Undercurrent (18 page)

‘Too slow.’

‘So it was urgent that he went there.’

‘Or perhaps he didn’t want to be away for too long.’

There was that. Flying was quicker. Horton continued, ‘OK, so lie number two, he told Ivor Meadows he was researching the Navy and prostitution; Meadows thought he was really researching the strange circumstances behind Buster Crabb’s death, but I think that is just Meadow’s imagination. However, Spalding told Felspur that he was researching into the Navy’s impact on the people of Portsmouth between 1945 and 1978. And now we’ve just learnt that Spalding told Erica Leyton he was researching into relationships between crew and scientists on the HMS
Challenger
. So which is it? Or are they all lies?’

‘Perhaps he was researching all three.’ Cantelli swung into the station car park.

‘Would that be usual?’

Cantelli shrugged. ‘No idea. Maybe it was for him.’ Cantelli silenced the engine but neither he nor Horton made any attempt to alight. Cantelli said, ‘Perhaps Spalding had identified the location of a shipwreck and had to keep others away from discovering that was what he was really working on. He needed Redsall’s advice because he was an expert.’

Horton considered this. It sounded possible. ‘I guess it would be quite a coup for a naval historian and a marine archaeologist if they’d discovered something that has eluded everyone else.’

‘They might have been working on the project for years. They might even have been working together at the same university in the past; we haven’t checked their backgrounds to see if they’ve been previously linked.’

‘And Spalding told those lies to throw everyone off the scent.’ Horton warmed to the theory. ‘He lied to Meadows because he was a nosy bugger, Felspur because he didn’t want him to know the real reason he wanted access to the research material he requested. But why lie to Erica Leyton about the
Challenger
?’

‘Because he fancied her.’

‘But you said you thought she led
him
on.’

‘Maybe she did and he fell for it. They just used the
Challenger
project idea as an excuse to keep seeing each other.’

But Horton had another idea. ‘Or because whatever Spalding had discovered was linked to HMS
Challenger.
And who would be desperate enough for that information to kill, Barney?’

‘Are you two going to sit in there all day?’ Bliss’s voice rang out making them both start. Horton had been so engrossed with their theorizing that he hadn’t seen or heard her approach. She must have been watching them from her office window and had come charging down here as soon as they’d pulled in.

Horton opened the car door and made to speak but Bliss got there first.

‘Detective Superintendent Uckfield has the results of the toxicology tests on Douglas Spalding and the autopsy report on Daniel Redsall. The major incident suite. Now. Both of you,’ she commanded before turning and marching off.

‘Better do as the boss says,’ Horton remarked, watching her push open the rear door and brush a startled young uniformed constable out of her path. As they followed in her wake Horton considered what he was about to hear. Something he sincerely hoped that would step up both investigations.

‘S
palding wasn’t drugged,’ Uckfield announced peremptorily and somewhat triumphantly, as soon as they entered the major incident suite.

Horton stifled his disappointment while his mind did a quick mental cartwheel. That didn’t mean Spalding hadn’t been killed. He could still have been pushed into that dock. But not because of the threat of sexual harassment charges. If Uckfield knew about that it would only convince him that Spalding
had
killed himself. Best not to mention it, his glance said to Cantelli, who understood perfectly.

‘And the autopsy results on Redsall?’

Dennings answered, ‘No signs of foul play and no alcohol in his system. Dr Clayton can find no evidence of heart disease or any other obvious cause of death. He died of sudden-death syndrome.’

‘That’s Dr Clayton’s view, is it?’ Horton asked, thinking it was too pat.

‘That’s what I’ve just said,’ Dennings reiterated as though speaking to a simple child.

Horton eyed him with contempt. Stiffly he said, ‘But we haven’t got the results of the toxicology tests yet. So how can Dr Clayton establish that’s how Redsall died? He could have been drugged and stumbled onto Ashton’s yacht.’

‘What is it with you?’ Uckfield roared. ‘Why can’t you accept that one man committed suicide and the other one died of natural causes?’

‘Because it’s too damn neat,’ Horton retorted, drawing a glare of disapproval from Bliss. Well sod that. He was certain he hadn’t got it wrong. There had to be more to both men’s deaths. ‘And there are too many unanswered questions. For a start, why did Redsall come to Portsmouth?’

Dennings answered. ‘To visit old friends.’

‘Who?’ Horton rounded on him. ‘Have we found and spoken to them? No. He didn’t even visit his aunt.’

‘Maybe he didn’t like her,’ Bliss piped up, eyeing Horton beadily as though to say
you’re out of order here and shut up
. Not on your life, thought Horton.

‘Where did he go before ending up dead on Ashton’s yacht?’ Horton pressed. ‘What did he do all day? Why was he at Douglas Spalding’s lecture, and before you give some glib answer,’ he said, holding up his hand as Uckfield opened his mouth to speak, Horton added, ‘Walters has found evidence that Douglas Spalding travelled to Northern Ireland on the fourth of July. He’s still checking exactly where he went after landing at Belfast, and who he was seeing, but I believe he was visiting Daniel Redsall in Coleraine.’

‘No law against that,’ quipped Uckfield.

‘But it’s a possible connection between the two dead men, which we
have
to explore,’ insisted Horton, exasperated by Uckfield’s blunt and blind refusal even to consider that the two deaths could be murder. Horton didn’t expect Dennings to query his master’s voice, or reason it out for himself because he was too thick, but why didn’t Bliss see it? Why wasn’t she questioning it? Too busy trying to suck up to the Super, Horton thought sourly, in order to secure a place on the Major Crime Team. Why was Uckfield being so obstructive?

‘Possible’s not enough,’ Uckfield hissed, glaring at Horton.

‘Then why don’t we find
enough
,’ retorted Horton, earning another black look from Bliss for daring to answer back and question a senior officer’s reasoning.

‘Because there is nothing to investigate,’ bellowed Uckfield. Turning to Bliss he said sharply, ‘Everything will go before the Coroner and I expect your officers’ reports by first thing tomorrow morning.’ He stormed into his office, slamming the door behind him. Dennings threw Horton a conceited smile before heading for his office. Bliss turned to Horton with a face like thunder. ‘I do not expect such appalling behaviour from a senior officer. Make your reports and do them now. No more excuses, Inspector.’ She marched out.

Horton let out a breath and tried to release his tension. He glanced at Trueman who raised his heavy dark eyebrows before answering the phone that was ringing. Turning to Cantelli, Horton said, ‘Beatrice Redsall is due formally to identify her nephew’s body in half an hour. Meet her at the mortuary, Barney, and see what you can get out of her. She says she doesn’t know Spalding and that she hasn’t seen her nephew for years but she could be lying. Also see if she recognizes Erica Leyton’s name and ask her if any of her ancestors were on board HMS
Challenger
. I’m going to ask Uckfield why he’s skimping over this investigation.’

Horton knocked perfunctorily and entered without being invited. He closed the door firmly behind him.

‘The briefing is over, Inspector,’ Uckfield snarled, looking up, but Horton could see the strain etched on his rugged face and the tension in his jaw. His suspicions were confirmed; someone had brought a lot of pressure to bear on Uckfield. Why? There was only one possible answer: to hush up both deaths, and that could only mean one thing. Somehow and somewhere along the line Redsall and Spalding were involved in something potentially big, which had nothing to do with sexual harassment, research into prostitution in Portsmouth, HMS
Challenger
or any other aspects of the Royal Naval history. No, he’d been wrong and he knew it. It was written all over Uckfield’s face and the case reeked of it. Why hadn’t he seen it before? This had the stink of National Intelligence about it and the Northern Ireland connection between the two men flashed through Horton’s mind. Could this possibly be connected with terrorism? He mustn’t jump to conclusions. But why the hell not? There was no law against it, so he jumped. OK, so the general belief was that the threat of terrorism from Northern Ireland’s Republican terrorist groups had ceased with the creation of a new power-sharing agreement between the Nationalist and Unionist political parties but it hadn’t. Some of the Republican terrorist groups rejected the political process and there had been cases on both sides of the Irish border recently of individuals being charged and convicted of offences relating to international terrorism. Horton recalled the emails he’d received telling him and his officers to be on the alert. He had no idea of Spalding’s or Redsall’s political or religious leanings. Perhaps he should find out, only he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to.

Eyeing Uckfield steadily, Horton said, ‘Since when have you done what you’re told, Steve?’

Uckfield’s eyes narrowed. ‘Since I became a detective superintendent and since I decided I’d like to become a detective chief superintendent and an assistant chief constable. And if you want to remain a detective inspector then you’d better do as
you’re
told. Now I’ve got work to do and so have you, so bloody well get on with it.’

Horton could see there was no point arguing. Uckfield had been warned off. He was, as he’d admitted, ambitious. And he had a trail of love affairs behind him, so the threat of exposing one to his wife and the new chief constable would be enough to ruin his marriage and career. Something Uckfield would be at great pains to avoid. It wouldn’t cost much to make him tow the line. And Bliss? Did she know what was going on? Maybe. According to Horton’s contact at Bramshill she was heading for dizzy heights. A big fat carrot of promotion would be enough to make her swear rubber was steel. It stank and he hated it. He was certain that Dennings wasn’t in on it. Too thick. But whatever was going on Trueman was attuned to it. The sergeant missed nothing.

Horton threw him a glance. ‘Funny how anger makes me hungry,’ he said on his way out. It was only as he stepped into the canteen that he realized he was. It seemed a lifetime ago that he’d eaten. He bought a coffee, packet of ham salad sandwiches and a banana and took them to a table where he could see the door. Four minutes later Trueman entered, bought a drink and sat down opposite him.

‘Dean summoned the Super to his office half an hour before the briefing,’ Trueman said, stirring his tea. ‘He came back with a face like a cat’s arse, told me to collate everything I had on both deaths and pass it over to him and to get on with my other work.’

‘So who’s leant on the ACC?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine, Andy. Special Branch, MI5, MI6, National Intelligence, Interpol, Europol, take your pick.’

Horton swallowed his coffee. The mention of Europol made him think of Agent Eames and her timely arrival on the same pontoon where Redsall’s body had been found. Could she be involved? He’d put it down to coincidence. OK, so as a copper he rarely trusted coincidences but they happened. And in this instance? Now he wasn’t so sure. He told Trueman his thoughts about a terrorist connection with Northern Ireland.

‘Sounds possible,’ Trueman ventured.

‘Why not tell us though and then take us off the case?’

‘Too risky.’

‘Why?’

‘Because the more people who know about it the more chance it has of going tits up if they’re doing a whitewash job. They wouldn’t want the truth to come out.’

‘You mean someone ballsed up on the job?’

‘Could have done.’

‘Spalding?’

Trueman took a piece of paper from his trouser pocket. ‘I did some digging.’

Horton smiled. He had guessed as much.

Trueman read, ‘Spalding joined the Navy in 1989, attended the Royal Engineering College and got a BA Hons degree in Maritime Defence Technology just before the college closed and the Royal Navy’s engineering officer training was transferred to the University of Southampton and the Navy’s specialist establishments in Portsmouth. He left the Navy in 2000 and attended Kings College London where he gained an MA in War Studies. After which he worked for the Ministry of Defence for three years.’

‘Doing what?’

‘The files I’ve accessed just say “consultant”.’

Horton was beginning to see what Trueman meant. ‘And that covers a multitude of sins.’ Horton felt a shiver run up his spine.

Trueman continued. ‘He returned to Kings College London in 2004 as a senior lecturer in the Department of War Studies, lecturing in early modern naval warfare, the social shaping of military technology, history of military strategy and strategic dimension of terrorism.’

Horton didn’t like the sound of this. He could see that Trueman had already joined up the dots. There was the possibility that Spalding could have been working for the government. If so that meant Redsall could have been working for the other side, whoever they were, and it could be the IRA.

Trueman continued. ‘Spalding was then awarded a three-year research fellowship with the Maritime Historical Studies Centre at the University of Hull for research into the Navy and its impact on Great Britain before he joined Portsmouth University as visiting lecturer last April.’

‘Have you found any indication that Spalding and Redsall knew one another?’

‘No. But I haven’t had time to look.’

Horton sat back and considered what Trueman had said. If Spalding had been working for the government that could explain why Uckfield had been told to tread softly with the investigation into his death. Did that mean Redsall had been sent over to kill Spalding? Why?