The Silent Room (26 page)

Picking up a pen, he walked to the do-it-yourself murder wall and scribbled a number of points down in chronological order of discovery. If his memory was correct, a definite pattern was emerging:

1. Foreign voice at the hijack scene – Scandinavian?

2. Claesson Logistics 4x4 – near the scene (Swedish name)

3. The flag in Jack’s notebook – definitely Scandi

4. Sandefiord Airport, Torp (Norway)

5. Jack/Hilary Norwegian holiday

6. +47 mobile – Anders Freberg (Norwegian prefix)

Ryan stood back, admiring his handiwork. It was all coming together. Grace reeled off Anders Freberg’s number and he wrote that on too. Newman immediately made the call. The line was unobtainable.

He shook his head. ‘Sounds like it’s on the blink.’

Ryan hoped it was nothing more ominous.

47

Eloise O’Neil linked her hands together and stared at her computer screen. Until recently, she’d been running a very closed enquiry keeping everything tight, believing Jack Fenwick to be a perpetrator, rather than a victim. She’d been looking at the hijack scene, the security van and Jack. Nothing more. Then things had spun off in a different direction – a post-mortem ruling out accidental death. After being hit by a car, Jack Fenwick was run over.

He was murdered.

O’Neil looked across the room at Maguire. He’d fingered Ryan as a likely suspect. She’d since ruled him out. His vehicle was not involved. Thank God. The Job had enough bad press without adding to it. She’d instructed Maguire to widen the search to include all similar vehicles within a five-mile radius of the scene. A few minutes ago, he’d come up with a contender: a four-by-four belonging to a firm called Claesson Logistics.

‘Find out who they are and where they operate from,’ she said. ‘And while you’re at it, chase up that Norwegian guy, Anders Freberg. I feel so sorry for Jack Fenwick and his family, but I’m not sure he was telling me the whole truth about him. Do it now and let me know how you get on.’

Maguire picked up the phone. She could feel his resentment from across the room. He’d hardly said a word since she’d bollocked him over his sloppiness and bad attitude to a fellow officer. Given the GBH on Ryan yesterday, Maguire had to concede that he’d been wrong to point the finger at him. Just as well he didn’t know what she’d found on her computer or he’d start his vendetta all over again.

Before she’d left the hospital last night, Ryan had accused her of being behind the curve. He wasn’t wrong. Not only had the Organized Crime Unit been tailing him without her knowledge, they’d lied about it and failed to respond to her request for full disclosure. A keystroke check on the PNC for the vehicle they used produced surprising results when she followed it through with a systems background check. The Police National Computer had been accessed via HOLMES.

Someone had gone into the system using Ryan’s ID.

Another glance at Maguire.

How was that possible when he’d taken possession of Ryan’s warrant card? Given the bad blood between the two men, O’Neil wouldn’t put it past him to set up his rival, a man he hated with a passion. She knew what was eating him up. Why he was so spiteful when it came to this particular officer. As she suspected, it involved a woman. DC Roz Cornell had dumped Maguire and taken up with Ryan, a relationship that had since blown off course.

Men!

Eyes back on the screen. Pushing a few more keys, she noticed something odd, something she could so easily have overlooked. Her eyes grew big as she stared at the computer, hoping she was wrong, knowing she wasn’t. She’d been too quick to judge Maguire. Ryan’s warrant card was an old one, upgraded days ago by none other than retiree Grace Ellis.
What the hell were those two up to?

48

Grace picked up her ringing landline and checked the display:
O’Neil.
Ignoring the call, she continued to search the HOLMES database, leaving the answering service to kick in.

‘Grace, it’s Eloise. We need to talk.’

Four angst-ridden eyes turned in her direction. Passing a worried look to the others, Grace was about to say something when Ryan’s mobile began to vibrate on the dining room table. He picked it up, examined the screen, the hairs on the back of his neck rising when he recognized the caller.

‘Is it her?’ Grace asked.

Nodding, he let it switch to voicemail, waiting to see if O’Neil would leave a message, worrying when he noticed a red dot pop up on the tiny screen to indicate that she had. ‘I think we’ve been rumbled,’ he said.

Newman disagreed. ‘If that were the case, she’d be on the doorstep with a backup squad.’

Dialling his voicemail, Ryan lifted the phone to his ear:
Call me the minute you receive this.
He deleted the message. ‘She’s on to us.’ He pointed at the computers on the dining room table. ‘We’ve got to shut this lot down.’

‘Relax,’ Newman said. ‘She’d hardly ring first and tip us off. She probably wants to invite you out for dinner.’

Ryan glanced at Caroline, who in turn dropped her head. It was obvious she’d told Newman that O’Neil had taken a shine to him. Since he’d come clean about Roz, she’d been keen to hitch him up with the Superintendent, who she seemed to think sounded so nice at the station.

Was that only yesterday?

As far as Ryan was concerned, his twin was way off target and in for a shock. All he’d done for days was mislead O’Neil, something he hated doing to anyone. Not the way he liked to impress a lady. It was time to pool resources, he suggested. The others disagreed. They wanted to get a handle on the notebooks before sharing their findings with Professional Standards. Grace was begging for twenty-four hours more, her focus on Ryan. Avoiding her gaze, he watched his twin stick her earphones in and return to her music. It was safe to talk without worrying her.

‘It’s too risky,’ he said.

Newman wasn’t happy. ‘C’mon, where’s your bottle? Garry said we’d know the minute we were discovered. I trust him and so should you. He installed a failsafe. It won’t let us down. I vote we work on it today and review the situation in the morning. I’m owed a few favours from people who can track down Freberg quicker than you or I could blink.’

‘You in?’ Grace pushed. ‘Ryan?’

Ryan had always been a believer that, when approaching a crossroads, you didn’t stop until you reached the white line. The question he was asking himself was: had he overshot it? If he had, then the only thing he could see on his horizon was a long stretch in prison if Maguire got wise to the silent room. The prick would like nothing better than to humiliate him in the worst way possible and O’Neil would be forced to support him. Ryan wanted to push on through. Of course he did. They were close to a breakthrough.

So close he could almost taste it.

‘We take it to O’Neil tomorrow?’

Newman and Grace were both nodding.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’m in.’

49

While Newman went off to do his thing, Ryan and Grace carried on with their electronic legwork on the computers, batting ideas back and forth across the dining room table, putting stuff in, taking it out, cross-checking each other’s work. The acronyms in Jacks notebooks were driving them both insane.

Grace looked up from her computer. ‘Does the River Forest Country Club mean anything to you?’ she asked.

‘No, should it?’

‘Other than the Regional Flood & Coastal Committee, it’s the only reference I found in HOLMES with the initials RFCC. Someone who works there once gave a statement on a low-profile enquiry, nothing that rings any bells. It’s not local either.’

‘Where is it?’

‘Hampshire force.’

Ryan was none the wiser.

Grace pointed to the notes in front of him. ‘You faring any better?’

‘A load of care clinics and country clubs like the one you mentioned.’ He kept his eyes on the screen. ‘There are so many it’s hard to know where to start. Research Flight Control Computer worries me, as does Residual Fluid Catalytic Cracking,’ he said. ‘I had to look that one up. It’s something to do with the petroleum refining process. I also found a reference to a Ready For Commissioning Certificate too – whatever that means.’

With Newman off the grid, the hour hand on the clock flew round several times and they ended the day collating information to share with him when he got in. It made interesting reading, a definite theme emerging, pointing to the inspection and testing of electronic equipment and electrical power distribution, much of it used within the oil industry.

‘All very worrying if we’re talking terrorists,’ Ryan said.

Grace pushed a few keys. ‘Hmm . . . that’s interesting.’

‘What is?’

‘The Audi used in the hijack belongs to an oil employee. Could be a coincidence, I suppose.’

‘From this region?’ Ryan queried.

‘He’s presently in Nigeria – estimated time of arrival in the UK is the twenty-seventh.’

‘Another link,’ Ryan said. ‘Norway is one of the richest nations because of oil.’

‘I’ll take your word for it,’ Grace said. ‘World economics was never my strong point.’

He laughed. ‘The industry is worth in excess of five hundred billion to them. I read somewhere that the lucky buggers only work two weeks in every six. They also earn three times more than you and I ever could grafting full-time. Jack’s sister-in-law told me that. As young as he was, Oliver left her with a hell of a pension.’

‘I met him once or twice. He was a great lad, the double of Jack in looks and personality. You didn’t meet him, did you?’

‘No, sadly. He’d been dead about a year when I joined Special Branch. Jack never got over it, you know, not really. I recognized his loss the first day I met him. For me, it was like looking in a mirror.’

‘You two had a lot in common.’

Ryan cleared his throat. ‘Some of it was toxic, Grace.’

Her gaze was intense but supportive. ‘Did he discuss the accident much?’

‘Occasionally . . .’ Ryan palmed both eyelids, wiping a thin film of sweat away. ‘He talked about Oliver, of course, but not the other stuff. It was too painful – for both of us. We tended to avoid the subject of his brother and my old man unless we were stone-cold sober. Drink had a melancholy effect on us sometimes. We were a couple of saddos whenever we got into it. It seemed easier not to.’

‘He didn’t share it with me. Every time I brought it up, he changed the subject. I didn’t push it. I figured he’d talk when he was ready. He never did.’

Ryan could see she looked hurt. ‘That surprises me.’

‘Does it?’

‘He used to call you his second mum.’

‘Never to my face.’ She almost choked on that.

‘He loved you to bits, Grace.’

‘And me him.’ She quickly guided the subject away from Jack. ‘I was going to say you’d be better off on the rigs, but money isn’t everything, is it? Anyway, you’re too much like me. There’s nothing quite like police work, no other job I’d rather be doing anyway. I knew the day I walked away that I’d made the wrong choice. Wish I’d stayed on.’

‘I’m not so sure,’ Ryan said. ‘Maybe it’s time for a change.’

‘Yeah, right! They’ll have to prise you out kicking and screaming.’

‘I dunno, I quite fancy myself as Red Adair.’ He was only half joking. He really was wondering what else he might be good for, other than policing. He had to face facts: he’d gone from hero to zero in a matter of days. ‘Maybe a change of direction is exactly what I need. Think I’ll buy a Stetson and move to Texas. Every cowboy needs a good woman. Wanna come for the ride?’

Their laughter cancelled out the sound of the front door opening and closing behind them. With her earphones in, Caroline hadn’t heard it either. It was only when Bob sat up, wagged his tail and looked at the door that Ryan turned round to see what had alerted him. Newman was standing in the doorway, soaking wet. Responding to Bob’s movement, moreover his interest, Caroline paused her music and got up to check on their meal.

Newman greeted her as she walked by flashing a smile in his direction, welcoming him back to the fold. ‘I missed you,’ she said. ‘These two haven’t said a word to me all afternoon. Is it raining?’

‘How did you know?’

She threw him a smile. ‘I can smell it.’

Newman waited for her to disappear. It was obvious to Ryan that he had something on his mind. Grace stopped what she was doing and swivelled her chair to face him.

The spook moved closer to the dining room table. ‘Freberg is an electrical engineer,’ he said. ‘An expert in his field working for a company called QiOil . . . or should I say, he
was.
He’s dead. He went missing four months ago.’

Newman had their undivided attention.

‘You know how he died?’ Ryan asked.

‘Went out to meet a man and never came back.’

‘Last seen when exactly?’

‘Sunday, June sixteenth. His fully clothed body washed up a few days later. Verdict misadventure. My source tells me he was happily married with two kids and a wife he adored. He’d been suffering from depression. No suicide note. He was found at a place called Verdens Ende. Translated, that means the end of the world. Well, it was for him. Geographically, it’s around an hour’s drive from Sandefjord Airport, Torp. So, did he fall or was he pushed?’

50

Ryan’s mouth dropped open. Turning away from Newman, he dashed off another Google search and sat back, speechless, when it confirmed his suspicions. ‘Jack was in Norway then. Sixteenth of June was Father’s Day.’ Ryan shut his eyes. It was all coming back to him. ‘It was an impulse buy. Not unusual. Jack was always surprising Hilary. She didn’t want to go if it meant leaving the kids but she had no choice, he’d already booked. Insisted he hadn’t realized. I never thought anything of it at the time.’

Grace looked at him. ‘You sure it was that weekend?’

‘Positive. He roped me in to take the kids out. I seem to recall you weren’t available.’

Grace blushed.

It was no secret that she was awkward in the company of children and would do all she could to avoid them. Ryan was beginning to understand why. Falling in love with an MI5 operative was hardly conducive to bringing up a family. She’d poured herself into work, mothering her team as an alternative to the real thing. No wonder her retirement had left a gaping hole in her life.