Deadly Intent

CHAPTER 24

Before any interviews took place, the team were given an update by Cunningham. The boat anchored at Chelsea harbor had been dusted for prints; they were confident that, this time, they would find concrete evidence of Fitzpatrick. They had also recovered two hundred thousand pounds in cash, plus—and this was very important—a charter map of the boat's journeys and prearranged moorings. This would help their time frame. They had also found documentation of ownership: Fitzpatrick had used an alias to make a substantial deposit on the boat, and payments were still outstanding.Even more importantly, they had found two passports in different names, but with Fitzpatrick's photograph and two more passports in the names of the children. Added to this was a jewel case containing diamonds and emeralds worth a substantial amount belonging to Julia Brandon. It was a massive haul of fresh evidence. They had virtually stripped Fitzpatrick of every means to survive on the run. The question was: where could he be?The distressed au pair had been questioned through an interpreter the previous evening and allowed to remain with the children. Eventually, she had admitted that the man she knew as Anthony Collingwood was the man in the photograph of Alexander Fitzpatrick. She also gave another insight into the way Fitzpatrick had organized his time in London.Fitzpatrick had instigated her approach to Julia, as au pair. She was instructed to care for the children and report back using her mobile phone, details of what was happening in the house in Wimbledon. He had paid her for this on top of her wages; he had also arranged for her to take the children to the boat in Chelsea harbor. She was adamant that she knew nothing about who he really was, or his drug trafficking.He was a good man, she insisted; a man who cared for his children, contrary to what Julia had implied. She also maintained that she did not know the final destination of the boat; her job was simply to care for the children. She said that Julia was a difficult woman to deal with, and could be very unpleasant; she was certain she had used Frank Brandon to cheat on Fitzpatrick.Mai Ling could not elaborate on what she meant by cheat; she was just aware that something was obviously very wrong, even when the marriage was taking place. They now had confirmation that Fitzpatrick had turned up and there had been a confrontation between him and Julia on the Isle of Man. When asked if Fitzpatrick met Frank Brandon, Mai Ling said that he had; the three of them had been talking for many hours. She was not aware what the outcome was, just that Julia was in a terrible state and, on the supposed wedding night, had not slept with Frank Brandon but Anthony Collingwood. She described the two "heavies" that had been hired by Julia as being very unpleasant men; one did not speak English very well.Asked if it was possible that Fitzpatrick had been the one to arrange for these two so-called bodyguards, she had shaken her head. She said that they wanted payment, but for what, she couldn't say. She described overhearing them talking on a mobile phone; they were threatening Mr. Collingwood. At the end of her interview, she said that, no matter what Julia had said, she was still in love with Collingwood. Anna had taken notes throughout; some of it made total sense, some not. But the facts were that Julia, via David Rushton, had attempted to block all the money she had from Fitzpatrick. The four million she had withdrawn must have been passed to Fitzpatrick, perhaps to pay for the boat. Anna also wondered if the two heavies could be connected to the drugs. She put in a call to Fagan, who reconfirmed that Mai Ling had called him about her concerns for Julia, as had David Rushton, who had passed on the contact information for the men. He had, as he had already explained, then instigated their meeting with Julia. He was able to confirm that one man did not speak English well; the other, he said, was American. Adrian Summers looked very crumpled that morning and in need of a shave. Langton put him at ease, assuring him that they would probably be releasing him shortly, but needed to clarify a few things. He looked to Anna to begin.She opened her notebook. "You stated that you only ever visited the farm in Oxfordshire to deposit and then move the drugs.""Yes.""We have two witnesses who saw you on the eighteenth of March at the farmhouse. This would have been one month after you stated that you drove there and met Julius D'Anton. You've been lying, Mr. Summers. Now's the time to start telling the truth."Adrian swallowed, and asked for some water. Anna passed him a small bottle; his hands were shaking as he unscrewed the cap."You stated that you did not know this man." Langton put Donny Petrozzo's photograph in front of him Adrian's chest heaved, as if he was short of breath."You see, Adrian, since last night, we've been able to really look at the charges leveled against you. You are in very serious trouble." "I didn't do anything!" "Then you should be in the clear—but right now I am about to up the ante, and charge you with murder." "No, that's not right!""Isn't it? Then try explaining to us why you lied. Is it connected to this man?"Adrian took a deep breath; then, after a moment, he touched the photograph of Donny Petrozzo."Take a look at how we found his body, Adrian." Langton slapped down the pictures of the body in the back of the Mitsubishi."Oh shit. This isn't right. I swear before God, I didn't have anything to do with that man." "But you did meet him?"Again, Adrian hesitated and sipped more water." I was on the boat and I got a call. He said he was injured and needed me to help him out."Langton started to write, then looked up. "Who called you?""Him—the man you keep saying is Alexander Fitzpatrick. He says to rne, he needs me to come to this garage in Wimbledon, as he needs my help—and to bring some tape and bandages and disinfectant."Adrian went on to describe how it had taken him some time to get there, as he didn't have a car; he'd hailed a taxi from Chelsea Wharf. When he arrived at the garage, the doors were shut, but he could hear a big argument going on. He had waited for a while and then knocked. He pointed to Donny Petrozzo's photograph. "He opened up and let me in. Mr. Collingwood was sitting in the front seat of the Mitsubishi with a wad of torn shirt held against his shoulder. He told me to pass him something clean to put on it, so I folded him a piece of lint. All the time, this Donny was going on and on, saying that he wanted to get cut in on the deal, that Julius D'Anton had told him all about it and that, if Mr. Collingwood didn't like it, he would tip off the cops as to who he really was."Adrian closed his eyes. "I saw Collingwood break open one of the ampoules. He poured it over the lint; next minute he's got hold of him." He pushed forward the photograph of Donny Petrozzo. "He covered his mouth. They struggled for a bit, then the Petrozzo guy just went limp; he slumped down on the garage floor."Langton put up his hand and asked Adrian to repeat what he had said about the ampoule. Adrian said he didn't know what it was. It was dark, and he was scared; it had happened so fast.Anna passed Langton a note. Donny Petrozzo had been injected beneath his tongue; the pathologist had found a hypodermic-needle point.Langton nodded, and folded the scrap of paper, running his fingernail along the crease. "You say Fitzpatrick simply covered Donny Petrozzo's mouth with a pad onto which he had broken an ampoule of Fentanyl?""Yes, I saw him do it." "What else did you see, Adrian? Because we don't believe you.""It's the truth, I swear—-I saw him do it; the guy just fell to the floor.""Did you leave Fitzpatrick alone for any time with the body?"Adrian frowned. "Yeah, but only for a few minutes. I went to get some cleaning fluid from off a shelf in the garage. When I came back he was leaning over the man, saying he was dead.""Did you see him administer anything else?"Adrian looked confused, but said that Fitzpatrick had been holding the man's face in his hands. He demonstrated by gripping his own cheeks. Langton looked to Anna: this could have been Fitzpatrick making 100 percent sure that Donny Petrozzo was dead, by giving him an injection beneath his tongue.Adrian continued to describe how he had cleaned up the wound to Fitzpatrick's shoulder. He was ordered to wrap Petrozzo's body in the black plastic bin liners stored in the garage. They wrapped the tape around the body and stuffed it into the back of the jeep. Together, they cleaned up the car, wiping the steering wheel down and the door handles. Adrian was told he had to get rid of the body by taking the jeep to a crusher."You just went along with it?"Adrian hung his head and said that he didn't know what else to do. He took Petrozzo's car keys and drove Fitzpatrick to the cottage. "I returned the car, his Mercedes; I left it near his home. I then went to drive the Mitsubishi out, to get it into a crusher, but I saw all the cops around, so I did nothing. I just went back to the boat.""Were you offered money to do all this?""Yes, ten thousand.""Did Fitzpatrick contact you again?""Yeah, I told him what had happened and that I wasn't able to move the jeep. He said to lie low on the boat, and contact no one. He'd be in touch; there was more money for me."The interview with Adrian was concluded by ten-fifteen. He was taken to the magistrates' court to face charges of drug trafficking, accessory to murder, and perverting the course of justice. Langton asked that bail not be granted, concerned that Alexander Fitzpatrick might try to contact him and pressing home the lethal potency of the drug.Mrs. Eatwell was a feisty old lady. Even though she was in her late eighties, she hovered around the officers, demanding to be shown each item that was removed. The forensic teams working at the cottage had found more prints, and a pillowcase with bloodstains, which were being matched with the blood from the bullet taken from the squat.They matched. However, there had still been no sign of Fitzpatrick. Although there had been numerous calls from the public after all the press releases, having sifted through the time wasters, it was clear that there had been no real sighting of their man. Pete Jenkins was still working on the print taken from the neck of Mrs. D'Anton but had, as yet, had no confirmation it was Fitzpatrick's.As the teams broke for lunch, and took a breather before the big interrogations, there came further information from the crates retrieved from Mrs. Eatwell's garage. The amount of Fentanyl was staggering. Separate, small supply boxes were numbered and packed inside larger ones; these had been stored in protective wooden crates. There were thousands of ampoules that they believed were originally destined for hospitals in the United States. The Drug Squad began to contact the U.S. drug units.Chicago had reported not only a massive theft from a pharmaceutical company, but an alarming rise in the Fentanyl problem; increases in opiate overdoses had prompted tests, which had revealed its presence. Reported overdoses were also coming in from a variety of other cities, including Detroit, St. Louis, Philadelphia, and Pittsburgh. The potency of illegally manufactured forms of Fentanyl was underlined as deadly: combined with heroin, the street names for it were "Drop Dead," "Flatlines," and "Suicide," as well as "Polo. The amount removed from Mrs. Eatwell's garage was a terrifying sign that the UK was about to be flooded with this lethal drug.Langton was deeply angry on hearing just how potentially dangerous this consignment was, had Fitzpatrick distributed it as planned. He Was now certain that Julius D'Anton, having been tipped off about the drugs, but not really aware of what they were exactly, had used Donny Petrozzo to test the waters with his dealers. They knew the junkie D Anton had not drowned, although his body was fished out of theThames; they were pretty certain that D'Anton had administered the fatal Fentanyl to himself.D'Anton's death meant that the whereabouts of the box he had stolen out of the Mitsubishi would have been unknown to Fitzpatrick. Petrozzo had been in touch with his dealers in the Chalk Farm drug squat about the Fentanyl; it must have been at some point thereafter that he contacted Fitzpatrick. Did Petrozzo know where the box was stashed? Was that why Fitzpatrick paid that disastrous visit to the squat? Anna agreed it was possible, but still found it strange that Frank Brandon would have become involved. Langton was more sanguine."I don't, sadly. You could say that about Adrian Summers. It all boils down to money. Frank, we know, had said to his girlfriend that he was coming into a big wedge of cash. What I am pretty sure about is none of them really knew just what a massive shipment Fitzpatrick had unloaded into his old lady's garage.""You think those two henchmen—-Julia’s bodyguards—are in his pay?""Unsure. More likely, they are in for the deal, and were putting the pressure on Fitzpatrick for payment." As Langton finished talking, the investigation took another turn. Pete Jenkins had lifted off the print from the neck of Mrs. D'Anton. It did not match Fitzpatrick's.Pete had sent the print to the FBI lab in the United States. It had come back with an ID of a known felon, Horatio Gonzalez, a man who had ties with the Colombian cartels, and who had already served two prison sentences for drug dealing. They now had the U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency putting pressure on them for more details. Langton became tetchy, insisting his team hold on to the reins and ordering that any evidence Pete was uncovering should be run by them first. He then asked that Damien Nolan be brought up from the cells for questioning.As Anna and Langton were preparing for the interview, files and photographs stacked in front of them, Langton gave a strange half laugh. "You know, if Frank Brandon hadn't been recognized at that drug squat, and those punks hadn't put two and two together to come up with a hell of a lot more and shot him, all this would never have gone down."

"And we'd have a potentially lethal street drug killing hundreds, as it has already in the States," Anna replied.

"It'll still come in someday, in the not-too-distant future. There's always a Fitzpatrick who doesn't give a shit and just wants to make millions."

It was left unsaid that, even with the mass of new evidence, the man they had been hunting for what seemed an interminable time was still at large. The good news was they had his shipment of drugs; they had blocked his access to what was left of his fortune; they had his boat, his fake passports, his children. They even had his mother.

Anna observed once more what an attractive and handsome man Damien Nolan was. Even after a night in the cells, he appeared to be freshly shaved. His belt had been removed, as had the shoelaces from his brown suede shoes. On his left pinkie finger, he wore a heavy gold signet ring; his hands were very expressive, with long tapering fingers. Anna also noticed this time that, like Fitzpatrick, Damien had a very good set of teeth. She reckoned they were capped, but they were very white. His tawny brown hair, although thinning slightly, was combed back from his brow; he had a high forehead, and his eyes were dark brown.

Anna wondered about his affair with Julia. She could understand the attraction, not so the fact that his wife, Honour had also had a relationship with Fitzpatrick. She shook her head, wanting to concentrate on the interaction between Langton and Damien. By comparison, Langton appeared rather seedy, not helped as he sniffed and cleared his throat, as he opened file one.

Damien s solicitor was elderly, white-haired, and rather flamboyantly dressed, in a dark navy shirt and pinstriped suit, with a loud pink lining and matching pink satin tie. John Pinter had a leather-bound notebook, larger than most solicitors'; inside was a gold pen, and many scrawled notes. He turned the pages until he found an empty one, and pressed it down with the flat of his hands.

Langton, for the benefit of the tape, went through the charges, from aiding and abetting a drug trafficker to perverting the course of justice. Not until he was satisfied that all was in order did he begin, by asking Damien to give his name and address.Damien spoke in a low cultured voice; he then crossed his long legs. He was about six feet tall and looked healthy and fit, in contrast to Langton."Would you please describe your profession?"Damien said that he was a professor of chemistry at Oxford University. These were the only words they got out of him before his solicitor raised his hand. "My client is fully aware of the charges leveled against him, and wishes it to be made clear that he has no connection to any drug offenses. Nor has he, in any way, perverted the course of justice, or maintained any kind of relationship with the said Alexander Fitzpatrick."Langton ignored the pompous Pinter, concentrating on Damien. "We know about your relationship with Julia Brandon, and that she admitted—"Pinter tapped the desk. "Detective Langton, Julia Brandon is now deceased, therefore anything she might have alluded to is hearsay.""Is this your handwriting, Mr. Nolan?"Damien glanced at the plastic-covered note discovered in the Mitsubishi and shrugged. Pinter sighed and said that the note could have been written by his client but as to when, he could not recall.Langton placed down the pictures of Donny Petrozzo's body. "This man's body was found inside a Mitsubishi jeep, along with that note in the glove compartment, which gives directions to your farmhouse."Again, Damien did not answer. His solicitor became impatient, claiming that, as he had just stated, the note may have been written by his client but, as he could not recall when, or to whom he had given it, he could not see how Mr. Nolan could be connected to the dead man."So you admit that you knew Mr. Petrozzo?"Damien shook his head. "I do not know the man you say is Mr. Petrozzo."Langton then displayed Adrian Summers's photograph. Again, Damien denied knowing him; he said it was possible he could have been at the farmhouse but, as he spent most days at college, he could not say for sure. It was frustrating, as Pinter jumped in at every opportunity to protectHis client, although, at no point, did Nolan appear to be in any way concerned by the barrage of questions put to him by Langton.As the questioning got closer to the discovery of the drugs, Damien shook his head, smiling. "As far as I am aware, the drugs were not found at the farmhouse I rent—not own, by the way—but in another property. So how you can assume I had anything to do with them, or have any connection to assisting to store them, is yet again supposition on your part, without any evidence of my culpability or connection.""So it was your wife?""No comment.""Your wife visited the cottage owned by Mrs. Doris Eatwell and arranged for the drugs to be stored there?""No comment.""Was your wife also having a sexual relationship with Alexander Fitzpatrick?""No comment.""Were you aware of this relationship?""No comment.""Do you admit to knowing Alexander Fitzpatrick?""No comment."It continued for another twenty minutes; at no point did Damien Nolan answer a question with anything but either a "no comment" or a rather droll response.Even when Langton said that he must be aware of who Fitzpatrick was, Damien just sighed. "I am aware of who he is, mostly due to the amount of publicity he has garnered, but I do not know him.""But your wife does?""No comment.""You also knew Julia Brandon well; we have confirmation that her youngest child was fathered by you."At this, Damien shook his head as if bewildered. "No comment.""We can very easily verify this by DNA tests."They received a nonchalant shrug by way of reply. Pinter asked why they were even questioning his client with regard to whether or not he had fathered a child by his sister-in-law, when the charge was assistinga known drug trafficker to avoid detection. He had denied ever having anything to do with Fitzpatrick, or his drug connections, so how they could level perverting the course of justice at his client was really beyond his comprehension.Langton was getting very rattled; he snapped out that perhaps Mr. Nolan only knew Fitzpatrick by his alias, Anthony Collingwood."No comment."Langton gritted his teeth. "Mr. Nolan, I find it very hard to believe that you were totally unaware, as you claim to be, of the wanted criminal Alexander Fitzpatrick: you live close to his mother."Damien laughed. "I know a Mrs. Doris Eatwell but, as to her relationship to this man, I am at a loss; she was simply a neighbor.""One your wife spent considerable time with.""Quite possibly; my wife is a very caring woman.""Caring enough to look after Fitzpatrick, who was injured and staying with his mother?""No comment."When shown the photograph of Julius D'Anton, they got the same response: Damien had never met him."Do you know about a drug called Fentanyl?""It is a very potent opiate that creates respiratory depression if over-prescribed; because of its low costs, it is now favored in medical practice. It was first used in the sixties as an intravenous anesthetic called Sub-limaze; subsequently, other short-acting agents were introduced—one called Aifentanil, another Sufentanil—up to ten times more potent than Fentanyl, used in heart surgery. There are now manufactured transdermal patches called Duragensci, for chronic pain management. Another form of Fentanyl is a citrate called Acted; this can be administered in the form of a lollipop to children. It is a major breakthrough for pain relief in cancer patients." He raised his hand. "Would you like me to continue?""You are obviously aware of the dangers of this drug.""Obviously. You have to understand that, as a low-cost drug, it is favored by hospital administrations. Its use has been correlated with a certain amount of concern over secondhand inhalation of the vapors.This can create brain damage, and also makes abuse dependence and behavioral disorders more likely." He smiled. "You would be surprised how many anesthetists and surgeons have become addicts due to their exposure to the drug.""So, with this awareness, Mr. Nolan—and, I must say, you have been very helpful with regard to explaining the potency of Fentanyl—how did you feel about being involved with the mass of crates containing Fentanyl, stored first at your farmhouse, then at Mrs. Eatwell's cottage?"Damien said steadily, "Because of my work, I am obviously aware of any new drug, be it natural or chemically produced. That does not in any way demonstrate that I was aware of, or played any part in, the shipment you appear so determined to prove I knew something about. If you wish to go to my college rooms, you will find untold information with regard to chemically produced opiates; in fact, it goes back to about 2003 when three epidemiological reports were published.""Did your wife also have this knowledge, and was therefore aware of the dangers of the drugs that she assisted in storing?""No comment."Pinter now requested that, if they had any further evidence that involved his client in their accusations against him, he should be made privy to it without delay. If they did not, he felt that his client had exonerated himself and should therefore be released.Langton ended the interview on a sour note, saying that, until he was satisfied, Mr. Nolan would remain in custody."You have had my client here since yesterday evening. Please be mindful of the amount of time you are allowed to detain him without charges.""I am aware of that," Langton snapped as he ended the interview tape.Damien smiled at Anna as he stood up; she had a strange deja vu feeling about him."Are you related to Alexander Fitzpatrick?" she asked suddenly.It was the first time there had been a glimmer of concern behind the affable mask. "I'm sorry?""It's just you have a very familiar look.""Really?""Yes. So are you?""Am I what?""Related to the man you may call Anthony Collingwood, whose real name is Alexander Fitzpatrick?""How very intuitive of you, Detective Travis."The fact that he knew her name was a surprise, but more so was his subsequent reluctance to answer her question. Langton glanced at Anna and back to Damien Nolan. "We can find out easily enough. Let's not waste any more time. Until we are satisfied with our inquiry, Mr. Nolan will remain here."A uniformed officer led out Damien and his solicitor as Langton stacked up his files. "That came out of left field.""I know. It's his looks—don't you think they are similar?""Slightly. I'm not sure what it gives us, even if we prove it.""That it is also his mother down the lane, not only Fitzpatrick's? If the whole clan is so entwined, without doubt he is part of the setup."Langton rubbed at his head, and told Anna to see what she could find out. She went into the incident room to ask Gordon to check births, deaths, and marriages.The place was bubbling, as they were coming up with more information regarding the drug haul, the crates having been filled with different varieties of the drug, from ampoules to vials.Phil was sweating. "Jesus Christ, this was some haul; the biological effects of this stuff are similar to heroin, except that Fentanyl can be a hundred times stronger. It can be smoked or snorted, but is usually taken intravenously, so if it was to be released onto the streets, it could create havoc, because there is no way of knowing its potency and it can kill within seconds ..." Phil was hard to interrupt in full flow but, as Anna already knew pretty much everything he said, she was more eager to find Gordon and see if she was correct about the siblings.Unable to track him down, she returned to her office to call Mrs. Eatwell. As she searched for the contact number, she couldn't help but go over parts of the interview with Damien Nolan. Langton, she felt, had been way below par, and had allowed the solicitor far too much say;it was very unlike him, not to have put on more pressure. She wondered if he was saving firing on all guns until Honour was brought up from the cells.A female liaison officer answered Mrs. Eatwell's phone. Anna was told that all calls were being monitored in case her son tried to make contact; so far, he had not.Anna waited for quite a while before Mrs. Eatwell came onto the phone. "Mrs. Eatwell, this is Detective Inspector Travis.""Good afternoon," came the brusque, upper-class voice."Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.""I don't really have any option. I have a policewoman with me all the time; they even do the grocery shopping. Is Honour coming home?""Mrs. Eatwell, I need to ask you about Damien.""What about him?""Is he related to you?"There was a pause, then Mrs. Eatwell repeated her question about Honour returning home."I am unsure when Honour will be allowed home." Anna asked again if Damien Nolan was related to Mrs. Eatwell."He is a wonderful man. I won't have a word said against him. Damien has nothing to do with my son, and whether or not he is related to me is none of your business."Anna tried again; this time, she said that she could make inquiries to check out Damien's background, but it would be far simpler if Mrs. Eatwell just answered her query."It's not your business; I refuse to be drawn into implicating Damien in any of this. Leave him alone."Anna gave up and ended the call. Even if she did discover that Damien was related to Alexander Fitzpatrick, she was unsure what it would mean, bar the fact it would implicate him more deeply; however, as yet, they had no evidence of his involvement whatsoever. It was the note that still irritated her: the torn scrap of paper with directions to the farmhouse. It would make sense if Damien had been in London, and written them for Adrian Summers to use to drive the drugs toHoney Farm. But he had denied being in London, and denied having any knowledge of the shipment.Anna made a note to requestion Adrian Summers regarding Damien. She then returned to the incident room, where Phil collared her again. "We're getting quite a lot of feedback on known thefts of Fentanyl. One has just come in from York: a guy working as a radiologist has been arrested up there. They found a large quantity of empty vials wrapped up in hospital surgical supplies and hidden in a ceiling tile. Apparently, the guy was stealing them by entering operating rooms after procedures had been performed and taking what was left over from the medical waste containers.""Phil, I can't really spend time on this. I don't see the connection with our case.""I'm only doing what Langton told me to do!" he said, tight-lipped."Where is he?""I dunno; I thought he was interviewing Damien Nolan.""He was, but then he left. We still haven't questioned Honour Nolan." Anna looked around the incident room, and then headed toward Cunningham's office. It was empty. Frustrated, Anna approached her own office but, when she tried to open the door, she found it locked. "Is somebody in here?" She pressed her face to the window, trying to see inside. Then the door was unlocked, and she had to catch her breath.Langton looked terrible. His face was pale, and it had a sheen of sweat, making it appear almost gray. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and he had no shoes on."James?" she said, closing the door quickly behind her. She saw his jacket on the ground, his shoes beside it."I needed to have a break," he said, slumping into her chair."Have you got a temperature?" She felt his brow; it was cold, and he shivered. Anna picked up his jacket and slipped it around his shoulders. "You want a cup of tea?""Just some water," he said quietly.Anna opened one of the desk drawers and took out a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap and passing it to him.He took a few sips and then closed his eyes. "Sorry," he muttered."Do you want me to take you home?""No, I just need a few minutes.""I think you should see a doctor.""I'm fine; just couldn't get my breath. If I sit tight for a while, it all eases up. There's no need for you to stay with me."Anna sat on the edge of her desk. "How often does it happen?""It happens," he whispered, leaning forward.Langton had suffered from a collapsed lung after his attack; he had almost died and the scars on his chest were proof of his appalling injuries. He seemed very frail and his hand shook as he continued to take sips of water."I've just been listening to Phil collecting information regarding numerous thefts of Fentanyl.""Yeah, the medical profession has got to pull out their fingers and get some kind of tamper-proof mode of Fentanyl administration. What we've got coming in is widespread theft from various institutions— could create a fucking epidemic.""I think we should concentrate on our case," Anna said. "We haven't even questioned Honour Nolan yet."Langton pushed back the chair and got unsteadily to his feet. "I am aware of that!" He started to redo his tie. She bent down and placed his shoes in front of him; he slipped them on. "Thing is, Travis, we've only just touched on what that bastard intended dealing. In my position, I have to look at the whole perspective. If Fitzpatrick was able to ship this amount of Fentanyl into the UK, it's only the beginning.""It would be good to get him locked away.""Quite, but my gut feeling is he's long gone."Anna shrugged, annoyed by the suggestion that they had lost Fitzpatrick. "You fit to question Honour now? Or do you want to wait until after lunch?"Langton slowly pulled on his jacket and yanked the collar down; she could see that the color was coming back into his face. "Let's go in ten minutes." He walked to the door and unlocked it."What about Damien Nolan?" she asked."What about him?""His solicitor's getting very tetchy.""We hold him until we're finished with Honour." They walked out of her office.Anna asked if he felt Damien had just been drawn into the edges of the Fitzpatrick scenario, but played no part in it. Langton gave a soft laugh. "He's a player, Travis, and a clever one, because we don't have anything to pin on him, bar the fact he lived at the farmhouse, is married to Julia Brandon's sister, supposedly had an affair with Julia, and, according to her, fathered her child! For someone on the periphery, he certainly got into heavy relationships.""I didn't find out if he was related to Alexander Fitzpatrick. I spoke to Mrs. Eatwell; she said it was none of my business and that Damien was a wonderful person.""Maybe he is just that." Langton opened the interview-room door.Already sitting, waiting with her solicitor, was Honour Nolan. She gave a nervous smile to Anna, and nodded to Langton as he took his seat opposite her. She was wearing the same dress she had been arrested in: it was hippy-styled, caught under the bust with a row of hand-embroidered strawberries, and fell in loose folds of soft fabric over her motherly figure. She wore numerous heavy silver bangles and rings, and silver hoop earrings. She wore no makeup but her skin looked fresh, none the worse for a night in the cells. Her long dark hair was wound around her head, the two braids long enough to cross over the top and coil around again, rather like the Mexican artist Frida Kahlo.Langton took a while, selecting his files and placing them in order. Anna took her notebook and pens out, and her own file. She glanced at him; he showed no ill effects from the episode she had just witnessed.Langton started the tape, explaining that they would also be recorded on video. He repeated the charges against Honour: she was being questioned with regard to drug trafficking, harboring a known felon, and perverting the course of justice. He added that this alone was a very serious offense and, if charged, she could be given ten to twelve years, as the authorities took a very serious view of anyone tampering with the law. Honour had her hands folded across each other on top of the table, heavy silver rings on almost every finger, even one on her right thumb.

"Very well, Honour, let's go from the top, shall we? Please give your name and address." Langton kept his voice low, almost encouraging, as Honour cleared her throat and answered his seemingly innocuous questions about how long she had lived at the farm, how long she had been married to Damien Nolan, when she had worked at the antiques store, and her relationship with Mrs. Doris Eatwell. Her answers were concise and to the point.

Seated beside Honour was her solicitor, a gray-faced man, with extremely bad halitosis. Matthew Webb used a stubby pencil to jot down notes in what looked like a child's exercise book. His solid square face gave no hint of expression, his watery eyes unblinking, as his client continued.

Langton paused before he asked Honour to detail her relationship with Alexander Fitzpatrick.

Webb looked up. "My client will refuse to answer that question, on the grounds that it could—"

"Your client, Mr. Webb, has already admitted to knowing Mr. Fitzpatrick and, according to her sister, had an ongoing sexual relationship with him."

"That is a lie," she said.

"I'm sorry; do you want to explain why you say it is a lie?"

"My sister did not tell you the truth. I have never had a sexual relationship with him."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

Again, Webb interjected that his client would not answer, on the grounds that it might implicate her.

"Your client, Mr. Webb," said Langton, "was fully aware that Fitzpatrick was a man wanted on both sides of the Atlantic. Your client aided Mr. Fitzpatrick to store a sizable amount of medical drugs, first at Honey Farm, and then subsequently in Mrs. Doris Eatwell s garage."

"I did not." "Were you aware that your husband fathered a child by your sister?""That is preposterous! If my sister claimed that this happened, then she lied to you. Julia was incapable of ever telling the truth.""Could you please explain why this has been brought up?" Webb tapped the notebook with his stubby little pencil."We are simply trying to establish the relationships that enabled Alexander Fitzpatrick to avoid detection for such a considerable time. His mother, Doris Eatwell, was a close friend to you, Mrs. Nolan; you assisted in moving the drugs to her garage with the help of Adrian Summers.""That is not the truth.""Do you admit to knowing Mr. Adrian Summers?""I have never met him.""But we have a witness who saw him at your farmhouse," Langton persisted. "He also submitted a statement, claiming that you helped store the crates containing the drugs in the henhouse at your farm.""I did not.""Were you aware that your husband fathered a child by your sister?""That is preposterous! If my sister claimed that this happened, then she lied to you. Julia was incapable of ever telling the truth.""Could you please explain why this has been brought up?" Webb tapped the notebook with his stubby little pencil."We are simply trying to establish the relationships that enabled Alexander Fitzpatrick to avoid detection for such a considerable time. His mother, Doris Eatwell, was a close friend to you, Mrs. Nolan; you assisted in moving the drugs to her garage with the help of Adrian Summers.""That is not the truth.""Do you admit to knowing Mr. Adrian Summers?""I have never met him.""But we have a witness who saw him at your farmhouse," Langton persisted. "He also submitted a statement, claiming that you helped store the crates containing the drugs in the henhouse at your farm.""I did not.""Then, at a later date, when it became known that the police were making their presence felt, possibly about to orchestrate a search of the farmhouse, you moved the crates to Mrs. Eatwell's garage for safekeeping.""That is not true.""At this time, you assisted the injured Mr. Fitzpatrick; you tended to, I believe, a flesh wound to his right shoulder.""That is not true."Langton glanced at Anna, and took out a photograph of Julius D'Anton. "Do you recognize this man, Mrs. Nolan?"Honour hesitated, then admitted that she did recall seeing him, when he tried to buy a table from the antiques shop where she worked. She was shown the photograph of D'Anton, taken when his body was dragged out of the water. She gave a strange lift of her eyebrows, but said no more.Anna sat patiently as Langton began to bring out the photographs of all the victims: David Rushton, Donny Petrozzo, Frank Brandon, Julius D'Anton's wife, Sandra. Lastly, he laid out the pictures of Julia Brandon's mangled car, and the mortuary shots of her body. He kept up a fast delivery, slapping down the pictures, not giving Honour time to < or her lawyer time to interject. He spread the photographs out fan across the table and stared at Honour."Why are you showing me all these terrible photographs?' voice was now starting to sound strained.Langton laid down numerous photographs of Alexander Fitzpatrick; taken from Rushton's security CCTV footage. "This is Alexander Fitzpatrick, correct?"Honour chewed her lips. "Or maybe you still refer to him as Anthony Collingwood? Which name do you call him by?" "I don't know him." "All these people—including your sister—died because of him!" "That is not true!" "Yes, it is. She had the brakes of her car sliced in two, Honour, for God's sake, why are you protecting him?" "I'm not! This is all supposition; you have no proof of any of accusations."Langton leaned forward. "What makes someone like you will put their own life on hold? Because you will go to prison, Honour. You have consistently lied to cover the truth, and now you maintain this farcical front that you never even knew Fitzpatrick."Webb rapped the table with his pencil. "Detective Chief Super dent, you are trying to goad my client into answering these accusations. I advise her not to make any reply, on the grounds that it may—' "Are you maintaining that your client never knew what was on right under her nose—that she never saw anything?" "You have no evidence that Mrs. Nolan ever, at any time, allowed her premises to be used for storing these drugs." "It doesn't matter how many people die, how many people thi whom you are so desperate to protect, has killed? He even used his elderly mother! You think she'll be let off? Mrs. Eatwell is going to trial just like you, and she will die in prison. So what is so great her son—about this evil, twisted, sadistic monster, who even us own children to launder money?""Then, at a later date, when it became known that the police were making their presence felt, possibly about to orchestrate a search of the farmhouse, you moved the crates to Mrs. Eatwell's garage for safekeeping.""That is not true.""At this time, you assisted the injured Mr. Fitzpatrick; you tended to, I believe, a flesh wound to his right shoulder.""That is not true."Langton glanced at Anna, and took out a photograph of Julius D'Anton."Do you recognize this man, Mrs. Nolan?"Honour hesitated, then admitted that she did recall seeing him, when he tried to buy a table from the antiques shop where she worked. She was shown the photograph of D'Anton, taken when his body was dragged out of the water. She gave a strange lift of her eyebrows, but said no more.Anna sat patiently as Langton began to bring out the photographs of all the victims: David Rushton, Donny Petrozzo, Frank Brandon, Julius D'Anton's wife, Sandra. Lastly, he laid out the pictures of Julia Brandon's mangled car, and the mortuary shots of her body. He kept up a fast delivery, slapping down the pictures, not giving Honour time to query, or her lawyer time to interject. He spread the photographs out like a fan across the table and stared at Honour."Why are you showing me all these terrible photographs?" Her voice was now starting to sound strained.Langton laid down numerous photographs of Alexander Fitzpatrick, taken from Rushton's security CCTV footage. "This is Alexander Fitzpatrick, correct?"Honour chewed her lips."Or maybe you still refer to him as Anthony Collingwood? Which name do you call him by?""I don't know him.""All these people—including your sister—died because of him!""That is not true!""Yes, it is. She had the brakes of her car sliced in two, Honour. Now, for God's sake, why are you protecting him?""I'm not! This is all supposition; you have no proof of any of these accusations."Langton leaned forward. "What makes someone like you willing to put their own life on hold? Because you will go to prison, Honour. You have consistently lied to cover the truth, and now you maintain this farcical front that you never even knew Fitzpatrick."Webb rapped the table with his pencil. "Detective Chief Superintendent, you are trying to goad my client into answering these accusations. I advise her not to make any reply, on the grounds that it may—""Are you maintaining that your client never knew what was going on right under her nose—that she never saw anything?""You have no evidence that Mrs. Nolan ever, at any time, allowed her premises to be used for storing these drugs.""It doesn't matter how many people die, how many people this man, whom you are so desperate to protect, has killed? He even used his elderly mother! You think she'll be let off? Mrs. Eatwell is going to stand trial just like you, and she will die in prison. So what is so great about her son—about this evil, twisted, sadistic monster, who even used his own children to launder money?"Webb now banged the table in anger. "If you have any further questions relating—""I haven't finished yet!" Langton snapped, then he pointed at Honour. "He used you, Honour; you are just like everyone else who has ever come into contact with him. You should try and assist my inquiries, because I am going to charge you with accessory to murder.""Exactly who are you now referring to?" asked Webb."Take your pick." Langton pushed forward the array of photographs.Honour began to remove the clips from her hair."Can you please stop that," Langton said angrily."It's tight—I have a headache," she said as she loosened her two braids, uncoiling them to hang down around her shoulders."Right. Let's go from the beginning again, shall we?"Anna could feel her own headache starting, never mind Honour's. She was surprised how exhausted she felt. She knew Langton must be as drained, but he didn't let up, this time trying a calmer approach. Still Honour maintained her composure, but kept on fiddling with the hair grips she had removed.They were getting nowhere; even Webb began to show that he was tired of the repetition as Langton continued to ask the same questions and again received the same replies. She knew nothing; she did not admit to knowing Alexander Fitzpatrick by that, or any other name; she was not aware that any illegal drugs had been stored at her farmhouse and subsequently moved to Mrs. Eatwell's garage. It was preposterous: she claimed to be totally innocent of all charges.Anna could sense Langton's frustration building to boiling point. It was at this moment that he leaned close and whispered that she should take over. Anna began by picking up the photographs and stacking them like a pack of cards. "Could you tell me about your relationship with your sister?"Honour gave a small shrug. "We were not on good terms.""Why was that?"Honour sighed. "We were very different creatures. All Julia ever cared about was herself, and money—the more she had, the more she wanted.""So, when Julia was living at the house in St. John's Wood, were you a frequent visitor?""No.""But you did visit the property? According to Julia, you moved in for some considerable time, as Alexander Fitzpatrick's mistress?""That is not true.""Why would she lie about it? According to Julia, you were in love with her partner. When she found out that the woman he had moved into her home was her own sister, she began to arrange her finances, to block his access to any of the monies he had arranged for her to live on. In a fit of jealousy, she also claimed that, although her first child was conceived by IVF treatment, the second child was in actual fact your husband's. She was adamant that the relationship was purely sexual.""That is a lie.""That Damien Nolan fathered her second child was the reason you and she were not on good terms. You found out. Not content with having a relationship with Fitzpatrick, you became very distressed to discover this liaison; partly out of jealousy but, Julia maintained, it was more to do with the fact that you were unable to have children of your own."Langton kept his head bowed; he knew what Anna was doing, leading in with a more personal motive to try to open Honour up. It was working.There was a flash of anger as Honour shook her head. "Julia was a liar; she couldn't tell the truth to save her life, especially if it didn't suit her. She was very manipulative.""And you are not? I would say that living with her lover, in her house was—""I did not live with him.""Who are you referring to?""You know who; you are trying to trap me into admitting something that is just a pack of lies. I love my husband.""Really? So it must have hurt you considerably to find out he fathered her child?""He did not.""We will be taking DNA tests to prove it, so it is immaterial whether you admit it or not. It must have been very hard for you: your sister was younger, beautiful and wealthy, living in great luxury, able to conceive two children, and, at the same time, arrange a very complicated scheme to block her partner from gaining access to her fortune. You claimed that you were not aware she had married Frank Brandon—""I keep on telling you that I had very little contact with my sister. We did not get along; to be honest, I never liked her.""But you were jealous of her.""No, I was not; I had my own life.""In a rented, rather squalid farmhouse?""That is your opinion.""It's a fact. It must have been very tempting when Alexander Fitzpatrick surfaced—and he did, didn't he? How did he first approach you after almost twenty years living abroad?" Anna placed down his photograph. "He is still a very attractive man, isn't he? Did he cajole you into helping him? He must have dangled untold wealth to get you to take the risk, and allow him to store crates of drugs at your property; or maybe he threatened you? Put you under terrible pressure to assist him?"Honour remained silent."We have a witness, Honour, who has given a statement that you were fully aware of the content of the crates, and that you assisted in moving them to Mrs. Eatwell's garage.""No, I did not.""I'm sorry, what was that? You didn't know what the crates contained?"Honour was twisting her braid round and round in her fingers. "You are making me say things."Webb sighed. He tapped the table. "My client has denied, over and over again, any knowledge of what was in these crates. She is fully aware that nothing was discovered at her farmhouse that connected her to the drugs haul—""Because she had already helped move them to a safer place! Mr. Webb, we have a witness who assisted her; to persist in denying any knowledge of them is now ridiculous.""I didn't know what they contained." At last, a breakthrough."You were totally unaware that these crates contained a class-A drug, Fentanyl, in vast quantities?""I didn't know what was in them.""Who arranged with you to store them at the farmhouse?"Honour was cracking. Her cheeks were flushed, and she licked at her lips nervously."Do you see his picture amongst these photographs? Yes or no?"Honour shifted her weight in the chair. "I got a call from Julia.""Your sister.""Yes. She said that she needed to store some things, as she was buying a new house in Wimbledon, and this young man"—she tapped Adrian Summers's photograph—"drove up and stored them in the old henhouse.""I see. So when you knew the police were making inquiries and returning with a search warrant, you agreed to move these items to Mrs. Eatwell 's garage?""Yes.""If they were just household items, why did you bother moving them?""Julia told me to; she said a few things were very valuable."Anna wrote in her notebook, before she gave a smile to Honour. "Thank you. So this means that, contrary to what you said earlier, you were still on reasonable terms with Julia.""She was my sister."Anna took out the mortuary shots of Julia's injured body and passed them across the table. "The brake wires of her Mercedes were sliced in two. She was driving at over ninety miles per hour when her car jackknifed across the dual carriageway into the path of a truck. As you can see, she was decapitated."Honour turned away.Next, Anna put down photographs of the boat anchored in Chelsea harbor, with the two children on board. She kept up an easy conversation about the children being well cared for, and the fact that the boat had also been anchored previously in Brighton Marina; she showedpictures of the rented house in Hove. She could sense that Honour was unaware of the floating palace owned by Fitzpatrick. "Did you ever pay a visit to this boat, or the property in Hove?""No.""So you were unaware of Fitzpatrick s lifestyle, and that he intended to take the two children out of the country? The harbor was also, we believe, where Julia was heading the night she was killed."Honour was frowning, staring at the pictures. Webb interrupted, asking what these new pictures had to do with the charges against his client. He was ignored."Julia was going to join Fitzpatrick; she had some jewelry with her, and we discovered the rest of her valuables on board the boat."Again, Honour seemed perplexed, shaking her head."After attempting to cut out Fitzpatrick and keep his money for herself, the couple obviously came to some very amicable arrangement. As I have said before, Julia was very beautiful: he must have still wanted to be with her. He never used her to store his illegal drugs, did he? Just you. Did you know Fitzpatrick was even at her sham of a wedding? We believe he instigated it, as a means of moving out his money—""No, that is not true.""You know about the wedding; we discussed it, Honour. You said you were unaware she had even married Frank Brandon—I think you said he didn't appear to be her type! You were used by the pair of them, isn't that correct?"Every time it looked as if Honour was going to open up, she recoiled in her seat. She was now very tense and sat hunched over the table.Anna was basically "hoofing" it, trying to dent Honour's confidence. She was certain that she was moving in the right direction, but unsure where she could go next.Latching onto Anna's theme, Langton rocked back in his chair. "Whatever lies you were fed to protect him, Honour, must now seem sickening. What did you believe? That you would replace Julia in his affections? That it would be you, living a life of luxury? You can salvage some self-respect by giving us information about where we can find him. It will also help your defense."Honour began to cry, covering her face with her hands. Her braids had come undone and her hair was hanging loose in waves. Anna could see there was a thick gray line in her parting; now the hippy style made her look old-fashioned, almost frumpish. They let her cry, passing over a box of tissues. As she wiped her eyes and blew her nose, they waited; the floodgates were about to open.Two hours later, Honour was led back to the cells while Anna and Langton looked over the ten-page statement.It had been painstakingly long and drawn out. Even though they now had more pieces of their jigsaw in place, there still remained one gaping hole: where was Alexander Fitzpatrick? Honour denied knowing where he was hiding out, but said she was waiting for him to contact her. According to her, over two years ago, Fitzpatrick had surfaced in Oxfordshire. He had turned up unexpectedly at the farmhouse and was staying at his mother's cottage. He explained that there had been some disastrous investments and he had lost most of his fortune. He had said that he was preparing to go back to work; neither Honour nor Damien queried what that would be. He had returned to the U.S. after a few days, but began seeing Honour again when he returned. She did go with him to the house in St. John's Wood, and lived with him on and off for a few months. She admitted that she was obsessed by him, but was concerned that Julia would find out.Julia had discovered that he was having an affair; she did not know for some time that it was with her own sister. When she did find out, she traveled to Oxfordshire and confronted Damien, who didn't really care either way. Honour explained that she and her husband had an open marriage, Damien constantly having affairs with his young students.As his investments went into a downward spiral, Fitzpatrick became worried that he could not get the finances for his latest drug deal. He had joined up with two Chicago mobsters, and they had agreed to part-finance the shipment; however, Fitzpatrick was then being screwed over by Julia, who was moving all his money into accounts that he couldn't access. She was eaten up by jealousy over the affair and wanted to pay him back. It was at this point he had forced her to give him the four million pounds to pay off the Chicago mobsters and to bring in the shipment to Gatwick. He was waiting to take possession of the drugs when it all started to fall apart.Julia was scared, and so hired Frank Brandon to act as her bodyguard, but Fitzpatrick was onto it. He used Frank to help him transfer money, and promised him big dividends, enough to set him up for life. Having sorted out Julia, promising that they would leave England together, he then set about using Honour to store the drugs. He was still in debt to the gangsters, but believed he would be able to get away with it. His plan was to hide the drugs, but hold on to one box of samples; this was the box discovered by Julius D'Anton.Honour could not recall the exact order of events. She knew that Adrian Summers was going to deliver the crates; she helped him store them. The piece of the jigsaw that had constantly bothered Anna was the handwritten note with directions to the farm. Honour explained that Damien had to visit London for a lecture; he had met Adrian and given him directions. She maintained that Damien had no knowledge of what was going down. She was deeply in love with Fitzpatrick and believed his promises of living a new life in the U.S., which is why she agreed to do everything he wanted. The crates were driven to the farm, and loaded into the henhouse. At this point, Anna and Gordon paid a visit; scared the police were onto him, Fitzpatrick had insisted they move the crates to his mother's garage. He said they would find a better place at a later date.Honour corroborated Adrian's story about D'Anton turning up first at Mrs. Eatwell's and putting the fear of God into them all, then driving to the antiques shop to pick up the table in the Mitsubishi. Honour was unable to explain how Donny Petrozzo came on the scene, as she had never met him. She just knew that the last time she had seen D'Anton was when he came into the antiques shop. Fitzpatrick was told what had happened by Adrian Summers."I don't know exactly what happened," Honour said, "but Alex was in a rage, and said that D'Anton had stolen something from him. I knew it had to be part of the shipment, but I never asked him about it. He didn't know where D'Anton lived; he was in a really unpleasant mood and very concerned."Langton looked to Anna. Concerned? They wondered if this was the moment that D'Anton contacted Donny Petrozzo. Did he then give him a sample to sell to the drug dealers? That would make sense, but they had no way of finding it out. The only solid facts were that the two drug dealers agreed to pay five thousand up front and another five when they got more Fentanyl. Again, Honour could not give details of these transactions, as she didn't know about them; all she could give was her side of the events.She recalled Fitzpatrick turning up at Honey Farm, wounded. It was not a bad wound; the bullet had cut clean through the tip of his shoulder blade, but it needed attention. While it was healing, he stayed at his mother's cottage, having left a trail she knew nothing about: the bodies of Frank Brandon and Donny Petrozzo. With Frank dead, all the financial deals they had made with Rushton didn't make sense, so Fitzpatrick had to go and rearrange the transfers. Again Honour had no idea who Rushton was, or that he had been murdered. She maintained that, throughout all the "problems" Fitzpatrick was going through, she just remained at the farmhouse."He stayed with Doris looking after him. He had a high fever, as the wound was infected, but we couldn't call a doctor. He then became very agitated, as he said he had two men looking for him; they were from America. He said that he had been able to string them along, and that they were looking after Julia until he could raise the money he owed them. I think it was a considerable amount; he was angry with Julia because of something she had done with his money in England. He said that they were threatening him, so he got up too soon, because he said he had to find Julius D'Anton."Again, Langton glanced at Anna: this matched up with his audacious visit to the station. He cannot have known D'Anton was dead.Honour was adamant that Fitzpatrick did not have anything to do with Julia's death. She was unsure if he had arranged for the children to be taken, as she did not know about the boat. She said that she did have one call from Fitzpatrick: he was shocked by the news of Julia's accident and also desperate for news of his children. When Honour was asked if, at that time, she felt he was lying, she refused to answer."But surely you must have seen all the news coverage about the missing children, the au pair?""No, I didn't know. I hardly ever read newspapers."Anna and Langton stitched together their scenario. They reckoned that, to make sure Fitzpatrick didn't back out of the deal, the two thugs had threatened Julia. Their threats had proved to be very real: they cut her brakes and she died in the accident. Now Fitzpatrick was really up against it, because the police had tracked down all his money. If he withdrew any cash, they would be able to trace him.A depressed and dejected Honour repeated over and over that she did not know where he could be. She had no energy left, her eyes were like dark-rimmed saucers. She asked if she could see her husband, but permission was refused. She yet again repeated that Damien was innocent and had known nothing about the drug deal. She began crying again when she said that Fitzpatrick had promised to take her away and that they would bring up the little girls together."I have been a fool. He took me in, just as you have said he took everyone else in, but I loved him—I always had from the first time Julia brought him to meet me. She was young, and here was this handsome, charismatic man. I didn't believe all the things I read about him in the papers. Julia didn't even seem concerned. I have spent my whole life scrimping and saving, and living in rented places, while she has lived in the lap of luxury. If Alexander was a criminal, he never seemed to have to pay the price. He was always so glamorous, so generous, and .. ."The tears rolled down her drained face. "He made me feel special."Langton stood up, the interview over."If you think of anywhere he might have gone to ground, it will help your defense if you assist us. We have to find him, Honour."She made no reply, her head bowed. Her lawyer helped her stand, even picking up her hairpins for her, as she was led out and taken back to the cells, where she would remain until she was brought before amagistrate for the charges to be listed. As with Adrian Summers, Langton expressed concern over bail being granted: he was certain that Fitzpatrick would make contact with her.Gathering up the photographs and paperwork, he sighed as he placed Fitzpatrick s photograph on top of the file. "The longer he's free, the less likely we are to find him.""I know," Anna said quietly. She too packed up her notes, placing them into her briefcase.It was in many ways "case closed," apart from the capture of Fitzpatrick. Langton headed into the incident room to give an update, and Anna went into her own office.Gordon tapped and entered. "Well, that was very satisfactory," he said."I felt sorry for her in the end. She's going to spend a lot of time in prison, all because she loved him.""But she doesn't know where he is?""No, and to be honest, we don't have the faintest idea either. He's had days to go Christ knows where.""But he's broke and we've got all his passports, so he might not have left the UK.""Maybe not, but the thing about Fitzpatrick is the way he always covers his back. He could have more fake passports stashed, he could even have access to cash—we just don't know.""Where would you go?""Me?""Yes.""Gordon, I have no idea."Gordon swung the door back and forth. "Eurostar, St. Pancras—that'd be the best place. Hop on the train, be in Brussels in just over an hour.""Well, we've pumped out his photograph, and we'll probably keep that going until we get something back.""What if we don't get any feedback?"Anna rubbed her head. "Then we've lost him," she said flatly.Gordon nodded and then leaned against the door frame. "Strange isn't it? If it hadn't been for Honour Nolan covering for him, we'd probably have picked him up. If you think about it, we were spot on when we first went to her farmhouse.""Yes," she said, wishing he would leave."You were—you had him in your sights from early on.""Yes.""Why do you think Honour took such a risk? She didn't seem the type, you know, to be infatuated. I mean, he's no spring chicken.""There's no reasoning with infatuations. She was taken in by him, fell in love with him. Mix that with envy and sibling rivalry, and don't forget the promises—he must have laid them on with a trowel.""But what about her husband?"Anna shrugged, impatient with Gordon's hovering. "Open marriage—he's younger than her, screws his students. She maintained that he was totally innocent.""Well, up to a point. He had to have met Fitzpatrick, so he knew who he was—he could have blown the whistle on him."Anna sighed. "Gordon, can you hop it? I need to go over Honour Nolan's statements and type up the report.""He's just been released. No charges."Anna looked up as Gordon strolled out. "Damien Nolan's been released?""Yeah, he was waiting for a taxi in reception." The door closed behind Gordon.Anna sat down again. She didn't want to, but she couldn't help thinking about what Gordon had said. In reality, Damien had to have known who Fitzpatrick was.She got up and opened the door. "Gordon!" she called as he was just turning into the main corridor. "I asked you to check on Damien Nolan's background, birth and marriage certificates."Gordon hesitated. "Shit, yes—I'm sorry, I was going to get onto it but Phil wanted me to do something.""Do it now, Gordon. Thank you."She closed the door and rested against it for a moment. She then

checked her watch; she knew by the time she had typed up her report and filed it, she wouldn't get out of the station until early evening.

Unlike any other case she had worked on, when coming to the conclusion had always been a high, this felt quite the contrary. Fitting all the jigsaw pieces together at long last should have been a very positive feeling, but the one vital piece was still missing. If Fitzpatrick wasn t captured, it would always remain incomplete.