by Celina Grace
“We’ll be in touch with his family,” said Ricky.
“We’ll also need their details,” said Kate, quickly.
“Yes, of course.” Ricky caught her eye and held it for just a fraction too long for comfort. Kate coughed, hiding her embarrassment.
At that moment, Theo knocked on the glass door and popped his head into the office. “Kate, I’ve got Stuart on the phone for you.” He favoured Ricky with a gaze that was distinctly cold. Alpha-male clashes, Kate thought with amusement. Theo wasn’t used to being the second-best-looking male in the office.
“Right,” she said out loud. “Please excuse me, gentlemen.”
She’d anticipated that Stuart would hopefully have a bit more information for her about working undercover, but as it turned out, he merely wanted to firm up a date for their team get-together. Biting back her annoyance, Kate found a date that worked for them all—not including Chloe, obviously, but she’d never worked with Stuart so that wasn’t a priority—and made a note of it in her calendar.
She’d just put the phone down when Olbeck approached her desk. She glanced towards his office, where the figure of Ricky Khan remained slumped in his chair, gazing at the photo of Samir.
“Kate,” Olbeck said. “I’ve had an idea. Could you take Ricky for a cup of tea or to the pub or something? I have a feeling he might open up a bit more to you.”
Kate swallowed. “Why do you say that?”
Olbeck smiled. “Well, you’re a people person, aren’t you? And an experienced interviewer.”
“So are you,” Kate pointed out.
“Yeah, I know. But I’ve got another meeting and besides—” His smile became a grin. “I don’t think I’m really his type.”
“And I am?” Kate said, feeling a pleasurable frisson at the thought. “Well, good to know your gaydar is still in good working order. What do you want me to ask him?”
Olbeck shrugged. “Just try and get anything you can. See if you can find out about this extremist group. Anything. In fact, definitely take him to the pub, it might do the trick.”
Kate snorted. “If he’s Muslim, he probably won’t even drink. And he’s MI5, he’s well used to people trying to get stuff out of him.” She saw Olbeck’s expression and relented. “Okay, okay, I’ll do my best.” She saw Ricky stand up in the office and sling on his jacket. “It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it.”
Chapter Fourteen
Kate took Ricky to The Arms, the unofficial counter headquarters of the Abbeyford team. All police officers needed a place to decompress after finishing work and this once-tawdry pub had recently undergone a revamp, with the sticky carpets replaced by wooden floorboards, the peeling wallpaper removed and the walls repainted, some tasteful lights and vases of fresh flowers dotted around. Ricky seemed to nod in approval as Kate ushered him in the door before her.
“Very nice. Better than our local.”
“What will you have?” asked Kate, politely.
It turned out that Ricky did drink. Much as she was curious, Kate refrained from asking him his religious affiliation. Why was it her business to know? Perhaps he wasn’t Muslim after all. Perhaps he wasn’t even religious. She bought his pint and her glass of red wine and found them a table.
They faced each other over the surface of the polished oak table. Ricky smiled tentatively, and Kate was conscious once more of that attraction she’d previously felt. Get a grip.
“So,” she began, feeling her way. “What can you actually tell me?” A second later she reconsidered. “I mean, can you tell me anything about MI5? I’m fascinated. How did you get into it?”
Ricky laughed. “I’ll tell you what I can. I actually got recruited, can you believe it? After university.”
“Really?”
Ricky nodded. “They were purposely looking for people who could—you know, infiltrate jihadi groups. That was the big thing then. Well, it still is now, of course.” He looked sombre. “Although, now, you’d need shaven-headed, thuggy white guys as much as us dark lads.”
“True.” Kate felt depressed, thinking of various newspaper headlines: of the rise of the far-right, the murder of the Member of Parliament Jo Cox by a right-wing fascist. Thinking out loud, she said, “I’d be a rotten spy, I think. I’ve never been very good at acting.”
“It’s not just that. You can be trained. Well, you are trained. Very well. You have to be.” Ricky smiled again. “Why don’t you apply and see?”
Kate, realising he wasn’t being entirely serious, laughed. A moment later, her phone rang. Anderton’s name flashed up on the screen. Automatically, Kate went to answer it and then, for some reason, her hand slowed.
“Don’t you have to get that?” asked Ricky.
“No, it can wait.” Kate put her still-ringing phone back in her bag, coolly. What was wrong with her? All she knew is that she didn’t really want to talk to her partner right then.
“So, how about you?” asked Ricky. “Have you been an officer long?”
Kate sat back in her chair. “Pretty much my entire adult life. I joined up at eighteen.” She thought, but didn’t add, after I had my son who I gave up for adoption. She’d spent so much time and therapy dealing with the emotions of that instance of her past that, to be frank, in the last few years, she’d not thought much of it, dealing as she was with work and relationships and life in general. But now, the memories suddenly assailed her, and she blinked and looked away.
She had the feeling that Ricky could tell something was wrong. Being a spy must make you a very sensitive judge of human behaviour, she thought. Battling for control, she sat up a bit straighter and plastered on a smile. Suddenly, she didn’t give a damn about questioning him about the case, or MI5, or anything to do with work. I give enough of myself to the damn job, she thought. To hell with it. “Fancy another drink?” was what she said out loud.
“Where’ve you been?” Anderton asked when she got home two hours later, a little worse for wear after three more drinks with Ricky.
“Just down The Arms for a drink with the others.” Kate was guiltily aware that this was stretching the truth to the very limit. Maybe I’m better at acting than I thought.
“Okay,” Anderton said absently. He was checking a property website on his phone, his attention divided. “I left you a message.”
“Yes, sorry, I didn’t hear my phone.” Now, that was an outright lie. Kate coughed and sat down next to him, kissing his stubbly cheek. Anderton’s hair had always been grey since she’d known him, but now she realised there were snowy glints in the hair above his ears, like a sprinkling of snow on metal.
“Any more luck with the case?”
“We’ve got an identification. It’ll probably hit the press tomorrow.” Kate thought of the circumstances. “Or maybe not, I don’t know.” She was aware she was slurring her words a little.
Anderton looked at her with a grin. “How many have you had, missy?”
“Only a few. Well, maybe a few more than a few.”
“Hmmmm.” Anderton leant forward to put his phone on the coffee table and then turned to take her into his arms. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t pass up the opportunity to take advantage of you in your drunken state.”
Kate giggled, leaning forward to kiss him. As they sank back onto the sofa, she thought of handsome, young Ricky Khan and expelled every thought of him from her mind with a conscious effort of will.
Chapter Fifteen
“Good news,” were the heartening words that greeted Kate as she walked into the office the next morning. Martin was waving at her from his desk.
“Oh yes? What’s happened?”
Martin scooted his wheeled chair over a little so that Kate could look at his computer screen. “See here. I’ve been going through CCTV and I’ve found some footage of the two of them—Ibrahim and this mysterious Mo. It’s clear enough that I t
hink we might be able to get a visual recognition on Mo’s face.”
Kate was conscious of a slowly dawning excitement. “That’s fantastic, Martin.” She watched as he scrolled through the footage slowly and then zoomed in on one particular shot. Kate leaned closer, peering. The stilled footage showed two young men, standing on a street that she recognised as being close to the Faith Fitness gym. They were facing each other, but the one that she knew as Ibrahim/Samir was sideways to the camera, whereas his companion—as Martin had called him, the mysterious Mo—stood face on. She could see that Samir was in the middle of speaking, but Mo’s face was set, almost grim.
“They were arguing,” she said softly, thinking out loud.
Martin shrugged. “Perhaps. But this facial image of Mo is good enough, I think, to run it through what we need to.”
“Brilliant.” Kate patted him on the shoulder. “Get straight on that. Hopefully he’s got a record and we can track him down through that.”
Feeling more cheerful, Kate headed back to her desk. Her good mood plummeted once she checked her mobile phone and saw she had a message from Chloe, giving her the details of Roman’s funeral the next day. Chloe had added are you sure you’re okay to come with me, bird? X Kate shook her head and replied Of course I am, silly. I’ll call you later XXX
Frowning, she turned to her emails and the steadily mounting paperwork that never seemed to ease. She pulled her notepad towards her and began to write a list. Lists never let you down. Kate couldn’t do her job without a good list. She scribbled down her thoughts: identify Mo, talk to Stuart again, interview neighbours of Samir…
There was so little to go on. Frustrated, Kate flung down her pen and sighed. Right, well Martin was working on the identification for Mo. Was it actually worth talking to Stuart again, at that moment? Kate shook her head. It could wait. It could probably even wait until they all caught up again informally. She grabbed her bag and coat and called across to Theo that she was going out interviewing. He responded with a wave of his hand.
The day was one of those grey, nothing-y days that characterised England’s weather. Too warm for a coat, too cold for a T-shirt; at least it wasn’t raining. Kate unlocked her car, flung her handbag onto the passenger seat and drove away. As she was waiting to join the dual carriageway, she changed her mind about interviewing Samir’s neighbours. Glancing at the clock, she thought it likely that most of them would probably be at work, and it sounded as though he’d kept a very low profile at his bedsit. Tapping the wheel thoughtfully, Kate took the road that led to Bucklesbury House.
As she drove towards the stately home, Kate’s mind whirred. Why had Samir been found here? It was just so unlikely. What connection had the dead man had with the house, the grounds? Had the group he’d infiltrated met here? Kate pondered and had to admit that a jihadi group meeting on the grounds of an English mansion house could actually be seen as brilliant double bluff. Who would suspect them, given the location? But then, a group of young, Asian men would probably stand out a mile in such a situation, wouldn’t they? Shaking her head, Kate put such thoughts out of her head and pressed her foot to the accelerator.
She parked in the visitors’ car park and then paused, tapping the steering wheel again, lost in thought. She didn’t actually know why she’d come. Perhaps she could get more of a feel for why this place had been where the body had been discovered. Perhaps she could see if there had been any other young men spotted on the grounds. She walked towards the tea rooms, thinking of fortifying herself with a nice hot coffee before she started interviewing.
Bernard Roland, the manager, wasn’t at work, but Kate managed to track down Rosamund Kite. The woman looked much as she had when Kate had first encountered her: frumpy, her long dark hair dragged back into a messy twist, wearing a bulky knitted jumper, but she seemed a little less nervous than during her first interview with Kate.
“No, I’m sorry,” Rosamund said when Kate asked about whether she’d ever noticed a group of young Asian men, or even just young men, about Bucklesbury House. “I’ve never seen anything of the sort. Some family groups, of course and some couples. But a group of young men, especially Asian men…no, never. Well, it’s not their sort of thing, is it, I suppose.” She trailed off and added, “May I ask why you want to know?”
“I’m afraid not.” Kate smiled to take the sting out of the words. “We’re just making enquiries, Mrs Kite.”
“I’m really sorry I can’t help any further.” Rosamund paused, frowning. Then the frown cleared to be replaced by a look of sadness. “I’ve been thinking about…it—a lot. It just seems like such a shame. Someone so young—to have died like that. Such a… Well, such a waste, isn’t it?” She paused again and added, “I’ve got teenage boys, and I just think—well—I just couldn’t bear it if anything happened to them. Sorry, I’m rambling…”
Kate warmed to her. “I know what you mean, Mrs Kite.” Silence fell for a moment before Kate shook herself back to reality and asked if Nick Riley was on the premises.
Two hours later, Kate made her way back to the car, frustrated and baulked. What a waste of time. Providing they were telling her the truth, nobody had noticed any kind of group of young Asian men, either on the grounds or in the vicinity. She’d managed to speak to Rosamund Kite, Nick Riley and several volunteers, and nobody had anything new to tell her, except that Nick Riley was still fairly certain that Samir had been the man seen in the lane outside the church.
It was late enough that she could have headed home, but instead Kate decided to drive back to the station. As she drove, she could hear her mobile chiming with notifications and, after trying to ignore them for five minutes, she pulled into a layby and checked her messages. Anderton had texted her several links to property websites—which she ignored. Time enough to look at those later. Martin had WhatsApped her something far more intriguing. Have an ID on Mo. Typical of Martin’s phlegmatic personality that that particular bombshell didn’t even warrant an exclamation mark. Or a shocked looking emoji, thought Kate, with an inner grin. She dialled the office number only to find that Martin had already left. Well, it was clocking off time, and he had a young child at home who no doubt would want him. Sod it, home time. She’d check it tomorrow. As she thought that, she realised she wouldn’t be able to; tomorrow was Roman’s funeral. Oh, God. After a moment, she messaged Martin back. Can you please give all info to Mark? I won’t be in tomorrow.
“Did you look at those houses?” was Anderton’s opening remark as she walked into the tiny hallway of his house. They tended to stay at her place, so Merlin could be tended to, but tonight Kate had suggested they stay at his. She felt she needed a change of scene and, let’s face it, better comfort than she would have at her house.
“Not yet.” Kate unzipped her boots with a sigh. “It’s not, how do they call it, ‘top of mind’ right now.”
“I know.” Anderton folded her into a hug. “Tomorrow’s going to be very hard, I know.”
Kate leant her head against his chest, hearing the faint thud of his heartbeat. “Could you drop me off?”
Anderton drew her away, holding onto her shoulders. “Drop you off? I’m coming with you, you idiot.”
Kate swallowed, near to tears. Everything seemed so overwhelming right now. Of course Anderton would come with her. He was her partner. What’s wrong with you? Out loud she said, “Of course, I knew you would. I’m sorry.”
He looked her straight in the eye. “Can I make a suggestion?”
“What?”
“I think you need to see Magda again.”
Magda had been Kate’s therapist, although Kate hadn’t seen her for some years. Startled, Kate stepped away. “Why do you say that?”
“You’re struggling a bit. There’s nothing wrong with that. A lot of things have happened.”
Kate bit back the defensive retort that sprang to her lips. He was right. More and more, she was start
ing to think she was at a crossroads in her life, multiple paths laid out before her. Should they marry? Should they try for children? She was attracted to another man, did that mean that what she and Anderton had wasn’t, well, right? Her friend was in the middle of a breakdown. The country was collapsing—or at least, that’s what it felt like. Was being a DI going to be enough for her for the rest of her life? Is this what a mid-life crisis feels like, she thought, giddily.
Out loud, she said, “Maybe you’re right. I’ll call her.”
“Good.”
Chapter Sixteen
The crematorium was set in beautiful grounds. Rose gardens, mature trees and a long sweep of a wildflower meadow led down to a winding stream at the foot of the hill. The building itself had a glassed wall that overlooked the flower meadow, and Kate, sitting next to Chloe with Anderton on the other side of her, thought how peaceful it was, how soothing to the soul to witness such natural beauty. It almost distracted from the horror of the coffin on the dais in front of the rows of chairs.
When it had been carried in, she’d heard Chloe give a soft, gasping moan and instinctively turned to hold her. She still held her now, Chloe’s head resting on her chest as she cried, shaking against her. Anderton grasped Kate’s free hand firmly. Kate could feel her own tears welling up, but she didn’t want to let go of either Chloe or Anderton to wipe them away. Slowly, they dripped down her face onto Chloe’s lovely golden hair, but Kate knew her friend would be oblivious to the drips of salt-water falling on her head. Anderton reached over and gently wiped them from her face with a tissue, which made Kate cry more at his kindness and care.
Kate had been to many funerals in her life, both personal and for work. There was always that slight shock at the size of the coffin—only once had Kate thought that the coffin had looked big enough to contain a person. They otherwise almost always looked too small. She darted a glance at the coffin now. She’d only met Roman twice, but he’d been a big man, six foot at least. How could that small oblong box contain a person, a complex, vibrant, amazing person? Inescapably, she found herself thinking about the nature of the injuries he would have suffered and flinched away from them. Don’t think about that. Think about how he’d been kind and funny and had treated Chloe well. Why was life so bloody unfair?