“What was his name?”
“I can’t remember, I was only about ten at that time, and I was more interested in other things. I didn’t like him so I tried to be out whenever he came.”
“Would your parents know?”
“They would have, but they have both passed away since then.”
“You have been very helpful Inas, I’ll speak to my colleagues in London to see if I can get any idea when they hope to release her body.”
*
Forster received the Colony’s challenge to provide credible evidence that Vic Jackson could obtain the briefcase code. It wasn’t unexpected and was in fact returned with interest. He gave his message to the courier; it said: ‘We can’t provide this for one simple reason – he won’t deal with us. We’ve already charged him with murder and he will stand trial. He doesn’t trust us to communicate with you, feeling that we would simply bury his bargaining power with you. It’s been made clear that we would like to see the content, but it’s not a massive priority. His refusal to let us act as a go-between effectively rules us out of any kind of verification. You know that we know he was acting on your instructions in travelling to London to meet with your people. You won’t allow us to talk to these men, and we can’t verify how he will provide the code. We can’t let you visit him in custody, so it looks like we are stuck. If anything changes we will re-engage.’ Forster hoped this would test their resolve.
*
Halliwell-Jones rang Bradstock to say that things had picked up pace.
“We may be looking at this weekend. The chemicals are said to be in France right now and we have our people ready to override border control when we know for certain that they are on the ferry. Once they are clearly on their way to the Midwest, I will signal the altered status, from hold to go. Please don’t brief your people or move resources before that. You will have all of the photographs to match the names and addresses first thing tomorrow, so that you can study the deployment plans. We can’t afford many more contacts with our man without causing suspicion.”
Bradstock was in a trance; it was all registering but not gelling. He tried to protest. “You don’t seem to be very conversant with how armed response units work in the police force. This kind of ‘it will be alright on the night’ stuff may be fine for capturing the odd spy, but coordination of an operation of this magnitude and complexity needs a rock solid chain of command. I don’t get the feeling that we will instil such rigour if we try to assemble all units just a few hours before going into action.”
“Well that is how it has to be I’m afraid. It is too important to risk failure by uncontained information dissemination. The country will judge us Bradstock, not merely the Prime Minister. I wish it could be different too, but it isn’t. I will get back to you tomorrow.”
*
Stephanie’s carpet samples had arrived and been rushed to Donoghue. He could visually rule out four of the seven, and said that the other three would require chemical tests as well as electron microscope examination. She asked which manufacturers were involved with the three for further tests.
“I don’t know D.C. Baker. I never look at the names before I have the results. We have to avoid any kind of predisposition, even unconscious or subliminal preferences. I will let you know if and when I have a match.”
*
Renton asked Eva Roberts if she was up for a long shot. “We detectives tend to look at profilers as working with the evidence in mind, and credit ourselves as sticking strictly to the evidence. How do you feel about Eric Palmer’s evidence, when he was sitting in the dark beside the Gibside Priory murder scene?”
“I can’t say that I have strong feelings at all, why do you ask?”
“He took a long time to come and talk to us because he said the body was not reported until maybe two days later. He also said that from his vantage point after he sneaked away, the talking stopped and he assumed the two men had settled their differences. However the taller man had a gun. That would not have convinced me that it was a simple case of settling an argument. I’d like to reconstruct the scenario to some degree by sitting on the bench he sat on, determining what I could see and hear, and then repeat that at the embankment he used to check out the situation again. I was thinking of visiting the site at the same time he did. Would you be interested in looking over my shoulder? I would ask one of my officers but I think they would be worried about my state of mind.”
“Ok, but I’m not sure what to read into me being first choice.”
“Right, then let’s do it tonight.” He looked up restaurants in the area because he figured they might need sustenance if it was all to be done on foot. He reserved a table at Ristorante Bellini; it was Eva Roberts’ choice.
“I find Italian food helps expand my mind and I get the impression that sitting in the dark and talking to each other from a distance will require mind-expanding culinary compensation.”
*
Graham and Finley debated whether the bartering ritual was at an end. Graham was less enthusiastic about the prospects of an exchange.
“I can’t see how we are going to get the code from Jackson even if he has it. I think this is over Eddie. We should revisit this scanner proposal, which they offered and then pulled out of; if that is a no-go, I suggest we leave it for now.”
“Listen Seth, it’s up to them to find a way to get the code to us that would make Jackson feel comfortable. I think it is too early to back off altogether. I never really liked the scanner idea because it meant we had to let the briefcase out of our hands. If they took it and put it in front of Jackson, he may have been offered a deal. Also they are downplaying the importance the information has for them, but I don’t believe it. They’re getting nowhere with these killings. As I said earlier, we can trade one piece of information - where we hired the limo from, as and when they come up with an acceptable way for Jackson to pass the code to us, without the fuzz knowing what it is. Let’s just be patient for now.” Graham agreed to a hiatus in communication.
Chapter 36
Clive Donoghue rushed to the phone. “Jack you need to get someone in Durham on to the internet right now, someone who is a subscriber to the social networking site ‘Bullet-Point.’ There’s a message about the killings which seems to be genuine. We’re working on it right now, and it looks like a new subscriber, with details that don’t add up. The message was posted from an I.P. address which corresponds to an internet facility in the Metro Centre. It looks like it’s going viral. I’ll get back to you when we have more.”
Renton got Stephanie into the office and called Cousins to attend. The message read: ‘The final act of the Alistair Banks saga is under way. It will announce itself to the world very soon. It could have been prevented, but we can say that about so many things in life. My friend, Inspector Renton has really tried, but I now know that I made the trail too obscure. At least people may remember the reason for all of this misery, even if they do not sympathise with my foul prosecution of the apathetic and the guilty. I will join my victims in the coming days and I hope that it shows I did not simply want revenge. Sentinel.’
Stephanie said she thought this would have been withdrawn by the provider because of its content, but agreed with Donoghue that if it wasn’t taken off soon it was going viral. Cousins flopped into a chair and shook his head. Eva Roberts read it through several times before she said anything.
“I think Sentinel is unable to carry on with the increasingly bizarre butchery. There’s an anger and frustration that people can’t see the world the way they should. I’ve been convinced all along that this is a crusade, and one which cannot succeed. It will end in suicide, very soon or in the not too distant future.”
Renton was utterly disconsolate when his son called to say he had read the message.
“Hello, Dad, I hope you aren’t taking this too seriously. There are idiots like this on the internet all of the time. It’s probably someone who gets off on stirring up trouble.”
“Thanks Daniel. Tell your Mum that I’ll call her tomorrow. I think I’m going to be a little busy today, even if you’re right.”
“Ok, I hope to see you tomorrow.”
The phones were jammed. The message had been taken off the Bullet-Point boards, but not in time to prevent the media from whipping up Sentinel mania. Cousins took Renton out of the firing line and said he would handle the press. “Just disappear for a few hours Jack and come back in tomorrow.”
Renton turned to Eva Roberts.
“Maybe sitting on a bench on the Derwent Walk isn’t so stupid after all.” They left for the refuge of ‘downtown Rowlands Gill.’ They parked next to the viaduct and walked up the hill to the village centre. It was dark despite the best efforts of the moon to chase away the clouds. They spotted the atmospheric lights of Ristorante Bellini and crossed the main road, carefully scanning for evidence that they had been followed. The proprietor, Giuseppe Monteleone, welcomed them and asked if they had been before. He showed them to a corner table. The cosy ambience was in sharp contrast to the mayhem they had left behind in Durham. Eva Roberts glanced around and counted twenty-six other diners; it was 6.45 pm, and they had taken advantage of the happy hour. Renton explained that they were in a little bit of a hurry.
“We need to leave at about eight, so what would you recommend?”
Joe, as the regular clients knew him, said that many of those already eating had gone for the three course special, and also made them aware that it was all authentic Italian cuisine; he then handed them the a la carte menu.
“We also have some special items which are not too well known here, but quite popular where I was born in Sicily. How about starting with Arancini and a herb dip? And then, I can recommend Tortellini alla Crema sprinkled with basil to follow?”
They both liked the sound of that and asked for a glass of house red, with some aqua frizzante. The feeling of detachment was certainly helped by the easy atmosphere, and strains of Il Divo, but as Maria poured the wine for their approval she heard Eva remark that Monteleone was an unusual name. Maria knew what was coming. Joe completed their escapism with his party piece.
“Yes, but it is not unusual in one region of Italy. Near Cesena, there is a mountain with a famous castle – Castello Monteleone. It sits at the very top, and the village has a restaurant by the same name. There is a plaque which tells of a famous visitor called Lord Byron, and that he was so fond of the place that he came many times, and eventually married a daughter of the Monteleone family. So you see I might be a tiny part English.”
When she was sure the tale was finished Maria rushed to fill their glasses with more fortification. By the time they had mustered enough resistance to decline the array of desserts, the place was full, and they were pretty well insulated for the vigil on the bench. On the one hand, it seemed pretty pointless, but they needed a sanctuary to think what else they could do in the rapidly shrinking time they had left before the threatened piece de resistance emerged.
The moon was getting the upper hand with the dispersing cloud, and as they crossed the viaduct they tried to relive Eric Palmer’s description. The first thing which cropped up was the difference in the visibility from the bench compared to where Palmer had said the two men descended toward the Priory. The bench only offered a view through trees and bushes, whereas the bankside descent framed the ruin perfectly, even in the relative darkness. When Renton walked toward the ruin and talked back to Eva, she could not really make out everything he said once he was past halfway. They decided they must have the wrong descent point. This one was further from the bench than Palmer had mentioned. As Renton was returning to the Walk, he cut across the meadow to where Eva had indicated the next descent point. He stood on something which caused him to utter a profanity. He had turned his ankle on some hard object. When he bent down to hold his foot he saw it; a gun was nestling in the centre of the group of small bushes he had cut through. He asked Eva if she had any unused tissues which he could use without adding his own fingerprints. She obliged and he carefully picked up the gun. When they got back to the Walk he said it felt very light, and in pulling back the tissue he was even more certain it was a replica, and not a real pistol. He still wanted Donoghue to check it out, and an explanation as to why it had never been spotted at the scene when Andrew Todd’s body was found.
They continued with the reconstruction and when they ascended to the vantage point of the embankment, before the bridge over the Walk, they confirmed that Palmer would not have been able to hear any conversation at all. However the view was clear and the moonlight picked out the pale stone of the ruin effectively. He could have seen both men from this perch.
*
With Bradstock in suspended animation, Forster in a war of silence, Cousins battling the media, and Renton temporarily displaced by the thermals of the Derwent Walk, the real activity had almost ground to a halt. Almost but not quite. Sam Gibson had tried to contact Renton all day, before he heard about the message on Bullet-Point. He was now desperate to speak to him. He had suffered a flash of inspiration. When he failed to run Nisha’s former boyfriend to ground, he thought about checking the Newcastle hospital records of Younis Khan at the same time Inas had said her sister was in the northeast. In 2010, Khan’s illustrious persona took a jolt. There were several complaints that year from patients who were subjected to his experimental therapy, for certain mental health conditions. The outcome was very carefully worded, but still wreaked of him moving on to avoid focus on the hospital management. Sam wanted Renton’s permission to go to London to do more digging on Nisha Servil and Younis Khan.
Chapter 37
Friday November 23rd 2018
Bradstock received the call he was dreading. It was 3.35 am. “It is all stations go Nigel. I take it you have the list I referred to yesterday. The product is well on its way to the Midwest. I will alert you when it is entering Birmingham, but you can begin to deploy your armed response teams at the agreed launch points within the hour.”
“I knew we would end up in a last minute keystone cops situation. This notice is completely unacceptable. I am going to state this in my report, regardless of the outcome.”
“Stop the lecturing and get a grip man, I need you to command your units to move in as soon as we secure the Mosque. It’s not James Bond Nigel, you only have to arrest a few extremists who won’t expect you at breakfast time, and they are unlikely to have arms stashed at their homes. They are too wily for that.”
“It is the damned logistics I’m talking about, I have to get my men out of bed and hope to hell none of them have last minute problems, such as gastro-enteritis. They wouldn’t be the only ones who are shitting themselves.”
“That’s more like it, keep the adrenalin going. I will update you in an hour.”
*
The area outside the incident room was besieged with news people from national and local organisations. The mood inside was eerie. Sam Gibson got his wish to travel to London and as he left he was followed to the Central Station in Newcastle. When he boarded the train, this was interpreted as significant and immediately reported. Donoghue came to see Renton with his apology for the gun being overlooked by his people.
“There is no excuse, and they’ve been made aware of their sloppy performance. I am afraid the toy gun is clean. It looks like it may have been intended to give us false hope. I’ll file it but I can’t really see how it can help us. I’m not finished the tests on the limousine fibres yet, but there is a complication there as well. The ones which I found on Banks’ clothing had an equal ratio of black and grey. The three which look closest have a more variable distribution. When I put this to the manufacturers, they said they had responded to our request for black/grey carpet which has a randomly mottled pattern. They think that what I have from Banks is something they call Venetian; it is fixed stripes of black and grey. The really bad news is that all three car manufacturers use the random and Venetian grades, albeit through different distributors.
New samples are on their way.”
*
Chen handed Morton his resignation and the Home Secretary read it with a matter of fact expression on his face. He had been congratulated by the P.M. and now needed to settle a few scores with cabinet colleagues. “I see, well I don’t suppose I can talk you out of it Wah, so I had better get that reference you requested typed.”
“I would like to read it first to make sure that it partially compensates for not receiving any bonus. It would be a pity if it got out that I had done a magnificent job, but did not merit a bonus or a glowing reference.” He read it and was pleasantly surprised at the content. Morton insisted on shaking hands and departing for a meeting. Chen was amazed at the talentless people who were running the country. He waited for the letter of recommendation to be sealed and headed for Newcastle to bed down until the interview.
*
Graham and Finley had not received any further contact regarding the briefcase and began to turn their attention to the kidnap plan. They decided to raise the fee, rather than employ second tier contractors. It did fuel more interest and they began to concentrate on the target. One had stood out from the point of view of the snatch itself. Petra Ahmedani lived less than quarter of a mile from school and walked the journey there and back. She was often unaccompanied by parents and when she turned into the street where she lived, her school friends continued along the main road. A waiting car could literally open the door, pull her in and drive away without much chance of being seen. A stolen car and false plates would be needed. The bargaining over the fee commenced.
*
Jack Renton asked Eva Roberts to elaborate on her near certainty that Sentinel would commit suicide. She confessed that this case was different to any other she had worked on.
“I can’t back this up with evidence or precedent, but there’s a haunting expression of fear in the prose. Sentinel is afraid; just as much or even more than we are. It has consistently built up during the killings, and it’s now realised that you are not going to prevent the final murder. I’m certain it has already happened. The agony expressed is not self-pity; it’s over this wrong which has not been corrected, by you in making an arrest, or by Sentinel in bringing public attention to the cause. I’m equally sure that we will find out why this is the case, but after the event.”