Dreams to Die For (19 page)

Cindy thanked Peter again and waved him goodbye. She went upstairs and sat on her bed prior to changing. She stared up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the morning and thinking hard about what the future had in store for a life with Gordon Truscott. How many other Assiter's did he know? If the US Secretary of State's visit was anything to go by, living with Gordon was likely to be a very bumpy or very exciting journey or both. The thought of being followed by Donaldson and photographed by the Covert Surveillance Unit (CSU) still upset her. It had been at the Hilton in Cheltenham when Gordon had confirmed to Cindy that Assiter was definitely going to stay at Mealag after coming to Britain to meet the Prime Minister, along with several senior political figures in Her Majesty's Government and Official Opposition. The press releases would say that after his three day meeting Assiter would be flying back to Washington, but actually he would arrive at Mealag on Tuesday 12
^th
September and stay for about ten days, probably leaving on Friday 22
^nd
. His journey to and from Mealag would be by unmarked helicopter, courtesy of the British government.

Assistant Commissioner Manders occupied a large office within the complex of New Scotland Yard, though it appeared to be much smaller owing to the numerous filing cabinets that were positioned around the walls. Manders desk itself took up about a third of the remaining space, and the addition of his sumptuous chair and two other leather faced chairs for visitors plus a small oval table, did not leave a great deal of actual floor space. The desk however was impressively clear, belying his workload, as he did not believe in disorder. Whatever landed on it was dealt with or delegated, the latter he closely supervised, and for that he needed to ensure he always had sufficient time to review his subordinates' reports. Detective Chief Superintendent Bill Ritson was updating his boss on what was now referred to as the Hannet-Mar case.

“I think Styles' wife was right to be suspicious of her husband's death. The local nick weren't too bright about investigating the crash. It seems they took the view that it was a simple traffic accident, and as the toxicology report showed Styles to be well over the limit, end of story. They pretty much ignored looking for evidence that could explain his drinking or the time lag from when he left the golf club and the time of death.”

“Are you saying that this was a crime made to look like suicide?” Manders asked cautiously, adding “Sussex could still be right that it was a simple case of drunk driving.”

“I'm saying I don't know, but there are some disturbing features and we still have more to do. We looked at the crash scene. The bend on the road has crash barriers, positioned to prevent vehicles going over the edge no matter which direction of travel. Styles was allegedly coming down the hill, approaching the left hand bend. To miss the barrier, he would have had to deliberately steer the car onto the right hand side of the road risking oncoming traffic and then ensure the car missed the start of the barrier. Even drunk it's hard to think he wouldn't have braked and turned the wheel hard at some point, especially as he knew the road so well. Our conclusion is that Styles was either so drunk he momentarily blacked out and was just terribly unlucky to miss the barrier, or other factors prevented him from turning the steering wheel. Frankly, the odds favour the latter. I think we can rule out suicide.”

“So there's more?” Manders listened but wanted all the details before commenting.

“Yes, and this is where it gets really interesting. I visited his wife. She is a bit angry at Sussex not taking her seriously, but more upset by her husband being branded a drunk. After I had shown interest in learning more facts about her husband, she seemed genuine in wanting to help, hoping I could reopen the case. I couldn't promise that of course, reminding her that the purpose of my visit was essentially to seek her help in tracing some of her husband's ex-business acquaintances. Crossland's name came up and a number of other UK nationals, plus a few overseas people whom she said Styles had mentioned, but like most wives she didn't take too much notice of the names so couldn't remember them all.”

Ritson paused to take a sip of his coffee and helped himself to a bourbon biscuit. He carried on with his report, accompanied by the crunching sounds as he chewed – noted, but not commented upon, by Manders who rather frowned on such things.

“She said she could not recall the name of Halima Chalthoum but then came up with a bonus. Evidently, at most of the overseas conferences Styles attended the customary delegate photo-shoot. The photograph taken was always accompanied with a list of attendees and who they represented etc. Usually some high-ranking potentate would be an honoured guest at the gala dinner and, of course, everyone wanted to be in the obligatory picture. Styles always kept his presentation copy, probably to impress the wife or the golf club crowd. We are now going through all of them for the past two years, but on a quick scan of them there is no mention of Halima Chalthoum, nor Chalthoum Universal Holdings, nor the Corniche outfit. You can imagine there are a lot of names, and it will take us a while to get them all checked out as a lot are foreign nationals.”

Manders was thoughtful. He could order more resources be placed at Ritson's disposal, but did the facts justify it? His DCS had done a good job, it might yield some result, but it was still looking extremely thin and there was no discernible connection with the Styles case and 7/7.

“What about the bank account? Still dormant?” Manders asked.

“Affirmative.”

“Mmmm. Tell you what, Bill. You can have Deakin for a month. Concentrate everything you can on the preceding nine months, say, from end October 2004 to July 2005. Go over all those in the conference pictures who are standing, or sat, up to three persons away from Styles. If he met and hung around with this woman, whoever she is, at a conference then with luck she won't be far away from him for the group photo. These photo sessions get set up pretty quickly as they get in the way of the dinner or meetings. The photographer won't reorganise and shuffle too many people around as it's too much trouble and takes too long. See if we can match any of the photos. Also, crosscheck the names from previous lists of the conferences and investigate any new females. My guess is that if Styles did have a contact who he recommended to Crossland, she would only have come on the scene around late 2004 or early 2005.”

Ritson was pleased with the extra resource, and one thing which always impressed him was how Manders could quickly and easily assimilate facts and distil them down to a particular line of enquiry that usually paid off. He left the room, keen to get started.

Fadyar Masri came out of the shower, quickly dried herself and wrapped the towel around her long dark hair and then over her head. She had enjoyed the luxury of being able to stay in her comfortable single bed this Saturday morning far longer than she could on a weekday, but she was not in any better spirit. She looked at her watch. 9am. Frustrated and displeased, she pushed hard on the digits on her mobile with her left index finger. Easter was only a couple of weeks away and she wanted to know just how much longer she had to endure waiting around. She had decided that Easter was her limit. If nothing was forthcoming by then, she would try to return to Iraq and carry on the struggle there. The emergency number she used was bound to elicit a response from someone.

“Bonjour,” a male voice answered.

Speaking in French, Fadyar used her code word and said her grocery delivery was overdue and she needed to speak to someone urgently about it. She was told it would be made at 12am and to be certain she was ready. At exactly midday, Carron swung his Mercedes in front of the block of flats and Fadyar jumped into the passenger seat a fraction before Carron floored the accelerator. He was angry with her.

“I told you to be patient. This is not an emergency, what do you think you're playing at?”

“It is an emergency, Claude, because I am not going to wait around here, doing that crap job. After Easter, I shall go home.”

“Not an option, Fadyar. We have discussed this. Anyway, let's not argue. Sit back and listen, I have some news which might interest you.”

“Tell me.” Fadyar remained sullen as she slid back the electric adjustment on her seat to give herself a more relaxed position.

“We are minded to change our approach, or at least amend it. In addition to our usual ways of waging Holy War on the enemies of Islam, we believe that kidnapping of high level officials or politicians within Europe and America might bring more immediate results, and so we are currently investigating a number of such people. I have a list here of six names, against which is a code word. You will see that the code word is that of a male relative: Father, Brother, Grandfather and so on, and you will also note that we have deliberately not included the President of the US or the Prime Minister of Britain. They are too well protected. Their subordinates however are likely to be a little more vulnerable. That is what we are looking into. Memorise the names now. I shall not let you keep the paper and you must not write them down when you get back. There are three Americans and three European. To help you memorise them, the American code names are suffixed with the words ‘In Law'; the European ones are not.”

He passed over the paper, and for the next fifteen minutes she read the names and repeated them to herself until she was satisfied she had committed them to memory. She looked over at Carron.

“How long before any of this gets firmed up? This better not be some elaborate ploy to keep me at that factory, otherwise I will get really mad.”

He ignored her petulant remark.

“We already have a lot of information on all those on the list, and our special people have been asked to provide more details on them. Your skills will be needed to bring off such a wonderful venture, once identified, so please be patient. I don't think it will be long, but I honestly do not know when.”

“Ok Claude, two months max. Absolutely final. Two months. Final. Do you hear me?”

He didn't answer.

As he headed back to her flat, Fadyar asked, “If I undertake such a mission, I presume I shall lead it and also it will be for me to determine if the kidnap can be accomplished. I may have no choice but to take other options.” Carron understood what she meant. Kidnapping was fraught with risk, especially in a foreign country, and it was quite possible that Fadyar may have to resort to assassination if the kidnap was impossible.

“Your role will be to plan and effect the kidnap, removing the target away from the immediate area. We will provide the necessary support by which onward transmission could be achieved.” He paused, taking in a deep breath. “However, if none of that is possible then survival of the target is not an alternative option.”

Fadyar smiled thinly at Carron's wry phrasing; for once she was impressed by the man.

Red Gables had become an increasingly unhappy home. Cindy and Alan rarely spoke at weekends and when they did arguments between them seemed to break out over the most trivial of matters. Even Alan's phone calls midweek had started to tail off and, as there seemed little for them to talk about, had been no more than cursory. One evening when the two of them had spent the evening in virtual silence watching the television, Alan suggested they go somewhere at Easter.

“Rome would be good. What do you think?” he tried to sound cheerful as he asked, though expecting a refusal.

“I thought I told you Alan, I'll be away as I need some time to myself.” Cindy was going to Monemvasia with Gordon but had deliberately withheld telling Alan she would be away at Easter, afraid of his reaction. Alan was furious. It was bad enough that his wife was going away, but her insistence that she had mentioned it – when she hadn't – was downright maddening.

“Why do you always lie to me over these things? You said the same sort of thing at Christmas. You know damn well you haven't mentioned it before. What are you hiding Cindy? What have I done to deserve this?” he pleaded, rather than questioned her.

“I'm sorry Alan, you have forgotten and it is pointless to continue arguing the point. I can't keep telling you” and with that Cindy stood up and walked out of the room.

The endless arguments were also now having an effect on Cindy. She realised she could not go on much longer pretending to Alan that her attitude was just a short term thing – it wasn't going to change. She genuinely did not wish to hurt Alan but she knew she was causing him pain, which made her feel wretched, and that was only going to be exaggerated further the more involved with Gordon she became. She had lost her love for Alan and that was a fact. She had to consider very carefully what she should do. Gordon was terribly important to her, and she wanted to be with him, but she was still nervous of abandoning one full-time relationship and immediately committing to another. She was convinced that Alan would be angry, very angry indeed, if he knew of Gordon. Alan had already shown how possessive he was by setting Donaldson to spy on her. God knows what he and Donaldson might do if they ever found out about Gordon – probably come up to Mealag and there would be an awful scene. She resolved that on no account could she risk that but it was clear neither Alan nor her were able to co-exist in harmony. She needed to plan and manage her future such that any potentially disagreeable aspects for her were kept to a minimum. Before she finally dropped off to sleep she knew what her next steps would be.

The next morning, she flicked through Yellow Pages searching for a solicitor in Worcester. She chose Worcester as she certainly did not want to be seen either entering or leaving a solicitor in Stillwood, or anywhere else that was local. Worcester was a forty-five minute drive away and would be far more discreet. A few days later she had seen the solicitor, a pleasant, rotund man in his fifties, and after an hour it had been agreed that Cindy would file for divorce. She rang Alan at their London flat that evening and curtly told him she wanted a divorce and that he would be receiving a letter from her solicitors shortly. As expected, he became almost apoplectic once the initial shock had worn off. He ranted and raged at her, then pleaded with her but it was to no avail. Alan wished he could spare the time to come to Red Gables straightaway, but he was still working on some important papers at the flat for an early meeting the following day.

“Do nothing Cindy until I can get down there Friday, we can talk about this nonsense then,” he shouted down the telephone.

“It's too late, Alan. I am really sorry it has come to this, but we can't go on arguing like we did last weekend and anyway I'm not sure that I love you any longer. My feelings have changed towards you.”

“And that's it then, is it? You just walk away saying your feelings have changed. What about my feelings? They haven't changed. I still love you.”

Cindy gritted her teeth. Her solicitor had warned that this was not going to be easy and it certainly wasn't.

Before she had time to respond, Alan demanded, “Well who is it then? There has to be someone else, so tell me. It's not that awful hotel owner in the village who's always pestering you to test out his beds, is it?”

“Of course not Alan, he's just pathetic. Do you really think I would ever – could ever – go with someone like that? What do you take me for? There isn't anybody else. Absolutely no one.”

“I don't believe you. If it's not him, it will be someone else – but think what you are giving up Cinders, all that we've achieved and just as things are going really well for us financially. We could do anything. We could move away if that would help. Anything.”

The pain and desperation in Alan's voice was too much for Cindy.

“I'm so sorry, Alan. Really. I appreciate what you're saying and feeling, but this is for the best. You will receive a letter from my solicitors Mapley, Townsend shortly.”

She put the phone down. It rang almost immediately. She lifted up the receiver and immediately placed it back down on the cradle before lifting it off once more to prevent it ringing again. Cindy was slightly unnerved by the exchange. Again, she had lied to Alan, as she had to her solicitor, about there being no one else in her life. Of course there was, but Cindy was justifying her denial of an affair on the basis that her feelings for Alan had changed
before
she met Gordon and, in any event, it was still too early for her to be 100% certain that Gordon meant everything he had said. She gathered her kit into her sports bag and left for the gym where she could work out her tensions.

When Alan came home on Friday, Cindy had already met Gordon at Heathrow and flown to Athens, where they collected a pre-ordered hire car for their drive to Monemvasia. Propped up against the kettle in the kitchen Alan found the brief message she had left for him inside an envelope.

I'm going away for a couple of weeks. I've put plenty of your favourite food in the fridge and freezer. Cleaner paid. Don't forget your appointment at the dentist next week. Sorry. xx

Cindy and Gordon arrived at the villa an hour before the low sun was due to disappear behind the mountains. The sea shone a vivid orange as the bright setting sun started to turn from glorious gold to a deepening scarlet. The villa stood on its own, built high on a hill just outside the village, and it was everything that Mealag was not. It was furnished sparsely, with modern decor and inexpensive abstract paintings throughout. Certainly the Italian marble floor tiles looked expensive, as did the fixtures and fittings but Gordon had managed to ensure that authentic Greek styling had not been lost. There were two outdoor pools, one on the same level as the villa itself and another on the large garden terrace farther down the hill. The villa was on two floors. Upstairs were three bedrooms, two comfortably held twin single beds, the third just one single bed. All the bedrooms had their own en-suite bathroom. Downstairs there was a bathroom and a large kitchen / dining area. A separate lounge led to a tiled balcony. A large vase had been placed on the dining table and smaller vases had been placed in each of the bedrooms and bathrooms, all filled with gloriously scented, beautiful flowers. The lawns were a lush green and cut short, with the gardens that supplied the flowers a riot of colour from the mass of well-tended blooms.

Within half an hour of their arrival, Gordon had completed showing Cindy over the villa, and as they relaxed on the terrace their attention was drawn by the sound of a vehicle as it drew up alongside the hire car. A tall, well-built, swarthy looking man with jet black wavy hair and typically Greek facial features got out and came over to where they were sitting.

Gordon stood up, and smiling broadly extended both his arms in an effusive welcoming gesture. “Dimitrius, how are you? Let me introduce you to Cindy.”

“Gordon, it is so wonderful to see you again, and this is the lovely Cindy you have told me about. Yes?” Dimitrius spoke impeccable English but with a slightly Americanised accent and, as he neared them, Cindy couldn't fail to notice just how handsome the man was.

Dimitrius went over to Cindy and placed his strong hands just behind Cindy's shoulders and drawing her slightly towards him, kissed her gently on both cheeks. The introductions over, the three sat in the easy chairs sipping ice-cold drinks quickly retrieved from the well-stocked fridge.

“Mama and Papa send you their greetings, and insisted I come over to make certain all is well at your villa. They will of course see you soon but if there is anything you need now, I am to arrange it.”

Gordon explained to Cindy that Dimitrius's parents looked after the villa.

“As always everything is perfect, my friend. Please thank your parents, there is nothing we need.”

“OK, then. I will leave you. You will be wanting to take a swim before the sun goes down,” said Dimitrius. “See you around I hope, especially the lovely Cindy!”

When he had gone Cindy smiled broadly and said, “That's some fit guy. Bit like you really!” and then laughed.

“Yes, he owns the most popular restaurant in Monemvasia, couples and single female tourists pack the place out every night in the season. The food is good but I suspect that he is the main attraction, certainly with the ladies.”

Gordon and Cindy had taken the holiday to simply unwind and do a little sightseeing, and mainly spent their time relaxing at the villa or on the deserted sandy coves that dotted the coastline. Even in August, the area did not become busy and at Easter there were only few tourists. After a couple of days, whilst they were both by the lower pool, Cindy told Gordon that she had instructed a solicitor and of her discussions with Alan. Gordon listened to her intently and then turned to her and asked, “Why didn't you tell Alan about me?”

“He doesn't need to know. I fell out of love with him before I met you.”

“That may well be true, but seeing me cannot help your situation with Alan. Even if you cannot bring yourself to live with me, at least not yet which I respect, we both know that sooner or later the truth is likely to come out.”

“I would just prefer to be divorced before we live together. That's all. Then it will be none of Alan's business who I see or what I do.”

A slight frown appeared on Gordon's brow and his expression turned serious.

“Cindy, it seems you want things both ways. I will support you whatever you do, but I will not deceive Alan if he ever confronts me. I will not lie and deny you and I don't really understand why you should deny me, but that is your choice. You must realise, though, that if news of our relationship leaks out, as it well might as the press and paparazzi are often doing articles on me, Alan could get very angry indeed, understandably so. It would, I agree, be bad enough for him to hear it from you, but it will be far worse if he learns it from the media. How will you feel then? You need to be prepared for that, and possibly seeing photographs of us in the tabloid newspapers. I am resolved to seeing our relationship through to wherever it leads – but are you? If you are not, then for your own sake, please consider what it is you do want.”

He was right, of course. Cindy hadn't quite appreciated the fact that he was a sort of celebrity, and she had not considered that the press might well turn up anywhere in the hope of getting a story. She knew how they operated from her own experience of working in press and public relations inside the Cabinet Office, and as a self-employed feature writer. An involuntary shiver ran down her back.

“Yes, I do see. Thanks,” she was thoughtful for a few moments. Then she abruptly stood up, stripped off her bikini, discarding it behind her as she ran to the pool. At the blue tiled edge, she turned and said, “I'm not ever, ever, going to stop seeing you. We will be together one day, I promise, but let me do it my way.”

Then she dived in, closely followed a few moments later by Gordon.

The final three days of their holiday were spent on the stunningly beautiful island of Elafonissos, which Cindy had never previously visited on her trips to the Marni. As they lazed on one of the deserted golden beaches, Gordon reflected more upon their conversation and became increasingly concerned about Cindy remaining at Red Gables with her husband. They both agreed there would be more arguments, probably more heated than ever now that she had involved solicitors, but Cindy resolutely declined to live with Gordon even though she loved him and knew that he wanted her to live at Mealag as soon as possible.

“No Gordon, if I move in with you straightaway it will only antagonise Alan with possible unpredictable consequences. I've told you, I prefer to wait a little longer before moving in. Alan needs firstly to come to terms with the fact that our marriage is over.”

“Then I think you should leave him Cindy. Surely that's best for you and for Alan? Why not rent a cottage or something?”

The idea was so simple she wondered why she hadn't thought of it before. Not only would it bring home to Alan that the marriage was over, but it would give her time to settle the divorce and to ensure that her feelings and emotions had some time to settle before she plunged herself into another full-time relationship.

“I suppose I could, though it would probably have to be a flat.” She replied, still half thinking.

“Why? When you get back, find yourself a cottage. You can decide what and where, and I will buy it through the property company. You can rent it from the company, if it makes you feel better. When you leave to live with me, I can either keep hold of it or sell it.” Cindy was momentarily taken aback but knew this was a perfect solution for her.

“That would be wonderful, Gordon. Are you really sure?” Cindy was thrilled at his suggestion. “You could even visit!”

“That's settled then. When we get back, you must find somewhere you like, tell me the details and I will do the rest.”