Ruthless Crimes

by MICHAEL HAMBLING

  ‘Do you really think that’s likely?’ Alice said. She was clearly worried and sounded almost pleading.

  Rae wondered whether to go along with it, just to give some comfort to this anxious woman. But Alice surely must have arrived at the probable truth in the hours since she’d met Sophie for coffee.

  ‘No, sorry, I don’t,’ Rae answered. ‘We think she was probably here for a definite purpose, sent to keep tabs on what you were up to. But the boss also thinks she was torn, which is why she started drinking heavily towards the end. Then again, we may be wrong. Maybe she was able to separate her two roles and we won’t find anything.’

  Alice said sharply, ‘But how can you come to that first conclusion? You never met her.’

  ‘I spent all of yesterday following up the information we had about her. You get a feel for a person as the picture builds up. I can understand you feeling that I’m being judgemental, but that’s the role the boss wants me to perform, probing a person and their motives from the information that comes in. Trying to home in on their behaviour and quirks.’

  ‘Yes, she said you had a knack for it,’ Alice said. ‘What’s your plan?’

  ‘We spend the first hour getting to understand how the systems we’re each examining work. I’ll gather up your business diaries and meeting minutes. Ameera will do the same on the network server. Then we’ll get together and look for patterns in file access, emails and that kind of thing from just before or after an important meeting.’

  ‘Clever,’ Alan said. ‘But if she was up to no good, surely she wouldn’t use her charity email address?’

  ‘Your server will keep a log of anyone accessing a web-based account,’ Ameera explained. ‘I may not be able to see the content, but the record will be there. And that in itself might be suspicious if it formed a pattern. Let’s get busy, Rae.’

  The two of them had worked on similar cases before and knew what they were doing and what they were looking for. By late morning, a number of suspicious patterns had emerged, exactly those that Rae had identified earlier. After each meeting, Louise had accessed a web-based email account. Ameera couldn’t see exactly what had been sent, but several of the transmitted data packets were large enough to suggest that documents had been attached to the emails. Rae went and asked Alan about the meetings held on those dates. He checked against his diary, the agendas and the minutes. In all of them one of their French, Belgian or Dutch volunteers had been present, to discuss the situation in refugee camps across the Channel.

  ‘You’re right,’ Alan said. ‘This is worrying. They’d bring precise details about groups moving towards coastal locations. Our position is clear. We don’t help people to come into the country unless their circumstances are dire enough to warrant aid, but we do offer information and advice. We sometimes get to know of a group of, say, Syrians, all moving together and heading for a specific location in the UK because of family connections. That was the type of thing discussed at those meetings.’

  ‘So, the Home Office would be interested because they’d be forewarned of a large group attempting to cross the Channel?’ Rae suggested.

  ‘Yes. And I suppose Border Force personnel could be tipped off to be on the lookout, along with security people from these other countries.’

  ‘Well, I can see the logic of it,’ Rae said.

  Alan looked puzzled. ‘The thing is, we put increased network security in place about six months ago which should have stopped anyone accessing web-based email. Are you telling me she found a way round it?’ He looked at the dates on the paper Ameera had handed across. ‘No. They stopped at about that time.’

  Ameera grimaced. ‘She avoided using your internal network completely. I looked at the router log. It was about then that she started linking her phone to the office Wi-Fi and sending transmissions that way.’

  Alan put his head in his hands. ‘It’s all too late now, isn’t it?’

  ‘It stopped two months ago. Nothing’s gone out since then.’

  He shook his head. ‘I can’t think of anything here that would have changed her mind, not at that point.’

  ‘Ah,’ Rae said, ‘but that was when you noticed that she was drinking heavily, wasn’t it? I wonder if she was having a crisis of conscience. Maybe someone was pressurising her for more information, but she was getting increasingly unhappy with the deception.’

  ‘What now?’ Alan said.

  ‘Well, that’s most of the technical part finished. I need to talk to people and find out more about her as a person.’

  Louise Bennett seemed to have garnered mixed reactions from her work colleagues. On the whole they liked her, but never felt that they’d been allowed to meet the real Louise. She contributed little to office chitchat and rarely said anything that would give an insight into the way she thought. That was until the final month or two, when she opened up rather more, probably because of the drink. She began to snap at people, picked arguments and seemed worryingly fragile. Several workmates had found her in the toilet, weeping. Alan, as the manager, had tried several times to talk to her and find out what the problem was, but she’d rebuffed all his approaches.

  ‘Tension was obviously building up, but she refused any offers of help,’ he said. ‘I can see why now. I wonder if she began to see that our raison-d’etre was worthwhile and the morally right thing to do. If she was passing on all our plans, the internal conflict must have finally got on top of her. But I still can’t see why she was murdered. No government security unit would go that far, surely?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Rae replied. ‘What she and they didn’t realise was that they had a mole in their midst, who was passing on information to the people traffickers. They make millions from smuggling groups of people in, and, to them, life is cheap. She might have realised that. She might have made her suspicions known to people in the unit and it reached the mole. Maybe that corresponded to the time she started drinking, because of the pressure she was under. We’ll get to the bottom of it. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t share these thoughts with anyone else, not until we’ve got it cleared up.’

  Rae and Ameera collected their kit and left.

  ‘What do you think?’ Ameera asked.

  ‘They all seemed very open and honest,’ Rae replied. ‘Decent people, trying to do the right thing. But it’s too easy to create that impression. One of that lot could still be up to no good. Louise might not have been the only one passing on secrets.’

  ‘So, you think the mole could be one of them?’

  Rae shrugged. ‘It’s something we have to consider. After all, what could be a better camouflage? We have a guiding principle in the VCU, Ameera. Never take anyone at face value.’

  They were halfway home, with Rae in the driving seat, when Ameera’s mobile phone rang. She glanced at the caller display and raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Hello, Barry. What can I do for you?’

  Chapter 26: Heavily Tinted Windows

  Rose and George arrived at the Dorset County Hospital soon after breakfast, well before visiting time. They had the two children, Kamal and Arshi, with them.

  ‘We’re giving your aunt and uncle the morning off,’ Rose explained. ‘We need to be here this morning to review security because most of the people from the boat will be discharged today. Not your mum, though. She’ll be needing another day or two here, but she’ll probably be out by the weekend.’

  ‘We’re starting school next week,’ Arshi said. ‘I’m scared.’

  ‘No need, pet,’ Rose replied. ‘I’ll be around, along with George here. We’re the county’s top team, aren’t we, George? No one messes with us.’

  George laughed. ‘They wouldn’t dare. Me, I’m just an ordinary policeman, but Rose is a superhero in disguise. You should see her in her Wonder Woman outfit.’

  The children giggled. Rose looked at George from under her brow. ‘I’ll remember that comment, young man.’

  Rose gave the officer on security duty outside the ward entrance a ten-minute
coffee break and they entered the unit. Most of the patients were dressed, waiting with their bags at the ready. Only Roya remained in her bed, propped up against a heap of pillows. As always, her face lit up at the sight of her two children and she opened her arms.

  ‘I was worried,’ she said. ‘Everyone else is leaving today.’ She turned to Rose. ‘Where will they be taken?’

  ‘They all have appointments with the asylum unit today,’ Rose said. ‘A coach is coming to take them to a residential centre where they’ll be seen. A few of them plan to stay with friends or family, like you, so they won’t stay at the centre. You’ll have to go through the same process, Roya, once the doctors say you’re well enough. I’ll just keep my eye on what’s going on.’

  She walked to the window, looking out across the landscaped car park to the tree-lined entrance from Williams Avenue. A coach was just turning in and moving slowly towards the main entrance.

  ‘I’ll leave George here with you for a bit and go for a wander.’

  Rose left the ward and made for the stairs. She passed the constable on security duty on the way, returning to her post. Rose descended the stairs, heading towards the main entrance. Why was she doing this? She couldn’t really identify a clear reason other than the fact that she was nosy and extra-cautious. She always maintained that this vigilance made the difference between a good cop and an everyday, run of the mill one.

  She left the building and stood outside, watching the waiting coach, parked a few yards away, tucked in at the side of the approach road. She stood in the shadow of the building as the first of the migrants appeared carrying their meagre possessions in backpacks and carrier bags. Some stepped forward confidently, happy to have finally arrived where they’d striven so hard to be. Others, the more apprehensive, lagged behind.

  A large blue BMW that had followed the coach into the hospital grounds was parked in a relatively quiet area close to the exit lane. Rose noted the darkened windows that made it impossible to see who was inside. She made her way slowly along the front of the building, keeping to the footpath and partly obscured by the shrubs and hedges that grew between the different parking zones. Why would anyone park this far away when there were so many free slots close to the building?

  She approached the vehicle from the side away from the hospital building. She still couldn’t see inside. There were legal limits on the level of tint permitted in vehicles, and this one appeared to breach them. She walked round to the driver’s side and tapped on the glass. She could just make out a solitary figure inside, his face now turned towards her.

  The window was wound down, revealing a middle-aged man with watery blue eyes and a bony head. He wore a pale blue jumper and a black leather jacket.

  ‘Yes?’ he said, sounding wary.

  ‘Just asking you about your vehicle windows, sir. They appear to be very heavily tinted. Are they legal?’

  ‘As far as I know, yes.’

  ‘Is the vehicle yours, sir?’

  ‘Yes, but I’ve only had it a few weeks. I assumed it was okay. Look, I’ll get it checked if you think it’s a problem.’

  ‘Very wise, sir. I’m not in the traffic division and I’d hate for you to get a fine because of it. Are you here for visiting time? Because you’re a bit early.’

  ‘No, I’ve dropped someone off for a short outpatient check-up. I’m waiting for them.’

  ‘Okay, sir. I’ll leave you to it but remember to get those windows checked.’

  Rose moved slowly away, towards the main hospital building. She called George, asking him to join the officer on security duty at the ward entrance, then made her way to the nearest side door into the hospital. That was the problem with big hospitals like this one, too many entrances. She counted four in all, with a couple of them around hidden corners. It made maintaining tight security almost impossible. She went in through the swing doors, looking around her, heading for the main reception area and the lifts and stairs. No one looked particularly out of place, but the corridors were busy now. She reached the nearest stairs and ran up them two at a time to the next floor. There were a large set of windows near the stairwell, so she looked out. The blue BMW had moved. She glanced down and was just in time to see it much closer to the main doors. Its passenger door closed, and it started to move away, slowly at first and then accelerating rapidly. Rose climbed the rest of the stairs to the upper floor and hurried along the corridor towards Roya’s ward. There were George and the duty officer, standing by the doorway, both looking unperturbed. Had someone been on their way to the ward but been warned off by the vehicle driver following her questions about the tinted windows? More importantly, would they have been picked up on the hospital’s CCTV?

  * * *

  Back at the incident room, Tommy was scrutinising all the relevant security camera recordings. Apparently, he’d been the main CCTV guy in his previous job. Barry breathed a sigh of relief. He hated ploughing his way through hours of footage, a sentiment he shared with Rae. Maybe Tommy would prove to be as enthusiastic an inspector of CCTV as Jimmy Melsom had been, years earlier. It was still early days in Tommy’s provisional spell in the VCU and Barry had mixed feelings about the new recruit. He could do with another plus against his name.

  By midday, several sequences of interest had been identified, extracted and copied. The first was from a camera giving a broad view of the car park entrance and surrounding area. It showed the coach coming through the main entrance from Williams Avenue and making its way towards the building. A blue BMW four-by-four followed it in, turning off towards the quiet section of the car park where Rose had first spotted it.

  A minute or two later, a figure climbed out of the vehicle and walked slowly towards the side entrance, glancing around. This appeared to be a middle-aged, dark-haired woman dressed in black and wearing a headscarf and sunglasses. A few minutes after that, Rose could be seen approaching the dark blue vehicle and talking to the driver. When she had gone, the car moved closer to the main entrance and waited.

  ‘Its engine’s still running,’ Tommy said. ‘See the slight trace of exhaust fumes drifting in the air?’

  Soon the woman returned, this time walking rapidly. She climbed into the car and it moved away before her door had fully closed.

  ‘That’s suspicious in itself,’ Barry said. ‘And look at how fast it moves off. Something spooked them.’

  ‘I’ve also got this from inside,’ Tommy said.

  This sequence was from the camera inside the side entrance and showed the same woman passing through the foyer and taking the corridor that led towards the main reception desk. Here she was picked up again on a different camera, about to take the stairs, then by a camera on the first floor, this time studying the detailed hospital plan that was on prominent display. She turned to take the second flight of stairs but stopped and extracted a phone from her bag. The woman listened and then went back down the stairs, this time heading for the main entrance doors.

  ‘I’ve done the sums,’ Tommy said. ‘The gap between her entering and leaving the building is four minutes, and that’s how long the sequences from inside last.’

  ‘So, it looks as though she was contacted by the guy in the car. He must have been spooked when Rose approached him, phoned her and warned her off.’ He thought fast. ‘We need some biometrics, Tommy. We can’t positively identify her, not in those sunglasses and headscarf. But we can get her height, leg length and shoulder width from comparisons with nearby fittings. The lens will be fisheye, remember, so you may have to allow for distortion. Rae will give you a hand when she’s back tomorrow. She’s an engineer, so she can do the maths. Good work.’

  ‘Why do you think she was there?’

  Barry shook his head, worried. ‘Not for any good reason. It does mean one thing, though. When the mother leaves hospital, we’ll need to keep a security watch on her and those two children. And they won’t be starting school next week after all. It would be too dangerous.’ He glanced at the clock. ‘I’ll let the boss
know when she gets in.’

  At the door, he turned back to Tommy. ‘Is there any way we could find out about that phone call?’

  ‘We don’t know either of the numbers,’ Tommy said. ‘Doesn’t that make it impossible?’

  ‘Maybe I’ll call Ameera. She might know. She should be on her way back from Oxford by now.’

  Ameera told him there was a technique called a tower dump, in which a cellphone operator can be asked for a list of all the mobile devices that were present in a certain area at a certain time, and linked to a particular mast. It was only used rarely, in the investigation of serious crimes or terrorism, and strong justification would be needed. Surely this was just such an occasion? Barry waited until Sophie appeared later in the afternoon and went to see her.

  ‘So, what you’re saying is that it’s technically possible for us to find a list of all the mobiles being used in the vicinity of the hospital during that five-minute spell?’

  He nodded. ‘I know it might be getting close to snooping, and we’ve agreed to avoid anything like that whenever possible. But aren’t we justified here?’

  ‘Okay, I’ll get onto the powers that be right away,’ Sophie said. ‘I expect we’ll need approval from a magistrate. Call Ameera again and ask them to come in here rather than heading straight home, so she can advise us. Let’s strike while the iron’s hot.’ She paused. ‘Oh, and there’s something else you need to know. Paul Baker’s been in touch. Apparently, Peter Zelinski’s house may have had an intruder last night. He wasn’t there, of course. The Met have him somewhere safe. But a neighbour claims to have seen a flickering light in the early hours. He called the local police and a forensics team are there now, looking to see if they left any evidence.’

  ‘Any thoughts?’ Barry asked.

  ‘Well, the obvious one. Someone wanted to ensure Zelinski was silenced. He’s the one who knows most, now Corinne Lanston’s missing. Thank God we got him away in time.’

  Chapter 27: Rent

  Friday morning