Resident Fear Page 4

  Morton had anticipated this, and the potential it had to trigger his own exit. He really had no answers, and with little computer literacy, could not rule out his own department personnel. He needed forensic electronic expertise of the highest order. However, it had to be coupled with unswerving loyalty to the cause. Realising that this was likely to be his resignation speech, he gambled.

  “I fear that the efficiency with which this was accomplished, may well point to an internal breach. I therefore wish to inject a team whose reputation is beyond question. I don’t want to be misunderstood in this action, but if my own personnel are being investigated, we around this table must wait for the outcome before disclosing such an ‘audit’. I therefore would like to speak in private to the P.M. If he is not in agreement with my approach, I am prepared to offer my resignation.”

  The silence was deafening and protracted. Patrick Carlyle looked around the table without adding to Morton’s words. Slowly, one at a time, those seated rose in acknowledgement of the Home Secretary’s potential martyrdom. Carlyle finally spoke.

  “Very well, we shall adjourn this meeting with immediate effect. The status of the bill remains as is - scheduled to get its first airing in one month. If and when something of crucial significance is discovered we will reconvene to discuss the next steps.”

  Rather than meet the press himself, Carlyle despatched his press officer to read out a carefully worded statement in the briefing room. She made it clear that she could not take questions, which did not go down well.

  “With the interests of national security firmly embedded at the heart of this government, the discussion planned for finessing the Extradition bill has been rearranged. The content of the proposal and the database which underpins it are not currently available. Despite urgent attempts to recover and restore the deleted files there appears to be an unforeseen technical problem, not catered for in the design and subsequent implementation. Until this is resolved there is no point in refinements being discussed which rely solely on individual memory. There will be updates on the progress of the deletion error twice per week. Thank you.”

  Without having the chance to ask questions, this was interpreted by the press as a climb-down by the government. The less responsible recipients passed this on to the crowd outside in headline-only form, to create interest in the evening editions. This take caused jubilation amongst those from the Muslim Shield, and this was the spark which ignited the melee. Seth Graham’s hand-picked oriental delegation shouted abuse toward Number 10 Downing Street, and articulated their fury as yet another cave-in to extremism. What followed was predictable. The Muslim Shield had more than twice as many protestors as the Chinese, and before withdrawing, Graham’s mercenaries were forced to leave two of their number injured amongst the foe. They later died in hospital, and Graham smiled at this result, which had exceeded expectations.

  That night there were street confrontations up and down the country. The Muslim Shield took a lot of casualties, and moderate followers of Islam also paid dearly by default – a policy of hit first, talk later. In the north it was particularly fierce, with most casualties in Newcastle. The Muslim population was skewed to the West End, and was swooped upon by carefully timed Chinese raids from both urban and rural enclaves. The Muslim response targeted at the dense Stowell Street Chinese area backfired as the inhabitants chose to lock up property early and get their families out before the inferno. This early strike decision on the empty enclave left the Muslim West End open for the taking. As the communications got through to the Muslim Shield offensive, they rushed back and ran headlong into attacks from all sides. It was the worst civil unrest seen for decades.

  *

  Several miles to the west of Newcastle, Polish people gathered together in Consett, fearful of similar outbreaks, albeit of much smaller numbers. It did not materialise into something the police could not control, unlike Newcastle, but it was clearly reinforced that the Poles stood side by side with the Chinese. Pictures were transmitted around the world and carved everlasting shame into the minds of many families whose ancestors had been indigenous to this land for centuries. The more sinister fallout was that others were sick and tired of Muslim minorities trashing the culture in public and subsequently handled with politically correct gloves. This hardening of a long-standing grievance added to the precarious nature of the edge on which the various factions were standing.

  Prior to this unravelling of society, the Prime Minister heard more detail from Morton, and it was not good news. The Home Secretary’s best analyst was certain the problem was internal.

  “Unless he is completely wrong we have to act on his report. The database, he believes, has not physically disappeared as first thought. It has been dismembered, encrypted and hidden in various places in the system. My analyst says the encryption process is highly sophisticated and he is currently considering the possibility that different protocols may have been used for each section amputated. This is puzzling because he is equally sure that the perpetrator has left subtle clues as to what has occurred. I stress that means subtle to him, they are apparently invisible to others who have been on the project. He had the foresight to come to me without telling anyone else. I am therefore recommending parachuting in the best we have in the country to check his claims, if we can swing it with H.M. Intelligence.”

  Carlyle sat with his head in his hands and muttered something which made Morton laugh out loud.

  “Or we could just take the attitude that it was all crap anyway and we have decided to move on, announcing a range of new tough laws on individuals convicted of crimes leading up to terrorism.”

  Morton suddenly realised this would have to be supported by his own departure and his facial expression froze. The P.M. continued.

  “Come on Lawrence, lighten up, that is the backstop plan. You do realise though that if we bring in Intelligence people your fate rests with them, it is better odds for you than scrapping the project right now. It would get me out of a difficult spot if I pull the plug now, but I would prefer you to pull something out of the hat.”

  *

  As Renton set off to see Richard Doyle at his office, he took a call from the morgue.

  “Go ahead Greg, I’m pulling over.”

  “The wounds were indeed administered after death. We found a couple of needle marks which tie up with a massive amount of insulin in his body; that is what killed him. He also had heavy doses of strong sedative present. It looks like he was sedated some time before the insulin was delivered, as there is partial breakdown of the sedation drug. Forensics took some samples so you will have to ask them directly about that. I’ve yet to come up with a plausible explanation as to why his neck was broken so I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

  “Thanks, I’ll come over as soon as I’m finished with Doyle.”

  Acting on her own initiative Stephanie Baker called the Cologne Police. She had found the time to do this by delegating a willing volunteer to follow up the car and the crane logos. She introduced herself to a Dieter Berger, and sketched in the Banks incident.

  “I’m trying to trace passengers we’d like to speak to in connection with the case. They arrived in Cologne on Saturday evening.” He sounded cooperative.

  “Yes, please proceed.”

  “The first is a female, her name is Gertrude Bowman. There is also a man who may have travelled as Harry Bowman or Heinrich Baumann. That is Baumann with two n’s.”

  “Yes I am familiar with that spelling of Baumann. I will do some checks and call you back. It will not be today. Goodbye.”

  Renton’s phone rang again just as he pulled into the Doyle & Willoughby car park.

  “Ben here boss, you were right, Bowman worked for Banks, in fact he heads up the research division. There’s no mention of Baumann, but Bowman’s previous employer is stated as Bio-Synth GMBH in Troisdorf, not far from Cologne. He came to work here five years ago. I’m heading back now as we’ve apparently rounded up the three
musketeers at last. Two of them walked into the station, and declared that the third is on his way.” Renton said he would be there as soon as he could.

  *

  Doyle’s body language was promising.

  “When we last met Inspector, I was trying to deal with Vivienne in one of her more demanding moods. If I appeared to be a little reticent, it was because she can quickly become loose-tongued, even if she is deficient in salient facts. She has unswerving confidence in her understanding of all manner of things, especially those in which she exhibits sublime ignorance. Perhaps it is a derivative of never being faced with responsibility, and an over-indulgent father. What can I do for you?”

  “Do you know Harry Bowman?”

  “Yes of course, he is employed at Alistair’s company. Why do you ask?”

  “You gave me some advice when I was at your apartment last night. So I am tiptoeing around this German connection you mentioned. I need to know a little bit more now that there are just the two of us. Don’t you find it rather curious that Mrs Banks was told by her husband that he was returning to Newcastle on Sunday, yet he had booked a flight to Cologne on Saturday evening? Before you respond, Harry Bowman’s wife and daughter had seats next to him, and the pilot, who brought three of the party home on Saturday, claims Banks informed him of an unscheduled business meeting which he and Bowman were to attend. He also told the pilot he was taking the Sunday sleeper train home after the meeting. It transpires that on the seat next to Bowman’s daughter, there was a man by the name Heinrich Baumann. The only one with a reserved seat who did not make the flight was Banks himself. Would you care to comment?”

  Doyle’s face became ashen.

  “It is obviously even worse than I thought. I said last night that it would not be responsible to dig further into this scenario and I repeat that assertion now. I have been working on the transfer of this business for some months now, and I found an unusual amount of interference from both local and national government figures. This is not totally unexpected when an important multinational company chooses to desert these shores because of foreign incentives on offer. However, Alistair’s company was still privately owned, as he retained 79% of the voting shares. He always made it clear that it was red tape and not tax breaks or enterprise schemes which turned his head. He always quoted the anecdote that the Germans ‘filed the application on Monday, viewed the objections on Tuesday, and approved the scheme on Wednesday.’ He felt his future was restricted by Victorian ethics strapped on to a government already afraid of the EU, while Germany, from a central position in the Union could get the job done. Some of the interference I mentioned was constructive, promising ‘exceptional’ consideration, angled to persuade him to remain here. Other initiatives were positively threatening, including smear campaigns alleging insufficient research and blanket disapproval by clinical authorities. When I met these threats with my intent to challenge each and every one, I received a call from a highly trusted friend in the Chancellor’s employ, who said there were unnamed forces out there who would never let this go ahead. He emphasised that similar intimidation had been experienced in London, and that Alistair’s greatest personal vulnerability was his reputation of inflexibility. He also said I should publicly rescind my intent of challenging the threats, and consider moving aside.

  “Now Alistair is dead, I intend to wrap up my involvement as soon as I can. My supposition is that Alistair must have run into some contracted people who convinced him they were serious about terminating him, and that is why he suddenly changed his will. If you are correct about this Baumann, the transfer will go through upon the documentation being presented to the German bank. It was all supposed to be signed before he left for London, and it seems he almost made it to Cologne. You may inspect his will and a copy of the business transfer deed, but I will offer no additional comment and request you not to involve me any further in the German affair.”

  Renton asked if the deed was likely to be in his infamous high-tech briefcase.

  “I would expect so.”

  “It’s missing.”

  “Jesus Christ! Do you know where it went missing?”

  “Not yet but the pilot said he had it with him in London.”

  “So, it is either with Baumann in Cologne or God knows who in the UK!” Renton left.

  *

  Waiting in his office were the three pals who returned with the pilot. Julian Hepworth had known Banks since junior school and had a company of his own. Donald Price worked for Gladstone-Klein, a blue chip American Corporation in the anti-terror software market. Martin Parrish was Banks’ chauffeur. He and Banks had played football together at junior level and been friends ever since. He worked on a contract basis for Banks, and was actually self-employed.

  Adams began by asking them to split up into different interview rooms. They queried this, saying they had come in voluntarily. Renton intervened and reminded them that officers had been at their homes regularly and searched for them for the last twenty-four hours.

  “We even asked via your families for you to make contact. This is routine, we want independent accounts because not everyone recalls events with the same attention to detail. We don’t want a common account as that may exclude details which could help find the murderer of your friend.” They agreed. Renton took the company owner, Adams questioned the software executive, and Stephanie asked the chauffeur to follow her.

  “Mr Hepworth, is your business related to that of Alistair Banks?”

  “What? I wish – I am very much the poor relation. When he loaned me the money to get started he said it was difficult to make a lot of money working for someone else. He didn’t say how hard it is making it on your own. My business is in eco-friendly adhesives and films. Recycling should be profitable, but the government does not support these programmes with subsidies anywhere near what is required to get the public on-board. They prefer to reward drug addicts, smokers, alcoholics and obese people if they promise to change. Here I am again on my soapbox. Sorry.”

  Renton then asked, “How well do you know Harry Bowman?”

  “Quite well actually, we – that is Alistair and I first met him at the DRUPA exhibition in Dusseldorf seven years ago. He was working in a similar sector to Alistair, who persuaded him to come and work in Newcastle. We have been friends ever since, his English is still tinged with Geordie.”

  “Oh, I thought he was English.”

  “No, he decided to change his German name after he settled here. He wanted to embrace all aspects of living on Tyneside and thought a change would help him to blend in. He is a bit of a prankster.”

  “Where is he? Why are there just three of you?”

  “I assumed you knew he stayed over with Alistair for a meeting. Well that’s what the pilot said when the two of them didn’t show up for the flight home. The pilot said he told you this.”

  “When did you know about this meeting?”

  “I thought I just told you. Oh, I see what you mean; we briefly split up after the match. The three of us wanted to get a kind of peace offering for the ladies, as we were going to celebrate back in town before meeting up with them. Alistair and Harry went back to the airport security area to recover the briefcase. He normally never lets it out of his sight, and usually has it chained to his wrist, but not at the match. We never saw him again.”

  “Did you know Bowman’s house is empty, up for rent?”

  “What? We have been ringing him continuously but never actually called in on him. Where is he?”

  “We would like to know ourselves, that’s why I asked you earlier. Presumably you have a mobile number for him, this Harry, or should I say Heinrich?”

  “Yes, I have the number, here it is, but I don’t think you will get through. Anyway he will always be Harry and not Heinrich to me.”

  Renton thanked him and switched his questions to Banks’ business.

  “What exactly is so special about his company?”

  Hepworth explained and was pr
oud to do so. “Alistair believed that biological manipulation could solve a lot of problems for those suffering with otherwise untreatable conditions. He was not a religious man and got very frustrated with self-righteous people who said the ‘Lord’ would disapprove. He hated George W. Bush. Anyway even when he got rich on ‘acceptable’ bio-tinkering, he maintained his drive for those sufferers who were ignored by the trough-feeders in Westminster. He was a difficult man to deter, but easy to like. He also ran the company in a paternalistic way which was appreciated by the employees. He never let the wealth change him, or Bio-Cure Industries Ltd.”

  Meanwhile Adams had established pretty much the same timelines and account of them splitting up after the match. Donald Price was not so friendly with Baumann on an individual basis, and had only got to know Banks through Gladstone-Klein installing their software fortress.

  Martin Parrish was the odd one out of this group in terms of profession. He loved driving expensive cars and did not like office life. He did however seem to fit in with the others socially.

  “I think Alistair had a lot to do with that acceptance. You see, he was totally respected by the guys, in fact they looked up to him, even though he was uncomfortable with that. Because we played football together and against one another, we used to get stuck in – no holds barred. Wealth and status get little respect on the field. Alistair’s ease with my company ensured that the others felt comfortable too.”

  Again the accounts tied up well with the only real departure being that Parrish said he had phoned Banks after the pilot said he was taking the overnight train on Sunday.

  “I offered to pick him up from the station but he declined. When I said it was no problem he hesitated, but repeated that he and Bowman would take a taxi, saying the trains didn’t run on time anyway. I wish I’d insisted; he may have still been alive now. I don’t know what I will do. He was by far my biggest client and my best friend.”