Within fifteen minutes, the plain blue van had arrived with four officers from Police Nationale. They quickly removed Phillip who was still protesting his innocence in both French and English. Owen put on a latex glove before picking up the coffee cup and slipped it into a polythene bag.
“We need this place stripping!” Cyril’s words came out as an order.
They waited for the lift to return and walked in. Owen pressed the ground floor button but Cyril pressed for the basement. “Just a look and see, no harm in that, no laws broken.” He smiled at Owen.
Owen saw the yellow Ferrari first and his whistle echoed around the cavernous, concrete garage. “In Phillip’s allotted space too. Nice but not that nice. It may look flash but it’s all fur coat and no knickers, one of the worst...” Owen stopped talking.
Cyril turned when he heard the word flash. Owen’s reddening face said everything and brought a smile to Cyril’s lips. Cyril’s eyes were not interested in the ‘flash’ machinery, just the more mundane; he looked across at the Audi that was parked in a manner that would be classed as abandoned in a far corner. It was the English licence plates that drew his attention. “Who do we know, Dr. Watson, who owns an Audi estate? We need to talk to Phillip more in depth. I want both of these cars impounding as well as that flat searching. I want Forensics swarming over everything.” He brought out his phone before realising that he had no signal below ground. Cyril made the call as they arrived by the police car.
It took a great deal of persuasion, but two officers arrived, one to guard the flat and the other the garage. Owen and Cyril headed, with a degree of urgency, to the Headquarters of the Police Nationale in Nice.
Phillip was sitting in a small interview room, his fingers tapping the table. An empty cardboard cup sat by his right hand on the edge of the table.
“Looks like a cornered rat if you ask me, Sir.”
“I’ve contacted the Chief Super to organise getting our man home as soon as, if they can clear it with the powers that be here. I’ve also issued a European Arrest Warrant Apparently there’s a chance, I’m reliably informed, that they’re trying to do a swap with a young lady we have in custody who’s wanted for some terrorist activities in and around Marseilles. Amazing how the red tape can be removed when there’s mutual benefit! It’s suggested that the French will complete all the forensics and forward the details and we’ll do the same with the interviews. The law may have been broken in both countries, but we’ll only discover that when we know what our chap has been up to. Who says you can’t work with our European cousins? It never ceases to amaze me, Owen, how quickly the walls and barriers can be breached when the trumpet of Entente Cordiale is blown loudly enough!”
Owen looked at Cyril with a slightly vague expression and after a second or two’s thought, he responded. “As a nipper, I used to love Vimto, especially hot when the weather was cold.”
Did Cyril detect a slight smile on Owen’s lips? He often thought that Owen played deliberately naive, but if he were honest with himself, he found it difficult to determine whether his vagueness was genuine or merely just a smoke screen to hide his real thought processes. He rather liked that idea if the truth be known.
“Let’s go and have a little chat,” Cyril whispered quietly.
Phillip didn’t look round when he heard the door open with an electronic click. Owen placed two chairs at the other side of the desk. The door clicked again and the French Officer came in. He nodded to Cyril and smiled. There didn’t appear to be any recording equipment in the room but they knew that everything would be recorded, particularly Phillip who simply stared at Cyril and continued to tap the table.
“Now, Mr. Jarvis, what is it exactly you’re not telling us?”
There was a long pause as neither made the next move. The French Officer moved his feet but nobody spoke. Cyril watched Phillip’s nervous fingers tapping the table.
“Sorry, none of us here understands Morse Code.”
Owen smiled.
“So where’s Mary? You’ve met her many times. Do you work together? Do you have some business arrangement? Have you always had a business arrangement from your college days?”
Cyril noticed a small twitch on Phillip’s face. He’d struck a metaphoric nerve.
“So you’re old business partners...in what business, Mr. Jarvis?”
The tapping stopped and Phillip looked up. “I’d like my lawyer here now.”
“Tonight, you’ll be on a flight back to the United Kingdom and you’ll be allocated a lawyer there. By this time, your DNA will be matched to two bodies found in a shallow grave at the College where both you and Mary studied. Believe me, Sir, you’ll need a lawyer and a bloody good one!”
Where all of this had come from, Cyril couldn’t surmise. It had probably been gestating in some part of his brain since he had heard that Phillip had his origins in Menton, but to string it together was not only audacious, it was probably downright stupid! It had just slipped out on the spur of the moment, but the result had been quite remarkable. Both Cyril and Owen had noticed Phillip’s body stiffen and the tapping stopping. His facial expression went from one of confidence to one of amazement that this stranger could have the facts at his finger tips after all this time. His fingers started tapping the table displaying even more anxiety.
Cyril left asking the Officer to check the answer phone at Phillip’s apartment and to also search for his mobile phone. If they were to find anything, they were to send it through immediately. The odd name could help lift the lid to this mental can of worms.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The sky cleared slowly, exposing the distorted, vapour trails that contrasted with the blue. Janet sat looking out across the mirror-like pool. The wind had dropped and a streaky-blue was reluctantly returning to the sea. When the sun broke cloud, she felt warm for the first time that day. By noon, she became anxious and phoned Peter’s mobile. It took a few seconds for her to realise that she could hear it faintly ringing somewhere in the house. Moving quickly, she lowered the phone from her ear and followed the sound to the hall. She opened the cloakroom door and Peter’s jacket pocket could be seen to vibrate in concert with the ring. She hung up and the shaking and ringing stopped. The bell signalling that someone was at the gate made her jump for the second time. After taking a deep breath, she went to the screen and saw her mother by the gate. Vague memories of a lunch date surfaced. She pressed to release the gate before opening the front door in anticipation. If anyone had told her that one day she would be so pleased to see her mother, she’d never have believed it, but today she was as welcome as the developing sunshine.
“Always forget the bloody code numbers,” Mary sighed in frustration as she moved quickly into the hall. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost. What’s up?”
Janet explained the morning’s events and Mary laughed when she mentioned the Marie Celeste.
“Have you phoned Phillip? Peter’s probably there and up to no good as per usual. You know what they’re like. They’re probably hung over from an excess of something!”
“I phoned Phillip but his phone is dead. When I tried the land line it just went to answer phone. Five times I’ve tried.”
“What does Jean say?”
“Both he and Madhul have gone too. I know they were going to see her sister, but I thought that that was later in the week. Maybe I’ve got it all confused. Strange that Peter’s left his mobile here. I was sure it was surgically attached to him!”
“So where were you, my dear, when ‘The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse’ charged through here last night?”
“I was here, but heard absolutely nothing. Madhul brought some warm milk as I was having an early night...” She stopped abruptly as if re-running the evening in her mind. “After drinking the milk I heard absolutely nothing, slept the sleep of the dead. It was only the wind banging a shutter that brought me to my senses otherwise I’d be tucked up still. Wish I were to be honest.”
“Peter’s bee
n anxious. Probably gone to clear his head and get things into perspective. There’s nothing to get concerned over. Come, we’ll call at Phillip’s and then you can eat in peace. He’ll be fine.” Mary could see the worry and anxiety in her daughter’s face. “Trust, my dear, trust me! Get your jacket, let’s go and eat! We’ll see if Peter’s there too and then you might relax and be in the mood for food!”
Janet reluctantly went and collected her things. She locked the house before heading for the car. She smiled, reflecting on the morning’s events before suddenly feeling uncomfortable; maybe it was just nerves...maybe!
***
Cyril was surprised at the efficiency of the system and within two hours they were making their way to the airport. His mind was in an unusually confused state and therefore working overtime. There had been seven messages on the apartment’s answer phone. He had listened to them a number of times in the hope of catching some background noise that might provide a clue. Five were from Janet who appeared to be looking for Peter. She sounded anxious and angry. The final two messages were blank, but the person had listened to the recorded greeting. Disappointment lined his gut, making him physically uncomfortable; both Janet and Peter were evidently implicated, if not willingly involved, in whatever Phillip was up to. He kept replaying the messages in his head and without any doubt, he heard the urgency in her voice as well as a degree of fear. He even heard the thunder in the background to the call. The records showed that she had telephoned from the Doctor’s house and the time. The records also revealed a call to a mobile but the number’s owner was untraceable. Cyril felt sure that it was the sim-free phone that they had found in the kitchen drawer. The concern in her voice was genuine, he could tell that. Perhaps she was not involved, and maybe she was only doing what she was employed to do. He was confused, both professionally and now, much to his annoyance, emotionally.
Phillip was conscious but sedated and so far he had offered little resistance to the fact that he was to be returned to England. A French officer was seconded to travel with them as additional security and to ensure full liaison once Phillip Jarvis was questioned. As per procedure in circumstances of this nature, they boarded the aircraft first. The flight was neither full nor on time and Cyril kept shaking his watch, more in frustration that in eagerness to depart. Owen, who filled the aisle seat and looked a little uncomfortable, his knees squashed into the back of the seat in front, kept looking over as if trying to see out of the window. Phillip had drifted off to sleep, the sedative was certainly effective. Within twenty minutes they were airborne and Owen could finally stand and unfold his numb limbs.
***
Lawrence moved towards the ICU and waited outside the automatic security doors; as before, his reluctance to leave a trail was still paramount. He didn’t have to wait long. He smiled at the nurse who was leaving and politely held the door ajar. He smiled again, whispered a thank you before opening the door more fully. He watched her walk up the corridor before grabbing a plastic apron and gloves, after checking which colour corresponded with his patient, a system established to prevent cross-contamination. It was then more easy for hospital staff to see who was with whom. The table, positioned outside Paula’s room, faced the room’s observation window and the sole occupant. Lawrence looked in. She was a mass of wires as the plethora of machines helped to maintain her life support. He had done a good job with this one. Her prognosis was not good and if anyone was going to be the first to die from sulphur mustard contamination, he prayed for it to be her. He looked in, grinned smugly with rejuvenated enthusiasm for his cause, suddenly finding a new resolve to get the job done. He was now determined to find the next victim as soon as possible, whatever the risk or the cost might be.
He briefly chatted with the supervisory nurse, checking whether the tests completed within his department were arriving quickly, before he turned to leave. He removed the apron and thrust it forcibly into the bin before heading for the exit doors. The same nurse who had held the door was returning with another female, also in uniform. It was only when they passed that he noticed the second female looking at him with a degree of curiosity. He turned away and increased his pace, realising that the girl was Jane Ashcroft, Paula’s assistant from the Nursing Home. He neither looked round nor slowed his pace, but again it was a warning that he could take nothing for granted.
“Who’s that?” Jane asked the nurse who was showing her to see her friend and colleague for the first time. “I’ve met him before I’m sure.”
“He’s one of the doctors from the hospital or maybe from one of the labs, I know he’s not attached to the ICU. Nice though,” she giggled. “They’re always popping in checking on this and that. Now here’s Paula, You know you can’t go in? Just pop this apron on. You’ve five minutes only, mind.”
***
Mary spotted the police vehicle first as they approached the angled parking spaces painted in the area within the building’s front gardens. She slowed but didn’t stop, even though she couldn’t see the occupants. Her intuition made her skin tingle as all of her senses became immediately acute.
“It’s not right!” She moved her head quickly, looking along the length of the apartments.
Mary parked further up the road and checked the mirrors.
“Stay here. Ring me if you see Les Flics. I’ve got a funny feeling about this.”
She took out her phone and put it on vibrate, just in case a call came through at an inopportune moment. Climbing from the car, she walked towards the apartment block, her eyes were everywhere. She turned down into the garage, passing the security barrier. Unusually, the lights were on; normally the sensors would only maintain them long enough for someone to park and make their way to the lift. It was then that she saw the officer leaning against the Ferrari, his head down and his fingers dancing on the small keyboard. He was obviously playing some game on his mobile phone.
She retreated, went along the garden path before moving through the main entrance door to the apartments. To her relief the four digit code she entered was correct. She frowned. So why couldn’t she ever remember Peter’s? she asked herself. Avoiding the lift she took the stairs to the third floor. Just as she had anticipated there was a second officer sitting outside Phillip’s apartment.
“He’s been arrested. Shit! Shit! Shit!”
On returning to the car, Mary took out her mobile, looked at Janet and raised her eye-brows. She speed-dialled Penny.
“Penny, where are you now?”
Penny informed her that she was in the small park in the grounds of Palais Masséna, a museum next to the Negresco Hotel and that the sun was shining which didn’t do much for Mary’s mood.
“How lovely for you! I’m glad somebody’s day is going better than expected. Get your arse in a taxi and meet me at the end of Quai Saint-Pierre in an hour. You know the spot. Call and collect whatever you need from the hotel. You’ll not be returning so leave it clean. Say nothing to Reception as the account has already been paid in cash. They’ll be told you’ve had to leave as a matter of urgency, family tragedy.”
Mary’s voice, although direct as usual, certainly indicated that she was extremely concerned or angry about something.
“It’s those medalling, fucking English Coppers who are behind this! What did you actually say to them when they came to Richmond?”
Mary’s finger prodded her daughter’s shoulder and Janet flinched instinctively. She had felt the force of Mary’s fist on numerous occasions.
“I said nothing that’d lead them to this apartment or to you. Peter showed them the diamonds and bragged about Sierra Leone. The best place to hide anything is right under their nosey snouts, he boasted after they’d gone. He told me just what I should say, but you, mother, you of all people, are aware that I know very little; it was your decision to distance me as much as possible from your business dealings. I remember your saying that you wanted to keep me away from unnecessary information that might come back and bite me. More importantly, where’
s Peter? You know don’t you? What’s happened to him, to Jean and to Madhul?”
Mary didn’t reply but kept full eye contact as she rang Charles. Janet could hear the anger emanating from the ear-piece. She couldn’t hear exactly what he was shouting about but Mary didn’t reply; she simply hung up, swore, threw the phone onto her lap, screamed a number of curses, started the car with a little too much throttle and then headed for the rendezvous. She glanced at Janet.
“I have the pleasure of facing fucking Charles’ wrath later. I’m taking you home and then I’m collecting Penny. Clear the house and check everything. Charles will have already done a clean sweep of the caretaker’s cottage so you can leave that. At nine tomorrow you will ring the police and let them know that Peter has gone missing. If you look, one of his cars will be missing too. The Audi has a prior engagement with Forensics, I feel sure. What a cock-up!”
Janet was dropped off at the gate and she found herself childishly waving as Mary drove away, or was it just the total feeling of insecurity that made her react out of character? The last thing she really wanted right now was to be alone. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she punched the code into the key-pad and the small gate opened. Once inside, she went directly to the kitchen, she was desperate for a coffee. There was an urgency to take stock and focus, list things that needed doing, before waiting for her next instructions. For the first time in a long while she felt afraid and vulnerable, it was the realisation of just how important the next twenty-four hours would prove to be, for not only herself, but for Peter. She also suddenly had a desperate desire to ring Cyril. Even though she knew it might compromise her position, she still felt a strong urge to seek solace and a sensitive ear but for the moment, at least, she was able to resist.
Only the Dead Page 18
