If Fear Wins

by Tony J. Forder

  She did not have to finish the thought. Bliss winced at the possibility. And that’s what it had become now – a genuine strand of investigation. One he guessed would be on the Telegraph’s website within the hour. He was okay with that. In fact, having the media raising the subject might have the advantage of forcing the RAF to comply more swiftly with the request Bliss would submit in the morning to re-interview the three friends.

  About to discuss the action for making progress on the new line of inquiry, Bliss was interrupted by his phone. It was Pursey.

  ‘I just wanted you to know we’re bringing in Darren Bird and senior members of his crew later this afternoon.’

  Bliss felt a tug inside his chest. He knew little about the way MI6 operated other than it was unlikely they would bother to provide him with information that made no sense and ultimately lead nowhere. If they believed Bird played a part in Operation Compound, no matter how minor the role, then the sooner he questioned the man the better.

  ‘I’ll call you back,’ Bliss said. ‘I want in, though.’

  ‘I thought you might.’

  ‘Leave enough of him in one piece for me.’

  Pursey laughed, a deep, booming sound that rattled the phone’s speaker. ‘There’s enough of him to go round, Bliss. Get down here when you can.’

  Bliss killed the call and found the three detectives around him all staring at him. He shook his head. ‘It’s nothing. Unconnected.’

  But soon might be. Soon it might just turn out to be the connection we’ve been looking for.

  32

  A few more warm bodies had entered the incident room by the time Bliss took his next call. This time it was from Detective Superintendent Fletcher’s PA, who politely but firmly informed Bliss that he was wanted in the conference room. By the time he got there the table was well-populated with all the same faces that had been there last time. Even Munday had taken a seat alongside them, at the far end facing Fletcher and Edwards. Bliss took his place, nodding at those who bothered to look up at him as he entered the room.

  ‘I’ve called this meeting to provide a progress report,’ Fletcher said, her shoulders sloped, face taut and pale. ‘I realise we all have busy weeks ahead, so this may be our last opportunity for a while to come together and share.’

  Following a few nods and smiles, it was Edwards who spoke next. ‘Let’s go around the table, shall we? I have been working closely with both MI5 and the CTU. We have pored over reams of information regarding every known extremist Islamic group, as well as individuals on security’s radar. We have assessed chatter provided by GCHQ. We have drawn a complete blank. Whether that’s fortunate because it moves us closer to declaring this a non-terrorist act, or unfortunate because it means our three murderers are unknown to us, we simply do not know at this time.’

  The MP was up next. She spoke about her attempts at allaying fears, although many people were anxious about the possibility of more attacks, including greater acts that may include weapons or even explosives. This provoked a response from Doctor Kirmani who, whilst dismissing the suspicions as reactionary, was keen to report that he had received an excellent response from his own council and wider Muslim community.

  ‘With respect,’ Fletcher pointed out, ‘in this specific case it is not the Muslim community who are feeling threatened. Not by physical acts of terrorism, at least. I understand a large number feel persecuted and threatened all the time in these sad days, but that’s a societal issue. We are concentrating on the murder of one young airman here. I don’t wish to backtrack now on issues upon which we have already reached agreement. Other than a few spontaneous incidents lacking any sort of organisation, people on all sides of the community have reacted as well as we could have hoped. Are there tensions? Of course, and we have never been naïve enough to believe there wouldn’t be. It’s how we seek to contain them, react to them, that counts here. We now have to hope for two things; that there is not a second incident, and that no groups decide to use this as a springboard to promote their own agenda.’

  As before, Munday observed but said nothing. Inspector Garner from CTU concurred with everything Edwards had told the group, adding only that they were compiling a list of their top ten most likely suspects drawn from a database of individuals who had demonstrated anti-west or anti-armed forces leanings. Given no other form of momentum, the next decision would be whether to arrest them or monitor them. The favoured option currently was monitoring, with the Security Service happy to provide the required number of relevant staff.

  All eyes then turned to Bliss. Their scrutiny burned into him as he briefly considered his own options. ‘I have one potential lead and one new theory we are following up on,’ he said, committing himself fully. ‘We got nowhere with our local drug dealers. But my sources inside the NCA suggest an Essex villain by the name of Darren Bird does business in this area, and a possible contact in the RAF was mentioned. The lead was unverifiable, and potentially unreliable, so in my own time last night I took part in a JTF raid on one of Bird’s properties. Unfortunately it didn’t pan out, but I have since been informed that Bird and his top crew members are being arrested later today and I will be driving back down to have a word with him.’

  ‘That sounds positive,’ Fletcher said. She flashed a smile of encouragement around the table. ‘Do we know what kind of connection this man may have with the RAF?’

  ‘No, ma’am. It really is only a vague notion right now. I thought that it was worth chasing down, that’s all.’

  ‘Very good. Please keep us informed. And the new theory?’

  ‘Early days on this, but I think we have to ask ourselves if Duncan Livingston was mistaken for another RAF officer. We have found only the slightest of chinks in his armour, and so far nothing that would explain why someone would want him dead, let alone in such a barbaric fashion. It occurred to me earlier that one explanation might be that it was mistaken identity.’

  ‘Now that is an interesting idea,’ Edwards said. ‘It certainly would explain why you’ve got nowhere linking Livingston to anything suspicious.’

  Bliss nodded. ‘We’ll look hard at his three friends who were with him on the night he was snatched up. Further afield if we have to, but it could well be one of them.’

  The meeting went on for a further ten minutes or so. Bliss was content with his part. He had no regrets about misleading everybody around the table. Telling them that his source had mentioned a possible link between Bird’s crew and an RAF officer tied things together neatly, and could only ever be proven incorrect, not an outright lie. It opened up a door to future contact with Pursey and the JTF investigation, whilst also having the advantage of buying time with his superiors. It was a gamble, but one Bliss considered worth taking.

  He arrived home a little after noon. Emily was looking less stressed and so relaxed he wondered if she had been making her way through his small wine collection. She was dressed casually in navy trousers, with a lighter blue turtle-neck sweater. She wore makeup, but far less than she had on the morning she first came to Thorpe Wood to speak to him. It suited her. Her eyes flickered inquisitively as he came through into the living room and planted himself in his chair.

  ‘I thought you’d got lost,’ she said, managing a brief smile.

  He felt a little awkward. Having insisted she come and stay with him, Emily had been forced to spend the vast majority of that time on her own in a home that was not hers.

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ he said, holding up a hand. ‘You know how it is sometimes.’

  ‘I know. Are you getting anywhere with this particular case, Jimmy?’

  ‘Not really. It feels like we’re all bunched up on a row of those cycling machines. Hours of furious peddling, getting us nowhere, with only the illusion of momentum.’

  ‘You look tired,’ she observed.

  ‘I am. Long, tough day and night. But that’s the way it goes sometimes in my line of work. I’m only sorry that it’s meant you spending so much time alone.�
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  It’s not a problem. In fact, it’s given me time to get my head together.’

  ‘That’s good news. I’m glad you haven’t felt ignored or deserted. Look, I hate to say this but I have to go out again in a while. Have you eaten anything?’

  ‘I had a slice of toast earlier.’

  ‘Let’s see if we can do better than that,’ Bliss said.

  While he put together a decent omelette each, using up the few remaining mushrooms he had in the fridge crisper as well as some pre-grated mature cheddar, Emily made them a pot of filter coffee. As they ate and drank, the conversation turned to the break-in at her house. Bliss made no mention if his encounter with Six. Throughout the entire discussion, guilt threatened to overwhelm him. He had made a trade-off with the man from MI6; a break in his own case in exchange for helping to quash Emily’s hope. The more he thought about the situation the more it seemed to Bliss that Six was having him do the SIS’s dirty work for them. The implication was that Curtis had been murdered by a crew he was either close to or spying on. Bliss believed that in giving him Darren Bird’s name, Six was essentially killing two birds with a single stone. Some time had been bought, hopefully a strong lead as well, but Bliss was convinced that the MI6 agent was by no means finished with him.

  It occurred to Bliss that the man he was hunting for the murder of airman Livingston was possibly the same man MI6 now wanted for the murder of Simon Curtis. In a moment of utter clarity that notion bloomed inside Bliss’s head and refused to be denied. Six did not want to put their heads above the parapet, however, and had decided to wind Bliss up, point him in the right direction, release him and watch him go. He could pave the way. If something came of it, MI6 could step in at any point at which it best suited them to do so. If the lead took Bliss nowhere, then it would be as if they had never interfered.

  That was fine by Bliss. Let them believe they had pulled a fast one on him. Let them also believe he was subduing Emily’s desire to find out more about her husband’s murder. The only downside as far as Bliss was concerned was that for the time being he would have to give the appearance of doing as he was told. Playing along in order to take part in the game. He loathed being part of a system that used people in such a way, yet at the same time would follow through if it led to the capture of the men who beat and torched a fellow human being.

  Bliss was barely able to concentrate on anything Emily said to him. Try as he might, he could not imagine how or where the dead RAF officer fitted in with Darren Bird or his crew. Was it possible that Livingston had been involved with selling drugs after all? Not all dealers were users, and perhaps the young man had bitten off more than he could chew during his negotiations. All of which led Bliss around in circles and back to the relatively fresh notion that Duncan was not the intended victim, that the snatch, torture and murder had been bungled by a trio of incompetents.

  Emily drifted away occasionally, reflecting on life with her husband. She did not ask him if there was any further news on the subject. Bliss suspected this was because she recognised his fatigue, understanding that all of his current efforts were being put into solving a known and vicious murder. He wanted to put Emily out of her misery, to let her know who and what Simon Curtis was. Yet at the same time he could not be certain that knowing would not hurt her all the more at this stage of her grief. If the fact that her marriage might not be legal had seeped into her thoughts, she made no mention of it. He guessed her mind would be consumed by doubt, wondering what had happened in the past to send her husband into witness protection. Revealing that this was not the case, that the man she had committed her life to was a fraud, would surely create more doubts, more sorrow, more grief. The time would come when Emily would have to be told the truth. That time was not now.

  ‘Will you be okay while I’m out again?’ Bliss asked as their chatter faded and became a silence both seemed more comfortable with this time, he thought.

  ‘Do I have a choice?’

  He shrugged. ‘I suppose not. I’d stay, Emily, but I really have no way of avoiding it. There’s no one I can send in my place.’

  She waved him away with a flick of her long, elegant fingers. ‘Please, do whatever you need to do. I’m a guest here because you were kind enough to take me in when I needed help. You don’t need to explain your every move to me, Jimmy. Live your life, do your job. Being here is helping me concentrate on things far more than if I were at home. Back there, every single thing reminds me of Simon. It fogs my brain. I’m clear-minded again here. It’s helpful, so please stop apologising.’

  Bliss got the message. ‘Well, okay then. I’ll go about my business. I expect to be home for the night this time at least. We’ll catch up some more then if you’re still up.’

  Whilst preparing to set out on the journey back down to Essex, Bliss realised he was no more convinced about anything than he had been at the start of the weekend. None of the current leads felt right to him. Nor were there any alternative theories staking a genuine claim on his thought process. Each of them was possible, if not entirely plausible, but Bliss was not feeling it. Something in the back of his mind insisted he was missing a vital component, something that would immediately clarify matters and open up the right path for them all. The problem was, he had no idea what that missing ingredient might be, nor where he could possibly find it.

  33

  At the last minute, Bliss decided to call Chandler. He had wrestled with the idea for an hour before making up his mind. Having been given the go-ahead from the Super to proceed with this line of investigation, it no longer felt right excluding his partner. Bliss was not at all surprised when she readily agreed to accompany him on the trip down south, and when he pulled up outside her apartment block ten minutes later she was downstairs waiting for him.

  Bliss used the drive to explain what was going to happen. He spun Chandler the same line regarding his NCA source, and immediately felt remorseful over her wide-eyed enthusiasm and renewed excitement at the prospect of a good new lead. His thoughts were in turmoil, and he was barely clinging on to the thin, slick threads he was grappling with. Bliss took time over the conversation, allowing the permutations to slide over him as he and Chandler chased it down. It was mid-afternoon, the sun was weak and rain had started to fall. The surrounding countryside offered no inspiration as yet another asphalt artery became clogged with traffic.

  ‘I’m hoping to learn something related to our investigation from Bird or one of his crew,’ Bliss explained as Cambridgeshire bled into Essex. ‘Probably the latter, given the man’s reputation. But it’s entirely possible that their operation included a wholesale deal to someone up in Peterborough, someone unconnected with the local trade in drugs. That someone could have been Livingston. Him or one of his friends.’

  ‘Have you considered the possibility that it could be him plus one or more of this friends?’

  Bliss was initially taken aback by the suggestion, then quickly saw its merit. He realised that his adoption of the mistaken identity theory had originated from a place that really did not want the murder victim to be guilty of anything. He had sought a way to point the finger elsewhere, and in doing so had missed the obvious.

  ‘I haven’t,’ Bliss admitted. ‘But I should have. Of course that’s another genuine possibility. All the more reason to speak with them again tomorrow.’

  Bliss went on to tell Chandler about the failed raid and Jez’s part in it. When he was done she was horrified. ‘How awful for everyone involved. Your friend is in big trouble, Jimmy.’

  ‘I know. She knows. I advised her to clam up and let her brief fight it out for her. She did what she did under duress. A threat to the family from a big time face like Bird has to be taken seriously. I have no doubt that if she had not co-operated, her brother and his family would most likely be dead right now. And they would have died in the most ugly kind of way, too.’

  ‘I can understand why she did it, Jimmy. I can even sympathise. I expect others will, too. But she will
have trouble rubbing up against the system like this. She’s out of a job at the very least.’

  Bliss felt the pain of that stab him in the heart. Jez had once been a good friend and a great colleague. No way would she have betrayed her team and the JTF for financial gain. The physical threat was visceral, attacking her where it would inflict the most damage. At the same time, no one would ever trust her again. Not enough to work with her. Chandler was right – Jez was finished as a cop.

  ‘I’m going to speak up on her behalf, anyway. My guess is I won’t be the only one.’

  Chandler looked at him and shook her head. ‘You need that like a hole in the head. Why not at least wait to at least see if others come forward. If they do, your testimony might be superfluous, and it will only harm you.’

  ‘Not where it counts. Not with Jez, not with my ex-colleagues. More importantly, not with me.’

  ‘Nor with me, Jimmy. I admire you for sticking to your guns. You crazy bastard.’

  They both laughed. To Bliss it came as a release. He had felt himself getting tight and anxious. Now that he and his partner were talking about important issues, he decided to throw caution to the wind.

  ‘I have someone staying at my house,’ he said. The moment those seven words left his mouth he regretted each one of them. Yet at the same time he also felt a surge of relief. Chandler was his friend. His best friend. This was the sort of thing you told best friends.

  ‘Oh, really. Wouldn’t be Angie Burton by any chance, would it?’

  ‘No. I told you, she and I are done.’

  Chandler turned in her seat, eyes gleaming. ‘Is it your mum? Please tell me it’s your mum, Jimmy. I would so love to meet her.’

  He laughed. ‘No, it’s not my mum. I’m going to have to tell you because you could take another dozen guesses and not get it right.’

  ‘Well ..? Go on then. Cough it up.’

  ‘The Bone Woman.’