by Rob Wyllie
'You go near my brother, and you're dead Barker, understand that? I mean it.'
Taken by surprise, Barker struggled for breath as Frank wrestled him to the floor. Burnside tried again to restrain him, grabbing him by both arms and pulling him back.
'C'mon Frank, he's not worth it. Just leave it. Please mate, leave it.'
Frank shrugged him off, directing a final withering glance at Barker as he lay prone and dazed.
'Aye, you're probably right mate. But make no mistake Barker, I'm coming for you. There's nothing worse than a bent copper, so you'd better start browsing the job sites. Because you're finished here.'
With that, Frank turned on his heels and with a pleasant, 'it was nice to meet you' in the direction of the young WPC, strode purposefully through the incident room towards the exit. To his delight he was accompanied by a discrete ripple of applause, causing him to smile and tip an imaginary cap in the manner of a major-winning golfer striding towards the eighteenth green.
Driving back to the office, he reflected that maybe he could have handled it a tad better, but what was certain was that the case was going be a bloody disaster under that fool Barker. The black lad had been stupid to nick Cameron's phone as he lay dying, but there was no way he could have carried out what was an obviously professional killing. And now valuable police time was to be wasted on a stupid investigation of his brother Jimmy, whilst the real killers were still on the loose.
Because if as he strongly suspected the murders were as a direct result of the Seven Cathedral Close dinner, then there were people clearly anxious to make sure nobody talked, meaning there was every chance they would strike again. Now he desperately needed to get Jill Smart's backing to make the investigation official. Department 12B wasn't supposed to run parallel cases, but he felt confident that when he gave Jill the feedback from his meeting with Barker, she would be supportive. They needed access to phone records, they needed to be able to bring the participants in for interview, and they needed clearance from the spooks to talk to the elusive Dr Khan, and for all that to happen, the investigation had to be official.
Above all, they needed to find out what the hell was going on before the killer or killers struck again.
Chapter 23
'Means, motive, opportunity, that's what we have to think about isn't it? For every suspect.'
Maggie and Jimmy had been joined at their Fleet Street Starbucks by Frank, who was in dire need of a caffeine infusion after a gruelling and uncomfortable morning with his boss. He shook his head in mock disgust. 'The good Lord save us from the amateur detective. Anyway, is this your new office or something? You're always here.'
'No, it's just that Elsa's ran out of beans again and we were desperate. But don't you change the subject Frank Stewart. I am right, aren't I? About means motive and opportunity? I've seen it on that whiteboard on Midsummer Murders.'
He struggled to suppress a smile. 'Aye, so it must be true Maggie, that's an authoritative source, so it is.'
She could sense they were all trying hard to remain upbeat, but the truth was that for different reasons it was all getting a bit difficult. She had suffered a rapid crash in her mood when she realised that it might have been her impetuous decision to show Philip that photograph which had triggered the murders of Penelope White and Adam Cameron. Frank had expressly told her not to, but in the heat of the moment, she had lost control, with terrible consequences. It was increasingly her opinion that everything she touched turned to disaster, an opinion strongly backed up by facts that could not easily be ignored. And if that wasn't bad enough, she was now beginning to realise the practical implications of Philip's court injunction. Not being able to see Ollie, even at a distance, was unbearable agony, made even worse by the loveliness of the fleeting hour she had spent with her son on his birthday. But she knew that her chances at the upcoming custody hearing were already slim, and that incident at his office the other day had hardly helped matters. Any further transgressions would surely ruin them for good. Now her determination to get revenge on Philip was dissipating as she faced up to the hopelessness of her situation.
Jimmy smiled, judging the mood. 'We're a right bunch of miseries, aren't we? Anybody would think the end of the world was nigh. C'mon, it's not that bad, is it?'
Frank did not seem to share the sentiment. 'Speak for yourself pal.'
'I'm sure I would feel a lot better if we could actually do something,' Maggie said. 'I don't mind admitting I'm really struggling at the moment. Look at this.'
She showed them a Facebook post with a photo of a laughing Ollie playing catch with Angelique Perez on Hampstead Heath.
'Maggie, why are you following Angelique's social media, for goodness sake?' Jimmy said. 'Do you really think that's going to help?'
Frank gave him a withering look. 'Says the man who checks out the Swedish princess ten times an hour.'
Jimmy ignored him. 'Take it from me, it doesn't help at all.'
'But you still look, don't you?' Maggie said kindly.
'No, not now. Never.' She could tell he was lying.
'Social media, I've always said it's a curse.' This from Frank, the man who did not even own a smartphone.
'Aye, and you know all about Facegram, being mister techno man and all that,' Jimmy said, 'You've still got a flip-up phone for god's sake.'
'My star trek communicator, do you mean? It works fine for me. And yes, I do have a Facegram account. I get lots of likes, me.'
Jimmy caught Maggie's eye. She was trying very hard not to laugh.
'Ah well Frank, we'll look forward to looking up your Facegram page later,' she said, 'although I can't say I've heard of that app before. Anyway, how did you get on this morning with your boss? Did you manage to get the case up and running?'
'Well, the answer is yes and no. To tell the truth, Jill and I had a wee bit of argy-bargy when I told her about my run-in with DCI Barker...'
Jimmy eyed him with suspicion. 'What run-in?'
'Nothing for you to worry about son, we just had a little disagreement, that's all. So as I said, yes and no. Jill thought there wasn't enough solid evidence of conspiracy at this point for her to open up a full enquiry and devote all the resources that would demand, which is fair enough. But the good news is she's cleared the decks so that I can work on it full time for the next two or three weeks. Then, if I - I mean we - uncover anything of significance, she'll look at it again. Can't really complain about her decision, it's what I kind of expected to be honest.'
Maggie suspected the decision suited Frank very well. She guessed he preferred to work on his own whenever possible. From his point of view, it probably saved a lot of tedious cocking-about time which could be used more profitably on the case.
'That sounds good,' she said, 'so what's the plan?'
'Well, I know I laughed at you earlier, but we do actually need to look at means, motive and opportunity for each suspect.'
'See, told you.'
'No, this is serious. For a start, we have got to face the possibility - no, stronger than that, the likelihood - that one or more of that dining group could actually be responsible for the murders. Looking at motive, then it's got to be that someone or some group did not want the subject of that meeting to get out. That would be my initial thought.'
Jimmy nodded his assent. 'Yep, agreed, but it would be good if we actually knew what was said at that dinner, wouldn't it?'
'I think we can probably make a guess at that, can't we?' Maggie said. 'If it's all about how to make the case watertight, maybe they are trying to put pressure on Khan to write a report that does that, or maybe even trying to get him to appear as an expert witness.'
'It might be that, right enough,' Jimmy agreed, 'but what we don't know is, what were the dynamics around that table? What I mean is, who was driving the agenda? For example, was it the Government as represented by Saddleworth putting pressure on the CPS and their barrister.'
Maggie had been thinking about that. 'That's all plausible,
but what's been puzzling me is why they held that meeting in a public place.'
'You can't kick up a fuss in a public place, can you?' Jimmy said. 'I'd imagine that was the main reason.'
'Yes. I hadn't thought of that,' Maggie said, unconvinced. 'That's probably what it was. But what was Penelope White doing there? Perhaps it was to put more pressure on Khan. He must have this constant terror that he is going to be exposed, so whoever is behind all this brings a journalist along so that he is reminded what will happen if he suddenly decides not to cooperate with whatever plan they have cooked up.'
Frank broke his silence. 'Aye, but it's all wrong, this case. I've said it before but it's all the wrong way round.'
Jimmy looked puzzled. 'I don't understand what you're saying brother.'
'Look, is it credible to think that this wee dinner can lead to two murders if all they were trying to do was beef up the case against Alzahrani? No, it isn't, there must be more to it than that. Remember, our mastermind DCI Barker hasn't figured this out yet, but these killings were professional jobs. Penelope White was shot cleanly through the head three times, and not a single neighbour heard a thing, which points to a silencer being used. And I've been told by my mate Pete Burnside that the SOCOs have not found any DNA or fingerprints in her flat that shouldn't be there. Not a trace. And then we have Adam Cameron, killed by a single upward stab through the heart, clean and accurate. That wasn't done by some scumbag mugger, I can assure you of that. No, as I said, this whole thing has got to be about something way more serious. Something deadly serious.'
Maggie was mulling over whether this was now maybe a good time to bring up what was likely to be a slightly delicate subject. Uncertainly, she decided to go for it.
'Frank, is it right that you said it was normal procedure after something like this to check the phone records of the suspects? You said there would be panic calls and attempts to get stories straight and stuff like that. I'm sure that's what you said.'
Frank looked at her suspiciously. 'Aye, I did, but Jill Smart hasn't given me the go-ahead to do that yet.'
'Well maybe we could help you with that. It's rather unofficial, but well...'
She rummaged in her bag, emerging with the two smartphones and laying them on the table. 'These are Philip Brooks' and Adam Cameron's. We thought they might come in handy.'
Frank's expression registered utter disbelief. 'You stole their bloody phones? And one of them a murder victim? This is crazy, I shouldn't even be looking at these, never mind being anywhere near them. I should arrest you two, so I should.'
Maggie shot him a weak smile and pointed at Jimmy. 'Arrest him you mean, nothing to do with me. I'm just a lawyer.'
'You lying toad,' Jimmy laughed, and then wished he hadn't.
She could tell that Frank was struggling to suppress his anger. 'This isn't something to joke about guys. Christ, if Jill finds out about this, I'm a dead man.'
'I don't know about that,' Maggie said, raising a quizzical eyebrow, 'but I'll tell you what's strange about this. Neither Philip or Adam Cameron ever tried to contact us to get them back.'
Frank was shaking his head with obvious disgust.
'Bloody amateurs, that's what you are. And bloody dangerous amateurs at that. Of course they haven't asked for their phones back. Because when they realised they were gone, then their panic and fear would have been off the scale. The bloody dial was always going to be jacked up to eleven. God knows what you two have set off. It doesn't bear thinking about, it really doesn't.'
He picked up Brooks' iPhone and punched the home button. It was locked of course, as he expected, but a notification box showed it had received more than thirty missed calls in the last twenty-four hours. Adam Cameron's, the same.
'You'll have seen that I expect, he said, shoving the phone in her face. 'The shit's really hit the fan.'
Maggie looked sheepish. 'Yes, we know. We thought it would be good if we could find out what these calls were about.' Her tone was contrite. She knew they had screwed up and was anxious to get back on the right side of Frank.
But only because she knew he had access to Eleanor Campbell. And she would know how to crack a phone password.
Chapter 24
Naturally the distinguished member had made contingency plans, but now it seemed there was a definite risk of this matter spiralling out of control. Careless and stupid in equal measure. So now they had to assume the police would be all over the phone records, and goodness knows where that would lead. And it's not as if they hadn't been warned. Careless talk cost lives. Keep your bloody mouths shut, whatever happens. That's what they had been told.
So be it. Now the decision had been made for them. Regrettable of course, it would have been better if this little messiness could have been avoided, but now there was no other option. Plan B, robust thus far, would need to be seen through to its logical conclusion. There were a few new obstacles to be overcome, but that was to be expected, and it was built into the programme.
He placed his empty glass on the walnut coffee table and signalled for the attendant to bring his coat. Another one would have been nice, but he was expected back at the House for another tedious division bell. Plan B. The Ayes have it.
Chapter 25
Frank stood outside Atlee House puffing on a cigarette and reflecting on the day's events. When he got back to the office, Jill had reminded him that the evidence pack for the pre-hearing on his drugs corruption case needed to be with the CPS the next day. Being forced to work late, he was not in the best of humours. On top of that, the stolen phones had been handed over to Eleanor but that hadn't gone as smoothly as he had hoped. It was his own fault really for letting slip how he had come by them, and she was insistent that she would not touch them with a bargepole. He'd forgotten her fondness for form-filling, and it was only when he promised, lying, that he would get her an authorising e-mail from DCI Smart did she take them off his hands, and that was with great reluctance. 'Don't you trust me Eleanor?' he had asked guilelessly. 'No,' she had answered bluntly. So not a great day overall and he still had the big issue weighing on his mind. He knew there was something very wrong in their analysis of the Cathedral Close case.
Maggie had been set up, that was probably true. Dr Tariq Khan had been coerced into writing that report, that was definitely true. But whilst he could understand why the Home Secretary wanted Alzahrani locked up -after all, keeping the country safe was in his job-spec and he was no friend of Palestine - why the secret trip to Moscow to meet Ziadeh?
He was just about to head back inside when his phone rang. It was DI Burnside, sounding ebullient as ever.
'Hey Frank, how's things mate?'
'Aye, good Pete, good.' It was always nice to catch up with his pal and he cheered up a little.
'Well that's funny, 'cos a little bird told me there was some trouble about a couple of nicked phones, top of the range ones from what I hear. You running a little business on the side or something? I'm looking for a new Galaxy myself.'
'How the hell did you find out about that Burnside?'
The man was incredible, with an uncanny knack of finding out just about everything that was going on in the Met. Except it wasn't really a knack, more the result of running a small army of inside informants across the organisation.
'Ear to the ground pal, ear to the ground. And on that topic, you will definitely want to hear what a little bird told me the other day.' When you heard his signature phrase 'a little bird told me', you knew you were in for a gem.
'This is a different little bird, I assume? Well, all right then, lay it on me.'
'Yeah, well you know we're working on the Penelope White murder?'
'The one that Barker thinks has got nothing to do with the Cameron case.'
'I think even he's now beginning to acknowledge that there might be a connection. Anyway, getting back to the White case, as part of our investigation we talked to her paper to find out what else she had been working on. Routine and all that.'
/> 'You know she was doing something about my wee brother Jimmy, don't you? Bloody outrageous.' And it had been White too who had christened Maggie the most hated woman in Britain. If that wasn't a motive for murder, what was? Luckily Barker was too stupid to ever work out that connection.
'Yeah, we know that but I was able to get it into the gaffer's thick head that your brother didn't know about the Chronicle's campaign at the time of her murder. He's off the hook.'
'Cheers for that mate, he'll be bloody relieved.'
'No problem, all part of the service. What we did find out though, was that she was investigating something else, what was it called...wait a minute, I've got it written down somewhere...oh yeah, the Miner's Emphysema Trust. It was some big scandal a long time ago, nearly fifteen years ago in fact. 2004. This trust thing was meant to look after sick miners, but it turned out the chairman was running a massive scam and creaming off some of the cash for himself. When it all came out, the guy killed himself. Len Pringle, that was his name. He was an ex-miner.'
'I don't remember anything about that.'
'Well as I said, it was a long time ago. Pre-internet era and also I think the government of the time tried very hard to hush it all up. Point is, there was a lot of money went missing that was never accounted for. Two million quid in fact. That was the story that Penelope White was working on. Where did the money go, and who took it, all that sort of stuff.'
'That's a big story right enough. But Pete, why are you telling me all this?'
'Patience boy, patience. The reason I'm telling you this is because amongst the trustees at the time was one Gerrard Saddleworth MP.'
'Christ, that is interesting. You know that they're lovers, don't you? Gerrard and White. I mean, they were lovers, before she died.'
'Of course I knew that mate. That's the whole point. It seemed she was quite prepared to shaft her lover in pursuit of a story, if you'll pardon the expression. Nice girl.'