“Without going into too many details, we were able to build up a reliable picture of her. Vasilev was certainly no idealist. But she was driven by a sense of pride in her work, not some misplaced desire to defeat the West. We confirmed that Vasilev was working on a miniaturisation programme.”
He slowed down, and Roper took the chance to ask a question. “Do you think technology has improved enough to make that more likely?”
The retired spy chief looked thoughtful and took his time answering.
“There have been some big advances, but there are still problems.” He spread his hands in an apologetic gesture. “Allow me to digress a little. You will of course recall Winston Churchill’s famous saying that Russia was ‘a riddle, wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma’.
“While that was a wonderful observation it has given rise to the idea that all Russians are fiendishly brilliant, which is a bit misleading. The old Soviet Union operated in the same way that any bureaucracy does. In a way their job is to manage the allocation of limited resources to all the competing demands.
“Even the old KGB couldn’t just keep pursuing some pet project without proving there was a chance of getting a result. I imagine that is still the same - although I am retired, after all.”
Roper was looking very bright-eyed. “With your experience, and what you said about the pressure to get results, do you think she would have given up the project?”
“Perhaps but also recall that I mentioned events. Maybe Vasilev had given up on the idea a few years ago, but something has brought it back to the front of her mind. The one thing I can tell you with total certainty is that such ideas are very seductive. It is rare for them to die away altogether; more a question of going into hibernation.”
“So you think there is a very real threat: Not just weapons as deterrents, but people looking for opportunities to use them against an enemy?” Roper had leaned forward as he spoke.
Sir Robert took a moment as he gathered his thoughts.
“You have to remember that life was a bit more straightforward in my day. We always knew who our enemies were and could plan accordingly. I think today’s generation have forgotten that there are people out there who wish harm on us and our way of life.
“I’m not talking about terrorists. They will always exist. What I am talking about is state-sponsored aggression. So, yes, I do think there is a real threat.”
That answer seemed to satisfy Roper, and they spent another hour with Sir Robert. By the end of the interview Hooley was pretty certain that the former secret service man was holding something back, but he couldn’t quite place what. He supposed there must be a million secrets in that world.
The meeting could have gone on longer but the DCI was happy to end it after two hours. Roper was showing all the signs of becoming too fixated, starting to ask dogmatic questions that earned him quizzical looks.
Hooley knew that Roper could blur the lines from focused work practice to a personal crusade. He was anxious to keep the balance right because getting it wrong was what had led to him being suspended on misconduct charges.
As they showed Sir Robert out, the DCI walked back to his desk wondering what would happen if everyone brought Roper’s directness to the party. He wasn’t sure the world was quite ready for that day just yet.
Chapter 20
Roper was holding his jacket, his eyes screwed up as he dabbed sticky tape at bits of fluff only he could see. The DCI left him to it. Roper had a surprisingly complex relationship with his clothing and when he was being this careful it indicated he was thinking hard.
But, much as the DCI remained fascinated by the extraordinary way in which Roper’s mind worked, he knew it was perfectly possible that his colleague might not say anything for the rest of the day.
Ordinarily that was never an issue, but this time he was eager to hear what Roper had made of their meeting so took the unusual step of interrupting him.
“Sir Robert wasn’t quite as I expected. I anticipated meeting an old Cold War warrior with a bristling moustache.”
To his surprise, Roper looked cross. “If you had listened properly to what I said about him there would have been no surprise. To my mind he was exactly what I was expecting. As I told you, he was the man who kept the organisation running smoothly; he wasn’t one of the old-school types at all.”
Roper could try the patience of a saint, and Hooley thought there was little wonder his dentist had recently told him that he had started grinding his teeth.
He said: “What I meant was that back in his day the threat of nuclear war was taken very seriously; something I know a little bit about, since I was around then. I recall that even some quite sensible people were talking about taking out the Soviets before they took us out.”
Roper didn’t respond, so Hooley tried a different approach. He said, “What did you make of what he told us?”
“I think he was very rational and didn’t seem to be pushing any sort of agenda. I particularly liked his explanation as to why he thought Vasilev probably wasn’t building a suitcase bomb, although he was right to warn about developments in technology.”
He broke off, then added: “In a way, he reminded me of how you help me to understand the world better. That same approach of letting you work it out for yourself.”
The DCI was taken aback by this unexpected comment. “That sounded suspiciously like a compliment. Tell you what, I’m going to go mad and celebrate by getting the coffees in. I take it you’d like yours accompanied by the usual bag of doughnuts?”
That brought a smile to the younger man’s face. “That would be great. At the moment all I can really do is load up on as much information as possible. We don’t really know anything yet, so I expect I am going to be tapping into the Rainbow Spectrum quite a lot. A good sugar hit is just the thing.”
Chapter 21
Two phone calls had reduced the Courier to a cold fury. Dubois had instantly dismissed his suggestion that he provide her with an alternative victim for her fantasy trip. Instead, she had demanded the return of the money within the next 48 hours.
To really rub it in, Dubois had carefully told him that she did not reward failure and because of what had happened she never wanted to hear from him again. Her voice had been as cool as usual but he detected a note of malicious pleasure. She clearly belonged to the school that said the only time to kick someone was when they were down.
The second call had proved every bit as infuriating. The gambling club he used had informed him that the money he had paid them so far was being treated as a joining fee that only got him through the door. To get access to the table he needed to prove he had the cash equivalent available of five million pounds.
So now he was down the fee that would have come in at ten million pounds. Factor in tens of thousands more on costs, including the gambling cash, and he had largely wiped out his cash reserves. What he had left was earmarked for the families of his dead operatives. He briefly considered withholding this cash but knew he couldn’t. The guarantee of financial security was what allowed him to keep such an accomplished team - and ensured their silence.
Very reluctantly he set up the instructions that would see the client repaid. He only had one option. He had never quite relinquished his previous role as a smuggler but largely subcontracted his operation to a trusted aide who paid him a steady fee in return. Now he needed cash fast, which meant he needed to let it be known that the Courier was back in business. There were plenty of people out there who would willingly pay for his specialist delivery services.
His mind made up, he calmed down enough to be more rational. While he was still angry over the crash that had ruined the project, he had to admit it was sheer bad luck and could have been a lot worse.
To say the crash was attracting attention was an understatement, with the biggest source of curiosity being the discovery of Anne Hudson’s body and nobody being able to explain how she had got there.
On social media the husband was be
ing smeared by people who claimed he must have been involved, despite there being no evidence to support the idea. From watching the TV news reports it turned out the driver of the car had been as high as a kite on a potent mix of alcohol and drugs.
The Courier read the latest newspaper reports carefully and was reassured that the police investigation was going nowhere; at least their careful precautions had proved up to the task, and he sincerely hoped it stayed that way.
He started to put some serious thought into how he was going to mark his return to his old business. With a growing demand for slaves, especially fit young women and children, plus people who wished to move highly valuable artefacts without attracting the attention of the authorities, it was a business where you could make a lot of money.
He started letting a few people know he was back on the scene and, within a few hours, the first tentative replies had returned. Today he was meeting with one of his best contacts, a former Serbian army major who had a reputation for being tough, discreet and brilliantly connected.
He also served as a sort of unofficial contact point for wealthy east Europeans and enjoyed especially good relations with many of the wealthiest Russians - in the past, they had been very good for business.
So long as you delivered the goods at the time and place agreed, they were happy to pay up for services rendered. With luck he would have clawed his way back within the next few years.
As dull as he found the work, the money would allow him to give serious thought to that retirement plan. What he was doing wasn’t without risk. New players were coming into the business all the time and, while most worked at the bottom of the market, it was only a matter of time before the top end started feeling crowded. Indeed, he knew he was already causing ripples of discontent since his return was not being greeted with joy unbounded.
Nonetheless, he was one of the best around. If you had a project that was making others blink, then the Courier was the man. His fees were huge, but they came with an assurance that any task would be completed.
Sitting in the living room of his small flat near Sloane Square he decided to treat himself to a dinner out at a nearby Drones restaurant. He hadn’t intended to go back to his old line of work but now that he had made the decision he would celebrate it.
Because of the new players who had emerged since he had last been directly involved he would have to tread carefully, and it would be sensible to spend a little of his cash on obtaining good intelligence about the nature of the opposition he would be up against. He knew that some of them were every bit as ruthless as he was.
Chapter 22
It had been two weeks since the failed attempt to grab Anne Hudson and the officer in charge of the investigation, Detective Inspector Stan Newlove, was running out of ideas and any leads. As he paced around his office, his thoughts turned to his old mate Brian Hooley and his ‘oddball’ sidekick Roper.
He was reminded of them when he received an unexpected phone call from Deputy Commissioner Julie Mayweather. She was after his input on another matter and suggested he come to the Victoria office to talk to her.
Newlove wasn’t a fanciful man, but he knew when the stars were aligning. It had been five years since he’s last seen Hooley, or even been in the same building as him. Then, just after the DCI had been on his mind, a rare opportunity had presented itself: he could team up with his old mate while talking to Mayweather.
He fired off an email summing up the situation and was delighted to hear back saying he should drop by Hooley’s office after his meeting and he could have all the time he needed to talk things through.
On the day, his discussion with Mayweather only took half an hour and she ended it by offering to walk him round to Hooley’s office.
“Brian told me you were making full use of your time over here: something I approve of. I gather you’re working on that odd case about the woman with a broken neck. As it happens that’s exactly what I’d normally get Brian and Jonathan to take a look at. It sounds right up their street - a mystery with no clues.”
Newlove gave her a rueful smile, but before he could speak she cut him off with a wave of her hand.
“Don’t worry. What I meant was that it sounds the kind of thing they love, but they are going to have to be careful about getting too involved as they are on a pretty major investigation at the moment and that is the priority.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I will bear that in mind. To be honest, I think I just need someone to talk to and check I’m not missing some vital detail.”
The DCI was talking on the phone as his old buddy walked in, his chair turned so his back was to the door. Newlove glanced at Roper but he appeared to have eyes only for his computer. Just then Hooley swung back and smiled, pantomiming that he was nearly at the end of his call.
Quickly bringing the conversation to an end he jumped up and extended his hand.
“Great to see you, Stan. How are you? It’s been a while since we last spoke; everything all right at home?”
“All good, thanks mate, and I was sorry to hear about you and your missus. I sometimes wonder why Yvonne puts up with me and all the hours this job takes out of you.” He looked at Jonathan. “I take it this is the famous Mr. Roper?”
“Yup, that’s him. Hang on a minute; I’ll prod him so you can say hello - although I warn you now that he does have his own special approach to meeting people.”
Despite being talked about, Roper was lost in whatever document he was looking at, so Hooley resorted to his trusted method of grabbing his attention - he threw a scrunched-up piece of paper at his head.
Roper looked up, blinking rapidly, saw Newlove and asked the DCI: “Who’s that?”
Hooley gave his friend a conspiratorial wink and said, “This is DI Stan Newlove, another long-serving Metropolitan Police detective.”
The younger man seemed unimpressed and was turning back to his computer when Newlove called out: “I’m in charge of the investigation into the case of the young mother who was grabbed from her home. It’s a bloody strange case and we can’t make any sense of it. I was hoping you might find time to have a quick look and give me your opinion.”
Roper looked surprisingly keen. “I’ve been following that one. I had been wondering if the woman was taken because her husband was involved in something, or maybe they’d borrowed money from the wrong people?”
“We’ve looked into all that and there’s nothing to suggest they were anything but an ordinary middle-class family. All their financials are straightforward, the husband has a decent job, they’re not involved in drugs or have any other criminal connections. We’ve even been looking at the neighbours but everyone seems to be straight as a die and the husband claims there are no issues with anyone, not even a dispute about parking spaces.
“I’ve even been trying to establish if it might be a case of mistaken identity - the wrong woman was snatched - but that’s getting us nowhere. This is rapidly becoming one of the most confusing cases I have been involved with.
“It has all the hallmarks of a professional job. Somebody went to a great deal of bother in knocking out all the local CCTV and there is evidence that there may have been some sort of equipment placed in the house.”
“Surveillance equipment?” asked Roper, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Newlove.
The DI nodded. “That’s as good a guess as any. It was one of my best forensics people who spotted it. It looks as though something was placed in the sitting room and also slight evidence in the bathroom, kitchen and overlooking the stairs.”
“You don’t suppose it’s got anything to do with MI5, or some other spy outfit?” asked Hooley. His recent dealings with the organisation had improved his opinion of them but he was very well aware of their abilities.
“Yeah, we have tried that as well. But, trust me, you don’t get a lot of sense when you ask spooks if they have been up to something they don’t want anyone to know about. I’ve got a few more lines of inquiry out but I’m not hopeful.
“And if one more person cracks that joke about ‘if I told you I’d have to kill you’, I may not be responsible for my actions.” He stopped talking and thumped his right fist into his left hand a couple of times. Hooley could guess what was coming.
Surprisingly it was Roper who beat everyone to it. “You want us to have a look at it for you, but you’re embarrassed at passing this on so soon after taking control of the case because it will make you look incompetent.”
Newlove went very pink and started spluttering. “I wouldn’t put it in those words.”
“Neither would I, but I did warn you that Jonathan is out on his own when it comes to making direct statements,” said Hooley. “You should have seen your face though. I thought your jaw was going to hit the ground.”
He patted his friend on the shoulder. “Look, what Jonathan meant to say was that we would be delighted to have a look at it for you. I’ve never heard of anything like this either. It does seem very professional yet with no obvious motive. We are working a case at the moment, but that is going so slowly I would be delighted to have something else to worry about.”
Newlove looked relieved and opened up a briefcase he had been carrying.
“I’ve got a case overview in here, plus I asked my team to prepare a list of headings which can give you some idea of what else is available. As you can imagine we’ve generated a lot of material, but this is more by way of an overview.”
He handed over the material and went to shake Hooley by the hand, but the DCI had other ideas.
“If you can stay around for another hour or so I can get out for a quick drink; may have to be non-alcoholic, but it would be good to catch up. I can find you somewhere you can work if you’re up for it.”
The DI looked delighted. “I’d like that very much indeed - and I had allowed the rest of the day for this visit, so no problem. Give me a desk and I’ll keep myself busy until you’re ready.”
(Jonathan Roper Investigates Boxset Page 51