UG3 Diminishing Returns   Chapter 01     Winter in Kernow

The girls' original intention had been to travel from London the previous evening on the Night Riviera sleeper service, giving them almost the whole of Saturday back in Redruth, deepest Cornwall. Fate had intervened, resulting in their semi-regular Friday meeting at Thames House running an hour late.

As Heather and Sophie stepped onto the platform at Redruth, it looked like they were the only ones getting off the Great Western service from London Paddington. The iced station sign announced “Welcome to Redruth” but Heather wasn’t feeling very welcomed.

“It’s bloody freezing, Sophie!”

“At least it’s not snowing?”

“Thanks, Sophie, it's still too bloody cold, I thought Cornwall was supposed to be a warm county?"

"Maybe we should have moved to Scotland? At least they expect the cold weather whilst you assume it'll be a warm sunny day even in the middle of winter."

The platform had been gritted, as had the paved area outside the station entrance so Heather guessed that someone had anticipated the weather; although she wasn’t feeling any better for knowing this. Their home wasn’t far from the station but it was uphill and they were carrying several pieces of luggage each. Heather had hoped to find a cab on the station rank but there wasn’t a single vehicle, or anyone else, in sight. The cab office across the road looked deserted and most of the lights were out.

She shivered and dropped her cases on the ground before stuffing her hands in her jacket pockets. They’d spent that morning in a mild London and had dressed appropriately, the sudden drop in temperature had not been expected. Heather now had her phone out but her hands were starting to shake, her phone and hands were stuffed back into pockets.

“Can't you go home and get the car, Sophie?” Heather realised that the station booking hall would give her shelter while she waited.

“And I presume you'd like me to bring you a hot water bottle and a mug of tea as well?”

“Well ….”

“Get stuffed! If I am having to walk, so can you.”

It was nearly twenty minutes later they closed the front door on their cottage, Heather was cold, tired and a little irritated.

At least the heating had come on automatically and the cottage was warm, but Heather reached for the controls regardless and raised the temperature before heading to the loo. Sophie, meanwhile, put the kettle on.

Heather dozed off in the lounge. She’d been awake when Sophie brought her tea, and had managed a few sips, but it was now cooling in the mug, wasted. Sophie retreated to the kitchen, as Heather was snoring, so she could make a call to one of the Estate Agencies in Redruth.

“Hello, it's Sophie Grieve, do you have an update about the cottage next to us?”

“Oh, hello Miss Grieve, it's Jane. We were hoping you were available to see us today?”

“Sorry, just back from London. Was our offer accepted?”

“It was, but only because of the quick sale you promised. I’m sorry to have to ask but do you have the cash available?”

“We do, I or Heather will get our solicitor moving on Monday morning, but I guess we’re still talking about weeks?”

“That'll be fine, the seller is just keen to settle this before the end of the month and be on the move in early February.”

“It's only the tenth so that shouldn't be a problem. Thanks Jane.”

Sophie put the phone down. They'd only been living in Redruth for a few months now but were already a part of the town's fabric, mostly accepted as residents and not just weekend visitors. There was a reticence, indeed suspicion, amongst the locals that anyone from outside the county buying property would be just another emmet and it had taken some convincing that the girls were there to stay, all year around.

The regional press, however, had given Heather a little unwanted publicity as the story from St Marys Chandlers had become better known, as well as Heather’s involvement in uncovering malfeasance in community groups finances. There weren’t many accountants of her type in Cornwall and that brought a regular flow of local queries, further establishing her.

Naturally, their regular jaunts to London hadn’t helped until they explained that both Heather and Sophie worked from home but had to attend face-to-face meetings a few times a month. Although they had secured a fibre internet connection to their premises that would support video conferencing, most broadband connections in Cornwall weren’t up to that task.

Their cottage wasn't small but one of the bedrooms was now a tiny secure office packed with communications equipment, a desk, a large safe and not much else. That left the main bedroom and a small guest room. If they wanted to host a meeting then it was a logistical nightmare to secure accommodation for the guests.

Given that they were about five hours by road or rail from London, doing a day trip wasn’t sensible if you wanted to get any work done as well. If proof were needed then that day’s travel had proved the point, travelling was exhausting. Flying was an option but the flights weren’t necessarily convenient, and only about an hour was gained after taking transfers and airport security into account.

One option was to use local Bed & Breakfast places for guests but between April and October these establishments were heavily pre-booked with visiting tourists. A last minute booking was next to impossible.

Heather and Sophie's plan was to expand in situ, cementing their plan to settle in Cornwall for the long-term. Redruth may have been a good distance from London but that had positive as well as negatives points, with the weather and the friendly locals in Cornwall easily outweighing the remoteness.

When the elderly next-door neighbour decided to move to her daughter's house in Truro, the opportunity to expand their accommodation was there for the taking. The two properties were built a hundred years earlier as a single residence but had been converted and sold separately twenty years ago to maximise profit Their agent believed that rejoining the two halves wouldn't be a problem for the local authority planners, so long as the frontage remained largely untouched. She had warned, however, that the resale value of the whole would be less than the sum of the two halves.

Heather woke just after five. “What's for dinner?”

“Probably whatever is left in the freezer, we were supposed to go shopping today.”

“I think there's a pizza, can we do something with that?”

“Sure, but one of us could hit the supermarket in the morning for the essentials as soon as they open. However, I don't like the idea of wasting valuable hours battling other shoppers in a store on a Sunday. Can’t you do an internet grocery order for later tomorrow if possible and then today we just go out to collect the essentials?”

“If you'll organise the pizza, Sophie, I'll do the order.”

“I think I can manage that.”

“Salad and fries too?”

“Don't chance it! I think the salad is going mushy and I don’t remember seeing any potato products in the freezer?”

Heather let herself into their office then absent mindedly kicked the waste basket as her legs swung under the desk. They'd moved into the cottage on the tenth of October and, just two full months later, they had realised there really wasn't enough room for them, or their work.

As Sophie was often out of town, that left Heather working on her own in the office. Unfortunately Sophie did need to write reports and frequently these required the security of the office. The inadequacy of their arrangements was very clear at those times.

Working in the kitchen or the lounge was frowned upon, not least because the Security Service had installed CCTV in those spaces, but because an unexpected visitor could cause a major issue.

The term ‘keeping up appearances’ most definitely applied to the girls, so they coped. Their expansion plans would solve the problems and Heather prayed that they wouldn’t be faced with new issues.

Heather booted up her personal laptop and accessed the shopping website for the nearby superstore. She logged in and started to compile the order. Unfortunately the secure phone started to ring.

She already had the safe open, so was able to insert the encryption key quickly. The display identified the call was coming from the Counter Terrorism department of the Met Police.

“Hello?”

“Hi Heather, it's Emily.”

“Oh, did we forget anything? We've only just arrived home.”

“No, something new has come up. Is Sophie available?”

“She's cooking dinner, sorry but we’re tired so can it wait until the morning?”

“It probably involves you as well, I'll put an email together with some background, it'll go to Jenny and she can forward it on.”

“Can you give me a clue as to what it's about?”

“Drugs.”

“And?”

“Sorry, nothing more until Jenny’s seen it, but I think you’ll want to drop any other investigations you are doing?”

“That’s not how my work goes, Emily, plus I only answer to Jenny these days. As for Sophie, you’ll have to speak to her directly.”

“Indeed, but keep an eye out for that email.”

“Of course.”

Heather finished the online order just as Sophie called to say dinner was ready and the good news was that she’d rescued just enough salad for a garnish.

Overnight the town of Redruth turned white, and whilst it looked great in photos, or oil paintings, the weather was causing havoc.

Firstly, it never snows in Cornwall, well, almost never. Snow is so rare that many locals have only seen it that bad once in their lifetimes and can't be certain it was a genuine memory, so everyone claims it never really snows.

Secondly, because it never snows, almost no-one has any experience driving on snow, or ice. That meant a few hours of snow caused a flurry of accidents on the roads. Pedestrians are in danger from themselves, other walkers or misdirected vehicles. All together quite a hazardous winter pursuit in the warmest UK county.

Sophie told Heather to stay put, as she pulled on her military grade boots.

“Let's assume the delivery gets here by one, but we'll need fresh milk before then. Anything else?”

“The papers and a fresh loaf of bread?”

“Okay. Perhaps you find out what this job is whilst I'm out?”

“I'll try, but there was no sign of an email from anyone just now.”

Sophie headed out, she had no intention of going to Tesco and would only walk as far as the nearby newsagents which also stocked some groceries. Despite her request to Heather, the walk would allow her to make any phone calls away from Heather's ears.

Regardless of their relationship, neither of them could share every morsel of information or intelligence they read or heard. Heather was dealing in financial intelligence whereas Sophie was concerned with terrorists and major criminal behaviour. They dealt with different agencies, different people and had separate operational methodologies.

Sophie also needed to protect Heather, from herself as well as would-be assassins.

“Emily, what's this job really about?”

“Drugs, primarily coke. Mostly small boats into East coast ports.”

“Then why involve us down here?”

“We became aware of the imports late last year when Customs finally asked for our help. So far we’ve been able to either stop or at least identify most of the imports, but it’s stopped.”

“So Customs have nothing new and you’re stumped?”

“”Yes. There was little at first to even identify it as a single cartel, the product used a different route each time.”

“How much are we talking?”

“Lowest captured import was fifty kilos, others are believed to be possibly a hundred kilos or more.”

“Damn! How much has been stopped?”

“We have two hundred kilos, but reckon there’s another two or three tonnes somewhere in the country from this gang alone. It’s high quality too.”

“Damn, that’s enough to make it cheaper than a decent lager in Mevagissey! I foresee lots of folk getting hooked right across the country?”

“Exactly, and every police force is looking for the storage locations, but right now it’s gone quiet, too quiet.”

“So what’s needed?”

“Heather needs to use her special touch, find the money, find the people.”

“I hope you have something for her to use?”

“Check the email.”

“Okay, okay. Could this simply be a pause over Christmas and New Year, perhaps they’ll restart any day?”

“Possibly, in which case I want to find them before they poison the country any more?”

“Valid point.”

“Look, Sophie, how much do you know about port ops?”

“Very little.”

“Get yourself a visit to a ferry port and talk to the local Special Branch unit.”

“Has Plymouth been identified as a port the cartel used?”

“Not yet, but the folk there should have had the same intel as the East Coast ports.”

“Okay, I’ll prime Heather and see what I can do. When do you want a report back?”

“Initial report in a week please.”

“I’ll do my best, Emily, but I can’t promise replying in a week?”

“It's Detective Inspector Keane, if you are going to start complaining.”

“Okay, now, I've had another think after our meeting on Friday about having an intern down here. Is it wise to use this girl from Scotland, Tammy Smart? I'm not sure we're ready to nurture anyone; why can't she be adopted by the security service when she’s older?”

“You heard what Jenny said, she wants to keep the girl at arm's length from Thames House and the Security Service. So far the girl's only involvement has been through Caithness CID and my office. She's still at school for another few months but is predicted excellent grades and my information is that she'll probably follow her father into international banking. We have an opportunity to get her on-board before the spooks get their way."

"Okay, but we're not babysitting?"

"No, in the first instance just make contact. We have an opening, there's a death in custody inquest in Wick on the second of February and Miss Smart is a witness, it concerns the late George Small who was a teacher at her school. Be discrete and make an offer, that’s all. Heather doesn't need to disclose her role at this point. Kevin Edmunds wants to go as well so keep in touch with him, he can introduce you as he knows the girl from earlier enquiries. Ultimately you have nothing to lose and a good deal to gain.”