Skerritt ushered him to a chair. ‘How was New York?’
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Got some good information – I’ll circulate a report. I’ve literally just got back.’
‘Your Operation Dingo team seems to be making some headway. I see there’s a big operation going on today.’
‘Yes, there is.’
‘Are you letting DI Mantle run with it, or are you taking back command?’
‘I think today we’re going to need everyone,’ Grace said. ‘It’s going to depend on the geography to some extent who else we involve.’
Skerritt nodded. ‘So, what did you want to talk about?’
‘Detective Superintendent Pewe,’ he said.
‘Wasn’t my choice to bring him here,’ Skerritt said, giving Grace a knowing look.
‘I realize that.’ He was aware that Skerritt disliked the man almost as much as he did.
‘So what’s the problem?’
Grace told him.
When he had finished, Jack Skerritt shook his head incredulously. ‘I can’t believe he did this behind your back. It’s one thing to have an open investigation, and that can be a healthy thing, sometimes. But I don’t like the way this is being handled at all. Not one bit. How long has Sandy been missing now?’
‘Getting on for nine and half years.’
Skerritt thought for a moment, then looked at his watch. ‘Are you going to your briefing meeting?’
‘Yes.’
‘Tell you what I’ll do, I’ll speak to him now. Come and see me straight after your meeting.’
Grace thanked him, and Skerritt picked up the phone as he was leaving the office.
115
At 9.15 Abby drove the black Honda diesel off-roader she had rented last night, on Ricky’s very specific instructions, up the hill towards Sussex House. Her stomach felt as if it was full of hot needles, and she was shaking.
Taking deep, steady breaths, she tried her hardest to keep calm and not let another panic attack come on. She was on the verge of one, she knew. She had that slightly disembodied feeling that was always the precursor.
It was ironic, she thought, that Southern Deposit Security was less than half a mile away from the building she was headed to now.
She pulled the car up as instructed, in front of the massive green, steel gate and put the handbrake on. Sitting on the passenger seat was the plastic groceries bag she had put her mother’s medications in yesterday. Also inside it was a Jiffy bag. Her suitcase was back in her room at the hotel.
Glenn Branson appeared and gave her a cheery wave. The gate began to slide open and, as soon as there was a large enough gap, she drove through. The DS signalled for her to park in front of a row of wheelie bins, then he held the door open for her.
‘You OK?’ he asked.
She nodded bleakly.
He put a protective arm around her shoulder. ‘You’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘I think you are a strong lady. We’ll get your mum back safely. And we’ll get your stamps too. He thinks he’s chosen a smart place, but he hasn’t. It’s dumb.’
‘Why do you say that?’
Ushering her through a door into a bare stairwell, he said, ‘He’s chosen the place to frighten you. That’s his priority, but it shouldn’t be. You’re frightened enough, so he doesn’t need to ratchet things up. He’s not thinking this through. He’s not doing it the way I’d do it.’
‘What if he sees any of you?’ she asked, walking along a corridor, struggling to keep pace with him.
‘He won’t. Not unless we have to show ourselves. We’ll only do that if we start to think you are in danger.’
‘He will kill her,’ she said. ‘He’s that spiteful. If anything goes wrong, he’d do it for the hell of it.’
‘We understand that. You have the stamps?’
She lifted up the carrier bag to show him.
‘Didn’t want to risk leaving them in your car in a police station?’ He grinned. ‘Wise decision!’
116
Cassian Pewe was already seated at the conference table in Jack Skerritt’s office when Grace returned after the briefing meeting. The two men avoided eye contact.
The Chief Superintendent gestured for Grace to sit down, then he said, ‘Roy, Cassian tells me that he realizes he made an error of judgement by setting in motion what he did at your house. The team there has been instructed to leave.’
Grace shot Pewe a glance. The man was steadfastly staring at the table, like a scolded child. He did not look as if he regretted anything.
‘He explained that he was doing it to help you,’ Skerritt went on.
‘To help me?’
‘He said that he feels there is an unhealthy amount of innuendo going on behind your back, about Sandy’s disappearance. That’s correct, isn’t it, Cassian?’
Pewe nodded reluctantly. ‘Yes – er – sir.’
‘He says he felt that if he could prove, one hundred per cent, that you had nothing to do with her disappearance, it would end that once and for all.’
‘I’ve never heard any innuendo,’ Grace said.
‘With respect, Roy,’ Pewe said, ‘quite a few people think that the original investigation was a rushed job and that you had a hand in bringing it to a premature stop. They are asking why.’
‘Name one of them?’
‘That wouldn’t be fair on them. All I’m trying to do is to revisit the evidence, using the best modern techniques and technology we have, in order to totally exonerate you.’
Grace had to bite his tongue; he could not believe the man’s arrogance. But this wasn’t the moment to start a slanging match. He needed to get away from here in a few minutes and into position for Abby Dawson’s rendezvous, which had been set for 10.30.
‘Jack, can we come back to this later? I’m not at all happy about it, but I have to get going.’
‘Actually, I was thinking it might be a good idea if Cassian came with you, in your car. He could be invaluable to your team in the current situation.’ He turned to Pewe. ‘I’m correct, aren’t I, Cassian, that you are an experienced hostage negotiator?’
‘I am, yes.’
Grace could hardly believe his ears. God help any poor sodding hostage who ends up with Pewe negotiating for him, he thought.
‘I think also it would be good for him to see how we operate down in Sussex. We clearly handle some things in a different way from the Met. Might be a good learning curve for you, Cassian, I think, to observe how one of our most experienced officers handles a major operation.’ He looked at Grace and the message could not be clearer.
But Roy was in no mood for smiling.
117
It had been a long time since she had last come here, Abby thought, threading the car along the winding road that climbed steadily between fields of grass and vast areas of stubble. Maybe it was her heightened nerves, but the colours of the landscape seemed almost preternaturally vivid. The sky was a canopy of intense blue, with just a few tiny clouds here and there, scudding across. It felt almost as if she was wearing tinted glasses.
She gripped the steering wheel hard, feeling the gusting wind buffeting the car, trying to push it off course. She had a lump in her throat and the needles in her stomach were burning even more fiercely.
She also had a small lump on her chest. A tiny microphone, held in place by gaffer tape that was pulling uncomfortably on her skin with every movement she made. She wondered if Detective Sergeant Branson, or whichever of his colleagues were listening at the other end, could hear the deep breaths she was taking.
The DS had at first wanted her to wear an ear-piece so that she could listen to any instructions they needed to give her. However, when she told him that Ricky had picked up some previous conversations she’d had, he decided it was too risky. But they would hear her, every word. All she had to do was ask them for help and they would move in, he assured her.