It was late afternoon before Sally left her mother’s house. Woolston followed at a discreet distance. He waited until she was inside her own home before he left. He did not know why he had followed her; he certainly had no intention of contacting her that day. How many times had he followed her home in the past? He’d helped her on one or two occasions, even thrashing one man who had made her unhappy, and now she was unhappy again, and he was confusing the situation.
If those who had wronged him knew he had been in contact with Sally, his family would be used as levers, but how could he protect them? His decision to return to the real world and to deal with those who had dealt with him came with its attendant disadvantages: the risks to his family.
And Ed Barrow was carrying on with Sue Christie, and his wife did not know. Should he tell her? Should he tell her why he had returned? Would she understand? She had always been a stickler for the concepts of right and wrong. She would never understand that he had killed for a reason, although his daughter had; but then, she was more like him.
Woolston considered the way forward. If he announced what he knew to the media, they would not believe him. It may generate debate, but what use would that be? Officially the government would agree that there needed to be tighter controls on research and its misappropriation for illegal purposes, and that the government should not be involved in selling weapons to nations that had an unenviable human rights record, but those assurances had been given to him before, and then what had happened? Nothing. Just empty words flowing out into the ether.
He needed to protect his family; he needed help.
‘Detective Chief Inspector Cook, this is Malcolm Woolston.’
‘Mr Woolston, we have been looking for you,’ Isaac said. ‘How did you contact me?’
‘Please tell Bridget Halloran not to trace this call.’
‘How do you know the names of my staff?’
‘Let us not fool ourselves here. You are aware of my academic achievements.’
‘Yes, and what you have done since you’ve returned.’
‘We can talk now, or I will phone back later.’
Isaac signalled to Bridget to stop trying to access the originating location of the call. Larry came into Isaac’s office. ‘DI Hill is here as well. Is that acceptable?’
‘Yes. Please listen. Over eleven years ago, I was a research scientist at a government department in London. You’ve visited it, so I don’t need to repeat the address.’
‘That’s true.’
‘I, along with others, was working on a project to generate vast quantities of low-cost energy.’
‘This we know.’
‘What do you suspect?’
‘That there was a plan to use it for non-peaceful purposes.’
‘Who told you?’
‘Helen Toogood.’
‘Is she safe?’
‘From me she is, and there’s no way that she will be able to solve the problem. No one will harm her?’ Woolston said.
‘What about Ed Barrow?’
‘We’ll come to him in a while. There is a problem with the final solution that only I can solve. Some people will stop at nothing to force me to give them that solution.’
‘Are you sure? This is England, we have rules and regulations.’
‘Idealistic, I’ll grant you. This country is as sadistic as any other given the opportunity, and those who have died, who must die, are not worthy of compassion.’
‘George Arbuthnot?’
‘The man was there when I was tortured, even took part. I had told Ed Barrow that I would not let my work be used for violent means.’
‘And Barrow told others?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Self-preservation, financial aggrandisement, power.’
‘You’ve mentioned torture.’
‘They tortured me. Do you want me to describe what happened?’
‘The basics.’
‘Harold Hutton was there and Ed Barrow was behind the scenes. I refused to give them what they wanted. Arbuthnot and his partner beat me for almost two weeks, sleep deprivation, electric shocks, the works.’
‘Why was it so important?’
‘I knew what they wanted to do. They wanted to take what I had and weaponise it. Then they would sell it to the highest bidder.’
‘Government-sanctioned?’
‘With the military, yes.’
‘And now Ed Barrow is married to your wife. Why were you living on the street for eleven years?’
‘I could protect my wife and daughter. They’ll not hesitate to use them to get to me.’
‘Is your research still relevant.’
‘More so. The world is volatile. Rogue nations will pay plenty.’
‘And the government could be involved?’
‘Have you had any dealings with the government?’ Woolston asked. ‘What do you think?’
‘I trust in the government,’ Isaac said.
‘Clichéd response. You know them as well as I do.’
‘Are you willing to come in? It will go better at your trial.’
‘There’ll be no trial. They’ll capture me, force me to work for them, or else they’ll kill me.’
‘How can they force you?’
‘They have leverage, they would use Gwen and Sally, even my granddaughter.’
‘They could have done that before.’
‘I had died by then.’
‘But this time you’ll be alive.’
‘Exactly, and it’s possible I won’t even be in this country. I’m damned whatever I do. I’m sorry about Bob Robertson. He shouldn’t have let them know.’
‘He didn’t do it on purpose,’ Isaac said.
‘That’s as maybe. I acted irrationally, I won’t again.’
‘Are there others that need to die?’
‘Yes. Once I’ve dealt with them, then I will disappear.’
‘Where to?’
‘This time I won’t be faking my death. Whatever happens, please protect my family.’
The phone went dead.
Isaac turned to look at Larry. He shook his head in disbelief.
***
Sue Christie often walked the three miles from her office to the flat she had purchased twenty years previously. The woman was at peace with the world, the first time for several weeks, the first evening that she and Ed had made love in his office since Malcolm Woolston had returned. She smiled at the thought of it.
She knew that she was a sensitive woman and that she should have married her lover when he had asked her the first time, and then all this nonsense with his marrying Gwen would not have occurred. Although, sensitive as she was, she was also fiercely independent, and an evening at home on her own with no one to talk to, no one to argue with, no one to make love to, suited her fine. Marriage she knew, came with responsibilities, none of which she cared for.
Ed had always treated her well, kept her satisfied, and then there was another man that she knew. She belonged to a generation where the men preferred the occasional dalliance, and some women, especially her, were able to accommodate them.
It was getting late in the evening as she crossed the road near to her place when a man grabbed her. ‘Sue, we need to talk.’
Sue Christie looked up at the man holding her. A street light shone onto his face. ‘Malcolm,’ she exclaimed, fear gripping her.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll not harm you.’
Sue remembered a kind man when they had all been friends, but this was someone from the past, someone who had been dead. She was frightened. ‘Let me go. I’ve done nothing.’
‘Apart from screwing Ed behind my wife’s back.’
‘That’s only sex, nothing more, and besides, you’ve been dead for eleven years. Why are you here now?’
‘Unfinished business, you know that. We’ll talk inside your place.’
Sue fiddled in her handbag, attempting to find her phone. ‘Don’t try,’ Woolston said.
<
br /> ‘You’ve killed people.’
‘People who deserved to die. Did you know about Arbuthnot, what he did to me?’
‘Not really.’
The two walked towards the entrance to the block of flats where Sue lived. Woolston was holding the woman’s arm firmly. ‘Pretend that we’re good friends.’
‘We were once.’
‘A long time ago.’
Once inside the main entrance to the block of flats, Woolston eased his grip. Sue made an attempt to bolt for the safety of her flat. ‘I’ll not harm you. That’s my promise,’ he said.
Realising that she had no option, she acquiesced and let him into her flat. ‘Coffee?’ she said.
‘Yes, please. And don’t try to make a phone call. We need to talk first.’
Sue looked at the man, could see that he had aged, but apart from that, she had to admit that he looked fine. Even with his lack of hair and the baseball cap that he wore, she would have recognised him.
‘Why are you here?’
‘There are files in the office that I want.’
‘Why would I give them to you? And what files?’
‘They’re hidden.’
‘Where?’
‘I need your assurance that you’ll help first.’
‘Why would I help?’
‘Because you have a mother.’
Sue Christie jumped up in alarm. ‘You’re mad.’
‘Not mad, just determined. The moment I leave here, you’ll be on the phone to Ed.’
‘But my mother?’
‘Your mother is the last resort to force your assistance. You’ll be my first target.’
‘But I’ve done nothing wrong.’
‘Don’t play the little Miss Innocent with me. You knew what Ed was up to, you knew about Arbuthnot and Hutton and how they treated me. Were you in for a cut of the profits?’
‘What if I was? Life’s difficult; it’s dog eat dog out there. You and Gwen may have been idealistic, but the real world’s not like that. You must know that now.’
‘After eating out of rubbish bins, sleeping under bridges, yes, I know.’
‘But why? What was the point of it all? You could have been living a great life with Gwen and Sally. Was it all worth it?’
‘Would I act differently if I had my time over?’
‘Yes.’
‘Probably, but that’s history now. I must complete what I started out to do.’
‘And what is that?’
‘I must not allow my research to fall into the wrong hands.’
‘But they were British hands. Surely you can trust our government, our military, to do the right thing.’
‘The government that sells weapons to third world countries to use against their own people?’
‘Malcolm, it appears that all these years have not made you any smarter. Ed was right; you’re mad.’
‘I know my condition. I know what I was, what I have become. My only sanity is seeing this through.’
‘And what about Gwen and Sally? Have you considered them?’
‘They are safe as long as I have those files.’
‘I won’t help you. I have my convictions as well. I believe in what we are doing, and if your research is used for non-peaceful purposes, then so be it.’
Woolston looked around the flat. He had to admit that it still looked good, and that Sue, even though she was older, was still an attractive woman. He had fancied her back then, he still fancied her. He knew that she’d probably be available to him if he wanted her, but he did not intend to take advantage. He still harboured hope that he could reunite with Gwen, even if for only the one time. Sue, he knew, was complicit in what had happened. ‘I’m sorry, but you will help me.’
‘Would you harm my mother?’
‘I killed Liz Hardcastle. What do you think?’
‘She fell in front of a train. It was early morning; she was jostled by the crowd.’
‘I did not want to kill Liz, but she was the smartest person in the department. The only person capable of understanding the problems.’
‘Malcolm, you’re not the person that Ed and I considered as a friend.’
‘That isn’t important. I have two objectives: one, to protect my family, and, two, to indefinitely delay further research on the project.’
‘It is a government project.’
‘You know what I mean.’
Sue Christie did not say it, but, yes, he was right. She did know about his work and the fact that others, including Ed, had been behind the scenes, discussing ways to commercialise a weapon that a department in another part of London was working on. In one place, Malcolm and his team were working on low-cost energy; in another, another team were taking the results and creating a weapon that once commissioned would be able to take that energy and destroy vast tracts of land and millions of people.
‘Where is this file?’
‘Phone your mother first. Check if she spoke to a man today about painting her house.’
‘You bastard. You’d harm my mother?’
‘I will do whatever is necessary. Phone your mother now.’
Sue picked up the phone and dialled. A short conversation and she ended the call.
‘I’ve no option, have I?’
‘None at all. I apologise, but from now on, I will do what is necessary.’
‘They’ll grab Gwen and Sally.’
‘Not if I have that file. And don’t think about letting Ed know of our conversation, and don’t try moving your mother. Any action against me, and I’ll deal with whoever, including your mother, as well as your two sisters. Believe me, I’ve done my homework.’
‘When do you want this file?’
‘Twenty-four hours.’
‘You’ve not told me where it is.’
‘I’ll contact you in due course.’
Chapter 20
Woolston had not enjoyed threatening Sue. Her mother was innocent of all crimes, but he needed leverage. The files were well hidden, and someone smart may have been able to decipher them if they were found. Liz Hardcastle could have probably, although she had not known where the files were, only of their existence.
Of all the people that had died, he regretted her death more than any other. They had worked together for two years and had formed a firm friendship at work, but never outside. Her husband, he knew, was into bird watching and the outdoor life. Liz had confided that she’d rather stay at home and potter around the house, but with her husband, every Saturday it was early in the car and off to another forest or marsh or wherever birds congregate. She had become his walking encyclopaedia on their names, their Latin names as well.
He remembered her smiling, inquisitive face, her constant need to understand his work, able to correct him when he made the occasional mistake. Apart from Gwen, he had to admit that he had liked her a lot. They both knew, he and Liz, that in different circumstances they would have been more than just work colleagues: he, the brilliant research mathematician and scientist, she, his intellectual equal. It had been her who had seen the potential of their work as a weapon; her who had inadvertently mentioned it to Ed Barrow, who had mentioned it to Hutton. Woolston shuddered at the chain of events that had resulted.
If only he hadn’t taken Liz into his confidence, about how there was a possibility of stabilising the power generated so that maximum power, maximum destructive power could be gained.
Liz, idealistic as he was, had not deserved to die that day in the railway station, he knew that, but she did not have the determination to resist.
It had been six months after his death that he had made his decision. He had seen Arbuthnot around the research department, even drinking with Ed Barrow in a local pub, which could only mean one thing: they were about to apply pressure, or they already had, and it could only be on Liz.
The railway station was crowded, and even then people had started to give him a wide berth due to his appearance. As he jostled in that crowd, edging closer to Liz, he
still questioned whether he had the right to terminate her life. He had killed no one at that time, other than one of those that had tortured him. He could see her reading a book, quietly minding her own business. The train came into view. It was an express and not stopping. He edged forward, almost felt like saying sorry. A gentle nudge with his elbow, and she was in front of the train and then under it. Woolston remembered backing away from the scene as the other people moved forward. The newspapers carried the story the next day of how Liz Hardcastle, a government employee, well respected by her work colleagues, loved by her husband, had been in an unfortunate accident. It was the one time in the eleven years that he had drunk alcohol, a cheap bottle of wine, to allow him some peace. Her death had troubled him for months afterwards.
***
Isaac Cook and the Homicide team at Challis Street realised that the three deaths so far were unlikely to be the last. Malcolm Woolston, now no longer referred to as Big Greg, had not been seen for several weeks. The patrols of Gwen Barrow’s and her daughter’s streets had declined in regularity, and the uniforms at their homes had been pulled out after seven days.
DCS Goddard had been hoping for an early arrest, but that was not happening, and Commissioner Davies was still hovering, waiting to make his move. Isaac knew that something had to be done, but what? The links had been established, and the research department was the key, as was Gwen Barrow. Isaac had noticed Barrow and his wife at a local restaurant one night, and he had to admit they looked happy enough.
‘We’re getting nowhere fast on this case,’ Isaac said. It was a throwaway line, he knew that, but what else was there for him to say. Malcolm Woolston had been visible, and then he had disappeared.
‘Maybe there’s no more,’ Wendy said.
‘The man phoned me up, Larry was here. He did not sound as though he was about to stop, quite the opposite. He told us that there were others who needed to be dealt with and that he was concerned for the safety of his family.’
‘The man was sane?’ Wendy asked.
‘What do you reckon? Larry said.
‘It’s always hard to tell with these people, but we’ve checked on him. A brilliant man, a lot of academic papers, one book on advanced mathematics, although I couldn’t make any sense of it, and then he tells us a story about others who want to take his research and use it as a weapon. He sounded sane enough, but he was determined. We’ve come across these sorts of people before. Most of them appear sane, but…’
The DCI Isaac Cook Thriller Series: Books 4 - 6: Murder (The DCI Isaac Cook Thrillers Series Boxset) Page 37
