"I hope you don't mind," DCI Burton began as we walked to her car. "But I took the liberty in arranging the meeting at your place."
"Why?"
"Because it's safer."
"Who are we meeting?"
"You'll see."
I didn't have to wait long as within fifteen minutes of us arriving back at my home in Woodside Park, the front doorbell rang.
Sandra answered the door for me and led our guest into the lounge where I was waiting.
"DCI Burton, Mr Noone? Thank you so much for seeing me at such short notice," he said, looking across the room at my friend.
"Not at all, Mr Flynn. Would you please sit down and make yourself comfortable? May I introduce you to my friend and colleague, Quintus Noone? Who I believe was the man you wanted to see?"
We shook hands
"Mr Noone, thank you so much for seeing me. I don't know where to start; the police have made such a hash of everything, no disrespect to you, DCI Burton, and the press made it even worse. Family and friends are devastated, the funeral is the day after tomorrow, and we still don't even know the cause of death!"
"Ah, Mr Flynn," Sandra said, "you are starting in the middle. Now, take a couple of deep long breaths and try and relax, and tell us the whole story from the beginning."
"I'm sorry. We've been going through this nightmare for over a month now, and sometimes --"
"It's all right, Mr Flynn," I say. "I will try and assist you as much as I can. So, take your time, and tell us everything you think we should know."
Brian Flynn composed himself gradually before he spoke.
"For me, it starts with my cousin Anne. We have been very close for a long time. Anne married a chap named Eamon Davis, a fine fellow, and they had two daughters. Tina and Margaret." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Tina was blessed with a gift for mathematics that impressed everyone. Her teachers were amazed, but they didn't know what to do with her, or for her, perhaps I should say. So, they started sending her to Bangor University, just one day a week at first when she was 13, and she graduated with a first-class degree in maths when she was only 17 years old."
"Pretty impressive," I said, and Sandra nodded in agreement.
"She earned a PhD. from Manchester University at 19, and then she was off to Cambridge, Homerton College, and we started to think she might stay in academia for a while, maybe even become a professor. She would have made an exemplary teacher. She was so friendly, and she had a way of putting people at ease. She wasn't much for small talk, but she was a joy to listen to about things that mattered to her, something she knew well. She certainly knew what she was about when it came to maths. And she had a passion for it."
"That's nice to hear," I interjected, trying to make our visitor feel at ease.
"She had always done exceptionally well academically, so we were stunned when -- at the age of 20 -- she failed an exam and dropped out of Homerton College. We worried for her future, but she soon found a job with the government."
"What part of the government?" I ask.
"She worked for GCHQ in Cheltenham, sir, and the only thing we knew about her work was that it was secret. She said it was something to do with codes, but other than that, she said nothing else, and we could sense that it would have been rude to ask. She often travelled to the U.S. on work-related matters, but she always returned to Cheltenham." He smiled at a memory before carrying on. "Cheltenham is not far from Wales, and Tina came back home to see the family as often as she could. She loved to ride with her father, both expert cyclists, and Tina raced with the local bicycle club, too. She was an outstanding sportswoman, and she won quite a several races, especially in the hills. Oh, how she loved to ride in the mountains!"
"Was she a fitness fanatic?" I enquired.
"I would say so, yes," Flynn replies. "Anyway, late last summer, Tina moved to London for a temporary posting. We understood that she was on secondment to MI6. She said she would be back in Cheltenham when she had finished her endorsement with MI6."
"Where was she living?" I ask.
"Here in London, Tina lived in a flat at 36 Suffolk Street, in Pimlico. The government paid her rent, it was close to her work, and she was happy here, although she missed the country. She was anxious to get back to Cheltenham. But it never happened."
"And why was that, Mr Flynn." Of course, I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear his version of events.
"We got the bad news on August 24, a date I will never forget. Tina had stopped returning calls from Margaret, so she called the police and asked them to check on her. So, they went to her flat at Suffolk Street, and that's where they found her, Mr Noone. She was dead!"
"I am very sorry to hear that, Mr Flynn."
"They found her body in the bath, in a holdall, a big red bag made to carry camping gear. The bag was closed with a zipper. And the zipper was padlocked shut!"
I already knew most of these details. But I couldn't stop myself from gasping. Nor could I stop the cold shivers running up and down my spine.
I stood up suddenly and walked across to Brian Flynn, and rested a hand on his shoulder. "You need something to drink, Mr Flynn. What can we offer you?"
We agreed on coffee, and after returning from the kitchen, carrying a tray of cups, a coffee pot, and a jug of milk, I continued with my questioning.
"When you first arrived, you said the police had made a hash of it. I take it no arrests have taken place?"
"Arrests?" Flynn replied with muted anger. "They're not even calling it murder!"
"And they still haven't given a cause of death?"
"No. All we know about that is what has been in the tabloids. And most of what the papers have printed is shit!"
"In what way?" I asked, and there was a long pause before Flynn answered.
"First, they lied about the body. Then lied about Tina!"
"How did they lie about the body?" I inquired.
Flynn drew another deep breath. "Some of the papers said she was a victim of a stabbing. Some even said somebody had dismembered her! Then the police stated there wasn't a mark on the body, with no sign of violence."
"What else can you tell me about the state of the body?" I asked.
"Very little. The decomposition of the body was in an advanced state, and this complicated the toxicology reports, making it impossible to determine both the time of death and the cause."
"How long had Tina been missing?" I pressed, and Brian Flynn struggled to compose an answer.
"Tina returned from a trip to the U.S. on August 11. That was a Wednesday; Margaret talked to her on that day, her last contact with her family. The police have released CCTV footage of Tina shopping in London, which they say was on the 14th and 15th of August, a Saturday and Sunday. But that's all we know."
"The body," I said, "was found on the 23rd. In an advanced state of decomposition, and that may depend on the bag." I turned to Sandra. "What, if anything, DCI Burton, do you know about the bag?"
"According to my sources, it was a large red holdall, manufactured by The Northern Aspect to carry camping equipment or sporting gear. I don't know any more than that."
"Did Tina have any enemies that you know of?" I asked Flynn/
"None that I knew. But of course, in her line of work, sir, there are always enemies, are there not?"
I nodded
"Was she a big woman?"
"Tina? Good God, no. Admittedly, she stood five feet seven, five-eight at the but slight build, though very well-toned. However, she spent too many hours on the bike and climbed too many hills to be otherwise."
"So, we have a tall and fit woman in a large sports bag, padlocked, in a bathtub. And yet the police aren't saying murder? What do they think happened, Sandra? Do you think she padlocked herself into the bag?"
"No, I don't, but at least one daily paper had suggested that scenario," DCI Burton looked profoundly incredulous.
"I agree it sounds ridiculous," I said.
"But that's not the worst of it," Flynn burst out. "The papers have been full of lurid claims and innuendos, right from the very beginning, when they started saying it looked like a bizarre sex game gone wrong. Can you imagine?"
"How absurd," I said, and Flynn then continued.
"The papers have said that once in her flat, police found porn, contact numbers for male escort agencies, bondage equipment, and all sorts of other very odd things, at least, things that would have been strange to find in the flat of a single young woman."
I nodded, and Flynn continued, "Then the police stated that none of this was true. But that's hardly stopped the conjecture in the papers! Nor has it stopped the Metropolitan police from saying they think the solution to the mystery lies in her private life."
"That is very strange," I offered.
"We agree also, and we'd like to know why they're doing this. Another thing we want to know. Why did all this shit ever get printed? We never saw any sign that Tina was a sexual deviant. It appears to us as though perhaps the government or somebody was trying to smear Tina's reputation."
"Indeed, Mr Flynn," I said. "It certainly seems as though somebody somewhere is trying to blacken her name. What about your family? Where are they all based, and how are they coping?"
"We're up in the northwest of Wales, near Haliheved."
I didn't respond immediately, and Flynn continued. "Haliheved is a beautiful natural port. Valley is just a couple of miles east of there, where Anne and Eamon reside. I live a couple of miles further east, and Margaret and her husband Clifford live near Wrexham, but most are near. I can't say any of us are coping that well, but they will be chuffed as punch to learn of your interest in the case, assuming you are interested?"
"I am interested, Mr Flynn. Whether I can be of service is another matter. I will certainly do whatever I can."
"We are most grateful to you," replied Brian Flynn, rising from his seat.
"What do you think?" Sandra asked after Flynn had left.
"I think Brian Flynn is up against forces larger than he can imagine. Forces much stronger than the family can fight without any help. If I were to throw my weight onto their side, that wouldn't tip the balance. But I am going to have a bloody good go? Are you willing to gamble your career on this, Sandra? Because that is what it will mean. Your career."
"I cannot begin to imagine what the family is going through," Sandra replied. "First to lose their daughter, niece and sister; then to have her name tarnished in the papers. But, of course, I'm willing! So, what can I do to help?"
"Find a shop that sells Northern Aspect gear," I said, "and bring back one of those bags!"
It wasn't difficult to find a sports shop that sold Northern Aspect equipment, and once I was in there, it wasn't difficult to find the bag I was after. It was the most oversized, hard-wearing kitbag they had; the Northern Aspect Headquarters model had plenty of colours to choose from; I purchased a red one.I smiled with self-satisfaction as I made my way back to Woodside Park.When I returned home, instead of DCI Burton being there to heap praise on my ability to find the right bag, I found a note, which read:Quintus,I have gone to Cheltenham and will not be back until tonight.Sandra xxxThree kisses? Didn't that mean something?Somewhat disappointed she wasn't there but pleased and proud that she had taken such a bold step so soon, I sat down and began to examine the bag.The walls were of a textile I had never seen before: strong but somewhat supple and certainly watertight. It felt like a very hard-wearing fabric -- lat
But when I awoke the next day, I felt Sandra Burton's naked body pressed up against mine. I didn't remember her coming back or sliding into bed next to me, but I felt comfort in the fact that she was there.When she woke, she didn't seem embarrassed, and when I finally got out of bed, I found her downstairs examining the bag.She looked up at me smiling and then asked whether I had given the bag the once over."Indeed, I have," I reply, "And the longer I looked at it, the more it looked like a murder weapon.""Nobody would stand a chance once they were locked in this type of bag," Sandra said, and I smiled grimly."As I see it," I continued, "either Tina Davis was exceptionally demented, or she someone murdered her.""I can tell you how demented she was," Sandra replied. "I've just returned from Cheltenham."I nodded, and the DCI continued, "I went there to meet Jenny Quance. She was Tina Davis's landlady, and she's a gorgeous lady. W
"We're sure a certain person or persons unknown murdered Tina Davis?" Sandra asked, to which I nodded my answer. "We've seen the bag, you've met Tina's landlady, and because of what we now know, we can be confident that somebody intentionally killer her. So, I'd say the likelihood that she died by suicide or accident is about the same as the prospect that she died of natural causes." I smiled grimly and let her continue. "If, as we think she was, murdered, then she was killed in the safe house on Suffolk Street or killed elsewhere, and her body was brought into the safe house, apparently by the killer or killers.""Which do you think it was, Sandra?" I inquired."Killing an MI6 agent in an MI6 safe house seems an extremely daring thing to do.""But consider the option," I replied. "How much boldness would it take to kill an MI6 woman elsewhere, then lock her body in a holdall and drop it in the bathtub of her very own flat, even if that flat were not in a safe h
I paused at the door, looking intently out into the street. Then, after a few moments, satisfied that the time was right, I stepped out into the street. Reaching Finchley High Road, I waved for a taxi, and my trackers followed suit.Almost immediately, a taxi pulled over to pick me up. As I stepped in, I shouted above the din of the street, "The London to Edinburgh overnighter leaves in forty minutes, driver. I will double your fare if you get us to King's Cross in time!"Then, I saw two climbing into another newly-arrived taxi.The taxi across the street made a quick, illegal, 180-degree turn and followed close behind us."Faster if you can, driver," I said, and as my pursuers drew nearer."Slow down a bit now," I said next, and the driver gave me a quizzical look in his rear-view mirror."We want to lose them, but not quite yet, driver," he said. "We should play them along for a bit, don't you think?"As we sped towards Kings Cross,
"I beg your pardon," Sandra said, "I thought perhaps you had the rest of the mission laid out already.""If only!" I sighed. "If I could solve murders involving espionage by following a recipe, Sandra, even the dozy sods at Scotland Yard could do it. As a rule, I plan my assignment one move at a time," I continued. "I have a purpose in mind and an overall impression of how to get there, but any new advance can make me change my ideas. For example, I was planning to stay in London for at least another few days, but the sudden and dramatic visit from Hector Nelson has changed my mind.""How?" Sandra asked."His attendance, in camouflage, no less and that of his followers served as a warning that direct inspection in the city might involve grave danger while encouraging inadequate palpable compensation.""I see.""But the information Nelson gave us alternative lines of thought that already seemed promising to me, and these thoughts make our presence i
"It's a shame Hector couldn't have stayed longer," Sandra said suddenly. "I would be interested in hearing his opinion concerning enigmatic Mediterranean couple, about which so much spoke about in the media." "That is one of the issues on which I plan to speak to about when I next meet up with him," I replied, "although I have little hope of making much progress." "Of all the bizarre details about this case," Sandra said, "the story of the secretive couple appears to be the only one formally recognised by the police. I wonder whether this is particularly significant, or whether -- " "Whether it's just additional diversion?" I finished her sentence. "The likelihood cannot be disregarded, specifically because it would be an astute move for the crime squad to make." "Do you think they're using some distraction here?" "That is the problem," I replied. "If I were running the investigation, I would be careful regarding the evidence I circulated. To
"Perhaps you can answer one for me, Detective Chief Inspector?""Of course!" She replied. "Ask me whatever you wish.""We haven't seen the body of Tina Davis, and I doubt whether we will," I continued, "so we cannot know exactly how progressive the state of putrefaction was when the police found the body.""No, Quintus," she replied, "all we have is the description provided by the team investigating the crime.""But we know something about the holdall," I said, "and we know Tina Davis was alive seven or eight days before they found her in it. Do you think the body could have reached an advanced state of decomposition genuinely? Or do you think someone would have required some unnatural assistance? ""It is tough for me to guess without knowing the actual cause of death," she replied. "We still don't even know whether she was dead when she was put into the bag, or ..."Her voice trailed away, but I sat in silence."Some toxins and cert
"Do you fancy a short walk?" I asked once we left the train at Francistown, and Sandra nodded readily."We've been sitting for so long. Why not?" She replied. "Where do you want to go?""I want you to see one of the most astonishing pieces of construction in Britain," I answered, "and supposedly one of the eeriest places in all of Wales.""Do you think it's harmless?" she asked."I don't see why not!" I answered. "She wasn't annoyed with you, was she?""Who?""The woman at the window!""What window?""One of the windows of the castle! You haven't been perusing the rags, have you?""No," she said.We crossed a walkway over the railway line and another over the main road. "It's inconceivable!" She gasped. "What is it?"Weaver Castle," I replied. "Have you never been informed of it?""I can't say I have," she answered. "and I am sure if I had seen a photograph of this place, I would have recollected."