‘The Chief won’t want to talk about the reference to him and the Scotland job, but he’ll have a go on the bits about lack of progress on the murders. What can we tell him?’
‘We can tell him that arrests are imminent, but I don’t think we want to be forced to tell Ingram that. If there is a connection between my suspects and Paul MacIver, any indication that we are about to detain suspects for the murders could make it very difficult to pursue any line of enquiry that involved conspiracy or collusion. I don’t know whether MacIver is of interest to us, sir, but all my instincts tell me to that we should act as though he is. Otherwise we risk giving him an opportunity to cover his tracks.’
Esslemont snorted. ‘The trouble with that approach is that it just underlines that no progress is being made. But we may have to put up with a bit of bad press as the other papers follow up. We’ll have to persuade the Chief to support that line. If he does, I'll phone Ingram and tell him that we are pursuing several lines of enquiry. It’s pretty weak, but since the First Minster can't report to Parliament until tomorrow afternoon, we might get away with it.’
Vanessa nodded. ‘We still need to talk to the Chief about MacIver. Let’s assume that when we arrest my suspects tomorrow we find something, anything, to link them to MacIver. In any murder case, we would follow up known associates, even if only to eliminate them. No exceptions.’
‘Yes. You’re right. We need to get the Chief on board this morning. Who knows, he may be more amenable if he’s convinced he’s out of the running for the top job.’
'Then there's the stuff about the links between the murders and the attacks at Last and Mercury? Completely the opposite of the First Minister's line to the Chief. What's that about?'
'I have no idea. After we've seen the Chief, you can spend some time applying your cui bono test and see what you can come up with. If he
raises it we can say, honestly, that we don't understand what the Banner's "sources" are on about. And if things get really heated, I'll play the "no political policing" card. He'll like that.'
Esslemont’s phone rang. It had just gone eight o’clock. He smiled wryly. ‘Here we go!’
*
Esslemont and Fiske were in the Chief 's office for about half-an-hour. For ten minutes they were the audience for the Chief Constable's rant about the irresponsibility of the Press, the attempt, as he saw it, by anonymous politicians to influence the conduct of a double murder investigation, and the cravenness of indirect personal attacks through the media. This last was the nearest he came to mentioning the reference to his own ambitions. He seemed to relax after he had vented his anger, and they turned to more immediate and more sensitive matters.
'How is the investigation going, Campbell?
Esslemont sat forward in his chair. 'A bloody sight better than the Banner would have people believe, but we can't say so today. Vanessa?'
He turned to DCI Fiske and indicated that she should take over.
'Sir, I intend to arrest two prime suspects first thing tomorrow, one for each of the murders. I believe they know each other and that they may have acted together. My difficulty is that I still have no clear idea of the motive, or motives, for the killings. I hope this will be clarified by questioning and by searching the homes and, if we can find them, the workplaces of the suspects.'
'So, we can convey that to the politicians via Ingram and get them off our back?'
'Not yet, sir. Bear with us.' Esslemont nodded to Vanessa to go on.
Vanessa described to the Chief the possible link between the prime suspects and the First Minister's closest political adviser and the possibility that there was some connection to the murders.
'Liaison on this to the First Minister is from DCC Ingram to the Justice Secretary and MacIver, so I really need your support to make my report to Ingram today very general and unspecific. I don't even want to promise him better news tomorrow. So we'll take some stick in the media for the next twenty-four hours. I don't see any alternative.'
The Chief shook his head. 'I don't like it. I don't like it at all. But we may have to swallow hard and do as you suggest. But before I sign off on it, I need to hear the possible scenarios after the suspects are in custody.'
'If we find nothing that links either suspect to MacIver, we'll issue a formal statement describing in general terms, but not naming, the men who've been detained in connection with the murders. It's not perfect, for a link might still emerge under questioning, but it's the best we'll be able to do.
'And if you do find evidence of a connection?'
Vanessa looked at Esslemont. They hadn't had time to discuss these 'scenarios' before they were called into the Chief's office. Esslemont nodded.
'Then we'll need to arrange to brief the First Minister without MacIver there. Not easy, as you know, for she seldom goes anywhere without him. I suggest we arrange it through Special Branch and the Permanent Secretary to the Scottish Government. There is no-one else who can insist on a private meeting, and no-one else who can insist that it takes place in his office rather than hers. And Special Branch can use unspecified matters of security to gain access.'
The Chief looked worried. 'And MacIver?'
'We'll detain him while the FM is with Sir James.'
*
Vanessa left Colin MacNee to agree the logistics of the arrests with Strathclyde while she drove out to the offices of Mid-Aberdeenshire Council to talk to Martin Gilbertson. She had decided to turn up unannounced. When she got to reception she was directed to a small annex to the converted private villa that served as the corporate headquarters of the council. The sign on the door said 'Press and External Relations' and beside it there was an intercom button.
'I'd like to speak to Martin Gilbertson, please.'
A woman's voice said, 'What is it regarding?'
'It's a private matter.'
There was a pause and then, 'Name, please.'
'Vanessa Fiske.'
'Representing?'
'I think he'll know the name.'
There was a click and silence. Vanessa was trying hard not to get pissed off, but, as she stood in the chill of an autumn east wind, it was a struggle.
She began to wonder why she had decided to spare Gilbertson the possible embarrassment of a visit from a senior police officer. One flash of her warrant card, or a call to the council chief executive, would have cut through all this crap and saved some time.
'Please come in.' There was a buzz and a click. Vanessa pushed opened the door and was met by a tall man in his mid-thirties. He was in shirtsleeves and he extended a hand and said, 'Ms Fiske, please come through.'
She thanked him and followed him to a small office. The partition walls were thin, and their conversation, if it was conducted in anything much louder than a whisper, would be audible in the general office, where three women and a teenage boy sat at their desks.
As she sat down, Vanessa said, quietly, 'You know that it's Detective Chief Inspector Fiske?'
Gilbertson nodded.
'This is a sensitive matter, Mr Gilbertson, and, at this stage, a confidential one, so it's important that we are not overheard.'
'There should be no problem if we don't raise our voices.' This was said in a tone that Vanessa's father would have described as "oleaginous", but she decided to take it at face value.
'I need to know the nature of your relationship with Inspector Richard Fleming.'
'Not a name I immediately recognise, Chief Inspector.'
'Yes it is.' Vanessa spoke very quietly, but with a mixture of certainty and menace. 'I do not have time, in the middle of a major murder investigation, to be pissed about, so answer the question.'
Gilbertson made a show of recall. 'Oh, Rich Fleming! It was the rank and the Sunday name that threw me. I've met him now and again in the Dunottar Castle in Stonehaven. We've been on the same quiz team a couple of times.'
'With Frank Mancuso of Last Cairngorm, I understand.'
Gilbertson looked shaken. He saw
that DCI Fiske was not simply on a fishing trip and he needed to calculate quickly how much she might know and how much he should say.
'We've had the occasional meal together and I think we went to
see the Dons at Pittodrie once.'
'I think that he's been feeding you confidential information that you've been passing to people, like Mancuso, who are prepared to pay you for it.'
Vanessa was chancing her arm, but Gilbertson's reaction to her second mention of Mancuso, told her she had hit home. She pressed on.
'We think you passed information about policing plans to Mancuso during the demonstrations against Last's development of the leisure complex and I think you've been in touch, more recently, with someone, whose name you may not know but I do, with an interest in the locations of the murders I'm investigating. So this is serious, Mr Gilbertson. You should talk to me.'
'I don't think I want to say any more before I take advice.'
'That's your right, but I should tell you that we know the source of the information that has got out. And I would advise you, very strongly, not to attempt to contact anybody' - she placed an unmistakeably meaningful emphasis on the word - 'in North East Constabulary.'
Gilbertson was no longer the confident PR man who had opened the door to Vanessa a few minutes before. 'Am I suspected of a crime?'
Vanessa could scarcely conceal her contempt. 'Of course you are. I'm just not ready to charge you yet. I'll find my own way out.'
*
When she got back to HQ, Vanessa went to see the DCS. She told him what Williamson had discovered about Fleming and Gilbertson and about her meeting at Mid-Aberdeenshire Council.
'We need to speak to Fleming again, but we need to try to establish a clear and continuing connection between him and Gilbertson. I really don't see how we can find time to do it before Wednesday. I have to get to Glasgow later today ready for the arrests tomorrow morning, then I've got to get the suspects back here. We'll interview them separately as soon as we get them here. At the same time, Hamilton and Gajani, with a little help from Strathclyde, will be searching their homes and workplaces, so we may want to talk to them again, depending what they turn up.'
'So couldn't we find an hour to speak to Fleming late tomorrow afternoon? We need to resolve this soon, or decide whether to call in the Police Complaints Commissioner.'
'Ah. Sorry, sir, I have to be somewhere else at four o'clock tomorrow. Not work related, but unavoidable.'
'Can't you postpone it?'
Vanessa took a deep breath. 'I'm pregnant, sir, and I have to go to GRH for a scan. Hardly anybody here knows, though some will have added two and two. I decided not to "go public" until we have the results of the scan.'
Esslemont looked nonplussed, unsure how to react, riffling through his memory of the personnel manual to find the appropriate response. Vanessa decided to help him.
'Neil and I are delighted about it, sir, so you're allowed to say "Congratulations"...if you want to.'
'Yes, well, congratulations, Vanessa. Hope everything is OK. No doubt you'll want to discuss...arrangements...in due course...'
'We could ask Fleming to come in on Wednesday afternoon. Three o'clock?'
'What's wrong with Wednesday morning? I really don't want this dragging on.'
'Priorities, sir. I may have to be in Edinburgh on Wednesday morning, early.'
'To pick up MacIver?'
'If we have enough to go on. By the way, sir, I've been thinking about what we told the Chief, and I think it may be simpler to arrest MacIver before he leaves home and then get Ingram to brief the First Minister. I can get uniform to pick me up at 3.30 and drive me to Edinburgh. I don't think MacIver will leave home before six.'
'Fine. I'll let the Chief know.'
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
In Wilmington, Delaware, on Monday, while Vanessa Fiske in Aberdeen was telling the DCS that she was pregnant, Cy Packard, the Chief Executive Officer of Burtonhall Inc., was sitting at the head of the board room table in his company's headquarters. On a television on the opposite wall, the Chairman, the Honorable Richard Seaton, in Washington DC, and Jack Eisner, in Tammy Wootten's office in Aberdeen, were on a split-screen video link. On Packard's left, the first two chairs were occupied by Burtonhall's general counsel, Magnus Friedkin, and Charlie Fillmore, the Chief Investment Officer, Packard's most senior adviser. Opposite them sat Caleb Adams, CEO of Hedelco, and his legal adviser, Joanna Morse, both of whom had flown down from Boston the previous evening in order to be at this eight o'clock meeting.
At each place there were two plastic folders, one clear, one green. The clear folder contained a thin portfolio of papers. The longest document was Fiona Marchmont's formal request to the Foreign and Commonwealth Office for diplomatic assistance in persuading Hedelco to release to DCI Fiske copies of the emails sent back to Hedelco by Peter Keller during his technical audit in the four days before his death at GRH. This was covered by copies of the minute from the FCO to the Legal Attaché at the British Embassy in Washington, the note from the attaché to the Department of Justice, the DoJ's request for assistance from the Massachusetts Attorney General, and the state A-G's formal request to Hedelco for the release of the emails. The green folder held copies of Keller’s emails.
‘Magnus’, Packard said, ‘What do you advise?’
Friedkin, a small man in a dark business suit with an almost invisible silver grey stripe through it, a light blue shirt, and an unremarkable dark silk, self-coloured blue tie, placed his pen on top of the unopened folders. ‘As you are all probably aware, this is not a legal issue. If the Scottish police thought that they had any chance of a quick resolution of this issue through due process, we would be preparing for our day in court.’
He allowed himself a slight smile as he used the legal cliché. ‘But we’re not, because this is essentially political. And we can use that adjective with both a lower case and an upper case p. It’s political with a capital P because it involves, internationally, two governments, and, domestically, two levels of government. It’s political with a small p, because it raises policy issues for Hedelco and, ultimately for Burtonhall.’
Richard Seaton’s disembodied voice resonated from the flat screen on the wall. ‘What policy issues, specifically?’
‘Well, Chairman, we’re here because Hedelco, following Burtonhall practice, has refused to release these emails because they are commercially sensitive and therefore privileged. I wouldn’t like to guess whether that claim would stand up in court, though I am prepared to say that if the murder had happened in Boston, and the request had come from the Boston police, I would have advised compliance on two grounds. Number one, they would probably have got an order from a judge quite quickly compelling us to release the emails. Number two, the Boston Globe and every news programme in the state would have trashed our reputation if we had resisted.’
‘So the issue is whether the policy is to be defended at all costs?’
‘I would rather say “in all cases”.’
Packard sat forward. ‘A policy is a policy. We take a strong position on confidentiality because that’s what our investors expect.’
‘What our investors expect, Cy,’ Seaton said, ‘is a good return on their money and as little publicity as possible. We’re already taking a reputational hit in the UK and I think I speak for the whole board when I say I don’t want it to get any worse. We’ve got politicians as well as the press taking a very close interest in this. I’m not convinced that refusing to release the emails is worse than handing them over.’
Caleb Adams, the Hedelco CEO, indicated that he wanted to speak. Packard nodded.
‘I’ve never believed that confidentiality should be defended in all circumstances, irrespective of the content of the document. You’ve all seen the emails. Some of what Keller was reporting might affect the financial performance of the hospital. That would certainly interest the press and, by extension, public opinion. If you think Obamacare is politically charged, tr
y messing with the British National Health Service.’
‘What are you saying, Caleb?’ This was Seaton again.
‘I’m saying that we risk a campaign against us for not revealing what’s in the emails. The fact that Keller was doing some kind of audit is already public knowledge. If the publicity continues, there's also the possibility of formal action. Politicians could order an inspection of the hospital and that could lead to enforcement action and contractual penalties.’
Joanna Morse, Hedelco’s legal adviser, spoke. ‘Aren’t we in danger of forgetting why the Scottish police want to see these emails? It’s clear from their brief to the UK government that they haven’t been able to find a motive for Keller’s murder. They also go out of their way to say that they are pursuing other lines of enquiry. As Caleb says, we’ve all read the emails. I can’t see anything in them that amounts to a motive for killing Keller.’
By All Means (Fiske and MacNee Mysteries Book 2) Page 17
