The Silent Room Read online

  ‘Relax,’ Newman said. ‘She’d hardly ring first and tip us off. She probably wants to invite you out for dinner.’

  Ryan glanced at Caroline, who in turn dropped her head. It was obvious she’d told Newman that O’Neil had taken a shine to him. Since he’d come clean about Roz, she’d been keen to hitch him up with the Superintendent, who she seemed to think sounded so nice at the station.

  Was that only yesterday?

  As far as Ryan was concerned, his twin was way off target and in for a shock. All he’d done for days was mislead O’Neil, something he hated doing to anyone. Not the way he liked to impress a lady. It was time to pool resources, he suggested. The others disagreed. They wanted to get a handle on the notebooks before sharing their findings with Professional Standards. Grace was begging for twenty-four hours more, her focus on Ryan. Avoiding her gaze, he watched his twin stick her earphones in and return to her music. It was safe to talk without worrying her.

  ‘It’s too risky,’ he said.

  Newman wasn’t happy. ‘C’mon, where’s your bottle? Garry said we’d know the minute we were discovered. I trust him and so should you. He installed a failsafe. It won’t let us down. I vote we work on it today and review the situation in the morning. I’m owed a few favours from people who can track down Freberg quicker than you or I could blink.’

  ‘You in?’ Grace pushed. ‘Ryan?’

  Ryan had always been a believer that, when approaching a crossroads, you didn’t stop until you reached the white line. The question he was asking himself was: had he overshot it? If he had, then the only thing he could see on his horizon was a long stretch in prison if Maguire got wise to the silent room. The prick would like nothing better than to humiliate him in the worst way possible and O’Neil would be forced to support him. Ryan wanted to push on through. Of course he did. They were close to a breakthrough.

  So close he could almost taste it.

  ‘We take it to O’Neil tomorrow?’

  Newman and Grace were both nodding.

  ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’m in.’

  49

  While Newman went off to do his thing, Ryan and Grace carried on with their electronic legwork on the computers, batting ideas back and forth across the dining room table, putting stuff in, taking it out, cross-checking each other’s work. The acronyms in Jack’s notebooks were driving them both insane.

  Grace looked up from her computer. ‘Does the River Forest Country Club mean anything to you?’ she asked.

  ‘No, should it?’

  ‘Other than the Regional Flood & Coastal Committee, it’s the only reference I found in HOLMES with the initials RFCC. Someone who works there once gave a statement on a low-profile enquiry, nothing that rings any bells. It’s not local either.’

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Hampshire force.’

  Ryan was none the wiser.

  Grace pointed to the notes in front of him. ‘You faring any better?’

  ‘A load of care clinics and country clubs like the one you mentioned.’ He kept his eyes on the screen. ‘There are so many it’s hard to know where to start. Research Flight Control Computer worries me, as does Residual Fluid Catalytic Cracking,’ he said. ‘I had to look that one up. It’s something to do with the petroleum refining process. I also found a reference to a Ready For Commissioning Certificate too – whatever that means.’

  With Newman off the grid, the hour hand on the clock flew round several times and they ended the day collating information to share with him when he got in. It made interesting reading, a definite theme emerging, pointing to the inspection and testing of electronic equipment and electrical power distribution, much of it used within the oil industry.

  ‘All very worrying if we’re talking terrorists,’ Ryan said.

  Grace pushed a few keys. ‘Hmm … that’s interesting.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘The Audi used in the hijack belongs to an oil employee. Could be a coincidence, I suppose.’

  ‘From this region?’ Ryan queried.

  ‘He’s presently in Nigeria – estimated time of arrival in the UK is the twenty-seventh.’

  ‘Another link,’ Ryan said. ‘Norway is one of the richest nations because of oil.’

  ‘I’ll take your word for it,’ Grace said. ‘World economics was never my strong point.’

  He laughed. ‘The industry is worth in excess of five hundred billion to them. I read somewhere that the lucky buggers only work two weeks in every six. They also earn three times more than you and I ever could grafting full-time. Jack’s sister-in-law told me that. As young as he was, Oliver left her with a hell of a pension.’

  ‘I met him once or twice. He was a great lad, the double of Jack in looks and personality. You didn’t meet him, did you?’

  ‘No, sadly. He’d been dead about a year when I joined Special Branch. Jack never got over it, you know, not really. I recognized his loss the first day I met him. For me, it was like looking in a mirror.’

  ‘You two had a lot in common.’

  Ryan cleared his throat. ‘Some of it was toxic, Grace.’

  Her gaze was intense but supportive. ‘Did he discuss the accident much?’

  ‘Occasionally …’ Ryan palmed both eyelids, wiping a thin film of sweat away. ‘He talked about Oliver, of course, but not the other stuff. It was too painful – for both of us. We tended to avoid the subject of his brother and my old man unless we were stone-cold sober. Drink had a melancholy effect on us sometimes. We were a couple of saddos whenever we got into it. It seemed easier not to.’

  ‘He didn’t share it with me. Every time I brought it up, he changed the subject. I didn’t push it. I figured he’d talk when he was ready. He never did.’

  Ryan could see she looked hurt. ‘That surprises me.’

  ‘Does it?’

  ‘He used to call you his second mum.’

  ‘Never to my face.’ She almost choked on that.

  ‘He loved you to bits, Grace.’

  ‘And me him.’ She quickly guided the subject away from Jack. ‘I was going to say you’d be better off on the rigs, but money isn’t everything, is it? Anyway, you’re too much like me. There’s nothing quite like police work, no other job I’d rather be doing anyway. I knew the day I walked away that I’d made the wrong choice. Wish I’d stayed on.’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ Ryan said. ‘Maybe it’s time for a change.’

  ‘Yeah, right! They’ll have to prise you out kicking and screaming.’

  ‘I dunno, I quite fancy myself as Red Adair.’ He was only half joking. He really was wondering what else he might be good for, other than policing. He had to face facts: he’d gone from hero to zero in a matter of days. ‘Maybe a change of direction is exactly what I need. Think I’ll buy a Stetson and move to Texas. Every cowboy needs a good woman. Wanna come for the ride?’

  Their laughter cancelled out the sound of the front door opening and closing behind them. With her earphones in, Caroline hadn’t heard it either. It was only when Bob sat up, wagged his tail and looked at the door that Ryan turned round to see what had alerted him. Newman was standing in the doorway, soaking wet. Responding to Bob’s movement, moreover his interest, Caroline paused her music and got up to check on their meal.

  Newman greeted her as she walked by flashing a smile in his direction, welcoming him back to the fold. ‘I missed you,’ she said. ‘These two haven’t said a word to me all afternoon. Is it raining?’

  ‘How did you know?’

  She threw him a smile. ‘I can smell it.’

  Newman waited for her to disappear. It was obvious to Ryan that he had something on his mind. Grace stopped what she was doing and swivelled her chair to face him.

  The spook moved closer to the dining room table. ‘Freberg is an electrical engineer,’ he said. ‘An expert in his field working for a company called QiOil … or should I say, he was. He’s dead. He went missing four months ago.’

  Newman had their undivided atten
tion.

  ‘You know how he died?’ Ryan asked.

  ‘Went out to meet a man and never came back.’

  ‘Last seen when exactly?’

  ‘Sunday, June sixteenth. His fully clothed body washed up a few days later. Verdict misadventure. My source tells me he was happily married with two kids and a wife he adored. He’d been suffering from depression. No suicide note. He was found at a place called Verdens Ende. Translated, that means the end of the world. Well, it was for him. Geographically, it’s around an hour’s drive from Sandefjord Airport, Torp. So, did he fall or was he pushed?’

  50

  Ryan’s mouth dropped open. Turning away from Newman, he dashed off another Google search and sat back, speechless, when it confirmed his suspicions. ‘Jack was in Norway then. Sixteenth of June was Father’s Day.’ Ryan shut his eyes. It was all coming back to him. ‘It was an impulse buy. Not unusual. Jack was always surprising Hilary. She didn’t want to go if it meant leaving the kids but she had no choice, he’d already booked. Insisted he hadn’t realized. I never thought anything of it at the time.’

  Grace looked at him. ‘You sure it was that weekend?’

  ‘Positive. He roped me in to take the kids out. I seem to recall you weren’t available.’

  Grace blushed.

  It was no secret that she was awkward in the company of children and would do all she could to avoid them. Ryan was beginning to understand why. Falling in love with an MI5 operative was hardly conducive to bringing up a family. She’d poured herself into work, mothering her team as an alternative to the real thing. No wonder her retirement had left a gaping hole in her life.

  ‘Looks like we’re on to something.’ Newman drew up a chair and sat down. ‘We know who Freberg was. Hilary will confirm if Jack was the person he went to meet that day. This is big. Very big.’

  ‘We’ve got to be careful here,’ Ryan said. ‘Jack has been accused before, don’t forget.’

  ‘You’re not suggesting—’

  ‘I’m suggesting nothing,’ he snapped. ‘I’m advocating caution, that’s all.’

  ‘Matt, calm down …’ Caroline was in the doorway. ‘Sounds like you guys need to eat. Dinner’s ready.’

  As she told them what they were getting to eat, Ryan stopped listening. He was thinking about Jack, a methodical and meticulous gatherer of intelligence. The best. And yet the notes in his diary were sketchy. Was Freberg the man he hoped would make sense of them? Ryan felt hot as well as bothered. Approaching the mirror above the fireplace, he tore off the plaster holding his dressing in place and unwrapped the bandage.

  Grace giggled. ‘Bruce Willis eat your heart out.’

  Ryan grinned, glad to be rid of the tension between them.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Caroline was smiling, wanting in on the joke. ‘C’mon, paint me a picture, someone … please.’

  Ryan moved towards her. Taking hold of her hand, he placed it gently on the top of his warm, shaven head. Caroline stroked it, wincing when she felt the uneven line of stitches and elongated scar beneath her fingertips.

  Grace cocked her head on one side. ‘Actually, it suits him.’

  They adjourned to the kitchen. It was time to take that break.

  Caroline had prepared a banquet. Just how she’d managed to do that in a strange house was a mystery to all but Ryan. Grace had fallen over herself earlier with offers of help. She’d been shooed away and told not to fuss. All Caroline needed was the ingredients, the relevant utensils and cooking pots, someone to turn the oven to the correct temperature and she was good to go.

  They all sat down, a happier and more relaxed atmosphere around the table tonight. Bearing in mind their collective decision to pull the plug on the silent room, the meeting would be their last as an undercover team. For Caroline’s benefit, they engaged in small talk for a while. But their conversation inevitably turned to the case that had occupied every waking moment since Jack’s disappearance less than a week ago.

  Ryan shared his theory that Jack had been putting things together. ‘Given the state of his notebooks, I’m not sure he had all the answers. It seems pretty clear to me that Freberg had agreed to help him join the dots. I think they were both killed investigating something bigger than either of them could possibly imagine.’

  Grace looked up, a forkful of vegetable curry in her hand. ‘We don’t have much to go on, but too many people have been hurt. We need to turn the whole thing over to O’Neil in the morning.’

  ‘First you need to talk to Hilary,’ Newman suggested.

  ‘You took the words out of my mouth,’ Caroline said. ‘Before any more accusations are levelled at Jack, I think you should warn Hilary and ask her about that trip. She’s had such a rough time of it lately. She could do without another interrogation from Eloise O’Neil, no matter how pleasant the woman is. It’ll be better coming from you, Matt.’

  ‘I’ll go round later,’ Ryan said.

  ‘I can do that …’ Grace was searching for the right words.

  ‘No, I will.’ Ryan overruled her, swallowing his grief. ‘I may not be her favourite person in the world, but I wouldn’t want her thinking that I don’t care. I have to face her some time. May as well be now.’

  Hearing the sadness in his voice, Caroline reached for his hand. ‘She’s hurting, Matt. She’ll come round, in time. She thinks the world of you.’

  Ryan wasn’t too sure. He’d made promises he’d not kept, to Hilary and the children. He’d have to live with that for the rest of his days. The way he saw it, his relationship with the family would never be the same.

  51

  When they had finished eating, Ryan picked up the phone, arranging to meet Hilary at a neutral location, a place where they could talk freely away from the kids. At this time of night the young ‘uns would be in bed, but he couldn’t face Robbie.

  Not yet.

  Feeling like a coward, he set off straight away.

  Hilary’s dad lived in Tynemouth – a house overlooking Longsands beach – so he’d chosen the Grand, a hotel nearby. Grand by name and by nature, the Drawing Room Bar was a warm and comfortable place to sit and have a quiet drink. Perfect for their needs. She was already there when he arrived, tucked away in a corner of the room, to the left of the bar. Sitting with her back to him, she’d selected a table for two so that none of the hotel guests would be tempted to join them.

  Stopping at the bar to order drinks, Ryan hovered for a moment and then forced himself forward, a lump in his throat the size of a football.

  He was dreading the encounter.

  Pale and haggard, Hilary looked up as he sat down.

  Ryan took the opportunity to ask after the children, then explained why it was so important to see her, why it couldn’t wait ‘til morning. He told her about O’Neil’s calls too, and his hunch that she’d be knocking on his door sooner rather than later.

  When Hilary was ready, he placed a small recording device on the table between them and got straight down to business. Reminding himself that this was his friend and not a witness he’d never met before, he began gently by asking whose idea it had been to go on a trip to Norway, even though he was pretty sure of what her answer would be.

  ‘It was Jack’s,’ she said. ‘You know it was.’

  Ryan registered the resentment. ‘I just needed to be sure. The timing is very important. If this blows up in my face, as I suspect it might, I won’t be the only one asking you these questions. O’Neil will. That’s what the tape is for. I’m hoping it’ll suffice, that no one else will bother you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I appreciate you’re in no position to offer guarantees.’

  ‘Your trip was a rather special weekend. A surprise, wasn’t it?’

  Hilary nodded, her eyes misting slightly.

  He pointed at the tape. He needed a verbal response.

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  He tried not to lead her. ‘Can you tell me about it?’

  ‘It was the weekend of
Father’s Day.’

  ‘Which was Friday the fourteenth to Sunday the sixteenth of June?’

  ‘If you say so. Sorry, yes, it was that weekend.’

  ‘I understand Jack sprang it on you.’

  ‘In more ways than one …’ Hilary frowned. ‘I couldn’t believe he wanted to spend the day without the kids. He’d had his head in the clouds for weeks and was gutted when he realized what weekend it was. That’s why we asked you to—’ She stopped abruptly, glanced at the recorder on the table. Ryan nodded his permission for her to continue. He had absolutely nothing to hide. She understood and carried on. ‘That’s why I suggested you deputize for him. If Jack had known it would be his last Father’s Day, he never would have gone.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s true.’ Ryan took hold of her hand, squeezed it gently, giving her a moment to compose herself. ‘Had anything happened beforehand to spark the idea? Had he received a phone call, a letter, anything out of the ordinary you might have noticed?’

  ‘No.’ She cleared her throat. ‘But he was a bit stressy.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘In every way.’ Her tone was bitter. ‘I … I could tell he needed a break.’

  ‘So you weren’t too surprised when he gave you less than two days’ notice?’

  ‘Not really.’ She’d not touched her drink. The conversation was killing her. Ryan felt like a shit walking her through it so soon after Jack’s death. It had to be done. There was no way round it. ‘For someone so cautious, he was an impulsive man when it came to me. He was always buying gifts and hiding them around the house for me to find: tickets to concerts, that sort of thing. He’d made a mistake with the dates, that’s all.’

  Or so you thought.

  Ryan pressed on. ‘Which airport did you fly from?’

  ‘Liverpool.’

  ‘To?’

  ‘Sandefjord, Torp.’

  ‘Were you met off the plane?’