death and was shocked, but not surprised, that he hadn't been informed of the presence of a radioactive substance at the scene: his office was only a dozen miles from the centre of Bristol, but as far as the English police were concerned it might as well have been on the far side of the world. They treated their Welsh colleagues with indifference bordering on contempt, and the feeling was mutual.
He listened quietly, stroking his thick, greying moustache as she summarized the evidence which had led to her search for Anna Rose. He was barely aware of her disappearance, let alone her connection with a nuclear- power plant that stood directly across the estuary from his station.
'Two miles from here that bloody place is,' Williams said. 'And you know where the tide brings the crap that comes out of it - right up the mouth of the Wye on the Welsh side, here. They deny it, of course. Lying bastards.'
'Her boyfriend gave me a mobile number she's been using. He thinks she may have been picking up messages.'
'Where from? There's nothing I can do if she's in England.'
'Think of it this way: the last time Nazim and Rafi were seen they were heading over the bridge into Wales. There's already evidence that would justify a criminal investigation into kidnap, and Anna Rose is a potential witness.'
'I see . . .' He was warming to the idea.
'All I need is for you to get onto the phone company and find out the last known location of that number.'
'How soon do you want it?'
'Now?'
'You're joking? You can't just magic this stuff up, Mrs Cooper. You have to pay. These companies make you sell the farm for an expedited search - it'd be five grand if it's a penny. I can't authorize that sort of money.'
'Well, who can?'
'I could try the Super, but I wouldn't hold your breath.'
'Then we'll put it through my office.'
'Can I have that in writing?'
'You can have it in blood, if you like.'
Williams looked at her with avuncular concern. 'Mrs Cooper, you know I don't mind sticking my neck out for you from time to time, but only as long as we're on the right side of the line. This girl's phone number and her whereabouts could be classed as information connected with an act of terrorism, in which case it's a serious offence not to disclose it to the appropriate authorities.'
'You are the appropriate authority.'
'And I have to obey the protocols - refer it up the chain of command. What I'm saying - can I call you Jenny? - is that, no matter how much I'd love to steal a march on those English crooks, this one can't be a secret.'
'Fine. Just give me a few minutes' head start.'
Tracing the last known position of a mobile phone was a new procedure to Williams. He called several colleagues, conversing exclusively in Welsh, and learned that the phone operators only dealt with such requests when they were made by certain designated senior officers. Yet another phone call yielded the name of a friendly detective inspector in Cardiff whom Williams persuaded, by telling more half-truths than he was comfortable with, to broker the request. Then came fifteen minutes of haggling with a surly official at the mobile network who opened with a demand for ?10,000. Williams beat him down to ?6,000 at which point the official dug in his heels.
What the hell, Jenny said. There was no way her minuscule budget could cover it, whatever he wanted. She produced her office credit card and prayed the payment would clear. It didn't. Only after another fractious call to Visa and with promises of a personal guarantee was the transaction approved.
After more than an hour of cajoling and persuading, Jenny had the information she wanted. Anna Rose's phone had last been connected to the network forty-eight hours before. It had been located in an area - accurate to within one hundred yards - centring on a section of Hanley Road, at the north end of central Bristol. On that occasion it had been on for less than two minutes. It had also been activated for a similar brief period, at the same location, three days before that.
'I hope it's bloody worth it,' Williams said, as he set down the phone.
'I'll send the bill to Bristol CID,' Jenny said. 'They'll sure as hell want the arrest.'
'Well, give them my love, won't you, Jenny? And, while you're at it, a good hard kick in the nuts.'
It was after ten p.m. by the time Jenny crossed the Severn Bridge, heading for Bristol on the motorway. She fought and failed to suppress the temptation to switch on her own phone to try McAvoy's number one last time. No joy. She was groping for the off switch when it rang. Her heart jumped as she glanced at screen: UNKNOWN CALLER.
'Hello?' The line was faint. She waited on tenterhooks for McAvoy's reply.
'Mrs Cooper? DI Pironi. I've just been talking to Mike Stevens.'
Shit.
'About time,' Jenny said.
'Who the hell is this American?'
'You tell me.'
'You've been speaking to McAvoy. He knows.'
'Well, ask him.'
'Where is he?'
'Pass.'
Pironi lost patience. 'You know the penalty for withholding this kind of information.'
'I've withheld nothing. I've already told the police everything I know.'
'Which police?'
'Chepstow.'
'Dear God. What the hell are you playing at, Cooper? I've got the anti-terrorist branch, MI5 and uniform all out looking for Anna Rose Crosby. We could have a dirty bomb maker out there.'
'I'd just about worked that out.'
'If you're holding anything back from me —’
'I'll make you a deal. Whoever finds Anna Rose first, we both get to talk to her.'
'You think either of us is going to be allowed anywhere near her? You're more deluded than I thought.'
Jenny said, 'I sense you're a man with a troubled conscience, Mr Pironi. If you hadn't sat on your hands for eight years, Mrs Jamal might still be with us, Anna Rose Crosby might still be going out to parties. Why don't you do the decent thing and see if we can't both get what we want?'
There was a brief pause, then Pironi said, 'I've reasonable suspicion that you have withheld information concerning terrorist activity. I advise you to go to the nearest police station and surrender yourself for arrest.'
Jenny said, 'Have they told you to do this - the same high- ups that had you frame McAvoy?'
'You heard what I said.'
'You should think hard about who you're working for. I'm not sure going to church is doing the trick.'
Jenny drove into the zone from which Anna Rose had picked up her messages. Cloaked in sleet, the Victorian buildings that lined Harlowe Road were grimy and soot- stained in the dingy orange street light. She crawled past a parade of shuttered-up low-rent shops, several down-at-heel pubs and a shabby late-night convenience store. She pulled into a side street and hurried back to it, her coat pulled up over her hair.
An elderly Asian man, wearing one cardigan on top of another and fingerless gloves, was watching a Bollywood movie on a tiny TV perched precariously on the tobacco shelf. Fishing in her handbag and producing a dog-eared card, Jenny introduced herself and said she was looking for an attractive young woman he might have seen in the shop recently.
The old man squinted at the rain-smeared print. She gave him a charming smile, aware that many among the Asian community regarded coroners with deep suspicion. Traditional Hindus were opposed to autopsy, as were many Muslims.
'She's a potential witness,' Jenny said. 'A young woman in her early twenties, short blonde hair, intelligent,
