The Accidental Warrior Page 15

  After dinner they went out onto the balcony, where Cyrus lit one of his legendary cigars. As he exhaled, a plume of perfumed smoke snaked into the night air.

  “That was delightful old boy, but I’m afraid we now need to turn our attention to business. Kate, we’ve intercepted yet another phone call to Cleo. And your Dad and I are of opinion that we cannot ignore it.”

  “Indeed.” Her father looked serious.

  “I suggest we listen to it first, then we can talk about it,” said Cyrus. He set the recording to play.

  “Hello?”

  “Cleo?” said a male voice.

  “Maybe, depends who’s asking.”

  “My name’s Clive, I understand you work for Mr Peters? I work for his boss.”

  “Well, yes and no, I’m not sure if I still work for Peters. How can I help you?”

  “Well, I wondered if you might like to do some work for my boss instead? We have a couple of jobs lined up that require your particular skill set.”

  “I don’t suppose there is any point in asking who your boss is?”

  “That’s absolutely right. But I can assure you my boss is decidedly more discreet and restrained than yours.”

  “Well that’s refreshing. To be honest, I could do with a change, but my interest will depend on the terms and conditions.”

  “Six hundred thousand, a third upfront. The remainder when the jobs are successfully completed.”

  “On the face of it that sounds most generous, but of course I need to know the detail before I make any decisions.”

  “I quite understand. Look in the glove box of your Range Rover. You’ll find an envelope and, if you decide to go ahead, you will be required to sign a contract.”

  “Oh, bloody hell,” Kate exclaimed.

  “That’s one way of putting it,” chuckled Cyrus.

  “From what we’ve already heard I don’t think there is much doubt Cleo won’t take up this offer, which means that she will have access to better resources and be afforded greater protection; she’s essentially been promoted. It also means that we should probably keep closer tabs on her.” Kate’s father was frowning.

  “What concerns me is Harriet Lacey. Our intelligence suggests she is still considered a significant threat. Cleo’s current boss has failed to neutralise her. I think more connected individuals are now likely to step in. I don’t think we have any choice but to warn the police,” said Cyrus.

  “Really? There’s no other way?” asked Kate.

  “I don’t think so, Harriet is too exposed. To do nothing would be wrong.” Cyrus drew heavily on his cigar. “The more I learn of Harriet Lacey, the more I think she’s quite remarkable. Despite everything, she continues to strive for the truth with seemingly little regard for her own safety.”

  “Certainly, she does come across as single-mindedly determined. But what concerns me is what happens if the police ever discover we had pertinent information and didn’t pass it on. Isn’t that an offence of some sort?” Kate looked directly at both men.

  “I completely see where you are coming from and yes, you are probably right, but we cannot afford to risk exposing our organisation. Anonymity is at the very core of our existence. Our rules do not allow for disclosure. So, although it’s a somewhat risky strategy, I’m hoping we can assist at arm’s-length.” Cyrus was pacing up and down the balcony.

  “With that in mind, Kate, could you, would you use your computer skills to send an untraceable email to the officer in charge of the investigation, Nick Lacey? And warn him about the risk to Harriet?” implored her father.

  “Well, yes, if you really think this is the best way?”

  “We do,” said both men in unison.

  CHAPTER 25

  A cold shower and several cups of strong coffee hadn’t made Harriet feel any more alert. Her head was fuzzy and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a restful night’s sleep. But, as her colleagues began to arrive in the incident room that morning, she could see she was not alone. What a sorry bunch they looked. Some were nursing coffees, others surreptitiously taking tablets, and most were yawning and stretching.

  “Thank you all for giving up your Saturday morning. A great deal has happened in the last week and we really need to make sure you are all up to speed. It’s really important that we keep the momentum going,” said a haggard-looking Nick Lacey.

  Mike arrived late and took the seat next to Harriet.

  “I’d like to start with the investigation into Poppy’s death. Steve, can you provide an update please?” Nick didn’t try to hide his aversion.

  Mike turned to Harriet and whispered, “Bloody clever of Derek to suggest that Steve Smith be given these enquiries. It keeps him close, it keeps him busy. Look at how uncomfortable he is.”

  Mike was right, he looked drawn, tired and ill at ease. He was no longer the over-confident man who’d greeted Harriet on her first day on Operation Chapel.

  “Well, er, yes, we continue to take statements from witnesses and to view dashboard videos. We are also looking at CCTV footage to see if we can locate the offending vehicle both prior to and after the collision.”

  “And has anything significant or helpful come from your enquiries so far?” asked Nick. Harriet thought he looked frustrated by the lacklustre update.

  “Um, well it’s early days. It seems that there was only one person in the offending vehicle but descriptions are poor; the Mitsubishi had heavily tinted glass. We know that following the collision the vehicle was seen to head at speed in the direction of Eastleigh Industrial Estate, but we’ve drawn a blank after that.”

  “Okay, well, continue as you are and let me know if anything noteworthy comes to light,” said Nick tersely, before turning to Derek.

  “Derek, can you update us with the latest developments on Chapel please?”

  “Yes, no problem. Late last night we had confirmation that cause of death for Andrew Hudson was black mamba snake venom. We are confident now that our murderer is the mysterious Cleo. We also think she is responsible for the other deaths, on the basis that it’s such an unusual modus operandi; the likelihood of there being more than one assassin using this method is extremely unlikely.”

  “But the question is, is she working alone?” said Nick.

  “Yes, indeed, I’m not sure we know that yet. We’re seemingly no closer to discovering who else is involved.”

  “What about Alec Brown? Do we yet know how he died?” asked Mike.

  “We do. I can categorically tell you that he did not die from carbon monoxide poisoning, in fact he was already dead when he was placed in the car. He also died from an injection of black mamba venom. DS Jones confirmed this early this morning,” said Derek.

  With this news Harriet noticed the room come to life; many of her colleagues were now sitting forward on their seats actively taking notes, the room filled with chatter.

  “Sir, were there any forensics at either the scene of Alec’s death or at the University?” asked Harriet, looking at Derek.

  “Unfortunately not. Alec’s car was completely sterile. No hair, fingerprints, fibres etc. At the university, there were numerous fingerprints, including those of Dave and Melvin Cook, the Professor and you, Harriet. But there was nothing else of note.”

  “Do we yet know what Dave and Melvin were injected with?” Harriet asked.

  “We do. A synthesised drug designed to mirror snake venom. Luckily for Dave and Melvin the antidote worked, so closely did the manufactured drug mirror the real thing. Also, there was evidence of an antidote being administered to Professor Hudson.”

  “Thanks Derek. Now, Mike, how are you getting on with tracking down the mysterious Cleo? I think I’m right in saying that we now have a possible surname, is that right?” asked Nick.

  “Yes, Sir. ‘Morris’, a stone disc identical to the one we found in Professor’s Grey’s pocket and subsequently in the possession of the other victims, was found with Professor Hudson’s body. The name Cleo Morris had been scra
tched onto the reverse by someone. Now, in their account Dave and Melvin refer to the woman responsible for Andrew Hudson’s death as Cleo, so it would be logical to assume that Morris is her surname. From their descriptions of Cleo, we narrowed the field to a handful of women on PNC aged in their mid- to late-twenties. But I think I may have found the Cleo we are looking for. Yesterday, I took a statement from the Headteacher of an expensive boarding school in Essex. Let me read you the most pertinent parts…

  ‘Cleo Morris, or to be absolutely correct, Cleopatra Morris, born 06/06/1991, was a student with us for six terms. Aged thirteen when she arrived and fifteen when I permanently excluded her. She is by far the most challenging student I’ve come across in a long career. Many of the staff and students were terrified of her. I remember her as a manipulative, spiteful bully. If I’m honest, the only reason she was with us for so long was down to her persuasive parents and their generous donations to the school. She was very much a loner and a prolific reader of thrillers. A gifted linguist too, spoke at least three languages fluently. Highly intelligent. Anyway, we parted company when her pet snake escaped. When we failed to locate the serpent, we were forced to enlist the assistance of the RSPCA who eventually located it down the back of a radiator in the main hall. It was only then that we learned that far from being a harmless milk snake, it was in fact a venomous viper!’

  “I really think this has to be our Cleo Morris. I mean, I ask you, what are the chances of two different women having such a fascination with snakes? Really?” asked an earnest Mike.

  “Good work, Mike, really good work. Tell me, do you know what happened to her after she was excluded from school?” asked Nick.

  “A series of boarding schools and a bit of shoplifting, for which she received a couple of cautions. Then it goes quiet for ten years. No trace of her at all. I think it’s possible she went abroad.”

  “Interesting, very interesting.” Nick turned to the note-taker.

  “Note to myself to raise actions for further enquiries to be made into this Cleo Morris. I want her family members traced and interviewed. We need to establish her identity and current location, we need to find her as soon as possible. Note also for an action to be raised to trace her finger prints which will still be on record.”

  Mike returned to his seat. Harriet moved her chair closer to him and whispered, “Nick has a new girlfriend, long story, but I saw an enormous tattoo of a snake on her back, it seemed to run the whole length of her body.”

  “Really? The whole length?”

  “Yes!”

  “Leave it with me, I’ll make some discreet enquiries.”

  A short break followed, during which Harriet checked her phone. There was a missed call from estate agents Thompson & Timpson. It appeared that a small cottage had just come onto their books; it was in the right area and had recently been modernised. Harriet arranged a viewing for that afternoon.

  The briefing resumed, but without Nick, who’d been called away. Derek stepped in and proceedings concluded just before twelve.

  As Harriet and Mike stood up to leave Derek called them across. As they entered Nick’s office, he closed the door.

  “When I spoke to DS Paul Jones this morning, he didn’t just provide an update on Alec Brown but also Troy Manning. It seems the tests were delayed as the pathologist was away on holiday. He’s back now and the tissue samples do show traces of snake venom.”

  “Bloody hell,” said Mike.

  “Yes, but what does it actually mean? It means there is a link between our deceased males and Troy; it means that they all suffered the same death, but what we are no closer to finding out is why,” said Harriet.

  “That’s why we need to find Cleo Morris,” said Mike.

  “By the way, I haven’t told Nick yet.” Derek looked solemn.

  “Don’t just yet, I’m not entirely sure we can trust him. I need to check something out first, as he has a new girlfriend. I’ll explain over a pint later,” said Mike, exchanging looks with Harriet.

  “Okay, I’ll hold fire for now, but there is something else I feel I should mention which is kind of linked to how much we tell Nick. After the briefing, I brought Nick’s papers back to his office, and a couple of sheets flew off the top. As I picked them up I noticed an email dated today. Your name caught my eye, Harriet, so I read it. It’s a warning that you are in danger, it strongly urged Nick to take measures to protect you.”

  “Really? Who’s it from? Can it be trusted?”

  “I’m no computer expert but whoever sent it wished to remain anonymous. I’ll get it checked out though. Anyway, I wasn’t sure what to do, as I’d only seen it by chance. Not knowing if Nick had actioned it, but guessing not, for he didn’t have time, I did the only thing I could think of and rang the Chief Constable. Harriet, no objections please, but you are to have twenty-four-hour protection from now on.”

  “Good,” said Mike.

  “I’m not going to argue. I’m off to view a cottage this afternoon. If I decide to rent it, I’ll let you know immediately,” she told them.

  “That would be helpful. I can then liaise with the estate agents and get the technical support in to install a security system. Thank you both. Now how about that pint you promised me, Mike?”

  The cottage was open plan, light and airy. The front door led into a large double fronted lounge/dining room with a wood burner. The lounge area was carpeted, and the dining area laid with flagstones with a second wood burner. At the back of the cottage was a large farm house Shaker kitchen in duck egg blue, complete with larder and downstairs toilet/utility room and French doors onto a small patio and grass area beyond. At the back of the garden stood a gate onto the escarpment. Upstairs, there was a family bathroom with white suite and a shower, and black and white tiles on walls and floor. There were three bedrooms: one large double at the back with a small shower room and two slightly smaller doubles. Harriet signed a six-month rental agreement that afternoon.

  How to tell Nick? She finally decided on a text message; she couldn’t face another argument. “Have found a place to rent in the short-term, hope to move in next week. Would like to take a few items of furniture such as a couple of sofas, a bed, and wardrobe. Will also need some kitchen items, have attached a list. Ring me if you want to discuss. Thanks H.”

  Nick did not respond immediately so Harriet assumed he was fine about it, until that is she received a call on her mobile.

  “What the bloody hell do you think you are doing?” he screamed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Bloody moving out without discussing it first.” Harriet could tell from his tone she would need to tread carefully.

  “Wait a minute Nick, I need to find somewhere to live. I can’t stay at Mum and Dad’s forever.”

  “And who the fuck’s going to pay for it? We have a fucking huge mortgage.”

  “Nick, please stop swearing, it’s just a short-term measure until we sort ourselves out. It’s okay, look, you and I need to sit down and talk. It’s been crazy lately, but we will find time, I promise.”

  “You promise, cross your heart?” he sobbed.

  “Yes, cross my heart.”

  “Okay, I’ll agree to you renting so long as we have that talk, but you can only take one sofa,” he slurred.

  “I’m sure that’s possible.”

  “Okay, bye.” Nick terminated the call.

  Harriet put her head in her hands. She wondered if Nick was on the verge of some sort of breakdown? Frightened for him, she didn’t know how to react to a man who had become so unstable and erratic.

  There were to be no further outbursts from Nick that week, but mindful of how unbalanced he’d been of late Harriet enlisted Mike and Derek’s assistance to load her stuff into a friend’s van. Nick was not at home when they arrived, but he had left a note in the kitchen. It wasn’t exactly an apology, but it did tell her she was welcome to take as many sofas as she liked.

  The house move provided the opportunity for De
rek to tell Harriet and Mike about his recent conversations with Chief Constable Mark Jones.

  “I thought long and hard about how much to tell him, but in the end, I decided if I was vague, he might not be able to assist. So I outlined the evidence we had in relation to Deputy Chief Constable Jack Peters and DS Steve Smith, which included playing Alec’s recording.”

  “What did he say?” asked Mike.

  “Well, something along the lines that the situation was extremely serious. And that on reflection, Jack Peters’ behaviour had been troubling of late. He’d taken to making decisions without discussion with the senior management team. He’d also taken to disappearing for long periods and sometimes he failed to show at all. To cut a long story short, he insisted we seek counsel from the Force Solicitor. He advised that we arrest both men, and felt we had sufficient evidence to go for a remand in custody for both.”

  “This is a step in the right direction,” said Mike. Harriet nodded in agreement.

  “Did you discuss anything else?” asked Harriet. Derek met her gaze and she lingered a little longer than she meant to, enjoying the moment.

  “Well, yes, basically: you two. He was most concerned about you. He asked me to thank you for your loyalty and to tell you that he wholly supports what we are trying to achieve. He agreed with the need for absolute confidence. He is now convinced that the corruption is present at the highest level. It is his view that the fewer people who know the better, until we are sure of our facts and sure of who we can trust. He suspects, however, that the arrest of Jack Peters and Steve Smith will provoke a reaction. He wants us to be very careful, very careful indeed.”