‘No.’
‘Is that it? He’s walking free, and yet you have been doing his dirty work. And judging by the house in Holland Park and yours in Kingston upon Thames, you were getting the rough end of the stick. You were being shafted by a master manipulator. And why the cryptic message at the grave where you murdered Amanda Upton?’
‘Don’t make it out to be something it wasn’t. We worked together, occasionally screwed each other. It was sex, that’s all.’
‘But you liked her?’
‘Sure, who wouldn’t. She was a classy woman, but she was hard, the same as her mother. To your face, she was sweet and coy and desirable, but deep down, she was calculating, able to convince a fat lecher that he was taking her to untold heights of delight.’
‘A good actor?’
‘She was.’
‘With you?’
‘We had a good time, no need to pretend with me. I’m as hard as she was, and you would be if you had seen what I had when I was in the military.’
‘Done what you had,’ Larry said.
‘Someone had to do it.’
‘You’ve used that defence before,’ Isaac said.
A smug look settled on Rees’s face. Isaac didn’t like it, as if the man knew something that he didn’t.
A curious limbo existed in Homicide; the truth increasingly known but only marginally proved. Larry took the opportunity to catch up on his paperwork, Wendy took the time to rest her weary legs, and Isaac gave more time to Jenny. It was only Bridget who was fully occupied.
Three days after Rees’s arrest, a phone call. Isaac was at the gynaecologist with Jenny when he answered his phone.
‘Sergeant Bill Dyer, Cardiff Police,’ a gruff-voiced man said.
‘How can I help you?’ Isaac’s reply, Jenny casting him a sideways glance, understanding on the one hand, scornful on the other.
‘It was one of our young constables, keen as mustard. She was in the supermarket, recognised your Asian woman.’
‘Under arrest?’
‘I didn’t think you’d want that. The constable picked up a plastic container the woman had handled, flashed her warrant card at the cashier and followed her.’
‘The prints?’
‘You’ll need to get your Forensics to check them out, but we’re certain they are from Leni Ramos.’
‘An address?’
‘We’ve got it staked out. It’s in a cul-de-sac. No one’s going anywhere.’
‘A man?’
‘We’ve not got close enough yet, but the constable’s got a team together to make sure that no one leaves the house. They’ve got photos of both the Asian woman and this Ian Naughton or whatever he calls himself. If either moves, we’ll pick them up.’
‘You’ve been updated on Naughton?’
‘Possibly armed, liable to shoot, handle with extreme caution. We have. We’ve got an armed response team coming, should be in place within an hour. How soon before you get here?’
‘Three hours if we drive, sixty minutes if we can get a helicopter. It depends on the chief superintendent.’
Isaac phoned Goddard, who without hesitation gave his permission. The monthly budget would be blown, but an arrest in Cardiff would outweigh the criticism that the finance department would give him afterwards.
Fifteen minutes later, Isaac and Larry were flying high over London, a police helicopter seconded for the trip.
Larry had been to Cardiff, Isaac hadn’t. On arrival, Detective Inspector Everton and the young constable, Catrin Humphreys, met them.
‘Constable Humphreys gets the credit for this.’
Isaac instinctively liked the inspector, a fair-minded man who gave credit where credit was due, not like the insufferable Seth Caddick who was always trying to wheedle his way into Challis Street and Homicide.’
‘It’s not far from here,’ Catrin Humphreys said.
‘The plan?’ Larry asked.
‘We were waiting for you. The armed response will go first. Once it’s secured, you can go in. It’s your arrest,’ Everton said.
‘Constable Humphreys can do that,’ Isaac said. ‘Inspector Hill and I have met Naughton and the woman before. The man can charm the birds out of the trees, but his records indicate that he’s not the sort of person to get too close to.’
The armed response team reached the front door of the house. It wasn’t as impressive as Holland Park, but it was still better than Rees’s house.
The door opened. From a distance, Isaac could see that it was the woman that had been with Ian Naughton: Analyn. Not taking chances this time, the woman was secured by one of the men and taken from her side of the door and out through the front garden. She was handed over to Isaac, who asked the young constable to caution her.
Handcuffs were applied to Analyn, and she was placed in the back of a police vehicle.
The armed response team encircled the house, two of them taking positions at the rear, three at the front. The officer in charge shouted out, told anyone in the house to come out with their hands held high.
Naughton walked out, the same smug look that Isaac had seen on Gareth Rees’s face at the prison. Isaac decided that even though he had wanted to let the constable caution the man, the seriousness of his crimes and the ensuing trial required him to do it.
‘It seems, Chief Inspector, that you are determined to miscalculate the situation,’ Naughton said.
As smooth as a knife through butter, Larry thought. The man was good. He was not going to be easy to crack.
‘Why the arrogance?’ Inspector Everton asked Isaac after the two people in custody had left for the police station.
‘Trained killer for Her Majesty’s government. Friends in high places, secrets that he knows they’ll not want to be known. He thinks he can get out of this,’ Isaac said.
‘Can he?’
‘It’s probable. And besides, we can’t prove he committed murder, only that he instigated them.’
‘Proof of criminal activity?’
‘Not strong. His other nefarious activities we
