CXVI The Beginning of the End (Book 1): A Gripping Murder Mystery and Suspense Thriller (CXVI BOOK 1)

by Angie Smith

  “Again, I’d prefer not to comment.”

  Woods erupted. “You’d prefer not to comment! I’ve got my detectives wasting precious time running around trying to figure out who’s involved, who to protect and who might be a suspect; and you place this idiot in the team, who’s only interested in feeding material back to you and withholding crucial information from us.”

  “This isn’t what I agreed to,” Holden said, shaking his head. “He was supposed to assist with the investigation.”

  “Again I apologise,” Faulkner-Brown said. “I’m happy to answer questions, but you must understand there are some matters which I simply can’t comment on.”

  “What information are you prepared to divulge, particularly in relation to Williams?” Woods probed.

  “I’ve told you all I can on that subject.”

  “He’s a former agent of yours, isn’t he?”

  Faulkner-Brown looked furtively around. “No, of course not.”

  Woods grinned. “Of course he isn’t. How stupid of me to suggest such a preposterous thing. What was I thinking?” He glared at Faulkner-Brown. “I don’t suppose you know the whereabouts of Victor Zielinski and Rebecca Ramírez?”

  Faulkner-Brown shook his head. “I’m sorry I don’t, and to be frank I suspect both Zielinski and Ramírez may already have been murdered. Like you, we can’t find any trace of them, but I wouldn’t recommend you stop looking until you’ve found them or their bodies.”

  “What about Crean’s accident?”

  “We can’t find anything suspicious there either.”

  “So we can stop wasting time on that then; if you’d only shared this with us earlier,” Woods said, exasperated.

  Faulkner-Brown looked back at Holden. “I admit we’ve made a complete hash of this, but we would like to continue working alongside your detectives. I appreciate the trust between us has been dented and I take full responsibility for that, but if we can put that aside I feel a combined approach would be preferential to us all.”

  Woods sensed Holden was unsure of what to do; maybe it was his own fiery nature that caused his Chief Constable to be having doubts about this working. If he was honest with himself he too was uncertain they could work together; he’d never trust Dudley again.

  “There must be transparency and sharing of information,” Holden said.

  Faulkner-Brown nodded, “I agree.”

  “And I’d appreciate not having the office or our phones bugged,” Woods added, spotting Faulkner-Brown give the slightest of nods to Dudley, as though signalling something to him.

  “Good,” Faulkner-Brown said. “We’ll share information through Hilton, but we’d ask you to keep his true identity between these four walls.”

  Holden nodded in agreement.

  At this point Dudley stood, went over to Woods and offered his right hand. “Sorry,” he said. “No hard feelings?”

  Woods got up and shook his hand, but his stance indicated he was far from being happy with the situation; he had to follow Holden’s lead and get on with the investigation.

  “Are we all done here, Sir?” Foster asked.

  “I think so. Keep me up to date,” Holden replied.

  Faulkner-Brown stayed seated as Woods, Dudley and Foster left.

  “Let me grab you a coffee, Greg,” Dudley said as they passed the vending machine on the top floor.

  Barnes’ eyes widened when she saw Woods and a slightly ruffled Hilton Dudley return to the Incident Room, both with coffees and appearing placid. Dudley went over to his desk and started working, while Woods went into his office closing the door behind him. Barnes stayed seated for a few minutes closely watching Dudley; then she went to Woods’ office. She looked in through the vision panel and saw him crawling around on the floor looking under his desk and chair. She went inside quietly.

  “Stop worrying, there was only one listening device. I thoroughly checked the rest of the office this morning,” she whispered as she perched on one of the stools.

  “So why are you whispering?” Woods asked, dusting himself down and going to sit behind his desk.

  “I don’t know. How come Dudley’s still here, and what happened to his nose and trousers?”

  Woods took a sip of coffee. “It’s a long story, but we’re stuck with him.”

  “What?”

  “Listen, keep this between the two of us; they want to hide his true identity.”

  “Secret Service?”

  Woods smiled as he nodded. “They wanted an assurance we’d keep quiet about it. . . ”

  “But, somehow you managed to weasel your way out of agreeing to that.”

  Woods took another sip of coffee. “Sort of… Anyway, until we get the camera back, I haven’t agreed to anything.”

  “So they do have it.”

  Woods pulled Barnes’ tablet out of his pocket and handed it back to her. “Thanks for that,” he said, “and don’t worry, I kept your name out of it. From now on, don’t tell Dudley anything, keep as far away from him as you can, and be on your guard all the time he’s around.”

  “What about Plant?”

  “Forget him,” Woods said, explaining about the battery swap to the satellite phone.

  “What do we do now?”

  Woods had another swig of coffee and placed the carton back down on his desk. “We concentrate on finding Zielinski and Ramírez; if they’re alive we protect them, and we keep up the surveillance on Pauline. We also need to focus on Gerrard Crean; it’s assumed he’s commissioned the murders and therefore we need to know who he associated with in the time leading up to his death. The SIS has been trying to catch the killer, and the inference is our best chance is when he next tries to murder someone. . .” Woods hesitated and looked down; he closed his eyes tightly.

  “Are you alright?” Barnes asked, concerned.

  Woods did not reply. He clutched his chest with his right hand, grimaced and took a deep breath as the colour drained from his face. He groaned loudly and slumped forward on his desk, knocking the coffee carton over.

  Barnes jumped off the stool and dashed across to him; she felt for a pulse and then ran to the door. “Call an ambulance!” she screamed. “He’s having a heart attack.” She ran back inside, pulled Woods onto the floor and started CPR just as Dudley appeared at the door.

  “Let me help,” he said.

  Barnes noticed him glance at Woods’ desk. “Get McLean and. . .”

  “Aye, I’m here, Maria,” McLean shouted. “Let me take over.” He pushed Dudley out of the way and Barnes moved to one side as he administered CPR.

  Jacobs and West appeared. “The paramedics are on their way,” West shouted.

  “Go get the defibrillator,” Barnes screamed at Dudley, as her mind focused on the coffee carton on Woods’ desk.

  “Where is it?”

  “It’s in the Custody Suite.”

  Dudley vanished.

  “Sharron, go find out how long the paramedics are going to be,” Barnes yelled.

  “What can I do?” Jacobs asked.

  “Run upstairs and tell Foster.”

  Jacobs sprinted off.

  Barnes quickly collected the carton from the desk, scooping a small amount of spilt coffee into it. Then she slipped it in her jacket pocket unseen by McLean, who was busy with the CPR. “Is he going to be alright?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Find out where the paramedics are.”

  Barnes went back out to the Incident Room and over to her desk. She placed the carton in her bottom drawer and locked it, just as Dudley returned with the defibrillator. He looked at her as she made her way over to West. “Where are they, Sharron?” she asked, then, looking at Dudley, “Take it in there, you imbecile,” she ordered, pointing at Woods’ office.

  Pauline Crean’s private protection was being provided by John Inwood and Christine Simonstone; both were former Royalty Protection Officers who were extremely competent and professional in their duties. Inwood was six-foot tall, dark haired a
nd well built, whereas Simonstone was five-foot-six, with long blond curly hair and a slender, but muscular build. Pauline had given them complete access to the farmhouse and grounds, but both held concerns about the safety of their charge, which they’d shared with her. Consequently she’d become a self-imposed prisoner in her own home, which was neither conducive nor beneficial to her previously improving state of mind.

  Luckily Pauline recognised this and, after discussing it with her Psychologist, Dr Rosco, she had decided to become proactive and therefore called a meeting with the two Protection Officers.

  “The problems here are the grounds: the open undulating fields, the lake, the dry stone walls and the woods all add to the difficulty we have in securing the area around the farmhouse,” Inwood said.

  “What about the police surveillance - isn’t that helping?” Pauline asked.

  “Not as much as you might think,” Simonstone said. “Yes they’re a visible deterrent, but there aren’t enough of them. And because they’re so conspicuous they’re easily avoided. Not only that, but now Gerrard has been linked to the crimes we’ve also got the paparazzi taking an interest in you.”

  Inwood leaned forward. “Look, Pauline, there’re also some other people, who we haven’t managed to identify, watching the farmhouse from a distance. That’s why we’ve asked you to remain indoors as much as possible. The farmhouse is your safe haven; it’s surrounded by CCTV, motion sensors and security lights and we can easily lock it down.”

  “How many additional people would it take to secure the stables, barns, paddocks, courtyards and the areas near to the farmhouse, like the sun-terraces, patios and balconies?” Pauline asked.

  Inwood looked at Simonstone. “What do you think, Christine - six, possibly seven?”

  “I would say at least six,” she replied.

  “Right, I’ll ring and ask for additional resources. I want to be able to exercise the horses and dogs, and to get some fresh air, without the fear of being attacked.”

  “Don’t worry, Pauline,” Simonstone said, taking out her mobile. “We’ll ring them, we know the good people there and we’re choosey who we work with.”

  It was 2.25 p.m. when Barnes was sitting outside the Coronary Care Unit at Pinderfields Hospital. She’d arrived at two o’clock expecting to be allowed to see Woods, but instead she’d been instructed to wait while the cardiologists assessed his condition. She’d been told his wife and two daughters were currently with him. It had taken the paramedics twenty-eight minutes to attend the Incident Room; way outside their target arrival time, and it had been McLean’s sheer tenacity with the CPR that had saved Woods.

  As she waited her mind raced with thoughts about what had happened and the cause thereof. The level of trauma Woods had suffered was clear to everyone who witnessed it, as was the fact that he was going to be out of action for some time. Talk in the Incident Room had been about who might replace him, and both McLean and Jacobs made it clear they had no wish to step into his shoes, even on a temporary basis.

  Out of sight of everyone, Barnes had placed the coffee carton in an evidence bag, labelled it up, taken it to the laboratory testing facility on the outskirts of Bradford and asked for it to be analysed for any unusual substances. She currently had the overwhelming feeling of impending doom and was fearful of Woods’ diagnosis.

  The doors to the unit opened and three people whom she assumed to be his wife and daughters appeared.

  The woman approached her. “Hello, Maria. I’m Pamela, Greg’s wife. I recognise you from the TV, and this is Laura, and Holly.”

  Barnes jumped up and greeted the trio. “How is he?”

  “He’s been really lucky, although he doesn’t remember much about it. The doctors say he was fortunate to have such good colleagues who acted promptly to help keep him alive. He wanted me to thank both you and Pete.”

  “I didn’t do much, except order people about and shout at everyone; it was McLean who saved his life. What have they said caused it?”

  “They’re not sure, but working long hours, stress, tension and poor diet haven’t helped. You’ll know what he’s like, he won’t listen to anyone.”

  Barnes smiled. “Is he allowed visitors?”

  “Yes, of course he is, but he’s quite sleepy, so don’t stay too long.”

  “I won’t,” she replied; then thinking, added, “It’s lovely to meet you. He talks about you all the time, and I know he’s so proud of you two.” She looked at Holly and Laura, who smiled back.

  “He speaks very highly of you too,” Pamela said. “He’s in Room 22,” she mouthed, as Barnes went to the doors.

  She walked along the corridor checking the door numbers, finally arriving at 22. She knocked quietly and heard Woods say come in. Slowly, she opened the door and tentatively put her head in.

  “Hello, Maria, come in and sit down,” Woods said smiling. “It’s good to see you… I want to thank you for what you did. I won’t forget that.”

  Barnes blushed. “You don’t need to thank me; you’d have done the same thing if it was me who needed help. Listen, I won’t stay long, I wanted to see you and know you’re okay. You scared the shit out of me,” she said, sitting on the chair at the side of the bed.

  Woods laughed and then grimaced. “Don’t make me laugh, it hurts like hell. Do you know that’s the first time I’ve heard you swear?”

  “Do you remember any of it?”

  “Bits. You were there. I’d just got back from seeing Holden and Faulkner-Brown.”

  “Who’s Faulkner-Brown?”

  Woods explained.

  “They’re tipping Dudley to be in charge of the investigation while you’re recovering.”

  Woods sighed. “The doctors are talking about at least three months off work. I’m not having that, I’ll be back well before then.”

  “Have you any idea what caused this?”

  Woods twitched his face. “I’m not sure… But I suspect it wasn’t health related.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s obvious they wanted me off the investigation; Faulkner-Brown admitted they’d made a grave mistake and underestimated me. I saw him nod at Dudley as though he was signalling to him. I totally misjudged their intentions. I should’ve watched my back, just as you’d warned, but I’d intended playing along and keeping the cards close to my chest. I wasn’t going to be helpful.”

  “Who got the coffees?”

  Woods scowled. “Dudley, from the machine on the top floor… Why?”

  “Mmm, do you think he put something in it?”

  “Ahhh… well, I wouldn’t bet against it. There’s so much that doesn’t add up, for example, if all they’re interested in is capturing Freddy Williams. . .”

  “Who’s he?”

  Woods clarified. “Anyhow, if all they’re interested in is capturing Williams, then why are they tampering with evidence, withholding information, bugging my office, and desperately trying to get to the crime scene before us? If you ask me they don’t want him captured, they want him dead. Oh, and by the way, Dudley carries a gun.”

  “Then you’re better off out of it. If they’ve attempted to kill you there’s nothing they would stop at to achieve their goal.”

  Woods was silent.

  Barnes pondered. She was in two minds as whether to mention the laboratory tests. Eventually she said, “I might have some evidence for you.” She gave an explanation about the coffee carton. “The way Dudley was desperately trying to find it after you’d been taken to hospital leads me to believe there was more than coffee in it.”

  “Well done, Maria, but they’ll see the report, destroy it and then you’ll be in danger.”

  “O ye of little faith. They won’t see the report, because I know one of the lab technicians and he’s doing the analysis on the quiet. Only you and I will see it.”

  Woods laughed again and then groaned in pain. “What would I do without you?”

  “Not get yourself killed…” she looked thoughtfully
at him. “I feel responsible for this; if I hadn’t come to you with the footage of Dudley, none of this would have happened.”

  “No, they’d have happily been eavesdropping on every conversation in my office and doing as they pleased, while we ran round like silly beggars trying to catch someone they already know a great deal about. You did the right thing. Now we’ve to decide how we turn this to our advantage.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Our job is to bring the criminals to justice, not assist in their murder, no matter how heinous their crimes. So, what if I play along and stay off work, while you become Miss Congeniality and appear to be doing everything you can to assist with the inquiry. Meanwhile, under the radar, I’ll be conducting my own investigation, helped by you keeping me up to speed with what’s happening at work.”

  “That sounds good to me, but are you sure you feel up to it?”

  Woods nodded. “Sure; we’ll communicate using unregistered mobiles, switched on in discreet locations at set times of the day. As long as you don’t place yourself in danger the risk will remain with me.”

  “Don’t worry, I can look after myself. I could interrogate the system and let you have the information as and when you need it.”

  Woods looked uneasy. “I don’t want you endangering yourself, Maria.”

  “Listen, I’m not the one stupid enough to accept a coffee from Dudley, and wonder why I’ve ended up in hospital.”

  “Okay, good point well made.”

  “What will Pamela think about all this?”

  Woods gave her a quizzical look.

  “I met her outside, and Laura and Holly. I said you were always talking about them and were very proud.”

  “I see,” he said, appearing embarrassed. “Why did you say that?”

  “Would you have preferred me to say you’ve never mentioned them and until today I didn’t even know they existed?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Why don’t you ever discuss them? Pamela’s lovely and your daughters are a credit to you both.”

  “Thank you,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “I suppose I like to keep my private life private. And besides, you don’t discuss your home life; I don’t know much about you outside work, other than you go out running, keep fit and eat like a horse. Have you got a boyfriend?”