When he got to the Dover Court flats in Pimlico, Jack parked in the residents’ car park and walked into the reception. A cheerful-looking porter simply smiled as Jack passed him, as if he was one of the residents. Still angry, Jack scowled as he headed for the lift.
When he got to the top floor where the smaller flats and studios were located, he was relieved to find no one was about. He pulled out his set of skeleton keys, a bunch he had pocketed after an arrest a few years years earlier, but he was not that skilled with them and had to try the door of 54B a number of times before he successfully opened it, even though it was a simple Yale lock. Luckily there was no alarm. He quickly shut the door behind him and took a moment to assess the small, dark hallway before searching for the light switch.
It was a very small apartment. The narrow hallway had doors leading to a sitting room, a bedroom with an en-suite bathroom and a kitchen. It was furnished with rather worn items and felt unlived in and lacking in anything personal.
It also did not look as if anyone had been there for some time. In the kitchen he found a bottle of milk in the fridge that was a week beyond its sell-by date, along with some shrivelled fruit and a bottle of vodka. In the sink there was a glass and a plate. The bedroom contained a small double bed, dressing table and wardrobe. Jack stopped and drew in a deep breath. Beside the bed were two matching Louis Vuitton suitcases, and on it was an expensive leather briefcase. He opened the largest case first and checked through the selection of stylish clothes and shoes. There was also a blonde wig, neatly wrapped in a silk bag. Next, he opened the smaller case which contained underwear, nightdresses and a leather makeup bag with cosmetics and bottles of perfume, bath oils and skin-care pots. He felt round the lining, then closed the case and pulled the briefcase towards him.
There was a laptop, a mobile phone, and an envelope containing two memory sticks. Tucked into the pocket of the briefcase was a small photo album. He flicked through it briefly, knowing it was the album he had been told about that morning.
In the same pocket he found a passport belonging to Lorna Elliot with several hundred-dollar bills tucked inside. In the small leather-trimmed business card pockets were numerous bank cards in her name, including Chase Bank, Bank of America and Coutts Bank.
After carefully replacing all the items back in the briefcase, Jack searched the rest of the flat. He was looking for other things that he felt should be with Lorna’s belongings: a handbag, keys to the flat, a wallet . . . He went into the drawing room and looked under and around all the furniture, then went back into the kitchen. He hesitated, then went into the ensuite bathroom. There on the side of the washbasin was an elegant leather handbag with YSL on the gold clasp. He opened it and found exactly what he had been looking for: a set of cars keys for a Jaguar with a rental tag in the name of Sandra Raynor, a folder from the dating agency, and a crocodile-skin wallet. The wallet contained a lot of crisp new £50 notes.
Jack’s dark mood had lifted by the time he left the flat with the handbag and briefcase covered by his coat. At the car, he opened the passenger door and tossed them inside. He was now keen to get home and take a look at the contents of the laptop.
As soon as he arrived, Jack hurried inside and ran straight up the stairs to his office with the briefcase and the handbag. He had just put everything down on his desk when Maggie walked in. She was wearing a dressing gown, and from her expression it was obvious that she was not in a good mood.
‘Well, thank you for letting me know what time you’d be home,’ she said. ‘I thought you’d still be at the station.’
‘Sorry, sweetheart,’ Jack said, ‘but DCI Clarke let me off a bit earlier in exchange for being at the station early tomorrow morning.’
‘Have you eaten dinner?’
‘I have actually. This wonderful woman Glenda Bagshot ordered in a decent meal for everyone, as she was sick and tired of the awful canteen food at night.’
‘That’s alright then,’ she said in a sarcastic tone. ‘So now can you come to bed. I really want to have a talk.’
He hesitated, gesturing at the briefcase. ‘I had to collect this on the way home and I was going to have a look at the contents. It’s connected to the Ridley situation.’
‘I don’t care about him, Jack. We’ve hardly had a moment together since you’ve been on nights. I know the case you’re working on is pretty tough going, but you’re running yourself ragged trying to do two things at the same time.’
‘Yes, I know you’re right. I had a big breakthrough earlier this evening, though.’
Maggie walked to his desk and picked up the handbag. ‘This looks very posh. . . Yves Saint Laurent. Who does it belong to?’
Jack raked his fingers through his hair. ‘I believe it belonged to the woman found in Ridley’s car. That’s her briefcase, with a laptop and mobile phone.’
‘So, what do you intend to do tonight?’ she asked, frowning.
‘I was going to check over it all and then contact Ridley.’
‘Tonight?’
‘Well, I don’t have time to do it when I’m on duty.’
‘So instead of spending time with me when we haven’t seen each other properly for days, you’d rather be chasing around after Ridley. I think you need to get your priorities sorted, Jack!’
He had never seen her in this aggressive mood before, and he put his hands up in a defensive gesture.
‘You’re right, and I am so sorry. I feel bad. You don’t need this; I know how tough it is for you at work right now.’
‘Really, Jack?’
‘Of course . . . you’re still under incredible pressure day and night.’
She folded her arms. ‘You can say that again. We also need to consider the pressure we put on Penny having to look after Hannah virtually all day and night, without either of us being able to take any weight off her shoulders. Jack, we need to talk about this properly; why don’t you go and have a shower and come to bed so we can discuss things?’
He nodded. ‘OK, I’ll be right with you.’
‘No, now!’ she said, raising her voice. ‘Come on, out of here! I need to get some sleep, and I know if I leave you here, you’ll get distracted and you’ll forget about everything else.’
Jack had to walk past her as she turned off the lights in his office. He went straight into the bathroom for a quick shower and when he got into bed Maggie had turned on the electric blanket and was sitting propped up by pillows. He flipped back his side of the duvet and snuggled up, putting his arms around her.
Maggie pushed him away. ‘No, Jack, we need to talk. I have virtually had to tape my eyelids open as I am so tired. I don’t want any update on your cases, or sex, I just want you to listen to me. I have real concerns about your mum.’
Jack lay back beside her with his eyes closed.
‘Are you listening to me?’
‘Yes, Maggie, and as you said earlier, she has virtually been running the house whilst we’ve both been working 24/7. We need to give her a break.’
‘Jack, she took Hannah out this evening; they weren’t home when I came back and that was after eight. She was very flushed and apologetic when she found me home and said that she had been visiting friends. What friends, Jack? She didn’t explain to me where she had been, and it may not seem late to you, but it was way past Hannah’s bedtime.’
Jack sat up.
‘OK, let me talk to her tomorrow; maybe it’s these new people she goes to bingo with.’
‘She hasn’t been honest, Jack, because I phoned the church and asked about the bingo sessions, and they haven’t been happening since before the lockdown. Apparently, they’re hoping to resume next month because the man who organised them passed away, so they have been recruiting someone to take over.’
‘What?’
‘She’s lied to us, Jack.’
He frowned. ‘Shit, that’s unlike Mum.’
‘Yes, I know. So tomorrow you need to have it out with her. Will you do that?’
‘Yes . . . yes, of course,’ he said.
Maggie turned off her bedside light and the electric blanket and snuggled down under the duvet. Jack rested back on his pillow, concerned about his mother’s odd behaviour. He switched off his bedside light, rolled onto his side and spooned his body around Maggie’s. He loved the way they fitted together. He had a moment’s thought about pulling up her nightdress but felt the rhythm of her breathing and knew she was asleep. Even with so much on his mind, just being beside her filled him with peace, and he fell into a deep sleep.
Maggie’s alarm went off at five thirty the following morning. As usual she jumped out of bed and hurried into the bathroom. Jack was jolted awake by the noise. He had slept so soundly that he was confused when Maggie wasn’t beside him, then he heard the shower running and flopped back on his pillow. He turned to look at the time, and after a few moments decided it would be a good move on his part if he got up and made coffee for her.
He was inserting four slices of bread into the lurid yellow toaster when Maggie came in, dressed and ready to leave for work. He handed her a portable flask of coffee, as he knew she liked to take one to sip on the way to the hospital. She declined his offer to butter her some toast, saying she would grab a bite to eat in the canteen. She gave him a big hug and a kiss, then paused on her way out of the door.
‘You will talk to Penny, as you promised last night, won’t you?’
‘I will. You have a good day. I’ll go back to bed for a while, then help with getting Hannah ready for nursery. I also think it’s time you and me went out for dinner – just the two of us.’
She smiled. ‘That would be nice. Bye, then.’
Jack waited for the front door to close before he buttered two slices of toast for himself and poured a mug of coffee. He was eager to get into his office and look over the things he had brought back from the Pimlico flat. Still wearing his boxer shorts and a dressing gown, he sat down at his desk and opened Lorna Elliot’s laptop. It was dead, but fortunately his own laptop charger fitted, so he plugged it in to charge the battery. He then took out the two memory sticks and inserted them into his old laptop.
The first didn’t seem to be working, not allowing him access to the contents. He pulled it out and inserted it into a different USB port. A folder then came up with lists of dates and locations. He scrolled through the contents whilst he ate his toast. The name Gazprom featured numerous times with dates beside it. He googled it and discovered that it was one of Russia’s biggest energy companies. The dates were also linked to Rossiya Bank, which Jack discovered was based in St Petersburg and heavily associated with the corrupt practices of Putin’s regime.
As he continued to scroll, Jack had no notion of exactly what he was looking at. He paused at the mention of a website called Proekt Media, which seemed to be a Russian investigative company specialising in in-depth journalism. The dates listed were associated with huge sums of money, millions and then billions. Jack took out the memory stick and inserted the second one. The name Dmitry Skigin immediately came up, alongside a company called Petersburg Oil Terminal (POT) which was part of the consortium that won a contract to manage the city’s seaport. Putin’s name also cropped up again, first as head of the FSB, the Russian domestic secret service, and then as president.
Jack sighed. The data was from before the Russian invasion of Ukraine, and it all meant nothing to him. He sat staring at the screen, his attention wavering as he continued to scroll. The name Skigin came up again, with a note that he had been traced to Monaco, but in 2000 he was expelled for money-laundering.
Skigin had died three years later, of cancer. He had left a fortune and a personal estate said to be valued at £560 million.
Jack checked the time. It was already gone 7 a.m. so he removed the memory stick and put it back in the envelope with the other one. He checked to see if the other laptop had charged yet and the home screen came up. He had no idea what the password was. He tried ‘Sandra’ then ‘Lorna’, then ‘Elliot’, then ‘Raynor’ but none of them worked. He picked up the briefcase and took out the passport in Lorna Elliot’s name. Flicking through it he could see stamps reflecting the many trips she had made, to Moscow, St Petersburg and more recently to Monaco, the latter frequently, until two years ago.
He went back to the laptop to try some more passwords. This time he tried ‘Russia’, then ‘Monaco’ and as a last attempt ‘Anton’, the Christian name of her partner. There was a satisfying ‘ping’ and the home screen opened up. He was about to start looking through the files when his mobile rang. It was Ridley. Before Ridley could give him the details of a new meet, Jack interrupted.
‘Listen, I am not coming to the ruddy John Lewis car park, or the river. If you and your ankle bracelet can make it, then you can come to me. I will be at home for another hour, then I have to go to work. It’s in your best interests to meet me. I found her for you.’
There was silence on the other end of the phone, then Ridley said he would be there. Jack ended the call and tossed his mobile onto his desk, just as Penny knocked on the door.
‘Long time no see . . . you’re quite the stranger these days. Do you want some breakfast?’ she asked.
‘No thanks, Mum . . . er, I have to get dressed quickly as I’m expecting someone. I’ll go in and see Hannah first though.’
‘She’s in the kitchen, in her highchair.’
‘Right, let me get dressed and I’ll be right down.’
Jack hurried back to his bedroom, had a quick shower, then shaved and dressed. He was heading down the stairs when he saw a figure through the stained-glass window in the front door. He opened the door to find Ridley, wearing a black tracksuit with the hood covering his head and part of his face.
‘Go upstairs into my office and wait for me, second-floor landing, door on the right. I just need to go and see my mum and Hannah in the kitchen,’ Jack told him.
Ridley nodded and moved towards the stairs as Jack went into the kitchen. He played with Hannah for a few minutes and helped her to eat her cereal as Penny prepared orange juice and biscuits for her morning break.
‘Mum, I have to go up to my office on urgent business so please don’t come in. I’ll be making important calls about my case and don’t want to be interrupted.’
‘OK, dear. Do you want a coffee?’
‘No thanks, I made one earlier. Hope you have a good day. Hannah, you are a very good girl and daddy loves you. This weekend we’re going to have some special time together.’
She waved her spoon at his head, then threw it across the room.
‘You have remembered that I need you or Maggie to stay at home with Hannah on Friday, for my bingo session?’ Penny asked as she selected some biscuits.
Jack paused at the door, wiping a milky cornflake off his jacket. He knew he should say something in the light of what Maggie had told him last night, but he couldn’t keep Ridley waiting.
‘OK . . . I’ll organise it. Is everything alright with you, Mum?’
‘Yes, why wouldn’t it be?’
‘Er, no reason – I’ve got to go.’
He legged it up the stairs two at a time, went into his office and closed the door. Ridley was standing with his back to him, looking out of the window. He had a woollen hat on.
‘You were very terse this morning,’ Ridley said quietly.
‘Terse? Jesus Christ, do you have any idea how much running around I have been doing on your behalf?’ Jack countered.
He sat down at his desk and swivelled around to face Ridley.
‘The first thing you should know is that you were not the target; you were for protection. The woman you knew as Sandra Raynor, aka Lorna Elliot, knew who you were and just needed it to look like she was in with the law. I think it was a pure coincidence that as a young, uniformed officer you had been part of the hunt for Anton Lord. I believe she was hunting down the men she felt were responsible for his disappearance, and probably his murder.’
Ridley sighed, perching himself on the edge of his desk. He was unshaven and looked very gaunt, his eyes red-rimmed.
‘I know that now. Let me show you something.’
Ridley unzipped his hoodie and took out a manila envelope. He slowly withdrew a photograph and passed it to Jack.
‘Recognise her?’
Jack took a few moments, unable to draw his eyes away from the horror.
‘Dear God, it’s hard to recognise her after what has been done to her face. But, yes, I know who she is.’
‘Her name is Daniella Foster.’
‘I just bloody said I knew who she was. She also had a date with you, and she also knew who you were; she recommended Lorna joined the dating agency, specifically to get to you, as she wanted protection but didn’t trust going to the police. Maybe she felt they had let her down with their poor investigation into her lover’s murder. Mrs Foster said she seemed very anxious and scared . . .’
‘Her body was found last night. Her cottage had been ransacked and she was presumably beaten to find out where Lorna Elliot had been staying.’
Jack frowned, then held up his hands. ‘Wait a minute. You don’t think that I had anything to do with her death, for God’s sake?’
‘Of course, I don’t, but I know you were there. I also know you visited Mrs Foster’s London flat in Pimlico.’
Jack shook his head. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. It felt as if everything he had been doing was a waste of his time. Ridley pulled out a second photograph and passed it to him.
‘This was reported early this morning. As you can see, the flat was ransacked – after you had been there, fortunately.’
Jack looked at the photograph and passed it back. He lifted up the briefcase and the envelope with the two computer sticks.
‘I found these, and that’s her laptop and her handbag. From her passport you can see she had been travelling back and forth to Moscow and to Monaco. You can take it all, because to be honest, I have had it up to here.’
Ridley held his hands up. ‘Jack, please let me try to explain. Because of your diligence you have been able to uncover these connections, whilst I had to be held under house arrest. But now . . .’ He took a deep breath.
‘But now what?’
‘I am truly grateful for everything you have done to date. This is now being handed over to the National Crime Agency because we believe that Lorna had uncovered a massive fraud and laundering facility in Russia, possibly being run by the men who killed Anton Lord. The FBI will also be investigating. Due to what has been going on in Ukraine and the mega-rich henchmen around Putin, it is a very complicated situation.’
‘I bet it is. So what about this man she refers to a few times, someone who lived in Monaco? I looked at all the information on the memory sticks, but I have no idea what it all means.’
‘I don’t know either,’ Ridley admitted. ‘It is possible she recognised someone living in Monaco and started to investigate. Lorna was clearly a very clever woman, and never gave up the hunt for whoever killed Anton, but at the same time she began to uncover further large-scale fraud and money laundering involving people connected to Putin. So, although she only intended to find Anton Lord’s killers, she ended up discovering a lot more.’
Jack swivelled in his desk chair, then pointed to the laptop.
‘She obviously never got over him as she used his name as a password.’
Ridley leant over and was about to close the laptop when Jack stopped him.
‘I just want to have a proper look at what’s on it. What made some bastard beat that poor soul to death? It must be explosive stuff.’
Ridley leant forward again and snapped the laptop shut.
‘I am taking this, Jack, and I don’t want you to get any more involved. I mean it. I am also going to take your car.’
‘What?’
‘It’s for your protection. I have had a tracker on it; that’s how I knew where you’d been.’
‘You had a tracker on me? When did you organise that? When I was parked in that bloody John Lewis car park?’
Jack got to his feet, intending to punch Ridley out, he was so angry. He then stepped back and lowered his hands to his sides. ‘You’ve lied to me from day one, used me like a puppet on a string, and I want some explanation. I trusted you, Goddammit. Jesus Christ, I’ve worked my arse off and now that poor woman is dead because of you, because of me doing your dirty work and you putting a tracker in my car. They must have fucking hacked it – and I led them straight to her!’
‘You don’t understand,’ Ridley said. ‘I was looking out for you and now I can take over . . . and that means right now.’
Ridley picked up the open briefcase and began taking everything from Jack’s desk and dropping it into the case. He stuffed in the photo album, the envelope with the memory sticks, and lastly the laptop. He then held up the YSL clutch bag, flipping it open using the elegant gold clasp with the designer initials. He then opened a folded black shopping bag and placed everything inside.
‘How am I supposed to get around if you take my car?’ Jack complained.
Without hesitating, Ridley took out Lorna’s wallet, removed a wedge of £50 notes and handed them to him.
‘Use this until I can sort out your compensation.’
‘Compensation? What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Your car will be taken to a wrecker’s yard and destroyed. I don’t want anything leading back to you – it’s just a precaution.’
Ridley had now packed everything into the large shopping bag and started to head towards the door. Jack moved quickly to stand in front of it.
‘A precaution? Just you wait one second . . . You and your so-called house arrest team have just been using me.’
Ridley took a deep breath. ‘Jack, I don’t think anyone else could have uncovered the information we have, or identified who Sandra Raynor really was . . .’
‘We? Who’s fucking “we”, Ridley?’
Jack gripped the front of Ridley’s hoodie, drawing him close.
‘If you need to get rid of my car as a precaution, are my wife and my family are in danger? If anything happens to them, I swear to God I will . . .’
Ridley didn’t react. ‘Don’t threaten me, Jack,’ he said calmly. ‘Your family is being protected. I swear to you nothing will happen to them. I’ve always known that you have an intuition and ability far above any other detective I’ve worked with, and you’ve proved me right.’
‘Well, that’s brilliant, that makes me feel so much better,’ Jack snapped.
Ridley nodded his head to indicate that he was leaving, and Jack reluctantly moved aside. He stood at the top of the stairs watching as Ridley hurried down and out of the front door. Jack returned to his office and looked out of the window. He watched Ridley hand his car keys to a thick-set man wearing a similar black track suit. Ridley then climbed into a black Mercedes with tinted windows. From behind the window blinds Jack watched his ridiculous little car being driven off. He looked at every parked car he could see on the street. None of them seemed occupied. If his house was being watched, they were certainly being covert. He felt hurt and angry, convinced that Ridley had still not told him the full truth. Ridley had lied to him, something he never would have thought possible.