“What sort of bastard does this? She was in her own home. Defenceless.”
Andy Angel shook his head wearily. “A bastard who has a lot to lose, or thinks they have, chief. The doctors aren’t sure if she’ll survive yet, and Rebecca,” he gestured through the glass to where the Vice officer was sitting by her informant’s bedside, “she’s blaming herself of course. But there was no way anyone could have foreseen Bellner reacting like this, even if he had found out the girl knew about his combo.”
“You sound very sure that this was Bellner, Andy.”
A minute later Craig was up-to-date on what Geoff Hamill had given them on Zenith and The BMs and understood the reason why.
He didn’t trust himself to speak for a while and when he did it was to say, “The bastard intended her to be his third victim and enough is enough.”
The D.C.I. was surprised. “You’re going to bring Bellner in, chief? But we’ve no proof this was him yet.”
“Then we’ll lift him and shake it out of him. At least that way he can’t order any more hits. Wait here, I need to update Liam on this. I’ll be back.”
When he called to relay the information to his deputy he found that Annette already had, and as he returned to the ward he saw that Andy was looking perplexed.
“The thing I don’t understand is why, chief. Why do this to her? Just because she might know of the combos’ existence? Once they’re out in the clubs and streets they’ll be common knowledge.”
Craig’s jaw dropped. “Of course! Andy, you’re brilliant!”
“What did I do?”
“Not do, say. You’ve just explained why Bellner wanted to shut the girl up. She may well have heard about the combos’ existence, but that on its own wouldn’t have warranted this response. But what if Bellner thought that she knew more?”
Andy gave a slow smile. “Like where they’re being made or stored?”
Craig nodded. “Exactly. If he’d thought she might have known where he kept his materials and equipment then he’d have wanted her gone.” He gave a sad shake of the head. “And the thing is, he’s just told us. Bellner’s told us exactly where he’s keeping everything by attacking a croupier.”
The D.C.I. sighed heavily. “Zenith. Where she works.” He glanced through the glass at their victim. “That’s the only possible place she could have seen the combos. When Bellner found out that his croupier, someone who could have moved around his casino with ease, was an informant, he thought she must have seen it all.”
He shook his head angrily. “But all she was going to tell us was about some rumours that she’d heard. Fucking bastard!”
Craig gave him a moment to vent and then turned towards the exit. “Tell Rebecca you’re leaving with me and I’ll meet you at your car. I take it you drove here?”
The D.C.I. threw him his keys. “It’s the Golf parked in the one hour bays out the front. I’ll be down in a minute.”
Craig used that time to give Liam another call. “Well?”
He could hardly hear the reply through the D.C.I.’s chortling, but he did make out the words, “Decked” and “High Street.”
“OK, I’ll play that back to you and you can confirm between laughs. I take it that Tommy accused McCrae of working with Bellner, and when McCrae gave himself away Tommy decked him?”
“Yep.”
“And you didn’t stop him.”
“Nope.”
“When you pulled them apart you arrested McCrae and you’re about to take him to High Street?”
Liam stopped laughing for long enough to answer with more than a monosyllable this time.
“Yes, I arrested him, but we’re already there. Jack’s just booking him in before I have a word. I left Tommy behind at the bookies shouting orders and having a high old time.”
Craig groaned, knowing that they might just have ended the Loyalist’s retirement; or perhaps after a few days back in harness Tommy would be happy to pass on the mantle to someone he approved of, while he returned to chanting “Omm.”
He wasn’t holding out much hope.
“OK, well done. I’ll join you there in a while. I have a visit to pay first.”
And a call to make, which was made to his inspector as soon as Andy started at the car and began to drive.
“Annette, take some uniforms to Hugh Bellner’s home address and see if he’s there, and ask Davy to check if he visited the casino today. He should be able to access the local CCTV. Don’t go to Bellner’s place alone, please. He’s dangerous.”
She smiled, grateful for his protective nature. She was every inch a police officer and a feminist, but when it came to getting hurt she’d far rather avoid it than recover from it.
“Will do, sir. If we find Bellner at home do you want him lifted?”
“I’m not expecting him to be there, but yes, if he is. Take him to High Street, but tell Jack he’s to be put in the opposite part of the building to Rory McCrae. I don’t want them chatting through the bars.”
She frowned questioningly. “If he’s not there do you think he’ll be at Zenith?”
“I’ll cover that at the briefing. Bye.”
Andy used the sign-off to ask for directions. “Where to? I heard you say that you had a visit to pay.”
“The Armed Response Unit, please, Andy. I’ve a feeling things are going to get bloody before the end of the day.”
Chapter Eleven
The Labs.
Whilst Aidan was very happy to be seated in John Winter’s warm office, drinking a seasonal offering of cinnamon flavoured coffee and munching on his second mince pie, he couldn’t help but feel that he should be employing his time in a more dynamic way at this point in their case. He glanced at the other three men in the room in turn, and spotting no signs of guilt on their well-fed faces he pushed his own to the back of his mind, or wherever it was that guilt resided in a human being. It had always seemed to him that his housed itself in two places, his heart and his head, rather as if it held dual citizenship and changed location depending on whether he was awake or asleep.
The D.C.I.’s ruminations on the state of his conscience were ended abruptly when Des set down his mug with a thud and said, “Right now”, the crockery obviously intended as a banged gavel to draw their attention to the proceedings of the day.
“So Marc wants to know about yesterday’s tablets and prints does he?”
It was just as well it was a rhetorical question as mince was welding everyone else’s mouths shut. The forensic scientist continued cheerfully, always preferring a quiet audience.
“Well, there were three bags of tablets found in Jimmy Morris’ cell. Two small ones containing plain diazepams, and a larger bag holding poisoned tabs identical to the ones found in both Smyth’s and Pojello’s vents. Same make up and same poison.” He turned to his colleague suddenly. “Did Filip Pojello have the same cause of death as Derek Smyth, John?”
The pathologist answered while pouring himself another coffee and offering the others the same.
“Yes. Asphyxia caused by ingesting Strychnine. Well, secondary to the spasms the Strychnine caused that is. Pojello had a lot of tattoos as well, but different from Smyth’s.”
Ryan smirked. “Less far-right by any chance?”
“Yes. But more religious icons.”
He retook his seat and nodded Des to continue.
“OK, so, there were a lot of prints in the cells and on the bags of drugs found, but their distribution can only be explained as follows. Jimmy Morris had a large bag of the poisoned tablets, a quantity of which he decanted into two smaller bags. He swopped those two small bags for Smyth’s and Pojello’s small bags of normal diazepam, thereby killing them. The prints we found support all of that, except that on the large bag of poisoned tabs there was also an unknown set, which I would say probably belong to whoever smuggled them into the prison for Morris to use. They aren’t in the criminal database but if you let me have the prints of anyone under suspicion I can cross-match.”
>
Aidan put down his too-hot coffee top-up and asked a question. “What about Pojello’s cell? Any prints of use in there?”
Des made a face. “Pojello’s and Morris’, but we already knew they’d be there. There are about fifty other prints as well, so I’m guessing Pojello had a lot of guests when he was alive. It will take us quite a while to eliminate everyone.”
The D.C.I. shook his head. “I’d hold off on that until the Guv decides whether he needs them to make the case. Save yourself some work.”
Ryan had another question. “What about the access drain in the Trade Hall? Were there any prints there?”
Des smiled proudly. “A few smudged ones that are useless but decent half sets from both Smyth and Pojello. They must have taken it in turns unscrewing the grate and collecting the drugs from the drone. On the entry point drain in the petrol station outside, we’ve got another clear set of unknown prints.”
“Matching the set you found on the tabs?”
“Yes. And by the sizes I’d say they belonged to a male.”
Aidan took out his mobile. “Hang on. I might be able to help clear some of this up.” A moment later he was speaking to the team’s junior analyst. “Ash, can you access of Mahon’s databases?”
“Yep.”
Ash set down the hard-backed book that he’d been reading, entitled, ‘Fifty Ways to Make Yourself Irresistible to The Opposite Sex’, although that wasn’t what it said on its fake cover, which read ‘IT applications in Criminology: Volume Three’, Davy being unlikely to allow him to improve his love-life on work time.
“OK, I’m in. What do you need?”
“Do they fingerprint prison staff when they join?”
“It’s not compulsory as far as I know but I’ll check.”
A series of clicks and an, “Oh...” later and the answer came back in the affirmative.
“They do at Mahon. Go figure.”
It was a millennial slang term that Aidan hated, but he gave it a pass because he needed the information.
“OK, good. Can you pull up Jerome Tomelty’s prints and email them to Doctor Winter please.”
More tapping then he heard, “Done, and done” and the analyst cut the call.
Aidan turned to the pathologist.
“You should have those on your email. Des, could you compare them to your unknowns.”
“Sure.”
They waited a full minute while the forensic lead ran a comparison between Tomelty’s and the unknown prints found on the smuggled-in poisoned tablets and the petrol station drain, then Aidan got the answer that he’d wanted to hear.
“They’re a match. Jerome Tomelty was the person who sent the drone through the drains into Mahon from the outside, and he handled the poisoned tabs.” The scientist shook his head. “But I don’t understand why Tomelty would have wanted Smyth and Pojello dead. They were his business partners and he must have been making money with them.”
John answered before the policemen could. “Perhaps Tomelty wanted to end the dealing and the others wouldn’t so he bumped them off?”
Aidan smiled at the excitement with which the pathologist said it, but then he was addicted to cop shows on TV.
“Let me think for a minute...” While he did that the others continued eating, and a few seconds later the D.C.I. spoke again. “OK, I think I’ve worked it out, but we’ll need to lift Tomelty to be sure.”
Ryan turned to him curiously. “What’s your theory?”
“I think Jimmy Morris found out about the drain drone route. It would probably have been easy if he hung around with Smyth. Then somehow, he arranged for the people who wanted Smyth and Pojello dead to swop one of Tomelty’s usual drone cargoes of diazepam for the poisoned version. That’s the only thing that would explain Tomelty’s prints being on both the petrol station drain and the bag. Tomelty innocently sent them through in the normal way but Morris was at the other end to collect them instead of Smyth or Pojello, hence the smudged prints you found on the Trade Hall drain. My guess is they belong to Morris but he tried to wipe them away. After that everything would have been easy, and it had the added bonus of incriminating Jerome Tomelty as accessory to two murders by his prints being on the bag of poison if it was ever found.” He sighed. “Jim Morris could confirm everything for us but I doubt he’d talk, so we’ll have to bring Tomelty in.”
Aidan rose to leave. “We need to inform the Guv and arrest Tomelty, so we’ll head on now. Are you Docs coming to the briefing? It’s at one.”
The scientists exchanged a glance and a nod.
“OK, good, we’ll see you there then. Thanks for the coffee.” He was halfway out the door when he remembered something. “Des, could you look at what equipment would be needed to make the combos too?”
A nod set him on his way again and sent the Head of Forensics back up to his lab.
It meant three possible arrests by the team in the space of an hour but only two actual ones it would transpire; Annette’s visit to Hugh Bellner’s home came up empty, although she did get to see how the other, wealthier half of the world lived. The dominos were starting to fall, but it looked as if some were going to make more noise about it than others.
****
The C.C.U. Murder Squad. 1 p.m.
“Right. Quieten down everyone. We’ve a lot to get through and I want it done fast.”
Craig’s dark eyes scanned the room, searching for who was missing. As Annette rushed through the entrance doors breathlessly the team was completed, although her immediate shake of the head made him sigh. Strangely it wasn’t an entirely negative sound, something which both Liam and John heard instantly and engendered a mutual glance. Their suspicions were confirmed by Craig’s next words, which sounded almost cheerful.
“Bellner wasn’t at home then, Annette?”
The uplift at the end of his question was more than its content had required and made Liam’s face break into a grin.
“Happy days! We get to have a go at him.”
Craig gave his deputy a wry look. “We’ll be paying Mister Bellner a visit at his work, if that’s what you mean.”
His tone was decorous, but no-one in the room was fooled for a second and John spoke for them all.
“You wanted this! You want to drag Bellner out of there publically by the scruff of his neck!”
Liam guffawed. “Or some other part of his anatomy. Eh, boss?”
Craig conceded the point with a chuckle. “Let’s just say that Bellner deserves everything that he gets now, and by the time this briefing is over everyone will know why.” He turned to the whiteboard and lifted a marker. “OK, let’s start with a quick recap for our scientists and then I’ll take your updates in turn.”
He wrote a large number one on the board.
“We’ve had two deaths inside Mahon Prison since Sunday, both prisoners on medium length sentences, both known for their personal use of drugs. They were Derek Smyth, a Loyalist and a lieutenant in UKUF, which is run by Rory McCrae and headquartered at Garvan’s Bookies in east Belfast.”
He scribbled up ‘Smyth’, ‘UKUF’ and ‘Loyalist’ before speaking again.
“The second dead man was Filip Pojello, a Lithuanian national who was also an addict, and a member of a gang that was new to me. The Baltic Militia or The BMs. We’ll hear more about them in a minute, but one of the important things here is that The BMs and Pojello are Catholics whereas Smyth was an Ulster Protestant.”
He wrote a similar set of abbreviations on the board as before.
“Protestant and Catholic gangs of any nationality make unlikely bedfellows in this country, but in this case drug addiction and greed crossed gang-lines and that got them killed. We believe that those killings were ordered from outside the prison but facilitated by a third inmate.” He wrote up Jimmy Morris’ name. “Jimmy, Joyboy, Morris. A UKUF foot soldier and Derek Smyth’s deputy, who we believe swopped the dead men’s usual diazepam for the poisoned drug combination that we’ll come on to in a moment.”
He turned to the scientists in their midst. “John, Des, anything you’d like to say here?”
Des nodded first. “Yes, but it’s got nothing to do with the case.” He waited for permission to go on, which came as a bemused nod from Craig. “Does anyone know what Grace’s thing is?”
Annette was aghast. “Doctor Marsham! That’s very rude!”
Several sets of puzzled eyes fixed on her, the question in all of them, “Why?”
Aidan the question voice.
“Why’s it rude? Her thing could be that she likes hang-gliding. You must have a dirty mind, Annette.”
Craig hurried to rescue his now-blushing D.I. “We’re not spending more than a minute on this, but could you set the context for us, Des?”
“When I said I was going to send Grace to Mahon on Sunday she said she couldn’t have gone anyway because she was doing her thing.”
“And you didn’t ask the obvious question?”
It was the scientist’s turn to blush. “I thought it would have been nosy.”
“Yes, well, then there’s bugger all point in asking the rest of us what it is. Right, discussion over. Let’s get back to the case. John?”
The pathologist’s curiosity was piqued as well but he tried to focus on work. “Both men died of asphyxiation due to Strychnine poisoning.”
Annette’s eyes widened. “That’s an old method!”
“It is indeed. It fell out of vogue around the time of World War One. It’s not easy to get hold of in its pure form now in the UK, but there are small quantities in some weed killers, so I suppose, with the right equipment, it wouldn’t be hard to concentrate.”
Craig interjected. “Or they could have smuggled it in from a country with more relaxed rules. In either case the killer inserted it into the combination drug in its liquid form.”
Crossing The Line Page 36