Killing for Keeps: A Kate Daniels Mystery (Kate Daniels Mysteries)

by Mari Hannah

  A few more silent miles went by before she uttered another word.

  ‘Have you spoken to Andy?’ she asked. ‘I forgot.’

  Hank nodded. ‘There’s nothing to do and nothing for you to worry about. He’s got it covered in Blanchland. He’ll let Theresa and McKenzie know about the sighting up north. That’ll take the pressure off them and he’ll remain in situ until stood down.’

  ‘He could be there a while.’

  ‘Get your head down, Kate. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us. Have a moment’s peace for once. I’ll give you a nudge in a bit.’

  Kate woke to the sound of a ringing phone. She’d been in a deep sleep and it took a few moments to drag herself awake, to figure out where she was, to remember what had gone on before she collapsed from sheer exhaustion. She glanced at her watch: five forty-five. They had made good time, were already passing a sign for Hamilton.

  Not far to go.

  Hank answered the phone.

  A DC from Strathclyde came on the line, introduced himself by the name of Anderson. ‘Bad news, I’m afraid. There’s no sign of Finn O’Kane. We’ve tried interviewing possible witnesses, but if you knew the pub he was seen entering, you’d know there was never any fear of the punters saying a word to a polis.’

  ‘You are still keeping obs on his house?’ Hank asked.

  ‘Houses,’ Anderson corrected him. ‘Finn O’Kane has more homes than Persimmon, spread over a wide area, as well as several other premises in which he and his brother can hide, all posing as legit businesses, some they admit to, some not. No joy there either, I’m afraid. We’ve put feelers out. My guv’nor thinks they fled your patch because they were about to be plastered all over the box on the six o’clock news.’

  Hank couldn’t help himself. Kate wasn’t the only one angered by clever-arsed journalists and bent coppers. ‘And how could they possibly know that?’ he said. ‘Unless someone your end told them – maybe the same person who likes talking to the press? One of your lot is on the take, pal.’

  ‘That’s quite an allegation to be making when you’re asking for our help.’

  ‘And I’ll be pleased to repeat it to Complaints if it happens again,’ Hank said. ‘Do we understand each other?’

  The detective sidestepped the question. ‘Chances are, if Finn O’Kane is here, Craig won’t be far behind. They’re as thick as thieves, those two – no pun intended. Tell your boss we’ll do our best to locate them for you.’

  Kate studied the scenery, hoping Anderson would live up to that promise.

  42

  Rush hour was well underway when they left the motorway and pulled into the car park of the Marriott Hotel, Argyle Street. Taking the overnight bag she always kept packed in the boot of her car, Kate led the way into reception. After booking in, they went upstairs, peeling off in different directions to find their rooms, with an agreement to meet downstairs five minutes later.

  The view from the sixth floor was grim: a grey and miserable cityscape that matched Kate’s mood, a spaghetti junction of main roads chock-a-block with commuters, the Hilton Hotel directly opposite, half-empty car parks as people left their jobs for the weekend.

  Lucky them.

  Dumping her bag on the bed, she glanced around.

  The room was fine, nipping clean with crisp white linen and bright flowery prints on the walls, an attempt to add some cheer to the time she’d be spending there. Hopefully it wouldn’t be long. In the bathroom, she washed her face and changed her shirt, repaired her make-up to give herself some colour and went in search of Hank. She found him at the desk, asking the duty receptionist if she could tell him how to get to the city centre police station.

  ‘Of course, sir.’ The girl pulled a map towards her. ‘It’s on Pitt Street, left out of the hotel here.’ She was drawing the route in red pen. ‘Left at the first set of lights into Douglas Street, left again and turn right here.’ She marked the destination with a cross.

  ‘Is it far?’ he asked.

  She was shaking her head. ‘Five minutes, tops.’

  They decided to walk. They needed the air.

  Detectives from Strathclyde CID were scratching their heads when they got there. DCI Matthew Trewitt had laid on tea, coffee and a mini-briefing in the station conference room for 7 p.m. His officers had scoured Finn O’Kane’s known haunts and come up with zilch. Not a sighting. Not a whisper of any kind. Of him or his brother. It was clear from the subsequent chat that they were no further forward than Kate and Hank had been before they drove north.

  It didn’t take the Northumbria detectives long to realize that Finn and Craig O’Kane were a cut above John and Terry Allen in terms of criminality. Over the years, the pair had made a great deal of money out of their illegal enterprises, and acquired a reputation for ruthlessness in protecting their interests.

  ‘Especially when it comes to taking out the competition,’ Trewitt said.

  ‘This isn’t a turf war, Matthew.’ As far as she was able, Kate explained the background to the double, possibly triple, murder case she was investigating, the motive being revenge for Dougie O’Kane’s demise years earlier. ‘We suspect their target is Arthur Ross McKenzie. An associate of theirs, Wallace Whittaker, made an attempt on McKenzie’s life in 2008, while he was an inmate in Shotts Prison.’

  ‘That sounds like Wally. He’s a total scumbag.’

  ‘Whittaker was charged with attempted murder, subsequently reduced to GBH,’ Kate said. ‘He got six years consecutive to the eight he was already serving. Should keep him out of our hair for a while.’

  ‘D’you know where McKenzie is now?’ Trewitt asked.

  ‘Haven’t a clue.’ She wasn’t falling for that one. Trewitt seemed nice enough, and he was a policeman. Didn’t mean she could trust him. No point in offering McKenzie close protection and then telling the world where he was.

  ‘It wouldn’t take a genius to work out his release date and track him down,’ Trewitt said. ‘The O’Kanes have the means and the muscle to secure information they shouldn’t be party to, if you get my drift. They’re fond of flashing the cash.’

  ‘Bit like journalists,’ Hank said.

  His sarcasm went down like a lead balloon. He’d never make a diplomat. Daniels shot him a look, half-expecting her Scottish counterpart to chew his head off for making allegations he couldn’t prove. She needed Strathclyde detectives onside. This was no time to argue the toss over what had or hadn’t gone down earlier in the day with Gillian Garvey.

  Fortunately, Trewitt let it go.

  ‘What’s their mental state?’ Kate asked.

  Trewitt gave a non-committal shrug. He wasn’t a shrink, he told them, and then proceeded to offer a diagnosis: ‘Psychopaths, both of them, the type you don’t want to meet on a dark night, or any other time, frankly.’ He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. ‘Think I’m in the wrong job, Kate. They drive great cars, pull stunning birds and live in wealthy areas; Finn outside the city, his brother in a smart villa in Barnton.’

  Kate was impressed. Barnton was an affluent area, north-west of Edinburgh. She’d been there once or twice with a friend whose parents owned a house there. Properties were pricey. She certainly couldn’t afford one.

  ‘What’s security like at Finn’s place?’ she asked.

  ‘The best money can buy. Doors and windows like a Bank of Scotland safe.’

  ‘Guns?’

  ‘Oh yes! By the way, if you’re thinking of storming the place, you’ve got a job on your hands. Even if you get beyond the perimeter fence – and you’ll need a tank to do so – there’ll be a couple of hungry Rottweilers waiting on the other side to rip your throat out.’

  Kate shivered. ‘First thing in the morning, can one of your guys show us where it is?’

  ‘I’ll do it myself. It’ll get me out from behind my desk.’

  ‘Thanks. Can you fill Hank in on how you go about applying for a double-U round here? Sounds like we’re going to need one.’<
br />
  ‘No problem. Anything else?’

  ‘I’m going to need some bodies – live ones, I mean. Who can you spare?’

  ‘One of my old DCs has made a career out of chasing the villains you’re after. You’re welcome to him.’

  ‘He hasn’t caught them yet,’ Kate said drily. ‘Doesn’t sound like my type, to be honest.’

  Tickled by the dig, Hank grinned.

  ‘He’s a good bloke,’ Trewitt insisted, humourless eyes on Hank. ‘And really clued up on the O’Kane family. He’s had more complaints than Scottish Gas because of his efforts to get those two sods convicted. He’s a little obsessive, I grant you. I think you’ll be impressed when you see the dossier he has on them.’

  ‘We’ll take your word for it,’ Hank said.

  ‘What’s his name?’ Kate asked, trying to deflect the other two from an all-out fight.

  ‘Randy,’ Trewitt said. ‘DC Randolph, if you’re feeling overly formal. How about I throw a couple of uniforms in too. That do you?’

  ‘We’re taking major players out, Matthew.’ Kate’s expression said it wasn’t enough.

  ‘Better ring your guv’nor then.’ Trewitt picked up the landline, proffered the receiver. ‘You wouldn’t want to meet mine after the discussion we had when I told him you were coming. If you need extra manpower, your force will have to pay for the privilege.’

  Having arranged a 5.30 a.m. start they called it a day with the agreement that Strathclyde officers would keep up the search through the night. Kate and Hank got to the hotel at five to nine. As she wandered into the lounge bar, he went off to buy a new toothbrush and a disposable razor in the hotel shop. He hadn’t brought one along – hadn’t brought anything along. A new pair of shreddies was on his priority list he informed her as he walked away.

  Kate chuckled, then grimaced. Too much information.

  Hank caught the shop before it closed and joined her a few minutes later, a pink toothbrush sticking out of his breast pocket. Taking off his jacket, he loosened his tie and sat down, stifling a yawn. It had been a bloody long day and he was done in. They both were.

  ‘You want a drink?’ he asked.

  ‘Already on order,’ she said. ‘I got you a beer.’

  ‘Great. Menus too? I’m bloody starving.’

  Nodding, she held up her phone. ‘I spoke to Bright.’

  ‘Oh yeah, how is the grumpy bastard?’

  ‘Still simmering.’

  It was strange to hear Hank disrespect the man who’d handpicked them both and paired them to work together all those years ago. Notwithstanding her promotion to Detective Chief Inspector, it had been the very best day of her professional life. She had a lot of respect for Bright, and Hank was like the brother she never had. He and Kate had grown closer and closer in the past few years and she simply couldn’t do without him.

  ‘I’ve given him an update,’ she said. ‘Told him to get his chequebook out.’

  ‘Bet he didn’t like that.’

  ‘He was fine with it.’

  ‘He’s trying to get back in your good books.’

  When the drinks came, they ordered food. It didn’t take long to arrive. They discussed strategy while eating. The plan was to meet with Trewitt and DC Randolph at the station early and then stake out Finn O’Kane’s main residence. Only then could they decide what further action to take, what extra manpower and resources they required to mount an operation. There was much to do.

  Kate drew her eyes away from her meal. ‘Depending how it goes tomorrow morning, I’m going to leave you here to organize the warrant while I jump on the train to Edinburgh.’

  ‘To do what?’ Hank yawned again, blinking his eyes to keep them from closing.

  ‘I called the duty DCI and told her I’d be over. She’ll get the same spiel I gave Trewitt. It merits the personal touch. A request for assistance from Lothian and Borders will be better coming from me.’ No offence was meant and none was taken.

  ‘Fair enough,’ Hank said. ‘Sure you’re not swanning off to Harvey Nicks to get a peace offering for Jo?’

  Kate managed a smile. ‘Another time, maybe.’

  ‘You don’t trust me, is that it?’

  ‘Not as far as I can throw you.’ She winked at him. She could feel herself relaxing now she’d spoken to Bright in private. He hadn’t mentioned their row on the phone. And when she’d asked for financial resources to be made available, he acquiesced without a fight. Kate outlined her plan. ‘I know some of the Murder Investigation Team in Edinburgh. I thought maybe they would pull a few strings. In the meantime, you can liaise with Trewitt and gather the necessary resources for an assault on Finn’s place while I’m gone. He likes you, I can tell.’ She made a crazy face. ‘Soon as I return, we’re going in, so be ready. I’m going to collar those evil toerags if it’s the last thing I do.’

  Hank raised his glass. ‘Welcome back, boss.’

  They clinked glasses.

  43

  Dawn . . . somewhere on the outskirts of Glasgow. A mist hung over the valley. All was still. Surrounded by woodland and farms on three sides, Finn O’Kane’s main residence was a mansion by English standards. Kate was standing on high ground, viewing it through binoculars, trying to work out a strategy. The only sound was birdsong and there was no sign of anything untoward.

  The approach wasn’t good: a six-foot high fence, Keep Out gates, a long drive leading to the front door and CCTV. All the shutters were closed, so no chance of seeing anyone walking around inside. Trewitt was right: mounting an operation without anyone getting hurt was a logistical nightmare.

  This could go horribly wrong.

  On the way to their location, Hank and Trewitt had travelled in one car, Kate and Randolph in her Q5. He was nearing retirement, a man with the physical characteristics of a front-row forward. That might come in handy, bearing in mind the fear that their suspect wouldn’t come quietly. Throughout the journey, he talked constantly about their target. It was clear he’d taken a special interest in Finn O’Kane and his older brother Craig, tracking their every move in the past ten years.

  Shame they’d managed to evade his scrutiny last week, Kate was thinking, but didn’t say.

  Randolph’s voice brought her focus back to the house. ‘Can’t believe he’ll be there when he knows we’re after him. He’s got more off than that. He’s a cunning bastard, make no mistake.’

  ‘That’s precisely why I want it searched,’ Kate said, without taking her eyes off the property.

  ‘Ma’am?’

  The DCI lowered her binoculars. Before she could answer, a truck loaded with logs coasted by on the dirt-track road, the female driver giving her the once-over. Kate shifted her gaze to Randolph. ‘Best place to hide is right under our noses. Happened to me once: a guy I was hunting bought the police house right next door to the station. Paid cash too – probably from his ill-gotten gains. Took us months to find him.’

  ‘Class!’ Randolph pointed at the house. ‘What d’you reckon then?’

  ‘Can’t see any dogs,’ Hank said, to no one in particular.

  ‘Doesn’t mean they’re not there,’ Trewitt offered.

  ‘I agree.’ Kate glanced at her Scottish colleagues. ‘If they’re as ferocious as you say, we’re going to have to incapacitate them. Doesn’t sound like a noose will do it. I want two dog men, a vet, a couple of DCs, someone from SOCO and a TSG Group – one sergeant and seven. Can you fix that up?’

  ‘Is that all?’ Trewitt was being sarcastic.

  ‘We’re paying for it, Matthew. Why should you care?’

  ‘Fair comment,’ he said. ‘Consider it done.’

  ‘Any other escape routes?’ Hank asked.

  Randolph was shaking his head. ‘On foot, maybe, but they’re hardly going to make a run for it, are they?’

  Kate scanned the house again, then told Trewitt she’d seen and heard all she needed. He got in his car and drove off alone, promising to rally the troops she required.

  ‘
Ready to go?’ Hank asked.

  She stood her ground.

  ‘You really think he’s in there?’ Randolph asked.

  Kate didn’t offer an answer. She could tell from his expression that he reckoned she was off her trolley even considering it as a possibility. Maybe he was right. She’d had better weeks. But even so, she had the distinct feeling that her luck was about to change.

  She was close. She could feel it. And that was good enough for her.

  Leaving DC Randolph in position until arrangements could be made for someone to relieve him, Kate drove Hank to the hotel, promising him the meal he’d missed when they left at five-thirty. They had a long day ahead of them. It might be hours before they had another chance to fill up. The dining room was full and they had to wait for a table. Kate wondered if it was always this busy or if there was some kind of convention on, or maybe a major gig in the city. Her idle musing triggered a thought: if O’Kane was into music, it might draw him out from wherever he was hiding.

  Making a mental note to check it out, she glanced at her watch, desperate to get going.

  Hank grimaced, thoughts of a disappearing breakfast too hard to bear. The waitress arrived in the nick of time, showing them to a table and taking their order straight away. After they had eaten, Kate signed for the food. Scooping her bag off the floor, she stood up, telling Hank she wanted the operation on O’Kane’s house ready to go in four hours maximum.

  ‘The warrant included.’ She gave him her car keys. ‘You can drop me at the train station first.’

  ‘You sure you don’t want to take the car?’ he said, as they walked to the Q5 and got in. ‘I could put the bite on Trewitt for one of theirs.’