Chapter 15 – A Killer Cornered.
"You're here for Andropov?" Goren asked, although he already felt he knew the answer.
"I'm here to help catch him," Whitefield replied.
Behind him, Superintendent Barrett decided to regain control of the situation. "Captain Whitefield is here to help us take Andropov into custody, and to share intelligence with us. We now know most of what Andropov was planning." He sighed. "It seems we owe you something of an apology, Mr Davenport." Behind him, Mulligan looked like a man chewing glass. Davenport's expression of barely suppressed smugness probably wasn't helping.
"Andropov's been a busy man," Whitefield remarked thoughtfully. "Can you guess who he's been hiring?"
Quick, clean, neat, needed plans of the stadium… His earlier musings on the nature of fanaticism prompted a sudden idea. "A sniper?"
Whitefield looked at him and rolled his eyes. "Goren, I'm surprised the NYPD bothers to hire anyone else; can't they just use you to solve all their cases? Yes, a sniper, I presume you've worked out who they were planning to kill."
Eames suddenly spoke up, surprising them. "You might want to ask the people at Towells Construction if they used a similar design to the City of London for an earlier stadium. Elahi wrote that a stadium he'd been working on had been broken into…"
"…snipers need to practise for their shots," Goren picked up her train of thought. "Andropov could have used that as a dry run to give his sniper the chance to work out the angle, calculate the shot."
"Do you have any idea who's behind it? Who's paying Andropov?" Eames asked.
Whitefield shook his head. "No. You should expect that you probably won't ever find out; that's a job for the foreign intelligence service. Right now, Goren, we need you to go in there and persuade little Miss Collins to lure her boyfriend out into the open. We've already tracked down the snipers he hired. If we can get him, we can cut off his little assassination attempt at the knees."
"Good. The match should go ahead if at all possible," Mulligan remarked from behind. Beside him, Davenport barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. "We really can't afford a loss of public confidence at this stage."
"You worry too much about that," Barrett remarked thoughtfully.
Mulligan sighed. "That's my job. We could cancel all public functions. All sporting events. Put scanners at every railway station, every tube station, every port. Force everyone to carry ID cards, cancel the habeas corpus laws, suspend the rights of suspects… The British public has the right to live its life as normally as possible, as far as we can make that possible." He sighed again, and repeated: "That's my job."
The mood had quietened. Softly, Goren asked, "So, what do you need me to do?"
Shortly afterwards, he was back in the interrogation room with Collins, explaining to her that they needed her to make a phone call to Andropov, and lure him out into the open. Whitefield and the others on the hastily-reconvened Special Branch team were listening in. Not wanting to intimidate Collins too much, they had agreed that only he should be the one to talk to her, and slowly, laboriously, they had put together a plan. Collins would call Andropov and ask him to meet her and take her away, claiming that she thought the police were onto her. Ideally, he'd agreed. If not, she was to keep him talking long enough for them to trace the call.
"No!" Collins said, with an odd expression of equal parts of resolution and fear. "He did that. I don't want to speak to him again. Besides-" she looked up at Goren through her eyelashes, whilst he tried not to let his exasperation at the tired old ploy of the 'female suspect trying to play on her femininity with the big powerful cop' show "-he might do that to me."
"He won't do that to you. I promise," he said, wondering briefly if he was laying it on a bit thick, but so far this seemed to be going well. "I just need you to make a phone call, then wait for him. As soon as he appears, we'll take him in for questioning." For "take him in for questioning", read "haul him into the back of a van with several guns pointed at his head", he privately translated to himself.
She looked doubtful. He bent down further to catch her gaze, then stood up, moving sideways from his chair whilst still holding her gaze, so that she couldn't fail to catch sight of the photos of the bloodied corpses of Ranjit and Miya Elahi.
"It's the right thing to do, Jane," he said gently.
"Will I… will I get special treatment for this? Maybe a deal?"
"We'll see what can be arranged," he murmured in reply. "So, will you do it?"
"Oh… okay."
"Thank you. "
Two hours later, he was once again sitting in a van, along with Eames. They were watching Jane Collins as she waited nervously for Andropov to arrive. Amazingly, she had managed to lure him out during her conversation over the phone, pleading tearfully that she was being followed by the police and please could he rescue her? He had to hand it to her. Once turned, she stayed turned. Or more accurately, once she'd transferred her feelings from Andropov to him, she stayed loyal. He almost hoped she wouldn't feel too betrayed once she realised she'd never see him again, then reminded himself that feeling sorry for criminals, no matter how vulnerable or manipulated, was not a luxury he could afford.
Davenport had vanished, probably to discuss his future career prospects with Mulligan, who was extremely unhappy about his going rogue. The fact that he'd been right all along would probably only go so far, Goren thought, but that was not his problem.
Sienna… he pushed the thought away. Soon, he promised himself. Soon, he would find her, and then they would meet and talk some more. He tried hard not to allow himself any hope of a reconciliation. Besides, there was still the mystery of exactly why they'd been assigned to the Elahi murder case, although that was more of academic interest now. Suddenly, the atmosphere went from tense to electric, as Andropov's car pulled into the street where Collins was waiting on the corner…
It was over with so quickly, it was almost an anti-climax. One minute, Collins was stood out on the corner. The next, a squad of armed and armoured police had surrounded Andropov's car, shooting out the tyres and snatching away Collins before Andropov could get to her.
Goren felt the adrenaline rush, he almost wished he was out there now, but all they could do was watch as Whitefield's men plus a Metropolitan police anti-terrorist squad took Andropov into custody. Collins was screaming and crying, probably not helped by the threats Andropov was howling at her in three different languages. He'd never intended to pick her up or rescue her, that was for sure. They'd all seen him take aim at Collins, obviously intending a much more permanent solution to the problem that she knew too much about what he'd been planning, and neatly removing the problem for them of exactly what grounds they should be arresting him on. Attempted murder would do very nicely, and once in custody, he would not be coming out.
Once they heard that Andropov was secure, Goren and Eames, accompanied by two uniformed officers, walked across to the van he was being held in. Partly, they needed to look at him and have a Scene Of Crime officer (the British equivalent of their own CSU technicians) take photographs to identify him as "Ahmed Nissar", the killer of Ranjit Elahi. Partly, Goren admitted to himself, it was curiosity. He wanted to see this man.
He was exactly as described, and undoubtedly the man they were looking for; they could add the murders of the Elahis to Andropov's extremely long charge sheet, and consider the case closed. At close range, Andropov matched his official Interpol description. He was in his mid-thirties, stockily built, face a mixture of Russian and Asian features. As an ex- Army intelligence officer, Goren could see how Andropov must have found his face an advantage; it would have been easy with for him to disguise himself, to make himself appear sometimes to be Caucasian, sometimes Asian.
What the description had not included, because it could not, was the frightening aura of command around him. This man, Goren knew, had planned an incredibly complex operation that they had only just frustrated, co-ordinating a range of people from stupid Jane Collins to fanatical Omar Khaleel, often by email and telephone, yet at the same time had been willing to get his own hands dirty in killing the Elahis. He had met officers like this in the Army – they were often the sort who were idolised by their men – and, every time, had thought Thank God they're on our side, because you sure as hell wouldn't want them anywhere you couldn't keep an eye on them.
As they identified him, Goren's eyes met Andropov's, and for a few seconds they stared at each other, each knowing what the other was thinking; so, you are the man I've been hunting / who has been hunting me. Andropov's expression was blank, almost neutral. Some people kill from rage. Others kill for convenience, or for revenge, or sometimes from fear for their own safety. Andropov, Goren realised, was the most deadly kind of killer, the kind for whom killing is neither something to worry about nor to indulge in for fun; just one possible course of action among many. He broke eye contact, and left. The time to stop analysing criminals was the minute after you got the cuffs on them. Otherwise, you ended up a burnt-out wreck.
Once they returned to Scotland Yard, Barrett took them both into his office, where Whitefield and Davenport were waiting. Almost like old times, Goren thought ironically, except that last time it had been Sienna and not Eames who had been the only female present.
"Well." Barrett said, and paused. "I owe you both – I owe you all – considerable thanks. I have been asked to pass on the gratitude of the British government, as well."
Goren sighed. He should, he thought, feel happier. But whilst he was pleased at the successful result, it was impossible to get this close to evil and feel happy, only relieved that it had been averted.
"What happens now?" Eames asked quietly.
"It's not my decision to make, but I believe the match will be going ahead. We do, now, have all the suspects in custody. The stadium is being inspected and final security checks are going ahead, but I don't think we now have any reason not to believe that it should not go ahead. Mr Mulligan has a good point about not letting fear rule our lives."
From behind them, Davenport spoke, also quietly; "Do you know who was paying Andropov?"
Whitefield replied. "Yes. However, officially, we can't tell you, not even you, Mr Davenport, seeing as how you're still technically suspended from duty." He shrugged. "Unofficially… I'm sure you can all think of several countries who would like to be able to carry out pre-emptive strikes against us, and our allies. Pick one of them, and you have a good chance of getting it right."
"Modern politics," Goren murmured.
"Yes."
"So, is that it?" Eames remarked, and suddenly everyone smiled.
"Yes, that's it."
"What about Andropov's involvement in the murder of the Elahis?" Goren asked. "We need a confession to be sure of securing a conviction."
"I'll see what I can do about that, and if he confesses, we'll add it to the list of charges," Whitefield replied. "Sorry, but it will be some time before he gets to trial." He shrugged. "Be happy with what you have achieved. Catching Andropov's a major coup. Go out, enjoy London."
Not bad advice. They took it, and left. On their way out, Eames switched on her cellphone, which beeped with a message. She took it.
"It's Deakins." She listened carefully. "He wants us to call him about our involvement in the Elahi murder case…"
She returned the call, but with no success; Deakins was out of his office at the monthly meeting for NYPD captains. She looked at Goren and shrugged. "They say to call back in two hours."
"That's good… I want to get my notes for that before we speak to him. How about we go back to Tanya's house, pick everything up, then we can call Deakins and wrap things up at this end?" Leaving me a couple of days to try and find Sienna and talk to her…
Eames looked at him thoughtfully. He hoped she wasn't reading his mind… "Okay, let's do that."
As they caught a taxi back, he leaned back and closed his eyes. He knew he should be thinking through what he was going to say to Deakins, but truth be told, all he could think of was That's it. This case is over. I deserve to take some time and sort out my personal life.
Sienna deserves for me to do that.
Be honest, Goren. You still love her, don't you?
Yeah. And at least now, maybe, just maybe, I can use the next two days before we catch our flights back to sort things out, now that this case is over.
Some wild ride, huh?
Next time I see Davenport? I'm running screaming in the opposite direction.
