Without a Trace

by Mari Hannah

  ‘Will do. Is Jo here?’

  ‘No, she’s with Irene.’ Kate took in his anxiety. ‘Armed unit on site, Hank. They’re well protected.’

  Reassured, he focused on something over her shoulder. ‘Mr Happy, your six o’clock.’

  Kate turned to find Bright heading in, the door to the incident room slamming shut behind him. A man on a mission with a scowl on his face, he had an A4 document under his arm. He didn’t approach either of them. Never one to stand on ceremony, he could probably guess the state of Irene without the need to spell it out.

  At 00.50 Bright took up position at the front of the room, a signal that a difficult briefing was about to begin. Phone calls were hastily ended, whispered conversations too, everyone keen to get it underway. There was important work to be done before anyone retired for the night.

  Bright cleared his throat. ‘I’d ask for a minute’s silence to remember Robbo, except he’d want you out there looking into his death. There are other ways we can pay tribute to him, as a mate and a colleague, like apprehending the bastards who took him down. It won’t be easy, given the individuals involved, but there is no better murder investigation team in the force to do it. I’m counting on each and every one of you to give it your best shot – and so is Irene.’

  Kate had rarely seen her guv’nor so distressed. He was as deeply saddened by the loss of a young DS as any detective in the hushed room. Like the rest of them, he’d work tirelessly to bring about a result. A Detective Chief Superintendent wouldn’t normally involve himself in an individual murder enquiry. He was the CID’s commander-in-chief, a delegator, an overseer, but this time he intended to be hands-on.

  What he said next didn’t surprise her.

  ‘From this point on, I’m the SIO, the face of this enquiry. No one else gets a mention in the press. In case you’re in any doubt, I’m not pulling rank or grabbing headlines. My involvement has nothing to do with the fact that your guv’nor wasn’t here when we began the enquiry into Nikolaev. It’s because every one of you in this room and every member of your family could be under threat. DCI Daniels will act as my deputy.’

  Kate didn’t argue. There was little point. He was taking over for all the right reasons.

  Bright nodded to Carmichael.

  Using a remote control, she uploaded an image of Robbo lying dead on the street. You could hear a pin drop.

  ‘Take a good look,’ Bright said. ‘Because if any of you make your mouth go about this investigation, you’ll be pinning a target on your back. So keep your gobs shut. You tell no one that you are part of this enquiry – and that includes your loved ones. If you’re out on the streets, protect your anonymity at all times. I know this will be difficult, but you’ll be issued with business cards with no names, just a number. This is a linked incident, but I’m not remotely interested in Nikolaev. As far as I’m concerned he can rot in hell, but if we identify his killer, we’ll find the person who took Robbo out.’

  ‘Sir?’ Maxwell’s hand was up. ‘Surely Nikolaev’s men are responsible for this.’

  ‘Theoretically,’ Bright said. ‘There’s a turf war on our patch between rival factions. Robbo was caught in the middle of it. Our target could be on either side, so no jumping to conclusions. These are thugs, the like of which you’ve never come across. These evil bastards will rock you off without a second thought. They’ll waste anyone who gets in their way, so be on your guard. Kate, as soon as Jo is free, I’d like to see her. Carry on.’

  76

  If Bright had been trying to put the frighteners on the MIT, he’d succeeded. He was doing it for their own good, trying to instil a sense that the team were not dealing with a straightforward murder enquiry but one that would take on a life of its own. He was also putting the target on his own back rather than theirs.

  Everyone in the incident room knew it.

  ‘Let’s not sugar-coat this,’ Kate said. ‘We’re dealing with the execution of a serving police officer. This investigation isn’t just personal for the team and the force, it’s personal for the families of every single passenger on 0113. We have multiple victims. As the guv’nor said, we don’t yet know who is responsible, only that it involves a fight for supremacy. This has a cartel signature all over it. We believe that Nikolaev took out a major player whose ID has yet to be established. Others are working on that. Hank and I are here to get a handle on who’s in charge following Nikolaev’s death. The only way we do that is to lean on people.’

  Detectives were jittery. Understandably so. Leaning on an informant was what had put Robbo on a cold slab in the morgue. No one was keen to follow, but it would be a neglect of duty if she didn’t reinforce Bright’s warning in the most graphic terms. The situation they were facing was all too real, not some Sunday-night TV cop show make-believe.

  There was nothing entertaining here.

  Pushing home the dangers might save lives.

  ‘You’re right to be anxious,’ she continued. ‘Most of us have never worked on an investigation of this nature, including me. The guv’nor has. He’ll be on hand to share his insight. Each time these thugs are taken down, they regroup, more resourceful and brutal than ever. The guv’nor has seen officers followed, homes trashed, burned down even, families moved to safe houses in order to protect them. He learned a lot from the experience, and you will too. We’ve lost one colleague. Let’s make sure we don’t lose another.’

  Kate paused, scanning the room.

  ‘The people we’re up against treat everything like a military operation, and that’s what we’ll be doing from now on. The good news is, we have assistance from American law enforcement. My contact in Homeland Security has put the DEA on alert.’ Kate focused on Hank, his chance to pitch in, an opportunity for her to take a breather.

  ‘They have clout we can only dream of,’ he said. ‘Thousands of agents and intelligence analysts who’ll offer operational support. Through their domestic field and foreign offices, they have global reach, so while we sleep, others will work and vice versa. The investigation will have twenty-four-hour cover.’

  ‘He’s right,’ Kate said. ‘The Serious and Organised Crime Agency, surveillance teams, armed and technical support units, are all on standby. From this moment on, pubs are off limits. All service vehicles will be equipped with dashcams. Private cars are out, too. They’re too easily traced. You’ve all been trained in counter-surveillance. Employ those techniques religiously. We need to close this down, mount a coordinated strike on any suspects we identify, but first we need to find them.’

  Since she’d mentioned the Drug Enforcement Administration, a federal law agency that came under the US Department for Justice, she’d noticed the team change gear. Aware of the DEA’s ability to track down and prosecute the big guns who perpetrated violence on an industrial scale, to seize and forfeit assets in an attempt to stop drug-trafficking, Kate no longer needed to raise the heads of the detectives facing her. They were on starter’s orders, paying attention, note-taking, everyone prepared to do their bit in what she considered would develop into the fight of their lives, something she decided not to dwell on now.

  She singled out Carmichael. ‘Lisa, you were working closely with Robbo in the days leading up to his death. Walk us through what you know.’

  77

  It can’t have been easy for a detective so young in service to brief the team on a high-profile murder investigation with the head of CID looking on at one o’clock in the morning, especially when she’d been on duty since seven a.m. and had lost a colleague. Lisa Carmichael rose to the challenge. ‘We have no forensics on Nikolaev’s killer,’ she said. ‘No witnesses either. It had all the hallmarks of a professional hit, probably someone from out of town.’

  ‘That’s all we need,’ someone mumbled. ‘A high-level enforcer on our patch.’

  ‘Robbo said at the time that the easiest and best way to kill was from a distance.’ Carmichael paused a moment. A slight wobble. ‘Nikolaev’s house is way off the beaten trac
k, guv. We used ANPR to clock any suspicious vehicles on the main roads.’

  As she talked, Bright caught Kate’s eye from across the room. He’d not been winding her up when he told her that Robbo was on his game. It sounded like he’d done everything right.

  ‘Who has the ANPR report?’ Kate asked.

  Maxwell’s hand went up.

  ‘Any joy?’

  ‘There were a couple that fit the profile of the vehicles Nikolaev’s crew use, one of which we’ve since ruled out. It belongs to a legitimate businessman who just happens to like privacy glass. The other fell off our radar when it turned off the A1 heading north. It’s registered to an Edinburgh address but we’ve yet to trace its owner. I wouldn’t hold your breath, guv. Nikolaev’s crew would be using dodgy plates. I doubt it’ll take us anywhere.’

  Kate took in the sea of sombre faces crammed into the incident room. ‘Look, you all need some kip, but the key to this is Robbo and what he was working on. That’s what I’m after before you go home, then we’ll regroup at first light. Lisa, carry on.’

  ‘He was liaising with the drug squad,’ Carmichael said. ‘Trying to establish who in Nikolaev’s crew might have stepped into a dead man’s shoes. There were several candidates, but his alleged successor was his youngest son, Marat. He’s our best bet.’

  ‘Based on what?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Word on the street. He’s lying low.’

  ‘Yeah, probably directing operations from elsewhere,’ Maxwell said.

  ‘Do we have Robbo’s mobile?’ Kate asked.

  A nod from Carmichael. ‘I found it locked in his drawer.’

  Kate eyed the only desk unoccupied, the words ‘dead man’s shoes’ echoing in her head. Or maybe it was empty out of respect for a valued detective none of his peers had yet had time to grieve. She scanned their tired faces, thinking about her meeting with Brian and the measures she’d taken beforehand, ensuring she wasn’t followed, ordering Hank to stay away. ‘Am I the only one who thinks Robbo dumped his device because he went out to meet someone iffy and perceived a risk?’

  ‘No, guv.’ It was the first time DC Andy Brown had contributed. He pointed to a row of pegs on the wall by the door. ‘His coat is here, too. His wallet and warrant card were in his breast pocket. It seems to me that he left them here for that very reason. It begs the question as to how his killer knew he was a copper when he wasn’t carrying ID.’

  Kate felt her stomach roll.

  This is your chance to shine, mate.

  ‘The last time I spoke to him, I asked him to talk to Pete Brady in the drug squad and tap his informants. Robbo hadn’t fed back on either action. Either he was still in the process of intelligence-gathering or he’d made a connection he was keeping to himself. Which is it?’

  No one spoke up.

  Kate’s eyes momentarily found the floor. Had Robbo pushed too hard, trying to impress? Had she? He was her responsibility. Hers. A heavy weight settled in her chest. She was struggling to breathe, guilt adding to her sense of loss. Clearing her throat, she looked up, refocusing on Carmichael, grateful that the after-effects of her mild concussion had now passed. ‘Where’s the mobile?’

  ‘With technical support, guv. They’ll have a report for you by morning.’

  ‘I also want an audit trail of all enquiries Robbo was working on, a printout of the actions he took personal responsibility for, any internet and PNC searches he carried out. That might give us a clue as to what prompted him to leave the office and where he might have gone. If he was meeting an informant, I want him or her found. Lisa, first thing tomorrow find out if he carried out any vehicle checks. The rest of you, I want a minute-by-minute timeline of what he was doing in the last few days, specifically in the hours and minutes before he left the incident room last night.’

  ‘He was in and out,’ Andy said.

  ‘And how did he seem?’

  ‘Preoccupied.’

  Kate was good at reading people. Right now, Carmichael was avoiding eye contact. She wondered if the thought of Andy going through Robbo’s pockets had upset her and that she was trying not to let it show. ‘Lisa? Did you have anything else you wanted to share before we wrap up for the night?’

  She did, everyone could see it.

  Finally, she spoke up. ‘I promised Robbo I wouldn’t say anything, guv.’

  Kate locked onto her so she couldn’t look away. ‘He’s dead, Lisa. You don’t get to decide what you do and don’t disclose, so spit it out, right now!’

  All eyes turned to Carmichael.

  She was uptight, face flushed, eyes filling up, lips trembling. Whatever she was keeping to herself was causing her a great deal of anxiety. The silence in the room was heavy with expectation, the atmosphere like lead. There was no room for divided loyalties in police work. Kate had found that out the hard way.

  Bright admonished her – the thousand-yard stare – encouraging her to tread gently.

  The hell with that. Carmichael wasn’t the only one grieving. With an officer down, sparing her feelings wasn’t an option. Kate would push her if forced to. ‘Lisa, you’re tired and emotional, I get that. We’re all crushed by Robbo’s death and will miss him dreadfully. Some of us have worked with him for a very long time, but if you know something you haven’t yet told us, you need to front up. Whatever it is will go no further than this room. You have my word.’ A smile. ‘You know I never break promises, right?’

  Carmichael laughed, then cried.

  She wasn’t the only one. A couple of mature detectives were wiping their eyes. Andy got up and handed her a tissue. Carmichael pulled herself together, apologising for her loss of control and for not speaking up at the first opportunity.

  ‘Robbo mentioned a woman he’d met at a casino. He wasn’t gambling again, at least that’s what he told me, but he was worried that the guv’nor might think he was and take him off the investigation. He didn’t know how he’d explain that to Irene.’ Carmichael paused. ‘He seemed to think that this woman might have information. I don’t know her name, only that she lives in Jesmond somewhere. I think he’d gone out to meet her.’

  78

  Kate stared out of the window at an empty car park. Practically every available pool car was in use so that detectives could flood the area and yet maintain a low profile in the search for the bodyguards who’d witnessed Nikolaev’s murder. They couldn’t afford to show the Northumbria Police insignia. Beyond the car park, on the sealed-off road outside Middle Earth, the forensic tent was visible, CSIs going about their business, a task that had resumed at dawn.

  Kate turned away from the window, relieved that Irene and Callum Robson were now out of harm’s way, along with many families of MIT detectives. They were hard at work, Kate and Hank providing the bridge between enquiries undertaken by the DEA in the United States and those carried out on home turf, law enforcement on both sides of the Atlantic doing their level best to disrupt drug-trafficking. Kate had also made use of Jo’s expertise, putting together a profile on the type of offender they were hunting.

  Her mobile rang: Robbo’s old friend, Pete Brady from the drug squad returning her call.

  She lifted the phone to her ear. ‘Pete, what have you got for me?’

  ‘Marat Nikolaev has just been spotted by two of my crew, guv. They have him under observation. What do you want them to do?’

  ‘Tell them to sit tight while I get a surveillance team organised.’

  ‘Seriously?’ He sounded bitterly disappointed. ‘He’s worth a punt, surely. My guys are ready to bring him in. The street is rife with theories. Most reckon he offed his old man in order to take control of the family business.’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it past him. He may even have ordered Robbo’s execution, but I have no evidence. Until I do, we sit tight. You know what he’s like. If we bring him in, he’ll run rings round us, or his brief will. Harassing the bereaved relative of a dead man, etcetera, etcetera. He’ll be claiming compensation before he walks. I have no grounds for ar
rest yet. Don’t worry, you have my word that he’ll be under surveillance, day and night. With any luck, he might hook up with the witnesses we want to question. Text me his location and I’ll send backup. The surveillance team will log his movements from now on.’

  ‘You’re the boss.’

  Sometimes she wished she wasn’t.

  As she hung up, she heard the text ping into her phone and deployed a surveillance team immediately. The phone was still in her hand when SAC Torres called to pass on her condolences. Bright had informed her of Robbo’s death. Her Homeland Security colleagues were still working their way through the 0113 passenger list with nil results against the world’s ‘Most Wanted’, and Kate appreciated the call.

  ‘It’s slow-going,’ Torres said.

  As Kate listened, her mind wandered to the enquiries the MIT had been carrying out prior to her arrival on home soil. The day before Robbo died, someone had seen him talking to Eddie Veitch, a sergeant who worked in the front office. It worried her. The two had played poker together with other guys from the station. They had done so for years, a few laughs, a few beers, until Robbo’s addiction got the better of him. Veitch claimed that the two had just been chatting, that he had no idea what Robbo was up to, and that’s where they’d left it.

  With Robbo dead, there was no reason for him to lie.

  Torres requested an update on the woman Robbo had gone out to meet.

  ‘Every woman in his address book has been spoken to,’ Kate said. ‘They’re mates, all of them. His wife confirmed it. In interview, they all checked out. The woman Carmichael referred to isn’t there, but she found out that Robbo was checking a list of logistics companies on the morning of his death. It turns out that he used to have a ‘lady friend’ when he was gambling. They’d fallen out of contact – until the day he died.’

  ‘You’ve spoken to her?’