‘That won’t happen.’
‘In that case, if I’m appointed. .’
‘Let’s cross that one when we get there. How does Aileen feel about it?’
‘The fact that I’m doing it should tell you that. We’ve got a deal. I apply for the job, she marries me.’
‘She’s a brave woman.’ Martin chuckled.
‘She is that. See you.’ He ended the call, and looked across with a smile of satisfaction. ‘Done,’ he said quietly.
‘What do you think he’s going to find?’ Aileen asked.
‘We’ll see; maybe zilch. Tell you one thing, though: if it’s there, Andy will turn it up.’ He flipped the phone open and scrolled through the address book. ‘Now let’s see what I can dig out myself.’ He dialled a number and put the phone to his ear. A female voice answered, cautiously.
‘Dennis.’
‘Amanda, it’s Bob Skinner.’
‘Hello, Bob,’ said the acting director of MI5. ‘Are you in London?’
‘No, I’m not. As of a couple of minutes ago, I’m in Spain.’
‘Too bad, I reckon you owe me dinner.’
‘You’re right. I’ll tell you what, start a tab and I’ll square you up next time we meet.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Someone in my set-up is doing a bit of freelance work, trying to get an angle on Dražen Boras. She might need a couple of doors opened.’
‘Freelance work? Don’t you have confidence in your Northumbrian colleagues’ ability to find him?’
‘Not a lot, no. They don’t have this person’s motivation.’
‘Who is it?’
‘Maggie Steele.’
‘Jesus, Bob, the victim’s widow?’
‘Are you shocked?’
‘You’re taking a chance.’
‘No, it’s purely a desk job. But if she does come up with any leads, she may need help in checking them out.’
‘Sounds to me like you really need a contact in MI6.’
‘I don’t think our interests coincide. From what you told me, they might not want Boras traced.’
‘True. Very well, if she needs our assistance, tell her to ask for Adrian St John. He’s in our counter-terrorist unit, but he’s best placed to help. I’ll brief him.’
‘Thanks.’ He paused.
‘There’s more?’ Amanda Dennis chuckled.
‘One more thing.’
‘Your tab’s getting longer by the minute.’
‘Remember in the bad old days in Ireland, people who were considered targets were issued with firearms for personal protection? I haven’t come up against it for a while, but in this new high-alert era, I wondered if it still happens, say, with someone who might not qualify for full-scale protection-squad cover.’
‘It’s possible. Do you have anyone in mind?’
‘Let’s keep it broad and say politicians.’
‘You don’t want to give me a name?’
Skinner sighed. ‘Shadow Defence.’
‘Him? Wouldn’t be surprised; he’s abrasive and high profile, bloody well asking for it. He’s also Jewish, although he says he’s non-practising; that makes him an even more inviting target for Islamic terrorists. I’ll find out. Call me back in a couple of hours.’
‘Will do.’
‘By the way, Bob,’ said Dennis, ‘I’m rather partial to a place called Passione.’
Thirty-three
Sauce Haddock stuck his head round the inspector’s door. He nodded to McIlhenney. ‘Sorry to interrupt, sir.’
‘Don’t be,’ said Stallings. ‘What have you got?’
‘A result from Davis Colledge’s bank, ma’am. His debit card was used again yesterday morning, in Collioure, at the same ATM he used on Saturday. He pulled another three hundred euros. But there’s more. He used it again today, in Perpignan, at a terminal in the railway station: another three hundred.’
‘He’s drawn nine hundred euros since last weekend? What the hell’s he doing?’
‘Good question,’ the superintendent murmured. ‘And here’s another. What’s he doing in Perpignan? According to his landlady, he set off to explore the coast. Perpignan’s inland.’
‘If he was at the railway station, he’s catching a train. Maybe he meant the Mediterranean coast as a whole, not just the local area. Maybe something got lost in translation.’
‘Maybe, maybe. But I don’t like it. We need to find this boy, yet it’s as if he’s out to make sure we don’t.’ He looked at Haddock, still in the doorway. ‘Thanks, Sauce,’ he said. ‘That was quick work.’
‘I’ve still got to check his credit card, sir.’
‘You do that. See if he’s used it for anything that might give us a clue as to where he’s headed.’
‘Very good, sir.’
Stallings smiled as the door closed on the constable. ‘It’s a long time since I’ve seen enthusiasm like that in a young DC,’ she said.
‘Me too,’ McIlhenney agreed. ‘You might be calling him “sir” before you retire. He’s quite a contrast with PC Weekes. What are you going to do about him?’
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘It’s your decision. I might have taken part in the Grey interview, but you’re still the SIO.’
‘I want to hold him overnight; would you have a problem with that?’
The superintendent smiled. ‘Christ, Becky, why do I have to say it twice? You’re running this investigation. You want to hold him, you hold him. You’ve got grounds. He’s uttered threats against the victim and he can’t offer us an alibi for the time of the murder. On top of that he has a pattern of obsessive, controlling behaviour towards women. Has he asked for a lawyer yet?’
‘No.’
‘You might want to make sure he’s given the opportunity. Otherwise, bang him up, and I’ll have the press office say that someone’s helping with our enquiries. He’ll need to be formally suspended, but I’ll take care of that.’ He paused. ‘When are you going to talk to him again?’
‘Not until the searches are complete, and maybe not even till I get the DNA result. I want to talk to his ex-wife first: Jack and I are taking the search team up to her place. We’ll go in first to explain what’s happened; it’ll be kinder that way.’
‘Safer too. If PC Grey’s anything to go by, this woman may know little or nothing about Weekes’s other life. The last thing we need is to be heavy-handed with her and send her running to the press.’
Thirty-four
‘Wasn’t that an interesting drive home?’ Bob asked, with a slightly mischievous look on his face.
‘Interesting?’ Aileen exclaimed, unbuttoning her shirt as she spoke. ‘It had so many twists and turns I’m still dizzy. Mind you, the view across the bay from the far side was worth the effort. It’s left me parched, though. Do we have any beer in the fridge?’
‘Always, love,’ he replied, ‘always. You go and have a swim and I’ll fetch us some.’
She was in the pool when he returned from the kitchen, with two bottles of Coronita, uncapped. ‘Hey,’ he laughed, as he lowered himself on to its edge, ‘what’s this with you and swimming in the buff?’
‘I like to,’ she called back. ‘Always have. It’s okay. None of the houses around us can see into the garden.’
‘That’s true.’ He pointed upwards. ‘But there’s all sorts of traffic in the air around here, light aircraft and helicopters. I wouldn’t put it past some of our sleazier tabloids to try for some candid-camera shots of the First Minister, off duty. I’ve had experience of the paparazzi; I don’t want to see you embarrassed.’
She winked at him as she pulled herself out of the water and sat by his side. ‘Who says I’d be embarrassed?’ she teased. ‘I’m proud of my body.’
‘I’m proud of your body too,’ he replied, ‘but I don’t want to share it with a few million readers.’
‘Don’t worry. It’s all yours.’ She prised one of the beers from his hand and took a long slug from the neck. ‘Jeez, I needed that. It’s been a long day already, and there’s still some to go.’
He bumped her, shoulder to shoulder. ‘Then maybe we should have a siesta to get ready for the rest of it.’
He felt her wet arm slide under his shirt and up his back. ‘That, my boy, is not a bad idea, not a bad idea at all. . as long as it involves a couple of hours’ sleep.’