Chapter 14
WEDNESDAY LATE MORNING
Alexander Murray came in looking understandably nervous. Whether this was because two of his close colleagues had been murdered or because he was being questioned by the police and he had a guilty secret remained to be seen.
Virgilio began the questions.
‘Your name is Alexander Murray? Please can you tell me your age, how long you’ve worked for TXA Supplies, and in what capacity?’
‘My name is Alex Murray, I’m fifty-eight and I’ve worked for the company since Tristan set it up thirteen years ago.
I’m Head of Sales.’ He had a soft Highland Scottish accent that was a lot easier to understand than Liam O’Connell’s.
I studied him closely. He was exactly the same age as I was, but he was carrying quite a few pounds more than the doctor would have ordered.
I glanced at Oscar, reflecting that no doubt I had him and all those long walks to thank for keeping me reasonably in shape – and Anna’s take on the Mediterranean diet that had eliminated pies, doughnuts and burgers on all but the rarest occasions.
‘And what does your job entail?’ Virgilio was keeping his voice businesslike.
‘I have overall responsibility for ensuring that we sell the right stuff to the right people and that we target the right people in the first place.’
‘And who are the right people?’
He stretched out his hands expansively. ‘How long is a piece of string? We sell to all sorts, from large nations like Australia and Canada to small countries or subdivisions within them – particularly in Africa and the Middle East.’
‘And are any of these subdivisions, as you call them, terrorist organisations?’
A wary expression appeared on Murray’s face. ‘One man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter. We always stick within the rules but, ultimately, it’s down to the end user to see that what they buy from us is used responsibly.’
I had a feeling this wasn’t the first time he had trotted out this fairly sanctimonious justification of being an arms dealer. I could have asked him whose rules they followed, but I left the questions to Virgilio.
‘Are you worried, Mr Murray?’ A blank look appeared on the Scotsman’s face, so Virgilio elaborated. ‘Two of your close colleagues have been murdered in short succession. Aren’t you worried that you might be next?’
‘Are you telling me that Don was definitely murdered?’ He didn’t wait for an answer and there was sudden conviction in his voice. ‘I knew it. He wasn’t the kind to take his own life. As for me, no, I don’t see why I should be worried. Should I be?’
Virgilio ignored the question. ‘Can you think of any reasons why Angel and Hicks should have been murdered, unless it had something to do with TXA business? Our enquiries reveal that there are probably people all around the globe who’ll be only too happy to learn that the top two people in your company have been eliminated.
You’re a senior member of the company, so it’s possible you could be number three on the murderer’s list.’
By now, it was evident that this had definitely hit home, and the veneer of insouciance that Murray had been wearing faded from his face, to be replaced by a look of uncertainty.
‘Strictly speaking, the most senior staff member now is Vince, Vince Archer, but, in answer to your question about who might have killed Tristan and Don, I must confess that I’ve been asking myself the same thing.
I can’t really think of anybody who might have wanted to see them dead unless, as you say, it’s to do with the company.
Having said that, I genuinely can’t think of any customer with a grievance serious enough to produce this kind of reaction, but I suppose it’s the only explanation. ’
‘Do you think the murders could have been the work of one of your colleagues?’ Virgilio asked the question, and we both waited with interest for Murray’s answer.
Murray looked up with a shocked expression on his face, but I had the feeling that, deep down, he maybe wasn’t as surprised as all that.
‘I find it hard to believe that anybody here could have been involved, so it’s a logical assumption that the murderer has to have come from a customer or a rival of TXA. ’
Neither Virgilio nor I pointed out that the death of Hicks here at the villa almost certainly had to have been committed by somebody here, and we let Murray carry on thinking aloud.
‘Yesterday, when I heard of Tristan’s death, I did wonder whether there might have been a woman involved.
He was a great guy and a shrewd businessman, but when it came to women, he had the morals of a tomcat.
It wouldn’t have surprised me if that was the reason he was killed – but it wouldn’t have been by anybody here.
As for Don, I’m totally at a loss.’ He shook his head slowly.
‘One thing’s for sure, it can’t have been woman trouble with him. I imagine you know he was gay.’
Virgilio returned to his original question.
‘Unless both deaths had a personal or sexual motivation, that brings us back to the company again, doesn’t it?
When I spoke to Mr Hicks yesterday, he refused point-blank to talk about your clients, but I think the time for diplomatic niceties is over, don’t you?
Think very carefully. You’ve just told us that you couldn’t think of any customer or rival company who might be holding a grudge against the company so strong that they decided to take such brutal action, but I’d like you to try and think a bit harder.
Maybe not a customer, but somebody or some organisation that might have felt the effects of the weaponry you sold to their enemy?
It’s in your interests to give us as much information as possible. ’
Murray sat in silence for at least half a minute before, slowly, he started to name a few names.
We all scribbled furiously as he listed almost a dozen entities worldwide who might – and he stressed the word ‘might’ – have had reason to commit murder.
By the time Murray completed the list, it had become abundantly clear to all of us that there was no way on earth that any police force could even begin to attempt to investigate entities that ranged from major countries to small, shadowy organisations, little more than gangs, living way out in the deserts or deep in the jungles.
As far as Tristan Angel’s death was concerned, from what Murray was saying, it was a miracle he hadn’t been murdered years ago.
Unfortunately, that didn’t help us with squaring the circle of how a foreign operator could have got into the villa last night, and out again, without being picked up by the CCTV cameras or by the AISE man outside patrolling the grounds – unless Hicks’s killer had been one of the occupants of the villa or one of the AISE operatives.
Murray begged us to be as discreet as possible with the names he’d given us, but it was clear that Virgilio’s message to watch out had got through and, when Murray left the room, I felt sure that he now realised that anybody here in the villa could be the next victim.
Hopefully, he would spread the word, and they would all take more care.
After he’d gone, Virgilio took a good look around at the three of us, or rather the four of us.
Marco, Dini and I were sitting down, but Oscar had obviously got bored of lying on a no doubt very valuable Persian rug and had gone walkabout.
I followed the direction of Virgilio’s eyes and was just in time to see my nosey Labrador’s tail disappear behind the tapestry at the end of the lounge.
It billowed out from the wall as he investigated what was behind it.
I hastily jumped to my feet, in case he brought the whole thing crashing down, and went over to hoick him out.
What I saw when I looked behind the tapestry stopped me in my tracks.
There was a small opening in the wall with a pair of doors in it, and Oscar’s nose was glued to them.
I called the others over and, between us, we managed to lift the tapestry up so as to expose what was clearly a little cupboard.
We pulled on gloves and Marco opened the doors.
They weren’t locked and when he opened them, we were presented with an Aladdin’s cave of modern weaponry and ammunition, each item lying snugly in a depression in what was some sort of soft, felt-like material.
I counted no fewer than three automatic assault rifles, half a dozen pistols, a load of ammunition and, most interesting of all, two empty spaces on the far right-hand side, which clearly showed where another handgun and a silencer had been stored.
We didn’t have the murder weapon, but it was now looking pretty clear where it had come from.
Virgilio gave a satisfied grunt and looked down at Oscar at our feet. ‘Officer Oscar strikes again. Oscar, there’s a steak with your name on it next time you and I sit down to eat.’
The end of Oscar’s tail wagged in anticipation – although he might just have been pleased to be included in the conversation.
Virgilio sent Sergeant Dini out to call Alex Murray back in. She returned a few moments later not with him but with Eddie the odd-job man.
‘Signor Murray has gone to his room, but I found Signor Smith.’
Virgilio beckoned to Eddie and led him across the room to the end wall where the tapestry had been hitched up to one side, exposing the gun cupboard. When he got there, he turned towards the man with the broken nose.
‘Do you know what’s been hidden in here, covered by the tapestry?’
‘Tapestry? I always thought it was a carpet.’ Eddie was grinning as usual. ‘That cupboard’s Mr Angel’s armoury. We all know what’s in there.’
‘You all know about the cache of weapons?’
‘Of course. There’s an armoury in all the company’s houses. Like I told you before, in this line of business, you need to be prepared. Just like the bleedin’ Boy Scouts, we are.’ His face fell. ‘Not that it did the boss any good, did it?’