‘I would ask her as a matter of urgency to discover if Milraud has returned to Toulon. If not, I will also ask her to try and find out if someone there knows where he is.’
‘That would be very helpful, Martin.’
‘It may not help very much at all. But it’s at least a start.’
36
‘That’s Dave!’ Judith exclaimed. They were huddled around a monitor in Michael Binding’s office. It was ten in the evening and a pile of pizzas lay in their boxes untouched on a table in the corner.
Dave was easily recognised from his familiar loping stride as he strolled along the shopping centre’s main walkway. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry. The time on the screen was one-forty-eight, so there were twelve minutes to go before, according to the shop woman, he had arrived at Milraud’s establishment. The features were fuzzy and the clothes unfamiliar – Liz didn’t think she’d ever seen Dave in a blazer – but there was no mistaking his walk. It was unexpectedly upsetting to see him there, striding confidently along to… to what?
The tape was a composite of all the relevant segments located by A4, after a careful search through God only knew how many hundreds of hours of CCTV film. As Dave disappeared from view along the long row of shop fronts, he suddenly reappeared crossing a concrete courtyard full of shoppers. The time on the screen was one-fifty-five. The figure walked quickly across the small square, then reappeared on a broad street lined by what looked like light-coloured brick office buildings. It was less busy here, and Dave was easy to pick out, until he turned left at a corner and disappeared from the screen.
‘That’s Milraud’s street,’ said Judith. ‘Look, it wasn’t quite two o’clock when Dave went down it. That confirms what the woman in the shop said. But none of these cameras show him returning. We’ve checked others that cover the opposite end of Milraud’s street, and there’s no sign of him on those either. So where did he go?’
Binding was unusually quiet. He had changed his clothes at some point during the day, and was now back in his quasi-military garb – elbow-patched khaki sweater, corduroys in the curious shade of pink, and desert boots.
Liz asked, ‘Do we know how he travelled there?’
Binding gave her a caustic look. ‘On foot, obviously. What do you think we’ve just been watching?’
She looked at Judith, who raised an eyebrow. Binding’s mood had darkened; his earlier anxiety was giving way to anger. Liz said calmly, ‘I meant, how did he get to the shopping centre? Public transport?’
Judith shook her head. ‘We’re pretty sure he drove. His car’s not at his flat.’
‘What’s your point, Liz?’ asked Binding.
‘If he drove, he must have parked somewhere. If we find the car, we’ll know he didn’t come back.’
Binding’s silence seemed assent. Liz said, ‘So, since we first see him at the shopping centre, I suggest we check the car park there.’
And twenty minutes later Maureen Hayes and Mike Callaghan located the car, a Peugeot 305 from the car pool, which Dave had been driving for the past two weeks. It was on the upper level of the shopping centre car park, at one end, behind a pillar.
They approached it cautiously, and Callaghan lay down on the hard concrete and peered underneath with a mirror and a torch. When he stood up, dusting his hands, and gave Maureen the nod, she opened the passenger door with the reserve key.
The inside was empty, except for a street map of Belfast lying on the driver’s seat, and a half-drunk bottle of water.
By the time they phoned back with news of their discovery the meeting in Binding’s office had broken up and Liz was sitting alone in her own office. She asked for the car to be brought back to the A4 garage. As she put down the phone she reflected that it was now overwhelmingly clear that Dave hadn’t gone AWOL, not that she had ever believed he had. It was always extremely unlikely that an upset in his personal life would have sent his professional conduct off the rails. Something bad had happened to Dave, and she was trying not to assume the worst.
Ten minutes later she and Judith reconvened with Michael Binding in his office. It was almost midnight now, and Binding stifled a yawn as Liz reported on A4’s discovery. Outside the wind had picked up, and the curtains at the office windows were moving slightly in the draught.
‘I think he’s been taken,’ said Binding, and Liz just nodded in agreement. ‘It seems the only possible explanation. I’ll tell DG in the morning.’ He looked accusingly at Liz. ‘Then he will want to send a team over.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Liz, unperturbed. ‘In any case, Charles has agreed to send Peggy Kinsolving. She’s coming tomorrow.’ She added, ‘Have we got a press officer here?’
‘Of course,’ said Binding, as if she’d challenged his competence. ‘But why are you talking about press officers? The last thing I want to do is talk to the press.’
‘I know that, Michael. The problem is that the press may want to talk with you. Chances are they won’t hear anything, but it’s not something you can count on. As we broaden the investigation, knowledge of Dave’s disappearance will inevitably get to more people – in the police for example. If the media get the faintest suspicion that one of our officers is missing, you can be sure they’ll be all over the story. We’ll need to be ready for that.’
Binding looked horrified. ‘Can’t we slap a D-notice on the story?’
Liz shrugged. ‘You could try. But I imagine there are still some foreign reporters around. A D-notice won’t stop them.’
He said nothing, which she took as agreement – he never openly climbed down.
‘What I don’t understand,’ said Judith, ‘is what Milraud would want with Dave. If he saw through his cover story, why didn’t he simply refuse to see him again?’
Liz answered. ‘I’m afraid it’s unlikely to be Milraud who’s taken him. When I spoke to my contact in the DGSE in Paris – he’s the man who used to be a colleague of Milraud’s and knows him well – he said violence isn’t Milraud’s style. He may have told Piggott about Dave, and we know Piggott’s intent on revenge.’
‘But why kidnap him?’
Liz and Binding exchanged looks. Liz said softly, ‘They may not hold onto him for very long.’
‘You mean they’d—?’ Judith started to ask, then stopped as she saw the answer to her own question.
Again, Liz could only nod.
37
‘Here I was, expecting the grim reaper to come through the door, and in walks the most beautiful girl in the world. Or have I died, and gone to heaven?’
Liz was glad to find Jimmy Fergus back in buoyant form. She hadn’t known what to expect; after the shooting it had been touch and go for the first twenty-four hours. He was still hooked up to all manner of machines – an IV feed attached to his arm, wires linking him to monitors. He must have lost a couple of stone, thought Liz; he looked positively gaunt in his thin hospital gown, but at least there was some colour in his cheeks and he was sitting propped up in bed, with the radio playing on his bedside table, and a car magazine on his lap.
She kissed him on the cheek. ‘This place looks pretty five star.’
‘Appearances can be deceptive. You haven’t tried the food.’ He made a face.
‘I should have brought you a takeaway but perhaps these will help.’ She handed him a box of chocolates tied up with a ribbon and sat down in the chair by the window. The sun was glancing into the room, though dark clouds were moving in on a sharp wind.
‘So how’s business? It would be nice to hear about something other than my potassium levels.’ He gave a derisory wave at the rig of wires and monitors around him.