Lynda La Plante - Deadly Intent

"For what?"

Langton remained silent, then murmured, almost to himself, "He is going to surface."

"You presume," Anna said, equally softly.

He suddenly laughed, tilting his head back."Touche."

They continued in silence, getting into heavy traffic in the West End. Langton stared out of the window, sighing. He then instructed the driver to put the flashing lights on and move. "Not that we've anything to hurry back for," he muttered. After a while he leaned forward, rubbing his head. "You know, if anything had happened to Tommy ..."

"Your stepson?" Anna asked.

He gave a soft laugh. "My son. If anyone had taken him—harmed him in any way—I wouldn't have sat there, giving you a lengthy rundown of who did what to whom."

"She didn't have much option."

"But wouldn't she have been screaming to go and find her kids, get a search going or something—like a caring mother would? Unless she knew who had taken them and, like I said, possibly even set it up." Langton paused for a moment. "Didn't she tell you that the father of her second daughter, Kathy, was Damien Nolan?"

"If the children were taken to Honey Farm, we'd know."

"Maybe they weren't taken there, but somewhere that Julia Brandon knew about—which could mean that the couple might be getting ready to do a runner. We've assumed that, because she was heading for the M40, that's where she was going. Maybe, for once, we're right." Langton clicked on his mobile and gave instructions to the team to get more surveillance standing by, and bring in the local Oxfordshire police, to make sure the Nolans were surrounded at the farmhouse and unable to make a move without a trace on them. Anna then saw him physically tense, listening. He swore and said that he would be there in ten minutes. As he cut off the call, he punched at the dashboard with his fist.

"What's happened?"

She didn't get an answer as they drove into the Chalk Farm Station car park. Langton was out before the patrol car had stopped and, bad

knee or not, he ran into the station. Tapping in the code at the back door, he was already halfway down the corridor as Anna entered the station after him. The incident room was busy, phones ringing, as Phil hurried to join Langton. "He's in with Cunningham. She's giving him all the information we've got so far."Langton had thrown his coat off and was heading toward Cunningham's office.Anna still had no idea what was going down. "What's happening, Phil?""Fraud Squad. DCI John Marlow is in with her." "Travis!" Langton bellowed, waving one arm for her to follow him.Langton opened Cunningham's office door, Anna on his heels. She froze on seeing the man who stood up to greet Langton.The face blocking the CCTV security camera in David Rushton's office was printed indelibly on her mind. They had unsuccessfully attempted to match it with the old photographs of Alexander Fitzpatrick taken from the Internet: it was blurred, with only three-quarters of his face showing due to the baseball cap. It was this image that had been used to confirm whether or not he had been a guest at the top London hotels. They had got nowhere, and this was obviously why: the man on the CCTV footage was DCI John Marlow.The small office felt claustrophobic. Marlow was a big man, at least six feet three, with broad shoulders. He had dark brown collar-length hair combed back; it looked as if it was gelled, as it was so stiff. Both Anna and Langton drew up chairs as Marlow gave them details of a fraud his team had been investigating for two years. A client of David Rushton's had got in touch with them, about missing funds. They had begun an undercover investigation, quietly contacting other clients as the fraud began to unravel. Rushton had been misappropriating clients' money in a complicated paper trail of fictional companies while moving millions into his own offshore accounts.They had not, as yet, begun to delve into the accounts of Julia Brandon, but were about to start.Marlow said that he had already approached Rushton, acting as a potential client. He had a deep resonant voice, and calmly continued. "I had an appointment with Rushton in his office at around six-thirty. I had implied that the funds I had to be taken care of were proceeds from something illegal. He wasn't fazed, quite the reverse. He said he would not ask questions, but what he could do was outline the options for securing a safe way of moving the money out of the UK without any problems from the Inland Revenue."

Langton leaned forward, rubbing at his knee. Anna could hardly breathe, she was so taken aback. In the flesh, Marlow was rather handsome with very good, white teeth. Why she was even thinking about his teeth, she could not imagine, but she found it hard to concentrate on what he was saying.

"I was there for no more than a few minutes. When his phone rang, he apologized and said that he had to rearrange our meeting as he had a client desperate to see him." He shrugged. "To be honest, I believe he may have sussed what was going down—he may even have been tipped off by the caller—but he couldn't wait to get me out. To make a show of my possible criminal activities, I got up and remarked about the security camera; he said it wasn't turned on, but he was very nervous, really agitated, which again led me to believe he was onto me. I turned the camera to face the wall and said I didn't like being messed around. He said we could meet in a few days, but it was necessary he saw this client immediately. We made another appointment and I left."

"Did you get to see this client?"

"No, but whoever it was must have come in directly after I left."

Cunningham showed him a photograph of Julia Brandon. Marlow didn't recognize her. He had not left via the main reception, as Rushton had told him that the main door would be locked, but used a service exit at the rear of the building, the same way he had entered, which was why he had not been caught on the reception CCTV camera. Cunningham had already given him details of what they had so far been able to uncover about Rushton, but had only just passed him Julia Brandon's documents. Marlow spent some time glancing over them, and asked if he could retain a copy for his file.

They watched the replay of the reception-area footage showing Julia Brandon entering and moving toward the lifts. Marlow shook his head. "He must have buzzed her in almost as I left, because I went back into Jermyn Street to wait and see if I recognized who this client was. I sat in the car for about half an hour, and then walked back to the service door to see if anyone entered that way. I was there for at least another half hour, then called it quits and left.""Play the audiotape," Langton said.Marlow looked surprised. "You've got one?"Cunningham set up the tape, explaining, to Langton's irritation, that Rushton had had a hidden tape deck, but that, except for the section with Julia, the security camera footage had no sound."Well, if it's of any use to me, I'd like to hear it."Marlow leaned forward to listen. Anna watched him intently, but he gave no reaction apart from shrugging his shoulders when the tape ended."Pity it cut out, and because I turned the camera around, you didn't get a shot of the killer. Still, I'd like a copy of the tape for my files."Langton was sitting in sullen silence. Gordon tapped and entered. He had photocopied the documents showing the money transfers made by Rushton for Julia Brandon. Marlow thanked him."We continued our investigation and, as we had no suspicious contact from Rushton, we were planning for me to keep the new appointment; that was when we found out about his murder.""Bloody marvelous," muttered Langton."Why I'm here," Marlow added, with a shrug.Langton seemed tired out. He stood up and asked for access, if it was possible, to the Fraud Squad's findings and their list of clients. Marlow asked if they believed one of them killed Rushton.Langton shook his head. "I doubt it, unless you've got one dealing in Fentanyl.""What's that?""The way Rushton was killed: injection, big overdose of this lethal drug.""Shit. Well, that's two years down the fucking drain. I'll talk to our guys and get the files over to you."Marlow was thanked for coming in and left. When he had gone, Langton was cursing. "We've been acting like bloody fools, going after the wrong man."He stalked out to have a smoke outside, to try to calm his fury.The team looked to Cunningham, who was sitting, arms folded, by the incident board. She stood up and nodded to Anna. "You almost missed Marlow; he was about to leave before you two came back. I'll need the update from the labs, but I suggest we all take a break from the case for tonight; pick up tomorrow."There was an overall feeling of dejection. Anna asked for someone to get in touch with their computer boffins to see if they could access any of the calls from Julia Brandon's mobile.Langton made them jump, the doors banged so hard as he walked into the room. "Get onto the Fraud Squad, Phil," he rapped out. "Get me the details of Marlow."Phil looked surprised. "You have a problem with him?""Yeah I do, a big one. Just do it!" Langton had to sit down. He asked someone to get him a beaker of water. He was so tense that Anna was worried.She crossed to his side. "You okay?""Could use some of that Fentanyl; my knee's killing me." He gulped at the water. She could see his hand was shaking as he fumbled in his pocket to take out a foil wrapper of tablets. He pressed out two, taking them both with a mouthful of water, then tossed the beaker into a trash can. "I think we have all just been fucked over." He said it so quietly, it was hardly audible.Phil was holding on, waiting for a connection. "Looks like they've gone home. You know those guys—work a nine to five." Then he was through.Langton couldn't contain himself. He got up and snatched the phone. "This is DCS James Langton, Murder Squad; it's imperative we speak to one of your officers, a DCI John Marlow." There was a pause. "In connection with the ongoing investigation into a fraud involving a David Rushton." Langton listened; he was so tense, Anna could see the muscles in his neck twitching. "Thank you—must be some screwup on our end." He put the phone down. "There is no DCI John Marlow working with the Fraud Squad, and no ongoing investigation involving David Rushton."The room fell silent. Anna couldn't quite take it in.When Langton eventually continued, his voice was like gravel. "I think we just had a visit from Alexander Fitzpatrick. The bastard had the cheek to walk in—walk in!—and we all fell for it!"Cunningham had to clear her throat before she could speak. "But he had ID—he showed it to me. Why would he take such a risk?""He carried it out with him, the information about what Rushton has done with Julia Brandon's cash; he also now has every single piece of information we've got involving him. Maybe he just wanted to see how close we are to catching him!" Langton gave a short bark of a laugh. "Answer is, we're so off the mark that the two-faced bastard had the audacity to walk in off the street with fake ID."What had made Langton suspicious? Anna wanted to ask. No one else had questioned Marlow's authenticity. On the contrary, they had passed over a copy of the file he requested and even thanked him for coming in."Well, at least we know he's here in London. I said that, didn't I?" He looked to Anna. "I said he would surface. Well, he did, and he's made the lot of us look like total arseholes. At least we know one important thing: Alexander Fitzpatrick is broke and hurting for cash so much that he risked walking in here. Rushton did us a favor; now we concentrate on that money he stashed away for Julia Brandon, because Fitzpatrick is after it, and we are going to get him. Right now he must think he's so clever he's out of reach, but he's not." He made a gesture with his right hand as if catching a fly; then he clapped, as if killing it between his hands.Langton's speech seemed to inject energy into the team. He picked up his coat, saying he would be with them first thing in the morning. He needed to get home, suggesting that a break would probably do all of them good. He didn't say anything more to Anna; not that she was expecting him to.It had sounded strange to her that he had said he needed to get home. Langton had never appeared to be, in all the time she had known him, a man who needed a home life; quite the reverse. It was yet another sign of how far apart they had grown. The thought that he now had a domestic life that he wanted to get back to made her envious, because she didn't have one.