The commanding officer nodded his assent, and it gave Karen some small satisfaction to see that he no longer looked quite so self-confident.
‘Right. I should also like you to get on to your high command or whoever it is that regimental commanding officers take their orders from, and I want you to tell them that I require immediate access to Colonel Parker-Brown. Straight away, and wherever he might be. He is currently under suspicion of involvement in these deaths, and I will not tolerate all that rubbish about special duties. I need to interview him fully, and I do not intend to allow army protocol to get in my way. And neither do I care whether or not his whereabouts are classified. I am conducting a murder investigation and I will not be obstructed. Is that also clear?’
‘Perfectly,’ The new CO’s voice was totally controlled, but Karen could see that she had rattled him, which she couldn’t help finding rather satisfying.
Long before Karen even arrived at Hangridge, John Kelly set off for London. He had slept for another nine hours or so and woken just before four in the morning feeling much better than he could reasonably have expected. He certainly felt well enough to drive to Newton Abbot and catch the first fast train to London. Even if he had not felt so well, he would probably still have gone. He just couldn’t wait any longer.
He arrived at Paddington just after 9 a.m. and took an expensive cab across London. He still didn’t feel able to cope with the tube. The cab journey, into the heart of the new trendily reinvented docklands of London, took around forty-five minutes, which was considerably better than he might have anticipated at that time of the morning.
When he arrived at his destination, he paid off the cab driver and stood on the pavement for a few moments peering up at the impressive riverside tower block, which was home to his only son. Nick lived in the penthouse, and his apartment, which Kelly had visited several times before, boasted picture windows, a huge terrace and panoramic views up and down the Thames.
Kelly was not expected and had no idea whether Nick was in or not, but Nick ran his business, whatever that was, from home and Kelly reckoned he had a fifty-fifty chance of catching him in, possibly more at that hour of the morning. It was quite simple, anyway. If Nick was not there, he would wait until he returned. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, more important for him to do.
He walked across the sweeping expanse of pavement which led to the entrance of the apartment block, and rang the appropriate bell on the intercom. Nick answered at once.
‘Hi,’ said Kelly. Just the one word.
‘Dad?’ Nick sounded astonished, as well he might. Kelly lived over two hundred miles away and had never arrived unannounced before. ‘Good Lord! What on earth are you doing here?’
‘I wanted to see you. So I thought, to hell with it, and jumped on a Cornish flyer.’ He tried to make his voice as light as possible. ‘Hope you haven’t got anyone with you. Not an inconvenient time, or anything?’
‘No, no. Of course not. Come on up. Open the door when you hear the buzzer. You know your way, yeah?’
‘Yeah.’
Kelly took the lift to the fifteenth floor. Nick was standing in the doorway of his apartment. He looked as tanned and fit as ever, and was wearing a long-sleeved, pristine white shirt — cuffs neatly buttoned at the wrists — which hung loose over well-ironed, faded blue jeans.
‘Good God, what have you been up to?’ he asked as soon as he saw his father’s damaged face.
‘It’s a long story,’ replied Kelly. ‘I’ll tell you later.’
‘But you’re all right?’ There was concern in Nick’s voice, and Kelly was sure that much at least was genuine.
‘Fine. Honestly. It looks much worse than it is.’
Nick stepped back and ushered his father into the apartment. Kelly stood for a moment in the middle of the huge ultra-modern living room, with its polished maple floors and just a few pieces of big, expensive-looking, leather and chrome furniture, very minimalist. A dazzling morning sun was blazing directly into the apartment, making everything look bright and shiny, and as he looked out, briefly taking in once more the stunning views across the river and South London, with the dome of the Maritime Museum at Greenwich in the distance, Kelly had to squint in order not to be blinded by its glare.
When he heard the click of the front door, as Nick closed it, he swung round, smiling, to face his son.
‘Well, I’ve come all this way. Don’t I get a hug?’
Nick’s face was instantly split by a big grin.
‘Of course, Dad,’ he said, and, stepping forward, began to wrap his long arms around his father.
Moving again with unexpected speed for a man of his years who had lived his lifestyle, Kelly grabbed hold of the cuff of Nick’s right sleeve and ripped it violently upwards. The button popped off at once and Kelly was able to pull the cuff back in one smooth movement, revealing his son’s bare lower arm.
A line of angry red indentations ran right across his right wrist. The skin had been broken in several places and one or two of the indentations were still oozing a watery puss. They were clearly toothmarks.
Kelly let go of the sleeve at once and stepped away from his son’s attempted embrace.
‘You fucking bastard,’ he said very quietly. ‘Who the fuck are you, and what is it that you do?’
Nick had turned white. He looked down at his wrist, then up at his father’s damaged face again. Suddenly his whole body language became threatening. He stepped forwards, arms hanging loosely at his sides. For a moment Kelly thought he was going to attack him. And that this time he would not stop.
But, quite abruptly, Nick did stop. He turned away from Kelly and sat down on one of the big, black leather armchairs. Kelly stared at him, willing him to speak.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ Nick managed eventually.
‘Well, at least you are not denying it,’ said Kelly.
Nick shrugged.
‘You came to Babbacombe beach two days ago to kill a man, didn’t you, and when you realised that that man was me, you backed off, isn’t that right?’
Nick shrugged again.
‘You had been employed by somebody to kill me, only you didn’t know who your mark was. You had no idea you had been sent to kill your own bloody father. Isn’t that how it was, Nick?’
‘You seem to have all the answers...’
‘Don’t fuck with me,’ said Kelly, raising his voice to a shout. ‘Just don’t fuck with me. Because I do have all the answers. Not only do I know it was you on the beach, and you were sent there to kill me, but I can also prove it. There were fragments of your skin in my teeth. These are currently being examined in a forensic laboratory and DNA will ultimately be extracted. The police will be able to prove extremely easily that it was you who attacked me.’
With a carefully executed sense of the dramatic, Kelly removed his mobile from his jacket pocket.
‘One call. One call, Nick, to my old friend, Detective Superintendent Karen Meadows. That’s all it will take. The police would then arrest you and take a DNA sample from you, and if it matches with the bits of skin in my teeth, which it will, of course — well, that’s it, isn’t it. All the proof any court of law would need. A foolproof case.’
‘Oh, come on, for fuck’s sake, Dad...’
‘No. Don’t you even fucking talk to me unless you are going to tell me what I want to hear. I want to know exactly who set you up for this. Was it Parker-Brown, was that who it was? I want to know, and I want to know exactly what has been going on up at Hangridge, and don’t damned well tell me you don’t know. I want the lot, Nick, and I want it now.’