The Spear of Destiny (6 page)

  “These photographs were caught by the police helicopter. We’ve analysed CCTV footage but these are the clearest images we have. Can you tell us anything about these vehicles?”

  Dennis looked at each of them again. They were simply plain, black Range Rovers with no distinguishing marks.

  “Sorry no. Nothing. They didn’t have number plates.”

  “That’s quite all right Mr Dennis. Now to help us with our enquiries detective sergeant Harding will need to record our conversation, merely to record anything that we may miss but might get picked up at a later date. This is, you understand, merely to help us if we were to get a conviction.

  Dennis nodded.

  “Ok. I understand.”

Harding inserted the previously opened blank audio cassette and pressed record.

  “Interview beginning at eleven fifteen pm with detective inspector Mark Jones and detective sergeant Rachel Harding both of south Kensington police station of the Metropolitan police. Would you state your name and age please.”

  “Peter John Dennis. I’m thirty eight.”

  “Thank you. Mr Dennis you understand why you’re here tonight?”

  “I do.”

  “For the record Mr Dennis was arrested by armed police this evening outside the British museum at around eight forty five pm in possession of an unlicensed Heckler and Koch MP5 semi-automatic machine pistol. Mr Dennis is this weapon owned by yourself?”

  “No.”

  “Can you tell me where or how you obtained it?”

  “I’ve already told you where I got it.”

  “Could you tell us again please for the recorder.”

  “Where do you want me to start?”

  “If you could begin with the events of your evening.”

Dennis reached for his coffee and took a swig, then putting the mug back, he began. He told them about arriving in the Limo with Natalie, briefly mentioned the conversation with the actor he offended and the phone call about Gaddafi with Tom.

  “I was watching the news clip when I heard gunfire from the exhibit. I opened the door slightly and saw men dressed as Roman legionaries with machine guns, similar or identical to the one on the table.”

  “That will be the Heckler and Koch MP5 currently exhibit ’A’,” Jones said for the benefit of the tape recording.

  “Yes.”

  “What did you do next Mr Dennis?”

  “Well as I said I was with my partner Natalie and I saw her across the room, she saw me, but one of the gunmen came towards the toilets, I think he noticed her looking, and I hid in one of the cubicles. I could hear him opening all of the doors one by one and when he opened the one I was in I sprang at him. I knew I had one chance and surprise was essential. We fought, but thankfully I was able to overpower him. I’m just glad he was wearing that heavy Roman toga which hindered him. I managed to get his gun, the one you’ve presented to me in that plastic bag, and I ran outside with it as they escaped.”

  “And what did you intend to do with the gun?”

Dennis shrugged.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Did you intend to use it, to hurt any of them, to kill any of them.”

  “No I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t think so.”

  “No.”

  “But they’d threatened you, threatened your girlfriend,” Jones looked down at his paperwork searching for the name, “Natalie. That must have made you angry.”

  “Angry?”

  “Yes. I mean, “Jones continued, “You must have wanted revenge on them. They’d already killed a museum security guard and then came after you after having threatened your partner. You must have been a little angry. I mean who wouldn’t.”

  “Well I wasn’t. I don’t know what I intended to do. I wasn’t thinking straight. But revenge wasn’t part of it.”

  Jones stared at Dennis for several moments.

  “Very well. And you’re unable to give us any clues about the vehicles they used. Three black Range Rovers without number plates.”

  “No. I’ve already told you there was nothing unusual about them.”

  “Is there anything else you can think of that may help us in our enquiries?”

Dennis was tempted to mention Nguyen and her cameraman just so the police would bring them in for questioning. He found himself smiling at the thought. She wouldn’t thank him for it. He liked Kim and decided against it. The police no doubt took names of everyone and knowing Nguyen she would probably come forward anyway.

  Jones and Harding cross questioned him for a further hour when the detective inspector thanked him and formally ended the interview.

  “Am I being charged?” dennis asked.

Jones shuffled his papers into a neat pile.

  “No Mr Dennis. You are free to go. DS harding will take you to the duty sergeant where you can collect your personal items. Thank you for your help. We may need to question you further so please stay in the local area.”

  “I know. I know. Don’t leave the country right,” Dennis said, extending his forefinger as if it was an imaginary gun.

  “Goodbye for now Mr Dennis.”

Harding opened the door for him and he waited for her to accompany him. At the duty sergeant’s desk he signed some forms and collected his personal effects, phone, keys and watch which he put on his wrist, thanked the sergeant and followed Harding to the door with iron bars and waited while the officer with the keys opened it. Dennis walked through the door and turned.

  “Cheers Darling,” he said to Harding as the door was slammed and locked, then whistling down the corridor he was let out of the police station by another officer and stepped out into the cold night air. Natalie was waiting at the top of the steps for him. A taxi waiting below. He smiled and went straight to her. She threw her arms around him and kissed him hard on the lips and then pulled away. He was about to say “Wow! Did you miss me?” when she slapped him hard across the cheek.

  “What was that for?”

  “Don’t you ever play the hero again!” she replied before turning and heading down the steps towards a grinning taxi driver. Dennis rubbed his very warm cheek and followed silently after her.

                                   CHAPTER FOUR

Peter Dennis threw himself into his chair at his desk. It was Monday morning and the rush hour traffic had been horrendous. The small clock on his desk was showing 09.15. He’d intended to be in at 09.00. It didn’t matter though. Dennis worked whatever hours suited him.

  He glanced across at his editors office and saw the door was closed and the office empty. Rogerson was probably also stuck in traffic. Dennis had tried, in the past, to use public transport but found he preferred to be behind the wheel stuck in traffic getting frustrated rather than being stuck on a tube or bus in the same traffic. Rogerson on the other hand had never desired to be squashed in, like a sardine, into a carriage crammed with total strangers. Besides he liked to look out of his top floor window a dozen times a day at his Aston Martin parked in the street below.

  Dennis flicked the switch on the bottom of his computer monitor and waited for the screen to come on. It had been three days since the exhibition, the spear being stolen and his arrest. He and Natalie had spent a quiet weekend at his London apartment and ignored all calls. The moment his monitor came on he regretted it. 228 new e-mails and 142 messages in his spam filter. He opened the spam folder and ran his eyes down the list of the first fifty and without opening any of the messages he clicked delete. He cleared the rest and then emptied the trash bin before opening his e-mail folder and running his eyes down the first fifty of them as well. Four he opened and read with interest. There were some from friends and family, jokes no doubt, and he moved them to a different folder to read later. Then bored he quickly scanned the remaining e-mails and finding nothing of interest, he deleted the entire lot.

  His mobile began ringing and he turned it over to see that it was Natalie calling.

  “Hi babe.”

  “Sorry to disturb you. I know you’ve probably just got in but did you leave without having any breakfast?”

  “Yes. I’ll get something later.”

  “Well I was wondering if we could do lunch.”

  “Lunch?” Dennis said, looking at the mess on his desk.

  “If you aren’t too busy. It’s not a problem if you are.”

  “I’m a bit snowed under love….Um….I’m just trying to think….”

  “Well what if I bring lunch to you in the office. How does that sound?”

  “Good idea. Yes. That will be much better for me.”

  “Ok. How about twelve o’clock. What do you want?”

  “Twelve is fine. I’ll be here all day. Oh and bring me something with chicken in it. Sandwich, salad, baguette. I don’t mind.”

  “Ok.”

  “Ok.”

  “Well I’ll see you later then.”

  “Yeah. Sorry babe,” Dennis said, nearly dropping the phone he was propping to his ear with his left shoulder while trying to remove post it notes from all around his desk, “I’m a bit busy right now.”

  “Ok. See you soon. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

Dennis hung up. Usually he hated doing it first. He reached down to open a drawer and rummaged for a stapler when he was hit by an overwhelming whiff of perfume. He turned his head and saw a pair of red stilleto’s. His eyes travelled up to black seamed stockings, to a green tartan mini-skirt, white blouse and on up to bright red lipstick, beautiful eyes behind thinly framed spectacles and to long, tumbling brunette hair.

  Becky!

Becky Smith! Rogerson’s recently hired personal assistant and the most beautiful woman in the office, the entire building for that matter. Possibly London.

  ’Well second most,’ Dennis told himself.

  “Morning Becky.”

Smith came forward and perched herself on the edge of his desk, revealing a glimpse of black suspender.

  “Morning Peter.”

Dennis closed his eyes and shook his head in quick succession and then looked up at her. Other men in the office were watching her.

  “Is there something I can do for you Miss Smith?”

Becky placed a large boxfile on his desk and pushed it to him.

  “This is from Tom. He said it had everything you’d need in it. Well not quite everything you‘ll ever need,” she said, shifting slightly revealing her stocking tops to wolf whistles from across the office.

  “Thank you,” Dennis said, deliberately avoiding her eyes.

He opened the file and began shuffling through what was in it.

  “So did you have a nice weekend,” she asked in her husky voice.

  “Um. Yes. Yes thank you,” he replied, looking up at her at last.

  “How was the exhibition? I wish I’d had someone to go with.”

Dennis looked up again from the file.

  “It was invite only,” he said with his best smile.

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat. Dennis peered past her to look across the office.

  “Miss Smith,” Rogerson called from his office door. He had just arrived and his hand was on his door handle.

  Becky turned and smiled.

  “Just coming Mr Rogerson.”

She turned back to Dennis as she slid herself off his desk.

  “See you later Peter.”

He watched her go. She was deliberately wiggling her bottom. Halfway to Rogerson she looked over her shoulder back at Dennis and winked at him. He closed his eyes and shook his head again to clear his thoughts. The fact that she fancied him she had made obvious in the two weeks that she had worked there. She followed Rogerson into his office and turned again to close the door. She grinned at Dennis and he found himself grinning and nodding back. Then she turned to her boss and sat and Dennis couldn’t see her anymore. He concentrated on the boxfile she’d given him. It contained a lot of correspondence on the current revolt in Libya and Dennis suddenly found his heart begin racing at the prospect of his new assignment. He tried to put Becky out of his mind then a thought struck him.

  ‘Shit! Natalie’s coming here for lunch. What if she behaves like that in front of her. Nat will kill her. Me too.’

  He picked his phone up to ring her to arrange to meet out when Rogerson’s door opened again and Becky called him.

  “What?”

  “Mr Rogerson wants to see you.”

Reluctantly Dennis left his desk and headed over.

  ‘What now?’ he was thinking.

Dennis entered his boss’s office. Rogerson was frowning at a newspaper front page.

  “Yes sir.”

  “Sit down Pete.”

Smith held the chair for him and leaned over it further than she needed to giving Dennis a view of her backside. He did his best not to notice.

  “Thank you Miss Smith. I’d like coffee please, Peter?”

  “Yes thank you.”

She poured the cups while Rogerson continued to read the front page. Then after deliberately making sure her fingers stroked Dennis’ hand as she gave him his cup she poured and placed a cup in front of the editor.

  “Will there be anything else Mr Rogerson?”

  “No thank you. You can leave us.”

Dennis watched her go. She closed the door silently and blew Dennis a kiss through the window. He glanced nervously back at Rogerson still reading. His boss hadn’t noticed.

  Rogerson finished reading the front page of the newspaper he was holding, then turned it around and dropped it in front of Dennis.

  “Hell of a party huh?”

It had been three days since the spear exhibition and the story was still dominating the front pages.

  “I assume you’ve been keeping up with events.”

  “Yes. I’ve read every newspaper going.”

  “Good. Then you can squash some of the conspiracy theories. Dixon has been covering the story since it happened. I want you to work with him on this. Is he in the office?”

  “I haven’t seen him Tom.”

  “Well as soon as he gets in, nab him, tell him everything you know. Everything Pete.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better if I did the story?”

  “No. Dixon has covered it since it happened. I’ve got Alex and Suzy in Tripoli covering the Gaddafi thing. Like I said before I want you to do an article on the impact his death will have on the country. I‘d get you a plane ticket but the whole bloody country is in uproar. Apart from foreign military there is nothing in or out. You‘ll just have to do what you can from here. Set up a satellite link on your laptop with Alex and Suzy. They‘re in a hotel in Tripoli and should be able to get wi-fi. You should find everything you need in that box file Becky has given you. If you need anything else come to me Pete. Ok? ”