He sat for a while in the living room contemplating the new case. Half a day in and he thought he had done everything within his means. The team were focussed, actions committed. He could do nothing about the lack of identification in respect of his victim, but fully expected to have that information by the time he was finished at Wittering the next morning. It was reasonable to assume that by the time the case clicked into its twenty-fifth hour, he and his troops would have their first major leads to follow. He felt bad for whoever their victim proved to be, but his money was on the missing RAF officer and that was going to present him and his team with far more problems than usual.
Before heading to bed, Bliss had one final beer standing at his double-wide windows staring at the koi fish in the back garden pond. He was restless once again, had the new case blues, but he could always rely on the fish to soothe his soul.
By the time Bliss joined his wife upstairs, a new day had arrived without fanfare.
7
Bliss and Chandler were signed through the RAF Wittering security gate at precisely 9.58am. The base was only a short drive up the A1(M) north of the city, and the traffic had been light. There was a three-vehicle queue to access the base, but the holdup was minimal. Having flashed their warrant cards, Bliss was instructed to park his car in a small area reserved for visitors, just inside the first set of perimeter gates. Flight Lieutenant Holbrook was waiting for them beyond a second barrier, in a dark blue Ford. He stepped out of the vehicle to greet them, offering a warm handshake along with a troubled frown. The man was tall and lean, with fine blond hair swept back off his forehead. He looked to be no older than mid-thirties. Bliss was surprised to find the officer in civilian clothing rather than the distinctive navy blue uniform.
‘It’s officially my day off,’ Holbrook explained as they settled into his car whilst he drove deeper into the base. ‘So civvies all the way. I thought I’d take you across to our operations centre first where we can grab a hot drink, have a chat, and from there the RAFP will collect you and take you over to another building in which you can conduct the interviews.’
‘Sounds good,’ Chandler said. ‘I’ve never been on the base before, but I have always loved the sight of that jet sitting there at the entrance.’
‘You’re not the only one, ma’am. Other than a Spitfire there’s no finer RAF symbol than the Harrier, in my view.’
Bliss grinned and glanced across at Chandler, knowing she would have winced visibly at the use of the term ‘ma’am’.
‘I’m sorry that the search of the route your officer would likely have taken home came up empty,’ he said to Holbrook. ‘When we’re through here I’m going across to Barnack to speak with the barmaid your man was flirting with. I’m not expecting to get anything more out of her than our uniforms did, however, and we regard her strictly as a witness at this time.’
They drew up outside a newer building than its close companions, a sleek design with a curved roof that looked as if it was cast from aluminium. ‘In many ways I’m hoping Duncan is AWOL through choice,’ Holbrook said as they exited his vehicle, which he had parked in a reserved space. ‘I’d rather he was captured as a deserter than believe anything awful has happened to him.’
At the entrance to the building, ID checks were made and the Flight Lieutenant gained access through a solid mesh barrier by using a biometric scanner. Bliss and Chandler followed him through the ground floor corridor. Glass walls provided an unobstructed view into a high-tech, busy working environment, with giant monitors showing data from countless sources.
‘Impressive,’ Chandler remarked as they marched by.
Holbrook nodded. ‘It is indeed. Everything is LCD, touch-screen, some latest-gen Intel processors, and impressive graphics cards. Information from across the globe flows through here twenty-four-seven.’
Chandler gave a stifled laugh. ‘Sorry, Lieutenant, I didn’t mean to snigger, but whilst my boss here will have known all of those words you just used, in that context he would have understood absolutely nothing you said.’
Bliss threw her a look that suggested payback was due.
Once inside the office, which was surprisingly small at no more than twelve feet square, Holbrook used the phone to request drinks and then they each took a chair around his desk.
‘How confident are you that your victim is my missing flying officer?’ Holbrook asked. ‘We’ve only recently learned that you are investigating this possibility, so it has come as a complete shock to us all.’
Bliss noted the anxiety in the man’s eyes, heard a slight tightening of his vocal cords. The concern seemed genuine.
‘I find it best not to speculate, Flight Lieutenant. Back at HQ, in our incident room, as we kick around ideas as part of a team, then, yes, we throw out all manner of theories. Out here in the wider world, my experience is that no one thanks you for whatever answer you give them. Of course, I realise that you are deeply concerned about your missing colleague, so I made some calls before setting off, and dental comparisons will be made at some point today. Possibly before noon.’
Holbrook nodded and took a deep breath, releasing it with a heavy sigh. ‘Thank you for that. We’re all pretty shaken up here, as you might imagine.’
Bliss was sympathetic. It was not that long since Chandler had been abducted by a crazed rapist and killer, and the hours he had spent waiting to hear news of her were some of the longest and most painful he had ever known. He knew better than most that the mind is capable of playing the cruellest games.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘It’s only natural. You mentioned yesterday that this is out of character, yes?’
‘Completely. Duncan is a fine young man, has been a model officer, and I was keen to promote him as soon as the next opportunity presented itself.’
‘Would you say he’s popular with his colleagues?’
‘Most definitely.’ Holbrook confirmed, with a firm nod of the head. ‘You’ll meet three of his closest friends shortly, but he had plenty of others right across the base.’
‘How about female officers?’ Chandler asked. ‘We’re reliably informed that the reason Duncan opted to walk home was because he fancied his chances with the barmaid who’d been serving him and his friends all night. Did he not have a steady girlfriend on base?’
‘Female colleagues who are friends, yes. But only friends. No romantic attachments that I know of.’
‘Not even from their side? Something unrequited, perhaps?’
At this, the Flight Lieutenant tilted his head slightly and spread his hands. ‘Look, I was Duncan’s boss but he was my friend as well. I cannot say definitively, of course, but I had no knowledge of any such relationship.’
‘And no one off base either, as far as you know?’
‘Not that I am aware. Not currently, and not for a while.’
‘Do you not find that odd?’ Bliss asked. His gaze narrowed as he searched the Lieutenant’s reaction. ‘Young man, fit, career path ahead of him, stable living conditions. All that going for him, but no steady girlfriend.’
Holbrook shifted in his chair. ‘Look, Duncan was clearly interested in women, or why else would he have remained behind in Barnack to chat with the barmaid? I’ve known him for five years, and in that time he’s had several girlfriends, each of whom were non-RAF. He simply never made commitments to any of them, Inspector. And happened not to be seeing anyone at this time. Hence his interest in the barmaid, I assume.’
Bliss nodded. The Lieutenant’s observations were reasonable enough. On the wall behind Holbrook hung a noticeboard, onto which a large number of spreadsheets were pinned. None of it made any sense to Bliss, but he got a sense of the volume of data these people worked with. He was struggling to find his way into the meat of this investigation, and he sensed that was because he was having difficulty in fully understanding the victim.
‘And as far as you know he has no financial concerns?’ Bliss asked, his gaze dropping back on Holbrook.
‘None that I
am aware of.’
‘Is he a gambler?’
‘Other than a few outings to the greyhound track in the city, nothing noteworthy.’
‘Does he like a drink? How about drugs?’
‘Duncan enjoys a drink just like the rest of us, Inspector Bliss. And if he ever considered doing drugs – and I believe that not to be the case – he could not have avoided being pinged for it on a random test. As I’ve said all along, he’s a genuinely decent man and a terrific officer.’
‘What is his job, specifically?’ Chandler asked.
‘I am able to give you broad strokes only,’ Holbrook said. He swallowed and fidgeted with the band of his wristwatch. It was the first sign of apprehension that Bliss had noticed. ‘Duncan was one of several flying officers working with Number One Air Mobility Wing, part of the Air Combat Service Support Unit. Essentially, the role covers all aspects of support logistics at home and abroad in support of both training and full service operations.’
‘Sounds like an important role,’ Chandler remarked.
‘It is. Logistics allow our forces on the frontline to do their jobs. It’s a mammoth task, believe me.’
‘A lot of responsibility for a young man to take on.’
‘Well… yes, I suppose it is. But you have to remember that all of our staff are extremely well trained. It’s a pressurised environment at times, but they all cope remarkably well.’
Whilst listening to the exchange, Bliss found his attention wandering to the view from Holbrook’s window. Through gaps between buildings he could see all manner of vehicles and a large number of staff on the move – a constant flow of traffic around the base. Away in the distance a jet aircraft taxied across the tarmac, disappearing from view momentarily behind a stack of steel shipping containers. The sounds from outside were discordant and constant. It was like being in the centre of a small city.
‘Has there been any additional pressure recently?’ Bliss asked, snapping back into the moment.
‘Nothing out of the ordinary,’ Holbrook replied, shaking his head vigorously. ‘Base closures over the past few years have had an impact, of course, but we’ve been provided with greater resources and staffing to help combat the effect. And with us maintaining only basic levels of presence in both Iraq and Afghanistan these days, I’d say there is actually less pressure than there was when Duncan first joined us here.’
Bliss believed he now had an idea of the sort of person their missing airman was. Everyone had their secrets, but Holbrook had described a decent and able young man looking to get on with his chosen career. Still, the Flight Lieutenant was Livingston’s immediate superior, and Bliss believed that the airman’s closest friends were more likely to know the whereabouts of any closets containing the odd skeleton or two. Just now, he was seeing Livingston the man, not Livingston the victim. That needed to change.
‘A couple more questions,’ Bliss said, smiling gratefully. ‘First, do your jobs ever take you overseas into combat areas?’
‘At times,’ Holbrook said, sitting back in his chair for the first time. ‘It entirely depends on circumstances. Both myself and Duncan have been to Saudi Arabia on a couple of occasions, and Duncan also went to Germany.’
‘Recently?’
‘No. Neither of us have been anywhere at all in over a year.’
Bliss saw no reason to pursue that line. He knew that the RAF often stationed their planes in Saudi for operations in and around the Middle East, and Germany was a NATO area commonly used by UK forces. A worrying thought had begun to trouble him, but he set it aside until they knew more about the attack itself.
‘How about his family?’ Bliss asked. ‘How are they taking it?’
‘Duncan’s parents were visited yesterday evening. The RAFP had to ensure he hadn’t simply run back home for some reason. Which he had not, and they were both apparently as dumbfounded as I am, completely at a loss to explain their son’s absence.’
‘I take it no mention was made of our murder victim?’
‘No. Though I’m by no means certain we were even aware of it at the time. They were questioned quite hard, as we have to do in such circumstances. Much as you would have, I imagine. But we would never put such a notion in their heads unless we were certain.’
‘Do they live nearby?’ Chandler asked, hooking one leg over the other and moving her foot back and forth in a steady rhythm. The movement caught Bliss’s attention momentarily. Holbrook’s too, Bliss noticed. The officer would not be either the first nor last man to appreciate Chandler’s shapely legs.
Holbrook shook his head. ‘Oh, no. They live up in York. Run a tea shop there.’
Bliss dismissed the parents for the time being. ‘Any other family?’
‘An older sister. She’s married and living in Canada.’
Bliss inclined his head. ‘Would your RAFP have checked for movement on your officer’s passport?’
‘Of course. All ports and airports are checked as a matter of procedure.’
Another dead end, Bliss decided. The investigation was full of them so far.
‘Lastly, then,’ he said more casually than he felt. ‘Are you aware of threats aimed either directly at Duncan or any of your personnel here at Wittering?’
‘Threats?’ Holbrook’s eyes narrowed, and something pulsed in his cheek.
‘Yes. You know the sort of thing I mean, from anti-war groups, anarchic demonstrators, that sort of thing.’ Bliss did not wish to lead the man, so left the question reasonably vague.
‘Not especially. One or two of our cadets have reported the odd comment when they have been out and about in uniform on official duties, but that’s the same for all forces right across the country. I take it you are aware of the all-forces directive that was issued for us not to wear uniform when off base and off duty?’
Bliss nodded. ‘I am. Which must help reduce the risk, I assume. So no overt threats then?’
‘None that I am aware of, no.’
‘Or none that you can tell me about?’
Holbrook raised a sheepish smile. ‘A bit of both. And by that I mean, I am not aware of any threats, but even if I were, I’d probably not be able to tell you without obtaining authority to do so.’
Bliss decided they were done. He glanced across at Chandler, who shook her head almost imperceptibly. They thanked the Flight Lieutenant, who showed them out of a side door where an RAFP officer was already waiting for them in an open jeep. The officer introduced himself as Lundy, and drove them across the base to where three men waited for them to be interviewed.
‘I’ve allowed you thirty minutes with each if you think that’s long enough,’ Lundy explained.
‘Actually, I’d like to see them all together,’ Bliss said.
‘Really?’ The RAFP officer’s eyebrows arched. ‘You don’t want them kept apart to see if they all have different stories to tell?’
‘If they had not already had hours together in order to prepare for this, then yes, that would have been my preference. If there is some kind of story to rehearse, they have had ample time to do so. Instead, I’ll be looking at who takes the lead, the glances that pass between them, try and spot the weakest link and perhaps select them to remain behind when I’m done with the group as a whole.’
Lundy nodded in a way that suggested he disagreed with the notion. Bliss did not mind. It was his case, his head on the block. Lundy was both a facilitator and an observer, whose presence in the room would be respected – if not exactly welcomed – by his fellow airmen. Bliss was aware that police officers in the armed forces were every bit as disliked and treated with as much suspicion and contempt by other forces personnel as he and his colleagues were by the general public. He also knew that those in authority often abused the position, which served only to reinforce negative opinions. Lundy came across as a disciplined man, albeit a little tightly wound.
‘Do you happen to know Livingston?’ Bliss asked him.
‘Only to say hello to in passing,’ Lundy repl
ied. ‘Nothing official.’
‘So it surprised you to learn he was AWOL?’
‘Yes and no. Men and women go AWOL far more than you would be aware of, Inspector. On the vast majority of occasions it’s over something trivial, often something they can’t control. Generally it lasts no longer than twenty-four hours. I admit to being concerned now it’s gone into a second day in Livingston’s case, but whilst I wouldn’t have expected it, I’ll only be surprised by it if it lasts beyond this afternoon.’
‘And the three friends we’re about to interview?’ Chandler asked. ‘What are they like?’
‘Much the same as FO Livingston. I’ve never had cause to speak to them officially, so again I know of them rather than about them.’
Five minutes later, Bliss and Chandler were seated in a large, modern room, heated well, decorated in neutral colours, and an ideal choice for an interview that had to appear to be exactly that as opposed to an interrogation. Lundy brought through Flying Officers Thomas, White and Allen. Introductions were made, and Lundy informed the men that they were to answer any and all questions to the best of their knowledge.
‘Gentlemen, we are here in order to obtain your help in our efforts to locate your missing friend,’ was how Bliss kicked off proceedings. He did not want these men on edge. ‘From what I understand, Duncan’s absence from duty is an aberration. You were all part of the search team that worked alongside our own officers, and so you will be fully aware that your colleague and friend was not found. I am here to learn whether Duncan could be missing of his own accord, or if we have to point our investigation into channels I’m sure we would all rather not consider.’
Bliss kept his gaze on the three men seated opposite. At this stage, all three continued to face him, eyes front and centre. Each of them had run an eye over Chandler before taking their seats, but now their focus was squarely on him.
He began by going over the story as he knew it, outlining their trip to Barnack, Livingston deciding to stay on in order to flirt with the barmaid, right up to discovering him missing the following morning.
If Fear Wins (DI Bliss Book 3) Page 6