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Fog on the Tyne
Fog on the Tyne
Fog on the Tyne
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Fog on the Tyne

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Fog on the Tyne is a trilogy, covering three murder cases which were investigated by D.C.I. Jack Renton, a dysfunctional old-school detective.
Resident Fear is set in a context of political intrigue, social unrest and organised crime. There is also a backdrop of high technology being bridled by ethics protesters, and government cover-ups.
Frankenstein involves a serial killer who uses the internet to embarrass the police, by posting relevant information for public consumption. Such a cat and mouse scenario annoys Renton intensely, as it is effectively a window for the world into his department.
The Red Kite Killings is Renton’s last case. He has to return from a vacation to inspect a body which has been recovered from the River Tyne. He becomes obsessed with an old case because of the almost identical M.O. His team shows concern about such delusional behaviour, until a second corpse is reported. He begins to suspect a copycat killer, but why?

LanguageEnglish
PublisherHylton Smith
Release dateAug 4, 2013
ISBN9781301437153
Fog on the Tyne
Author

Hylton Smith

Born in the Northeast of England, I graduated from Newcastle University in Chemistry. My entire career has been in the manufacturing industry, first in research, then general management. After a number of years as the chief executive of a UK division of an American multinational corporation, I set up my own company, and in less than five years I was able to retire and turn to a boyhood yearning to write science fiction stories. This has gradually expanded to other genres such as alternate history and crime fiction.

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    Fog on the Tyne - Hylton Smith

    Part one: Resident Fear

    Chapter 1

    Monday November 5th 2018

    Jack Renton checked his watch and reflected on the absurdity of the situation. The smell of fireworks was still in the air from Sunday night. He was looking at potential fireworks of a different kind. The Angel of the North was once a revered iconic landmark, a welcome to the world from the Northeast of England. It was no longer a safe location, even in daylight. Today, at 5.47 am, it was unusually crowded, particularly with police vehicles and personnel. Renton was never at his best in the early hours, but this incident had already ascended to the top of his Monday morning workload, and would likely remain there for many Mondays to come. His resigned demeanour wasn’t directly linked to the process of identification of the body. Everyone knew Alistair Banks, a wealthy industrialist who had continually sought confrontation with the purveyors of institutional red-tape. He was seen by the populace as a vigilante for the cause of the individual, whereas the establishment was openly hostile toward him, and would not be disappointed to see his empire crumble. As Renton waited impatiently for the Medical Examiner, he was already pretty sure the location of the body had been carefully selected, and that the killing had taken place elsewhere. The Angel would answer the prayers of the killer, ensuring that discovery would be quick and act as some kind of announcement.

    *

    In the years immediately after the break-up of the Eurozone and its single currency in 2015, events had gathered pace. As Britain pushed for the repatriation of more powers, the government drastically underestimated the antagonism toward their new genetic mapping system, which became the detonator for massive civil unrest. The European Union harnessed the public protest, and threatened expulsion of the United Kingdom, unless all intent to implement the database, and its potentially manipulative social engineering capability, was abandoned. 2016 ended without resolution of the issue. The threat of expulsion had been considered by the British government to be no different to the years of bankrupt dogma which characterised the Brussels administration. The shock which reverberated throughout the world, when the axe fell, brought the word ‘abandoned’ into sharp focus. The British Prime Minister was forced to declare that the offending implementation had indeed been abandoned, albeit after the deadline. This was dissected by the media and re-spun as having achieved the government desire to actually force the expulsion. The soap opera split public opinion so radically that riots became commonplace. By 2018 the landscape in the United Kingdom had altered beyond recognition, thus providing scope for the Genetic Profile Directory to disappear.

    *

    The incident scene continued to attract officials, journalists, and members of the public. The hastily erected exclusion zone was not going to work, and Jack Renton conceded to calling for assistance from headquarters in Durham. With the top brass still in slumber he had to convince the duty officer of his identity by asking him to call his boss.

    You’ll regret your ‘rule book’ attitude if the media decide to crucify the force because your tardiness results in compromise of the crime scene. I’ve sent you a message to confirm you were alerted at 6.23. Check it for yourself Thompson, but for Christ’s sake get back-up out here now. He turned to Ben Adams, his detective sergeant, and discharged a tirade of profanities in the general direction of the Three Rivers Force. Adams had heard it all before and drew Renton’s attention to a young uniformed officer who had cordoned off a section of the site behind the towering sculpture. The lightest of snow coverings had made it easy to see the tyre tracks in the half-light. All of the other fresh marks were to the front and side of the Angel, and were accounted for by the vehicles currently assembled. It was important to get photographic records of these tracks before the approaching sunrise melted them. Renton glanced in the direction of approach the vehicle should have taken, but there was no evidence of any further tread marks. He told Adams to surround the immediate area with the police cars until back-up arrived, and then he spoke to the young officer.

    This is important. What’s your name son?

    Harrison Sir. Renton tapped his temple with his forefinger and whispered, Good work, now keep everyone away from here until I tell you otherwise.

    As D.C.I. Renton raged about the Medical Examiner’s non-appearance, he gazed skyward and contemplated the silhouette of the rear of the iconic yet foreboding creation – an angel whose guardian wings were disproportionately elegant, and strangely complemented the subtlety of the accumulated rust. He recalled the unveiling all those years ago, when many questioned the concept of not painting the gigantic steel structure. He could not visualise the new hierarchy of law enforcement, imposed after the EU exit, enjoying the same growth of respect in the future. Centralisation of policy had been deemed necessary after the failure to quell organised rioting. This was reflected in the major regions of the UK, and the distillate in the northeast was that Cleveland, Durham and Northumbria forces were steamrollered into one unit, which was tagged as ‘Three Rivers’ – Tees, Tyne and Wear. Concessions to local decision-making saw a division in city and rural autonomy. He had no doubts that dual standards would be the legacy of such ill-considered policy. The slow homogenous growth of the rusty dermis of the Angel seemed to grate with the dichotomous policing structure in which he was now marooned. He snapped out of his self-indulgence with a shake of the head as the Medical Examiner arrived.

    Glad you could make it; did you find a suitable place to park your bicycle? Gregory Watson had grown resistant to the abrasive nature of Renton, and did not rise to the bait, merely replying by answering all of the usual questions with one statement.

    All will be revealed as it becomes known Jack, why the two tents? Renton pointed to the nearest and said, That one has the body and is for both you and forensics. The other is covering simple tyre tracks and is only for forensics. We don’t want you to muddy the water any more than you have to.

    Watson had already been informed of the deceased’s identity and was unusually apprehensive. They were both members of Concord golf club, and had sometimes played for the team in competitive matches.

    On exiting the first tent Watson hailed Renton and quietly suggested that they should talk in his car.

    I hope I’m not going to regret saying this Jack, as I need to back it up with tests in the mortuary, but I am almost certain the wounds he suffered to the head were inflicted after he died. Renton was unusually quiet, and Watson shrugged his shoulders.

    Very well then, forget I said it, you will get the full report as soon as I can get through the post-mortem. Renton eventually reacted.

    No, no, er sorry Greg, I was just thinking how your hunch fits with mine and the isolated tyre marks over there. There’s something about this scene which seems to be delivering a statement, or a message, or a threat – but to whom? Watson said he would return to science and leave the guesswork to those best equipped for the task. Renton’s years of experience overtook his early speculation and he wanted to speak with forensics before returning to his Newcastle office. Although he knew that Alistair Banks’ wife would have been informed already, he did not expect her to arrive at the site so quickly.

    Vivienne Banks was verging on hysteria and Renton failed to reason with her.

    Mrs Banks you must understand that we have to protect the crime scene, so that our investigation is not hampered by loss of salient information. Forensic experts must declare the situation clear before anyone, including me, can be allowed into the restricted area. Once the body is transported to the morgue I’ll personally accompany you to identify your husband. I do realise how difficult this must be for you, but it is being treated as homicide, and we must protect the integrity of the evidence. I’m very sorry for your loss and assure you that we will move things along with as much urgency as possible.

    She stared blankly at him as she used her mobile to contact the family solicitor. It was as if she had heard nothing Renton had said. She got even more frustrated when Richard Doyle reiterated most of Renton’s plea. She insisted that he get to the scene and ‘sort out’ the over-officious people who were denying her right to see her husband. She ended the call before Doyle could respond.

    *

    Vivienne Banks had a somewhat mysterious past. The daughter of one of the barons of the Colony, she had been spirited away to a Swiss education early in life. This considerable undertaking by her parents, in both organisational and financial terms had not prevented her from courting notoriety, thus negating the primary objective of her father. Peter Beresford had subsequently acquired his fortune, and had been in prime position to take advantage of the riot culture. The stretching of police resources during that period left an opening for all manner of activity, including assisting the authorities by organised but unlawful intervention. Many rioters were injured, killed or simply went missing. The government and police had to condemn this counter-riot campaign, but privately were relieved, as they would not have otherwise prevailed. The general population reflected the fear which accompanied these riots, as they mutated from protest to indiscriminate anarchical brutality, with no concern for the many innocent casualties of their actions. Beresford had been the head of a national security organisation, which was outsourced by government to help plug a gaping hole in the policing of ‘street crime’. The police force was straitjacketed by political correctness and human rights of the criminals. Beresford surrendered his government contracts and gradually morphed his business into a modified form of protection – this sceptered isle’s version of the Mafia.

    As his technology was increasingly complemented by capability to issue threat, the riots began to subside. He was however not alone. All over the country the police were thought to be complicit with their blind-eye stance, and Whitehall promised that with the exit from the EU, that political correctness would at last begin to wither on the vine, and the human rights act would become as anonymous as other casualties, such as rioters. It was easy to say this but time would tell. The titanic struggle, or ‘turf war’ was utterly ruthless, but was eventually settled by Beresford and two other barons, who displaced their London equivalents from the apex of power.

    The regions controlled by Liverpool, Manchester and Birmingham prevailed and became the singular entity known as the Colony. The Three Rivers region was typical of many others around the country, in their tenuous, unofficial association with the Colony. The police force and local government managed to forge ‘understandings’ with one another, and further extended these to the regional arm of the Colony. All such ‘handshakes’ were underpinned by the declaration of a desire to restore society to its former democratic foundation. They also knew this would never happen.

    It had been a suitably ostentatious celebrity wedding, even though Alistair Banks apparently operated outside the influence of the Colony. Beresford attended the wedding despite the fact that he did not approve of his daughter’s matrimonial choice. This was a meticulously planned operation in itself, as he had survived numerous attempts of erasure. Since those days he lived permanently on a ludicrously expensive and technically equipped ocean-going yacht. The wedding ceremony was conducted on the island of Santorini, and the final leg of his journey was appropriately dramatic, being lowered from his private helicopter. As he was paying for the extravaganza, he had considerable input on the where, when and who variables in the equation of risk. He tolerated Alistair Banks, no more.

    *

    While the new widow was pacing around his office, Renton had to take a call from Durham. He knew it would come. Bernard Cousins was often described by Sergeant Adams as ‘the respectable face of evil’. Cousins, as head of the Three Rivers Police Authority was extremely unsettled by the rate at which the news of Banks’ death had been churned into a media frenzy, and already posed questions about possible connections with organised crime.

    Jack, you have the back-up requested and I’ve taken appropriate action with that retard, Thompson, who obstructed your request to be put directly through to me. What I want to know now is - do you need more operational assistance? I can have people from Sunderland and Middlesbrough seconded to your command. We need to get this put to bed quickly.

    Renton had considered quitting many times, but most of these reflections had been for personal reasons. He hardly ever saw his son, and always became disoriented when he told him of another ‘boyfriend’ of his ex-wife arriving on the scene. This was different, he now saw himself as a collaborator with the new order, and he despised himself for the self-pitying inertia into which he had drifted. Someday he would do something about it. This was not the time.

    Thank you Sir, but I’d like to defer bringing in more people until we have a better informed picture from Greg Watson’s post-mortem and forensic first sweep. I know that the media are ready to pounce if we screw up, but there’s something which does not add up here. Please give me twenty-four hours to deliver a clear direction of enquiry and then re-visit the resource we need. I’m also aware of the involvement of the locals. The rural boys are challenging jurisdiction, as the location of the scene would not normally justify urban involvement. It’s fortunate that I have good relations with these boys, and I want to keep them in the loop in an appropriate manner, as opposed to having to fight with them at every turn. They trust me, and therefore my judgement that they would soon have to pass this up the line. I don’t want to let the case evidence widen any further than it has to at this stage. Can you give me twenty-four hours? He was gambling on this being acceptable, as he believed any reinforcements from Sunderland and Middlesbrough would be moles for Cousins.

    Jack Renton was too young to retire, but knew nothing other than police work. At forty-three his life was a mess. Stuck between ignoring potential corruption and leading a team of honest officers, he felt trapped. Cousins granted his one day respite. Vivienne Banks could not remain seated when he returned to his office. She continued to pace back and forth as she answered his questions.

    When did you last see your husband?

    She glared at him and shouted, Friday, before he left for London. Renton expressed surprise.

    He went to London on Friday? Her exasperation heightened as she banged the desk with her fists.

    No, he left early on Saturday, with friends he had at the house when I came home on Friday evening. They were going to watch their stupid football team play down there. When he has these cretins to the house they always get hammered, doss down in the early hours, and leave for the airport after about two hours sleep. I went to bed and didn’t see them leave on Saturday.

    Renton asked which airline he had used. She almost collapsed with laughter, and her voice was laden with sarcasm. He uses his own plane, but surely you knew that – he has been in the newspapers more than the Prime Minister. It should be easy for you to check.

    He did so and got confirmation that he was accompanied by four other men. He asked Adams to check with Arsenal Football Club to see if they had any way of confirming whether Banks had been at the match against Newcastle. Returning to the office he asked Vivienne if her husband had contacted her from London.

    Yes, we had an argument – he told me he would be staying the night in the Capital because the team had played well. I lost my temper because he left me to cancel a dinner with two of our friends.

    And when did he come back?

    I don’t know because I got inebriated on Saturday night. I went to bed and did not wake up until Sunday afternoon. He hadn’t made contact again by then and when I rang his mobile I got the unobtainable sound. After a long day trying to keep my lunch down, I went for a walk for some fresh air. I had an early night, about nine o’clock I think, because I assumed the bastard was in town getting loaded again. The next thing I knew, one of your officers was at the door. Her mood had turned from confrontational to tearful, and Renton’s questioning was interrupted by his phone ringing.

    Jack, Greg here, we have just got the body in and I am about to get started, but one of my assistants has confirmed by instrumentation that he’s been dead for at least thirty-six hours. I will know more by tomorrow morning.

    Wait, said Renton, I need Mrs Banks to identify the body, so I’d like to come now. I want to run a timeline past you before I speak to Cousins again; he’s already on my case.

    Watson detected uncharacteristic anxiety in Renton’s voice and agreed. Before he left for the morgue he asked Adams to detail someone to check any last will and testament Alistair Banks had made, and to ask for media help to trace the mystery vehicle which left the isolated tracks.

    *

    The man who found the body had been working nightshift when he felt ill, and his supervisor had sent him home. His recollection of the scene, other than the corpse, was sketchy at best. He vaguely remembered another person walking ahead of him on a path which was peripheral to the monument. He thought the person had a dog with them, and considered it a strange time of night to walk a pet. He had a raging fever, and when he stumbled across the body he believed he was hallucinating. Without a mobile phone, he scrambled up the grassy slope and tried to run the rest of the way home. He frantically rifled through his pockets for his keys but dropped them, and he banged on the door. His wife was quite naturally alarmed to see him in such a frenzied state. It was another five minutes or so before he convinced her to call the police. Only then did she ask him how he had managed to get home from where he worked in Birtley.

    Somebody gave me a lift, one of the electricians I think. The supervisor persuaded me not to attempt to drive. The man who brought me home didn’t know the area too well and I told him to let me off at the Angel, and I would walk the rest.

    Ben Adams wanted to speak with Andy Johnson again, as the initial report from uniform had not pursued the possible sighting of another witness. He did not have high hopes that the public would respond to Renton’s plea through the media. People would know about Banks and Beresford, their openly declared hostility toward each other, and what might be the consequences of stepping forward to help the police.

    *

    Vivienne Banks amazed Renton. She had been so irrational in her demands to see the body, and now she stood there, emotionless. She finally nodded her head without taking her eyes off the corpse. When asked if she needed some time alone with her husband, she reverted to norm and declined.

    I’ve already spent more than enough time alone with him. She walked out of the examination room without another word. Renton let her go and turned to Watson.

    "She insists that he and four of his cronies were on a piss-up football weekend in London. He was supposed to come back on Saturday evening, but the Toon played so well they intended to have another bender, and planned to return on Sunday. How does that fit with your time of death? The M.O. engaged in a quick mental arithmetic subtraction.

    I know you said I was not to muddy the waters, but this cannot be helped. His body was discovered at approximately 4.50 am, you were there shortly before six. However if I go back thirty-six hours from our test at 2.05 pm, we are talking mortality at or before 2 am Sunday morning. That being the case, he either had a very short sleep on Saturday night, and travelled home to be murdered, or he met his fate down south. Can you verify her story?

    Renton shook his head. I’ve yet to check it out. He apparently used his own aircraft, so I’ll start with the pilot and air traffic control. Presumably the other members of the party will still be alive, although she only assumed those with him on Friday night at the house were the same as the ones on the alleged football trip. She claimed she had a call from his mobile to tell her they were staying over on Saturday night. I need to call forensics to check whether they have his phone. She also claims she rang him several times after that and only got the unobtainable tone. Just as he was about to make the call his phone rang. It was his office.

    D.C. Baker here Sir, I’ve had someone confirm Banks attendance at the Emirates Stadium on Saturday. He told Stephanie Baker to continue.

    He was a guest of a person who had a corporate box at the ground, a Mr Angus Wilson. There’s also a purchase against his Visa card for champagne. He passed this on to Watson and headed off to speak to forensics rather than use the phone.

    Chapter 2

    Ben Adams had been kept waiting by the Banks’ solicitor Richard Doyle. When he was finally informed that he could enter the office, with its typically traditional furnishings and a panoramic view of the river Tyne, he politely but sarcastically thanked the secretary. The old iconic bridge on which the Great North Run hordes massed every year, and the more recent addition, the retractable, crescent-shaped Millenium Bridge, provided an impressive frame for the picture. On the opposite side of the river, the now famous Baltic art gallery added a reminder of past industry alongside the glittering Sage auditorium. He instantly realised what had caused the hold-up. Vivienne Banks had not taken long to check on the will. She stopped, implied with a long stare that he should stand aside to accommodate her appropriately dramatic exit.

    Let’s get straight to the point Mr Doyle. It’s a murder enquiry, so save the bullshit about confidentiality, we need to know who the beneficiaries of his rather obscene fortune are. Would you like to begin?

    Certainly, as you may be aware they have no children. His assets pass to his wife, if you can classify debt as an asset. Adams asked him to go on. He updated his will just over a week ago. Not the named beneficiary, but references to the safekeeping of his industrial operation. Vivienne, sorry, Mrs Banks neither has the capability nor the desire to run the conglomerate. She understood his reluctance to let this somehow fall into the hands of her father. What we cannot understand is the complete liquidation of his funds. She gets the house, which he has just re-mortgaged. The healthy balance he had in an investment portfolio was withdrawn before the will was updated, and we don’t know at this time where the money has gone.

    How much are we talking about?

    Over sixty-five million.

    Not chicken-feed then.

    Detective, I am just as interested as you are to find out how this has evaporated, and to where, but I can say right now that Mrs Banks knew about the updating of the will and remained as the executor. She does not need the money, as I am sure you are aware, ‘Daddy’s’ fortune dwarfs that of Banks, and she will always get whatever she wants from that source. She seems unconcerned. Adams got up to leave.

    We may both be interested in where the money has gone Doyle, but I can’t imagine your curiosity extends to how this could be linked to his death. He got one past you and that won’t go down well for your reputation. I will be back to see you, and I won’t wait around in reception for an hour. I’d like you to deposit a statement of what you have just told me, and what was discussed between you and the disenfranchised widow in that hour. I will call you.

    *

    Clive Donoghue had only recently ascended to head up forensics for the Three Rivers region and had yet to earn the full respect of that accorded to his retired predecessor. That challenge would be stiffened by his appointment coming with the hint of an endorsement by the Chief Executive of the regional government administration, Monica Armstrong. Rumour had it that she was convinced of his suitability by an unknown figure in the Colony. It was never questioned. Renton was also trying to establish a similar relationship with Donoghue, to the one he enjoyed with Gregory Watson.

    I apologise for the flying visit Clive, but Cousins is keenly interested in this case for obvious reasons and he wants a briefing from me tomorrow. Is there anything to report yet? Donoghue had the annoying habit of swivelling in his chair while talking.

    Not really. He had money on him, the usual credit cards, and at this early stage we have not had any ‘eureka’ hits, but that is not so worrying, we have confidence that we’ll find fibres or traces of stuff which will begin the story.

    What about his mobile?

    I am told there was no phone at the scene, and he did not have one on his person before Watson took the body away. That is quite unusual, I must admit. Renton asked to be kept up to date.

    *

    Adams left the solicitor’s Quayside customer car park, crossed the more westerly Redheugh Bridge, and descended on to the western bypass. Leaving the motorway at the Washington slip road, he let his GPS system guide him to Andy Johnson’s address. The doctor was in attendance and had diagnosed food poisoning. Mrs Johnson hurried off to pick up the prescription at the Metro Centre supermarket pharmacy.

    Andy, do you feel up to going over the events of this morning again? It won’t take long and could be very important.

    Ok, but I was really out of it even before I saw the body. That vision just flipped me over the top.

    Adams reassured him that he was not going to revisit the moment of realisation that he had discovered a corpse. I’m more interested in the person you saw walking the dog. You said you weren’t sure whether it was a man or a woman, why was that?

    Well, they were wearing a top with a hood, and had their back to me.

    What colour was it, the hooded top?

    I’m not really sure, but it wasn’t dark. In the artificial light it looked yellow or orange, could have even been red.

    Was the person going your way?

    No, he was heading to the joining footpath, I was going to the left, but seeing the body changed all that. When I realised exactly what was lying in front of me, I looked up for the dog walker but he had gone out of sight.

    You said ‘he’ Andy, why was that?

    Did I? Shit, I don’t know why, I’m really not sure.

    Don’t worry, this often happens, when people are concentrating on another aspect of recalling a scene they can suddenly ascribe clarity to something they could not earlier. Well that could be helpful; I’ll come back when you are feeling better.

    Right, there’s one thing I am sure about though. The other officer didn’t ask, but I’m a dog lover myself as you can see by my two Boxers there. His dog, there I go again, it must have been a man, was a very rare breed, especially here in the north.

    Really, go on.

    It was an Akita, a Spitz breed, originating in the mountains of Japan. They are beautiful animals. I’m surprised I haven’t seen it before, although if that’s its normal walking time I suppose I wouldn’t anyway.

    And he shouldn’t live too far away. Thanks Andy, I hope you get well soon.

    This was good news for Renton and he immediately asked the local radio stations to broadcast the interest the police had in speaking to this dog owner. Meanwhile Stephanie Baker had followed up Banks’ recent credit card transaction history, as it was a joint facility with his wife. A slow smile betrayed Renton’s delight. Vivienne Banks had purchased a slap-up lunch at an extremely upmarket country hotel on the Friday Banks was entertaining his cronies before leaving for London.

    That’s not all Sir, she stayed the night, and paid the bill, but it was booked in the name of Richard Doyle.

    Well, well, well, they must be really good friends Stephanie, well done. Keep this to yourself for now. Renton decided Mrs Banks would be a better bet and rang the home number. It was re-directed to her mobile.

    Viv Banks, hello…

    It’s D.C.I. Renton, I wondered if you would like to tell me about what you really did on Friday night. Not on the phone, I’ll pick you up, and please don’t try to get in touch with Doyle, that would only make me more suspicious. Where can I collect you?

    I don’t need to ring him Detective, he is right here. Before he could reply Doyle grabbed her mobile.

    Renton this amounts to harassment, we have cooperated fully and Vivienne needs support, the kind she is not getting from you. So, if you will kindl….

    Have it your way Mr Doyle. Please report to the station immediately. I wanted to save you this embarrassment but your attitude tells me I’m wasting my time treading so carefully around your sensitivities.

    Are you serious man, it is almost 9pm, can’t it wait until tomorrow?

    No, I’ll give you one more chance. Where are you?

    Very well, we are at a bistro in Jesmond, I live just around the corner. Do you need my address?

    We have it on file. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Renton asked Stephanie Baker if she wanted to go home. She declined. The prospect of a juicy interview with Vivienne Banks was irresistible. Renton needed a witness to what could be the revelation of crucial information. It would be more interesting than continuing to chase down the other names on the flight manifest. It did occur to her that it was strange that they had not contacted the police themselves.

    *

    Adams had just got home and settled down to his evening ready meal for one. The phone rang. It was the local station, and they had been questioning a man who claimed he had been walking in the area of the Angel in the early hours. It turned out to be the dog walker. Adams laughed.

    Was it because of Renton’s radio appeal? I wouldn’t have expected such a quick response. The reply was better news for Adams.

    No, he’d heard about the incident just like everyone else and thought he should tell us he had seen something strange on his outward walk, before the body was discovered. Do you want to speak with him yourself?

    You bet I do, ask him to wait, I won’t be long. When he spoke to the young man he confirmed that he was the owner of the Akita. This was his normal walk time, as he did not want the dog to have attention from strangers.

    I’m on the dole, always have been like, and I’d rather gan oot when it’s dark and quiet ye knaa. I can hoy things for Fang when he’s off the leader.

    Adams told him that he was seen by the person who had actually discovered the body, and asked if he had noticed this person.

    Na, I saw the car though, was it his?

    Where exactly did you see the car?

    At the back of the statue, wey a bit back from the statue like. It was gettin’ pulled up the slope by the crane, but it was gone when me and Fang came back.

    Let me get this right Jimmy, you saw a crane lifting a car behind the Angel. Didn’t you think that was very strange?

    Wey aye, but the bloke came up to us, me and Fang, and told us to keep oot the way cos it was dangerous. He made us gan aroond the path instead of cuttin’ across the grass like. He said the car would be chucked away, ye knaa, dumped.

    Did you remember any details about the vehicle?

    Aye, it was blue. It was one o’ them Italian jobs, er an Alfa Romeo Spyder I think. I didn’t get the whole number like, just the last part. It was an ’05 plate, but the funny thing was the last three letters were PUP, just like Fang. I think that’s why I forgot the first letters.

    Right Jimmy, I want you to make a full statement to the officer here, and we’ll need to see you again. Can you remember anything about the crane man who directed you and Fang to the path? You know - what he looked like, or even what name was on the crane?

    Not the crane, and he was wearin’ a hard hat like, but he had a grey tash and a lump above it, at the side of his nose, a bit like one ye get from bumpin’ ya heed hard against the wall, ye knaa.

    Adams thanked the young man and left, acknowledging the favour the local officer had done for him. I owe you one Fred, maybe at the Xmas party!

    *

    Vivienne Banks was seriously inebriated and unconcerned by Renton’s appearance, in sharp contrast to Doyle, who was decidedly nervous. The top floor apartment was the antithesis to his office – minimalist and bright. Modern art hung sporadically on the otherwise pristine walls. The log fire looked absolutely real, but wasn’t.

    Chief Inspector, would you like a coffee, I won’t encourage you to drink on duty, or is this off the record?

    Vivienne poured herself another large glass of wine and Renton remarked, No, I’m afraid it is official, I’m sorry to intrude on what appears to be some kind of celebration, but I need to clarify something with you.

    He introduced Stephanie and said she would take notes if they felt the truth was not being offered. They were asked to sit, and chose the vacant sofa opposite the two interviewees.

    Let’s begin with you Mr Doyle; are you able to tell me where you were on Friday evening? He knew they would have discussed his assertion that Vivienne had lied when he had first questioned her.

    Why would I have to account for my whereabouts? I am a solicitor, and I know how these things go. If you have highly specific questions I will consider my response, but I will not engage in this kind of charade.

    Suit yourself. We’ve got evidence that you actually spent the night at the same country hotel as Mrs Banks. The room was reserved in your name only, but she made a transaction during the evening, and curiously paid for your room on Saturday morning. The hotel staff confirmed that you breakfasted together. I need to know why Mrs Banks told me she spent the night at home. I’ll ask her directly in a moment, but I thought you, as her solicitor, may want to set an example for her, by giving an accurate account of the events of Friday night.

    I see. Well, there is nothing to hide. I can only imagine that she thought it would appear strange that she was in a hotel with another man, and never saw her husband again until she was informed of his suspicious death. Although it was naïve, I can understand why she felt she should not disclose our meeting, especially as he had just altered his will. Do you have more specific questions? Renton asked Stephanie to put down her notepad.

    I do, but first I must ask you to confirm you both stayed overnight at the hotel, and neither of you were able to verify how many associates Mr Banks entertained at his house that night, or indeed who they were. Vivienne was about to reply when Doyle cut her off.

    That is correct, and before you ask if we shared the same room, the answer is in the affirmative. However, we did not share the same bed. I am of the alternate persuasion, or to put it another way – she is not my type. The hotel in question has many rooms with two king-size double beds. You can verify ours was one such room. I am sure you are going to ask why we met there, so let us get to the point. The marital relationship was already on the rocks and yet they wanted to avoid a messy divorce. That is very important when your father is Peter Beresford. It becomes even more important when Banks was intending to move his business to Germany, and take residence there. His Bio-Engineering division is quite a stellar operation. He had received a lot of government funding for this in the beginning, and this ‘defection’ is seen as extremely disloyal by many. Vivienne has never enjoyed a good relationship with her father; security of the family meant a very restricted life. She blames her father for the erosion of her relationship with Banks. Our meeting was arranged with absolute neutrality of the location as the key factor. Alistair asked me to brief Vivienne so that she could be certain that what was ordained to happen would not disadvantage her. We spent almost the entire night going over the detail. As we now know, those meticulous plans are in disarray. I am afraid this may prove to be anything but a simple killing Inspector. I will be withdrawing from the arena as soon as I can. That is what Vivienne and I were discussing over dinner. I advise you to be careful with whom you share this information. Do you have more questions?

    Vivienne Banks broke down in tears and excused herself. Renton said he may need to see all legal documentation which would corroborate Banks’ intention to relocate his business to Germany.

    Chapter 3

    Tuesday November 6th 2018

    Amongst the complications facing the world, in its second year of depression, was the consequent rise in international tension. National governments withdrew further and further from global business and foreign policy, supplanting this outward-looking horizon by uncluttered survival strategy. One such pledge which the UK ruling class had often promised came into legislation over a year ago. Immigration was halted completely. The rationale was simple, the country could not support or feed seventy million people; the consequences however, were highly convoluted. The Islamic population felt more threatened, especially those who had already been database classified as extremists. Their EU shelter had evaporated. The Muslim Shield had been born. It was an organisation which now concentrated its energy on actual survival as well as financial survival. This mission did include getting government-targeted individuals safely out of the country.

    The Chinese population had always managed to blend into the Christian society while building their own enclaves within it. Mutual respect was still strong. However, certain grievances now came to light about the way Muslim extremists had taken advantage of the ‘Shelter of Brussels’ during the last two decades. The Chinese communities had silently suffered in several city centres more than anyone realised. It was payback time, and typically they would take care of it themselves.

    The reversal in the trend of Polish immigration during this same period had stabilised, and pockets of those who had acquired and practiced British citizenship within the spirit of its culture, began to contribute to the retribution. If nothing else was to be learned from the mistakes of the past twenty years, there was at least more acute awareness that no immigrant community had ever had it easy, and it was about to get much worse. The source of ignition for an interracial firestorm was the currently debated next step in the Immigration bill. Having effectively blocked all further migration to British shores, other than exceptional cases deemed essential to the reviving technology initiative, the thorny problem of extradition was being outlined.

    The fear was that people’s fate would be determined by statistics, and not how they had contributed in the time they had lived in the country. The Prime Minister was undeterred. Patrick Carlyle was riding on the strength of the landslide majority which brought him into power in 2016. His cabinet believed the opportunity may never come again, even though many of their own back-bench members of parliament urged caution. It was estimated that over ninety percent of moderate Muslims were in favour of deporting convicted extremists, but they feared the spectre of stereotyping. The Chinese and Polish communities had concerns about precisely the opposite; they wanted assurances that willingness to learn the language, respecting the culture, and lack of protest activity would count in their favour. They repeatedly made the point that they had not campaigned for importation of sectarian law such as Sharia, or preached hatred against the Infidel. In a nutshell, they would have been happy to be judged as communities, because they suspected there may be orchestrated levelling of the playing field. The Muslim Shield majored on getting vulnerable members out of the country on their terms rather than those of the government. The issue of where and how extradition by either method would be viewed by the receiving nation had not figured prominently so far in the government blueprint.

    *

    Jack Renton hated the drive from Newcastle to Durham, not the journey itself, rather the reason for it. County Hall conveniently housed regional government officers and police, but only the big hitters, and their considerable administration staff. Renton’s day could have started better. He could see Monica Armstrong already seated in Bernard Cousin’s office. He would normally have proceeded straight to business but on this occasion he decided to linger over coffee and allow the small talk to take its course. He wanted to know why she was there without actually asking. Cousins eventually guided the chat away from weekend TV to the demise of Alistair Banks.

    Right Jack, we are eager to hear what you have so far. Monica has been asked to attend the briefing because it is such a high profile case and she may be able to assist if certain circumstances arise. We don’t know what these may be, we just need to have all bases covered by having response capability primed - law enforcement, civil or even military, if that proves necessary.

    Jesus, do you know something I don’t? This sounds like we’re preparing for war.

    Monica Armstrong replied while refilling her coffee mug.

    Not really, but Alistair Banks’ business sector does sit close to the membrane of national security. There are government projects which are on-going and covered by non-disclosure documents, and we have to be sure they are not prejudiced. The best way to keep H.M. Intelligence out of our hair is to be as thorough as possible. If we have to, we may call for their involvement. They have obviously asked questions already or I wouldn’t have been asked to attend your briefing. I won’t elaborate D.C.I. Renton, but it was not Bernard who invited me to attend. Now please, can we get to the update?

    Renton was trying to digest all of this while he summarised the situation to date. He decided to take Richard Doyle’s advice and skip any speculation about Banks’ German intentions. When he finished speaking he noted different reactions from Armstrong and Cousins.

    Ok Jack, when do you expect to find the crane and the blue car? Before he answered Monica Armstrong distracted him by asking if Vivienne Banks was a cooperative or difficult person to interview. He responded cautiously.

    She seems to be genuinely shocked by his death and my experience is that coming to terms with such trauma is often accompanied by frequent mood swings. She has lied once, and I think she now realises that her celebrity and wealth carry no privilege in a murder enquiry. Monica Armstrong smiled, nodded, and left without hearing the answer to Cousin’s much more pertinent question.

    We haven’t pinned down either the car or the crane yet, but that won’t take long. I’m more concerned at present with finding out whether Banks was killed in London or the North. If it’s the former, we may have jurisdiction issues with the Capital. That’s why I want to speak with the pilot. He’s freelance, and is only contracted to Banks for individual flights. Apparently he was airborne on another job when the news broke, but so far we’ve had no contact from him. He’s due back in Newcastle this morning and I’d like to join Ben Adams in the interview, so if you don’t mind I should be heading off. Also the post-mortem details and initial forensics report should give us more. Cousins let him depart without asking to be constantly kept up to date, and this was at odds with his appetite for information the previous day. It struck him that Monica Armstrong seemed relaxed, and Cousins reflected her body language.

    *

    The pilot was waiting in his office with Adams when he returned. He seemed to be more shocked about losing a lucrative client than a fellow member of the species. When pressed for accuracy regarding the timing and detail of his flight to London, he provided exemplary documentation to confirm everything except the return flight.

    Mr Banks called me after the game and said there would only be three passengers to take back to Newcastle. He and Mr Bowman were going to stay over. He apologised for the last minute change and said the two of them would return by train on Sunday. I was astonished to hear he had been killed and even more surprised that it happened back home.

    Adams took the lead. Why are you so surprised that his body was discovered in Newcastle?

    Because he said he had an unscheduled business meeting in London and would be glad of the chance to catch up on his sleep deficit on the Sunday evening sleeper train. If that’s what he did, it doesn’t leave much time for him to get himself killed outside of town.

    His wife says she had a call from him to say all of the party was staying over in London and she expected him to fly back on Sunday. They wanted to celebrate the team’s good performance against Arsenal. The pilot tried to resist a smile.

    They played well and managed a draw. I suppose that’s a good performance compared with their previous results down there, they normally get battered. Then there are the three who came back with me, and they said it was a shame that Alistair, I mean Mr Banks, had to stay over. I think Mrs Banks was right about their intention to go out on the town, the three of them could hardly wait.

    Did they all arrive at the airport together?

    No, they had done some shopping and took taxis.

    Renton said to Adams that he would take over and whispered, Check out this Bowman character and I’ll press him about the others.

    All the pilot could offer was confirmation that the police already had the correct names, and that they had all flown with him before. Renton showed him out and said that he may be in contact again. The pilot asked why they had not enquired about the briefcase.

    What briefcase, why would he need a briefcase to go to the match if he was intending to return the same day?

    That’s what I mean. It was his business companion, and he was never separated from it. He used to joke that it was his portable Fort Knox – impregnable. I thought it was a bit of a James Bond delusion, but he insisted that it could only be accessed by the wrong people by destroying it. Anyway he had it with him on the flight, so if you don’t have it he must have taken it on the train. Maybe Mr Bowman knows of its whereabouts. Surely he would not leave it on the train. If he had a business meeting he would have it with him

    Thank you again Carl. We will need you to identify it if we find it. When Adams came back into the office he invited Stephanie to explain. She cleared her throat nervously and stuttered uncharacteristically.

    He h-has er disappeared Sir.

    Renton waited and eventually said, And?

    Adams came to her assistance. "He wasn’t reported missing by his wife. We had been wondering why none of the party of three who flew back from the match responded to our calls, even if they had nothing to help us account for Banks’ movements after they split up. But you would think they would have asked about Bowman. Renton held up his hand.

    This is not going to make me happy is it? Stephanie Baker shook her head.

    It is my fault Sir. Last night when we went to Richard Doyle’s apartment I tidied my desk before we left and failed to see a scribbled message from uniform that the Bowman’s house had a ‘To Let’ sign in the garden. I just found it this morning and checked with the estate agent, who said the Bowman family had moved out on Friday. They had no forwarding address.

    Renton was philosophical and admitted that he had asked her to go with him, even though she should have been off-duty by then.

    It gets worse Sir. I know the pilot said the two of them were supposed to be returning by sleeper train but I couldn’t get confirmation of reservations for either of them. When I thought about Mrs Banks’ strenuous assertion that her husband said he was staying over in London on Saturday night, I decided to check other possibilities. I struck lucky at Heathrow. Banks was booked on a flight to Cologne on Saturday night, but was a no-show.

    Renton’s eyes widened and he tried to say something but Adams indicated there was more, and Stephanie continued.

    There was no reservation on that flight for Harry Bowman, but there was for a Mrs Gertrude Bowman. Coincidences like that bother me, so I asked the lady at Heathrow to read out the entire list of names on the flight. She took some persuading but eventually complied, and it just so happens that a minor by the name of Marianne Bowman was sat next to her. And on the other side of the young girl was a Heinrich Baumann. They all made the flight.

    Renton looked hard at Stephanie Baker and knew she would have retained Richard Doyle’s disclosure about Banks’ intention to relocate his business to Germany. He was sure she would also remember his advice about this information potentially being dangerous.

    Well if he flew out on Saturday, we couldn’t have known we needed to speak with him then. We must now speak to the other three, wherever the hell they are. They must be deliberately avoiding us as they know Banks has been murdered and probably knew before we did that Bowman has done a runner. Good work Steph. Ben, can you get along to Banks’ company and check the personnel records, especially the name Bowman? They can’t simply be friends.

    Reflecting on the German situation Renton decided to visit Doyle again, but on his own. He called D.C. Baker back into the office.

    We haven’t made much progress with the crane or the blue car. Get some photos of different plant hire company logos and see if any of them jerk the memory of the Akita dog walker. The registration of the car seems to tie up with one reported stolen in Consett last week. If that is the case it has probably gone through a crusher already. Ask the locals to check out dismantlers and scrapyards, tell Fred I need another favour – he’ll moan but he’ll still get on with it.

    *

    Despite his yacht being moored in St. Tropez, Peter Beresford was up to date. He rang one of the ‘Midwest’ barons from a public phone. The Colony hub had acquired this name because the tight-knit control emanated exclusively from the Birmingham-Manchester-Liverpool executive axis. Seth Graham was one such executive, and Eddie Finley was another, but the strings always led back to Beresford.

    Seth, I’ll be brief. The recent loss was inevitable, enough said. I am more interested in what is happening in London today. Are we prepared for any public reaction to all possible outcomes of the meeting?

    He was assured in code words that they were. Beresford continued, Sounds good. Whose turn is it this time? The reply was equally obscure but understood by the caller.

    It is mine I guess. Don’t you ever get tired of Chinese? This was met with enthusiasm, and Beresford ended the call.

    Chapter 4

    The Cabinet meeting was to be mainly focused on the Extradition blueprint, and despite efforts to keep this under wraps, it had leaked out. This provided perfect cover for Seth Graham’s contracted protestors. The Prime Minister expressed his dismay at the presence of newshounds and people parading placards. Patrick Carlyle opened the meeting and immediately handed the floor to the Home Secretary, Lawrence Morton, who distributed copies marked ‘confidential’, and he then proceeded to inform all attendees that he would collect the documents again after the subject had been discussed.

    "You will note the reminder that we agreed to have the final outline for discussion in the Commons a month from now. I have had some further input from back-benchers that we may wish to take into account, because of the as yet unexplained demise of Alistair Banks. They feel this may ultimately be portrayed as a reaction to another unexplained event – namely the disappearance of the Genetic Profile Directory. It was this, after all, which set in motion a chain of events beginning with the threat of expulsion from the EU, the actual prosecution of that threat despite a pledge of abandonment, then the escalation of protest by the Muslim Shield, the said discovery and subsequent utter despair at having to declare the database had gone missing, and finally the localised civil unrest amongst minority ethnic communities. We must also consider that this civil backlash is somewhat different to the riots attended by cross-sections of the population as a whole, even though they were also triggered by scaremongering, related not so much to the actual data released at the time, but more centred on the potential for its commercial value and exploitation if it fell into the wrong hands.

    The thrust of the back-bench concern is that we are unable to rule out the ‘wrong hands’ now that it has fallen from our own. Looking at the numbers, we are not far away from facing defeat on a Commons vote, if more of our own abstain or go with the ‘NO’ campaign. This is a delicate balance because the opposition is totally united against the bill. There is then the question of whether we employ a three-line whip to try and force a majority. Many believe this is a matter of constitutional significance and not one of constituency preference or simple party solidarity. We must then evaluate the effect of denying a free vote of conscience, and how that may influence our own members in voting against us. It is very tricky.

    The Justice Secretary asked why they were bound to a deadline.

    We can shelve the expediency until we know more about what has happened to the damn database. This met with some endorsement, particularly from the Defence Secretary.

    I agree. I know we all want this to go through but I can also see that if tensions continue to rise, people may even believe we conveniently and deliberately lost the database, fuelling concerns that it does contain sinister proposals. The gathering crowd today makes me think that the situation could easily ratchet up to a need for intervention of military personnel. That is something we must avoid.

    Opinion was divided more evenly than the P.M. wanted to hear, but he was determined not to let this meeting descend into a preliminary ‘vote’ on whether to proceed.

    Unless we are worried as to whether we can find some means of reassurance, for those who are fearful of innuendo that any new proposal brings, I can’t see what is gained by simply delaying the brinkmanship. Perhaps we should revert to what the hell we are doing about finding the database. If I was out there I would be worried too. Correct me if I am wrong, but unless anyone who has seen the content can remember it word for word, we don’t have a proposal to put before this Cabinet, never mind the Commons. He turned once more to the Home Secretary.

    Lawrence, you passed over this quickly in your introduction, and although we understand the valid back-bench knee trembles, they have to be put into context with the other concerns. Please back up a little and bring us up to date with the ‘Hunt for Red November’ - beginning with a more in-depth explanation on how it could have happened in the first place.

    Morton had anticipated this, and the potential it had to trigger his own exit. He really had no answers, and with little computer literacy, could not rule out his own department personnel. He needed forensic electronic expertise of the highest order. However, it had to be coupled with unswerving loyalty to the cause. Realising that this was likely to be his resignation speech, he gambled.

    I fear that the efficiency with which this was accomplished, may well point to an internal breach. I therefore wish to inject a team whose reputation is beyond question. I don’t want to be misunderstood in this action, but if my own personnel are being investigated, we around this table must wait for the outcome before disclosing such an ‘audit’. I therefore would like to speak in private to the P.M. If he is not in agreement with my approach, I am prepared to offer my resignation.

    The silence was deafening and protracted. Patrick Carlyle looked around the table without adding to Morton’s words. Slowly, one at a time, those seated rose in acknowledgement of the Home Secretary’s potential martyrdom. Carlyle finally spoke.

    Very well, we shall adjourn this meeting with immediate effect. The status of the bill remains as is - scheduled to get its first airing in one month. If and when something of crucial significance is discovered we will reconvene to discuss the next steps.

    Rather than meet the press himself, Carlyle despatched his press officer to read

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