Present Danger

42

‘Peggy, I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you.’ Liz was looking affectionately at her younger colleague’s earnest face. Peggy Kinsolving had arrived the previous evening and was now installed at a small table in the corner of Judith’s office.

Judith wasn’t expected in that day; she was having to look after Daisy. Judith had been mortified by her failure to check out Mrs Ryan with the police. Her only explanation was that she had been so focused on getting things sorted out quickly for Daisy, so that she could start work without delay, that when the references from the agency had all been fine, she had simply forgotten to do a separate police check. But yesterday she had had a call from Inspector Kearne’s wife, Bridget. Bridget was a qualified childminder and – something that had seemed to Judith a gift from the gods – she was looking for a job. They were to meet that afternoon.

Peggy had been in the office since seven-thirty and had already mastered the main facts of the case. Her table was strewn with papers and Liz could see that she had drawn up a list of questions. The two women had worked closely together for the last few years, both in counter terrorism and in counter espionage, ever since Peggy had transferred from MI6 after working with Liz on the case of an IRA mole in the intelligence services. They were perfect foils for each other: Liz the driving, quick-thinking, inspirational case officer, who to Peggy’s admiring eye always seemed to know what to do. Peggy, with her clever, enquiring mind; the scholarly lover of detail who took nothing at face value, and who, having recently acquired a boyfriend, had begun also to acquire the self-confidence of knowing she was attractive.

When Liz had finished bringing Peggy up to date with the previous day’s events she said again, ‘It’s such a relief to have you here, Peggy. Not that Judith’s not great. But this business with Mrs Ryan has really knocked her for six. And to tell you the truth, I’m beginning to wonder if Michael Binding’s having some kind of a breakdown. He’s never been the easiest person to work with, but he’s behaving really strangely. You never know what sort of a mood he’ll be in. He swings from seeming almost eerily calm one minute to getting in a rage in the next. Then yesterday when he heard about Mrs Ryan, he was crying. I just don’t think he can take the strain.’

‘Why don’t you ring up Charles and tell him what’s going on? He sent you his best, and I’m sure he’d be happy to help – he’d want to know if it’s that bad with Binding. And he’d tell DG, without making a big fuss.’

Liz flushed. She had avoided asking Peggy about Charles, though part of her had wanted to. But the truth was that she didn’t want to think about him. She had to admit to herself that she’d been very hurt by her mother’s implication that Charles and Alison were going around as a couple. Since Joanne’s funeral Charles had said hardly a word to her, let alone told her that his affections were now engaged elsewhere. Liz had decided that she would move on, knowing that for now she had nowhere to move on to. Never mind. She certainly wasn’t going to run to Charles for help in the present circumstances.

‘Oh there you are, Liz,’ said Binding, poking his head round the door and nodding in Peggy’s direction to acknowledge her arrival. ‘Any news? It’s been three days now and you’ve turned up precisely nothing.’

Liz and Peggy both stared at him, startled by the outburst. He looked flustered, sweating slightly, his tie loosened and hanging crookedly from his unbuttoned collar. He went on, ‘I’m not happy about this at all; you don’t seem to be getting anywhere. I’ve got to brief DG and the minister this afternoon. Is there anything for me to tell them, other than that you and Judith have been employing a known IRA sympathiser in your households?’ His voice rose almost to a shout as he finished speaking.

Liz resisted the urge to shout back at him and said soothingly, as if speaking to a child, ‘A few things are beginning to fall into place now, Michael. Why don’t we go into my office where we can all sit down and I’ll tell you what I make of what we now know?’

‘I don’t have time for a lot of chat, Liz,’ said Binding, but she ushered him firmly along the corridor to her office and sat him down. Peggy followed them in, and Binding gradually fell silent as Liz began to set out the case.

‘Firstly, we know from Brown Fox that Seamus Piggott’s intention was to kill policemen and an MI5 officer, and the FBI have given us the background on why he wants to do that. It can’t be coincidence that there’s been movement on both fronts – Jimmy Fergus got shot and Dave’s…’ she paused, trying to find words that encompassed both their worst fears and their uncertainty ‘… Dave’s been taken.’

‘Secondly, we know from Brown Fox and A4 surveillance that Milraud is involved with Piggott, probably supplying weapons. We know from CCTV and the woman in the shop that Dave made it to see Milraud, though from the absence of any CCTV coverage of him leaving – and the fact that his car was still in the shopping centre car park – I think we can assume that Dave disappeared from the shop. Because of that, I’d say we can assume Milraud was involved with his disappearance, and I don’t think it’s too much to argue that Piggott was as well. Now we can’t find Piggott or Milraud – or Dave,’ she added. ‘We don’t know whether Piggott and Milraud are together but it’s a fair assumption that one of them has Dave.’

‘What do the French say?’

‘They’re looking for Milraud. But they don’t see him as a kidnapper.’

Binding snorted while Liz went on. ‘Then there’s Jimmy Fergus – at least we’ve got a lead there. A man named Sean McCarthy has been linked to the van that Fergus’s attackers were driving, and possibly to the gun that was used to shoot Fergus. The problem is, we don’t have anything to tie McCarthy to Piggott, and he hasn’t been found yet either.’

When Binding sighed, Liz held her hand up. ‘I haven’t finished. McCarthy had a sidekick. The man who drove the van. Jimmy Fergus’s description of him resembles Danny Ryan, the son of Mrs Ryan, Daisy Spratt’s minder and our cleaning lady, whom you’ve heard about. He’s disappeared.’

‘And what has Mrs Ryan said about it all?’

‘Nothing. She’s not talking. And the police haven’t enough on her to hold her. So she’s back home.’

Liz went on. ‘Danny Ryan works at the Davis Hire agency at the airport. He was in charge the night Milraud’s car was returned, and apparently he signed it off. Finally, it was he who handed me the keys of the car I drove when I first arrived. The one that had the blowout. It’d been in their car park for several hours before I collected it.’

‘Oh God, Liz, are you still going on about that? They might have killed Dave by now, and you’re still obsessed with a flat tyre.’

This was the last straw; Liz found it impossible to restrain herself any longer. ‘How dare you?’ she said angrily, rising from her desk, her voice loud and clear. ‘My close friend and colleague has disappeared, and you have the nerve to imply I’m being paranoid? Do you actually think I care more about a flat tyre as you call it than what has happened to Dave?’ She looked at him incredulously. Peggy shifted in her seat but said nothing.

Binding stood up and just for a moment Liz thought he was going to explode. She tensed, but then, to her relief, his fists slowly unclenched, and his whole frame seemed to relax. He sat down again and slumped in his chair. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, barely audibly. ‘I didn’t mean to suggest –’

‘Forget it,’ said Liz dismissively. ‘I have already.’

Binding nodded – not graciously, but it was still a nod. ‘What should we do next?’

Liz sat thinking for a moment, gnawing gently at the side of one of her fingers. ‘It seems to me that everything points to Piggott. Think about it: Dave’s informant Brown Fox – O’Reilly – worked for Piggott; Milraud was doing business with Piggott; and I’d bet my bottom dollar that when we track down Danny Ryan we find there’s a connection there as well.’

‘But you can’t find Piggott. Or any of these other people.’

‘A4 has Piggott’s flat in the city under twenty-four-hour surveillance. And the police have been to his house in County Down.’

‘Where is that?’ asked Peggy.

‘It’s about thirty miles south of here. On the coast.’

‘On the coast?’ repeated Peggy.

‘That’s right. Why?’

‘Well,’ said Peggy hesitantly. ‘It’s just that if all these people have gone to ground, maybe they’re not still here. And they haven’t got a natural place to hide, have they? I mean, an old IRA hand like this Brown Fox guy must have all sorts of old ‘comrades’ – here or in the Republic – who would put him up almost indefinitely. But not Piggott, and certainly not Milraud. I wonder if they’ve left Ireland altogether.’

‘We’ve checked all the obvious possibilities,’ Binding said. ‘Airports, trains to the Republic.’

Peggy was nodding vigorously. ‘Yes. But what if they’ve gone out by sea? In a boat. Has Piggott got a boat? That would have been the easiest way out.’

‘I should have thought of that,’ said Liz. ‘I think we need to have another look at the County Down house.’

‘I was just about to suggest that,’ said Binding importantly. The entente cordiale had been too good to last. But if they’d gone by sea, thought Liz, what had they done with Dave Armstrong? She could only pray they had taken him with them. The alternative was too awful to imagine.