The Electrician's Code Read online

  “It’s interesting, that’s for sure. Who made it?”

  “He did. We found his studio upstairs where he created them.”

  “Can I see it?”

  “Of course.”

  “So, part of his income was from selling these pieces?”

  “I don’t believe he sold many, if any.”

  “That’s strange.”

  “Like I said, a lot of things about this case are a bit odd.”

  He led her up the stairs to the studio. She ran her hands through the different tiles neatly sorted in their boxes.

  “It takes a different mind to carefully place tile, row upon row, and call it art. It also takes a different mind to sit alone in a room with it with nothing else to keep them company. It doesn’t look like he came up here in a very long time. Look at the dust that has collected on all the tiles and workstation.”

  “No, maybe he couldn’t get up here after his leg was removed.”

  “I see.” She turned around and leaned against the worktop. “I suppose you want to know what I found out about Maddock’s uncle.”

  “Uncle?”

  “Yes. The one who worked for the government. That’s one of the reasons why you texted me wasn’t it?”

  “Um, actually I did know Mr. Tipring’s uncle worked for the government but I didn’t know what sector. He worked for MI5? This might be the break I was looking for. What did you find?”

  “Earnest Tipring did work for MI5 but he died in the 90s. I haven’t had the time to go through all his files but I did find something interesting. Earnest held a file on his nephew.”

  “Really? Why? Do you think he worked for the government as well?” Theo asked.

  “I don’t know. I went back in the records but as far as I know, and really I’m not sure how much information I have complete access to, I couldn’t find any mention of Tipring as either an agent, enemy, or informant for the intelligence service. Only this.”

  She pulled a file from her bag. Four pages fell out and onto the floor. Theo bent down to retrieve them and flipped through them on his way up.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “Often, to protect information, agents will write notes in what is called coded shorthand. A type of shorthand only the creator can understand. And sadly, the only thing in the file other than basic information available to any police officer, is written in code. It’s almost like Earnest wrote these for his eyes only which makes me believe Maddock may have been an informant of some sort.”

  “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “Well, you know what that means, don’t you? It takes the case from a random killing or killing for financial gain to who knows what. He could’ve been involved in anything. His past could have caught up with him. Where the hell do I start?”

  “Well, we do have these,” Sophia said and held up the pages.

  “And cracking code is your specialty. Let’s see what you can come up with. In the meantime, I can ask the people he came in contact with if they have noticed anyone suspicious hanging round the house. I’m so sorry, Sophia.”

  Her hands fell to her side. “What?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry to drag you back into one of my cases. Probably the last thing you want to do is work another police case.”

  She laughed. “If you had any idea what I’m working on now, you would throw me five cases. Mind, this has to be kept secret. I don’t know what the notes contain and until I do, I don’t know what I’m getting involved with. Even though it looks like the pages haven’t been touched in years, I don’t know what mess we may be getting ourselves involved with.”

  “I understand. Until we find out, I will make enquiries as if I have no knowledge these pages exist.”

  “Thank you. I’ll make us some copies and replace the file tomorrow.” She went downstairs. “So what will happen to all the art?”

  “They go to auction.”

  “How many pieces are there?”

  “When I counted, thirty-two. Why, are you thinking of buying one?”

  “Not likely.” She closed her eyes. Without opening them, she continued, “I’m glad you texted.”

  He didn’t reply but she could hear him breathing heavily. She resisted the urge to look at him.

  “Why?” he finally said.

  “It’s not what you think. It’s not a come on. It’s a complement actually. Sometimes I want to just be around normal people.”

  She finally looked at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at his feet and rubbing his hands together.

  “It’s not that I don’t think you’re brilliant, but everyone I work with thinks they’re more brilliant than God,” Sophia said.

  “I used to think that of you, at one time.”

  “That I’m more brilliant than God or that I believe I am?”

  “Take your pick.”

  “Well, perhaps you’re right. Well, Blackwell, my friend, take care. I will ring you tomorrow. Perhaps we can meet so I can give you a copy of the case notes. And remember, don’t run backwards you’ll vomit.” She laughed. “Good night, Detective Blackwell.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Crystal and the night team were at the East End flat when Sophia arrived the next morning. Both Melony and her partner Bert were in the kitchen, leaning against the worktop, drinking coffee and stuffing their faces with cherry pastries. Bert’s shirt was un-tucked and his hair stuck up in various directions. Melony’s t-shirt was on backward.

  “How was the night? Did you get any sleep?” Sophia asked, stepping past them to pour herself a cup of coffee.

  “Sleep?” asked Melony. “What kind of stupid question is that? Of course not. We can’t watch the monitors and sleep at the same time, now can we? Why do you think we’re drinking coffee?” She held up her cup.

  Sophia rolled her eyes. Obviously she picked the wrong people to make chit chat with. She went over to the fridge and poured milk into her cup. “Did our Ms. Smith do anything interesting?”

  This time Bert replied, “It was uneventful except for one thing: Elaine Smith received a phone call at 7:46 this morning. It was simply this,” he picked up a piece of paper and read, “I have chocolates for you.”

  “That’s the agreed-upon code?”

  “We believe so. The man on the phone is scheduled to arrive at 10:10. Liam wants us all here for that meet. If a message regarding the whereabouts of the weapons are to be passed on, it will be done today. We can’t mess this up because we don’t know if we’ll have another chance. We don’t know how many times he’s bought weapons in the past. And any shipments that get past us means more weapons on the streets, killing people.”

  He sounded so melodramatic Sophia almost broke out in laughter. But she knew this was serious. She knew first-hand the damage one gun could do.

  “What would you like me to do?” Sophia asked.

  “We can’t do much now except make sure we’re ready for the meet and make sure our equipment is running smoothly.”

  “All right. Crystal and I will have a look at the equipment and make sure it’s functioning properly.”

  “We’ve already done that, it’s fine,” Bert replied.

  “Well, it won’t hurt to check again, will it?”

  He just shrugged.

  Crystal was already on the computer, changing settings.

  “What are you doing?” Sophia signed to her.

  “Tweaking the resolution so the picture is clearer. I doubt they’ll have a problem with that. I’m also trying to boost the system becaue there’s a lag. I don’t want our system to go down while we’re expecting movement. So, what’s wrong with the pair of them? Have they slept together?”

  “I’m pretty sure Melony has had her shirt off at one point during the night. What else are two people going to do all night?” She laughed and nudged Crystal.

  “Speaking of night, I saw you looked into our detective friend’s files. So you are curious.”

  “I was bo
red. It’s not a big deal.”

  Crystal raised her eyebrows. “Yes, but did you see the pictures of the art?”

  “I did. And what’s up with that?”

  Liam appeared. He briefly glanced Sophia’s way but then said, “So, is everyone ready for this? We may not have a second chance to get this right, so no screw ups. Evans, have Crystal pull up the cameras, I want eyes as soon as our friend Miles leaves his house. And what are these chocolates? Anyone?”

  “We don’t know, sir,” replied Bert. “We think they could actually be . . . chocolates.”

  “Well, if we’re right, he’s wanting a lot of money for these so-called chocolates.”

  “Does anyone know how she plans to pay for these chocolates? Electronically, or has she been seen with money?”

  “No. Must be electronic, like before.”

  “Can we get a trace on the funds?” This time the question was directed at Sophia.

  “We have access to her computer. Everything she does will be recorded and traced. We should be able to see who sent the money and from what account. However, in my experience, it will never be as simple as that. For someone who is determined to keep his identity hidden, he will not send the funds from a traceable bank account. He’s probably got accounts all over the world, impossible to trace. Well, not impossible but it will take time, and perhaps more time than we have.”

  “And time is not on our side. The key will be to catch them as they pick up the weapons. That means we need to find out where the guns are located. Miles has to give her some indication to where they are, so watch closely and listen carefully.”

  At 9:50, a message came in, “Miles has left his flat. He’s carrying a cardboard box and is getting into his car. We’re tailing him.” Every time Miles made a turn the radio came alive.

  “He is turning onto Elaine Smith’s street. Expect him in ten seconds.” Shortly, the little car came into view on the screen. Miles found a place to park three doors down. Inside his car, they watched him lean over and open the cardboard box before exiting the car.

  “He’s got a small black box in his hand. Is that the chocolate box?” asked Liam. Bert leaned in closer to the screen, Melony pushed past Sophia and also moved closer to the screen.

  “I think so, sir,” she replied. “What could he possibly do with a box of chocolates? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Maybe he knows she likes chocolates,” suggested Bert. “A lot of women like chocolate. Just because you don’t, doesn’t mean everyone doesn’t.”

  Melony gave him a slap across the arm.

  “Stop it,” Liam yelled. “He’s approaching the front door.”

  Miles knocked and tapped his army boot while he waited. He wore a baseball cap and blue wool pea coat. On the other screen they watched Ms. Smith rise from her kitchen table. She peered into the living room before she came to the door.

  “Well, come in.” She led him to the living room. The man handed her the box of chocolates and she carefully placed them on her table. When she lifted the lid, all the officers leaned in closer to the monitor.

  “What’s in the box?” Liam asked. “Do you see anything?”

  “It’s too blurry and dark inside the box. All I can see is black, but it appears to be just chocolates.”

  Ms. Smith scanned the box slowly with her finger and said, “Oh, you don’t have any of those cherry-filled ones I like.”

  “They didn’t have any available. However, I got you a few more caramel.”

  “I see that.”

  The man sat there quietly before he finally asked her, “Well, I hope you like what you see.”

  “Yes. I’m sure they’ll be wonderful,” she said. “How about a spot of tea?”

  “That would be lovely.”

  Ms. Smith moved into the kitchen, poured water into the kettle and placed it on the hob. Then she went toward her computer and sat down. Every key stroke was recorded. They watched her pull up a bank website and recorded the account number and password. Then into the column of transfer she entered a long line of digits and under amount: 1.5 million pounds.

  “She transferring the money now.”

  “That’s a lot of money.”

  “What’s Miles doing?”

  All eyes turned toward the other monitor. Miles was walking about the room, looking at photos, picking up little knick-knacks off the shelf and examining them. Finally, he sat back down on the sofa. He spied a deck of cards on the table and picked them up. He started placing them down in rows.

  “He’s playing solitaire.”

  “How will he be relaying the information to her? Is he waiting for confirmation that the money is being transferred?”

  “He must be.”

  Finally, Ms. Smith stood from her computer and re-entered the kitchen. She placed two bags into a kettle and then the hot water. Placing two cups and the pot on a tray, she carried it to the living room. After placing the tray on the table beside Miles, she went over to the box of chocolates and helped herself to one.

  “Because there are so many caramel, I’ll try one of them. If you keep bringing over chocolates, I’ll be very fat, very soon. Well, anyway, I’ve transferred the money and everything looks to be in order.”

  The watchers leaned in, straining to hear every word.

  Miles continued to play his game.

  “That’s wonderful,” he finally said. He put the pile of cards down on the table and dropped three cubes of sugar into his tea and stirred it with the small spoon beside the cup. In two gulps, the cup was empty. “I should be going.”

  “All right.” She had barely poured the milk into her cup before she stood. “I’ll see you to the door.”

  The watchers turned their attention to the camera in the front hall. The two walked quietly to the door.

  “Thank you,” Miles said and started down the walk.

  Ms. Smith shut the door behind him.

  “What just happened?” asked Liam. “Did we miss something? When did he tell her where to pick up the shipment?” Liam leaned back and examined each of his team one by one. “Did anyone notice?”

  They all shook their heads.

  “It must be with the chocolates,” suggested Sophia. “Perhaps we should go retrieve the box.”

  Liam put his hand to his mouth. “I don’t know, I don’t know. If we’re wrong and we put her guard up, it could ruin everything. We need to surprise them when they retrieve the shipment or we will lose both. Team one, you need to be on Miles everywhere he goes. We can’t lose him, when he speaks to someone on his mobile or in person, I want to know details. He has to inform her or someone in the organization in some way.”

  “Yes, sir,” resounded the voices over the radios. He has driven away but he has not rang anyone yet. We will follow and listen.”

  “In the meantime, we have to watch her every movement. What is she doing now?”

  “She’s cleaning the teapot.”

  “Has she rang or texted anyone? Come on, people, what’s the key here? Crystal, did either of them use sign language?”

  Crystal twisted her head to the side when Sophia signed the question but then Crystal just shook her head and signed, “I didn’t see any sign language.”

  “Neither did I,” said Sophia.

  “All right. Crystal, make copies of the meeting. I don’t want us to miss anything. I want to make sure he didn’t put a note in her hand or in one of her pockets or hidden it in one of the bloody knick knacks.”

  Sophia signed the instructions to her and immediately Crystal started working. Liam started pacing in the living room.

  “What are we missing?” he asked. “Crystal, are you done copying the files?”

  “It’s being transferred. This all takes time.”

  “We may not have a lot of time.”

  “Why is it taking so long to transfer?” Sophia asked Crystal when Liam went into the kitchen for coffee.

  “It’s slow. Something is really causing a lag. I’ll look
into it as soon as the transfer is complete.” She went back to work.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Theo woke later than usual and, after arranging to meet Dorland at Mrs. Hathaway’s home, stepped into the shower. The hot water helped him think. The revelation that Maddock Tipring’s uncle worked for MI5 threw the case into a whole different direction. It could explain why he wasn’t finding a motive or suspects. He would still have to follow up his original line of enquiry but he wasn’t faced with a dead end.

  He didn’t know what to expect from Heather Hathaway, the next nurse on his list. Dorland had confirmed that Heather had really been away at the time of Mr. Tipring’s death, so the most he hoped for from her was a motive as to why anyone would want to kill her previous employer.

  The nurse lived in Tulse Hill, a top floor flat just south of Brockwell Park. One thing Theo liked about interviewing witnesses was that he was able to see London, all of it. And some of it was extremely lovely.

  Dorland arrived before him and was standing outside the address, sipping coffee.

  Theo rang the bell. A woman looked out from her window on the top floor and Theo waved. They heard a click and quickly Dorland grabbed the door to let them inside. The six flights of stairs left them breathless and the nurse stood waiting at the top of the stairs with a pitying look on her face.

  “Try that flight with groceries,” the nurse said, motioning them into her small, sparsely furnished apartment. Two suitcases lay open and a small pile of clothing lay on the floor. The nurse was in her late thirties and wore a beautiful Chinese silk robe on top of her flannel bunny pajama suit. Her hair was pulled back in a bun. “I just returned yesterday from China, sorry for the mess. I never thought you would show up for another few days at least.”

  “We want to ask you some questions about Mr. Tipring,” replied Theo.

  “Yes, as soon as I arrived home my friend rang me and said he had died. Murdered. I had worked for him for six years, as you probably know. My landlord also mentioned you had stopped by.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry for your loss,” replied Theo. “We were hoping you could give us a reason why anyone would want to kill him?”