'Had a nice nap?' Horton said with evident relief as Cantelli loosened his bonds.
'I was in the middle of this wonderful dream with Ingrid Bergman.'
Kingsway groaned. The bats retreated. Horton handed the rope that had bound him, over to Cantelli. 'Tie his ankles, Barney, otherwise with his bloody kung fu we might get a bellyful.'
'Tell me about it,' Cantelli said feelingly. 'Only it wasn't in the belly. Not sure I'll be able to sing bass for a while.'
Horton gave a grim smile. Christ, it was good to have him back.
'I hope Charlotte doesn't want any more children. We might have to adopt.'
'What happened? Let's get him on this trolley that he's so bloody fond of. And we'll push him out.'
'It was just one of those things,' Cantelli replied, standing up with a groan and a hand on his back as Kingsway lay on the trolley. 'I'd left the prison and was heading up Lake Road, past the diving shop, when I saw Kingsway come out. I thought diver – Daniel Collins, Nicolas Farnsworth...I know a lot of people dive, but I was curious so I darted into the shop.' They began to push the trolley towards the exit. Soon, Horton thought with relief, he'd feel the damp wind on his face.
'Kingsway had been a regular customer since the beginning of December. He told the owner that he'd served in the army as a diver and had dived all over the world. I asked if Nathan Lester was a customer, and he was. I thought there might be a connection, or Kingsway could tell me where Lester was. I had Kingsway's address because I'd got it from his car registration plate. You know what I'm like with car registrations; it's a bit of an
obsession of mine.'
Horton knew all too well. This time it had nearly cost Cantelli his life.
'I thought I'd call on Kingsway on the way back to the station. He obviously thought I'd twigged whatever it was he was up to, kicked me in the goolies and then did the old karate chop on the back of my neck. Good job I didn't get the karate chop on the throat like Farnsworth otherwise I'd be brown bread.'
'How much of his story did you hear?'
'From the bit about him losing his job on the oil rigs.'
Horton told him the rest, and about Marion and Ian Keynes; by the time he'd finished they'd reached the entrance. Kingsway was awake and groaning.
'What did you find out about Peter Ebury?' asked Horton, sucking in the air and thinking that the biting wind had never felt better or the sea smelt sweeter.
'He was set up for that robbery. Oh, he did it all right, no question about that, but he did it with someone's blessing or so Ludlow, the prisoner he fought with on the day he died, told me. The man was shit scared. He asked me for protection. I told Anston.'
And Anston had passed that on to DC Lee. But it was too late. Ludlow knew what fate was in store for him or his family.
Cantelli said, 'I knew my notes didn't tally with those official case notes. Peter was too cocky. I'd written that down when I arrested him. He said, "I've got powerful friends, they'll take care of me." Someone had told Peter they'd make sure he would get off. Only he didn't because this person wanted Peter Ebury safely locked away, and his mother to keep her mouth shut otherwise her son would die. I guess he said the same to Peter; that his mother would die if he so much as whispered a name.'
'And when Peter learns that his mother is dead, he goes to the governor with his information and a request that he be given protection.'
'I guess so.'
The only problem with that, Horton thought, was it didn't tie in with the Intelligence Directorate's surveillance on the Rest Haven which began on 29 December, two days before Irene died.
Cantelli said, 'When I confronted Ludlow with this, he admitted that he'd been told to silence Peter Ebury.'
Horton said, 'Irene tried to keep quiet, but when her mind began going back to the good old days, then the fires in her flat started.'
'Deliberate?'
'Probably, and that was what Lee was trying to discover when she visited social services. Whoever was threatening Irene decided it might be best to put her away somewhere where everyone thought she was senile anyway and take no notice of her. They must have known she had the beginnings of dementia, which means that someone was keeping a close eye on her.'
'Who do you reckon it is?'
'No idea, but Buckland, the ex-copper, probably knew, which was why Peter Ebury was told to kill him and make it look like a robbery. Peter was their hit man and their fall guy. That's my theory anyway.' And Horton thought it might also be Lee's.
Cantelli looked worried. 'There is something else. I searched Buckland's flat with DCI Crampton, but I got called away. He claimed he didn't find anything, but I'd jotted down that he seemed excited about something. Two days later his boy got run over and Crampton went on compassionate leave. As I said, Jempson took over, but we'd already charged Ebury and Mayfield, and the case was sewn up. When Crampton came back to work, he was different. Quieter, edgy. Everyone put it down to his being upset about his boy. But I'm not so sure now. I think he might have found something in Buckland's flat and someone didn't want him to expose what it was.'
Horton felt sorry for Crampton if this was the truth, and angry that a good police officer could have been threatened into silence. Did Lee and her boss know this? If not should he say anything? He looked at Cantelli. If he did it would mean dragging him into it and he didn't want to put Cantelli or his family at risk.
'We'll leave that to Lee and her colleagues.'
Cantelli looked about to protest, then must have read something in Horton's expression because he nodded solemnly and said, 'If you say so, Andy.'
There was a short pause, pregnant with all their unspoken thoughts about extortion, blackmail, and cover-ups, before Horton nodded at the recumbent figure of Steven Kingsway. 'You'd better formally charge him.'
'He's your collar.'
'No, he's yours. You earned it. Get a patrol car here to collect him. And call Charlotte.'
Stepping aside Horton rang Uckfield.
'Where the fuck are you?'
'That's no way to greet an old friend. I'm fine and so is Sergeant Cantelli. Thanks for asking.'
Uckfield grunted, as Horton continued. 'We're at Fort Cumberland, and Cantelli has arrested Steven Kingsway for the murder of Daniel Collins, Nicholas Farnsworth and Nathan Lester.'
'Who the hell is Kingsway?' Uckfield cried in exasperation.
'It's a long story, but DC Lee might be able to tell you.' Horton rang off. To Kingsway he said, 'Hope you like prison food.'
Kingsway made no reply.
Stretching his hands into Kingsway's pockets, Horton retrieved the keys to the security gates, and ran down to let the patrol car inside. Returning, he said to Cantelli, 'How's Charlotte?'
'Angry and relieved. Thanks, Andy.'
'What for?' Horton exchanged a smile with Cantelli. He felt tired now that the adrenalin surge was easing off. He was also heartily thankful. He couldn't imagine a world without Barney Cantelli.
'Aren't you coming?' Cantelli said, climbing into the back of the patrol car. Kingsway was sandwiched between him and a uniformed officer.
'No, there's something I've got to do first.'
TWENTY-THREE
H
orton collected the Harley and rode across to the marina. There was still a great deal unexplained, such as who had stolen Irene Ebury's belongings? Who had Peter Ebury threatened to expose? And how much did the Intelligence Directorate know about his mother? Did she figure in their investigations?
He stared down at the boats. There was a light shining in the cabin on Daisy's boat. He thought of that determined chin, the neat little figure and her quick incisive brain. It would be nice to have some female company and to talk over some aspects of the case. He was certain Daisy would find Steven Kingsway fascinating. Then he reminded himself that while Daisy was a psychologist, she was not the police one.
And
he didn't fancy being analysed. He couldn't divulge the details of the case anyway; it could hinder Kingsway's trial.
A car pulled in behind him. A door slammed, footsteps, then someone was standing beside him. He turned to find a tall, slender man in his early fifties with silver hair and keen grey eyes, wearing an expensive raincoat over an immaculately tailored suit.
'Detective Chief Superintendent Jack Sawyer,' he introduced in a voice as smooth as chocolate but not so appealing. He flourished a warrant card which Horton barely glanced at. He didn't need to read it to know that this was the head of the Intelligence Directorate. His eyes travelled to the car where DC Lee was sitting in the front passenger seat. In the rear was a man in his early forties with close-cropped brown hair, wearing a green waxed jacket and an inscrutable expression.
'How much do you know?' asked Sawyer. His attitude was polite but restrained.
'Not as much as you, sir,' replied Horton, which won him a smile of sorts.
'We still don't know who Peter Ebury was protecting. Have you any idea?'
'Me? Why should I know?' It was evident to Horton that Sawyer knew about his mother having worked with Irene Ebury. Again he wondered how much more Sawyer knew about Jennifer Horton and her disappearance. He desperately wanted to ask, but knew he couldn't because even if he kept his expression void and his voice bland, a sharp-eyed man like Sawyer would see the pain inside him. And he didn't want anyone to know how much it hurt. Betraying vulnerability led to exploitation. He'd learnt that the hard way in his youth. He said, 'Pity the prisoner who attacked Peter Ebury is dead. He could have told you.'
'Yes, and if Sergeant Cantelli hadn't paid him a visit he might still be alive.'
'You should have spoken to him sooner instead of hanging on our coat-tails.' Horton knew that the Intelligence Directorate had specialist teams focusing on prison intelligence. They'd probably been monitoring Peter Ebury for months, years even.
Horton asked, 'Did Mayfield, Peter's accomplice, know that the armed robbery was a put-up job?'
'I don't think so. He was rather simple and worshipped the ground Peter Ebury walked on.'
Horton knew that; Cantelli had told him. He wondered now if Mayfield had died of natural causes, or whether he too had been eliminated.
He said, 'It would have been simpler to have killed Buckland without setting up the
armed robbery and then disposed of Peter.'
'Not for Zeus.'
'Who?' Horton asked surprised, racking his brains trying to recall the name before swiftly realizing it was a code name. His theory had been right then. This Zeus was the master criminal who the Intelligence Directorate were after, and he had a connection with Irene Ebury and her son Peter. And what about Jennifer? Had she known this Zeus? Horton scrutinized Sawyer for some sign that perhaps she had, but Sawyer's expression was giving nothing away.
'We call him Zeus because he wields his thunderbolts to control his family of crooks,' Sawyer said.
'Didn't do classics at my comprehensive school,' Horton said cynically.
'Zeus wanted Peter out of the way, but he also wanted him alive.'
'Because Peter was one of his troublesome sons, as a result of his affair with Irene Ebury.'
'I thought you didn't do classics.'
'I'm a detective. I worked it out. So Zeus offered Peter a big pay-off, a good solicitor and a reprieve on appeal if he proved his worth and shot Buckland. Only Peter didn't get what he was promised. When he didn't, Irene Ebury started threatening to talk about the good old days, so her flat was set on fire a couple of times, but she managed to escape unhurt. It was probably only a warning to them both anyway. If Zeus had wanted her dead there would have been no escaping. Peter was told that Zeus would leave Irene alone if he kept his mouth shut and served his time like a good boy. If he didn't, then they'd kill him and his mother.'
Sawyer said nothing, but Horton knew he was right. 'And then Irene conveniently got dementia and was pushed into a rest home.' Horton watched Lee climb out of the car. 'But what Zeus didn't realize was that as the dementia progresses the patient begins to remember more of the past, not less of it. Not that it really mattered because everyone dismissed what Irene was saying anyway. So who did you have in the Rest Haven listening to her rambles?'
Lee answered. 'Claire Butler. She's a DC. We pulled her out on the third of January, two days after Irene died. There didn't seem much point in her staying on.'
And that was what Angela Northwood had meant when she had said she was a care assistant down:
wretched woman didn't show up for work yesterday or today and there's no word from
her.
'And you were just calling off your surveillance on the fifth of January when Cantelli and I arrived. What alerted you to staging the surveillance in the first place, Inspector Lee? It is inspector, isn't it?
'Yes.'
She gave him a hesitant smile, which he didn't return. It wasn't her fault, he told himself. She was just doing her job, but he didn't like being deceived.
She said, 'When Peter's mother went into the nursing home, Peter kept quiet for a couple of years working out how he could expose Zeus and still live to tell the tale. Of course we knew nothing about Zeus then...'
'And do you now?'
Sawyer answered. 'We're a couple of steps further forward, thanks to Peter.'
Horton knew that Sawyer wouldn't say anything more, but whatever this Zeus had
done, and still did, it had to be a serious international crime, and a sophisticated large-scale one for the Intelligence Directorate to be involved.
Lee said, 'Early in December Peter was told that his mother was getting worse. That it wouldn't be long before she died.'