Chapter 15

She got out her phone and dialled her father. He answered with annoyance.

“What? I was about to go home!”

“Daddy!”

“Oh. It is you, Frances!” He was immediately contrite. “Sorry about that; it’s been a complicated day. Forgive my outburst. What can I do for you?”

“Nothing, Daddy. I phoned to congratulate you!”

“What? Am I to become a grandfather?”

“No, silly. It is too soon for that. Instead, it was about the twins’ induction course. It is a great course, Dad; I thought you should know. They are organised with all their tasks in order of priority, just as the course prescribed. Today they washed down the kitchen and the pantry, as a hygiene priority. I was amazed and pleased that they did this off their own bat. It bodes well for their future with us.

Reg says you probably know how good the course is, but agrees with me that you would like to know how much we appreciate it.”

“Now that is wonderful, Frances. Very few bits of feedback like this ever come to my ears, so I am gratified that the course does what it purports to do: prepare new staff to do a good job.”

“Well, that was all I was phoning about, but perhaps I should mention that with the twins here to help us, we wives have decided we can go off the birth control, and see what happens. The twins are prepared to do baby-sitting so that we can continue our studies as normal. The only part that is unpredictable is the possible morning sickness!”

“Gosh. So I might become a grandfather by next year?”

“Indeed. We decided that any children would be OUR children, so if Fiona gives birth first, we treat the baby as the grandchild of all our parents!”

“Fiona? Who’s Fiona?”

“Oh ... Oh, dear. I don’t suppose we have mentioned her, have we? Fiona came to us under the pretence of studying our family, but underneath it, she was an unhappy girl with a scheming stepmother, and she really wanted a stable family to be part of. To cut a long story short, we let her join us, and she will join us in another Commitment Ceremony shortly.”

“So, she will be ANOTHER wife to your Reg?”

“Yes, Daddy. She is fitting in quite well. As she has never been on birth control, she may be the first to ‘catch’.”

“Good grief! So Reg is treating her as a wife already ... I mean...”

“Yes, Daddy. She is getting fucked, just like the rest of us! Don’t be an old fuddy-duddy; We are all happy with the situation, even Reg, who as usual was the last to realise what was happening, and then left it to us to decide whether she fitted. We insisted he had to make love to her, so that both of them could determine that they were compatible; acceptable to each other in the long run, for we aim to be together as a family for life. Fiona was ecstatic, and wanted more of Reg’s loving, but she eventually realised she would have to take her turn, and not have Reg any time she felt like it!”

“So how are the rest of you taking this addition to the Reg loving stakes?”

“I was elected Chief Wife, Daddy, so I draw up the rota as to who gets Reg in bed and when, and my word goes! I can make sure to get my fair share of Reg’s love-making.”

“I see. Well, you look to be doing things your own way, daughter dear. Do you mind if I keep this extra surprise from your mother for the moment? I don’t think she is ready to cope with this news so soon after the first shock of a group marriage.”

“Do what you feel is right, Daddy. You have always known what is the right thing to do, in business or in the family. I know I can depend on you, just like I can depend on Reg.

Oh, talking about Reg, he is to get a compensation payment from an insurance company for the loss of his father in a car accident when he was still in his pram. Freda’s dad dealt with the legal part of it, and got Reg a payout of one-fifty grand, so Reg will now be able to support his family, instead of us supporting him.”

“Now that IS something I can tell your mother!”

“You do that, Dad. Any news from your end?”

“Nothing apart from the incessant work problems. For instance, I had arranged for driving lessons up to HGV standard for a new trainee, which costs money, but I treat such costs as investments. The guy phoned today, to say he has taken another job and will not be working for us now. After me going to the trouble of fixing up lessons...”

“Daaad ... can I butt in? Reg is supposed to fix up for driving lessons, so he can share the driving in future. I have been pushing him to find a good driving school, but if you have a deal already in place, could he fill the slot? If it includes HGV driving, that would be a bonus, as it would mean he could cope with HGV drivers’ bullshit if he was working for your company as an executive.”

“Hmm ... That’s a good suggestion, Frances. I’ll speak to the driving school, and see if they can schedule the lessons to be near where you live. They are a national company, so that should be do-able. We can have the lessons arranged to avoid your university lecture timings, if you will send me that data.”

“I’ll do that. Reg should be able to pay for the lessons, if you want it that way. Thanks, Daddy. I’ll sort Reg out in the meantime, to prepare for what you can offer. Bye for now.”

The evening meal was almost ready, but Erika collared Frances before she sat down at the table.

“Frances, I was thinking about Reg’s insurance money. He ought to put most of it away in investments, just like my dad did with the money he inherited. My folks live off the income from the investment fund. I know Reg’s sum is nothing like as large, but the principle is the same.”

Frances was nodding at the idea.

“I get the idea, Erika. How much do you think should be invested, and how much kept aside for day-to-day needs?”

“If what he says is right about his detector finds, he’ll have a fair bit available to him in a few weeks. I would say that the whole of the insurance money should be invested in a low-risk plan. I was thinking of government bonds through N.S.I., as that guarantees the return will not drop below the initial investment.”

“N.S.I.?”

“National Savings and Investments. It actually now calls itself NSANDI, and operates a direct business to the public, offering savings products that are underwritten by the government, so the investments are 100 per cent safe. Daddy has some of his money invested through them, while other sums are invested in specific companies that offer a larger reliable return, and fairly low risk.”

“Do we need to ask your dad to find out more for us?”

“No. It is all online, so we can research it ourselves. Tell you what, I’ll look it up and print out what seem like the best deals for Reg. It is often the case that the larger the sum, the better the return offered. He can look at the available offers and decide for himself. We need to allow him SOME input, as it is his money!”

“Fine, Erika. I agree. You do that, and I will advise Reg to hold fire on any major spending from his windfall until we decide on what is best for the family.”

Next day, the family were at the university in plenty of time, so viewed the Chemistry building before having to head for lectures. The third floor showed vacant windows where the glass, complete with casement, had been blown out. There was a slight smirr of light rain falling, hopefully not being blown into the devastated lab. Outside, a police car and a fire engine stood silent, their crews inside the building, investigating further.

Reg took it as a good sign, telling Frances, “A gas explosion would be pretty straightforward, and they would be gone by now. Their continued presence suggests they are looking into the matter more thoroughly.”

The girls just shrugged, unconcerned about what the authorities were up to. They all drifted off to their own classes, leaving Reg still pondering the scene.

He was roused from his reverie by a shout.

“Hey! Robertson? Come here!”

It was a figure at the wide open front doors of the building, standing beside the uniformed constable on door duty. Getting closer, Reg recognised the man from Special Branch, and tried to prevent a scowl appearing on his own face. He could do without this overbearing man.

“You wanted to speak to me, sir?”

“Yes. I was about to have you sent for, but as you are handy, I can cut that short. Have you seen the laboratory?”

“Not recently, sir.”

“So you wouldn’t recognise if something was different from usual?”

“No, sir. My interest in chemistry is theoretical rather than practical, hands-on studies.”

“If I showed you the remains of a cupboard, would you know what it probably held at the time of the explosion?”

“Only in general terms. One for holding papers: files of reports, partial results of experiments; student lists and possibly marks and comments by lecturers; anything that would be on paper, would probably be in a small cupboard. One holding experiments – ongoing or complete – would be in a much larger cupboard, probably a walk-in unit.”

“I get you. Makes sense, I suppose.”

“Was there a reason for the question, sir? I might be able to comment further, if I was more aware of the observed facts.”

“Sorry, Mr Robertson, but I can’t tell you anything.”

“Did the lecturers tell you who had material stored there? People such as James Fitzgerald?”

The man regarded Reg quizzically. “That name has come up during our investigation. He was one the students who used this laboratory, so comes within our purview. Why? He is not in the UK at this time.”

“Are you sure? The idea of the proverbial Black Hole is, a place where everything goes in and nothing comes out. You may have your own black hole at Police headquarters, I am led to believe.”

The man scowled. “Robertson, you are an enigma. You seem to know too much and not enough, all at the same time. Perhaps I should be investigating YOU.”

“A non-productive approach, that would be, sir. It is more often who you know, rather than what you know that counts. For example, did you know that the officer in charge of collating possible sightings of the Ferguson and Aitchison families is related to the Aitchison family? That presence, alone, could explain your black hole quite simply. I leave it with you to take my thought further.”

The man stared at Reg, dumbfounded, as Reg walked off.

The Special Branch man’s thoughts swirled around as he took in the suggestion posited by Robertson. Coming to a conclusion, he fished out his phone and contacted his HQ. He than asked for the names of the staff who dealt with collating the incoming data from other forces. As there was just a few, he asked for their files to be produced for him this afternoon, when he would be back at his office.

He must either confirm or deny the assertion young Robertson had just made. If it was true, then the missing people may not be abroad after all. If the data had not been entered, or had been deleted, he would have to do a blanket request to all the police forces for a repeat of their replies, and see what jumped out from that information.

Based on what Robertson had said, he concluded that the young man must have his own connections. As he had four ‘wives’, that was four sets of parents where connections were possible, at the very least. Uncles and aunts would add to that list of possible sources. It would need a lot of staff time to search out all the kid’s relatives for possible connections, so it would have to be left for the moment, unless or until the situation later demanded a higher priority. An old dictum was that one doesn’t endanger one’s sources of information, so it would have to be so, in this case.

Robertson would have to be treated VERY carefully, it seemed.

At lunchtime there was another call, this time from Derek Gower, Prudence’s father.

“Reg, a bit of information for you. The database in question has been accessed, and the relevant data was not found directly, but a search of the deleted data produced some interesting information. The family concerned flew into the UK from Dublin via Ronaldsway Airport on the Isle of Man. The Isle of Man Constabulary work with the police forces of England and Wales, so they passed on a list of passenger arrivals that included the target personnel. It is not clear where they went to from the Isle of Man; we are still trying to ascertain such data. That’s all we have to date.”

“Thank you, sir. I was approached by the Special Branch policeman again today, so I suggested to him that they had a mole in their data collation centre. They may start investigating that now.”

Mr Gower harrumphed his doubts. “We’ll see. I am not so sure that bunch know what they are doing. They are too hidebound, with not enough imagination. I hope I am wrong.”

“Thanks anyway, sir. Prudence will be pleased at your actions.”

“Oh, yes. I’d better have a word with my girl, or her mother will give me hell.”

Reg passed the phone to Prudence. Your Dad wants a chat, Prudence love.”

“Thanks, darling. Hello, Dad. How’s things with you and Mum?”

Reg went off, leaving her to catch up on family chitchat. He had just put two facts together, and wanted to run them past Frances. He told her, “Frances, I have that metal detector for treasure hunting, but it can also pick up metal rubbish in the soil, so why don’t I run it over the garden, and we can dig up tin cans and other metal rubbish that we could do with getting rid of before we re-establish the garden?”

Frances stared at him. “Reg, that is brilliant! It can also prepare the ground for rotovating the soil for flowers or vegetables, ‘cause metal objects can create havoc with the blades of the rotovator machine.”

“So I can take the detector out to the garden in good weather and get that done soon? We need to finish preparing the soil for planting before spring comes.”

“Yes. But watch out for bricks and concrete. Can the detector locate such objects?”

“I expect it can, for it is the same principle as archaeological ground penetrating radar, but the signal may have to be different. Could be that it is not capable of discerning minerals. These machines are sold for treasure seekers, remember, not brick seekers!”

“I suppose so. Anyway, while you are going over the garden, if you see a brick or lump of concrete, test your detector on it to see what result you get. It might be worthwhile to find out.”

“Right. I can try that. I really want to remove things such as iron bars, bullets, horse brasses, and suchlike. None of these are good for a garden.”

“Can I have a go with the detector, Reg?”

“I don’t see why not. As long as you remember to keep the detection plate parallel to the ground at the right height, it is then just a matter of setting the detector for the metal you are seeking, then listening for the signals that come through.”

“I was thinking, Reg ... no need to comment on that! ... That if a fairly simple version of ground penetrating radar was available, there could be a market among gardeners. My dad once commented that every new house has a garden full of builders rubble with a thin skin of soil on top. A means of quickly and easily locating the larger chunks might sell well. At the very least, all the equipment rental outfits would want a few in their inventory. They would recommend its use before rotovating.”

“You are probably right, Frances, but why do you mention that?”

“We could possibly sell the idea to a manufacturer of garden equipment, if we had a patent for such a machine. All you need to achieve is the electronic solutions for identifying the rubble; and possibly also locating areas of swampy ground that are hidden. I think G.P. radar detects wet ground, doesn’t it?”

Reg considered, “Not directly, but wet ground affects how effective the detector is for metals, so yes, it actually does that, in a way.”

“So I can have a go with it when we get home?” Frances reprised her request.

“Of course. Don’t neglect your afternoon lectures by thinking of that, though.”

“I will concentrate intently, my love. I won’t let you down.”

“Thanks.” He bent down and kissed her on the lips with tenderness. “You will never let me down, Frances, for it would be letting yourself down, and that is far worse.”

She agreed, and they separated to go to their various appointments. Reg bid farewell to his other wives, and went off to his history lecture. The sixth century Roman empire was a peculiar part of history, for the capital was no longer Rome, but Constantinople, in a period when there was intense pressure on the empire’s borders, with Britain already abandoned. He was interested to see what the lecturer could reveal.

Reg’s phone rang during the lecture, so he quickly answered it and sneaked off to the door, to speak outside.

“Hello.”

“Reg Robertson?”

“Yes.”

“Sergeant Phillips. Can we make an appointment at your home, for an interview? I have some further questions.”

“Damn. More questions? Oh, hell, let’s get it over with. Can you come to the house tonight, any time from four thirty onwards?”

“I can fit that in, but I don’t know the exact time I can make it. Might be after five.”

“Just knock the door, Sergeant. We can even add an extra portion if you want to stay for a bite to eat. You up for that?”

“I’ll warn my wife I won’t be home for dinner tonight. See you when I get there.”

As soon as they gathered to go home, Reg warned his wives that the police sergeant would be calling again, and might stay for dinner.

Frances said, “Did you warn the twins that we needed an extra portion?”

“Oops. No, I forgot.”

“Do it now, Reg, and apologise for your thoughtlessness. Men!”

That done, Reg explained that the policeman was coming to ask more questions.

Erika was furious. “More bloody questions? What is he expecting to squeeze out of you, Reg. This is ridiculous.”

The other girls were equally scathing, but Reg was soothing, “It is fine, girls. Don’t fret. I’ll do what I can for him, but I suspect I am out of answers, and will tell him so.”

The man turned up just as dinner was ready, so the girls warned the twins that their guest had arrived, and just start serving.

Reg told Sergeant Phillips, “Leave off the questions until after dinner. I don’t want to be put off my food.”

The policeman looked startled, and went to say, “But...” then thought better of it, and finished, “I can go along with that. Thanks for the invite to the meal.”

They sat down at the set dining table, and the twins appeared with two large steaming tureens for everyone to help themselves.

“Chicken casserole”, announced Holly. “Plenty for everyone. Boiled potatoes are on their way as well.”

She went off and shortly after, she and Carol brought a tray with two large bowls of steaming potatoes with butter streaming down them. She placed them in the centre of the table. Serving spoons were already there.

“Help yourselves,” Carol declared. “To follow, today’s sweet is rhubarb crumble and custard. We found the rhubarb in the freezer.”

Frances started in a surprised memory. She had bought the sticks of rhubarb months back, and chopped them for freezing. Once in the freezer, she forgot about them. She was glad they were now getting used.

The food forced everyone to abandon discussion and fill their stomachs. Once they had reached the end of the sweet, the twins appeared with the coffee pot and coffee cups and cream. Holly asked the sergeant if he took sugar with his coffee, but was assured he preferred it just with cream. The twins know everyone else’s preferences and prepared and served them all.

Reg sat back with a satisfied sigh as he sipped his coffee. “Holly; Carol; that was great. I think we’ll keep you on the books!”

He smiled as he said this, to show he was making a joke. Reg liked to add a facial expression to show his pleasure or displeasure as he spoke, still unsure if he might be saying the wrong thing.

The girls grinned, noting he was a happy employer. That was what they intended, as a first stage in their campaign to join the family.

Reg looked over to the sergeant.

“Sir, why don’t we take our coffees through to my study, and you can grill me in peace, without my wives coming to the rescue.”

Sergeant Phillips grinned in response. “That is a plan. Let’s do it. Please excuse us, ladies,” he added politely.

That got him a smile of acceptance from the women, and he and Reg decamped to the study.

Once there, with the door closed, the policeman, started, “Mr Robertson...” and was halted with a hand up “‘Reg’, please, sergeant.”

“Very well. Reg, there will be no questions.”

As Reg’s eyebrows rose, Phillips explained, “I wanted to give you an update, but I am not supposed to do that, so more questions is the official reason for my presence. O.K.?”

Reg saw the point, and nodded, asking, “O.K., so?”

“So, after you suggested that Fitzgerald’s friends might be worth looking into, I pulled them in as a group, but questioned them separately. Their answers were interesting, as they all felt guilty and showed it in their mannerisms. This made it easy for me to demand answers about the explosion.”

“They were directly involved?” Reg asked.

“Yes. Each had been asked by Fitzgerald, over the phone, to deal with specific tasks. One had to steal the key to the lab and the outer door of the building. Apparently there is a master set at Admin. A second lad was detailed to sabotage the alarm system, by disabling the system output for the buildingwith a fast-setting foam. The third used the keys to access the lab at night and fix an explosive charge to the side of the cupboard, and escape again. The fourth was a chemistry classmate of Fitzgerald, and all he had to do was find an excuse to be last out before lunchtime, go back, turn on some of the gas taps and leave a simple timed trigger to produce a spark during lunchtime.

It all sounds so simple that way, but this involved detailed planning. Fitzgerald posted the explosive and the timer mechanism to the appropriate students, then left them to select the day of the explosion.

They didn’t even know why they were doing all this! Fitzgerald told them it was a secret mission he was being asked to arrange, to prove he was clever enough to be invited to become an explosives expert with MI5, or MI6 – they were not clear about that. They lapped up his story, imagining it would be a laugh, thinking that the explosive was a fake and that the gas explosion would be minor; but afterwards, when they saw the devastation, they began to worry. That was why I was able to put pressure on them. I told them that the Security Services did not recruit direct from university, so there was a fatal error in all their assumptions; and that they were complicit in whatever Fitzgerald was up to. Hell, I have no idea if the Security guys do or not, but THEY were not aware of that, and just accepted what I told them.”

Reg almost giggled at the scenario he was hearing. “They don’t deserve to be university students, if they are that easily taken in.”

The sergeant told him, “Be assured, Reg, some of the cleverest people can be conned quite easily, once you invoke national security. People don’t even ask for identity cards, thinking that security people don’t need them!”

Reg commented, “I would have thought it important for security people to be able to identify themselves.”

“Quite so, Reg. That is the case. Did you ask that Special Branch man for identity, by the way?”

Reg blushed as he recalled his actions. “No, sir. I just accepted he was the real thing, as the university’s Student Services Manager was with him.”

“It didn’t occur to you that HE could be just as lax as you?”

“Oh. You are correct, sergeant. We could have been conned, but I was quite convinced that the guy was who he appeared to be. There was a confidence and bearing that I thought correct.”

“I am sure he was the real thing, based on some information that came our way about cooperation. Still, you see what I was getting at?”

“I do. I didn’t even ask for your identity card this time, as you had been here before. Your face and voice is your identity pass with us, sergeant.”

“Not exactly standard procedure, Reg, but acceptable all the same.”

“Hmm ... another little item for you, sergeant. It has come to my notice that Fitzgerald and the Aitchison family flew in to the Isle of Man from Dublin some days ago, and left from there to somewhere on mainland UK. My informant doesn’t know where, so far.”

Phillips stared at Reg in shock. “How the hell do you know that?”

“Family connections, sir,” Reg confessed. “My wives have parents of ability, and one of them is what you might call a security consultant. His operation has contacts within the police force, and sometimes his people have access to data that is being withheld from the police organisation; in this case, due to a bad apple in a sensitive position controlling information. My contact has no such need to depend on a faulty data link, in this case a human link.”

“I am not sure what to say, Mr Robertson. You are suggesting a criminal act by a policeman in the course of his duties.”

“Criminal act? Depends on the definition, sir. Is withholding information, or causing it to be lost in the system – which comes to the same thing – a criminal act?”

“It is, under the Police and Crime Act, 2017, Reg. That cleared up many of the doubtful questions about police powers and actions.”

“Glad to hear that, sergeant. The policeman in question is a relative of the Aitchison family, but I don’t know his name. My sources gave me what they could, without endangering their own activities. A wise precaution, I believe.”

“That sounds a valid assessment, Reg. Should I be the one to act on it, I wonder?”

“There are difficulties, as you might imagine. You might have to catch them in the Act, or prove that the suspect is the only one able to do what was done. That may not be easy. It may be better to circumvent the system, and locate the Aitchisons yourself by asking around the police forces directly. Someone sent data to the headquarters and may still have it to hand.

By the way, I told the Special Branch man that they probably had a saboteur in their data system, so he will be the instigator of any action there.”

“Glad to hear it. I need to instigate a blanket enquiry for Fitzgerald around the country, and see what we are missing. Thanks, Reg.”

“Glad to help, sergeant. I’ll see you to the door. Your wife will be wondering what is keeping you.”

“Don’t worry, Reg. I shall just tell her I was treated to my dinner by five young women, and see what she makes of it!”

“Nice one, sergeant. The fact that they are all happily married need not come into the conversation, unless it has to, later, to mollify her.”

“I’ll get off now, Reg. Every visit I make here seems to send me in a new direction. Thanks again, and good night.”

Having seen the policeman off to his car, Reg returned to the dining table, finding it cleared of dishes except for the coffee items. The women were all gathered round the table, except for the twins, who were off doing their work in the kitchen.

Frances demanded, “Reg, what did our policeman want? I was quite incensed at more questions from him!”

“Hush, Frances. The reality was that there were no questions. That was ruse to disguise what he was actually here for; to give me an update on the explosion and James Fitzgerald’s friends.”

“Oh. That’s different then. I forgive him now. What did he say, love?”

“A fair bit, but the gist of it is that his friends were directly responsible for the explosion, all done at the behest of Fitzgerald. The guy phoned them to do various tasks that linked together to end up with the gas explosion, plus a sympathetic explosion at a cupboard. They all thought it was a fake; a test of Fitzgerald’s ability to set up that sort of thing. It was supposed to be a test set by the national security services, and they fell for it!”

The girls guffawed at this idea. They knew that no-one in their right mind would do such a thing. Prudence asked Reg, “They really believed what he told them?”

“Yep. He must be a convincing liar, to get university students to act like they did.”

“Are they under arrest, Reg?” asked Fiona.

He blinked with realisation. “I never asked. Stupid of me. He said he had taken them in for questioning at the police station, but I have no idea if they were charged or not. We’ll probably find out tomorrow.”

“More important, who gets Reg tonight, Frances?” demanded Fiona. She was always looking for her next turn at fucking with Reg. Frances wondered if the girl was pregnant, for that might be the impetus for her enthusiasm for sex.

She told Fiona, “Tonight is Prudence and Freda’s turn. Your shot comes up in a couple of days, Fiona. Remember, girl, this was your own choice. If you wanted to be fucked daily, you should have chosen your own man, not ours.”

Fiona was immediately contrite.