Chapter 22
Mid-morning and his thoughts had kept wandering back to the green-eyed redhead. There was something not quite right there, it was the registration plates. They needed to take a closer look at her, best for his peace of mind.
"You do know we're a bit thin on the ground, don't you?" Sandy looked up from his desk.
Gally nodded. "Yes, I do and that's why I thought the Farralland boys could do it. They're used to sneaky beaky stuff and they'd blend in much better than you or I sitting there in a motor. We can leave it with them. Will you speak to him? I don't seem to be able to get on the right side of him at the moment. He likes you, Ginge." He squeezed past Winston and sat down at his desk.
Sandy huffed. "Yeah, right. Ok, I'll do it but you owe me one."
"Incidentally, Ginge, have we heard anything from Clive?" Gally responded as he searched through his top drawer for a stapler.
"He's in with the Old Man now, should be out soon." Winston volunteered.
"Anyone seen my stapler? It was on my desk yesterday."
"Ralph's got it. He's using it on some files in the storeroom. I said you wouldn't mind." Sandy replied.
"Why didn't you give him yours?"
"I needed it."
Midday and they sat in the briefing room, a soulless place, window looking out onto a brick wall, a table and a stack of less than comfortable metal and pressed plywood chairs. An easel mounted blackboard guarded the corner.
"That's about it," Clive said as he gathered the copies of his report back in.
Gally leant back in his chair. "Right, so, what we have is the bird he's having his little night-time sessions with is a secretary on one of the other syndicates?" He saw Clive thumbing through the papers and knew what he was looking for. "It's ok, Clive, I don't want to know which one exactly but what about the girl you mentioned in your report who one of them says is the real source of Reddington-Taylour's work material, the one who he's pinching all the ideas from? Has she not said anything to you about it?"
Clive shook his head then Sandy broke in, "Maybe that's because it's not going to get her anywhere. It's her word against his. You know what these places are like, top-heavy men’s club sort of places. Best to hang on in there than be stitched up like a kipper."
"Yeah, you're probably right. But what if our Stasi friends know she's the real genius?" Gallagher looked at his colleague. "What was it one of the others mentioned about her possibly having 'an outside interest'?"
Clive mumbled something and pulled his papers back out of the envelope he'd just stuffed them in. "Um, give me a sec." He paused then said, "Here it is. Yeah, her name's Marion Ward. They say she's been to a hairdresser, nothing radical, but she normally does it herself apparently and she's started wearing a little bit of makeup. The girl who told me said we'd probably not notice but they did."
Gally got up and wrote Reddington's name on the blackboard then circled it. He wrote 'secretary' and 'Ward' circling them also. Chalk lines connected them with a question mark between the secretary and Ward.
"Ok, let's make some assumptions for now." With the chalk, he stabbed Ward's circle. "She's the source of what Reddington's doing." He stabbed another circle. "And this one could be gleaning information from him in pillow talk. What we need to know is, are Ward and the secretary connected in any way? They probably know each other by sight but it's not a given."
He drew two more circles, one connected with the secretary, the other with Ward. "We know there's someone else in this mix because it seems Ward is seeing someone. Who is it? And, what about the mistress? What significant others does she have? They're our two priorities for now. Anyone disagree?" No one did.
Reg had been sat quietly nibbling the chocolate off a Club biscuit. Gallagher caught his attention. "Have you had anything back from Box regarding their extra vetting enquiries?"
Reg nodded."They tell me one of the tea ladies, a widow, took up with a bloke nearly two years ago and they're now shacked up together. She didn't let anyone know though, so they want to take a closer look at him. I have mentioned the mistress to my contact but I had to wait until there was one of my club meetings before I could pass it over, hence the delay. I've got to distance us from the recovery of the information. If I speak to him openly too often someone will pick up on it."
Gally quickly thought it over. "Even if the new man in the tea lady's life turns out to be suspect it still means there was already someone inside, in the system, feeding information out well before he turned up on the scene. It makes sense to have more than one source, probably totally unknown to each other."
He started to pace the room. "Can we close Farralland down for two weeks at least? Box will look at the secretary and it'll keep them occupied. We keep the Ward information to ourselves for the time being and put surveillance on her. Farralland are best at doing this but with them also doing the redhead we're going to need all their resources."
Their heads bobbed in agreement. It was Sandy who spoke. "It can be done. We've done it before. You remember, Reg? It was before Clive got here. They throw some excuse up in their front window and farm out their legitimate work to people they know."
Clive spoke up. "What about our sleeper agents? Anyone any thoughts on them?"
Gally pointed the chalk at him. "Good thinking, Clive. Let's not forget them in all the excitement." He looked at Reg for possible input but received a shake of the head so continued, "Right, what do we think? Can we get any closer? Are the ones who drove Reddington off the road another two from a group of four or do they simply have access to two motors and how do you cover up the damage they must have had to the Humber. They've got to garage it out of sight somewhere or get it fixed."
"They could have access to a lock-up or a scrap yard?" Sandy offered.
"Good idea," Gally replied. "Or they could just have access to a mechanic, perhaps? Reg, have we explored that with the local Bill at all?"
"You never asked me to and the Old Man has got me doing some other stuff for him so I've been a bit too busy to free think this one for you boys. I'll get on it this afternoon. Lock-ups, scrap yards and repair garages. What sort of radius will you be looking at?"
"What do you think?" Gally asked the others. "Personally, I reckon they won't have wanted to travel too far with a damaged car. Who knows, the wing might have been hanging off. Too noticeable." He examined the map on the wall. "A fifteen-mile radius from the scene would probably take in Swindon. Maybe that's too much to deal with at present so I think ten miles is a better option. We could probably handle that."
Clive and Sandy agreed.
"Anything else?" Reg asked with a weary smile as he stood up.
Sandy flashed him what he hoped was a disarming grin. "Well now you mention it, Reg, any chance you could broach the Farralland subject with the Old Man? If I go back in again he might think we're only trying to screw the expenses. He listens to you. You've always been able to manage him better than the rest of us."
Reg laughed. "You know I'm susceptible to a bit of flattery. Ok, I'll go make him a cup of tea and mention it when I take it in. Now, unless you want to shove a broom up my arse and ask me to sweep the corridor as well, I'll be off."
***
The Old Man entered the main office: sandwiches decorated the desks along with Tupperware, cutlery poking out. Gallagher munched his way through a couple of Wimpy's. They made to stand up but he waved them down again.
"Sit easy, chaps. I just wanted to let you know our stamp man, the pensioner and the postman have all been lifted in raids today. This not only pressurises our quarry and puts them on a fast-moving timer but it means the same for us. With the exception of Winston and Ralph, I think we might have to start sleeping here, so make sure your 'ready kits' are updated and you've signed out sleeping bags each and anything else you may think useful."
He watched for any adverse reactions. "I've decided, after consultation with Reg, that we should extend our surveillance onto someone he's identified as being of extreme interest. With the other work Farralland have at present with the redheaded woman, it's going to need all our resources so I think it's prudent for them to close their legitimate work and farm it out. However, we do have a slight resilience and can keep a small standby crew across there, so like yourselves, there will always be someone, at least, available for tasking as seen fit. I'll confirm when exactly we'll need to start sleeping here later, in the meantime just carry on." Understanding nods and general agreement.
"What happened to the dog, Sir?" Gally enquired, wiping his hands on his Wimpy serviette.
The Old man looked at him blankly. "Which dog?"
"The old fellow's, Sir? The pensioner we've just had hoiked."
"A neighbour took it in."
"I'm glad," Gally replied. "He was a nice old sort. The dog I mean. The old bloke looked a bit grumpy but he was kind to his dog so I'll give him that."
"Your sudden concern for animals is commendable, Gallagher." The Old Man gave one of his forced smiles and turned to walk away again.
Gally called after him. "That's another reason why I was fairly certain the old bloke was the contact, Sir. His dog was called Leonard."
"Leonard?"
"Yes, Sir. In Russian, it translates as Leon."
The lack of comprehension was apparent.
"Trotsky, Sir? Leon Trotsky? He was one of the Russian leaders of the revolution."
"I know who Trotsky was, Gallagher! Is there a point to this?" he glared.
Gally surrendered. "I don't suppose there is, Sir."
"Right, well, you'd all better start preparing." He closed the door behind him.