Scared to Live

knocked the feet from under him. Many female police officers formed a hard exterior, but not SOCOs, it seemed. He’d have to be careful not to make a nuisance of himself phoning her too often, just to hear her voice.

Petty seemed about to touch his arm, but drew back suddenly and looked past him, over his shoulder.

‘Uh-oh.’

‘I was asking Liz about the search at the caravan,’ said Cooper when he saw Fry approaching.

‘That’s OK.’

‘She just happened to be passing, and I — ’

‘It’s all right,’ said Fry as she drifted by. ‘I don’t care. See you later.’

They both watched her disappear down the corridor.

‘What’s up with her?’ said Petty.

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘Perhaps she’s turning human.’

‘I’d better get on anyway,’ said Cooper uneasily. ‘There was one thing I wanted to ask you.’

‘Yes?’

‘Do you think it would be possible to find out more about this weapon that fired the shots at Bain House, the PSL sniper rifle? I know the lab have pulled out the stops for us, but could you have a word with Wayne?’

‘I’m not sure, Ben. What do you want to know?’

‘Whether there are non-military versions of it.’

‘OK,’ said Petty. ‘I’ll see what we can find out.’

Diane Fry sat at her desk and watched Georgi Kotsev talking to Hitchens and DCI Kessen. But she wasn’t thinking about Kotsev. She was thinking about Europol.

Fry hadn’t really considered it before. She’d been aware of Europol, of course, as one of the organizations continually being spawned by the integration of European Union countries. But it had never occurred to her until now that it was a possible career move.

Since Kotsev’s arrival seemed to be causing some distraction for her senior officers, she decided to take the opportunity to check their website. Yes, Europol was looking for employees who were creative, self-reliant, energetic and willing to take up challenges. It wanted candidates who were able to work in a dynamic, fast-moving environment that required a high level of flexibility.

Fry nodded. She could do that, couldn’t she?

The bad news was that job opportunities were now open to nationals of twenty-five EU states, including all the new members, such as the Czech Republic, Poland, Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. And probably Bulgaria and Romania too, before long. The good news was that balanced gender representation was a priority, so Europol particularly encouraged applications from women.

She found half a dozen jobs currently available for law enforcement personnel. Counter Terrorism and Serious Crime. If interested, contact your Europol National Unit.

Fry felt an almost physical surge of excitement. It was one of those rare moments when a vista of future possibilities seemed to open up; opportunities to change her life, to make it better.

She remembered what Georgi had said about working for Europol: I could live in The Hague. The idea seemed both astonishingly unlikely and perfectly feasible. She’d never been to Holland. In fact, the only places she’d been to on the Continent were Calais, Paris and Naxos. But she could live in The Hague. She was as European as anyone else, wasn’t she?

Where were those Europol job descriptions again? Fry was sure she must meet all the criteria for potential applicants. And now, thanks to Georgi Kotsev, she even knew something about cross-border organized crime.

‘Anybody know where the Europol National Unit is based?’

‘Yes, at the NCIS in London,’ said Cooper, without looking up. ‘Their HQ is in Vauxhall Bridge, near MI6. I think you can see it in some of the James Bond films.’

‘Thanks.’

Fry waited to see if anyone enquired why she was interested in Europol. But there wasn’t a murmur. Well, that didn’t surprise her. No one cared what she did, or where she went.

There was a seminar she’d attended recently on the use of Sirene, a new data system linked to the Police National Computer. The system was designed to give access to information from all the Schengen countries, and get an alert placed against the details of anyone suspected of involvement in organized crime. That would be useful — when it came in. It had been mentioned during the seminar that the British part of the system would be administered by the Sirene UK Bureau. Based at the NCIS. Fancy that.

‘We’re still not up to speed on organized crime, are we?’ said Fry, when Cooper got to his feet and passed her desk.

‘That’s one of the reasons we’re going to end up being merged, isn’t it? That, and our neighbours’ problems.’

‘We can’t blame it on Nottinghamshire.’

‘We can try.’

Fry sighed. ‘You’re so parochial,’ she said. ‘You’re all so parochial.’

On the DI’s desk, the plastic wallet was now labelled as evidence examined by the documents section at the forensics laboratory.

‘The passport has been confirmed as a forgery,’ said Hitchens. ‘Likewise Rose Shepherd’s driving licence. With those two items, you can build an identity for yourself in no time.’

‘Pity there was no sign of a birth certificate,’ said Fry.

‘You don’t need a birth certificate unless you’re applying for a genuine passport. People who supply forged identity documents don’t care where or when your birth was registered. So the person called Rose Shepherd won’t have a birth certificate.’

‘What about her DNA and fingerprints?’ said Fry.

‘We’re running them through the database.’

‘No wonder she got that shredder installed. If you had a fraudulent identity yourself, you’d know about taking precautions. But, despite her East European connections, she’s not your typical terrorist suspect, is she?’

‘True. But she’d need the right contacts to change her identity so effectively. Nikolov looks likely. But there are plenty of possibilities, given her links to organized crime. When we discover her real identity, we’ll find the motive for her murder. There must be something she did in the past that she was trying to conceal.’

Cooper nodded, but he was doubtful. He found he couldn’t reconcile the picture he’d built up of Miss Shepherd with the idea of her being a criminal with a background full of sordid secrets. If she liked cats, she can’t have been all that bad.

Of course, when this woman took on a new identity, she’d done a pretty good job of it. But it was never going to be perfect. It wasn’t really possible to start life all over again with the totally blank slate Rose Shepherd seemed to have craved. There were always a few threads that remained unbroken somewhere in any person’s life. No matter who she was, or where she came from, this woman was a product of all the experiences she’d gone through in sixty years of existence.

And in Miss Shepherd’s case, there must have been people in her life who she couldn’t entirely leave behind. Despite her change of identity, one of them had been bound to catch up with her some day. It was just a question of finding the right thread — the one that remained unbroken.

‘Did I tell you?’ said Cooper. ‘I think I might have found where the wooden dinosaur came from.’

During the briefing, Gavin Murfin had seemed fascinated by the shine on Kotsev’s shoes. He’d sat with his eyes permanently directed downwards, as if he’d been hypnotized.

‘What do you think of him, Gavin?’ asked Fry.

‘His shoes are very shiny.’

‘Are they?’

‘Yes, very military-looking. I bet he feels much more at home in uniform.’

‘All part of his professional manner, wouldn’t you say?’

Murfin sniffed, but didn’t take the bait. ‘By the way, West Yorkshire Police have no record of John Lowther on their local intelligence systems. But I tracked down a former colleague from the building society where he worked — a Mr Barrington. Apparently, the word around the office was that after Lowther left the company he was in hospital for quite some time.’