Carl was amazed that there had not been more casualties. The injuries to those who had collided into the bridge and the vehicles in front were superficial, more than could be said for the damage to the vehicles. He clipped on his ID badge and dressed in disposable blue overalls. The team set to work sifting for clues. David King's body would have to wait.
***
The news conference was packed as expected. The Commissioner, flanked by Commanders from the relevant Special Operations' groups, presented a very flattering assessment of the state of affairs which offered little in the way of new information. She spoke of the complexities and the difficulties faced but weighed heavily on the success, particularly the continued co-operation of the various teams.
"With this teamwork and the vital leads that we are now investigating, we hope to see a swift end to this campaign of terror. I should hope that we are all, ladies and gentlemen, nothing if not vigilant."
There was also a great deal of support for the media’s co-operation in keeping the situation away from the public; the Commissioner hoped that they would continue with that support. However, there was a clear statement that should make headlines the next day and hopefully contrast the news of the latest bombing. Many questions were hurled, some disrespectfully, at Sheila Dewar, but she was more than a match for them and the meeting ended on a positive note. The camera stopped filming as the group left and reporters, cameramen and technicians huddled in small groups discussing the situation.
***
The investigations were going on at a pace. All information was channelled through ACPO, and a number of leads thrown up from CRIS, the computer system, were showing promise. It had been decided to look closely at all the Gulf veterans who had received help for ailments, believed to be caused by their war service. The missing MOD Gulf War medical records were swiftly located from the 'Lost' file; the Government had maintained its magician's tricks and these files would form the foundation of the investigations. The HOLMES computer did the rest as it cross referenced the areas where the phone calls had been made and the area of the bombings with veterans' addresses in order to narrow the field. Those that were then thrown up by the computer could be watched carefully and their past investigated in greater detail.
The computer identified fourteen hundred names, all Gulf Veterans, all at one time had been treated for symptoms linked with their time in the Gulf. Of these, one hundred and twenty-five had shown some strong political bias which might have generated enough resentment to blackmail the Government. One hundred and seventeen had connections with computing and might have access to computers as well as the means to travel about the country; nine displayed mental instability, frequently visiting psychiatric clinics for both domestic and street violence. Six of these nine had clean police records before their time in the Gulf; clearly their mental state had been affected by their experiences, but did they have the ability to design bombs? Sadly, there were twelve recorded as suicides. The significance of these could not be ruled out as family resentment might be strong and revenge sought.
Small teams of liaison officers from MI5 were to be allocated as watchers to forces around the areas where the suspects were living and the individuals would be put under close surveillance until their innocence was proved without doubt. It might be demanding on manpower but it generated results. Other clues found would also narrow the field down considerably; the Wigan clue brought a number of names into a group, Roy's name was in one of these; he fitted a number of strands of the pattern and he would be allocated a watch team if preliminary checks proved positive.
Two officers from CID were allocated to make preliminary investigations into Roy's past. Once the pieces of the jigsaw fell into place, it would not be long before he would be watched with a greater degree of vigilance.
They spread the information recently retrieved from the central computer in front of them and started to understand a little of their subject. It was becoming clearer that here was a man, injured in the course of his duty by friendly fire, giving reason enough to make the strongest man angry. Returning home, he had suffered from a number of the Gulf War Syndrome symptoms. However, he was not connected with any of the Gulf Veteran Societies.
His army record was exemplary, rising through the ranks, always keen and well disciplined; a good leader of men. It was reported that he was also a loner, tended to keep himself to himself when off duty, he had a liking for aesthetics rather than the wild times. He was never reported throughout his career and was deeply saddened to leave the forces after the war.
"Sounds like a pretty good egg to me. What does he do now?" mumbled Gary Barlow, the elder of the two officers.
"He's working for an office supply firm in Bradford, travels a good deal selling everything an office needs, drives a grey Subaru, registered to the company and lives in West Street with a Joan Johnson, a teacher. She teaches ..."
"Bloody hell, Lee, hold on. Strange car for a rep. Must be into rallying. I always fancied one of those … blue one with gold wheels. Go like shit off a shovel." He looked up at Lee who was staring at him with an expression that was a mix of boredom and surprise.
"You never cease to amaze me, my friend. We're supposed to be clue hunting, not dreaming about some fucking car. Can we get on?"
"Interestingly too he lost both parents early on in life, motor accident, on a motorway. No other close relatives from what it says here. He also travels to Cyprus quite a bit, probably as he was posted there for a couple of years; may have friends there."
Both men failed to take into consideration that Cyprus was split and it was to the northern part of Cyprus, the side occupied by the Turks that Roy had travelled; if they had, and had brought a greater degree of lateral thinking to the equation, they might have saved time and lives and they had precious little of either to spare.
Looking at paper and old photographic records did not really give them any feeling for the man and they both thought that a journey to Bradford and the buildings mentioned might give them a closer understanding of their quarry. A bobby's nose could usually tell a good 'n from a bad 'n.
The day was fine and the unmarked light blue Ford Sierra pulled into the traffic. The age of the car and its general appearance helped it blend into some of the more salubrious parts of their catchment area. In fact, there was nothing that said 'Police' about the car. Each officer carried a radio and one a mobile telephone.
Chapter Eighteen
The morning seemed to drag. Roy had read the paper by 10.30 and worn the print from the corners of the personal column. He would be going home the next day and with luck he would soon be flying out to Cyprus. He would then stay there for as long as it took to get sorted, Joan could follow during her half-term break. He listened to the hospital radio collecting the odd news item but he longed for the television news at lunchtime. The main ECG and monitors had now been switched off and he could move freely about the ward. He did not feel like talking and most of the other patients were quite poorly. The hospital brought back myriad memories, some good, some bad, but they were predominantly clouded by the image of his mother, small and fragile in the large hospital bed.
"Coffee, Roy?" chirped a pretty nurse from down the ward. "Cheer up, you'll be out tonight if all's well. Is that silence a yes or a no?"
"Sorry, yes, yes I’d love one."
He took his coffee through to the day room and sat with his feet up on one of the coffee tables. One other patient was in watching the television. From the volume of the programme it was clear that hearts were not the only organ in need of help. He picked up an out of date magazine and started reading.
The television programme ended and the elderly, deaf gentleman moved out mumbling to himself. Roy took the opportunity to turn down the sound, he also flicked channels; a habit that aggravated Joan. There was nothing of any interest so he turned the sound fully down keeping an eye out for any news that might come on.
The nurse who had made his coffee pushed her head around the do
or, "You've two visitors Roy, they’re by your bed. I didn't know you were friends with Dr O'Brien."
Roy jumped up and walked at a brisk pace to the door. The nurse watched the invalid, and tutted.
"Death's door yesterday, fit as a fiddle today and they call the Health Service!" the nurse was grinning. "You need to remember you are not one hundred per cent yet, slow down. They'll not go without seeing you."
Roy actually blushed and apologised before slowing his pace. He could see that his two visitors were Drew and Bill. They both stood as they saw him strolling down the ward, his Health Service dressing gown wrapped tightly round his figure. He held out his hand in greeting.
"Welcome, it's lovely to see healthy faces," he beamed, genuinely pleased to see them both.
"What the bloody hell have you been doing? I buy you a company car so you don't have to walk and get buses and here you are trying to kill yourself by running at ridiculous times of the day," jested Drew. "You look better than I thought you would, my friend."
"I'm actually feeling well, just bored out of my box. Luckily I'm home tonight."
"You'd be more bored on the road. There's been another bomb and it's caused chaos again. One of the lads spent four hours sitting in a queue."
It was Roy's facial expression, the immediate interest and the slight smile that alerted Bill; it was a strange response to such a serious problem, as if he were feeding off Drew's every word. He filed his thoughts away for future consideration. It was strange too that Roy neither asked the place nor the time of the bomb, it was as if he already knew all the details.
"You may be interested Roy that there's been a breakthrough in the Gulf Syndrome problem. Apparently they've started to realise what you’d said to me, that the spraying of Organophosphates (OP's) was carried out without real safety arrangements and they’re linking some symptoms with those faced by some of the four thousand sick servicemen and women. The Defence Select Committee's report of August '95 suggested that the Government was not addressing the problems, that they were not working closely with the Americans in their research. The survey to compare samples of people who were in the Gulf and those who have never been near has never got off the ground."
"It's always the same, it's a bloody big cover-up. Something's wrong and they'll not admit to anything."
"They've said again that they're going to look at the one hundred and eight different symptoms diagnosed by Gulf Vets and then do some contrasting study. They say the MOD is committing itself to finding the answer to the problem." Bill's voice faded as if even he felt that whatever was done was not enough, and for many would come too late. "At least they say they're doing something."
"They want to start by compensating the families of those who have died so far, then we might believe there's a commitment. It's all well and good playing with figures and moving missing medical reports around but that's not going to solve the problems of the servicemen who are suffering, and it ain't helping me." Roy's voice had grown and seemed to echo through the ward.
The Sister moved towards them. "Mr Hanna, you really should be taking things more easily. Could I please ask you to keep your voice down, there are very sick people here." She gave Bill a hard stare.
That really calmed things down. They chatted quietly for another fifteen minutes and prepared to leave. Roy had set the agenda for a holiday of indefinite length and Drew agreed without batting an eyelid.
Roy walked with them to the door and into the corridor.
"God! Nearly forgot to give you this." Drew delved into his inside pocket and took out an envelope. "Emma says she's missing you and to get back to work quickly." Drew then winked at Bill and ridiculously Roy felt himself redden.
He quickly thanked them for coming and went back into the day room. He was determined to watch the television news. He opened the envelope and there was a card. The cover was of Fountains Abbey and the note read:
This view always cheers me up, hope it does the same for you. Get well soon. Love, Emma.
He simply shook his head and turned on the television.
***
West Street was not how they had imagined, it was not at its best, but you could not judge a book by its cover. The grey Subaru was parked outside the house.
"Hope he's got a good alarm on that thing."
"Doesn't look very special to me," muttered Lee.
"Wolf in sheep's clothing, mate. Top speeds about 140 with a 0 to 60 somewhere in the region of 6.5 seconds."
"Thank you, Murray Walker. Can we get on? Do you think he's at home?"
Gary opened the door and trotted across the street. He took a long sideways glance at the car before moving to the door. He turned to look at Lee who had removed a camera with telephoto lens from the rear seat. He knocked loudly and waited. There was no response. He knocked again. Moving back towards the parked car he noticed the lace curtains of the house opposite move so he made straight for the door and knocked there. An elderly Asian gentleman came to the door. A strong smell of spiced cooking escaped, filling Gary's nostrils. He instinctively stood back a bit where the air was fresher, suddenly feeling hungry.
"You looking for Mr Hanna?"
"Who? No, just knocked on the first door I came to. Could you direct me to Undercliffe Road, please?"
"Certainly, certainly." The old man moved down the two steps to the pavement and pointed to the end of the street. The smell seemed to surround him totally. “You turn right, yes right and then follow road to traffic lights. Go straight, straight and Undercliffe Road you will be on I'm sure."
Gary thanked the old man and started walking to the end of the street before turning as instructed. The old man shuffled back inside, closing the door and trapping with him his aroma. Lee started the car and followed, collecting Gary who was now a few hundred yards up the road.
"Didn't want the old guy saying Hanna had had a visitor."
Lee just nodded and sniffed loudly. "Very funny."
They moved off using the A to Z and stopped outside D.M. Business Machines. The building was quite large with an attractive facade and warehousing to the rear. Two cars were parked in front and a large box van belonging to the firm was to the side. Gary wrote down all the numbers and radioed them for checking, maybe they had been seen near the explosions. It was a long shot but certainly worth trying.
***
Joan had left for the hospital minutes before the blue Sierra turned onto West Street. Across the back seat she had Roy's clothes. Finding a parking space at the hospital was always difficult, particularly as she wanted to be as close to the door as possible for Roy.
The ward was quite busy and Roy was eagerly awaiting her arrival. He walked up the ward to greet her. His kiss said everything to her. He took his clothes and drew the curtains around his bed. It felt good to be on his way home. Joan had slipped off to speak with the nurse, she wanted to be sure that Roy only did what was best for him. She came away with a list of Do's and one Don't. She knew he was going to be hell to live with under this regime.
Roy thanked everyone and they left hand in hand.
"Missed you." He leaned across and kissed her cheek.
"Roy," called the nurse, "you've forgotten your card."
She walked up and handed Emma's card to him. He had hoped to leave it in the bedside cabinet.
The cold air of the car park was in direct contrast to the warmth of the ward and he shivered, even though it was mid- afternoon. Once in the car he felt more relaxed and whistled to himself.
"Let's get you home and into bed," said Joan firmly.
"This trip's getting better by the minute and that sounds to me just the tonic I need." His cheeky grin said it all. "Love to see you in a nurse's outfit."
"Pervert!"
The car turned into West Street and parked. Neither noticed the two men in the blue Sierra, nor did they see the camera. Joan walked with Roy to the door and opened it before returning to lock the car. She glanced down the road to where the Sierra was parked but th
ought nothing of it, after all, why should she?
Joan's registration number was recorded and processed as had been all the others that were connected in any way to Roy. The Sierra was started and they returned to the office, dropping the roll of film off in the lab on their way. There had been no positive identification on any of the car number plates although there had been a report of a sighting of a grey car near a hotel days before one of the bombings, but as it was going dark the observer could only give a brief description; at least it was something to go on. They would contact him and show him a photograph of the Subaru, it might just jog his memory.
Chapter Nineteen
The next twenty-four hours were the worst he had suffered; he was totally mothered and smothered by Joan. She protected him from all that life could throw at him. His paper was brought to him in the morning and she generally fussed like a mother hen. He was completely hemmed in. When she went out shopping he took the opportunity to telephone the agent who usually handled his flight arrangements for Cyprus and booked to fly the following Monday. He gave his credit card number and the booking was made; his ticket would arrive the next day. He had deliberately left his return flight open as he might never be coming back.
Joan was shocked when he told her over the meal that he had booked his flight and the rest of the meal was eaten in silence; that was the calm before the storm. Roy moved the dinner things into the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher.
"And what will happen if you become ill again, am I supposed to come hot-foot to collect you? You really can be the most selfish person I know. Why don't you give yourself a little time, we'll both go out in October when I'm on half-term. The doctor did say you should take things easy for a while."
"That's exactly what I intend to do. Sitting on the beach at Beddis or Salamis in the warmth would do me more good than sitting round here, besides if I'm here I'll just be itching to get into work. Over there I can do nothing but relax. You'll be out before too long and I'll feel much better."
Bridging the Gulf (Aka Engulfed) Page 12
