The Silent Room (30 page)

Ryan studied her closely: her nails were neatly trimmed – no varnish – no rings either, nor an indentation where one used to be. Like him, she kept her personal and private lives separate. There was nothing in her office that was superfluous to her job, no clue to who she really was.

This woman intrigued him.

After a quarter of an hour, she looked up, flipping the notebook closed. She’d given up trying to decipher Jack’s shorthand. Ryan suspected that she was no further forward now than on the opening page. He had felt much the same on the first run-through. Defeat was written all over her.

‘It may as well be written in Chinese for all the sense it makes,’ she said. ‘What does it all mean?’

‘Some of the acronyms relate to electrical procedures and safety tests,’ Ryan told her. ‘They concern voltage, pressure, blast loads and switchgear. We need to talk to an expert. I’ve put feelers out.’

‘Good.’ She sat back in her chair, an uncomfortable silence opening up between them. ‘Can we talk about Jack’s death for a moment?’

‘What about it?’

‘I can’t get my head around it. A witness swears he ran on to the carriageway without looking, that the car that struck him had no opportunity to take avoiding action. But you seem to think the hijackers’ brief was to rough him up and get hold of these –’ She pointed at the notebooks. ‘This is pure guesswork, but I think he was being pursued when it happened. I reckon he was running for his life, probably being chased across country by someone on foot while the other hijacker tried to head him off in the four-by-four. Jack ran into the road and bang. They hit him.’

A shiver ran down Ryan’s spine.

Seeing his reaction, O’Neil apologized for her insensitivity.

Angry that he’d not been able to hide his revulsion, Ryan nodded when she asked if he was OK to continue. He was a copper. Whether he liked it or not, he had no alternative but to keep going, even if it was killing him. What could be worse than seeing his best friend’s lifeless body on that hospital bed?

Don’t get mad, get even.

‘You won’t want to hear this,’ O’Neil said. ‘But I’m going to say it anyway. I’ll be honest with you, Ryan. I think whoever was driving that vehicle hit Jack by accident, then panicked, a split-second decision with fatal consequences.’

‘You’re saying this was death by reckless? Motor manslaughter? I don’t give a shit what you call it. For Christ’s sake! That report you showed me says they reversed over him!’

‘Yes, after they struck him the first time—’

‘Same difference,’ Ryan bit back. ‘Spur-of-the-moment it might’ve been, but it was a deliberate act. Once they’d hit him, those bastards had a decision to make: drive on, help him or kill him. Tough if they made the wrong one. They were saving their own arses. Making certain he didn’t get up to tell the tale. However you dress it up, it was murder, plain and simple. You’ll never convince me otherwise.’

‘I’m not trying to,’ she said.

‘Aren’t you?’

‘No. What I’m suggesting – in a ham-fisted way, by the sounds of it – is that Jack had something they wanted. Why kill him?’

‘Because he was too badly hurt to keep hold of him, that’s why.’

‘But alive enough to shop them?’

‘Exactly, so they finished him off.’ Ryan paused, hard eyes on O’Neil. ‘Jack gave them nothing, guv. He remained silent until the very end. Once he was dead, they went after me. These guys are professionals. They will have worked out that you, us, the police, have nothing on them. If we did, we’d be kicking their door in. That’s why they’re still looking for the notebooks and not legging it to wherever it is they came from.’

O’Neil was forced to concede that he was making a lot of sense. It was in the hijackers’ best interests to keep Jack breathing, to torture him until he gave them what they wanted – the notebooks. Thanks to Ryan – and Grace Ellis too, although he’d never admit it – the information they contained was now in her possession. All she needed to do was make sense of it.

Ryan looked at her. ‘Use me as bait, guv.’

‘What? Are you crazy?’

‘No, I’m deadly serious.’ He’d never been more certain of anything in his life. ‘Let them think I’m still suspended from duty. You think I’m a tosser, let me act like one. If I start shooting my mouth off that I found incriminating evidence, they might come out of the woodwork and show their hand.’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I say so.’ She glared at him. ‘I mean it, Ryan. You’d be better off helping me understand what this lot means.’ She was holding up the notebooks. ‘I presume you did some digging before handing them over. What conclusions have you drawn?’

Ryan let his big idea go.

For now.

‘Well,’ she said. ‘Are you going to tell me or not?’

He was still wary.

‘Look, Ryan, I understand your reluctance. I do. But you have to trust me now. For the record, I don’t think you’re a tosser. Quite the opposite; you’re a good man, a clever detective. The force needs guys like you. Whatever you think of the job I do, I’m not out to shaft you. I’ll blow the whistle on any bent copper, that’s what I’m paid for, but I’ll also put myself out to prove innocence where I see fit. In fact, I’ve forgotten my audit trail already.’

‘And if someone else finds it?’

‘Then I’m afraid you’re on your own.’ O’Neil looked deep into his eyes. ‘Get rid of your old warrant card.’

That was such good advice. If the powers that be couldn’t find it, they had no hope of proving he’d used it.
Right now it was burning a hole in his pocket.

56

Ryan told O’Neil that Jack’s notes went back almost a year, inviting her to look at the second notebook, back page. The moment she saw the flag Jack had scribbled there, her reaction was immediate, a sharp intake of breath that raised his expectations. It was clear from the expression on her face that he’d hit on stuff she knew – but he didn’t – something vitally important to the case.

Pooling resources was the right way to go.

‘Tactical Support found a crime scene late last night,’ O’Neil said. ‘There’s no doubt it was where Jack was held and beaten up. We found his watch nearby.’

‘Go on.’

‘It’s an old icehouse on an abandoned country estate, not far from the road where he came a cropper. A team of CSIs are in the process of examining the place. Two different blood groups were found.’ She glanced at Jack’s doodled cross. ‘A similar uneven cross was marked out roughly on the dirt floor in one corner. They, we, didn’t know what it meant at the time, whether or not it was relevant’

‘Well, now you do.’

Ryan fell silent, his eyes finding the window. A group of new recruits walked by, full of hope and expectation, the promise of a long police career stretching out in front of them. He remembered what it felt like. What
he
felt like when he first joined the force. Young. Invincible. Proud to be wearing a uniform, keen to get his training over with and hit the streets.

Hauling himself back to the present, he met O’Neil’s eyes across the desk. He wasn’t altogether sure how to proceed. It was shit or bust time. He had to level with her now. ‘You already know about Anders Freberg, but not who he is, right?’

‘You found him?’

‘Yes, he’s an electrical engineer, a safety expert in oil and petrochemical installation. The guy has worked for some big multinational players – Royal Dutch Shell, ConocoPhillips, Statoil, who incidentally are Norwegian owned and have their headquarters in Stavanger. Freberg has more letters after his name than the alphabet. Jack talked to him years ago after his younger brother Oliver died in an oil-rig disaster off the Ukrainian coast.’

Ryan hesitated.

‘Go on.’

‘Although this appears to be something to do with his death, I think there’s more to it than that. If it had been that simple, I’m sure he would have said. Instead, he went under the radar, scribbling away in his bloody notebooks like a kid hiding an exam paper.’ Ryan stopped talking. He was convinced that Jack hadn’t confided in him in case it would set him off thinking about his own tragic loss. Not in an idolizing his hero way, but in a violent and unnecessary death way that would destroy him eventually if he didn’t get a grip. Hilary had said as much when he’d last seen her.

‘Ryan?’

He looked up, still mulling over Hilary’s words, wondering if she’d ever get over Jack and live a normal life – wondering if he would. ‘Sorry, I was miles away.’

‘You had no clue about Jack’s covert investigation?’

‘None. He locked me out.’ Ryan brushed a hand over his head where already the hair was starting to grow back. ‘The point is, Freberg is dead.’

O’Neil was all ears. ‘How the hell do you know that?’

‘Don’t ask.’

‘OK, then how did he die?’

‘He went walking near a Norwegian fjord and never came back. No exit note. No witnesses to see if he was helped into the water. His body washed up a few days later.’

‘You think the two deaths are connected?’

‘I think it’s safe to assume that, don’t you? Hilary claims that Jack got very depressed when Oliver died. By the time I met him a year or so later, he seemed to have come to terms with it, but apparently not. At home, he couldn’t let it go. It had become an obsession with him. He was always talking about it, convinced that. . . well, put it this way: he didn’t think his brother’s death was accidental.’

‘Murder?’

‘Negligence. He thought it was preventable, brushed under the carpet, covered up to avoid a big lawsuit, a massive compensation claim. Five men died along with Oliver, a catastrophic systems failure. I don’t understand the technicalities.’

‘And you think he’d found out what it was and who was responsible?’

‘Not entirely. The notebooks would have made more sense if he had.’

‘He didn’t discuss it with you?’

‘Only in passing.’ Ryan wiped his face with his hand. ‘I knew it bothered him, of course I did, but not the full extent of how it affected him. You know what the job’s like. Bringing your problems into work is frowned upon. Jack recognized . . .’ Ryan choked on his words, let out a big breath. ‘Let’s just say he knew I was dealing with my own shit. There are some things you never get over.’

‘I understand,’ O’Neil said.

Ryan doubted that. ‘What I don’t get is why Freberg got in touch with Jack, having refused to speak to him seven years ago. Whatever it was, it prompted him to take that trip to Norway.’ He paused. ‘I haven’t told you the best yet . . . or should I say the worst. They were supposed to meet on the day Freberg disappeared. I reckon the minute Jack stepped on to the tarmac at Torp airport the engineer was a goner. Someone didn’t want that meeting to take place. And, before you say anything, I know it looks bad for Jack.’

‘Is Freberg’s death being investigated?’

‘No. The coroner’s verdict was misadventure. Then again, the Norwegian authorities don’t know what we know.’

‘We need to pack a bag and get over there.’

‘I agree. Before that, I need a favour.’

‘Name it.’

‘Hilary and the kids are staying with her father. He’s getting on. If the hijackers were to pay them a visit, he’d be about as useful as a wet lettuce leaf.’ Ryan stopped talking and looked at her. ‘It’s a lot to ask.’

‘So ask.’

‘I want you to organize close protection for Hilary and the kids until this is all over. Whatever way you view his covert enquiries, Jack died in the line of duty, chasing the bad guys. He deserves that much.’

‘What about your twin?’

‘She’ll be there too.’

‘Two birds, one stone – makes sense.’

‘On so many levels: Caroline and Hilary are close, the kids love her dog, I just think it might help them, the younger two especially. Animals are very therapeutic. Caroline’s guide dog Bob was trained to be that way. He’s as good as they get.’

O’Neil didn’t argue or hang around. She picked up the phone and made the arrangements. Ryan was relieved. He could get used to working with her.

57

Ryan promised that the original notebooks would be on her desk within a couple of hours. Without telling her where he was going, he left her office to fetch them. She was relieved to see the back of him. She needed time to deal with the issues he’d raised about Maguire. Her DS’s ineptitude had to be addressed and she relished the opportunity to give the sloppy git a piece of her mind.

When Maguire failed to answer his mobile, she carried on without him, briefing the rest of her team, ensuring that notes were taken to pass on to him, should he ever elect to put in an appearance. And as the meeting came to an end, he materialized, in a foul mood and angling for a fight.

‘You wanted to see me, guv?’ He bit his lip.

‘Yes.’ Her tone was unfriendly. ‘Sit down.’

Peeling off his jacket, Maguire walked to his desk, kicked his chair out from under it and sat down. He loosened his tie, undid the top button of his shirt. Opening his desk drawer, he tossed in a Bounty bar, testing her patience. ‘Where’s the fire?’ he said. ‘Front desk told me it was urgent.’

‘It was, half an hour ago.’ O’Neil wondered how to play her hand. Either way, Maguire wasn’t going to like it. She’d been on the verge of asking where he’d been, but held her tongue. What did it matter? He was here now, bracing himself for a bombshell, despite an attempt at cool. ‘A lot of new information has come to light this morning. Some of it concerns you.’ She pointed at the in-tray on his desk. ‘There’s a list of actions there I want you to get on with. Things are about to change around here.’

‘Oh yeah? In what way?’

‘In every way.’

Although Maguire didn’t mention it directly, O’Neil could tell by looking at him that he’d either seen her enter the building with his nemesis in tow and kept his head down, or been told about it subsequently. A lot of detectives rated Ryan. More than one would jump at the opportunity to get one over on Maguire. Underneath the nonchalance, her useless bagman was seething.

He wasn’t the only one.

‘Ryan’s on board,’ she said. ‘He’ll be taking an active part in our investigation from this point on.’ The words were delivered casually. The impact they were having was obvious. Maguire’s hands were clenched involuntary. When he realized, he spread his fingers, laying them flat on the surface of his desk. Not quick enough. O’Neil had already clocked his anxiety. And now his left eye was twitching.