Without a Trace

by Mari Hannah

  ‘A beating, you mean.’ Kate scanned the room. ‘Check out the bedroom.’

  As he wandered away, Kate continued to look around, though she didn’t touch anything. A forensic search of the premises was a job for others. Her priority now was to find Jackson, no easy task. If she’d spoken to Robbo, Kate suspected that she’d eat her words. She’d be the one with her throat cut, the one who’d been made to disappear, potentially another blind alley for the MIT.

  Kate heard movement, a creaky floorboard she hoped was Rossiter making his way upstairs next door. The noise caused her to look up. What she saw explained a lot. She called out. ‘Hank, get in here!’

  He arrived in the room. ‘No blood in there, Kate.’

  ‘Take a look.’ She pointed at loose wires dangling from the corners of the living room ceiling where CCTV had been ripped out. ‘That’s how they knew what Robbo looked like. All Jackson’s boyfriend had to do was to lie in wait outside Middle Earth, follow and rock him off, then deliver his body back to us.’

  There was a moment when neither detective spoke.

  Kate’s mobile rang, breaking the silence.

  ‘It’s Bright.’ She put the phone on speaker so Hank could listen in. ‘Go ahead, guv?’

  They expected their SIO to ask how things were going, to find out if they had apprehended Jackson and were bringing her in for questioning, but he had something more important on his mind. ‘Marr has been on the phone. Our man is at the casino.’

  Those twelve words turned the investigation on its head. Bright instructed all units to switch to a secure channel – identifying the number – ensuring that all transmissions from this point on were reserved only for those involved in the operation. No other police units would be accepted into the conversation.

  He disconnected.

  Kate summoned Carmichael, telling her that crime scene investigators should make their way to Jackson’s apartment and keep a low profile. They were not to enter until she had her target in custody. Any sign of forensic suits, in or near the property, might tip off their target before Kate got to the club.

  ‘When, and only when, he’s in custody are they to go in,’ she repeated. ‘Then I want them to tear it apart and report to me first thing in the morning.’ She blew out a breath. ‘I want a PNC marker for the R8 and Jackson and a low-loader for the Porsche for forensic examination. If she happens to turn up, which I very much doubt, she’ll report the car stolen and we’ll hear about it.’

  ‘I’ll make the call.’

  ‘You happy to hold the fort here?’

  ‘Yes, boss.’

  ‘Really? You’ve got a face like a slapped arse.’

  Carmichael wasn’t scared to be left alone in the flat. Any sign of trouble and the spotters outside would move in, as would armed response. No; the reason her face was tripping her was because she was dying to be in on the action.

  Kate changed her mind.

  Carmichael might be useful, before and after police hit the casino. She loved undercover work. Able to blend in with the movers and shakers, Lisa could go in first, make contact with Marr and give them the heads-up on where exactly the target was in relation to the entrance. Once the cuffs were on, she could hang around afterwards and listen to the chat following his arrest, assuming Kate made one. Operation Phoenix was in full swing.

  83

  The dash into town took minutes, Northumbria officers flooding the area from all directions. On Carmichael’s signal, they hit the casino mob-handed, arresting their target on suspicion of assault, a nod from Carmichael picking him out among his fellow gamblers, a clean strike. No injured personnel. No fuss. No fighting or shouting. Why should there be? These people had the finance to secure quality advice, the best legal teams money could buy. Mr Cool would be expecting bail in a matter of hours. Within no time, he’d be clocking up the Air Miles on his way to who knows where.

  Well, Kate would see about that.

  Taking him out the casino’s rear entrance, they loaded the piece of shit into a van that had been backed up to facilitate a quick getaway, two firearms officers getting in with him. They were both covered up, so as not to be identified. Kate gave Hank instructions to take them somewhere other than Middle Earth. If they went there, every officer and civilian leaving the premises was vulnerable. There was every possibility that his ruthless cohorts could mount an attack with automatic weapons when they left work.

  Take a SWAT team with you.

  Torres would be loving this.

  The undisclosed location was very close to the police armoury, a destination that would remain secret to all but a small team of trusted detectives. Each one had been vetted by Bright. All were trained in covert operations. As her watch ticked past midnight, Kate followed the armed convoy, confident that Bright would do this right. He’d had dealings with the IRA in the past and knew instinctively what they were up against.

  He called her.

  She could tell he too was in transit.

  ‘Kate, I’m on my way to you. This guy is bad news. I want no one within a hundred yards of him who can’t keep their mouths shut …’ As if she needed reminding that lives might be lost should news of the arrest get out. ‘Gotta go,’ he said. ‘I have a call waiting.’ He disconnected.

  Gates opened up ahead as the van approached, allowing them through. Kate followed them in. The van swung round in a wide arc, then reversed until it was almost touching an open door, at which point the suspect was bundled into the building and processed, all personal possessions removed: a Hublot watch worth the best part of thirty grand, a shedload of cash, a mobile phone that was sure to be a burner.

  Kate allowed the suspect to sweat while she grabbed a sandwich. The meal Jo had made for her had been abandoned on the stove. If she was awake in Kate’s office, she’d have heard the news and would be waiting for an update. With no time to take care of it, Kate sat down to work out an interview strategy. This was not going to be easy.

  While she was preparing, her mobile rang: Torres.

  Kate didn’t answer. She needed her focus on Mr Cool.

  A knock at the door. ‘Come!’

  Hank wandered in and sat down. ‘What did I say? Once an addict.’

  ‘Smart arse.’ Kate smiled. ‘It never occurred to me that the cocky bastard would return to the casino. Marr’s tip-off has put us in the driving seat.’

  Hank didn’t respond.

  She eyed the papers in his hand. ‘Tell me that is good news.’

  ‘Not really …’ He threw a post-mortem report on her desk. ‘As we thought, Robbo was shot four times in the chest, once in the back of the head. He was probably kneeling at the time. Bastards.’

  Kate couldn’t allow it to put her off her stride. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Yeah, the vehicle he was thrown from and the R8 have both been found on fire.’

  ‘Together?’

  ‘It seems that our man has friends. Someone knows he’s been lifted and they dumped the incriminating vehicles. Kate, it could be Marr. Maybe our suspect is expendable.’

  ‘Fuck! Kate exploded. ‘Get Carmichael out of there. Now!’

  ‘Calm down. An extraction is underway.’

  Hank didn’t often show his emotions – let alone fear – but on this occasion he did, despite what he’d just said. How could she calm down when all she could think of was the look of disappointment on Carmichael’s face when she’d asked her to stay behind at Jackson’s apartment, the fact that she’d allowed it to sway her decision to leave her there? Deploying her at the casino had placed her in grave danger.

  ‘Christ!’ Wanting to weep, Kate wiped her face with both hands. She couldn’t lose Carmichael. She couldn’t. ‘Does the guv’nor know?’

  ‘Who do you think is getting her out?’

  ‘He’s not. He’s on his way here.’

  ‘When he heard that the vehicles had been found, he diverted immediately.’

  Kate remembered the call waiting. ‘You should’ve told me, not h
im.’

  ‘I’m telling you now. He’s SIO in name only. This is your case and you have a credible suspect in custody.’

  Hank’s head went down.

  Kate misread him. ‘The vehicles are burned out?’

  ‘Not totally. It’s Guy Fawkes. The dash and splash were out in force. They happened to be driving by an allotment in the East End when they saw the flames. Thinking it was kids lighting a bonfire early, they went to investigate. They doused the vehicle and notified the control room.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘They found what looked like bullet holes.’ Hank looked away.

  There was more … Kate sensed it.

  She waited.

  Hank added, ‘Robbo’s watch was found concealed beneath the flooring. He hid it there for us to find, Kate. He must’ve known it was never going to end well.’

  84

  The suspect was uncooperative. He’d refused to give a name on the grounds that he’d done nothing wrong and had waived his right to a solicitor. That didn’t surprise Kate: unless he was being locked up for something and wasn’t getting out, why would he bother? The smirk he was sporting slid off his face when she arrested him on suspicion of the murder of a police officer, Acting DI Paul Robson, and an additional offence, the abduction of Stephanie Jackson. She didn’t mention that she had a credible witness.

  Rossiter wouldn’t live long if she did.

  Her suspect chose to exercise his right to legal counsel then, a London brief she suspected was on the payroll of his employer, whoever that might be.

  ‘As you wish.’ Kate gathered up her papers. ‘Make yourself comfortable. This may take a while. Me? I have all the time in the world. Detective Inspector Robson was one of mine. I look after my people in life and in death.’

  ‘So did she.’ His eyes were cold, full of anger and resentment.

  She? Oh God!

  Had Marr shafted them both? Kate didn’t react, but she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t wait to get out of there either. Wondering what the state of play was with Carmichael, it seemed to take an age to find the strength to stand. Pushing through the door, she stood against it, hyperventilating. Hank’s face was chalky white. As they proceeded along the corridor, the double door ahead of them swung open.

  Bright walked through it.

  Kate stopped walking, lost for words.

  Hank’s hand closed around hers, a gentle squeeze.

  ‘Carmichael’s fine,’ Bright said. ‘More than fine … she won fifty quid.’

  Kate laughed, then nearly wept, unable to suppress her relief.

  Covering his face with his hands, Hank turned away, a moment to compose himself, not quick enough to hide his emotional reaction to the fact that Carmichael was safe and well. In all the years they had worked together, Kate had never ever seen him so overwhelmed by news, good or bad, not even when Robbo’s body was tossed from a moving vehicle outside Middle Earth.

  ‘You two look exhausted.’ Bright spread his arms. ‘C’mon, group hug.’

  He sent them home. They’d have to wait till morning for the brief to arrive from the capital. The suspect refused a local one. Collecting Jo from Middle Earth, Kate hardly said a word until they arrived at her place, greeted by Nelson at the door. Kate gave the dog a pat, ruffling his coat, her mind on her suspect. She was stressing on how flimsy the evidence was against him. She was certain she’d be able to link him forensically to Jackson’s flat – Rossiter had witnessed him dragging her out of there into the R8 and would make an excellent witness. Jackson hadn’t been seen since – so no problem with the abduction allegation. That car and the van in which Robbo’s watch had been found were driven to the allotment and set on fire within minutes of the arrest at the casino. Unless they found something more, Kate was on dodgy ground.

  Was Marr that clever?

  It was clear that Robbo trusted her. At her own admission, she’d identified him as vulnerable. Had she picked him out as someone she might cultivate? Had what she’d told Kate been part of a dangerous game? Was she now warning them off, demonstrating her supremacy? On the flip side, A TIE action – to Trace, Interview and Eliminate her – had found nothing to link her to the underworld. She’d also run a successful business for years.

  If not Marr, then who had the suspect paid to tip off his crew?

  Kate needed the answers to those questions and more. Unsure if she could summon the energy to do battle with a top London brief who would tear apart uncorroborated evidence, unable to think where something more substantial might come from, she fell into bed. Bright had found Carmichael. For now, that was all that mattered.

  Kate slept badly, the face of Marr entering her dreams. It morphed into that of her suspect. They were tormenting her, laughing at her, images that faded away in slow motion, only to be replaced by one of Robbo and Irene, laughing at his birthday party, so very much in love. A lingering doubt woke Kate at four a.m., sweaty and unable to rest. Using her mobile’s torch to light her way, she slid out from under the covers, a backward glance as she reached the bedroom door.

  Jo was dead to the world, snuggled into her pillow, a strand of hair falling across one eye, her lips slightly parted, her chest rising and falling shallowly. The sight of her lying there was something Kate could never have imagined a couple of weeks ago. Sneaking down the stairs, she entered the kitchen, closing the door before turning on the light.

  The floor tiles felt refreshingly cool beneath her feet.

  Turning on the tap, she filled a glass with water, helping herself to a couple of Paracetamol. There was an A4 pad on the counter. Grabbing it and a pen, Kate took them to the table and sat down.

  85

  An hour later, and no further forward, Jo’s arms enveloped Kate from behind, a kiss on the top of her head, a gentle nudge that she should return to bed and get some sleep before she resumed her interview with her suspect and his high-profile London brief. Wise words, but Kate couldn’t rest. She stroked Jo’s hand, a show of affection to let her know that she was grateful for the support.

  Aware that she’d never get Kate back to bed, Jo made them a coffee, strong and black, then grabbed a chair and sat down. Pulling her dressing gown around her shoulders, tying the belt in a bow around her waist, her eyes found the scribbled notes spread out on the table, mostly questions Kate needed the answers to.

  Jo looked at her. ‘Does any of that make sense?’

  ‘Not much …’ Kate shared the nightmare that had kept her awake before she’d slipped out of bed, the fact that she felt woefully unprepared, dreading the day to come. ‘Sorry, I tried not to wake you.’ She tapped the notepad. ‘I’m going round and round in circles here, to be honest.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. Kate, you’re pushing yourself too hard. Everyone has a limit, and I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think you’ve reached yours. What is it that’s bothering you, specifically I mean? I might be able to help.’

  Yawning, Kate rubbed at her temples. ‘Bright said that Lisa was with Marr when he walked into the casino, sharing a drink and a snack would you believe, two punters taking a break from the gaming tables. As soon as Lisa clocked him, she realised that it was time to go. Neither of them seemed concerned about Marr—’

  ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t know is the honest answer.’

  The blinds were open but it was dark outside, the only light a hazy orange glow from a street lamp beyond Jo’s rear yard. Something moved outside, so quick Kate didn’t see what it was. It turned out to be nothing more than the neighbour’s cat, but it had produced a moment of fear, prompting her to get up and check that the door was locked and bolted. Pulling down the blinds, she turned to face Jo, spooked but trying not to show it.

  ‘Look, the less you know about this case, the better.’

  ‘I should know.’ Jo’s tired eyes flashed a reprimand. ‘Will you stop trying to protect me? I’m a professional, a fully paid-up member of the MIT, in case you’d conveniently forgotten. If
you don’t tell me, someone else will, so stop buggering about.’

  Kate sat down, half an eye on the door. ‘When I was about to leave the interview room, I told my suspect that Robbo was one of mine and that I look after my officers. He said, and I quote: “So did she”. Note the word “did” past tense. I took it as a heavy hint that he’d been shafted by someone high up in his organisation – a woman – and that Marr had played me and cut him adrift. I may have miscalculated.’

  ‘Slip of the tongue?’

  ‘I doubt that. He was angry, for sure, but also sad. I think he meant someone else.’

  ‘Like who?’

  ‘What if he was talking about Nikolaev’s victim, a woman on 0113, someone he looked up to and respected, the person whose death started all this killing?’ Kate took in the wall clock. ‘I have less than four hours before I resume interviewing.’

  ‘Then we’d better get dressed.’

  86

  They took a cab to Middle Earth. In the incident room, Kate sat down at the first work station she came to, logging on with her warrant card. Before she’d left London, the DEA had provided her with a large folder containing information she hadn’t had time to read, let alone digest. She asked Jo to fetch it from her office and start going through it while she accessed the passenger list.

  The clock was ticking.

  Collecting it, Jo sat down next to her, turning to the first page of the thick document, an index of all drug cartels and their personnel, living or dead, including the countries they hailed from, any significant arrests, indictments and periods in custody, the amount of violent murders they were thought to have been responsible for.

  ‘These figures are mind-boggling,’ she said. ‘I’m not talking about the body count. The amounts of money these people rake in is unbelievable.’

  ‘That’s probably the tip of the iceberg. For every name in there, there’ll be ten the DEA don’t know about.’ Kate glanced at the folder Jo was reading. The lowlifes listed had inspired many a book or film. It stuck in her craw to think that men and women who traded in other people’s misery had been immortalised in this way.