“I tend to agree with you about finding out after the event. Otherwise we need a miracle, and in my experience they don’t arrive on time, if at all. It’s the inertia which is bugging me; I can’t focus on doing anything which appears to be remotely constructive.”
*
He did not have to wait long before the ripples began to spread. Although it was early afternoon, the news came at 8.30 am, New York time. A parcel had been delivered by air freight and onward routing by courier from JFK airport. The lady in the mail room was sure that this parcel warranted the security people to run their checks. They were called in and could not detect presence of explosives with their various gadgets. The sniffer dog also drew a blank. The alert came from the mail room lady because the box was addressed directly to David J. Horton, Chief Group Corporate Officer of Gladstone-Klein International. The security men decided to be safe rather than sorry and brought in an expert explosives squad. They confirmed the previous negative assessment and when they employed a new type of scanning device, the contents became obvious. It was a human head. The police were called and their forensics people opened the box with great care. When the head was lifted out there were screams from those peering through the mail room window. The head was still covered in a thin layer of frost from the transatlantic flight and the relatively short journey into the city. There was a note:
‘Mr Horton, next time you employ a head-hunter to run Gladstone-Klein UK, you really must do better. Sentinel.’
The head of Donald Price did not project a peaceful death. The ears had been removed, and the eyes conveyed a picture of terror. It also begged the question of where his body might be.
Renton was entering denial. He wanted all possible units to begin a search, but did not know where. He was eventually persuaded by Eva Roberts to sit down and accept that it was all over except for Sentinel’s suicide. The American TV was still spewing out updates on the discovery, and Stephanie shouted for everyone to hush. The reporter outlined Donald Price’s known itinerary. David Horton was expecting him today. He was supposed to have been travelling to head office via a client’s premises by car. That client had checked with the UK office and been assured that he had left as planned for the United States. It was a mystery, until immigration confirmed he had not passed through their checkpoints since his previous visit. This implied that he had never left the UK, or at least his body hadn’t. Everyone in the incident room seemed incapable of doing anything, including Cousins. It was the calm before the hurricane.
Renton went to Price’s property alone. There was already a gathering, including Hepworth and his wife, Parrish and Vivienne Banks. He felt that he was intruding, but pressed on with the need to ask a few questions. His heart wasn’t in it and they detected this, so he actually got a better reception than anticipated.
“I am very sorry Mrs Price. I can’t imagine what you are going through. I’ll just ask you a couple of routine questions and leave; if you can’t bear to do this I’ll come back tomorrow.”
“I may as well get it over with Inspector.”
“Donald was supposed to fly from Newcastle to New York. Was this via Heathrow?”
“No, he was going through Amsterdam.”
“Did you expect him to call you when he arrived?”
“Not really, he is away so much that he normally waits until he gets to his hotel.”
“Did he seem apprehensive about anything when he left? I only ask because he was unhappy when I asked him to produce his receipt for his purchase in London. He seemed to be much more on edge than I had seen him previously.”
“He didn’t want to go because it was a routine quarterly meeting. He had suggested saving money for the UK operation, because there wasn’t anything to report that he hadn’t made them aware of in his monthly précis. He wanted to set an example to his employees in the UK, as they looked at these things as a bit of a jolly. He wasn’t upset, just rather resigned to going, and wasting money.”
“Well thank you once again. I’ll let you know of anything we find out which can help you come to terms with this tragedy.”
As he was leaving, Vivienne Banks got up to let him out. She walked him to the door and out to his car.
“You may want to call me after I get back to the office.”
*
Donoghue had his new carpet samples and they all looked exactly the same under the electron microscope. The chemical tests were also identical. He couldn’t really get any further, so he had to inform Renton that they almost certainly came from a Chrysler, Mercedes, or Jaguar limousine.
Renton said, “It’s typical of our luck Clive. I think we’re all exhausted, and it doesn’t seem quite so important to apprehend this killer if the spree is over, apart from the intended suicide. I shouldn’t say this, but I don’t have a lot of enthusiasm to save the life of such an apology for a human being. I can’t imagine the taxpayers wanting to keep such a monster at their expense for a lifetime.”
*
Halliwell-Jones came through on cue and fired the starting pistol. “We are going into the Mosque in two minutes. It is quite full, and some of the attendees will try to use their mobiles, so I think you should go now. Good luck.”
“Thank God this is finally underway. Get back to me when the Mosque is secure.”
The operation went incredibly well. All of the targets expected in the Mosque were now in custody. Bradstock’s men were slightly less successful, but they only failed to snare three of the named individuals. The airports and ports were on alert to pick them up, and there would be an extremely intensive manhunt in the Midwest. It was still the second item on the news behind Donald Price’s beheading, but it did register with the Colony. Graham and Finley realised what a narrow escape this was. If they had pressed on with the kidnap and subsequent suicide bombing at the same Mosque, they may have possibly killed hundreds of people, including government forces. The enquiry into such carnage would have carried a high risk of exposing them through informers. They didn’t need to announce the aborted plot, as all contacts simply evaporated.
*
There was still a continuous flow of information and inquisition from the United States over Price’s head being delivered by courier. The journalists demanded to know how T.I.F. (Transatlantic International Forwarding) could have collected and delivered something of this nature without having any idea what it was. Stephanie rang the regional office on the Team Valley Trading estate, but their phones must have been hot, as she couldn’t get through. She was going to go there in person when Jack Renton called everyone together.
“I just wanted to let you all know that Eva Roberts is leaving the investigation tomorrow morning, as she believes that she can no longer help in apprehending the killer, but I’ll leave her to explain why. I just wanted to thank her for what she has contributed, just as I want to do with the rest of you. As you all know, I’m pretty sceptical of any police methodology which does not rigidly follow the evidence all of the time. However, none of us have experienced a case like this before, and I’ve learned new things from her. I have this awful nagging feeling that we’re so close to a real breakthrough, and some of that confidence has come from her analysis. If we’ve failed, it may be by the narrowest of margins. Time will tell. Even though we may feel downcast right now, we have to pick ourselves up and keep punching. Mrs Price and all the families of the other victims deserve no less.” He handed the floor to Eva.
“First I would like to thank you all for making me feel welcome during these last few days. I’ve never witnessed anything like this case before either, so that’s something we have shared. The only reason I’m leaving is that I believe Sentinel will attempt suicide now, and that could be very soon, as the internet post indicated, or it could be at some pre-planned time from now. You don’t need my input for that, and we have to move on. I hope you can still identify this killer before suicide is enacted, and anyway, despite the clear intent in the internet message there could be a change of heart.
If that’s the case and I’m still welcome, I will return in a flash.”
Stephanie grabbed Renton and asked his opinion about T.I.F.
“The news said the parcel was collected. We should check it out Sir.” He smiled and nodded. He then remembered to call Vivienne Banks. Ever the opportunist, she saw a chance to close the book on the copy of the Genetic Profile Directory Alistair had procured from Price.
“Inspector, thanks for calling. I couldn’t say anything at the Price household, but I think you ought to know that he attempted to blackmail me over something he and Alistair had cooked up. You need to see it for yourself. Can you come to the office?”
He agreed and set off immediately. On the way he reminded himself of his promise to see Jane and Daniel in the evening and he also wanted to visit Ben Adams. When he arrived Vivienne had the programme ready to load.
“What I am about to show you is political dynamite, and if you need verification of the blackmail attempt by Price, Julian Hepworth was present, and I’m sure he will corroborate my assertion.” The screen began flashing up data and then halted at a page denoting that it was confidential property of the government with the appropriate status classification. The title page was next and it needed only those three words – Genetic Profile Directory, to prompt Renton to ask her to kill the programme.
“It is more than political dynamite; it is coveted by some very dangerous people. Where did you get this?”
“I told you that Alistair left the briefcase with the merger agreement and the bond with me, while he took the empty one. This directory was something he didn’t mention to me, and logically, I suppose it should have been in Bowman’s case with other intellectual property. However, having seen it when I opened the case Alistair left with me, I can see why he didn’t give it to Harry. I didn’t tell you about it at the time because I didn’t know what the hell to do with it. Then Price turned up and tried to put the squeeze on Hepworth in his new position, claiming my husband had agreed to pay him to get the damn thing, and he was owed the balance of his fee. I really didn’t know what to do. It must sound awful, but I wasn’t going to be railroaded by him, and I wasn’t disappointed to see him dead, but not like that. He offered no real proof of what he said about Alistair, and he didn’t know I had discovered that proof. I was intending to beat him down to a much smaller sum but I decided I was going to inform the police.”
“I suppose you realise this gives you a motive for killing him. What was the amount he claims to have agreed with your husband?”
“He was paid £200,000 up front and said the balance was £800,000.”
“A substantial motive then.”
“Yes, that’s why I’m telling you this. He didn’t know that I was going to blow the whistle on him after he had accepted the money. I would have expected the law to return my money in full if I had proof of his extortion.”
“So what are you going to do with this Directory now?”
“I think you know the answer to that Inspector. I’m giving it to you.”
Chapter 38
The media were camped around the T.I.F. building, but Stephanie pushed her way to the reception area and flashed her badge. She was met by the depot manager who had the address of the collection point with him. She took it and said she may be back to see the full flow of paperwork. The address was for a lock-up under the Tyne Bridge. The name she had was James Harvey. When she got there it was indeed locked up, and on speaking to the people in the neighbouring units, she found that he had a haulage business in Dunston. At last Stephanie located Harvey, only to find that he sublet the lock-up. “I started my business from there a long time ago, and when I moved I didn’t want to sell it, so I let it. The latest fella pays me cash, he is a good tenant.”
“What is his name?”
“I haven’t a clue. He pays cash over the odds, on the dot every month. He doesn’t talk much and I don’t ask questions.”
“Do you know what he keeps in there?”
“I sometimes check. He installed an inner door made of polycarbonate so it is see-through. We both have keys for the outer door, but only he has keys for the inner one. He just seems to store personal stuff in there. I have seen a couple of expensive bikes, weightlifting benches, and running gear. He has a portable gas heater and a fridge freezer as well. He sometimes parks his car there and then goes into town apparently; I suppose it saves him car parking fees. What’s all this about?”
“We just need to speak with him urgently. Thanks for your help.” She raced back to Durham and ran up the stairs rather than wait for the elevator.
“Sir, can we go to your office?”
“Sure.” She followed him and closed the door.
“We must be close Sir.” Having related the conversation with Harvey, Renton nodded, and she continued, “We need a search warrant immediately. I just know Price’s body is in that freezer.”
“Hold on Steph, you don’t know that, but I agree with you, it is worth a warrant. What make of car does this guy park there?”
“Shit, I didn’t ask. I don’t think Harvey knows but the people in the next unit might. I’ll check it out. Can we go for the warrant?”
“Do it.”
*
Chen phoned Vivienne and said he was on his way north. She asked him to go house hunting and stay away from Bio-Cure for now.
“Donald Price’s death has thrown everything into a different orbit up here. I’ve had the police here and they’ll be back again, I’m sure. When you get settled into a hotel as a base to look for a suitable abode, call me and we can meet. Pay for the hotel yourself and we’ll reimburse you when the police interest cools.”
“Ok, it was quite a shock about Donald but I can’t pretend to be devastated. I simply did not like the man. I’ll ring when I get there.”
*
Renton contacted Forster and astounded him once more with Vivienne Banks’ latest rabbit out of the hat. “Well, Jack, that’s a timely piece of good news. We were trying to figure out a deal with the Colony whereby they would trade something for Jackson being able to give them the code for the briefcase. This kind of makes that redundant.”
“Yes, but she gave me the bloody Directory. I need to get rid of it and thought Bradstock might want to claim the glory. What do you think?”
“I’m sure he would, but there is the small matter of keeping Baumann alive, if that is possible. It would be the end for him if we went public with this right now. I’ll let you tell him that you have the Directory; he owes you one. Then I’ll discuss with him what we are going to do with it. The charade with Jackson could still be the best bet if it gives us a chance to get Baumann out. Do you think you can persuade him to play along?”
“There’s nothing to lose. I’ll speak to Jackson after I call Bradstock.”
Nigel Bradstock could not believe his luck. He had snatched victory from the jaws of certain oblivion. The terrorist plot had been unravelled, and the long, agonising hunt for the Genetic Profile Directory had ended by the programme falling gently into his lap. He hardly gave a thought to how he had victimised D.C.I. Renton while trying to prevent him from unintentionally exposing its existence by following the trail to Cologne. The unexpected bonus had been the ricochet through the grapevine that a major incident may possibly have been inadvertently avoided in the very same Mosque. He basked in the restoration of his arrogant persona and would be speaking to the Prime Minister at the earliest opportunity.
“Well done Renton; bloody well done. I know you have had a hard time with this American situation, but rest assured I will keep things under control. Now, how are we going to proceed with this Directory?”
“Well Sir, I’d be grateful if you and Forster could come to retrieve it. We don’t want anything to go wrong now that we have it, and I would like to bring you up to date with Eva Roberts’ final assessment. She’s leaving tomorrow and I think you should see exactly where we stand on the Sentinel situation.” Bradstock agreed and Forster had hi
s chance to delay Nigel’s premature bid for glory. They set off for Durham and left the Colony to ponder on whether the contents of the briefcase really were a priority for the police.
*
When Jackson was confronted with the request, he did not reply immediately. Thinking that this indicated another ‘no comment’ situation, Renton got up to leave.
“Let me get this right. I give these guys a code in order to ingratiate myself with them, and it’s the wrong code. This briefcase self-destructs and they blame me. That doesn’t sound like a good deal to me.”
“No, but what if you gave them the right code?”
“And how do I get that?”
“I can get it for you.”
“Then why don’t you give it to them yourself?”
“Vic, you can remember the man at the old hospital who was hanging on to the briefcase as though his life depended on it. Well his life still depends on getting the case open. These people don’t trust the police and that’s good because we can’t be seen to enter into such joint ventures, but a man’s life is at stake. It isn’t dissimilar to ransom discussions for a kidnap. There’s no pressure, it’s your call.”
“Mmm, I’ll think about it.”
*
Renton was gambling that Vivienne could give him the correct code. She had continually kept back information throughout the investigation, and he had her motive for killing Price plus possession of classified government property to persuade her. She tried to stall his request to discuss the matter, but he persevered.
“You could be in serious trouble Vivienne. It will be very difficult to persuade Nigel Bradstock not to charge you over this, unless you help yourself by helping him. What difference does it make to you? Well, you could save Harry Bowman’s life, and anyway you haven’t denied that you know the code. From what Julian Hepworth told me about the design you can reset the code on the one you have. So why do you need to protect this information?”