I Can See You: Autistic British Detective: Jonathan Roper Investigates Book 2

by Michael Leese

  If he had been hoping that Roper would be impressed by this, he was disappointed. The younger man could be remarkably disinterested in events that had no bearing on him, or where he could see no value in finding out about them.

  The DCI decided to fill him in on the fact that someone had entered his flat, despite the CCTV showing nothing, and that his personal items had been moved to different positions.

  He added. “It’s a funny thing, but over the years I must have heard dozens of burglary victims talk about feeling violated by someone being in their home. This is the first time that I have totally understood what they meant.”

  To his surprise Roper cut him off with a curt “I will call you back in five minutes,” then broke the connection. Hooley stared at the phone before putting it down. He couldn’t help thinking Roper might have been a little more sympathetic.

  Roper was back on the phone. “My Rainbow Spectrum says there is a clear link between what happened to you and what has been done to me. It is the same mind that has found ways to disrupt both of us.”

  Hooley's patience ran out. It had been a long drive. “I’m not sure you need a revolutionary way of thinking to work that one out. It’s bloody obvious someone is trying to cause us problems. If you’d stayed on the phone a moment longer I would have told you that.”

  If Roper was troubled by the outburst, he didn’t react. Instead, he carried on as if the DCI had said nothing. “For someone to go so far shows that there is something they are trying to hide. We just need to work out what it is.”

  Roper was fascinated by Hooley’s account of someone going through his flat and moving things around. He wondered if it had been done in a random way or there was some sort of pattern to it? He was also excited at the thought of working alongside Julie Mayweather again.

  When Hooley rang off Roper decided to call it a day. He had been intending to have a toast feast tonight but the thought of curry intruded. He placed a take-way order, aiming to pick it up on his walk home. Half-an-hour later he was stepping through his own front door, a delicious smelling bag of food in his hand, when he froze. Someone had been into his flat. The door opened into the large living room and he could already see that the furniture had been moved.

  It had all been pushed back against the walls and the leather chair from the third bedroom had been placed in the centre of the room: alongside it were two piles of paper. Whoever had done this knew quite a bit about him.

  He was so absorbed in the scene that he didn’t realise someone was there until he was shoved from behind. He shot forward, tripped, and sprawled over the floor, landing on top of the food containers. They burst open against his stomach, burning him painfully.

  He struggled to his feet, spinning round to see who had attacked him, but there was no one in sight. He heard a fire door being pulled open and the sound of footsteps on the concrete staircase as the assailant vanished.

  Becoming more aware of the burn from the take-away, he tore off his clothes. His stomach was red from the heat and he headed straight for a cold shower. He wanted to cool it down and get rid of the smell as quickly as possible. After five minutes, he turned the shower off.

  The cold water had done the job and taken the edge off the damage caused by the hot food. Luckily, it was a short walk from the restaurant so the hot food had cooled a little. He doubted he would need to go to hospital.

  He looked at the mess spread across the floor and was glad it was wooden. It would have been disastrous if all that curry had gone into carpet. He got some kitchen paper and was carefully mopping up when his phone rang again. It was Hooley.

  The DCI was stunned as Roper outlined what had happened. He said. “Just make sure you lock yourself in. After what happened to me the boss said she wanted us given protection and she wasn’t in the mood to argue about it. Fortunately, that means uniformed police are on their way to you anyway.

  “I need to stay here this evening. In the meantime, I think you might want to let David Cotter know what’s been happening. Tell him local police will be looking after you but he may want to involve the MoD police at GCHQ.”

  *

  He was mopping up the last of the curry sauce when he heard someone running up the corridor. He’d left the front door open to help get rid of the smell of the food and now he realised he might have left himself vulnerable if his attacker had decided to come back.

  Not being the most coordinated person, he slipped while trying to get back on his feet and then turned to grab at the door which he slammed shut just as the runner reached the door. He caught a glimpse of a man, probably wearing a suit, before the door slammed shut. Whoever was outside started shouting but the sound was muffled by the thickness of the door. Roper leaned against the wall, his fear was making it hard to breathe and he was panting heavily.

  A short period of silence outside was followed by shouting. At one point the door shook as something hit it. Then more silence. Roper was terrified. He was trying to think of something to do when his mobile went off. He looked at the screen nervously; to his relief it was Hooley.

  He started babbling. “Someone’s trying to get in. I don’t know what to do.”

  Hooley tried to inject calmness into his voice. “It’s OK Jonathan. The local police are right outside your door now. They found someone outside so they didn’t wait to ask questions, they just grabbed him. It sounds like they may have David Cotter there, but you need to open the door and check.”

  Roper sagged against the wall as the words sank in. He was safe. He pushed himself up to his feet and made his way unsteadily to the door. He paused to tell Hooley what he was doing, and then opened it to look out.

  Standing there were two police officers, one looked very young, even to Roper, and the other was about Brian Hooley’s age. It was a warm evening and they were dressed in standard issue white shirts. It was clear from their large shoulders that both men were more than capable of looking after themselves. They were either side of an embarrassed looking David Cotter, holding his arms in a grip which meant he would be going nowhere.

  Despite the age gap it was the younger officer who took the lead. “Can you confirm who you are for me sir?”

  The question threw Roper. Of course, he was who he was. Why did they need him to confirm that? As he dithered over his response the man added. “Could you tell me your name and it would be helpful if you had some photo ID on you.”

  Now he was on safer ground. “My name’s Jonathan Roper, and just a tick. I will get my passport.” A few seconds later the officer was studying it, before passing it to his colleague who looked first at Roper then at the picture, before shrugging and handing the passport back.

  Returning it the younger officer said. “My colleague and I are part of the Special Support Team with Gloucestershire Police. We were sent to your address to provide protection for you when we found this gentleman banging on your door. He claims to work with you.”

  “Oh yes, that’s David Cotter.”

  They let him go but he had to suffer a rebuke from the younger constable. “It might be a good idea to have some sort of ID on you at all times Sir. I’m surprised that a senior man at GCHQ would need reminding.”

  To Roper it looked as if the GCHQ man was visibly shrinking as he was rebuked. He managed a weak grin followed by a stuttering apology. The policemen ignored him, telling Roper they were here for the night and would be right outside.

  Cotter followed Roper into the flat. “If you fancy making a cup of tea I could do with one to steady my nerves. I made a right prat of myself just now. After you told me what happened to you I got in a panic and raced down here. When those two arrived, I was trying to get you to open the door and they grabbed me.

  “I was so surprised I would have taken a swing at them, not because I am big tough fighter, I was just frightened. Fortunately, they had a good hold of me so I couldn’t move. I’d have been done for assaulting a police officer.”

  Roper had been listening while he made the tea an
d handed the drink to Cotter, who held it in his hands, obviously drawing comfort from the heat.

  “You’ve gone quite pale, that’ll be the shock,” said Roper. “Would you like some sugar in that? It’s very helpful when you’ve had a nasty surprise.”

  Cotter shuddered at the thought. He disliked sweet tea. “No thanks.” He glanced around, as though trying to find something. “Look, I only came around to see if you were OK. You’ve got your own protection outside, so everything should be fine now.”

  He drained the last of his tea and held his hand out. “At least I’ve stopped shaking, thanks to your tea. I do have a nasty headache though. I’m not being much help; shall we get in touch tomorrow morning? I think we could all do with a nice lie down.”

  Roper was happy to see him go. He wanted nothing more than to shut the door and get the flat back to normal. He was starving so rang the restaurant to discover they could deliver in half-an-hour. Just enough time to move stuff back where it belonged.

  He had a thought and rang the restaurant back. “Tell your delivery man to make sure he has some ID on him.”

  40

  Brian Hooley couldn’t help laughing. A combination of Roper’s deadpan delivery, and the thought of the apparently unflappable psychologist antagonising a couple of burly coppers, appealed to his sense of humour.

  “Good job you were there to identify him. He’d have spent the night in the cells otherwise. He might even have been tasered. Those officers would have been briefed that there was a serious threat, so you couldn’t have blamed them if they’d acted first and asked questions afterwards.”

  Despite having a couple of conversations with Roper over the course of the evening, he couldn’t resist getting him to repeat it once more when he called early this morning. He had the phone on speaker and took a long swig of tea as he made an effort to be serious.

  “Sounds like you are coming up here,” he added, rubbing his hand through his hair. He’d had a long night getting his flat back to normal, sleeping badly and having horribly vivid dreams that someone was in the bedroom with him. With the first trace of dawn touching the sky, he got up and had a bath; the hot water soaking away his disquiet. A cup of strong instant coffee, to wash down two paracetamol tablets, and he felt close to normal.

  Whilst he wouldn’t say he was as fresh as a daisy, he was fit to face the world. Julie Mayweather, who was always awake early, had texted him at 6am with a simple update. “Looks like joint briefing on. Will need Jonathan there. Call after 9am with details.”

  It was this message that had triggered this morning’s call to Roper. Like the DCI he’d also spent the evening putting things back where they belonged. As soon as he’d been told about the message from Mayweather he had wanted to get on the next train to London, but Hooley cautioned him to slow down.

  “You’ve got a protection detail outside and nothing has changed about why they’re there. Let me make a few calls and see how we should handle this. I suspect you will end up being driven up here but people need to know where you are and what’s going on. If you race off it will start a big panic.”

  He broke the connection before Roper could say anything. He was very hungry and needed to get out for breakfast since he had nothing in the flat. He knew he had a little time before he heard anything and there was a coffee shop around the corner. An Americano with an extra shot, plus a bacon roll, would help restore him to full order. He could think about getting Roper to London after food.

  The DCI had just returned from getting his breakfast when Julie Mayweather called back. She wanted to meet in the squad office at Victoria that afternoon. He needn’t have worried about organising Roper. She’d already had him collected by car that was headed for Pimlico. She added. “I hope you don’t mind, but we probably need him to spend some time in London so I assumed he would stay with you - like before.”

  Hooley smiled. “We seem to be becoming inseparable. I’m just surprised that people haven’t started calling us the ‘Odd Couple.’ The pause went on a moment too long. “We are being called the Odd Couple, aren’t we?”

  He could almost sense Mayweather’s embarrassment. If you put her on the spot she was hopeless at telling lies. Finally, she broke the silence. “It’s all done with great affection you know. And I suppose you two are a most unlikely pairing when it comes to it.”

  Hooley shook his head. He’d been called a lot worse in the past, and that was just by his own side. “I take it you are having him dropped here and then we can make our way into Victoria for the meeting?”

  “I thought that would be best. You will have time to get settled. It’s going to be a long meeting. There’s a huge amount to get through and I am anxious to hear what both of you have to say about the case we have been working while you were at GCHQ.”

  The DCI replied. “If the little I’ve read in the news is anything to go by, I can see it taking time. I think the best thing I can do is make sure our man has a decent lunch. A hungry Roper is never a good idea at the best of times. It seems to affect his concentration really badly.”

  Just after 10am Roper turned up. He was wearing his skinny black suit and holding a couple of overnight bags. Standing on the doorstep radiating energy and purpose he seemed to drain Hooley of what little energy he had after such a terrible night’s sleep.

  He made a snap decision. “Welcome back to Pimlico. You know where your room is so please make yourself at home. I barely slept last night so I’m going for a power nap. Probably best if you stay in for a while, so help yourself to the wi-fi and settle in.”

  41

  The high-pitched alarm woke him with a start. He had gone out like a light the moment his head hit the pillow and now it was an hour later. As he came around he wondered if taking a nap would turn out to be a mistake. His head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton wool and his body felt numb, as though he hadn’t moved a muscle since lying down. Keeping his eyes closed he made himself lie still and relax. It came to something when even lying in bed made you ache all over.

  After a few minutes, he began to feel more normal so decided to risk getting up; he kicked his legs out while twisting his back to lever himself to a sitting position, finishing on the edge of the bed with his bare feet on the floor. An osteopath had urged him to try and get up more sedately to avoid putting his back under strain, but it was an ingrained habit. Without really noticing he rubbed at a point at the top of his left hip. He often felt sore there and wondered if he should get it looked at.

  He glanced at his watch and saw there were still nearly four hours to go until the meeting. He briefly thought about going back to sleep and then dismissed it. He might not feel on top form now but was sure he would notice the benefit later on. The sun was pouring in through his window, lighting up a patch of cream carpet on his side of the double bed. He’d never seen that before, he was normally up and out long before the sun could reach that angle in the sky. Feeling like he was ducking a day at work, he went off to have a shower.

  The shower acted as the hoped-for kick-start. Feeling very much better he walked out of his bedroom to find Roper sat staring intently at his lap top.

  “Found anything new?” he asked, heading for the kettle. First up he was going to have a cup of coffee.

  Roper threw his hands in the air, a sure sign that things were not going to plan. “It’s very strange not being able to access all the material we see at GCHQ, but there’s no way they are going to allow me to look at that from outside the building. While you were asleep I’ve been catching up with news about Chelsea.” He looked embarrassed at this admission that he hadn’t been hard at work.

  “You can look all you like but it won’t make them play any better,” scoffed Hooley as he reached the sink and turned on the tap to fill the kettle. “You fancy another cup?” he asked. He knew the answer. Roper rarely turned down a hot drink, or food.

  He grabbed a couple of clean mugs, placing two-heaped spoons of coffee granules, plus the same of sugar, for Roper
. It was a drink that would have had Hooley trembling with a caffeine overdose; by the younger man’s standards it was the minimum order.

  Drink in hand he eyed Roper through the steam rising out of his mug. “Two options. We get lunch here, or we have lunch out. What do you fancy?”

  “Can we look at a third option?” Hooley raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Roper carried on. “Is it going to be possible to get back into your office at Victoria? I mean the way things were arranged before I went to GCHQ?”

  “No problem at all. I kept your desk in there because it never hurts to have extra workplaces, and, from time to time, team members need a bit of peace and quiet. The main office can get a bit hectic. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn you are still logged on to the system.”

  “That’s brilliant,” said Roper, his eyes lighting up. “The point is that I will have far better access there than here. So, my third option: pick up lunch on the way in, we can go to that brilliant place nearby, then I can use the computer in your office.”

  Hooley was fine with the idea. If they were already at HQ, then there was no way they could be late, and he really wanted to know what Julie Mayweather had to tell them. He picked up various empty mugs and placed them in the dishwasher.

  “Right, let's get going.”

  *

  To Roper’s enormous surprise everyone they met said hello and asked how he was. The last time he’d been at HQ he’d been used to people largely ignoring him. Something he preferred since being the centre of attention was always stressful. Hooley explained his new-found attraction was partly because he hadn’t been around, and partly because going to GCHQ had given him a certain status.

  “You’re a sort of Spook now,” he said, then wished he hadn’t. At one point in the ensuing discussion he found himself trying to explain why someone could be seen as a Spook but not actually be a Spook. At the end of that he wasn’t entirely sure himself. “Let’s leave it that people are quite pleased to see you back and looking so well.”