The Pulsar Files, page 16
part #1 of Matt Flynn Series
‘Fat chance.’
After much rustling, Chris poked his head in the gap between the seats. ‘Can I ask, where are we going?’
‘How does Windsor sound?’ Matt replied.
Chapter 29
Leaving a safe house unexpectedly was fraught with danger. The intruders knew that Chris and Louise had been staying there and they risked losing touch if they didn’t follow them to their new destination. One of their gang might have been standing in the throng of journalists outside the vacated house, or in one of the cars driving behind them for long periods on the way to Windsor. As before, Matt made a judgement call as to the risk and decided not to engage in a drive-around before reaching Clifton Manor.
Sir Raymond Deacon wasn’t at home when Matt and his two charges arrived at the house. Members of Parliament, including government ministers, were not required to be at the House of Commons until the session started at two o’clock in the afternoon. Government ministers, however, had the additional responsibility of a department to run. Matt knew he would be at his desk by eight this morning and wouldn’t be back until after ten at night, or not at all if he stayed on to finish some important business. Then, he slept at the apartment he owned in Westminster.
The absence of the Home Office Minister didn’t affect the new arrivals one bit, as David, Sir Raymond’s personal assistant, ran the house when his boss wasn’t there. Matt had informed Chris and Louise about Lisa’s previous rape trauma, and when they dumped what little luggage they’d brought with them in their rooms, he took them both to meet her.
He knocked on the door and walked in, and received the now-traditional bear-hug from the young woman who had experienced so much.
‘I didn’t think you’d be back so soon,’ she said, her breath coming in short gasps. ‘You usually leave longer between visits.’
‘I didn’t think I’d be back here so soon either, Lisa, but circumstances have changed. How are you?’
‘Oh, nothing much different, but I’m always pleased to see you.’
He held her away from him. ‘Lisa, there are a couple of people here I’d like you to meet.’
Despite Lisa being briefed by David, Matt had no idea how she would react to having strange people in her house and now in her room. Meeting people, other than doctors and psychologists, wasn’t a high priority for her over these last few months.
Matt stood back to introduce the new arrivals. He didn’t elaborate on the danger they were in but simply told her they needed to stay somewhere safe for a few days.
Chris was tall, an inch or so above Matt and broad chested, and if possessing a meaner face than his round, boyish features, some could find him intimidating. Most people could read the signals that he was a jovial giant, but Lisa was out of practice and she recoiled when Chris stepped forward.
‘Hi Lisa, I’m Chris. Great to meet you.’
Before Matt could say anything more, Louise jumped in.
‘Hi Lisa, I’m Louise. Thanks very much for allowing us to stay. It’s such a beautiful house you live in, you must love it here.’
‘I suppose it is really,’ Lisa said, her face red and her manner flustered, ‘but I’ve lived here all my life, I hardly notice it now.’
Matt tugged Chris’s sleeve, indicating he should back off.
‘Perhaps,’ Louise said, ‘if you’re not too busy, later on you could show us around?’
‘Yes, I could, couldn’t I? Do you like paintings?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Gory?’
‘Oh yes,’ she said smiling.
‘Oh, you’ll love some of the ones my grandpa collected. The more heads they chopped off and the more guts spilled the better he liked them.’
Matt slipped out of the room, Chris beside him.
‘She’s not used to visitors and knowing her background, not too keen on men. It’s not you, so don’t take it to heart,’ he said nodding towards Lisa and Louise, nattering away like a couple of old classmates who hadn’t seen one another for weeks.
‘Happens all the time. I’m well used to it.’
‘Look on the bright side, it’s better than someone trying to kidnap you.’
‘I couldn’t agree more.’
‘There should be enough to keep you occupied here. When you’re fed up surfing the net, go down to the library. Raymond’s always got stacks of newspapers and magazines as well as thousands of books. If you want anything at all, food, information, how to operate the television, just ask David, all right?’
He nodded.
‘Same rules as the previous place,’ Matt continued, ‘although here I don’t mind you walking around the grounds as they’re fenced off, but no further. If something doesn’t look right, come back to the house pronto and call me. Okay?’
‘Yep.’
‘If there’s something you can’t find here, ask David. Any questions?’
‘I don’t think so, I think we should be fine. It looks a great place. Thanks for bringing us here.’
‘You can thank Raymond when you meet him. He might look like an old ogre of a government minister, but he’s easy to talk to. He’s a mine of information about loads of stuff.’
‘Got it.’
‘I’m heading off now, Chris. Call me if you have any problems. Same for Louise. Okay?’
‘Yeah. See you later, Matt and thanks.’
He drove slowly down the long driveway at Clifton Manor, not because of being deep in thought or listening to something interesting on the radio, but with such large pebbles under the tyres, if he drove too fast they would attack the underside of his car with the alacrity of a band of gremlins. He stopped at the end and looked left and right along the long straight road bordering Clifton Manor.
Parked cars would stick out like drunks at a funeral as the surrounding area was flat and not blessed with many trees, meaning he could see far beyond Sir Raymond’s property in both directions. The fact that he could see nothing to raise his suspicions didn’t fill Matt with confidence as he drove back to London. He wasn’t a pessimist by nature, only when it came to situations like this, with the role of hunter and the hunted being reversed.
His concentration was broken when his phone rang.
‘Morning Matt,’ Sir Raymond Deacon said. ‘How are our new guests settling in?’
‘Morning Raymond. They’re settling in well. Lisa and Louise look as though they’ve hit it off, as I suspected they would, but she’s wary of Chris.’
‘Tell him not to take any notice. The only men she could tolerate for a time were those in a white coat.’
‘It’s good for her to have some young people around.’
Raymond emitted his customary growl, reserved for errant civil servants. ‘Are you trying to tell me something?’
‘I wouldn’t dare.’
‘In the past, we’ve tried it with her cousins and friends, but you’re right, it might work better now as a longer period has passed since Lisa’s incident, and Louise will be staying there for a few days. Her cousins could only take a few hours of being shunned.’
‘I hope it works, Lisa could use a break. How did you get on trying to identify an MP to raise the Dragon issue in the House?’
‘Have you ever known me to fail? His name is Derek Spencer. He’s MP for a constituency around Manchester and a man who calls a spade a spade. He takes a keen interest in defence matters and, in the past, criticised BAE Systems and Rolls Royce for selling equipment to rogue African states. He’s an engineer and has experience of the defence industry as he used to work for a couple of BAE Systems’ contractors. He knows his stuff and won’t be fobbed off with lame excuses.’
‘Sounds like our man.’
‘Even better, he’s ambitious and wants a perch on the front bench. If you know anything about politics, you’ll know he’s been trying for months to make a name for himself and oust the useless incumbent, if I can be so blunt about a fellow colleague, Ed Greening, and nab the defence brief for himself.’
‘It’s not like you to give a firebrand MP a leg-up the political ladder. Are you going soft in your old age?’
He laughed. ‘I’ve been called many things in my time, Matt, but never soft, and we’ll have less of the ‘old age’ if you don’t mind. In this particular case, I’m able to put any political reservations to one side with the best of them when the threat of a national scandal is so very near.’
‘You’re right, as always. If the MOD are close to buying Pulsar and later it’s found that several MPs and military chiefs had their faces in the trough, who knows how many heads will roll?’
Sir Raymond sighed. ‘That’s only part of it. Firstly, yes, the Services are full of enthusiasm for this machine and are lobbying hard to lay their hands on it. Secondly, only today do I learn that the deputy Prime Minister who said a few months back, and I quote, ‘the UK Military will buy that over-priced, over-specified aircraft over my dead body,’ unquote, is keen for them to buy it. So, the stakes are getting higher, but I do wonder who has got to him.’
Chapter 30
Matt walked into the interview room, Rosie by his side. They took seats behind a metal table, and facing them, the man Chris knocked out at the safe house. Rosie switched on the tape recorder. This session wasn’t about gathering evidence but understanding motive. The police would use a more court-ready recording system when HSA handed this scumbag over to them.
‘How’s the head?’ Matt asked, looking at the prominent lump.
‘I’ve been better.’
‘I bet you have.’ In the daylight he didn’t look as intimidating as he had with a knife poking into Louise’s ribs. Aged around late thirties, with short blond hair, a small scar down one cheek and intense blue eyes. In another setting like a pub or club he might be called rough but handsome.
‘Listen mate,’ Matt said. ‘We’ve got you for illegal entry, possessing a firearm and threatening with a knife. If you understand anything about the court system, and I assume you’re no stranger, you’re looking at ten, maybe twelve years. If the police can tie your gun to other crimes, maybe more.’
The man facing them crossed his arms, a scowl creasing his face.
‘Nothing to say? You might have guessed from the shoulder straps, me, my colleague and the guy standing behind you are armed. We’re not regular police, we’re Homeland Security. Which means when I hand you over to the police after we finish here, I could, if I’m feeling generous, leave out one or two things you did the other night. It’s better than the cops can offer. They might offer to speak to the CPS or the judge and ask them to go easy, but I’m talking about something concrete. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
‘I think so.’
Using face recognition software and Sikander Khosa’s consummate research skills, they now knew the prisoner in front of them was called Steve Ashley and they had in front of them a copy of his criminal record. Notes left on the system by a helpful detective suggested he’d gone professional; moved from street robberies and post office heists to the ranks of a recognised criminal team, the Bermondsey Outfit led by Ivan Mander.
They were well known at the Met to be into drug smuggling and people trafficking and, in an attempt to diversify and develop other sources of revenue, a few years back, Mander set up a contract division. Not only did they hire out weapons, they could also supply a team of men, ready and willing to carry out shootings, set buildings on fire or kidnap a target.
In some ways, Mander had made a clever move as parts of the drugs and people trafficking business had become overcrowded with Romanian and Russian gangs fighting for territory. Both areas received much police attention, while the apparent random criminal act carried out by their contracting team was regarded by police detectives as the most difficult type of case to solve.
Police detection methods were predicated on connections; the names of people known to the victim, the last person to see the victim, the recall of witnesses, the owner of fingerprints and DNA detected at the crime scene. A contract criminal had no connection with the victim and unless they left some evidence behind, or in the case of the man in front of them, was caught, their involvement was almost impossible to detect.
‘Let’s start with a name.’
‘Easy; Steve Ashley. Can I go now?’
‘Forget playing the smartarse, mate and get serious. Why did you break into the house in Canonbury?’
‘We made a mistake.’
‘Who’s we?’
‘I don’t know his name. I called him Rob and he called me Tom. I didn’t know him and he didn’t know me.’
‘Doesn’t matter, we’ll find him soon enough. How did you make a mistake?’
‘We meant to do the house across the street. A drug dealer lives there, see, and he owes this bloke a lot of money. The guns were just to put the frighteners on.’
Matt turned to Rosie who shook her head. It was the most the prisoner had spoken so far and the East End accent Matt first heard at the safe house rang out loud and clear.
‘Sorry mate, you need to try harder. Only amateurs would make a mistake like getting the house number wrong and while I don’t think you and your pal are top notch, you’re no fools either.’
Ashley crossed his arms and looked shifty. Not because of any guilt he felt about what he’d done, more likely because the story he probably cooked up while waiting to be interviewed wasn’t believed.
‘I might be getting it mixed up with another job. We was there to kidnap a bloke.’
‘You’re starting to make some sense, but I think you went there to kill him.’
‘No way. We don’t do jobs like that. Kidnap him we was told.’
‘Why the guns if you only meant to kidnap him? The only people occupying the house, as far as you were aware, were a twenty-one-year-old boy and a young woman. It doesn’t sound like a tough prospect for a couple of hard men like yourself and your mate.’
‘In case we came across people like you.’
‘I’m not buying it,’ Rosie said. ‘I think you went there to put a bullet into him, pure and simple. You tried killing him when you shot his family down in the hot-air balloon. Why stop there?’
‘We didn’t shoot down no hot-air balloon.’
‘Who did, then?’
‘I dunno. Americans maybe.’
‘But you know about it?’
‘Yeah, sort of.’
‘Then you’ll also know it’s connected to what you and your buddy were being asked to do.’
‘Maybe.’
‘C’mon Steve,’ Rosie said, ‘you’re not being straight with us. The balloon shooting was to kill the boy. When it didn’t work, they sent you and your mate in to finish the job.’
‘Hold up. We didn’t go there to kill him, d’ya hear? You can’t stick that fucking rap on me. The contract said lift him and then hand him over. Nothing else.’
‘Who were you handing him over to?’
‘A guy who would be waiting at the Clacket Lane services on the M25. Before you ask, I dunno anything about him.’
‘Why did they ask you to lift him?’
‘He stole stuff belonging to my customer is all I know.’
‘What sort of stuff?’
‘Documents. Important documents.’
On and on they posed the questions and with the consummate ease of a county batsman, the prisoner passed them back with little embellishment or enlightenment. A couple of times Matt asked directly for the name of their buyer, the name of his mate and what they intended to do with Chris, but ignorance didn’t hold him back; it was fear. The fear of incurring the wrath of his buyer outweighed any offer Matt could make at reducing his time inside.
He could understand his reluctance. Matt could lop-off four years from a twelve-year sentence but this would still leave eight years of looking over his shoulder in case people paid by Dragon or friends of his former team mate tried to kill him.
Matt and Rosie walked upstairs to the office area. Several desks lay empty, hot desks used by field officers, and others for those who needed to interrogate the many systems HSA were allowed to access. Matt took a seat at the nearest empty desk with Rosie standing close, leaning on the partition.
‘The interview didn’t add much to our sum total of knowledge, did it?’ Rosie said.
‘No, but it cemented a few things. Without Ashley naming names, we know whoever hired him and his mate, they were after Chris, and we know they want the documents. The balloon shooting and the attack on the safe house were all about Chris. We suspected as much but we’ve had it confirmed.’
‘It’s a relief to finally see the pieces fitting together.’
‘We also know that whoever is gunning for Chris is desperate to catch him. They employed a crack sniper to shoot down the balloon, and when they realised Chris wasn’t on the flight, they brought in the two guys in Oxford. When they failed, they went to Ivan Mander and hired two more goons. Now they’ve failed, what comes next?’
‘You don’t think it’s the same two guys who tried to kidnap them in Oxford?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t think so, but I’ll take this guy’s photograph over to Windsor and ask them to have a look but I think the important issue is this. As far as I know, and tell me I’m wrong, Katić and Mander aren’t connected. If the Oxford crew are a different gang, it further emphasises my point. They’re throwing everything at this; money, men, equipment, firepower. If one gang fails, another team steps up to the plate and tries to do their master’s bidding. In which case, they won’t stop until they get him.’
‘You make it sound like no matter what we do, we can’t protect Chris.’
‘They can afford to make as many mistakes as they like, we only need to make one and it’s curtains.’
‘He can’t stay in a gilded castle forever, all the necessities of life taken care of and being surrounded by beautiful women. The poor guy will develop a complex.’
‘More like being ignored by beautiful women, but we’re short of options if we can’t end this.’
‘Don’t be so negative, Matt. We’ve still got the MP to talk to, don’t forget. When he tells Parliament what Dragon have been doing, it will hit every newspaper and television station in the country and be a huge embarrassment for the MOD. Dragon’s shares will plummet and so will their sales. They’ll have more to worry about than some university student from Oxford. That should put an end it.’
