Whispers in the Rigging

by steve higgs

  Acceptable. Quite the concession.

  ‘I’ll get them.’ Jane said, sidestepping us to get to the machine.

  I turned my attention to the chap in the good suit. ‘Tempest Michaels.’ I introduced myself as I offered him my hand. He seemed quite caught off guard. CI Quinn had no doubt been warning him that I would be problematic or aggressive.

  ‘Joseph Kushnir.’ He replied automatically. The name sounded distinctly European but was delivered in a local accent.

  ‘Detective Sergeant Joseph Kushnir.’ CI Quinn reminded him before turning his eyes to me. He opened his mouth to speak but I got in first, guessing what it was he wanted to see me about.

  ‘Counterfeit and smuggling.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ He replied.

  ‘That’s what the Ukrainians are up to at the Dockyard. They are using the Dockyard to smuggle in goods from outside the UK and are manufacturing counterfeit goods like cigarettes. No doubt there are other criminal activities such as prostitution going on elsewhere.’

  ‘Once again, I find you surprisingly well informed, Mr Michaels.’

  ‘Like I said yesterday, I found evidence.’ It was time to see how much the Chief Inspector knew. ‘Are you aware there are tunnels that lead to chambers beneath the Dockyard? They can be entered from the river unseen by people on land.’

  His eyes betrayed that he did not. His younger colleague looked startled at the revelation. CI Quinn didn’t answer my question though. Instead he posed one of his own. ‘What is your relationship with Julia Jones?’

  A brief flutter of worry zipped across my gut. Was the idiot here to see if I was involved in her death? ‘I don’t know her at all. We spoke on the phone once.’

  ‘And yet she employed you at the Dockyard, did she not?’

  ‘You know that she did.’ I snapped back with a touch of impatience. I hated being asked leading questions when everyone already knew the answer. ‘The Ukrainians murdered her. For what, I cannot tell so you can forget any daft ideas that I might be involved in her death.’

  He nodded. ‘Shall we sit?’ He asked. The question was a change of tack and caught me by surprise. I was still standing when both he and his detective sergeant took their seats. Jane was just serving the coffee. ‘Please, Tempest.’ He added.

  It was the first time he had addressed me by my first name.

  I asked, ‘What are you up to, Ian?’ As I reversed into the seat opposite him.

  CI Quinn looked up as Jane handed him a cup, thanked her and only paused for a half a second when the petite blonde said “You’re welcome” in a deep manly voice. I think he wanted to make a comment on the subject but to his credit he refrained, choosing to get on with what he had to say finally. ‘For eighteen months I have been spearheading a taskforce to tackle a growing organised crime problem. The Ukrainians are gaining ground and have been impossible to catch in the act as they flood the market with counterfeit tobacco products. There are alcohol and narcotics as well, and prostitution but on a lesser scale. The goods just appear on the streets. All our attempts to determine where they are coming into the country have resulted in wasted effort.’

  I watched the dynamic opposite me. Quinn was relaxed in his chair, his back resting against the material behind him. He was doing all the talking. His colleague in contrast, was poised on the very front edge of his chair, almost twitching with nervous energy. He remained silent but hung on every word that came from his superior’s lips. The younger man looked a bit like the Chief Inspector, but not so alike that I thought they could be related. His brown hair was buzz cut to a length of perhaps a half inch on top and almost nothing on the sides. It was a very military cut and I observed that he was muscular beneath the suit, not hugely bulging like Big Ben, but athletic and toned like me.

  I pushed my way into the conversation. I wanted to move it along. ‘You came here with a plan. What is it?’

  ‘My detective sergeant will be joining you on the cleaning crew.’

  His statement caused my eyebrows to rise. ‘Just like that? How do you propose to get him a job on the cleaning crew?’

  ‘His parents are both Ukrainian. Aren’t they Joseph? His grandparents came to England after the second world war. Joseph speaks enough Ukrainian to make a phone call and secure a job. He did that yesterday afternoon.’

  About eight seconds after I told you about the Dockyard, no doubt.

  ‘That’s right, sir.’ He confirmed like a dutiful puppy.

  I thought about it and shook my head. ‘I have no need of a companion on this venture.’ I held my hand up to silence Quinn before he could speak. ‘I recognise though that I have no sway over his presence at the Dockyard. Rather than conduct two separate investigations, I will work with you. What is that you need before you can raid the place?’

  ‘To prove its existence would be a good starting point. So far, I have no evidence that anything criminal is happening there at all. Can you prove the existence of this underground system?’

  I considered what I genuinely knew. ‘Not yet.’ I had to conclude. I had some old maps, but they could be forged from imagination and I had noises coming through pipes in the rigging room that appeared to run into the ground. I still had no way into whatever was down there though and that was a key fact. Even if we knew for certain they were down there committing crimes, we couldn’t raid the place if we didn’t know how to get in. It was quite clever on their part.

  I took the time to explain what I had been able to glean so far and what my next move was. Having CI Quinn on side for once was both refreshing and unsettling. I wasn’t sure I could trust him. I was certain that if I solved the case, revealed the ghosts, which were fast becoming nothing more than an aside, and presented the criminals to be arrested, Quinn would claim the victory for himself and his taskforce, reducing my involvement to a by-line somewhere.

  By 1000hrs, Quinn was ready to leave. ‘I am leaving Detective Sergeant Kushnir with you, Mr Michaels. He will report back to me, so that you do not have to.’

  It spoke volumes about CI Quinn that he had automatically assumed he was now in control of my investigation and was acting as if he was letting me off the hook of having to report to him. I managed to avoid reacting, although I made sure I did my best to crush his hand when I shook it goodbye.

  ‘There is a key point that neither of you know yet.’ I had their attention. ‘I am not going to the Dockyard tonight. I have a prior engagement.’ I didn’t elaborate. It was none of Quinn’s business.

  Quinn nodded, thinking. He turned to his subordinate, ‘Sergeant Kushnir, it falls to you to act alone it would seem.’

  ‘Probably better to not involve civilians anyway, sir.’ He replied. ‘I shall report my findings in the morning.’

  ‘Very good.’ Quinn turned his attention to me again. ‘Good day, Mr. Michaels.’

  When the door closed behind him, the only sound in the office was Jane’s fingers dancing across her keyboard.

  I watched out the window as CI Quinn walked along the High Street, nodding his head in acknowledgement at the people going by like a noble acknowledging serfs from his horse. As he vanished from sight in the crowd, I asked, ‘Do you have a car with you?’ Just to make sure Joseph wasn’t expecting a lift to the Dockyard.

  ‘I do. It is parked in the public car park with a ticket displayed.’

  It was more information than I needed. Detective Sergeant Kushnir came across as a boy scout. Not that this was necessarily a bad thing, he just seemed a little bit too shiny, like he only just left the academy. Perhaps he was a direct entry detective. I knew the Police did that, giving applicants with suitable qualifications or experience an entry point above the usual constable rank that other police officers started at. It had been one of the options open to me when I left the Army, but even though I could have applied to join as a Superintendent, it had not been attractive to swap one uniform for another. It occurred to me now though that I would have an entirely different relationship with CI Quinn i
f I had taken that route – I would have been his superior.

  Cheered by that thought, I turned away from the window. It was time to get on with the day. ‘I have some admin tasks to take care of. When did you last visit the Royal Dockyard?’

  ‘Not for some years.’ He admitted. ‘And then it was a school trip and we mostly skived off to smoke cigarettes and drink lager that Billy Scraggs had smuggled in his school bag.’

  It sounded like every school trip since the dawn of time.

  ‘Best you get there and familiarise yourself with the land. Memorise the layout. The Ukrainians running the place are unfriendly, my colleague and I were assaulted last night in a bid to scare us off. They don’t want English there, or, more accurately, they don’t want anyone that is not Ukrainian and on their payroll.’

  ‘You were assaulted? Surely you can identify your assailants and we can arrest them right now?’ He had taken a step toward me in his instant excitement.

  ‘Bigger picture, old boy. There is something far more heinous than a little roughing up going on. If you want to deliver the Chief Inspector a crime syndicate, we have to catch the big fish that runs the pond. Not his little minnows.’

  I could see his cogs turning before he nodded his agreement. ‘What do you think I should do?’

  His question told me how new to police work he must be. I could have been condescending or even steered him onto a ridiculous path that would have embarrassed him. Big Ben would have. However, it was not my nature to take advantage of people. ‘Go to the Dockyard, buy a ticket and act like a visitor. Look around. Watch the security but don’t look like you are watching them. Somewhere in the Dockyard there is a way into the underground tunnels. We don’t know what is down there, but I think they killed Julia Jones to protect it. Go there, fit in and observe. I’ll be along shortly.’

  I took him through to my office where I had the map of the dockyard on one wall. On it I pointed out the rigging room, the Admiral’s office and the museum and using a handy pencil, drew a rough guide of where I thought the tunnels ran. We exchanged mobile numbers so we could communicate and rendezvous more easily later and he went back out the door he had come in more than an hour before.

  Left alone in my office, I called my sister.

  The Invitation. Wednesday, November 23rd 1042hrs

  ‘Hey, sis. How you doing today?’ I asked when her voice came on the line.

  ‘Um. Okay, maybe.’

  Her answer told me that she was trying to not tell me something while at the same time also telling me that there was something she didn’t want to tell.

  I flashed back another question, ‘What is it? Is dad okay?’

  ‘Oh, yeah. Yes, dad is fine so far as I know. So is mum.’ She was hesitating, unwilling to say what she wanted to say.

  ‘Rachel, just tell me what the issue is.’ I demanded.

  ‘Okay, dickhead.’ I guess she wasn’t happy with my forceful attitude. ‘I think the baby is coming.’

  I felt the earth tilt beneath me. What was I supposed to do now? I had not the slightest experience with babies. ‘Do you need me to do anything?’

  She actually laughed at me. ‘No, Tempest. I’ve got this. It will be many hours before I even need to go to hospital. I will take mum to see dad later. You can just get on with what you are doing.’

  ‘If you are sure.’

  ‘This is my third, Tempest. It’s really no big deal.’ She sounded relaxed and confident. I wished her luck and ended the call. There was a baby coming. I had never seen a newborn other than on television. When Rachael had given birth to the previous two, I had been out of the country, seeing them for the first time only once they were several months old. The concept of a newborn was a little terrifying. What if they expected me to hold it?

  I distracted myself by going to speak with Jane. ‘Have we had many enquiries this week?’ I asked. I had barely been involved in the business this week. Since mum’s phone call on Sunday evening, everything else had gone on hold.

  ‘Quite a few, but no more than the usual amount. Mostly nutters, but there were some with merit amongst them.’ We got a lot of emails and phone calls from people who had felt a cold draft in their house and instantly assumed it was a recently dead relative coming to haunt them or give them a message. Also, people got confused, or rather chose to confuse themselves about the service we offered so there were weekly requests for exorcisms, magical banishments, palm reading or prediction of the future, which were almost always about relationships and will this boy cheat on me, and we got a lot of enquiries on whether we did kids parties. Even once Jane had filtered out the ridiculous, the remaining enquiries were still filled with nutters claiming their father’s new girlfriend is a ghoul or their new neighbour had created a pet cemetery and was going to bring their cat back from the dead. For every one-hundred enquiries we received there would be one or two that had genuine merit.

  Jane had to find them.

  ‘Is there something I need to attend to?’ I was going to remain focused on the Dockyard case, but I didn’t want to lose clients through lack of communication.

  ‘No. Amanda has been dealing with it all. She has four cases she is pursuing concurrently.’

  ‘Jolly good.’ There seemed to be nothing that I needed to do. As I was about to consider my next move, my phone pinged in my pocket.

  I took it out to read the new message. It was from Natasha which should have generated a zing of anticipation, but what I felt was dread because I knew I had been ignoring her.

  Hi Tempest. Is your dad any better? I just wanted to message and check on things as I have not heard from you in a few days. If you feel like taking your mind off things, I think I know something we can do…

  The message ended with a winking emoji. I was a bad person. It would be the easiest thing in the world for me to go to her and indulge in some harmless, consensual adult activity. It was what she wanted. I couldn’t do it though, because I knew there was no future for us. I wondered how to respond, tried to frame a reply but deleted it. Tried again, deleted that one as well and stuffed my phone back into my pocket to deal with later.

  Not for the first time, I wondered how I made relationships so complicated. Standing next to the wall, I let my head droop forward until it touched it, then knocked it twice against the plasterboard. I needed to stick to doing what I was good at and just leave women alone.

  ‘Everything alright, boss?’ Asked Jane. I had forgotten she was there while I knocked some sense into myself.

  ‘Girls.’ I replied, one word telling her all she needed to know.

  ‘Tell me about it.’ She agreed incongruously with her deep voice and Adam’s apple.

  There was nothing else to say, so I grabbed my bag and car keys, let Jane know I was heading back to the Dockyard and got going.

  Jane stopped me before I got to the door. ‘Boss, I almost forgot. You have a letter here.’

  ‘A real one? Not a bill?’

  ‘No, it’s got gold embossed lettering. It looks fancy.’ She was holding it up and it did indeed look fancy.

  I took it from her and used a pencil to slit the top of the envelope open. Inside was an invitation.

  Dear Blue Moon Investigations,

  I request the honour of your attendance at an event in honour of my 80th birthday at Hale House on the weekend of December 10th and 11th. The invitation extends to all employees of the Blue Moon Investigations firm and their partners.

  For three hundred years, every second generation has lost the heir to the family in mysterious circumstances. The creature known as the horror of Hale House has claimed the life of the elderly heir on his 80th birthday.

  The last Lord Hale, my father, died peacefully in his bed aged ninety-three. So, you see, the visit may be quite eventful. In addition to providing you with full access to all areas of Hale House, which includes a full spa and gymnasium, swimming pool, room service and personal butler in each suite, I will pay your firm the sum of £25,000.00 for att
ending, providing you stay the entire weekend and ensure that I survive until my birthday has passed.

  I look forward to receiving, by return, your confirmation that you will attend.

  Yours

  Lord Hale

  I blew out my cheeks when I read the number he had written. The firm wasn’t hurting for money, not by a long shot, but this was something else.

  Seeing my face, Jane asked, ‘What is it?’

  I was rereading the handwritten letter for the third time but stopped to meet her eyes. I handed it to her. ‘Read it for yourself.’

  I stayed quiet while she did, my mind whirling, watching her face to see the changes in expression as her eyes reached different points. Her eyes damned near popped out and I knew she had just seen the number.

  ‘Is this for real?’ She asked as she handed the letter back to me.

  I pursed my lips and twitched my nose, something I have been told I do when I am thinking. ‘I think it is.’ I answered slowly. ‘I need you to do some research. Are you doing anything for Amanda?’

  ‘Not really. A couple of bits, but nothing pressing.’

  ‘Then drop everything and pull together everything you can find about Lord Hale and the Hale family tree, the creature he mentions and anything else you can think of. See if you can find out what his financial position is.’ I didn’t want to get too excited about the potential windfall if the whole thing was a bluff or a ruse.

  ‘Will you go?’ She asked as she started typing.

  I didn’t want to commit to anything until I knew more, so I said, ‘Maybe.’ Waved goodbye and went out the door.

  It had brightened outside, the clouds lifting to reveal cold blue sky that promised more frost tonight. Traffic was light through Rochester and Chatham to the Dockyard, although as I passed the Pentagon shopping centre, it picked up and there was some bumper to bumper action where early Christmas shoppers were beginning to converge.