Depth of Deception (A Titanic Murder Mystery) (29 page)

De Kirkhaugh raised his arm as if he was holding a gun and aimed toward the stove. A bullet could have started a spark. The explosion would have still thrown Callum backwards into the garden. Following the laws of physics, de Kirkhaugh calculated the direction he would have landed.
Grass. Soft landing. Smart.

He looked about to see if there were any places he would likely be hiding. There were a few trees, and a fenced area where a garden would be started in a few weeks. De Kirkhaugh saw a run
-
down wooden structure with rusty-hinged door.
A tool shed?

He walked up carefully. Callum might not be able to see and was likely undisciplined enough to have that ‘shoot first and ask questions later’ mentality. Crouching down to one side of the door, he reached out and pulled it open. He cringed, expecting a shot. Nothing.

He peered around the corner. His heart sank.

It was not just a tool shed but also a carpark. Another large set of double doors leading to the back laneway was open. De Kirkhaugh looked down and saw the fresh tire marks in the mud.

It was clear that Callum had escaped with the old woman. He was certain that the Fire Marshall would eventually find the 9mm slug, but for now, whoever had been following Callum might think he was dead.

Chapter
XXXVIII

André Bossard, the Secretary General of Interpol, sat in his office comparing drafts. This latest version of the ‘Headquarter Agreement’ with the French Government had already been updated by his secretary but he had to double-check it against the mark-up before sending it back. His eyes were getting tired from staring at the pages. He realized he had read the same passage three times and he still wasn’t sure he had compared it properly. The daunting task was mind-numbingly boring. He wanted to leave.

He looked at his wristwatch and frowned. There was no sense leaving work now—the traffic from Saint-Cloud, where the Interpol’s head office was located, to downtown Paris would already be too thick. He would be sitting in his automobile for hours. Might as well stay and get some more work done. The sooner Interpol and the French Government could come to an agreement on jurisdiction the better.

A knock on the door jolted him in his chair. Although he was glad to have a break from the tediousness of the task at hand, he still managed to insert a level of impatience into his voice as he barked,
"
Oui! Entrez!
"

A young clerk holding a piece of paper entered the room. From the way the page curled, André recognized it as thermal fax paper and surmised that it was important. He held his hand out and the clerk walked across the room to his desk to hand it to him.

As André suspected it was marked:
‘confidentiel’
. André started to read the page. He stopped and re-read. He couldn’t believe what he was reading.

"
Quand est-ce que ceci s’est passé?
"
asked André.
When did this happen?

"
Aujourd'hui. Ce matin,
"
responded the clerk.

André stroked his moustache as he contemplated his next move. He noticed the clerk still standing waiting for instructions, and hastily waved the man away as he reached for his Rolodex. He spun the dial until he found the index card with the United Kingdom’s branch number on it. They needed to know about this. They could put someone into the fold promptly. He picked up the receiver of the large olive-green phone on his desk and dialed.

Chapter
XXXIX

"
Wake up, Sleeping Beauty!
"

The sudden voice startled Callum awake. He looked around the unfamiliar room to see where the voice came from, and through bleary eyes he recognized Pamela, in her military uniform, standing in the doorway. Callum looked down to see that he had fallen asleep in the chair he was in.

"
How long has it been since you’ve had a decent night’s sleep?
"
she asked.
"
Or a bath, for that matter?
"

Callum ignored her as he looked about,
"
Where’s Dolanna… Miss Fergraith?
"

"
She’s resting. She’s been sedated for the pain in her hip. I’ve assigned a nurse to her,
"
Pamela replied. Then with a mischievous grin,
"
I must say Callum, she’s not your usual type. A bit old for you, don’t you think?
"

"
You’re funny,
"
replied Callum. He was too tired to think of something wittier than that.
"
Thanks for helping. I didn’t know who else I could trust.
"

"
That’s a bit sad,
"
replied Pamela.

"
You have no idea how much it depresses me.
"

"
Oh, I do,
"
she said with a grin.
"
Which makes this all the more pleasurable for me.
"

Callum rolled his eyes as he tried to stand up. His shoulder was aching from being thrown by the blast.
"
I need a coffee… and some painkillers.
"

"
You still drink too much coffee,
"
Pamela said, as she clipped the ‘guest’ pass onto his jacket.
"
Let me take you to the mess hall and get something nutritious into you and you can tell me what devil you've gotten yourself into.
"

To get to the cafeteria, Pamela escorted him through HMS
Neptune
, which was an understated misnomer. It was not a ship, as the initials HMS (Her Majesty’s Ship) would suggest, but rather the name of the Naval Base located 25 miles from Glasgow on the shore of Gare Loch. This secret base was guarded by air defense Polaris missiles and four nuclear submarines, none of which were named Neptune. This location was used by the British Military as a strategic and launch site in both World Wars. The Naval Intelligence Division reactivated it in the 1960’s when it became clear that the Cold War was not going to end.

Callum was so hungry that he devoured his food without taking stock in what he was consuming. Between large bites, he told Pamela everything about the brooch that was missing from the 1909 murder of Agatha Gilcrest, the recent murder of Ruthie McAdams, her cryptic message about ‘Dragonslayer’, the ransacking of his grandfather’s study and the gas leak at Dolanna’s townhome.

"
Can I see the pendant?
"
Pamela asked.

"
Certainly,
"
Callum hesitated for a moment as he reached into
his pocket
. He loathed asking for her help. But she was good at her job. Always had been, which is why she was hand-picked from British Airports Police to join the new Ministry of Defence Police eight years ago. It was a great opportunity for her, a start of a new career, and the end of their marriage. How sad that the training she left him for is what he needed the most now.
What is a lowly, un-caffeinated guy to do?

Callum handed the necklace to his ex-wife, who looked at it carefully, then said,
"
So you assumed that this was St. George but that Inspector… um…
"

"
De Kirkhaugh,
"
said Callum.
"
He said it was St. Michael…
"

"
Of course he would. St. Michael is the patron saint of the police,
"
she then looked up him as she added,
"
And lost causes.
"

"
Which is it?
"

"
Well, given the knowledge that your grandfather was a police detective and a religious man, I’d say it could be either.
"

"
Thanks. Do you have anything useful?
"

"
Don’t get cheeky with me, or I’ll have two hairy guards toss you out on your ear.
"
She took a moment to study the pendant further, and continued,
"
Inspector John Toughill… Here is his rank and warrant number… so it looks like his retirement gift…
"

Callum sat up,
"
But he was dishonorably discharged…
"

"
Okay, so
if
this isn’t a cheap
memento from the Glasgow Police,
then it’s a message for you.
"

"
What message?
"

"
He was
your
grandfather… you would know better than I would,
"
she said as she held it out for him.

"
We hardly talked about his work. Don’t you remember?
"
Callum said, grabbing it and looking at it carefully.
"
The only time we did was when he showed up one day in London…he wanted to take me out to celebrate. I had just started working as a investigator for Lloyds.
"

"
Did he say anything interesting then?
"

"
No, well nothing obviously cryptic… just passing on some police advice … he told me:
‘Never jump to conclusions and always follow the evidence no matter how minute or insignificant.’
"

"
Good advice for police or investigator. So think back. He took you out to a pub for drinks. Was there anything in his demeanor…?
"

"
Pubs were closed for the day…
"
Callum interrupted as a memory stirred.

"
What?
"

"
The pubs were closed out of respect… It was the day John F. Kennedy was assassinated…
"
Callum sat upright. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his notebook.
"
Percy Winthrope… you remember he’s the man who sent me on this chase ‘looking for icebergs’…
"

"
I know who Percy is, he and his wife were at our wedding… remember?
"
Pamela interrupted.
"
Go on, what about Percy?
"

Callum found the page in his notebook,
"
He said the claim for the brooch was sent anonymously… scribbled on the back was the message:
‘Evidence in the Agatha Gilcrest murder’…
"

"
You told me that already.
"

"
Wait a mo,
"
Callum turned the page from his conversation with Percy, and traced along with his finger.
"
Percy said at the time he was working as a clerk for Lloyds when this claim, already smudged, was received anonymously… it was in 1963. He remembered because President Kennedy was assassinated.
"

"
Aha! So, it was your grandfather who left it for you to find as a ‘new job’ present,
"
Pamela said excitedly.
"
He was a man of his word and could never break his oath in order to investigate it… but he knew you
weren’
t bound to that oath. He wanted you to take over after he died…
"

"
Why the hell didn’t he just tell me?
"

"
Obviously the same person who had you followed, had
him
followed. He
would have
had to watch his every move… he couldn’t just leave it all in his will for you. You would have been dead, too.
"

The realization of the extent of his grandfather’s plan was slowly starting to dawn on Callum. He looked at his ex-wife and gestured to her military uniform,
"
Which is why he didn’t want me to become a police officer…
"

"
You would have been restricted by the chain of command…
"

"
Ruddy hell,
"
Callum exclaimed.
"
So what now? He didn’t leave me any other clues.
"

"
He must have… You just don’t know it,
"
Pamela said, in the sweetly condescending tone that he remembered so well.
"
Think. He must have said something about it…
"

"
No… he never did,
"
Callum argued.
"
Anytime anyone brought it up, he simply said he was taking it to… his grave…oh, no… you don’t suppose…
"