by David Smith
‘Yes, what is it?’
‘It matches the one that Mr Baxter reported missing from his collection: Canadian Army issue, Sir, not Indian, we got the serial numbers confused initially. There are fingerprints all over the gun that match those on the paper Mr Baxter gave us written by Rohit Dhawan. We’ve searched his digs, it has been turned over properly by someone and there’s no sign of him anywhere. It looks like he’s disappeared.’
‘Damn. We need to find him. What about Troyte?’
‘Toxicology found traces of Rohypnol and Scopolamine in his blood,’ I said.
‘Scopolamine? Are we looking for Dr Crippen now?’ muttered Hunter. ‘So what do they think could have caused that?’
‘It’s only small quantities; it can be used to cure motion sickness, Sir. It’s possible he might simply have taken it to sleep on the flight over,’ I suggested.
‘True, but it’s also popular amongst criminals as a truth drug or to drug a victim’s drink; often men, targeted by young, attractive, women.’
‘I didn’t know that, Sir. This still doesn’t make any sense at all, does it?’ I added helpfully.
‘You’re too right, Penny. Ever thought you were at the wrong end of being given the run around, my friends?’
‘What do you mean, Sir?’
‘That’s how I feel at the moment, that’s all.’ He shook his head and took a sip from a glass of water by the bedside.
‘I could do with something stronger.’
‘Here, don’t tell the nurses,’ Detective Sergeant Jones unscrewed the top of a hip flask and passed it to Hunter, who took a long swig.
‘OK Penny, what about the fingerprints on the knife, and the dental records of the two assailants, were there any results?’
‘Yes Sir, we have their names now. Both of them are from Tamil Nadu, associates of a terrorist group, both arrived on an Air India flight last week.’
‘And what do we know about Sir William and Nariman’s business dealings?’
‘There’s nothing at all yet, Sir.’
‘Nothing at all?’
‘We have a forensic accountant looking at their companies but they have found absolutely no connections so far at all.’
‘OK, I’m beginning to clutch at straws now. How about the mercury poisoning – was it a box of chocolates with holes in the base by any chance?’ I knew that he was referring to a famous case tackled by Sir Ronald Spilsbury, a personal hero of his, as he had mentioned it before.
‘Forensics’ latest theory is that it may have been the tea, Sir.’
‘The tea? Are we going back to Wonderland now? You’ll tell me next he was suffering from Mad Hatter syndrome that he got from felt-making.’ Hunter was sounding more and more exasperated as each answer seemed to send him down yet another blind alley.
‘No Sir, the tea stove that his granddaughter had been using to prepare his morning tea – the gilding may have been contaminated with mercury, apparently that is not uncommon in village metal working.’
‘That seems a bit unlikely – he hadn’t been here that long. Was she using anything else alongside the tea?’
‘Some herbal preparation, a bit like ginseng I think.’
‘You mean rasa shastra. For heaven’s sake, doesn’t forensics know anything? Rasa shastra is a mixture of minerals and herbs used commonly in Ayurveda medicines – it’s been tested with up to 20 per cent heavy metals.’
‘OK then, let me follow that up with them, Sir.’
‘I suppose you’ll tell me next we have a full confession from whoever shot Troyte.’
‘No Sir, but I think I’ve worked out the meaning of ningma,’ I said, a little excited. I knew this one was going to cheer him up.
‘You mean the word that Alice, Dottie and Hugh thought they heard the motorcyclist saying?’
‘Yes, all that stuff about cryptic clues and anagrams got me thinking, I think ningma was probably enigma,’ I said, now exceedingly pleased with myself.
‘You’re a genius Penny, have you got that wretched iPad with you?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Put ‘enigma’ and ‘Sir William Flyte’ in there and see what you get.’
I pulled out the iPad and fired it up, entering the words into the search engine. I scanned the first couple of entries then spotted it.
‘OK the third result is around a ‘Project Enigma’, a major government signals contract for the army. Sir, it says in the detail that Sir William Flyte’s company is advising the Defence Ministry procurement team on it.’
‘Bingo! Now I’m feeling a lot better Penny.’
To say I was glowing was an understatement.
*
During that same evening, the Sikh taxi driver joined his friends in the snooker club behind the railway bridge in the old town. He received high fives all round from the other members of the gang following his release without charge that afternoon.
‘I told you there would be nothing to worry about, clean as a whistle: that lamppost did the trick didn’t it? That bent copper did us all a favour with his report.’
‘So what are we going to do about Hunter, Boss?’
‘Oh I think we’ve scared him off for now, but let’s keep a close eye on him. I want to know exactly what he does from now on, reports on the hour from our friend please.’
‘It will be a pleasure, Boss.’
When the snooker club was raided by the police after hours, they found nothing except for some somewhat dubious activities involving lap dancers in the back of the club.
*
On the same Monday evening, Sir William had arrived in London from Leamington in time for dinner with his friends who managed the party business. As a result, the chief constable was woken up by a late night call from one of the special advisors at Number Ten.
‘Chief Constable, I understand that one of your detectives has been asking questions around Whitehall about certain confidential government procurement programmes,’ said a voice trained in the civil service, the Guards and Eton.
‘I am sorry, Sir Brian, I don’t know what you are referring to.’
‘A Constable Dore, works for a DI Hunter, part of your CID?’
‘Ah yes, well what of it, Sir Brian? Hunter’s working on a serious murder investigation, you know that?’
‘Of course and we would always want to provide the police with any information we can that will help you with your enquiries. However, I want you to understand that these are very sensitive projects and I would really appreciate it if you could direct any further questions through me directly rather than broadcasting them around Whitehall. Would you be good enough to ask your DI to direct any questions he may have through this channel? I think that would be better for all concerned. The Secretary of State is fully aware of the situation. Do we have an understanding?’
‘Yes Sir Brian, of course, I completely understand.’ He heard a click and then the telephone line went dead. The chief constable swore to himself and then rang Hunter but there was no answer, so he telephoned his PA at home where she was just getting ready for bed.
‘Hilda, track Hunter down for me and get him on the line as quickly as possible.’
*
Back at Number Ten, Sir Brian turned to the gentleman standing next to him.
‘OK, Bill, is that what you needed from me?’
‘Yes, Brian, I am really much obliged, can I get a transcript?’
‘Yes of course, all calls are recorded here. Will you be in the club tomorrow?’
‘Around 4pm for tea?’
‘Perfect, I’ll bring it round with me.’
Chapter Eighteen
Time for a Disappearing Act – (Allegro marziale)
I owe you many apologies, dear Watson, but it was all-important that it should be thought I was dead, and it is quite certain that you would not have written so convincing an account of my unhappy end had you not yourself thought that it was true.
Arthur Conan Doyle, The Empty House
‘Good Morning, Henderson. I really need to speak to Sir William again, is he here by any chance?’ Hunter asked Sir William’s butler politely as he opened the door to No. 6. He had discharged himself from the hospital against the objections of the ward sister and was now hobbling around on crutches.
‘I’m afraid he’s down in London, Inspector, he won’t be back until early this evening,’ said the butler. Hunter looked at his watch instinctively; this was exactly as he had hoped and would enable him to broach the next question.
‘OK, well in that case would I be able to speak to Lady Flyte this morning?’
The butler looked at him doubtfully, but given his injuries he reluctantly agreed to let him wait in the morning room rather than leave him standing at the door while he asked his mistress whether she would see him or not. He added that he was really not sure that she would want to see anybody just yet. Despite Henderson’s words of caution, she did in fact appear after a few minutes; her eyes still heavy and dark, her cheeks streaked with tears.
‘Inspector, what on earth has happened to you?’ she asked, her voice concerned and still somewhat cracked and strained.
‘Nothing to worry about, I had a little accident when I was out with some friends last night,’ he said, not wishing to concern her more.
‘Well you must be more careful, we’re depending on you. Please tell me what I can do for you, apart from offer you a cup of tea that is?’
‘Well, tea would be a very welcome start,’ he said. As expected, she was putting on a brave face. Even before he met her briefly on Saturday he had developed a picture of her from what others had said of a very calm and composed personality. She seemed like a remarkable woman in her own right; it was obvious to see that she had class, just from the way she dressed and the way she moved as she entered the room. He had heard that she was exceptionally bright also, with a cultured appreciation of art and music. He intended to be very careful how he proceeded with this interview, as he realised it could be pivotal. Lady Flyte signalled to the butler to bring them tea and then turned her attention fully toward Hunter.
‘So Inspector?’
‘Lady Flyte, I’m so terribly sorry about your loss and I really didn’t want to disturb you during this period, but your husband is apparently not available this morning and there are a couple of sensitive matters I would really appreciate some help with concerning your grandfather’s murder.’ She nodded at him and indicated with her hands that he should continue.
‘Please call me Nadia, Inspector. I’m a simple village girl really; I don’t go with all this Lady Flyte nonsense.’
‘Well Lady Flyte, err, Nadia then, I understand that you have a friend called Rohit Dhawan, a translator and writer?’ She looked slightly taken aback by the direction of this question, as if she was expecting something else entirely.
‘Well yes I do, although he is probably better described as an acquaintance than a friend. He used to work for my grandfather but I still see him occasionally.’ Hunter noticed that she flushed slightly as she said this. Her answer sounded forced; she was clearly not used to this kind of direct personal examination. He already knew that the relationship was much closer than she was admitting to.
‘Do you by any chance happen to know where he is?’
‘No, I’m afraid not,’ she answered hesitantly, catching the frown on the Inspector’s face. ‘My God, has something happened to him as well?’
‘We’re not sure at the moment. Are you certain you haven’t seen him? This is really quite important.’ He was being very careful, he realised he was at risk of pushing too hard and didn’t want her to clam up on him. She paused for a minute or two before answering as if she was searching her memory.
‘Well, now that I think about it, maybe we did speak very briefly on Saturday evening, there was so much going on that day. I wasn’t thinking clearly a minute ago.’
‘Of course and I’m sorry to be impertinent, Nadia, but did you say speak or meet?’
She looked at him mortified, her eyes met his and he could see the look of helplessness, almost pleading, within them. His questions had clearly disturbed her, cutting across the sensitivity of polite discourse, but he could see that she also wanted to know where this line of questioning was leading. For a few moments there was complete silence in the room, before he tried again.
‘Don’t worry, Nadia, I’m afraid I do know a little about your relationship and any private information will absolutely stay with me,’ he said gently. ‘I really do need to find Rohit. I think he and possibly you could be in some personal jeopardy.’ Again, she said nothing for a minute and then sat down rather heavily on one of the armchairs. As she answered him she was looking down at the floor, rather than addressing him directly.
‘OK, Inspector, well yes, he did come to see me on Saturday evening. We had been exchanging texts during the day and I had asked him to come over. We have a signal that he uses to enter from the balcony outside my room. Please understand there isn’t anything physical between us, it’s purely a long-standing and deep friendship. Anyway, I was nervous at first when I eventually heard his special knock, but I was also worried and desperately wanted to see him, so I took the risk and opened the shutters. He didn’t stay very long as there was a lot of noise outside and people were milling about downstairs. He was scared silly as well.’
‘May I enquire why he took the risk of coming to see you then, in person?’
‘I needed to see him, in fact I insisted. I was afraid that he would be next in line after my grandfather and I wanted to warn him, but I couldn’t risk doing that over the phone,’ she delivered this line in a completely matter-of-fact way, as if she was informing him about the weather or a relative’s upcoming wedding arrangements. He decided not to ask her directly yet what she meant by this statement and left the question hanging between them.
‘OK, well that’s most helpful but it’s very important that you tell me absolutely everything you know. I too believe that both your lives may be in danger. He’s been missing since Saturday afternoon, there’s no sign of him at his flat but it looks like someone else has been there.’ This was a minor white lie, but he needed to know exactly how much Nadia knew about Rohit’s movements.
‘Oh my gosh, Inspector, so do you know where he is?’ She is a smart woman, he thought, realising that she had already worked out that he knew more about the situation than he was letting on.
‘Not at the moment but we are looking. We know him at the station because he occasionally does translation work for us as well. He’s a good lad, but he may be in a lot of trouble and we really need to find him quickly. Mr Baxter at No. 10 told us that he turned up at his writing class on Saturday as normal, but seemed very agitated. He was asking a lot of questions about guns. Did he and your grandfather still get on? I’d really like to understand better why he left his employment so suddenly.’ Again Nadia looked slightly shocked and definitely uncomfortable about this direct line of questioning.
‘They were once as close as father and son, but just recently they avoided each other completely. Rohit used to work for my grandfather as a sort of Boy Friday, helping him organise his work and appointments and doing research for him. Something happened to break that relationship; neither of them would tell me exactly what. He blames my grandfather for not protecting him from getting the sack and also for not getting me out of this damned marriage.’ This was the first indication from her that her marriage to Sir William had become a sham. Hunter was surprised about how open she was with him about this. ‘But if you mean to ask if he might have been the murderer? No. That’s impossible. He wouldn’t harm my grandfather, he loved him too much, nor would he ever do anything violent, he’s a complete pacifist and wouldn’t harm the proverbial fly.’
‘Do you have any inkling where he might be hiding then?’
‘No, I don’t know, he hasn’t been returning any of my calls or texts since Saturday evening. He doesn’t have any family here. It’s possible he might b
e staying with one of his college friends; there is a group of them he knows in the Spon End area of Coventry.’ She wrote out the address for him. ‘Inspector, please find him, I am so worried about him. I have never seen him as scared as he was on Saturday. I’ve been thinking about little else ever since.’
‘Who or what is he so scared of?’
Nadia hesitated as if deliberating whether she should say the next words, but she took a deep breath before continuing. This time as she spoke she was looking at him very directly, as if trying to emphasise that she was revealing to him her deepest anxieties. Her speech was measured but full of controlled venom.
‘There is a man called Khand. He also worked for my grandfather. He is a completely evil man, corrupt and ruthless. Rohit thinks it was Khand that had my grandfather murdered. Please don’t tell my husband any of this; I’m worried how he will react, especially if he knows Rohit has been visiting me in secret. Sir William is not a good husband but he is also not a violent man. Khand on the other hand would stop at nothing to shut us up.’
‘Can you tell me more about this Khand?’
‘As I said, he is one of my grandfather’s old lieutenants, representing a number of his business interests including those in England. He’s a very nasty piece of work, out of control really, behaves almost like a gangster. I warned my grandfather about him so many times but he had a blind spot, either that or Khand had something on him.’
‘Do you have any idea where I might find him?’
‘None I am afraid, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he is hanging around here gloating somewhere.’
‘Any description you can give me?’
‘Short, stocky, silver hair, likes to pass himself off as a respectable businessman, but as I said he’s an utter crook. I’m sure I’ll have a photograph somewhere if you can give me a few minutes.’ She searched through some papers and handed him a photograph of her grandfather and other senior managers at a company function. ‘That’s him, there on the right.’
‘OK Nadia, this is all very helpful. I’ll let you know as soon as we find Rohit and in the meantime, please be extremely careful and don’t go out of the house under any circumstances. Whatever you do, don’t mention our conversation to anybody.’
