by R. S. Sutton
‘Hell’s teeth, how am I supposed—’
Valerie was cut short by a phone playing a stupid tune in one of the woman’s baggy pockets. Taking it out, the woman made her way onto the street.
‘We’ll soon have it all out,’ the man said. ‘Have you a box?’
‘There’s nothing in there,’ said Valerie as he opened the drawer in her desk.
‘Leave it,’ said the woman walking back in. ‘And bring the rest back.’
‘What? I’ve just taken it all out. What’s the idea? Why?’
‘Because I told you to.’
‘But this is crazy – she’s about as bang to rights as you can get.’
‘Bring it all back.’ The patronising smile was replaced by a scowl. ‘The bitch is fireproof.’
Mystified, Jane watched the files moving back in the opposite direction and, with arms folded, moved to Valerie’s side. ‘What was all that about?’ she asked through the corner of her mouth.
‘Friends in high places.’ Valerie rubbed her chin and inspected the ceiling before adding quietly, ‘Or rather, conniving bastards in high places.’
***
‘Come on then,’ Valerie pushed Dennis back into his chair and barged into Thompson’s office, ‘let’s have it. How do you think you’re going to get away with this?’
‘Valerie. Good morning.’ With elbows on the chair arms and a ruler between each index finger, Thompson swivelled back and forth. ‘Going to get away with what?’
‘Well, I’m not reporting fairies at the bottom of my garden!’ Valerie’s face flushed as she leant on the colonel’s desk. ‘Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs, what do you think!’
‘They made a mistake, and I was just glad we could sort it out.’ Thompson leant back and threw the ruler onto the desk. ‘We’re like that down here – a friend calls for help and we come running.’
‘Just a coincidence then, was it?’ Narrowing eyes and clenched fists accompanied the torrent. ‘I turn you down and walk straight into Gunfight at the OK Corral.’
‘Valerie,’ he said quietly, ‘can we start from where we are now? We would like your assistance. We have one of ours dead and you’re the only one that can help.’
Quietly following her in, Dennis adjusted his jacket. ‘Please, Miss Stone. We’re trying to keep the country safe.’
‘Oh, all for the government, is it?’ The glare in her eyes didn’t diminish. ‘That’s a bloody laugh. There’s not one of them in that place fit to clean the boots of the bag lady in Piccadilly. There was only one good person ever got into Westminster.’
Thompson pushed back in the chair, expelling a short snort before adding dryly, ‘And even he didn’t get the job finished.’
‘Then for the people,’ said Dennis, trying to soothe the situation. ‘Do it for the people.’
‘That’s a misused word if ever there was one. The People’s Revolution, The People’s Republic. Get to the top and send all you can get your blood-drenched hands on over to Zurich.’
Thompson attempted to pull her back from this sudden outburst of indignation. ‘Valerie, Valerie. We are not a banana republic. Please, let’s talk sensibly.’
‘I noticed you didn’t mention honesty.’ With arms folded, she flung herself into a chair.
‘I presume you’re in?’ Thompson nodded to Dennis.
‘Like you’re giving me a choice. God knows what else you’ve got up your sleeve if I say no.’
‘Just stand in front of the wall,’ said Dennis, picking up a digital Nikon. ‘The bit with no paintings.’
Knowing what was coming, Valerie arranged a passport expression. ‘Do I get to hold up my hand and swear allegiance to Her Majesty?’
Thompson smiled as Dennis left the room. ‘Not in your case, probably not appropriate.’
‘What do I get on my ID?’ she said, sitting back down. ‘MI5? Special Branch? Metropolitan Police?’
‘No, no,’ said Thompson, ‘we’re not connected to any other department.’
‘So who are you? Who’s your boss?’
‘There’s no one above us. No one knows who we are; nobody knows we’re here.’ Thompson stood up and leant on the desk. ‘We are, what shall I say, a small department cleaning up where others can’t or won’t tread. MI5, Secret Service, not even the Prime Minister knows of us.’
‘Okay,’ said Valerie slowly. ‘No one knows of you… so how do you exist? Who are you responsible to? What about money?’
‘Right. A little history lesson. Between the wars, a general meeting of senior civil servants was coming to a close. There’s no records, so we’re not sure exactly when; somewhere around nineteen thirty-five or -six perhaps. Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. While they were putting the papers away, one of them asked about some villain the authorities could do nothing about or didn’t want to do anything about. So, as the story goes, they sat back down and had a bit of a natter. Three weeks later the department was formed and the villain disappeared. These senior people oversee vast, mind-blowing budgets. They each siphon off a minute amount and put it into our account. A contact in banking circles keeps it all quiet.’
‘Someone gets rubbed out just on your say-so? Very democratic.’
‘It was not just anyone, Valerie. Don’t forget, back then fascism was turning into more than just a little threat. This country had a lot of problems and there was a great danger of democracy, if not coming off the rails, then becoming a little wobbly. Someone had to step in.’
‘Let Mosley get on with it then?’
‘He was easy. Well under control. He was so wrapped up in self-importance he couldn’t tell our operatives from a hole in the ground. The other one was much more dangerous. And before you ask, no, I’m not going to tell you who it was.’
‘And if I don’t play, then what?’
‘I know you, Valerie. As far as your allegiance is concerned, I know you through and through. At the moment you think we’re a load of…’ He let the words trail away as they sat in silence for a few seconds.
‘Just sign this.’ Dennis breezed back into the room, waving a piece of paper.
‘As well as my retainer, I’ll need Jane’s pay. I’m not dumping her.’
‘No, of course not. We’ll make sure you get enough to keep her on, and you’ll not have to worry about finding that monthly payment for a while,’ said Thompson. ‘And you can get your rent up to date,’ he added quietly.
‘What do you know of that?’ said Valerie. ‘Just how much about me do you know?’
‘We know all about you, Valerie, but don’t worry, it’s none of our or anyone else’s business. It stays in the family, on the confidential file. I’m the only one with access.’
‘Mmm,’ she said, while being quite sure that trust with this man went one way. ‘So, Colonel, I think it’s about time you tell me what’s happening. What was Preston up to and why is your man dead?’
‘Why Trent is dead is simple,’ said Thompson, opening a bottle of mineral water. ‘He was getting close and they found out.’
‘And before you think I’m going to be next on the chopping block, you can think again.’ Valerie pulled out a pack of Disque Bleu and held it up. ‘May I?’
‘Sure, carry on,’ he said. ‘As I said before, you’re on the inside, so I don’t think there’s any chance of that, unless your new boyfriend is in on it too. And in any case, just tell him you’ve concluded your investigation.’
‘More or less have,’ she replied, drawing down a lungful of smoke. ‘But let’s have the payoff.’
‘Preston was controlling the business of bringing into the country anything with money attached,’ said Thompson. ‘But lately they started branching out, bigger risks, but with big, very big, rewards.’
‘Not drugs then?’ said Valerie.
‘No, not this time. They’ve started to pu
t the country at risk.’ Thompson took another sip of water then ran his finger thoughtfully around the glass. ‘And we don’t like that. Or should I say, we’re not going to put up with that. Idiots shoving crap into their arm is one thing; the police and other services can take care of that. But we don’t like it when someone crosses our country, especially when they’ve been born here, subjects of Her Majesty.’ Squinting sideways, he started rummaging through a draw. ‘Or should I say, where you’re concerned, Valerie, citizens of the UK. Ah,’ he said, producing a lemon, ‘knew it was here somewhere.’ He took a small penknife to the yellow fruit and dropped a slice into a glass.
‘Yeah, citizen will do,’ she said, taking an interest in what the colonel was doing.
Thompson removed a file from a nearby cabinet, held it up for a second, then dropped it onto his desk. ‘The minister, Callum McCain.’
‘The guy in the car accident a few months ago?’ said Valerie. ‘Left the road and went straight into a concrete pillar?’
‘That’s the one,’ he said, opening the folder and handing it to Valerie. ‘Killed outright.’ He unscrewed the top from a bottle of mineral water and poured it over the lemon.
‘Well?’ She thumbed through the few pages until she came to the summary. ‘Murdered.’ The final half a page gave a little more detail, but that was the conclusion at the bottom. ‘Overseas connection. What does that mean, as if I didn’t know? It feels like a big truck is coming around the bend and is aimed straight at me.’
‘Not the usual run of MP, I think you’ll agree,’ said Thompson. ‘A little more upstanding, yes?’
‘Okay, yes,’ she said, remembering his honourable crusades, ‘slightly above the rest.’
‘He had more or less concluded an investigation into a foreign power’s involvement into supplying highly sophisticated arms to people we would rather keep away from these types of weapons. He went into an overhead bridge support, and all the files disappeared.’
‘What the hell’s it got to do with Preston, and your man?’ Valerie asked, pushing the file back across the desk.
‘We’re almost certain the killer was brought in and taken back out by Sun Dancer. An expert of the highest calibre. Almost made it look like an accident.’ Thompson got up as Dennis came back in the room. ‘Your ID, I think.’
Dennis handed the laminated card to Valerie. ‘Folded this way,’ he said, removing it from the cover, ‘you are a chief inspector; highest rank we could give you without it looking a little silly. Don’t worry, it will check out.’
‘And folded the other way?’ she said, noticing the double side.
‘It’s meaningless code to anyone not familiar with an undercover department.’
‘Which is most people,’ she said.
‘Yes, that’s right, but senior officers seeing that will know you are in—’
‘Spooks Are Us,’ cut in Valerie.
‘No… That you are in the service of Her Majesty, undercover, and must not be hindered in any way. Also, they must give any assistance you call for. There is also a security pass in there.’ He pointed to a laminated blue card. ‘It clears you up to… Well, let’s say it clears you for as far as you’ll need to go.’
‘So, if I’m caught on the M25 doing a hundred and twenty, all I have to do is…?’
Looking exasperated, Thompson put a couple of fingers to his temple. ‘No, Valerie, it’s not been issued for you to evade motoring misdemeanours.’
Stroking the cards, she smiled. ‘But it will work?’
‘Yes,’ said Thompson wearily. ‘It will get you out of just about anything. But, luckily, the chances of doing a hundred and twenty on the M25 are pretty slim.’
Valerie folded the ID back into its cover and slipped it into her inside pocket. ‘So now I’m one of us, what are my instructions, Colonel?’ She momentarily swung her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Good grief. One of us.’
‘You just need to keep an eye on things. Your boyfriend might be quite innocent, but he’s about all we have. As we pointed out, you’re on the inside. You might try the laboratory where the DNA was confirmed. And what about the fishermen?’
‘Fisherman,’ said Valerie, stressing the singular. ‘Pretty sure the older one knows nothing. Put a bit of pressure on Ben but got the minimum back. Not sure if he’s just a lackey or in a lot deeper. By the way, what happens if we find Alan Preston? Drag him back home screaming and kicking?’
‘That’s if we’re allowed to,’ said Dennis. ‘Depends how friendly the country he’s escaped to is. If not…’ He left the rest of his thoughts unsaid.
‘Dear God,’ said Valerie, now realising just why this unknown department was so “unknown”. ‘The long arm of revenge.’
‘Oh,’ said Thompson, ‘not sure it will come to that. Don’t want our overseas friends finding a body where it shouldn’t be. Two Alan Prestons ending up face down in the sand would look rather like a clearance sale.’
Valerie smiled at the macabre remark. ‘By the way, what you said about McCain… almost looked like an accident?’
‘Another quick cremation, but don’t think they would have found anything; there was nothing to find. It was the car. We still have it.’
‘Been tampered with?’
‘No, that would have been too easy to spot. This man was very clever. There’s a crease down the off side where it shouldn’t be.’
‘That’s a bit thin,’ said Valerie, pulling out another cigarette. ‘He’d driven into a concrete pillar – there’d be all kinds of damage. And all on top of a crumpled mess.’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Thompson, reaching across with a lit match, ‘but nowadays we have computers.’
‘And clever programs,’ said Dennis, turning a screen around.
Valerie watched for the next five minutes as one scenario after another was sent across the screen.
‘Only one conclusion,’ said Dennis, closing the program. ‘Something large and heavy pushed the car off the road at the exact point—’
‘He was approaching the pillar,’ said Valerie, blowing a perfect smoke ring. ‘But what about paint from the other vehicle? There’d be paint somewhere.’
Thompson gently swung his chair from side to side. ‘A few fibres, something like carpet underlay. And those could have come from anywhere, even blown up from the road.’
‘For crying out loud,’ said Valerie, ‘you just attach some underlay along the side of your lorry and off you go! He’s a clever sod, I’ll give him that. And removing files?’
‘Alan Preston was head of a computer company,’ said Thompson.
‘Or find some hacker and ply him with fifties,’ said Dennis. ‘The computer world and security is just a joke. Any kid in his bedroom could get into most things, never mind an expert with a wad of money shoved under his nose.’
‘Another thing,’ said Thompson. ‘In circles that count, McCain was going to be a future prime minister. And although we’re aware of your views on politicians—’
‘Yes, I know,’ interrupted Valerie, ‘as they go, he was pretty near the top.’
‘Since the war, he was one of the best…’ Valerie noticed Thompson getting agitated, ‘and he was a friend. So from a personal viewpoint I don’t take very kindly to what’s happened. I want this… sorry, we want this sorting out.’
‘You two are not short in the brain department,’ said Valerie. ‘I think you’re way ahead of why this happened, and weapon trading is just a screen, yes? Some foreign power did not want a Prime Minister McCain.’
A momentary glance was exchanged between Dennis and Thompson, but little else, and for a few seconds the three of them sat in silence.
‘Weapon trading is bad enough,’ said Thompson slowly. ‘But we’re not putting up with anyone telling us how to run our country.’
‘Right.’ Valerie ground out the single word before getting t
o her feet.
‘Your assessment was correct,’ said Dennis, looking again at his boss.
‘Bloody well knew you were, Valerie,’ said Thompson. ‘All along, since we first met. Bloody well knew you were.’
‘Oh yes,’ she said, ‘you knew what?’
‘You’re patriotic. Only someone that loves their country would complain so vehemently about it being sold out and torn apart.’
She turned as Dennis held the door open. ‘By the way,’ she said, nodding to a modern painting behind the colonel, ‘Jackson Pollock never signed his name upside down in the top left-hand corner.’
Fifteen
The illuminated doorbell flickered as Valerie released the button and looked around. The house was a pleasant, modern dwelling and stood among its equally pleasant and modern neighbours on a tastefully well-planned estate. Apart from the occasional child’s toy, all was neat and tidy. Inside her pocket she revolved the warrant card between her fingers and thought about introducing herself as a police officer for the first time.
As the door opened, Valerie loosened her fingers from around the card. Two young children flanked a man who was straining to hold on to a black Labrador.
‘Mr Hardy? The name’s Stone, Valerie Stone. Might I have a word? I’ve been retained by Southern and East. I’m just putting the final couple of pages together about Alan Preston.’
The man in his early thirties, with a shock of ginger hair accompanied by an equal shock to his beard, pushed one of the children inside and told the other to follow with the dog.
‘What can I tell you?’ He hesitated, furtively scanning the road. ‘I did the autopsy and put a report in, same as any other body that comes my way.’ Signifying this was a conversation that was going nowhere, he pulled the door behind him and stood on the step.
‘Can we go inside? I just want to fill in a few blanks, that’s all. Something to give the insurance company.’
‘I can’t tell you anything.’ Standing firmly in front of the door, Hardy clenched his teeth. ‘Now go, before I call the police.’
Valerie faltered for a moment, unsure of how to proceed now that she had foolishly decided against the guise of an official. ‘Who was it that got to you?’