by Alex Caan
When Kate had asked for there to be a patrol to check on Natalie, the Southgate force had simply sent a car around while it was doing its rounds. No permanent lookout, no trace on her phone. She could have left anytime, and they wouldn’t even know.
‘The flat is a mess, but I’m not sure how much that is a cause for worry, and how much it’s just neglect on her part. I’ve spoken to the owner; he’s converted his home into a series of bedsits. He says Natalie is a bit errant, doesn’t always pay the rent on time, but she’s never so late that it goes into arrears.’
‘Did the SOCOs find anything to worry about?’ asked Zain.
‘No, well, not in the amounts needed to raise a flag.’
‘Anything that might provide a link to what killed Julian Leakey?’
‘No. They couldn’t find anything that she may have taken from Raxoman either. Which is odd, if she was stealing for a while.’
‘What about the drug dealing?’
‘I can’t see any signs of her being a hardcore pusher.’
‘How can you tell? Most of them live in big houses these days.’
‘There are signs. And no phones. She has to have taken hers with her, but as per usual there’s no signal. Whoever leaked the fact that taking the battery out stops us being able to trace it needs a fucking smack.’
‘There are other ways to track phones now,’ said Zain. ‘Even with the battery removed.’
‘Yeah well, unless your spook pals are willing to help us find a runaway woman who barely registers on the suspicion scale . . .’
‘I think there’s more to it. She may have been involved in the deployment of a bioweapon on British soil. That’s how I’ll spin it anyway.’
Stevie looked out at the still street. This was the suburbs. Stevie lived in a one-bedroom flat in Stepney Green, a council property she had been able to buy. Her past was not pleasant, and she had been forced to fend for herself early on in life. No education, no prospects: she had joined the police because even at eighteen she knew it would be better than the alternative she was being offered.
‘Not to question you, but shouldn’t those sorts of favours be kept for the really crucial stuff?’ she asked.
‘Yes, I guess.’
‘Any word from the boss?’
‘No.’
‘So you call the shots while she’s MIA?’
‘Yes.’
Stevie didn’t know how she felt about this. She had loathed Zain when he started. She had been a dead cert for Kate encouraging her to apply, even helping her with the forms. And then, PCC Hope had waltzed in with this twat. Zain was up himself, going on about his GCHQ and counter-terrorism background, unfriendly and interfering. He thought he knew best, broke rules at will and generally pissed everyone off.
Then things changed, and he proved himself. To a point. Stevie had thawed towards him, but still her allegiance was to someone else. She didn’t like to think how much she only tolerated him for the sake of Kate. And if it came down to life or death, would she really have Zain’s back?
Chapter Forty-Five
Rob was in the Leakey’s bedroom. It was plush, expensive. He wasn’t interested in the room so much though, more in Jessica. She was one of the SOCOs, one of his exes. He watched her observe the room in the way she did all rooms which she was asked to search as a SOCO. She looked at the layout, where the furniture was placed, what sort of furniture it was. Where people may in the course of their day put things, where someone under pressure might hide something. What sort of contact the dead may have had with each section of the space she was in, or what sort of intrusion was made by someone who wasn’t meant to be there. Entrance and exit points. And clues to the lives that were led within the confines of the area she was asked to analyse. He remembered her telling him all this, the detail, the softness of her voice. Those intimate moments after making love, when he could pretend for a while she was the one. Before he shattered his own illusions.
‘My favourite CSI,’ he said.
Jessica didn’t look at him, instead searching through the drawers one by one to the main dresser.
‘How are you, Jess?’
Jessica had met him during a missing person’s case for the PCC, and agreed to go on a date with him. It had led to a one night stand. She dated him once more, they went to bed again and then that was it.
Jess continued searching through the drawers without replying.
‘Have you found anything?’ he asked.
‘No, nothing significant.’
Jessica moved next to the wardrobe that lined an entire wall. She opened it to reveal neat rows of clothes, separated by gender. Accessories like shoes and scarves all neatly lined up. Someone with too much time on their hands, or a SOCO. There were forensic levels of neatness here. Jessica started searching, but there was nothing. A small safe built in to the side, with a key panel on it.
‘What time do you finish?’ said Rob.
Jessica smiled, her mouth covered by her face mask, but her eyes, he remembered how they looked when she did. She was almost done with the wardrobe. She stood back, and checked the angles on the rear of it. She moved aside dresses, and had a closer look.
‘Pass me my torch please,’ she said to Rob. He brought it over, and stood close to her. ‘I’ve told you before about leaving perfume traces at a crime scene.’
‘It’s not perfume, it’s eau de Rob.’
She ignored him, and used her fingers to press the false backing. She checked the sides for a hinge, or a lock. Nothing was obvious. It must slide open, or click open somehow. And there must be a code.
‘Can we get someone here to break into this?’ she asked.
Rob got on his phone, and they had someone there within twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes during which Rob tried his hardest to get her to go on another date with him. Even he knew he was sounding desperate by the end.
‘Why?’ she said eventually, snapping. ‘So you can put me down on a scoresheet again? Do you give yourself double points for a woman you’ve managed to re-seduce? Come on Rob, we all know your reputation. So do you.’
He felt the verbal punch. Harder for the truth behind it? He hated how people perceived him, and hated even more how he lived up to the perceptions.
‘Doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings or a heart.’
‘Honestly, I doubt you have either of those.’
‘That’s harsh.’
‘Harsh is how you treat people.’
‘They know what they’re getting. I don’t promise the world to anyone.’
‘So it’s their own fault then? You’re not selling this to me.’
‘I miss you.’
‘I’m at work, maintain some professional standards, DS Pelt.’
He felt even more hurt, and left her alone until the safe cracker arrived. He was a man in his late fifties, neatly combed hair, a shirt and tie. He was wearing forensic boot covers and gloves, as he got to work.
‘Piss easy,’ he told them.
It still took him fifteen minutes to get in. Rob got a call.
‘Balls,’ he said when he was done. ‘That was DS Harris, we don’t have long. The owner is on their way back. They’ve been released without charge, our warrant to search the flat has been revoked.’
‘I didn’t hear that,’ said Jessica. ‘And you didn’t tell me until after we’re in.’
The safe door opened to reveal documents, jewellery, cash, passports. And on the side, another keypad.
‘Double jeopardy,’ said the safe cracker. It took him another twenty minutes to break the code. Twenty minutes when they were collectively watching and listening for the return of Anya Fox-Leakey. The rest of the team were already packed up, and loading up the vans in the underground car park.
When he entered the code for the side panel, Rob heard the mechanics start, and the back of the wardrobe slid open. Rob quickly ushered out the safe cracker, while Jessica started to explore what was behind it.
‘Wh
at have you found?’ asked Rob when he came back into the room.
She showed him.
‘Fuck me.’
‘Give it a rest, DS Pelt. It’s not going to happen.’
They stared at the contents, and Jessica started cataloguing them. They heard raised voices, and knew Anya Fox-Leakey was back.
‘You bag up all of these, and I’ll stall her,’ said Rob.
Chapter Forty-Six
Justin Hope was not moving. His fingers were steepled in front of his face, and his eyes were locked on to Zain’s. Zain was trying to convince him, but the PCC was ignoring him and resolutely repeating the same mantra.
‘DS Pelt has found a number of empty diplomatic pouches hidden away behind a false door. We found boxes in a few of them. They could have carried anything in them. I think Anya Fox-Leakey has been abusing her father’s diplomatic immunity, possibly for years.’
‘Have you anything more than your assumptions?’
‘I need to ask her what was in them. I want her to explain what was in every single one of those pouches, and what she did with the contents.’
‘They are carriers that have the protection of International Law; she really does not have to tell you.’
‘She is not a diplomat.’
‘Her father is, and they were issued under his name.’
‘So these people can bring anything into this country then?’
‘Unless there is cause for concern and a possible threat to national security, we do not check the contents of these things.’
‘That’s bullshit, sir, and you know it. She possibly brought in a bioweapon, and we aren’t allowed to question her? There has to be a way.’
‘Find me some evidence, DS Harris, and we will talk again. Right now, I will not drag the daughter of a peer and a UK ambassador through an interrogation based solely on your theories. You know how this works. You know the pressure this office can be placed under. I need something more, and then you will have my approval.’
Zain was fuming. They had the possible means of transportation for whatever killed Julian Leakey, and PCC Hope was preventing them from carrying out a proper investigation into it. The rich and powerful really did have different rules applied to them, he knew this, but it fucked him off every single time.
‘I’ve given you approval to test the boxes you found. If anything comes up positive, then you let me know. Until then, nothing else will be asked of Anya Fox-Leakey. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And why is DCI Riley not here making this request?’
Zain held his thoughts in check, unable to think quickly enough.
‘Family emergency, her mother. She will be back shortly.’
It was better than the alternative, he thought. To tell him that she had just stormed off without a word and told them not to contact her.
*
The rest of the team were just as angry. They were gathered in the conference room, looking defeated.
‘So what happens now?’ asked Rob.
‘We wait for the test results from the Royal Free. Has Dr Kapoor got back to you about the Raxoman results yet?’
‘No, not yet.’
‘What about Natalie Davies? Any sign at all?’
‘Yeah, didn’t I tell you?’ said Stevie sarcastically.
‘She didn’t just disappear. We need to intensify our search for her.’
‘There was no link between them I could find. No recent contact anyway. Natalie’s phone provider only sent me her last six months’ worth of data. We didn’t get clearance for Anya’s records.’
‘What about Julian? Any calls between him and Natalie?’
‘None that I could see,’ said Michelle. ‘There was the restraining order in place, so she probably didn’t breach it. What I did find though were a number of unknown calls being made from and to Natalie’s phone.’
‘Evidence she was selling stuff then?’ asked Zain.
‘It looks like it. We are tracing the numbers and calling them back at the moment. Well I say we, but Leah and the admin staff are.’
‘Would love to hear those conversations. Did you buy illegal substances from Natalie Davies?’ said Rob.
‘That’s the problem, they’re not exactly illegal. She wasn’t selling anything recognised in law; the best we can do is get her on handling stolen goods or something. The serious stuff she’s managed to avoid.’
‘It’s all such crap. Has anyone heard from DCI Riley?’ said Stevie.
There was silence.
‘What happens now?’ asked Michelle.
‘We wait,’ said Zain. ‘I suggest we call it an early night, and let’s hope we get some test results back that might actually help us.’
And first thing in the morning he was hoping DCI Kate Riley would be back at her desk.
Chapter Forty-Seven
The evening was cool as they walked through the streets of Pimlico. They had eaten at a Turkish restaurant, Kate unsure whether her chicken was cooked through, but Eric seemed to think it was fine. She might have lost her sense of taste from the stress she was feeling.
She had demanded to know who Jane was arguing with on the phone, but her mother had refused to answer. And when Kate plied on the pressure, her mother had simply walked away, slamming the bedroom door behind her. Ryan used to call it the Norma Desmond act. Kate had picked up the same trait from her mother. She had behaved exactly the same at work, and now she was screening calls and emails, not communicating with any of her colleagues, while she weighed up her options.
In her head she rehearsed her resignation speech, while she tried to play grateful girlfriend to Eric.
He had made the journey from Cambridge especially for her. It was a gesture, one she wasn’t used to. It felt good, and she resented the fact that it did. Why did she care so much, and since when had she become so reliant on someone else’s response to her?
Eric laced his fingers into hers. She was jolted by it, the intimacy. It made her shy away, more than sex ever did. The physical act meant nothing, it was so primal. But this, the emotional side, the bits that mattered, the small gestures that said you were in love, they put terror into her. Kate felt guilty that while Eric was expressing his adoration in such intense ways, she was rehearsing her back-up non-resigning verbal assault on Hope. Which one she would deliver, she didn’t yet know.
*
They were being watched. Kate and the lecturer, Eric. He had moved to hold her hand. It made the watcher cringe, such casual intimacy, PDAs. Not his thing. He looked away. It was an interesting development, one that needed to be reported.
‘What is he like?’ the man asked.
‘Tall, Scandinavian looking. They seem to be getting along.’
‘That’s a shame.’
‘Is it?’
‘How are you getting on with her mother?’
‘I’ve made contact, she is responding. Other than that, nothing concrete.’
‘Keep picking away at her. She is weak, she will cave.’
The watcher doesn’t understand what game is being played, but he knows it is a long-term one. Kate Riley is going to suffer, but when that happens is yet to be determined. For now, she will be observed and then slowly trapped.
*
Eric’s flat was on a square around Pimlico market, the stalls all closed and packed away now, peaceful. It felt surreal. In the heart of London, and yet there was quiet. Just the two of them.
Kate stopped, and kissed Eric. It felt like adolescence, strange and embarrassing. And then, as he moved against her body, it felt right. There was nowhere else she wanted to be.
Her phone rang. She made a move to pick it up, but Eric grabbed her hand and wouldn’t let her, his tongue exploring her mouth, as his body encompassed hers. She had to pull away, in case it was her mother, she needed to check. He kissed the back of her neck as she took out her cell and checked the display.
‘Rani?’ said Kate. It was nearly ten o’clock.
‘Just at home, why?’
‘Can you meet me? I’m at the Royal Free. It’s urgent.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘It’s about Julian Leakey. I think you should come. Now. Please.’
Dr Kapoor ended the call. Kate didn’t want to go; she should just let Zain handle it. Going would mean her choice was made. PCC Hope had undermined her, and yet she still stayed. She should just leave it alone, and resign. But the cop inside her wouldn’t let that happen. She knew there wouldn’t be much of a debate inside her head, as she dialled Zain and told him to pick her up.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Zain was driving, negotiating the traffic. He had picked Kate up on Vauxhall Bridge Road, then headed to the Royal Free.
They drove in silence, the brightness and noise of London filling her head. She didn’t want any music on, and Zain didn’t either. He had been at home when she called him, and she could smell the tangy citrus bodywash he used. It reminded her for a moment of a night in Winchester, when they had almost crossed the fragile barrier between personal and professional. She was glad that never happened. Never understood how she even got so close. Zain was a good officer, but he was also a loose cannon and a liability. Alcohol was involved, of course. And he was an attractive young man. Still, she couldn’t imagine even touching him in an inappropriate manner at the moment.
‘What does this mean, then? Have you decided to stay?’ he asked.
‘My mother used to say some people are so sharp they will cut themselves and their neighbours. Nothing gets past you.’
‘I guessed when you stormed out, when I knew why, I thought that was it. You would leave. I hope things are different now?’
‘I really don’t think anything has changed in the last few hours. Dr Kapoor asked to see me, so I’m going.’