Flint Saeed and Cushion ran into Blunt outside Strumpshaw's office They attempted to fill him in on what they had found out from the Accountant's files. He abruptly interrupted them saying that he needed to see Strumpshaw first. As he entered the reception area of the Chief's office he turned to Saeed and told him to get planning to hit whatever properties they had identified as targets. He would catch up on them later They wondered what the hell was going on. They had never seen their boss so agitated.
Of course the Chief had gone home or to some function. Blunt picked up the phone and dialled his home number. Luckily he got the man himself. He explained that he would need his boss to get onto the Home Secretary that evening. He would prefer to explain why in person. Would it be better for him to go to his house or wait for him to come into the office. A not too happy Strumpshaw said that he would be in the office in 20 minutes.
As Blunt waited for his boss he had time to think. The more he thought the more he realised the pitfalls of letting him know the truth. The Home Secretary or some such Minister would be advised and would request more information. They would then need to discuss matters with their civil servants and political advisers. Then the whole paraphernalia of state security would become involved, including the new security Committee. The propensity for leaks increased exponentially with each new state organ added to the mix.
No he was going to try and keep this to himself and one other person that he needed to ring. He would do that when he got home. He didn't want any calls to that source to be traced back to the office. If it blew up he knew that he was finished. The number of the so-called establishment that would like to see him take a fall were too numerous to think about.
Now he had twenty minutes in which to construct a credible story for Strumpshaw. One that would also pass the scrutiny of the Home Secretary and all the others.
A grumpy Strumpshaw bundled through the door wearing a red Pringle jumper, red dominated tartan shirt, grey slacks and black loafers: he was obviously in mufti. I have probably pulled him away from dinner, thought Blunt. Blunt was told in no uncertain terms that his story had better be good. Mrs Strumpshaw was not a happy wife. This evening had been the first in weeks that they were going to sit down together and dine at home. Blunt had ruined it!
Blunt commenced weaving his tale comprising a judicious mixture of truth and his extrapolating from that to what he considered to be logical supposition. The range of the Chief's facial expressions as he progressed told him that he was winning: thank God. The tale put the girl at the centre of the whole business. She had information about the Russians people trafficking activities. How they brought people in, where they 'stored' them and how they used them. She also knew details of their drug trafficking activities. Furthermore, she was part of an Islamist vanguard that intended to take over from the Russians in whatever way possible. She would not provide the details unless she had a document promising that she would be provided with protection.
Strumpshaw stated that a good deal of the information that she could provide would be of use to more than one agency. The security services, the new National Crime Agency just to name a few. They would all ask for the girl to be handed over. Blunt said that they could have her when they had finished with her. She had more than enough information regarding their unit for them to justify keeping her. Fortunately the Chief agreed with him.
He took a small black book out of the top drawer of his desk. Leafed through a couple of pages and then rang a number. He asked for the Home secretary. The man couldn't have been there as Strumpshaw put the phone down. He paced around the office until the phone rang a few minutes later. He recognised the voice with the ever so slight Nottinghamshire intonation in the background. He could hear some jazz in the room. Obviously a night at home for the Home Secretary. He could imagine him having slipped off his Hush Puppies, sipping from a glass of whisky, puffing at a Hamlet whilst reading a book on bird watching
He explained the situation and what he wanted. The Home Secretary stated that he was asking rather a lot on the say so of a slip of a girl and a terrorist to boot. Surely the best course of action was to hand the girl over to the security services. Life would then be much easier for everyone not least Strumpshaw himself. Not for nothing did he have reputation for candour. After all he had been the one to tell Margaret Thatcher that the game was up.
The Chief Constable agreed but countered with the fact that it didn't say much for his backing of the new anti-trafficking unit if he kicked it in the teeth before it had properly emerged from the womb. The Home Secretary picked him up on his mixed metaphors whilst taking a puff on his cigar. He could imagine the wry smile that the Minister often affected.
Eventually the Home Secretary agreed to write a note and said that he would get it faxed over to Strumpshaw within the hour.
The Chief Constable turned to Blunt and said that perhaps they better get Saddiqe into the interview room and start getting the details from her. No time like the present. He would sit and listen to the interview in another room.
'Shit' thought Blunt 'this is not what I need'
'That would not be a good idea sir. The girl has been through a traumatic experience over the last twenty four hours. She has been in custody with us and decided to betray her friends and colleagues. I think that it is best if we leave her to get a night's rest first.'
Blunt could see that he had not entirely convinced his boss.
'Not only that sir. If we continue to put pressure on her now all the do-gooders could come after us. In any court case we could be accused of obtaining evidence under duress. The force has had enough opprobrium heaped on it recently I am sure we do not want any more.'
'ok' Strumpshaw reluctantly agreed. 'Unfortunately. I won't be able to listen in tomorrow I am going to meet some of my peers in Rugby. After speaking to James Simmons the Surrey Chief Constable regarding the Weybridge brothel we decided that it would be a good idea if some of us got together to see whether the same thing is happening in their areas and how we can work together. It should help the new unit if we can get them on side.'
Blunt nodded in agreement.
'How did Leibnitz get on with the Surrey folk by the way?'
'I have not had chance to talk about it with her yet. We have all been rushing around like bafs all day. And we still are. I think that we are going to be going for a number of search warrants first thing in the morning. We could be making some big demands on manpower' replied Blunt
Strumpshaw nodded. More relaxed now than when he had come in.
'If you have any problems with manpower then go to the ACC I have already briefed him to give you every assistance. As long as it produces results that we can trumpet as successes and follow through to successful prosecutions then leave the budgets to me. If your girl comes up trumps then I don't think that I am going to have too much trouble with increasing our budgets or getting bollocked for going way over'
The last part filled Blunt with trepidation. If he did not produce then god help him because he would have drowned Strumpshaw and himself in ordure. Everything, in some ways, depended on the phone call he would try and make later that evening.
'Good. I will be getting off now. Otherwise I will be in even more trouble. If you need me for anything urgent don't hesitate to call. You can fill me in on what's happening when I get back from Rugby. That fax should come through soon. I'll leave you to deal with it. Goodnight'.
Once the Chief had gone Blunt went into his office that had now become the team room. They were all there waiting for him. It transpired that Leibnitz had filled them in regarding Saddiqe. She had also covered what the SOCOS had discovered at the cottage.
Saeed informed him that Willoughby and his lieutenants were complaining loudly and bitterly at their incarceration. At every opportunity they were demanding legal representation. Blunt said that as long as they were told that all that would be dealt with when they were in a position to question them he was happy.
The onus lay with the team to get the warrants and get out to the properties and The Attic. Saeed would run the show and needed to keep him informed. Had they thought of taking any armour. No! in that case they had better liaise with the ACC. Had they all forgotten that Morski and Pidrik had been armed? Leibnitz would continue questioning Saddiqe with Blunt in the morning.
Ahmed brought up his and Flint's discussion re Leibnitz's point about Gruberova being put into the water from the seaward side. Despite the raised eyebrows of his boss he went onto say that they had looked into it. On the night in question a Somalian registered vessel and a Russian factory ship had left Yarmouth harbour. The former had had put into the harbour the day before: ostensibly because of engine trouble. The latter had also docked the night before to let the crew have a little rest and recreation. They were awaiting details as to whether the routes of both had been logged.
'Have you checked with the coastguards at what points out at sea the currents could have taken Gruberowa's body to Winterton beach.. You can then compare these figures to the Somalian boats route' came Blunt's response.
'He's always one step ahead' thought Saeed
'The John Blunt of old. The clever bastard' opined Debbie Flint
Blunt thanked them for following up Leibnitz's idea. He then asked Debbie Flint whether she intended travelling back to London that evening. Her blush, a crimson red, spread from her neck to her face. She answered in the negative whilst averting her eyes from his gaze.
Blunt looked at his watch and thought that it would not be too bad. Israel was only two hours ahead of the UK.