Sergeant Mitchell stood looking at the pile of pallets while scratching his head.

“This is a great find. All the time, they were sitting right there in plain sight.”

He bent over and inspected the pallets being careful not to get his fingerprints on them.
“They are fully usable as a pallet. You would not think to look at a common pallet as a place to smuggle stuff. Customs would look for suspect items in the load on the pallet but rarely at the pallet itself.

He stood up and said,
“What do you think they were used for? Drugs?”

Roberta shook her head.
"I don't think so. Packing them full of class-A drugs would make them quite heavy and would more than likely attract the attention of the Customs people. No, I think that they were used to smuggle art, in particular paintings. If they were removed from their frames, the vertical space is a lot less than the size of the typical package used for hard drugs. Currency is also a possibility.

The Sergeant nodded his head.
“I’d better call the Art Squad again. They need to know about this development.”

“It gives us more of a reason for his murder and explains the cover as a wine importer.”

That seemed to prompt the Sergeant.
“I nearly forgot. The lab came back with the blood results on the crossbow bolt that was not that of the deceased. They sent the DNA readout to Interpol who soon came back with a name, Marie Andropov. It is the alias of a Russian hit-woman. Apparently, she chose the name Andropov as it is the name of a former leader of the USSR. Interpol have been after her for years. She is a person of interest in no less than fifteen murders and she has been known to use a crossbow in at least five of them. It is deadly and silent.”

“Sarge, In Russian, Andropov is a male name. Typically, Russian women use female genders for their family names. It should have been Andropova.”

“You know this how?”

“I have an A-Level in Russian. I had a nanny who came from a place called Yekaterinburg.”

The sergeant just shook his head.

Roberta didn’t look very happy with the news about Interpol. Sgt Mitchell saw how uncomfortable she was with this news.

“What’s the problem?”

She sighed.
“It had to happen but I didn’t think that it would happen so soon.”

“What had to happen?”

“The name of the assassin. Using the male surname leads me to think that this Marie Andropov is like me.”

It took a second or so for the Sergeant to understand what Roberta was hinting at.

“Shit. Really?”

She nodded her head.

“Ok, apart from the name thing what else do you have to support your theory?”

“Just one thing. The Crossbow needs a good deal of strength to cock unlike a conventional bow. Those come in all sizes and the modern compound bow can and is shot by men and women. Crossbows are generally only used by men. Even for a man, the rate of fire is a lot slower than a conventional bow. From memory, I think that the bow that the English archers used at Agincourt could fire more than ten rounds a minute. A crossbow? I’d say four or five.”

“Sorry Sarge, I was rambling.”

He thought for almost a minute before replying.

“Roberta, do you know what you are saying?”

“Sarge, I do and I understand the possible implications and ramifications if I am wrong.”

He nodded his head.
“Does Interpol have a photo of Marie Andropov?”

“As far as I know, they don’t. Why?”

“Being able to pass as a man or a woman is a great way to avoid capture. If the Police are after a woman assassin, how thoroughly do you think that they’ll check men?”

“Gotcha. There is a lot more to this LGBTQ stuff that we get told.”

“Sarge, it isn’t your fault. Most of the LGBTQ people are ‘L’ or ‘G’ with the ‘B’ next on the list. Those who are ‘T’ or ‘Q’ make up a very small percentage of the community and most of us keep so far under the radar that we are walking along the bottom of the sea. One to two percent of the population at large is one estimate and that does not include Transvestites.”

He chuckled at Roberta’s explanation.

“Roberta, working with you is going to be a huge learning experience and will never be dull…”

“Sarge, stop that. Remember our deal?”

“I can hardly forget it. I’m not going to betray your trust. That is not how I am.”

“What do we do now?”

“I think that you should give this update to DCI Saunders directly.”

She looked a bit distraught.

“Don’t worry, I’ll come with you. I’ll clear it with the Inspector. This is too important to keep to ourselves.”

When the Sarge contacted the DCI, they found that he was not available until the following day when he would be attending a briefing at the NCA HQ.

---

[The next day at NCA HQ in Central London]

“Ok, Sergeant Mitchell, what is it that is so important that you can’t tell me over the phone or via email?” asked a slightly impatient Detective Chief Inspector Gavin Saunders.

“Sir, some of what DC Galbraith is about to say is for your ears only. It is a matter of personal safety which I am sure that you will understand when you hear it.”

“Ok, I’m listening.”

“Sir,” said Roberta.
“The alleged assassin, Marie Andropov is of Russian origin I am given to understand?”

“Correct. Why?”

“Sir, in Russian, no woman would use the surname Andropov. It is of the wrong gender. They’d use Andropova. For example, the tennis player Maria Sharapova was the daughter of a Mr Sharapov.”

“Could this be a mistake by someone in Interpol?”

“I doubt it, but it is possible. I have reason to think that she is playing a little game with us and it would also explain why there are no photos of her crossing borders etc.”

“Game? I don’t understand?”

“I think that Maria Andropov is transgendered or is someone who can easily pass for a man or a woman.”

“How do you come that conclusion?”

“Sir, I’m one of those. I’m transgendered and was born male.”

The DCI looked Roberta up and down. Then he shook his head.

“I get why this could be a personal threat to you. There are still a good number of anti LGBTQ officers on the force despite a lot of work to get them out. I need to think about what you have said before passing this on to Interpol.”

“Sir,” said Roberta looking at the DCI and the Sergeant.
“That is correct and none of us wants the Met looking like idiots. Perhaps if you asked Interpol to forward records of anyone male or female with that general description?”

“Have you any idea how many that would be?”

“We do sir, but in my opinion, she is around my age. If she was much older than me, then she would not be able to have carried out many of the crimes that would put her on the Interpol 'most wanted' list and not have made a mistake that leads to their demise. That should eliminate many of the potential suspects. I also think that she does not have a criminal record. If the murder on our patch is anything to go by then the crossbow may be a sort of signature plus there are models that fold up nice and small and as they are not a firearm… Checks at what few borders remain will be a lot less.

Then Sergeant Mitchell added.

“From what the forensic people have said, the weapon used for the murder of the wine importer is a heavy weapon when it comes to power. Many women would simply not have the physical strength to cock the weapon. If the user was a man or had been born a male then that would less of a problem even with a compound crossbow. One of the prime objections to Transwomen competing in female sports is their innate strength. To my mind, that add credence to the transgender theory.”

The Sergeant’s reasoning surprised Roberta but pleased her in that he had at least done some research into the subject. Many other officers would not have done that.

“Sir, I know from my time at Hendon that even though I take female hormones every day, I am stronger than well over half the male cadets in my class.”

The DCI looked at his two visitors. Normally, he would have sent them away with a flea in their ears for presenting such a story but a long and sometimes animated phone conversation that had taken place the previous evening with a high-ranking officer in Interpol was leading him to believe that there might be something in what they were saying.

“DC Galbraith. Thank you for explaining your theory and the background to it. As I said, I will have to think about this but rest assured your gender status will not go beyond this office. Frankly, my team are at a loss on this case. DC Galbraith seems to be applying a different sort of logic to the case from anyone else and that is good. Sometimes we get blinkered by procedure and how things have panned out in the past.”

“Sergeant, you were right to bring these ideas to my attention. I will give this a lot more thought before going back to Interpol.”

He saw the look of concern on their faces.

“Don’t worry. I will report back to you before I take any action. If you are correct then it could be the key that forces all over Europe need to solve a number of high-profile murders. OTOH, we don’t want to look like numpties if we are wrong. At the moment, I’m on the side of going to them, but the caveats on anything we will have to say are worrying.”

That was it, their audience with the DCI was over.

---

Outside, Roberta breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well done, Roberta. You put your case perfectly.”

She looked at the Sergeant before saying,
“Cut the crap Sarge, he didn’t believe a word of it, did he?”

“I don’t know. I was watching his reaction. My guess is that there is a lot more going on in the background than he’s letting on but mostly, I think that you are right. What did the people at Hendon say about the role of the SIO?”

Roberta smiled.
“One of the instructors was a former SIO in West Midlands Police. He said that the role was like juggling six balls at once when a seventh suddenly appears.”

“That sums it up very well. We are just one or two of those balls. Only he knows the big picture, we don’t.”

Then after a sigh, he said,
“Come on, we have some sleuthing to do. If you solve this without those numpties then more power to you and lots of egg on their collective faces.”

“Sarge, that is a great idea if I only knew where to start?”

“You will get there. I have every confidence in you.”

Roberta smiled at her Sergeant but at that moment, her mind was blank.

---

After a couple of fruitless hours in the office, Roberta returned to the warehouse unit more in the hope of finding some inspiration than anything else.

She went through the office and its contents once more. As she was bending down to get access to the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet, she noticed a cable running along the skirting board. It looked more like a co-axial cable than one used for power. It wasn’t easy to see as it had been painted the same colour as the walls. From the dirt/dust on the top of the cable, it appeared to have been there at least a couple of years. That fact helped it blend in and not be out of the ordinary, piqued her interest straight away.

With her inquisitiveness working overtime, she followed the cable out of the office and into the unit until it disappeared onto the roof of the office which was in reality, a small portable office cabin rather than one that had been built into the unit itself.

For a brief moment, Roberta was at a loss as to what to do next. She could not access the roof without a ladder, so she followed the cable in the other direction. It led into the cubicle that contained a portable toilet and disappeared behind a mirror that was secured to the wall by four screws. That was not going to defeat Roberta. She went back to her backpack, found her Swiss Army Knife and returned to the cubicle.

The four screws were soon removed which allowed her to see what was behind the mirror.

A huge smile broke out on her face when she saw what looked like a camera that viewed the main part of the office through a hole in the wall. Everything that went on in the office was on camera.

She went back into the office and saw how the hole with the camera had been disguised. It was almost hidden by a calendar that showed pictures of Vineyards in France. Her hopes were rising with every minute.

She knew that there had been no sign of a ladder in the warehouse from her previous visits but she had an idea. The stack of normal pallets might do the job instead.

Roberta stacked two pallets up against the side of the office building. She added a third on top of the other two and began t climb up. The slats of the pallets worked just like the rungs of a ladder.

She poked her head over the top of the cabin and smiled. The winking light of a Video Recorder told her that she was onto something.

Before going any further, she took several photos of the setup with her phone. Then she crawled onto the roof of the cabin and over to the recorder. Her heart stopped for a moment as she pressed ‘open’. A mechanism clicked and a panel in the front of the machine opened and a tape cartridge popped out. This wasn’t the conventional VHS type of cartridge but more like the ones used in a modern digital Video Camera.

Her heart was pounding as she climbed down from the roof and headed for the door fully intending to return to the Station but something held her back.

She smiled to herself and muttered, ‘why not’.

Robert went into the office and rummaged in the bottom of the filing cabinet. She pulled out a pack of five similar tapes. One of the five tapes was missing. That one was safely in her pocket. She afforded herself another smile as she climbed back up onto the roof and put the new tape into the machine.

Then, she screwed the mirror back onto the wall of the toilet cubicle and checked the position of the calendar on the other side. Finally, she put the three pallets back where they’d come from. Apart from the dust and dirt on her shirt from the roof, you would never have known what she’d been doing.

Satisfied that she had put everything back in its proper place, she locked up the property and returned to the station.

Once again, she’d lost all track of time and the normal work day was long over so she had the custody officer put the tape into the property safe after ‘bagging and tagging’ it. Then she went home hoping that her urge to watch the tape ASAP would not stop her from sleeping. It didn’t.

---

“Morning Sarge,” said Roberta as DS Mitchell arrived for work.

He took one look at her smiling face and said,
“Ok, Cheshire Cat, what did you find in your saucer of milk?”

“I don’t know… yet.”

“Yet?”

“I found a hidden camera and a video recorder in the office.”

He smiled.
“Remind me to give SOCO a bollocking. Where was the camera?”

“Hidden in the wall and it was disguised by the calendar of French Vineyards.”

“I remember that. Where was the recorder? Our people went through that office pretty thoroughly after the body was removed.”

“I doubt that they looked on the roof of the portacabin that doubles up as an office.”

“Probably not. So? Where is the tape now?”

“In the property safe or at least that was where I put it last night. I bagged and tagged it and made the entry in the evidence log before I went home.”

“Good…. For following procedure.”

“Sarge?”

He smiled back at Roberta.
“If this is a blank tape then I don’t know where to go next.”

He smiled again.
“Then it might be time to look at another case for a day or do. Then come back with fresh eyes? Or even go away for a few days and do something completely different just to take your mind off things. It happens to all of us on difficult cases.”

She smiled.
“Thanks Sarge.”

“Why don’t you go find the video tape player? I’ll get the tape from the safe.”

---

Ten minutes later, the two of them were sitting in an interview room ready to start the viewing.

“I’ve rewound the tape to the beginning. From the label on the box of tapes in the filing cabinet, each one can contain three hours of 4K video.” Said Roberta.
“The camera was not 4K so my guess is that there could be about five hours of recording.”

Sergeant Mitchell groaned.
“Don’t worry sarge, I expect most of it is of our boys faffing around after the discovery of the body.”

“I hope so. I have a habit of falling asleep in these things.”

Roberta chuckled and pressed play.

The first half hour was of shots of the victim going intermittently about his business from timestamps, for three months. The gaps in the recordings coincided with his most recent trips abroad.

Then the scene changed. The timestamp on the screen showed the date that it was estimated that he was murdered. The first ten minutes show him going in and out of the warehouse carrying a clipboard.
“He’s preparing the order that we saw in the loading bay,” said the Sergeant.
“That’s my guess as well.”

The scene showed the victim sitting at his desk. Out of range of the camera, something happened to disturb him. Then they saw the crossbow bolt hit home and he collapsed back into his chair just as they had found him more than a week later.

Then they saw a character come into view and check the victim's pulse on his neck. They left the cabin without us being able to see their face.

“That’s it then?” suggested the Sergeant.

“We should see it through to when the body is discovered. Just for completeness.”

He sighed and sat back.

The next scene is fifteen minutes later when the assassin or suspected assassin returned to the cabin and checked his pulse again. This time they turned and the two officers got a view of the suspect's face.

“Gotcha!” exclaimed Roberta.

“Well done DS Galbraith.”

“Sorry Sarge, I’m not a DS.”

“Yet! It is only a matter of time DC Galbraith. But what we have just seen for ourselves could crack this case wide open.”

The sudden seriousness of the Sergeant's voice worried her. It must have shown on her face.
“Don’t get worried Roberta. This is hot evidence and may be a crucial part of us being able to solve this case.”

“Thanks Sarge. I’d better get my report written up before we send the tape to the NCA.”

She went and sat down at her desk and began to write up the report on how she’d discovered the camera and the tapes. The sergeant made a phone call to the DCI and the NCA wondering how many more aces Roberta had up her sleeve. She was going to be a great asset to the force. It was only a matter of time before she was moved on to bigger and better things. That would help her but not the clear-up rate for Tottenham nick. He wondered if the Super and Chief Super at the station knew what an asset they had in Roberta. Making her clear up old cases was not a very good use of her time.

[to be continued]