THIRTY #2
Dom didn’t move. Just watched me for a long moment. ‘Appealing as that is,’ he said, ‘and I want to be clear that I find it very appealing, it’s not going to happen.’
‘Dom––’ I clenched and unclenched my fists.
‘It’s not going to happen, Oliver.’ He was still calm. ‘Because if it does, he wins. Alex goes through everything again. Statements, hearings, courts. This time with you in the dock instead of him. Henderson would love that. Don’t give it to him.’
I stood there for a moment. Jaw tight. Fists clenched. Every part of me wanted to ignore everything Dom had just said.
Then I sat back down. ‘I still prefer my idea.’
‘I know,’ said Dom. ‘So do I. But we’re going to do this properly. Fraud. Identity theft. The unredacted file. The pattern of behaviour. We build something so watertight that Henderson never touches anyone again. Not Alex. Not anyone.’
It took me a moment to park the idea of doing Henderson some serious harm and instead to concentrate on what Dom had just said.
‘So, he stole Fletcher’s identity.’ I sat back. ‘How did he manage that and how the fuck didn’t we find it?’
‘How the fuck didn’t I find it, you mean?’ said Dom.
‘No.’ I meant it, and I needed him to know I meant it. ‘This isn’t on you. This tells us two things. One, he’s good at deceiving, and two, we need to tighten our procedures. We need to get better at looking for what isn’t there. But that’s a conversation for another day.’
Dom gave a single nod. He’d revisit it. I knew him well enough to know he’d already started. ‘Sure,’ he said.
‘Right now, I need to know how he did it.’
Dom leaned forward. ‘Henderson and Fletcher know each other. Came through basic training together. Their paths crossed a few times after that. Same postings in Germany, both deployed to Afghanistan within six months of each other. Not close exactly, but close enough.
They both left the service around the same time, and for a couple of months, Henderson lodged with Fletcher and his family.’
He paused. ‘Seemingly untroubled by the fact that he’d just been pushed out of the army for what he’d done to Alex.’
‘And then?’
‘He went AWOL. Fletcher relocated to Thailand. Where he still is. Been there eighteen months teaching English by all accounts. Living his life. No idea any of this is happening.’
Dom’s jaw tightened briefly. ‘Henderson must have used those months living within him to take everything he needed. Passport details. Service records. References. National insurance number. Fletcher’s whole paper identity, sitting right there in the house.’
‘He was planning this for a long time.’
‘Yes,’ said Dom. ‘He was also supposed to attend resettlement sessions, standard stuff, getting back into civilian life. He never showed. Nobody followed up.’
The familiar anger of institutional failure flared. How ironic he should be here at Risk.
‘Does the real Fletcher know any of this?’
‘I made some discreet enquiries. He hasn’t heard from Henderson since he left the UK. As far as Ian Fletcher is concerned, Samuel Henderson is someone he used to know.’
I looked at the two files still open on the desk in front of me. Henderson’s photograph next to Fletcher. Two men whose lives had crossed at the wrong moment. One of them was living on a beach in Thailand, completely unaware that his identity had been stolen to get access to a woman in Scotland.
‘We need to tell Fletcher,’ I said.
Dom nodded. ‘Already on the list.’
I got up again. Still restless. Still frustrated at not being able to channel the utter rage bubbling inside me. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do that to myself or Alex.
I looked out of the window across the dark sky. The grey clouds blocked any light from the moon.
‘We need to find Henderson. We can’t have him roaming around freely on the estate now,’ I said.
‘What are you planning on doing once we find him?’
‘Not pulling his fucking head off and spitting in the hole,’ I said, turning to face my brother. ‘More’s the pity.’
‘I can get the local policeman, Ryan Mackenzie, up here, but I’m not sure Henderson has done enough to be placed under arrest.’
I thought for a moment. ‘We tell Henderson he’s fired. That we know who he is,’ I said.
‘He’ll run.’
‘Where the fuck is he going to run to tonight?
‘Fair point.’
‘If he does, we let him,’ I said. ‘But first, we interview him and document everything. The file. The identity. We give Ryan Mackenzie enough to make it worth his while coming up here.’
‘Or I go back with it to my contact in the Met. Hand it over to them and let them deal with it.’
‘The Met is good,’ I said. ‘We ship Henderson out to the hotel in Risk tonight. Arrange transport to take him back to London tomorrow. And let the Met deal with him.’
‘Agreed. But we get Paddy to keep tabs on him while he’s still in the area.’
I nodded. I didn’t like the plan. It didn’t feel immediate enough. It was just not enough but nothing more. It was, however, all we could do.’
I picked up my phone and called Grainger. ‘Can you come over to the gatehouse? I need you to stay with Alex and Noah. Got a problem with Henderson, and I need him off the estate. Ask Paddy to come as well.’
‘On our way.’
Less than five minutes later, Grainger and Paddy were walking through the door at the gatehouse. Dom called them into the study, where he was organising radio handsets. He gave them out to each of us.
‘Alex is upstairs with Noah,’ I said to Grainger. ‘Keep an eye on them. We’re off to evict Henderson.’
‘About fucking time,’ said Grainger. ‘It would be my pleasure to evict him.’
Dom put his hand on Grainger’s shoulder as he followed me out of the study. ‘The pleasure is all Oliver’s.’
We grabbed our coats and headed over to Henderson’s lodge.
‘What was your take on Fletcher?’ I asked Paddy as we strode over. I knew Paddy wouldn’t sugarcoat anything.
‘Not a fan,’ replied Paddy. ‘Up his own arse.’
We reached Henderson’s lodge, and I banged on the door. ‘Henderson!’
No answer.
I banged again. ‘Fletcher, open the fuck up.’
I didn’t wait. I gripped the handle, and the door opened. The lodge was empty and dark. I flicked on the light.
‘Here, take this,’ said Dom, nudging a heavy-duty torch into my hand.
Of course, we didn’t need it for its illumination attributes.
The three of us quickly went through the lodge, checking the two rooms and the bathroom.
‘His stuff’s gone,’ said Dom.
‘The fucker is ahead of us. Again.’ It pissed me off even more that we hadn’t caught him by surprise. ‘Check the mess lodge.’
Matty and Smithy were in the mess lodge with Jez. They all sat up as we arrived.
‘Where’s Fletcher?’ asked Dom.
‘Don’t know. Haven’t seen him,’ said Matty.
‘Said something about going into town earlier,’ said Smithy.
‘He’s been back,’ said Jez. ‘Came in and asked for some food to eat in his lodge. Said he wasn’t feeling great and might go to see the doc.’
I stilled at the comment.
‘Relax,’ said Dom under his breath. ‘Grainger is with her.’
My hands bunched into fists again. ‘We need a sweep of the estate. We need to find Fletcher.’
The three men jumped to their feet. ‘Matty and Smithy, you go around the north side of the loch, check the outbuildings. Then go around to the wellness suite. Jez, you wait here in case he turns up. Paddy, you check the shooting range.’
‘Take one of these,’ said Dom, handing out more radios.
‘Everyone stay on four,’ I instructed, referring to the estate’s designated emergency channel. ‘No comms unless you have something to report. Anyone sees anything, call it in first. Wait for mine or Dom’s order.’
‘Yes, Boss.’
‘Dom, we’ll go down the south side and check the main house and stables. We all meet back here in thirty minutes.’ As everyone got themselves organised and tuned into the emergency channel, I checked in with the gatehouse. ‘Grainger. Anything?’
There was a small burst of static before Grainger replied. ‘All quiet here.’
‘Maintain position. Me, Dom and the lads are going to carry out a full search of the estate. No comms unless there’s something to report.’
‘Understood.’
As we split up and moved into the darkness, I had the same feeling I’d had in the field before. The feeling that told me something had already gone wrong, and that we were playing catch-up.