Anna closed her notebook. "That, she swears, was the last time she heard from him. The next thing that she says happened was the police arriving to say that Frank had been found murdered. She gets her solicitor, Simon Fagan, to hire bodyguards to protect her; she is very frightened, but not enough to run into hiding, because she has to have the death certificate—not only to get Frank's life insurance policy but,
as his widow, get her money returned from the accounts in his name. As I said, it's all very complicated—but that's it!"
She got a round of applause before she gave them the most important breakthrough: their prime suspect had been photographed on the au pair's mobile phone. The pictures had already been processed and she was able to display the two photographs of the man they were now certain was Fitzpatrick, handing his daughter an ice cream. It was not until she had sat down that she noticed Langton had joined them, and was sitting unobtrusively at the back of the room. She glanced toward him, and he gave her a small nod in acknowledgment.
Next up was Phil, who described how, after hours searching the farmhouse, they had discovered the possible hideout used by Fitzpatrick in the loft. They had already sent to forensics the sheets and pillowcases, plus the blankets from the cot bed: there had been a bloodstain, which might prove useful, and many fingerprints from the loft. The two notes he had found were being checked by an expert to see if the handwriting on the note from the Mitsubishi, and on the exam paper, did indeed belong to the same person.
This brought Damien and Honour Nolan into the picture. Honour had seen them checking out the loft, but had said nothing, and did not seem agitated in any way. When Damien had returned, he joked that no one had used the loft for months, apart from a young student. Phil, however, had kept two officers at the farm as security, and requested that neither Honour nor her husband leave the country.
Cunningham, after listening to the reports, said that she wanted to bring in both Honour and Damien for questioning. She also wanted David Rushton, the so-called financial adviser, brought in to clarify exactly what Julia Brandon had hired him to do. Lastly, Julia was to be brought in for further questioning and to make a statement regarding her complex financial transactions.
Cunningham said all this with her usual folded-arm stance. She, more than anyone else, had felt the pressure of the silent Langton. She looked at him, to see if he wanted to say anything, but he shook his head for her to continue.
"We are getting a lot of action, but we still do not have the series of
events that brought about the murder of four men. We know the Drug Squad is still holding our two dealers. They need to be requestioned, especially with the Glock pistol situation: one of them may have killed the car dealer, Stanley Leymore.They might have also shot Frank Brandon, as we have only their word that the shooter was Donny Petrozzo." Cunningham paused. "Last, but not least, where is Alexander Fitzpatrick now? If he did have a plan to begin using some of the stash of Fentanyl, where is it? We need to find out if he was at that drug squat and if he did use Frank Brandon. He was, as Travis has said, working for Julia—so why did he accompany Fitzpatrick to the squat?" Cunningham turned back to the incident board; with all the links, it looked like Spaghetti Junction.Anna raised her hand. "We do have confirmation that whoever drove the Mitsubishi left bloodstains inside it, which we have matched with prints to Fitzpatrick. We also know that he could have been wounded, as the blood matches that on the bullet from the Glock pistol. If the blood also matches the stains on the sheets taken from the Oxfordshire farm, then we know Fitzpatrick was in the UK, and was the man standing behind Frank Brandon when he got shot."Cunningham frowned in irritation. "I am aware of that, Travis, but can someone bring in the bloody timing of events? We have four dead men and we are still unsure who died when; we know where, but we do not have a clear A equals B equals C equals D, and we need it to clarify who the hell did what. This has to be a priority. Tomorrow, we concentrate on that but, for now, we leave Damien Nolan and his wife loose until we have completed the search of the farm, and forensics gives us details on the items removed."The briefing over, it was after ten-thirty in the evening. Everyone was tired out, having been on duty since three in the morning. Then Langton eased his way to the front of them all. Those who had half risen to leave sat back down again."I think DCI Cunningham has outlined pretty much everything we need to be concentrating on. We have made progress but we cannot sit back for a second. I am very concerned by the couple at the farmhouse; I think they appear too confident. As yet, we do not have enough to arrest them, but they should be brought in for questioning—see if we can put some pressure on them. My main concern is that we might have lost our prime suspect and he has gone to ground. If he hasn't, we have a very dangerous man on the loose. It is looking as if he has systematically wiped out anyone who could identify him, but he never guessed we'd get lucky—first with his fingerprint, and secondly with this." Langton jabbed at the photograph taken from Mai Ling's phone. "Get this to both Silas Roach and Delroy Planter; see if they can give us confirmation that he was the man with Frank Brandon at the drug squat."Langton had his back to the team as he glanced over the board; in his usual dramatic way, he paused, as he turned and stared at the team. "If this bastard is here in the UK, I think our body count is going to go up. He's broke and he may have a stash of very dangerous drugs, so find him—before he kills again. That's it; go and recharge your batteries."The team broke up. Anna was heading toward her office when Langton asked her to join him. "It was good work with Julia Brandon," he said. "Up to a point.""I'm sorry?""As soon as she started to open up, you should have brought her into the station. As it stands, we are going to have to go over all that ground again. Even though it was informative, we need dates, and we need that financial guy to collaborate everything she told you.""I was supervising the search of her property.""Don't make excuses. We can't afford to waste any more time. Like I said, Fitzpatrick may still be in the UK, but he could also have done another disappearing act—which is why those two at the farm are so confident.""Maybe they won't be if we get a result from forensics."Langton sighed with irritation. "Which gives us what? They had a visitor. They were old friends. We've got nothing, Anna.""I disagree. If we can prove that Damien Nolan wrote the note with directions to the farm found inside the Mitsubishi with Donny Petrozzo's body, we know the same vehicle was driven by Julius D 'Anton, and we know it was at some point at their farm—we've got quite a lot against them.""Bullshit. Until we know how that fucking jeep came to be driven first by Frank Brandon, then—you say—by Julius D Anton, it's all supposition as to who did what. They can say that they never even saw Julius DAnton! He could have driven there; he could have started up a Morris-dancing team. We do not have any kind of order of events, and I asked you to make it a priority.""Yes, I know, but I didn't have that much time.""Then find it—because if we don't have it, this case will flatline. I want that photograph off Mai Ling's mobile taken to see if the lab can enhance it with one of the pictures of him off his Web site, as we have only a partial single fingerprint, and I want to be certain."Anna bit her lip. "So, is it just me that you want to have a go at?""What?""Well, I am not the only officer on this case, but you seem to be insinuating that I am not doing my job.""I am not insinuating anything, just stating the facts, so don't start with the excuses."Anna said nothing, waiting for him to have another go at her.He then moved close, close enough to touch her, and whispered, "I love it when you get angry. It reminds me—"She stepped away from him. "Don't play games with me," she said fiercely.He cocked his head to one side. "You're right. I'm sorry. Good night." He walked past her.Anna remained standing, not turning to look after him; instead, she stared at the photograph of the man with the ponytail. If she were Fitzpatrick, where would she move next? He wouldn't know that they had that fingerprint, or even that they had this photograph ... Her eyes focused on the lists of names and one stood out: David Rushton.Anna sat at her desk, checking over the address and contact numbers for Rushton. She called his home;
his wife said that he was working late, but that she had expected him back at nine. It was now almost eleven. Anna called his office and the answer phone clicked on. She rang his mobile, but it was off. Jermyn Street was not on her way home, but she couldn't resist driving past Rushton's office.She parked easily outside, as it was so late. She could see the lights were on and she went to the entrance.The glass doors were locked, but a night-watchman sat inside, reading a newspaper. She tapped on the door; he turned, and she showed him her ID through the glass. Accompanied by the night watchman, she went up in the lift to Rushton's floor. The lights were on in the reception. The night watchman keyed in the code and the doors glided back. She said he could wait in the reception, and she headed down the corridor. Rushton's office door was ajar and the lights were on; she called out, but got no reply. She pushed the door wide open, and saw the floor was covered in papers. As she stepped farther into the room, David Rushton's dead eyes stared toward her.He was sitting at his desk, leaning back slightly on the leather swivel chair. Anna moved cautiously around the desk, stepping over the strewn papers; she felt for a pulse, knowing there was not going to be one. His wrist felt cold; rigor mortis had already set in. She could not see any sign of violence; his immaculate shirt and tie were in place and his suit jacket had no bloodstains or tears. Anna looked beneath the desk: his well-pressed trousers were still immaculate, both legs bent at the knee, his shoes polished.Anna eased her way back to the door. Moving around the opposite side of the desk, she paused: Rushton had a small bruise on the vein in his neck and a tiny trickle of blood. She remained standing for a few moments, unsure what she should do, then took out her mobile and dialed. "It's me.""I know. Listen, I'm sorry if I sounded off at you—""You said he would kill again.""What?""He has; it's David Rushton.""How do you know?""Because I am looking at him.""Jesus Christ, are you there alone?""Yes.""I'll be with you in half an hour.""Should I caU it in?""No. Wait for me, and for Christ's sake, don't touch anything."
Anna couldn't resist sliding open the dead man's desk drawer. She took out a tissue, then removed a leather-bound diary and carefully flicked over the pages, until she came to today's date. Written in fountain pen, in a neat hand, was Julia Brandon's name.Langton had the night watchman in the palm of his hand; the man even offered to make them a cup of tea! Anna stood back, watching him, and was as impressed as ever at how fast he took control of the situation. He was pulling on rubber gloves as he walked into Rushton's office and, like Anna, he gingerly stepped over the fallen documents to examine the body. He checked Rushton over and said quietly that it looked like he had been dead only a few hours. He then crossed to a shredder and looked at the mounds of shredded paper in the compartment below. By the smell of the shredded strips, it had been put into action not that long ago. He then walked out of the office and returned moments later. "Good, he's got CCTV cameras. See, just by the door? There's more in the reception area."
Like Anna, he opened Rushton's desk drawer; when he got to the larger one, he gave a soft laugh. "Look at this: it's for taping clients— unawares, I'd say. Let's see if there's a microphone."
Anna pointed to the edge of the desk. By an in-tray was a small clip-on mike.
"It'd be too much to hope this recorded anything of use."
"The recording light is still on," Anna said.
"Yeah," he said, and looked at the dead man. "Well, we'd better do the right thing and get him removed."With his gloved hand, he looked at the bruise on Rushton's neck, and then glanced over to a large TV screen. "Let's see what's recorded on the security camera."
Langton asked the night watchman, George, for the tapes and to open another office for him to use, rather than remain in Rushton's. He carefully removed the cassette from the recorder and, hardly paying any attention to Anna, walked out.
George, when questioned about who he had seen entering the building, was adamant that there was no one else in the building when he came on duty at seven that evening. Mr. Rushton had said he would be working late and so to leave his office lights on; he would turn them off when he left. George gave them details of his nightly routine: he was employed to oversee all the offices, so there would have been some considerable gaps when he was not in the front office, but touring the various floors. He would have liked to remain with Langton and Anna, but they asked him to return to the main reception to let everyone else in.Langton sipped his tea and, still wearing his rubber gloves, inserted the tape from Rushton's desk. He pressed play and sat back, Anna beside him.The tape began with Rushton detailing client interviews, with dates and times; they were from three days prior. Langton listened and fast-forwarded, only occasionally stopping."In his diary, he writes Julia Brandon—""Shhhh—is this her?" Anna leaned forward."I had to try and explain everything to this detective; I had no option.""Why didn't you call me?""Because it happened whilst she was at the house. I was so hysterical, to be honest, I just felt sort of relieved.""Was Fagan with you?""He was, but not at that point.""Christ, Julia, why didn't you use him?""Ijust didn't!""All right, all right, calm down. Without any witnesses, what you said won't mean anything.""I told her everything.""Well, start from the top; what exactly did you tell her?"Julia began, between sniffs and sobs, to say that she had come to him because she knew she needed help."You bloody got it, but I warned you about keeping quiet. I don't want any repercussions. I have a very legitimate business.""I know that.""I have done nothing illegal, Julia!""Yes, but you've also been paid a lot of money.""I charge all my clients for working out transactions until their finances,Julia, love. Yours was just that bit more complicated.""What is going to happen?"Rushton sighed, and went into a lengthy diatribe about how she would require her husband's death certificate for him to be able to revert monies back into her name."I keep asking to bury him but they won't release the body.""I've told you, they will in time; you are going to have to wait it out.""I'm scared.""Listen to me: nobody can touch your money. Right now it's as safe as houses.""I'm not scared about that; it's what he'll do to me. He knows what we've done, he knows and it'll make him mad.""He can get mad, sweetheart, but he still can't release a cent; that's what I spent months working on. What you have to do is stay calm. As soon as they release Frank Brandon's body for burial, you will automatically get the death certificate and, once I have that, it'll all come back to you. In the meantime, I've left you a substantial amount of cash in your current account to cover any costs you have.""I want to get out, take the kids, and just leave."Rushton sighed, and then there was the tapping sound of a pen against the desk."Julia, stay put. This will all be ironed out in a few weeks, but if you run off to God knows where, it's going to look suspicious.""You don't know what he's like.""No, I don't, but I can't see what he can do. We worked this entire scenario out so he can't get his hands on your money. You already paid out four million."Julia was crying. "I'm just so scared," she repeated.The tap-tap of the pen on the desk started again."Yes, but Fagan got you bodyguards, what can he do? Plus you've had police all over you like a rash; you think he doesn't know that?""I'm scared he'll take the children.""So pack them off somewhere."There was then a long conversation about where she could send the girls for their safety. She said she did not have any family, apart from her sister. At this point, Langton and Anna leaned forward, as Julia said she couldn't leave her children with Honour; she would be thelast person Julia could trust. Rushton suggested she send them with Mai Ling to Disney World for a week or so. Whatever he suggested put Julia in an even more panicky mode. She wouldn't be parted from them, and when Rushton said he was sure "he" wouldn't hurt his own children, this made Julia really angry."They are not his, for Christ's sake! You don't understand; he just wanted kids to open fucking bank accounts in their names. He used them like he has used me."Rushton sighed. They were going around in circles. He then asked if he had threatened her at the house."He's not likely to show himself there, is he? He just calls me.""Where is he?"Again, Langton and Anna leaned forward."Do you know where he is?""No, of course I fucking don't!" she screamed at him.
Rushton tried to calm her, and said he would call a taxi to take her home. She became abusive, saying she was with her bodyguards, who were waiting downstairs. They then exchanged a few remarks and Rushton was heard walking her to the door. There was the sound of it opening and closing; next, they heard Rushton give a long sigh and swear under his breath.Drawers were banged open and shut; then he used his intercom to call a secretary, but there was no reply. He swore again. They heard the door opening, as he called out for Serina. There was silence, then he slammed the door shut."Fucking bitch. I said I was working late," he muttered.A pause and there was the sound of the door being opened again. "I was wondering where you—" Rushton stopped midsentence.The door closed. "Who are you? How did you get in?"The voice was deep, upper-class, with a heavy smoker's gravel tone. "You mind if I sit down?"Langton glanced at Anna: this was more than they could have bargained for."Yes, I do mind. I want to know how you got into my office.""I wouldn't do that if I were you. Put the phone down. Now, Mr. Rushton, you have some explaining to do. You have been playing games with my business. You know who I am, Mr. Rushton, and I want my money.""Jesus Christ, listen to me—I had no knowledge that your wife's finances were not—""She's not my wife.""I acted in good faith at all times. I can explain everything, every single transaction; in fact, I've got the files in front of me, and you are—"The tape whirred and then ground to a halt. Langton closed his eyes with frustration. "I don't fucking believe this."As if on cue, George, the night watchman, returned with the video recordings off the security cameras. He said they might not be good quality as they reused the tapes. "These are real old tapes; been used for about six months.""Never mind," Langton said, eager to get George out of the office."There's a doctor and police officers in reception.""Show them into Mr. Rushton's office, please, George. Anna, go and talk to them."Anna wanted to see what was on the videotape, but Langton waved his hand impatiently. As she left she saw him crouch down in front of the TV set to insert the tape.She introduced herself to the team of SOCOs and the doctor called to check over Rushton. They had to have him pronounced dead at the site before his body could be taken to the mortuary. By the time Anna had led them into Rushton's office, Langton was waiting."There's no sound, but the guy walked in about two seconds after Julia Brandon left the building. He slid in after her before the main door closed. We lose him for a few minutes, then he appears on the stairs outside Rushton's office, chatting to a blond woman.""The receptionist.""He then goes out of shot, heading down the corridor to Rushton's office.""Let me see him." Anna could feel her heart racing as she sat beside Langton.He was as tall as they knew Fitzpatrick to be, at least six feet four— and slender, with quite broad shoulders, but there was no ponytail.
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