Strike a Match (Book 1): Serious Crimes (25 page)

“Turnbull was killed by a cyanic compound,” Weaver said, her tone grudgingly reluctant. “A button had been pulled off his jacket and broken open. Inside was a cavity that corresponded to the shape of a pill. On his neck, however, was a small injection mark. When Charles first came to me, he told me that Clipton had bragged that there were members of the police involved. Prior to his death I’d found fifty officers whose expenditures didn’t match their incomes. Of the original fifty, thirty-five had access to the man before he died.”

“Thirty five suspects? Like who?” Mitchell asked.

“The officers who worked the cells,” Weaver said. “Or in prisoner transfer and processing, and five who went to interview other suspects. In addition there’s the legal representative from the Home Office, and the trustee who sweeps up. And it’s definitely not her.”

“You’re sure?”

“She’s in for assaulting her boyfriend,” Weaver said. “It was absolutely self-defence. We’d drop the charges, but she’s too scared to leave. No, it’s one of our colleagues, I’m certain of it, I just don’t know which one.”

“And no senior officer had access?” Mitchell asked.

“No.”

“We’re looking for someone who knew that Serious Crimes was being assigned to investigate murders before I did,” Mitchell said. “Rumours spread fast, but you can’t plan a murder like Dr Gupta’s in a matter of hours. Whoever it is, has to be someone right at the top.”

“They wanted the bodies to be found,” Ruth said. “They wanted the money to be found.”

“What’s that?” Weaver asked.

“They wanted them to be found,” Ruth said. “The crime scene was staged, you see, and the location was chosen so the killer could guarantee the bodies would be found and reported.” She remembered what Isaac had said. “And all so that we would spend our time trying to find a link between Dr Gupta and the counterfeiting, right? Except there isn’t one, is there?”

“And?” Mitchell prompted.

“The whole point of the counterfeiting was to bring down the government, right? And didn’t you say,” she added, speaking to Mitchell, “that Dr Gupta’s death was staged by someone who’d never seen a real murder?” She turned to Weaver. “And didn’t you say that there was someone from the Home Office in the cells?”

“Turnbull’s court appointed legal representative,” Weaver said. “He came in, saw the man, and got a summary of the deal Mitchell offered him.”

“And wasn’t it the Home Secretary who asked for Serious Crimes to be turned into a homicide unit?” Ruth asked. “She’s a politician, right?”

“But she’s in the cabinet,” Mitchell said. “If the government loses the election, she’ll end up in opposition.”

“When the PM stands down, the Deputy will take over,” Weaver said. “He’ll win the election because of the Prime Minister’s popularity. No one in the party would support a change of leadership unless the election was lost. Without the party losing, she can’t even mount a challenge. But if they do lose, the Home Secretary would be a contender.”

“Then she’d have to wait five years before taking office,” Mitchell said.

“If she can arrange all this, no doubt organising a vote of no confidence won’t be difficult,” Weaver said.

“We’re missing something,” Riley said.

“Yes, proof,” Weaver said.

“So how do we find it?” Ruth asked. “Do we go and search her house?”

“You really haven’t trained her very well,” Weaver said, addressing Mitchell. “No, you don’t hold a gun to someone’s head and ask them to confess, particularly not a cabinet minister. You have to get the Prime Minister’s permission first, and then you need to ensure that the people doing the searching are those that you can trust. In this case, the same Marines that I’ve been using ever since I suspected the police department had been infiltrated. What you don’t do,
cadet
, is rush in with your gun drawn. Mitchell, you and the cadet go and inform the commissioner. I will tell the PM. Riley will get the Marines.”

“No, Riley will go with you,” Mitchell said.

“Fine. It will take twice as long, but I’m not going to argue,” Weaver said.

Chapter 15

Unmasked

Mitchell hammered a fist on the commissioner’s door. The wavering candlelight, distorted by the door’s ornate stained glass, moved slowly closer. The door opened.

“Mitchell? Deering? What’s going on?” the commissioner demanded.

“It’s a conspiracy, sir, one that strikes at the heart of government,” Mitchell said.

“That’s a tad over dramatic for this time of the evening,” the commissioner said. He leaned forward and peered at Mitchell. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, you better come in,” he said. “You as well, cadet. Is it just the two of you?”

“Yes, sir,” Ruth said.

“My wife’s away, and taken the staff with her, but there’s a fire in the study. We might as well be comfortable while you tell me whatever this is about.” He led them through the dark house, towards a doorway lit by a flickering orange glow. “I will say, cadet,” he added, “that when I asked you to keep me informed I wasn’t expecting this.”

Ruth said nothing as the man ushered them into his study.

“Let’s have some light,” Commissioner Wallace said, and pressed a button on a desk lamp. The shade began to glow, ever so softly. “An energy efficient bulb,” he said. “It’s nearly the last of the old world stock we found in a warehouse near Woking. It takes a while to warm up, but they don’t burn out as quickly as the ones they’re making these days. Now, please, sit down, and tell me what’s going on.”

The commissioner took a seat behind the desk. Mitchell, clearly agitated at the delay, sat in a chair opposite. Ruth sat on the chair next to him.

“It was never intended that the money should be released onto the market,” Mitchell said. “It was meant to be discovered in order to trigger a mass recall of banknotes. When the public were informed as to the reason why, they would lose faith in the economy, and so in the government. Taken with the Prime Minister’s resignation, this would cause the government to lose the election. This would enable the mastermind behind the crime to take over the leadership of the party, prior to wining in five years.”

“Well, that’s an interesting theory. I take it you are here because you actually have a suspect? A politician?”

“Yes, sir. The Home Secretary.”

“Her? Really?” Wallace said, leaning forward. “What evidence do you have to support this theory?”

“One of her representatives went to see Turnbull in his cell before he was murdered.”

“Yes, a lawyer, I believe. What else?”

“She was the one who wanted Serious Crimes to deal specifically with murder, and our first case was the discovery of Clipton’s body. That can’t be a coincidence.”

“Probably not, but I need something more tangible than that.”

“The murder of Clipton and Dr Gupta was staged,” Mitchell said.

“You’re certain?”

“It was done very badly,” Mitchell said.

“How so?” Wallace asked.

“The gun and knife had been wiped down. There was no blood trail on the floor. Gupta was left-handed, but the gun was in his right hand. Most importantly, the angle of the gunshot and knife wound were wrong for the way the bodies were positioned.”

“Ah, I see.” Wallace leaned back in his chair. “And
why
was the crime scene staged?”

“Probably so that I would waste time trying to find a link between Dr Gupta and the counterfeiting,” Mitchell said.

“Waste time? Why would they want you to do that?” Wallace asked.

“I… I don’t know. Turnbull did say something to me about how they were nearing the end.”

“The end of what?” Wallace asked.

“The printing, presumably. They must have had enough banknotes,” Mitchell said.

“And what were they planning to do next?” Wallace asked. “You say the Home Secretary is behind this. Was she going to scatter the forged notes about the streets? What I’m asking is how, precisely, were they planning to destroy the economy?”

“I don’t know,” Mitchell admitted.

“Ah. Then no, I’m sorry, but at present I don’t see any connection to the Home Secretary,” the commissioner said.

“No other politician had access to Turnbull,” Mitchell said.

“Nor did she, not really. She may not even have known the lawyer in question. There are dozens of them, and legal representatives are allocated according to a rota. No, I really don’t see the link.”

“All right, what about Serious Crimes being turned into a proper unit? Not only that, but we were assigned to deal with murders. Then, before the ink was dry on those orders, Clipton’s body turns up in a house outside anyone else’s jurisdiction. The killer had knowledge of the scavenger tribes and their customs, and knew the bodies would be reported and left undisturbed.”

“Yes, but how does that specifically implicate the Home Secretary? Are you saying that there’s no one else it could have been?”

“I know it doesn’t sound like much—”

“Honestly, Mitchell, it doesn’t sound like anything,” Wallace said. “I’ve read the coroner’s report on Turnbull. I agree that it looks like murder. With what you’ve just told me about Clipton’s murder, I agree it sounds as if it was staged. Everything else isn’t even circumstantial; it’s barely even speculation. Dr Gupta was killed for a reason. I would suggest we find out what that is, and focus on finding who killed him. He was an important man. His loss is almost as damaging to the nation as the counterfeiting could have been. As to Turnbull, I will personally take over the investigation into his death. Between the two of us, we’ll find something, and then, and only then, will I consider taking this to the Prime Minister. As it stands, however, I really can’t.”

“Captain Weaver’s already gone to the PM,” Mitchell said.

“She has? You’ve… spoken to her?”

“This evening, yes.”

“I see.” Wallace drummed his fingers on the desk. “And Weaver concurs, does she? She agrees with you?”

“She does.”

“Ah, that’s a shame.”

“Sir?”

“Give me a moment to think this all through,” he said, his eyes fixed on Mitchell. “Yes. I see,” he muttered. “There are many other conclusions that could be drawn from your evidence. Though I will admit yours is a plausible one, but there is another that is more likely.”

“What’s that?” Mitchell asked.

“Your theory is based on the assumption that the public will be made aware that a vast fortune was forged. That would require the newspaper to actually print the story. It won’t. There will never be a trace of this in the press if for no other reason than the collapse of our society would be terrible for their circulation. The editor enjoys the kickbacks from the advertisers, no matter that they are paltry amounts compared to the bribes in the old world. No, they won’t print a word, and so the public will never know about this.”

“But you have a better theory?” Mitchell asked.

“I do,” Wallace said. “One you seem to have overlooked. It is all about this trade deal. The ambassador and the PM may talk about idealism and the future, petrol and coffee, food and antibiotics, but the key word is trade. That is dependent on a functioning economy. You see, while this matter will never be made public there really is no way of keeping it from the Americans. When they learn that our currency can be devalued by someone wiring together a few old copiers, the deal will collapse. But you
are
right that it is a politician who will benefit. I have something that might tie all of this together.” He leaned down and pulled open a drawer. “Yes. Here it is. I think this is the answer.”

He straightened. Mitchell started moving before Ruth saw the gun in the commissioner’s hand. As Wallace raised the pistol, the sergeant stepped away from the chair. There was a single, percussive shot, and Mitchell collapsed to the floor.

“Pity,” Wallace said, moving the gun to point at Ruth. “There are some questions I would have liked him to answer. Principally among them is why he wanted you assigned to his unit. Do you know? Do you? No, I can see from your face you don’t. I thought it might be explained by some family resemblance, but there isn’t one. Perhaps you take after your mother, but it hardly matters now.”

Mitchell gave a grunt. Wallace shifted the barrel to point down at the man. Ruth stood. The barrel moved again.

“No. Don’t,” Wallace said.

There was a groan from Mitchell. Then a twitch that curled him almost into a ball. Then he was still.

“A shame,” Wallace said, “but it would have happened sooner or later. I told you, cadet, he really wasn’t suited to this type of police work.”

“You… Why…?” she stuttered.

“I doubt you would understand. Why does a farmer wake up in the morning? There are far easier ways of earning a crust. Each of us has a role to play, some plough, some make, others lead. That didn’t change in the last ten thousand years, so it should be no surprise it hasn’t changed in the last twenty. Without leadership, fear grows. It festers. Order collapses. It was ever thus. It is unfortunate that you’ve told Weaver, and that she has gone to the Prime Minister. A lot more people will die tonight because of it. Now, let us start with whom else you have told. Constable Riley? Of course she knows.”

Ruth looked down at Mitchell’s corpse. Except he wasn’t dead, not yet. Blood was spreading across his side, but his arm was slowly moving towards his foot.

“You shot him!” she yelled, trying to keep Wallace’s attention.

“Yes. Quite. But save yourself the trouble of asking any more cogent questions than that. It’s only in bad fiction that heroes get an explanation at the end. This is not fiction, and you are not the hero.”

“But… but you’re the commissioner!”

“So? Emmitt would have shot you back at that house if I hadn’t wanted the money found. Yes, of course I wanted the money found, and found by Mitchell. That was the point of Serious Crimes and everything else. I knew I could rely on him to blunder around and get in the way of any real investigation. Of course, that man, Anderson, had to steal those notes, and Clipton bungled his execution so you arrived at the scene a few days earlier than I had planned for. But you found it without much prompting. We adapt. We always adapt. Emmitt was correct about Standage, at least he was correct about Mitchell following her. Do you know what happened to the woman and her family?”

Ruth wasn’t going to answer that, but she had to keep him talking. “You wanted the money found?” she asked instead.

“Stop repeating me. Yes, and it all worked as planned. Now, other than Riley and Weaver, who else have you told?”

Ruth shook her head and as she did, she saw Mitchell’s hand curl. Was he trying to signal something? She turned back to Wallace and looked the man squarely in the eyes. Her revolver was in the holster, the button down, and she couldn’t now remember if it was loaded. It didn’t matter. She’d never draw it in time.

“Has this really all been about power?” she asked.

“If that is an explanation you understand, then fine, why not. Please, this is your last chance. Start with the names of everyone you’ve told. If you don’t, more will die just so that I can be certain that no one was left out.”

She shook her head.

“The world must seem like such a simple place to someone of your age, divided into good and evil, with no room for anything else. It isn’t like that. It never has been.” He raised the gun.

There was a shot. And another. The commissioner collapsed wordlessly to the floor.

“But maybe it should be like that,” Mitchell croaked, as the gun he’d drawn from his ankle holster dropped to the floor. “Do you think you can give me a hand?”

“You’re alive!”

“State the obvious,” he muttered as Ruth bent down. His shirt was soaked in blood. She tore it open. There was something rigid underneath. The bulletproof vest.

“I don’t think it stopped the bullet,” she said.

He winced as he prodded at his side. “No. It’s stopped too many bullets, and this was the one that finally got through, but I think it slowed it down.”

“I’ll get help,” she said as she helped him into the chair “It’s not far to the hospital.”

“Wait,” he said.

“I won’t.”

“The bullet’s lodged just the under the skin,” he said. “I can feel it. It’s fine.”

From the amount of blood, she doubted that.

“Check the desk, see what he was working on,” he said.

She picked up the top sheet. “It’s a speech,” she said, “for the signing ceremony. I didn’t know he was meant to speak. No, wait. It’s a script with timings for the broadcast. It’s what the Prime Minister is going to say, then the ambassador, then the presenter before they switch to the reply from America.”

“Anything else?”

“There’s a map of the spot where they’re doing the broadcast,” she said. “And I think these are the details of the trade deal.”

“Let me see.”

She handed them to him. “Sir. He said… he said he wanted to know why you wanted me in your unit.”

“Yes,” Mitchell replied. “Yes, I heard.”

“He said something about a family resemblance.”