Cuthbert's Way (DCI Ryan Mysteries, #17)(76)

When others were endangered because of another’s fantasy, that was something Ryan could not forgive.

He took a photo of the coat of arms and sent it to Phillips, with a question mark. He sent another message to Lowerson, asking for any information about St Mary’s Church in Wooler. Then, he rose to his feet and took a final look around at the cave’s basic surroundings, imagining a group of monks transporting their most famous saint over hill and vale, taking refuge on the land where they could.

It took all sorts.





CHAPTER 40


Inevitably, it was not long before news of Anna’s abduction was leaked to the press.

They had hoped to maintain the press embargo for a few more hours—just long enough to give Ryan the time to do what he needed to do, without outside interference. Unfortunately, at the same moment he’d been photographing the coat of arms he’d found on the wall of St. Cuthbert’s Cave, local news outlets had flung open the flood gates, unleashing their prized scoops upon the world, including the man they called “crazy”.

When Morrison heard of it, she stormed into CID and laid down a marker.

“Everybody, stop.”

She didn’t need to raise her voice; she’d learned that a measured tone could strike plenty of fear into the hearts of any young, foolish officer who thought they could leak a story in the course of a highly sensitive investigation, where the perp would just as soon kill you as look at you—and he’d do it in the name of miracles.

“Listen to me, very carefully,” she said, looking at each of them in turn, trying to sniff out the rat. “If I find out the name of the person who leaked the details of this investigation to the press, without my authorisation, thereby endangering the whole operation, I won’t suspend that person. They will be summarily dismissed, without pay, and without references.

She paused to let that threat sink in.

“If, however, that person is brave enough to come and tell me what they did, I will settle for a reprimand. It’s up to you,” she told them. “But I want one thing to be understood. Within these walls, we are a team. We support one another’s triumphs and commiserate with any failures. At no point do we endanger the lives of our colleagues with loose talk—and especially, not to the press.”

Morrison’s eye came to rest on a young PC from a different department, who looked as if she might burst into tears at any moment.

“My door is open,” she said. “I hope you’ll do the right thing.”

Reprimands were all very well, but the deed was done, and none of them knew how Chatterley would react, considering he’d expressly said that police were not to be involved. Reading an article about himself that cited ‘police sources’ could be incendiary.

She only hoped Anna would not end up paying the price for another person’s folly.

*

Ryan had just returned to his car when his phone began to ring. He expected it to be one of his team, telling him who the coat of arms belonged to, or some background information about St. Mary’s Church in Wooler, but he did not recognise the number.

He prepared himself, and hoped the terms had not changed—or worse, that Chatterley had decided not to follow through on his side of the bargain.

“This is Ryan.”

“Quite the little birdie, aren’t you?”

Ryan was taken aback by the tone, which was markedly aggressive in comparison with how cordial Chatterley had been earlier in the day.

“What’s happened?” he asked, coming straight to the point.

“You broke our agreement!” Chatterley shouted. “Did you seriously think I wouldn’t be monitoring the news? I told you, clearly, there was to be no police involvement, and I explained what the consequences would be, should you choose to ignore that condition.”

“I haven’t ignored it,” Ryan said, in a voice raw with emotion. “Please—I don’t know what’s happened, because I’ve been up in Holburn, following the next part of the Code, which is what you wanted. If the press has run a story about you, they haven’t had it from me. I give you my word.”

Chatterley was silent for a few seconds, and Ryan closed his eyes, swallowing hard.

“Five hours left, Ryan,” he said, and the line went dead.

*

“Is there any news, Frank?”

Phillips heard the desperation in his friend’s voice, and was sorry for it.

Sorrier still, that he didn’t have good news to impart.

“No, lad, nothing yet. We’ve got Chatterley’s house under surveillance, but he’s not shown up and there’s no car in the driveway. We ran a vehicle check against his address and there’s nothing registered, which seems unlikely.”

“But not unexpected,” Ryan said, raising a hand to massage a throbbing headache in the base of his neck. “He’s well connected, so it wouldn’t be difficult for him to get an unregistered car from somewhere.”

“Aye, and as for where he’s hiding himself, Chatterley could have a second home, a rental place, or many a thing,” Phillips said. “But, after he’s got hold of what he wants, I don’t think he’s planning on coming back. He left everything at his house—clothes, paintings, the lot, but there’s no sign of the artefacts, so he may have those with him.”