Altered Egos (16 page)

‘Why do you say that?’

She pointed to the couches. ‘Because that bed’s a damned sight more comfortable to sleep on than those things.’

‘We’d better start thinking about our next move.’

She looked at him, teasing. ‘I thought you’d have had it planned by now. You’re the master tactician.’

‘I might have done,’ he retorted, ‘but I got distracted.’

By mid-afternoon they were no nearer the solution. ‘We know what we want, the problem is, how to go about it,’ Steve said.

He was interrupted by the bleeping of his mobile. He read the text with mounting interest, before passing the phone to Jessica. ‘I think Sonya’s just shown us the way forward.’

‘This policeman, Nash, you’re sure you trust him?’

‘Yes,’ Steve explained. ‘When I met him I was in a real state, as you can imagine. He was very kind. Understanding, if you know what I mean. And genuine. I think I’d be prepared to trust him.’

‘It’s a big risk though, after what we’ve done.’

‘It’s a question of weighing risk against reward. In any case, if what Sonya says is accurate, he’s worked it all out by now. I vote we go for it. What have we got to lose?’

As soon as he returned to the CID suite, Nash called Clara into his office. As she walked in, he was standing by the door. He called Viv across. ‘I’m going to show Clara something. Before I start, I’m going to lock this door. Don’t let anyone near until I open it. Then I’ll show you. Ring down to reception, get them to transfer any calls to you. Clear?’

‘OK, Mike.’ Pearce was obviously puzzled but knew Nash well enough to know this must be serious.

Nash locked the door and signalled to Mironova to sit down. He opened the safe and passed her the documents he’d stashed there. ‘Read those,’ he told her.

One glance at his face should have warned her that the contents would make grim reading. But nothing in his expression prepared her for the enormity of the crimes described in those pages.

When she’d finished, Clara looked up. ‘Are you sure this stuff’s genuine? And how did you come by it?’

‘I’m certain it’s kosher.’ He explained how he’d got the files.

‘What is this Hirst bloke, a one-man army?’

‘More or less. I reckon he’s probably been dosing himself with those drugs’ – Nash indicated the files – ‘and for the last effort, he had help.’

‘Who from? Not this Mrs Williams, surely?’

‘Hardly,’ Nash laughed. ‘Sonya’s got enough on her plate with three youngsters to look after. No, I think Jessica North was his assistant.’

Clara noted Nash’s use of Sonya’s Christian name, but for once refrained from making a sarcastic comment.

‘That is absolutely disgusting,’ Clara indicated the paperwork.

‘I agree. It’s a catalogue of cold-blooded evil. What I find incredible is how they got away with it.’

‘I wondered that, too. Any ideas?’

Nash thought for a moment. ‘Well, for one thing, it’s easy enough to hide behind the Official Secrets Act. And it looks as
if nobody questioned it, because it was such a rogue operation, nobody had proper control.’

‘It’s so callous.’

‘Which bit? Giving Lara North drugs that turned her into a nymphomaniac? Or making Adam into a drug addict and feeding that addiction? All to keep Dr North in line. I bet they threatened to sell photos to the tabloids of some of the raunchiest images of his wife. Or told him they’d feed Adam with some adulterated heroin. In his state, by the time he knew it, the poison would be in his system.’

Nash paused, brow furrowed. ‘What is it, Mike?’

‘I’m worried about how we’re going to prove any of this. Particularly if we can’t get any fingerprints off the files or disks. We’ve no idea of the identity of the person behind it all: apart from this Smith character. And I’m very concerned about Dr North. I just hope Hirst’s as good as we think, because we’re hamstrung by procedures. Without some unorthodox tactics, I don’t think we’ll get anywhere, even if we know who’s responsible.’

‘There’s been a development.’

‘What sort of development?’ Smith’s boss demanded.

‘I ordered our surveillance teams to monitor all communications from Mrs Williams, her landline, mobile, e-mail. Hirst’s neighbour,’ he added by way of explanation.

‘I know who you’re talking about,’ the tone was waspish, irritable. ‘Can I take it you’ve met with some success for a change?’

Smith winced at the sarcasm. ‘Among the phone calls she made and received from her mobile were two to the detective, Nash.’ Smith paused. ‘And two from Hirst.’

‘You think she’s acting as a go-between?’

‘I don’t think we can afford to take the chance.’

‘What do you suggest?’

‘A search of her house. Hold her, and use her to bring Hirst to us.’

‘Go for it. Use whatever means you need. We must have closure, at all costs. Understand?’

Smith didn’t answer. There didn’t seem to be any need.

Shortly after Nash had briefed Pearce, who was equally shocked by the revelation, his mobile rang. ‘Mike, it’s Sonya.’

‘Are you all right? No trouble, is there?’

‘No, but I’ve been in contact with the person you asked me to. I don’t want to say any more over the phone. Can you pop round this evening?’

‘No problem, any particular time?’

‘Whenever you like. The kids are at my mother’s, so we won’t be disturbed.’

‘OK, I’ll make it as soon as I can.’

Sonya put the phone down. Telephone security was important, but she was aware that was only part of the reason for asking Nash to come round. The other should have worried her. But it didn’t.

Nash thought it sensible to go through to Netherdale and brief Ruth Edwards on developments. The superintendent was as horrified by the news as Mironova and Pearce had been. She too saw the need for secrecy and less than orthodox tactics. It was after 7.30 when Nash left, having received assurances from Ruth of her full backup, and a promise to brief the chief constable on developments.

He called in his flat, where he dined on a takeaway pizza, before driving across town to Sonya’s house. She was obviously on the lookout for him, because the door opened when he was only halfway down the path. Her figure was silhouetted by the
hall light behind her. Nash was so intent on admiring it that he tripped over the corner of a paving slab. He stumbled and looked up in time to see her giggle.

‘I sent Steve a text as you asked.’ They were seated on the settee again. Nash guessed she’d showered because he could smell her perfume, fresh and clean, intermingled with the scent of a shampoo. He sipped his coffee, waiting for her to continue. ‘I got him to ask the questions you wanted.’

‘And what was the reply?’

‘Jessica said Caroline Dunning was a frequent visitor to their house. From the time they returned to England.’ Sonya’s expression was one of distaste. ‘She thought Dr Dunning was one of her mother’s lovers. And that she suspected the woman was conducting an affair with her father at the same time.’

‘Good Lord! The woman must be totally amoral.’

Sonya nodded. ‘I think evil’s the word you’re looking for, Mike. Anyway, Jessica can’t swear to it that Dunning was the one got Adam hooked on drugs, but from what we’ve read, that sounds likely, don’t you think?’

Nash nodded. ‘Anyway,’ Sonya continued, ‘one thing Jessica can remember, is Dr Dunning supplying her mother with some sort of inhaler. To help as a decongestant, or so Jessica was told.’

Sonya saw Nash grimace. ‘What is it?’

‘I found an inhaler at the scene of the fire. The contents could be mistaken for a decongestant, to the uninitiated.’

‘What was in it?’

‘The technical name is methylamphetamine.’ Nash saw Sonya’s puzzled frown. ‘Better known as crystal meth. At least that was the main ingredient.’

‘I’ve heard of that. I thought it was banned. What does it do?’

‘It is banned. As of 2007 it was reclassified as a Class A drug. As to what it does, crystal meth is probably the most powerful aphrodisiac around. It heightens the libido to such an extent that it will cause women to behave like nymphomaniacs, and has a similar effect as Viagra on men, with one added exception. It makes ejaculation difficult, thus prolonging sexual activity. I think we can now see where Jessica’s description of her mother’s
behaviour stems from. The forensic tests on the body suggest she’d been a user for a long time. I think we can safely say we’ve identified the villain of the piece. Thank you for that, Sonya. I’d better be going. It’s getting late.’

As Nash was about to walk out into the hallway, they heard the sound of a car outside. Sonya put her hand on his arm. ‘Don’t go yet, please.’

She’d no sooner said it than there was a knock on the front door. It was loud, demanding. Nash looked at Sonya. ‘Are you expecting anyone?’

She shook her head. ‘I’ll wait in here,’ he told her. ‘If it’s Smith, cough loudly as you open the door. Whatever you do, whatever he says, don’t let him in.’

He waited, heard the sound of the front door being opened, heard Sonya cough.

‘Mrs Williams, you lied to us. You said Hirst had gone to France. We believe you not only know where he really is, you’re holding some classified documents that he passed to you. That’s an offence under the Official Secrets Act. We are going to conduct a search of your house, and if we find them you’ll be placed under arrest.’

‘No you’re not, and no I won’t,’ Nash heard Sonya reply. There was no trace of fear or hesitation in her voice now. He marvelled at the change. ‘Not without a warrant. And I know you won’t have one, because you’ve no jurisdiction on civil premises.’

‘Is this jurisdiction enough?’

‘Put that gun away.’

Nash had heard enough. He stepped forward. ‘Is there a problem here?’

He could barely see the man standing beyond the pool of light from the outside lamp.

‘Who are you?’

‘Detective Inspector Nash, Helmsdale CID. Mrs Williams is right. You have no jurisdiction here. Furthermore, I’ve already searched this house and I can state categorically that she is not in possession of any documents, classified or otherwise, that would be of the slightest interest to you. Unless you read
Cosmopolitan
magazine,’ he added sarcastically. ‘Unless you want me to arrest you, I suggest you clear off: now.’

He nodded to Sonya, who needed little encouragement to slam the door shut. She slid the bolts and chain across and leant against it. She was breathing heavily, as if she’d been running, and Nash knew she wasn’t far from tears.

‘That was very brave.’

‘I couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t been here.’

‘I think that’s the last we’ve seen of him,’ he smiled comfortingly.

‘He scares me, Mike. What if he comes back, when you’re not here? I know you’ve taken the disks and files away, but he won’t know that.’

‘He’s obviously desperate to get them back. The fact that I was here might put him off,’ he paused and thought. ‘But knowing the devious way people like him think; it might make him more suspicious.’

He looked at her, realized how near to tears she was. ‘It’s all right, Sonya. I can arrange for officers to drive past if you want, make sure you’re OK?’

‘You wouldn’t stay? Please, Mike. I’m really scared. Knowing what’s in those files. And knowing what they’ve done already.’

‘I suppose I could kip down on the sofa.’ Nash glanced at it.

‘You wouldn’t need to, Mike.’

He looked up, surprised.

‘I told you the children are at my mother’s. You could have a bed upstairs.’

After they checked all the doors and windows to make sure the house was secure, Nash followed Sonya up the steep flight of stairs. At the top she gestured to the first bedroom. Nash opened the door and looked at the room in dismay. Beds there were, but they were children’s bunk beds. He might just fit half of his frame into one of them. ‘Perhaps not,’ Sonya murmured. She opened another door. ‘There’s this one.’

‘Oh, very funny.’ Nash gazed at the baby’s cot.

‘Or then again,’ her voice was husky, nervous, as she opened a third door. ‘There’s this.’

The double bed was definitely big enough for one. ‘But if I had that, where would you sleep?’ Nash turned to look at Sonya. She was beginning to unbutton her blouse.

‘I’m sure I’ll find somewhere,’ she told him.

As he climbed into bed alongside her, she said, ‘To serve and protect, isn’t that a police motto?’

‘I think that’s in America,’ he said. ‘But I’ll do my best.’

Much later, as they were drifting off to sleep, Nash heard Sonya murmur, ‘Who needs crystal meth…?’

Nash woke early. He could feel Sonya’s breath warm on his cheek. It felt mildly erotic. His eyes became accustomed to the half light. His mind was filled with one thought: Smith would try and get those files; they contained far too much damning information. Nash was sure he wouldn’t give up.

Sonya stirred, her arm reached out for him. That distracted him. ‘What are you thinking about?’ she said sleepily.

‘I was just thinking how we could have a bit of fun.’

Her hand slid down his body. ‘Good.’ Her thigh pressed closer completing his arousal. ‘I was just thinking the same.’

Later, as they held each other close, she asked, ‘What was your idea?’

He smiled. ‘You don’t miss much. You did say you had another copy of that stuff?’

Sonya nodded, then listened. ‘It could be dangerous,’ she protested.

‘I don’t think so. I’ll make sure I’m well protected. The main thing is, if it works, they’ll have to show their hand.’

‘If you’re determined to go ahead with it, we’d better make a start.’

As Sonya was making toast and coffee, Nash got on his mobile. He explained what he wanted. It took a while, not least because of several sarcastic comments from Clara. When he finished he looked up. Sonya was watching him. ‘Sorted,’ he told her.

‘Sounded as if you were getting a bit of grief; the sort of conversation an unfaithful husband might have.’

Nash laughed. ‘Clara wouldn’t take that as a compliment. My
sergeant loves taking the piss out of me. Particularly, well, on certain subjects.’

‘Your love life? You must have a good working relationship. She sounds the sort of woman I’d like.’

‘You can judge for yourself. You’ll be meeting her soon.’

As Nash was finishing his toast, his mobile rang. ‘All ready?’ he asked after glancing at the caller display. ‘Any sign of the opposition?’ He listened. ‘Good, I’ll be coming out in about five minutes.’

He stood up and reached for the carrier bag containing the documents. ‘Showtime,’ he said. He smiled at Sonya.

She was looking nervous. ‘Be careful, Mike. These people are dangerous.’ She gestured to the carrier bag. ‘You know what they’re capable of.’

‘Don’t worry, this is my town. I’ve all the help I need within shouting distance.’

‘That’s all very well, but what if you can’t shout.’

‘Let’s not think that way. I’ll be all right, I promise.’

He paused before opening the front door. ‘Ready to give me the big send off?’

She nodded. ‘Before you open that, I want to thank you for last night.’

She reached forward to kiss him.

‘Think nothing of it.’ He grinned as she released him. ‘It was my pleasure.’

She blushed. ‘That wasn’t what I meant.’

He opened the door and walked down the path, seemingly oblivious to the van that was pulling to a halt behind his car. He fumbled his car keys from his pocket and turned to wave goodbye. Sonya waved back, before closing the door. As he reached his car, Nash felt something cold pressed against his neck. ‘Don’t turn round. Don’t move.’

As the man spoke, a cloth dropped over Nash’s head. Unseen hands pushed him to his left, towards where the van was parked. Within seconds he was bundled into the back, the door slammed behind him and the vehicle moved off. Unable to see, Nash felt his arms being dragged behind his back, then taped
together. His ankles were secured the same way. The carrier bag with its precious contents was ripped from his grasp. No words were spoken, but Nash felt the pace accelerate as the vehicle sped onto the main road from the estate.

They travelled for what seemed a long time before Nash felt the vehicle slow down. Seconds later he was rolled across the back of the van as it made a sharp left turn. A further five minutes or so passed before the van came to a rest. Nash heard the handbrake being applied, then the sound of doors opening. A moment later he registered a draught of cold air. As he did so, he was pushed, none too gently, from the back of the vehicle. Hands grabbed him, hauled him to his feet; then he was punched repeatedly about the body and head. Nash sank to his knees, semi-conscious and in considerable pain from the beating. Next came the feet. Boots, he guessed, as blow after blow thudded into his already bruised body. One of his captors muttered something and the kicking ceased. Nash was by this time beginning to drift off. He heard the engine of the van start up, through a mist of sound. He thought it had pulled away. Was that it coming back? He heard a door slam, footsteps running towards him. The next second the hood was lifted from his head and he stared into a pair of beautiful blue eyes, eyes that he knew well. ‘You took your time,’ he muttered. ‘What kept you?’

‘Mike!’ Clara’s voice was sharp with distress. ‘Are you badly hurt? I’ll have to get you to hospital.’

‘No,’ he was starting to come round, but speech and mustering his thoughts weren’t easy. ‘Sonya’s house. More important,’ he gasped.

Clara slit the tape and removed it. He struggled to his feet, Clara’s arms supporting him. He stood for a minute; the road swaying in time with him. They were on a moorland road with no vehicles or buildings in sight. ‘Where are we?’

‘Half way to Bishop’s Cross. On the back road.’

‘Viv?’

‘As far as I know he’s on station. I was more concerned about you. Still am.’

‘I’ll be all right. Help me to the car, let’s get moving.’

As soon as they were in the car, Clara called Pearce on the radio. By the time they reached the outskirts of Helmsdale, the DC had reported that he’d followed the van to a house in Netherdale. ‘Get Viv to alert Binns. We’ll need a warrant to search that place,’ Nash told Mironova.

They pulled up outside Sonya’s house and Clara hurried round to help Nash out of his seat. He winced as he stood up. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’

‘Stiffening up, that’s all.’

The door opened as Clara helped Nash down the path. ‘Mike,’ Sonya exclaimed; shock and distress apparent. ‘What have they done to you?’

‘Bit of a beating, that’s all.’ Nash tried a reassuring smile. It didn’t seem to have worked.

‘Sonya, this is DS Mironova, Clara.’ Nash introduced her.

‘Come on in; let’s get those cuts seen to.’

‘What’s she mean? What cuts?’

‘You’ve half a dozen on your face.’

Between them, the two women manoeuvred Nash inside the house and into the dining room, where he was pushed onto one of the dining chairs and told to sit still. A few minutes later they reappeared from the kitchen. Sonya had a washing up bowl, flannel and towels, whilst Clara was carrying three mugs of coffee. ‘This is going to sting a bit,’ Sonya warned him.