by Alex Caan
‘And what did they want in return for their generosity?’ said Kate.
‘Nothing. At first.’
Hope sat down at his desk, steepled his fingers in front of his face, his familiar pose, his eyes making direct contact with Kate’s and then turning to Zain.
‘And then Ruby Day disappeared,’ he said.
‘And they collected their pound of flesh?’ said Zain.
‘Precisely.’
‘Talk us through it,’ said Kate.
‘I got a call from Harry Cain. He said his son, Jed Byrne, had been in touch. Ruby Day had disappeared. Harry believed Ruby had information that could be damaging for his company. He asked me to lead on the case, to find Ruby and stop an information leak.’
‘Harry Cain thought Ruby had done a runner?’ said Zain.
‘That’s how Cain described it. He was in contact with me over the next few hours. And after the videos were released, he convinced me that Ruby’s boyfriend, Daniel Grant, was unstable. He told me about the escort, the one he attacked at his birthday party. Insisted the investigation focused on that.’
‘That’s why you were pressuring us to pursue Dan?’ said Zain.
‘It seemed plausible,’ said Hope.
‘Only they used us,’ said Zain. ‘Harry Cain and his son. They turned Dan into a fucking saint.’
‘Their strategic play is not lost on me, DS Harris.’
‘What happened after that?’ said Kate.
‘Nothing. Cain and Byrne both went quiet, while you investigated Daniel Grant as instructed. And then you went after Byrne. Harry Cain was not amused. He contacted the prime minister, who in turn asked to meet with myself. It was made very clear to me that unless we had hard evidence, we were not to pursue KNG. Cain also threatened to withdraw funding for us.’
‘How is it that someone with money can control you both? You hold the power, not Cain,’ said Kate. She was angry and, more than that, disappointed. Hope and the PM needed a spine and some balls.
‘I wouldn’t have let him, if there was credible evidence. If KNG had turned out to be involved in wrongdoing over Ruby, I would have let you run wild over their offices. But there was nothing concrete. Bits of conjecture, possible motives, suggested sabotage. You don’t bring down a multi billion-pound company, with links into the heart of government, on that pretext.’
‘You weren’t simply saving yourself?’ said Kate.
‘There was an element of that. Why risk this privilege I have to make a difference, risk one of the finest teams I have ever managed? And over what?’
‘So when Margaret Walsh called you, what did you do?’ said Kate.
‘What could I do? She had nothing to substantiate her allegations.’
‘When we find the video Ruby made, exposing KNG, then we’ll see,’ said Zain.
‘When you find that video, yes, let’s see how it plays out. The facts are that Maggie Walsh has no real evidence, only hearsay and documents that could have been fabricated. She herself isn’t willing to name KNG next week; she just wants to start an inquiry. What was I meant to do with what she told me?’
‘And if Harry Cain hired a hit on Ruby?’ said Zain. ‘While you’ve been buying time for him and his son?’
‘Find me the evidence, and I will drag Harry Cain and Jed Byrne into a holding cell myself. I am on your side, detectives. I am not fighting against you.’
And how does that fit in with spying on me, Kate wanted to say.
‘You’ve heard my side of events, my explanation,’ said Hope. ‘Now it’s your turn. What do you plan on doing? What happens now?’
Chapter One Hundred
Zain was sitting in Julie Trent’s desk chair, swinging it back and forth. Kate sat on one of the sofas set around a small table. It was Trent’s informal corner, apparently.
‘What do you think?’ Kate said.
Zain shrugged his shoulders. ‘No idea. Hope sounded sincere. Then again, he pretty much told us he’s a player. He might have been acting all through that discussion. Cain and Byrne have gotten away with something bigger than murder. It’s disgusting.’
‘You think they’re the first or that they’ll be the last?’ she said.
‘Those others didn’t happen on my watch, though,’ he said. ‘This is happening, and there’s fuck all we can do. I can fall on my sword, and stab Hope in the back as I do it. Admit to tampering with the chain of evidence, resign. Then what are we left with? He’s right, there is no evidence at the moment.’
‘It fits, though, doesn’t it? They have motive, means, opportunity,’ she said.
‘And two billion dollars,’ he said. ‘That buys you immunity, apparently.’
‘They’ll be called before a select committee with Maggie Walsh,’ she said.
‘Big deal. A bit of embarrassment, a few awkward questions. They might even apologise, and then what?’
‘I guess the DRC government need to charge them with corruption. They haven’t broken any laws in this country, even if they did support mass murder.’
Zain stopped rolling his chair around, instead put his feet up on Trent’s desk. He felt his hamstrings and calf muscles stretching, enjoyed the sensation. He hadn’t been to Krav Maga classes since starting this case, needed to get back into it. Staying fit was the first step to keeping the other stuff quiet. Well, keeping fit and his little pills from China.
Was he in a position to judge KNG? He was surfing using Tor, the dark web. Taking tablets that had no licence to be sold in the UK. No, that wasn’t the same as giving Sese a truck to go and round up child soldiers.
‘And Ruby is still dead. And we still don’t know where her body is,’ he said. ‘It’s bullshit.’
‘Yes,’ Kate said.
They were lost in their own thoughts for a few moments. Zain wondered what was going on in hers. In his own, he was thinking how access to Jed Byrne’s account might show a payment sent to Bill Anderson to hire a hitman. Or would they simply have used cash on delivery? That had to be registered somewhere, though. There would be an online transaction or a physical one. Zain would find it, he was sure of it.
‘What do we do?’ he said.
‘We wait. Let’s see if DCI Cross can pull something from Ruby’s hard drives. Let’s get the ten-minute bill read next week by Maggie Walsh, and let the inquiry start. We can then angle for a warrant.’
Zain didn’t like the idea of that. Waiting for things to happen.
Chapter One Hundred and One
When Kate’s eyes opened, she was curled up on a sofa, in an office that was dark. No lights, the clouds outside blocking the sun. A fall day had turned into a winter one.
She must have fallen asleep, her body tired after a night where virtually no sleep had come. And the intensity of the morning. She had dreamed of forests, mines, mysterious black faces. And bodies lying bloody and covered in flies, piled up on the side of a ditch.
And then she was back in that New England forest, running. Her father coming at her, appearing from the shadows. A weapon in his hand, what it was she could never see clearly. But he used it with blunt force, smacked her across the face with it. The attack always woke her up.
Kate let thoughts of her father come freely. She had said it now. Ryan was the first person she had told since moving to London. Even her own mother didn’t remember who attacked her. And Kate didn’t tell her.
‘He’s dead, Mom,’ she had lied.
It had helped convince her mother that a fresh start was needed for both of them. There was no need to explain that they were in a witness protection programme, until her mother had wanted to contact their relatives and friends.
Kate had lied then. Said Jane had been attacked by people who might come after them again. Jane couldn’t piece it together. Instead, she grieved for her dead husband, and her sons, who she was told she couldn’t see again.
‘For their own safety,’ Kate had said. Not a complete lie. They would never be safe from her.
Kate felt a sur
ge of panic, hatred and rage when she thought of her brothers.
Most of it was reserved for her father, though.
Her phone rang; it was Harris.
‘Cross just delivered Ruby’s hard drives,’ he said.
‘On my way,’ she said, slipping her feet into her shoes as she continued holding the phone to her ear.
‘They found files about mining,’ Zain told her. ‘It’s worse than we thought. People died from poisoning, from chemicals that might have come from KNG. As well as the logistical support for Sese. They’re fucking scum. And there’s nothing we can do, nothing’s been proved.’
‘Was there a video accusing them? Made by Ruby?’
‘No.’
So there was no video after all. Kate knew that would be it, then. Unless there was evidence Ruby had been on the brink of going public, a few files related to events thousands of miles away . . .? They had nothing.
‘It’s not right,’ Zain said. His voice was heavy, as though he couldn’t breathe. Then there was silence on the line.
Zain sat in his car, watching. The office was in darkness, the autumn days short, the temperature falling as the sun died. He took a green pill from his glove box.
Zain swallowed, looking at each of the floors. The first two were occupied by the offices. Lights were still leaking out into the street from the second floor. He would take the risk if needed.
Jed Byrne lived on the top floors of the building, in his duplex suite. The windows were covered by blinds, but Zain could see the flashes of TV images behind them. Jed was home.
There was nothing Zain could do – Riley was right. Legally, anyway.
Zain shut his car door behind him gently, and headed towards the back of the building. There was a residential entrance, leading off from a stinking alleyway filled with industrial-sized rubbish bins.
Zain rang the buzzer for Flat 1. Byrne answered.
‘It’s Detective Sergeant Harris. I just have a few questions, if you don’t mind?’
‘I told you people, I’m not saying anything without my lawyer.’
‘It’s not about you; it’s nothing official. I just have a few questions about Karl Rourke.’
‘I’m not interested,’ said Byrne.
‘All off-the-record stuff. Please, it won’t take more than half an hour.’
Zain heard the door buzz open and pushed it to go in.
Dan Grant was shaking. Barry had given him a new pill, one of his specials. So hot, so bad, it wasn’t even illegal yet. Like a chase, the formula changed faster than the law could keep up. Banned substance lists were like viruses. You tackled the ones you knew about, while the real dangerous, mutated ones crept up and got you.
He needed it, though, after the shit that they had put him through. Fucking Ruby, stupid cunt. Still destroying him, even when she was dead. He should never have gone near her.
And that prick Karl Rourke? The bastard. He had left Dan to rot; he was crap in front of the cops. Dan was glad he had dumped that no-mark, gone with MINDNET.
Only Jed Byrne had come through. He had made him a legend. Except they were all feeling sorry for Dan, pitying him again. And he hated that. He had spent a lifetime being pitied, loathed and picked on. It all started with pity. He didn’t want that; he wanted to be admired. His fans loved him, they saw him as something to desire. Not to pity. And now they were turning him into that again.
The phone rang with a withheld number. Dan thought he could walk through his window. The rain was smudging faraway lights, and he thought he was outside the glass. The phone rang again, withheld number.
After the fifth time, he picked up. He didn’t recognise the voice.
‘I know what happened to Ruby,’ it said. ‘And I’m scared. Can we meet?’
The voice wasn’t one to be scared of. So Dan agreed to meet. Alone.
Chapter One Hundred and Two
Kate was reading through the files DCI Cross had recovered, the ones Zain had already seen. The poisoning led to the deaths of forty-three people, after they drank water polluted with mercury. There was never a link proved to any of the local mining corporations. KNG was the biggest one out there.
The other reports recovered from Ruby’s hard drives included background on Pierre Sese, his armed struggle against the government in Kinshasa. The links he had to Ugandan warlords. The purchase of coltan mines by KNG in Bunda.
Richard Brown obviously gave the same stories to Ruby as he had to Harris, and Ruby had wanted to be sure; she had clearly done her research. Only in the video they had seen, the one never broadcast online, was Ruby saying she had evidence of something that would shake things up and shock people.
There was nothing here, from what Kate could see, that would achieve that.
She looked out of her window, the sky blue-black with a thread of moonlight behind thick clouds. She should be home. Michelle was at her desk, preparing to leave for the day.
‘You done?’ said Kate.
‘Yes. Is Harris OK?’ she said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘He was cut up when he went through the files he got back from his old boss.’
‘There’s not much in them, really,’ said Kate.
‘Maybe that was the issue?’ said Michelle. ‘Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Listen, can you do something for me before you go?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Michelle.
‘Run me a trace. I want to know where Harris is right now.’
Michelle hesitated, but then sat back down and switched her computer on.
Zain sat on an ergonomic chair, without a back. Byrne’s flat was all old brick outside, but the interior was more in line with the minimalist glass and steel front of the MINDNET offices.
Byrne was sitting on his La-Z-Boy chair, his legs sticking out, his back tilted. There was a dining table set with four chairs, and a desk with a computer station. A Bang & Olufsen media centre.
‘You don’t own a TV?’ said Zain.
‘I have a room for visual entertainment,’ said Byrne, with a serious face.
He was wearing pale-blue trousers and a polo shirt, his feet bare. The scent of sandalwood was heavy in the air.
‘You meditate?’ said Zain.
‘It helps,’ said Byrne. ‘Can we get this done? I have an event to go to later.’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Zain.
He pulled paper from his folder, and handed it to Byrne. The man’s eyes widened, and his jaw started to tick. Riley had told him about that, how Byrne’s face was crap for poker, gave him away too easily.
‘You know that place? Bunda? Weird name, isn’t it? Some backwater African place. Bunda.’
Byrne turned the pages, shook his head. ‘Don’t know what this is. I thought you wanted to speak about Karl?’
‘Karl, is it? First name basis? For the man that stole files from a dead girl’s bedroom for you? What hold do you have over him? Is it money? Do you think Daddy’s money can just buy everyone?’
Byrne sat frozen, his hands clutching at the sheets of paper in them. He stared at Zain, swallowed loudly.
‘You see, I’m not really here about Karl. I had a choice. Get you to open your door, or fucking well break it down.’
‘I want you to leave now, detective,’ said Byrne.
‘You always get what you want? Rich, spoilt little Jed, with his billionaire daddy. You click your fingers and people do whatever you tell them to?’
Byrne stood, dropping the paperwork Zain had given him onto the coffee table in front of him.
‘You need to leave,’ he said.
‘Or what? You’ll call the police? Go ahead. Oh, look, we’re already here,’ said Zain.
‘What do you want?’
‘Just some honesty,’ Zain told him. ‘You know, I’m sick of all the lies and bullshit. Ever since I got involved with this, all I’ve got is men lying about Ruby and how they used her. And, just for once, I want someone to man up and be honest. Is
that too much to ask, do you think?’
Stay measured, he told himself. Stay calm. Don’t let the red mist fall; don’t let it control you.
‘You see, I know about Daddy’s little secrets. About his mines in Congo, about him poisoning villagers. Just poor black faces to you, right? Don’t care, do you? Collateral damage?’
Byrne stayed motionless, but his eyes were roving around the room. What was he looking for? His phone? A weapon?
‘No comment,’ said Byrne.
Zain stood up, and walked towards Byrne. The man started to back off.
‘This isn’t a fucking police interrogation, you dumb fuck. This is me and you, two grown men, and this is a time for truth.’
The back of Byrne’s legs hit his sofa, and Zain stopped too.
‘What did she say to you? Did she threaten to expose you all? You see, I know Ruby left her home about seven-thirty that night. And yet around midnight, or nineteen minutes after, to be precise, someone used her wireless network to hack into her computer. And delete these files. Now you tell me, is that coincidence? Because I traced what time Karl Rourke called you. It was just before midnight. Seven minutes to midnight, to be precise. So he calls you, and you get shit scared. Ruby’s gone, is she going to go public? And so you hack into her computer and delete the evidence?’
‘I have no idea what you’re saying,’ said Byrne.
‘Or did it happen like this? Ruby was about to go public, and risk two billion dollars for your darling father . . . You know, the dick that abandoned you?’
Zain felt the cold, dark pain inside him start to leak out. A pain he wanted to inflict on others. On Byrne.
‘And so what did you do? Always after his approval, so you hired a hitman, didn’t you? Or got your little Rottweiler Bill Anderson to hire one. And while Ruby was being tortured and murdered, you were erasing your tracks. Only you didn’t do it thoroughly enough. You didn’t delete the data enough times. And I found it.’