He remembered her smiling, inquisitive face, her constant need to understand his work, able to correct him when he made the occasional mistake. Apart from Gwen, he had to admit that he had liked her a lot. They both knew, he and Liz, that in different circumstances they would have been more than just work colleagues: he, the brilliant research mathematician and scientist, she, his intellectual equal. It had been her who had seen the potential of their work as a weapon; her who had inadvertently mentioned it to Ed Barrow, who had mentioned it to Hutton. Woolston shuddered at the chain of events that had resulted.
If only he hadn’t taken Liz into his confidence, about how there was a possibility of stabilising the power generated so that maximum power, maximum destructive power could be gained.
Liz, idealistic as he was, had not deserved to die that day in the railway station, he knew that, but she did not have the determination to resist.
It had been six months after his death that he had made his decision. He had seen Arbuthnot around the research department, even drinking with Ed Barrow in a local pub, which could only mean one thing: they were about to apply pressure, or they already had, and it could only be on Liz.
The railway station was crowded, and even then people had started to give him a wide berth due to his appearance. As he jostled in that crowd, edging closer to Liz, he still questioned whether he had the right to terminate her life. He had killed no one at that time, other than one of those that had tortured him. He could see her reading a book, quietly minding her own business. The train came into view. It was an express and not stopping. He edged forward, almost felt like saying sorry. A gentle nudge with his elbow, and she was in front of the train and then under it. Woolston remembered backing away from the scene as the other people moved forward. The newspapers carried the story the next day of how Liz Hardcastle, a government employee, well respected by her work colleagues, loved by her husband, had been in an unfortunate accident. It was the one time in the eleven years that he had drunk alcohol, a cheap bottle of wine, to allow him some peace. Her death had troubled him for months afterwards.
***
Isaac Cook and the Homicide team at Challis Street realised that the three deaths so far were unlikely to be the last. Malcolm Woolston, now no longer referred to as Big Greg, had not been seen for several weeks. The patrols of Gwen Barrow’s and her daughter’s streets had declined in regularity, and the uniforms at their homes had been pulled out after seven days.
DCS Goddard had been hoping for an early arrest, but that was not happening, and Commissioner Davies was still hovering, waiting to make his move. Isaac knew that something had to be done, but what? The links had been established, and the research department was the key, as was Gwen Barrow. Isaac had noticed Barrow and his wife at a local restaurant one night, and he had to admit they looked happy enough.
‘We’re getting nowhere fast on this case,’ Isaac said. It was a throwaway line, he knew that, but what else was there for him to say. Malcolm Woolston had been visible, and then he had disappeared.
‘Maybe there’s no more,’ Wendy said.
‘The man phoned me up, Larry was here. He did not sound as though he was about to stop, quite the opposite. He told us that there were others who needed to be dealt with and that he was concerned for the safety of his family.’
‘The man was sane?’ Wendy asked.
‘What do you reckon? Larry said.
‘It’s always hard to tell with these people, but we’ve checked on him. A brilliant man, a lot of academic papers, one book on advanced mathematics, although I couldn’t make any sense of it, and then he tells us a story about others who want to take his research and use it as a weapon. He sounded sane enough, but he was determined. We’ve come across these sorts of people before. Most of them appear sane, but…’
‘As you say, the screw loose, the chink in their armour, and what is this man’s chink?’
‘His weakness is his family. If these people are as vicious as he says they are, they’ll not hesitate to use them to get to him.’
‘But they haven’t,’ Larry said.
‘Not yet, and Woolston’s widow is married to one of the guilty, according to him. That’s probably their only protection.’
‘And no trace on his phone call?’ Wendy said.
‘We’re rehashing old ground here. That’s known already.’
***
Sue Christie had acted innocently with Malcolm Woolston, confident that he had bought her ‘poor innocent little me’ attitude. She knew that he had been easy to deal with, the same as he had always been. Even all those years ago she had known that he fancied her, but he was old school, a believer in the sanctity of marriage, honouring vows, fidelity. She knew she was not; she knew what she needed to do.
Her first action was to move her mother to somewhere safe: easily arranged. After that, there was one sister living overseas, another in Cornwall. She would need to be contacted, and that offer of a trip abroad would be hers.
Malcolm had given her twenty-four hours from the time of their meeting, which meant he would be phoning her that very day, and now there were two police officers in the office; one, the good-looking black man, the other, white, going to pot with his beer belly. She knew she fancied the black DCI, but not in the office, and not that day. She was a voracious man-eater, she knew that, but now she had to save those she cared for, or at least her mother and her sister, who was about to leave the country for a two-week holiday.
She had strung Ed Barrow along for years, made him feel that she cared for him, which she had once, but now he was a convenient lay, and more importantly, the way to a significant amount of money. He may not have known all the players involved, but she certainly did. General Claude Smythe had expressed interest in the project from its conception. He knew what it was worth, and how to get the money. He and his brother, the secretary of state for defence, were both ex-lovers, both opportunistic.
It was not often she saw the general, but whenever she did, she made sure that he left her with a smile on his face. Now she would know where the missing information was, and how to smuggle it out of the building, making sure that Ed did not know. He was expendable, and if Gwen was to be the grieving widow for the second time, then so be it. She could not care less.
‘Mr Barrow,’ Isaac said. He looked at Sue Christie, could see the smile on her face. He assumed it was for him. He had to admit that he liked the look of her, but her reputation, especially with Barrow, made her cheap and not his type.
‘He’s not here. I don’t expect to see him today.’
‘Do you have any idea where he is?’
‘Personal business, that’s all I know. Finding out that his wife’s first husband is alive must make it difficult for him and Gwen.’
‘It probably does, but it’s important that we see him today.’
‘Have you tried his home, his phone?’
‘We have.’
‘I’ll let him know that you want to see him if he comes in.’
The two police officers left the building. ‘It’s a good job you checked in the car park first,’ Isaac said.
‘The man’s there. What are they up to?’ Larry said.
***
‘They’ve gone?’ Barrow asked.
‘For now. The situation is getting dangerous.’
‘Your mother?’
‘She’s fine.’
‘Your sister?’
‘I’ve done what I can.’
‘And Malcolm’s phoning today?’
‘That’s what he said. Do you have your people ready?’ Sue asked.
‘If they see him they’ll grab him.’
‘He told me not to tell you.’
‘He’s still naïve. He never could read you.’
‘Whereas you could?’
‘Sue, I’ve never bought your charm, not totally. I know that you’re playing this to your advantage. You’d knife me in the back the first opportunity you got.’
‘You’re
smarter than Malcolm then. All he ever wanted to do was to lay me.’
‘And he never did, not even now when you’re available.’
‘I was always available.’
Ed Barrow had the measure of the woman, the woman who had put him in contact with those who would take what Woolston had discovered. Their promise that there’d be enough money for all of them had been the reason that he had consented to allow Woolston to be subjected to savagery, and now the woman was admitting that she’d sell him out if the opportunity presented itself.
‘Can I trust you?’ Barrow said.
‘I will do what is right.’
‘That’s not an answer.’
‘It’s the only one you’ll get from me. Malcolm is after vengeance, he’s quite mad, you know. He’ll stop at nothing to secure what he wants. You know what you have to do.’
‘Not Gwen.’
‘You always knew this day would come.’
‘I suppose so.’
***
Ed Barrow left the office soon after talking to Sue. He realised that she and those she was in contact with would not honour their agreement to leave his family alone. He knew he had to protect them. He needed Malcolm Woolston.
As he drove out of the car park, a police car pulled up in front of him. ‘Mr Barrow, you’re required down at the police station. Either you drive there, or you can come with us.’
Realising that there was no way out, Barrow drove to the police station, the police car following. Isaac had realised that his personal assistant’s assertion that he was not in the office when he was could only mean one thing: he had something to hide. Isaac intended to find out what it was.
‘Mr Barrow, you are here voluntarily,’ Isaac said in the interview room at Challis Street. ‘Do you require legal representation?’
‘No. I was busy when you called at my office, that was all. I asked Sue to cover for me.’
‘There are aspects of this case that we don’t understand.’
‘I’ve told you all that I know.’
‘Are you aware that Malcolm Woolston phoned us?’
‘No.’
‘He was lucid. He explained that his research was being diverted from peaceful purposes.’
‘He’s an idealist. How can any man live on the street for years, and then come back and start murdering people? It doesn’t make sense.’
‘He’s also worried that his family is at risk.’
‘They’re my family as well. His daughter has accepted me as her de facto father, you do realise this?’
‘We are aware of the close personal relationship that you enjoy with the mother and daughter. It does not explain why Malcolm Woolston sees you as a threat. Mr Barrow, are you a threat? Were you one of those that allowed Malcolm Woolston to be subjected to violence? Were you one of those who watched while the man suffered? Would you allow his wife and daughter to be harmed if it was beneficial to you?’
‘What are you trying to portray me as, some kind of monster? Where’s the proof? I’m a mid-ranking civil servant doing his job to the best of his abilities. I’m not to blame if one of my former team members goes crazy, fakes his death, lives on the street, and then starts murdering people.’
‘I agree that it seems unlikely,’ Isaac said, ‘but it doesn’t solve the case. Granted that Woolston appears to be a strange character, and if we find him, he will be charged with murder, but he seems rational. Arbuthnot was a shady character. You’ve met him?’
‘On one occasion in the office.’ Barrow was glad that his conversation with Helen Toogood had revealed that she had identified him from a photo.
‘You did not tell us that before. We’ll forget your oversight for now. What was his interest in your department?’
‘He came with Hutton.’
‘Arbuthnot was involved in arms trading. Did you know that?’
‘Not at the time.’
‘And you are agreeable for your research to be used for weapons?’
‘I don’t have an issue with that. We work for the government. How they use our results is up to them. Just because Woolston had an issue is not my concern. The only issue is the protection of my family. The research can go to hell if they’re threatened.’
Chapter 21
At 4 p.m. Sue Christie received a phone call. ‘This evening, you will leave your office at 6 p.m. You will walk home down Bayswater Road. When you reach number 128, you will see a rubbish bin. You will put the files in there. Is that clear?’
‘Malcolm, where are they?’
‘In my laboratory in the far corner there is a loose floorboard. It is covered with carpet. You will remove the carpet and use a screwdriver or something flat to prise up the floorboard. Under it you will find a box wrapped in plastic.’
‘After eleven years?’
‘It is still there.’
‘How do you know?’
‘It is my job to know.’
Sue Christie realised that there was only one way he knew that the files were still there. ‘You could have asked Helen,’ she said.
‘I want you to do it.’
‘Why?’
‘I want to know if I can trust you.’
‘Very well, but this cloak and dagger routine is banal.’
‘The alternatives are not.’
***
Malcolm Woolston sat calmly in his flat. He weighed up the situation so far. It was necessary to trust some people, dispose of others. If he had stayed hidden, then there would have been no need for the deaths, but he had seen the formulas on the computer at Robertson’s hostel. Other countries were close to developing low-cost energy, and he could have given his country the leading role. It was about to be lost, so it was necessary to reveal what he had done to the scientific community, believing that there would be companies in his country of birth who would seize the opportunity to use what he had developed for peaceful purposes. He typed on the laptop the final paragraphs of his technical paper. He needed some way to present his results. Sue Christie had supplied him with the missing information, no doubt taking a copy first, but he did not need the files. And besides, they were the substitutes that Helen Toogood had put there for him. He owed the woman his eternal thanks for believing in him, even reluctantly understanding his actions, and importantly, exposing Sue Christie.
There was no doubt that Ed Barrow was guilty of crimes against him, as was Sue Christie. He wasn’t sure who was the worst, but it appeared that the woman was the guiltier. He had always had his suspicions, even before he took to the street. She was always too available, too polite, and too willing to offer herself to him.
He had known that Gwen was sometimes jealous, but she always took him at his word, and besides Sue was with Ed, and they were always good friends. But he had caught Sue once looking through his notes, pretending to be curious, not that she would have understood what she was reading; few people would have.
He had followed Sue down Bayswater Road, seen her turn into Westbourne Street and enter the restaurant. He had even seen her kiss the man that she met on the cheek as they sat down. A familiar face, he knew who it was. He had not seen her hand over the files but assumed she had. It would take them two days before they realised that what she had given him was worthless; time enough to complete what was necessary, to publish his paper, and to protect his family. It was a calculated risk, he knew that, and he was gambling with the lives of his wife and his daughter and her child. It was a risk he had to take.
***
Isaac Cook had a time issue as well. Apart from the occasional flurry of activity, the Homicide department was not working hard. The all points warning was still out for Malcolm Woolston, the case for the prosecution was tight, but they had nothing more. There was only so much walking the street, conducting interviews, looking at CCTV that could be done. After the conversation with Ed Barrow: nothing.
The joint funeral of Harold Hutton and his wife had been attended by a number of politicians, including the prime minister. There
had been speculation, even by the PM, about what the police were doing to resolve this tragedy.
DCS Goddard, after the obligatory blasting out from Commissioner Davies, felt the need to vent his spleen in his office, Isaac standing to attention to hear him out. ‘What’s going on here?’ Isaac mentally counted down from three minutes, the time for his DCS to change from argumentative to responsive.
‘We’re working on the case.’
‘This man can’t be that hard to find. You sit there with your small team, even after I’ve told you to get more people.’
Two minutes to go, Isaac thought.
‘We’re utilising other stations in our hunt for him.’
‘And he’s walking around the area, phoning you up, killing whoever.’
‘He’s not killed anyone since Hutton.’
‘Great. Is that something to be thankful for?’
One minute, Isaac thought.
‘Not at all. We’ve followed everything by the book, left no stone unturned. We’ve interviewed his former colleagues, spoken to his wife and daughter.’
‘You know what Davies wants?’
‘His man in my seat.’
‘Exactly. What can I say to hold him off?’
‘Will he listen?’
‘You know the man.’
‘Whatever we say, he’ll counteract with invective.’
‘Christ’s sake, Isaac, sit down,’ Goddard said. Isaac knew that now they could hold a worthwhile discussion. ‘Hutton was important. Davies is being pressured as well on this one, and he’s right to criticise. The fact that the man is a blithering fool is neither here nor there. He’s our boss. I can’t ignore him.’
DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 1 Page 121