Two Faced

by A. R. Ashworth

  “What about the safe house?” Elaine glanced at Jenkins, who stared at Hughes.

  “I told him he had to put Bull on one shift, Costello on the other. Otherwise, I call in Security and Protection. How long has it been?”

  “Fifteen minutes since the last time you asked, sir. They’ve had her just over two hours.” Elaine watched as Hughes’s paper clip broke. He flicked it in the direction of the waste bin, picked up another, and began worrying at it.

  “You rehearsed her, right?” Hughes asked. “On the way here?”

  Elaine only narrowly avoided rolling her eyes. “As much as I could. She knows to clam up if they start to stray away from the immediate investigation.” It was as polite a way as she could think of to say, “I told her to keep you out of it.” She looked at Jenkins, who did roll his eyes.

  Hughes was too busy staring at the wall to notice either of them. He harrumphed and continued to fidget. Finally, he threw the paper clip on his desk and began to pace.

  Jenkins stood. “I don’t see any reason for me to be here. It’s after midnight, and if I don’t get some sleep, I won’t be worth a bloody thing tomorrow.”

  Elaine took the cue. “Same here, sir. We all need some sleep. Tomorrow could be a busy day.” They both started for the door.

  “You’re leaving?” Hughes looked surprised. “What about Fiona?”

  “Nothing much we can do,” Elaine replied. His wife was safe, so why all the worry? “We’ll follow up in the morning.”

  “What if he won’t tell us where she is?”

  “That’s why we have Bull and Costello,” Jenkins said. He made eye contact with Elaine before speaking to Hughes. “It might be best if you don’t know, sir. The fewer who know, the better.”

  “What are you implying? Do I need to remind you both that we’re investigating Novak for corruption?”

  Jenkins shook his head and left the room without responding.

  “It’s standard procedure, sir,” Elaine said. “Usually need-to-know. If there’s nothing else, I’m for home too. I’ve gotten precious little sleep these last few days.”

  As she left, she heard Hughes muttering under his breath. She caught up with Jenkins at the lift down to the parking garage. “God, I couldn’t take his fretting much longer. Something’s odd about it. Over the top.”

  Jenkins pressed the button for the lowest level, which was reserved for those without offices in the building. “From the recording you made, it’s not like she’s going to jail. You don’t think she lied? Left anything out? Something he knows about?”

  “No. She’s determined to put it all behind her. Hughes, Jacko. The last thing she wants is to cock it up by lying.”

  “It’s not like he’s a devoted husband. Him and Cranwell, all these years.”

  Elaine heard the words, but it took her brain a few seconds to react. “You’re saying Hughes and Cranwell are a couple. I hadn’t put it together, but it makes sense. Something Fiona said. How long have you known?”

  “A couple of days. A retired detective I know told me it’s not widely known.”

  The lift opened, and they emerged into the gray concrete of the visitor car park, empty now except for their cars. Elaine walked with Jenkins towards his black Saab.

  “I feel powerless working outside normal procedures. I thought Spectra was a real operation. Doesn’t look like it now that we’ve crossed into the murder investigation. I don’t think Hughes talked to Collins at all.”

  Jenkins scoffed. “I agree. I think Hughes is running some kind of cover-up. I’m just glad he got Bull and Costello on the protection team.”

  “Fiona told me Jacko’s been blackmailing him for years.” She felt an obligation to share what she knew with Jenkins. “I think he’s afraid she’ll let slip the reason. Jacko told her that years ago Hughes covered up an evidence cock-up to protect Cranwell. She said a murderer got off because of it. If she lets that out, this whole operation is buggered.”

  Jenkins stared into space, clearly taken aback. After a few moments he shook his head. “Well, I guess we’ll find out when we get the transcript. Or when Professional Standards pays a visit to Hughes. Nothing to be done right now.”

  Saturday morning, Brentford

  Elaine woke and looked at her phone. Five hours sleep. A luxury. Scratch lay heavy across her ankles, so she decided to let him sleep. It wouldn’t be long before his insistent mews would signal he was ready for breakfast.

  Lately she’d felt bad about Scratch’s breakfast. Sometimes, in the last two weeks, she was out the door so quickly in the morning, poor Scratch missed breakfast entirely. Fortunately, she kept a small bowl of kibbles on the floor next to his water. Judging from the numbness in her feet, her neglect hadn’t affected his weight. Maybe she wasn’t such a sluggard at keeping him happy.

  Could she keep Peter happy? Maybe, if they lived in London. Her flat would be too small for Peter’s Bösendorfer piano, though. Could they share Kate’s house? That wouldn’t be too bad for a while. Kate was solid, brilliant, and worldly. The woman had some depth. They’d connected during their talks last summer at the cottage in Devon.

  But Peter would be in Texas.

  Her burner pinged. “Good morning, Liz. Tell me good news.”

  “Morning, guv. Bull’s confirmed the address where they’re keeping Fiona. I’ll text it to you. Costello’s on until seven tonight; Bull takes over until seven in the morning. He said Novak was outraged the witness protection team specified them. Said it was because of you. Called you names I won’t repeat. Very personal.”

  “It’s mutual. You have obs on Novak today, right?”

  “Yep. I’ll pick him up at the nick.”

  “Okay. I’ll be at Hughes’s office, reviewing Fiona’s statement. Transcripts ought to be ready. I seriously don’t look forward to that. Hughes was an emotional wreck last night. I think he was more worried about himself than he was about Fiona. She told him she’s going to leave him when this is over.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a shame or not,” Liz said. “Sometimes I wonder if love and marriage is worth it. Just leads to misery much of the time.”

  “Hmm.” Elaine didn’t know what to say to that. “I need to put some clothes in the wash before I leave. Anything else?”

  “Out of jeans and jumpers, eh? I’m off, boss.” She ended the call with a giggle.

  “Jeans and jumpers, my arse,” Elaine said to a silent phone. “I wear the best clothes Marks and Spencer offers.”

  Moments later the text message with an address in Hanwell appeared, an area only a few miles from her flat. Elaine forwarded it to Jenkins.

  FORTY

  Saturday morning, New Scotland Yard

  “Looks like she did a great job. Told Novak what she saw and heard, and clammed up when she needed to.” Elaine set the transcript of Fiona’s interview on the desk, and swivelled her chair to look at Hughes. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing out the window at The London Eye across the Thames. “Sir?”

  “What? Oh. Yes, she did herself proud. Didn’t know she had it in her.”

  Elaine figured that was why he’d married Fiona in the first place—he thought she was weak. Malleable. Maybe she had been, then. Hughes seemed calmer this morning than last night. Perhaps he’d gotten enough sleep or, more likely, had medicated.

  “Who’s watching this morning?” he asked.

  “Costello until evening. Then Bull overnight.”

  “Liz?”

  “On Novak. She should be checking in shortly.” They had covered this ground a half hour ago. Was Hughes stressed or over-medicated?

  “Do you suppose they gave us the entire transcript?”

  “I have no way of knowing for sure, but it didn’t appear edited to me. Sir, I’m going out for a walk and some fresh air. I’ll check in with Liz and Jenkins.”

  “Ah. Any word on Jacko?”

  Not since yesterday morning, sir. I’ll call Jenkins about it and let you know if there�
��s any news.” She left the office as quickly as she dared.

  Elaine turned up her collar at the chilly wind and walked north on the Victoria Embankment. As usual, she stopped and stood silent for a few moments in front of the Battle of Britain Monument, then walked on.

  Hughes was probably afraid that Fiona had spilled about the blackmail. She couldn’t blame him. It didn’t matter that his and Cranwell’s transgression had happened decades in the past; once it was known he had perverted the course of justice, it would be the end of his career and very likely Cranwell’s too. Policing was an unforgiving profession.

  She dialled Jenkins. “News of Jacko?”

  “His car wasn’t at the casino. He didn’t turn up for court today, and he’s not home. We’re checking ANPR records, but nothing yet. They could have masked the number plate or replaced it.”

  Elaine thought for a moment. “Doesn’t make sense to kill him. The usual method is to make him pay off some of it, but let him keep enough debt to maintain their hold. I’ll have Hughes ask for his bank records. Where are you?”

  “Hanwell Cemetery, about two hundred yards from the safe house. I can see it, just. Can’t get much closer without attracting attention. What about Novak?”

  “Calling Liz next. I’ll let you know if she has anything.”

  Liz had nothing to report. Novak had been at the nick all day long. Perhaps Bull and Costello would have something to report tonight. Elaine turned back towards New Scotland Yard. She’d take Jacko’s bank records home and spend the afternoon going over them. She couldn’t stand another minute with Hughes. The man was ’round the bend.

  Saturday afternoon, Kensington

  Where the hell’s Novak? Liz checked the rear-view mirror and frowned. She was wearing a dark blue knit cap, and the strands of mousy brown hair protruding from under it triggered memories of her Aunt Mae, who had given Liz bloody hell the only other time she’d dyed her flame-red curls.

  When Liz was thirteen, she’d wanted to go Goth with some friends. The resulting raven black curls had looked so alien to her, she’d cried for hours, like she’d lost herself. Her Aunt Mae had grabbed a handful of her own unremarkable locks, and waved them in front of Liz’s eyes. “Look at this! Every time you go out, there are people who covet your hair! Women who would pay thousands for a wig made from it. What were you thinking, child?” She had gone on about it for ten minutes, until Liz had fled upstairs, wailing.

  She should have bought a wig. Liz tucked the boring strays under the cap and resumed watching the mirror. A knock on the passenger window startled her. A young uniform cop motioned her to lower it.

  “Hello, ma’am. I notice you’ve been stopped here awhile. May I ask your business?”

  He was about the same age as her. “One moment.” She retrieved her warrant card, opened it for him, and smiled.

  He smiled back. “Excellent likeness, DC Barker. Do you need any help?”

  “Obs,” Liz whispered. She continued smiling but shook her head, then jerked it to the right a couple of times. Maybe he’d get the idea and move on.

  His smile grew to a grin. “I see. I’m PC Stafford. Derek. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.” He continued up the pavement.

  Ten minutes later, Novak’s gray Volvo exited the parking area behind the Kensington nick. She started her car as he passed her, waited a few seconds, then began the tail.

  Dusk was gathering by the time Novak turned into the forecourt of a house in Saint John’s Wood. She texted the address to the group’s burners, then grabbed her notebook, got out of the car, and walked up the pavement. With her phone, she casually took a photo of a small block of flats across the street, made a note, then moved along to another house, again making a note.

  She crossed the street and walked past the house Novak had entered. Three cars were parked in the forecourt. She photographed the house, being sure to get the cars in the photo, and continued walking. It was dark by the time she returned to the warmth of her car.

  A few minutes later, Novak emerged from the house with a short, muscular woman Liz took to be Lydia Anstey. She clicked a couple of photos as the two walked to Novak’s car. They were immediately followed by two men in dark business suits. From across the street, Liz took a couple of photos of the men, then walked quickly to her car. By the time she got there, Novak’s car had left the forecourt and accelerated away, followed closely by a blue Peugeot.

  “Shit. Get moving, Barker.” Liz started her wheezy Astra and began her pursuit. She kept the two cars in sight fifty yards ahead and speed-dialled Elaine.

  FORTY-ONE

  Saturday evening, Brentford

  Elaine put down the papers she’d been studying and answered the burner. Liz was calling.

  “Guv, Novak picked up a woman at a house in Saint John’s Wood. I think it’s Lydia Anstey. Two men in a blue Peugeot left the house with them. I’ve got obs on them now. Hold on.”

  “Are you sure about all of that?”

  “I’m sure it’s a blue Peugeot. The woman looks like Anstey. Short, husky. Fits Costello’s description. I didn’t ask for her ID, but I’m damn sure I’m right.”

  Elaine chuckled. “Calm down, Liz. I wasn’t doubting you. I’m as excited as you sound.”

  “Sorry, guv. Looks like they’re stopping. Pulling into a car park. Hold on—let me check the address. It’s Novak’s flat.”

  “Drive on by. Don’t stop.”

  “I’ve done this before, guv.”

  “Relax, Liz.”

  “All due respect, boss, but you’re the one who needs to relax. I’ve turned around and have eyes on the car park. Instructions?”

  “Wait and watch.”

  “They’re standing around the Peugeot talking. I’ll take some snaps for posterity. Now they’re going inside. Any other news?”

  “Jenkins has eyes on the safe house. Jacko and his car are missing. I’ve been trolling through his bank records. They make interesting reading.” Elaine stopped as a thought struck her. “Anstey. I need to look something up. Don’t end the call.”

  Elaine shuffled through the papers on her kitchen table until she found the list of companies and people she’d made for Joanna. She traced her finger down the columns, checking each tick mark. There it was. Why the hell hadn’t she noticed it before? “Baker Anstey.”

  “What, guv? Anstey?”

  “Mm-hmm. Baker Anstey.” She opened the spreadsheet on her laptop. “He’s one of the directors of Boxe-Berkshire. And he’s also known to IRG. The Sreckos.”

  “Jesus, guv. Do you think—hold on. The two men are leaving. Don’t see Novak and the Anstey woman.” She started her car. “I’m after them. They’ve turned westbound on Marylebone Road.”

  “Westbound, you say. Whereabouts?”

  “Just coming to the Marylebone flyover at the A40,” Liz replied. “They’re moving fast, guv.”

  “Right. I’ll call Bull and Jenkins.” Elaine imagined a map in her mind. The A40 would carry them west with pretty good speed. Were the men going to the safe house? It was too much to be a coincidence. Better to be safe. “Stick with them and give me a bell if they turn off. I’m going to ring Bull.”

  Bull called before she could dial. “Strange things, guv. Jones, the DC on duty with me, got a phone call and went in the other room. When he came back, he said it was the desk sergeant at the Ealing nick. Said Novak was there and wanted him to pop over to pick something up. I argued with him, but he left anyway. I’m not feeling good about this. I’ve only got an asp.”

  “Jenkins is armed and he’s got eyes on the house. I’ll tell him to join you, so watch for him.” She repeated what Liz had told her about the two men in the Peugeot. “I’ll call Hughes for backup, then I’m on my way.”

  Jenkins answered on the first ring. “Just about to ring you. Something odd. Bull and the other relief officer showed up at seven. But just now the other officer left. It’s only Bull and Hughes’s wife in the house. Not standard procedure. I want
to move closer.”

  “Right. I want you in the house. Bull’s expecting you.” Elaine relayed the information about the two men Liz was following. “I’ve got bad feelings right now. I’m going to arrange backup.”

  “Doesn’t feel right to me either,” Jenkins said. “I’ll move in. Wish we had radios.”

  “True, but then someone could eavesdrop. I’m calling Hughes for backup.”

  Hughes didn’t answer. Elaine left an angry voice message, then rushed to pull on her donkey jacket. She patted the pockets for her wallet, warrant card, notebook, and asp. She’d left her mobile on the table. She stopped, remembering the number Cranwell had given her the previous week. It was worth a try. She dialled.

  “Hello, Elaine.” Cranwell’s voice was even. “How can I help you?”

  She took a deep breath. “We have a serious situation sir. I need someone to authorize armed backup. DI Novak has Commander Hughes’s wife in protective—”

  “Whoa, Elaine. Slow down. I’m aware of Novak’s investigation and that you and your team are working with Hughes on his Operation Spectra. Why do you need armed backup?”

  How did he know they were working with Hughes? It didn’t matter—there was no time to ponder. As she walked to her car, Elaine explained what Liz had witnessed and the situation at the safe house. When she was done, he repeated what she’d told him.

  “Yes, sir. You’ve got it. I think all that’s too much for coincidence, sir. Bull and Jenkins are there with Mrs. Hughes. Jenkins is armed. It could get violent.”

  “I agree. I’ll set armed backup and medical in motion. You’ll be on scene, so do what you need to do. And Elaine, I’m taking over from Hughes. You’ll report to me now. Keep me posted, especially with anything regarding Novak or Hughes. Understood?”

  What the hell? What next? She had no time for questions. “Yes, sir.”

  Seconds later, Elaine turned north on Boston Road and switched on her blues. Cranwell had said to do what she needed to do, but what was going on? Hughes had been acting strangely since the burglary. Had he stepped ’round the bend? Been relieved of command?