CHOGM Pt. 01

"That is not good enough. I say again, I do not want certain names to appear in any report."

"May I ask which names are not to appear?"

"You may ask but I won't tell you."

"So I am to produce a report which doesn't mention the name of people who you can't or won't name but if I don't know who they are how can I not mention them in an investigation into what could conceivably be a murder. I don't see that I can comply with your wishes here."

"It was not a murder."

"Really? How can you be sure?"

"Sources. I can say no more."

"I must protest in the strongest possible terms. I am conducting an investigation into what appears to be a dangerous situation which could have long standing repercussions among the community at large and you are telling me to limit my investigations to, just what are my limitations? If it is purely the death of a known drug user, that can be covered by Homicide. If it the presence of drugs in the incident then we become involved. Once we are involved we investigate fully because the results of our findings are vital in our fight against the organised drug pushers."

"Unless I have your full co-operation I will have to turn the investigation over to Homicide."

"I say again, I will investigate this matter fully. What you do with the result is up to you. I have already taken steps to ensure that no information will be made public before my investigations are completed. If you don't agree with that then feel free to find someone else."

"I guess that will have to do. You will keep me informed of any developments as they occur, won't you." His emphasis on the 'will' was an indication of his involvement. As the DCI left Jamieson wondered to himself if he had done this deliberately to ensure that he would leave no stone unturned or whether he really was under pressure to limit the enquiries.

Jamieson rang the hospital and asked to speak to Roberts. When he eventually came to the phone Jamieson asked him to get a list of the names of all those involved and bring it to him as a matter of urgency.

An hour later Roberts returned with the list. Jamieson looked at it in amazement. "Bloody Hell! This lot are connected to half the people in Debrett's. No wonder the DCI wants a lid on this."

"What does the DCI want us to do?"

"Limit our enquiries and not name any names."

"Upper class ponce. I reckon we should publish the bloody lot, maybe then the poor little rich kids will stop getting involved in this scene."

"Spoken like the true working class copper that you are."

"I'm not joking. If these rich kids didn't buy the drugs the price would come down to a point where the poorer kids could afford them without turning over someone's house for the readies."

"Interesting concept. But if we could stop the trafficking completely there would be no problem. That is my aim."

"And you talk like an Upper Class Don Quixote. It is impossible to stop this. It is too organised and too valuable for those behind it to stop now. My sources tell me that this latest stuff comes from a very powerful and supposedly legitimate source."

"Really? And who do your sources say is importing this stuff?"

"I have no names but it has been hinted that it comes into the country in Diplomatic Pouches."

"From where?"

"The drugs originate in South East Asia and arrive here from Hong Kong, Sydney or Auckland."

"So it is not a Triad or Mafia operation. Diplomatic couriers would indicate that it is a sanctioned operation. I would like to know more. Did the Doctor say when we would be able to interview our friends?"

"Yes, he said we could talk to them around lunch time."

"OK. Go home and get some sleep I'll see you around eleven."

* * *

Eleven O'clock saw the weather not improved and Jamieson's outlook on life little improved. He had not slept well at all, tossing and turning, his mind going over the events of the evening. It was during one of his more introspective moments that he understood why his wife had left him and moved in with a nice steady Company Director.

Roberts arrived right on eleven in a disgustingly cheerful mood. He chattered away throughout the drive to the hospital. "You were right about that hash we found last night, it was heavily laced with heroin. What would they hope to achieve with that?"

"To get the casual pot smoker hooked on heroin so that they can expand their operations."

They arrived at the hospital to be told that the patients had all been discharged. After they got that news they became silent. It was the calm before the storm.

The Doctor in charge of the Ward in which the victims had been kept, had over-ruled the instructions given by the Doctor that Jamieson had arranged to look over them. He had released all of the patients and somehow or other their medical records had all disappeared.

Jamieson was furious. "I gave implicit instructions that these people were to be kept here until after I had spoken to them all. You over-ruled that order for whatever reason I can't even think, and you bloody well lose the records. I will be recommending that you be charged with perverting the course of a police investigation."

He stormed out of the hospital in a foul mood. Roberts followed in a much more subdued frame of mind. As they reached their car the dispatcher came over on the radio with a message for Jamieson to ring a number. It was Jane. "Can I meet you somewhere for lunch?"

"I would love to but I don't think that I would be very good company right now."

"I'll chance that. The reason I want to see you is important and not the kind of thing that I would like spread all around the city."

"Do you like hamburgers?"

"Real or plastic?"

"Real."

"Yes. Where did you have in mind?" Jamieson gave her the address of a small hamburger restaurant tucked away in a back street where they could talk without attracting too much attention.

Roberts dropped him off and returned to the station to start to track down the people on his list.

As Jamieson entered the restaurant he caught a glimpse of her sitting in a booth at the rear. She rose to meet him and he paused to take in the beauty of what stood before him. She was dressed in jeans tucked into long black boots and wore a floral blouse that was tight enough to reveal the lines of her body. Over her chair was draped a blue anorak. Her long straight hair was pulled back from her face and tied at the nape of her neck with a bow. She saw his gaze take her in and bobbed before him in a mocking curtsy.

They sat opposite each other and after the waitress had taken their orders Jane burst out with her news. "I have been doing some digging and I have found out who is supplying these people with drugs."

"Let me guess. It is someone who is attached to an embassy and who travels a lot between here and either Hong Kong, Sydney or Auckland."

"How did you know?"

"I wasn't absolutely sure, but that's what the rumours are telling us. If you have proof you have just confirmed the rumours."

"There's more. The person who is actually supplying the stuff is a Trade Attaché with the American Embassy and my source says that title is usually given to CIA operatives. This is a CIA sanctioned operation!"

"And you can prove this?"

"Yes. The information that I have I will give to you and only you, no other member of the police force."

"You don't trust too many people do you?"

"If you had the information that I have you wouldn't trust just anyone."

"Then why pick on me. I would have thought that if you know the operations of the Drug Squad you would hardly trust any of us."

"You and your friend are the only two I would trust. Believe me I've asked around. Do you want what I have or not?"

"Miss Symonds, I could kiss you."

"Why don't you?"

"In public?"

"Anywhere, anytime. Here, now."

Looking around him to check if anyone was watching and finding themselves un-observed, Jamieson leaned across the table and kissed her. Jane reached out her hand and held him lightly behind the head. "I don't usually do this but something about you last night made me want to get involved in this case and with you. I hope it doesn't compromise your work."

"No more than it has already been compromised."

"What do you mean?"

"Pressure from above, disappearing victims, vanishing reports, you name it."

"It is sounding more and more like a CIA operation."

"Is this a personal vendetta or can anyone join in?"

"What do you mean?"

"You are acting as if you have something against the CIA."

"You are right. I used to have a brother, some-one that I always looked up to. He was working on an operation in Asia during the early years of the Vietnam War. He tripped over one of the CIA's little schemes and when he refused to back off he disappeared."

"What was the official verdict?"

"Missing, believed dead."

"How did you find out about this?"

"He had been seeing this girl in Hong Kong and he left some papers in a Safe Deposit box at the Bank of Hong Kong with explicit instructions that if anything unusual should happen to him she was to get the key to me."

"And these papers were genuine?"

"Yes, without a doubt. His covering letter contained information that only he could have known and which he knew would confirm the authenticity of the papers."

"What was in the papers?"

"I can't remember all of the information, but briefly, it outlined what the CIA called its Covert Operations Group which it used to compromise Governments right throughout the World. It also set out details that they were planning to implement the use of the narcotics trade to finance these operations."

"Is there any chance that I could have a look at these papers?"

"Sure. It will take some time to get them."

"How long will it take?"

"I will have to go to my place in the country to get the information. I have the papers safely in a place that not even my closest friend could find and certainly the last place that anyone would look for them."

"Do you need an escort? Just in case there is trouble."

"I suppose that you are offering?"

"Now that you mention it, yes."

"In that case, I demand that the police provide me with an escort because I am extremely afraid that I am in mortal danger."

"Fine. I'll just ring in and tell the DCI that I am following up on a lead and won't be in until tomorrow or the next day."

"Whose car will we take, yours or mine?"

"I don't actually have my own car. I have use of a police car for work and I use public transport on the few occasions that I venture out outside of work."

"That settles it we use mine."

Jamieson paid the bill and together they walked out of the restaurant. While Jane went to collect her car Jamieson used a public telephone to ring the DCI. "Yes sir, I have a lead to follow that will take me out of London for a day or two. Yes Sir I will tell you about it when I return. No Sir, I can't tell you more at this time. Because, Sir, I don't know any more." The frustration was beginning to show in his voice. "All I can tell you is that it is a strong lead and it will take me out of London at least until the day after tomorrow."

As he left the phone box he heard the sound of a car horn behind him. Turning he saw Jane behind the wheel of a yellow Morgan. Climbing into the passenger seat he turned to her, "I'm impressed, but don't you think that we should be using something a little less obvious?"

"This is my car, my image, and where we are going if I was driving something else it would be more obvious."

"Okay. Let's go."

"Don't you want to get you toothbrush and a change of clothes?"

"Why is it that when I am at work I am super-efficient and practical, but when I am with you I couldn't organise a s.."

"A what?"

"A summer holiday."

"Rubbish! You were about to say a screw in a brothel. Where are we going?"

"I thought that you were the one who knew."

"Where do you live?"

"Oh, of course, the toothbrush and change of clothes. Turn right here and follow this road to the next set of traffic lights and turn left."

They drove in silence until they reached the block of flats that Jamieson called home. "Somehow," He thought to himself as he unlocked the door, "this place has lost its appeal."

Jane glanced around as she waited for him to pack his overnight bag. She saw a picture on the coffee table of Jamieson and an attractive dark-haired woman. "Is this past present or future?"

"What?" He asked as he emerged from the bedroom.

"This woman you are with?"

"Oh her. Very much past I'm afraid. She couldn't handle the hours I worked in what she perceived as a dangerous job, so she left me for this dull Company Director who just happens to be filthy rich with a mansion in Surrey from which he commutes to work in his Roller, a yacht in the Mediterranean on which they spend at least two months every year."

"Are you jealous of him and his success?"

"I was for a while. I did all of the usual male things under these circumstances, you know, drank too much, not enough sleep, too many women that I couldn't remember the next day."

"I understand. My father did the same sort of thing when Mother left with this titled twit. It didn't work for him and he eventually died still mourning her departure."

"It's all very Spartan, I'm afraid I'm not one of your houseproud people."

"Oh I don't know. At least it's clean. It has a certain charm to it that my flat doesn't have, expensive furniture doesn't always provide character and I find character more important anyway."

Jamieson wanted very much to carry the conversation further but was reluctant to for fear of frightening her off before he even got to know her.

They left the flat and walked to where she had parked the Morgan. Jamieson glanced around half expecting to see that they were about to be followed. He was not disappointed. Conspicuously parked inconspicuously about seventy yards away was a Rover that he recognised as one used for following suspects. He said nothing to Jane as she pulled from the kerb.

"Have I lost them yet?" They had travelled for about ten minutes during which time Jamieson had kept a watch behind them using the wing mirror on his side of the car.

"Who?"

"Your police friends in the Rover. I noticed them as soon as we pulled away from your flat and the way that you kept looking into that mirror confirmed for me that we were being followed, so I lost them, I hope."

"You have lost them but don't get too cocky, I'm sure that they have arranged for a welcoming committee down the road a ways."

"Well that'll be their problem won't it, I'm not going that way at all." She turned off the road that she had been driving on and, by winding around for several minutes, during which time Jamieson became confused himself, she emerged onto the Motorway and was soon travelling at a good speed towards the country,

He was impressed with the confident manner with which she handled the car, especially on the narrow country lanes they soon found themselves travelling. Morgans have a reputation for being a little skittish on rough corners but she kept the car under control while at the same time pushing it along at a healthy speed.

After two hours drive she turned in through an old wooden gate and drove down a gravel drive to a bungalow set well back from the road. "Here we are. This used to be my maternal grandmother's house. She shared it with my maiden aunt and I inherited it after both of them died. I find it's a great place to come to when the weight of the world is pressing hard on me."

"I like it so far. It is the type of house I've always seen myself retiring too. The walks it the woods, grouse shooting and a spot of salmon fishing to while away the time until the pub opens. That sort of stuff."

"I hate to tell you this but you'll be lucky to see either a grouse or a salmon around here. The nearest thing to a wild beast is the odd rabbit or hare in the fields."

"That's good, I never was one for hunting and fishing. What do you do in your spare time?"

"The walks and the pub are about it I'm afraid. Dump your things in here. She indicated a bed room and he noticed that it contained a large four poster bed. "Would you like to freshen up while I make us some tea, or would you prefer coffee, then we'll go into the village and get some food."

"Tea will be fine thank you. Then I think we should get down to some business before we think about food."

They sipped their tea in silence as Jamieson read through the papers that Jane had retrieved from a hiding place in the wall behind one of the pantry shelves. "Holy cow! It's all about the setting up of a distribution network to ship raw opium to a heroin factory in Vietnam and then using US service personnel as mules to ship it through staging posts in Hong Kong and Sydney. If the government ever got hold of this it could see the end of any alliances that we have with the Americans."

"They wouldn't do a thing about this. The Americans have too much influence over them and it wouldn't matter which party was in power, the result would still be the same."

"Do you mind if I make notes?"

"Go ahead. Actually I have the original in a safety deposit box in my bank in London, to save time why don't we get that out and you can take a photo copy of it."

"Good idea. I'll just take some quick notes just the same, I want to cover my arse in case something happens to us before we can copy them."

"You say that as if you think something will."

"We may have lost our original tail but I can't be sure that they haven't managed to find us or that they won't manage to so I still want to cover myself. I don't suppose you would have an envelope around here would you?"

"Of course." She hopped up and opened a dresser drawer and found him a white business sized envelope.

Jamieson folded his notes and placed them into the envelope that he addressed to his former wife's home and in another that he addressed Robert's home address he placed a note that read 'Important, If anything happens to me contact my ex.' Follow instructions to letter.' He sealed it "When is the mail pick up around here?"

"If we hurry we can make it. If not it won't go for another two days. Do you want a stamp to go with that?"

"If you don't mind."

They drove the three miles into the village with several farmers waving and then allowing their gaze to follow the car as they noticed a second person sitting beside the driver that they were so used to seeing on her own. Jane pulled up in front of the general store cum Post Office and she and Jamieson walked inside.

"How are you Mrs Finchley?" Jane asked the woman behind the counter.

"Janey, how are you today. Is something the matter? You don't usually come down during the week, not this time of year at least. Her eyes came to rest on Jamieson. The question remained unasked.

"No, nothing wrong. We just decided to come down for a day or so. Bryan, this is Mrs Finchley, if you ever want to find out about anything or anyone hereabouts she's the one to ask."

"Hush at you girlie. Don't pay her no heed Sir, I'm not one to gossip."

"I'm sure you're not. Has the mail been picked up yet?"

"No. It won't be long though, can I get you something while you're waiting?"

"Yes, we'll have a pint of milk, some butter, one of those lovely big crusty cottage loaves, eggs, cheese, and have you got any of that streaky bacon?"

"How much would you like?"

"I think just the two large rashers will be fine thank you."

"You're not planning to stay long then?"

"No we both have to be back in London by lunch time tomorrow."

Mrs Finchley cut two rashers of bacon and placed them along with the other provisions into a large brown paper bag. Jamieson and Jane put them into the car and walked the twenty yards to the hotel.