Fluke allowed his team to manage themselves as much as he could. It wasn’t a pissing contest. The one who worked the longest hours didn’t win a prize. He expected them to be able to function when they came in. He was only strict on everyone being in when the investigation was either in the very early stages or a big break had been made, the rest of the time he expected them to manage their downtime. If they needed rest, he didn’t expect to be asked permission. Fluke would take Jiao-long to one side later and make sure the error with Tait hadn’t been caused by fatigue. If it had been, it was Fluke’s fault.
Jo Skelton entered the incident room, holding a document. She caught Fluke’s eye and grinned. ‘Got it, boss.’
Fluke knew she could only be talking about one thing, and he was genuinely surprised. He thought she’d have about as much chance of finding a one-ended stick. ‘The warrants?’
‘Yep, both of them. Signed, sealed and delivered. Everything we need. Dalton Cross’s file and any CCTV relating to him or the investigation.’
It was exactly what Fluke had asked for, but with no evidence to back it up, he couldn’t see how she’d achieved it. He thought he’d sent her on a fool’s errand. ‘How?’ he finally managed.
‘Longy,’ she said simply. ‘Boy’s a genius. We’ve got the warrant but that’s not the only thing.’
Frustrated with his lack of success tracking down the name of Dalton Cross, Jiao-long had decided he was working his Sunday. He’d come in and fed the name into every database he had legal access to and, when that didn’t work, he went home and tried databases he didn’t have legal access to. Still, he drew a blank. In desperation, he rang home and spoke to someone who knew someone who knew someone. Eventually, he was put through to someone in Chinese intelligence.
An hour later, an email had arrived. Dalton Cross was known to them, as he was to all security services apparently.
‘I’m surprised the Chinese were okay with helping a British investigation,’ Fluke said. ‘I know we have a Beijing boy on the team but it seems a bit too helpful.’
‘Yeah, I thought that,’ she replied. ‘But Longy reckons there’s one overriding thing that would make them share.’
Fluke thought about it. It was possible that Cross was wanted in China for something. Possible but unlikely. Contract killers tended to work in their own ethnic groups. He wouldn’t be able to hide in China. He was the wrong colour, the wrong size and, in all likelihood, didn’t speak the language. No, it was something different. He tried to think of it from the Chinese perspective. What would make them share something they had no reason to? What would be in it for them?
When he thought of it like that, the answer was obvious. ‘It’s to embarrass the US isn’t it? What do they know about him?’
‘He was US Army,’ she answered. ‘He was a United States Ranger, whatever that is.’
‘Yank version of the Paras. Matt’s worked with them before, I think,’ Fluke replied automatically.
Towler confirmed he had, and that they were good. ‘Still a bunch of fucking crap hats though,’ he added, just in case anyone may have thought he was being disloyal to the maroon beret.
A ranger?
He hadn’t needed Towler to tell him that they were one of the world’s elite forces. Tough, resourceful and fearless. Exactly what you needed for special-forces soldiers and exactly what Fluke had been dreading. Part of the file Jiao-long had printed was in Chinese but there was enough in English. It was purposefully incomplete. Some years were blank and Fluke knew that wasn’t because he’d been at the beach. It was because there were things in his record that were classified. So, in all likelihood a US Ranger with spook training. Perfect. Part of Fluke, the part that cared deeply for Cumbria and its inhabitants, hoped that Cross was already out of the country. That no one else was going to get hurt.
‘According to Longy’s contact, he went bad a few years ago. He was caught having an affair with an officer’s wife. Before he could be court-martialled, he slaughtered the entire family: the wife, the officer, even their three-year-old daughter. Set up someone else for it. He’d left no trace forensics; he was wearing bags on his feet, gloves on his hands and a hairnet and had used an unregistered weapon. He knew what he was doing. He was only discovered because the wife had set up a secret camera as she thought their maid was stealing from them. The whole thing had been caught on tape. By the time they found the cameras, he’d disappeared. His name kept cropping up in some contract killings but nothing was ever proven. The Yanks are desperate to get their hands on him as you can imagine. China only know about him as he was photographed in North Korea a few years ago.’
‘Christ, no wonder they were keen to share the intel,’ Fluke said. ‘A Yank working for the Koreans? No way they gonna pass that up.’
‘Yep, that’s what Longy said.’
‘And he’s sure he’s our man?’ Fluke asked. ‘He was the one that sent me out in the rain to see a man in a wheelchair on Saturday night, don’t forget. He’s been wrong before.’ If he wasn’t careful he could be at the epicentre of a diplomatic incident. He’d take Jiao-long to one side and make sure nothing was going to come back on them. He didn’t want either of them subject to rendition to the States on espionage charges. He didn’t want to be the new Julian Assange.
‘He’s sure, boss. You want to know how we got the warrants or not?’
Fluke nodded.
Skelton explained that as well as the summary of Cross’s heavily redacted service history, the information emailed across also included his fingerprints. All US military personnel are fingerprinted when they join, and Cross was no exception. She and Jiao-long had spent all Sunday night with the duty SOCO team and the charity box Fluke had grabbed from the coffee stall at the hospital. There was a clear match on two of the coins.
It was exceptional work, and Fluke told her so. He’d asked if there had been a photograph on the printout, and she confirmed there was but the face had been pixelated out. More evidence of classified operations. She handed Fluke a copy of the printout.
Fluke would have liked a face to go with the name so he knew he who was looking for, but just getting the warrants had been worth them losing a night’s sleep. Because Skelton had been able to link the coin at the hospital with the name of the suspect, she’d got her warrant as soon as the court sat that morning. She’d neglected to put in the application that the name Dalton Cross had originated
from
the hospital but that was just creative paperwork as far as he was concerned.
The latest development seemed to clear the Monday morning blues. Fluke could feel his fatigue wash away. He quickly handed out a few urgent tasks. Jiao-long was to go and speak to Gibson Tait as soon as he’d been home and rested. Together, they could devise a strategy to identify who the IT leak was. He followed the adage ‘if you wanted something done quickly, give it to someone who’s already busy’.
Although Fluke had already read the file, he’d travel to the hospital and speak to Doctor Weighman. Having legal authorisation to do so now, he was going to be a massive source of information. He’d wanted to help before, Fluke had been acutely aware of that.
The general noise of an office gearing up gradually stopped. Fluke looked up. The Chief Constable had entered the incident room.
‘DI Fluke, can I have a word?’
Although Fluke was firmly of the opinion you were either a police officer or a bureaucrat, he’d always liked Travis ‘Action’ Jackson, Cumbria’s Chief Constable.
He hadn’t always been a senior manager. He’d once been a tough, no-nonsense copper. He’d been part of the unflinching thin blue line in the darkest days of football hooliganism and stood toe-to-toe with the rest of them when Millwall fans had marauded along Botchergate, smashing pubs and shops. His role had changed but the man hadn’t.
The Chief took the seat opposite Fluke’s.
‘I gather the investigation is progressing?’
Fluke told him it was and updated him on the morning’s developments.
‘Good, Cameron Chamber’s showed me the HOLMES summary. This has been an excellent investigation, Avison. Absolutely top-class.’
Fluke said nothing.
‘I’m paying you a compliment, Avison.’
‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.’
‘You know it’s going to be taken from us, don’t you?’
The initial excitement Fluke had felt that morning had worn off. As soon as he found out who Cross was the investigation going higher up the food chain was inevitable. They might get some local arrests. The IT leak. Whoever supplied Cross’s weapon, that type of thing. But Cross himself would be hunted by people who only seemed to have first names. People who worked in offices where the floors weren’t numbered and secrets were traded like commodities.
The Chief sighed. ‘Did you know Cameron closed the robbery this morning as well?’
The lucky prick.
He wondered who’d actually done the real work. ‘No, sir, I didn’t.’
‘Do you know why you weren’t involved in the investigation?’
Fluke shrugged. He knew why. It was because Chambers didn’t want to be upstaged by a subordinate. He wasn’t about to say that though.
‘It’s because you’re not playing well with others at the minute, Avison.’
Fluke looked up sharply.
‘I’m the one who kept you off it. There was no way I was letting you near a multi-force investigation. Not with your attitude. I told Cameron to keep you in reserve and to let you manage anything that cropped up in the meantime,’ the Chief continued.
Fluke said nothing.
The Chief stared at him for long enough to make him feel uncomfortable. ‘Look, you two are going to have to find a way of working together. This week, FMIT has closed an armed robbery that spanned four force areas and now it looks like they’ve brought as much closure to these two murders as we’re likely to get. You think Cameron doesn’t deserve any credit for that?’
As far as Fluke was concerned, the only thing Chambers should take credit for was keeping out of his way. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘“Yes, sir,”’ the Chief mimicked. ‘Fuck off, Avison. I know you think he’s a prick.’
Fluke decided the best policy would be to stare slightly above the Chief’s hairline and say nothing.
The Chief appeared wise to that tactic. ‘I’m telling you that Cameron is a good manager. Yes, he’s a bit pompous. Yes, he likes the cameras and the sound of his voice a bit too much. But he knows how to get the best out of his officers and this week he’s closed two major cases. And you, Avison, are not an easy man to manage.’
Fluke was about to protest but the Chief stopped him.
‘Don’t argue, Avison. You came out of hospital with a chip on your shoulder the size of Helvellyn. You should have heard the way you were speaking to people. You had some sort of PTSD, you must have. You’ve always had an antiauthoritarian streak but for the last few months you’ve been taking the piss, quite frankly. You know why you’ve not been in trouble?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Guess.’ He’d stopped smiling.
As far as he knew, he had no friends in the ACPO ranks. ‘You stepped in, sir?’ he said after a pause.
‘You’re the most intelligent man in any room you’re in, Avison, but sometimes you’re also the stupidest. No, it wasn’t me who stepped in. I wouldn’t interfere in the chain of command like that. It was Cameron. He knows your worth to FMIT. He knows only you can manage that team of oddballs you seem to like working with. Time and time again, he fends off other departments. Fenton complains at least once a month about the way you speak to him. Don Holland put in a complaint last week, said you humiliated him at the deposition site.’
Fluke snorted. ‘Holland. The man couldn’t find his arse with both hands,’ he said, before adding a ‘sir’ on the end.
‘Yes, I know he’d messed up the cordons, and Cameron told him if he proceeded with his complaint he’d be on a capability by the end of the day, so he dropped it. But the point is every time they go to Cameron he bats it back. Tells them to get off your back and let you do what you do best.’
Again, Fluke said nothing.
‘You don’t believe me, do you? Here have a read of this.’ He thrust a report under Fluke’s nose. ‘Read the top section, I’ve highlighted the relevant part.’
It was Chambers’s daily briefing to SMT. It was dated the previous Friday.
The double murder case is progressing faster than could reasonably be expected. DI Fluke has being doing a remarkable job and has developed lines of enquiry, that, in my opinion, will close this case. As discussed with Chief Constable Jackson, DI Fluke is being left to work this case with minimal oversight as this way achieves optimum results with this officer. He has total control of his team, sufficient resources and I have no doubt he will make an arrest within acceptable timescales.
Fluke didn’t know what to say. He felt himself flushing.
‘Embarrassed? You should be. The way you speak to him sometimes,’ the Chief said. ‘He’s a good man, essentially. I know you think he’s an idiot but he’s the one who convinced me to let you run that team of yours. He’s the one who’s making your life tolerable. Anyone else wouldn’t have you as SIO. You’d be exhibits officer or something. How long do you think you’d last doing that?’
‘Not long, sir,’ Fluke admitted.
His tone softened. ‘Look, don’t worry about it. The three of us will sit down after this is all over and talk it through.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Fluke got up and offered his hand. The Chief remained seating.
‘I’m sorry, Avison. That wasn’t why I came to see you.’
Fluke sat back down. The Chief’s expression was serious. It could only mean one thing.
Fenton.
Fluke refused his federation rep so the Chief insisted Chambers sit in with him. Fenton was preening. If he’d been a cat, he’d have purred. He had a sergeant from Professional Standards with him. Someone to carry his briefcase.
‘Can we get on with this please, Alex?’ Chambers said.
He didn’t look happy, Fluke noticed. The Chief’s words were still reverberating round his head, and he was seeing Chambers in a different light. It was clear he was getting no satisfaction from this.