‘As I understand it, Katie,’ said Superintendent MacCostagáin, ‘you shouldn’t officially be here. Not while you’re under suspension.’
He said it kindly, not as an admonition, shrugging his shoulders at the same time to make it clear that her suspension hadn’t been any of his doing and that he didn’t agree with it.
Inspector Fennessy said, ‘He’s right, I’m afraid, ma’am. This makes things kind of awkward, like, to say the least.’
Katie approached the table and looked down at the map. She could see that there were red circles and arrows and rectangles drawn around the English Market.
‘Is that where you’re going to hand over the ransom money?’ she asked.
‘I’m sorry, ma’am,’ said Inspector Fennessy. ‘I can’t tell you what the arrangements are.’
‘I’ve just been talking to Detective Sergeant Ni Nuallán,’ Katie told him. ‘She told me about the phone call she took from Pat Whelan.’
‘Allegedly from Pat Whelan, but I doubt very much if it was really him.’
‘Why do you doubt it? What makes you so sure that the call wasn’t genuine?’
‘With respect, ma’am, the High Kings of Erin have form when it comes to “escaped kidnap victims” – in inverted commas.’
‘Have you told Jimmy O’Reilly about the phone call? He’s ultimately responsible for all of that money, after all.’
‘Assistant Commissioner O’Reilly and Chief Superintendent Molloy are both insistent that we get the hostages released unharmed. The surest way to do that is to pay the ransom. We can worry afterwards about how we’re going to get the money back.’
‘Yes, but have you told them about the phone call?’
‘I will be, of course. At the moment the superintendent and I are working on how to keep tracks on the High Kings of Erin once they’ve been paid.’
Before Katie could answer, Detective O’Donovan appeared at the door. When he saw Katie his eyes darted from side to side as if he was uncertain whether he should say anything or not.
‘What is it, Patrick?’ asked Inspector Fennessy. ‘We’re right in the middle of things here.’
‘Bill Phinner’s just called me,’ said Detective O’Donovan. ‘They extricated the remains that were found under the road surface at Lisheens and brought them back to the lab. Well, he said that there was more asphalt than body, but they’ve managed to identify him. It’s a he, and he’s headless, and the saw marks on the neck match the saw marks on Micky Crounan’s head. So it was Micky Crounan all right.’
‘Do we know who laid the asphalt?’ asked Inspector Fennessy. ‘That wasn’t a small job, like, and it was professional. Somebody must know who did it.’
‘We’re working on it,’ said Detective O’Donovan. ‘Bill Phinner said they would have needed a roadroller as well as an asphalt paver. The body was pressed about as thin as a paperback book, that’s what he said. Even without its head it was over two metres tall and one point eight metres wide.’
Katie said nothing. Although she knew that Kilshane Tarmac had laid the asphalt, she still didn’t know who the informant inside the station was. She had a very small edge over everybody else involved in this investigation and she didn’t want to give it away just yet – at least until she was officially reinstated. It was significant, though, that the body under the road surface had been positively identified as Micky Crounan. That meant that the High Kings of Erin had arranged the body’s interment, and that increased the likelihood that Acting Chief Superintendent Bryan Molloy was somehow connected to them.
‘Okay, Patrick, thanks,’ said Inspector Fennessy. ‘I’ll see you at thirteen hundred so, at the tactical meeting.’
When Detective O’Donovan had gone, Katie said, ‘Liam, is it okay if I have a quick personal word with you in private before I go? You don’t mind, do you, Denis?’
‘Not at all,’ said Superintendent MacCostagáin. ‘I need to go to the jakes in any case. Too many cups of green tea this morning.’
He left and closed the door behind him. Inspector Fennessy went over to his desk and pulled out a chair so that Katie could sit down, but she stayed standing.
‘Is this about Caitlin?’ he asked her. ‘She hasn’t been bothering you again, has she? I can have a word with her if you like, although I’d rather not, to be honest with you.’
‘No, Liam,’ said Katie. ‘It’s not about Caitlin.’
‘You’re all right, are you, ma’am? You’re sorting out this suspension business? I know that O’Reilly had to do it, as a formality, but what a time to lose you.’
‘Don’t worry about my suspension, Liam. This is more important. I’m pretty sure now that I’ve worked out what’s happening here, with these High Kings of Erin, and who they are.’
‘Really?’ he said, frowning at her. He sat down at his desk and the pale grey light from the window reflected in his glasses so that she could no longer see his eyes.
‘I haven’t tied up all the loose ends yet and I’m not quite ready to take it to the GSOC, but you need to be aware of this – although how you’re going to handle it, I’m not entirely sure.’
‘Why would you want to take it the GSOC?’
‘Because I’m one hundred per cent certain now that the High Kings of Erin are the Duggan gang from Limerick. And I’m ninety-nine per cent certain that they’ve been able to get away with so much because Bryan Molloy is obstructing everything we’re doing to catch them.’
Inspector Fennessy said, ‘Molloy! Come on, ma’am. I know you’re allergic to Molloy. You have every reason in the world not to like him. I can’t stand the scobe myself. But why would he undermine his own investigation? It doesn’t make any sense.’
‘He’s undermining it because the Duggans are blackmailing him.’
‘What?’
‘You know that the Duggans and the Quaid family were at total war with each other for years before Molloy took over as superintendent?’
‘Of course. But Molloy stopped that war overnight. You don’t have to like the man to recognize that he’s one of the best cops that Limerick ever had. But what are they blackmailing him for?’
‘It was the way he stopped the war between the Quaids and the Duggans. He secretly paid one of the Quaids to kill Niall Duggan. It was a Garda-financed hit.’
‘You’re codding me. How did you find that out?’
‘It was Donie Quaid who did it. He’s been dead a few years now, but before he died he left a letter admitting that he was the killer. To cut a long story short, the Duggans found out about it only a few weeks ago – just before the High Kings of Erin arrived here in Cork, coincidentally, and “kidnapped” Micky Crounan – in inverted commas.’
‘That’s still no proof that Molloy is being blackmailed.’
‘You’re right, and that’s why I’m not quite ready to take it to the Ombudsman. But I have other evidence that Molloy set up a racket some time ago that was also called the High Kings of Erin. No gangs involved – it was all senior gardaí soliciting bribes in return for dropping criminal charges and for wiping penalty points off driving licences.
‘The Duggans must have known about this racket, which is why they’ve called themselves the High Kings of Erin, too. It’s deliberate mockery. They’re challenging the Garda to take action against them, but they know we won’t because too many high-ranking officers were involved in it.’
‘But stall there for a minute,’ said Inspector Fennessy. ‘If what you’re saying is true, why didn’t the Duggans come out with all this before?’
‘Only one reason I can think of,’ said Katie. ‘They had probably been paying some of those bribes themselves, to escape whatever they’d been charged with, and if they blew the whistle on the High Kings of Erin they would have been rearrested.’
Inspector Fennessy stood up and walked to the window. It was raining again. He took off his glasses and chewed at the end of them.
‘What you’ve just told me, ma’am, Jesus. You’ve placed me in a
savage awkward situation here. You’re suspended, like, but now you’ve come in and accused the officer who suspended you of turning a blind eye to kidnap and extortion and murder – including two gardaí getting killed.’
Katie stood watching him for a while.
‘It’s your decision, Liam. And I’m not just talking about Molloy. I believe this goes further up the ladder. I’ve been given information that Jimmy O’Reilly was one of the original High Kings of Erin, too.’
‘Holy Mary, Mother of God,’ said Inspector Fennessy. ‘This doesn’t get any better, does it?’
‘No, it doesn’t. And it could get worse. Judging by their past records, it’s conceivable that O’Reilly and Molloy are not only aiding and abetting these kidnaps, but taking a cut of the proceeds. Molloy’s so-called consultancy has a very healthy annual income. Some of it comes from Crossagalla Groundworks, as we know, but it would be very interesting to discover where the rest of it originates.’
Katie didn’t mention Kilshane Tarmac or the company’s connection with Crossagalla Groundworks, but she did say, ‘One more thing. Molloy’s consultancy calls itself Flathead Consultants and “Flathead” was one of the High Kings of Erin.’
Inspector Fennessy was about to say something when there was a rap at the door and Superintendent MacCostagáin came back in. ‘That fecking hand-dryer!’ he complained. ‘It’s worse than a fecking force ten gale! Good thing I don’t wear a wig or it would have blown clear across the toilet and out the fecking window! Then somebody could have taken a potshot at it, thinking it was a crow!’’
He waited for Katie and Inspector Fennessy to laugh, but they both remained serious. Katie said to Inspector Fennessy, ‘I’m not in a position to tell you what to do next, Liam. But if I were you, I’d listen to Kyna’s phone call before I decided what action I was going to take.’
With that, she nodded to Superintendent MacCostagáin and left the office. She met only two gardaí on the way out of the station and both of them muttered, ‘Ma’am,’ but averted their eyes, as if they had passed a ghost in the corridor.
47
Katie drove home. There was nothing else she could do. She could only hope that Liam Fennessy had taken her seriously enough to listen to the phone call that was supposed to have come from Pat Whelan, and that he would either cancel the handover of the ransom money or spring a trap that would catch whoever came to collect it.
She had never felt so frustrated in the whole of her career. The more she found out about the High Kings of Erin, both past and present, the more confident she was that she could be very close to making some spectacular arrests. She was aware how devastating it would be for An Garda Síochána if Acting Chief Superintendent Molloy really was embroiled with the Duggans, and she was also aware that she would probably be the least popular officer in the entire force if she were to expose him.
But she saw this investigation as a crusade – a crusade to find justice for Garda Brenda McCracken and Detective Garda Nessa Goold, as well as the Pearses, Norman and Meryl, and Micky Crounan, and Derek Hagerty.
If she became a pariah, then so be it. At least she would have upheld the oath she had sworn when she became a garda – and she would have avenged her father’s dismissal, too, even if it was fifteen years too late.
The rain stopped and the sun came out as she arrived home. David’s Range Rover was parked in the driveway next door and there was smoke coming out of his chimney. She had thought of going to talk to him and trying to persuade him to withdraw his complaint against her, but she knew that he would simply take that as sexual surrender. She knew that the price she would have to pay for having her suspension lifted would be unwilling intercourse.
After she had hung up her raincoat she took two pairs of latex evidence gloves out of the inside pocket. She went into the living-room and laid the brown padded envelope that Jilleen had given her down on the coffee table. Then she went through to the kitchen to open the back door so that Barney could go outside. She filled the kettle and switched it on, although she didn’t really feel like a cup of tea. These past two or three days, she hadn’t known what she fancied to eat and drink, although she couldn’t stop thinking about pepperoni pizza which she usually hated.
She sat down on the couch in the living room and pulled on both pairs of evidence gloves before she tipped up the envelope and let the pistol slide out. A double thickness of latex would prevent any of her own DNA contaminating whatever DNA might still be found on it, if any.
She had correctly identified the pistol when she first glimpsed it in the Cauldron bar. It was a SIG Sauer 226, a heavy, full-sized semi-automatic that was issued to the armed response units of An Garda Síochána. Turning it over, she saw that the identification numbers had been filed off. That was no problem; it was almost always possible to restore the original numbers by chemical etching with Fry’s reagent or by sprinkling with Magnaflux magnetized filings. The numbers would show if the pistol had been taken from a Garda armoury or if it was a stray weapon that had come off the street. If it had been taken from a Garda armoury, it would be easy to find out which one and who had last signed for it.
Katie had to assume that Limerick’s crime-scene examiners would have kept the bullets that were taken from Niall Duggan’s body, and any ejected cartridge cases that had been lying around, so long as Donie Quaid hadn’t stopped to pick them up. If they had, this gun could be positively matched to Niall Duggan’s murder.
She slid out the magazine and was surprised to see that it was still loaded. It was designed to take ten 9mm rounds and there were seven left.
She put the gun back into the envelope and sat back on the couch. Everything that had happened to her in the past few days was churning round and round in her head like multicoloured clothes in a washing machine. She kept hearing Jimmy O’Reilly saying to her, ‘You can’t promote officers beyond their level of competence just because they happen to have a bosom,’ and she kept seeing Bryan Molloy behind him, smirking. She saw Jilleen walking down Nicholas Street blowing out smoke and she thought she could still smell her overpowering perfume. She saw Kyna looking pretty with her short blonde hair, but anxious-eyed, and Liam standing by the window, indecisively chewing on his glasses.
She closed her eyes. Within minutes she was fast asleep.
***
Her doorbell chimed. She opened her eyes and looked around her. The living room was gloomy now because the sun had disappeared behind the clouds again. She checked her watch and saw that it was 3.27. She had been sleeping for almost an hour.
The doorbell chimed again and this time Barney barked twice. He was still in the back yard and she would have to let him in. First, though, she got up from the couch and went into the hallway and called out, ‘Yes? Who is it?’
‘Delivery,’ said a young man’s throaty voice.
‘Delivery from whom? I’m not expecting anything.’
‘It’s from the Garda station. They said it was urgent.’
‘Okay. Hold on a minute.’
She thought, I know what it is. All the official documents relating to my suspension. Probably a caution, too, that I am not permitted to enter the premises at Anglesea Street or to engage in any discussions with other officers regarding ongoing investigations. Thank you, Jimmy O’Reilly. Thank you, Bryan Molloy. And most of all, thank you, David Kane.
She opened the front door. It was raining very softly, which made a prickling sound in the bushes. A young man was standing on the steps that led up to the porch – a young man with carroty-coloured curls and a face as pale as candle wax. He was wearing a brown trilby hat and a long trench coat with a tight belt around the waist.
Not far behind him, standing next to Katie’s car, was a young woman who must have been the man’s twin. She, too, had carroty-coloured hair, but much thicker and longer, whole bunches of carrots; but she, too, had a waxy-pale face, although her false eyelashes were black with mascara, so that her eyes looked like two spiders. She was wearing a yellow raincoa
t with a hood.
By the front gate an older man in an old-fashioned black rubber raincoat was standing, smoking a cigarette. His face was rough and reddish, and he looked like the sort of fellow you might see sleeping drunk in a doorway on Maylor Street.
‘Detective Superintendent Maguire, how are you?’ said the young man, smiling.
‘Aengus and Ruari Duggan,’ said Katie.
‘Oh, you recognize us?’
‘I’ve seen enough mugshots of you. Why wouldn’t I? What do you want?’
Aengus Duggan turned around to smile at Ruari and then turned back again. ‘I think it would be preferable for all concerned if we say what we have to say to you indoors. Won’t you invite us in?’
Katie had already noticed that Aengus had his hand in his right-hand raincoat pocket and that there was a lumpy shape inside it which was almost certainly a pistol. He had noticed that she had noticed, too, and that was possibly one of the reasons why he was smiling.
‘Who’s that?’ she said, pointing towards the man smoking by the gate. ‘That’s never Lorcan Devitt, is it?’
‘Oh, you’re good,’ said Aengus. ‘That’s Lorcan all right.’
‘Time hasn’t been very kind to him, has it?’ said Katie, narrowing her eyes so that she could see him better. ‘We need to update his mugshot and no mistake.’
‘Lorcan!’ called out Aengus. ‘Detective Superintendent Maguire says you look like a cream cracker!’
Lorcan didn’t answer, only laughed and coughed.
‘Well, let’s be going in, shall we?’ said Aengus. ‘Wouldn’t want to disturb the neighbours, nice posh street like this.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Katie. She could feel her heart beating hard and a crawling sensation up her back. She was trying to work out if she could step back and slam the front door shut before Aengus could pull out his pistol and shoot at her. The door wasn’t bulletproof, but if she threw herself backwards on to the floor she might be able to escape being hit.
Taken for Dead (Kate Maguire) Page 40