Kaz and Julia exchanged incredulous looks.
It was Kaz who spoke, a rising tide of rage in her voice. ‘You saying that bastard had her killed?’
Nicci raised both hands. ‘One step at a time. I’m saying that if such an incriminating film exists, and he knew about it, it’s a motive for murder.’
67
The wardrobe doors were wide open. Julia was frantically pulling out drawers from the bottom. She handed them to Kaz, who emptied them onto the bed. Nicci sorted through the piles of underwear, tights, socks and pyjamas. The process was brisk, all three women on a mission.
Removing the last drawer, Julia stepped back, sweating and frustrated. ‘I don’t know where else she might’ve put it.’
Nicci frowned. ‘You saw it when she first got it?’
‘She ordered it off the Net. I opened the door to the postman. I did wonder; she only ever took the odd photo with her phone. She said it was a present for her brother to fix on his bike. He does lots of road races.’
Kaz picked up a handful of lacy lingerie; white – Helen only ever wore white underwear. In deference to Julia, she tried to remain nonchalant, but it gave her butterflies; it felt almost sacrilegious to be rummaging through her dead lover’s things like this.
She made herself focus. ‘Let’s be clear what we’re looking for here. A GoPro comes with mounts, accessories. The crucial thing is the memory card. If this is what she used, I don’t think she’d leave it in the camera.’
Nicci turned to her. ‘How big’s the memory card?’
Kaz held her thumb and index finger barely a centimetre apart. ‘Tiny. Like a phone SIM. I know this girl on my course who uses a GoPro. You can put them in all sorts of places. Even underwater. She controls it with an app on her phone.’
Julia cast about her distractedly; she seemed ready to tear the whole house apart. ‘It must be here somewhere.’
Brow deeply furrowed, Nicci’s gaze roved the room from ceiling to skirting board, assessing, analysing.
She shot a concerned look at Julia. ‘Okay, I don’t think this is getting us anywhere. Is there a local pub? I suggest we go and sit down quietly and think this through.’
‘I don’t want to go the fucking pub!’ Julia exploded. ‘Jesus wept! We have to find this camera.’
In contrast with Julia, Nicci was pensive and calm. It reminded Kaz of their previous encounters. Nicci was back in cop mode and she was in charge, which Kaz found surprisingly reassuring.
The detective put a tentative hand on Julia’s arm. ‘I need to contact my office. And we’re going to have some of our security people come over here and sweep the whole house. You understand what I’m saying?’
The objections died on Julia’s lips. Her jaw slackened, she nodded, eyes darting around the room.
Her home, her private haven had suddenly morphed into an alien place. ‘You think—’
Nicci didn’t let her finish. ‘Probably not. It’s just a precaution. In the circumstances.’ She pulled out her phone and turned away. Mentally she was making a list – planning, organizing. She needed them out of the way so she could do her job.
Kaz weighed up her next move. The details Nicci had given them were burning through her psyche. It was a major head-fuck and then some. In the meantime she had a delicate juggling act to perform. With Tolya waiting for her outside, things might get complicated. Could she have a word with him without Nicci noticing?
She took a step towards the bedroom door. ‘Come on, Julia. Let’s you and me go down the pub. Nicci can meet us there.’
Julia stood marooned in the middle of the room. She was clutching a handful of socks and tights. She dumped them on the bed.
‘Come on, mate.’ Kaz gave her an encouraging smile. ‘We’ve both had a fucking shock.’
She glanced at Nicci. The ex-cop was intent on writing a text. ‘Okay, Nicci?’
‘Yeah, good idea.’ She looked up with a frown. ‘Which pub exactly?’
68
The text Simon Blake received from Nicci was at the same time cryptic and precise:
Call me. Now. On a landline.
He picked up the desk phone and keyed in her number. ‘Nic?’
‘I think we may have a situation.’ Her tone was neutral yet it conveyed volumes.
‘Okay. What do you need?’
‘A sweep. Some help from Bharat. And when’s Eddie back?’
‘I’ll check.’
There was a moment of silence. A sweep meant she suspected surveillance. But where and of whom? Blake’s brain shifted into overdrive – Nicci had discovered something major, that much was clear. And the phone line wasn’t secure. Since they’d spoken in the morning Blake had noticed she’d remained out of the office. Though he didn’t keep tabs. Nicci did things her own way, which had been the arrangement since she’d joined SBA.
His office door was open, he beckoned urgently to Alicia. ‘Where shall I meet you?’
‘There’s a pub next to Wandsworth Common, the Hope.’
He checked his watch. ‘Forty minutes?’
‘Right.’ Nicci’s tone softened. ‘By the way, you were right.’
The line went dead. Alicia was hovering in the doorway. Right about what?
Hooking his jacket off the back of his chair, he turned to Alicia. ‘Is Rory around?’
‘Out on a job, I think.’
‘Find him. And tell Bharat I need him.’
As Alicia hurried back to her desk, Blake strode across the room to the investigations section. ‘Pascale?’ The researcher swivelled her chair and met the boss’s eye. ‘What’s Nicci doing in Wandsworth?’
‘She had a meeting with Julia Hadley I think.’
He frowned. Was Hadley the surveillance target? ‘You got her address?’
The urgency in his tone was signal enough.
‘Is Nicci okay?’ Pascale’s fingers hovered over her keyboard.
‘She just needs some backup. Did she have anything else planned this morning apart from Hadley?’
Pascale glanced across at Liam, the other researcher, then back to Blake. ‘Perhaps. She got a call just before she went out.’
Liam chipped in. ‘I ordered her a taxi. Someone she had to meet and that was going to make her late for Hadley.’
‘Did she say who?’
They both shook their heads.
‘Think.’ Blake was standing with hands on hips. At six foot two he was imperious. ‘Or take a guess.’
Liam could only open his palms and say, ‘Sorry, boss.’
Pascale pondered for a moment. ‘I wasn’t really listening to the call. But she was a bit annoyed. I’m not sure but . . . I think it could have been Fiona Calder.’
A laconic smile crept over Blake’s features. That made sense. Right about what? Calder of course! Calder held the key to the investigation. Had Nicci finally cracked her? But surveillance? That worried him. Was the Security Service targeting Hadley, and if so, why?
There was nothing random about Warner’s murder, it had been a planned, professional hit. That had been his opinion from the outset. Now they were getting under the skin of the case. He’d always loved this moment, when the pieces of the puzzle started to make sense, like pixels on a screen rearranging themselves to produce a discernible image.
Bharat wandered across the office towards him. He was an extremely bright lad, but lived on another planet. Was he a little autistic? Blake suspected this might be the case. Bharat blinked at him with liquid dark eyes – he didn’t speak or even smile, he simply waited.
Blake patted him on the shoulder; he usually found the paternal approach worked best with Bharat. ‘Right, mate, get your box of tricks. Nicci needs some help.’
‘Should I bring a dongle?’
‘Definitely.’
69
All eyes were on Bharat, which didn’t help his nerves. He took a sip of his beer. ‘Okay, well, erm—’
Blake gave him a genial smile. ‘Just keep it simple. No cyber jargon.’
The afternoon had turned overcast; there was a freshening breeze and a threat of rain in the scudding clouds. Apart from a lone smoker, a large bloke with tattoos, they were the only ones occupying the wooden picnic benches fringing the pavement outside the pub.
Nicci, Julia and Karen sat looking out across the road to the green acres of Wandsworth Common beyond. Blake and Bharat faced them across the table.
Nicci had met the two men when they’d arrived in a taxi and brought them up to speed. Rory and a surveillance techie had turned up ten minutes later in a Range Rover. Julia had given them her house keys.
Bharat held up a rectangular sliver of plastic. ‘So er, well, the SD card would be like this. Sixty-four gig, plenty of space. From the camera it can be downloaded to various devices: phone, tablet, any computer really. Or uploaded to the Net. We could start by checking the apps on her phone.’
Wired on Red Bull and painkillers, Nicci was impatient to move things on. ‘Okay, say she emailed the clip to someone from her phone – how secure would that be?’
‘Very insecure. It was video, so there’d be the size of the file to consider. But really any random hacker could pick it up.’
Blake cleared his throat; they were entering murky waters, he knew that. Still it didn’t bother him.
The breakthrough had filled him with optimism. ‘The police would’ve forensically examined all her computers, checked her internet history. And if they were doing the job properly, they’d have gone through all the deleted files too. That would include any photo files.’
‘Maybe they did.’ Kaz glared at him. ‘Maybe they found it and that’s why she got whacked.’
Blake gave her a faintly disdainful look. ‘You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions.’
Blake’s whole attitude, oozing the cop mentality, grated on Kaz. He’d turned up and now he was taking over. Added to that, he seemed so fucking pleased with himself.
She slammed her palm on the table. ‘There’s only one question here, are you going after this fucker or not?’
‘Karen, I know you’re angry—’
‘You arrogant twat, you know fuck all! You don’t give a toss about Helen – this is just another job for you.’
Blake couldn’t understand why Nicci had insisted on involving Kaz Phelps in the mix. It seemed unnecessary and unhelpful. He shook his head wearily and glanced at Nicci for support.
‘Okay, this isn’t getting us anywhere.’ Nicci eyeballed Kaz. ‘What d’you want here, Karen? ’Cause what I’m looking for is the truth – who killed Helen Warner and why? You go jumping in and making assumptions, chances are you will get it wrong.’
‘Are you stupid or what? The cops are protecting Hollister.’
Nicci met the wrathful look. ‘Probably. But that doesn’t tell us who killed her, does it?’
A keening sob rose from Julia. Her small frame was wedged between Kaz and Nicci on the bench and she began to shudder and weep.
Kaz looped an arm round her shoulder and squeezed her. ‘This is so fucked! Can’t you lot see that?’
‘Listen to me, both of you.’ Nicci twisted in her seat. ‘The only thing that will nail Hollister, and Helen’s killer or killers, is evidence. That’s what she was trying to do – get evidence.’
Blake pulled a laundered handkerchief from his jacket pocket and offered it to Julia.
She glanced up at him and took it. ‘All this arguing, it’s just – it’s a waste of time and energy.’ Her face disappeared into the white linen hankie.
‘You’re right. And I should apologize to Karen. It is a job.’ Blake met her eye. ‘But every job matters. This one certainly does.’
Kaz’s face remained impassive. He was a slick bastard, she’d give him that.
Nicci turned to Bharat. ‘So we’re clear that sending or uploading the clip wouldn’t have been secure?’
‘Unless it was encrypted. There are various ways—’
Blake cut him short, focusing on Julia. ‘Presumably Helen was savvy enough to realize that her communications could be monitored?’
Julia dabbed her nose. ‘She wasn’t stupid.’
‘No, of course not. But we’re all continually playing catchup with the technology.’ He gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Maybe there was someone she’d have gone to for advice? An IT specialist of some sort?’
Nicci scribbled a note on her pad: Ray?
‘I can’t think of anyone.’ The truth was, Julia couldn’t think, period. She was too busy asking herself why Helen hadn’t trusted her. What had she done wrong? And how could she have remained so oblivious to what was going on?
On social occasions with the Hollisters there had always been an awkwardness. Julia’s private belief was that Helen still carried a torch for Paige. Helen had told her that Paige had suffered with depression for years, and Julia had pitied her. Now all she wanted was to wring the stupid bitch’s neck.
Tapping her pen on the pad, Nicci swept her gaze round the table. ‘Okay, let’s not ignore the obvious. Something so small, this little SD thingy, would be easy to hide. Right?’
Bharat glanced at her, he was feeling annoyed and that fuelled his confidence. He resented the fact that he’d been dragged out of the office just to have his theories and expertise ignored. Encryption would have been the obvious course for the professional, though he accepted that Helen Warner might not have managed that on her own.
He reached into the pocket of his chinos and brought out a bunch of keys. Door keys, car keys, all fastened together on a large steel ring; it was a sizeable collection. Attached to the ring and acting as a fob was a short fat plastic penguin.
Grabbing the penguin’s head he pulled it off to reveal a USB stick. ‘If you’re thinking easy, the simplest thing would be to transfer the data onto a memory stick like this one. I carry this round with me all the time in case I’m out and about and need to back stuff up.’
Blake and the three women all stared at the decapitated penguin with its rectangular metal neck.
A grin spread across Nicci’s features. ‘I think you’ve put your finger on it, Bharat. It’s what most people would use, and they’d make several copies for safety. This is what we’re looking for: a memory stick.’
70
By the time Nicci got back to the office it was mid-afternoon. She’d left Blake to sort out Julia Hadley. Her parents lived in Blackheath and he’d ordered a car to take her there. Floundering in the backwash of emotional shock she’d become monosyllabic; separating her from Karen Phelps also seemed a sensible precaution. Phelps continued to be belligerent and confrontational. Her volatility concerned Blake. Though if Nicci was honest with herself she knew she might’ve had a similar reaction.
A complete forensic search of the house would take some hours. Blake had called up a retired SOCO, who helped them out from time to time. Rory and his surveillance expert were carrying out a systematic sweep to ensure the place was thoroughly debugged. However, Nicci doubted they’d find the SD card or any memory sticks. Helen Warner had not been acting impulsively. Setting a trap for Hollister, in which she was the bait, took guts and determination. She’d planned it carefully and that would’ve included a secure hiding place for the footage.
Nicci had begun a list: a safe deposit box was the obvious choice. But Helen had probably given herself several options. She must’ve also realized that she might be putting herself in danger. So who would she have trusted to be the custodian of her secret in the event of her demise? And if there was such a person, why hadn’t they come forward?
Keeping Julia out of the loop had been done to protect her. The forethought to do this, plus the whole tenor of her approach to Fiona Calder, suggested Warner was not naive about the forces that could end up ranged against her. And yet the card she’d sent to Karen Phelps, attempting to rekindle that relationship, suggested a woman who felt beleaguered.
She had family: two brothers. Would she have trusted either of them? Nicci hadn’t noticed them at the aborted in
quest. As for the elderly father, his relationship with Robert Hollister would’ve precluded taking him into her confidence.
Nicci crossed the room and dumped a small paper carrier on her desk. She’d picked up supplies en route, which comprised her personal hangover cure.
As she unpacked them, Pascale turned round to greet her. ‘You cracked Calder then?’
Nicci nodded, then downed half a bottle of superjuice. Dark green, laced with vitamins and ginseng, it had the appearance and consistency of pond slime. She followed this immediately with half a bottle of Coke. Belching, she clutched her stomach and grimaced as the acid reflux stung her oesophagus.
Pascale gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘You need paracetamol?’
‘Already had three.’ Another eruption of sugary gas rose in her gullet; she placed her palm over her mouth, burped and settled in her chair.
‘Remind me, Pascale, what do we know about Helen Warner’s family? Particularly the brothers.’
The researcher swivelled to face her computer screen and with a couple of rapid mouse-clicks brought up the relevant document.
She scrolled through it. ‘Charles Junior, two years younger. He’s an economist like his papa. Works for Nomura as an analyst. Currently based in Tokyo. Has a Japanese wife.’
Nicci unwrapped a Mars Duo and took a pensive bite. This would explain why he hadn’t attended the inquest. Would Helen have been close to him? Impossible to guess. Nicci pulled the notebook from her bag and scribbled a reminder to herself: Ask J if H saw C anytime just prior to death.
Munching her way through claggy chocolate and nougat she felt the sugar hit starting to work its magic and loosen what felt like an iron bridle encasing her skull. ‘And the other brother?’
‘Adam. Much younger. Eight years. He’s a . . . sculptor.’ Pascale’s French accent made this sound wildly exotic.
Nicci devoured the rest of the chocolate bar as she considered the Warner siblings: Helen, the big sister, responsible, high-powered, a woman who wanted to change the world; Charles, a clone of the old man; and Adam, the typical baby brother, determined to be different.
The Mourner Page 28
