After a few minutes, Goddard calmed down. ‘What’s this that you’re saying? That you believe that the man is psychotic and no longer rational?’
‘It’s a possibility.’
‘What if he is? How does that affect the current situation? How do you think this reflects on the department, on me?’
‘Badly, I suppose.’
‘Dead right, it does. Are you saying that none of the reasons that he gives for murdering four people are correct, and that we’re just dealing with a mad genius, is that it?’
‘It’s probable.’
‘Then you’d better find out,’ Goddard said.
***
Ed Barrow was in a panic. Everyone who was close to him was dead, including Sue Christie. He realised, on hearing the news of her death, that he had liked her more than he would admit to. They had been together in that office for fifteen years and lovers for nine of them. He remembered the last time they had made love, only two days earlier, and that she had been full of life, optimistic for the future. Now she was dead.
All those who had been involved when Woolston had been detained and tortured were dead, apart from him. It was clear that the man was tidying up loose ends, and that he, Ed Barrow, had lasted longer than the others, but he was still a target. Woolston had told him that over the phone that one time. Sue Christie should have been protected. The woman was neither naïve nor stupid, yet somehow Malcolm Woolston had managed to get into her flat.
And what was she killed for? She had not been involved with Woolston’s treatment eleven years previously. She knew about it, he had told her, Ed realised that, but her reaction had not been agreeable. To her, it had all been too sordid, although a percentage of any deals that might be made was attractive to her. Ed Barrow knew one thing: he needed to protect himself. He needed his wife’s assistance.
‘You’ve heard about Sue?’ he asked Gwen in the front room of the house they shared.
‘Tragic. Was it Malcolm?’
‘No doubt.’
‘Then he will be after you as well.’
‘Yes.’
‘According to Sally, he was maltreated all those years ago. The reason he faked his death.’
Ed Barrow could see no way to avoid the truth, or at least some of it. ‘Malcolm was idealistic, holding onto a belief in the goodness of man.’
‘You knew about this?’
‘Not immediately, but some powerful people wanted him to talk,’ Ed said, knowing full well that he had lied.
‘Did Sue?’
‘Not at first.’
‘You’re lying, I know it. She was killed because she was involved, the same as you. What Malcolm told Sally is all true. Why did you marry me? To keep an eye on me in case Malcolm knocked on the door? Is that it? And don’t lie. And don’t give me that innocent boy look that you do when you’ve been screwing Sue.’
‘But...’
‘But nothing and don’t deny it. It didn’t worry me at the time, it won’t now. You’re a bastard, a charming bastard. I didn’t want to be alone, and you were the nearest thing there was to Malcolm, and Sally adored you.’
Ed Barrow sat down, a look of disbelief on his face. Gwen, a woman who had adored her first husband, had seen through him from the very beginning. ‘There is no reason for Sue’s death,’ he said.
‘Whatever it is that you and she had cooked up, it was responsible for Malcolm faking his death, and then coming back and killing people. What is this great secret that forces a man such as him to behave in this manner? Are you going to tell me, or are you going to sit there whimpering? And there’s no point crying to your mistress, she’s dead, and no great loss to society. You two are total bastards, you know that.’
‘I love you,’ Ed said.
‘Maybe you do, but Malcolm’s out there on his own. The man may have had his faults, but he never cheated on me even when Sue was giving him the eye.’
‘We need to work together on this. What if Malcolm comes for me?’
‘Why would he? What is it that you and Sue were involved in?’
Ed wasn’t sure what to say. Should he level with her and tell her what he knew, what the plan was, how it was going to make them all rich, Malcolm included, if he had played ball. ‘I need to return to the office. It’s complicated. We’ll talk later,’ he said as he left the house.
After he left, Gwen picked up her phone. ‘Sally, I want to see your father.’
Chapter 23
Claude Smythe had enjoyed the time that he had spent with Sue Christie, the snatched weekends in the country away from his wife. As a general in the British Army, he had had her checked out. He knew about her men, about Ed Barrow and their clandestine affair. He also knew that she was devious and could not be trusted, and that her tolerance of him, a man past his prime, was not because of love, but because of a lust for money, and with his contacts, she could achieve that.
The thought of her lying dead in her flat did not concern him. He’d seen enough death in his lifetime, and a woman in her forties, even one such as Sue Christie, was not going to faze him. He had seen Barrow with Woolston’s widow, and whereas he did not like the man, he had to admit that he had good taste in women.
His brother would not have been interested, even if he broached the subject, which he had no intention of doing. With Cameron,
