‘He bloody what?' Adam Arrow's eyebrows shot halfway up his high forehead.
`He said "No", Adam. The Prime Minister won't release the file on Davey.'
`Not even when he heard where the request came from?' Andy Martin shook his head.
I know that Kercheval character,' said Arrow. 'Bob might get on with 'im, but from what I've seen he's a real MI5 traditionalist. Know what I mean? Sees himself as the cream of the crop, and all the rest of us as bungling semi-pros, not to be trusted with the real stuff.
I wonder if he mentioned to anyone that the request for Davey's file came from Bob.'
There was a grim look in the little soldier's eyes. Wrinkles showed as they narrowed. Did he say anything else to the lads?'
`No. Only that the file was under wraps.
`So they were wasting their time all along.'
A faint smile played around the corners of Martin's mouth.
`Not quite,' he murmured. 'He's not as smart as he thinks, is our man Kercheval.'
`No, he ain't,' said Joe Doherty, leaning back in his chair, grinning. 'I know him too.
He's not so much a spook, more Caspar the Friendly Ghost.'
Are you two going to let the rest of us in on the secret?' Arrow growled. Beside him, Merle Gower sat staring at Doherty: but beyond her, out of the soldier's line of vision, the light of comprehension was dawning in Maggie Rose's expression as she grasped the same implication that had occurred to her colleagues.
`Well,' said Doherty. ‘For openers, he admitted to the guys from the start that there is a file on Davey. If he had told them that he'd have to find out whether one existed or not, he'd have left his options open. But being Kercheval he couldn't pass up a chance to impress two cops by letting them see that he's the sort of important guy who knows where the most important bodies are buried.'
`That's right,' said Andy Martin emphatically. 'And when the Prime Minister put a block on its release, there he was with egg all over his coupon. He couldn't turn around and say
"Sorry, boys, I was wrong. There isn't a file," because he's told them for sure that there is.
He couldn't even say that his DG stopped him, because he knows that Joe here wouldn't accept that level of refusal. So he had to come clean and pin the blame on the PM. He even compounded it by saying that if it was up to him he'd have released it.'
Doherty laughed out loud. 'That's old Cyril! No one knows better than him.
`So it seems,' said Martin. 'Anyway, the upshot of it all is that Cyril has effectively told us not only that there is a file on Davey, but also that it contains material so sensitive that even in circumstances like these, with American interests involved as well as our own, our Prime Minister won't sanction its release.'
`Why not, d'you think?' asked Arrow.
The detective shrugged. 'I can only come up with two reasons, and they're both essentially the same. Either what's in the file would cost the Government Davey's seat in the by- election at a time when it can't afford to lose it, or it's so serious that it would bring it down altogether.'
The soldier shook his head and smiled. 'Know what, Andy?
You've been around Bob so long, you're thinking just like him: The policeman grinned back across the table. 'That's the biggest compliment I've been paid in a while, mate. `So what would he do now?' asked Doherty.
`Why don't we go up to the Royal and ask 'im?'
`Christ, if we tried that, Adam,' said Martin, 'Sarah would cut our ears off. She said that he's out of immediate danger, but she's still worried about him. No… whether it would have been the boss's way or not, I'll tell you what we're going to do — assuming that you're game for it, that is.'
The soldier looked at him blankly.
`We're going to forget all about that file,' Martin told them, and conduct our own private investigation into Mr Davey and his background. Adam, I'd like you to run it, using your access through MoD security. I'll give you Brian and Mario as back-up, and young Sammy Pye, if you need him.
`We need to know whether there was anything in Colin Davey's ministerial life that might have compromised him, or made him serious enemies. At the same time, I want to know about the private person. Apart from his Who's Who entry and his party biography, we know sod all about him… and neither of those sources are famous for listing a man's less endearing traits.
`You look into things at the Ministry; dig as deep as you can. I'll have Brian and Mario ask some discreet questions around the constituency, and I'll go down myself with Pye to interview Davey's widow. Working together, we're going to find out what it was about the late Minister that's so disturbing that it puts the wind up Prime Ministers.
After that, we'll decide what we're going to do about it.
‘Everybody happy?' Grunts of approval followed each other round the conference table.
Abruptly Martin sat up in his chair at its head. 'Right,' he said. `That's one line of enquiry.
What about the others? Most of them seem to centre around Maurice Noble, don't they?
Adam, what I can you tell us about his wife and her mystery man?'
Arrow hunched his disproportionately wide shoulders. 'We've identified him, without too much trouble. He's a Lieutenant in the Sappers, and his name is Stephen William Richards. Known to 'is mates as Short Wave, apparently. He's in the same line of work as our friend Major Legge, only from the other side. His speciality is demolishing, not defusing.'
`That kinda makes him number one suspect, don't it?' drawled Doherty.
`Not necessarily, sir. His work's all battlefield stuff. He's never been involved in anything covert, or even trained in it. I reckon I know more about the sort of device that took out that plane than he does.'
`Nonetheless,' interrupted Martin, 'he would have the basic knowledge, wouldn't he?'
Aye, Andy, he would.' Arrow nodded in agreement. 'All that I'm saying is that we shouldn't make too big an assumption about him.'
`Fair enough; but right now he's the hottest lead we've got. What else do we know about him?'
`Basic background. He's twenty-six, educated at Westminster, then Sandhurst. His parents are both dead. He lost his mum when he was three, and was brought up after that by his old man… he was a vicar
… and his housekeeper. The Reverend Richards popped 'is clogs two years ago. No siblings noted. The old vicar didn't get wed till 'e was fifty.'
Interests?' asked Martin.
`Rifle shooting to near Olympic standard, cricket and squash. He represents the Army in all three.'
Women?'
`Well, he's single, for a start. We don't keep tabs on every officer's romantic entanglements, but this lad's love-life has brought him to his superiors' attention on a couple of occasions. The first time was on his first posting after Sandhurst. Silly bugger got himself involved with his CO's sister.'
`What did the CO say to that?' asked Doherty smiling.
A hell of a lot, according to Short Wave's file. The sister was ten years older than him, and 'ad just come through a very messy divorce. Our lad was told to cease and desist bloody quick, and he did.'
`The second time?' asked Martin.
`Just under a year ago. He was given a trial posting as an equerry to the Royal Household.
He was hardly through the door before he was picked out for special attention by another lady some years older than 'im. Not even around this table will I say who he was involved with, but when it came to light, he was returned to his Regiment overnight, literally — on the direct instruction of the Secretary of State. Straight afterwards, Sir Stewart Morelli 'ad him on the carpet, personally, and put a note in his docket saying that his next promotion should be deferred by five years.'
`Why didn't they just kick him out?'
I guess the J. Edgar Hoover principle came into play,' muttered Doherty.
`What's that?' said Arrow.
`Better to have him inside the tent pissing out, than outside pissing in!'
`Maybe so,' said Martin brusquely. He leaned forward across the desk, staring at Arrow.
'So what we've got here, Adam, is an explosives expert, with an established pattern of having it off with older women, who's been seen having a hand-holding dinner with Maurice Noble's widow three days after his death. On top of that, he could have held a personal grudge against Colin Davey. And you're telling me that I shouldn't make too many assumptions about him!'
Arrow chuckled ruefully. 'Well, if you put it that way.. Around the table, Martin, Doherty, Alison Higgins, Maggie Rose, and even the invariably tense Merle Gower joined in the laughter.
`So how are you going to play him?' asked Doherty eventually.
`Carefully,' said Martin. 'We'll keep up observation on him and on Ms Tucker. Donaldson and Mcllhenney are going to see her this evening to ask about these anonymous letters — '
And about her alarm system,' cut in Arrow.
`Good. I'll tell them to play that up. If she and Richards did it, it'll do no harm to let her think that we're on the trail of a mystery intruder… Look, Adam, you couldn't fix something with Richards' Regiment, could you? Something that'll keep him tied up for a day or two.'
`Probably. But what good would that do?'
It would ease the task of the watchers if they knew where he was. And it might force him to do something that would corroborate our theory. Make a phone call, maybe, that we could pick up through the tap you put on Ariadne Tucker's telephone. Ideally we should listen in on Lieutenant Richards' phone as well. Can you fix that?'
Arrow nodded. 'I can monitor the phone in his private apartment, but not the Officer's Mess. Mind you, he's hardly likely to use that to make a sensitive call.'
`There's something else I'd be grateful if you could do, Adam, and that's check the explosives stock at Richards' base. Is that possible?'
Of course — but I'll tell you now, it'll be all right. He couldn't get his hands on official ordnance without someone knowing If it were 'im, he'll have had another source.'
`Such as criminal, do you mean?'
Arrow shook his head. 'There's unofficial stock as well, Andy, The Special Forces have been known to be a bit lax in reporting material recovered from Ireland, or captured in overseas operations. There are other ways of acquiring explosives too, even for ordinary servicemen, if they have the know-how. If it was Richards, he's had access to some of that, but we'll have the Devil's own job proving it.'
`Do what you can, Adam. That's all I ask.'
`Sure.'
Okay,' said Martin. 'Now our other line of enquiry. General Yahic.'
Doherty tapped the table, and shook his head. 'Closed off. We just found out — Yahic has been dead for ten days.'
Of those around the table, only Merle Gower did not look surprised.
`What 'appened?' asked Arrow.
`His own men shot him. The guy was as mad as a hatter, and he was getting too many of them killed, so his second-in-command, a Colonel called Brisnich, gave him a round behind the ear. Since then he's been closing down Yahic's operations around the world, until this morning, when he contacted the UN and said that he and his followers would hand over their weapons at Mostar tomorrow. He even faxed a photograph of Yahic's body in confirmation. So, other than in that mugshot, the General is very definitely out of the picture.'
Arrow whistled. 'That's a blessing. I'd reckoned that the next step would have been for Merle and I and a few of our pals to go there in there and invite him for a chat. Now all we
'ave to do is hire a medium.
Martin smiled, nodding. 'Yes. That's a big complication out of the way. Now we can concentrate on the real police work… unless of course, Adam, you're going to come up with Agent Robin:
The soldier grunted. 'Believe me, mate, you'd be the first to know if I did.'
I wish I could believe that, Captain. But after what we've heard about the Davey file, if you did catch Agent Robin, I wonder if you'd be allowed to tell anyone outside Downing Street about it, let alone a poor sad provincial copper like me!
`Right, that's it, everyone. Meeting adjourned.' He picked up his notes from the conference table and looked towards Doherty. `When would you like to get together again, Joe?'
The American shrugged his shoulders. 'My orders are to offer assistance and to report regularly to the White House. If you need my backing in setting up that phone tap, you've got it, but otherwise I'll lay off for a while, and Merle, here, can get back behind my old desk in London. Let me know when you have something fresh to tell me from all these different enquiries, but for now, I've got enough for a solid report to the Oval Office.'
He caught a look of concern in Martin's eyes. 'On a Top Secret basis, of course. Don't worry, nothing will leak out of there. Nothing ever does… unless the President wants it to, of course. Just between you and me, I think he was hoping to have a chance to kick some Bosnian butt over the next few days, just to top him up in the opinion polls. He may be the only mourner at Yahic's funeral.'
Martin led Doherty, Gower and Arrow along the corridor and down the stairs to the draughty foyer of the headquarters building. All three climbed into a chauffeur-driven consular car, in which Doherty had volunteered to take his companions to the airport.
When the Chief Superintendent returned to his new office after saying his farewells, he found Alison Higgins waiting for him.
`Good news about the boss,' she began diffidently.
He nodded, and she could see the relief in his green eyes. `Yes, but let's all still keep our fingers crossed. Sarah's still worried about him. She hasn't said, but I've got a feeling she's concerned about the long-term effects.'
`Nah! Not him. He's as hard as nails. He'll get over it.' `Let's hope so.' He paused.
'Anyway, was there something else?'
`Yes,' she said slowly. 'I was wondering if you had any though on how long I'll be without Donaldson.'
Martin shrugged his shoulders. 'As long as it takes. If we do get a result with Noble's wife and the soldier laddie, you won't see him again for a hell of a while. It won't be because he's going to Drugs and Vice either. No, he'll be preparing to be chief police witness at the Trial of the Century.
`Why are you asking? Do you want a replacement? With the boss out of action for a while, I can give you Maggie Rose on a temporary basis
…' A recent memory came back to him `… or don't you two get on?'
Higgins shook her head vehemently. 'I've got no problem with Maggie. She's bright and she's a straight talker. If she's on offer, I'll take her, even if it's only for a few days. The truth is, I'd like to be free to give Leona as much help as I can. She's acting quite strangely, and I'm not certain how it'll end up.'
`What do you mean, strangely?'
`Well, over the last few days she's become almost euphoric. She's even having a supper party for a few of us tonight. She's on a high, when you'd still expect her to be in shock.'
Is she on medication?'
`No. She wouldn't take any. I don't know what's driving her, but if it reverses on itself, she'll come down with a hell of a bang.
If that happens, my godson might need me even more.'
'Mmm. In that case you can have all the time you need. Wee Mark's our star witness. In fact, he's almost our only witness!' Martin settled into his chair, and indicated to Higgins that she should take a seat.
`What was his dad like? The late Roland. I wasn't here when he paid us a visit, but I got the idea that Bob didn't care for him.' `What gave you that impression?'
I think the fact that he called him an "insufferable little arsehole" may have had something to do with it.'
Higgins laughed softly. 'Yes, I could see that Mr Skinner and he might not have hit it off.
Roly was a better talker than a listener, and an expert on everything. He found success in politics early, and it went to his head. He used to be okay, but lately, no, I'm afraid not. He always had time for Mark, but if he'd treated his secretaries like he treated Leona, then he'd have gone through about one a week.'
`Did he give you any hassle?'
`No, but only because I always made it clear that I would never talk to him about police work. But the truth is, if Leona wasn't such a close pal, and if Mark wasn't my godson, I'd have stayed away from them after he landed the Scottish Office job.'
Aye, well, Ali,' said Martin. 'A week ago Roland McGrath was a power in the land.
Today he's a pile of bones and ashes. You give your pal as much time as you can manage.
From the sound of things, she needs it.'
Sixty-One
‘Just what could those bloody stupid letters have to do with this accident, Chief Inspector?'
Experiencing the full weight of Ariadne Tucker's frosty glare, Dave Donaldson found it easy to imagine how a hostile witness would feel in the box, under her cross-examination.
A pang of relief passed through him as he remembered that English barristers were not admitted automatically to practise in the Scottish courts.
`Probably nothing at all, ma'am,' he said. 'But until we know exactly what the circumstances were, we can't discount the possibility of a connection. The letters, according to what we've been told by the investigating officers, accused you of infidelity.
The relevant questions arising now are, who was the author, and what was the motive?
Were they meant to harm your husband, or could they have been written by someone with a grudge against you? Your practice usually involves criminal cases, doesn't it?'
At once, her glare turned to a cool smile, which Donaldson found almost as unsettling.
'Yes, it does, Chief Inspector,' she said, in honeyed tones. 'But I am a very good criminal silk. In fact, I'm probably the best around at the moment. So my clients tend to leave court either by the front door, or in the knowledge that their sentence is a hell of a lot shorter, or less expensive than it might have been.
`Take the trial I'm on just now as an example. It's been going on for weeks. The Judge has just begun his summing up, and it'll take him another couple of days, but I know already and so does he that my client will walk. The chap's as guilty as sin, but my duty to the court is to demonstrate the weakness of the case against him. The Crown hasn't delivered enough material to the jury for a conviction, and the Judge's summing up should point that out.
I tell all my clients that I'm there to prevent a miscarriage of justice, and they understand that. The fact is that in a good proportion of my work I actually achieve such a miscarriage, of natural justice at least.
`Therefore, Mr Donaldson, there are no grudges harboured against me as a result of my work. It's the bad barristers who have plots hatched against them in Parkhurst.'
`How about your private life, Mrs Noble?' Neil Mcllhenney had decided almost at first sight that he disliked the woman. It was obvious in his tone. 'Any enemies there?'
The frost returned to her eyes. 'Not that I know of, Sergeant. Have you?'
Mcllhenney smiled. 'That's a sure-fire certainty, ma'am. I think I'm making one even as I speak, which probably means that I'm good at my job, too.'
`No doubt you are, Mr Mcllhenney, but I fail to follow your line of questioning. Why should my enemy want to kill my husband, or blow up a planeload of people?'
`Who says he did? Perhaps he wanted to kill you and didn't care whether he got Mr Noble.' He glanced around the drawing room. 'Maybe the bomb was meant to go off here, only it had a dodgy timer. Maybe your enemy assumed that Mr Noble would open the box at home, only he didn't.'
Ariadne Tucker was rattled. 'What enemy? I've told you, I don't have any.'
`How about someone who's mentally disturbed?' the Sergeant fired back. 'Emotionally stable people don't plant explosive devices. Any nutters in your life, public or private?'
‘For the last time,' she shouted at the policeman. 'Sane or otherwise, I don't have any enemies!'
`So who would write those letters accusing you of adultery?' said Mcllhenney quietly, managing, with a great effort, to keep triumph out of his tone. 'A well-meaning friend?'
She looked at him. The anger left her eyes. She nodded solemnly. 'Nice one, Sergeant.'
She pushed herself out of her armchair and walked over to the bay window.
All right, I'll tell you. There's no point in keeping it quiet now anyway. Maurice himself wrote the letters.
`From the earliest days of our marriage, he was paranoid about me. He was convinced that I had affairs. It started off as hints at first; nudge, nudge, wink, wink, sort of stuff, but gradually it became more serious. The hints became accusations.'
`We have to ask you this, ma'am,' said Donaldson. Was there substance in them?'
`No, there was not,' she said firmly.
`So how did you react to his suggestions?'
‘I cross-examined him.'
`What do you mean?'
I put him in the witness box. I made him set out his evidence, and I took it apart.'
`Did he have any evidence?' asked Mcllhenney.
She sighed. 'No. Deep down poor Maurice, much as I loved him, was an essentially insecure personality, with little or no inner self-belief. He really could be quite inadequate.'
`Sexually?'
She looked sharply at the Sergeant. 'Well, if I'm being frank, he wasn't a superstud. But I was speaking in emotional terms. As I said, he was paranoid, a classic manifestation of low self-esteem. For example, if I met a colleague of his and exchanged even a few friendly words, it would fester, and I'd hear about it at some time in the future.'
`Did you ever meet Colin Davey?'
`Yes, I was introduced to him at a reception around two months ago. I took an instant dislike to him. Then about a fortnight after that I had a consultation with a solicitor who turned out to be his Constituency Chairman. As it was coming to an end, Davey called into his office. After we had each completed our business we talked for about twenty minutes, while he waited for his car, and I for my taxi.'
`What did you talk about?'
`Trivia. I didn't like him and I could tell that he didn't like me but it was easier to jabber about the weather than to sit in silence.'
`Did your husband know of these encounters?'
She nodded. 'He was in the room on the first occasion. The second time he was in the official car which came to collect Davey from the solicitor's office. When it arrived, Davey and I came out together.. ' Her voice trailed off as she saw the expressions on the faces of the two policemen.
Oh no,' she said quietly. 'Surely not.'
`Later, did Mr Noble ever mention either of those meetings?' asked Donaldson.
She shook her head. 'No, he didn't. But after the letters, he wouldn't have.'
`What do you mean?'
`When Maurice showed me the first letter, I guessed at once that he had sent it to himself.
I didn't accuse him at that stage. I just burned it, and I did the same with the second. But when the third arrived, I decided that I had to put a stop to it, so I called in the police.'
‘Did you expect them to trace it back to him?'
`No. I was pretty certain they couldn't do that. I simply wanted to give him a scare and put a stop to the endless accusations. It worked. The arrival of the police gave him a hell of a fright. After they had gone, I sat him down and made him promise that the nonsense would stop. I told him that if he ever accused me again of having an interest in another man, then I really would leave him. That seemed to have done the trick'
`So he said nothing to you about Davey?'
Not in that context, no. All that he said about him was professional. About his conduct, about the way he treated his staff, and generally about what a horrible man he was.'
And you agreed with that?'
She nodded. 'Maurice was dead right about him. I thought that he was a typical politician.
Arrogant, self-centred, and power-hungry sums up the way he came across to me.'
`You weren't attracted to him by all that arrogance?' asked Donaldson. 'It can happen, you know.'
She laughed, bitterly, in his face. ‘Not in the slightest, Chief Inspector. But surely your argument is that my husband thought I was.'
‘Not our argument, Ms Tucker. Simply a line of enquiry, a piece of potential evidence which we have to assess. From what you've told me and from what we've heard from others, it's a pretty strong possibility.' He paused. I'd like to record this discussion, ma'am.
Would you give us a formal statement, please.'
Of course,' she said. 'I know the drill. I'll set something down, sign it and let you have it.
Could you collect it tomorrow evening?'
Donaldson nodded. 'Yes, but in the circumstances I'll have to ask you to write or type it yourself, rather than dictate it to a secretary'
`Naturally.' She brushed her hands down her skirt. 'Now, will that be all?'
The DCI shook his head. 'No, there's just one other thing. The forensic people who looked over your house found signs of entry at a small mezzanine window. They said it was unalarmed.'
`Yes, it is, I'm afraid. The alarm system was in the house when we bought it. I expect that whoever installed it saved a few pounds because that window is so small. We'd been meaning to upgrade it, by installing movement sensors, but we never got round to it.'
`Have you noticed anything out of place since last Thursday evening?' asked Donaldson.
'Or did you hear anything that night? You said that you worked late.'
She pursed her lips. 'Let me think. I was in my study, off the second bedroom.'
`Would there have been lights showing?'
`Probably not. Anyway, let me think. Yes, I do recall hearing a sound, as if someone had tripped over something.'
`Were you startled?'
Ariadne Tucker looked at the Chief Inspector, as if to indicate that 'startling' was something which happened to other people.
I just assumed,' she said, 'that Maurice had gone downstairs for some reason and had trodden on the cat. Which, almost certainly, is what happened!' She gathered herself and moved towards the door. 'Now, gentlemen, if that really is everything ‘
Donaldson and Mcllhenney followed her into the hallway. She held the door open for them, but as the Chief Inspector stepped outside she caught his arm. 'Look,' she said. 'This theory about Maurice thinking I was having an affair with the Secretary of State. It really is pretty far-fetched, isn't it?' For the first time, her voice sounded less than confident.
Of course it is, ma'am,' said Donaldson soothingly.
Aye,' said Mcllhenney. 'The only trouble is, it fits the facts as we know them. When you get down to it, blowing a plane full of people out of the skies, that's pretty far-fetched too, yet that's exactly what happened last Friday!'