CXVI The Beginning of the End (Book 1): A Gripping Murder Mystery and Suspense Thriller (CXVI BOOK 1) (30 page)

Faulkner-Brown was sitting lost in thought, his
breathing audible.

“There have only been two numbers the second
unregistered phone has been in contact with: Woods’ number and the laboratory’s
which it rang on Thursday 31
^st
May.”

Faulkner-Brown wasn’t interested. “Homer’s Odyssey…”
he said, as the penny finally dropped. “Odysseus’ journey home after the fall
of Troy, where it’s assumed he’d died and in his absence his wife deals with
unruly suitors. They believe Gerrard Crean is still alive.”

Barnes stepped in front of Woods
to face the guards whose Kalashnikovs were trained on both of them. She spoke
in Russian for several minutes, addressing the person she assumed to be the
senior protection officer. He spoke intermittently and then turned to the other
guards and addressed them. They lowered their weapons and backed off.

“What have they said?” Woods asked.

“They’re letting us speak to the owner.”

The senior protection officer beckoned them to
follow him. Woods and Barnes were led to the large terrace and while they
waited in the sun the officer disappeared inside the villa.

After a few minutes a bespectacled frail man in a
brilliant white dressing gown was brought out in a wheelchair. He looked up and
there was the faintest hint of a smile.

“Hello Gerrard,” Barnes said.

Friday 8
^th
June – Saturday
9
^th
June.

Barnes and Woods followed Crean
as he was pushed slowly by the senior protection officer onto the covered
veranda and positioned in the shade at the far side of a large oval wicker
table. They were invited to take a seat and a maid appeared with an offer of
fresh fruit juice, which both accepted. As Barnes sipped the juice she became
acutely aware of Crean’s predicament; his breathing was shallow, laboured, and
unmistakably painful. In her estimation he weighed less than 55kg. His features
were sunken and drawn, his complexion wan, his grey hair thinning, and he appeared
much older than his true age. It was obvious he was dying.

While the juice was being served Sarah and her
brother came out to sit with their father, and after checking with Crean the
senior protection officer went back inside the villa. Sarah spoke first. “Against
my wishes, Father’s agreed to speak with you. Please, may I ask you respect his
dignity, as you can see he’s unwell and the nursing staff will need to keep an
eye on him. He tires quickly and has difficulty breathing.”

“There are seven other people who have difficulty
breathing, thanks to your father,” Woods interrupted.

“Those deaths have nothing to do with him.”

Crean raised his hand slowly. “Thank you, Sarah,” he
said, in a weak, quavering voice. “I can speak for myself, albeit a little slowly.”
He smiled at Barnes. “I’ve been expecting you, Maria; I’d planned what to say,
and now you are here, I’m struggling to remember what it was.”

Barnes frowned. “You were expecting me! Do you know
me?”

“I know of you and that’s why I’ve been expecting
you.”

She scowled, but as usual Woods’ impatience dictated
he cut in. His words contained little, if any, emotion. “You obviously faked
your death; but I take it the illness was genuine.”

“The cancer is real enough. No doubt you’ll know
about Kevin Jarvis and the lottery win?”

Woods nodded succinctly. “And Nugunda’s million
pounds. We worked out how you duped Pauline in the mortuary; what I don’t
understand is why, particularly if you were dying anyway.”

“There was a new experimental treatment that was having
limited success in Sweden. I decided to rid myself of the pressures of life,
risk the treatment and, if successful, start a new life here in paradise. If it
had been successful I would’ve contacted Pauline and flown her out to be with
me. But as you can see, its only reward was to prolong my life a little.”

“How much longer have you left?” Barnes asked
quietly.

“A few weeks; maybe less.”

She watched Sarah reach across and squeeze her
father’s hand, but Woods continued, apparently oblivious to the poignant scene
that had just taken place. “I assume the business losses were so you could
siphon money to pay for all this?” he said, using a harsh tone.

Crean chuckled and began to cough. He struggled for
breath and a nurse appeared with an inhaler. He attempted, somewhat pitifully,
to push the base of the device in order to release a spray of its contents, and
Sarah had to lean across to assist him. He took a few moments to recover and
after sipping some water said, “Well, it was my money after all.”

Woods looked unamused. “What about Freddy Williams,
or Geoffrey Drummond, if that’s how you know him? Explain how he fits in with
all this.”

“I always knew him as Freddy; it wasn’t until after
his family were murdered that his true identity was known.” He adjusted his
glasses. “You know about the British and their desire that the work on shale
gas extraction should fail?”

Woods nodded. “But if you’d kept detailed records,
it could’ve succeeded even without the Mathewson’s involvement.”

Crean frowned and shook his head. “We did keep
records; Plant got his hands on them. That was the first part of his mission,
and that’s how the deal was struck between Britain and Russia. Didn’t you know
about that?”

Woods looked confused. “What deal?”

Barnes was ahead of him and answered the question. “The
British agreed to bury the detailed records, meaning no-one would benefit from
the development work, and in return the Russians agreed to cover up Britain’s
involvement in the murders of the Mathewsons.”

Crean smiled. “Maria’s right. Freddy obtained proof
it was Plant who committed the murders. He saw the official reports; apparently
it had been authorised at the highest level. He also had access to the original
Russian investigation, which concluded it was a bomb that caused the explosion.”
Crean pulled out a folder, which had been tucked at his side. He handed it to
Barnes. “You’ll need to translate the Russian documents, but that won’t be a
problem for you. I want you to have these: copies of all the reports. There’s
footage of Plant in the area on the day of the bombing, witness statements from
people who’d seen him. Plus, there are the classified reports from the British;
obviously they don’t name names, but Freddy confirmed Plant’s codename was XVI.
You’ll be able to piece together who was involved.”

“So Plant’s CXVI?” Barnes queried.

Crean smiled. “No. As you’ll see,” he pointed a thin
unsteady finger at the folder, “the assignment to kill the Mathewsons was codenamed
CXVI.”

“How did you get hold of the reports?” Woods pried.

“Freddy; in case anything untoward happened to him.”

Barnes flicked up an eyebrow. “Who was Williams
working for?”

Crean coughed and then spluttered, but this time
managed to control his breathing without the inhaler that Sarah immediately
held out for him. Instead he sipped some water. “Who do you think?”

“The Russians?” she ventured.

He nodded. “The irony is the British believed he
worked for them, but he was a double-agent, by all accounts a fine one. In
reality he was feeding the British misinformation. Tragically, part of the
subterfuge involved him convincing them that the Russians were negotiating with
the Chinese on the development of shale gas extraction. . .”

Barnes jumped in. “Now I understand. If the Russians
and Chinese worked together they’d dominate the world’s energy market.”

Crean nodded.

“And that misinformation prompted drastic action.”

“Got it in one,” he said, clearly in pain and
forcing a smile.

“So Williams wanted revenge, he approached you, and
together you formulated a plan to murder eight people,” Woods concluded.

Everyone around the table — including Barnes — shook
their heads.

“Why would I want to murder anyone?” Crean croaked.

Woods glanced at Barnes, clearly annoyed, then back
to Crean. “So far seven people have died, six linked to you and your wife, the
seventh an unfortunate bystander. Looking at the sequence of numerals there are
two people still under threat. Tell me who they are,” he demanded.

“I’m guessing Plant and whoever sanctioned the
murder of Freddy’s family.”

“Not Pauline?”

Crean appeared shocked by Woods’ question. “Why
would Pauline be under threat? She’s never done anything wrong to anyone.”

Woods hesitated.

Barnes, thinking he was about to mention the
adultery, decided to speak. “Have you any idea who authorised the murders?”

Crean shook his head. “As I’ve already said, it was
sanctioned at the highest level. Freddy told me he’d uncover who by.”

“So what about the first six?” Woods said, tapping
his fingers annoyingly on the table. “You claim to have had nothing to do with
the deaths, but it can’t be pure coincidence that Williams chose to murder the
six people who’d caused you and Pauline trouble.”

“The first I knew was when I read about Mateland and
Hussain’s murders. Then the press reported Bulmer and Broadbent’s deaths were
being linked. By the time Porter had been killed I’d worked out it was Freddy
and his plan for revenge.”

“Do you know what the plan entails?” Woods pressed.

“After his family were murdered he told me he’d hold
the Establishment to account. At the time I didn’t know how he would do this,
but I can see why he’s done what he has. There isn’t a newspaper or broadcaster
who isn’t reporting the story and the speculation about who’s at risk is
headline news around the world. Freddy’s contrived it all. As you know, the
first deaths weren’t treated as murders; that was deliberate. Then clues were
left at the scene of Mateland’s murder which enabled you to link the others.
The numerals were a message to Plant, as were the first four murders and the
link to Pauline.” He paused to take a few shallow breaths. “By the time the
Intelligence Service discovered what was going on, the story was too big to
bury, and that’s exactly what Freddy would’ve wanted. He used me and Pauline,
knowing you’d find the link to him and uncover the truth. Now the Intelligence
Service will be doing everything they can to prevent the truth getting into the
public domain. And Freddy will be doing the opposite.”

“Why didn’t you leak the story to the press?” Woods
asked.

“I would’ve been totally discredited; no-one would
believe someone who’d faked their own death. Plus the Russians bought my
silence. They agreed to compensate me for the business losses, and allowed me
to settle here.”

“So why are you telling us now?”

“It’s something about being good for the soul.”

Woods sighed. “How did Williams know about the
people who’d caused you and Pauline distress?”

“We were chatting about my will and in particular
the eight inspirational people who I bequeathed some money to. Freddy wanted to
know exactly what they’d done, and after I’d told him he asked about those
who’d had a negative effect on me. I thought long and hard and came up with the
six people you know about. Again Freddy wanted to know what each had done.”

“And I suppose you’re expecting me to believe you
had no wish to harm any one of them?”

“Why would I want to harm them? My philosophy’s to
move on and forget. In fact, when Freddy was talking of revenge, I advised him
to do what I’d do.”

Barnes leaned forward. “You said by the time Porter
had been murdered you’d worked out it was Freddy and his plan for revenge. Why
didn’t you do something to help Ramírez?”

“Why do you think Bedford gave you the details of her
new identity and where she was living?”

“So he knows you’re alive,” she said, shaking her
head.

Crean smiled, but didn’t reply.

“That’s how you know about me. He’s reported back to
you,” she pressed.

“Maria, that’s not important. What you are going to do
with the information I’ve given you is.”

“They want Williams silenced,” Barnes said.

Woods agreed. “That’s why Hilton Dudley is on the
investigation team.”

Crean nodded as Barnes thought out loud. “They’ll
stop at nothing, and they’ll discredit or destroy the evidence.”

“You need to come up with a way of ensuring they
can’t,” Crean reinforced.

“When we get back to the UK they’ll come here,” she
said; then added, “that is if they’re not already on their way.”

“They’ll never get near me. I’m well protected.”

Woods raised his eyebrows.

She looked at Crean. “You let us in!” she exclaimed.

He had a wry smile. “Why do you think Sarah was
walking along the headland?”

Barnes pondered and looked at Woods. “We need to get
the information safely back to the UK, and they’ll be watching out for us, so
we’ll need to outwit them; then we’ll need a plan.”

Woods shook his head, “They’re above the law and
capable of anything.” He looked to Crean. “They’ve even tried to kill me.”

Unusually for Woods he sounded pathetically
apologetic, but Barnes was having none of it. “Oh ye of little faith,” she
snapped. “We’re not beat yet.”

Crean grinned. “So what are you going to do?”

“We must find Williams and stop the killing. Then
we’ll deal with the information. When was the last time you spoke to him and
have you any idea where he might be?”

“I haven’t seen him since last Christmas, and no,
I’ve no idea where he’ll be now.”

Woods’ stance mellowed. “Do I have a say in any of
this?”

Barnes’ expression needed no explanation. “Sorry, I
was getting carried away again. What do you suggest?”

He looked at Crean. “Why do I get the feeling I’m
being manipulated to dance to Williams’ and your tune?”

“Like you, I want the bad guys brought to justice.”

“You’re not exactly a knight in shining armour; if
you weren’t on Russian soil I’d be arresting you and dragging you back to the
UK.”

Crean huffed. “You can always start extradition
proceedings. That is, if you’ve got a year or two to wait.”

“Which you obviously haven’t.”

Barnes wanted the sniping to cease.
“Faulkner-Brown’s crew and Williams are the real bad guys; it’s them we need to
focus on, not Gerrard!” She looked at Sarah and Scott, who in her opinion would
make good poker players. “What are you planning to tell Pauline when she
discovers you’ve been staying with your father?”