by Jo Spain
‘If you discover he did it, you’ll be tied up in extradition red tape for the foreseeable,’ his boss retorted. ‘The format of how you speak to him will be the least of your worries.’
‘You aren’t coming back to Ireland any time soon, are you?’ Tom asked Madsen, after the initial small talk.
‘Next month, yes. But I’m sure I can answer any questions you have for me now.’
‘I guess we’ll have to do it this way, then. Do you remember a former employee of yours, Damien Reid?’
There was a pause. Madsen’s voice was clipped when he replied.
‘Yes. I remember him.’
‘He worked for your company in the late ’90s, early noughties, am I correct?’
‘I believe so.’
‘Tall guy. Bearded. Glasses. He was presented with a bravery award for his role in preventing disaster on the Ulysses.’
‘I recall him, Inspector.’
‘That’s amazing. Out of so many thousands of employees. Did you remember him on Friday night, when you bumped into him in the Dáil bar?’
Silence filled the line.
‘It’s strange,’ Tom continued. ‘When you told me about leaving the bar that night you made a comment about the company being foul. To whom were you referring? Surely you’d have been thrilled to bump into Mr Reid – a man you held in such high regard that you paid him the highest tribute when he worked for you. A man . . .’
‘I do not hold Damien Reid in high regard, Inspector, and I have no intention of playing this game. Have you spoken to Mr Reid?’
‘Yes. Would you care to elaborate on that first sentence?’
‘Did he inform you about the circumstances of his leaving our company?’
‘He said he wanted to start his own business.’
‘He had to. He was never going to get a character reference from us for another employer.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I left the bar because I wanted to use the facilities and enquire about my transport, as I said. I can assure you it was pure coincidence that I happened to be there on the same evening as Mr Reid. I personally dismissed that man from our employ and had no desire to see him again.’
‘How did Damien Reid sink so low in your esteem, Mr Madsen?’ the inspector asked through clenched teeth. The lack of face-to-face was infuriating.
‘Mr Reid was one of a handful of people we trusted with the safe and successful operation of the Ulysses oil rig. His line manager had initially been reticent about hiring the man – he is a recovering alcoholic. But Reid came highly recommended by a previous employer and was eminently qualified.
‘He appeared to be a model employee. He received the bravery award for actions that we believed helped to prevent a very near catastrophe. However, it subsequently turned out that the man had not acted honourably. He may have helped save the men on the rig while he was saving his own skin, but were it not for him, there would have been no incident in the first place. Reid attempted to sabotage the Ulysses.’
‘He did what?’
‘The man is a fanatic,’ Madsen snapped. ‘An eco-terrorist. He had boarded the Ulysses with a ridiculous plan to make a point about our industry. He interfered with the on-deck equipment in an imbecilic attempt to show that Udforske oil rigs were not of the required international safety standards. Mr Reid thought he could cause a small but significant accident and leak the news to unfriendly forces.
‘Of course, he is ultimately a stupid man, academic achievements aside. His inept efforts almost caused an oil spill that would have affected Danish marine life to this day.’
‘When did you discover this?’ Tom asked, incredulous. ‘Why was it not made public? There’s nothing about this in Mr Reid’s file.’
‘Our internal investigation unearthed the facts shortly after he was awarded his bravery medal – which he accepted without a murmur. We kept it quiet because it would have brought our company adverse media coverage, something we do not court willingly.
‘We rigorously vet all our employees, especially our safety officers. We had discovered Reid’s history of addiction, but we clearly failed to uncover his subversive leanings. Our rig employees are doing a job that has the potential to be extremely dangerous. If they suspected men like Damien Reid could infiltrate their place of work, they would be uneasy. We agreed not to press charges against him on the strict condition that he kept quiet about the incident and did not try to seek employment in the industry again. There was a degree of embarrassment on our part, as you can imagine.’
Tom exhaled. What a tale. They’d have to verify it, but it certainly didn’t sound like Madsen had invented the story.
‘Did he try to talk to you on Friday night?’ the inspector asked.
‘Yes, as it happens. He followed me from the bar. The man had the temerity to suggest I invest in his business, if that is what you could call it. I harvest oil and gas from the sea. Liquid gold. He scavenges for weeds. I dismissed him. I have no time for these so-called men of principle, Inspector. Not when their principles are selective.’
‘Why didn’t you tell us this when we met you?’
‘I didn’t see the point, Inspector. Reid tried to speak to me. I shut him down and continued on my way. The incident was immaterial to our interview.’
‘And you’re sure you didn’t see Aidan Blake? He entered the bar at 9.45, apparently.’
‘No,’ Madsen snapped. ‘Now, if that is all, Inspector, I really must go. I am a busy man.’
Tom was left with the dial tone as Ray entered the room.
‘I have something interesting on Reid from the Danish police,’ he said, plopping onto the chair in front of Tom’s desk.
The inspector slammed down the phone, muttering about Interpol and international arrest warrants.
‘What?’ his deputy asked, bemused.
‘Nothing. I have something interesting too. You go first.’
‘I was lucky. Got through to someone efficient. Or maybe they’re all like that in Denmark and we could learn something. They came back with a small file on Reid. It seems that after he left Udforske, before he came back to Ireland, our guy was involved in a number of anti-establishment protests, mainly to do with environmental issues. All legal, of course, but at one of the demonstrations there was a scuffle and he was arrested for assaulting a police officer. He was charged and did their equivalent of community service. I also discovered that he moved to Germany for a couple of years. I talked to our colleagues there and it turns out he was on the fringes of an environmental terror group that Kripo was monitoring. He never got in too deep, so they only had a small file on him.
‘He told you he’d had an ideological parting of the ways with Udforske but it still seems strange that he’d go from working for the industry to engaging in violence at protests.’
‘Not strange at all,’ Tom said and filled Ray in on the conversation with Madsen.
The detective whistled when his boss had finished.
‘He kept that quiet, didn’t he?’
‘He sure did.’
‘I suppose that rules him out as Madsen’s hired gun. It sounds like our Great Dane ran away from Reid when he saw him.’
‘That’s what he says. But let’s not drop Mr Reid just yet.’
‘Why?’ Ray asked. ‘It’s open and shut, surely? Just a coincidence he was in the bar. He’d hardly be willing to murder someone for the man who had fired him.’
‘Willingly, maybe not. But what if it was unwilling? Why did he lie and say he hadn’t seen Madsen? What if his former boss threatened to expose the man’s past unless he carried out a task? That seems more likely to me than him being prepared to shoot somebody for money. Reid is at the helm of an expanding business. The last thing he needs is his past being raked over.’
Ray mulled it over.
‘It’s unlikely, though,’ Tom conceded.
‘Bloody hell, you had me pondering that. Why are you striking it out now?’
‘Neither of
them had any way of knowing Ryan would be in Leinster House on Friday evening. And Madsen could have denied seeing Reid and we couldn’t have proved either of them was lying.’
‘They would have a way of knowing where Ryan was – if Aidan Blake or Darragh McNally had told them.’
Tom raised his eyebrows.
‘So you think there’s potentially four of them in the planning now, with Reid instructed to do the dirty deed?’
‘Well, you keep telling me that the truth is always stranger than anything you can make up,’ Ray argued.
‘True. But a minister, a top-level civil servant and the vice-chair of a multinational company colluding in the assassination of an ordinary PA? That’s a conspiracy to rival the Moon landing, JFK and Roswell.’
Tom’s mobile rang and he answered it without looking to see who was calling.
The first thing he heard was the muted sounds of a woman screaming in the background. The inspector shot up from his seat, adrenaline racing. For one horrible second, he thought it was Louise or Maria, but then a man’s voice came on the line.
‘Inspector Reynolds? Can you hear me? It’s Aidan Blake.’
‘What’s going on?’ Tom was still agitated.
‘Please, can you come out to our home? It’s an emergency. I was going to dial 999 but thought it might be better to phone you.’
‘I’m on the way,’ Tom said, grabbing his coat and pulling it on awkwardly with one hand as Ray looked at him questioningly. The inspector gestured for his deputy to start moving. ‘Just tell me what’s happened.’
‘It’s Kathryn Finnegan. She’s banging down our front door. She’s threatening to kill me.’
Chapter 23
The electric gates to the Blakes’ home were open. They’d used the siren the entire way, Tom trying Kathryn’s number all the while. As Willie brought the car around the bend in the driveway, they were greeted by the sight of the young widow slumped on the step outside the front door, head in hands.
Tom jumped out of the car as soon as it came to a stop.
‘Kathryn,’ he said gently, kneeling down beside the woman. She looked up. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, her nose red and running. She had no coat, just a thin red cardigan, despite the cold. Tom noticed her fists, still clenched at either side of her head, raw and bloodied at the sides.
‘What have you done?’ He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her hands.
Behind them, the door opened and Kathryn leapt up so forcefully, Tom toppled onto his backside.
‘You murderer!’ she screamed, as Aidan Blake appeared on the porch step.
She flew at him. He raised his arms defensively as Willie and Ray pulled Kathryn off. She struggled against them, trying to free herself from their firm grip, swearing at Blake as he stood there, shaking with shock.
‘You killed him!’ she shrieked. ‘You bastard! I know what you’ve done. You murdered him because he was going to expose you and your dirty little secrets. I know everything. You took my husband. You stole my baby’s father from her. You should be dead, not him. I’ll kill you!’
Kathryn howled, a sound so raw and full of anguish it was heart-wrenching.
She collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably.
‘Ray, Willie, get her in the car,’ Tom said. ‘Kathryn. Kathryn? Look at me. Go with my officers. They’ll bring you home. Detective Lennon will stay with you until I come. Do you understand?’
She barely acknowledged him, but let herself be bundled into the car.
‘I’ll come back out for you,’ Willie said, before shutting the driver’s door.
Tom watched as the vehicle drove off, then he turned to Blake. The minister had covered his mouth, too stunned to speak.
‘Let’s go inside,’ the inspector said. ‘You can tell me what happened.’
Blake looked at Tom as if he was only now noticing his presence. He dropped his hands.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Yes, of course. Please, come in. Thank you for getting here so promptly.’
As Tom passed the light-coloured wooden front door, he noticed the bloody marks where Kathryn had pounded it with her fists.
What had driven her to turn up here and lose it like that?
Sara Blake was standing in the kitchen. She was trembling, her arms wrapped around her body.
‘Is she gone?’ she choked, her voice thick with emotion.
Blake nodded and went to hold his wife. Tom could see that she stiffened when he touched her. What did that mean? Was she angry with Kathryn for turning up and making accusations against her husband? Or did she believe the young woman?
‘What happened?’ Tom asked.
‘I’ll . . . I’ll make tea,’ Sara said, shrugging free of her husband’s embrace and moving to the kitchen counter.
Blake let her go but remained standing where she’d left him. He was looking at his wife like she was a fragile piece of china, Tom noted. Probably fearing she might crack and give away his secrets.
The minister regained some composure and indicated they sit at the table.
‘She just turned up at the gate,’ he began. ‘I buzzed her in, because I could see on the monitor that she was crying and she was on foot and not dressed for the weather. I was going to offer to drive her home. I thought she wanted to talk about Ryan. I was finishing a call so I didn’t go straight to the front door. I was just about to when she started going mad.’
‘You should have let her in,’ Sara said, so quietly that Tom almost didn’t hear.
Blake spun round in the chair and glared furiously at the back of his wife’s head. The inspector was taken aback. The look on the minister’s face was vicious. It was the first time Tom had seen the other man show such anger.
‘For what?’ he hissed. ‘So she could attack me and upset you?’
‘You should have talked to her,’ Sara retorted. ‘Not left her screaming out there on the step while you called the police. What were you thinking?’
Tom intervened.
‘I don’t think there would have been any talking to her. The woman is overcome with grief. But why did she turn up here now and why is she blaming you?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ Blake replied. ‘She’s clearly not thinking straight. Like you say.’
‘No,’ Tom insisted. ‘She was very specifically referring to what her husband had planned. She wasn’t just ranting.’
‘Well, have you shown her those photos? Because I certainly haven’t.’
‘Obviously not.’
Blake banged the table angrily.
‘Then she couldn’t have any reason for thinking I was responsible.’
‘Unless her husband had told her something,’ Tom said. He wondered privately why Kathryn hadn’t said anything before now, if that was the case.
Blake grimaced.
Tom glanced at Sara. Her expression was a mixture of shock and disbelief. She looked . . . frightened.
Blake collected himself quickly.
‘I apologise, Inspector. I’m distressed. I’ve known Kathryn a long time. I’ve never seen her so . . .’ He shook his head. ‘This has hit her so hard.’
‘Of course it has,’ Tom said. ‘She loved her husband. They just had a baby – a child that will never know her father. We can’t even imagine Kathryn’s suffering.’
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sara wipe tears from her eyes and turn her back on her husband.
‘I’ll go speak to her,’ the inspector added. ‘Try to calm her down and ask her why she came out here and said those things. There must be a reason.’
Blake looked worried.
‘While I’m waiting for my driver, I’ve been meaning to ask you about Grace Brady, your secretary. What was her relationship with Ryan like?’
The minister glanced nervously at the back of his wife’s head.
‘Grace? I don’t think they had much of a relationship. She’s a . . . strange woman.’
‘Strange?’ Sara spun on her heel, her voice acidic. ‘Grace Bra
dy is a nut job. She made a pass at Aidan, Inspector. Seemed to think he was flirting with her and was quite rude to me any time I visited the office. She’s obsessed with him. I’ve no doubt she had designs on Ryan, too. I ended up having words with her.’
‘What did you say?’ Tom asked.
‘I told her that if she didn’t conduct herself properly, I wouldn’t just stop at making sure my husband had her moved out of the office. I’ve known Shane Morrison a long time and he in turn has the ear of the Captain of Leinster House – the man who oversees the hiring and firing. They’d be in charge of where she was sent next. I’m sorry if that makes me sound petty, but I have no tolerance for her type.’
‘There’s no harm in her,’ Blake said. He seemed particularly flustered. ‘She’s peculiar, that’s all. I think she got on okay with Ryan, in answer to your question. And Morrison likes Grace, you know that, Sara.’
‘Well, Shane can be a silly bugger for women but Ryan had no time for her,’ Sara snapped. ‘He’d have been delighted to see her moved from the office. Stupid, vain creature. Ryan would never have looked at another woman. Kathryn was everything to him.’
Why was Blake defending Grace, Tom wondered?
Sara gave her husband one last glare and stomped from the room.
‘By the way,’ the inspector added quietly, taking the opportunity of her leaving. ‘I found out what I needed to about The Club, Aidan. I don’t understand why you continue to believe you can keep things from me in this investigation. Is it yourself you’re trying to delude? You do realise your secrets are starting to worm their way out from under the rock, don’t you? I didn’t stumble upon that place by accident.’
Blake made a fist with his hands and clenched his jaw.
‘You’ve no right to judge me,’ he snapped, his voice little more than a whisper. ‘You don’t know anything about me. Do you think I want to do what I do? Do you think I have a choice?’
‘What do you mean – a choice? Who’s forcing you to have sex with prostitutes? You have so much to lose. Why risk it all?’
‘I don’t want to!’ Blake shouted, then caught himself. ‘I can’t help it. I . . .’
Sara had returned to the kitchen. Tom thought she must have been alerted by her husband’s sudden roar, but she had just come to tell him Willie was at the gate.