“You are joking,” said Max. “Never in a million years.”
“Alan went there in May 2004, a few weeks before he left the service. Do you remember what you were doing then?”
“I was in Cancun, enjoying a boozy holiday with Lofty, Smudger and Rico Menghini. We got an extra spot of leave after colliding with a trawler in the Irish Sea. Who went with Alan? I heard nothing about that trip.”
“We believe he travelled alone,” said Alex.
“I don’t like the sound of that,” said Max.
“There’s nothing to suggest Alan might have sold secrets to the Russians,” said Gus. “What else could have encouraged him to travel alone to Moscow?”
“I’ve no idea,” said Max. “Alan wasn’t capable of doing something like that, anyway. That’s ridiculous.”
“Perhaps,” said Gus, “but if you consider the personality change and the trips to tourist cities where a racecourse was close by, what might that suggest do you think?”
“You’re assuming Alan was gambling heavier than we knew and got in trouble.”
“Is that possible?” asked Alex.
“Who might know the answer?” asked Gus.
“Lenny Lambert would know,” said Max. “There are dodgy people on the fringes of that racing world, Mr Freeman. If Alan owed money to a bookie on the High Street, that’s one thing, but if he was borrowing from a shady bloke Lenny knew, that could explain why he got killed.”
“I would agree with you if we hadn’t identified a suspect,” said Gus. “Several people in the village where Alan lived saw a man called Yuri Kovalev. One person saw Kovalev arguing with Alan less than thirty minutes before he died. The Russian connection, that’s the sticking point. We believe the man Alan met in Moscow is the man who strangled him four years later.”
Gus slid the two photos in front of Max Hughes.
“Alan Duncan, you know, and the other man is Kovalev. Have you seen him before?”
“I haven’t, Mr Freeman. Look, if you think Alan’s relationship with this man linked to spying I need to report it at once, despite the time that’s passed.”
“If Alan had gambling debts and wanted to get himself out of trouble, what did he have access to that was worth a considerable sum?”
“We all had access to valuable information, but that didn’t mean we ever thought about acting on it,” said Max. “Smudger would know more about this than me. We’ve moved on since 2004, Mr Freeman. It would be difficult to know whether the Russians learned something from Alan that we didn’t want them to know.”
“I imagine the undersea manoeuvres are a game of cat-and-mouse similar to what’s occurring with cybersecurity personnel of both sides on the surface or in space?” said Alex.
“That’s all above my pay grade,” said Max.
“Thanks for your help, Max,” said Gus shaking the officer’s hand. “We’ll let you get back to your trainees. Get the security people to send in Chief Petty Officer Smith if he’s ready.”
“I wish I could be more help,” said Max. “None of this sounds like the Alan Duncan that I knew for twelve years. It’s a mystery.”
Max Hughes left the room and minutes later they were joined by CPO Keith Smith.
“Hello there,” said Smith. “What’s all this nonsense about Alan Duncan? I spoke to Bob on the phone yesterday afternoon. Alan was a mate. Now Max Hughes felt it necessary to flag up a potential security breach the second he left this room. That’s part of my role here. We’re talking of something that may or may not have happened fourteen years ago. We detect Russian vessels, including subs, near the base all the time. They lurk in UK waters hoping they’ll identify the acoustic signature of our nuclear-armed submarines. If they succeeded, they could track and potentially sink them before they launched their missiles. The cheeky beggars had a submarine stood off Faslane in 2010 waiting for one of our Vanguards to leave port for its three-month patrol. Recorded incidents are on the increase, but the idea Alan could have offered the Russians something valuable takes some swallowing.”
“Why?” asked Gus.
“If the Russians knew everything they wanted to know they wouldn’t need to keep hanging around outside our front door, would they?”
“Fair point,” said Gus.
Gus and Alex took Keith Smith through the same procedure as Max Hughes. Smudger confirmed the initial trips had been Max’s idea.
“Was there ever a trip that you didn’t attend?” asked Gus.
“You make it sound like I was always on holiday,” laughed Keith. “We grabbed every opportunity for an experience light years away from our life at sea. Marriage never appealed to me. I enjoyed the sightseeing, the camaraderie. It will leave a massive hole in my life when I reach fifty-five, and I have to retire.”
“I know how that feels,” said Gus. “I was fortunate that there was still a role I could fill that kept me in touch with everything familiar. I guess that will be more difficult for a submariner. What about the choice that Freddie Watts, Lofty, made? Could you see yourself as mine host in a pub somewhere?”
“Lofty enjoyed a drink,” said Keith. “I can’t see him making much money at that game. The temptation to consume the profits would be too great. I could always take it or leave it. A pub that concentrated on good grub might be more up my street if I was that way inclined. No, I’ll probably move abroad, play golf somewhere warm. A lot of open countryside around, that’s what attracts me. I’ve had my fill of confined spaces.”
“When you had a day at the races, did you sense Alan was betting more heavily than the rest of you?” asked Alex.
“Not at first,” said Keith. “You know what it’s like, all mates together. We bet five or ten quid on every
