Scion (11 page)

“Sir,
the Chief wants you all in his office asap and he emphasised ASAP.”

Chapter 15

The
long wheel base Jaguar Sovereign swept along Whitehall, its four police outriders ensuring a quick and smooth passage through the Monday morning rush hour traffic. A right turn into Horse Guards Parade announced to anyone watching that the UK’s Secretary Of State for Defence had arrived at his office.

Receiving a nod from his bodyguard, George Cunningham stepped
out of the back of the limousine and walked the few steps into the Ministry of Defence for only the second time in his life. His rise to stardom within his political party was nothing short of meteoric. MP at 25, Parliamentary Private Secretary to the Chancellor at 26, Minister of State for Policing, Security and Community Safety at the Home Office at 28 and four days earlier appointed into his new role at the Ministry of Defence at the tender age of 30. There was no doubt in anybody’s mind that George Cunningham would one day govern the country and the current Prime Minister was merely keeping George’s seat warm. 

At 8.31 a.m.
, George sat at his desk and turned on his computer. His e-mail inbox showed 257 unread messages. He knew that a lot would be well wishers, wishing him well in his new job. He was amazed they even had his email, it had only been set up on Friday night but the brown nosers were a very resourceful bunch and had obviously pulled out all the stops to ensure their congratulations were the first to arrive. He scrolled through the list, firstly by name. He recognised most of them and was unsurprised to see the usual suspects. He’d let his secretary send a simple thank you on his behalf. Leaving the names, he clicked on ‘subject’ and the list immediately rearranged itself. Again, he was unsurprised as most of the 257 mails fell into either C or W, his well wishers wishing him ‘Congratulations’ or ‘Well Done’. After moving the well wishers into another folder, the number of e-mails totalled a rather more acceptable 22 unread. The first few turned out to be nothing more than department circulars that had been sent to all staff. One was from the Prime Minister, a copy of some e-mails sent to his predecessor that he had promised to forward on to him. Already knowing their content, he moved on.

Ten minutes and another
15 e-mails later, George came across his final e-mail, subject heading URGENT – DEF MIN ONLY. He chastised himself for not noticing ‘Urgent’, otherwise he would have opened this one first. He clicked on the mail and was instantly confused.

From: FSS

TO: DEF MIN

Subject:
URGENT – DEF MIN ONLY

FYEO

A member of
K Squad has been identified in relation to a sample being analysed in Huntingdon, the reference code for the case is 47362192. No identification can be released nor that a match occurred unless approved by Secretary of State for Defence.

Message ends.

George read the computer generated mail again and wondered what the hell it meant
. He had no idea what the K Squad was nor why only he could authorise the notification that a match had been found. He pressed the buzzer on his desk.

“
Yes Mr Cunningham,” chirped his secretary.

“Please call me George,” he repeated again for what seemed the 20th time
. “Can you get me Tony please, asap.”

Five minutes
later Tony Wilson, the Minister of State for the Armed Forces entered his office.

“Hi, Tony,” greeted George.

“Hi George, what’s up?” he asked cheerily.

“The
K Squad,” replied George.

“The what
? Never heard of it.”

George watched Tony closely and having known him for a few years knew he wasn’t lying.
If Tony didn’t know it meant no one in the building would know. His predecessor had been clear when he left, whatever you do keep Tony on your team, he knows this place inside out, there’s no one and nothing he doesn’t know. It seemed that had been an over statement, in less than two working days he’d already caught him out. There was only one other person to call, his predecessor, the newly appointed Home Secretary.

“Hi James, how’s the new job?” asked George, having called the Home Secretary’s mobile number.

“Nightmare, place is a fucking disaster, you?”

“
Nothing to do.”

Both men laughed at the compliment.

“Thanks for that, just need to work my magic here. Anyway how can I help?”

“We secure on these phones?”

“Of course.”

“What’s the
K Squad?”

“I’ll call you right back
,” replied James in a distinctly more serious tone.

George replaced the receive
r and awaited the call back. After fifteen minutes, he began to wonder what he hell was going on and was lifting the phone to call James back when there was a knock on the door and the Home Secretary walked in.

George’s look of confusion was answered by James
.

“We’ve got a meeting with the P.M. in twenty minutes. I’m not authorised to tell you what you want to know
but he is. Grab your jacket, we’ll take my car.”

Chapter 16

Harris, Addison and
Kelly entered the Chief Constable’s office just after 9.00 a.m. and took a seat as instructed.

“So where are we?” asked the Chief.

Kelly and Harris turned to Chief Superintendent Addison who took the lead and sitting forwards, began to update the Chief.

“Well,
Sir…”

The
Chief, however, had other ideas and looked across at Kelly.

“Perhaps it’s better coming from someone involved in the case
, Detective Sergeant Kelly?”

“
Ummm yes Sir. Of course Sir,” she said looking at Addison who sat back in his chair and subtly nodded for her to carry on.

For the next ten minutes
Kelly outlined what they had discovered. The FSS match, the supposed accidental death of the scientist, the death of all the rugby fans and finally the call from Newcastle.

“Views?”

Addison, not one to be put off by the earlier rebuke, jumped in.

“W
e’re pretty certain we’ve got the wrong man. The only thing that really doesn’t add up is the DNA match, particularly as the one he should have matched is the only one he didn’t.”

“DCI Harris?” asked the Chief.

“I’m less convinced than my colleagues of the suspect’s innocence Sir.”

The chief’s eyebrows raised slightly as he turned away from Harris and faced
Kelly.

“
Kelly?”

“I believe we definitely have the wrong man
Sir,” replied Kelly with conviction.

“It certainly seems that way but why the hell do we now have seven dead bodies with a central link that seems to be our suspect
?” asked the chief, as he summed up.

“That’s the bit that’s got us baffled,
Sir” replied Addison. “I’ve sent someone out to check the FSS death which we assume is foul play and I’ve asked the coroner for causes of death on the rugby players asap.”

“We’ve also been trying to contact the lawyer who visited last night but so far have been unable to trace the firm he allegedly represented
,” added Kelly.

Before the
Chief could respond, his phone rang. He lifted the receiver.

“Hello
?”

“Please hold for the Prime Minister,” came the clipped voice.

***

After visiting the
hospital and dealing with his team members, Karl had driven one of the Range Rovers back to London. He had arranged to meet the Colonel the following morning at nine and approached his flat with trepidation. Karl still couldn’t believe that almost his whole team had been wiped out, three of them at his own hands, an action that would haunt him for a very long time.

As he neared the exclusive block of flats in the heart of London’s Mayfair, he checked
that nobody was watching before mounting the steps and pressing the Colonel’s buzzer,

“Hello
?” came the voice from the speaker.

“Hi, it’s Karl
.”

“You
’re early,” responded a surprised Colonel, releasing the door catch.

Karl
pushed the door open and quickly mounted the four floors. Finding the Colonel’s door wide open. He walked in. The Colonel shouted from the kitchen.

“Tea or Coffee?”

“Neither, thanks,” Karl answered as he walked through to the kitchen.

The
Colonel was pouring the boiling water into his cup when the bullet ripped a hole through the back of his skull and destroyed any possibility of an open casket funeral. Karl quickly left the flat, removing the silencer and pocketing his prized 9mm Korth semi-automatic.

Karl checked his watch, 9.03 a.m. just under an hour to get to Heathrow to meet the flight from Washington as instructed.

***

“You
’re on speaker phone with myself, the Home secretary and the Defence Secretary,” informed the Prime Minister.

“
Good morning,” replied the Chief, wildly indicating for his guests to leave his office immediately. As the door closed behind them, the Chief continued.

“H
ow can I help you Sir?”

“I’m calling on a matter of national security. I’m afraid
I can’t go into the detail but it seems your suspect is not who you think he is and I assure you has nothing to do with the rapes.”

“
We had pretty much come to that conclusion but his DNA matches the first four samples.”

“When did those rapes occur
?” asked the Home Secretary.

“Over the last ten months.”

“It wasn’t him, he wasn’t in the country,” he replied firmly.

“He told us that but wouldn’t tell us where
he was.”

“
He can’t but I’ll vouch for him as an alibi,” offered the Home Secretary.

“As will I,” added the Prime Minister.

“I’m sure that gives you sufficient comfort to eliminate him from your enquiries,” said George, the Defence Secretary.

“Yes of course but we’ve got the incident last night
. I can’t just let him go. Somebody may be trying to kill him.”

“That’s our concern and that’s why we want him in a car and on his way to us as a matter of urgency. We’ll be waiting for him at the Defence Ministry
,” instructed the Home Secretary, the Chiefs ultimate boss.

“Yes
Sir,” replied the Chief, confused but delighted to get the suspect the hell out of his station and constabulary.

As the call ended
, he called DCI Harris and DS Kelly to his office and informed them of their trip to London.

Chapter 17

BA0292 touched down at exactly 9.47 a.m.
, thirteen minutes ahead of schedule. Clark had spent most of the flight sleeping. His companion, supplied by The Unit, had turned out be particularly untalkative. All he had managed to ascertain was that she was a freelancer who had carried out some assignments for The Unit before. When he had tried to find out her name she had simply said that Rosie was fine. 

As the
cabin doors opened, Clark switched on his cell phone to check his messages. Within seconds, the familiar ringtone told  him he had voicemail. He dialled his service and listened as Walker informed him that a car would be waiting for them at the airport. Clark and Rosie, despite being the first passengers off the plane with no luggage, didn’t surface from the airport for another hour. Immigration control first thing on a Monday morning was not a pleasant experience. Every minute of queuing and delay enhancing Clark’s hatred for the ‘fucking Brits’.

Clark
spotted the Range Rover and directed Rosie to the waiting car. After brief introductions, Clark instructed Karl to get them to Cambridge as fast as he could. Safe in the car, he made a call that would make their day a little easier.

“It’s me
. Anything?” he asked.

“Not a thing
. We’ve not been able to find out how she knows him,” replied the Unit’s sniper in Washington.

“
Shit, keep trying, check every lead you can. I need to know how she knew him.”

Clark
snapped his phone shut in frustration. If they just knew how the real Rosie knew him, they could get the fake Rosie past the police and in to see him. From the telephone transcripts it was clear Scott had no idea who she was anyway.

“No luck
?” asked Rosie.