by Angus McLean
Moore wondered if McGregor would really swallow that one. It was the modern equivalent of the oldest lie in the book. Nga caught his look.
‘She knows better than to deviate from that story,’ she said firmly. ‘She’s got too much to lose if she fucks this up.’
Moore raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting.
‘But don’t worry, you weren’t the only one,’ Nga told him, and he felt a slight kick inside. ‘Looks like she’s been a busy girl.’
He kept his mouth shut and hoped his face gave nothing away. He couldn’t say he was surprised, but it didn’t mean there wasn’t a sting in the tail.
‘And he’s bought it?’ he managed.
‘He believes it because he wants to believe it,’ Vince told him. He twisted in his seat now to look back at his friend. ‘I don’t know how it’s going to iron out, but for now things are heading in the right direction.’ He jabbed a finger at Moore, his eyes hard. ‘But don’t ever fuckin’ put me in that position again bruv, yeah?’
Moore nodded, full of embarrassment and relief. ‘Sorry mate. Both of you. Thanks for what you’ve done.’ He shrugged. ‘I screwed up big style, and I’m just lucky to have mates like you guys.’
Vince tossed his chin towards the flat. A light was on upstairs now.
‘Better go attend to your contact,’ he said.
Moore opened the door and started to get out, pausing when Nga called to him.
‘Oi,’ she said. He poked his head back into the car.
‘Go get yourself checked out,’ she told him, poker faced. ‘Before your teeny-weeny falls off.’
Fair call, Moore decided, closing the door with a wry smile.
Chapter Forty Three
The day was shaping up to be fine and clear when they arrived at New Zealand House later the next morning.
Anyone who believed England didn’t get good summers was clearly retarded, Moore decided as he led Katie in the side entrance. It felt like they had barely slept and although they had stopped for coffees on the way from the Tube, he was lacking energy.
They had been woken by a text from Jed Ingoe at 6am, telling them to be in the office by nine for a briefing. Sure enough he was waiting in the conference room when they arrived. Moore had paused just long enough to raid the stash of protein bars in his office before they made it to the briefing. Ingoe looked a million bucks in a fitted black suit with a subtle pinstripe and a discreet navy blue tie against a grey shirt.
He watched the two of them closely as they entered the conference room, standing to shake hands first with Katie as he welcomed her before gripping Moore’s hand and nearly cracking a bone. He was much smaller and several years older than Moore but there was not an ounce of fat on him and, having seen him in action, Moore knew him to be hardest man he had ever met.
They sat across the table from him and he folded his hands in front of him. There was a glass of water and an iPhone to one side with two pieces of paper and a pen in front of him. Jedi slid these across to Katie.
‘Before we go any further, these are two things I need you to read and sign. One reminds you that it is an offence to disclose the identity of any member of the New Zealand Security Intelligence Service, under the NZSIS Act 1969. That includes both myself and Rob here. The second stipulates that everything you have learned or participated in since becoming involved in the investigation to find Natalie Oldham is subject to the Official Information Act 1983. Okay?’
His expression left no room for argument. Katie signed both forms and slid them back across to him. He put them aside.
‘I’m Jed,’ he told Katie, ‘I’m a senior officer in the Service. You already know Rob.’
Katie nodded, seeming a little overawed.
‘Firstly,’ Jedi continued, ‘thank you for everything you’ve done so far. I understand you have acquitted yourself very well.’
She nodded mutely again. Moore took a sip of his cappuccino. It was nearly gone, and he wondered how long it would be before they got a refill. Ingoe wasn’t a man for resting.
He wasn’t disappointed. Without further ado Jedi directed them to debrief him on their activities in Turkey and Iraq. He listened to their accounts without speaking before recapping at the end and drilling down on points of interest.
Once they were finished he took over and brought them up to speed on developments they had been unaware of. Displaying a remarkable memory, he used no notes but simply spoke without pause.
‘Our friends at Langley have done some further work on the intel they had been working off,’ he explained, ‘and it certainly appears to have been a false trail designed to bring you into a kill zone they felt comfortable with.’
‘Who’s they?’ Katie asked. ‘Are we still talking about ISIS?’
‘We are,’ Ingoe confirmed. ‘But we are talking now about a faction of ISIS proper, maybe even a splinter group, we’re not sure yet. Whatever they are, they are operating in traditional fashion by using small cells linking to the main network, each unit operating independently of each other but under the control of the larger organisation. The classic Active Service Unit.’
‘The big question for us, I guess,’ said Moore, ‘is how the hell this actually relates to Natalie Oldham? Is she just a bog standard kidnap victim in the wrong place at the wrong time, or was she a specific target for some reason?’ He spread his hands. ‘Or is she even a kidnap victim at all?’
‘Well what else would she be?’ Katie asked bluntly. ‘Are you saying she’s a terrorist of some kind? A member of ISIS?’ She shook her head emphatically. ‘Doubt it.’
‘We have to consider all possibilities,’ Jedi said carefully. ‘I’m not saying she is at all, but we need to assess whether she may be a willing participant due to her own beliefs, or a willing participant for other reasons.’ He eyed Katie across the table. ‘Have you heard of the Stockholm Syndrome?’
She shook her head.
‘It’s basically where a hostage or kidnap victim begins to sympathise with their captor and actually sides with them. It’s reasonably common among victims, and can lead to them doing some crazy things they wouldn’t otherwise do.’
Katie was silent now. The friend part of her brain was switching off and the analytical detective was coming to the fore.
‘She is quite naïve,’ she admitted, ‘easily led. Lovely chick, but a real free spirit.’
‘That’s what her old man says too,’ Moore said, and she gave a snort of derision.
‘As if he’d know, he basically cut her loose when she was still a teenager and had bugger all to do with raising her during her formative years.’
Moore nodded quietly.
‘That guy Tristan was more of a father to her than he was. She even used to refer to her dad as Paul, that’s how much respect she had for him.’
Something twigged in Moore’s head and he looked sharply at Jedi. The older man stared back.
‘Sorry,’ Jedi said, ‘are you saying the Minister’s assistant Tristan effectively raised Natalie?’
‘Pretty much, from what I understand.’ Katie shrugged. ‘Her old man wasn’t around much, and her mum died when she was young. She always had nannies and stuff like that. I think he came on board as a tutor or something originally and just stayed. I guess he eventually took a more official type position when the dad moved up the ranks and Natalie was grown up and moved out.’
‘He barely looks much older than her,’ Moore interjected dubiously.
‘It’s amazing what plastic surgery can do these days,’ she replied, ‘if he stood too close to a heater he’d melt. I think he’s, like, close to forty or something.’
‘What kind of tutor was he?’ Jedi asked.
‘Not sure really, I don’t think she actually said.’ Katie looked from Jedi to Moore. ‘Why, you think there’s something to that?’
‘It certainly seems odd.’ Jedi made a steeple of his fingers and turned to Moore. ‘In the meantime, you’ve got the forensic results back from the IT
guy?’
Moore had had an uncomfortable interaction with Ari just before the briefing. The IT specialist had studiously avoided any mention of McGregor and Michelle, and had simply handed Moore a wad of paper with a covering report.
He tabled the documents now.
‘In summary, there was all the normal stuff on there-emailing, Viber, Facebook, online shopping etc. Of interest he found a deleted link to a chatroom, which remained in the memory of the hard drive. It only appears to have been accessed the once, and according to Natalie’s itinerary, it was the night before she flew out to Istanbul.’
Katie and Jedi were all ears now.
‘The chatroom itself is just a generic dating site, nothing of interest normally, but Ari was able to identify the login used which was…’ he checked the report, ‘White Lamb.’
‘White Lamb?’ Katie queried with a frown. ‘That’s a bit weird.’
‘You’ve never heard her refer to that before?’ Jedi asked, and she gave a shake of her head.
‘Symbolic, perhaps,’ Moore suggested. ‘She’s a white girl…a bit lost, a lost sheep?’
‘So we don’t know who she was communicating with on this site?’ Jedi said, moving on.
‘No. And if she’s gone into a private chat room there’s no way of knowing.’
This was a common tactic for terrorists and criminals, using the cover of a chat room for illegal communications, knowing they couldn’t be tracked by the authorities.
‘And the same with Viber,’ Katie said, ‘you can’t track that either, there’s no recording of the communications you have.’
That was another common method, and had been used by terrorists leading up to a several attacks. Technology was playing a huge part in the international terror game now, and it was a constant game of cat and mouse to try and catch up, let alone get a step ahead.
‘So your IT guy can’t take that any further?’ Jedi wanted to know.
‘Not without something more to work with.’ Moore checked the report. ‘That’s the only lead he’s ID’d from the hard drive. There’s a bunch of stuff there, photos, various documents-travel stuff, CV, job applications, some poetry. I’ll have a look through it and see if there’s anything of interest.’
‘I can help,’ Katie volunteered. ‘Got nothing else to do.’
Jedi considered her across the table.
‘That would be very helpful,’ he said, giving her a nod of approval.
The Ops Officer glanced to Moore.
‘One last thing,’ he said, his tone more sombre than usual. ‘That girl that Jeff was using in Ankara, Evin? We’ve ID’d her, she’s a local who he initially recruited as a source. Seems like he used her in a more official capacity, but strictly off the books-we have no record of her, so he must have covered her through his informer payments.’
‘Makes sense,’ Moore said.
‘Problem is,’ Jedi continued, ‘she’s dropped off the radar.’
‘When?’
‘Straight after he was killed.’
Moore noted the terminology-killed, not died. ’How do we know that?’
‘I had someone go to her home; packed up and gone. Hasn’t been seen since.’
Moore considered that for a minute. ‘Playing the devil’s advocate,’ he said, ‘she was his source, not an employee. It’s not like she needs to check in with the embassy. But then, the timing…why would she disappear immediately after he dies? Presumably she was aware he’d died, there must’ve been some commotion around that. And she would’ve wanted to get paid.’
‘From here in, she is a suspect in JJ’s death,’ Jedi stated. ‘If you come across her, we want her.’
‘For sure.’ Moore felt his gut squirm. It seemed like they were chasing ghosts at the moment.
Jedi checked his watch. ‘I’m flying to Crete later today,’ he said, ‘I’ll be there until Sunday-the big ceremony is Saturday. If you need me, the phone’ll be on. Although I’ll probably be talking again to the Minister’s people, so you’ll have to leave a message.’ He pushed out from the table and stood. ‘In the meantime, I’ll go see the man upstairs and you two crack on with analysing the stuff you’ve got there.’ He gave a short nod. ‘Good work, guys.’
Moore nodded and they watched him go, shutting the door behind him. He still moved like a cat despite the prosthetic leg.
Katie turned to Moore. ‘So, before we get down to work, are you going to shout a girl a coffee?’
Chapter Forty Four
The analysis of the data Ari had recovered took them through to lunchtime, at which point Moore called time out and stood up.
‘Gotta feed the machine,’ he explained.
He locked the conference room behind them and taped a handwritten sign on the door-DO NOT ENTER.
He took her to a nearby sushi joint where they managed to slip in at the end of the lunchtime rush and grab bar stools at the window. They ate and watched the constant buzz of people shifting by, each lost in their own thoughts. The food was always fresh and fast and Moore was a regular there.
As he ate he wondered what would happen once this job was over. Last night in bed, as he held Katie close, she had talked about her family and her childhood. She spoke of them fondly and it had made him wonder if Danni would speak so highly of him. He doubted it, no matter how much he wished it were true.
After all he had been through with Katie over the last few days, he felt a connection, something real and strong. It wasn’t just sex, it was something more than that. He wondered what she thought of it all-was he just a casual thing, an adventure of her youth?
He knew she had several months left on her career break from the Police, but did that mean she was going to stick around England, or even London? He didn’t know. He didn’t know, and it was twisting his gut, gnawing at him from the inside. With so many things he didn’t know, one thing was sure-he wanted to be with her.
Beside him Katie put her chopsticks down and wiped her mouth on a napkin. She turned sideways on her stool, her knee pressing against his thigh. Her eyes were as blue as a summer sky as she watched him drain his orange juice and put the bottle down. She reached over and put her hands on his.
‘Thanks,’ she said quietly.
‘It’s on the company,’ he replied with a wolfish grin, ‘thank the taxpayers.’
‘No,’ she said, ‘not for lunch. For everything else.’
Moore squeezed her slender hand, dwarfing it in his. ‘No problem,’ he said.
They were silent for a moment, holding the eye contact. It had been a long time since Moore had gazed into a girl’s eyes with such feeling.
‘You happy?’ he asked softly, and she nodded, a small smile playing at her lips.
‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘I’m happy.’
Moore nodded, conscious only of the blood slamming through his veins, flooding his body with the feel-good drugs that such moments produced, the blueness of her eyes and the unspoken messages they transmitted, the press of her body against his.
Nothing else needed to be said.
When they got back to the office McGregor met them in the hall outside the conference room. He waved a hand at the sign on the door.
‘What’s all this about?’ he demanded. ‘I need to use the room.’ He ran an eye over Katie from head to toe. ‘And who’s this? Where’s her ID?’
Katie produced her Visitor Pass from her pocket, slipping the lanyard over her head.
‘You’ll have to find another room,’ Moore told him, unlocking and opening the door. ‘We’re busy.’ He couldn’t help himself. ‘Sorry Alan, but you don’t have clearance.’
He ushered Katie in and followed her, leaving McGregor to glare impotently at the door as it closed in his face.
They had split the work up, Katie taking the photos as she was more likely to recognise people and places that may be relevant, while Moore painstakingly pored over the documents. Something was tugging at his brain, tantalisingly just out of reach, slipping in to give him a
jab every now and then but dancing away again as he tried to grab it. Something somebody had said, or he’d read? No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get a hand to it. He pushed it aside, letting it float until it was ready to come back.
Once they had each finished their part they swapped over and double checked what they had. It was early evening when they finished and Moore’s back was aching from leaning over the table for so long. Empty cups dotted the table around them, adding more water rings to the existing collection.
He collected all the paperwork into a bundle and locked it in his safe while Katie waited.
‘So this is the office of a real life spook,’ she observed wryly, looking round at the clear surfaces. ‘So much personality.’
Moore closed the safe door and checked it before straightening up again. ‘That’s how we roll; nothin’ to see here.’
Katie’s eye fell to the frame on his desk. It was a white wooden frame with love hearts and a banner across the top that read Daddy’s Little Girl. The photo showed Danni sitting beside Moore on a wharf, both of them dangling their feet over and holding fishing rods. She had her sandy hair in pigtails and wore a pink Barbie T-shirt. He was bearded and wearing a faded Ripcurl singlet. Danni was looking down at the water and Moore was watching her.
‘She was four,’ he said. ‘That’s one of my favourite photos.’
It had been a happy time with his daughter, an oasis in a storm of anger and hurt between him and her mother. His moments with Danni were diamonds in his life.
Katie put the photo back gently and they left the office, Moore carrying her bag in one hand. Ingoe had given him the message that Katie was to be held at a professional distance, and as such, had been booked into a central city hotel. Considering his current situation, Moore hadn’t argued the toss.
As they walked past the SCIF room the door opened and they almost bumped into the Masoes.
‘Oops, sorry,’ Vince said, stepping aside to let Nga out. They both nodded and smiled to Katie.
