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

by Michael Leese

  “I do. No question.” he said, placing both hands back on the table and looking at all three of them. “I had been speculating there must be a link. It always seemed unlikely that you would end up investigating murders at firms with military connections at the same time we were at GCHQ.

  “As you just heard, I’ve already told Brian that I believe I was targeted from the moment I arrived at Cheltenham. It is my strong opinion that someone wants to prove they are better than me and that person is also responsible for the murders you are investigating.

  “It feels like a cleverly constructed trap to keep us all busy. But I think the overall intention has always been to make it look like I had no idea what was going on. Which they very nearly succeeded in doing. Although I think there is more I haven’t worked out yet.

  “But going back to your question, the clincher for me was when you revealed secret AI technology had been stolen.”

  For just a moment Julie Mayweather broke the habit of a lifetime and gave herself a silent pat on the back. She had started out unsure if her theory was right, but convinced it had to be explored, and then listened to the discussions in the growing certainty she was correct.

  But there was something special about hearing it from Roper. It might not immediately get them to the answers but at least she was moving in the right direction.

  She could still vividly recall the conversation she’d had had with the head of MI5. Jennifer Cameron had listened patiently, giving none of her feelings away, while the police woman argued that the barriers between them needed to be pulled down. She had agreed, but with a clear warning that she had better not be wrong.

  “Your reputation precedes you Julie, and I say that as a very positive thing. Anyone else and I might be tempted to dismiss this as a conspiracy theory, but you’re not like that.” Mayweather had gone to thank her, but Cameron had held her hand up. “If you are wrong, so be it. You’re tough enough to survive, probably, but if you are right,” she paused. “Don’t lose sight that there are those who will never forgive you for pointing out that we have a traitor in our midst. Not everyone appreciates it when the sunshine gets in.

  “At the same time, there will be plenty of people who would see it as a career opportunity, the chance to remove a few senior people; maybe even step up to our jobs. So, my advice; if you do find something smelly, don’t let your guard down for a moment.”

  She came back to the moment and became aware that the three men were waiting for her to react first.

  “Right,” she said, standing up and brushing down her blouse with a graceful sweeping motion of her hand. “I’m going to leave you three to work out who is behind all this. I need to go and play office politics.”

  She would have preferred to stay but took comfort from knowing the trio were as good as she could hope for and didn’t need her help. She also knew that Roper would never have said there was a link unless he was totally confident. That was good enough for her; now they could work on the answers.

  She had to deal with the big beasts further up the food chain, that way her team would be free to get on with detective work. She went over to her desk and picked up the phone, tapping in the direct number for the MI5 chief. The woman had already proved she was a friend by agreeing to back Mayweather’s hunch. She would be pleased and alarmed, in equal measure, to hear that Roper agreed.

  45

  “Why don’t you start with your take on why everything here is linked?” said Hooley. He thought he probably knew the answers but wanted to listen to the answers.

  Roper was good to go. “I agree with Julie Mayweather. The use of classified surveillance technology is too much of a coincidence. Another element stands out to me. This is starting to feel like peeling an onion. Each layer is linked to the next but that connection is hidden until the top layer is pulled back.

  “You see, first, there was the material at GCHQ which I got very excited about, but which turned out to be a way of manipulating my thinking. Now I know I was wrong in my first assessment. So why was that?

  “I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it. I am sure it was designed to do two things. As I told Brian, the person responsible wants to prove they can beat me, and they would have done without Brian’s help. I had completely lost my way.

  “I was assuming the second motive was to keep my attention away from something but I couldn’t think what that might be. After hearing the briefing today, I am wondering if the secret surveillance equipment was what was being hidden.

  “But going back to the onion layers. What if that is another bluff? If we start to think it is all about top secret equipment then are we missing a third point?”

  Hooley glanced over at Cleverly. The DI wore an expression he recognised. It was the first time he had heard a complicated debrief from Roper and the unique way he had of setting out problems and potential solutions.

  He smiled sympathetically. “If it’s any consolation he’s very good at answering questions. I tend to let him go through it his own way and then go back over the many bits I can’t quite follow.” The DI grinned, his relief obvious.

  Hooley turned back to Roper. “Can I ask what you think the third point might be?”

  Roper shook his head and shrugged. “Not exactly. But I am starting to think that one of the ideas is to kill you Brian.”

  Hooley blinked back his shock. “You’ve already talked about this person wanting to hurt you, but murder me? What makes you think that? And why have you only just mentioned it?”

  Roper ineffectually tugged at his hair. Hooley knew that little quirk; it was about to get complicated. He hoped it wasn’t going to be like the time he had tried to explain quantum computing.

  As if he had read his mind Roper said. “It does get a bit involved but let me finish and it should make sense. Once I knew the Rainbow Spectrum was compromised, I have been trying to focus on what is really happening.

  “The clue was right there in front of me all the time, I just didn’t see it. I was far too busy thinking about everything else. Which is exactly what this person wants to happen? They want us looking everywhere but the right place.

  “Last night I saw I had made another mistake. All along the person behind this has had a very detailed knowledge of me and what I’m like. Good enough to totally throw me off the scent and use my own creation against me.

  “The clue is what happened next. I went to David Cotter and he suggested that I needed your help to find my way back. Until I had to work on my own I hadn’t really understood how much I have come to rely on you.”

  Hooley was caught between anxiety at being identified as a murder candidate and being moved at the trust Roper placed in him. “I knew we worked together well but I’m honoured to hear you say that I really help you.”

  “You do, but that is what placed you in danger. A perfect way of hurting me would be to kill you. I would lose your support and feel guilty for not spotting the biggest clue of all. At some point, I was going to ask for your help, which would have been anticipated.

  “Like I said at the start, I did think last night that your death might be a possibility, but I wasn’t sure and didn’t want to set off in another wrong direction. It was seeing that video which convinced me that I was probably right. It was the mutilation of the body. This person sends out strong messages designed to shock and cause distress.”

  Hooley’s thoughts finally stopped racing round his head. “Are you thinking that the strange attacks on where we live were all part of a bigger plan? That this person wanted one of us, in this case Julie herself, to make a connection between the killings and what was happening at GCHQ?”

  “I do. But if you remember I said that there was more to the plan than just killing you and hurting me. I’m still trying to work out what that might be. But I will.”

  Hooley was keen to bring the discussion round to practical concerns. “We need to start coming up with some ideas of who is behind this. I know they’ve started their own investigation at G
CHQ but I think we need a separate police operation.”

  Cleverly chipped in. “Listening to you two I think we need to establish a list of people who could have had access to the material you were looking at, and I’d like to know how they could have manipulated the flow of intelligence material; I thought that was impossible?”

  “Not impossible,” said Roper. “But very difficult. You’d need to be a genius really, if you were going to cover your tracks successfully. Even then the chances are that you will get caught eventually. Someone might manage to disguise what they are doing in the short run, but eventually anomalies are going to stand out. So that means someone is thinking quite short term.”

  He went quite still. Cleverly went to speak but Hooley put his finger to his lips to stop him speaking. Roper came out of his reverie.

  “There’s another clue I’m missing - this is coming to a head. That’s why this was always a short-term plan. Whatever the final goal is, it is very close, or may even be happening now.”

  Hooley said. “When you say short term, what do you mean?”

  “I’m thinking that whoever this is, will be off, the moment you have been eliminated.”

  That made Hooley sit back while Cleverly jumped up. “I don’t think either of you can expect to say goodbye to your police guards any time soon. In fact, I expect they will be doubled and given guns.”

  46

  The meeting broke up shortly before 6pm. Most of the time had been spent liaising with the security team at GCHQ to set up interviews that needed to be done as soon as possible. Cleverly decided to send a team of detectives to be based in Cheltenham to speed things up.

  Roper announced he had changed his mind about staying with Hooley, arguing he needed to see his flat near Tower Bridge. He hadn’t visited the top-floor, three-bedroomed apartment since heading to Cheltenham and was determined to spend a night there.

  The DCI realised Roper needed some time alone. He said. “I don’t mind you going back to your place, but while I know you have identified me as a Prime Target, DI Cleverly needs to make sure your security is stepped up as well. It won’t take long.”

  Roper was adamant that he wasn’t waiting. Once the idea of returning to a favourite routine had entered his brain, it wasn’t going away. “I’ll even take a route I have never used before, that way no one could possibly anticipate where to mount an ambush. You can get someone to make sure it’s all clear outside the building here, and I can be on my way.”

  The argument went back and forth for a short while, but Hooley was finally persuaded when the word came through that the protection team would be on site at his flat from 6.30pm, shortly before Roper would arrive on foot. Despite still feeling unsure he relented, arranging to meet back at Victoria at 6.30am. “Your turn to get the coffee and food this time,” said Hooley. “I can’t keep on subsidising your eating habits.”

  Roper set off at a brisk pace. His plan was to cross the Thames as quickly as possible and then follow the Embankment to his home. He knew he was risking getting a soaking but was happy to chance the warnings of heavy rain. He almost got away with it, reaching Blackfriars Bridge just as the heavens opened. By the time he arrived at his building he was totally sodden and looking forward to having a hot shower and getting into dry clothes.

  Card key in hand, he was just opening the door to the building entrance when he heard a voice calling his name. He looked over his shoulder and to his surprise saw David Cotter, hurrying towards him, using a newspaper as a shield against the rain. Dashing up he reached past Roper to push open the door. “Need to get out of that rain, what a nightmare.” The two men were standing in the lobby, water pooling on the floor as it dripped off them on to the marble flooring. With his inherited wealth Roper had been able to move into a prime building with fabulous views over the River Thames.

  “I’ve been waiting half an hour for you so was delighted when I saw you emerge just now. Brian Hooley told me you were heading here so I thought I might as well come and wait. Hadn’t bargained on such bad weather though.”

  Roper took in that Cotter was looking as equally bedraggled, but where Roper was in his standard black suit and black tie, the GCHQ man was wearing jeans and a casual shirt. “Why didn’t you call me? I’d have got Fred over there to let you in to the lobby of the building. At least you’d have been out of the rain. He nodded at the counter where the security guard, a whippet thin man, in his mid-twenties, wearing a dark blue uniform with a logo on the right breast, was seated behind an imposing desk. Cotter pulled a wry expression. “Trust me. I have been trying to call but I couldn’t get any signal. I know this rain is bad but I hadn’t thought it would knock out mobile signals as well.”

  “A bit of heavy rain shouldn’t cause that,” said Roper, pulling his own phone out of his pocket and looking at the screen. He grunted in surprise. “That’s odd. I’ve got no signal at all, yet normally this is one of the best areas for reception.”

  He looked over at the security guard. “What about you Fred? Have you got a signal? I’m on a different provider to you, maybe your signal is OK.”

  Fred was shaking his head even before Roper finished. “Nah, I’ve got nothing at all. I was talking to the wife about 20 minutes ago and she was just about to give me a list of stuff to pick up on the way home when she was gone.” A small smile appeared. “Divine intervention, some might say. But I haven’t been able to get through since so she’ll be doing her nut. I’m bound to get a bollocking, even though it’s not my fault.

  “The weird thing is that the landline is down as well.” He picked up a handset and waggled it in Roper’s direction. “I can’t get any ring tone on it. And I’ve had quite a few residents coming down to ask what’s going on because they can’t use their phones either. It’s not the power though, all the lights are on and the lifts are working.”

  “What about broadband service. Can you still get online?’

  “That’s gone as well. It’s the same for all the residents. People have had to actually come and talk to me because they can’t send emails or get an internet connection. Even TV is off at the moment.”

  “This is terrible. Have you managed to get hold of building services?”

  Fred rolled his eyes. “I have spoken to them. They said they knew nothing about it and have promised that they will look into it. If I was you, though, I wouldn’t be holding my breath. I got the impression that they won’t be doing anything until tomorrow.”

  He rummaged around in a drawer and pulled out a selection of business cards. He spread them out on his desk and pulled one from the middle of the pack. Looking pleased with himself he stood and offered the card to Roper.

  “This is their number, it might be worth you giving them a call as well, they might take a bit more notice of a resident. It says they operate a twenty-four-hour service, but I reckon that just means they have an answer phone that’s switched on all the time. I bet they only do stuff during the day.”

  Roper’s face was darkening. The lack of a phone connection troubled him far less than the idea the internet was beyond reach. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened to him. He had to go back to his hated school days to recall it. Feeling seriously disgruntled he marched over to the lift and hit the call button. The lift was already there and he stepped inside as the doors opened.

  He tuned to hit the button for the third floor and suddenly remembered David Cotter was with him. The psychologist was standing half-in and half-out of the lift, stopping the door closing by leaning against it with is right shoulder. It was gently battering against the human obstacle as it tried to shut.

  “Room for a little one?” he asked with a smile.

  Roper shook himself. “I’d forgotten you were there,” he said, and then stepped back to make room.

  If Cotter was put out by being overlooked he wasn’t showing it. Instead he stepped into the lift and stood in the corner, watching Roper closely as the doors gently closed.

  47

&
nbsp; Roper didn’t go in for casual clothes. At home, he slopped around in a toweling robe, or comfortable pyjamas. Otherwise, it was his suits and shirts. And none of his stuff was in Cotter’s size. But he did have a spare robe and a tumble dryer which could deal with the sodden clothing.

  He’d left Cotter to his own devices. Roper explained he had come home because it was the most comfortable place for him to access his Rainbow Spectrum. After a long-hot shower to get himself in the right frame of mind, he was going to be in his spare room, the one set-up with a comfortable chair and ‘flapping’ paper to send him into one of his light trances.

  Cotter was fine with that. He’d been running around a lot recently and welcomed the chance to put his feet up for a while and just think. He was in the living room and sitting on the black leather settee. The place was bereft of decoration. Roper had muttered something about it being a ‘minimalist’ decor; Cotter thought it looked empty.

  What it did have was a magnificent view across the river, or he would have had if it wasn’t raining so hard. To the right he should have been able to enjoy a splendid view of the buildings at Canary Wharf, lights blazing, but the gathering gloom ruled that out.

  He was staring into space when the beeping of the dryer alerted him that his clothes were dry. He realised he must have been sitting there for half-an-hour and was surprised the time had gone by without him noticing. He stood up gingerly, wincing at a sharp muscle pull in his lower back. He ignored it and went to get his clothes. By the time he had pulled them on he was feeling bright and alert and the pain was receding.

  He’d left his phone on the side in the kitchen, along with a few odds and ends from his pockets and a small black-leather bag he had been carrying. Picking up the mobile he checked that the signal was still down. The new technology that could create localised ‘black-holes’ in the digital world was quite remarkable. Then he unzipped the bag and pulled out a pouch, opening it to extract a small syringe that fitted neatly into the palm of his hand. He carefully loaded it with a clear fluid from a small bottle marked with a blue label. He didn’t bother to check for air bubbles, he wasn’t bothered about that, but he did double check that he had used the right bottle to fill the syringe.