But what about Mikhail? Why kill Mikhail?’
‘Yes indeed,’ Brock said. ‘Why kill Mikhail?’
Brock left Kuzmin and went out to see how the search through the Russians’ palace was going. They were looking for documents, letters, electronic records, anything that might throw light on the relationship between Hadden-Vane and the Moszynski family.
Eventually he made his way down to the basement security control centre where Zack was working at the control panels, and took a seat alongside him.
‘So what is all this stuff?’ he said.
Zack looked up. ‘High-quality gear but nothing extraordinary. That’s the controls for the motion sensors set up around the house, and this is for the window and door alarms. Then there’s the CCTV stuff-the screen there linked to that DVR…’
‘DVR?’
‘Digital video recorder, which in turn is linked to that HDD-hard disk drive-which stores the images.’
‘Can we find out why the CCTV was switched off at exactly the times that we really needed it-like when Mikhail Moszynski went out for a cigar on the Sunday night he died?’
‘The Shere Security people explained that, didn’t they?’ Zack said. ‘They said that Mikhail must have switched the recording off himself.’
‘The trouble is, Zack, that we may not be able to trust Shere Security-Wayne Everett in particular. How can we check this?’
‘Well, either the system, or some key part of it, like the HDD, was switched off for that period, either deliberately or as a result of a tech glitch, or…’
‘Or?’
‘Or the system did record for those periods and was erased afterwards.’
‘Can we test that?’
‘Yes. Not here or at Queen Anne’s Gate, but I can take the HDD over to technical support to take a look.’
‘Yes, do that.’
Brock’s phone sounded. Bren had something for them at Queen Anne’s Gate. Brock contacted Kathy and got up to go. As he made his way out he passed an open door leading into the warren of unused cellars in which he’d seen evidence of digging. The walls in there were whitewashed brickwork, similar to what could be seen in the background on Freddie Clarke’s video. He called Zack and reminded him to take a look.
As he stepped out into the square Brock saw a taxi waiting outside the hotel, the driver loading a suitcase into the boot. The hotel door opened, and he saw Deb, a coat over her arm, come trotting down the steps. When she reached the cab she turned and, seeing him, gave a wave, then she got in and the taxi moved off.
THIRTY-SIX
‘I reckon we’ve got him,’ Bren said, nodding with satisfaction. He described what he’d established about Wayne Everett’s earlier history with Hadden-Vane and the Tottenham youth club.
‘He was Hadden-Vane’s enforcer, and he made sure the club officers were kept sweet as he used the charity to divert his share of the money coming in from Moszynski. He knew Danny Yilmaz, and also Kenny Watson, who used to come to the club before he went up to Glasgow.’
‘He told you all this?’ Brock asked.
‘Yes. It took a while, but he finally agreed to let us have his prints and DNA. They’re processing them now.’
‘Good. Does he show up on the CCTV records at Hackney?’
‘We’re still looking.’
As Brock and Bren sat down together to go through the interview record in detail, Kathy at the next desk checked her phone again. Nothing from John. She tried ringing his number, but it was still switched off. She hesitated for a moment, then finally called the number of the Chelsea Mansions Hotel. It rang for a long time before it was answered with a tentative, ‘Hello?’ She recognised Toby’s voice.
‘Toby, hello, it’s Kathy Kolla.’
‘Ah… Hello, Kathy. What can I do for you?’
‘I’m trying to get in touch with John. Is he in the hotel?’
‘John? John Greenslade?’
‘Yes.’
‘He’s not here. I haven’t seen him since yesterday.’
Kathy frowned. ‘I was with him yesterday evening, and he said he was going back to the hotel. He should have got there about ten-thirty, eleven.’
‘No, he didn’t come home last night-we presumed he was with you.’
‘Would you mind getting someone to check his room, Toby? See if he slept there?’
‘It’s a little awkward at the moment. I’m rather short-handed. I’ll ring his room, shall I? Hold on.’
After a minute he came back on the line. ‘No reply, I’m afraid. He’s not here.’
Kathy rang off, feeling worried.
‘Okay, Kathy?’ Brock was looking at her.
‘Not sure,’ she said, and told him.
‘Probably nothing to worry about. But why don’t you check the crime reports?’
‘Yes, I will.’ She went to her computer and logged in. She worked through the accident and crime incidents from the previous night in the districts he would have walked through on his way back to the hotel, but none of the victims resembled him, and his name didn’t crop up anywhere. Then, feeling a little foolish, she requested a check on passenger flights to North America. That too drew a blank. Well, she thought, of course he wouldn’t have gone home without contacting her. She rang the caretaker of her block to see if he’d called in there, but again there was nothing. Then she decided she was being overanxious and got back to work on a pile of the documents they’d taken from Mikhail’s office at Chelsea Mansions.
Brock came over to her side and said, ‘Did we find out any more about Toby Beaumont?’
‘Yes, a little, about his father.’ She searched through the papers on her desk and found what she was looking for. ‘Well, not much. His name was Miles, so presumably he wrote that note on the back of the photo.’
‘And probably took the picture too,’ Brock said.
‘Yes. Born 1910, Eton, Oxford, the army. He was sent over to France with the British Expeditionary Force in 1939 and evacuated from Dunkirk the following June. In September 1941 he joined the Special Operations Executive which had just been formed to carry out raids in occupied Europe. In 1942 he was parachuted into Greece as part of Operation Harling, which blew up the railway viaduct at Gorgopotamos and cut the railway line from Thessaloniki to Athens and Piraeus which was being used by the Germans to supply their army in North Africa. He subsequently returned to England, took part in D-Day and was awarded the Military Medal.’
‘A distinguished record, then.’
‘Very. Toby must have idolised him.’
‘So what did Miles do next?’
‘Nothing. At least nothing we can discover. There are no records of him after he quit the army in 1946 as a full colonel, until he committed suicide ten years later, in November 1956.’
‘The time of Suez,’ Brock said. ‘The end of innocence-wasn’t that what Toby called it? He was at Suez, wasn’t he?’
‘Yes.’
They said nothing for a moment, Brock deep in thought. ‘So what was he up to?’ he said finally. ‘This hero of wartime special ops who vanishes from the record, and then plays host to an American diplomat and a senior Soviet party member at his home in London. What kind of larks was he up to?’ Brock shook his head and got to his feet. ‘I think we’ve been mesmerised, Kathy, by the Russians. Let’s go and have another chat to Toby.’
As they made for the door they were called back by Zack, who had returned from taking the surveillance hard
