Nine faces looked along at Skinner as he tapped the briefing room table with his pen to call the meeting to order.
He was flanked by Adam Arrow and Merle Gower. Ranged around the table and facing him sat Andy Martin, the burly figure of Detective Sergeant Neil Mcllhenney, young Sammy Pye, looking fresh-faced and eager, Maggie Rose, Brian Mackie, Mario McGuire, Alison Higgins, and her deputy, a young, sleek-haired, well-groomed Detective Chief Inspector named Dave Donaldson.
`Good morning, everyone,' said the DCC. 'Things were pretty chaotic yesterday, for all of us. What I'm going to say now will come as no surprise to those of you who were at the scene of the disaster, but to those who weren't, that's Ali, Dave, Brian and Mario, let me say that we're here to begin a murder investigation. A crime with two hundred and four victims.
The press are clamouring for more information. I've asked Alan Royston to schedule a briefing for twelve-thirty: this is what I'll be telling them.
`We were able to establish at the scene of the crash, and it has since been confirmed by the Black Box flight recorder, that an explosion occurred on board the aircraft. We have been able to establish still further, to our complete satisfaction, that the explosion was caused by a bomb.'
He looked round the table, his eyes settling on Higgins and Donaldson. The Superintendent's eyes were wide with surprise, but her colleague sat impassively, waiting for Skinner to continue.
`You don't seem surprised, Dave.'
‘I’m not, sir. I never doubted that's what it was.'
Indeed?' said Skinner. He sounded interested, rather than irked. 'Most of us operate on the basis of evidence first, conclusions second. What makes you special?'
I don't think I am, sir. I'm a believer in the laws of averages and possibilities, that's all.'
`What d'you mean?'
`Well, it's a matter of odds, isn't it? The odds against an aircraft coming down through mechanical or structural failure are pretty long, yet still it happens. The odds against the British and American Defence Secretaries travelling on the same civilian plane are pretty long too, yet that happened yesterday.
`But when you take the two situations and put them together — the two guys travelling on the same plane and that plane coming down — well, to a statistician, the odds against an accident might have been exactly the same, but to a policeman, they have to be astronomical.'
The DCC smiled. `Suspicious bugger, aren't you?' Donaldson's expression took on a chorister's innocence. `Who me, boss?'
It's no fault in a copper, Dave. Just be sure you don't make one assumption too many, that's all.'
He turned his attention back to the rest of the gathering. `Clever Dave here worked out that this was no accident; I dare say some of the rest of you did too. But what neither he nor anyone else could have guessed is how the bomb was taken on board. I know, and it's something I'm not going to tell the Press… and neither is any one of you!
The device was hidden inside the Defence Secretary's document case — his Red Box. It's made out of solid steel and bound in leather, and it's one of those rare items, like a protection officer's handgun, that is usually allowed to by-pass the airport security screening.
`There were two Red Boxes on that plane. One belonged to Roland McGrath, the Scottish Office Minister who was among the dead. That's been accounted for.'
He produced two colour photographs from a folder before him on the table. They showed front and back views of the fused piece of twisted, tangled metal which they had found on the moor. 'This was recovered in the area where the wreckage of the front two rows came down. We believe this was the second Red Box.
The scientists and the bomb boys have been working on it all night. The lab confirms that most of the black coating on the outside was leather, although they can't tell us what the original colour was. They have confirmed also that other parts of the coating, those raised marks, are carbonised human tissue.
`The Bomb Squad have confirmed that there was an explosive device inside the box.
Major Legge says that it was at least half-full of very powerful military high explosive, of the kind used in artillery shells, bombs and the like. There was no trace of the detonating mechanism, but he is guessing that there was a simple trigger device which completed a circuit as soon as the box was opened.
`Questions so far?'
Alison Higgins raised a hand. 'Have all of the bodies been recovered?'
Skinner nodded to Maggie Rose. 'All but two,' she said. 'We think we've matched a body to every seat except for Row 1, seats D and E. So far, the only trace we've found of Mr Davey or his private Secretary was what was melted into the Red Box.'
On Skinner's left, Merle Gower leaned forward. 'Does that mean that you've found Secretary Massey's body?' she asked eagerly.
`We've found…' Rose hesitated `… remains, which include a right hand with the second finger missing. That matches the description of Mr Massey which we were given by your Embassy.. They said he lost the finger in Vietnam.'
`He got off lightly there,' said Skinner. 'Too bad his luck didn't hold.' He looked around the table once more. 'Ms Gower and Captain Arrow have reports for us. I can't stress strongly enough that what they say here is in deepest confidence, and must not go beyond this room. However, before they begin, there are a couple of things I'd like to deal with.
As you all know by now, we lost Roy Old yesterday. We all knew Roy, and we all liked him, so be assured that the Force will pay him a proper tribute in due course. But he would have been the first to say that you cannot have a vacuum in a Police Force. Consequently, Andy Martin is here today as our new Head of CID and Roy's successor as my immediate deputy. Like Roy, and like the Heads of Divisions, he will have the title of Chief Superintendent.'
In a corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Alison Higgins. He thought that just for a second, her face betrayed a trace of disappointment.
He put the notion aside and went on. 'While I intend to devote myself full-time to this investigation until it is complete, if for any reason any of you is unable to report to me directly on anything which you feel to be important, you will report instead to Chief Superintendent Martin. Clear?'
Seven heads nodded around the table, that of Alison Higgins most vigorously of all.
`Good. Now I want to clear up any doubts that anyone might have over jurisdiction. This is our investigation, be in no doubt about that. I don't say that out of territorial jealousy, but because the law has placed the burden on us. As I've said, I will take direct control over the operation. Normally I would look to the appropriate Divisional CID to supply the manpower; since the plane came down in your area, Alison, that would mean your people.
`However, you have your normal workload to handle, and that mustn't suffer. So I won't dump it all on you. What I'm proposing to do is to set up a dedicated team. The members will be DCI Mackie and acting DI McGuire from Special Branch, DI Rose from my office, DS Neil Mcllhenney and DC Sammy Pye from Mr Martin's staff, and DCI Donaldson, whom I will second from other duties,' he glanced at Higgins, 'subject to your comments, Superintendent, for the duration of the enquiry.
`We will call in help from other Forces and Agencies as and when we need it, but we will co-ordinate everything and set the strategy. With that in mind, I want all the important interviews carried out by members of this team.'
He paused to sip from the coffee cup on the table before him, and to pick up a chocolate digestive biscuit.
Okay, we've got a plane down as a result of an explosion; we know where the bomb was hidden. Where do we go from there? Thoughts, anyone?'
Around the table, people shifted in their chairs. There was an awkward silence for a few seconds.
`Don't all speak at once, will you,' said Skinner.
Dave Donaldson raised a hand. 'Shouldn't we begin by finding out all we can about Mr Davey's Private Secretary, sir, and everyone else in his office who might have been involved in filling that Red Box?'
The DCC nodded. 'You're right. That's exactly where we should begin. That's why you and DS Mcllhenney are going straight to London with Captain Arrow after this briefing.
You will interview all of Mr Davey's Private Office staff about the way in which his box was normally filled, and you will try to pin down a comprehensive eye-witness account of its movements from the moment it was brought into the office until the moment it left.'
Donaldson frowned. 'All of them, sir? Are you sure we'll be able to see them all?'
`Bloody right,' Arrow interposed. 'They're all under orders to report to their office at two p.m. today, and they've all been under surveillance since yesterday. If anyone had tried to do a runner, he wouldn't have made it past the garden gate.'
As well as quizzing them about the Red Box,' Skinner went on, 'you should also ask every person you interview what they thought of the late Private Secretary… his name was Maurice Noble… and you should ask them to give you a candid view of the Minister, too. Whatever gossip there is, make sure you bring it back.
`Finally, while you're there, I want you to speak to Sir Stewart Morelli, the Permanent Secretary. He'll be expecting you at four o'clock. Kid gloves for him, by the way. He'll have known Mr Noble pretty well. The senior Private Office appointments are usually made on his recommendation. So ask Sir Stewart for his comments on the man, and yes, ask him to tell you candidly what he thought of Colin Davey. You'd better make sure that Captain Arrow is with you when you see him. Adam's a familiar face, and that might encourage him, if he needs it, to be Completely frank.
`You'll be supported by an officer from the Met Special Branch, but you two will be in charge, and you will lead the interviews. You'll find the Met guy waiting for you in Whitehall. `Questions?'
Donaldson and Mcllhenney shook their heads.
Okay. Adam, would you like to give us your input.'
The little soldier leaned forward. 'Thanks, Bob. The first thing I should say is that every person on the Minister's staff has been given a full security check by my unit. I hold the vetting reports, and I'll let you see them.'
Did you vet the Secretary of State, too?'
Arrow shook his head. 'No. We're not allowed to snoop on our own Ministers. If that's done, and I don't know whether it is or not, it'd be by the Security Services.
I did Maurice Noble, though, and I can tell you about him. Age thirty-four, an Oxford economics graduate, he'd been in post since May. Didn't drink alcohol, and stopped smoking ten years ago. Liked a punt on the greyhounds, though. He had a mathematical system, and he bet a fixed amount each month. On the whole, he was a winner.
`He was married three years ago, to a barrister called Ariadne Tucker, same age as him.
They live in a brick terrace house in Putney with a mortgage well within their means.
There are no kids, they drive a three-year-old Mazda MX5, they eat out a lot and they have a cat called Tigger.
`Maurice had a medical problem at one point, about five years ago. He contracted hepatitis on holiday in India, and it left him prone to bouts of depression. But it was controlled by medication, and the MOD doctors passed him fully fit for the Private Secretary job.'
`When did you do his vetting?' asked Brian Mackie.
April. Before he was offered the job with Davey.'
I suppose it won't have been topped up since then?'
Arrow shrugged his shoulders. We keep an eye on bank accounts, and we tap telephones at random, but there's been nothing other than that since he's been in post. Normally, we'd have taken another look at him after a year.'
`Fair enough.'
`Now for some other stuff, which will probably be more relevant than Maurice. I'm sure you can guess that we're always on the look-out for threats to Ministers. Just recently, they've been on the increase. We take them all seriously, till we're satisfied that there's nowt in 'em, but most of them turn out to be cranks.
`Currently, there are three that we're worried about. The first is an Irish outfit, a Republican splinter group that doesn't like the way things 'ave gone over there. They've 'ad one go already, a year or so back, when they tried to smuggle a bloody huge car bomb across the border. They lost half their strength then, but there are still a few of them on the loose. We believe that they're out to pull off a big score, and the word was that Davey was a target.
`Then there's the Enviro-terrorists.'
`Who?' said Maggie Rose.
A group of Australasian radicals who are still carrying a grudge over French nuclear testing in the Pacific, and our support for them. They made some public threats when the first tests were carried out, but after that they went quiet. Then, a couple of weeks ago, the New Zealand Special Branch dropped us a tip that they'd been funded by the Iranians to make some mischief, and that they had it in mind to stage a big stunt in Europe, probably an assassination. They wouldn't get near Chirac, or our PM, but the French and British Defence Ministers, and Army Chiefs of Staff are seen as likely targets.
`Finally, there's General Yahic.'
‘Who’s he? ‘asked Donaldson.
`Miroslav Yahic. He's the most fanatical Serb commander of them all, and he's still holed up in a little enclave in Bosnia. The leadership try to keep him quiet, but his men seem to be loyal to him rather than them, so short of shooting him they can't do a thing about him.
He's declared a personal war on all the NATO countries, and he means it.
`You may have read or seen telly reports a week or two back about the assassination of a Dutch General in his car in The Hague. Then, a few days later, an American fighter was blown up on the ground at a base in Germany. The Intelligence community is dead certain that Yahic was behind both of those attacks, and they've put the word out to expect more.'
He looked around the table. 'Those are the likeliest leads I can give you, but there may be others.'
`Which one do you fancy most?' asked Skinner.
Arrow considered the question for a few moments. `Personally, I'd rule out the Irish. We think we know who they are, and they're under pretty constant surveillance. I reckon that if they were planning something like this we'd 'ave found out about it, and neutralised 'em.
The Australasian? I'm not sure. They can't be ruled out, and we should check for links to them among the people we interview, but I don't see them having the bottle for something like this. Even if they had, I don't see them, or the Paddies for that matter, taking out a planeload of people just to get Davey.
`No. Out of all that lot, I'd bet on Yahic. He's a fanatic and he certainly wouldn't draw back from the thought of killing a couple of 'undred people. This guy's wiped out whole towns. Yesterday's casualty list would be just a village by his standards.
Excuse me, Captain.' Every head turned to stare at Sammy Pye. The young Constable, the only man at the table wearing a suit looked little more than a schoolboy as he stared eagerly at Arrow. 'I was wondering. Could Mr Massey have been a target as well? If this guy Yahic was behind it, wouldn't it have been a real coup for him to get both Davey and the American Defense Secretary at the same time?'
`That's a reasonable question, Sam,' said Skinner. 'And it's one that I've asked myself. But I think the answer is no, Secretary Massey wasn't a target. Adam?'
`That's right, Bob. Yank's Intelligence isn't that good… I hope! On the British side, only half a dozen of us knew that Massey would be on the plane: Davey himself, Maurice Noble, his assistants, Sir Stewart Morelli and me. And we didn't find out until Thursday evening, when the Ambassador called Morelli. The airline people were only told to block off the two front rows. I heard Maurice Noble make that call myself, and he didn't say who'd be in them.'
Merle Gower, on Skinner's left, leaned across him. 'On our side, we only found out when Secretary Massey arrived on Thursday afternoon that he intended to fly up with Mr Davey. We had a seat for him on a military jet but he said that he wanted a chance to talk to Davey away from the Generals.'
`Who knew?' asked Skinner.
The Ambassador told me,' she said, 'but as far as I know, no one else. I called the airline to book three tickets on the Embassy account. My name was on all three reservations.'
`So how, I wonder, did McGrath and wee Mark get into the front row?' Skinner mused.
'Two of Secretary Massey's staff should have been in those seats, and another in the seat that Miss Cunningham occupied. I think we have to assume that he told them to swap when Minister McGrath and his party turned up.'
I guess so. Anyway, that answers your question, Sammy. If it Was Yahic, then Massey being on board the plane was a bonus for him.' He turned to the American once more.
'Now, Merle, do you have any other information for us?'
The woman nodded her dark head. 'First off, I can corroborate Captain Arrow's Intelligence about the Yahic group. The CIA had an infiltrator on his personal staff — until recently, that is.'
`What happened to him?' asked Andy Martin.
`His name appeared in a list of fatalities a month ago, after the group was involved in a shoot-out with the International Force. Generals' aides don't normally come under fire, so the Company thinking is that he was compromised and executed.
`We know about the Australasian group also, but I can update your Intelligence on that, Captain. There was an Iranian connection, it's true, but it has now been terminated.'
`What,' said Arrow, 'like With Extreme Prejudice?'
Merle Gower smiled. 'Not that extreme! No, let's just say that certain economic pressure was brought to bear by our client states within the Islamic community. As a result, the funds on offer to the group have now been withdrawn.
I agree with Captain Arrow's assessment of the threat posed by General Yahic. However, I have another contender to throw into the discussion. You will not be surprised to learn that the Iraqis are our Number One Intelligence target these days. A couple of weeks ago, one of our sources in Baghdad came up with a dossier on deep-cover agents whom the regime has in position in various Western countries, including Britain, France and the US.
`We don't have names or faces to put to them, but we do know their code names and their occupations. For example, the sleeper in the US was known as Eagle, and he was a freelance computer software engineer. We nailed him yesterday, and we believe that we can tie him into the Oklahoma bombing.
`The French plant is called Mouse. She is a bank clerk.
`The London agent is code-named Robin, and he or she is a civil servant.'
Skinner whistled, and threw a glance at Arrow. 'Do we know which Department?'
Gower shook her head.
`What's the purpose of these people? Are they spies?'
`Some of them are. Others are assassins. The Iraqis are lousy when it comes to Intelligence gathering. That's why they got it so badly wrong over Kuwait; they miscalculated completely the extent to which Bush was prepared to go to protect the Saudis. But they keep on trying. Eagle, Mouse, Robin and all the rest are trained in either sabotage, espionage or assassination. They're in place to do damage or to gather information, whatever their specialty. But they're not used indiscriminately, and they're not all currently active. We believe that Mouse was involved in the Paris bombings last year, but that she's been put back to sleep. Robin, we are told, has just been activated.'
Skinner, upright in his seat, looked down at her. 'Who else in the UK has this information?'
`No one as yet, to my knowledge. Langley has only just finished evaluating it. However, a full report is on its way over, by courier. And that's the last thing I have to tell you.
Washington has decided that I'm too raw to be representing the US in the investigation of the murder of the President's best buddy. So they're sending someone else. He's bringing the report.'
Skinner grinned at Martin, across the table. 'So who's the Seagull going to be?'
She looked at him, puzzled, until she guessed his meaning. It's the Deputy Chair of the National Security Council, no less. My predecessor, Mr Doherty.'
`Joe! Well, thank you, God, for that. They're sending us a professional. Let me know when he's due to arrive, and ill arrange to meet him.'
Skinner picked up his folder from the table and glanced at his watch. It was 9.40 a.m.
'Right, ladies and gentlemen, class dismissed. Dave, Neil, go home and pick up enough gear for a few days, then get yourselves out to the airport, with Adam, as quick as you can.
Maggie's booked you on the eleven o'clock plane. Your tickets will be waiting at check-in, and the flight won't leave without you.'
As the meeting broke up, Skinner signalled to Superintendent Higgins to stay behind.
'Alison,' he said, once they were alone, 'you're not too disappointed, I hope, that I chose Andy to succeed Roy.'
She shook her blonde head, and her ruddy complexion seemed just a shade more red. 'No, sir. Andy's the right man for the job. I expected it, really.'
`How would you feel about taking his place in charge of Drugs and Vice?'
Higgins stared at him in surprise. 'Honestly, sir? I wouldn't want it. I'd prefer to stay where I am for a bit longer, then perhaps to be considered…' She faltered, and Skinner could see that she was wondering whether she had gone too far.
He grinned at her. ‘For a job back in uniform, were you about to say?' She nodded.
`Then keep this to yourself for now. Charlie Radcliffe told me last night that he's planning to retire in six months. The Chief Constable will appoint his successor personally, but I’ll recommend to him that he chooses you.'
The Superintendent flushed bright red. Thank you very much, sir.'
`Don't thank me till you've thought it through. I know that I wouldn't fancy putting on a uniform for what could be the rest of my career.'
Higgins looked at her feet, diffidently. 'Actually, I have some long-term career ambitions, sir, and that move fits in very well with them. Chief Super at age thirty-nine would keep me on course. I come from Dundee, you see, and my secret wish is that I might go back there one day as an ACC.'
`Don't sell yourself short now, Ali,' said Skinner, smiling. `There's no point in aiming for the second top rung on any ladder.'
I'll bear that in mind, boss. Meantime, can I make a suggestion? How about Dave Donaldson as Andy's replacement?'
'A good thought, and one that's crossed my mind, too. I'll discuss it with Andy. But let's get this crisis over with before we get round to making that decision.' He paused. 'How were things yesterday, with your friend?'
Higgins winced. 'As you would expect, really. Poor Leona! She was numb at first. But it helped when Mark came home. Honest to God, sir, what a miracle that was, that he should survive, out of them all.'
`Did his mother tell him? About his dad, I mean.' Suddenly, a picture of Roland McGrath, as Skinner had seen him last, burst into his mind extinguishing for a few seconds all other sights and thoughts. The Superintendent, looking at him, thought she saw him shudder, but she knew better than to comment.
Instead she shook her head. 'No, boss, Leona didn't tell him. I volunteered for that. I reckoned that it went with the job of godmother.'
`So how did the wee chap take it?'
`Just as you'd expect from Mark, with a stiff upper lip. I told him that his Daddy had been taken away by God, which was probably a mistake. Although I did my best to make it clear that he was gone for good, I'm sure that somewhere in here. she tapped her forehead.. he's clinging to the idea that it's a return ticket.'
`He's bound to. Kids that small can't really deal with the concept of death. I remember when Myra, my first wife, was killed. Alex was only four at the time. I didn't let her go to the funeral, and afterwards I wished I had. She never called me a liar or anything, but I could see that she didn't believe me when I said that her mum wouldn't be back.
It didn't hit home until she was nearly eight. One evening she sat around without saying a word, which was unprecedented for her, till it was time to go to bed. Not long afterwards, I heard her crying her eyes out.
I went in to see her, and she said, "Daddy, what does 'dead' really mean?" So I told her again, and this time she understood. I thought that some kid had said something to her, but that wasn't it. I found out that her pal's cat had been killed on the road, and that Alex had seen it. That reality was what brought it home to her.
`So a word of advice, Fairy Godmother. Think seriously about persuading your friend to let Mark go to his father's funeral. It could be the right thing to do. And something else.
Make sure that he's given the best counselling available, now and for a long time to come.
Sooner or later he'll start to think about his own experience. Long term, that could be harder to handle than his father's death, so you have to make sure that he's as well prepared I for it as can be.'
Higgins stood in silence for a while. 'I hadn't even begun to think of all that,' she said at last. 'But you're right. I'll talk to Leona about the funeral. And the other thing — do you have any idea who could help us?'
I know a psychiatrist, Kevin O'Malley. I'll ask him to recommend someone. And Sarah will make some enquiries up at the University. There are people who specialise in handling traumatised children. Okay, so this one doesn't even know yet that he's been traumatised: that'll just be an extra challenge.'
`Thank you, boss. As I said, I'll discuss it with Leona.' She paused. 'I don't suppose you'd like to call on her with me? I know that she'd like to thank you personally for rescuing Mark from the plane. And he'd like to see you again, too. Can you spare the time?'
Of course. I want to speak to Brian Mackie, but if you wait inmy office, I'll be with you in a few minutes.'