‘He’s shit scared. He’s going to the family home up in the mountains. It was my idea. We said we’d Skype last night, but the connection was so bad we’re going to try again today. I heard enough to know that he didn’t go to the mountains yesterday because of his mother. He’s going today instead.’
‘What time?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Can you call him?’
‘I can try, though he said he’d be driving.’ She took out her phone and punched in a number. ‘It’s ringing out.’
‘What has he told you about George and his colleagues?’
‘Just that they were killed because the trials they were working on were reaching a stage that was viable.’
‘What trials?’
‘George had made himself an addict and was experimenting on a drug that could reverse the process.’
‘Is this some kind of precious secret that is worth a lot of money?’
‘It’s not about the money, it’s about the potential to disturb world economies, and George refused to sell it. They refer to it as Compound P, but I’m not entirely sure what it consists of. Alexandros was going to explain it all to me, but he’s jumpy; he doesn’t know who to trust.’
‘Why did George pay you ten thousand pounds?’
‘It was a deposit. He was going to pay me fifty grand on the publication of my article, which would have exposed something major. That’s as far as he got. He was killed the night I spoke to him.’ Tilly looked at her hands. ‘Do you mind if I smoke?’
‘No, go ahead.’
She fetched cigarettes and lit one, inhaling deeply. Kelly envied her and remembered how the first drag felt. She wouldn’t appreciate it quite so much later when her hair and clothes reeked of the stuff.
‘Graeme gave me a description of the men you saw in Portinscale. What was on your laptop?’
‘Everything. My notes, my contacts, my ideas, names, profiles, bios: the lot. I’m devastated.’
‘And you have no idea who’s behind all this?’
‘No. All George said was that some very powerful people wanted his work.’
‘What about Alexandros? Why didn’t he go to the police in London?’
‘He thinks he has a better chance of staying alive in Cyprus.’
‘Would you be happier if I arranged some kind of police protection for you?’
Graeme spoke. ‘Nobody knows about this place, so it’s like advertising something is here.’
Kelly had to agree with him. She didn’t know what Matt would say about it, though, and she needed to keep Tilly on side.
‘What do you think, Tilly?’
‘I think Graeme’s right. I feel safe here.’
‘Right, Graeme, are you coming back with me?’
‘I need to get my car, so yes please, I’ll hitch a ride.’
Kelly made a note of Alex’s mobile number and they left Tilly looking small and afraid. She would make sure that a patrol car from the closest station drove past more than their usual once a year.
Chapter 39
Alexandros’s mother followed him around the house talking at him as he tried to pack. She told him of his auntie’s latest foot ailment, about the possibility of obtaining a rescue cat to replace the gaping hole in her heart left by Aphrodite, and about the layering of the perfect moussaka.
He’d persuaded her to close and lock both the front and back doors. She’d complained at first but he’d gone ahead and locked them anyway. He couldn’t begin to explain his real fears. Not only would it scare her to death; she’d also probably tell half of Larnaca.
His anxiety was crippling and he felt like a sitting duck where he was. Tilly was right: he had to be careful. He hadn’t even thought about the possibility of the military base somehow being involved, but they had police there who might already be looking for him. The endless scenarios in his head made him dizzy.
He trusted no one except himself. He’d even questioned if he should have faith in Tilly Knight. He went constantly back and forth in his mind about whether he should have confided in her, but then again, he didn’t really know that much. He had no idea who had it in for George and his research project; just how valuable it was. George had never said they might be in danger.
The villa was deep in the Troodos Mountains, and his mother had refused to go with him. His instinct told him that it was only him they wanted – professionals would be quick and tidy – so he gave up trying to persuade her. In fact he felt guilty that every moment he stayed here was putting her in greater danger.
He smelled the pastries she had been making all morning. Sometimes she bought them from the bakery in Xylotymbou, but he preferred her home-made ones. She’d made boureki, and his stomach rumbled. He looked out of his bedroom window and gazed at the ocean. It was deep azure, and he could see boats and bathers enjoying the June sunshine. Below the window a car pulled up and stay parked for a few minutes. It had a British plate. Two white men sat in the front; they seemed to be having a heated conversation. One of them looked directly at Alex’s window, and he darted behind the shutter, banging his head. It stung and he rubbed it. His room was dark, and outside the sun glared, so they probably hadn’t seen him. He thought about his mother and ran downstairs to the kitchen. The back door was wide open. He slammed it shut and locked it, grabbing his mother’s arm.
‘Alex!’
‘Shh!’
She continued to complain, but he forced her into the living room and sat her on the sofa, shushing her once more. He went to the downstairs shutters, which his mother kept closed at this time of the year to keep the house cool, and peered through them. The car was still there and the two men were pointing at the house. Then suddenly there was a squeal of tyres and they pulled away. Alex’s head screamed with fear. He explained to his mother that she had no choice but to come with him. She became upset. He apologised but was just as firm, but she refused to leave.
He swore loudly in English so she couldn’t understand, then reverted to his native tongue to try again. He told her they were in danger. He told her that some men knew he was here and wanted to kill him. That did the trick. She said she needed to pack and he gave her five minutes. If the pair in the car had been checking the location, it probably meant they’d come back at night.
Since he’d been on the island, Alex hadn’t shaved, and now he grabbed a baseball cap, plopping it onto his head, as well as taking sunglasses, and a bandana for round his neck. His mother fussed around and she could hear her on the phone. He groaned inwardly and wished he’d never come here in the first place. He turned off all the electrical sockets, except the fridge, and checked that the windows were secure. He’d leave the back door unlocked so that when they came back they would cause no damage. It would be clear that no one was home.
He jogged upstairs to see if his mother was ready and found her sitting on her bed crying into her phone. He realised that he’d screwed up badly. He willed himself to think, but his thoughts were confused. He had no idea who to turn to, and only the villa seemed like a safe option. He made a decision and found a suitcase in his mother’s wardrobe. He stuffed some items into it and slammed it shut, then took his mother by the arm and virtually carried her downstairs and out into the sunshine. He helped her into his pickup, then went back inside for his own luggage. Closing the door behind him, he jumped into the driver’s seat, starting the engine too enthusiastically and scaring his mother.
She cried all the way to the Troodos Mountains.
The roads were quiet, and Alex drove with the windows down. To foreigners, June on the island was as hot as a furnace, but to a local, air con was only required when the mercury topped forty-five degrees, in August. He played music to distract his mother, but all he could hear was her wailing. Eventually he put the windows up so people wouldn’t think he was kidnapping her.
All the way, he kept vigilant. He stared at every driver, examined every face, and watched the traffic to see if he was being followed. He forced h
imself to smile and tap the wheel so he didn’t appear nervous or jumpy, but inside, his guts were mush.
His mobile phone rang, but he ignored it.
Chapter 40
Kelly drove to Eden House. She was keen to brief her team for the first time in a week, and the thrill of the chase was evident in the office, despite it being Saturday. As far as she could make out from talking to DS Kate Umshaw, they’d made the most of her short sabbatical and set about proving themselves to their absent boss. Kelly was impressed. During an investigation, there were certain milestones that guided the whole thing forward. Sometimes, like false summits on a mountainside, they could follow leads for weeks and end up having to reverse and start again. But today felt good. The investigation was well oiled, and besides, she’d missed her team. She went into the incident room and strode to the front desk. Emma was having a well-earned day off, while Matt was expecting to attend via video link.
‘Well, you lot look like you don’t need me around here.’ It was true: they all appeared busy and focused until they realised that their boss had just walked in; then they stopped what they were doing and greeted her, saying they’d forgotten the time and asking her how London had been. There was a low hum of excitement as they waited their turn to bring her up to date with what they’d been working on. It touched her and she felt like she really belonged. She noticed that this was happening more and more lately. Coming back to Johnny, coming home to her team, and later she’d see Ted. It felt right.
It was good to be back. The air was different from London, and not only that, the change of pace was welcome. There was less of a rush to get results and move forward. It wasn’t that there was no urgency here; it was just that the self-imposed pressure was removed. Of course they wanted to find answers for those who loved George Murphy and his colleagues, but there was also a harmony that was lacking in the huge glass buildings of the capital. Kelly embraced it all and took a deep breath. Last night Johnny had asked her if the big city had retained its lure for her, and she’d emphatically told him no.
She logged on to her computer and Matt’s face appeared. She introduced him to her team and began to lead the meeting, hoping he wouldn’t butt in too much. Matt looked tired and she guessed she did too. Her team responded well to him, because he was good at his job and asked all the right questions, and after an initial nervousness, everyone soon relaxed.
‘The white van angle is promising,’ Kelly said, ‘and we’re still on the lookout for this man.’ A photograph of Leo Brown came up on the large whiteboard shared by all their personal computers and screens, so that Matt could see. The mug shot supplied by the parole officer was unflattering. Kelly usually found that if something walked like a duck and talked like a duck, it usually was a duck, and Leo Brown was their strongest lead yet. But they couldn’t find him. ‘He should know by now that he’s wanted for questioning.’
‘The aunt is unconvincing and I’ve put her under surveillance,’ Matt said. ‘How did the interview with Graeme Millar go?’
If her team was puzzled, they hid it well. She hadn’t informed them of Matt’s suspicions. They also hadn’t witnessed a suspect coming in to be questioned.
‘He gave me the details of Marine Light Nautical. An old sailing pal of his is keeping his ear to the ground for the antique shell. Also Tilly Knight is with him and she’s been in touch with Alexandros Skarparis. If I can persuade him to go to the military base in Cyprus then we could get him back here, but I haven’t spoken to him yet. Apparently he’s as jittery as she is and he’s gone to a pad in the mountains. I’ll speak to him later. Tilly’s hotel room here has been broken into and I’ve got a description of two men; also her laptop with all her work on George has gone.’
‘What did George tell her?’
‘Nothing that implicates anybody in his death, apart from saying that his research into addiction was valuable to some powerful people. He was testing himself as a lab rat: hence the cocaine in his system.’
‘Anything concrete?’ Matt asked.
‘No.’
Matt rubbed his eyes. Kelly moved on.
‘Will, anything in the financial files of Allerdale House?’ Will Phillips and Rob Shawcross had been given the task of trawling through the late peer’s papers.
‘The payments to George Murphy, and also the running of the Montague Club.’
The Montague Club had popped up when they were trying to find Sebastian. The elite postcode was enough to indicate the value of such a place, which turned out to be a sumptuous private club owned by the Montague-Rolands for decades. Matt had obtained a warrant for a full membership list; however, these private clubs, nestling behind the hustle and bustle of Mayfair, promising anonymity from prying paparazzi, were notoriously secret, and it might take more than simply looking through a register. Some members were probably completely off the record: celebrities and the mega rich, even royals.
‘Does George Murphy strike any of you as the kind of man to hobnob with wealthy men in dinner jackets?’ Kelly asked.
Matt remained silent, watching her. Everyone else shook their heads.
‘Me neither, but it turns out he’s a life member of the Montague Club. As is the CEO of Ravensword, Philip Tooting.’ Kelly brought up Tooting’s photo alongside George’s on the whiteboard. ‘He’s an arrogant man and I’m not letting him off our radar just yet. George I can kind of understand, because he and Lord Allerdale were both champion rowers for Cambridge, though in different decades. From what we can make out about Allerdale, though, he was a bit of a philanthropist, and that’s the opposite of Tooting, who’s about as capitalist as they come. There’s an annual rowing alumni dinner at the club; this year’s was on Wednesday just gone.
She let the information sink in.
‘Matt, I asked DC Shawcross to create a matrix of names covering Ravensword and the Montague Club, using the lists you supplied.’ For all his charm, Rob Shawcross was a certified nerd, and it came in handy. ‘I’ll bring it up. One name has popped up.’
‘I can see that. Who’s Christopher Slater?’ asked Matt.
‘He’s a non-executive director at DEFRA,’ Kelly said. ‘His background is in global companies – no surprise there. All four NEDs at DEFRA have similar backgrounds: basically, they work for massive companies, then retire with golden handshakes and become advisers to government departments, on handsome salaries. It’s all above board. Every state office has them. They work part time, enjoy huge benefits and status, and still get paid.’
‘Nice work if you can get it. What’s he got to do with Ravensword?’ Matt asked.
‘He’s an ex-CEO. Resigned after the colantropine scandal. He also held positions in alcohol and tobacco firms, and the oil industry, and returned to pharmaceuticals before moving to advisory and charity work.’
‘Jesus, they all look after each other, don’t they?’ Matt’s voice dripped with disgust. ‘And he’s a member of the Montague Club?’
‘Yup. And of the Cambridge rowing alumni,’ Kelly added.
‘Cosy,’ Matt said. ‘I can easily get hold of a guest list for Wednesday night.’
Kelly had expected that.
‘It’s not a solid lead – some old rich dudes getting together to chat about how good life is and smoke cigars – but I agree it looks bad. We’ll have to be watertight on this one. The Montague Club has an army of lawyers; we’ve already had dealings with them for demanding the members’ list. Everything – and I mean everything – has to be checked in duplicate and triplicate before we go around accusing civil servants of anything.’
‘He’s not a civil servant.’
‘What? I thought you said he worked for DEFRA?’
‘Non-executive directors are advisory; they come from business backgrounds, not ministerial.’
‘Is that important?’ Matt was curt.
‘Not really. It’s just—’
‘Can you call me privately, DI Porter?’
He logged off. Kelly looked at her team, who sat
in shock; they’d never seen their boss treated in such a way.
‘I guess that means the meeting’s over. We’ve all got plenty to do, and I’ve got the narcotics team to meet at Allerdale House. Keep up the good work, everybody. Rob, carry on digging about the membership. Will, call Lord Allerdale’s solicitors, will you? See if they can’t be persuaded to answer a few very straightforward questions and stop wasting everyone’s time.’ As an afterthought, she turned around. ‘Find out if they’re the same solicitors used by the Montague Club, or if they’re affiliated.’
She went back to her office and dialled Matt’s number.
‘That was unprofessional,’ she said.
‘I had all I needed. Your team are doing great work, Kelly. Don’t take things personally.’
His tone galled her. He was right: being face to face was so much easier. This way he could manipulate her every word.
‘We’ve found Leo Brown.’
Kelly forgot Matt’s rudeness. ‘Where?’
‘In one of his aunt’s warehouses, along with half a million quid’s worth of rowing kit. The aunt’s in custody too. She’s a hard-old hag. Hasn’t said a word. Leo’s coming down from a high, so he’s jittery as anything.’
‘That’s brilliant! Has he said who hired him?’
‘Whoa, slow down, we haven’t even started the tough love yet. I’m making him sweat. We got a warrant for her office and found a Glock nine-millimetre.’
‘Bloody brilliant!’ Kelly clenched her fist.
‘You could have stayed in London and been in the thick of it.’
She didn’t bother answering. ‘I’ll ring the Montague Club for the guest list for Wednesday. I wonder if George was going to attend.’
‘I still think I should come north to see where it all happens. Up there in the sticks.’
She hung up. She couldn’t work out if he was winding her up personally or professionally. Was he trying to trip her up? Surely not. Undermine and embarrass, maybe. She shook her head. ‘Wanker,’ she said under her breath.
She found the number for the Montague Club and was put through to the bursar. She explained that as part of their ongoing inquiry, she needed to see the guest list for the Cambridge rowing alumni annual dinner. The man wasn’t sure about what to do, so Kelly reminded him that the club’s owner, Sebastian Montague-Roland, was happy for them to request the list, and that though she appreciated the need for discretion, this was a police inquiry, and they had secured a warrant. It was a tiny white lie: in fact warrants had to be so specific that a guest list was entirely different to a members’ list, but she knew they’d soon get one anyway, unless the army of lawyers intervened. She needn’t have worried. The man acquiesced quickly and she gave him her email address.
Bold Lies Page 20