Sean closed his eyes and mimicked their journey in his mind. He figured they would have had to retrace their route back to the body deposition site after they had killed him, both by car and on foot. And he based his assumptions on two men. Possibly a third to carry the body more easily. He worked on the basis they couldn’t carry a body too far from the vehicle drop-off point. This gave him some parameters for the extent of search and would allow Billy Phish to cover shorter distances with Mike sniffing for the dead body. He began to feel thrilled at starting the search the very next morning – beginning with Billy Phish’s highly accurate vapour-trail dogs.
Sean had a hunch he needed to find the body and that it would hold the clues he was looking for.
Chapter 21
Côte Vermeille, 18 April 2016
Sean and Billy Phish arrived at the cottage at 5.30am with the air-scenting dogs in the back of the van. It was a cold morning with glistening dew on the grass and a morning moon in the sky taking pride of place beyond the bay. Sean watched Billy Phish drawing on the road map at the table in the garden having made his important first brew of the day. He lit his pipe and then drank tea from the world’s largest Thermos mug.
Billy Phish started marking up each road junction for their next search. Using the dogs, they would try to find where the body had been moved to. Jack’s GCHQ team had been working flat out for the last twenty-four hours searching the CCTV footage of Collioure and had confirmed early that morning that Alfie had been seen in the town. He had been into the town on three consecutive days around the time his disappearance had become known to Jack. It was time to see what had happened to him next.
Sean watched Billy Phish take Alfie’s old T-shirt out of the forensics bag and hold it to the noses of the two English Coonhounds. The vapour-trailing dogs now had the scent article to begin trailing where Alfie had been moved to from the cottage. Sean knew these kinds of dogs were rare and he was mightily glad to have them kick off the search. Very few had been trained to this level of track and trace in vapour-wake hunting.
It was a cold morning with fog over the village, and the smell of recent rain hung in the air.
The first dog, Winston, was released by Billy Phish to trail the lingering air at mid-height rather than having his nose on the ground, where the scent didn’t really remain. Sean watched Winston strain for a waft of Alfie’s scent as he meandered along the road, nose high in the air, with Billy Phish following a few metres behind. Sean followed in the pickup truck a good thirty metres behind both of them and watched Winston cover the sixty-metre stretch to the first T-junction with some ease and little delay. Winston then stood still at the T-junction. Sean watched him sniff around in circles for a while, and then he headed left.
He had the scent of Alfie. Alfie had travelled in this direction for sure. The dogs were trailing the body scent directly from the cottage gate.
Sean drove back to the gate to start the process again with the second dog. He watched Chester do exactly the same at the T-junction – just slightly slower than Winston to gain the scent. Billy Phish always used a second dog to verify the actions of the first and they used this routine throughout the morning.
It was now a two-kilometre drive to the next junction that Sean had circled on the map. He had discounted the other roads off this quiet road because they led nowhere except to private, stand-alone cottages. He was proved right as he watched Winston continue straight past them.
Sean opened the tailgate to let Billy Phish put both dogs quickly in the back of the pickup – they drove swiftly to the next junction to see in which direction the vapour trail would lead them. When they arrived at the next junction they repeated the process, again letting the dogs find the scent. The scent of Alfie would remain in the air for weeks and would escape from any vehicle he was transported in. This next location was a crossroads and Sean hazarded a guess that it would be straight on. Winston proved him right as he picked up the scent after about twenty seconds of sniffing around the junction. Sean was delighted. He had a trail, but for how long?
They continued for another two junctions, all the time heading inland towards the hills. At the next major junction Winston came unstuck. Billy Phish gave him a smell of the other clothes this time. But still nothing. The dog wandered around the junction slowly while Sean slowed traffic down, but it was no good. The trail had gone. Chester fared no better. Sean watched from the pickup window as Billy Phish sullenly approached. ‘Sorry mate, it’s gone dead. I think we’re now in an area where the scent isn’t trapping and holding – probably due to winds on high ground.’
‘Yeah, real blow after such a great start.’
‘Let’s go further down the road to check the next junctions out – just in case the scent comes back.’
‘I want to have a look at the map and see what’s what first,’ Sean said, feeling gutted. He needed more of a clue here. And the dogs, although the best-trained in the world, didn’t quite get him the result he needed.
Sean jumped out of the wagon, pulled on a black gilet and placed the large map on the bonnet of the vehicle. He pointed out another seven possible junctions with his pen.
‘We need to check the lot,’ Sean said.
‘That’s a lot of ruddy scent trailing,’ Billy Phish said reticently. ‘Time’s getting on now and the roads are in full flow, mate.’
‘Well, no pain no gain,’ Sean said, slapping him on the back. ‘Let’s get it done, my friend. We’ll check every damn permutation.’
They checked each and every one of the junctions that could have been taken by the killers – just to see if the canines picked up the scent again. They didn’t.
Sean was gutted. He was dejected that they hadn’t really made it fully into the Pyrenean hills. His instinct told him the killers would have used the high secluded peat hills to bury Alfie. But he needed a closer launch pad than had been given to him so far in order to narrow the search down. He felt sure the body held a clue.
Then, on the very last junction, it happened. Chester, not Winston, picked up the scent, which Winston had missed only minutes earlier. They had found the trail again.
‘Fucking amazing,’ Billy Phish said to Sean as he smoked a cigarette leaning on the car window. ‘I feel a bloody good day coming on,’ he said in his gritty voice. He threw his cigarette on the ground and walked over to pat the dog on the head. Sean was elated. And he threw a reward to Chester. His favourite type of lamb bone.
Chapter 22
Côte Vermeille, 18 April 2016
Sean threw his clothes on the marbled floor, slid the shower door open and stepped into the steaming shower he had been running for five minutes. He felt the windburn on his face ease as he lathered himself with the moisturising hotel soap, washing vigorously to bring his tired body back to life.
He thought through what he had uncovered. So far, he knew Alfie was dead and his body had been moved towards the Pyrenean hills – he also knew Alfie had been got at before Jack could lift him to safety. Who, he wondered, had got to him first? And had they got any information from Alfie about where he had concealed the files? Had he been interrogated or tortured? Why had the search of the cottage not revealed any clues as to where he had hidden the files? No clues, no computers, not a jot. He was intrigued by the fact that Alfie had needed a fallback plan to expose the files and wondered who would have initiated that plan if he had been killed. His own inquiries had given him no tangible leads other than Melissa and, hopefully, the location of Alfie’s body. He had no choice but to pursue both leads, knowing full well no one else would have either of them.
He stepped out of the shower into the small bathroom, which had now been converted into a steaming sauna, and felt rejuvenated from his ten-minute soaking. The day’s work had been hugely productive. He was relieved that Winston and Chester had given him a great head start. It wasn’t faultless though. The trail had gone cold at a key junction high in the hills, despite both dogs trying to chase the scent down again at further road junc
tions. What was clear though was that Alfie had been moved in a car in a specific direction that led only to the Pyrenees. The next stages needed to take them further into the target zone. But for now, at 7pm, it was a good day’s work.
Sean felt vindicated by his judgement that the body had been deposited on the moors but annoyed he had no real clues to get to the files. What would he have done in Alfie’s shoes, he thought? He decided it was time to probe Melissa further for any gaps that had not yet surfaced in her story.
*
Sean arranged to meet Melissa in her room at 7.30pm and took the short walk down the corridor before knocking on her door. Melissa took a while to answer, checking the spyhole before opening the door.
‘Come on in. It’s been a long boring day for me here you know. I need more action.’
Sean smiled, ignored the glint in her eye and walked into the room, taking a seat on the bed. Melissa followed him in and stood, arms crossed, by the TV opposite him.
‘I’m sure you do. But for me it’s been a good day and we can now ramp up the tempo a bit. I’ve got a few people flying in to help me on the case, so it will get pretty busy from this point. How do you feel?’
‘Still annoyed that you won’t let me help and use some of my contacts, if you really want to know,’ she said sarcastically. ‘You do know I’m getting fed up that you’re not letting me get involved, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do,’ Sean replied, as he stood up to face Melissa. ‘You’re as eager and as capable as I am but, if you don’t mind, we need to take everything a step at a time right now.’
‘And what’s the next step then?’
‘Interrogation, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh really? Sounds like a bit of fun. I might be up for that!’ she said, chuckling at the notion.
‘You’ve suddenly changed your tune.’
‘As is my prerogative – as well you know,’ Melissa said with a beaming smile.
Sean sensed the push and pull of their engagements. He had never imagined it would be this way. Like an elastic band, the pulling was now changing to her side, but he had a job to do. ‘Listen, I know it seems somewhat amusing, but at this moment in time my leads on this case are limited to you, a few pictures in a cloud account which I’ve studied time and time again and Alfie. I need to find the next lead, otherwise the trail goes cold and we’re all in a whole heap of problems then.’
‘I was just teasing you. Lighten up a bit, for goodness sake.’ Melissa walked towards the balcony window before turning. ‘I know full well this is serious – how does all this work?’
Sean softened his tone. ‘It’s a chance to talk – just us.’
‘Well, if you really need to know, I actually enjoy talking with you. So, this might be quite nice for us.’
‘Absolutely – good teamwork and me getting to know you better,’ Sean said calmly.
‘I see. An opportunity to see what’s hidden in my mind and behind my mask then eh? Very sly,’ Melissa said, grinning, and looking Sean in the eye as she stood with her hands on her hips.
Sean smiled back, trying not to laugh. He could see Melissa warming a little bit. She seemed more relaxed and open now. He asked Melissa to take a seat and placed a notepad on the small round table.
‘You know what, Sean, I like how you’re going about solving this puzzle. And don’t think for one moment I haven’t been scared about all this. I bloody well am. Petrified at times. But my way is to just get on with it – you can see that, right?’
‘Yes, I do. You’re a tough cookie on the outside but a little softer inside I think – and that’s absolutely fine.’
‘That’s exactly what my father always says. You’re so much like him you know.’
Sean sat down in the other seat and inclined his seat to face Melissa at an angle. Not too close to Melissa, and with enough space to provide a level of comfort and trust for the question-and-answer session.
‘Not sure I can say much to that. But let me tell you that what we’re involved with right now can be quite overwhelming, I know that. But don’t worry, you’ll be fine. You’re with some very good people here you know.’
‘Thanks, I can see that now and I’m sorry I’ve been such a pain, but I do feel more settled now. So, what about your puzzle we need to solve?’
‘Well, the aim is for me to use some techniques that were designed for debrief processes on people who have been in traumatic incidents, such as being taken hostage or witnessing horrific events. The idea is that, together, we can uncover memory that has been lost or is deeply hidden. A bit like small bytes of memory in a computer that have been erased – but with skill they can be recovered.’ Sean felt he had developed a trust and rapport now – enough to be able to probe further into her mind about recent and past events and to explain the techniques they would jointly use.
‘Wow. This sounds fascinating but, like I told you, my memory is fantastic. Isn’t this all a bit silly though?’
‘Well, we’ll see. I have no choice, so just relax and work with me on this please.’
The techniques he had been trained in were high-grade and efficient – he had previously used these skills to interrogate captured terrorists to gather snippets of intelligence that could lead to the solving of an intelligence puzzle.
Neurolinguistic programming required Sean to increase his rapport with Melissa and to use these techniques to improve the recall of Melissa’s memory. Sean remembered Zara, who had instructed him in these techniques. She was a British intelligence officer who had studied psychological debriefing methodology all her life. He remembered Zara’s famous line: To put it bluntly, some people just don’t know what they actually do know.
Melissa sat forward and poured some water. ‘OK, I’m happy to give this a go, on one condition though. That you start to involve me more in this case and let me get my hands dirty.’
‘That’s a deal. The beginning of becoming a close team, I think we can say.’
‘Absolutely,’ Melissa replied, sitting back in the high-backed chair. ‘Now let’s get on with it and see what we can find out.’
Sean knew a major experience for Melissa would have had a specific set of meta-programmes attached to it for processing that would be very different from the ones that Melissa might normally prefer to use. This was how a hostage or witness separated out events into space in time which seemed to have happened somewhere else or to someone else or become distorted in time. He had learnt conversational technique and natural psychological phenomena in order to assist memory recall.
‘Nothing to worry about,’ Sean explained. ‘It will take a few hours and we’ll go right back to the very first point in time when you met up again with Alfie.’
‘Great, this is quite exciting actually. Who knows what I know, eh?’
‘OK, I suppose we can begin then. Now, I want you to take me, step by step, through the journey you took the last time you met Alfie,’ Sean said. ‘We’ll stop at each stage – you’ll look around you – and you’ll try and recall the faces that you passed and looked at on that day. Then I’ll get you to look at small insignificant items – items left on tables, what Alfie had with him, what he wore, what words he used to describe things. Treat it as a journey in your dreams…’
Melissa began to relax, closed her eyes and started taking a commentated journey in her subconscious mind and memory.
‘Tell me what Alfie was wearing the last time you met. What was he carrying? What did he always carry with him? What did he fiddle with?’
‘The last time we met was at Tate Modern and I think he wore jeans, a white shirt and a blue cardigan. He always wore a ring on his right finger and I know he had a recently done tattoo on his forearm, which I saw when he rolled his sleeves up. He seemed quite calm, but oddly he crossed his arms an awful lot…’
‘Tell me about the ring and the tattoo? Did he fiddle with anything at all?’
*
Sean spent just over three hours interrogating Melissa that even
ing, carefully noting her every response and mental carriage, adjusting questions to send her memory back in time to recall pictures and scenes of events.
Chapter 23
Whitehall, London, 19 April 2016
Jack arranged to meet Dominic Atwood at the RAC Club in Pall Mall and spent an hour refreshing himself in the Turkish baths before walking upstairs for lunch. He had an air of confidence as he waited for Dominic in the ornate central court, which had a 1966 Austin-Healey 3000 as its centrepiece.
The magnificent surroundings provided synergy with Jack’s persona of precision and immaculate design in all he did. He felt content with the progress so far and had prepared well for his meeting with Dominic, feeling very much at ease in the salubrious but egalitarian surroundings of the club.
Dominic arrived, and they were ushered to a discreet table in the main dining hall fully adorned with the accoutrements of a formal dinner setting.
‘I have a meeting this afternoon with the Home Secretary, Jack, and I’d very much like to provide some assurances for her,’ Dominic began.
‘I’m very happy to give you a full briefing, sir, and I think we’ve made some good progress so far,’ Jack said. ‘Though it will take some time to solve it, I’m afraid.’
The waiters left them alone in the corner for their early lunch and Dominic nodded with approval at Jack’s remark before continuing. ‘What about the police investigation? Do we have that tied up?’
‘Well, I would say we do.’
‘Good. Let me know the details as I’d like to make sure no one begins trawling for suspicious motives.’
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