‘We have a witness placing you in Skelwith with a dog called Potter who belongs to the post office. Did he follow you, or did you take him for a walk?’
‘I wasn’t there.’
‘How long have you worked for Hampton-Dent?’
‘Never heard of them.’
‘Did you kill Joe Folly?’
‘Who?’
‘Is your head sore from when I twatted you in the face with a cane inside my house?’
Streeting grinned at this last question and Kelly knew it had been him. It was the jawline, the thin shoulders…
‘Have you always been an arsehole?’
They ended the interview.
They had him in custody and they’d get him on forensics. But his masters would remain at large.
It seemed that some people were indeed above the law, after all.
Chapter 65
TWO MONTHS LATER
The top of Helm Crag was covered in mist. It had taken her longer than usual to climb to the top because Kelly had done the whole horseshoe of Steel Fell, Calf Crag and Gibson Knott, finishing with the Lion and Lamb. The view from there was stunning when the mist lifted, as it did for a few minutes when she most needed it to. She sat down under the Howitzer, the prominent rock tower that marked the true summit. From here, she thought the ancient boulders which looked like a lion and lamb from Grasmere in fact looked like a piano, with a maestro playing Chopin, she imagined.
Up here, there was enough noise to know she was alive, but not enough to steady the anxiety she felt when she looked to the future and didn’t know what it held for her now. Some things had changed forever, and others had stayed the same. For the first time in her career, she’d accepted a half-baked resolution to a case that had taken over her life, and that of her team in such dramatic fashion. The visitors from across the pond had packed their bags and retreated in time to avoid UK law, and they’d taken Tilda’s body with them, and the man responsible. Whitehall said it was out of their hands. Nobody in the office of the legal adviser to the US Department of State was willing to suggest the extradition of Hank Hampton for matters relating to fraud, conspiracy or murder. Sandy Cooper, on the other hand, as a UK national, was available to feel the full hand of the law; however, Hampton-Dent money had reached over the Atlantic and scooped her up too, as if by magic, calling her an invaluable member of the diplomatic wing of the United States overseasterritorial mission on behalf of science, intelligence, technology and AI. Kelly, to this day, had no idea why they tagged on the AI, and she could only think it was to obfuscate the already lengthy and tedious extradition mechanism. Hampton-Dent’s website made no mention of Neurohydroxy-14 in their tribute to Tilda Dent. A stunning portrait of her had been posted as the header of every section of the Hampton-Dent page, as well as a gushing heartfelt testimony of their loss after their CEO died in a tragic accident in the English countryside, ‘doing what she loved best’.
The art world had celebrated the life of one of their best too and Kelly had read magazine spreads on what a terrible loss Angelina was to humanity. No mention had been made about her baby, and only a small nod to her brother, who’d ‘been troubled by grief’.
She knew they’d never see Sandy Cooper again this side of the Atlantic.
However, they had their patsies, at least nominally. Melvin Stone had been admitted under indefinite licence to a psychiatric hospital and Kevin Streeting was being held on remand until his trial date. He’d been attacked twice inside already. His DNA matched that found on Angelina’s body.
Lee Lovett had recovered from his car accident to give valuable testimony too. From the grave, Joe Folly also helped them after Ted – frustrated at being single handed for six weeks – had aided in the autopsy which discovered a USB in Joe’s gut. It contained everything he had on Hampton-Dent; all that was missing was the valuable insider knowledge that fitted everything together. That’s what he had missed. It’s what the mother of his child would never give him. His paternity had been established and the thought of a whole family being wiped out for the sake of a secret weapon haunted her every time she closed her eyes. Together, what they’d found inside Rydal Caves and what Joe Folly had swallowed as he was beaten todeath, they had their evidence that Hampton-Dent was indeed producing a chemical primer able to awaken nanotechnology planted inside somebody’s skull when programmed with 5G. But it wouldn’t see the light of day.
Johnny’s pal at the MOD had refused to talk again over the phone but had been happy to meet Kelly for a pint and he’d told her the Americans were now trialling the same concept using AI.
But nobody at the CPS had been interested in any of that, and counter terrorism had taken over the case, due to the sensitive nature of biohazards being involved. Kelly hadn’t heard from them since. And she knew she never would. The Nirvana Project bought Heron Hall, as well as nine other Lake District hotels, all devalued in price, and she was keeping a close eye on them, from afar, and she and Ted discussed it late at night, when they talked of conspiracy theories over a new Netflix show.
She’d been denied all contact with Paul and her gut regularly turned over when she thought of him and if he made it out of witness protection alive. Johnny had called in favours with counter protection mates but nobody was talking.
She looked across the valley and towards the town of Grasmere. This morning, she’d been on theWendy, Johnny’s boat which was moored permanently now at Derwent Water in the marina at Portinscale.
She felt most connected to her heritage when she sat inside the tiny cabin and gazed across the water.
‘You win some, you lose some,’ she said.
Johnny came up behind her and put his arms around her waist.
He grinned and he kissed her neck.
‘I’m sweaty,’ she complained.
‘And we’re childless for an afternoon,’ he reminded her.
