Chapter Thirty-Seven
‘You know I hate surveillance work, sir,’ Melissa said, stifling a yawn and letting her head rest against the car’s window.
Magee tutted. ‘Honestly, Melissa. You’ve no stamina have you? I sometimes wonder if you’re in the right job.’
‘So do I, sir. So do I. Every day, in fact.’
‘So why not get out?’
‘Oh, I don’t know, it’s sometimes easier to go with the flow rather than fight it.’
‘Are you referring to parental pressure by any chance?’
‘Got it in one, sir. My dad wants me to have a sound career, one with prospects and a pension. My uncle seemed to have all the answers.’
‘Our beloved Superintendent Vaughan?’
‘The very same. God he bores me to death. He’s so . . . so . . .’
‘Conservative?’
‘Yes. More than that, though. Before he does anything, he thinks carefully about the correct policy, how he should react, what he should say. He isn’t his own person anymore.’
‘A company man.’
‘Yeah, and he’d love me to be a company woman.’
‘But you’re rebelling against that?’
‘Too right I am. Life’s too short. The world’s full of interesting places, full of fascinating things to do. I want to get out there, to do something with my life.’
‘Sounds like an unstable character defect to me. This country’s fine for me.’
‘But you haven’t travelled much have you, sir?’
‘A bit, around Europe, before I was married, but I’ve learned to detest travelling. I hate living out of a suitcase.’
‘I don’t mean that, I mean living overseas, mixing with the local community, adapting to their culture, adopting their way of life.’
‘I like the sound of that even less. Paul Mansell would agree with you though, I imagine.’
‘Paul’s a nice guy.’
Magee looked at Melissa quizzically. ‘Seriously? You like him?’
‘He’s young, fit, handsome, single, seeking adventure,’ Melissa said with a smile on her face. ‘He’s got potential.’
‘He’s a murder suspect, that’s what he is!’
‘Oh, come on, sir, does he look the type?’
‘Yes, he does actually.’
‘Well you’re going to be proved wrong.’
‘You’re going to do that are you, Melissa? Prove me wrong?’
‘If I can, yes, I will.’
‘You’ll have to stay awake if you want to get anywhere, then. The killer could strike any second.’
‘How? We’ve got McAlister’s home surrounded. How’s he going to get in?’
‘I really don’t know, Melissa. He got in to all the other victims’ houses without any trouble.’
‘Well I don’t think he’ll bother trying. It must be obvious to him that there are police officers everywhere.’
‘Not necessarily, Melissa.’
‘Anyone surveying the place could tell.’
‘Maybe he plans to just walk straight in.’
‘More likely he’s staking us out right now, waiting for an opportunity, searching for a weakness. Maybe we’re looking in the wrong direction, sir.’
‘Meaning what?’
‘Perhaps we should be looking at all the other houses around here. Maybe we should be checking out all the neighbours’ windows for subversive movements.’
‘Subversive movements?’ Magee grunted. ‘Where on earth did you pick that expression up from?’
‘I meant suspicious movements.’
‘Actually, Melissa, that’s not a bad idea. Come on.’
Melissa got out the car and said, ‘Where are we going, sir?’
‘Let’s walk around the block. Alert everyone that we’re probably being spied on. I want everyone to survey their immediate area, look for shadows in darkened rooms, curtains moving, that sort of thing. No discussion over the radio, the killer might be listening in.’
‘At least that’s better than sitting in the car,’ Melissa muttered as she moved off down the road.
For the next hour, the six local officers assigned to Magee skirted McAlister’s neighbourhood on the pretext of quick trips to a nearby shop or to relieve themselves.
As fate would have it, it was Melissa who spotted a car parked over two hundred yards away, with two men sitting in the front, facing down the road towards McAlister's house.
‘Every few minutes they raise a pair of binoculars in this direction, sir. They’ve probably got night vision glasses.’
‘Right. Let's go and pick them up, Melissa. Nice and casual. Okay?’
‘Okay, sir. This should be fun!’ Melissa chuckled following Magee down the road.
They ambled along, like a couple out for the night, on the other side of the street, disregarding the suspect car. Fifty yards past the car, they crossed the road and double-backed. At the last moment, Melissa moved into the road and they both grabbed the car’s front door handles at the same time and shouted, ‘Police!’ at the two occupants.
Magee and Melissa each yanked a man out of the car and threw them over the bonnet. Surprisingly, the two men offered no resistance to handcuffs being strapped securely to their wrists.
‘You're under arrest, you two. Do you wish to say anything?’
Both handcuffed men shouted in unison, ‘Diplomatic immunity!’
‘What?’
‘Identity card in jacket pocket,’ one of the men answered in broken English.
Magee pulled his man up and rummaged through his jacket. He found a small leather case. Inside was a card, which identified the man as working for the Royal Thai Embassy.
‘Diplomat?’ Magee muttered. ‘Bugger! Who do you work for?’
‘Cultural Attaché,’ Magee's prisoner replied.
‘He ordered you here tonight?’
‘Yes.’
‘Shit!’ Magee was stumped. He stood contemplating the situation for a few moments. The professional thing to do would be to let Superintendent Vaughan know about the development and let him decide what to do. However, he reasoned his boss would be bound to phone the Home Secretary for instructions. That may complicate matters, he reasoned.
He asked his prisoner, ‘Do you have a car phone?’
‘Be my guest,’ came the response.
Magee got into the car, flicked on the interior light, flipped open a notebook, picked up the phone and dialled the Royal Thai Embassy. His call was put through in seconds. ‘Mr Ambassador? Good evening sir, it’s Chief Inspector Magee. I have a new problem. I thought you may be able to help me out.’
‘Of course, Chief Inspector,’ the Ambassador replied. ‘How may I be of assistance?’
‘We’re currently trying to protect Mr Desmond McAlister who I’ve determined to be the next intended victim. He’s a Member of Parliament, so it’s a very high profile case now. We’ve been keeping his house under surveillance this evening and we’ve come across two of your staff who appear to be keeping McAlister’s house under surveillance as well.’
‘Good lord! Are you sure they’re my staff?’
‘Quite sure, sir. They’re claiming diplomatic immunity.’
‘How extraordinary. Did they say they work for me?’
‘Well, they actually said they work for the Cultural Attaché.’
‘The Cultural Attaché?’
‘That’s what they say.’
‘Oh, that’s, erm, oh dear, Chief Inspector. This is a very serious matter. What are you intending to do about it?’
‘I was hoping you might have a good suggestion, sir.’
‘Um, no. No, I don’t. Where exactly are you at the moment?’
‘Just off the Fulham Road, sir, near South Kensington underground station.’
‘Really? That’s not far from the Embassy is it?’
‘It’s very close actually, sir.’
‘Could you bring them to me, Chief Inspector? I’ll question them h
ere, see if I can get to the bottom of it.’
‘That’s fine by me, sir. I’ll be with you in just a few minutes, I should think.’ Magee stared at the two diplomats through the windscreen. He stroked his chin, pondering on what to do, then got out the car.
Melissa said, ‘What’s the plan then, sir?’
‘Help them into the back seat, Melissa. We’ll drive them back to the Embassy.’
‘You’ll let them go free, just like that?’ Melissa asked, as she bundled a man into the back seat. ‘Do you know what you’re doing, sir?’
‘No. No idea at all. However, I do know the Ambassador quite well. He's been helping me on this case. Maybe he can sort the matter out satisfactorily. I'm buggered if I can decide what to do. This is getting way above my head. First of all bloody politicians and now bloody diplomats. I think I'll ask for a transfer.’
‘Back to Traffic Control, sir?’
'That sounds peaceful.’ Magee buckled his seat belt. ‘By the way, did you ever sign the Official Secrets Act?’
‘I'm not sure, sir. Probably. Why?’
‘Well I'm reminding you of it now. Whatever you see or hear from here on goes no further, right?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Melissa fell silent for the rest of the journey.
Magee abandoned the car right outside 29 Queensgate and, with Melissa, helped the two handcuffed men out of the car and up to the front door of the Embassy. He was met promptly and he and his entourage were ushered into the Ambassador's office without further ado.
‘This is Detective Sergeant Melissa Kelly, sir. She’s been working on the case the whole time with me. She is extremely discrete, sir.’
The Ambassador nodded his approval and extended his hand to Melissa. ‘Do you mind if I ask these men a few questions, Chief Inspector?’
‘By all means, sir,’ Magee replied. He waited in embarrassment for a couple of minutes while the Ambassador snapped at the two men in his native tongue. Magee understood not one word. Not that it mattered; it was obvious by the way they hung their heads in shame that they were getting a severe roasting.
‘Chief Inspector,’ the Ambassador said after a while, ‘who have you told about this incident?’
‘Only DS Kelly here and your good self know about it so far.’
‘And what do you plan to do about it?’
‘I really don't know, sir. It's beyond my experience. I haven't had enough time to think it through. I made a promise the other day, sir, that I would contain the problem and not involve anyone unnecessarily.’
The Ambassador looked a little puzzled. ‘Oh? May I ask to whom you made that promise?’
‘I'm sorry, sir. I can't say. Forgive me, but I find myself in a very awkward situation. I need advice but I can't ask anyone for it, as that would involve me having to give explanations which I’ve promised not to give.’
‘I see,’ the Ambassador said, though plainly he didn't, judging by the confused expression on his face.
‘Can you tell me what these two men were doing, sir? It would help me decide. I think.’
‘Well, they do indeed work for the Cultural Attaché. Apparently he has used these two aides to stake out, I think you say, a house down the road.’
‘Do they know why?’
‘No. They say they just have to report all movements direct to the Attaché.’
‘Why?’
‘They don’t know that either.’
‘Don’t know, or just won’t say?’
The Ambassador inclined his head curtly. ‘I suspect you’re right. The Cultural Attaché has a very forceful personality. I imagine these men are scared of what he could do to them, or to their families for that matter.’
‘Is the Cultural Attaché not under your authority, sir?’
‘Of course he is, Chief Inspector. It’s just that such appointments are deeply political, if you understand my meaning. The Attaché has some very powerful sponsors back in Bangkok. Regrettably, such sponsorship can result in other agendas being undertaken.’
Magee was bewildered. ‘Other agendas? I’m not quite sure I understand, sir.’
‘Personal agendas, Chief Inspector. Agendas that stand to benefit specific individuals, or groups, rather than the good of the country.’
Magee frowned. ‘I see. Are we back to the political problems you said your country was experiencing?’
‘Exactly.’
‘So, now what? Can I arrest them? Take them in for questioning?’
‘That would be difficult. I think their diplomatic status would prevent that. And you’re now standing in Embassy property, so you’re unable to make an arrest.’
‘But they might be able to throw light on who the murderer is.’
‘True, but, regrettably, one reason for diplomatic immunity is that diplomats can avoid undue influence by authorities such as the police.’
‘So I can’t touch these two men?’
‘I’m afraid not. You’ll have to release them.’
‘What about the Cultural Attaché? Can I speak with him?’
‘You may if he chooses to cooperate, Chief Inspector. I would doubt it though, given what’s happened this evening.’
‘Could you ask him, sir?’
‘Of course I will.’ The Ambassador walked to his desk, picked up the telephone and dialled a number. After a pause, he dialled another number and spoke for a few seconds. ‘Sorry, Chief Inspector. His secretary says he’s not contactable at the moment. Apparently, he’s having a break for a few days.’ The Ambassador shook his head in apparent puzzlement. ‘Very odd, he usually keeps me informed of his movements.’
‘Do you, or these men, have any idea where he might be, sir?’
‘They think he’s on holiday.’
‘Can you tell me where he lives, sir?’
‘At the back of the Embassy here. He's a single man.’
‘Does he have a flat in Brighton?’
‘I'm not sure, he's never talked about it if he does.’
‘When is he due back?’
‘Not until the end of next week. Maybe Thursday night, if we're lucky.’
‘So until then he might still be out there murdering people?’
The Ambassador looked shocked. ‘You’re assuming he’s the murderer?’
‘What other motive would he have for this evening’s activities?’
‘I, erm, I really don’t know. I can follow your train of thought though. Oh dear, Chief Inspector, this is all very upsetting. If the Attaché is the murderer, and he’s caught and put on trial, it will cause tremendous bad feeling towards my country.’
‘I’m sorry about that, sir.’
‘Look, Chief Inspector, I'll get my staff to search for him.’
‘Thank you, sir. But what will you do if you find him? You say you wouldn’t be able to hand him over to me?’
The Ambassador contemplated the problem in silence for a few moments. His facial expressions changed from concern to worry and then from a devious look to one of enlightenment.
‘Chief Inspector,’ the Ambassador said at length. ‘The British authorities can do very little about this matter. At best, the Attaché would no longer be made welcome in this country. He would then be requested to leave within a matter of a day or so. That's about the only action that can be taken against him. However, that process would involve you explaining tonight’s activities to higher authorities. The Home Secretary would have to be informed and it would be up to him to put pressure on me to expel the Attaché.’
Magee gulped. ‘I’d rather not go down that route, sir.’
‘Also, of course, such process would involve the considerable dissemination of knowledge, probably involving press statements.’
Magee recoiled at the thought of Rees Smith getting involved. ‘I really would rather avoid that, sir.’
‘In that case, Chief Inspector, perhaps you would let me deal with the problem. One way of avoiding any publicity would be for me to send the Attaché back to Bangkok imm
ediately. I would have him dealt with over there.’
Magee liked what he heard except for the term dealt with. The words had come out in an almost sinister tone. Still, that wasn't his concern. If the Cultural Attaché was the murderer, and was quietly disposed of in Bangkok, then that could well be the best thing for everyone involved. He glanced at Melissa to see what her reaction was.
Melissa put her hands up in front of her. ‘Don't look at me, sir. This is completely above my pay grade. It's your case and I haven't heard or seen a thing. This conversation has nothing to do with me, if you don't mind.’
Magee looked back at the Ambassador. ‘I think your solution might well be best, sir.’ At least Rees Smith would be happy, he reflected. ‘Yes, sir. I’m in full agreement with you. I'll leave the matter in your capable hands if you don't mind.’
‘Good. We have a deal then, Chief Inspector?’
‘Yes, sir, but I do hope you can reach the Cultural Attaché soon. In the meantime, I'm no better off. I'd better get back to my case. Thank you for your time, sir.’
‘Before you leave, would you mind letting these men go?’
‘Sorry. Yes, of course.’ Magee nodded at Melissa who proceeded to remove the handcuffs. ‘What will happen to them, sir? Back to Bangkok as well?’
‘I have some questions to ask them but then, yes, I'll tell them to pack their bags. You won't see them again, Chief Inspector.’
Magee frowned at that comment. Surely the Ambassador didn't mean he would have them dealt with, as well?