Death's Door

Seventy-five

‘He’s sure about that?’ Skinner exclaimed. ‘There are no entries on Boras?’

‘Montell’s thorough,’ McGuire told him. ‘Sammy wouldn’t have called me if he’d been in any doubt.’

‘And here was me ready to give up. I’ve lain awake half the night thinking that I’m an impressionable fool, down here because of a flight of Arthur Dorward’s fancy. You know the techs. They always want to show they’re the cleverest kids in school. But now. .’

‘Arthur only deals in fact. He told you what was and wasn’t there and you drew conclusions, which I support.’

‘So what are your conclusions from the fact that while Ballester’s entire career as a journalist can be traced through his computer, there’s nothing at all on the one that ties him to Boras?’

‘They were wiped by whoever killed him. And that brings me back to Dražen, the only person we know of that his secretive father might trust with the task.’

‘Yet he was flying at the time Ballester was killed,’ Skinner pointed out.

‘That’s if he was the man who got on the plane,’ said McGuire. ‘I’ve been doing some after-midnight thinking as well. What if a substitute caught the flight to Edinburgh?’

’That still leaves Dražen with the seemingly impossible task of getting to Wooler in time to kill Ballester, then get up to Edinburgh.’

‘He’s a rich man too.’

‘Another plane? Mario, get Sammy on line, please.’ He waited as McGuire called Pye on his mobile, then took it as it was handed over.

‘This is the DCC,’ he said. ‘I want your team to get on to the Civil Aviation Authority and check their records for all aircraft owned personally by Davor Boras, his son Dražen, also known as David Barnes, and by any companies they might control. I know of one, a jet belonging to Daddy, so disregard that. If you get any other results, find out where those planes are based, and when their last recorded movements were.

’Also, I want to know if Dražen, or David Barnes for that matter, has a pilot’s licence. Finally, I want you to check flight arrivals from JFK at Heathrow on Saturday morning, looking for Dražen, under either of his names, and departures from there to Edinburgh at midday.’

‘Yes, sir. Do I call you back on this number?’

‘No, you won’t be able to. DCS McGuire or I will call you, when we can.’

‘I’d better get on with it, then, boss.’ The line went dead.

‘That’s under way,’ said Skinner, reaching for his jacket. ‘Let’s book ourselves in here for another night, just in case.’

‘We’re not going straight home?’

‘Hell, no. We’re going back to where I was last night.

You’ve done your Special Branch stint, now it’s time you saw where the real game’s played. Let me stretch that memory of yours. When you saw Dražen on Saturday, can you remember how he was dressed?’

‘Yes, I can. No way could I have forgotten it.’