Murder at Canary Wharf (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 8)

by P. J. Thurbin

  Amin stood up. “It was. Now it’s just the Islamic State. Our leader Al-Baghdadi is establishing an Islamic State.”

  “But that still doesn’t explain why you are here at Greenwich,” Katie said.

  “We’re only here for a peaceful demonstration,” Amin said. “We’ve been talking with a top leader in Amnesty International here in London.”

  Katie leaned towards Amin. “It wasn’t Brandt Kessler, by any chance?”

  “Yes. That is our contact. But how do you know? He’s helping us to target the big companies and he thought that with the Tall Ships coming into London we would get a lot of media coverage. But of course it must be a surprize, otherwise the police will cordon off the areas and we will not be seen or heard.”

  “I guess you haven’t heard, then,” Ralph said. “Brandt Kessler was killed last week. Murdered by all accounts. And there was a second killing that seemed to be connected. And I nearly got shot waiting for a train.” He involuntarily touched his cheek.

  Amin looked around. “Look I shouldn’t have told you any of this, but I know that we had nothing to do with any killings. I have to go now. My friends think that I just came back to get the folder.” He stood up and walked a few steps away. Then he turned and came back and stood next to the table. “I’m sorry about all this, Sir. But someone has to stand up for what is our right.” With that he left the restaurant. They both sat there in silence.

  “You’ll need to contact Commander Renton, Ralph. Knowing you and your retentive memory, you should be able to tell him exactly where those arrows were pointing.”

  “But what should I tell him? And what about Amin, Nasser and his friends? In some ways I feel sorry for those kids. I can’t just turn them over to the police. And I can’t just tell Renton to stop anyone in Greenwich who’s wearing a turban and bring them in for questioning. There are thousands of Sikhs, Muslims, and Hindus. And hundreds are in the police and driving buses. We’re not a police state. Not yet, anyhow.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “I’ll give Renton a call and tell him that we’re in Greenwich. He expected me to call him anyhow to give him an update when we got here. I feel like some lowlife tattling to my keeper about some bloody rotten goings on. Why on earth did I get involved in all this?”

  “You’re just tired. Why not leave it until the morning. Another night in those stupid hammocks or shall we do a midnight flit and book in for the night at that Hilton over at Canary Wharf where you stayed during that conference you went to?”

  “The Hilton sounds like a great idea, but we had better get back. You never know, we might be wanted on board. But you’re right about Renton. I’ll call him in the morning. But I’m just afraid that those kids are being duped and their friends have other plans they haven’t told them about.”

  “What about the Sunni awakening that Amin was talking about?”

  “No. I think that some of the more militant in that lot have told these kids to set up a peaceful protest as a diversionary tactic. As soon as the police think that this is what the warning they picked up was all about they’ll relax. Then the militant ones will put their real plan into action. Who knows what they have in mind. They might even be contemplating blowing up the Thames Barrier or something around Canary Wharf.”

  “It’s possible, Ralph, but that sounds a bit extreme. And you know how you are. You have a tendency to over analyse things.”

  “Maybe on occasion that’s been true. But what about what happened to Owen James, first his place is broken into and then he’s found drowned. Then Brandt Kessler, shot at Owen’s cottage.”

  “And his wife Sarah being threatened,” said Katie. “Yes, this time you may be right.”

  “Well for my money it all adds up to something pretty big and far from peaceful,” Ralph said as they made their way back to the ship for what Ralph knew would be another sleepless night.

  _____________________

  Chapter 9

  The sun sparkled on the Thames and there were boats of all sizes pulling at their moorings or anchors as the tide swept out. It was scene that had been played out since Roman times.

  Ralph was on his way to Scotland Yard. Renton wanted a full debriefing and to see Ralph’s sketch of the map he had seen in Amin Rahtul’s folder. The commuters streamed into the City and others to Canary Wharf as he made his way across London. He used the Docklands Light Railway to get to Canary Wharf and then took the Jubilee line direct to Westminster. Once again in the fresh air, it was a short walk to the glass and concrete building with the Union Jack flying on the tall mast overhead.

  An armed officer nodded as Ralph walked over to reception. He showed Ralph to what looked like an airport control room where Commander Renton was waiting. Two other uniformed officers stood up as Renton reached out to shake his hand.

  “Thanks for coming in, Professor Chalmers,” said Renton. “Can I introduce you to Commander Harris and Commander Jacks.” Ralph sensed by the degree of deference shown that Harris was the senior of the three. “We’ve organised some tea and coffee, but I’m sure you will be as keen to get on with business as we are.”

  Not much ceremony here, thought Ralph as a young constable brought in four mugs of tea. And so much for the offer of coffee. He accepted the steaming mug and guessed that someone had put three or four sugars in already. It was strong, hot and sweet. The others hardly looked up as they drank their tea.

  “You said that there was some sort of a sketch?” Asked Renton.

  Ralph had already given some thought as to how he might explain how he came by the folder without implicating Amin and Nasser. Of course if all they intended was a peaceful demonstration, then they should have declared it to the police beforehand. That was the usual procedure. He hesitated as Renton waited for him to speak. He remembered the last time they had met in Inspector Linham’s office at Kingston. It was almost as if the Commander could read his mind and now it made him particularly uncomfortable. He took the sketch he had made from his pocket and handed it to Renton. Renton passed it on to Jacks without even looking at it. It brought to mind instances when as a boy he had handed in some hastily scribbled homework.

  “You were about to tell us how you came by the sketch,” Renton reminded Ralph.

  “Someone left a folder behind in the restaurant where I was having my dinner last night,” Ralph said. That had been quite true. Of course it was not the whole story, but Ralph did not want to reveal any more than was absolutely necessary.

  “I’m afraid that curiosity got the better of me and I looked inside. When I saw what looked like Arabic writing and that it covered the Canary Wharf area, I thought it might be something to do with the ISIS group. I left the folder there, but I managed to remember a bit of what was on the map, and that’s what I wrote down on that sketch that I just gave you. I’m afraid I left off the writing, only where the arrows pointed.”

  While he was speaking Jacks had picked up the phone to have someone come in and get some copies made. He knew that Renton wanted to question him further, but Harris touched Renton on the arm to interrupt before he could go on.

  “Commander Renton tells me that you’ve done a sterling job, Professor Chalmers, and we are most grateful.” He gave what Ralph assumed passed for a smile. “I do apologize for all the cloak and dagger business during the incident with Brandt Kessler. It was important that you kept a low profile, especially as I understand that he was a friend of yours.”

  Ralph was about to correct him but guessed that this was just an introduction to something more important that Harris wanted to say. He continued while Renton and Jacks sat back and sipped their tea.

  “All of this intelligence is vital to the safety of citizens who are simply going about their lawful business in London. We’ve looked at the information on the memory stick that you found in Owen James’ cottage and we are confident that when we put that together with the sketch you’ve just given us, we hope to be a lot closer to thwarting these terrorist
s. We would, of course understand if you wanted to stand down at this stage as it could get a bit rough from here on in.” He looked closely at Ralph. It felt as though Harris was trying to assess just how useful this civilian might be and if he was up to it.

  “I’m happy to continue to help in any way I can.” Ralph just stopped himself adding ‘Sir’. Even though it seemed years since he had been active in the Royal Navy Reserve, he recognised the authority and responsibility that sat squarely on the shoulders of the man who sat in front of him.

  “Good man. I knew we could rely on you.” Harris said as he stood up and smiled as he shook Ralph’s hand. “I apologize, but I’m afraid I must leave Commanders Renton and Jacks to explain the next steps in our plan. But it’s been a pleasure to meet you, Professor Chalmers, and thank you for your offer of assistance.” With that he nodded to his men and left.

  Jacks handed Renton a folder.

  “There are one or two things we would like you to do, Professor Chalmers,” Renton said as he opened the folder. “Firstly, we’d like you to stay with the Mlodziezy. We have information that Interpol has her Captain, Mr Anton Koval, under surveillance. They believe that he’s involved in some form of smuggling although exactly what, they are not yet sure. It could be drugs, gold or simply money laundering. That means that he could be vulnerable to blackmail or threats from terrorist groups who might try to coerce him into giving them access to his ship. And from there, as you can imagine, they could do a lot of damage.”

  “Why not simply arrest him on some pretext while he’s in port?” asked Ralph. ”That way he would at least be out of commission while the Festival is going on.”

  The two officers exchanged wry smiles.

  “Yes. It would be nice if it were that easy, Sir.” Said Jacks. “In spite of what the press might have the public believe, we are not a police state, and from a practical standpoint, if we arrested the Captain of a foreign ship while he was here on a courtesy visit, it would be a public relations nightmare. And, perhaps even more importantly, it would thwart our chances of catching the really big fish.”

  Renton leant forward. “Being part of the fleet would provide an ideal opportunity for you to pick up any rumours or gossip among the other skippers or crews about any unusual types who might be hanging around. Over the next few days the ships will be open to the public. It’s a wonderful opportunity for the public to get on board and see what the Tall ships are all about, but unfortunately it also gives the terrorists a chance to get on board. They may be planning to plant explosives that can be detonated remotely or to hide someone who could co-ordinate an even bigger action.”

  “I’m happy to continue to help, if that’s what you want,” said Ralph. “But I think that the peaceful demonstration that’s being planned could be a diversion for something that’s a lot bigger and far less peaceful.” He stopped as he realised that he had not intended to say anything about his conversation with Amin. Renton looked up from his notes.

  “Peaceful demonstration did you say?”

  Ralph decided that now he had slipped up and mentioned the demonstration, he had better tell the whole story. When he had finished, Renton said nothing about Ralph’s not mentioning the demonstration earlier.

  “Knowing about the demonstration certainly helps,” said Renton. “If you can give us the details of the students that you mentioned, then perhaps we can obtain some photographs, either from your University or elsewhere, and we can pass them along to the local police. That way at least we will know a couple of the people who’ll be involved. If it is a diversion for something bigger as you suspect, then at least we will know when it’s likely and get a bit of advance warning.”

  Jacks made another call while Renton turned to a computer and projected some images on a screen at the side of the room.

  “This is where we found Owen James’ body. It was on the riverbank by the Prospect of Whitby pub at Wapping. Have you ever been there, Professor?”

  “No. Never heard of it,” Ralph replied.

  Then he remembered that Brandt had mentioned it when they spoke on the phone, but he decided to keep quiet as Renton continued.

  “It’s an old pub. It dates back to sometime in the 1500’s. It used to be called the Devil’s Tavern and rumoured to be a favourite of ‘Hanging Judge Jeffreys. By all accounts they’d tie prisoners to stakes by the water so they drowned when the tide came in. Fascinating thing, history. I understand it was your subject at Cambridge, so no doubt you know more about it than we do.”

  He gave a forced smile. Probably related to the bloody judge, thought Ralph.

  Ralph felt he was the one being interrogated, but he put it down to Renton’s manner.

  “We believe that Mr James was probably drowned, somewhere close to his home at Fowey. The autopsy showed that he had salt water in his lungs. The water at Wapping is what they call brackish, a mixture of fresh and salt. His lungs were definitely full of salt water. The local police have a witness who saw some youths fighting by the water’s edge in Fowey at about the time James died. And a member of the public came forward who saw a van pull up at the Prospect and dump something from a sack. At the time he thought it was just a fly tipper who just wanted to get rid of his garbage without taking it to the tip. Now we believe that what he most likely observed was someone trying to dispose of Owen James’ body.” Renton switched off the screen.

  “You see, Professor Chalmers, we are dealing with a pretty callous group who went to a lot of trouble to make sure that suspicion was drawn away from that cottage at Fowey. It was our good fortune that you are inquisitive, or we would never have been able to put the terrorists together with the deaths of Owen James and Brandt Kessler.” He paused. “Did either of them ever confide in you, Professor?”

  “I’m not sure I understand what you mean by confide, Commander,” Ralph said. “As I told you before, I only met Kessler a couple of times and I had never met James before the Conference at Canary Wharf.”

  “Yes, I know, but sometimes when people are at events like those conferences they chat during breaks. It’s a bit like when you’re on an airplane and the person next to you tells you all about themselves before you get to your destination. Anyhow, it’s just that if there’s anything that either one of them may have mentioned about what Amnesty International planned that could in any way be connected to these terrorists, it may just add another piece to the puzzle.”

  Ralph had to think quickly. He did not see that anything could be gained by telling the Commander that Brandt had been swapping information with the terrorists about his campaign over the Plaza Rana incident. His wife Sarah had her husband’s death to deal with, and if the police also confronted her with their suspicions about Brandt right now, it might be too much for her to handle.

  “I hardly knew Brandt Kessler, Commander. We met at a dinner party and then at the conference. Then, as you know, I ran into him in Falmouth. All I know is that Kessler and James were both dedicated to helping people around the world who had been subjected to Human Rights abuses. He was a good man.”

  “No doubt you’re right,” said the Commander, and left it at that, although Ralph could see that he was not fooled.

  “One last thing, Sir. Do you happen to know a Mr Alex Shevchenko? He’s Ukrainian.”

  “No. should I?” Ralph had no idea why he had lied about meeting Shevchenko, and he could tell by the slight half smile that played around his mouth that Renton did not believe him for one minute.

  “Well that’s about it, Sir. You have the number to call if anything comes up that we should know about. With a bit of luck, all of this should blow over in just a few more days. But with the Queen and other members of the Royal Family involved and all of the festivities that are scheduled, they’re going to be a very busy few days.” Renton smiled as they shook hands and Commander Jacks nodded as Ralph was shown out.

  Ralph felt like he had been put through the ringer and hung out to dry. He saw a Costa Coffee bar not far from the Yard
and stopped in to take in a burst of caffeine and gather his thoughts. It was Renton’s question about Alex that really shook him. What on earth had Alex got to do with all of this? And what had made him lie to Renton about knowing him? He also worried about what would happen to Amin and Nasser once the police found out that they were part of ISIS and that they planned to go to Somalia and join the Jihadists.

  Having drunk his coffee, he went out and sat on a bench overlooking the river. He needed to call the University and let Granger know what was going on. It had been over a week since he had been in College, and even though Renton had assured him that it had all been cleared with the VC, he felt a bit uneasy. Margaret, Granger’s secretary, put him through.

  “Well it’s good to hear that you are coming in soon,” said Granger once Ralph had explained that he was in London. “The VC told me that you were on some special assignment and that you would be off for a few weeks. He didn’t actually tell me why, but he said I needed to arrange cover for you. Not that easy on such short notice, but as they say, no one is indispensable and I was able to get a chap in who is on sabbatical from another University.”

  “I’m sorry about that, Rupert. There was really nothing I could do about it.” Ralph apologized. He looked around at all the taxis and buses that roared past and at the pedestrians and laughing tourists who had stopped to take photos of the historic landmarks and the river. Ralph pictured Granger sitting in his comfortable office with a cup of coffee and the sun streaming through the windows. For one moment he wished none of this had happened and that he was back in his own familiar office preparing for a lecture. He contrasted his life as a cosy University Professor with this double life he had been thrown into where he had to gather information for SOI5 about smugglers and try to anticipate a terrorist attack. He was tempted to simply put the phone down, but he was the one who had called Granger, after all. The Dean was still going on about how inconvenient the whole episode had been for him.