However, it was now obvious to all in the room that, to extend their struggle for what they saw as Enosis, a complete alliance with Greece and following a coup to over-throw the current leader Archbishop Makarios, the terrorist faction known as EOKA B, had committed their first atrocity on the British mainland.
Stepping out of his light blue Austin Cambridge, Arthur Gable turned to climb the steps to the polished black front door of the office of the Services Investigations Department in Wellesley Mews, Whitehall.
Seeing his colleague open it from the other side, he froze. This time, there was no usual polite greeting from Alex Swan and to Gable, a former Scotland Yard detective, this could only mean one thing — trouble.
Swan acknowledged him. ‘Morning Arthur. Hammer Higgins is at the Portfield Hotel. There’s been a murder, its Danvers, the man who recently took over from him.’
Gable baulked, and not knowing what to say, quickly led Swan back to the car.
Outside the Portfield Hotel, Charlie had moved the Daimler into a parking space and looking at his watch, he shook his head. Where the hell are they? Surely, it shouldn’t have taken all this time. They had to be informed of this breaking news. As he listened more to the report, a wail of police sirens could be heard in the distance; the marked police cars and the ambulance soon came into view, stopping outside the hotel entrance. A lump had already formed in Charlie’s throat, while he watched another drama unfolding in his rear-view mirror.
Another car appeared. Arthur Gable’s Cambridge halted behind one of the marked police cars, and as Swan climbed out, a uniformed PC approached him. Swan showed him his credentials and they stepped inside the hotel and headed up the stairs.
Inside room 11, Higgins acknowledged the two SID men as they filed their way through the investigation team. Swan introduced himself, then knelt down to view the victim.
Higgins grabbed his arm. ‘Alex, can I have a quick word?’
The retired RAF air commodore took Swan and Gable over to the other side of the room to explain why Danvers happened to be here.
Swan walked back across the room, turning to the doctor. ‘How long ago would you say he died?’
The doctor blinked from the flashes of the cameras, as forensic officers took photographs of the body. ‘I would say quite recently, about two to three hours ago. Of course, we will be able to be more accurate, once we have done a post mortem.’
Swan examined the main wound on the throat. This had been the source of the blood. It was when lifting the head, and glancing at two deep puncture wounds with a distance of two inches between them, a thought sparked within him. There was something familiar about the method used to kill this man. Nobody could be that accurate with a blade, these wounds had been made by a specific weapon. The last time he had seen something like this was on the body of a half-naked OPEC executive in a seedy hotel in France. That was four years ago, but still an unsolved case, although the main suspect was a woman.
Arthur Gable looked across at his colleague, knowing something was not quite right. ‘Alex, what is it?’
Swan turned to Higgins. ‘Sir Alistair, you said this art dealer was Spanish?’
Higgins confirmed. Swan was lost in thought, trying to picture the woman who had hired the room. Could it really have been her?
Higgins’ driver appeared. He stared, awestruck at the sight of Danvers’ mutilated body.
He spied Higgins. ‘Oh my God! What the hell has happened here, sir?’
Charlie was brought up to date with the incident and told who everyone in the room was. Then, through the fog of his bewilderment, he suddenly remembered why he had come up to find them. ‘Oh sir, I’ve just heard on the radio. Turkish forces have landed in northern Cyprus. There’s fighting in the streets around Kyrenia, between Greek and Turkish soldiers, and paratroopers are dropping in all over the place.’
Higgins looked blankly at him. ‘By Jove! Are you sure?’ He called over to Swan, who was busily conversing with the investigating officers. ‘Alex — the Turks have invaded Cyprus!’ Swan turned to look again at the body and then, raising his head, scrutinised the wall displaying the macabre inscription left by whoever was responsible for this appalling crime.
Chapter 2
Swan and Gable spent the next hour at the crime scene, taking notes on anything that could help them with the case. One thing they noted was the position of the body. Had this been placed deliberately under the inscription?
Then there was the macabre inscription itself. EOKA B was a recognised Greek Cypriot organisation which like their predecessors, wanted the island to have complete alliance with the Greek junta now in place in Athens. He had seen the news reports of the last few days, the exile of the archbishop who was now safe in London, the persecution of Turkish Cypriots, being cast out of their homes and forced onto buses to the north of the island. The problems the British forces had experienced leading up to the island’s independence in 1960, the random slaying of officers and intelligence officials, had shown that this was a seriously committed terrorist group, preferring the gun or grenade to the pen to warrant their cause. But, as Swan had already pointed out to his colleague and to Higgins, this was the first time that there had been any activity from this group here in Britain.
Britain had enough trouble already. The IRA had now decided the best way to progress with their particular campaign was to target London. SID were still investigating the recent bombing at the Tower of London and Swan couldn’t believe that they were now having to deal with two foreign factions, simultaneously. Now, there was this announced invasion of the Turkish army invading the island to save their people from the regime placed in power following a coup. Who knows where this would lead? A popular holiday island had just taken centre stage in the world’s political arena and news correspondents would be fighting over airline seats to get out there.
There was also something else he had to check. What he had noticed about the way the victim had been killed, had stirred up a ghost from his past. Could she really still be active after so long? If she was, why had she been hired by EOKA B? Swan knew they would have plenty of people of their own to carry out an atrocity like this. Someone who could blend in easily with the Greek community in London and never be noticed. Why use an outsider — and from what he knew of her, an expensive one? It just didn’t add up.
He suddenly remembered the last time she had surfaced. He had been called over to Paris as part of a joint task force attached to Interpol, and had worked with the DST to investigate the murder of a Saudi oil executive. A deal was about to be signed, giving the French oil rights in Algeria, and on the day of this deal he had been slain in his hotel room. The French officer in charge had been on her trail from the day she surfaced with her first killing; like Captain Ahab pursuing his white whale. Swan remembered the Europe map in the Frenchman’s office, with pins in the places of her killings and bright cotton linking them. The first had been a banker in Zurich who was about to disclose information about the laundering of quite a large amount of Mafia money. The report about the methods used in this killing would be the rubber stamp for those that followed. What Swan had seen earlier in this room convinced him she was back. Although, if it was her, this would be the first time she had carried out a job in London.
He turned to Gable, to check to confirm they had noted enough; however, he needed to satisfy himself that the woman who checked into this room was whom he had suspected. The forensic team was yet to arrive, to dust for prints. There was nothing else they could do until they had completed their task.