by Tana Collins
‘There’s been no folder found yet but we’ll keep you posted.’ Carruthers took another sip of his coke. ‘What was the relationship like between Rhys and Dave? They’d obviously known each other a long time. Were they friends?’
‘I was thinking about this earlier, about their relationship, and to tell you the truth I think Rhys was afraid of Dave. I think back in Cardiff Rhys tried to distance himself from Dave. From what Rhys told me, Dave was always in and out of trouble, although he never gave me any specific details. Back home he had some pretty unsavoury friends, had got in with a bad crowd. I don’t think he had a criminal record or anything, but Rhys’ view was that if Dave hadn’t joined the RAF, then he really might have gone off the rails. I got the feeling recently Rhys was trying to avoid Dave. Given Dave’s extreme views and the fact Rhys knew that I didn’t like him, I’m not surprised. Rhys was more intelligent, quick to learn, eager to get on. Dave, on the other hand, could be aggressive. He was a bully and had a cruel streak.’
‘Did you ever see him get aggressive?’ asked Carruthers thoughtfully.
‘Yes, when he’d had a drink,’ responded Siobhan. ‘Although come to think of it he could be aggressive even without a drink.’
‘It doesn’t sound as if Dave Roberts is a very nice person. Did he have any redeeming qualities?’
‘Well, I suppose he could be quite entertaining when he wasn’t too full of drink.’
‘In what way?’
‘He was a good mimic. Very good with accents.’
There was a silence, whilst Carruthers digested this latest piece of news. ‘Did you ever hear him doing an English accent?’
‘As a matter of fact, I did. Just the once. A Scouse accent.’
‘Two more questions. Do you think Dave Roberts is capable of being involved with a terrorist organisation?’
‘I’ve asked myself the same question. I don’t want to believe it, but how well do we ever know someone? I suppose it’s possible, yes. He did seem full of hate a lot of the time. Was he so full of hate he’d go to those extremes? I just don’t know. I could understand him joining a far-right organisation, like the BNP, but the Welsh nationalists?’ she shrugged. ‘However, like I said, how well do you ever know someone?’
‘Final question, Siobhan. Is it possible that if Dave Roberts was a member of a terrorist organisation, Rhys found out and Dave killed him?’
Siobhan spoke slowly. There were tears in her eyes. ‘If you are asking me do I think Roberts could be capable of murder, then the answer is, yes. I think he was pretty much capable of anything.’
***
‘Look, I don’t think we got off to the best of starts,’ said Fletcher, thinking that despite her growing dislike of McGhee, she’d better make an effort, if they were to work together. She held the keys tight in her hand whilst they walked to one of the pool cars. She was prepared to make an effort, but she didn’t want him in her Beetle. She unlocked the door and climbed into the driver’s seat. McGhee followed suit, climbing into the passenger seat. She started the ignition.
‘Don’t you?’ McGhee turned to her as he put his seatbelt on, a smile playing on his lips. He looked amused, and as she looked up at him, she could see the challenge in his eyes, as he tilted his head coquettishly to one side.
My, but he’s a player, and a dangerous one at that. He held her with his gaze. She was the first to look away. Regretting it, she looked back at him almost immediately, assessing what Carruthers’ ex-wife might have seen in him. His eyelashes were long and dark, his brows almost black, making his eyes even more arresting. She had never seen eyes that colour. They were of the most unusual light brown. She had to admit that she could see why some women would find him attractive. She started the engine up and pulled out of the station car park.
‘How pregnant are you?’ he asked.
‘I don’t think that’s any of your business,’ she said.
‘Do Carruthers and Bingham know?’
She stayed silent.
‘I take it that’s a no. You’ll have to tell them. How do you get on with Carruthers?’ he asked.
‘He’s a good boss. We get on well.’
‘How well?’ asked McGhee, the playfulness back in his eyes, his gaze lingering on her still slim belly.
‘Not that well,’ she said starchily.
‘Is this your first big case?’ said McGhee.
‘We’re a bit of a backwater out here,’ said Fletcher, steeling herself to be professional and grateful to be moving the subject on. ‘Our usual problems involve drink-related disturbances involving the usual suspects.’
McGhee raised his eyebrows.
‘Mostly locals and students, locals and RAF, or students and RAF. Well, if you’re talking about Castletown. Fridays and Saturday nights are the worst.’
McGhee smiled.
‘We also get our fair share of drug related problems here in Fife,’ she continued. ‘We had a spate of break-ins a few months back. Related to drugs. Also had three drug-related deaths linked to a tampered batch of heroin. Very sad. Of course, like anywhere, we get the occasional murder.’
‘So you’ve worked on a murder case before? I hear you’re working on a suspicious death at the moment.’
‘Yes we are. Jim thinks the case is related to the car bomb, although Bingham disagrees.’
‘Jim? On first name terms, eh?’
Fletcher willed herself not to redden but remained silent.
‘What do you think?’ said McGhee.
‘I don’t believe in coincidences, so I agree with Jim. I just haven’t worked out what the connection is yet. Seems too much of a coincidence that the airman killed was Welsh.’
‘I agree.’
‘What do you think’s going on? Do you think it’s a terrorist attack?’ asked Fletcher.
‘Whoever’s behind this is clearly not targeting the Scottish population as a whole. Why would they? On the other hand, though, if they have linked up with a group of Scottish extremists, it could get messy. My personal view? I think Holdaway’s been targeted by Williams and his associates for the sole reason of payback for the shooting of Williams’ sister,’ said McGhee. ‘His motive is personal. As such, it’s more than likely a one off. Hopefully Williams hasn’t hooked up with any other militant groups.’
‘Why have Bryn Glas 1402 claimed responsibility then? Why didn’t Williams just operate on his own? It would be much easier. Surely the more people involved, the more can go wrong,’ said Fletcher.
McGhee shrugged. ‘Perhaps Williams couldn’t operate on his own. He may have needed help.’
‘So you don’t think Williams has linked up with the Real IRA or another faction? Bit more likely than linking up with the Scots, isn’t it?’
‘No,’ said McGhee. ‘There’s been no chatter over the internet about Bryn Glas 1402 linking up with any other terror group. You really are like a terrier, aren’t you? Get your teeth into something and you don’t let go. I’ll admit previously if the Welsh thought their cause could be furthered by hooking up with the Irish, they wouldn’t hesitate. But this was back in the 60s.’
‘Tell me what happened?’
‘There was evidence to strongly suggest the Free Wales Army, another terrorist outfit, acquired a consignment of old IRA weapons. We’re not sure if they bought them or were given them. A cache of weapons was discovered on a coastal path in Pembrokeshire in the 1980s, reasonably close to Fishguard.’
‘Fishguard? That would be significant because it’s the port at which the Irish ferries dock?’ Fletcher spoke slowly, working things out in her head as she said them.
‘Yes, exactly,’ he said. ‘Like I said that discovery was a long time ago now. The chances of both the Irish and Welsh extremists linking up to plant a car bomb in Scotland are very unlikely. Don’t you worry your pretty head.’
Fletcher clenched her jaw as he continued speaking.
‘We haven’t received any information to alert us to a possible alliance between two of t
hose groups.’
‘Well, have you received any information on how Bryn Glas 1402 managed to get their hands on Semtex? That was the preferred choice of explosive of the IRA, was it not?’ said Fletcher. ‘Ewan Williams must have tapped his old colleagues in the IRA. Perhaps they owed him for all the party funds he’d given them over the years. So there must be some link between Williams and the IRA.’
‘I don’t need you to tell me now to do my job.’ McGhee suddenly looked furious. ‘What I’ve forgotten about the complexities of terrorism is more than you’ll ever know.’
‘I didn’t mean to imply–’ the ring of McGhee’s mobile cut the rest of her sentence off.
‘We’re on our way.’ McGhee’s face was set as he stared straight ahead, studiously looking at the road. Studiously not looking at her. She had fallen out of favour it seemed. She was starting to wish she’d never made herself available for the trip to the RAF base.
***
SATURDAY EVENING, 2ND JUNE
Carruthers was still digesting the conversation he’d had with Siobhan Mathews as he made his way back to the station. He arrived some twenty minutes later and parked up.
‘Where the hell have you been, Carruthers?’ asked a red-faced Bingham. ‘You don’t get paid to go walkabout. You were needed over here with Alistair McGhee. I had to send DS Fletcher. I’m seriously disappointed in you. You seem to want to thwart me at every turn.’
Carruthers ignored the comment. ‘Is Fletcher alright?’ he asked.
‘Of course she is. Why wouldn’t she be? Unless you’re talking about her pregnancy. McGhee told me. Accidentally, I might add. I take it you knew?’
‘She told me yesterday. And with all due respect, sir, it wasn’t McGhee’s place to say anything, accidentally or otherwise.’
‘You’re right. It wasn’t McGhee’s place to tell me. It was yours.’
‘I don’t agree. It was Fletcher’s place to tell you.’
‘I don’t appreciate finding out information like that from someone outside the station.’
‘Like I said, she only told me yesterday. In confidence,’ answered Carruthers. Trust McGhee to have found out and told the superintendent before Carruthers had had the chance. Instinctively he knew that if Fletcher had told McGhee it would probably have been to halt his advances.
‘Bloody inconvenient. She’s a good copper,’ said Bingham.
‘And will remain so,’ replied Carruthers.
‘Hmm. We’ve got more important things to worry about than Andie Fletcher being in the family way. We need to find Dave Roberts and fast. The RAF Police are on to it as well of course. I’ve had a tricky time of it I can tell you, smoothing the way for McGhee’s lot. The RAF want to investigate Roberts’ disappearance and Evans’ death themselves. They’ve been insisting on taking the lead. It’s not their call, though. Any death outside the military base, even of military personnel, is the responsibility of civilian police. Now there’s a possible connection with bombers of course, it’s a no-brainer. It’s now become part of a bigger investigation. They’ve been forced to understand the need to bring in more expert advice.’
Carruthers bunched his hands into fists but kept his face neutral.
‘Anyway, back to Dave Roberts,’ said Bingham. ‘They’re pretty sure the description matches him. Apparently, speaking with his colleagues, he’s pretty good with accents. This better turn out to be innocent. The alternative doesn’t bear thinking about, that an extremist organisation has infiltrated one of Britain’s armed forces. What have you been doing anyway, Carruthers? It had better be connected to the case.’
‘I was interviewing Siobhan Mathews, sir. Not only was she our dead man’s girlfriend, but her boyfriend knew Dave Roberts way before they joined the RAF. They were at school together. She was able to give me quite a profile on Roberts. It doesn’t make for pleasant reading. If you’ve got time I’ll fill you in.’
‘You still think the two are linked then? This Evans’ boy’s death and the explosion?’ said Bingham.
‘Well sir, Dave Roberts seems to be the missing link in both cases. He’s been placed over by the university in suspicious circumstances, just before the bomb was detonated. There is also the matter of his lying to Mathews about informing the police of Evans’ disappearance shortly before he went AWOL. Why would he lie to her? Apart from the fact he fits the description, his extremist views have been mentioned both by Mathews and at the base. We now know he’s good with accents. Mathews told me the same thing. It all fits.’
‘The boy’s got no links to Bryn Glas, though,’ said Bingham.
‘Not that we’ve found,’ said Carruthers. ‘Yet.’
‘We’re having a station meeting here at eight tomorrow morning,’ said Bingham. ‘Pity Holdaway went into hiding. We would’ve had vital information we needed at least forty-eight hours earlier. Go home and get something to eat, man. You look done in.’
***
As he left the station the sun was beginning to set. The sky was a fragile bird’s egg blue broken up by diagonal lines of white and grey clouds. The huge orange sun cast its warm glow as it dipped across the fields.
It wasn’t long before Carruthers was settled down with an Indian takeaway and a bottle of Caledonian IPA in front of the TV. Although not lavishly decorated, his cottage had a nice homely feel to it. He had a good-sized living room with a wood burning stove as the focal point. The ceilings were sloping, and the décor was understated. He had painted the walls cream, which gave the room a light open feel. His one comfy brown leather armchair, in which he relaxed to eat his dinner off his lap, was old and a little shabby, but still serviceable. Sometimes that’s how he felt, despite not yet having turned forty. Old and a little shabby.
He finished his meal. He knew he should be running a bath and getting an early night, but, despite his tiredness, he was too wired. He decided to go for a walk and get some air. He grabbed his house keys and locked up his cottage. He loved the fact he was so close to the sea. And being just nine miles from Castletown, Anstruther or Ainster as locals called it, wasn’t too far from work. This evening tourists and locals alike were strolling along the cobbled harbour front. There was a smell of salt sea air and the lingering aroma of fish and chips.
This charming fishing village, fronted by its attractive harbour already felt like home. He’d read that in its heyday it had been one of the busiest fishing ports in the East Neuk of Fife. He knew it was also a mecca for tourists, due to its being on the Fife Coastal Path, and he was already looking forward to walking along the coast when he had a bit more time.
James II of Scotland had once famously described The East Neuk as a fringe of gold on a beggar’s mantle. Carruthers loved that description.
He settled himself on one of the benches overlooking the harbour. To the west, the sunset was full of colour. Red, orange and purple streaked the sky, beautiful to look at but as ever, short lived. The colours were already fading. He smiled suddenly but the smile was tinged with sadness. Mairi had loved sunsets. He supposed that she still did. She had always said that a sunset was best appreciated when watched with somebody else. He wondered if, somewhere, she too was watching this sunset, and, although he knew he was being uncharitable, hoped that she was on her own. He wasn’t ready for her to be happy with somebody else. Not yet.
He watched the first stars twinkle. He thought about his previous life with Mairi in London. It was as if it was already another lifetime. He looked up at the sky again. The air was so clear here, he thought. It was almost as if someone had thrown the stars randomly into the sky. He remembered Fletcher telling him how she’d once seen the Northern Lights over Castletown.
Later, when the light had finally faded, he settled back in the bath with Casino Royale in one hand, and a beer in the other. Strains of Neil Young’s ‘Old Man’ filtered through the open door from the CD player in the living room. He jolted as he started to fall asleep in the bath.
TWELVE
SUNDAY MORNING, 3rd
JUNE
‘We’ve heard back from the Forensics Explosives Lab. They’ve established that the bomb was on a timer,’ said McGhee in the morning briefing. What have you got for us, Jim?’
Carruthers hated McGhee calling him by his first name but let it slide. ‘Still no sighting of Dave Roberts,’ he said. ‘He may have left Scotland, so we’re linking up with other forces, including South Wales Police. His room’s been searched by the RAF Police. Nothing found linking him to Welsh extremists. However, a large amount of racist material has been discovered. No surprise considering what we now know about him. Harris is currently running a check with the SID to see if he’s an active member of the BNP, or some similar organisation. The RAF are conducting their own interviews of his closest colleagues.’ Carruthers wondered what the Scottish Intelligence Database would turn up, if anything.
‘This may be a long shot,’ said Superintendent Bingham, ‘but is there any known connection between members of British far right extremist groups and members of Nationalist groups in the UK or Ireland, Alistair? If there is a strong connection somewhere, perhaps we’ll have found the link to Roberts. It’s currently proving elusive.’
McGhee faced Superintendent Bingham in response to his question.
‘That’s a good question,’ he said. ‘Well, as I’ve said before, certain nationalist groups, most notably Cymru 1400 in Wales, have previously stated their willingness to cooperate with any source to gain their ends. Presumably that would include the far right. Naturally though, there’s a stronger link between the Scots, Irish and Welsh, rather than the BNP. One of the Welsh splinter groups has got a link to the BNP on their website, although when questioned, they denied they were anti-English or anti-black. Also, certain high profile figures in British far right groups, such as Mark Dobson have expressed their admiration for Welsh nationalist groups, such as the Sons of Glendower.’
‘Interesting, so a connection is feasible,’ said Bingham.
