Chapter 35
He'd finished his report. Leaving it on the Old Man's desk, he slumped down in his chair and watched his dachshund wobble its head. He tapped it again. Then again. Deep in thought, something was troubling him.
He got up and dragged the original paperwork from its filing cabinet in the Intel office. Too busy to look up, Reg just let him do it. Back at his desk, Gallagher began reading: addresses, employment records, education, known sexualities, the deceased's colleagues' statements and any comments they made. He read everything this time. When Sandy wandered back into the office he grabbed him and trundled him down to the briefing room.
"I think this thing is bigger than we first thought so sit down and I'll tell you why."
He wiped the previous information off the wall map's transparent cover and marked it up, referring to his notes in the folder. When he'd finished, he chalked the names on the board.
"Right. Breckenridge, Pollock, Wanstead, Thomas, and Eddlestone." He stabbed each one with the chalk as he said them. "These are the five we started with."
He drew a line through one of them. "Let's scrub Eddlestone because I'm certain he's not part of this. His mate Copeland thinks he's got away with it but he's in for a nasty surprise shortly. So, we're left with the four of them. Now, whilst they all worked for and at the project, Breckenridge and Pollock both lived not that far from Edinburgh. They both commuted to the project on occasions but never at the same time. They did most of what they needed to do from Edinburgh University facilities and Pollock was once a student of Marion Ward."
He went back to the map. "Breckenridge was found hanging from a tree in woodland near his home. Pollock was found splattered on the roadway underneath the Forth rail bridge on the Edinburgh side having apparently jumped. Pollock and the third death, Wanstead, happened in close proximity time-wise but five hundred miles apart." He waited to see the light in Sandy's head come on. It didn't.
"Look, our suspects are based around Marlborough. Thomas lived and died in the same area. Ok, so Wanstead was found at the bottom of Beachy Head full of LSD but that's only about a hundred and fifty miles from Marlborough. Edinburgh's about three hundred and eighty." Sandy's light bulb flickered. "But why take Wanstead all that way anyway?"
"They didn't. He was already there. He was homosexual. He hid it from his colleagues or thought he did, but I've just read something from one of them that tells me he was in the habit, now and then, of going to Brighton. It's got a fairly active community, bars and clubs if you know where to look. They followed him down there."
Sandy's head rose in a moment of clarity. "And you're saying what, exactly? You think there's more than one team in this?"
Gally put the chalk on the easel and wiped his hands together. "I do. I think they had one team working in Scotland and this one down here. I think there might even be a third team and I can't be certain there isn't a fourth still sleeping the year away."
He sat down opposite Sandy. "My only reasoning for a third team or at least another sleeper in the Brighton area is I don't know if our Mister Cherney would be up for acting as bait down there. It would need someone with certain charms and I'm not sure he's the sort to be willing. I could be wrong.
"In the meantime, I think the original team will have been extricated by now. Commercial flight to somewhere like Helsinki, I should think, train or direct flight then to Leningrad or Moscow. They’d know the longer they remained here the more chance they had of getting noticed and hoiked off the street by Box. The Cherneys, if they are our team, will probably be ready to leave shortly too."
Sandy thought on the matter. "That means you think they're going to make a move pretty soon?"
Gally nodded. "Tomorrow would be a great day for it. The World Cup final? There'll be no one on the streets to see them come and go.”