The Pulsar Files, page 8
part #1 of Matt Flynn Series
They turned into Marsh Lane. On the left, Osborne House, London Underground’s Northumberland Park control centre and on the other, various industrial buildings. As anticipated, little traffic and few people around.
‘Victor Lima One, this is Bravo Four. Go! I repeat Go!’
The black BMW of Victor Lima One dropped two gears and shot past the target’s Nissan, only to brake sharply in front of the Nissan and come to a halt. The brake lights of the Sunny came on, the occupants being thrown forward as it also came to a sudden stop. Realising they couldn’t go forward, the guys inside the Nissan all looked to the rear. Their faces fell when Emma and Jacko’s car came to a stop a metre or so behind them.
Emma rushed out of the car brandishing her handgun, the two officers from the other vehicle doing the same with their more threatening Heckler and Koch carbines. Jacko, slow to move at the best of times, followed behind.
‘Out of the vehicle now!’ Emma shouted. ‘Let me see your hands!’
The four occupants didn’t move, either through fear or they were considering their options. To hurry them along, it was tempting for the waiting officers to grab the door handle, but training had knocked this little trait out of their repertoire. Reaching for the car door would take one hand away from the weapon making its use less accurate, while at the same time if the occupants inside decided to leg it, the car door could suddenly open, knocking the officer off-balance.
The back door of the Nissan on Emma’s side swung open and a young man came out. He looked about seventeen and she wondered if his parents knew he was consorting with such unsavoury characters. Emma patted him down but didn’t find a weapon. ‘Face down on the deck! Now! Hands behind your back.’
He did as she told him without protest. She knelt beside him and secured his wrists. She heard Jacko doing the same with the other rear seat passenger. All the time they were apprehending the two rear seat passengers, Jimmy and Eddie from Victor Lima One were still training their weapons on the two passengers in the front of the vehicle who hadn’t yet made a move.
The passenger shrugged and out he came; all attitude and bravura. Jimmy and Eddie were right to be cautious.
‘Get Down!’ Jimmy shouted.
‘Hey man,’ the scumbag said, ‘I ain’t gonna dirty my new threads on this filthy road.’
‘I said, get down!’ Jimmy bawled.
‘Hey man I don’t wanna. I only just bought ’em.’
‘Down on the fucking deck!’
Emma’s attention was diverted when the driver’s door opened. Out came Jerome Powers in the flesh, exhibiting the same swagger and cool as his mate.
‘No, I ain’t gonna,’ Jimmy’s prisoner whined.
Eddie took a step towards Powers. Emma watched the scene through two sets of dirty windows in the Nissan.
The driver’s hand slid towards his jacket pocket in a practised movement and something black and rough-looking emerged.
Eddie’s gun spat twice and Jerome Powers fell to the ground; dead.
Chapter 15
‘Ah, here’s the coffee. We’ll take a ten-minute break.’ The Superintendent rose from his seat and almost as if performing a pre-arranged ballet, many of his fellow officers around the conference table rose in unison.
Matt Flynn stretched tired muscles. He’d gone to the gym the previous night, the first time for several weeks, and completed a heavy-duty work-out with loose weights. While apprehending a drug shipment at a remote beach in Suffolk six months before, one of the Lithuanians on board a rusty freighter suspected of carrying a large consignment let rip with an Uzi.
With a short barrel and the trigger finger of the shooter not letting up until the magazine had emptied, it could never be classed as an accurate weapon, more useful as a deterrent. With bullets zipping everywhere it didn’t come as a surprise when one ricocheted off a rock and hit someone; Matt, in the thigh. What did come as a surprise was the damage it did and how long it took for him to get over it.
Matt stood and walked over to the table at the back of the conference room, now set out with coffee and pastries. He and Rosie were ensconced in a conference room within the headquarters of Thames Valley police at Kidlington, listening to Superintendent Cousins and his team brief them about the balloon incident at Ladder Hill and their subsequent investigation.
No way would he tell them about the cigarette butt found close to the crash site which they now knew contained the DNA of Dejan Katić, a tractor salesman in his dreams, but in reality, a gun for hire. He wouldn’t tell this lot not because they were the boys in blue and not CID, but the evidence was as yet circumstantial, and cases involving Serbian hitmen were the prerogative of HSA and not the local plod.
‘Are you tempted by a Danish, Matt?’ Inspector Barry Fisk asked.
‘I think I might. It’s been a long afternoon.’
‘Aye, we’ve covered a lot of ground.’
‘Have you been to see Chris?’ Matt asked.
‘That I have. He’s a nice lad, confused and a bit frightened, but a good lad all the same.’
‘What do you make of his uncle?’
‘Kevin? He’s a rough character and no mistake, but he must have something, you should see his wife. A right belter, she is.’
‘I thought Chief Constables were trying to stamp out sexism in the force,’ Rosie said, butting in. Matt noticed she didn’t have a Danish or any of the chocolate biscuits. True to form, Rosie didn’t even have a plate.
‘Get away, Rosie, that’s not being sexist. I just stated a fact: Kevin is married to an attractive woman.’
‘At the risk of being sidetracked,’ Matt said, ‘we’ll put this discussion away for some other time. Barry, you were saying about Kevin?’
‘He’s a rough looking character and sharp with his tongue, but maybe you need to be like that in the defence business. Chris seems to get along with him just fine. Mind you, what choice does the boy have with all his family gone?’
‘It’s not going to be easy for him,’ Rosie said, ‘that’s for sure.’
‘What about Galleon Electronics? Do we know if Chris inherits his father’s share?’
‘Yes, he does. Kevin said he remembered Stephen, Chris’s father, making out a will in which he left his share of the business split between his daughter and his son. With her being killed in the accident as well, it all falls to Chris. The family solicitor confirmed it a few days ago.’
‘Does this mean he’s not going back to uni and staying here to take up a position in the business?’ Rosie asked.
‘He’s not sure if he wants to work there or not. I suspect they don’t have a place for him until he gets some experience under his belt.’
‘Unless he’s willing to start at the bottom,’ Rosie said.
‘Barry!’
The inspector turned to see Superintendent Cousins calling him over.
‘Excuse me folks,’ Barry said. ‘God calls.’
‘Learn anything new today, Rosie?’ Matt asked, as he helped himself to another Danish. It probably negated many of the benefits of his trip to the gym, but custard-filled pastries were a personal favourite.
‘I’ve learned that you can be a greedy pig when you set your mind to it.’
‘C’mon, I didn’t have much at breakfast and I went to the gym last night.’
‘You going to the gym is to give your leg some physiotherapy, not so you can eat all the pastries.’
‘I’ll put this one back.’
‘Don’t you dare. I’ve also learned there’s not one iota of suspicion about the balloon accident among the assembled bodies here, even after Cousins placed a call to the Air Accidents Investigation Branch this morning. Are we missing something obvious?’
‘What, you think it’s a coincidence that we track a Serb sniper’s car to a remote part of Oxfordshire, early on a Sunday morning, and find a cigarette butt belonging to him close to the site where a balloon crashed, killing five people? I call it pretty damn conclusive, me.’
‘I don’t think it’s a coincidence, and even Katić can’t claim to be a rubbernecker as the date stamp on the CCTV puts him there in the morning before anyone knew about the accident. But even with his DNA, we still don’t have a lot to go on. It doesn’t tell us who’s behind it.’
‘It’s enough to get him convicted in a court of law.’
Matt received one of Rosie’s cynical looks. ‘Since when were you so concerned about courts of law? I can’t think of the last time you passed a felon over to the police for prosecution. Given time, our Serbian hitman could think up a host of excuses for his presence there, enough to fool a jury: he’s a birdwatcher, he likes hot-air balloons, he’s a voyeur and went there hoping to catch some couple having a shag in the field.’
‘Very good, Rosie, you’re convincing me.’ He took a drink of coffee to wash down the Danish. ‘The reason I think we can’t say why he shot down the Anderson balloon is because Chris Anderson isn’t telling us everything he knows.’
‘Where did you get that from?’
‘Let’s accept the sniper-for-hire theory for a moment.’
‘Ok.’
‘Who would have the motivation and the money to pay for someone like him to come here and shoot the balloon down? That’s the question we need to answer and I think Chris knows what it is.’
‘It wouldn’t be his uncle or anyone else connected with the business, as we said when we met Chris, they’re small fry in the defence world. Plus, if the antis of Oxford are behind it, killing Chris’s father and his family won’t stop the business working on defence contracts, will it?’
‘No, not even if the killer lines up Uncle Kevin as the next in line for the chop.’
‘You do have an elegant turn of phrase, Mr Flynn.’
‘So Emma says.’
‘When you’re doing what, may I ask?’
‘Rosie, you don’t want to know.’
‘What about Kevin Anderson’s large withdrawals from his bank account? If he’s in hock to some Chinese gambling syndicate or a violent drug dealer, he might be desperate to lay his hands on some ready cash. If he takes over the business, he can take it from its bank account, or Stephen might be covered by a big insurance policy with Kevin the main beneficiary.’
‘Some top people in business are covered by a special insurance,’ Matt said, ‘that pays out if a key employee falls ill or they’re incapacitated in an accident. It’s a good point. I’ll ask Siki to check if one exists. If Kevin’s a big-time drug user, I still don’t think the withdrawals are of sufficient magnitude to encourage someone to kill his brother and his family.’
‘You’re right, as he’s probably earning a good salary to cover it, but what if he wants to take control of the business so he can milk it long-term? Then, he could gamble, buy drugs, play the stock market; do what the hell he likes.’
‘I understand your logic but I still don’t think it stacks up. Kevin knew the contents of the will. He also knew Chris would inherit his father’s share. It doesn’t matter how much Kevin’s in debt, Chris replaces Stephen.’
‘Chris can’t step into Stephen’s shoes right away, can he? While he’s learning his craft, there’s no one looking over Kevin’s shoulder to stop him doing what he likes.’
‘Killing his brother and his niece just to hide his bad habits? I don’t see it. The solution is way out of magnitude to the problem.’ He leaned closer, his voice quiet. ‘What if the target wasn’t Stephen Anderson or anyone else aboard that balloon, but Chris? From a distance the friend of Chris’s sister, Ben, the guy who joined them on the flight after Chris bowed out may have made the killer think the whole Anderson family were aboard.’
‘How do you work that one out, clever clogs? He’s a second-year student of computer science at Durham uni, not a cryptanalyst at GCHQ or a Middle East expert at SIS. Why would anyone want to kill him?’
‘It’s standard detective procedure. If you can remember that far back. When you’ve looked at all the possibilities and they don’t work out, the one that seems impossible or improbable must be the solution.’
‘I must have fallen asleep when I attended that one, but I’m still listening.’
‘Let’s go through the facts: he’s good at IT.’ Matt looked up. ‘Oh, hi, Barry. My, you looked flustered.’
‘I’ve just run back here from the other side of the building, I’m puffed. Right, I think the Super’s ready to go again. Shall we re-take our seats?’
Chapter 16
Matt returned home from Oxford at seven in the evening, surprised to find the house tidy and Emma sitting in a chair in the lounge. She had a magazine on her lap and a glass of wine in her hand.
‘Hi there,’ he said leaning over the back of the chair to give her a kiss. ‘How come you’re home so early? Did they finally decide the fight against illegal drugs is no place for a woman and gave you the heave-ho?’
‘I didn’t know I was living with a misogynist dinosaur. You hide it well. There’s beer in the fridge if you want one.’
He went into the kitchen looking for a bite to eat. Finding nothing in the cupboard, he settled on a banana from the fruit bowl. When finished, he took a beer from the fridge, opened the bottle and walked back into the lounge.
‘Cheers,’ he said as he slumped on the settee.
‘Your good health,’ replied Emma, not looking up from her magazine.
‘What are you reading?’
‘It’s the story of a woman who was forever telling her husband to go to the doctor as he had a pain in the neck he couldn’t get rid of. When he did, he found out he had motor neurone disease and at best, three years to live, the majority of the time in a wheelchair.’
‘Bloody hell, an uplifting read.’
‘Even though it is a difficult subject I like the cheerful way this woman writes.’
Matt leaned over and picked up the wine bottle.
‘You’ve hit this hard,’ he said holding it up for her to see.
‘Get away, I didn’t drink all that. Don’t you remember, you opened it the other night?’
‘Ah, you’re right, so I did. You are excused. Have you been here all afternoon?’
‘I’ve been given a few days of garden leave, orders from the boss. Do you want to hear about it?’
‘Sure.’
Stories from the drugs squad were either stupefyingly dull or utterly petrifying with nothing much in between. A thirty-man team waiting around for most of the morning before kicking in the door of a lock-up only to find it empty, or a couple of officers knocking on the door of a known drug dealer and having the glass on the door shattered when someone inside opens up with a sub-machine gun.
‘Man, that’s terrible,’ Matt said when Emma finished telling him the story of her afternoon and the killing of her department’s most wanted. ‘Did any of your lot get injured?’
‘No, they’re okay. Same with the perps, except for Powers.’
‘It’s a good job you didn’t stop them on the estate where they come from otherwise you’d have his mother and half the bloody neighbourhood trying to tear you all to bits.’
‘Don’t I know it.’
‘Have you spoken to Eddie?’
‘He’s well pissed-off and not looking forward to his time in the office. Says he’s been meaning to go back to Barbados for a couple of years and visit his relatives so maybe he’ll take some time off.’
‘Does the shooting of a wanted drug dealer improve his reputation within the ARU or degrade it?’
‘I’m sure it’ll raise his standing with the lads, but not with me.’
‘You’re tough nut, Emma Davis. A drug dealer pulls out a gun? Eddie Johnson’s got a clear cause to shoot, I know I would.’
‘I’ve saved the best bit for last, it’s a real kicker. It wasn’t a gun he was reaching for, he was pulling out the stupid beanie hat he always wore. The daft bugger wouldn’t be seen in public without it, even when being arrested.’ She started to cry.
Matt walked over, sat on the arm of the chair and put his arm around her. ‘It’s okay to feel this way after your team has killed someone,’ he said.
‘I know, I speak to shrinks as well. I don’t know why I feel like this. He’s the enemy and we’re doing some good in the world, so why does it make me feel so crappy?’
They sat in quiet contemplation for the next five minutes before the rumbling of Matt’s stomach broke the silence.
Emma started laughing. ‘Are you hungry or something?’
‘I prefer the happy face,’ he said. He bent over and gave her a kiss. ‘After the meeting today we pulled into a service station for something to eat but I didn’t fancy anything on offer. I’m starving.’
‘Before you came in, I was about to go and make some lasagne but I’m finding it hard to get up from this chair. Give me a few minutes to tidy myself up and I’ll make a start.’
‘Nah, forget it, you’ve had a rough day. Why don’t we go down the pub and let them cook for a change? We’ll be extra daring and leave them with the dirty dishes as well.’
‘You make a tempting offer, but don’t you think it’s a bit decadent for a Monday night...ah what the hell. When someone offers to buy you dinner it would be churlish to refuse.’
‘I said I fancied going out for something to eat, I didn’t say anything about paying.’
It was a short walk from Stock Lane to the High Street. From there, an Indian and a Thai restaurant were within easy walking distance but Emma decided she fancied pub food, and a pub it would be.
They walked into The Star, a place where they’d eaten several times before. To his surprise, as he expected the place to be empty, a number of people were sitting eating and he recognised a couple of neighbours.
‘So, is this what everybody does on a Monday night when I’m watching Holby City?’ Emma said. ‘Who would believe it?’
‘You need to get out more often.’
‘You need to take me out more often.’
Twenty minutes later Emma’s choice from the menu was laid in front of her: haddock and chips, the ultimate comfort food. He opted for a burger.
