Small Mercies Read online

  He climbed into the rear seat of the car, taking his seat beside Greg, who was regarding him with a sardonic expression. ‘Managed to tear yourself away, then?’

  ‘He was just being hospitable.’

  ‘To you, anyway.’ Greg looked amused rather than offended.

  Rowan Wiseman had started the car and, with a brief wave towards Kennedy, who was still watching them from the open front door, she turned the car back down the track towards the road.

  ‘That’s the way Robin works.’ Charlie twisted in the front passenger seat to look back at Clive. ‘Divide and rule. He’s okay as long as you don’t trust him too far.’

  ‘You’re just saying that because he doesn’t trust you,’ Rowan said. ‘He’s probably counting the spoons back there even now.’

  ‘I wouldn’t steal his spoons,’ Charlie said. ‘That nice malt whisky, maybe.’

  ‘What did you make of him, Clive?’ Rowan said over her shoulder.

  Clive exchanged a glance with Greg. ‘I’m not sure. I mean, he was very welcoming. And he gave me a load of useful stuff to take away. I felt as if he was holding some stuff back, but I suppose that’s understandable. Given what he said about wanting to attract only the right kinds of people, I imagine he’s probably just playing things close to his chest till he gets to know me better.’

  ‘I wouldn’t trust him an inch,’ Greg said.

  ‘I think that’s a little unfair…’ Clive had been surprised by the untypical vehemence in Greg’s tone.

  ‘Maybe I’m being oversensitive because he clearly had no time for me,’ Greg said, ‘but I just felt he was slippery. It seemed almost impossible to pin him down on anything.’ He stopped. ‘Sorry, Rowan, I’m being rude about someone who’s a friend of yours.’

  ‘He’s not exactly a friend,’ Rowan said. ‘I’ve known him a long time and he’s helped me out a lot. And Charlie too, even if Charlie sometimes has an odd way of showing his gratitude for that.’

  Charlie snorted. ‘Greg’s got a point. Yeah, Robin’s helped us out when we needed it. But Robin’s mainly interested in Robin. As long as you appreciate that, you’ll probably be okay with him.’

  ‘Possibly,’ Rowan conceded. ‘It’s never easy to understand Robin’s motives. But that probably doesn’t matter. What matters is what he does.’

  ‘And what is that?’ Greg said. ‘That was part of the problem with tonight. Sure, he was very welcoming to Clive, but I’m not sure how much real information Clive got from him. My impression was that Kennedy can talk for England, but I’m not sure how much he actually says.’

  ‘Be fair to him,’ Clive said, finding himself feeling oddly defensive of Kennedy. ‘It was the first time he’d met me. Like he said, we were really just sounding each other out tonight, seeing whether we could work with one another. I really wasn’t expecting him to say too much.’

  ‘Again, that’s how Robin tends to work,’ Rowan said. ‘He can be cagey, but usually only when he has good reason to be. To be honest, tonight he was as open as I’ve seen him at a first meeting with someone. I think you made much more progress than you realise.’

  ‘You think so?’ Clive said. ‘I really wasn’t sure how to read him.’

  ‘Like a closed book,’ Greg said.

  ‘He can seem a bit inscrutable when you first meet him,’ Rowan said. ‘But that’s because he’s sizing you up, deciding if he can trust you. If you go ahead with this, you’ll find him much more open next time. Much more willing to discuss the detail.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Clive said. ‘I’m really keen to get on with this. If Robin really can give me the information and insights I need, I really think we can make some progress.’

  ‘You’ve just got to take it step by step with Robin,’ Rowan said. ‘Once you confirm that you want to go ahead and work with him, he’ll immediately become much more open. He wants to make sure the choice is yours. Again, that’s how he is. He doesn’t coerce people—’

  ‘No, he grooms them.’ Charlie gave a sudden explosive laugh. ‘That’s Robin’s way.’

  ‘Charlie exaggerates as always,’ Rowan said. ‘But he’s broadly right. Robin wants to bring you on board but he wants to make sure it’s your choice.’

  ‘Or at least that you think it’s your choice.’ Charlie grinned. ‘I’m just winding Rowan up. She won’t hear a bad word about Robin. I’m that bit more sceptical. Let’s leave it at that.’

  ‘You think you’ll do it, Clive?’ Rowan said. ‘Work with Robin, I mean.’

  ‘I think so.’ Clive looked across at Greg. ‘I mean, we’ll give it a go, won’t we, Greg?’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘There’s a lot to explore here. If Robin can give us the information and contacts we need, we can produce a good piece of work.’

  ‘The question is whether he’s willing to be properly open with us,’ Greg said. ‘And whether he’s prepared to tolerate me as your devoted assistant.’ He placed an ironic emphasis on the last word.

  ‘He’ll warm to you if you give him a chance, Greg,’ Rowan said. ‘As Charlie says, it’s just the way he works. You’ll probably find that next time it’s you who gets the charm offensive. Keeps us on our toes.’

  ‘I can get enough of that kind of thing at work,’ Greg said. ‘I don’t want to have to tolerate tricksy behaviour in the evenings as well.’

  ‘If you don’t want to be part of this, Greg, I’ll quite understand.’ Clive knew from experience that the surest way to secure Greg’s involvement was to threaten to withhold it.

  ‘No, I’m more than cool with it,’ Greg said. ‘I just want to be sure that our friend back there is equally happy about it.’

  They were approaching the outskirts of the city now, leaving the dark of the country behind them. Charlie looked at his watch. ‘Still pretty early, you know, folks. Anyone fancy another pint or two?’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ‘Where do you reckon?’

  Annie was standing at the front of the cottage between the two PCs who’d responded to the call. These were different officers from the two who’d been keeping watch on the place earlier, and who’d now presumably completed their shifts. One was a young man called Paul Burbage, who had had some previous dealings with Annie. The other, a slightly older PC who’d already managed to acquire an impressively world-weary expression, had introduced himself as Ian Wharton. ‘Must have been about here, I reckon.’ She’d been peering through the camera of her mobile, trying to replicate the picture that had been attached to the email sent to Sheena. It was probably a waste of time, but at least it should give them an idea of where the author of the email had been standing.

  Wharton shone his torch carefully across the grass beneath them. ‘I don’t know what I’m expecting to find,’ he said, his tone an amiable grumble. ‘Footprint of a gigantic hound, that sort of thing.’

  Annie had warmed to the PCs almost immediately on their arrival. Her previous contacts with Burbage suggested he was a solid copper who could be relied on to do a decent job. Wharton clearly enjoyed playing the curmudgeon, but had provided a helpful and reassuring presence. Neither of them had shown any resentment at being called out, or any reluctance to search the gardens at the front and rear of the house. Needless to say, there had been no sign of any intruder.

  ‘You’re sure the photo was taken tonight?’ Burbage asked, as Wharton continued to search the undergrowth.

  ‘Can’t be certain, obviously,’ Annie said. ‘But whoever sent that email knew when I got back and when your colleagues drove away.’

  ‘Just wondering why they didn’t take a picture of you arriving or the police leaving to prove they were actually watching. If they were looking to scare you, I mean.’

  ‘Good point. It would certainly have made it even more unnerving.’

  ‘Of course, they might have just been scared of being spotted if they came too near. Might have thought it was safer to wait till you were inside and the police had gone.’

  ‘M
aybe,’ Annie said, thoughtfully. ‘It’s just…’ She pulled out her phone. Sheena had forwarded the email to her, as well as to Dwyer’s team. She opened up the picture again and held it in front of her, making another attempt to match it to the reality in front of them. ‘It looks to me as if we’re standing in roughly the right place, but the photograph was taken from somewhere above us. The elevation’s not quite the same.’

  Burbage squinted at the screen. ‘I think you’re right. I thought there was something funny about it but I couldn’t put my finger on what.’ He turned to his colleague. ‘Ian, bring that oversized flashlight of yours over here.’

  Wharton rejoined them. ‘You just wish you had one, too. What is it?’

  ‘Have a look up there.’

  The edge of the front garden was lined with a row of trees, interspersed with bushes, which provided the cottage with some shelter and privacy from the public road. Wharton wafted the torch beam through the branches. Most were still bare, although the first spring buds were beginning to appear.

  ‘There,’ Annie said. ‘The light caught on something. Among those lower branches.’

  Wharton cautiously lowered the beam to where she was pointing. ‘There’s something. Hang on.’

  As he moved to the left, the flashlight beam caught the object more clearly. A plastic box, strapped to the branch with what looked like gaffer tape. ‘What the bloody hell’s that?’ Wharton said.

  ‘I’m guessing it’s a cheap security camera or something of that kind,’ Annie said. ‘That’s how the photo was taken tonight.’

  ‘You mean there was no one actually here?’ Wharton said.

  ‘Someone’s been here at some point,’ Burbage pointed out. ‘If only to strap that up there.’

  ‘They could have done that at any point. Sheena and I are out of the house a lot of the time. It wouldn’t be difficult for someone to do that without much risk of disturbance.’

  ‘It’s not that high,’ Wharton said. ‘You’d probably only need a stepladder. Speaking of which, if you’ve got one to hand, I’ll get it down so we can get it bagged as evidence.’

  ‘There’s one in the shed at the back,’ Annie said.

  ‘I’ll go get it. Just in case there’s anything nasty lurking in there.’ Wharton handed the large torch to Burbage. ‘Use it wisely while I’m gone.’

  ‘We’ll do our best. The question is…’ Burbage began to shine the light up into the trees again.

  ‘If the picture was taken remotely, how did they know what time I got back?’ Annie was peering into the trees, following the movement of the torch beam.

  ‘Exactly. Ah.’ Burbage stopped, holding the torch steady. ‘There.’

  It was a second camera, apparently of a slightly different design from the first but similarly fixed to one of the lower trees’ branches. This time the camera was pointing out to the road. ‘That’s how our friend knew when you got back. You were being monitored. Also explains why they didn’t include an image of you arriving or the police leaving. It would have revealed that it was taken from here rather than by someone watching.’

  ‘And we don’t know how long the cameras have been there?’ Annie said. ‘Someone could have been monitoring our movements for days.’

  ‘Hard to know,’ Burbage said. ‘They look like pretty cheap devices, and they still seem to be in decent condition. So they may not have been there long. On the other hand, some of these devices, even the budget ones, are designed for outdoor use, so they’d probably be okay for a while.’

  There was a shout from the house. Annie whirled round to see Sheena standing silhouetted against the light in the hallway. For a moment, Annie felt a chill down her spine and wanted to tell Sheena to get back inside, not to leave herself so exposed. ‘Everything okay?’ Sheena called. ‘I was beginning to feel a bit nervous in there by myself.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Annie said. ‘Looks like we’ve found something, though.’

  Sheena walked out to join them, wrapping her arms round her body against the cold evening air. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Cameras. Two of them. One monitoring the house. The other pointing out into the road, presumably monitoring our arrivals and departures.’ Burbage shone the torch into the trees to allow Sheena to see the devices.

  ‘You’re kidding. So we don’t know that anyone was actually out here tonight.’

  ‘My guess is that nobody was,’ Annie said. ‘But someone was definitely out here at some point, probably in the last few days.’ Her own initial instinct, on discovering the cameras, had been relief that there had been no intruder tonight. But somehow this felt almost worse. More calculated. It was as if the picture was shifting with each succeeding incident, so that what had seemed like a thuggish coincidence increasingly felt like a deliberate and carefully planned scheme. To what end, she couldn’t imagine.

  As if reading Annie’s mind, Sheena gave an involuntary shiver. ‘It gives me the creeps. How do we know there aren’t more cameras about the house?’

  ‘We don’t.’ Annie turned to greet Wharton, who was returning with the stepladder. ‘This might just be a one-off, designed to enable tonight’s little stunt. Or maybe we are dealing with some kind of – I don’t know – voyeur.’

  Wharton was setting the ladder under the trees, gesturing for Burbage to hold it steady. Between the two officers, they succeeded in removing the two cameras and securing them in evidence bags without risking any serious compromise to their potential value as exhibits.

  ‘Not sure they’ll tell us much,’ Burbage said. ‘I’m no expert but they look to me like the kind of thing you’d pick up for a few quid on the internet. Probably not possible to track down who bought them.’

  ‘They must link back to a user, presumably?’ Annie said.

  ‘Probably through some kind of app. Whether you can track back from the camera to its user I’ve no idea.’

  Annie nodded. ‘And even if you can in theory, my guess is that it wouldn’t be difficult to cover your tracks if you know what you’re doing.’

  ‘Usually the way,’ Burbage agreed. ‘Though some of your IT people are pretty smart.’

  ‘Worth a try,’ Annie agreed. ‘You’ll deal with getting those logged in? Andy Dwyer’s the SIO. I want to make sure everything’s done by the book.’

  ‘I’ll take care of it,’ Burbage said. ‘You reckon you’ll be okay for tonight?’

  ‘Reckon so. Especially as it looks like we never really had an intruder. Not tonight, anyway.’

  ‘You think whoever did this expected us to suss the cameras so quickly?’

  ‘That’s a good question,’ Annie said. ‘I’d guess not. Having gone to the trouble of installing them, you’d think they’d want to get some use out of them first. Send us a few more unnerving emails at least. Maybe they didn’t expect us to be quite as smart as we were.’ She shrugged. ‘Or maybe they did expect it, and this is just another in a series of stunts intended to intimidate us.’

  ‘But why would they do that?’ Sheena said. ‘What are they trying to achieve?’

  ‘I doubt whether even they know,’ Annie said. ‘There’s a lot of pent-up anger out there, but a lot of them don’t even seem to know who they’re angry with or what they’re angry about. You think this is connected with that Bulldog guy? What’s his name?’

  ‘Mo Henley, supposedly. Though I’ve seen suggestions that even that’s not his real name and it’s something double-barrelled. It seems likely. Not directly, maybe. But he attracts the kind of people who might do this.’

  ‘That’s the danger with people like Henley,’ Annie said. ‘We treat them as a joke, but they have some nasty people working with them. And sometimes some even nastier people behind them.’

  Burbage had returned from replacing the stepladder in the shed and had joined Wharton, ready to leave. ‘Is that this Bulldog guy you’re talking about? If so, you’re not wrong.’

  ‘You know him?’ Annie said.

  ‘I wouldn’t touch him with a twenty-f
oot bargepole,’ Burbage said. ‘But my mam and dad lived round the corner from his parents. He was a few years above me in school, and he had a nasty reputation even then. I always steered well clear, but he bullied a couple of my mates. His mam and dad were decent types, by all accounts. His dad worked in the pits, back in the days when we still had pits. Big union and Labour man, which is funny when you consider the son’s politics. From what I’ve seen of him, he’s not the brightest. Like you say, I reckon he’s being used by some pretty unpleasant people.’

  ‘Used in what way?’ Annie said.

  ‘To stir up trouble, mainly. It’s all difficult to prove. We usually just end up dealing with results of it. But I’ve heard rumours there’s nasty stuff associated with Henley. Loan sharks. Drugs. Protection rackets. Mobster stuff, really. Small-time mobster stuff, maybe, but nasty all the same.’

  ‘You think Henley’s deliberately working with these people?’ Annie prodded.

  Burbage was beginning to look as if he was regretting his outburst. ‘I don’t imagine he’s much of a clue what he’s doing. He just likes being the centre of attention. He was like that at school. He didn’t care what he did, even if it got him excluded, as long as people were noticing him. But I reckon he’s being used. Not that he’d care.’ He shifted awkwardly, and Annie noticed that Wharton was half-concealing a grin. She imagined this wasn’t the first time he’d had to listen to Burbage.

  ‘I get the impression this is important to you,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry,’ Burbage said. ‘I know I need to avoid talking politics in this job. It’s just that people like Henley make me angry. I’ve seen how people in those communities are being ripped off, and they look at Henley as if he was some kind of hero. But he’s part of the problem.’

  ‘You’re entitled to your views,’ Annie said. ‘And I’m not saying I disagree with them. As long as you’re objective in the job, eh?’