‘Yes?’
‘Concerning the Moszynski murder last night.’
‘Yes, yes. I need Brock to brief me immediately.’
‘I’m afraid he’s been called away urgently, sir.’
‘Called away?’
‘Yes, a critical line of inquiry, sir, which he had to attend to personally.’ Kathy hesitated, picturing herself hanging from a public gibbet. ‘In Scotland.’
‘ Scotland! ’
‘Yes.’
‘I think you’d better get in here and tell me what’s going on.’
‘Yes, sir. Can it wait for an hour or so? I’m on my way to Moszynski’s autopsy.’
There was a strained silence, then Sharpe said. ‘Just tell me, Inspector. What’s he up to? What is this critical line of inquiry?’
‘Nancy Haynes, the American tourist, was about to go on to Scotland when she was killed last Thursday. We learned of a substantial legacy up there which she intended claiming. This provides the first real motive we’ve had for her murder, and Brock felt it was so important that he had to pursue it immediately.’
‘But… for God’s sake, that can wait. Moszynski’s the priority now. Moszynski, not Haynes.’
‘That’s what made it so urgent, sir. You see, if Haynes’ death was indeed a planned murder, and not a random act, then Moszynski’s murder may be simply an attempt to divert our attention and resources onto a much higher profile case, away from the real reason.’
‘The same killer…’ Sharpe said. He sounded mildly sceptical but not entirely incredulous, Kathy thought. She hoped that a banal, domestic motive for Moszynski’s death might have some appeal to Sharpe, at least enough to buy a day or two.
‘How long before he gets back?’
‘Hopefully tonight, sir, but I’m waiting for him to contact me. Unfortunately the castle’s in a rather remote area, with poor mobile coverage.’
‘The castle?’
‘The legacy, sir, a castle.’
She wondered if she’d gone too far, then heard him muse, ‘A castle in Scotland…’ and imagined the picture in his head, a turreted stone keep in the middle of a lonely loch among purple hills inhabited only by shaggy highland cattle.
‘We were planning on Brock holding a press conference today.’
‘I wonder if that could be delayed, sir, until we have something concrete to report?’
‘We’ll get back to you. Let me know immediately you hear anything, understand? Immediately.’
Kathy hung up and continued to the autopsy, which confirmed what they’d already assumed. Moszynski had died as a result of three stab wounds to the chest, one of which had punctured the left ventricle of his heart. The blade was sharp and narrow, about one centimetre wide and at least ten centimetres long. The assailant had most likely been sitting or crouching on the victim’s right side, and would have been right-handed. His or her right hand and forearm would have been covered in blood.
Kathy went on to Queen Anne’s Gate, where Zack had been busy compiling data fed into his computers from the teams in Chelsea and surrounding districts. Bren Gurney, the other DI on Brock’s team, came in and asked Kathy how it was going.
‘What’s this about Brock going to Scotland?’
He laughed when she explained. ‘The old bastard! He’s pulled a few swifties in his time, but this is a classic.’
‘It’s not funny, Bren. I’m out on a limb on this. I had to tell Sharpe a string of lies.’
Bren became serious. ‘Okay. How can I help?’
They went over it all again, the two murders, the lack of leads.
‘That was a good story, Kathy, the castle in Scotland. You should write a crime novel.’
‘The great detective doesn’t go down with flu in crime novels, Bren. Only alcohol poisoning and gunshot wounds.’
‘The crucial point is that you’re connecting the two crimes. You’re quite sure of that, are you? You’re not just trying to stop someone else moving in and taking over one or both of your murders?’
‘It’s a hell of a coincidence if they’re not connected.’
‘Yes, but the connection may not be crucial. There could still be two quite separate murderers, the second riding on the first to create a false impression of a connection, to muddy the waters. It might have affected his timing, but not his intent. And you’ve got to consider whether you wouldn’t be better concentrating on Nancy Haynes’ murder and letting someone else run the other. The Moszynski case is going to be a bastard. Everyone’ll want a piece of it-Counter Terrorism Command, MI5, MI6. And what do we know of these Russians, the Litvinenkos and Patarkatsishvilis? Only what we read in the papers-that they were maybe killed by the KGB. This isn’t our kind of case. Those other guys are experts; let them handle it.’
Kathy nodded. ‘Yes, you’re probably right. But that’s not the way Brock sees it.’
With ominous timing, Dot rang through to say that Kathy would be required to attend an interagency meeting at Marsham Street later that afternoon.
‘Marsham Street,’ Bren said. ‘Home Office. I told you, didn’t I?’
‘And there’s something else,’ Dot added. ‘We’ve just had a call from The Times. Apparently they received a letter this morning from Mikhail Moszynski, talking about threats to his life. They’re couriering it over.’
It arrived a short time later, a typed letter addressed to the editor of The Times, with Moszynski’s letterhead and signature. Dear Sir, Recent correspondence in The Times has focused on the economic performance of the Russian government. We must not lose sight, however, of big issues of human rights and threats to freedom of speech in Russia. Things have not changed since the murder of Anna Politkovskaya in 2006 by elements of Russian secret police for her criticism of the authorities. I too have been warned of threats to myself and my family by official elements who resent the success of expatriate Russian businessmen. Let me give good advice to your readers-do not be complacent about the situation in that great country. Mikhail Moszynski
The letter was dated Friday 28 May, the day after Nancy Haynes was killed.
‘The envelope is also postmarked Friday,’ Bren said. ‘There’s your motive, Kathy. Like I said, this is one for the security services, yeah?’
‘But where does that leave Nancy Haynes?’
NINE
‘But only a small oligarch,’ the man from MI5 said.
‘A minigarch?’ the Foreign Office representative suggested, with a wry smile.
They had all been assembled when Kathy arrived, the atmosphere relaxed and convivial, as if they’d just enjoyed a pleasant lunch together to which she had not been invited. The only ones to acknowledge her arrival were the second MI5 officer, a woman, who’d given Kathy a brief smile, and Sharpe, who looked stiff and uncomfortable in his uniform and who pointed to the empty seat by his side. Out of the corner of her eye Kathy saw that the MI5 woman was setting up a screen.
She sat down and Sharpe introduced her to a superintendent from Counter Terrorism Command, then leaned to her and murmured, ‘Any developments?’
‘Only this, sir. Just came in.’ She handed him a copy of the letter to The Times, which he scanned with a frown.
‘Well now,’ an avuncular man at the centre of the table began, and the others fell silent. He was the only one with a name on a wooden holder in front of him, Sir Philip Stafford, Home Office, and Kathy wondered if he carried it around with him, or if he was permanently attached to that chair. ‘We should begin with a summary of the police investigation. If you please, Commander?’
Sharpe cleared his throat. ‘Our Senior Investigating Officer, DCI Brock, is unavoidably detained by an urgent line of inquiry, and I have invited his assistant SIO, DI Kolla, to stand in for him. I’ll ask her to brief you.’
Sir Philip smiled pleasantly at Kathy. ‘Very good. Inspector Kolla?’
Kathy wasn’t sure whether she should get to her feet. She wished she had some kind of audiovisual prop like the MI5 people.
‘Last Thursday afternoon, as you’ll know, a seventy-year-old American tourist called Nancy Haynes was murdered on Sloane Street