4. Gray Retribution

by Alan McDermott

  Gray turned and stared out of the window. Harvey was right, whichever way he looked at it, and that made him even angrier. He wanted to argue the point, but couldn’t think of anything rational to counter Harvey’s statement.

  He resumed his seat behind the desk and exhaled loudly. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’

  ‘No need to apologise,’ Harvey assured him. ‘You’ve been through a lot, and you still have Melissa to worry about. I can’t pretend that I know what you’re going through, but you need to focus on your daughter right now. If this wasn’t an accident, I’ll help you get to the bottom of it.’

  Gray nodded and thought of the letter he’d received, but decided to hold on to that ace for the time being.

  ‘I have to go and see her,’ he said, looking at his watch.

  ‘I’ll drive you there. It’s on the way.’

  Harvey accompanied Gray to Melissa’s room and stayed with him until the duty consultant came to do his rounds. Her condition hadn’t changed, but the long-term prognosis was positive.

  ‘Her MRI was encouraging, so we expect to bring her out of the coma in the next few days,’ the doctor told them. ‘Her most recent ECG looks good, though it will be some time before the full extent of the injury is understood.’

  ‘What’s your opinion?’ Gray asked.

  The doctor shrugged. ‘It could be anything from permanent vegetative state to a full recovery. We simply won’t know until she’s conscious and we’re able to perform some rudimentary tests. However, her recovery is progressing much better than expected, which points to the more optimistic end of the scale.’

  Gray thanked him as he left, then took his usual seat next to her incubator. The book he’d brought in a couple of days earlier was where he’d left it, and he opened it at the dog-eared page.

  ‘She loved it when Vick read to her at night,’ he explained, and felt the rush of blood that usually preceded tears. He looked at Harvey. ‘I’m good here. You go catch some bad guys.’

  As the door closed and he was left alone with his daughter, Gray put the book down and began thinking about the next steps.

  Melissa was his sole responsibility now. That meant looking after her twenty-four-seven, so work was out of the question. There was the option to put her into a nursery once she was a year old, but for the moment he couldn’t imagine letting her out of his sight.

  He thought about selling the business once more, but he’d need a monthly income for the foreseeable future rather than a lump sum. He’d have to get a manager in and do what he could from home, but there would always be trips overseas to consider. Len Smart was as level-headed as they came, and he’d ask him to take on the role of manager-stroke-ambassador.

  The house would definitely have to go. Not only was it bigger than they needed, it would hold too many memories. He would downsize and pay cash for a smaller place, and use what remained to kit it out for Melissa’s needs, whatever they might be.

  He looked at her again, and wondered how anyone could do such a thing to an innocent. His mind wandered as he thought of the other children he’d seen killed and maimed while on tour in Iraq. One perpetrator had been caught and dealt with by the locals, and Gray imagined doing the same to whoever had devastated his family.

  Only he couldn’t. He’d tipped his hand to Wallace, and so any attack on Harman or Hart would soon have the police knocking at his door.

  Gray picked up the book in an effort to force the thoughts aside, and began regaling Melissa with the story of Little Red Riding Hood. He was almost done when his phone rang.

  ‘Tom, it’s Andrew. I just got back to the office and found the autopsy report on my desk.’

  Gray held his breath, wondering if he was ready to hear the details, but Harvey spared him.

  ‘There was no sign of alcohol in her system. There was some trauma to her head, so it looks like she was unconscious when the fire started.’

  ‘Someone hit her?’

  ‘It doesn’t look like it. The official line is that she was holding the sambuca bottle and glass when she fell against a table and knocked herself out.’

  Gray recalled the heavy oak coffee table Ken had in the living room. If she had tripped and banged her head against it, that would explain the way she’d been incapacitated, but he still didn’t accept the fact that she’d neglect her daughter to have a drinking session.

  His heart was still convinced that Vick had been murdered.

  Which brought him back to the note. Who had sent it, and why? Wallace may have been correct in suggesting it was one of Hart’s rivals, hoping Gray would do them a favour. But then they’d have to have known that Vick’s death wasn’t an accident, as had been reported on the news. He tried to list anyone who would know the details of the report into the fire, but he could only think of himself and Harvey, plus the police and fire service. The latter two saw nothing suspicious in Vick’s death, and it seemed highly unlikely that Harvey would taunt him by sending the letter, only to talk him out of taking any action.

  That left just one possibility: someone else knew Vick was murdered. Not a rival to Hart, but someone close to him.

  If Gray was going to find out who had killed his wife, he needed Harvey’s help, and that meant opening up to him.

  Having taken that decision, he told Harvey everything, from the arrival of the letter to his meeting with the detective.

  ‘What did Wallace say?’ Harvey asked.

  ‘That he’d contact the local police and get them to look into Harman.’

  ‘Then I suggest you let him. The police can handle this now. I’m sure that if there’s any way Harman was involved, they’ll get to the bottom of it.’

  Gray didn’t share Harvey’s confidence. He still wanted to give Harman a napalm enema, but with one glance at his daughter he knew he couldn’t do anything that might mean losing her.

  ‘Okay. I’ll call Wallace in a few days to see how things are going.’

  Gray ended the call and returned to the book. When it got to the part where the woodcutter cut the wolf open, he swapped it for a more subtle ending.

  There was no need for his daughter to be exposed to such violence: he would save that for someone more deserving.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Friday 18 October 2013

  The grey October sky reflected the mood of the party gathered around the open grave as the vicar said a final few words before laying Vick to rest.

  Harvey glanced at Tom and wondered how the same shit could happen to the same guy twice. At least he was taking it better than expected. Though understandably not the life and soul of the party, Gray wasn’t showing any untoward signs of anger or malevolence. Harvey was thankful that his friend had decided to focus his attention on his daughter rather than thoughts of retribution.

  As the coffin was lowered into the ground, Harvey said his own private farewell, then joined the other dozen mourners as they trudged through the rain-soaked grounds to the waiting cars. They drove back to Gray’s home, just Ken and Mina, Vick’s parents and a handful of close friends.

  A spread of sandwiches and finger food had been prepared, though few were in any mood to indulge. Instead, they stood around, drinking tea and coffee and remembering the good times they’d shared with the dearly departed.

  Harvey felt uncomfortable, though he assumed everyone else did, too. What could be said that would offer comfort to a grieving family? He did his best, then grabbed Gray and took him to one side.

  ‘How are you holding up?’

  ‘I’ve had better days. The main thing is getting today out of the way so that I can start thinking about Melissa’s future.’

  ‘What’s the latest news?’ Harvey had been in daily contact with Gray and knew every detail of her progress, but thought it might help if he forced his friend to concentrate on the living for the time being.

  ‘She’ll be brought out of the coma on Monday. We should know more about her condition in the coming weeks.’

  Ha
rvey nodded. ‘How’s Len doing?’

  Smart had been given the role of interim manager while Ryan Amos drew up a contract that would allow Gray to resign from his position as company director, yet retain an interest in the business. His new role would be that of technical advisor, which came with a generous monthly stipend. It was hoped that removing Gray’s name from the register at Companies House would relieve the stigma and prevent more clients from bailing.

  ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was born to be a desk jockey. I swear it’s the first time he’s ever worn a suit, but he certainly looks the part.’

  Harvey chuckled at the thought of the tough ex-soldier playing office manager.

  ‘What about you? Are you . . . you know . . . okay?’

  ‘I’m not going to march off and start a war, if that’s what you mean. I promised I’d leave it to the police, and I will. In fact, I’m going to give that copper a call, see how things are progressing.’

  They walked out to the garden where Gray pulled out his mobile and the detective’s business card. He dialled the number and put it on speaker.

  ‘DI Wallace.’

  ‘Frank, it’s Tom Gray. I was just wondering if you had any news regarding Robert Harman.’

  Wallace asked him to hold, and when he came back on the line a couple of minutes later, Gray heard traffic in the background.

  ‘I just checked the database. Harman was pulled in for questioning yesterday but they got nothing from him. He knows half a dozen people who’ll swear he was at a party that night.’

  ‘And that’s it? Didn’t they check his wardrobe for forensics or something?’

  ‘We can’t really do that unless we’re invited in or have a warrant, and those aren’t easy to come by unless you have a crime to link it to, which we don’t.’

  ‘Well, what about previous? Has he got a criminal record?’

  ‘I can’t go into details, Tom. Let’s just say he’s no choirboy.’

  The look on Gray’s face as he hung up betrayed his anger. ‘They have to be totally inept to see Vick’s death as an accident. I hand them clues on a plate, and they still won’t do anything.’

  ‘It’s frustrating, I know,’ Harvey said. He, too, felt there was enough to start an investigation and couldn’t understand Wallace’s apathy. ‘I’ll head to the office and see if I can dig up anything on Harman that might shake them into action.’

  He didn’t know what he expected to find, but he had to show that something was being done. If he didn’t, Gray might start thinking of taking the matter into his own hands, and that wasn’t likely to end well.

  Harvey said his goodbyes and left, arriving at Thames House an hour later due to a lorry spillage en route. After making himself a coffee, he signed into his work station, then logged into the Police National Computer and began searching for Robert Harman.

  There were very few matches, which made it easy to find the one linked to the address in the letter Gray had given him. Harvey opened the file and was surprised to see just one conviction for a motoring offence. He was hardly the career criminal Wallace had painted him to be, and that set alarm bells ringing.

  What possible motive could Wallace have for feeding Gray misleading information? He looked for the most recent entry on the file and saw that it had been recorded four years earlier, around the time of his arrest for speeding. He certainly hadn’t been pulled in for questioning in the last few days.

  What are you playing at, Wallace?

  He made a mental note to follow that up and in the meantime looked for Harman’s known associates. Harvey was surprised to find several, and they all linked back to one man: Paul Ainsworth. A quick scan of his file showed a particularly nasty character, with a long list of arrests but very few convictions. It was a common scenario: victims were harassed or bullied into withdrawing their statements and refusing to press charges.

  Further digging revealed no known ties between Ainsworth and Hart, other than the fact that both were suspected of being involved in organised crime. That set Harvey thinking of Wallace once more.

  As one of the senior figures in the newly formed National Crime Agency, Wallace would surely be familiar with both men, and he would certainly want to follow up any leads.

  So why had he lied to Gray about checking on Harman?

  The thought nagged him like a truculent spouse. Gray had explained why he’d dropped the charges against the Hart boys, and it might simply be that Wallace didn’t want to tip his hand and let Hart and Ainsworth know they were being watched. If that was the case, there would surely be some mention in Vick’s file.

  Harvey searched for Gray’s wife and the mystery deepened. Her death was still noted as accidental, with no recent updates, which meant Wallace was either extremely sloppy when it came to procedure, or he really wasn’t interested in pursuing the case.

  Harvey rose and walked around, trying to piece the puzzle together, but there was something missing.

  He strode to Veronica Ellis’s office and knocked, entering when commanded.

  ‘I’d like to do a check on someone,’ he told her.

  The assistant director general gave him a quizzical look. ‘Since when do you need my permission?’

  ‘When it’s a detective inspector in the NCA.’

  ‘So you’ve got my attention,’ Ellis said. ‘Spill it.’

  Harvey told her about the suspicious circumstances surrounding Vick’s death, as well as Gray’s altercation with the Hart boys a few days prior and the note pinning Robert Harman to the fire.

  ‘Not exactly conclusive,’ Ellis said.

  Harvey agreed, but pointed out the alternative, which made Ellis cringe. She stood and smoothed her pencil skirt before wandering back and forth, arms folded across her chest.

  ‘The thought of Tom Gray on another crusade chills my blood,’ she said. ‘I’ve been in this position for eighteen months, and still nothing scares me more than the thought of a pissed-off Tom Gray going on another rampage. That’s why I tasked you with keeping an eye on him.’

  She pondered a little longer, then came to a decision. ‘If you think it’s the only way to mollify him, I’ll play along. Tell me what you need.’

  ‘For the moment, just your say-so. Gerald can provide everything else.’

  Ellis nodded, and Harvey went to the technician’s office, where he found Gerald Small tinkering with a fibre-optic camera.

  ‘You got a minute?’

  Small put the device down and offered Harvey a seat. ‘What do you need?’

  Harvey normally worked on a need-to-know basis, but Small had a habit of finding gaps in the plan when shown the bigger picture, and he didn’t disappoint when Harvey told him the entire story of Gray, his family, his wife’s death, Hart, and Wallace’s role in it all. Before Harvey could explain the mission, Small interrupted.

  ‘If he said he checked up on Harman but didn’t, it sounds like this Wallace guy is trying to help Hart rather than put him away,’ the specialist said, ‘You want me to put a trace on his calls, is that right?’

  Harvey could have smacked himself. Of course Wallace was protecting Hart. Once Small had suggested it, it seemed obvious.

  But he still needed proof.

  ‘If I can get you a mobile number, can you get me a history of calls?’

  ‘Sorry, we don’t have that capability, but I can give you everything from this moment on.’

  ‘Okay,’ Harvey said. ‘That’ll have to do.’

  He rose to leave, wondering how he could force Wallace’s hand, but Small stopped him.

  ‘There’s something else you’ll need to consider, Andrew.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘If you were selling secrets to the Chinese, would you conduct business using your mobile?’

  Harvey laughed. ‘Of course not!’

  ‘Then perhaps Wallace isn’t, either. You don’t get to rise so high in the force by being stupid, so if he’s really working with Hart, he’d have another ph
one at the very least. He might even be rotating them, buying a new burner cell every week.’

  Harvey felt a complete idiot: such obvious points and he’d missed them both. ‘Good point. Well, that complicates things, to say the least.’

  Small smiled knowingly. ‘Want to know how to find his other phone number, assuming he has one?’

  Harvey nodded, and Small smiled as he reached into a drawer, pulling out a box the size of a cigarette packet.

  ‘I finished this a few days ago,’ he said. ‘It scans the area and logs every IMSI—or International Mobile Subscriber Identity number—in range. The screen will display them in a list, and clicking one will give you details such as provider and phone number. Think of it as a mobile phone mast with a large electronic footprint: devices connect to it automatically based on signal strength.’

  ‘How close would I have to be to detect his phones?’

  ‘You should get fifty yards with clear line-of-sight, maybe thirty if he’s in a building.’

  ‘How accurate is it? I mean, if two people were standing side by side and you had two signals, could you tell which phone belonged to which person?’

  ‘No, but I can get it down to a two-metre area. If you can isolate him, it’ll give you the details of any devices he’s carrying.’

  That was good enough for Harvey. ‘I’ll arrange a meeting for four this afternoon,’ he said. ‘Bring that along.’

  Before Small could object, Harvey left the office and went back to his desk to call Gray.

  When his phone chirped, Tom Gray checked the caller ID and saw that it was Harvey. He excused himself and walked into the garden before answering it.

  ‘Hi, Andrew.’

  ‘I need the mobile number of that detective, Frank Wallace.’

  Gray pulled out the detective’s card and read off the digits. ‘Did you find anything?’

  ‘Yes, but I need your help with this.’

  Gray agreed to do what he could, but was disappointed with the response.

  ‘Your job is to avoid contact with Wallace at all costs.’

  ‘Avoid him? Why?’