The House on Downshire Hill

by Guy Fraser-Sampson

“I’m really sorry, but I’d completely forgotten about it. Is it important do you think?”

  “Might be,” Metcalfe said noncommittally. “Well, if you do remember anything else, Mr Rowbotham, please do give us a ring won’t you?”

  “You know what?” Rowbotham suddenly said as he led them back through the hallway. “I should have thought of this before. You should get hold of Colin McKenzie. He is likely to have a much better idea of what went on next door than I do. He and his wife were next door – in Helen and Charlie’s house that is – just about for ever, I think.”

  “Thank you, we’ve already thought of that actually. You wouldn’t have any information that might help us find him might you?”

  “No, I’m sorry, Inspector. We weren’t close you know. Just passed the time of day occasionally. But I think he knew Conrad better than most people – not that that’s saying very much.”

  “Did Conrad ever talk to you about his family?” Metcalfe asked as they paused on the doorstep. “Did he ever mention any children, for example?”

  “Do you know, there was something, just once. It was before Raj arrived on the scene, so it must have been several years ago. I was having a cup of coffee with him in his front room and I happened to mention children in some context or other. He said something like ‘damn children, they just bring you pain and trouble’ and then clammed up. I asked him what he meant, of course, because naturally I was intrigued. But he just changed the subject and made it clear he didn’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “I see. Well at least that suggests he did have children, at least.”

  “Yes, I suppose so. I wonder if we’ll ever really know the truth about him?”

  “We usually get to the truth sooner or later, sir,” Desai said reassuringly.

  “I do hope so, Sergeant, and do feel free to call again won’t you?”

  “I think you have a bit of fan there, Priya,” Metcalfe said as they walked up the driveway together.

  “Oh don’t be silly, guv,” Desai replied, determinedly reaching out to open the gate herself before he could do so for her, “he’s old enough to be my Grandad.”

  “Doesn’t stop a man from dreaming, Priya. I said he was a fan of yours, not the other way round.”

  “Well, in that case I wish he wouldn’t be.”

  “I shouldn’t worry about it too much. It happens to Karen all the time.”

  “That’s different. She’s different.”

  “Different? How do you mean?”

  “Just different, guv. That’s all.”

  CHAPTER 13

  “Hello, Simon, come in. Afternoon, Bob.”

  The ACC held open the door and waved them expansively into his office.

  “Now, you both remember Commander Newby, don’t you?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  They both shook hands with the powerfully built man who rose to greet them. Metcalfe winced slightly as a result, while Collison showed more stoicism.

  “Well, sit down everyone. Now, as I said on the phone, Simon, there may be some security implications about your current case in Hampstead. Philip, why don’t you go ahead?”

  “Thank you, sir. Well, I should tell you straightaway that nothing about this seems very straightforward. Part of what I’m about to tell you is stuff we know for certain, but quite a lot of it is conjecture.”

  “Understood,” Collison nodded.

  “When your alert about this Rajarshi character went into the system it flagged up a reference to something we’ve been asked to look at both by Interpol and by our colleagues in the security services. It revolves around the issuing of fake passports – particularly Sri Lankan passports – and their use by criminals or, and hence the interest of the security services, terrorists.”

  “It seems that the man you know as Raj was living in Singapore, not Sri Lanka. It’s possible that he may have family connections with Sri Lanka; after all there’s a big Tamil community there as you know. At the time we’re talking about they were engaged in a civil war with a government which largely represented the Sinhalese majority. But there’s nothing to suggest he ever even lived there, let alone that he was born there.”

  “Somehow he was connected with the police in Malaysia – Kuala Lumpur to be exact. It’s possible that he was a police informer there, but that’s conjecture on my part. Whatever the case, he seems to have been recommended by the Malaysian police to their counterparts in Singapore as someone who might be trusted to go undercover and infiltrate this false passport network. He was to hold himself out as wanting to get into the UK. To get into the UK illegally, that is, by claiming asylum on the false premise that he was from Sri Lanka and that to send him back there might be a danger to his life.”

  “And to do that he needed a Sri Lankan passport,” the ACC commented.

  “Exactly, sir. And he must have been very convincing in the role because he seems to have been accepted as a genuine customer with no trouble at all. The problem was that he probably was a genuine customer. The Singapore police now believe that he had no intention at all of following through with the sort of deep level penetration they had in mind, but simply to get himself into the UK for his own purposes. This was embarrassing, not only for themselves and their counterparts in Kuala Lumpur, but also because they had already tipped off our security services that they would be running this operation on our territory. They asked for our cooperation, which we were happy to give since we knew that if someone like Raj could enter the UK in this way then so could a genuine terrorist pretending to be someone like Raj.”

  “But Raj simply disappeared when he got here?”

  “Yes he did. And there’s one angle of which you should be aware.”

  “Yes sir?”

  “Before Raj left Singapore his handlers were getting distinctly twitchy precisely because they were suspicious he was using them for his own ends and would simply do a runner as soon as he got into the UK – which is of course precisely what happened. So they put him under pressure, threatening to cancel the whole thing and send him back to Kuala Lumpur unless he gave them a detailed report on everything he’d found out to date.”

  “And he did?”

  “Yes, he did. Furthermore, his handlers believe that he was sufficiently alarmed at the thought of being left hanging in the wind that his report is almost certainly reliable. They made it clear that they were proposing to check up on everything he told them, and everything they were able to check seemed to make sense. So, reluctantly, they allowed the operation to go ahead.”

  “What was in the report?”

  “A lot of useful day-to-day stuff; the names of the contacts who had sold him the passport, that sort of thing. But they were after a few of the big names behind it, while this was all strictly low grade stuff. With one exception. There was something he told them which shocked them rigid. It seems that there was a small group of police officers right there in Singapore who were somehow implicated in all of this. Whether it was simply being paid to look the other way, or something more sinister, we’re not sure because the chaps in Singapore are playing their cards very close to their chest. But there’s something else.”

  Newby paused to drink some tea, and then continued.

  “As you can imagine, a key undercover operative like this was being handled very much on a ‘need to know’ basis, and that group of people was a very small one. However, just after Raj left for the UK there was an unauthorised access to some details on the police computer system which would have disclosed both Raj’s identity, and the full scope of his undercover activities.”

  “Including his allegations against police officers?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. The hack was traced to a fairly junior person in the IT department. He’d pulled the old trick of asking someone for their password so that he could do some work on their computer. The IT bloke never showed up for work again and seems to have vanished into thin air. But another informant, who was also identified in the stolen files,
was found murdered two days later.”

  “So you think Raj may be in danger – even here in the UK?”

  Newby shrugged.

  “Who knows? I’ve given you everything I know, Simon, because I thought you needed to have it. From this point on, your conjectures are as good as mine. There’s one other thing you should know, though. As you can imagine from the moment the alarm was raised in Singapore the police there have been keeping a very close eye on certain people’s movements. One of the people who may be implicated – and it’s only ‘may’ mind you, simply because she had some sort of contact with the passport enquiry – is one of their official translators who recently gave up a job in Singapore for no apparent reason and moved here to the UK. Her name is Sophie Ho. Unfortunately, without us being aware of it, she has already been brought into contact with your investigation.”

  “But as I understand it we have nothing concrete against her?”

  “Nothing at all. But probably better to be safe than sorry, eh?”

  “What would you recommend, sir?”

  Newby considered this for a moment.

  “Nothing that may give her cause to suspect that we’re onto her. Of course she may be entirely innocent, but if she isn’t we don’t want to scare her off. Properly handled she could still lead us, and our associates in Singapore, to someone important. Just make sure that she doesn’t get access to any of your lines of enquiry. In particular, please keep away from Raj if and when you catch him.”

  “And for the record, sir, I assume all this is classified?”

  “Yes, absolutely. Which means that, as before, you can’t share it with any other member of your team. If you find yourself in a situation where you need to investigate something which has any bearing on Sophie Ho then please give me a ring and we’ll arrange to give you access to the services of some of our people who have the necessary clearance.”

  “Thank you, sir, I appreciate that.”

  “Don’t mention it. Happy to help.”

  “I think I should tell you that one member of our team has already had contact with this young woman. Priya Desai, an acting DS. She’s a very fine officer and I can vouch for her absolutely. Can I bring her within the Chinese wall?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Sorry. Just try to find out as discreetly as possible anything she might have told her or shown her. Then let’s talk again.”

  •

  Had they but known it, the object of their concern was at this moment in telephonic contact with Desai, who had gone to her office to take the call.

  “Hey you,” Sophie said.

  “Hey you yourself.”

  “I thought I’d give you a ring to check that you got home OK last night.”

  “Yes, of course. Colindale’s not exactly the Wild West you know. And you?”

  “Yeah, no problem. So, did you enjoy yourself then?”.

  “Yes, you know I did, it was great. Thank you for suggesting it. I was all ready to go home for an evening of watching telly with my mum.”

  “Boring or what?”

  “Yeah, well …”

  “So how’s the investigation going then. Any new developments?”

  “You know I can’t tell you that.”

  “Oh, come on, Priya, don’t be so stuffy. I’m in the Met too, remember.”

  “Yes, but you’re not a member of the team, are you? So I can’t tell you anything about the investigation.”

  “You already have.”

  “I showed you something as a possible witness, someone who might be to help us, that’s all.”

  “Oh all right, have it your own way. I couldn’t really care less anyway. I was just trying to show an interest.”

  “I’m sorry, Sophie …”

  “Forget it. It really doesn’t matter. Now, when can I see you again?”

  “Well, that would be lovely but I’m likely to be quite busy the next few days.”

  “But you do want to, don’t you? To see me again?”

  “Yes, of course I do. It’s just I’m not sure when I’ll be free.”

  “Well, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Just ring me any time when you think you may have an hour or two to spare and I’ll come running.”

  “All right, that’s great. Wonderful.”

  “OK. Bye then.”

  “No, wait. Sophie …”

  “Yes?”

  “Last night. Tell me …”

  “What about it?”

  Now there was a laugh lurking behind her voice, almost teasing.

  “Well, was it … well, a date I suppose. Was it a date?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you. Please tell me, Sophie. I’m all messed up here.”

  “I’m sorry, honey. Sorry to be making fun of you. Messed up how?”

  “Well, I’ve never … well, I’ve never been on a date with a woman before. That’s what I wanted to say. And that’s why I feel completely messed up inside. So please tell me, Sophie, because I need to know. Was it a date?”

  There was a pause, and again that tension, which this time seemed to increase as the pause lengthened. Then, like a distant crackle of electricity, the voice at the other end said quietly but firmly “you bet your life it was”.

  CHAPTER 14

  “OK, so how shall we play this then?” DC Susan Godwin asked Timothy Evans.

  The two of them had just arrived at the junction of Haverstock Hill with Glenloch Road and were hovering uncomfortably outside the bank, trying not to look conspicuous. This was difficult, since Godwin was tall, black, and powerfully built as a result of frequent weights sessions at the gym, and Evans looked exactly like a plainclothes police officer.

  “Well, I suppose we could always stand over there on the other side of the road and have a snog,” he suggested. “That would look pretty natural, wouldn’t it?”

  Just for a moment she gave him a look of such utter disdain that he could not help but wonder if she and Desai somehow shared some common genetic material.

  “For three hours?”

  “Well, you know, we could sort of start and see how we get on.”

  “Bring a box, did you?”

  “A box? What would I need a box for?”

  “To stand on. How are you going to reach otherwise?”

  Evans laughed and tried to make it sound convincing.

  “Yeah, right. Good one.”

  “Forget it, Timothy. It’s not going to happen, except maybe in your dreams that is.”

  “All right then, wonder woman, what do you suggest?”

  They stood and looked around. Godwin could see that across the road, just up the road from Belsize Park tube station, there was a coffee shop and a couple of fast food restaurants, all of which seemed to offer a much more attractive prospect than standing in the open for three hours.

  “What do you reckon?” Evans asked, following her gaze.

  “Dunno,” she said dubiously. “All this traffic means you couldn’t have the ATM under constant observation, particularly when a bus comes up the hill and stops just here. It also means you can’t just run straight across the road to nick him, either. Not without risking getting run over anyway. It seems like there’s an ambulance along here every few minutes with its blues and twos going.”

  “Yeah, well the Royal Free’s just around the corner, isn’t

  it?”

  Evans looked around closer to home. On one corner was a carpet shop.

  “I suppose we could always ask the bloke in there if we could pretend to be customers, or even sales assistants. See, it’s got a big window that looks straight out on the front of the bank.”

  “OK if he just comes and uses the cash machine without a care in the world. But suppose he’s on his guard and checks out the area first? Mightn’t it look a bit fishy if we were just sitting in there for so long?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Evans countered. “We’d be all right I reckon.”

  �
�Tell you what, Timothy. See that service road just here behind the shops? You could stand round there out of sight – behind those bins, say – and I could be in the shop pretending to look at some samples. As soon as I see him I’ll give you a quick call on the radio and you can nip round the corner and grab him. I’ll be here on the other side of the road if he tries to make a run for it.”

  “Yeah, all right then. Let’s do that. But be quick. It’s nearly 1 o’clock.”

  The man who ran the carpet shop – after experiencing the surprise and momentary panic of having someone show him a Metropolitan Police warrant card – was very agreeable to the idea of Godwin sitting beside him for the next three hours, and insisted on making her a cup of tea. Evans, taking up his position in the service road, suddenly realised that Godwin’s proposed arrangement of them changing places every hour would result in her spending two hours in relative comfort compared to his one. As if to punish him for not having been quicker on the uptake, a distant peal of thunder heralded the approach of rain.

  •

  “Priya,” Collison said carefully, “I’m in a bit of a difficult situation. I need to ask you something, something which may seem rather strange, but I can’t tell you why. Will you bear with me?”

  “Of course, guv. What is it?”

  “I need to know whatever you may have told or shown Sophie Ho – anything to do with the investigation that is.”

  “Well, I told her most of what we knew to date about Raj, which wasn’t very much at the time. Just that we thought he’d been living at Wentworth House, that he’d gone missing, and that we were looking for him. I was hoping that she might know some people within the Tamil community in London who might be able to help us.”

  “Yes, I know. Did she?”

  “No, she didn’t. It turned out she’d only been in the country about six months. She used to live and work in Singapore, for the police actually.”

  “Did you show her anything?”

  “Yes, I showed her the scans of the two envelopes SOCO found at the house, the two addressed to Raj. I was hoping she might be to throw some light on why he seemed to be using two different names. She could, as it happens. It seems that Tamils don’t really have surnames the way we do, so they often use their father’s initial and then their own first name.”