by Jack L. Pyke
Gray frowned. “A list of MI5 ops?” He hadn’t recognised the internal acronyms; and if there was a list of known MI5 ops circulating on the streets.... “Were there any more codes beside the six we know?” Was this what Kes had meant by having access to the rest of the codes? Elena’s external cloud storage?
“No. Only the same six codes. And not a list of MI5 ops. MI6.”
Christ. What was Kes pushing for? Where was the rest of the list? But the database would have picked up that they were MI6 ops. And it also wasn’t a coincidence that his father had broken his distance too now. “Are they historical acronyms?” MI5 utilised three letters with a forward slash and a numerical for operatives in the field; MI6 opted for dropping the forward slash and utilising a, b, c... after the final numerical. His father would have recognised MI6 acronyms too.
“Yes. All six are deceased field operatives.”
“Date when all the list of ops would have been active together. Find out what they were working on, who they were partnered with.”
“Already done. No similarities found, except they were all active over twelve years ago. Some were based overseas with only minimal ties to MI6 for safety. They share no history other than this partial list.”
Gray rested against his office desk. What would Kes want with a partial list of MI6 ops from over twelve years ago? Rob was foremost on his mind, especially as the fraud had happened roughly two years earlier than that. Then a bad feeling crept up. “Run autopsy checks and an unofficial investigation into the MI6 deaths on that list. Look for a signature mark that might be similar to Kershaw’s.”
“Will do.” The call was cut a moment later, and Gray eased his phone onto his desk. Rob kept cropping back up and Richards was mentioned for a reason. Everything about this felt ill, and he was missing the carrier. Other than the names Kes and Richards.
A knock came at the Oval door and Jack came in. “Just called my old man,” he said, handing over Jan’s phone too. Gray peeled off the back and took out the battery. Jan wouldn’t be exposed to any images either.
“What did he say?”
“He doesn’t know anyone by the name of Richards bar Jan.”
Gray put the phone next to his own. “It sound good to talk to him?”
Jack shuffled his feet a touch. “It’s always good to talk to him. I’m just out of habit.”
Gray gave a look up, then said as he left, “Then get back in habit, Jack. Give him that.”
“And say what?”
“That you’re sorry for being an asshole since you were back and you want to talk.”
Jack mumbled something, then—“Where are you off to?”
“I need to talk to Jan, alone.”
He ignored how tense that seemed to make Jack.
Gray found Jan sitting on the settee in the lounge. Dare and Gabe had been to the kitchen and brought some beers back, which looked a damn good idea to Gray. Jan had his feet curled up underneath him, hand twisting the beer bottle he rested on the arm. Trace sat next to him, talking about some game that played out on the TV. Jan didn’t seem to be listening. Trace knew, but he still sat there trying to breathe life into Jan.
When Trace saw Gray, he made a point of stretching, then got up, taking his beer with him. “Want to go watch this in the games’ room, boys?”
“Huh?” Gabe glanced over, his look lost to how Dare played the wood by running his fingertips over it. “We’re not watching...” He let that fade seeing Gray. “Dare.” Gabe looked down. “You up for a game of pool?”
“Yeah.” Gray waited for Dare to catch on and—“Oh, yeah. Next floor up, right?”
As Trace passed, Gray patted his abs, his thanks for taking care of Jan. Trace returned it, then gave a worried glance back.
“He’s scared and damn ill,” he said quietly. “Go easy on him. Please.”
Gray nodded. “I know.”
Trace offered a sad smile, then took out his phone. Gray put his hand over the pad. “Make all calls from the Oval.”
There was a brief frown, then a nod. “You get another message?”
Ten hours remaining. A number will be provided, and I expect you to give me a name. Kes.
“A warning,” said Gray, and he looked at his watch as Trace snorted.
“This Kes knows when to hit, hm?” Trace tapped Gray’s arm.
Gray glanced quickly at Jan. “I’ve confiscated all phones. Make sure they don’t get access to any others over the next few hours, including your guys. That goes for iPads, MP3 players—” Gray rubbed at his head, nursing a headache, and Trace gave a sigh.
“Okay, we’ll handle this. Go talk to Jan.”
Gray waited for Trace to leave. Seeing Jan on the sofa, he went over and crouched in front of him.
“We okay?”
Jan shrugged, and when Gray picked Jan’s hand up and held it out with a finger underneath, it shook.
“I’m sorry,” Gray said in a soft tone.
“Not half as much as me.” Jan took a swig of beer as Gray removed his touch. “So fucking stupid back then.” He dug his fingers into his forehead and closed his eyes. “So fucking stupid now. I should have told you.”
“We’ve all done things we regret, Jan.”
Jan gave a bitter laugh. “Fraud, Gray. That’s slightly more serious. And you still want me here?”
Gray snorted a chuckle. “Have you met Jack? His shit-list? Mine? Besides... I love your soft ass warming my couch.”
That caught Jan’s attention.
“It took me over twelve years to say Jack has a place here. I’m not fucking up another chance, Jan.” He cupped his cheek. “You know I’m here for you as much as Jack, and as much as I’ll pull Jack up for fucking up, that goes for you too.”
Jan laughed softly and Gray caught a tear of his. “And when you fuck up?”
Gray gave a hard sigh, that run of tear taking his attention. “I’ll know, trust me,” he said gently. Again a message came through, and Gray shifted to make sure it came off his and not Logan’s.
Death certificate: Mr Robert Kershaw. Official cause of death shows massive haemorrhage due to penetrative head trauma. HIC (Head Injury Criterion) states that the head injury is relevant to acceleration and impact. No narcotics found in bloodstream. Accidental Death on a car crash verdict given.
Another text came through a minute later.
Interesting point: The car being driven was only a few months old, with stop/start fitted as standard. Computer reported that the engine had cut off 15 minutes before impact, but a mechanical investigation showed no sign of loss of power. It was marked as a technical glitch on the computer’s part.
It couldn’t have been the Stop/Start function. Micro-hybrid engines were one of the best eco moves in the auto industry to reduce fuel consumption and meet EU-guideline emissions; the engine cut off once the car stayed idle. Once pressure was applied to the clutch pedal, the car then restarted. Transition from start to stop, then stop to start was smooth enough for the owner not to notice, but it wasn’t ever meant to kick in whilst the car was in transit. Gray knew the Met had been working on a way to cut out a stolen car, mid-chase, by using something that tapped into the IBS system. But that was still at planning stage. Unless someone had beaten them to it?
Another vibration came from the phone.
Cruise control was pre-set at 70 mph, on a slippery road. Fault marked down on engine that: driver forgot to disable it by use of an on/off switch. Note from Kershaw’s wife stated that Mr Kershaw had a habit of leaving the cruise control on after coming off the likes of a motorway. He never liked the clutch option for cruise control.
Gray eased back a touch. Now that was something else. If the cruise control hadn’t been switched off, the car would automatically build to the preset speed. Add a slippery surface which the cruise control shouldn’t be used on, a minor distraction with the engine cutting out, a forgotten cruise control, a very handy, and no doubt well-placed barrier....
Historic deat
h reports on MI6 ops. Four out of six died of natural causes outside of field duty. The remaining two were accidents. Both automobile. Engines were before on-board computers. No engine fail filed, but both of the deceased had similar injuries to Mr Kershaw. MI6 investigated, but accidental death notices were given, note: grudgingly.
Gray looked at Jan. Had Elena been the smart one in this? Maybe she’d known things could go wrong and had possibly hunted for some evidence to bargain with against those who funded what she did.
Why highlight a possible link between the codes and Richards? Between the possible accidental death link with MI6 deaths and Rob? Why mention Kes? Had the missing part of Elena’s code been hidden for that long? Twelve years? More importantly, and somewhat darkly, had Kes been on the scene for that long?
Someone knew something. And if not Jan, Elena, or Jan’s father due to his death, then....
Oh.... Gray stroked gently at Jan’s leg. “Would it be okay to go and talk to your mother? I need to ask her some questions. You okay with that?”
“My mother?” Jan frowned.
“I just need to run some questions by her about your father.”
Jan sat up. “You going to tell her about the fraud?”
It was there, the need to take away that look, but mentioning Rob, a possible murder investigation into his and his toddler’s death, all to possibly do with the fraud? It would tear him apart only further. It would have to come at some point, but Gray would delay it as long as possible. And he’d damn well make sure some evidence was lost so his part of the fraud wouldn’t be mentioned at all in any court of law.
“Only what’s necessary for me to clear some details up for my own records. I won’t mention your involvement. Not if you don’t want me too.”
Determination was there in his eyes. “I swear I’ll tell her. Just... just not now, please.”
Gray nodded.
“You don’t have to come with me.” Gray managed a weak smile. “But I have a really lousy history with in-laws.”
Jan nodded, choked a laugh, then eased down a little.
“Go where?” said Jack, padding back through with two cups of coffee. Sitting next to Jan, he offered him one, then Gray got the other. Jack pinched sips from both, tasting from both mugs (one white with one sugar, Jan’s black with none) and Gray hid a grin at the symbolism.
“My mother’s place.”
Gray winced. He kind of figured what was coming next off Jack.
“I’ll get my coat.”
Chapter 29
Caught in the Act
A borough in the north-east of London, Hackney’s southern tip touched down just a mile away from the Thames. The Slum Clearance of 1931 had impacted heavily on business, so that by the 1980s, the borough population hit an all-time low. The later de-urbanisation and proximity to some of London’s finest had worked its magic since, Hackney now having one of the more dense populations. The likes of Hackney Empire theatre had a fine record of appearances: Charlie Chaplin... Stan Laurel... and the Broadway Market that ran every weekend attracted some of the finest food-lovers.
Growing up in the 80s and beyond, it would have been a good place to be.
Oswald Street itself offered complete conflict to the space of the nearby marshes, cramming rows of flats on the one side that crowded and curved into a dead-end street, whilst the other was packed full of two and three bedroom houses. The latter would fetch a humble £295,000 on the market, and for London, that was incredibly humble. It left the street just as chaotic when it came to parking, and it took several mumbled apologies off Jan before Gray managed to weave his way into a space.
Jan lived at number six, just past Meandor Court. He hadn’t always lived here; some of his childhood was spent on a council street, and this was a definitive step up from the spit and sawdust homes that the government had owned back in the 80s. Gray had been here before when he’d questioned Mrs Richards whilst both Jan and Jack had been in hospital. But he let Jan lead, Jack loitering behind with him as they passed a wall to their left that would take them to Jan’s. An L-shaped half-wall helped guide them into the 4x4 concrete yard and the offer of a pencil-thin two-bedroom home.
Jack offered a secret grin when Jan used the door chime, then his key, a polite knock, then a call of “Hey, Mom, just us,” following close behind.
“Soft lad,” coughed Jack behind his hand and Jan glanced back as he pushed the door open.
“You arranged to go around for dinner with your dad yet, Jack?” Jan whispered just as quickly.
“Yeah, stop, the pair of you. It’s only—Mrs Richards, good to meet you again.”
“Kate,” said the woman peering out from the kitchen. Jan carried her dark-brown eye colouring, its warmth too as Kate came down the hall, wiping her hands on a towel. “Jan said you were coming and I’ve put some tea on,” she added in between getting on tiptoes to kiss at Jan’s cheek. “You—” She stopped when she saw Jan. “What?” The lines on her face changed shape so many times. “What’s wrong, luv? You look... look—”
“Bad few nights’ sleep.” Jan kissed at her cheek. “Few nightmares, faced realities, and something I shouldn’t have been taking.”
Kate pushed Jan away. “What?”
“Long story, Mom.” Jan pulled her back. “I’ll tell you over a coffee, just not now, okay?”
Kate’s look was on Gray as she tiptoed and returned Jan’s hold. “You know I’m here, luv.”
“Always.” Jan made his hold a little tighter and Kate relaxed. Jan hadn’t been doing that a lot lately. Jack and Gray hadn’t been the only ones to notice.
“Mr Raoul.” She held out a hand when she let Jan go.
“Gray,” he said gently, welcoming the offering, and Kate burned a blush, enough to take a step back and—
“Oh, Gray. Yes. Jan keeps mentioning you. And this—” She cleared her throat. “This must be....”
“Jack.”
“Jack.” Kate frowned for a moment, but it was lost as Jack went all in and kissed her cheek. “Tea’s this way, right? Although I like coffee better.”
Kate laughed and gave a graceful shift of hand towards the kitchen. “Jan already warned me. Coffee’s on too, Jack.”
“Jan say much about me? Only whatever it was, he did it.”
Jan pushed at Jack’s shoulder and Kate smiled as they headed for the kitchen. Gray had been in the lounge last time. An offer of tea had come then but Gray hadn’t felt comfortable accepting it, not whilst he was doing background checks on Jan after Jan had been raped. He didn’t know how much Jan had told Kate since then, but they were close in general, and he hoped Jan had her to talk to whilst Jack had been sectioned. From her frown at Jack when they’d been introduced, something had been mentioned.
“You’ve just missed Lacey,” said Kate as she busied herself by the peculator. Four mugs sat beside each other and she added sugars without asking. No doubt Jan had already warned in advance.
Jack and Gray pulled out seats at the dining table. It sat next to the one wall, whilst the other had a run of matching units. Almost seemed a quiet acceptance between the two, that I’ll eat whatever you cook, comfortable feel. Gray had grown up with a formal dining room set aside from the kitchen. It’s why he had made sure there was a table given pride of place in his kitchen now. He loved the anticipation of a meal almost as much as tasting it.
Jack smiled over at him, and Gray gave that a second thought. Maybe it wasn’t so much the where, but the who. He loved how the foods and spices always seeped into Jack’s skin.
“How’s she doing?” said Jan, drawing his and Jack’s attention. Jan was by the patio doors, looking out. “Megan’s first term at nursery, right?”
“Oh God, yes.” Kate brought their drinks over, then handed Jan his. “She hasn’t stopped crying yet.”
Jan took the coffee. “Megan?”
“Lacey.”
Jan laughed. “So her and Steph are haunting you through the day?”
“Just for
a few hours before I go to work.”
“Apologies,” said Gray, looking at the time. Kate was due at the supermarket in an hour. She’d been moved up to manager, but he doubted her area manager would appreciate her flouting office hours.
“No rush,” she said gently, now coming over and taking a seat next to him. She’d bypassed the one by Jack, but it meant she could no doubt keep an eye on Jan. Smart, tight-fitting black trousers shaped her legs, and a snug waistcoat with name tag complemented her white shirt.
“So, you’ve been seeing my son for a year, Jack,” she said, that frown back on her face. “Why has it taken you this long to come and say hi?”
Jack nearly choked on his coffee, then managed to wipe his mouth and rest his mug down before doing more damage. “I... I—”
“Leave him alone, Mom,” Jan was grinning behind his cup. “She knows about your OCD and social issues, Jack. Take no notice.”
Jack managed a weak smile, then thumbed back at Jan. “He tell you any good stuff?”
“Yes,” she said, winking over at Jan. “Mostly about this other man that he’s seeing too.”
Gray blushed, almost, but it didn’t go unnoticed by Jack.
“Well, he didn’t mention Gray’s name, per se,” said Kate, “but I think I know who now.”
“Stripped down in two seconds flat,” said Jack. “Oh you’re good,” he said to Kate.
There was that avoidance to look at Jack again. “Jan said you had some more questions for me, Gray. Can I save you by getting back to business?”
“Oh most definitely.” He liked her, and he hoped with every instinct she was one of the good guys. He’d hate to have to interrogate her. But he would. “You had a substantial payout from your husband’s death,” he said eventually. “From a government insurance company.”
She looked at Jan, then briefly at Jack, then frowned again at Jan. “Yes.” Voice was a little different too. More guarded, slower, flatter in tonicity with only one word snapped out.
