by Karl Holton
Benedict stared at the floor, pressing a spot with his foot. “It’s not that; I was helped by someone … I killed the assassin but someone helped me,” he said, looking at her. “We don’t know who it was.”
Her eyebrows scrunched. “What do you mean?”
“Whoever helped me just disappeared. We’ve got no idea who it was,” he said. “MI5 haven’t let the police know the truth and they’re happy to ignore it. The killing of this assassin has been recorded as me while working for MI5 … but it’s not the complete truth.”
Wallace sat forward. “Why are you telling me?”
He knew she would ask and he didn’t know the answer himself; something inside told him he needed to tell her. “That day I had the feeling that someone was following me. Sometimes I get the feeling … and if you’re around me it would be good if you told me if you … feel anything.”
Her mouth curled but never made it to a smile.
“You know, partners … that sort of thing,” he said.
They both knew that she could make this uncomfortable for him. This moment of vulnerability was shatteringly silent in its solidarity. She smiled. “Of course.”
He smiled with a nod.
She sensed he wanted to move forward. “What’s the second thing?”
He moved and sat in the chair next to her desk. “I want to tell you something about what’s going on with me and MI5.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“Probably not,” he said.
“So why tell me?”
He remained in his position and smiled. She’s right, he thought. “I get the feeling that what I’m doing is far more dangerous than what we do on a normal day. In fact, on the basis of the last week or so, that’s an understatement.”
“I’m sure at some moment this spy-speak will translate into a sentence that a mere DI will understand,” she said. “Of course, I’m happy to slap you around until you spit out a coherent one.”
He moved his head downwards and opened his eyes to see her face. “I don’t want you in danger.”
Wallace’s eyes closed on him. “Would you be saying this if I was a man?”
Benedict thought about the faces of his other colleagues and team members that had been killed. There were too many to remember them all at once. “I care as little about the fact you look good in a skirt as I do about the fact you’re the smartest detective I know,” he said. “I’m saying this because you’re my partner.”
She felt her face warming as his eyes showed his desire for her protection. Only her dead husband had ever made her feel the way she did right now. She didn’t have any words.
He clasped both hands behind his head and looked straight at her. His mind drifted; Paddy’s description of the attempt on Hanson’s life in New York in 2009 came to mind, creating an Edward Hopper image in his mind. The sky brightened and light began to flood the office. “I know you can look after yourself, Wallace. These people that I’m working with … walk in places that we only hear about; each morning the lights promise means they wait for shadows. They want my help and I know the truth; I can help them. But I know that everyone who is close to this is in danger.”
She stared straight back. “Do you think I can help you?”
Benedict nodded.
She faintly tipped her head to one side and raised her eyebrows. “Then let’s get on with it.”
Chapter 29
Day 10
Holborn Police Station, London
12.40 p.m.
Wallace let her mind recount the subjects they needed to cover and she couldn’t help herself; her hands went up and she undid the band on her hair and redid it.
In front of her she had all the members of her Flying Squad team and everyone else involved in the murder investigation. “Right, can everyone be quiet?”
They all went silent.
“Before we start, let’s have some quick intros. This is Benedict who you all know, and this is DS Paulsen from the murder team. They’re going to focus on the murders of Curt Garrett in Hampstead and the Horne gang in Essex. Anything related to this goes to them. Understood?”
The team murmured agreement.
“The Flying Squad will focus on the robbery from the scene in Essex. DS Scott will lead this part. DCI Rowe is here from the Drugs Squad because we believe there is a strong probability that narcotics were involved.”
Rowe stood up. “DI Wallace, I just want it on record that we have no evidence that it was drugs at the moment. In fact, from what I’ve heard so far it cannot even be confirmed that a lorry was stolen from the scene.” He stared at Benedict, before sitting back down.
She noticed Scott move to interject, but she put her hand up to stop him.
“Thank you, DCI Rowe. Yes, I think we all agree that in terms of the facts, as yet we know very little with certainty … apart from what we can glean from the analysis of the murders at the scene,” she said. “We’ll come on to what we’ve discovered during this update meeting.”
Rowe stayed seated. “Yeah, but even that doesn’t give us much. Even if the gang had a sniper on the roof who shot a few people; that’s no great surprise that they used a shooter like this.”
Wallace glared at Rowe, before turning away. “What a fucking idiot,” she whispered to herself.
“Excuse me … what was that, Inspector?” Rowe demanded.
She turned back to him with a comfortable smile. “What about the fact that the same gun was used to kill Curt Garrett the day before?”
Rowe shrugged his shoulders, puffing through his nose. “They hired the same guy … so what?”
Wallace took a step towards him. “The Horne family are an Essex drug gang that got wiped out. A rival of this gang is the Gibbs family drug gang, which is connected to the Garrett family. The family that Curt Garrett was a member of; you don’t agree there’s a link?”
Rowe laughed. “What link? Every scumbag this side of Cardiff is a member of some gang or other.”
Wallace looked at Benedict. They both knew it would better for this meeting if Benedict didn’t talk to Rowe. They’d agreed as much in advance. She looked back at Rowe. “The well-known story; fifteen years ago the Horne family and specifically Billy Horne, were responsible for the murder of the then leaders of the Gibbs drug gang. They met them in a field and executed them,” she said, her eyes tightening on him. “This was the murder of Mick Gibbs, Tommy’s brother and John Garrett … the uncle of Curt Garrett.”
Rowe grinned. “As you say, DI Wallace … it’s a fifteen-year-old story.”
“You don’t think this creates a rather interesting motive for what happened?”
“In the last fifteen years I’m sure that Billy Horne has made plenty of enemies and many of them would be far more capable of this sort of violence than the Gibbs gang. They are small time, more likely to be guilty if Billy Horne was complaining about somebody nicking his pushbike.” Rowe looked around the room for laughs but received none.
Paulsen started moving towards Wallace. “Maybe that’s why they needed the support of the sniper.”
“What, you mean the same sniper that you think killed one of their own the day before?” Rowe said, shaking his head. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t buy it. The Gibbs gang hire the same shooter that killed a member of the Garrett family the previous day … am I the only person in this room who sees how ridiculous that sounds?”
Wallace stepped up to the wall of photographs in the space. “What if the two events are connected, but not necessarily linked by the same motive?”
Rowe chuckled. “You’ve been spending too much time with Benedict … what does that mean?”
Her team knew better than to laugh.
Wallace pointed at a large ‘question mark’ on the wall. “Let’s suppose we have a third party who has hired this sniper. It’s possible that they had a motive for killing Curt Garrett and then another motive for wiping out the Horne gang. There is a chance they might have convinced Tommy Gibbs to help with
the second element knowing his motives to help. They might do this without telling Tommy about the first.”
Rowe sat back in his chair. “There was quite a bit of conjecture in what you just said.”
Paulsen had moved beside Wallace. “That’s what murder investigation tends to be, DCI Rowe. We hypothesise about every possibility until we lock onto something where the facts match it. That way we tend not to make mistakes.”
Rowe looked quickly at Benedict who had his hand on his face hiding his laugh. He turned back to Paulsen. “Don’t try and lecture me about this, Sergeant.”
Wallace could see there was something being referred to here. Maybe this is what angered Rowe when Benedict spoke to him at the scene, she thought.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Paulsen said, smiling. “Do you think you’ll find your grass within the Gibbs gang soon? It would be useful to interview him … sir.”
Rowe stood up and pushed his chair away. He glared at Benedict, feeling his teeth rubbing against each other. “This is a waste of my time. I’ve got far more important things to be doing for this country. If you have anything you want to ask me, DI Wallace, then let me know.”
Wallace stepped close to him. “We’ve got a lot to discuss and we have some new information … I don’t think you should leave yet, sir.”
Rowe looked down at her. “I’m going … I’ll read your reports.” He started to walk away.
“Could you send us the list of potential enemies of Billy Horne you mentioned?” asked Wallace. “Anybody other than Tommy Gibbs who might have an interest in taking out the Horne gang with details of their motives … it would be useful.”
He stared at her for a moment; a sneer spread across his face. “I’ll send you something by tomorrow, Inspector.”
Wallace nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
Rowe stomped out of the room.
Wallace looked over towards Benedict. “Is there anything you want to add that hasn’t been said?”
Benedict was thinking; something was bouncing around his head but he couldn’t grab it. He turned to the team shaking his head. “What’s the new information you mentioned?”
Scott looked at Wallace, who nodded at him. He stood up. “Three new things have been discovered. Firstly, the pathologist has confirmed that the person who had his head blown off with a shotgun is Rich Horne, the younger brother of Billy.”
Wallace looked at Benedict who was smiling. She somehow sensed the word ‘revenge’ arrive in her thoughts.
“The second thing is that the blood spatter from Rich Horne’s shooting went towards the place where we believe a van may have been parked. Forensics confirmed that the ground has a rectangular shaped patch where the spatter is missing. All they’ve confirmed is that it is consistent with a vehicle being there at the time of the shooting.”
Paulsen pointed at the photograph of the scene on the wall. “Meaning there was something there which collected the spatter. So, if we find the van we’ll have forensic evidence on it.”
Scott nodded.
“Lastly, and this is thanks to the boss,” he said, gesturing at Wallace. “We’ve found a false passport in Toby Duffield’s jacket. This is the guy with the three bullets in his back. Forensics missed it with all the blood at the scene. We are about to start processing it.”
The people in the room started to chatter.
Wallace held her hand up and the room went quiet. “So, armed with this information, Scott, what will the Flying Squad team do now?”
Scott looked at her. “We don’t know if this van came from abroad. It may have just travelled there from within the UK. Now we have Toby’s false passport, if we discover the latest use of it was in the last few days we’ll get photos from the docks and ports and start a library. We might get lucky and identify the van. If we do … then we get Traffic working out where it’s been and finding it for us.”
Scott nodded. “Ok, we’ll get them on it.”
Paulsen looked at Wallace. “We’ll keep going on the sniper rifle; let’s see if we can identify it. We’ll stick to forensics and get every bit of info we can. But most importantly we need to find Tommy Gibbs and Johnnie Garrett.”
Wallace looked across at Benedict. Her smile was broad. “Do you think Tommy’s doing the obvious thing?”
He nodded. “He’s giving himself an alibi. He’ll pop up somewhere and say something like ‘I have been here for the last two days and look at all my witnesses’.”
The large door into the office swung open and Watkins entered the room. “Right, this meeting is over,” he said, looking at Benedict and Wallace. “You two, with me now.”
Chapter 30
Day 10
Holborn Police Station, London
1.03 p.m.
After a few steps down the corridor both Benedict and Wallace had caught Watkins who was striding as fast as his frame could move.
“Where are we going, sir?” asked Wallace.
He ignored her question as his face reddened.
“Why are you here at Holborn, sir? You wouldn’t come here to see us unless it was really urgent,” Benedict said.
After a few more steps, Watkins started to slow down. He looked at Wallace. “Inside this room, you might find it useful to let him do the talking,” he said, pointing at Benedict.
They walked into the meeting room to find Sean Dawson from MI5 pacing back and forth. Watkins and Benedict sat down.
Dawson stood in front of Wallace. “DI Wallace; I take it that you’ve signed the Official Secrets Act?”
She looked at Benedict. “This guy is MI5, isn’t he?”
Benedict nodded. “Sean, sit down. Why don’t you explain why you’re here with Watkins.”
Wallace walked past him and sat down. “What’s your full name, Sean?”
Dawson remained standing. “Sean Dawson … and yes, I’m MI5. Anything I tell you in this room is subject to official secrets.”
Watkins tapped the table with a large finger. “Dawson, please get on with it.”
“Approximately four hours ago three pieces of art were stolen from City Airport. However, the robbery was preceded by the murder of two shipping company drivers and a member of staff at the company office an hour and a half earlier.”
Watkins looked up. “You’ve made me come here because of an aggravated burglary?” he said, before a moment of realisation. “How do you know about this and I don’t?”
“It’s a security services matter.”
Watkins shook his head. “A robbery and three murders at a shipping company? That doesn’t make sense.”
Wallace stood up and stepped towards Dawson. “Superintendent Watkins is right; this is police business,” she said, before turning to Watkins. “Sir, let me go and look at the robbery and assess it and then Benedict can —”
Dawson put his hands behind his back. “Please sit back down, DI Wallace,” he said, staring at her. “I’ll say this once … national security.”
Benedict chuckled.
“How is an art theft ‘national security’?” she asked.
Dawson hadn’t moved his glare. “Because I say it is.”
Wallace remained standing and held out the palm of a hand. “You’re kidding, right?”
Benedict closed his eyes and touched the bridge of his nose with the tip of his finger. “He tends not to when he’s used those two words.”
Wallace tipped her head. “Oh, wait a minute … is this your MI5 friend?”
Dawson pointed at her. “DI Wallace the reason you’re in this room is that Benedict believes you’re capable. If he trusts you … I trust you. But let’s not get off on the wrong foot. I need you to do a job and that means you’re going to do it. Understand?”
Wallace stepped towards him. “I don’t work for you, so thanks but no thanks,” she stated, pointing at Watkins. “That man there is my boss and if he tells me something is my job then I’ll do it. Otherwise, you can stick that finger of yours in your arse.”
; Watkins sensed a smile on his face.
Benedict nodded. “She’s got a good point, Sean.”
Dawson didn’t let his face change. “I don’t care who you want to tell you what to do. Once I’ve explained … you’re going to do it.”
Watkins stood up. “Why don’t you explain, Dawson … and we’re very busy, so it better be good if you want me to agree quickly.”
Benedict looked at them all and considered a joke about walking into one of those Japanese meetings where everyone stands up. He decided against it.
Dawson paced away from them back towards the wall and turned to face them all. “The art was being brought to the UK with security services clearance. It’s so important it needed this to be allowed into the country.”
“Oh shit … that’s a cock-up, Sean,” Benedict said, placing a hand over his mouth, feigning a shock. Wallace grinned.
“This isn’t amusing, Benedict. Another person connected to this has been murdered,” Dawson said. “An employee at HM Customs & Excise was murdered at his home and his house —”
“Was set on fire,” said Watkins. “John Davidson; the guy in the house in East Ham.”
Benedict turned to him. “The one Paulsen is supposed to be looking after?”
“Correct,” said Dawson. “We think he was giving information to whoever did the robbery. That person killed Davidson once he had everything he needed from him.”
“Hold on,” Wallace said. “You have said nothing that makes this sound like it has anything to do with national security. The fact the art was important just doesn’t sound enough.”
Dawson smirked. “Well, all I can tell you is that Benedict and I are about to go and meet the person who owned the art and they are important to national security.”
Wallace laughed. “So, are you both off to Downing Street or something?”