UG2:Spying By Numbers Part 12 Harbouring Trouble

First posted here in 2014/5, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017. The third & fourth books are also now out.
 

Smythe had been waiting for Heather when she left the local Chinese takeaway, laden with hot food; no doubt his intention was to intimidate her. Heather spotted him lurking in the shadows so took the offensive, her training coming in useful for once.

"Come into the light Colonel, we can't have you jumping out at defenceless ladies? Can we?" She teased.

"You need to be taught a lesson in politeness."

"Go home and play with your toys, I'm tired after a long day and want my supper."

"So, have an early night and go back to London in the morning."

"Why?"

"Because you're not welcome here, I don't know what you're up to but you have frightened my poor grandson something rotten and that deserves retribution."

"Thank you for clarifying that. I can go home now, my home here."

"You bitch!" He went to grab Heather as she turned away but she sidestepped causing Smythe to land heavily on the cobbled street. Sophie meanwhile finished recording the scene and put the camera away, then met with Heather as the Neighbourhood Watch Co-ordinator was still trying to get back on his feet.

She took her partner's hand. "Here we go Heather, was that nasty man bothering you? Let's go home."

There was no time like the present to deal with this so Sophie called Devon and Cornwall Police and explained they were being harassed and had video evidence. The wine remained in the fridge and the oven kept the food warm whilst they waited for the officer, nibbling at the prawn crackers. It was obviously a quiet night as an officer was with them half an hour later.

The package Sophie had put together was excellent, a few days earlier she had found video of the two occasions Smythe had found them indoors, plus the many times he'd knocked whilst they were out, including the curtain peeking attempts and even a torchlight inspection of the back yard from over the fence. Finally there was that evening's recording and that of his grandson digging a huge hole for himself in their lounge a few days earlier.

The Police Constable who visited that evening did not know the Smythes but immediately realised the significance of the evidence, promising that this would be taken 'upstairs' as soon as he spoke to a senior officer.

Heather felt bad about what they had just done but Sophie reassured her.

"Smythe is a bully, there's likely to be quite a few around here who are frightened of him. He's probably also responsible for people leaving the town, just as he tried on you. I also bet he regularly used his grandson as a source, the days when that behaviour was acceptable have long gone."

"If you say so, can I have a cuddle?"

“No, I'm hungry, where's that Chinese?”

***

Saturday started with a phone call from an Inspector at Truro Police Station.

"Good morning Miss Young, this is Inspector Willis, it's concerning your complaint."

"Good morning Inspector, it was my partner DS Grieve who put in the complaint. Anyway, seeing as you know my name, have we met?"

"Yes, several times, it was just my luck to be the duty Inspector this morning and I recognised your voice." He laughed.

"Ah, I remember, Treliske Hospital."

"Guilty as charged."

"Okay, now we know who we are, what's happening?"

"Albert Smythe has been interviewed and investigations are ongoing."

"Albert? Do you mean Colonel Smythe?"

"His rank was self-appointed apparently."

"Oh, I wonder where he got that pomposity from?"

"He was station master at Newton Abbot, but I never told you that!"

"That would make him a Devonian then, oh dear - I wonder what would happen to his local standing if that information came out?"

"I see you're adapting to the Cornish way of thinking, Miss Young."

"I'm a fast learner, but it's always possible I have Cornish ancestry?"

"Worth looking into, it certainly helps down here."

"Now, what about your young Constable Smythe?"

"He's currently suspended and will be in front of a disciplinary board in due course, probably."

"I do feel sorry for him, he was most likely bullied into visiting us to obtain information."

"I can understand that but other complaints have now been made, which I can't disclose."

"Understandable, Inspector."

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No thank you, but I appreciate your call."

"Not at all, are you planning anything today?"

"No, just going down to Trago Mills at Falmouth, why?"

"I need to make sure the appropriate response teams are in the right places."

***

"Sophie, do you think he was being serious?"

"Of course not, but we'll change our plans just in case."

"Now, are you kidding me?"

"No, there's no way we could carry out any discrete surveillance if there's a uniformed unit nearby, even if no-one knows why they're there."

"So?"

"Let's do a jigsaw."

If anyone had really been keeping tabs on Heather and Sophie then they would have wasted their weekend. The girls dutifully submitted a joint report to Emily and Jenny covering the Smythe family encounters, complete with the video package before joining the many raiding parties heading for Tesco.

Back indoors the slow cooker was loaded with the evening's meal before a five thousand piece jigsaw was pulled out of a box. The spacious coffee table in the lounge was cleared of any detritus, then it became serious.

***

What was odd on Sunday morning, when Heather went to collect the newspapers, were the number of nods and silent thanks she received. They were achieving acceptance in the community because someone had challenged the local bigotry, how ironic.

Back indoors she sat with the Sunday edition of the Western Morning News, perusing the local news before that weekend's Observer. On page two she caught sight of a short story:
 

Police quiet about ongoing operation in Falmouth

 
There were scant details other than the operation was centred in Falmouth harbour and had started the previous teatime. She showed the article to Sophie, having checked there was nothing similar in The Observer. A Google News search for 'Falmouth' had similarly returned only the one recent result.

"What do you think?"

"On the basis of that information, nothing much. I'd admit it would be a huge co-incidence based on what you said to that Inspector and our maybe tip-off but we had no definite information and neither did Devon and Cornwall Constabulary, as far as I know."

Much later in the day, the local BBC South West Today news bulletin repeated that an operation was ongoing, adding that the police were not releasing any details before Monday.

Around 8pm the phone rang, a tired-sounding Inspector Willis apologised for the late call.

"Could you both be at Truro Police Station at eleven in the morning for a press conference?" He rang off before Heather could voice her objections.

"What are we going to do?"

"Heather, calm down, firstly we don't know if Inspector Willis intends to put us in front of the press or whether it relates to this investigation in Falmouth or maybe even the St Mary's case."

"But St Mary's is finished?"

"The ground work should be complete, it may just be he wants us to give his team a briefing?"

"We can't do that without Jenny and Emily's agreement, can we?"

"No, but we can't give that as a reason in public, not even to Inspector Willis. We need to know why we're wanted in Truro tomorrow before we have a clear idea of what we can say or do. Remember, your cover is as an accountant so it's not unreasonable for you to appear at a press conference."

"But usually only if the client doesn't object, there's always an issue of confidentiality of course."

"Well, why don't you go upstairs and send an email to our illustrious leaders explaining what we know, maybe they can find something out for us, we need to be out of shortly after ten if we do have to drive over to Truro so explain we need an answer by ten latest."

"Okay, but I have a nine o'clock appointment with Doctor Wilson."

"Can you postpone it?"

"Not until nine in the morning when the surgery opens, so I might just as well be there."

"Oh well. Best send that email while the information's fresh."

***

"So how are you feeling today Heather?"

"If you're asking whether I'm feeling tired then the answer is no, the iron tablets appear to be working."

"That's good, but there's something troubling you, isn't there?"

"Yes, but it's not medical. I've been called to a police press conference this morning and I don't know why."

"That would get me worried too, so that's nothing strange. Anyway, I have your bloods back and your red cell count was down but that should have been corrected by the iron tablets. I have also been able to obtain earlier blood results from Dr Hughes once I found him, he works for the Metropolitan Police and the Home Office. Anyway, the results he sent had no name on them so I'll assume they were taken under a different name."

"You know I can't answer that."

"I guessed so; the earlier results showed a similar issue before you started iron supplements so I can't see a long-term problem here, although I will take some more blood today for confirmation."

Heather finally left at nine thirty, after promising to persuade Sophie to make an appointment for herself. She spotted Albert (formerly Colonel) Smythe at the end of the street, she could have sworn he snarled at her. It mattered not as she turned down a side road towards the cottage.

Inside, Sophie was in the office and checking for an email reply but the secure phone started ringing instead.

"Hello?"

"Ah, Sophie, it's Emily."

"Hello, what have you found out?"

"Not much, they're being very cagey. I have warned the duty Inspector that any actions likely to expose your activities will result in a summons to New Scotland Yard, but that didn't faze him."

"What's your advice then?"

"I'd say that you go along with this Inspector Willis' request but you do not have to be put in front of the press nor say anything you shouldn't. See what intel you can find out whilst you're in the building, however, and treat this as an opportunity."

"Okay, boss."

The call ended before Heather let herself in through the front door at nine forty, Sophie was already on her way down the stairs.

"Hi honey, I'm home!"

"Come on Heather, this isn't an American sitcom."

"Maybe not but I'm in a good mood."

"Oh dear, that could be dangerous. Coffee?"

"Please."

They headed to the kitchen where Sophie brought Heather up to date.

"So we have to go?"

"No, we don't have to do anything but Emily wants us to investigate, learn anything we can."

"Okay, I best get my face sorted."

She was walking past the house phone when it rang.

"Ah, Miss Young?"

"Inspector?"

"Yes, I'll be sending a car for you at ten fifteen so please be ready."

"Thanks for the offer but we still don't know what you have in mind and whether we can trust you?"

"That's cruel, can you allow me to say that I think you'll enjoy the experience? I'll see you soon."

He rang off. Sophie had been close enough to hear the conversation, but just shrugged.

***

"Good morning I am Inspector Willis, and welcome to the Devon & Cornwall Constabulary weekly press conference, being held today in Truro. As usual we'll take limited questions after each item but please bear in mind that time is limited."

Inspector Willis had apologised to Heather for teasing her but explained she would not be put in front of the cameras or even asked to speak to the press without her permission. Her and Sophie were now stood at the back of the room that hosted the press conference.

"Our first item is the weekend's operation in Falmouth. This is an expansion of an exercise which started last week in the Scilly Isles to inspect licensing for small boats as well as checking for evidence of smuggling. This weekend has seen a large scale boat survey in Falmouth, working alongside our colleagues from HM Coastguard along with HM Revenue and Customs, which resulted in eight arrests for a variety of offences. Enquiries are continuing and we would expect to see more arrests in the near future."

There were a barrage of questions from the journalists, which the Inspector answered.

"Yes, Customs are talking to a number of people concerning the alleged importation of narcotics and misuse of marine diesel in road vehicles but that's all I can say on the matter as unfortunately they didn't have anyone available for this press conference.

“We have also located several missing boats as well as identifying stolen outboard motors and other equipment. It was a good result and the teams are to be applauded. This will be an on-running operation against maritime crime and we'll be visiting as many of the smaller ports as possible, including Mousehole, Looe and Penmarris over the next few weeks."

There were a few more questions then Inspector Willis moved onto other items before finishing.

"Finally, the proposal for the operation in Falmouth came from this officer, Sgt Taylor of St Mary's," Marc walked into the room and took a seat next to the Inspector. "Sgt Taylor explained to me that he was conducting virtually a one man survey on St Mary's but some of the West Cornwall ports would be good places to look for smuggling routes as well as recovering stolen maritime equipment. I then found out that it was Sgt Taylor's twenty-fifth anniversary in the Police Service this week."

He paused and gestured Marc to stand.

"I'd like to present you with a long service award to mark your quarter-century with the Police, almost all of which has been with Devon & Cornwall Constabulary."

He handed over a plaque and shook Marc's hand, immediately the room was filled with camera flashes and shouted requests for comments. Marc uttered a few words but wasn't that keen on talking to the press.

As the press were escorted off the premises Inspector Willis and Sgt Taylor came over to the girls, who both gave him a hug and a kiss.

"Don't embarrass me in front of the boss, please!"

"Now, Marc, you're now off duty, as I will be shortly, why don't we all reconvene in the City Inn across the road in a few minutes?"

"I need to get back to St Mary's for the afternoon shift?"

"That's been covered, now enjoy yourself for once and we'll have you back there for this evening."

The City Inn was on the same road as the police station, just on the far side of the main Penzance railway line, so they were stood in the bar a few minutes later.

One of the journalists who had been in the press conference walked over as soon as the first group had their drinks.

"Hello Sgt Taylor, I'm Vic Harris from the Western Morning Herald, do you mind if I ask a few more questions?"

"I'm afraid I do mind, I'm now off duty and with friends."

"Ah, yes, I saw you in the press conference but you didn't say anything?"

"That's right and we're not saying anything now. Good bye." Sophie was not happy to see the reporter.

"That's not very polite, I don't even have your names."

"And you're not going to get them, please leave."

Inspector Willis walked in, although he was still in uniform, and ordered an orange juice. He spotted Vic Harris and warned him to stay away.

"I hope he wasn't a problem?"

"He was becoming a nuisance."

"He has a tendency to do that, anyway I had a message passed to me when I reached my office, concerning the two of you."

"Really?" Heather could guess what was coming.

"It appears someone in London is making sure I don't take advantage of you."

"I wouldn't put it that way, you just didn't come clean with us as to why we are here today so we had to inform our managers."

Out of the corner of her eye, Sophie could see the reporter now had a mobile phone in his hand. She checked that Heather had her back to him as Sophie reached inside her bag for a little device, enabling it.

"Inspector? I guess we'll lunch here but are we expecting others?"

"Please call me Bob, and yes to both questions."

"Could I suggest we move to a quieter area then, in case anyone starts to talk 'shop' with that reporter nearby.

They stood and found Vic Harris quite close but having obvious trouble with his phone. The group moved to a restaurant area and commandeered several tables whilst Sophie went to the bar to explain what they were doing. She made certain the reporter wasn't far away from her until he decided to leave the pub having failed to get what he wanted.

There was a gentle flow of well-wishers who went into the City Inn either on their way into work or on their way home. A few stayed for lunch and a drink but few enjoyed the real ale, wines or other alcoholic beverages available. By consent, the girls just had one glass of white each with their lunch.

Sophie finally switched off the jammer, when she spotted several customers trying to make calls. Almost immediately her own phone beeped, it was showing a security alert at the cottage.

"Inspector, Bob, we have a security alert at our cottage, someone has tripped the sensors in the garden and they're still there."

"You'll need to ring it in."

"Our security control will already have done that and given that there are several sensitive items there this will be treated very seriously, we need to get there."

The inspector's phone rang. "Hello, I thought I was off duty? Oh, I understand - on my way."

"Apparently I'm the only senior officer cleared to the appropriate level, we best get moving."

Thankfully they weren't running a tab and had paid for drinks and food as they went along so leaving in a hurry wasn't going to create a problem later. As they came out of the far side of the tunnel under the railway line a police vehicle was waiting outside Castle House, home of Truro's police station. Sophie spoke to the driver.

"Are you pursuit trained?"

"No."

"Bob, Inspector, I'm qualified, five years with diplomatic and royalty protection."

"Get in the front then, Constable I'll still need you to drive me back so sit with Miss Young in the back and keep your hands where I can see them!"

The ten miles should have taken twenty or more minutes along the but Sophie managed it in fourteen although the rear seat constable was not comfortable and looked like he was going to ask to get out.

Another unit had arrived at the cottage in the meantime and were wondering how to retrieve the young Arabic looking man who was refusing to leave the walled garden and evading attempts to persuade him. There were an increasing number of people squeezed into the lane that ran behind the dwellings and so far none of the police had dropped into the garden themselves.

Neither if the girls fancied the idea of a chase, Buster Keaton style, through the cottage or rampaging police officers trampling across the pristine lounge; their jigsaw was still on the coffee table, incomplete.

Figuring the intruder could come out the way he went in Sophie moved away from the others to speak to the plainly frightened young man. She reached out her hand, as a friendly gesture.

"Out!"

He complied immediately, surprising the uniformed, male, officers. Given that no-one was trying anything more than stereotypical loud English in attempting to communicate with the lad, Sophie tried a few languages to find out his name. It turned out that he spoke French, of the Maghreb variety.

"He's Ahmed Malek, Algerian, his family own the Malek Kebab take-away in town. I think you'll find he'll give you a name when you interview him."

***

The next few days saw some activity in Redruth as Albert Smythe was given a suspended sentence of twenty eight days by the local magistrates for antisocial and threatening behaviour plus issued with an ASBO. Ahmed Malek was not prosecuted as Heather and Sophie did not want to attract any more attention. By the end of the week a For Sale sign was outside the Smythe home and he was travelling back over the border into Devon, one nasty rumour said he was heading to Penmarris but that quickly changed to Torquay.

What took longer to deal with was the aftermath of the security alert. Jenny needed a full report, then insisted the police provided a report - meaning that Inspector Bob Willis had to prepare it. Of course, that also meant agreeing that he could not report on anything he might have learned whilst at the cottage.

Heather and Sophie settled down into a more peaceful existence, once Jimmy Ruddle's security team had checked over the cottage systems. One extra security measure, following the incident, was the addition of trellising along the walls, covered in a thorny vine. High tech it wasn't.

Heather was now handling research into some data that Jenny had sent down, looking for patterns where none existed whilst Sophie was visiting some of the Cornish ports that that looked promising, avoiding those that had just been inspected by the local Constabulary.

***

Sophie was in the beautiful fishing port of Mevagissey a week later, wandering by the harbour with a camera and a notebook, when Vic Harris, a local journalist, walked up to her.

"You're taking a keen interest in boats and you seem pretty chummy with the police, so who are you?"

"Right now I'm a Cornish resident visiting a lovely fishing village and I guess that makes you someone who wants to ruin my day."

"Come on, you and that lady friend of yours are very friendly with the plod and did I see you driving a police car with the blue lights turned on?"

"I have no idea what you saw, please excuse me."

Sophie walked bristly away, but was aware that this time the reporter was able to snatch a few photos of her. She walked into the Harbour Tavern and ordered a coffee, sitting by a window overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. It seemed unlikely the reporter would disappear soon so Sophie's coffee break turned into a lunch break whilst she made notes.

At this time of the year the number of tourists was low, but you could still hear English, American, Australian and many other voices. Some were following the tourist trail, others reclaiming lost heritage. Of course sometimes it's a load of codswallop, there is no personal heritage, but does it matter so long as everyone enjoys themselves?

Not enjoying himself, however, was Vic Harris. He was not on expenses and had left a packed lunch in his car which was parked in the River Street Car Park, a few streets back from the harbour. In the end, a need to use the public loos, plus a desire for his, now, lukewarm coffee and a lousy sandwich dragged Vic away from his observation post. Sophie saw him walking away, up the narrow lane beside the pub, and had driven out of the village before he had reached his car.

Fortunately he hadn't seen which car she'd arrived in so spent half an hour of wasted time after his lunch looking for her before giving up.

Sophie drove the short distance into St Austell, not wishing to declare the day a write-off, and headed to Charlestown in Carlyon Bay to have a look at the boats there. A few chats with the locals told her that the local police and Customs operation hadn't reached here as yet.

What she found was a near complacency to visiting yachts and pleasure craft with no local suspicions to strangers, given the vibrant tourist trade. There was also a large population of retired folk from elsewhere in the UK - and further afield - taking advantage of the exceptional climate that Cornwall enjoys most of the year.

This concerned Sophie as it was plainly good conditions for illicit activities, so long as repeat arrivals by the same boat didn't arouse suspicion. She pondered this and surveyed the larger boats in the harbour.

One was registered in St Malo, France, another was from Antwerp, Belgium, plus the usual smattering of English, Welsh and Irish tubs. None of the locals, when asked, were familiar with any but the more local boats and hadn't seen the foreign boats before.

Sophie's day changed when a gin palace breezed into the bay from the West, dropping an anchor in the deeper water some way from her position before lowering a rigid inflatable into the water from the stern. Sophie's long lens captured the name of the boat - 'Ventureur' - registered in St Helier, Channel Islands.

The RIB sped across the bay to a beach on the eastern side with two individuals on board, dropped a passenger plus a large sports bag on the beach then returned to the Ventureur. Sofie's camera captured them but, given the distance, the images were not the highest quality.

The entire operation, from arrival to recovery of the RIB and departure, took fifteen minutes and stunk like hell. On the far side of the bay the passenger had disappeared, if he'd been picked up by a car then she hadn't seen it.

Enquiries with locals didn't help, many hadn't seen the drop and no-one knew the boat concerned. Sensing that she might not achieve much more Sophie walked back to her car and drove home. The following day they were off to London, thankfully not on the early train. She would have to see if the mystery passenger could be identified.

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To be continued

Unaccounted Gains Books 3 & 4 are also available on Kindle