was. Your car was fingered by someone who wanted what was in it and he got the guy I mentioned earlier to take it for him. He took something from the vehicle and told the thief to dump it, but he chose to get in touch with you and offer it back to you. This makes it a step up from routine car theft because, ultimately, I believe it led to someone being shot dead. Why, at present I don’t know; which is why I’m asking about what you lost.”
“I don’t know whether my car was targeted for theft or not, I’m doubtful that it was, but if it was, all I lost were some worthless party papers. That’s it.”
“It also makes me wonder why a DCI got involved in questioning the suspect. Car theft isn’t usually what they deal with. Also, why was the car fingerprinted? That’s not usual procedure for car theft either. You see where I’m going with this?”
“Frankly, no I can’t, and I don’t really think there’s much more to say, is there? I’ve lost nothing of value and I’m glad my car was returned undamaged. Other than that I don’t see how I can help you any further.” She stood. I was right. They were great legs. I also stood up.
She walked back to her desk, sat down and picked up her phone.
“Was there anything else?” I took that as a sign I was being dismissed from her presence.
I was wondering whether to ask her if she knew someone named Richard Rhodes just to see her response as, at least on this point, if she’d said no, I’d know she was lying as I saw her getting out of a taxi with him late last night. For the moment I decided not to.
“No, I don’t think so, for the moment anyway. Thanks.”
She didn’t reply and was talking into her Blackberry as I left her office.
Back at my desk I made notes about what I’d done that day. I included my visit to Simeon Adaka and his passing on to me what Louis Phipps had given him to hold on to. I also went into my visit to and conversation with Debbie Frost and my suspicion she was being less than truthful with me, though for the moment I had no proof of this. I omitted meeting with Richard Clements as it wouldn’t do for Smitherman to realise that, after our previous enmity as students, a kind of friendship was beginning to evolve. If Smitherman ever thought I was priming his son-in-law for information, he’d have me transferred back to directing traffic wearing a tall blue helmet.
I thought about what Debbie Frost had said. She was adamant she’d lost nothing of value when Louis and Paulie Phipps had stolen her car. If so, why was Louis so sure he had something that the owner would want back and be prepared to pay considerably for the return of? Given who the victim was, it also raised the worrying issue that someone had to have told Louis Phipps that what was contained in the bag was in fact valuable. Was this just another crook like Phipps or, given what Debbie Frost did for a living, was there a political connection here?
She worked for a major political party in an exalted backroom position. She would have access to the thinking of the party at top level and its likely policy directions. She would know leading political figures, probably from all the major parties, as well as have contacts with a number of leading political writers on the main broadsheet newspapers. Louis Phipps, I was prepared to bet, wouldn’t know a political principle if one stood on his foot. Yet Louis was sure he had something of value from the car owner and had, according to him, as vouchsafed by Simeon, attempted to make contact with Debbie Frost and been rebuffed. She denied any contact was made. Who might have told him this?
I phoned Conservative Party Headquarters and asked to be connected to whoever was Head of Research. I was put through to a Mr Paul Drury, who identified himself as acting head of policy research in the absence of the actual office holder who was away on long term sick leave. I identified myself as a police officer and said I was following up the case of the stolen car belonging to one of his assistants, Debbie Frost. He said he knew about the theft a few months ago and, so far as he knew, she had since had the car returned to her almost intact. I agreed she had. I then asked about what had been taken from her car.
“She didn’t take anything when she left here. She wouldn’t have had any work materials with her anyway that day, given where she was going.”
“Where was that, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“A private family thing. She asked me to keep it quiet and I said I would. If she wishes you to know, she’ll tell you herself.”
After our conversations over the past two days, I doubted she’d even give me a scare if she was a ghost so I let it slide.
“So you didn’t lose any party materials, anything like that?”
“No, I’m happy to say. Most people here take work files and their office laptops home occasionally for when they work at home but, happily, that hadn’t happened here. As I said she’d not have taken anything work related with her where she was going.”
“Not even old files that were of no use. Discarded papers, anything like that?”
“No. I wouldn’t have thought so.”
I requested he kept our conversation to himself and he agreed he would do that.
This was interesting. Debbie had said that her boss had assured her that what was in the bags taken was just stuff to be discarded, yet her boss was now saying that she took nothing with her. But she herself had admitted an official briefcase had been taken, as well as her handbag. Somebody was not being honest here.
I also got to thinking why a DCI would be involved in the questioning of a car thief. This was simply routine criminal activity by a practising criminal. True, it was a valuable car but if, as she’d said, she lost nothing of any value, why the involvement of a senior officer? I dialled West End Central and asked to speak to DCI Tomkinson. He was out of the office and I left a message asking him to return my call at his earliest convenience.
Rudolf had also said something about their house being searched by someone he regarded as heavy. Who was this person and what would he have been looking for?
The Branch office was occupied by a number of other detectives so I relocated to a small interview room along the corridor. I sat at the desk and opened up the envelop
e I’d obtained by using duress on a reluctant Simeon Adaka. I laid the contents on my desk. There were a number of printed sheets of A4 paper and several photographs. I separated the contents into two piles.
There were twenty-five sheets of paper and fifteen photographs. The pictures were well developed black and white and consisted largely of men in what appeared to be Khaki army uniform.
In the first picture two groups of about forty men were marching in formation across what looked like a parade square. In two others the soldiers were standing to attention whilst being addressed by an officer standing on a raised dais, with one picture taken from the dais behind the officer speaking, and another from the back of the group facing the platform. Three other pictures were of the soldiers engaging in assault course activities; climbing over obstacles of varying heights, or engaging in weapons practice. They were shooting at bull’s-eyes a considerable distance away which had faces taking up a large amount of the surface area of the target, though I couldn’t make out who they were. The remaining shots were taken inside what looked like barracks, with men sitting at tables either playing cards or socialising with a few drinks.
I was intrigued by one of the pictures. It showed what appeared to be a regimental badge, with a coat of arms across what looked like a bunch of red roses, all superimposed over a machine gun, with the words Auspicium Melioris Aevi in an arc beneath. I suspected this was a Latin term but I didn’t know what it meant.
I looked at the picture of the officer addressing the squad from the dais. I didn’t recognise the speaker but he looked stern and militaristic, dressed in what I took to be the uniform of an officer. He looked remarkably young to be an officer as, from the picture, I guessed he was no older than mid-twenties. The men listening were a cross section of ages, ranging from twenty to fifty, but they were all listening attentively as they took in whatever this man was saying. I looked at the other pictures but couldn’t identify anyone from them. One picture showed a blindfolded man standing against a wall with a line of four soldiers pointing rifles at him, with the statement “The fate awaiting traitors” above.
Several of the papers contained photocopied articles from daily and Sunday newspapers with the dates ranging between early to mid-nineteen seventies. The headlines focused largely upon the deteriorating political and economic situation the country was facing, with the incidence of strikes increasing and chaos in factories and other workplaces across the country. Some of the articles looked very long. One piece in the Sunday Telegraph carried a banner headline asking the question “Is the aim Communism?”, with an accompanying article stating that, in the view of the paper, all the current industrial strife caused by militant trades unions was designed to further the political agenda of the far left and the Communist Party, of whom many industrial organisers and union leaders were either members or supporters. The Labour Government was being accused of lacking the will and the gumption to stand up to what the paper referred to as industrial wreckers and tinpot despots with anti-democratic aims, drawing the conclusion that they didn’t do so because they supported what the unions were doing.
One sheet had a list under the heading of “Strategic Locations”, which included power stations, mainline railway stations, Government ministries, telecommunications sites and Buckingham Palace. What was that all about?
But my attention was drawn to a two-page densely typed statement headed “Manifesto”. I began to read what it contained. In essence it was a call to arms. It said:
The time has come for all those who care for the future direction of the United Kingdom to stand up and be counted. No more Kowtowing to militant union leaders who want to hold the country to ransom with excessive pay demands, causing a sharp deterioration in the Balance of Payments and causing turmoil in the money markets. No more weak and spineless Government standing aside and refusing to take those actions required to put the country back on an even keel again. It’s time for Government to Govern. If they can’t, or won’t, they should stand aside.
I remembered the course I’d taken at King’s about Britain in the 1970s. I’d learned that it had been a heady time of industrial unrest and bitter social divisions between the classes, with the breaking down of the consensus between management and workers and between the classes. There were strikes involving essential services on a regular basis and frequent walkouts in major industries. In 1974 the miners had gone on strike and this had even precipitated a General Election. The country had changed very considerably since those times.
I continued reading. The essence of the remainder of the manifesto outlined what the author believed the country needed, such as the reimposition of law and order and greater powers for the police to use force and break up strikes if the national interest was at stake. There was also a call for the police to be armed when dealing with situations such as the violent disorder that had occurred at the gates of the Saltley coking depot in 1972, during picketing by the miners’ union, where so many miners and other sympathisers had amassed to stop lorries entering or leaving the depot that senior management, on police advice, ordered the closure of the gates so that potential mass civil disorder could be averted. This decision was felt by the author to be a turning point in industrial relations as the sheer numbers involved had overwhelmed the police to such an extent that, it said, normal law and order had broken down and the power of the mob held sway. The writer was adamant that a line had been crossed and that ordinary law-abiding patriots could no longer stand by and watch the country they loved being overrun by Communist backed trade unions, some of whose leaders felt themselves to be more powerful than the Prime Minister and the Government.
I’d heard all this before from my grandfather, who was as right wing as they came and all in favour of shooting strikers, and from what I’d read this was standard right- wing fare.
What caught my eye, however, further down the page, was the heading “Recommendations”. The writer had listed a number of things he felt should happen. I was surprised to read that he was advocating the formation of a private army to organise and mobilise to counter the impact of strikes that were, in the writer’s view, increasingly contrary to the national interest. His argument was that a small group of heavily armed and well trained, motivated patriotic men acting out of a love of Queen and Country, could take over and run power stations and keep essential services operating. But what really surprised me was the next paragraph, arguing for an armed insurrection against the Labour Government of the time, stating that the use of force to overthrow this lamentable and discredited Government was justifiable as, not only was this body pursuing anti-democratic aims, it did not even have a popular mandate for what it was doing as, although the General Election in October 1974 had produced a Labour majority, the number was sufficiently small for the new Government to have to rule precariously.
He claimed to have the tacit support of leading figures in the senior ranks of the armed services, which would not intervene to attempt to quash any insurrection against the Government if ordered to do so, as well in the Establishment generally, such as financiers and editors of certain national newspapers, who would publish patriotic articles denouncing Communists in the Government and supporting the restoration of traditional British values of moderation and fair play. He also claimed to have heard, from a well-placed source, that the Conservative party, whilst not overtly supportive of any idea about what was a military coup in all but name, would not be too aggrieved at the downfall of industrial militancy brought about by patriots acting out of a sense of duty to protect their beloved nation.
The author also claimed to have a source inside Buckingham Palace stating that the Royal Family would not be displeased to see the removal of militant extremism at the top of political and industrial life. The source simply wanted to know when such action was to occur so the Queen and her retinue could be away from London at the time so as not to be implicated in any way.
I paused for reflection. I remembered hearing, during the course at King
’s, that there had been whispered talk about a possible coup led by disaffected military types who despaired of the direction the country was moving in, and for a while there were media articles discussing the likelihood of a coup d’ état. But despite all the rhetoric and the anguished comments, however, the innate good sense of the British took over and such talk soon disappeared from the newspapers.
Had I not seen the pictures alongside this article I would have been tempted to think these were just the ramblings of some old military cove, sufficiently removed from the epicentre of power and simply expressing frustration at events he felt powerless to do anything about. But there was a worrying suggestion to some of the pictures. The officer addressing the ranks had the gleaming eyes of a zealot preaching to the converted. Those being addressed were also in uniform and holding rifles in the correct military position. There’d also been pictures of soldiers engaging in target practice, firing at bull’s-eyes with large pictures across the centre. This didn’t look like Carry on Sergeant to me.
I finished reading the recommendations. They were in a similar vein to what had already gone before, but my attention was riveted to the last one on the list, suggesting that the only effective and appropriate way to deal with those militants causing so much disruption to UK society was Internment, rounding them up and holding them in specially built holding centres and, for union leaders, especially anyone who was a communist, a death sentence, execution to be carried out by firing squad. I was amazed to see that, also marked out for an untimely demise, was the Prime Minister and other leading figures in the Labour Government, notably Tony Benn, who was despised with a passion on the right and seen as the architect and guiding spirit behind the left-wing militancy felt to be wrecking the nation. The more powerful trade union leaders, such as Jack Jones, Hugh Scanlon and Arthur Scargill, were also included amongst those to be liquidated.
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