The Waiting Room (#4 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series)

by Catriona King

  Liam stared at Ken McGurk coolly, as if he couldn’t name his species. He’d spoken to Craig five minutes before and it had given him a fresh wind. Jake had struck out completely with Dawson, so a lot was riding on his skill.

  When he spoke for the tape it was in his usual bass tones, but there was steel in them that Jack hadn’t heard before. McGurk heard it and twitched slightly in his seat. Not a lot, but enough for Liam to register it and spot a gap to widen. He leaned forward and Jack held his breath, willing him to form the right question first time. He did.

  “We know you’re running an auction. And we know it’s at six o’clock tonight.” He paused for a few seconds, delivering the next words like a well-aimed blow. “We know that attendees at the G8 summit are going.”

  On the word summit McGurk twitched again and Liam knew he had him. He pushed past the movement and accelerated. “We know that you moved the girls from the house in Portglenone Forest earlier this week. And we know you’ve taken them to a location known as the tower. Somewhere between there and the summit venue. We’re going to find it very soon, and every one of your accomplices. We’ve already got James Dawson in custody.”

  Jack watched McGurk’s face carefully. With each new piece of information Liam revealed, his eyes had widened further. And while his body remained fairly still, the rapid tapping of his fingers on the table gave away his true level of anxiety.

  Liam spelled out the information about the minor royal and the Cavalier, even using his nick-name. By the time he reached the crest belonging to the group’s leader McGurk buckled, knowing that all that was left to him was to negotiate some sort of deal. He had no idea that Morgan had already cut the best one that any of them could get.

  ***

  Craig’s phone rang as he parked his car in Waring Street. He answered it in the hotel foyer, with a random thought that the restaurant looked nice. Maybe once the case was over he would take Julia there. If she was still speaking to him that was.

  The husky voice that came through couldn’t have belonged to anyone but Nicky. “Hi Nick. What can I do for you?”

  “Sir, I’ve just had a strange call from a Mrs Catherine Dawson. She wants to meet one of the team urgently.”

  Craig tightened his grip on the phone. “James Dawson’s wife?”

  “Yes. That’s what she said. I thought she was going to complain about his arrest, but she says she has information for you.”

  Dawson had given them nothing, but maybe his wife would. His voice took on an urgent tone. “Is Jake around?”

  Nicky scanned the squad and saw him hunched over Annette’s desk. She called him over to take the call.

  “Jake McLean.”

  “It’s Marc Craig. I’ve an important job for you, Jake. The husband may have clammed up on us, but apparently Mrs Dawson’s ready and eager to talk.”

  ***

  Bjorn Ackerman poured himself a cup of tea and listened in silence as Craig laid out his proposition. There was to be an auction that evening. And they believed that the items being auctioned were women. Ackerman gave no sign that he knew what Craig was talking about.

  They had three of the auction’s organisers in custody, but there were three more in the hierarchy that they needed to find. Plus the many buyers who would be there from all across the world.

  He proposed that Ackerman should go undercover and take him along. Whatever disguise attendees were expected to adopt would cover Craig’s identity as well. And even if they saw his face, the only men who could recognise him were in custody. They would be wired, and back-up would be outside the venue, waiting to move on their word.

  When Craig had finished Ackerman lit a cigarette, ignoring the glare of the waiter. He knew he would tell the manager any minute, but it would be worth it for the few hits of nicotine that he would get first. Craig waited through the short ritual for the diplomat’s reply, knowing that if he pushed too hard he would lose him.

  A minute later Ackerman stubbed out his smoke, just as the manager rounded the corner. An amused smile twitched at the edge of his mouth as the manager halted at the sight of the dead butt. The Ambassador was a man who took risks in life. Craig was hopeful that it applied to every situation.

  He turned and gazed coolly at Craig. “I am already going, Mr Craig.”

  Craig nodded. He’d suspected as much when Ackerman hadn’t jumped at his suggestion, certain that it wasn’t from cowardice.

  “This way we can be sure of getting all of them, Ambassador.”

  “Maybe. But it’s the man at the top that I’m interested in.”

  “He’ll be among them. He won’t get away.”

  Ackerman stared at his cup thoughtfully before speaking. “There is an entry fee. Half a million euros.” He nearly spat the next words out. “Redeemable against any purchase.”

  Craig thought he saw tears in his eyes but he turned away too quickly to be sure. He couldn’t conceive what it was like knowing your child would have been just another purchase.

  After a few seconds more silence Ackerman inclined his head, agreeing. “We will do as you suggest Mr Craig. I will pay your entrance fee, providing that you make sure none of them get away.”

  “None of them, I can promise you that.” Craig spoke more confidently, now that he had agreement. “Do you have a location yet?”

  “No. I was told they will collect me at four o’clock this evening and that the auction starts at six. That is all.”

  “Are they expecting you to come from here?”

  “Yes. But most summit attendees are booked into a hotel in Fermanagh from this afternoon. Near a place called Kesh.”

  “So the venue’s within two hour’s drive from here.”

  “And probably closer for the others. I’d suggest half-an-hour from their hotel? I can give you its address. I’m booked in there tomorrow.”

  Craig nodded and stood up quickly, draining his coffee.

  “Thank you for this, Ambassador. You’ll save lives and help us put these men away.”

  Ackerman’s eyes clouded over and Craig knew what he was thinking. It was too late to save Britt.

  ***

  11.30am

  Catherine Dawson showed Jake into the drawing room of the large house on the Stranmillis Road. They talked about trivia and the weather for five minutes, as she poured tea and he watched her.

  She was a slight woman of around forty, aged far beyond her years. She wore a long skirt and high-necked jumper, despite the sunny day, and Jake went on the alert immediately. He’d seen outfits like that worn by women during his years in domestic abuse. No one could see the bruises. When she spoke her voice had a slight catch that implied wariness, or fear. The tremor in her hand hinted at the latter.

  The small talk finally ended and she sat back a little, still perched on the edge of the chair. She was struggling to form a sentence, and he understood why when she finally spoke. There was none of the expected remonstration about her husband’s arrest, nor defence of his innocence, but something altogether much more surprising.

  “My husband is an evil man, sergeant. Truly evil.”

  McLean sat forward in his chair, listening intently. Afraid to speak in case she stopped and never restarted.

  “He is cruel to me and has been since we married. I have bones that have healed badly, because he broke them and refused to let me go to hospital to be treated. Now I can see him about to abuse my daughter in the same way.” Determination filled her eyes and her voice grew louder. “But he won’t do to her what he did to me.”

  She nodded to herself as if reinforcing that she was doing the right thing. Then she reached into her pocket and withdrew a key and a piece of paper, holding them out towards him.

  “Two years ago I broke into his study when he was out. I found a key and a set of numbers in his desk drawer. I don’t know why but I felt they were important, so I made copies. I think they’re for the safe in his study.”

  Jake reached forward and took the proffered items tent
atively, still wary that she would suddenly realise she was ending her marriage and pull them back. She read his mind and shook her head, giving him a small smile, the first he’d seen since he’d arrived.

  “I won’t change my mind Sergeant McLean. This has been a long time coming. Although to be honest, if he wasn’t in custody I might not have the courage.”

  She drew back her jumper at the wrist showing him fresh bruises and confirming his earlier judgment.

  “But I think you’ll hold him long enough for me and my daughter to leave here. I must protect her. You understand?”

  He nodded. “He won’t get out Mrs Dawson, I can promise you that.”

  She nodded, satisfied, and stood up, walking briskly out of the room. “Follow me please.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To his study. I’ve waited for two years to see what’s in that safe.”

  ***

  “S…Sir, the crest isn’t English. It’s French. Dates back to the eleventh century. The Normans to be precise.”

  Craig was in the lab with John and he placed his phone on the desk, putting Davy on speaker.

  “Who does it trace to?”

  “Unfortunately it could be three of the men going to the summit. There’s a link to all of them. I’m using the accent to narrow it to those educated in English public schools.”

  John shook his head. “Lots of people around the world learn R.P., Davy”

  “R.P? W…What’s that?”

  “Received pronunciation. It’s the formal English that used to be heard on the BBC, and in 1940’s black and white movies. There are schools all over the world that still teach it. India, the Middle East…”

  Craig interrupted. “Morgan said the leader was about sixty. So go back and cross-reference with countries where R.P. was taught fifty years ago please. What about the tower?”

  “I’m looking for places that are isolated and fortified within two hour’s drive of The Merchant, and about thirty minutes’ from the hotel in Kesh. But it’s s…slow going. It means cross-referencing maps, land registry and aerial views. I’ll keep on it.”

  “We need to find it before five, Davy. The men have to be in position long before this goes down. Keep going, and tell Nicky I’ll be back at the squad soon. Thanks.” He went to cut the call when Liam’s voice boomed through.

  “Hang on a minute boss, Jake’s got something for you.”

  Jake McLean came on breathlessly and Craig knew he had something to be excited about. “Sir, Mrs Dawson opened her husband’s safe for me.”

  “Did you get a warrant, Jake?” The last thing they needed was inadmissible evidence because of sloppy procedure.

  “No sir, it was in her home so she could claim ownership. I checked with the lawyers before she opened it and they said that we didn’t need one.”

  “OK, good. What did you find?”

  “Everything. Well, lots of things. I’m not sure they all link to the case, or how, but that might become obvious later. But there was a notebook.”

  Craig leaned closer to the phone. “What was in it?” He closed his eyes willing it to lead them to the girls.

  “It looks like code sir. Numbers and letters. There are six rows of them. Then on the back page there’s another set. Just letters this time.” He swallowed and Craig’s worst fears were realised. “There are nearly a hundred rows.”

  The line went quiet and no one spoke at either end. John broke the silence, saying what they were all thinking. “One hundred girls. They’ve kidnapped one hundred girls in six years. All the girls in Bryce’s files.”

  The enormity of what they’d stumbled on hit Craig and he felt like throwing up. But he couldn’t let feelings slow them down. “Jake, get copies that to Davy, Karen and any other analyst you can get your hands on.”

  John pointed to himself.

  “And to Drs Winter and Marsham please. We need anyone with an analytic brain and a computer working on this.”

  “But what are they, sir?”

  Liam’s bass vibrated the phone. “Aye, what the hell are they boss? They just look like PIN numbers gone mad.”

  “You’re not far off it Liam. I can’t be certain but I think the six could be the coordinates of six locations that they move the girls between.”

  “That would fit with something McGurk said. He said he’d give us the venue for the auction except that they might change it at the last moment. They must have a choice of places.”

  “If we assume that they’re venues then we have a starting point to crack the code.”

  “How, sir?”

  “We already have one of them – the house Morgan ran to. The address or GPS coordinates for that should give you a way in.” His voice quieted. “The other list will be the girl’s names, I’m sure of it. But don’t assume that the code is the same, Davy. It could be completely different.

  Remember you’ve got Amanda Wilson and Grainne McCrory’s names already. They should be amongst the hundred on that list. So that might help. Liam, see if The Met can help out with this. We need to crack both codes quickly or these bastards could get away.”

  ***

  Annette made a coffee and took it through to the small living room, finally getting angry after five days of feeling numb. When Pete had first started to tell her how he was feeling, she’d been so shocked that she hadn’t heard the end of the sentence. Focusing on the five words “I think we should separate” instead. They were all that she’d heard of his five minute monologue, explaining and justifying his choice.

  She’d been so surprised that she hadn’t even asked why. Just watched his lips move unhearing, like he was a muted TV presenter. She hadn’t cried or moved, just stared at him uncomprehendingly, while thinking she should collect the kids from school, something her teenagers had stopped her doing years before.

  It had gone on for days, the shock and conversations, until she finally heard the words properly and had questions to ask. Why? was the first. And the second, who?

  He denied that there was another woman, but then people did, didn’t they? Believing that if they denied it their partner would believe them, as if it was only their words that people heard.

  As if ‘no, there’s no-one else’ meant that there wasn’t. Except that it didn’t mean that. ‘No’ said with a gaze that was too long or with a quick glance away, meant ‘yes, there is someone else’. I just don’t want you to know that there is.

  Why? Because I don’t want to hurt you. As if leaving without someone else to go to will hurt me any less. Or ‘no’, because I might want to come back, and if you find out there’s another woman you might never let me. And I want that option open to me. Forever. Regardless if it means you put your life on hold.

  That only left ‘why?’

  His reply was unambiguous. Your job, Annette. Your job. But she’d always worked long hours, ever since they’d met. As a nurse and now as a detective. Why now?

  Because I’m tired of coming last behind the job and the kids. Because when you were a nurse you seemed softer somehow, less driven. Translation -because I’m a selfish bastard and I need to be the centre of a woman’s world again.

  Now she was angry. After five days of his self-pitying justification she’d finally had enough.

  She’d sat on her ambition to join the police for years when the kids were little, and refused to go for promotion when she had joined. First to work hours that fitted around them, and then to stop Pete feeling threatened. Now she finally knew that she was good the job, good enough to become an Inspector. And she was damned if he was going to rain on her parade.

  She sipped at her coffee and formulated a plan. When he came in from work she would give him an ultimatum. Her, with all the positives and negatives that came from being married to a police Inspector. Or his bimbo, with all that went with that. He could make his choice. She’d already made hers.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Craig had been expecting one of their phones to ring. He’d just p
rayed that it was Morgan’s or McGurk’s when it did. Dawson would never co-operate, but the other two were more pragmatic. They knew that their bargaining chips were limited and that Craig held all the power.

  When the call finally came it came to McGurk, as befitted the hierarchy’s second in command. Jack Harris fast-paged Craig and listened in remotely, knowing McGurk was being watched closely as he talked. One wrong word and any hope that he had of a deal went down the drain. The only thing they were offering him was the protection wing inside, but for a police-officer facing a long stretch that could mean the difference between life and death.

  McGurk kept the conversation general until Craig was on the line, turning it to the auction on Jack’s nod.

  “Are we still on for the tower?”

  “Perhaps. It depends how well you’re controlling your troops.”

  “Don’t you worry about my men. They’ll do exactly what they’re told.” Jack had to admire McGurk’s self-delusion. He sounded as if he still had the power to make it true.

  “Have you heard from three and six? They were supposed to check in an hour ago.”

  “We had to dispose of six, he was becoming a liability. Three was called to court on something urgent.”

  Jack watched McGurk lie with ease - if he hadn’t known he was he could never have told. His mind went back to his time at High Street, wondering how many times the man had lied to him.

  McGurk tried to get the tower’s location but the caller gave nothing away. Finally he seemed satisfied that things were on-track and signed off. McGurk turned to Jack challengingly. He’d kept his side of the bargain, now it was their turn.

  Craig exited the call, more relieved than he’d expected. They hadn’t managed to get the venue but at least the event was going ahead, something that wouldn’t have happened if McGurk had given them away. They were still in with a chance of saving some lives.

  ***

  Friday 14th June: 12.30pm

  Until the codes were cracked they had no venue, only what they found out before six o’clock. That left five-and-a-half hours to work out every option and cover them all.