Skinner's Ordeal (27 page)

`Hey,' said Bob. 'What's this?'

She stared at him, startled. 'My engagement ring. Remember, we unveiled it on Saturday night.'

A shadow of confusion crossed his face. 'No,' he said, in the faintest of whispers. 'I don't remember.' He stared up at Sarah, frowning. ‘What bloody day is this?'

She sat down on the edge of the bed. 'It's Tuesday. You were attacked early on Monday morning. But don't worry, honey. Traumatic amnesia is quite common. What's the last thing you can recall?'

He shook his head, frustrated.

Òkay then, tell me about the last meal you ate.'

He knitted his brow. 'Fresh pasta with a bacon, mushroom and tomato sauce,' he whispered. 'Chocolate mousse to follow. A bottle of Tyrell's Long Flat Red between us.'

`That was on Thursday,' Sarah said. 'A long time back, but don't let it worry you. You did have a pretty severe trauma. The memory gaps will fill up before too long.'

The corner of his mouth twisted. 'I don't know if I want them to. Here, did they get the bastards that knifed me?'

‘Yup. Charged with attempted murder.'

`Pity. That means I won't get my hands on them.'

She laughed. 'You did already! But don't let's talk about that. Not yet anyway. You just relax and concentrate on getting better. You're still a sick puppy, you know.'

`Yes, Doc. Very good, Doc.' He tried to shift his position, and a spasm of pain crossed his face. 'Christ, I believe you.'

She reached out and touched his face. 'Easy now. They gave you quite a mauling in surgery. We'll get you some painkillers now you're awake.'

Ì'm not going to burst open again, am I?'

`No, not now. There's been no sign of any more bleeding, so I reckon the arterial repair will be secure already. But you'll be in here for a while yet. Your body has to have time, and rest, to recover.'

He looked at her mournfully. 'If you say so.' Suddenly his face lit up. 'Hey, how's James Andrew Skinner?'

`Jazz is fine. I'll bring him to see you in a couple of days, when we've got you sitting up.'

`That's good. I miss the wee chap'

Ànd he misses you, I think,' said Alex. 'Andy picked him up this morning, and his face lit up. But then he saw it wasn't you and he started to cry.'

Bob grinned at the thought, then gasped as another image of a baby flashed for an instant, unbidden, across his mind. 'What is it?' said Alex anxiously.

`Nothing,' he murmured. 'Just a memory flash' Laboriously he reached up and tapped his head. 'All sorts of stuff going on in there, you know.'

`Yeah,' said Sarah. 'What was going through your mind when you were unconscious? In theory there shouldn't have been anything.'

`Can't remember that either.'

`Nothing at all?'

He paused, staring up at the ceiling. 'Yes. I remember someone holding my hand. And perfume. Are either of you wearing perfume?'

Ì am,' said Alex.

`Then I remember that. Back in there . . .' he tapped his head once morè. . I remember the smell of your perfume. Chanel No. 5 — I'd know it anywhere'

Alex looked at him, puzzled. 'Your nose must be affected aswell, in that case. You might know Chanel anywhere, but like always, I'm wearing Rive Gauche!'

SIXTY

‘He bloody what?' Adam Arrow's eyebrows shot halfway up his high forehead.

`He said "No", Adam. The Prime Minister won't release the file on Davey.'

`Not even when he heard where the request came from?' Andy Martin shook his head.

Ì know that Kercheval character,' said Arrow. 'Bob might get on with 'im, but from what I've seen he's a real MI5 traditionalist. Know what I mean? Sees himself as the cream of the crop, and all the rest of us as bungling semi-pros, not to be trusted with the real stuff.

Ì wonder if he mentioned to anyone that the request for Davey's file came from Bob.'

There was a grim look in the little soldier's eyes. Wrinkles showed as they narrowed. Did he say anything else to the lads?'

`No. Only that the file was under wraps.

`So they were wasting their time all along.'

A faint smile played around the corners of Martin's mouth.

`Not quite,' he murmured. 'He's not as smart as he thinks, is our man Kercheval.'

`No, he ain't,' said Joe Doherty, leaning back in his chair,

, grinning. 'I know him too.

He's not so much a spook, more Caspar the Friendly Ghost.'

Àre you two going to let the rest of us in on the secret?' Arrow growled. Beside him, Merle Gower sat staring at Doherty: but beyond her, out of the soldier's line of vision, the light of comprehension was dawning in Maggie Rose's expression as she grasped the same implication that had occurred to her colleagues.

`Well,' said Doherty. ‘For openers, he admitted to the guys from the start that there is a file on Davey. If he had told them that he'd have to find out whether one existed or not, he'd have left his options open. But being Kercheval he couldn't pass up a chance to impress two cops by letting them see that he's the sort of important guy who knows where the most important bodies are buried.'

`That's right,' said Andy Martin emphatically. 'And when the Prime Minister put a block on its release, there he was with egg all over his coupon. He couldn't turn around and say

"Sorry, boys, I was wrong. There isn't a file," because he's told them for sure that there is.

He couldn't even say that his DG stopped him, because he knows that Joe here wouldn't accept that level of refusal. So he had to come clean and pin the blame on the PM. He even compounded it by saying that if it was up to him he'd have released it.'

Doherty laughed out loud. 'That's old Cyril! No one knows better than him.

`So it seems,' said Martin. 'Anyway, the upshot of it all is that Cyril has effectively told us not only that there is a file on Davey, but also that it contains material so sensitive that even in circumstances like these, with American interests involved as well as our own, our Prime Minister won't sanction its release.'

`Why not, d'you think?' asked Arrow.

The detective shrugged. 'I can only come up with two reasons, and they're both essentially the same. Either what's in the file would cost the Government Davey's seat in the by- election at a time when it can't afford to lose it, or it's so serious that it would bring it down altogether.'

The soldier shook his head and smiled. 'Know what, Andy?

You've been around Bob so long, you're thinking just like him: The policeman grinned back across the table. 'That's the biggest compliment I've been paid in a while, mate. `So what would he do now?' asked Doherty.

`Why don't we go up to the Royal and ask 'im?'

`Christ, if we tried that, Adam,' said Martin, 'Sarah would cut our ears off. She said that he's out of immediate danger, but she's still worried about him. No . . . whether it would have been the boss's way or not, I'll tell you what we're going to do — assuming that you're game for it, that is.'

The soldier looked at him blankly.

`We're going to forget all about that file,' Martin told them, ànd conduct our own private investigation into Mr Davey and his background. Adam, I'd like you to run it, using your access through MoD security. I'll give you Brian and Mario as back-up, and young Sammy Pye, if you need him.

`We need to know whether there was anything in Colin Davey's ministerial life that might have compromised him, or made him serious enemies. At the same time, I want to know about the private person. Apart from his Who's Who entry and his party biography, we know sod all about him . . . and neither of those sources are famous for listing a man's less endearing traits.

`You look into things at the Ministry; dig as deep as you can. I'll have Brian and Mario ask some discreet questions around the constituency, and I'll go down myself with Pye to interview Davey's widow. Working together, we're going to find out what it was about the late Minister that's so disturbing that it puts the wind up Prime Ministers.

Àfter that, we'll decide what we're going to do about it.

‘Everybody happy?' Grunts of approval followed each other round the conference table.

Abruptly Martin sat up in his chair at its head. 'Right,' he said. `That's one line of enquiry.

What about the others? Most of them seem to centre around Maurice Noble, don't they?

Adam, what I can you tell us about his wife and her mystery man?'

Arrow hunched his disproportionately wide shoulders. 'We've identified him, without too much trouble. He's a Lieutenant in the Sappers, and his name is Stephen William Richards. Known to 'is mates as Short Wave, apparently. He's in the same line of work as our friend Major Legge, only from the other side. His speciality is demolishing, not defusing.'

`That kinda makes him number one suspect, don't it?' drawled Doherty.

`Not necessarily, sir. His work's all battlefield stuff. He's never been involved in anything covert, or even trained in it. I reckon I know more about the sort of device that took out that plane than he does.'

`Nonetheless,' interrupted Martin, 'he would have the basic knowledge, wouldn't he?'

Àye, Andy, he would.' Arrow nodded in agreement. 'All that I'm saying is that we shouldn't make too big an assumption about him.'

`Fair enough; but right now he's the hottest lead we've got. What else do we know about him?'

`Basic background. He's twenty-six, educated at Westminster, then Sandhurst. His parents are both dead. He lost his mum when he was three, and was brought up after that by his old man ... he was a vicar . . . and his housekeeper. The Reverend Richards popped 'is clogs two years ago. No siblings noted. The old vicar didn't get wed till 'e was fifty.'

Ìnterests?' asked Martin.

`Rifle shooting to near Olympic standard, cricket and squash. He represents the Army in all three.'

Women?'

`Well, he's single, for a start. We don't keep tabs on every officer's romantic entanglements, but this lad's love-life has brought him to his superiors' attention on a couple of occasions. The first time was on his first posting after Sandhurst. Silly bugger got himself involved with his CO's sister.'

`What did the CO say to that?' asked Doherty smiling.

À hell of a lot, according to Short Wave's file. The sister was ten years older than him, and 'ad just come through a very messy divorce. Our lad was told to cease and desist bloody quick, and he did.'

`The second time?' asked Martin.

`Just under a year ago. He was given a trial posting as an equerry to the Royal Household.

He was hardly through the door before he was picked out for special attention by another lady some years older than 'im. Not even around this table will I say who he was involved with, but when it came to light, he was returned to his Regiment overnight, literally — on the direct instruction of the Secretary of State. Straight afterwards, Sir Stewart Morelli 'ad him on the carpet, personally, and put a note in his docket saying that his next promotion should be deferred by five years.'

`Why didn't they just kick him out?'

Ì guess the J. Edgar Hoover principle came into play,' muttered Doherty.

`What's that?' said Arrow.

`Better to have him inside the tent pissing out, than outside pissing in!'

`Maybe so,' said Martin brusquely. He leaned forward across the desk, staring at Arrow.

'So what we've got here, Adam, is an explosives expert, with an established pattern of having it off with older women, who's been seen having a hand-holding dinner with Maurice Noble's widow three days after his death. On top of that, he could have held a personal grudge against Colin Davey. And you're telling me that I shouldn't make too many assumptions about him!'

Arrow chuckled ruefully. 'Well, if you put it that way .. Around the table, Martin, Doherty, Alison Higgins, Maggie Rose, and even the invariably tense Merle Gower joined in the laughter.

`So how are you going to play him?' asked Doherty eventually.

`Carefully,' said Martin. 'We'll keep up observation on him and on Ms Tucker. Donaldson and Mcllhenney are going to see her this evening to ask about these anonymous letters — '

Ànd about her alarm system,' cut in Arrow.

`Good. I'll tell them to play that up. If she and Richards did it, it'll do no harm to let her think that we're on the trail of a mystery intruder . . . Look, Adam, you couldn't fix something with Richards' Regiment, could you? Something that'll keep him tied up for a day or two.'

`Probably. But what good would that do?'

Ìt would ease the task of the watchers if they knew where he was. And it might force him to do something that would corroborate our theory. Make a phone call, maybe, that we could pick up through the tap you put on Ariadne Tucker's telephone. Ideally we should listen in on Lieutenant Richards' phone as well. Can you fix that?'

Arrow nodded. 'I can monitor the phone in his private apartment, but not the Officer's Mess. Mind you, he's hardly likely to use that to make a sensitive call.'

`There's something else I'd be grateful if you could do, Adam, and that's check the explosives stock at Richards' base. Is that possible?'

Òf course — but I'll tell you now, it'll be all right. He couldn't get his hands on official ordnance without someone knowing If it were 'im, he'll have had another source.'

`Such as criminal, do you mean?'

Arrow shook his head. 'There's unofficial stock as well, Andy ,The Special Forces have been known to be a bit lax in reporting material recovered from Ireland, or captured in overseas operations. There are other ways of acquiring explosives too, even for ordinary servicemen, if they have the know-how. If it was Richards, he's had access to some of that, but we'll have the Devil's own job proving it.'

`Do what you can, Adam. That's all I ask.'

`Sure.'

Òkay,' said Martin. 'Now our other line of enquiry. General Yahic.'

Doherty tapped the table, and shook his head. 'Closed off. We just found out — Yahic has been dead for ten days.'

Of those around the table, only Merle Gower did not look surprised.

`What 'appened?' asked Arrow.

`His own men shot him. The guy was as mad as a hatter, and he was getting too many of them killed, so his second-in-command, a Colonel called Brisnich, gave him a round behind the ear. Since then he's been closing down Yahic's operations around the world, until this morning, when he contacted the UN and said that he and his followers would hand over their weapons at Mostar tomorrow. He even faxed a photograph of Yahic's body in confirmation. So, other than in that mugshot, the General is very definitely out of the picture.'