Dreams to Die For (23 page)

Alan Crossland returned to his office after a discussion with his solicitor, Avril Hennington. Cindy was apparently seeking a divorce on the grounds of his alleged unreasonable behaviour. This had made Crossland furious.

“I will not agree to that, it's absolutely outrageous. The unreasonable behaviour is not mine, but hers.”

The solicitor carefully explained to Crossland his options, whilst stressing that he did not have to agree to anything in the proceedings he felt was inaccurate.

“The issues could get complicated, Mr Crossland. We could cross petition, but you have no evidence that your wife has committed adultery so any cross petition would be on similar grounds to hers. You could both mutually say you can no longer live together and so on. The law may insist on a cooling-off period, but as you are both mature people and the marriage is a relatively long one compared to some these days, that may not happen. However, if both parties fail to agree, the proceedings will become expensive and protracted.”

“But she has left home, surely that means something.” Crossland pleaded.

“Certainly that is evidence that you both cannot live together, but the proceedings are so far couched in the briefest of terms. It is open to your wife to change or modify those. She might, for example, retort that she has been forced to leave home because of your unreasonable behaviour. I have known cases where a wife has argued successfully that her husband's anger made her fear for her future safety. The courts are very sympathetic to women who allege such things and unreasonable behaviour is a vague term that frankly can be applied to almost anything, for example like frequent changing of the television channels or insisting on staying up until the early hours.”

“This is utterly, utterly wrong. I would say it's bloody barmy. What you are telling me is that having treated me like shit for God knows how long, refusing me anything physical, she can suddenly take herself off, do as she wants, lie if she wants to and she will get away with it.”

“Not quite, but a lot of men feel that the divorce laws are unfairly biased in the woman's favour and in many respects I agree with that assessment. All that you have just said, and the way you put it, confirms to me that the two of you can no longer harmoniously live together. However, I suggest we return to the main issues. It appears that the marriage is over, do you agree?”

“Yes.”

“Then, bearing in mind the possible expense of contested proceedings, do you want the divorce as quickly as possible?”

“Yes.”

“Is it important to you to be awarded the divorce or not? There is little shame these days in adultery cases, so think carefully. Does it matter if your wife obtains the divorce if we cannot get anything through quickly on grounds of mutual consent?”

“Put that way, I suppose not,” Crossland reluctantly answered.

“Turning to the finances, I have explained before that in my opinion your joint net assets will be divided whoever obtains the divorce on whatever grounds. We can make an offer, of course I will negotiate as best I can, but your wife has employed an experienced solicitor who can be rather feisty and I am sure she will not be advised to agree to anything that is less than reasonable.”

“Yes, yes. I know. This is a load of bollocks you know. I end up paying for her having an early mid-life crisis and going on a good time frolic.”

Avril Hennington ignored the outburst. She had heard far worse many times previously.

“Then we are agreed? I will do my best to minimise costs, the divorce will proceed and we will not contest it. I will try and wrap up the finances as soon as practicable.”

“Agreed.”

“Good.” Leaning across the table the solicitor held out a typed piece of paper. “In that case, here is a list of all the financial information I shall need and a form for your completion. I know it is extensive, but it is needed. Also, please ensure that original supporting documentation, by way of bank statements and so on, as mentioned on the paper, are not destroyed in case they are required.”

Seated in his office chair, Crossland read the paper thoroughly. He was not amused, but he was no longer in the mood to care overmuch. Cindy was ceasing to be part of his life and, in any event, he was now enjoying his friendship with Chloe. He had not told his solicitor of that, deliberately, but Chloe was another reason why Crossland wanted the divorce and financial settlement agreed without further delay.

A little over a week later, Cindy received a letter and enclosure from her solicitor and could hardly believe what she was reading. As a result of a telephone discussion instigated by Avril Hennington and made to Mapley Townsend, the outstanding aspects had been discussed and the enclosed note from Alan's solicitor confirmed in summary the terms of an outline agreement. Alan would not contest the divorce and subject to satisfactory disclosure, he would make an offer to Cindy of £750,000 plus half the sale proceeds of the London flat provided he could keep Red Gables and the rest of his capital assets. Cindy could retain all her capital assets. Personal pension provision was to be the sole responsibility of each party. Cindy's own solicitor pointed out that this was an initial offer and that his recommendation was to explore further as negotiation might bring forth improved terms especially in regard to the pension disparity that there would undoubtedly be when they had both retired. However, he carefully pointed out that the proposals did provide a not ungenerous settlement in the circumstances. He also pointed out to Cindy that if the offer was not acceptable, Alan had reserved the right to cross petition and to raise other procedural points, all of which would delay matters and significantly escalate costs.

Cindy didn't need to think carefully. The offer was a good one and any “further negotiation” – as her solicitor had put it – would almost certainly antagonise Alan, and lead to endless protracted and bitter arguments, with the main beneficiaries being the lawyers. She would accept straightaway, but wondered what had made Alan so conciliatory. For a long time, he had been distraught, angry and upset, though just lately he had not got quite so uptight. Now, apparently, was his sudden acceptance of the divorce and a reasonable settlement, which intrigued her. Maybe Alan had finally accepted the marriage was over, or possibly he had more money than she knew of. Perhaps, even, he had found another woman! Cindy decided not to spend any more time on idle speculation. She didn't really care what had brought about Alan's change of attitude, she would have enough money to live quite comfortably for the rest of her life and even if things didn't work out with Gordon, she had her writing to fall back on. Above all, she was relieved that Alan was apparently not complicating matters. She could now look forward to improving her cottage, and to what she hoped would be a glorious summer with Gordon. The proposed settlement terms also confirmed to her one important thing – Alan had to be unaware of Gordon, as if Alan ever got close to the truth about her relationship she knew he would then get very irate and difficult.

Assistant Commissioner Phillip Manders was holding his regular monthly progress review with his immediate subordinates and Bill Ritson had reported on virtually all of the cases for which he was responsible, but there was one small aspect he felt he should bring to the attention of his boss.

“There has been an interesting development on the Hannet-Mar / Crossland case, Sir. The money still hasn't moved, but I did do a bit of checking along the lines you mentioned. Crossland's relatives are all legit – nothing there to cause us any alarm – but it would appear that his wife is known to some very high-ranking people. Part of her computer records are so highly classified that even we can't access the details.”

“What!” shouted Manders. “We're the bloody ATU. We can look at anything, anywhere. What do you mean? What's going on?”

“Well, we were of that opinion too, Sir, so of course have checked it out and actually there is one classification of computer record that we are barred from. It's not mentioned in our manuals anywhere, but it is coded as SR12. Haven't a clue what that stands for, but anyhow, shall I tell you what we've found out?”

“OK, OK, get on with it then, but if its important I'm not going to let this go.” Manders' ire was rising, something his doctor had told him to control only a few weeks earlier when he had his six monthly check-up for hypertension.

“Well, it isn't much. As I say, we used that secret software program that draws together data from all State computer records across the varying systems… ”

“Eyeball… ” interrupted Manders, “the one nobody knows we have.”

“That's the one. Well, the data it came back with on the screen was virtually blank apart, of course, from the name of Mrs Cindy Crossland. The surname is how it came up on our regular cross check of names, and her address matches that of Alan Crossland. Her date and place of birth, car registration details from DVLA, National Insurance number was shown and… ”

“Get to the point Bill, I don't want to know if she is a fucking pensioner!” Manders blood pressure had clearly not abated and he was beginning to flush around the cheeks on his face. Ritson ignored the interruption.

“… and her security classification was in place of what was supposed to be the data from any of the geeks files.” Manders let out a low, but clearly audible whistle and sat back in his chair taking in deep breaths. He waved his hand for his detective chief superintendent to continue.

“She has been cleared by Five” said Ritson, making reference to Great Britain's famous MI5 counter espionage organisation.

“Her clearance is high, level seven.” He paused, deliberately knowing it would add emphasis to his next statement.

“What is even more intriguing is that Six have also cleared her to that level.” The reference to Great Britain's foreign counter intelligence agency made Manders sit bolt upright in his chair.

“There is only one other note on the data record, in the comments box, and I'll read it if I may, Sir?”

Manders nodded.

“We ran the name of Jack Donaldson through our systems, and came up with over a thousand possible matches. However, only one lives within a radius of twenty-five miles of the Crossland's and, this is another really intriguing aspect, he turns out to be none other than Mr Crossland's chauffeur.”

Ritson was proud of the way he had presented the sparse facts, like an accomplished angler delicately casting a fly to attract his quarry. He just hoped that he had hooked Manders into finding out more.

“Well, I'm buggered. But you're wrong about Donaldson being the interesting bit. Probably nothing strange in her husband's driver being spotted driving behind her. I expect there was a pretty innocent explanation. But in any event Bill, that cannot be why the computer record is protected. What has Mrs Crossland done to be cleared by both intelligence services? Do you know?”

Ritson cursed under his breath. He was so keen to dramatise his presentation for effect that he had made a fundamental mistake of not reciting everything his team had found out. His lure had crashed onto the water and he now had to come clean with an impatient Manders.

“Mrs Crossland is ex-Cabinet Office, Press and PR, and now is a freelance journalist and writer. Her experience in government might explain why she has been cleared to a high level by some agencies, but all I can ascertain about SR12 is that all enquiries have to go through to the Foreign Office. That seems strange. As far as I can ascertain she has never worked in the FO nor be high enough in Cabinet Office to merit that level of attention by them unless, perhaps, she was or is some kind of agent. I thought I should await your instructions before proceeding further with that line of enquiry”

Manders rose from his chair and started pacing around the large floor. After a minute he sat back in his chair and leaned forward towards Ritson.

“This is bloody odd. We think that Crossland may wittingly or unwittingly be channelling funds to terrorists whilst his wife is cleared by both security organisations and has some highly important connection to the Foreign Office. I want this looked into, but do not, emphasis not, approach the Foreign Office. In fact, I will take over the file temporarily and raise the matter with the commissioner himself. He moves in circles that we can only dream of, and he might shed more light on this SR12 classification. The other aspect might be Donaldson, and whether he was actually tailing Mrs Crossland for a reason or simply following her down the road. Perhaps they had both just left somewhere. Anyhow, we can leave that Bill. If the security guys are satisfied, it will not be that important.”

The Chief Commissioner, Sir Neil Roberts, an Old Etonian with a first in Classics from Balliol College Oxford had risen rapidly through the ranks, fast-tracked from the moment he entered the Police Academy. Now forty-eight he was less than a year into what would be his final appointment, and they came no higher in his chosen profession than chief commissioner. He was already well paid, but looking forward a few years he was expecting to make serious money from his final year salary inflation proof pension scheme, plus lucrative part-time consultancies and private company board appointments. The recent terrorist outrage, fortunately occurring on someone else's watch, and the threat of more, could have derailed lesser men's careers in the inevitable reshuffle at the top that occurs after such monumental events, but Sir Neil Roberts was not going to let that happen to him. He realised very early in his career that the greatest value of delegation was that it usually ensured he could never be held personally accountable when things went wrong. Getting one's own hands dirty was not something that appealed to him, and he disliked it when, as now, one of his assistant chief commissioners made a special visit to see him, albeit by appointment. It usually meant that they needed Sir Neil's personal authority for something.

Manders decided not to waste his Chief's time with the peripheral issues of the Styles death or Donaldson, and in ten minutes had outlined some chosen facts. He ended by asking if Roberts could, and would, access the concealed pages from the computer record of Cindy Crossland. Roberts had listened patiently, sitting perfectly still and upright in his large chair, and never nodding his head or making any other gesture or mannerism that might indicate how he was thinking. This lack of emotion and absence of feedback frustrated and irritated Manders whose animated manner displayed a quite different personality. The cold Roberts gave nothing away until he had to.

“Phillip.” Having listened to what Manders had to say Roberts cordially addressed his subordinate who hated being addressed by his full Christian name, especially by his boss whom Manders was convinced only used it to sound pompous.

“You have no actual evidence, yet, with which to confront Mr Crossland and really, all you have are a lot of loose ends that you may eventually tie into a knot – though what you expect that to retain is problematic.”

Manders' loathing of tortured metaphors exceeded that of not being called simply ‘Phil', and he was sure his disdain slightly showed in his facial expression. Roberts raised his voice.

“Is that not right?” he said accusingly but continued before Manders could reply.

“As it happens I believe I can personally access SR12 cases, but I am not minded to do so at this point in time on this matter.” He paused. “As you may be aware, the relationship between the government and myself has become a little strained of late and I really would have to have solid grounds to poke my nose into SR12 cases. The system will log my access of the computer record and if I were to be approached to explain my personal interest in the file, I can say little other than I did so out of curiosity. From what you have told me it seems that, if anything, the wife's classification from both Five and Six in itself implies, does it not, that her husband's probity is likely to be beyond question? She would not have got that clearance if there was the slightest suspicion about her husband.”

Manders was not happy at the way the chief had turned the whole basis of the interview on its head, but knew when to retreat gracefully in defeat.

“As you wish, Sir.” Manders rose to leave, but Roberts waved at him to stay seated.

“Phillip, stay a while. As you know, I am a great admirer and supporter of you and your crew at ATU, and that will always continue as long as I am at the helm.” Manders inwardly groaned as he anticipated having to listen to a lecture from his sailing fanatic boss interspersed with nautical imagery.

“Your work in helping to clear up the London attacks last year was outstanding and you have saved this country from numerous other threats. Politically, however, we have a government whose main focus is conducting the war on terror overseas but obsessed with reducing domestic crimes, like burglary. Our very success here in thwarting the major threats to our security at home can lead to complacency in some quarters and the ATU is an expensive part of my ship. I get somewhat tired of the politicians in Whitehall who make incomprehensible comparisons, such as equating how many extra coppers on the beat we could have if we reduced our specialist task forces and technical departments. I just wanted you to know, I have to chart our passage through very choppy waters these days. I back you and Ritson. He is a good man. If you are suspicious then follow it through as best you can and come back to me when you have something more tangible.”

Manders was genuinely surprised and appreciative of Roberts candour though not his pompous manner and his maritime analogies. He had never known the man to talk in such personal terms and could only wonder how much pressure he was under.