‘Like I said, he’s a complete slug. I don’t expect he ever wants to see me again. I heard through the grapevine that it was his behaviour that night that helped to make the chief’s mind up about pensioning him off,’ Sophie said.
Jack looked thoughtful. ‘So, if we ever wanted to really rattle his cage, we could send you in? Would you be up for that?’
She smiled widely and happily. ‘Oh God, yes. Particularly after the way he spoke to Gwen yesterday. It doesn’t sound as if he’s changed at all. I pity his wife. Anyway, Jack, we mustn’t get side-tracked. These two murders are worrying. Have you been digging into the background of the victim and hit the buffers like us? Nothing to be found?’
He nodded, playing with his coffee cup. ‘We just can’t find any information about Louise Bennett at all. It looks like someone’s been doing a clean-up job. Either that or it wasn’t her real name. Of course, we’re a couple of days behind you. How are things going?’
Sophie frowned. ‘Bloody slowly. We only have two leads. The couple spotted on the railway station on Saturday morning and the young guy Barry saw watching the back of the house. A few other things have cropped up but they’re pretty weak at the moment. Then this, across here. It might give us the breakthrough we need. Rae spotted that one of the safe houses was in Southampton. Any connection so far?’
‘I’ve got Gwen working on it. As yet, all we know is that it had a single woman occupant. No other details, but they’ll come.’
‘I did get a message from Jim Metcalfe, my ACC, this morning. It looks as though we might be on the right track with our people-trafficking connection, though he hasn’t had it officially confirmed yet. But it’s pretty close to what we thought. All he’s found out so far is that there’s an operation on to identify and infiltrate the gangs who are running the system. It’s probably a joint effort with security units from France, Belgium and the Dutch. But Special Branch haven’t been directly involved because it comes under some new security unit. It’s all very hush-hush. We don’t even know if the Border Agency are involved or whether it’s just MI6. It’s all just rumour. And that’s it. I don’t know anything else.’
‘So, this connection to Gus Cathcart might be the best lead we currently have?’ Jack said. ‘Right. Should we do it now?’
‘Absolutely, totally, yes. Let’s go and skewer the bastard.’
‘I’m just a bit bothered by going to see him without any leverage. He might well just slam the door in our faces, and then where will we be?’
Sophie finished her coffee and stood up. ‘Jack, you should trust me. I thought you knew that by now. I got Rae, my DS, to do a bit of her expert digging first thing this morning and she came up with a nugget.’
He smiled happily. ‘In that case, I’m convinced. His treatment of Gwen and me yesterday was several steps too far.’
* * *
The villa’s front door opened, and Gus Cathcart glared out. His gaze landed on Jack Dunning and his face turned puce.
‘What the hell . . .?’
He stopped, seeming to realise that the woman standing beside Jack wasn’t the same as the one who was with him the day before. His eyes flickered over her in puzzlement then, as realisation dawned, his face turned pale.
‘Good morning, Mr Cathcart,’ Sophie said. ‘May we come in, please?’
Cathcart stepped out, pulling the door to behind him.
‘Absolutely not. What kind of trick is this? What are you up to, Dunning, bringing her along?’
Jack said quietly, ‘I didn’t bring her along. Sophie Allen is a detective superintendent, and heads up Dorset’s VCU. She’s the senior officer here.’
‘I don’t care who the fuck she is. What I said yesterday still stands. Piss off.’ He turned to go back inside.
‘Better for you if you cooperate. You really won’t like what will happen if you shut that door on us,’ Sophie said.
Cathcart sneered. ‘Yeah, well, you’ve got no leverage over me. Not now. I’m out of the force and very comfortable with it, thank you very much. You can do your worst and it won’t make the slightest bit of difference to me.’
‘Comfortable? Does that assessment take into account the fact that you’ve remortgaged the house without your wife’s knowledge? And wasn’t it her money that bought it in the first place? I can’t imagine her being at all pleased when she learns about that. My guess is that you forged her signature.’
Cathcart stopped dead. His shoulders drooped.
‘You always were a total prick,’ Sophie went on. ‘Everyone in the division knew it. That’s why they kept shunting you around, trying to keep you out of harm’s way. Desk job after desk job. Well, ex-Detective Chief Inspector Cathcart, now’s your chance to do some good and set the record straight. May we come in, please?’
He pushed the door open and stood aside. They went in and found themselves facing Cleo, who was standing at the far end of the hall, staring at them.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked.
‘Detective Superintendent Sophie Allen, Dorset police. You’ve already met DCI Jack Dunning from Hampshire. We’re investigating separate murder inquiries, but we’ve spotted a possible link. You, Mrs Cathcart, and your husband can help us. Can we find somewhere more comfortable to talk?’
They followed her into the room she and the two Hampshire detectives had used the previous day. Sophie turned to Cathcart, who was following them into the room.
‘Maybe you can go and put the kettle on or something. We want to talk to Cleo alone for a couple of minutes.’ Sophie took a seat and stared hard at Cathcart until he stalked out of the room. Cleo raised her eyebrows in surprise and sat down too.
Jack Dunning began. ‘I’d like to thank you for calling DS Davis yesterday evening. It couldn’t have been easy for you. I know it was only a few words, but it’s opened a couple of avenues for us to explore.’
Cleo merely nodded. Despite the strained look on her face, her appearance was still flawless. Sophie speculated on her motivation for working so hard on her looks. Did it come from her own background, a mask covering an underlying insecurity? Or did it derive from her husband’s bullying demands?
‘We haven’t met before, Mrs Cathcart, but I too want to thank you for the help you’ve already provided.’ Sophie was speaking in her gentlest, most seductive tone. It was so different to the one she’d used a couple of minutes earlier, talking to her husband out on the front porch, that it took Jack by surprise. ‘These have all the hallmarks of a particularly difficult case, so any help you can give us is really appreciated.’
Cleo smiled weakly but said nothing. Jack sat back in his chair. He had the feeling that he was about to be treated to a masterclass in manipulation.
‘You have a lovely house, such tasteful decor. Have you been here long?’
Cleo was visibly relaxing and brightening up. ‘Nearly five years. I bought it when we married. I’d just sold my previous property in Wimbledon. I really love it, especially its views out to sea.’
‘I can understand that completely. Now, in your call to DS Davis, you confirmed that it was your husband who wanted to get Louise into the hostel at the weekend. Did he explain why?’
Cleo shook her head. ‘He just said it was complicated but that she needed somewhere safe in a hurry.’
‘Were you happy about being asked to bend the admission rules? Even for a supposedly good cause like Louise’s?’
‘Not really. And Bella wasn’t happy either. She said she already had a waiting list.’ She looked puzzled. ‘What do you mean by supposedly good cause?’
‘Neither of you had met Louise or any of her case workers. You must have had doubts, surely?’
Cleo merely shrugged.
‘Whose idea was it to suggest an increased donation to hostel funds?’
Cleo looked worried. ‘That was Gus, beforehand. It was a fallback position, he said, in case my request was turned down.’
‘Does that mean he was prepared for some resistance fr
om the warden? Didn’t that concern you? That what you were requesting was somewhat dubious?’ Sophie’s voice was still soft and conversational.
‘Of course it did. I hate manipulating people. And being manipulated myself.’
They looked up as the door opened and her husband appeared, carrying a tray of mugs. He still looked sullen. He offered the mugs around, but Sophie refused hers, having seen the way her mug was carefully located on the tray, separate from the other three. ‘No thanks. I wouldn’t put it past you to have spat in mine.’
Cleo started. ‘Have you two met before?’
‘Yes,’ Sophie replied quickly. ‘At a charity function, as it happens, just a short while before your husband was offered early retirement. I think he made a major misjudgement about me and why I was there, so maybe the two events weren’t unconnected.’ She turned to face him. ‘You need to tell us about Louise Bennett and why you pressured Cleo into getting her into Beechwood refuge.’
‘I got a phone call, late on Saturday morning. I was asked if I knew somewhere a woman could hide, safe, for a few days. They said it was important.’
‘Who’s “they?”’
He shook his head. ‘Just someone I know.’
‘You need to be more specific. I’d like a name.’
He bristled with frustrated tension, fidgeting in his seat and running a hand across his head. ‘Peter Zelinski. He’s someone I knew in the old days. He’s doing some kind of below the radar work for a government department. He said they’d had a security breach and needed to get this woman to somewhere secure in a hurry. He leaned on me quite hard. He knew about Cleo’s role at the refuge. That’s why he called me.’
Sophie watched him carefully. He didn’t meet her eye. There was more, she was sure of it. ‘He pressurised you, didn’t he? You wouldn’t have agreed to that without leverage being applied. My guess is that he threatened to spill the beans about something or other. And there’s so much to choose from, isn’t there? You are a walking, talking disaster area, Angus Cathcart. This Zelinski character, I bet he was someone else who was in and out of security work back in the old days. Am I right? Probably he’s now doing some kind of freelance agency work and was hired by a senior civil servant for a few months. Well?’
He didn’t respond.
‘Honestly, you’re all just kids playing games. Meanwhile, Jack and I are left to sort out the mess.’ She sighed. ‘I need to warn you both that the Official Secrets Act applies. Neither of you are to breathe a word of this to anyone, not until we get to the bottom of it. And Zelinski, whoever he is, is right. He does have a security breach on his hands. A bad one. Now, how do we get in contact with him?’
Cathcart checked his mobile phone and read out a number. ‘Can you please not let on that you got it from me?’
‘I’ll do my best. What reason did he give for his request?’
‘He didn’t, and I didn’t ask.’
Sophie stared at him. ‘I don’t believe that for one moment. You’re an ex-cop, for goodness sake, and you were being asked to go to a lot of trouble to help them out. What was in it for you?’
He didn’t answer.
‘You got a backhander for it, didn’t you?’ Sophie said. She shook her head in exasperation. ‘A woman in difficulties, maybe facing violence, and you had to be bribed to help her out. Unbelievable. There’s something else that puzzles me. How did Louise get to the refuge? Who took her?’
Cathcart shook his head.
‘There would have to be arrangements of some kind made beforehand. What day and time she might be expected, any immediate medical needs she might have, that kind of stuff. And some basic information about her for the hostel records. Who handled that?’
Sophie looked across at Cleo, who had her head in her hands. Was she crying?
‘It was you, wasn’t it? Both of you. The warden wouldn’t have opened the door to just anybody. You’d have needed to be there, Cleo, having made the arrangements. So, tell me about it.’
Cleo finally looked up. ‘We collected the woman from a house somewhere in Southampton. I stayed in the car while Gus fetched her. There was a man in the house, but I only caught a glimpse of him. As soon as she and Gus climbed in, I drove off. We headed straight to the refuge and I went with her to sign her in. We came straight back here afterwards.’
‘Did you talk to her?’
‘Not really. She was very uncommunicative. She didn’t say more than a dozen words.’
‘Did she have an accent?’
Cleo shook her head. ‘Not really. She was tense. Nervous.’
‘She was probably scared,’ Sophie said. ‘She realised she was being moved in a hurry and guessed there’d been a security leak. Who else was at the house other than Zelinski?’
Reluctantly, Cathcart spoke. ‘Nobody. And he was in a bit of a panic too.’
Sophie shook her head wearily. ‘And it was all a waste of time. They got to her anyway.’
‘Who? Who was it?’ Cathcart asked.
‘Do you think I’d tell a plonker like you, even if I did know? Get real.’ She looked at her watch. ‘We obviously need a full debrief somewhere more formal than this, and with someone of senior rank sitting in. I’ll contact my ACC across in Dorset and we’ll go either for this afternoon or tomorrow morning.’
She stopped and looked at the Cathcarts, both of whom were staring at the floor despondently. ‘Have you considered the possibility that the two of you might be in danger? Once we’ve got all the facts from you, it might be wise to disappear for a few days. As long as we know where you are. And as long as it’s not too far. Look at it this way, we’re giving you an excuse to have a holiday. What’s not to like?’
Chapter 11: Under the Radar
Thursday morning
‘I just don’t get it. Why would they set it up like this? Why bypass all the normal agencies?’ Matt Silver, who was speaking, was one of the same four senior officers who had met two days previously. Then, they’d been blundering about in the dark. They now knew rather more, but it made them even more uneasy than before. ‘It just doesn’t seem credible. Why would whoever’s behind this business choose to construct a unit from people on the fringes of the intelligence services and retired Special Branch personnel? Why not use the usual security channels?’
Jim Metcalfe sat back in his chair. ‘That’s what we’re here for, Matt. To piece together what’s been happening. One thing seems obvious to me. By doing it this way, they avoid the normal scrutiny that usually accompanies an operation like this. No parliamentary committees, no detailed record keeping, nothing that might leak out to the press.’
‘Do we know who they are?’ Sophie asked.
Karen Brody cleared her throat. ‘Umm, it’s beginning to look as though it might be the junior minister at the Home Office. The one in charge of the “immigration crisis,” as it’s called.’
‘Mad Ken Burke,’ Matt said. ‘It figures.’
‘And possibly his Parliamentary Private Secretary,’ Karen added. ‘That’s all I’ve been able to track down. It’s based on little more than rumour, though.’
‘Yauvani Anand,’ Matt added. ‘Just a tiny bit reactionary. Subtlety isn’t exactly a strong point with either of them.’
‘I’m aware that they don’t like the chains of command in the orthodox security services,’ Jim said. ‘I remember going to a conference a couple of years ago at the start of the refugee crisis in Europe. The two of them were there and they were openly hostile to the somewhat hands-off approach being followed at the time. Neither of them was an official speaker. After all, Burke didn’t hold a government post back then. But the questions they posed made their views obvious. Hard-line in the extreme. That’s all very well, but when it leads to a policy that would result in hundreds of people being left to drown on the open seas, then it’s questionable. He’s toned down his rhetoric since he took up the ministerial job, but . . .’
‘So, by setting up this special unit in this way, they’re operat
ing under the radar? And they can employ people whose views match their own and whose methods might be questionable?’ Matt said.
‘Looks like it. But remember we’re only speculating. The trouble is, I can’t think of any other explanation. Nothing else makes sense.’ He looked across the low table to Sophie Allen. ‘You’ve been quiet, Sophie. Anything to add?’
She shook her head slightly. ‘It’s the deliberate ignoring of the law that gets to me. All these countries signed up to international treaties decades ago. We did too. The basic human rights of all individuals are enshrined in those treaties. They’re protected by them. Yet in the eyes of these kinds of people, we can just conveniently ignore those rights when it’s advantageous for us to do so. That’s the line peddled by people like Burke and Anand. Which means leaving people to starve or be bombed to death if they stay at home, or drown if they try to escape. And do you know? That’s just the kind of person Cathcart is too. That’s his approach to life exactly. Life’s brutal, so if you fail, tough shit. You’re not from my neighbourhood or family or tribe, so piss off and die. It’s not my problem.’
‘That’s as may be, but it doesn’t help us, Sophie. We’ve got to come up with a workable plan. That’s what the chief wants.’
‘Sorry. I was a young and idealistic law student once. A workable plan? Let me sweat Cathcart and Zelinski. Cathcart thinks he’s such a tough guy. I love needling macho men like him.’
Jim frowned and glanced at the paper in front of him. ‘Have you got anywhere with this other name? What was it? Corinne Lanston? The name the properties were registered to. Didn’t you say she was at the Home Office somewhere?’
‘Was is the operative word. Apparently she’s gone on prolonged sick leave. It smacks a bit of tidying up loose ends. But I’ve got one of my team working on it, so we’ll find her soon.’
‘But Burke and Anand are government ministers. They wouldn’t be involved in anything criminal, like murder. They’re just doing what they think is right,’ Karen said.
RUTHLESS CRIMES a totally captivating crime mystery (Detective Sophie Allen Book 9) Page 7
