The Silent Room (18 page)

Ryan was half-hoping Snaith would say no.

‘Can you handle it?’ he asked.

‘Child’s play.’

‘Will you?’ Newman asked.

Snaith couldn’t wait to get started.

Ryan relaxed.
No wonder the spook liked him.

35

Within minutes of arriving at the house, Newman’s new best friend was dressed in full forensic suit, including mask and gloves, ready to resurrect what Grace was calling the silent room’ from under the floorboards, protective equipment his safeguard against shedding DNA. He wanted to help but had no wish to implicate himself should the police discover their treachery further down the line.

Ryan shuddered at the thought.

According to Snaith, technology had moved on at a rate of knots since the original hardware had been installed. He was kneeling on the floor assessing the equipment required to run a major incident from the comfort of the dining table in Grace’s living room. The woman herself was uncharacteristically quiet, standing by, watching events unfold. Although severely shaken by Jack’s death and incapable of hiding her sorrow, her tough persona hadn’t deserted her entirely. Determined to find his killer – unruffled by the engagement of a third party – at Snaith’s behest she was noting down a list of paraphernalia required to finish the job. Following an inspection of what lay beneath the floorboards, he took the list from her and left the house.

Snaith was back within the hour carrying a large cardboard box full of electrical equipment. Grace couldn’t wait to get started. Like a nurse in an operating theatre, she laid the items out on the floor while the surgeon gowned up to make the patient well. The manual labour was a cinch, a question of using the right gear to splice old wires to their more up-to-date counterparts. Working with lightning speed and forensic attention to detail, it took him less than three hours to get the electrics sorted. He then turned his attention to the more difficult task of bringing the incident room to life: setting up a proxy and routing traffic through it, the idea being that it would mask Graces IP address, hiding the trail of Internet activity so any searches undertaken didn’t lead the authorities to her – and ultimately to Newman.

Ryan had the distinct impression that
he
was way down the list of people to protect. Even so, he couldn’t fail to be impressed. On the face of it, Snaith was nothing more than a glorified electrician. However, it soon became apparent that he was a computer mastermind with the knowledge to hack his way into the most secure systems at will. Ryan’s warrant card would give them access to police systems, but he was in no doubt that Newman’s man could infiltrate HOLMES without it.

Snaith picked up his tools. ‘Any final questions before I leave?’

‘I have one,’ Ryan said. ‘How will we know if we’re being monitored?’

‘If it all goes blank, you’ve been rumbled. I’ve set up a series of safeguards. If anyone tries to find you, the system will crash and you need to get rid of the evidence. Loosen up, man. That won’t happen.’ Snaith held out his hand. ‘Nice meeting you, Ryan. You too, Grace.’ He gave them each a firm handshake, high-fived Newman and let himself out.

36

Ryan nipped home, took a quick shower and packed a bag of clean clothes. He put his computer in the back of the car so he could link it up to Grace’s, arriving back at her place after dark. She’d worked wonders while he was out.

The silent room was almost ready.

At the forefront of HOLMES 2 when it was first introduced, Grace knew how the system worked and how to get the best from it. Hell, she’d helped design some of its key features back in the day. As qualified as anyone who currently worked on Northumbria’s Murder Investigation Team, the strategy was that she would monitor the computers and feed any progress to the other two. From now on, they were off the grid.

Newman had been busy too. Producing from his pockets three clean smartphones programmed with each other’s numbers, he handed them out.

Ryan took one and turned to Grace. ‘O’Neil told me that Jack’s death will be a linked incident with the abduction. Will all the information we’re likely to need be there?’

Grace was nodding. ‘Be warned, though: your warrant card doesn’t yet have MIR security clearance. I’ll have to update your authorization. So don’t go putting it in there until I’m done or we’ll be sunk before we start.’

Ryan understood. He’d never had Major Incident Room status. The system was password-protected, an authorized warrant card the only way in. In the future he expected it to be fingerprint recognition, but the force was way behind the private sector with a specification well below that required of the average iPhone. Once his approval was activated, his administrator status would give them full access. Bearing in mind the fact that he’d never had a HOLMES course, that was pretty impressive.
They were ready to rock ’n roll.

Grace put Ryan in one of three guest bedrooms, the room next to hers at the front of the house. Newman took one at the rear. Ryan figured she couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping in the same house as her former lover with just a few inches of plasterboard separating them. While the two men unpacked, she went downstairs to test the computer.

A few minutes later, Ryan followed her down, a lingering doubt in his mind that they could pull off her daring plan without getting caught red-handed and slung in jail. ‘Tell me the system is working perfectly,’ he said as he walked up behind her.

‘Seems to be.’ Grace didn’t look up from her monitor. ‘Everything appears to be responding exactly as it should. No glitches I can identify.’

‘Outstanding!’ Newman had arrived by their side. He glanced at Ryan. ‘Told you Garry knew his stuff. What’s up? Still not convinced?’

‘I’m on board, aren’t I?’

‘So why the face?’

‘I was thinking about the last-minute change of judge at Jack’s bail hearing. You think it was a deliberate ploy to keep him in custody?’

Newman shrugged. ‘It would be difficult to prove.’

‘And could equally have been just one of those things,’ Ryan said. ‘Grace? Any thoughts?’

‘For what it’s worth, I reckon it was the latter. To believe anything else is taking a conspiracy theory too far.’

On that worrying note, they broke off for a drink and something to eat.

When Ryan returned to the living room, Grace was already hard at work on the computer, engrossed in the system, scrolling through recorded actions for the night of Jack’s arrest. He lingered a moment, peering over her shoulder at the monitor. Under the heading ‘Scene Searches’ he noted that only one date and time was registered.

A knot began to form in his stomach.

Something was wrong.

‘Hang on!’ he said. ‘What about the second search?’

‘Second search?’ Taking her fingers from the keyboard, Grace looked up, waiting for an explanation. On his instruction, she hit the keys again, accessing a different screen, one that would show which police officers attended Jack’s home on the day he was arrested, a category specific within the system. ‘There’s no mention of it here. All I have is a firearms team and a dog handler. No second search.’

‘That’s inaccurate,’ Ryan insisted.

Alerted by the sharp tone of his voice, Newman wandered across the room to join them. Sure enough, there were only seven names listed: six firearms officers – one inspector, one sergeant, four PCs – and a K9 officer.

The absence of a second search on a system designed to eliminate error worried Ryan. ‘Hilary definitely said that two detectives arrived shortly after Jack’s arrest and carried out a thorough search. So why isn’t it there?’

Grace shrugged. ‘According to this, there was no CID search.’

‘Maybe she’s mistaken,’ Newman suggested. ‘Let’s face it, the woman’s in hell right now.’

‘She is,’ Grace said. ‘But she’s not stupid.’

‘No, she’s not,’ Ryan agreed. ‘And she doesn’t make things up. The second search involved two detectives, both male.’ He looked at Grace. ‘What’s the delay in an MIR? Is it possible that the information is with O’Neil’s team awaiting input?’

‘No, this isn’t a rape case, an abduction, or a murder with thousands of messages and statements queuing up awaiting a response. Although it’s high-priority, with renewed impetus now Jack is dead, it was a low-key job then. Indexers would be bang up to date. All the information must be there. This was weeks ago, remember. You need to talk to Hilary.’

Ryan sat down in Hilary’s kitchen. He’d called ahead to tell her he was on his way, explaining why he wanted to see her. He hated intruding on her grief so early after Jack’s death, but the missing details needed investigating and he couldn’t afford to hang around ’til morning. Unable to tell her how he’d come by the discrepancy – grateful that she’d been a coppers wife for long enough not to ask – he repeated his question: ‘Who exactly came to see you?’

Her face was blank. ‘They were detectives, Ryan. That’s all I know. I was in no mood for social graces. I was still trying to calm the kids.’

Ryan had been trying to work out what was wrong since he’d arrived in the house. Mention of the kids gave him the answer. If music wasn’t playing, then the television was usually on, the youngest two kids fighting or giggling like a couple of lunatics at some secret they were keeping from their parents, the thunder of feet running up and down stairs. Hilary was always on the go too, forever laughing, cooking something or other. But today the house was deathly quiet, no sounds, smells or warmth. It was cold and uninviting – unheard of in the Fenwick household.

He tried again. ‘Do you remember what department they were from?’

‘You want the truth?’ She glared at him. ‘I haven’t got a clue. They had warrant cards, that’s all I know. I let them in . . . Jack had been arrested. What else was I supposed to do? What does it matter now, anyhow?’

‘I’m not criticizing you—’

‘Aren’t you?’

‘No.’ Ryan changed direction, coming at the problem from a different angle. In order to jog her memory, he began walking her through the exact sequence of events during and after Jack’s arrest. ‘I need you to go back to the very beginning. How many officers were in the firearms team?’ he asked.

‘Five, six—’

‘And a dog man, yes?’

‘Yes.’ She scratched the side of her face, frustrated by his questions. She wanted to be left alone. ‘Why are you asking me if you know already?’

‘And the detectives came later?’

‘Yes—’

‘How many?’

‘Only two . . . why?’

‘Did they have a warrant?’

‘They didn’t need one. Ryan, I saw the guns with my own eyes.’ Her expression shifted from frustration to fear as she put the pieces together. ‘Oh my God! Are you saying what I think you’re saying? You’re not seriously suggesting they
weren’t
police?’

‘I don’t know who they were.’ It was a truthful answer. Ryan didn’t. But he wouldn’t rest until he found out. The possibilities were endless. They could’ve been Professional Standards. But, if he was reading her right, he didn’t think O’Neil would be that devious. Newman’s suggestion that they might be part of the Security Service made no sense to him.

‘Ryan?’ Hilary was way ahead of him.

‘They could’ve been police.’

‘Or the men who took Jack?’

‘That too.’

‘They wouldn’t dare, would they? No . . .’ She was shaking her head and sobbing at the same time. ‘That’s not possible. They were the real deal. They had ID. I saw it with my own eyes. I’ll tell you this much: if their warrant cards weren’t genuine, they were very good forgeries.’

Ryan felt like a total shit doing this to her before Jack was even in the ground. She was inconsolable, unable to bear the thought that the men who’d killed him might have walked around her house within a few feet of her children. He felt much the same, but tried not to let it show. Putting a hand on her arm, he let her bawl. When she was calm, he decided to level with her.

‘You cannot share what I’m about to tell you, OK?’ He took in her nod. ‘The facts and what is officially recorded don’t match. I can’t go into detail. You’ll have to take my word for it. I need you to concentrate, Hil. Forget about the team who arrested Jack. I’m interested only in the two that came after. Can you do that for me?’

Her nod was almost indiscernible.

‘Can you remember when it was? What time, I mean?’

‘No. It wasn’t long after they took Jack away. Ten minutes, fifteen maybe, no more than that. I was still clearing up after the firearms team.’

‘And you didn’t recognize them?’

‘No, but I would if I saw them again. Their faces are etched in here.’ She tapped the side of her head.

‘What did they look like?’

‘Smart suits. Mid thirties, early forties, both dark – hair I mean, not skin. The one who spoke to me had brown eyes. He was in need of a shave. Looked like a bit of a spiv. The other one never approached me so I didn’t get such a close look at him. I did notice he had a pronounced dimple in his chin, bit like Aaron Eckhart.’

‘That’s good to know. Did they give names?’

‘No, and I didn’t ask.’

‘Did they say what they were looking for?’

"That much was obvious.’ Hilary’s eyes found the floor. There were tears in her eyes when she lifted her head. ‘I was trying to calm the kids down, Ryan. Lucy was in hysterics. You know how sensitive she is, how much she idolizes . . . idolized her dad. She screamed and screamed when they took him away. she’d gone into shock. I had to call the doctor out. He arrived shortly after the two men left.’

‘How is she?’ When she didn’t answer, Ryan didn’t push it. He knew perfectly well how Lucy would be. Unable to bear the image of her tear-stained face when she was told her daddy wasn’t coming home, he quickly changed the subject. ‘Did these men offer any information as to why they were here?’

Hilary shook her head.

‘They must’ve said something.’ Ryan hung fire, giving her time to reflect, hoping she’d remember something of significance, however small; difficult for anyone at the best of times. More so, given the level of stress she was under.