Crash Course Derek Fee (interesting books to read txt) 📖

The United Kingdom is no longer a member of Europol but since we began this investigation before your departure, our management has agreed with your management that we can work together on this enquiry. After all drugs are a common problem. Personally, I am pleased that we have the possibility to complete our work together. We have always had a good relationship with Scotland Yard and I very much regret that this may be the last time we work with SO10. We have a lot to offer each other. You have had centuries of experience while our organisation is relatively recent.” He moved towards the door to the office. “I’m having the tea served in the conference room. I understand that you want to get back to London as soon as possible so perhaps you would be so kind as to follow me.” He held the door open. “We’re in quite a phase of expansion here. We will soon have our full complement of three hundred staff although as I am sure you are aware it will be simply a drop in the ocean compared with the job we have been given. I sometimes think that our politicians live in a fantasy world where ordinary mortals can accomplish the impossible with the minimum of resources. The analysis and distribution of information on the drug business in Europe is an enormous task, especially when you consider the maze of Europe’s crime-fighting agencies.” He pushed open a door and they entered a large conference room dominated by an oak table which ran the length of the room.

“Gentlemen, make yourself at home.” Strofeld took a seat at the head of the table.

“Do we get down to business soon?” Kane asked a little too loudly.

“Ah, Detective Sergeant Kane.” Strofeld smiled. “Ever the man of action. I enjoyed reading your dossier. Like many of our operational colleagues, I am sure that you have a healthy disdain for the kind of police work we do here. We are, of course, not an operational force. Our purpose is to ensure that our colleagues in the police forces of the Member States of the European Union have access to the most up-to-date information. I’m sure you noticed that we are very heavily computerised. In fact, the only problem we face is that many civil liberties groups feel that we collect too much information. I am sure Superintendent Davenport has briefed you on the project in hand.” Strofeld looked at Davenport who had settled himself in one of the boardroom chairs.

“I’m afraid I didn’t have time.” Davenport smiled thinly. “Detective Sergeant Kane will have to hear the entire story from the horse’s mouth as it were.”

“I see.” Strofeld pushed a button on the intercom which sat on the table directly in front of him. “Please send in Mr Bell. And is Detective Sergeant Watson with us yet?” Strofeld paused while the voice on the other end of the line answered in the affirmative. “Send them in please.”

Strofeld turned to face Kane. “Please sit, Detective Sergeant. I had assumed that Superintendent Davenport had filled you in on what we had in mind. Now we must begin at the beginning.”

“It’s a very good place to start,” Kane said in a singsong voice.

Davenport shot him a look.

The door opened and two men were ushered in.

“Mr Bell.” Strofeld stood and advanced towards a short stocky man with a face whose redness extended from his neck to the top of his bald head. “My pleasure to have your company again.”

“I’m right grateful that you invited me,” Bell replied.

Yorkshire, Kane said to himself. The accent was unmistakable. If he was pushed on an exact location, Kane would have guessed somewhere around Leeds. Kane stared at Bell. He reckoned the Yorkshireman to be in his fifties but he looked older. He had a careworn expression, his eyes were sunken and lifeless, and the skin was sagging on his cheeks. The whites of his eyes were red-rimmed. Mr Bell wasn’t exactly enjoying the embrace of Morpheus. The suit he wore was expensive and well cut but hung from his round shoulders. He’d lost weight recently and Kane would guess that he had lost a lot of weight. He’d seen the look before. He’d had it himself. Bell was a haunted man. And whatever was haunting him was probably the reason they were collected in the room. The man had victim written all over him. Kane sometimes thought that he dwelt in a world where there were only three categories of people: victims, villains, and coppers. He was adept at recognising all three. There were not many civilians in his life. His mother and father were victims, his wife had been a victim, and his children certainly had been victims. That had made him one also. There were too many bloody victims and too few civilians.

“Detective Sergeant Watson.” Strofeld approached the second man who was as short as Bell but built like a whippet. “A pleasure to meet you. May I introduce our other two guests, Superintendent Davenport and Detective Sergeant Kane of Scotland Yard.” Kane and his boss nodded towards the other two men. “Please, gentlemen, let us all be seated.”

Kane looked at the short wiry character taking his place at the table. If Strofeld hadn’t introduced Watson by giving his rank, Kane would have placed him as a copper straight away. Like the victims, he had an instant recognition for his own kind. Watson might be small and skinny but Kane was willing to bet that he punched more than double his weight. Watson’s face was heavily lined. It looked more like a carving on Mount Rushmore than a human face. There was a story behind that face, Kane thought as he watched Watson.

“Approximately one year ago,” Strofeld began while de Vries distributed tea and handed each man a bound dossier. “Mr Bell’s daughter, Monica, was murdered on a stretch of coastline near the Gulf of Morbihan in Brittany. She was struck quite deliberately by a