by Mark Arundel
Bradshaw walked on, head down and shoulders hunched. The pavement was icy, so he stepped carefully. He didn’t want to slip and fall. The conversation replayed in his head. It had gone as expected. He had prepared in case he needed greater persuasion. The task was simpler without it. For a second, a shard of doubt stabbed, but then resolve toughened like a suit of armour. He held the feeling inside and it twisted like a dying man swinging on the gallows. Reservations were for the weak, he thought.
Bradshaw stopped walking. The taste in his mouth had improved. His stained fingers found the cigarette packet and the lighter. Between his lips, the filter had a calming effect. For a moment, he caressed his wife’s gift. His thumb rubbed gently while his thoughts wandered. The noise of a passing car returned him from his reverie. He flicked open the top and spun the ratchet. The gift ignited. He cupped the flame and pulled deeply. Again, he looked at the inscription and again, he remembered the words: All my love, Susan x. The lighter dropped comfortably back inside his jacket pocket. He dragged hard before exhaling slowly. He remembered the conversation again. The stale taste returned to his mouth. A further drag resulted in a grimace. Bradshaw threw down the lit cigarette, hunched over and continued on his way.
5
SUNDAY, 09:15—15:30
A few minutes after leaving Stephen Bradshaw in the street, I was back inside my apartment. I went to my laptop and switched it on. The screen lit up and I typed in my password. I pushed in the memory stick and waited for it to register; then I typed in the access code, marzipan555.
From the bedroom, I heard Charlotte’s voice call out, ‘Where’s my coffee and croissant?’
I ignored her and opened the first file. The laptop screen filled with a colour photograph taken outside an office building on Fleet Street. It showed a man exiting the building. I stared at the picture and staring back at me was the face of William Chester.
I thought of everything I could to give it a positive angle, but no matter how hard I tried, in the end, I had to concede that it wasn’t good.
I took Charlotte her breakfast of coffee and croissant, after which she soon left. I couldn’t concentrate on her; all I could think about was William Chester and the ST [ST: sanctioned termination]. I wanted to know why, but I knew Bradshaw wouldn’t tell me. I wondered what Bradshaw knew or, whether indeed, he knew anything.
I returned to my laptop and read every file on the memory stick, and then I considered. I considered so hard my brain hurt. I didn’t know what to do. Finally, I decided to do nothing. I would wait. After all, I didn’t know where he was. William Chester was currently missing, so I couldn’t terminate him even if I wanted to. I would see what happened and then decide.
After taking a hot shower and with a half-full mug of coffee gripped firmly I decided to call Detective Superintendent Hannah Foley for an update on the murder enquiry.
I dialled her mobile number from the card she’d given me and she answered formally. I told her who I was and her voice lifted.
‘One five minute update coming up,’ she said.
This was good; this was going to help. I didn’t care what she told me as long as she didn’t tell me one thing, and that one thing was...
‘...and his name is William Chester,’ she said.
I managed to keep silent.
‘We’ve matched his DNA to a glass found in the flat and we have a positive ID from a neighbour that he was there on the day she was killed. We got lucky, his DNA was on the database following a traffic incident for which he was never prosecuted.’
I knew what was coming next.
‘And now he’s disappeared. His wife doesn’t know where he is, nor do his work colleagues; he’s some big city banker and they haven’t a clue where he is. He’s our man, I’m sure of it.’
‘It sounds like you’ve made good progress, I’m impressed.’
I wasn’t of course.
‘But just a friendly word of caution, make sure you check and double check everything; just because this man was in the flat and had a drink there doesn’t automatically make him the killer. He may have had opportunity, but you’re also going to need a motive.’
‘Yeah sure, but he’s done a runner. That’s like an admission of guilt to me.’
‘Yes, maybe disappearing doesn’t look good, but remember, don’t jump to conclusions, do the police work and do it right.’
She breathed out and said, ‘Yeah, no yeah, you’re right, of course. I’ll make sure we do it right. Thanks, thanks for your advice, I appreciate it.’
‘Did you find out anything more about the victim?’
‘No. I called in a favour at the Met, but they’ve come back with nothing. It seems she’s a real mystery. Nevertheless, we’re going to keep on it. Something will turn up.’ She paused and then said, ‘Oh, I just thought, you didn’t leave me your number. If you let me have it I can call you with future developments.’
I didn’t really want her to have my number, but it would seem odd if I didn’t give it to her. She jotted it down as I read it out.
‘Okay, thanks again, I’ll call you when I know more.’
‘Thanks.’
I drank my coffee and decided to call Meriwether. I would tell him what I’d just learnt about the police investigation and see what I got in return.
‘I’ve just spoken to young Miss Marple.’
I decided to tell him straight, well this bit of it anyway.
‘It’s bad news. She’s onto Casanova already, his DNA was on the database and she knows he’s disappeared.’
‘Bugger,’ Meriwether said. ‘That’s bad luck for us. If she goes public then the hounds will scent blood. We mustn’t have that. You’ll have to call her back.’
‘...and say what?’
Meriwether thought for a moment and then said, ‘Tell her you can find him for her. Suggest he’s left the country and that you’ll use the Interpol resources, Interpol’s own internet database, to track him down. Ask her to give you forty-eight hours before she goes public. Explain to her by doing it your way means there’s more chance of finding him because once he knows the police are onto him he’s likely to hide even deeper. If she goes for it, it’ll give us forty-eight hours to find him and sort things out.’
As I listened to Meriwether, I realised something.
‘You already know where he is, don’t you?’
Meriwether guffawed loudly and then replied, ‘Alice Chester and her two daughters left today to spend Christmas at a ski resort in Switzerland.’
‘You think he’s in Switzerland?’
‘What else is Switzerland famous for other than cuckoo clocks and overpriced wristwatches?’
‘Banks,’ I said.
I called young Miss Marple straight back. I rehearsed it in my mind before I dialled. It was important to get it right. If we didn’t get the time we needed then, in Meriwether’s words, we were buggered. I hoped he was only speaking figuratively.
Detective Superintendent Hannah Foley answered with the same formality as before. Again, I told her who was calling and again her voice lifted. It was a good start.
‘Did you forget something?’
‘I’ve been thinking.’
‘Oh, yes, what about?’
‘Maybe I can help you.’
‘Help me, how?’
‘If your suspect has done a runner, then there’s every chance he’s gone abroad, especially as money isn’t a problem for him.’
She came straight back with, ‘We’ve checked with the airlines but there’s no record of him leaving the country.’
I left a pause for a second or two before I said, ‘He probably chartered a private jet; that way he wouldn’t show up on any airlines’ passenger list; he’d only have to register with the jet company.’
There was another pause, but this time, from the other end.
‘Maybe, yes, it’s possible I suppose. I could check with the private jet companies.’
‘Yes, you could try that. He could be anyw
here in the world by now.’
‘So how can you help?’
‘I could ask the research department at our headquarters in Lyon to interrogate our internet database for worldwide movement.’ I’d remembered the Interpol headquarters were in Lyon, in France from my VX briefing. ‘Your suspect would have had to have his passport registered in whichever country he landed. The authorities will have it recorded on an entry list somewhere. If that country recognises Interpol, and there are a hundred and eighty-eight members, then we can find it, and then we’ll know to which country he’s gone. From there standard investigative police work should be enough to locate him.’
I’d given my sales pitch and I waited. Young Miss Marple was thinking. The seconds dragged while she deliberated. At last, she said, ‘Yes, okay, let’s do it. How long will it take?’
Here was the rub. This was the hard part.
‘That all depends,’ I said. ‘The computer at Lyon will have to search through dozens of countries and thousands of entry lists. Once the parameters have been set on our computer and the online search has begun it could take several days, it just depends.’
‘I see, but it could be much quicker.’
‘Yes, it could be.’
There was a pause. I said, ‘In the meantime, we don’t want to spook the suspect.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, if we’re going to do the search and then look for him in the country to which he’s run, then we don’t want him moving again. We need him to stay where he is.’
There was silence again while Hannah Foley thought. This was where I kept my fingers crossed.
Finally, she said, ‘We had planned on releasing his details to the press in an attempt to locate him that way.’
I interrupted and said, ‘That’s a good idea if he’s still in the country, but if he’s fled and he hears the police are on to him then he’s likely to hide even deeper. It could take years to find him and just as long again to extradite him, depending on which country he ends up in.’
Again, there was more thinking and then she said, ‘Okay, we’ll delay our press release while you carry out your search.’
I almost smiled, but I maintained my seriousness and suggested, ‘Can you give us thirty-six hours?’
I heard her breathe in deeply before she replied, ‘Yes, okay, I’ll hold off for thirty-six hours.’
I allowed myself to smile.
D.S. Hannah Foley then ran through all the details she thought I would need to undertake the internet database search. I played along and wrote them down to ensure credibility. Once we had both agreed that I had all the necessary information, she prepared to end the call.
‘Will you keep me regularly up-to-date with your progress?’
‘Yes, of course. As soon as I hear from Lyon I’ll call you.’
‘Call me anytime, day or night.’
‘Okay, don’t worry I’ll call you; and if you find him in the meantime be sure to let me know.’
Her voice lightened and she said, ‘That would be nice, but I’ve got a feeling I’m going to have to wait for you.’
Immediately after the call was finished with D.S. Foley I called Meriwether.
‘We’ve got thirty-six hours.’
‘Thirty-six,’ he repeated. ‘Well done my boy. That should be plenty.’
Plenty for what I wondered. Why did I always have the feeling Meriwether knew more than I did and had a plan, of which I didn’t know the details? Before I could ask him to explain, he was talking again.
‘You better call in on me on your way.’
‘Call in on you on my way?’
‘Yes, as we’re a bit tight on time. I’ll brief you when you get here. Come straight away, your flight leaves in less than three hours.’
I threw some travel essentials into my holdall bag, the one that had the good shoulder strap, put my pay as you go phone, passport, driving licence and wallet containing my Interpol ID in my jacket pocket, the one with the thick lining, and left my apartment.
I took a cab to St. James’s Square.
Inside the club, Meriwether was waiting for me in the small study type room with the paintings on the wall and the worn leather chairs.
‘Ah good you’re here,’ he said, standing up and leaving behind an indentation in the leather cushion. Sitting beside him was a young man. He also stood and ran his hand through his foppish fair hair and smoothed the creases from the front of his jacket.
‘This is Carmichael,’ Meriwether said by way of introduction.
The young man extended his hand, smiled with a good show of straight white teeth and said, ‘James Carmichael, but everyone calls me Hoagy.’ We shook hands. ‘I know who you are,’ he said. ‘I’ve been fully briefed.’
‘Young Robert Redford,’ Meriwether said, referring to Carmichael, ‘is going to be helping us for a few days. I’ve seconded him from VX. Let’s sit down shall we, time is short.’
We all sat and Meriwether looked at me with that amusement he often had in his eyes. ‘I wanted to call him Sundance, but I suppose we’ll have to call him Hoagy,’ he said to me. Hoagy showed off his Hollywood teeth again and said, ‘Everyone does.’
‘What’s your skiing like?’ Meriwether asked me.
I had skied ever since I could walk and Meriwether probably knew that. As a soldier, I spent one winter with the French Foreign Legion at their training camp in the Alps. My regiment was liaising for a dual covert operation in mountainous terrain. We were a small team of exceptional skiers.
‘Not bad,’ I said.
‘Good,’ Meriwether said. ‘You’re booked on a flight to Geneva; a rental car will be waiting to get you to the resort and we’ve found you a pleasant little room in a comfortable hotel very close to the main lift.’
‘...and this is the same resort as Mrs. Casanova?’
‘Yes, she and her two daughters have taken a small catered chalet just the other side of the lift from your hotel. Your almost neighbours.’
Just then the door opened and a man entered wheeling a trolley with a china coffee pot and a round cake with about a third already cut away.
‘Who ordered coffee?’ Meriwether asked. ‘We don’t have time for coffee.’
‘You did, sir,’ the servant answered.
‘Did I? Oh, yes, I did. Oh, well, we had better have it now it’s here.’
‘Very good, sir,’ the servant said.
‘Hoagy, do the honours will you.’
The servant left and Hoagy poured the coffee. I took a generous slice of cake, sat back and waited.
Meriwether sipped at his coffee cup, looked amused by something and then said, ‘You’re on the same flight as C and her grandfather. They’ve taken their usual catered chalet, which is very close to Mrs. Casanova. They go every year for Christmas, as you know. C doesn’t know you’re on the same flight as her. You can use the time to brief her on developments. She’ll like that. It’s only fair we keep her up-to-date. She can take things a bit to heart you know.’ Meriwether smiled at me.
I did know. I chewed on a mouthful of cake and drank some coffee while I waited for Meriwether to continue.
‘Hoagy here has packed you a bag full of ski clothes. Your hotel will arrange a ski-pass and provide you with the necessary equipment from one of the hire shops in the village. If you require a mountain guide, the hotel can arrange that too. You’ll find the Manager most helpful in these matters.’ Meriwether paused and sipped more coffee. ‘Also in your bag you’ll find an ample supply of Swiss francs, I understand the Swiss Alps are expensive, oh, and a brand new K106.’
‘You want me to use a K106?’ I questioned.
‘I know you had a bad experience with one in Tenerife,’ Meriwether said, ‘but that was different. This time, we don’t have a traitor about which to worry. This time, it will help you. I want you to use it, agreed?’
I nodded my agreement.
‘Good,’ said Meriwether. ‘Well, that’s about everything. You’d better
get off and go to the airport; you don’t want to miss your flight.’
‘Apart from skiing, what else am I supposed to be doing there?’
‘Oh, yes, well, looking for Casanova, naturally.’
‘Is he definitely there?’
‘Yes, he’s there.’
‘Do you know where?’
‘Not yet, but he’s likely to meet up with his wife and daughters at some stage. It is Christmas.’
‘So, you think I should follow her?’
‘Maybe, but we’re working on his exact location and I’m certain we’ll have it very soon; probably by the time you’ve settled in at your hotel. Isn’t that right, Hoagy?’
‘Oh, yes, sir,’ replied Hoagy from around a mouthful of cake.
I stood up and grasped the handle of the bag Hoagy had supposedly packed for me.
‘Just one thing more,’ Meriwether said. ‘When you do catch up with Casanova be sure to tell him we’d like our money back.’
6
SUNDAY, 15:30—24:00
Outside the club, the air was thick with snowflakes. I took a cab from St. James’s to the airport. It gave me some time to think. The money Meriwether spoke about was the hole found in the books at Casanova’s bank. I wondered exactly how much it was and where it had gone. Meriwether seemed certain that Casanova knew the answer. When I found him, I’d have to ask him. It seemed likely there were others who thought Casanova was to blame for the missing money, too, if the sanctioned termination was any guide. I hadn’t told Meriwether about that yet and I hadn’t been in contact with Bradshaw. I wouldn’t be at home to receive the equipment he was sending me in the post. Anyway, the first thing to do was find Casanova. Once I’d done that, I could worry about the money and the ST. My thoughts moved to Charlotte and I wondered how much of this she knew and how much I was actually going to tell her. I checked my new wristwatch. The cab was approaching the terminal building. It was time to go skiing in Switzerland; not a bad way to spend Christmas, I decided. I had the feeling, though, it was going to be more work than play.