“It seems odd to us Assa’s husband should be killed so soon after she died, so we’re looking into whether the two events are connected in some way.”
“But she died in an accident,” Blatchford protested.
“Possibly, though there’s some doubt about that. We’ve a reliable source telling us it wasn’t an accident, so we’ve an open mind about the cause of death at present. Jamal’s death was certainly no accident.”
“Assa’s death wasn’t an accident?” he spluttered.
“We don’t think so.” I shook my head.
Blatchford looked surprised. For a couple of moments, he looked as though he was about to speak, but said nothing.
“It just seems odd to me,” I said. “My sources tell me you scupper a deal between Ambersial and Zealiac. Ambersial then links up with Hembreys, but Assa Khoudri’s one of the people trying to stop it happening, which probably embarrasses you, and Jamal, because of the jobs you both do. Both of you working for firms involved in the deal. She dies soon afterwards, and then so does Jamal.”
“I’m not sure I follow you, Detective,” he said.
“I’m told he wasn’t happy about what she was doing.”
“Jamal? No, he probably wasn’t. He’s in a high-profile job in the public eye, and his wife’s out there picketing and demonstrating, trying to stop a lawful business doing what it does.” He looked like he’d bitten into something distasteful.
“In the car where Assa Khoudri died,” I said, “police found a briefcase full of various documents Ambersial had lost a few days before the accident. Would Jamal have known about his wife’s involvement in this?”
“He didn’t mention it to me.” He shook his head. “I just heard about the crash. I don’t know anything about any break-ins or stolen documents.”
Interesting he’d said break-ins. I’d not mentioned anything about a break-in.
“They were mainly commercially sensitive documents relating to Ambersial’s business,” I said. “What would she have been doing with them?”
“That I don’t know.” He sounded certain.
“The man in the car who also died was quite a well-known animal rights activist, name of Steven Perry.” For a brief moment I thought I detected a flicker of recognition in his eyes. I’d been around, and interrogated, enough suspects during my time to spot when someone’s eyes revealed recognition. The slight change in body language usually gave it away. “Who also just happens to be the stepfather of the police officer killed last Monday evening outside that meeting. Did Jamal know him?”
“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I wouldn’t have thought so.” I changed tack. “Last Monday evening, Jamal went to Khaled al-Ebouli’s meeting at Conway Hall. You know why he was there?”
“I can only assume because it was an election rally of some kind,” he said. “We’d no meetings or anything else planned for that evening, and we’d finished canvassing. He didn’t go there because he likes the man. I mean, Jamal thinks about as much of al-Ebouli as I do.”
“Perhaps, but he and Qais Jaser were caught on CCTV looking like they were talking to someone we think’s a prime suspect for killing PC Jones, yet they both deny knowing who this person is.”
“You’ve a suspect for that awful killing?” Blatchford exclaimed.
“We think so. We’re still investigating. But were they at the meeting because you’d asked them to go?”
“No.” He said this almost defiantly.
For the moment I had nothing further to ask. I had plenty of conjecture but nothing tangible. I wasn’t wholly convinced by anything Blatchford had told me. Why had he not wanted Zealiac to merge with Ambersial? Why had he blown their attempts to do so out of the water? It didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be purely financial because he was already a rich man, or was that just my naïveté speaking?
Was his interest in the other party to the deal, Hembreys? Christine Simmons had said I should look at what Hembreys was doing. Richard Rhodes was bodyguarding Hembreys’ man in the UK, Donald Dellvay, on behalf of MI5. That told me there was an evident security interest. I needed to know more about what Hembreys was hoping to do, and in particular Dellvay’s role in it, before I could go any further.
I thanked Blatchford for his time. He asked if we’d be talking again. I said it was very likely we would. He didn’t seem thrilled at the prospect.
*
It was now just past six. I was in the Branch office looking up details of Zealiac, attempting to ascertain what it was about the collapse of this deal which had upset Israel as much as it apparently had. I had a brief notion as to what it was but I needed to know some specifics.
The Branch data file had little on Zealiac, but I was able to access details about the company from our links with MI5. Given the work Zealiac had done for Israel’s government, MI5 had a considerable file on it. I was mainly interested in the section relating to the company’s current activities. The section had been heavily redacted, and there were a lot of words and whole sentences blacked out.
Zealiac was indeed a pharmaceutical research company, as Jeremy Blatchford had said, one of the largest in the Middle East, but it was also more than that. It was incorporated in Tel Aviv and, amongst other drugs it manufactured, Zealiac was currently working on developing a compound Israeli soldiers could take which would stop their bodies from becoming too hot when temperatures soared, removing the need to drink quite as much water to keep cool, which in turn would help increase the soldiers’ fighting efficiency. I couldn’t quite understand much of the scientific lingo on which this development was based, and I didn’t even try to pronounce the seven-syllable word which apparently was the name of the drug they were developing, but, if I interpreted correctly, this compound the company was attempting to develop would help maintain an even body temperature when out in very warm weather, even when carrying weapons and equipment packs weighing up to sixty pounds. Numbers of soldiers suffering from heatstroke and high blood pressure would significantly decline. It was claimed this would be a significant boost to Israel’s war effort. Its soldiers would have an advantage when fighting terrorism as the heat and loss of fluid through sweating profusely would become less of an issue.
In recent years, though, the company had suffered considerable financial losses as a result of the high costs involved in researching and developing this particular drug and thus, on the advice of its bank and its financial advisors, had looked for a business partner to merge with, or at least to share the exorbitant costs involved in developing and testing new drugs, which would relieve the financial pressure on the firm. Zealiac had invested a not inconsiderable number of Israeli shekels in pursuing the merger with Ambersial, but the proposed merger had fallen through because Zealiac had run out of money, and the bank had refused to advance any further funding. Ambersial had expressed its disappointment in the collapse of the merger, but had soon after entered, with almost indecent haste, into a business partnership with Hembreys: an agreement to engage in joint ventures rather than a full-on merger, with each firm maintaining its own identity. There was a single page outlining the suspicion the Zealiac deal had been neutered, and Israel’s government was unhappy about this. There were black lines blotting out what I suspected were names.
Had Hembreys been tipped off about Ambersial wanting a business partner and, thus, been ready to make its pitch as soon as Zealiac withdrew from negotiations? If it had, had James Blatchford tipped it off? But who would have told Blatchford?
After this I went onto the Branch’s site and accessed the file relating to Hembreys, which was very detailed given it was a supplier of various medicines, drugs and vaccines to the British and American governments for usage with their military personnel. There was a lengthy synopsis of the proposed deal with Ambersial, and the claim this was likely to prove lucrative to both firms. The word synergy was mentioned a few times, and the managing director was quoted as being confident the pooling of resources with Ambersial was going to prove benef
icial to both parties over the next five to ten years. MI5 had also added a few pages about the security implications of the deal, as one of Hembreys’ top managers was suspected of having terrorist links. I knew whom they were referring to.
After thirty minutes I logged off and thought about what I’d discovered. Zealiac would have gone out of business but for the rescue package put together by Israel’s government and the Israeli central bank. Figures were classified but I suspected a colossal sum was involved. I’d read the work Zealiac had already done wasn’t going to be transferred to another company, partly because no other Israeli company had the facilities to continue it, but also because of government concern regarding the level of secrecy involved in the work. Hence the rescue package. The work was going to be mothballed indefinitely. Small wonder the government of Israel had taken a dim view of this situation. Clearly it was aware of what had happened because Joachim Balpak had visited Crattelle & Hatchman to ask why.
Israel would be concerned because Hembreys, now working with Ambersial, was being represented in Europe by Donald Dellvay, suspected by MI5 of being involved in getting hydroxilyn to David Kader. Red Heaven had been thwarted in its attempts to use it, but knowing that Red Heaven, and now very likely Muearada, could possibly have access to such dangerous catalytic chemicals was making Israel nervous. They’d also be concerned about whether James Blatchford had scuppered the deal because of ideological reasons or because of greed. Either way they would want answers.
For myself, I was also concerned by how Blatchford had known Hembreys was waiting in the wings to do a deal with Ambersial. Jeremy Blatchford had said someone had told his brother, and I was thinking about who this might have been. Information about a major corporation like Hembreys looking to engage in a formal working partnership with a British firm would be kept under wraps until the last minute, because such information would have a distorting impact on share values. So the deal would be announced only when it was completed. Blatchford therefore knew someone privy to the deal who’d tipped him off, enabling him to profit by getting ahead of the market and buying shares before the deal was announced.
My guess was the tip had come from Jamal Khoudri. He worked for Jacobson’s and would probably have access to the same information as Blatchford. If he knew about Hembreys’ interest, which he’d probably have learnt of from his job, he’d mention it to his boss, who could then acquire shares in advance of the deal being done, and thus make a tidy sum by selling after the value increased.
I then had an alarming thought. Could the tip-off have come from Christian Perkins? His son was bodyguarding Dellvay. What if Rhodes had found out about Hembreys’ interest from Dellvay and tipped off his father? Perkins certainly knew Blatchford. I’d seen the picture of them together at the party conference. Blatchford acts on the tip, buys shares in Ambersial and Hembreys, and then helps scupper the deal with Zealiac, clearing the way for Hembreys to engage in a business partnership with Ambersial? With his intelligence contacts, Perkins would of course know about Israel’s displeasure. Could this be how he knew our prime suspect for killing Jones was an Israeli? This was conjecture on my part and I couldn’t prove any of it. But it was certainly plausible and something to consider.
Sally Taylor knew some of what Blatchford had done, but I wondered how much she knew about the bigger picture. She probably knew some of the financial details, but did she know about Israel’s plans being sabotaged in the way they had been, and the potential political ramifications? I knew she intended to publish what she knew at some future point, but I wondered whether the security service would allow such knowledge into the public eye.
My musing was interrupted by Smitherman. He strolled through the open plan office towards my desk, walking gingerly as though his shoes were too tight. He pulled up a chair and sat at the side of the desk.
“Before I begin, I’ve just had a call from Colonel Stimpson. Someone logged into MI5’s site looking at an Israeli company named Zealiac, and they’ve traced it to here. It was you, wasn’t it?”
As I’d been reading what was on the site, I’d been aware someone was probably observing what was being accessed from the other side. “Yeah, it was.” I shrugged. “Pertains to the case I’m working on.”
“In what way?” he wanted to know.
I took him through what I’d been finding out since Jamal Khoudri had been killed. He listened intently to what I told him, and didn’t reply to anything. I mentioned discovering Blatchford had shafted a deal between Ambersial and Zealiac, which was why I’d looked up information on Zealiac; I’d heard Israel hadn’t been happy at what had occurred, and I’d wanted to know what reason they might have for this. I mentioned talking to Jeremy Blatchford, but I omitted any reference to Kevin Sharone and Sally Taylor, though I included what I’d learned from both persons.
He nodded, looking pensive for a moment. “I did a little enquiring for you, about the Israeli you mentioned.”
“Balpak.”
“Yeah, him.” Smitherman paused and pursed his lips. “I found out he’s an accredited diplomat with the Israeli Embassy.”
I recoiled from what I’d heard. A viable suspect in the murder of a British police officer, and I’m told he has diplomatic accreditation. Diplomat or not, killing police is well outside the rules. But being a diplomat meant he had protected status in international law. Was this what Richard Rhodes had meant when he’d mentioned the possibility of an international incident? Did this mean Rhodes knew what Balpak had done?
“You’re aware of what this means, aren’t you?” Smitherman interrupted my musing. “He’s subject to the protection of the 1961 Vienna Convention, and we can’t arrest him. He’s immune from domestic legal process, irrespective of whatever he’s done. Unless, of course, his country’s prepared to waive his immunity.”
We both knew this wasn’t going to happen.
“I thought he was a businessman.” This was unwelcome news, and it had wound me up.
“He is. That’s his official cover. But in the real world, he’s the Mossad’s station chief here in London, actually one of their main operatives,” Smitherman firmly stated.
“Why would someone given the status of an Israeli diplomat be directly involved in killing a British police officer?”
“There’s no definite proof he did it,” Smitherman countered.
“No, only the CCTV pictures showing a masked man running down Proctor Street from Red Lion Square, from the actual point where Jones was killed, and then removing his facial coverings and being caught on film,” I immediately replied, hoping I wasn’t coming across as insubordinate. “We identified him from this. I fed the image into our computers and it came back as an almost certain match. I’ve got an eyewitness who saw him running away and positively identified him. Sounds like proof to me.” I was trying to remain calm. “It’s him all right.”
“But there’s no actual footage of him committing the act, is there?” Smitherman challenged. “He can’t be definitively identified on the film, can he? There was a crowd of people around PC Jones when he fell. He was off-camera for several seconds, and when the crowd parted, he was seen holding his hands to his neck and bleeding profusely. No one person could be seen actually committing the act of knifing him. The CCTV pictures have been scanned meticulously, almost frame by frame, but he was being pulled down when he was cut. We don’t have the actual act on film. Any one of a dozen persons in the vicinity could have killed Jones. We don’t have the murder weapon, either.” He sighed. “Police on the ground have taken statements from several people who were there, but no one has come forward and said they saw Jones getting stabbed. No one can definitively put a weapon in anyone’s hands.”
He paused for a moment. “What I’m saying is, without anything substantial, all we have is speculation and educated surmising, and we both know what any half-decent defence lawyer’ll do to whatever we could offer at trial. That’s if it even got as far as a trial.”
He looked like a doctor
telling a patient their condition was inoperable.
“Remember the Keith Blakelock case, Broadwater Farm in 1985?” he asked. “Poor sod was stabbed several times but there was no reliable proof as to who actually did the act. No one person in that melee around him could be identified as being responsible.” He sighed. “Three people around him were charged and convicted, but freed on appeal. New evidence supposedly came up about ten years back, someone else was charged but he too was acquitted. You know what that means, don’t you?”
He didn’t go on. He didn’t need to. The implication was clear. Once in a while police have to suck it up and accept a case will probably never be solved. It was inevitable this would occasionally happen, but it was particularly galling when the victim was one of us. It was even more galling when the usual police sources had come up with nothing, and neither would they. This was not a murder in pursuit of a crime. This was a political murder: murder in pursuit of a political objective. I didn’t even know what the objective was, either.
I was disappointed. No, worse. I was close to upset. It was now likely PC Jones’ death was going to remain on the unsolved murder case file, and eventually become a cold case. I was certain Joachim Balpak was our man, but his being an accredited diplomat meant we couldn’t bring him in even for routine questioning, unless he agreed to it, which I doubted he would. I had to admit the evidence against Balpak wasn’t exactly overwhelming, but I was prepared to bet he was the right person.
“I saw Balpak coming out of Richard Rhodes’ place earlier today. Why would he have been there? What’s his connection to Rhodes?” I asked.
“They both have an interest in Dellvay,” Smitherman replied. “Especially Balpak. Israel is convinced it was Dellvay who leaked the hydroxilyn Red Heaven used at that synagogue in Golders Green last year. You remember that incident?”
I indicated I did.
“Nobody died, but the significance was clear. So they’re keeping tabs on Dellvay. Rhodes is doing the same for MI5 and they’re working together. Hopefully, they’ll establish a firm connection between him and Red Heaven and nail the bastard,” he said, optimistically. “Anyway, why were you at Rhodes’ flat?”
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