The Power of One (24 page)

‘Did they follow us?'

‘I've seen nothing. Keep moving. It can't be far.'

She stumbled along beside him and he knew that her nerve was fast failing her. The worry was that she would panic now. Do something completely stupid just to put an end to the stress and fear. He needed to get her somewhere she might at least be able to maintain the illusion of safety. Hope she could sleep through the worst of the anxiety. He'd seen this level of collapse before. He had no doubt that, given the opportunity, she would escape into unconsciousness.

The path turned and he breathed a sigh of relief. ‘That must be the place.'

Checking for other walkers, any users of the coastal route who might spot them leaving the path, he led her through a small gap in the hedge and half dragged her across the wide lawn. Rina had mentioned a conservatory that ran the full length of the rear of the building. She was right about the doors, small panes of glass that gave easy access to a simple bolt. He hustled Lyndsey inside, glanced back to make certain they were alone and unobserved, then sat her down in one of the random collection of easy chairs while he examined the inner doors. Moments later, he was taking her inside and settling her down on one of the old but comfortable sofas in the sitting room.

‘I'm going to try and find a blanket. You're shocked and wet and cold. Take off your jeans and I'll hang them somewhere to dry and then I want you to get some sleep, OK?'

She nodded, her hands moving ineffectually to unfasten her belt. Abe left her to it and went to check the rest of the house. He discovered a blanket on one of the beds and coffee, left by the builders, in the kitchen. Power was still connected and he found the fuse box, and switched it back on. By the time he had returned to the sitting room, she was lying down and almost asleep. She still hadn't managed to remove her sodden shoes and wet jeans.

Abe sighed. He helped her out of the wettest clothes, and covered her with the blanket, tucking it firmly around her. Got a cushion to slip beneath her head.

‘Get some rest,' he told her. ‘I'll dry these out.'

He stood in the doorway, watching her, hoping she'd be all right, worried that this was all too much for a young woman who spent her life with the technical and the virtual and for whom reality had now impinged so unpleasantly. He took the wet clothes and found a sunny spot in the conservatory and hung the jeans over the back of a chair. His own clothes were still damp on his body, but he'd endured worse and he ignored the discomfort, and went through to the kitchen to make use of the builders' coffee.

B
ecause of the number of people in her house and the sense that this was a bit of an occasion, Bridie Duggan had laid out lunch in the dining room. Mac had never had a great liking for glass tables and this was a monster of one, supported on elaborately curving chrome legs. An equally monstrous sideboard took up the space along one wall and Mac examined it with interest, realising that, in direct contrast to the very modern table, this was a genuine antique. Heavily carved and almost touching the ceiling, he could not help but wonder how on earth she had got it into the room.

Bridie saw him looking. She came over, stroking the polished surface affectionately. ‘Flame mahogany veneer,' she said. ‘But it's old, so it's gone this lovely gold and just look at the detail on that carving. The auctioneer said it was made around 1820 and we got it for a song because no one has room for this sort of thing any more. That vandal at the auction house talked about breaking it up and selling the top separate. We couldn't have that, not with something so lovely, so we left a bid and we got lucky.'

‘It's certainly impressive,' Mac said. He figured that was probably the safest word to use. ‘How did you get it in here?'

‘Oh, the top comes off, but it still had to come in through the patio doors.' She smiled happily. ‘Jimmy loved auctions,' she said. ‘We've a house full of stuff we bought together.'

It was certainly an eclectic collection, Mac thought, but he was saved from further comment by the arrival of Tim and Joy, closely followed by Fitch and the de Freitas's. It was very clear to Mac that Fitch had become far more than an employee since Jimmy Duggan's death and he wondered just how much. He found himself seated between Fitch and Lydia.

‘Help yourselves,' Bridie said indicating the dishes of new potatoes, salad, glazed ham and chicken. Mac was absurdly reminded of the Famous Five books he'd read as a child. All that was needed now was hard-boiled eggs and lashings of ginger beer.

‘That pair are getting on like a house on fire,' Fitch said, nodding towards Tim and Joy. ‘It's getting serious.'

‘Rina worries that she's a bit too young. I know that Tim worries about that too.'

Fitch shrugged. ‘Joy's a grown woman, he's a good man. He'll not rush anything.' He paused. ‘
She
might though,' he added, grinning at the thought. ‘Like her mother in that respect, is Joy. Sees what she wants and goes for it.'

Mac passed potatoes to Lydia.

‘I'll be going back with you,' Fitch told him. ‘Bridie thinks you need me more than she does. Joy's tagging along.'

Mac shook his head. ‘I don't think she should. We still don't know what we're dealing with.'

‘You try telling her that. Or her mother. It's all arranged and I don't really think you or I get a say in the matter.'

‘How does this Hale keep finding you?' Bridie wanted to know. ‘Is he psychic or what?'

‘I hope not,' Mac said with feeling. ‘That, I can definitely do without. I think our meeting on my way to work has a simple explanation. Anyone in the least bit familiar with my habits would be aware of where I'd be that time of the morning. As to the motorway, I think that has a simple explanation too but more complex ramifications.'

‘Like what?' Bridie asked.

‘Like it means he had access to the CCTV system, Mum,' Joy said. ‘Which means either he is an official something or other or he has connections to someone that is or he has a bloody good hacker.'

‘You mean he might be able to get someone to hack into the CCTV cameras?'

Mac nodded. ‘Or, as Joy says, he is able to access them via official or other routes. It would be relatively easy to pick out a particular car. Number plate recognition systems could be set to trigger automatically and Hale or his contacts could track us all the way. Easy enough to intercept us at the services, though it would have been an educated guess as to which one we'd use or if we even stopped at all. Had the guess been mine, I'd have made the same call as Hale. Roughly halfway.'

He paused, thoughtfully. ‘Bridie, I'm assuming you've had this place swept?'

‘Oh sure, after that business with Pat and Jimmy, I've been what you might call paranoid. I already lost a husband and a son. I don't take chances now, not with anything. I sent Fitch here on a course, couple of my other people too. This place is checked for bugs and so are the nightclubs.' She looked speculatively at Mac, jabbed her fork in his direction. ‘You're thinking phone tap,' she said.

‘I think we might as well make that assumption.'

‘But can they do that? I thought you needed Home Office approval or somesuch.'

‘Used to be that way,' Fitch growled. ‘Bridie, pass the chicken over will you. Trouble is, all this anti-terrorist legislation means it's a good deal easier to get a tap and digital systems make it simpler still. Even local councils can intercept calls if they think they've got cause and there's evidence to say they've been using it even if they haven't.'

‘We should assume Hale has the contacts to get it done,' Mac said. ‘And I think we should be careful what we put out on our mobiles.'

‘Maybe we should make use of that,' Tim said. ‘Feed false information.'

‘Good idea,' Bridie approved, ‘but what happens when we actually want to make a proper call?'

‘Ah,' Fitch said. ‘There are ways round all of that.'

Just over an hour later, Mac and Tim left the Duggan house. Fitch and Joy were preparing to follow. One small refinement had been made to the original plan and two of Bridie Duggan's employees were to accompany them on the way back. The woman was slim and blonde and dressed in one of Lydia's trademark white shirts with a pair of faded jeans. The man was a little more heavily built than Edward, but Fitch was careful to pull the car right up to the entrance and open the rear doors wide before he got in. Any observer would simply catch a glimpse of a man and woman who looked like the de Freitas getting into the Range Rover and then subsequently heading south.

T
im's phone chimed, telling him that he had a text. His Uncle Charles.

‘I didn't know he knew how to text,' Tim was impressed.

‘What does he say?' Mac asked.

‘Just that I should give him a call. You think we should use the mobile or a public phone?'

Mac thought about it. ‘I think we should err on the side of caution,' he said. ‘Find a phone box before we get on to the motorway and see what he wants.'

A quarter of a mile on, Mac saw a phone box outside of a row of small shops. He pulled into the cutaway at the side of the road and searched his pockets for change. Tim did the same. ‘Can't remember the last time I did this,' he said. ‘I hope I can remember how.'

Mac waited, watching the passing traffic as Tim fiddled with the phone, holding one hand to his ear to cut down the noise of the road. Five minutes later he was back in the car.

‘That thing eats money. Any sign of Hale or his cronies?'

‘No, nothing so far. So, what did Uncle Charles have to contribute? I don't imagine there was time for much of a conversation anyway.'

Tim laughed. ‘He talks fast when he's excited,' he said. ‘I just hope I've got it all right.'

He drew a deep breath. ‘Right. Our man Hale. OK, he used to be army then MOD, pretty high-level and dealing not with diplomatic protection but kind of well, I guess witness protection is closest. Anyway, he was removed from post eight months or so ago. Charles says there was some sort of scandal, a conflict of interest. They thought at first that Hale was moonlighting for a private security firm, then found out he'd actually set the company up and was using his contacts to siphon off work that should have been done through official channels. Charles didn't go into detail, but apparently it was a big deal. However, that didn't stop Hale from having special status and the MOD from sometimes using his people when they needed something done that was a bit less than official. With me so far?'

‘Pretty much.'

‘Right. So that was all hunky-dory until a few months back his company was linked to an American security firm that was being investigated for taking kick-backs in Iraq. Hale did work out there during the first Gulf War and seems to have picked up where he left off in the second. But the most relevant thing to us is, he was in a position to have a lot of very confidential information not exactly passing through his hands, but certainly in reach and Charles reckons that Hale is a suspect in a number of really high-profile leaks. Don't know what was leaked or when, but it all kind of fits, doesn't it?'

‘Well yes, I suppose it does,' Mac agreed. ‘But his status now? All we've experienced suggests that he still has pretty high-level access.'

‘Not officially, he doesn't. But Charles said his contacts gave him the impression that the powers that be are giving him the rope with which to hang himself. They know some of what he's doing, but I think they're hoping not only will he provide the proof, but he'll also tell them just how high up the chain this goes.'

‘Andy was right,' Mac said. ‘This is getting very James Bond.'

‘Yeah, but we don't get to play with the cool gadgets. Anyway, Charles told me to be careful, not to underestimate Hale and so on and he'll dig a bit deeper as and when he can but he doesn't want to ring any alarm bells. Hale still has a lot of friends.'

Mac's phone rang and he realised to his annoyance that he'd forgotten to plug in the hands-free kit. ‘Do the honours will you, Tim?'

The caller was DI Dave Kendal. ‘Mac's driving,' Tim said. ‘Can I act as go-between?' He listened, a slow grin spreading across his face. Mac, glancing sidelong at him, could see that he was trying hard not to laugh. He could hear the irritation and outrage in Dave Kendal's voice and somehow knew that the subject of his annoyance was Rina Martin. It was a thought confirmed by Tim's next comment. ‘Does she need collecting, or will you give them a lift home? Thanks, I'll pass the message on.'

He rang off and then gave way to a fit of what could only be described as giggles.

‘OK, what's she done?'

‘Oh, not just Rina. Matthew too. Kendal is furious but he can't think of what to charge them with so he's given her a dressing-down and sent her home.'

‘Tell,' Mac said wearily.

‘Well, apparently she and Matthew went to meet Abe Jackson at the Marina. He had Lyndsey Barnes with him. Isn't she Paul's assistant?'

‘She was, yes,' Mac confirmed. ‘What the hell was she doing with Abe Jackson? For that matter, what was he doing wanting to talk to Rina? So what happened?'

‘Rina
says
she was talking to Abe and Lyndsey, that some tourist couple started to argue and when Matthew went over and asked them to control their language they got very abusive. Abe took exception and a bit of a fracas ensued. She says, of course, that she then thought it her duty to get Matthew out of the way and doesn't know what happened next.'

‘And what did happen next?'

‘Kendal says that other witnesses claim Abe and Lyndsey got into a boat and left. The argumentative couple disappeared and then Kendal arrived, by which time the management had already called the police and a patrol car had already arrived. He took charge of Rina and Matthew and left uniform to take statements. He says she's not been very cooperative.'