Chapter 5

Having been forewarned by a phone call fifteen minutes earlier, made as Jane was leaving the motorway, Clive was able to open his front door almost as soon as his doorbell rang. Jane was back in schoolmarm style, but Clive offered a greeting hug and kiss and they were gratefully reciprocated.

“I’ve parked my car in your driveway again,” admitted Jane. “Is that a problem?”

“My car’s in the garage but I have no immediate plans to go out so it’s fine,” said Clive. Jane was keeping a tight grip on her shoulder bag so Clive reached for her suitcase and carried it into his guest room. “How long are you planning to stay?” he asked.

“I was planning to play it by ear,” said Jane, following him in. “I won’t be missed for a few days and I can easily extend that with a quick phone call. Now, if you’ll be good enough to revive me with a coffee, I desperately need to pee.”

Jane pantomimed crossing her legs, and Clive retreated to the kitchen, chuckling.

A few minutes later they were comfortably ensconced in the lounge, sitting on the sofa and sipping drinks. Jane had brought her shoulder bag with her.

“How was your journey?” asked Clive.

“Need you ask? It was the motorway out of London. And even when I was past the slow crawl, I had to take things steady because of all the speed cameras. At least I avoided rush-hour traffic.”

“I’ve only done that journey a couple of times, and that was twice too often!”

“I hear you had a bit of excitement at work,” commented Jane.

“Yes. Do you know the details?”

“I’ve read the report but it was pretty bare.”

“A Chinese delegation requested a tour of the company via the Chinese Embassy. The delegates all bore diplomatic credentials. When they were being shown around, my team and I carefully watched them on CCTV. I saw one of the delegates surreptitiously try to hide something. After the tour was over, I reported what I’d seen. Apparently, it was a device that, when remotely activated, was intended to piggy-back onto the site’s intranet. It wouldn’t have worked, but they weren’t to know that.

“The company made an official complaint. Chinese officials denied all knowledge of the event, even after being shown the video. They claimed the culprit must have been an imposter using forged credentials. I very much doubt that. As per security protocols, I took a photograph of the credentials of every member of the party prior to admission. They were all extremely similar to the extent of suggesting they’d been issued at the same time. The Chinese declared the culprit persona non grata so he could be arrested and tried if we found him, but he seems to have mysteriously vanished.”

“That was a good spot, seeing him plant the device,” said Jane.

“Not really. Right place, right time. It’s what we’re trained to do. If I hadn’t spotted him, one of my team would have.”

“Now I’ve had my caffeine fix, shall we get the business part over with?” asked Jane.

“If you must,” grumbled Clive.

Jane reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a document. “This is the Confidential Informant Agreement,” she said, handing it to Clive. “I’m supposed to advise you to show it to a solicitor but it’s quite simple.”

Clive scanned through the document. “You’ve given me the highest level of anonymity,” he observed. “All contact has to be made through you.”

“Strictly speaking, through Chief Superintendent Jane Watson. Legally you could be compelled to testify anonymously in court, but that has to go through my boss. However, in this context, one of my other identities is actually my boss and if they do try to get you in court, I can tie them up in loops for years.”

Clive nodded his approval. “You’ve left the payment rate blank,” he observed.

“I could put a figure in there, but they’d insist on it going into a bank account. I was pretty sure you’d turn down the offer of any payment anyway.”

“The oracle doesn’t permit the acceptance of any monetary reward,” confirmed Clive. “It seems to be okay for me to be treated to the occasional free meal though.”

“There is a provision to reimburse you for ad hoc expenses. I thought it would be best for me to claim those on my expenses and reimburse you in cash.”

Again Clive nodded. He quickly finished reading the document. “I trust you, it looks fine to me. So I just print my name at the bottom and sign and date it?”

“Don’t use your real name,” warned Jane.

“Okay. I’ll use the name Martin Grainger. He was on one of the sniper teams I did recon for. He died in service. I’d like to think he’d be amused at my remembering him this way.” Clive printed and signed with his bogus name, then handed the document back to Jane.

“Thanks. I’ll get this authorised and copied so you can have a copy for your own records.” Jane filed the document back in her shoulder bag and pulled out another document which she handed to Clive.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“I had another STI test and this is bang up to date. You showed me yours; I thought you deserved to see mine.”

“You didn’t have to, I trust you.” But he skimmed the sheet anyway.

“Trust, but verify,” said Jane, as she accepted the document back.

The third object Jane pulled from her shoulder bag was a thick folder.

“That looks ominous,” said Clive. “What is it?”

“A case I thought might be a good test. Have a read through and let me know what you think. Meanwhile I’ll go and unpack. Oh, and let me know if you’d be prepared to fuck any of the family members.”

Clive skimmed through the folder and immediately saw why Jane had chosen it. The girl who had gone missing, Caroline Whittingham, had been working part-time as a barmaid to help pay her way through college. And she was eerily similar in looks to Sally, although a couple of stone lighter.

Some ten years ago, Caroline Whittingham had finished her shift at the Tinker Belle pub, in the South Yorkshire village of Bishops Kirkby, and set off on her fifteen minute walk home. She had everything to live for and yet she had seemingly vanished off the face of the earth. Her parents had delayed reporting her missing because she sometimes stayed out overnight with friends. When the landlord at the Tinker Belle rang up to ask after her, since she was normally very reliable but had missed a couple of shifts without warning, the parents contacted the police.

Clive read through the investigation report, the witness statements and the forensic reports but nothing stood out. The police initially suspected Caroline’s boyfriend, but he was away on a training course when she went missing. There were photographs of the main characters. Two were female; Caroline’s mother and sister. Neither appealed to Clive sexually, and he was sure the intervening ten years wouldn’t have been kind to them.

When Clive finished, he realised Jane had been sitting in the armchair opposite, watching him. “I’m afraid I don’t find either of the women sexually attractive,” he admitted. “But if I had, how would that work? Would you pimp me out? Could you do that without feeling jealous?”

Jane hesitated before answering. “I feel there’s something between us so, yes, I would feel jealous. But I think I could accept it because of the oracle’s personal involvement angle. I care passionately about the cases I work on, but I’m sure that’s less than what’s felt by those who have suffered loss.”

“What’s your involvement with the case?”

“It was one of the very first I was asked to review, to assess whether it was worth allocating resources in order to take another run at it. I’m as certain as can be that Caroline’s dead - people don’t just disappear that completely - and I feel really sorry for the family and friends who have had to live through ten years of uncertainty without any closure.”

“Okay,” said Clive. “It seems to be a deserving case. Let’s do it.”