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  Lambert waited until she remembered to breathe. ‘Something you need to tell me, Daniella? It would be easier all round if you told me now.’

  She shook her head, close to tears.

  ‘OK, Daniella. Tell me about Alistair. You met him about a year ago, you said?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where did you meet?’

  ‘At a bar.’

  ‘Did he speak to you, or the other way around?’

  ‘I can’t really remember. There was a group of us and at some point we got talking.’

  Daniella’s demeanour had changed dramatically since the first mention of her ex-boyfriend. Lambert hadn’t been convinced she’d been in mourning for Beckinsale’s death to begin with but was less sure now. She acted defensively, as if she had something to hide.

  ‘Did he ask you out, or did you ask him out?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  Lambert was about to continue questioning her when Matilda returned to the room. She gestured for him to leave the office so Lambert suspended the interview. ‘I’ll just be a minute,’ he said, smiling at Daniella.

  ‘Will Fisher,’ said Matilda, handing him a printed report. ‘This suggests the attack was a bit more vicious than Daniella is suggesting. The victim lost his eye as well as the top row of his teeth. He suffered a fractured cheekbone beneath the eye.’

  ‘Let me guess, Fisher is out of jail and lives in close proximity to the young lady in the interview room?’

  ‘Same apartment building.’

  ‘Right,’ said Lambert, opening the interview door and restarting the interview, reminding Daniella she wasn’t under caution but was free to request legal counsel at any point.

  ‘You’re still in contact with Will, aren’t you, Daniella?’

  Daniella reddened once more, her nostrils widening as her breathing intensified.

  ‘He must have known about Alistair. Alistair was a very wealthy man, was he not?’

  ‘What are you getting at?’

  ‘Help me out here, Daniella. This doesn’t look good. An ex-boyfriend with a violent temper, a history of jealous rages. A rich older man. You can put the pieces together yourself.’

  ‘Will didn’t do this,’ said Daniella, shaking her head, convincing herself.

  ‘You’re still in contact with Will, aren’t you?’ said Matilda, repeating Lambert’s question.

  ‘No,’ said Daniella, a child caught in a lie.

  ‘You live in the same building,’ said Lambert.

  ‘He didn’t do it. He wouldn’t do that,’ said Daniella, breaking down as she began to realize the enormity of the situation.

  ‘Are you still lovers?’ asked Matilda.

  Daniella cracked, beginning to cry. ‘Yes,’ said Daniella, through sobs.

  ‘He knows about Alistair. Didn’t mind as long as the money was coming in?’ asked Lambert, handing the woman a box of tissues.

  ‘He wouldn’t kill him. He’s not that crazy. I’d never let him do that to them.’

  ‘To them?’ asked Lambert.

  Daniella squeezed her eyes shut, caught out again. ‘Alistair isn’t my only boyfriend,’ she said.

  Chapter Four

  Lambert sighed and exchanged looks with Matilda. They had to proceed with caution. Lambert reminded Daniella she could request legal representation at any point. When she declined, Lambert decided to postpone the meeting. His mind was working overtime. He thought about Peter Saunders, hoping the assigned teams was making good inroads into his whereabouts, while considering all the implications of what Daniella was telling him.

  ‘Let’s take a break, shall we, Daniella? I’ll ask one of the officers to get you something to eat and we can have another chat. I know this must be very difficult,’ he said, leaving the interview room with Matilda.

  Back in the incident room he updated Bickland and Croft. ‘You two get to that address now and pick up this Will Fisher. If he’s not there track him down.’

  ‘That was illuminating,’ said Matilda, once they’d left. ‘Have you heard of Will Fisher?’

  ‘Unfortunately not.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean he doesn’t know you.’

  ‘No, but why would he leave a note with my name on it at the scene? If it was him then it sounds like it was a crime of passion. He finally got jealous of Daniella and her numerous boyfriends. If he was acting on impulse it’s unlikely he would have the foresight to write my name on a piece of card before leaving. Especially as it was stencilled.’

  ‘He could have prepared it beforehand.’

  ‘That suggests an element of premeditation. We’ll know more when we speak to Fisher. Keep Daniella busy until he comes in. I need to be somewhere.’

  If Matilda was surprised he was leaving the office at such a crucial point she knew better than to question him. ‘What if she wants to leave?’

  ‘Caution her. She’s obviously pulling some scam with these boyfriends and we have enough to detain her. She can get a solicitor.’

  ‘Will that give you time to do whatever it is you need to do?’ said Matilda, raising her eyebrows.

  Lambert wouldn’t have let many subordinate officers get away with such a remark but he’d gone through so much with Matilda he let it go. ‘I think so, Matilda, thanks for asking.’

  * * *

  The temperature had dropped even further since that morning. The wind was mercifully behind him as he walked down the hill, wishing he’d driven from the murder scene rather than walked. The area surrounding Beckinsale’s house was still cordoned off and the same uniform team were stationed outside.

  The young PC who’d challenged him glanced over as he got into his car. Lambert ignored him and sat in his car revving his engine, waiting for the heat to kick in. He was about to pull out into the road when there was a knock on the car door.

  When he saw who it was he almost drove off. Instead, he buzzed down the window, the engine still running. Outside stood Mia Helmer. Helmer worked as a senior editor on a national newspaper, though she had taken to occasional bouts of investigative journalism when cases involved Lambert. His relationship with the woman was, at best, uneasy. He’d once come close to arresting her for interfering in his investigations and she’d never forgiven him.

  ‘Mia,’ he said.

  Helmer was a diminutive woman in stature but not in confidence or ability. ‘DCI Lambert. It is my understanding a card with your name on it was found at the house of Alistair Beckinsale. Would you care to comment on why this might be, and are you treating his death as suspicious?’

  ‘Come on, Mia, you know better than this.’

  Mia brushed a loose strand of black hair from her face. ‘A high-profile banker, found electrocuted in his bath, your name found close to his body. This could be front-page news. I’m sure our readers would love to hear your side of the story.’

  ‘I would talk to our press office before releasing any fantasy stories.’

  ‘Would you care to comment?’ said Mia, ignoring him.

  ‘No comment,’ said Lambert, closing the window and driving off.

  * * *

  Traffic moved snail-like as he made his way to Holloway Road. Lambert tried to ignore the nagging doubt in his mind suggesting he turn back and place all his focus on the Beckinsale case, but he needed to see the scene where Saunders had escaped. He was disappointed Mia Helmer had so many details about the case and made a mental note to discuss the matter with the uniformed officers who’d been at the scene.

  Moving through what felt like the hundredth set of traffic lights, he finally found his destination. Unlike at Beckinsale’s house, nothing in the area suggested there had been an incident of any kind. Lambert parked up outside a row of shops. Leaving the car, he examined the road for any sign of a traffic incident but nothing was out of place in the surrounding area – no tyre marks or fragments of glass.

  Inside the local newsagent’s, he waited until the shop’s only customer had left be
fore questioning the woman behind the counter. When he showed the woman his warrant card, her face dropped. ‘Back again,’ she said.

  ‘Different department,’ said Lambert, playing along with newsagent’s assumption.

  The woman sighed and shuffled a pile of newspapers on the counter. ‘How can I help you?’

  ‘I know you’ve gone through this already but can you tell me from the beginning exactly what happened this morning?’ said Lambert.

  The woman squinted her eyes as if suspecting she was being tricked. ‘Why are you questioning me again?’

  ‘Standard procedure,’ said Lambert, holding the woman’s gaze.

  ‘Well, OK. As I told your colleague, I heard all the commotion but didn’t think much of it to begin with. We get horns blaring all the time, the roads are jammed with crappy drivers. I thought it was another road rage incident until I heard the shots.’

  ‘How many shots did you hear?’

  ‘A few. Maybe five or six?’ she said, as if Lambert knew the answer.

  ‘What happened next?’

  ‘What do you mean what happened next?’

  ‘After the gunshots.’

  The woman shrugged. ‘How the hell would I know?’

  Surprised by the woman’s answer, Lambert was about to ask more questions when a customer entered the shop. The young man was wearing shorts and flip-flops despite the winter chill, and his hand shook as he handed over his money for the rolling tobacco he asked for.

  ‘Thanks, love,’ said the woman as the customer left.

  Lambert pulled the bolt on the door and flipped the sign to ‘Closed’ so they wouldn’t be interrupted further.

  ‘Hey,’ said the woman.

  ‘It’ll be quicker this way,’ said Lambert, ignoring her protests. ‘Now tell me what you did after the gunshots?’

  ‘I hid, of course. What would you do?’

  ‘For how long?’

  ‘Until your colleagues banged on my door and gave me the third degree.’

  ‘So you didn’t see the ambulances?’

  ‘I heard more sirens,’ said the woman, glancing to the ceiling. ‘In fact, I said to John I was surprised everything was cleared up so quickly.’

  ‘John?’

  ‘My husband.’

  ‘Where is John?’

  ‘Cash and carry.’

  Lambert sensed the conversation was slipping out of his control. ‘How long passed before the shots and the officers knocking on your door?’

  ‘About twenty minutes or so, I guess. To be fair, your lot arrived pretty sharpish after the shots.’

  ‘So twenty minutes later the police knocked at your door. Did you manage to glimpse anything of the scene outside?’

  ‘No, as I said, the ambulances and police cars were gone.’

  Lambert frowned, perplexed as to how the scene had been cleared so quickly. It was completely against protocol. Tillman said a guard and a police officer were killed at the scene. The bodies shouldn’t have been removed until the SOCOs thoroughly investigated every inch of the area, which should still be cordoned off.

  ‘OK, thanks for your help,’ said Lambert, more confused than when he’d begun questioning her.

  ‘You should give your lady officer a call, love, you look like you’re a bit out of the loop.’

  ‘Lady officer?’

  ‘Yes, she gave me this,’ said the shopkeeper, reaching under her till and handing him a business card.

  Lambert turned the card over, his heartbeat jumping as he read the inscription:

  DCI Sarah May, National Crime Agency.

  Chapter Five

  The aroma of freshly ground coffee came as a light relief. DCI Sarah May watched the Chief Constable’s PA bring the tray of drinks and biscuits to the table, and worried she would never escape the stuffy confines of the conference room at NCA headquarters.

  Alongside Chief Constable Alexander Mitchell was the Governor of Woolwich Prison, Paul Guthrie; Chief Superintendent Tanner, who headed up the internal anti-corruption team, AC-10 and a senior member of MI5, Charles Partridge. It was rarefied company, yet none of the men appeared capable of making a decision.

  She understood why Tanner was present. What should have been the simple transfer of a category A prisoner had turned into the cock-up from hell. One of Guthrie’s guards had been murdered and one had disappeared with the prisoner, Peter Saunders. In addition, an armed police officer, DS Colin Wright had also suffered a fatal gunshot wound and Tanner was here to investigate.

  It was Partridge who troubled her. That MI5 were now involved, and at such a high level, suggested her control over the situation was disappearing fast.

  Sarah had been in charge of the transfer of Peter Saunders, known as the Architect, hence her being in the room. She’d been in radio contact with the men transferring Saunders and had been in the response team who’d arrived within three minutes to find the dead bodies and the spaces where Saunders and the guard, John Prine, had been. She’d spent the last two hours in the room with the four men trying to formulate a plan. Whereas her focus was on how to find Saunders, the general feel of the room appeared to be how best to keep the incident quiet.

  The violence and speed of the attack on Saunders’ car had been staggering, matched only by the swiftness of the clean-up operation which followed, green-lighted by the Chief Constable himself, no doubt with the approval of Tanner, AC-10 and the assistance of MI5.

  ‘I cannot overstate the necessity of keeping this from the public,’ said Partridge, who leant forward in his chair, hovering over the tray of drinks, waiting for someone to pour it for him.

  ‘Sarah?’ said the Chief.

  ‘We’ve managed to contain the situation at Holloway Road, though sooner or later it’s going to come to light.’

  Partridge frowned as if she’d said something taboo. ‘No one needs to know Saunders was the party who escaped – why would they? Only a handful of people knew Saunders was being transferred, and unfortunately two of them are dead. You didn’t know this, but Saunders was to be turned over to us after this transfer.’

  ‘What?’ said Sarah, surprising herself with the vehemence of her tone.

  ‘This Manor thing has taken on a life of its own. The perpetrators have been classified as a terrorist organization. Saunders was going to spend some time at Luton prison, under the supervision of Governor Pierson, and was then going to come under our jurisdiction.’

  Sarah shook her head, glancing at Tanner who was trying his best to look anywhere but at her. The classification sounded suspicious at best, and she only guess what Partridge had meant about Saunders coming under MI5’s jurisdiction, ‘You realize the work our various departments have done on this, the thousands of hours of manpower, the successful prosecutions, the on-going investigations. And you’re handing it over to them.’

  ‘National security, dear,’ said Partridge, giving in and pouring himself some tea.

  ‘Did you just call me “dear”?’ said Sarah, getting to her feet.

  Partridge grimaced as if he’d broken wind.

  ‘Sit down, DCI May,’ said the Chief Constable, keeping his tone soft.

  Sarah did as instructed, staring hard at the MI5 agent as she did so.

  ‘Remember, we’re working together on this,’ said the Chief. ‘Sarah, you will work with MI5 on this. Saunders was in our custody so we will conduct the investigation into his disappearance,’ he continued. ‘But of course we will share all information in a spirit of cooperation. How does that sound, Charles?’

  Partridge narrowed his eyes in acquiescence.

  ‘Charles is right, though, news of this needs to be contained for as long as possible. We will set up the incident room here. Sarah, you will have to keep this between those officers who know about Saunders’ transportation and what transpired on Holloway Road. I’m sure we can utilize MI5’s resources on this, Charles?’

  ‘Whatever you need,’ said Partridge, his face unreadable.

  ‘Tann
er, you’ll make sure we are in compliance?’

  Tanner nodded with the conviction of a man who knew what he was doing. Only Paul Guthrie kept quiet, clearly affected by the mention of national security.

  ‘It’s settled, then. Let’s find Prine and Saunders,’ said the Chief, getting to his feet.

  ‘This could be a big opportunity for you. Maybe even the chance of a further promotion,’ said Partridge to Sarah, as they left the office.

  The senior MI5 operative was pencil-thin, his navy-blue tailored suit clinging to him like a second skin. He inched his face towards her as she spoke, his long nose jutting towards her like a beak.

  ‘We lost him, we’ll find him,’ said Sarah.

  Partridge murmured. ‘Let’s make a start, shall we?’

  Sarah studied the man, noticing the liver spots on his face and the slight discolouration of his skin. She could tell he was the kind of man who didn’t enjoy taking orders from anyone. He’d sulked when the Chief spoke to him and she imagined having a female leading the operation would be unbearable for him. She didn’t trust him and already considered him an obstacle to her investigation. ‘I’ll get my team together. Please send over anyone you can spare.’

  ‘Very good,’ said Partridge, offering a slight bow before moving away.

  Sarah’s team were already working on the investigation. She’d sent DS Adams to Woolwich prison to question the guards and security personnel, and DI Stevens was working on securing CCTV images for the attack at Holloway Road. How the hell Partridge hoped to keep the escape a secret was beyond her, but she was happy to play along with the conceit for the time being. She called the two officers and told them to make their way over as soon as they were able before turning her attention to Peter Saunders’ file.

  Peter Saunders had been one of eight men convicted for the atrocities committed at Waverley Manor. Of the eight, Saunders was considered the ringleader. Of the eight convicted men, only the former police officer, Jonathan Barnes, had tried to strike a deal. Information from Barnes led to Saunders’ arrest. It was Barnes who’d claimed he had designed the underground corridors of Waverley Manor. Saunders denied any involvement with the organization known as the Manor, but his DNA had been found on numerous bodies within the site.