OK, so this Russian mafia bloke who’d owned them, Gleb Solokov, had been sighted in Berlin recently, and in Berlin the second biggest name in the Russian mafia was the Eugenov gang, who just happened to list organised prostitution amongst their hobbies. It prompted another scribble ‘could the Russian Mafia own the English brothels Davy identified?”
It brought a satisfied smile to the D.C.I.’s pale face. It might be Orgies Inc. after all. So…if the mafia ran the brothels in England, were the women there being forced to cooperate, and cooperate on what? And was the same bunch involved with Veronica Lewis’ parties?
The smile was followed by a frown. Why just England and here? What had happened to Scotland and Wales?
It prompted a shout of “DAMN, DAMN, DAMN!” and then a call to the office.
Why was it the further they got into this sodding case the less they understood?
****
Craigantlet Army Base.
Whether it was the finality of handing over his rifle and sidearm, or the seemingly petulant clang of the base’s gate behind him as he drove out, no longer dressed in the olive green of the tribe that he’d belonged to since he’d been twenty-two, but in a navy, too well cut to ever be called a demob, suit, but Ken Smith felt almost bereft. He’d left the military honourably so why the hell did he feel like he’d just been cashiered? And why had he wanted to smash his commanding officer’s face in when the crusty old bugger had handed over his discharge documents with a hurt, chastising look.
“Look, you lot, I’ve given you fifteen years of my life and now it’s time to do something else”, is what he’d wanted to say, but instead, like the good, obedient soldier he still was, he’d merely saluted, nodded and then spun sharply on his heel.
Those were the angry thoughts racing through ex-Captain Smith’s head as he drove over the hills as fast as he could without ending up in a field, but mixed in with them was the far less negative urge to yell ‘YAHOO!’ and drive straight to Lucia’s work to drag her back to his new apartment and bed.
Except that he couldn’t because, driven by duty as he still was, he’d promised to sort out their new passports for the holiday they had planned, the first one in years that he hadn’t known could be cancelled an hour before and then see him shipped off to some foreign war.
As he raked through the gears of his old TR6 and put his boot to the floor, the not so old soldier smiled to himself at all the freedoms that lay ahead.
****
Sir Thomas and Lady Dixon Park, Upper Malone Road.
Twelve o’clock had come and gone thirty minutes before, but Craig wasn’t as annoyed as he would normally have been at having to wait. He needed time to think, and while he usually did it in the comfort of his office, a view of flowers and trees and the sound of birds would do easily as well. While his eyes ran over his colourful surroundings aimlessly his mind was on other things, namely what the hell a German assassin using Russian guns had wanted in their tiny country. The upshot was a list of questions that had he known it matched Liam’s almost identically. Satisfied, the detective nodded them into his memory and finally began to care that Aidan Hughes was late. It was timely, as just then the D.C.I.’s odd gold-rust coloured Citroen pulled up on Craig’s passenger side and a moment later the Vice cop was in his car.
Craig turned in his seat and looked at him expectantly, as Hughes struggled with how best to frame his words. Finally, he abandoned the fight with a shrug and muttered a name.
“Moorfield.”
“Place or person?”
“Person. He’s a sergeant down in Vice.”
Craig nodded. “OK, so I take it he’s the one Karl passed the info to about the parties.”
Hughes gave an equivocal nod.
“What does that mean? Was he, or wasn’t he?”
It felt like he was pulling teeth.
After a few seconds, the D.C.I. answered like he was conceding.
“OK, he is.” Adding hastily. “But it wasn’t him.”
This was going to be good. In preparation for what was bound to be a convoluted story Craig moved back his seat and folded his arms.
“Go on.”
As if an invisible barrier had been lifted a smile lit Aidan Hughes’ lugubrious face and he sat forward eagerly.
“OK, so Tony Moorfield, one of the best Vice guys I know, and as decent as they come, so he gets the info from Karl and drafts a memo-”
Craig raised a hand, cutting him off.
“You’ve seen this memo?”
“Yes.” He thought again. “Well no, not the actual paper memo, but the file it was printed from. I’ve seen that. It’s on Tony’s computer, dated and all.”
It could have been written that morning, but computer forensics could soon tell them the truth. He waved the D.C.I. on.
“OK, so Tony. I worked with him for years. Really honest bloke. Never took a quick snort or a freebie with one of the girls like most of the lads.”
Craig’s eyebrows shot up. He wasn’t naïve about what went on undercover, but he’d rarely heard it admitted out loud.
“Were you one of that most?”
Hughes’s face was the picture of innocence. “Me, boss? As if.”
It wasn’t an answer and they both knew it, so the conversation continued as if Craig hadn’t asked.
“OK, so if Tony says he sent the memo then he definitely did.”
“Sent to?”
It prompted Hughes to do a quick scan of the area and the car’s rear seat. The latter earned him a snort.
“Do you think Liam’s hiding back there?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him.” The D.C.I. leant forward earnestly, as if he thought it was how secrets were meant to be exchanged. “Tony sent it to Harrison.”
Craig’s jaw dropped with a crack. Of all the police officers who might have been involved in the sex parties Terry Harrison hadn’t even crossed his mind, although, as his mouth closed again slowly, he didn’t know why not. Harrison was a well-known lecher and an infamous social climber who would do anything to speed up the police ranks, and if he could manage to combine the two activities he imagined that the D.C.S. would be a very happy man.
They had a mutual hatred forged through years of combat and he loathed Harrison, so why wasn’t he pleased that the man was implicated in such a mess? After a moment’s self-analysis Craig gave a shrug; he’d work out why later, right now they had a case to solve.
“And I take it Tony Moorfield didn’t hear anything further?”
“Only a call from Harrison telling him to forget it and destroy any trail.”
“Which thankfully he didn’t. Good man.”
Craig fell silent again as what the whole thing meant sank in. Not only was Harrison implicated in concealing the sex parties for two months, but for all they knew he might have been involved in the plot to kill the First Minister and help Beatrix Hass to escape. He’d certainly have had local snouts who could have organised her safe house; like all detectives Harrison would have acquired them as he’d progressed through the ranks.
But most informants they had enough on to turn would have had their prints in the system, and Des had been adamant that there’d been no traceable prints on the bed. Perhaps searching a different database might shed more light.
He suddenly realised that Aidan was staring at him.
“You look like you’re waiting for some words of wisdom, Aidan. Well, you’re out of luck, sorry. I’m going to need time to think about this one.”
He was answered by a smirk. “We could bug Harrison’s phone.”
It wasn’t a bad idea, but there was a problem.
“We’d need a warrant.”
“No problem. I can get one through Vice. We’re investigating a sex ring after all.”
“Except that Harrison’s oversees Vice and he’d need to sign it off.”
The smirk became a grin.
“Not this week. He’s on holiday. Geoff Hamill in Gang Crime is covering.”
Happy days. Something was going their way at last. Craig thought through the ramifications and then nodded.
“OK. But I’d rather use a tail with a directional mike. That way we’ll get Harrison’s calls whichever phone he uses. Put Jake on him, but only till tomorrow night.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s the party, and when we find out the venue I’ll need everyone there listening to what’s being said in that house.”
****
Berlin, Germany.
Vala Raske frowned at she stared at the video playing on her computer. Beatrix Hass at Demmin’s street market, Beatrix Hass stopping at a florist to buy tulips, Beatrix Hass sitting at a pavement café as if she didn’t have a care in the world. It worried her. No, correction, it disturbed her. Hass was making no attempt to hide herself, which either meant that she hadn’t spotted their man following her, or she thought she was flameproof even if she had. It spawned a list of possible reasons for the behaviour, top of which was that Hass was connected with far scarier people than the police, either criminal or in government.
The BPOL officer drained her coffee to the dregs and went in search of more, returning just in time to see a memo drop on her desk and its delivery man walk away.
“What’s that, Rudi?”
The young officer turned back and shrugged. “Read it and find out, boss.”
Tutting at how cheeky the young were becoming Raske slid her glasses onto her nose, her heart sinking further with each word she read.
****
The C.C.U. 2 p.m.
“Everyone drop what you’re doing. We need a catch up.”
One minute later Craig was at the centre of a semicircle nodding Davy on. The analyst’s response was to project his map and table from the day before on to Nicky’s screen. By the time he’d talked them through his reasoning Liam was shaking his head.
“Scotland and Wales.”
“What about them?”
“Did you check them for dead or disappeared girls like I asked?”
Davy shook his head, unperturbed. “Not yet. I do need some sleep you know.”
The retort made Craig smile. “Let us know what you find there, Davy. I take it the woman marked in purple isn’t dead.”
“Disappeared and reappeared, just like Veronica Lewis. I’ve the local police interviewing her now.”
“Good.” Craig gestured at the screen. “Explain your thinking on column one.” The dates that the girls had disappeared.
“It was Nicky who spotted it, chief, so I think she should tell you.”
Craig beckoned the PA from her typing. “Front and centre, please, Ma’am, and tell us about these dates.”
Nicky didn’t move from her desk. “I can tell you from here. Those women started disappearing just after the EU Referendum campaigning began. No-one had disappeared before then.”
Liam spotted the same anomaly that Davy had. “Not that very day.”
Nicky shook that day’s high ponytail. “Because it took a few days to realise that both sides were going to make a fight of it. If one side hadn’t been bothered then the result would have been a done deal and there’d have been no need to try to sway it.”
It confirmed what Craig had been feeling for days but he decided to explore their reasoning.
“So, you believe this case is about swaying the EU Referendum vote?”
The PA nodded.
“OK…” He was thinking as he spoke, already knowing the answer to his next question. “Which way?”
Ash jumped in. “I reckoned it was towards leaving.”
“Mmm…OK, I’m not saying you’re wrong, but explain your logic.”
The analyst rubbed his hands cheerfully. He loved a good debate.
“Well, McManus was Pro-EU and he was shot, so that leaves Roger Burke as head of the biggest party here and he’s definitely for leaving, plus we already know about Loughrey-”
Davy cut him off. “You can’t villainise people just because they want to leave. It could just as easily be the Pro-EU side who killed McManus. They might have w…wanted McManus dead because he wasn’t Pro enough.”
Craig made a face that said he wasn’t convinced.
“I think Nicky was definitely onto something about the dates being significant, Davy, so the EU Referendum part makes sense, but we need more evidence to say which side. I have to say though that I think it’s unlikely to be the Pro-EU lobby.”
Liam gave a slow tut. “Now don’t you tell me you’re falling for that old rubbish about Pro-Leave being the bad guys and the Pro-EU lot all being good. That Italian blood of yours must be rushing to your brain.”
Craig chuckled at the image. “Thanks for that picture, Liam, but no, that’s not why I’m saying it’s more likely to be the Pro-Leave side. It’s because we know that the IBP core are for leaving, and because Beatrix Hass, our assassin, is linked with her country’s fast growing right-wing, and some of them didn’t even agree with Germany uniting with the Allies post World War Two, never mind uniting with most of Europe since.”
Ash nodded furiously. “So, if she’s involved it’s bound to be the right wing organising everything.”
“Except that the two men she killed over here supported the most right-wing party we have.” Liam went to interrupt but Craig didn’t yield. “Albeit Peter McManus might not have been hard core enough for his own party, and Billy Regent was just a set-up to throw us off the trail.”
Liam’s face brightened as he remembered something. “I meant to tell you something on that, boss. Tommy gave me a bell this morning.”
Craig smiled at the strange closeness between the two men. “What did he have to say for himself?”
Liam adopted a knowing look. “It seems our info about Loyalism viewing McManus as a traitor was bullshit. He’d been friendly with UKUF for years. Dropping in for tea in the office friendly.”
The information made Craig frown, mainly because he wasn’t certain how it fitted. Liam clarified.
“If the paramilitary gangs didn’t want McManus dead, then they’d have vetoed any local hit on him that they’d heard about, and they hear everything, on all sides.”
Which made it unlikely that anyone at street level in Northern Ireland had been involved in the First Minister’s death. It backed up what they knew. They were dealing with purely upper echelon thugs.
“And Tommy got this-”
“From Rory McCrae, his heir apparent.”
“You believe him?”
Liam nodded without hesitation. “I do. Mind you, I’m not sure what it means. We already knew Billy didn’t kill McManus for any ideology, and he definitely wasn’t hired. His bank account’s showing no deposits and his mum barely has enough to get her to the end of the week. The poor bugger was coerced into taking the shot, and threats to his family seem the likeliest leverage.”
Craig nodded and crossed to the LED screen. “OK, let’s follow things through. Pro-Leave are trying to increase their vote by… what? Compromising senior figures across the UK?”
Nicky cut in. “Compromising men who can influence others to support the vote.”
“And you really think that would be enough to swing it for Leave?”
It was Liam who answered. “It might be, boss, especially if they’re whipping up grass roots support on the estates as well. The IBP has forty percent of the vote here, and their followers will pretty much do as they ask. Any stragglers could be picked up by intimidation on the day.” He gestured at the map. “I bet the same picture’s being played out in working class areas all over the mainland.”
“It would have to be targeted at different political parties over there. The IBP doesn’t have a mandate.”
Nicky nodded. “Any party with right-wing supporters would do.”
Liam had a thought. “Why don’t we get Hughesy to ask his Vice buddies to see what’s what at the English sex parties?”
Hughesy had had his head buried in his notepad, but when his name was called it
shot up. “What?”
“Get your Vice buddies to find out which politicians have been going to those naughty parties in England.”
Annette rolled her eyes at the way Liam made smut sound like a playground game, but Craig nodded in agreement.
“Can you, Aidan?”
The D.C.I. thought about it for a moment before replying. “It might be a bit sensitive to organise over the phone, chief.”
Craig waved a hand around the group. “Take your pick. Any one of these likely officers can take a trip.”
Kyle shook his head. “Not me. I’ve got my snout going to the party.”
Craig suddenly remembered he’d wanted Jake to tail Harrison. He changed it to Annette and Rhonda and offered up Jake for the England trip. The sergeant’s smile said that he was fine with the jaunt so Craig moved swiftly on.
“OK, anything more on the computing side?”
Both analysts shook their heads. Davy was close to an answer on the Classics Club but there was no point even mentioning it until he was there. Craig turned back to Liam.
“Anything?”
The D.C.I. took out his notebook, turning to a page near the back. “Lots. Some questions, some answers. Nothing on antiques smuggling, even Tommy’s come up cold on that. Arms smuggling’s still a possibility so I’ll keep you up to date. I’ve the Gardaí on board for tomorrow night’s operation- they’ve offered us the teams that we need, so that’s all sorted, and I asked Ash here to run the bed prints past them as well as Interpol.”
He paused for breath, waving the junior analyst on as he did.
“OK, so one set on the bed belonged to a man from here who was arrested in Vienna of all places. For stealing handbags.”
Liam chuckled. “Must’ve taken a holiday especially.”
“He’s a Mark Wilberforce, originally from the Demesne Estate. He still has an address there so I’ve asked Sergeant Boyd to keep an eye out for him.”
The Cabal (#16 - The Craig Crime Series) Page 29