Without a Trace

by Mari Hannah

  She sat down, turning her attention back to 0113. If a UK terrorist had been deployed to carry out this vicious attack on innocent civilians, she had every faith that together they could contribute to the war on terror, put a radicalised figure out of action and save the travelling public a lot of grief. She was ready to take whatever measures might prove necessary in order to secure a conviction, and so were they.

  Following their row, Hank had gone for a walk. He’d been away a while and was fired up and ready for action when he returned. There was no bad mood, no hangover from their slanging match. Over the years they had worked together, their relationship had survived many a riled exchange. Neither mentioned the latest. It was forgotten already. They were close enough to ride out this blip.

  Hopefully, the same could be said of her guv’nor.

  Kate sent Hank off to liaise with Fraser Blue while she made a few calls, setting herself up for a full-on investigation. An email arrived from SAC Gabriele Torres that included no detail on the incident, merely a request that Kate make herself available to talk on the secure line, an encrypted video conference call.

  Kate replied that she was both ready and waiting.

  Steeling herself for a difficult conversation, she took a deep breath and sat up straight before the call connected. She needed to be on her mettle now. If Torres detected any emotion in her voice, any hesitation or doubt in her ability to carry off a comprehensive investigation her end, her involvement with the US security service would be over before it had begun.

  Introductions complete, Torres looked directly to camera, the two women checking each other out. Torres was of mixed race, older than Kate, with sharp eyes, soft features and dark, wavy hair, tied up. The sleeves of her cotton shirt were rolled up, a shoulder holster strapped to her chest. She wore a tiny gold cross around her neck but no wedding ring.

  Who the hell had time?

  Kate wished she’d made the time.

  ‘Are you alone?’ Torres asked.

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Then let’s get to it. Parts of 0113’s fuselage are now in our possession. Sadly, they’re too small to determine cause. The search goes on. Based on available evidence, a mid-air explosion is the most likely scenario. There was no Mayday transmission from the cockpit and no one has yet claimed responsibility. As I said in my email, we’re a long way from forensic examination, working on the assumption that a bomb may have been introduced to the flight at Heathrow. On that basis, are you willing to investigate undercover?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘It’s a hot ticket, Kate. We need incriminating evidence. I’d like you to focus on the ground crew. How you handle that is your business. If you use your associate, get rid of his cell and use a burner.’

  ‘I’ll do the covert stuff myself. Hank’s a big bloke, too big to hide.’

  ‘Your call. Make sure you document everything where it can’t be found. You trust your second-in-command?’

  ‘With my life.’

  ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.’

  Kate received the warning loud and clear. ‘Do you intend coming over?’

  ‘Depends … if I do, we won’t meet. You’ll blend in. A US accent will raise suspicions. The last thing we want is to blow your cover and tip off the guys we need eyes on. You and your wingman have impressive résumés, the experience to deploy without drawing attention. Your chief tells me they don’t come any better. I’m satisfied that you’ll handle it your end.’

  Kate didn’t mention Bright’s insistence that he needed one of his A Team back in the north.

  Torres had already moved on.

  She had a pronounced New York accent. Her delivery was clinical, conveying what she had to say with no hint of alarm or distress. She was persuasive, an agent with years of experience behind her, one who was used to commanding the attention of others. It was evident that she’d done her homework and knew more about Kate than she did about her.

  Kate had organised many an undercover operation – and was up for the challenge – but it wasn’t going to be easy. Since 9/11, US intelligence had upped their game, spending millions identifying those who would attack their citizens by listening to online chatter and infiltrating groups of suspects, collating information to share with world leaders across the globe. This recent incident had demonstrated that it wasn’t enough. What they needed was detective legwork.

  Torres was still talking. ‘I’m putting together information on feeder flights. When, or should I say if, we locate more wreckage, we’ll be able to pinpoint the seat of the explosion, identify exact cause and, if it turns out to be an IED, match it to a specific bomb-maker.’

  ‘That’s your best guess?’

  ‘It’s our only guess.’

  ‘Then you must have an idea of who’s responsible?’

  Torres didn’t even acknowledge that a question had been asked. Every day of her working life, she dealt with the minutiae of investigations into air disasters like the one they were dealing with now. She had no intention of giving away more than was necessary.

  In her head, Kate turned the pages of her own career. Right from the off, she’d developed a thirst for policing, accepting every challenge that presented itself, prepared to do whatever was asked of her. She’d learned how to handle herself if things got physical. And when she landed her present job as SIO in a Murder Investigation Team, working exclusively on major incidents, like Torres, she’d excelled at keeping secrets.

  If she’d had any other boss than Bright, Kate would be tied to a desk, delegating from on high, but that wasn’t a role that appealed to her. Like the special agent, she preferred to be hands-on with a solid and cohesive team behind her. There was a great deal of mutual respect between Kate and her guv’nor, but that wouldn’t help her now. In London, she was out on a limb. Never had she imagined she’d be investigating mass murder, especially one involving Jo.

  Never.

  Kate would love to have her full team around her, to take charge and raise actions as she saw fit, rather than as dictated by Homeland Security. Though she may never meet Torres in person, Kate could tell a lot from what she could see of her American counterpart. She was alone, speaking from a self-contained office, rather than an open-plan area where she might be overheard. And then there was what she’d said or, more importantly, didn’t say – her tone of voice, that steely look in her eyes, like she’d seen stuff any right-minded person would wish they hadn’t.

  Kate had read somewhere that a New Yorker used 60 per cent more words to convey the same information as someone from elsewhere in the US. That was simply not true of Torres. She made every word count and gave no extraneous detail, impressing the hell out of Kate.

  There was a noise from the other end. Torres’s gaze shifted to a point above her computer screen. Someone had entered the room. Kate couldn’t see who it was, but the US agent lifted her arm to receive a sheet of paper from a visitor – a male hand appeared.

  No words were exchanged.

  Hearing the click of a closing door, Kate had no doubt that she was facing an agent respected by those under her command, the determination and grit to succeed in a world dominated by men. In that respect too, they had a lot in common, but while Torres had made all the right noises about Kate’s vast and varied experience, the Northumbria DCI was under no illusion that she had to earn the American’s trust. Only then would she be granted access to classified information.

  Torres speed-read the document, then refocused on Kate, raising the possibility that a suicide bomber may have been on board and how easy it was to blow apart an airliner mid-flight: ‘A relatively small quantity of explosive planted in the right place would do it,’ she said.

  ‘Small enough for ground personnel to get it through security?’

  ‘We can’t rule it out. In theory, it should never happen, but once luggage has been checked, it’s all too easy to slip an explosive charge into a suitcase and then stash it in the hold.’

  ‘Why
focus your efforts here?’ Kate asked. ‘Couldn’t the bomb have been planted on a feeder flight?’

  ‘Unlikely.’

  ‘But not impossible—’

  ‘Passing explosives through more than one security device increases the risk of detection. Not all terrorists are sophisticated. Those that are have one thing in common. They’re after maximum impact, high death rates, newspaper headlines. Rest assured, we have operatives in or on their way to every feeder airport. You’re in the right place, and that’s a huge responsibility, one that would normally fall to officers and agents engaged in counterterrorism.’

  ‘So why not use them?’

  ‘Because I need someone who can commit to this 24/7. With the threat level in the UK at an all-time high, they’re knee-deep in other stuff, with hundreds of investigations open. Given that no one currently employed at Heathrow is on their watch list, we’re working on the assumption that the person or persons responsible have slipped through the net.’

  ‘A sleeper cell?’

  ‘Formulated with the specific aim of carrying out this attack.’

  ‘On a pre-arranged signal?’

  ‘Exactly that.’

  ‘Am I to report to SO15?’

  ‘Directly to me.’

  Kate wondered why Torres was bypassing Counter Terrorism Command. Maybe she was so high up, she had clearance to do her own thing. The majority of victims were US citizens. Homeland Security were the lead investigators.

  Torres showed not a flicker of emotion as she warned Kate to be vigilant, sharing her reading of the situation, spelling out the dangers of pursuing the kind of people they were after and what she had in mind for Kate to do. ‘Fanatics are prepared to die for their cause, which makes them unpredictable and dangerous. Those prepared to kill an unsuspecting public won’t discriminate when it comes to law enforcers.’

  ‘That’s a given—’

  ‘It bothers me that you’ll be unarmed.’

  It bothered Kate, too, though she kept that to herself.

  ‘Do not underestimate their capability,’ Torres said. ‘Or mine. This is a two-way street, Kate. You’ll be given every possible resource you need. The complexity of these attacks varies, but every incident provides new intelligence in the fight against terrorism. Be warned, these people are skilled in the art of duping security officials. As soon as loopholes are closed, they find new ways to get around them.’

  It was mind-boggling to hear it spelled out.

  Kate didn’t think she’d ever fly again.

  Torres misread the emotion. ‘If you are in any doubt—’

  ‘I’m not, but there’s something you should know.’ You didn’t mess with women like Special Agent Torres. ‘A close colleague of mine may have been on board 0113, a criminal profiler named Josephine Soulsby. She works for my unit in Northumbria—’

  ‘If I didn’t know that already, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. If you’re the detective I think you are, it’ll make you more, not less, driven to help us. I’m counting on you.’

  34

  Later, Hank followed Kate to her car. She took off from the Casualty Bureau at a fast pace, relaying details of not one, but two, conference calls with Torres in the past couple of hours, including a well-worked-out strategy. ‘An IED is looking more and more likely,’ Kate said as they sped along the dual carriageway. ‘Whoever planned this attack hasn’t picked a random day, a random flight. Torres thinks this is another poke at the US. We’re now working on the assumption that a malicious offender somehow bypassed explosive detection and X-ray machines and managed to secrete a bomb on board.’

  ‘How is that possible?’

  ‘I’m buggered if I know.’

  Hank said, ‘So where do we start?’

  Kate changed down, flooring the accelerator. ‘Torres is arranging an office for you at the airport. Whoever downed that plane planned his or her assault down to the last detail. She wants access to records of anyone on duty airside in the weeks leading up to the attack. If a baggage handler is our target, it’s plausible that they might have been warned for breaches in the past.’

  Hank wasn’t buying it. ‘A terrorist commander would use a clean skin, surely—’

  ‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you, yet how many times have we learned of an attack, only to find out later that a suspect was previously on an SO15 watch list?’

  ‘Then surely Torres will be party to that intelligence.’

  ‘We need to vet everyone, Hank.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Because I said so. Think about it. If we were investigating our own, we’d start with dirty cops—’

  ‘Yeah, to cover our arses—’

  ‘Hold that thought.’

  Increasing her speed, she checked the road signs, ignoring the next slip road. Hank had no idea where they were heading and didn’t ask. They weren’t on the airport road, so he figured she was following orders and would fill him in when they reached their destination. For now, her focus remained firmly on airport personnel.

  ‘We need to eliminate anyone who has come to negative attention. We’ll be castigated for it if we don’t and it turns out that one of them was responsible. We make no assumptions, Hank. Whoever we’re after would’ve been told to keep their noses clean. A rule-breaker, however small, might have been too scared to own up to their handler in case it scuppered their plans.’

  ‘Point taken.’

  He studied Kate. She was on a roll, her mind on the job for the first time since they had driven south. Jo might be the reason they were there, but the case was bigger than one individual, no matter how large a hole her disappearance had left in Kate’s heart. She hadn’t mentioned Jo for the past few hours, but he’d noticed moments of darkness creeping up on her from time to time, interrupting her train of thought mid-conversation. He wondered if these waves of grief meant that she was slowly and painfully accepting that Jo was lost. Either way, the investigation had taken priority over all else.

  Kate could bear the silence no longer. If Hank had any doubts she wanted to hear them. He’d gone very quiet. Taking her foot off the gas, she searched his face. He didn’t react, just stared out of the front windscreen, a miserable expression. No matter how grave a situation they were dealing with – and they had dealt with many, albeit not one of mass murder – it was unlike him to shut down.

  ‘Hank, if you have something to say, spit it out.’

  ‘I don’t.’ He wound down the window.

  An avoidance tactic? ‘You sure? For a moment, I thought you’d dropped off. I need your full attention. I can’t do this alone.’

  ‘You don’t have to.’ He swivelled in his seat to face her. ‘I’m in, Kate. I know what’s required and I’m up for it, a hundred per cent …’ He drew in a breath. ‘I was thinking—’

  ‘You usually do that out loud.’

  ‘Would our target have had the bottle to sit tight? Surely they would have fled already.’

  ‘Torres seems to think they’re still around. If they were on the fly, the anti-terrorist branch would’ve passed on names and there would be a manhunt underway. I got the distinct impression that no one has a clue on ID, so you’re probably right about a clean skin and, if that’s the case, whoever did this could be planning another attack.’

  ‘You think? Security will be tighter than ever now.’

  ‘Yeah, but we have no idea how they got the explosives through or how, despite routine patrols, the sniffer dogs failed to detect them. We can’t assume more aren’t planned. In today’s world, it’s a leap of faith every time you step on an aircraft. We think we’re safe, but how safe are we? There were nineteen hijackers involved in 9/11, on four separate aircraft.’ She stressed the word nineteen. ‘It’s only a matter of time before terrorists try something equally outrageous. For all we know, the pilot or co-pilot are not who we think they are.’

  ‘A suicide mission?’

  ‘You tell me. They walk through security like they’re God Almig
hty with four stripes on their epaulettes. Familiarity makes people lazy. How rigorously are their flight bags searched? Does anyone scrutinise their lanyards? Torres and her team are investigating all possibilities. We’re a small cog in a very large wheel. Apart from Bright, Waverley and Blue, no one knows what we’ve been asked to do, and that’s the way it stays. If we need assistance, we’ll ask for it. We have a specific job to do. We stick to the role we’ve been given.’

  ‘So, what’s the plan?’

  ‘Torres favours a covert op.’

  ‘That’s risky.’ Hank narrowed his eyes. ‘Don’t suppose you mentioned that Bright has ordered one of us back to base, or that we’ve already been at Heathrow asking questions.’

  ‘Not in the baggage shed we haven’t.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a no then.’

  ‘I’ll talk to Bright.’

  ‘You’d better do it soon. Actually, I’ll do it. He’ll be expecting me, not you.’

  ‘No, leave it with me. If anyone is going to get it in the neck it should be me.’

  35

  Hank had suggested they flip a coin for the undercover job. Kate declined. This was one she wanted to take on herself. Staff turnover was huge in a place like Heathrow. Those who were supposed to be watchful couldn’t possibly know everyone, and she didn’t believe that every face was checked against a pass before ground crew were allowed in. Now she knew her remit, she needed to move fast. If anyone could get through who shouldn’t be there, she wanted to know about it.

  Hank was sulking. ‘Undercover work is below your pay grade, isn’t it?’

  ‘When the stakes are this high, pay grade doesn’t come into it.’ Kate wondered if he wanted to keep her away from the baggage shed because he didn’t trust her to lay off a suspect should she find one. He might have a point. ‘I’ll brass-neck it,’ she said. ‘Trust me, I’m good at this. No one will take any notice of me. From now on, I’m a daft sod who fled to London to escape an abusive partner, a man older than me.’