Adrian Magson - No Tears for the Lost

‘The general consensus is that Agent Quinn was recognised by a member of the gang,’ Weller supplied casually. ‘He’s something of a media figure, apparently… for a law enforcement official.’ He avoided looking at Portius, who looked as if he wanted to explode at the obvious taunt.

‘Quinn wasn’t that high-profile,’ he muttered coldly.

Riley tapped her fingernail on the table before they came to blows. ‘How does this have anything to do with Henzigger?’

Portius nodded, throwing a final resentful glare at Weller before continuing. ‘The control centre was set up in the harbour master’s office, where they could observe the ship right to the berth. We were also watching the water, making sure no other vessels approached the ship offshore. Once it was in close, Mr Quinn decided he wanted to join the men down in the Customs shed, for a closer look.’

‘Just for the record,’ said Weller, ‘Henry here advised against it. Didn’t you?’

‘Yes.’ Portius puffed his cheeks out. ‘I did.’

Riley sensed a subtle bit of blame-shifting going on and asked, ‘But he didn’t listen?’

‘That’s right. He insisted on going. Maybe he’d been behind a desk too long and needed the action. We gave him the harbour master’s yellow coat and a hard-hat, and made him carry a box of files, for cover. That was all.’

‘And?’

‘He got part way across the yard and the men on the boat spotted him.’

‘They must have had damned good eyesight, from that distance,’ Weller muttered sourly, turning the screw. ‘A hard-hat, a yellow coat and carrying a box — yet he was still recognised? Who were the men on the boat — janitors from the Washington office?’

Portius opened his mouth but said nothing. Riley realised he wasn’t entirely convinced about what had happened, either. Take any group of men on a construction site, all wearing coats and hard-hats, and you’d have to get close before distinguishing one from another unless the one you wanted possessed strong physical characteristics.

‘So what are you saying?’ she asked finally.

‘I’m saying Quinn was made by somebody who knew him. Somebody who’d worked with him and would recognise him at a distance.’ The admission was grudging, and she realised that Portius must be under some powerful pressure to admit such information to a British policeman and a member of the British press. What she didn’t know was why.

‘Sounds reasonable to me,’ said Weller. His smile dared Portius to contradict.

‘Did you find out who the person was?’ asked Riley. She knew what he was going to say; he just didn’t like admitting to foreigners that they had a bad apple in the barrel, a concept that was anathema to their whole way of thinking.

‘There’s evidence to suggest,’ Portius’s voice sounded strangled, as if he was trying to expel a nasty object lodged in his throat, ‘that it was Toby Henzigger.’

**********

‘More than a bloody suggestion,’ Weller put in dryly. ‘Our information puts Henzigger in London when the bust was blown, whereas he’d left notes with friends to say was travelling in Europe.’

‘So what?’ Portius looked close to bursting, his face growing red with a mixture of emotions. Clearly embarrassment was high on the list. ‘Last time I heard, England was in Europe, too. And there’s no rule to say he couldn’t come here if he wanted.’

‘Okay.’ Riley broke in on the threatening feud. ‘But how does Henzigger know Quinn?’

Portius seemed relieved by the interruption. ‘They both went through the DEA training programme together. They were even roomies for a while. In those circumstances, you get to know people like your own family.’ He scowled as if reluctantly acknowledging that every family has a black sheep.

Riley couldn’t blame him. Nobody liked the idea that a former colleague was batting for the opposition. ‘So he was working with the drug shippers,’ she said. ‘What made him do it?’

Portius shrugged and looked depressed. ‘We don’t know. Maybe he was exposed for too long. If so, we should have spotted it sooner. Maybe he was compromised and got in too deep. The fact is, he’s been under suspicion for unauthorised activities in Latin America, but all our investigations so far have revealed nothing. Nothing we can use, anyway.’

‘Did he have the ability to mount the shipment? It’s hardly like shopping at B amp; Q, is it?’

Portius looked puzzled by the reference but shrugged it off. ‘Sure. He had the contacts, the sources and the experience. He certainly knew where to get supplies. He knew the people who’d already set up supply chains, so setting up another — if that’s what he did — was just a question of logistics.’

‘But those chains originally led to the American mainland through the Caribbean,’ Weller pointed out reasonably. ‘Why switch to Europe?’

‘The States is already awash with product. Prices have dropped and the inter-gang wars are getting out of control. Everyone wants whatever action is going. We think Henzigger identified a growing market in Europe and saw distractions in the system which he thought could be exploited. ‘

‘Distractions?’

‘Asylum seekers.’ Weller looked at Riley. ‘You know what it’s like. From Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran, Pakistan, Bosnia, Albania — you name it. With anti-terrorist measures being prioritised at airports and away from coastal ports, you get holes. Big ones. Henzigger would have seen it without too much difficulty. It’s what he was trained for.’

Riley waited, but there didn’t seem to be anything else forthcoming. She decided to inject some excitement into the room to see what the reaction was.

‘What about Walter Asner?’ she asked.

The effect on Portius was electric. He almost jumped out of his seat. ‘Asner? Christ, how do you know about him?’

‘Who the hell is Walter Asner?’ Weller demanded, rounding on Riley.

‘He was a deep-cover DEA agent working within the embassy circuit,’ Riley told him. ‘His job was to ferret out information at the top of the tree — people who thought they were beyond reach. He committed suicide in his garage after retiring from the agency. Allegedly.’

Portius looked shocked. ‘How do you know this?’

‘Henzigger. He told me all about Asner’s role with the DEA.’

Portius looked stunned.

‘Why did he do that?’ Weller demanded. The look on his face told Riley he wasn’t ignoring the fact that she’d got more information from Henzigger than she’d let on earlier.

‘I still haven’t worked that out. It was all part of the story he told me about being under suspicion.’

Portius shifted in his chair, prompting Riley and Weller to look at him. He took a deep breath and said, ‘Asner spent several years in Colombia. He moved among the embassy people, socialising, advising, helping smooth paths on trade deals. He was a faceless, harmless civil servant and nobody gave him a second thought, least of all staffers from friendly embassies. As far as they were concerned, he was merely another admin suit in line to have his hand shaken. We think,’ he looked up at Riley momentarily, ‘we think he stumbled on something that really bothered him. Something big enough that he couldn’t carry on. So he resigned. That was all.’

‘Hardly all,’ Weller murmured. ‘It made him take his own life.’

Portius gave another jut of his jaw and shot one of his cuffs in indignation. It was clearly an uncomfortable topic, but equally clear that he was under orders. ‘The belief in the agency is that Asner had done something nobody counted on: he’d uncovered a conspiracy involving our own people. It’s the only explanation.’