“And who’s running the helicopters?”
“I am, sir. I’ve got three police choppers up there and UNACO have an unmarked chopper sticking close to the boat. And on top of that, there are two police launches flanking the boat and another five patrolling the route. The IRA won’t be able to make a move without it being spotted either from the air or from the water.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Palmer took a long drag on his cigarette then looked up as a police helicopter swooped low overhead, heading toward Lambeth Bridge. “Dave Thompson rang me this morning.”
“Dave Thompson of the Guardian?”
“Yes. He received a call earlier today from Kevin Brady.”
“So the IRA have accepted responsibility for the attempt on Scoby’s life this morning?”
“On the contrary, Brady was quite insistent that the IRA had nothing whatsoever to do with it. He claims the IRA don’t have a contract out on Scoby.”
“And I suppose he’s just as insistent that Gallagher, Mullen and Kerrigan aren’t members of the IRA.”
“Kerrigan’s dead,” Palmer said.
“Did Brady say that?”
“No, I received word of it this morning from the Swiss authorities. The helicopter that they used in Switzerland was found abandoned near a chalet about ten miles outside Lucerne. Kerrigan’s body was found in the chalet. He’d been shot.”
“First Lynch and now Kerrigan,” Eastman said, chewing his lip thoughtfully. “What do you make of it, sir?”
“I don’t know. Not yet.”
“You don’t think there could be some kind of internal power struggle going on within the IRA, do you, sir? It’s no secret that Brady and Lynch never got on. That was one of the main reasons why Lynch chose to settle in Switzerland when he got married. And Kerrigan was always close to Lynch. What if Lynch was planning to return to Ireland to launch a campaign to oust Brady as Chief-of-Staff of the Army Council?”
“It’s a possibility,” Palmer conceded. “But it still doesn’t explain where Scoby fits into all of this.”
“Dom Lynch was close to Sean Farrell and Fiona Gallagher. What if Lynch and Farrell planned to kill Scoby and then blame Brady for it? After all, a directive like that would have to come from the head of the Army Council. Farrell’s arrested before Scoby gets here so it’s handed down to Gallagher to carry on in his place. I know it’s all hypothetical, sir, but it would give a motive for the murders of Lynch and Kerrigan.”
“But Farrell and Gallagher would be implicated as well.”
“Not if they were supposedly carrying out an order from the Army Council,” Eastman replied.
A rare smile touched the corners of Palmer’s mouth. “You know, Keith, you might just have something there. We’ll discuss it further this afternoon.” The smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “I’ve got to get back to the Yard. I’ve got a meeting with my opposite number in Special Branch at one o’clock. I want to be kept up to date on the situation here.”
“Even if nothing’s happening, sir?”
“Especially if nothing’s happening. At least if I know it’s all quiet it might help me to cut down on these damn things.” Palmer dropped the cigarette onto the ground, crushed it underfoot, then got back into the car.
Eastman returned to the mobile van. There were five uniformed officers seated in the back of the van, each wearing a pair of headphones, who were in constant touch with the various arms of the Metropolitan Police involved in the security arrangements on and around the river. One of the men caught Eastman’s attention and informed him that Whitlock was waiting to talk to him. Eastman sat down in his chair by the door, slipped on a pair of headphones, and was patched through to Whitlock.
“Where have you been?” Whitlock asked.
“The Commander’s just been here,” Eastman replied. “I had to brief him.”
“Well, it’s all quiet out here. The highlight so far was when the mayor’s wife spilt a glass of red wine down the front of her dress.”
“Sounds nasty,” Eastman said with a smile. “Oh, by the way, I’ve got a bit of news for you. Kerrigan’s dead. The Swiss authorities found his body in a chalet earlier today. He’d been shot.”
“First Lynch, now Kerrigan. Do you think the murders are somehow linked?”
“There doesn’t seem to be any evidence to suggest it at present but I’ve got my own little theory which I’ve already put to Commander Palmer. I’ll discuss it with you later over a beer.”
“You’re on. Well, I’d better check in with the launches. Talk to you again soon.”
“Right. Over and out.”
Mullen wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hand. The wetsuit had become uncomfortably warm. Or was it just his nerves? Fiona looked ice cool as she crouched on the catwalk, scanning the river with the binoculars. He had already tried to talk to her but she had held up a hand to silence him without taking her eyes off the river. He now paced the floor, anxiously waiting for her to give them the go-ahead to move out.
She suddenly cursed loudly.
“What is it?” he asked, pausing mid-stride to look up at her.
“There’s a police chopper coming this way,” she hissed, pressing herself against the wall as it buzzed low over the warehouse. She waited until the engine had died away then peered cautiously out of the window.
“Can you see it?” Mullen called out.
“It’s heading toward the Albert Bridge. It’s the first time it’s been this far down river which means the Merry Dancer can’t be too far behind.”
She trained the binoculars back on to the Lambeth Bridge. The unmarked white helicopter was already hovering close to the bridge. She smiled to herself as the bow of the Merry Dancer came into view. There were two men in the wheelhouse. One was Whitlock. The other was Moody. She watched as he removed his sweat-stained peaked cap, ran his arm across his forehead, then tugged it back over his bald head. She lowered the binoculars and looked round at Mullen, the smile still fixed on her face. She didn’t need to say anything. He crossed to the trapdoor and began to strap on his breathing apparatus. The waiting was over …
Chapter Eleven
Stephen Tanner was one of the most experienced officers in the Air Police. He was a former RAF helicopter pilot who had joined the Metropolitan Police at the end of the Falklands War. In contrast, Bruce Falconer was a rookie who had graduated from the police college only a month before. He was a quiet, soft-spoken youth whose self-assuredness had impressed his superiors and they had decided to put him with Tanner to help toughen up his character. Now, two weeks later, Falconer was already more assertive and Tanner was beginning to warm to his new partner …
“Hey, isn’t that Stamford Bridge down there?” Tanner said with a wicked grin, pointing to the football stadium in the distance as the helicopter approached Albert Bridge.
“Very funny,” Falconer retorted.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot,” Tanner said, the grin widening. “You’ve got tickets for the match this afternoon, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, and much good they’ll do me now.”
“Don’t worry, kid, it won’t be the last time your day off will be canceled at such short notice,” Tanner said, easing the stick to the left, arcing the helicopter in a graceful one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn.
“You’re all heart–” Falconer trailed off and grabbed the binoculars.
“What is it?” Tanner asked, his face suddenly serious.
“I thought I saw something down there,” Falconer replied without lowering the binoculars.