Scimitar (A Kate Redman Mystery Page 8

  Kate had wondered whether Chloe would give a eulogy but hadn’t liked to ask her. A quick glance at the order of service showed her that her friend wouldn’t. Well, it was understandable, given the shortness of their relationship, Kate supposed. The service ended and the celebrant bowed to the coffin as the curtains closed around the dais, something that brought fresh tears to Kate’s eyes. When the curtains had fully shut, Chloe gave a shuddering sigh and sat upright. Her tears had turned Kate’s white blouse transparent and Kate was momentarily embarrassed that the cups of her bra could be seen before realising that, in the grand scheme of things, it really didn’t matter.

  The wake was held in a nearby pub, also with a lovely garden. It was a beautiful day, soft golden, late October sunshine beaming through the burnished leaves of the beech trees that edged the garden. Tables were set out with finger foods: crustless sandwiches, crisps, blinis dotted with smoked salmon and cream cheese. Kate found that she was ravenously hungry, a not infrequent reaction to a funeral service. Was it your body trying to remind yourself that you were still alive? She looked across at Anderton, tall and distinguished in his black suit and felt a surge of desire. Same thing, surely? Looking around the room, she could see people conversing, even laughing, but every so often, she could see someone freeze in silent horror at the realisation of what was happening, their faces draining of colour and expression. Hastily, she made her way over to where Theo and Rav were wolfing crisps and joined in their conversation.

  “See, this is why I like weddings,” Anderton commented on their way home. Kate had insisted Chloe accompany them and she sat in the back seat, white and still and staring ahead of her. Kate flicked her a worried glance in the rear-view mirror, but Chloe just stared ahead, her face blank.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, if we didn’t celebrate weddings, the only time everyone would ever get together is for funerals, and that would be a bit bloody depressing, don’t you think?”

  Kate pondered. “And christenings, surely?”

  Anderton scoffed. “Who gets their children christened anymore? No, weddings are the way forward.”

  “Well…” Kate didn’t quite know what to say. She felt a not unpleasant twist in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t sure, but she had the impression that Anderton wanted to say a lot more on weddings. Maybe—no, it couldn’t be—maybe even ask her to marry him… No, don’t be stupid. Even if he were to want to do that, even Anderton wasn’t going to propose after a funeral, in front of someone else.

  They really needed to have a proper chat, but that was going to be impossible tonight, what with Chloe having to be accommodated and watched and supported. When they got back to Kate’s house, she lit a fire in the grate and insisted Chloe wrapped herself in one of the throws on the sofa. Chloe stared dully at the glowing flames while Anderton began to prepare dinner, and Kate stripped the spare room bed and re-made it with clean sheets and pillowcases. She was still conscious of that niggle of desire she’d felt at the wake and pushed down the disloyal thought that if Chloe hadn’t been there, she and Anderton would probably already be in bed. Or on the sofa…

  Get a grip. Kate took a deep breath and spread the freshly covered duvet on the spare room bed.

  She ran a foamy bath for Chloe, using the expensive bath oil that had been one of Anderton’s birthday presents to her, and hung a clean, fluffy towel on the hooks on the door. Despite the bleakness of the day, there was something comforting about caring for her friend; it was soothing to try and make Chloe feel a little better. Kate thought of what would happen if they’d let Chloe go back to her own little cottage in Salterton, alone, and shuddered. She didn’t even want to think about it. No, her friend was better off with them, at least for the moment. Kate found the pack of new toothbrushes in the bathroom cabinet and put one out for Chloe, along with a spare pair of Kate’s pyjamas.

  Once Chloe was safely tucked up in the spare room, Kate came back downstairs and collapsed on the sofa next to Anderton. The desire she’d felt earlier had vanished and she simply felt tired and sad. Anderton put an arm around her and pulled her close, and the two of them sat there in silence, watching the flicker of the flames in the grate.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Olbeck called a team meeting first thing the next morning. Kate arrived in the office yawning; she’d slept badly again, which was hardly surprising given the events of the previous day. The whiteboards had already been set up and various photographs had been taped to the glossy surface along with writing in whiteboard marker alongside them.

  “Morning,” Olbeck said. “How did it go yesterday? I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it, but it was just impossible.”

  “It’s fine, you don’t have to apologise to me. I’m sure Chloe understands.” Kate headed straight for the coffee machine. “And as for how it went? About as well as a funeral could.”

  “It’s so awful.” Soft-hearted Olbeck looked genuinely upset. After a moment, he shook himself and added, “Right, well, this isn’t helping. I want everyone together as soon as they get in.”

  “I’ll tell them.” Steaming mug in hand, Kate went over to look at the taped-up photographs. They were all of the young man she currently only knew as ‘Mo’. The blown-up, grainy image she recognised as the CCTV image that Martin had been working on, but the other two made her pull in her breath. They were mug shots, facing forward and to the side. The man was much like Samir, in being young and Asian, but there the resemblance ended. He looked like a sulky, cruel thug, which was probably exactly what he was, thought Kate.

  By nine thirty, everyone had arrived and were arranged around the room, facing Olbeck who gestured to the photograph on the whiteboard.

  “Thanks to Martin, we now have an ID on the second man seen on the CCTV with Samir.” Olbeck paused for a second. “Samir or Ibrahim? Makes it confusing, doesn’t it? Anyway, I’ll go with Samir.” He put a finger on the glossy surface of the photograph. “This is Mohammed Abib. He’s got a record.” He pointed to another piece of paper taped to the whiteboard. “Served three months for hate crime—he was caught vandalising a synagogue in 2017. I’ll have to check with our friends in MI5, but I’d imagine he was on a low-level sort of surveillance for some time afterwards.”

  Theo frowned. “Well why wasn’t he flagged up earlier then? You know, when we found Samir’s body?”

  Olbeck shrugged. “You know how tricky it can get when you’re working with multiple departments in the same organisation, Theo. I can imagine it gets even more complicated when you’re working across different, um, entities.”

  Kate nodded silently. How many people had been harmed or died because different organisations didn’t talk to one another, didn’t share information, had dropped the ball and nobody had bothered to pick it back up?

  Olbeck was still speaking. “Anyway, now we have an ID, it’s top priority that we find this guy. Martin, you’ve done a sterling job of tracking him down, can you please try and find out his whereabouts?” Martin nodded in response, looking serious. “Great, thanks. Theo, Rav, can you carry on with CCTV and forensics?” Olbeck looked at Kate. “I know you’ve already tried to dig deeper, Kate, but I think another round of witness interviews might help. Samir’s neighbours, perhaps even the Bucklesbury lot again?”

  Kate sighed inwardly but outwardly nodded. “Of course.”

  “Thanks, guys.” Olbeck scribbled a few notes on the whiteboard. “I’ll get in touch with our friends in MI5 and see if they can give us any more information. Oh God, no I can’t today, I’m in meetings back to back.”

  “I can do that,” Kate said, surprising herself.

  Olbeck glanced at her. “Okay, that would help. In fact, that would probably help more than going through the witness statements. Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  Kate rang the number for Ricky Khan, feeling more nervous than such an activity warranted. As it turned
out, he was out of the office, so she just left a message, attempting a casual tone but wondering whether she’d actually managed one. When she’d replaced the receiver in its holder, Kate sat back for a minute, wondering what to do. After a moment, she called over to Theo who was poring over forensic photographs.

  “Mate, can I have the folder on Samir?”

  “Yeah,” Theo answered absently.

  Kate waited. Then she asked, “Aren’t you going to bring it over?”

  “Nope.”

  Sighing, Kate got up and snatched the cardboard folder from Theo’s desk. He tipped her a wink as she turned away to flounce back to her desk.

  “Git.”

  “Love you,” Theo said, grinning.

  “Huh.” Kate turned her attention to the folder. She withdrew the photographs first taken at the original crime scene and spread them out on her desk. Something was niggling at her. She looked, without flinching, at the sprawled body of Samir in the crushed bracken. Reminded of Ivor Gatkiss’ words on that day, Kate regarded the victim’s injuries. Stab wounds. Well, that was undeniable. And violent young men, unfortunately, did seem to have a habit of stabbing each other. Kate thought of the various headlines in the papers decrying the murder rate in London and sighed inwardly. But this… Kate picked up one photograph and peered at it more closely. Samir had been stabbed multiple times. Was that usual, in this kind of crime? That level of brutality indicated a killer in the grip of total fury—or did it?

  Sighing out loud this time, Kate put the photograph back on her desk, just as her phone rang.

  “Hi, sorry I missed your call earlier,” said Ricky Khan.

  “That’s okay.” Kate was aware of a prickle of excitement and fought to keep her voice calm. “I was just wondering if perhaps we could discuss the case a bit further. We’ve had an identification on the guy known as Mo.”

  “Right.” Ricky sounded cautious. “I won’t—I mean, I can’t come down to you for a few days, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh, I know, it’s just—” Kate didn’t really know what she was trying to say. “Could we not just discuss it now?”

  Ricky surprised her. “These things are always easier face to face.” Kate silently concurred but he surprised her again. “If you could come up to London, we could meet?”

  Kate answered without a second’s thought. “Sure, I can do that. When suits you?”

  Once they’d made arrangements and Kate had put the phone down, she stared across the room for a moment. The niggle that she’d felt about the stab wounds on Samir’s body was replaced by something stronger and more personal. You shouldn’t be doing this, Kate. Playing with fire.

  Damn it. Kate thrust the thought away and turned her attention to her computer, preparing to book her train ticket to Paddington Station.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kate had been to London many times, but she always found it somewhat overwhelming. The crowds, the traffic, the stench of diesel fumes, the noise, the bewilderment of the Tube—she had once spent twenty minutes trying to get to a station on the Northern Line, almost in tears at not being able to understand the separate lines. The terrorist attacks of the past year added a further layer of anxiety to something she already found stressful. Arriving at Paddington Station and heading for the Underground, Kate walked to the furthest part of the platform, casting nervous glances at her fellow passengers. It was a relief when she got out at Westminster and made her way to the surface, her hair blowing in the odd warm gusts that blew through the station.

  “Don’t you think it’s odd that a transport system has its own weather?”

  Ricky Khan looked amused. “Why do you say that?”

  He was sat opposite her in a nice pub near to the MI5 headquarters. Kate had assumed they were meeting in his office, but he’d called her back at the office and suggested lunch at said pub and she’d agreed, feeling yet another slight frisson of guilt. But it was only lunch…

  “Well, when you get on the Tube, you feel actual wind. Warm wind.”

  Ricky chuckled. “That’s true. I’d never thought of that before.”

  Kate got up to get them another drink and brought the glasses back to the table. “Should you be drinking on duty?” she asked teasingly.

  “Probably not, but what the hell.” Ricky looked directly at her. “It’s not every day I get to have lunch with a pretty girl.”

  Kate blinked. After a moment, when she’d gained control of her voice, she said, “Hardly a girl.” She was on the verge of asking how old he was, before sanity prevailed.

  “No, you’re right. Woman.”

  The two of them looked at each other for a long, ringing moment. Then, making a huge effort, Kate turned her thoughts to business.

  “Well, thank you for the compliment, but…we should really talk about the case. Don’t you think?”

  Ricky didn’t appear to agree. “Can I have your number?”

  Kate swallowed. After a moment, she said, reluctantly, “Listen… I’m—I’m with someone…”

  Ricky smiled. God, what a smile. “Well, I might need to contact you about the case, mightn’t I?”

  Kate found herself smiling despite herself. “Well, I suppose so.” Despite a sharp pang of guilt, she pulled out her mobile. “Give me yours and I’ll ring you.”

  Numbers exchanged, Ricky became professional once more. “What do you want to know, Kate?”

  Feeling flustered, Kate attempted to pull herself together. “Well, what can you actually tell me, Ricky?”

  “Not a great deal, to be honest, Kate. Samir had infiltrated a small group of—well, let’s call them wannabe jihadis.”

  “Including Mohammed Abib.”

  “That’s right. He’s probably what I’d call the ringleader.”

  “We’re trying to find him. Can’t you tell me where he is? Surely he’s under some sort of surveillance.”

  Ricky looked uncomfortable. “Honestly, Kate, that’s information I would share with you but there’s two problems. Firstly, he’s gone to ground—we’ve lost him too—and secondly, even if we knew where he was, any arrest you guys make would jeopardise the case we’re building against him with the Met for potential terrorist offences.”

  Kate bit her lip in frustration. “What about the others in the group? Can you give me their details?”

  “I’d have to get clearance.” Ricky obviously understood her irritation. “Listen, Kate, I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful.”

  “It’s a long journey for pretty much bugger-all information,” Kate said, unable to keep the snap out of her voice.

  “I know, but—well—” Ricky stopped abruptly.

  “Yes?” Kate prompted after a long moment.

  “Well, I—I just wanted to see you. Sorry.”

  They stared at each other for another long moment. Then, dredging up the last remnants of self-control, Kate picked up her coat and bag.

  “Oh, don’t go yet,” Ricky said, standing up himself.

  “I have to. I’m sorry.” Kate hesitated and held out her hand. Ricky ignored it, in favour of leaning forward and giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. He smelt amazing: some kind of expensive cologne and underneath that, just of him, young man. Desire kicked her deep in the belly.

  Get out of here, Kate. Muttering a goodbye, she clutched her bag and coat to herself and left, scarcely knowing what she was doing.

  Chapter Nineteen

  There was a welcome surprise for Kate the next morning; Chloe was sat back at her usual desk, opposite Kate’s, when she got to the office that morning.

  “Bird!” Kate hurried over to hug her. “So glad you’re back.” She released Chloe from her embrace and held her at arm’s length, checking her friend’s appearance. Chloe was still thin, still pale, her cheeks hollowed, but there was something in her face that hadn’t been there for a while, a spark, an anim
ation.

  “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

  Chloe half-smiled. “I was going stir-crazy at home. I’d rather be here, doing something.”

  “Well, it’s great to have you back.” As she spoke, Theo arrived in the office. He gave a shout of joy at seeing Chloe, barrelled over and flung his arms around her.

  “Oh, maaaate. It’s good to have you back.”

  Unexpectedly, Kate found herself near to tears. This was her family, her chosen family, the people she knew would never let her down, annoying as they could sometimes be. She thought back to the funeral, of Chloe in her arms, crying like a child. She remembered when Rav had nearly died and how they’d taken it in turns to visit him in the hospital and afterwards, when he’d been discharged – ‘Rav-sitting’, they’d called it. She remembered holding Olbeck on the floor of a killer’s house as he sobbed and shook. What would they do without each other?

  She thought back to her actual family; no father, mother long dead, siblings scattered to the winds. Her brother, Jay, and his wife were in Australia, and although they were in regular contact, she hadn’t seen them in years. Her sisters were in Scotland and London. Why hadn’t Kate made the effort to see Jade when she was in London meeting Ricky Khan? She felt a hot flush of guilt, compounded by the fact that she hadn’t actually deleted his number. And she hadn’t mentioned it to Anderton. Damn it… While Chloe and Theo talked, Kate took out her mobile and scrolled through her contacts, until she came to Ricky’s number. Her thumb hovered over the ‘delete’ icon before she put the phone away again, cursing inwardly. What the hell did she think she was doing? She brought the phone out and looked again, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to delete him. He hadn’t texted, anyway, and nor had she. It’s just a number, she told herself, knowing deep down that she was fooling herself.