Eeny Meeny (23 page)

‘Because every technical consultant involved in something like this has their own unique access code. It’s the only way in or out for us and you can always tell when we’ve accessed the system and how we’ve used it.’

‘There must be ways round that.’

‘Not for us. Tech support staff move around a lot, sometimes within the police service, sometimes outside it. In order not to compromise an investigation and to deal with the turnover of technical staff, the access system was created. If you check –’

‘So why did you lie?’ Helen butted in. She wasn’t prepared to be lectured.

‘How do you mean, lie?’

‘I asked every person who had access to the investigation to account for their movements that day and you, along with all the other technical staff, claimed to have been on strike. But you weren’t. You broke the strike.’

‘So what? I didn’t agree with the strike, so I went in to work briefly. I wasn’t there for long and when asked about it, I thought it better to tell a little fib so the others didn’t find out.’

‘Didn’t work very well, did it? Who told them?’

For the first time Ashworth looked rattled. Finally, we’re making progress, Helen thought to herself.

‘I don’t know how they found out,’ he muttered, staring at his shoes.

‘Are you ambitious, Simon?’

‘I guess so.’

‘You guess so? You’re very young to be at your pay grade, you’ve got great appraisals. You could really go somewhere. In fact, your move to Hampshire police was a big promotion, wasn’t it?’

Ashworth nodded.

‘And yet, after only four months in your swanky new job, you are returning to your old job. A job which, if your application for the Hampshire posting is to be believed, you felt you had mastered and were bored with.’

‘We all say stuff like that in job interviews.’ He remained staring at his shoes.

‘What happened?’

A long silence. Then:

‘I had a change of heart. I hadn’t really settled in Southampton, didn’t have any friends to speak of and then … when the lads started to cut me out because I wasn’t a union stooge, I thought I’m better off out of it.’

‘Except you put in your transfer request before the other lads found out about your betrayal of the cause. The others were very clear about this. It was at a departmental piss-up in the Lamb and Flag on the eighteenth that you were forced to admit that you’d broken the strike. You applied to return to your old job on the sixteenth.’

‘They must be mistaken …’

‘There were several witnesses to the conversation in the pub. They can’t all be lying.’

A longer silence.

‘The truth is … The truth is that I just don’t like it here. I don’t like the people, I don’t like the job. I want out.’

‘That’s curious, Simon. Because at your three-month appraisal, you’d said how happy you were. How you were loving the increased responsibility. And you got top marks for your work, even the hint that you’d be fitted for promotion if you kept it up for a year or more. I’ve got a copy of your appraisal here if you’d like to read it.’

Helen offered it to him, but Ashworth said nothing. The guy looked deeply, deeply miserable. Which made Helen happy. The cracks were beginning to show. She decided to put the boot in.

‘You’ve done the police training, Simon, so I’m not going to patronize you by spelling out what the effects could be for your career if you’re forced to admit to lying to a police officer who’s pursuing a murder investigation. If you’re forced to admit taking payment to leak confidential police material.’

Ashworth sat stock still, but his hands were shaking.

‘Your career would be over. Finished. And I know how important it is to you.’

Helen softened her tone now.

‘I know you’re a gifted guy, Simon. I know you could go places. But if you lie to me now, I will destroy you. There’ll be no way back.’

Ashworth’s shoulders hunched and began to shake. Was he crying?

‘Why are you doing this?’

‘Because I need to know the truth. Did you leak the interview to Mickery? And if so, why? I can only help you if you help me.’

A long pause, then:

‘I thought you knew.’

His voice was strangulated, cracked.

‘He told me you knew.’

‘Who told you?’

‘Whittaker.’

Whittaker. The word hung in the air, but Helen still didn’t quite believe it.

‘What did he tell you? What should I have known?’

Ashworth shook his head, but Helen wasn’t about to let this go.

‘Tell me. Tell me now or I will arrest you for conspiracy to pervert –’

‘Whittaker downloaded the interview.’

‘But he was on leave that day.’

‘I saw him. I went into the office. Because of the strike there was no one about. But Whittaker was there. By himself. He said he’d been going over the case material and when I looked later he’d downloaded the interview. I didn’t think anything of it. He’s in charge, so why not? But when I found out later that you were asking for people’s movements, I realized that Whittaker had made a mistake. Got his days mixed up. I went to see him. I didn’t want him to cop any flak for a simple mistake.’

‘You were currying favour.’

‘Sort of. Whittaker liked me, saw a future for me. So I just mentioned it – better safe than sorry, you know. Well he didn’t like it. Not at all. Said I was mistaken, but I knew I wasn’t.’

He paused, scared of saying any more.

‘Go on. What happened next?’

‘He said he could destroy my career with one phone call. That I didn’t understand what I was getting involved with. We … he decided there and then that I was to be transferred back to London as soon as possible. I guess it was him that let the cat out of the bag about the strike. As a reason for my departure. He told me that you knew all this. That it was your idea.’

Anger flared in Helen, then she reined it back in sharply. She must keep calm, keep focused. Was this all for real?

‘He said I was involved?’

‘Yes, that you were handling it, so there was no point saying anything to you.’

‘What did you do next?’

‘I tried to carry on but I couldn’t keep it going, not with the lads on my back as well. So I signed off sick. Been hiding out here ever since, biding my time until my transfer …’

He tailed off as the reality of his situation hit him. For the first time that day, Helen was conciliatory.

‘This doesn’t have to end badly, Simon. If what you’ve told me today is true, then I can make this right for you. You can take the transfer, learn your lesson and start over again without a blemish on your record. You can do the things you were meant to do, achieve what you want to achieve.’

Ashworth looked up, disbelief jostling with hope.

‘But I need you to do one thing for me in return. You are going to come to my flat now. And when you get there you are going to write a statement, putting down everything you’ve just told me. Then you are going to wait. You are not going to answer your phone, or make any calls. You’re not going to mail, text or tweet. You are going to sit still and quiet and the rest of the world need never know we’ve spoken, until I say the time is right. Is that understood?’

Ashworth nodded. He would do anything she told him now.

‘Good. Then let’s go.’

76

There was no backing out now. The deal had been struck. Like it or not, it was time to follow through.

When Mickery had opened her left hand, knowing full well it was empty, Sandy had collapsed to the ground moaning. Mickery had watched, her emotions in riot. Part exhilaration, part horror, but overall … relief. She would live.

Shortly afterwards Sandy started to beg. He said he hadn’t been serious, that it was crazy, that they had to stick together, they shouldn’t let
her
win.

‘What would you have done if you’d won? Would you have spared me?’ was Mickery’s retort. Sandy couldn’t answer – which spoke volumes. He would have pulled the trigger and saved himself. He was a selfish little shit at heart.

‘Please, Hannah. I have a wife. I have two daughters. You know them, you’ve met them. Please don’t do this to them.’

‘We don’t have a choice, Sandy.’

‘Course we do. We always have a choice.’

‘To starve to death? Is that what you want?’

‘Maybe we can get out. Force the door …’

‘For the love of God, Sandy, don’t make this worse than it already is. There is no way out. There is no escape. This is it. There is no other way.’

At which point, he’d started to blub. But Mickery felt no pity now. If Sandy had won, she would have been dead by now, no doubt about it. Suddenly hatred rose up inside her – how dare he beg for mercy that he wouldn’t have rendered – and as he clawed at her, she pushed him sharply away. He tripped and fell, landing heavily on the dirty metal floor.

‘I’m begging you, Hannah, please don’t do this …’

But Mickery had already picked up the gun. She had never fired one before, never thought of hurting anyone, but she was cool and collected now as she prepared to execute someone she had once called a friend.

‘I’m so sorry, Sandy.’

And with that she pulled the trigger.

Click.

An empty chamber. Shit. Sandy, who moments earlier had thrown his arms wildly in front of himself in a vain effort to shield himself from the coming pain, stopped flailing. Suddenly he was getting to his feet.

Click. Click.

Two more empty chambers – the gun must have got knocked out of sequence at some point. Now Sandy was charging at her.

Click. Click. He barrelled into her knocking the cold gun from her hands. Mickery flew backwards cracking her head on the hard floor. When she looked up, Sandy had the gun in his hand. She expected to see hatred there, but his face was a picture of disbelief.

‘It’s empty. It’s fucking empty.’ He tossed the gun to her. What had he said? Her brain couldn’t keep up with developments. But he was right. The chambers were empty. There had never been a bullet inside.

A hooting to her left made Mickery start. But it was only Sandy rolling on the floor, tears of laughter rolling down his cheeks. He sounded insane. Insanely happy. What a bloody good joke it all was.

Mickery yelled. A blood-curdling, throat-splitting yell. Long, loud and agonizing. All that for nothing. She had tricked them, made them animals, but then denied Mickery her triumph. This wasn’t how the game worked. It wasn’t supposed to be that way. She was meant to live. She wanted to live.

Mickery knelt on the floor, the energy draining from her. She was beaten, broken. Sandy’s hideous mocking laughter rang out like a death knell.

77

Helen was back at the helm when Charlie entered the incident room the following morning. Charlie felt a slight burst of irritation – her role as team leader had lasted no more than a day – but then immediately picked up the buzz of excitement in the room and all sense of resentment vanished. Something had happened.

Two things, in fact. One good, one bad. They had found ‘Martina’ – a gender reassignment clinic in Essex claimed to have a match. But they had lost Hannah Mickery. She and her personal lawyer, Sandy Morten, had been missing for several days now.

‘Why wasn’t I told?’ demanded Helen angrily.

‘We didn’t know,’ Charlie replied. ‘Morten was reported missing a few days back, but no one reported Mickery missing. It was only when we were going through Morten’s emails that we realized he had set up a three-way meeting for himself, Mickery and a woman called Katherine Constable. She claimed to be a journalist working for the
Sunday Sun
, but we’ve checked with them and there’s no one of that name on their payroll.’

‘Constable? She’s taking the piss out of us.’

Helen was fuming. With herself and with the situation. She had been so intent on pursuing the mole, on running that leak to ground, that she had taken her eye off Mickery. If she had stayed with her, perhaps she would have finally come face to face with their killer.

She dispatched Charlie and the rest of the team to Morten’s house. It was probably overkill but this was where ‘Katherine’ had met with Mickery and Morten – perhaps if they all went they’d pick up a thread there, a forensic clue, a witness statement, something. In the meantime, Helen sped east to Essex.

It was good to be back on the hunt. Good too to get away from Southampton nick – she needed time to think. Ashworth was now holed up in her flat, out of harm’s way, and his statement was written and signed. Since their explosive interview, she had done some further checks. She had never questioned Whittaker’s alibi before and kicked herself for that, for on close inspection it didn’t hold much water. Even though conditions for sailing from Poole had been good that day – the weather had been fine and most of the pleasure boats had ventured out from the harbour – some had stayed put, amongst them
Green Pepper
, Whittaker’s 26-footer on which he lavished so much care and attention.

So Whittaker had lied to her about his whereabouts and another serving officer had placed him at the scene of the crime. Furthermore, Ashworth had gone on to accuse Whittaker of bullying, coercion and perverting the course of justice. All the time Whittaker had been protecting his own interests. His squashing of Garanita had been designed to stop her from breaking the serial-killer story – it had nothing to do with protecting Helen or the team.

It was an incendiary situation and one that Helen needed to handle very carefully indeed. The success of the investigation – not to mention the future of Helen’s career – depended on her making the right move.

The Porterhouse Clinic in Loughton was plush and professional. Inside, the lobby was immaculate, the staff likewise, and the whole place had a distinctly soothing feel. The clinic carried out many types of surgery, but specialized in resolving issues around gender dysphoria. Therapy was the first stage on a journey that nine times out of ten ended in surgery and full gender reassignment.

The team had sent detailed information out when conducting the search for Martina. The timescale was wide enough to make the search tricky – they thought the op had been done three to five years ago, throwing up a large number of possible contenders. But still, gender reassignment wasn’t massively common. And given that they could provide height, blood type, eye colour and a good stab at ‘her’ health history, the chances of a match were good. None the less, Helen felt nervous as she was ushered in to see the clinic’s manager. There was a lot riding on this one.