The Death Messenger (Matthew Ryan Book 2)(8)



O’Neil ended the impasse. ‘In my opinion, there was an undertone of arrogance in the woman’s voice, an ego in play. She’s not acting on impulse or under the thumb of her accomplice. She was cold and calculating. A person I suspect may be a tad unhinged.’ She took a breather, toying with a stray hair that had escaped the pin holding it up.

A sigh . . .

She’d come to the end of her patience. ‘Why was I not told that a DVD had been received by Police Scotland on the eighth of October?’

‘Aah, you’ve been talking to Detective Superintendent Munro—’

‘Never mind who I’ve been talking to. That DVD was filmed on a Sunday and reached Munro on a Tuesday, identical scenario to Brighton and now North Shields. You had victim DNA and yet you thought it was a good idea not to tell me about it? I demand an explanation.’

‘At that point we had no body.’

‘And yesterday you did!’ O’Neil was glaring at him. ‘When I accepted this job I made it quite clear that I would do so only if I was given free rein. If you want to run the enquiry yourself, be my guest. Alternatively, if you’ll allow me to get on, I will feed developments to you as and when I have anything of significance to report. I want full disclosure, on all three incidents, and it had better be waiting for me when I get back to base. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.’

Cutting the call, she blew out her cheeks.

Ryan gave her a round of applause.

‘I knew you had balls,’ he said. ‘Not that you were suicidal.’

‘That’s not remotely funny.’ O’Neil was expressionless.

Ryan was taken aback. He’d touched a nerve, stepped in something he didn’t understand. He hoped he hadn’t upset her. That was never his intention. ‘Isn’t it time you told me what’s going on? Who is Munro, and what the hell was in that text?’

‘A body was found floating in the Tay yesterday. Police Scotland, Superintendent Munro, was on the blower to Control trying to contact Ford. When they couldn’t get hold of him they gave me the heads up, unaware that I (we) weren’t in the loop.’ Taking her phone from her pocket, O’Neil tapped on the text and held the device out to him. It had come from a name he recognized immediately, a senior staff member in the Control Room. If nothing else, it was succinct: HQ, quick as you can. ID confirmed on Kenmore victim – Operation Shadow. Ryan needed no further explanation. It was the code name assigned to their case.





4


Their top-floor office was accessed via a private lift and secured with a heavy iron door. As protected as Fort Knox, it was far enough from HQ to operate without interference, close enough to call in favours without undue delay. Ryan punched in the code and stood aside as O’Neil entered, his mind still troubled by the revelation of a Scottish connection.

She went straight to her computer. Using her ID, she logged on. Now the cat was out of the bag, Ford had no choice but to cooperate. He’d emailed documents via secure download. She pressed for two copies, passing one printout to Ryan, and sat down to read the other.

His eyes seized on the classification:

OFFICIAL-SENSITIVE

MEMORANDUM FOR: Secretary of State for Scotland FROM: Lord President of the Court of Session, Judiciary of Scotland DATE: Monday, 14 October 2013

Dear Sir

It is with great sadness that I report to you the disappearance of The Lord Justice Clerk, my deputy, Leonard Maxwell, Lord Trevathan. He was listed to preside over a high-profile trial, due to start this morning. He failed to appear and all attempts to raise him have failed.

In late summer, His Lordship organized a prolonged period of leave in the West Country. His housekeeper confirms that he arrived in Cornwall on 20 August, as planned, and was due to depart 12 October. However, he cut short his leave in order to retrieve a briefcase that he had inadvertently left behind; apparently it contained important papers that he needed in order to prepare for the trial. He returned to Scotland on Sunday, 6 October. Sadly, he never arrived at his residence.

Having discussed this matter with the Chief Constable of Police Scotland, I have been apprised of certain details that lead me to fear the worst. It seems that on Tuesday, 8 October 2013, Divisional Command in Tayside received a video recording of a possible crime scene. A subsequent telephone call led officers to Maxwell’s Temple (Kenmore) on the banks of the River Tay. Scene of Crime Officers attended. Blood was found. No body recovered. Utilizing all resources at their disposal, in the absence of a missing persons report or DNA match, detectives were unable to progress the matter further. The video lasted only two minutes. According to the digital time-stamp, it was recorded 6:05–6:07 p.m. on Sunday, 6 October 2013.

I pray that I am wrong to link the sudden disappearance of Lord Trevathan to the crime scene at Maxwell’s Temple, but the timing and the coincidence of the temple bearing his family’s name are of grave concern. I firmly believe that His Lordship has come to harm.

In light of this, I request a special operations unit to examine any further messages, intercept those responsible and facilitate the recovery of the victim, dead or alive. Press blackout and Level 1 vetting of such personnel is essential.

Your loyal servant,

Gordon McEwan

OFFICIAL-SENSITIVE

‘Jesus!’ Ryan didn’t get beyond the first page. He ran a hand through his hair, scratched his head, eyes on O’Neil. ‘I’d love to think Trevathan either flipped or pissed off with a call girl, but somehow I don’t think that’s the case.’ He whistled. ‘It don’t come any more high-profile than this.’

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