Dutch Courage (13 page)

Ria had agreed it would be best to keep their four children at home until SIB completed the investigation into Stacey's accusation. Easter holidays would close the school for two weeks on this coming Friday, anyway, and both he and Ria were setting Zoe, Ginny, James and Daniel work to compensate for lost lessons.

He tossed back half the whisky in bitter mood. He had unplugged the house telephone, but they all had mobiles. These used constantly to be ringing – in different tones to identify which one – but they were all more or less silent now. His lovely daughters and bright sons had lost their friends. The house used to resound with laughter and teen music. The bedrooms were hushed, occupied by bewildered, whispering children since yesterday afternoon.

It was particularly hard on Ria. Having a husband who molested underage girls and made explicit suggestions to them was more humiliating than having one who kept a mistress, or even a male lover. They were consenting adults. A husband who used his status as a doctor to abuse children was beyond the pale.

Hearing voices, Charles glanced round at the doors to the bar. Oh God, three members of the Royal Cumberland Rifles had arrived. Time to go. Time, also, to look in on Sam Collier again. Mishandling the recovery of an acclaimed hero would finish him off, for sure.

Renewed anger surged through him as he remembered the mortification of the body search for evidence of sexual tampering, eighteen hours after leaving the Laine house! They still had his outer clothes. His underwear had been washed, of course, and he had showered twice since that visit, but they reckoned it was still possible to find proof if it was there. The girl was undergoing investigation by a team trained to handle underage victims. God knew what she was telling them; what their conclusion would be. It could be a week or more before SIB were notified of it. Meanwhile, he had to ride out hostility and innuendo wherever he went.

He had urged Ria to take the children to Portugal now, but she refused to be seen running away and insisted they would all go next week, as planned. He was unmanned by her love and faith in him.

At the Medical Centre David Culdrow greeted him in normal manner and said he had looked in on Collier every hour. No dangerous signs of internal bleeding, and the patient's kidneys were functioning normally.

‘No serious physical damage, I guess. As for the rest, who knows? His wife sat beside him for two hours drawing coloured patterns on sheets of paper. He slept the whole time. Bit pointless, but she's fiercely protective and behaved herself. It would be sensible to talk to him quietly about his situation and who brought him in last night. Prepare him for what's to come.'

‘I agree, but I'll not allow SIB to question him until tomorrow.'

Culdrow nodded. ‘Give him some breathing space to come to terms with what was done to him and why. How was the target practice?'

‘Worked off some of the stress, but it hasn't changed anything.'

He went through to the small ward where Sam Collier lay on his stomach, apparently deeply asleep. Best to come back after dinner to prepare him for a probing interview in the morning. As David had just said, give him some breathing space to get his mind around what had happened. In his own present mood, any hindrance to Max Rydal and his team would give Charles great satisfaction.

Tom tracked down Andy Richards awaiting a session at the controls of the Lynx simulator. A sturdy, square-faced man with wings on his breast, he was not pleased to see Tom.

‘I'm just about to get up there, sir,' he said, nodding at the mock-up of the cockpit from where two whey-faced youngsters were emerging. The instructor had clearly given them a rough ride.

‘I'm investigating a serious crime,' Tom replied brusquely. ‘The training session can go on hold for ten or fifteen minutes. We'll talk outside while these two hear the list of the things they did wrong, and how they'd be dead if they'd been flying for real.'

Out in the welcome warmth of the sun, Tom looked at Richards' hand hanging by his side. ‘Getting full control back yet?'

The pilot raised his injured hand to display the puckered flesh at the base of his palm. ‘Not quite. They managed to stitch the fingers back in place, but movement isn't what it should be. I'm having regular physio, but they say I'm not ready to go aloft.' His eyes burned with eagerness. ‘I know I could bloody do it, but until I've had enough sessions in the simulator to prove I can cope with anything the instructor throws at me, I'm stuck on the ground.'

‘Better on it than in it.'

Andy sighed. ‘You want to talk about what happened to Sam last night? I can't tell you anything about it.'

‘You don't know of anyone who'd have it in for him to that extent?'

‘God, no!' He looked genuinely aggrieved. ‘OK, so there's a couple of officers in the squadron who like to put it about a bit. “Look at these pips on my shoulder.” You know the sort of thing, sir. Lieutenant Collier's not like that. He came up through the ranks and knows what's what.'

‘But he had a helping hand along the way, didn't he?'

‘Well . . . yes, but what I'm saying is he's still the guy he used to be before he got that leg-up.'

Tom probed further. ‘He's also got a very beautiful wife and enough in the bank to live the high life. That
has
to change a man, Staff.'

Richards looked mulish. ‘The money's hers. So's that Jag. You won't find him wearing designer gear or a gold Rolex. Those things don't interest him.'

‘What does?'

The reply was immediate. ‘Flying. He was in the Blue Eagles team before he met her. Gave it up then, but he'd do it again like a shot. Know that for a fact.'

‘Mmm, you appear to know him very well.'

Andy gave a faint smile. ‘Should do, we got our wings on the same course. We were best mates in the Sergeants' Mess before Cupid came along' He shook his head. ‘Never seen a guy so instantly smitten. Couldn't talk any sense into him. He was gone away.'

‘He lost his head?'

‘Don't we all when women come on the scene?'

‘You're married?'

‘Last year. Baby on the way. Sam's really desperate for it to go right this time. It won't help if Deena's and mine arrives safely in September and they lose another one.'

Tom pursued this line. ‘You're hoping to continue crewing with him?'

‘Of course.'

‘You don't blame him for your injury? You don't think he made too rash a decision to go down after the bomb took out those trucks?'

Richards' eyes hardened. ‘You think we shouldn't have gone down for the wounded? One was a human torch, for God's sake!'

‘Have you had the feeling that Collier has become overly reckless lately? Several of your colleagues have offered that opinion.'

‘Have they?'

Tom read into that non-committal reply a loyalty that would not be shaken, so he changed direction. ‘Those months in Kandahar would have been stressful. How did you relax?'

‘All the usual ways. Only difference was it was like sitting in an oven to do it.'

‘Many women out there?'

Richards stared Tom right in the eye, saying deliberately, ‘It was
much
too hot for that, sir.'

‘The excessive heat must have shortened tempers.'

‘Yes, we got real annoyed when the Taliban lobbed rockets at us.'

Tom's mouth tightened. ‘You're being deliberately obstructive. Wise up! I'm trying to discover who half-killed your friend and fellow pilot last night.'

Richards sobered. ‘If I knew, I'd have been over to your headquarters first thing, believe me.'

‘Someone has suggested the assault was punishment for causing the injury that might have grounded you permanently.'

‘That's balls, sir,' he countered emphatically. ‘What Sam did was bloody brilliant. He was bringing the second of the wounded across when enemy snipers began firing, taking us by surprise. Joe Binney – our air door gunner – raked the building non-stop in retaliation, and a right royal gun-fight was maintained while Sam continued fetching the wounded over to the aircraft as bullets were flying. That took real guts, sir, and I don't care if he
was
pushed up the promotion ladder by his father-in-law, because he demonstrated that's right where he deserves to be. In command. Without hesitation he rescued four wounded men who would have fallen into Taliban hands. You know what would have happened to them, don't you? Guys who support the practice of stoning women to death have very inventive ways of killing infidel enemy captives.' He glanced briefly at his hand before adding, ‘We're all in it together out there, so we look after others the same way they'd look after us when things get bad.'

Tom knew he was dealing with a genuine team player, so he posed a final question. ‘Dismissing the punishment theory, you can't think of anything Sam Collier has done that could drive someone to such brutal retaliation?'

‘No, sir, and I don't believe he ever would. They got the wrong guy. It's the only explanation.'

At the end of that day they had no lead on the attack on the young pilot, nor had the scene of the crime been identified despite the search mounted by George Maddox's team. Tom's suggestion of a constant guard on Margot Collier had been scaled down to a night patrol of the house where she would be alone. Max and George shared the opinion that the harassment towards her had been designed to force Collier into decisive action. It failed because he was unaware of it, so he was then left in no doubt of his options. Submit or face dire consequences.

The team reported the results of their interviews and Max summarized the evidence so far. ‘Two facts appear to be constant. Let's take the first. The Colliers are a more than usually devoted couple. According to neighbours and colleagues, Sam is easily manipulated by his wife. He surrendered his place in the display team after meeting her, but would love to rejoin it. He's adamant about maintaining his own bank account, but he allows Margot to spend her family wealth in their home, on her clothes, cars and holidays. The couple spend more time upstairs than down. She suffered two weeks of unsettling and unexplainable harassment without telling him, because she wanted to protect him from stress. When I called with the Duty Officer to tell her her husband had been hurt, she fell in a dead faint at the sight of us. I hear she has been sitting at his bedside for most of today, although he's still only half conscious.'

Tom took over the summation. ‘The second constant fact is that we've not detected any violent dislike of Collier, or corrosive resentment of the man. There were two instances of refusal to comment or offer any opinion on his decision to go down for the wounded. The crew of the partnering Lynx thought it excessively risky, but his own crew, including the co-pilot shot in the hand during the action, backed him to the hilt and said they would do the same again.'

Seeing the expressions on the faces around him, Max said, ‘Yes, there is an element of closing of ranks, but these AAC guys are being deployed to war zones. Experience has told us that facing an enemy draws men more strongly together. Individual issues are put aside while danger threatens.'

Piercey could remain silent no longer. ‘They've been back here for two months, sir. Long enough to revive individual issues.'

‘I agree, Sergeant, but I still maintain the evidence we've gathered today gives little credence to the theory that Collier was attacked by members of his squadron.'

‘Mrs Collier seemed certain the blue Audi that side-swiped her belonged to a squadron member,' Beeny pointed out.

‘Unfortunately for us it did
not
side-swipe her, so there are no helpful marks on her Jag, or on the only squadron blue Audi, owned by Lieutenant Maine who is presently in the UK.'

Olly Simpson, doodling as usual, offered his own slant on that. ‘The lady didn't note the car's reg number, nor did she get a look at the driver's face. Why be so certain someone from Six Seven Eight was crowding her? Does she know something she's not telling us?'

‘Almost certainly,' agreed Max. ‘She'll have to be questioned again. Meanwhile, we have to consider the possibility that Collier was attacked by
any
of the personnel on this base, which will be a real pain in the arse to investigate unless we discover where it took place and gather forensic evidence. Fibres, footprints, blood samples, tyre marks. Nothing definitive, of course, but these things often point us in the right direction.'

‘Sir, isn't it possible that Collier went to the rendezvous given over the phone, but was taken from there near to where he was dumped?' said Connie Bush.

‘Why would he get in a vehicle with people he had told his wife he would sort out once and for all?' challenged Piercey.

Heather Johnson spiked his guns very quickly. ‘He arrives on foot at the appointed spot. They come out of the darkness, grab and hood him, then bundle him in their vehicle to drive him along the perimeter road. We should search the area where he was found. Doc Clarkson reckons the victim was stunned by punches to the head, then held against a wall or other solid surface to be flogged. On that side of the base are the Armoury and the REME workshops. Plenty of solid walls to spreadeagle a victim against.'

Max nodded. ‘A workable theory. I'll have George Maddox set up a search there tomorrow. Collier can be interviewed in the morning, which should set us well on the way to dealing with this distasteful affair. After an assault of that viciousness, he's unlikely to hold back on the reason for it.'

‘
The truth has to be told
,' murmured Piercey. ‘We'll hear what it is before it's made public.'

‘Maybe it'll
remove the blinkers from your eyes
and allow you to look beyond your prejudices,' Heather Johnson murmured back.

Max drove to the Mess tired and frustrated. The dramatic events last night had made it difficult to fall asleep, and anxiety over his relationship with Livya had kept him tossing and turning once he had. Even after living for four months on the base, he was not used to the single bed. His former lodging in the house of an elderly German widow and her brother had contained an old-fashioned double bed with brass fittings at head and foot. A large, restless man, he had slept well there, but now he was forever having to retrieve the duvet from the floor during the night. Occasionally, he found himself there in the morning.