by Sam Blake
She broke his gaze, ‘No, honestly I don’t. But it’s a possibility.’
‘You have been busy.’ O’Rourke didn’t attempt to keep the sarcasm from his voice. Cathy flinched. Ever since the whole business of her getting pregnant, he’d been fiercely protective of her – not that she’d had any proper dates in the past year, but she knew he was worried about her getting involved with the wrong type of guy. He was worse than her mother. She didn’t mind, part of her hoping it was because he cared, in a more than a close friend kind of way. It was nice having him look out for her, although it had definitely been a bit awkward the other night. But maybe his instinct for trouble was better than hers – at least it wasn’t confused by hormones.
‘Really, he’s a nice guy and he works for us – Pearse Street would have done background checks. He just wants to get a good job, get some experience and make some money, and get back home.’
‘He’s working in a brothel where a bunch of girls have been trafficked and were being held against their will. I’m not seeing “nice”.’ Cathy had to agree with him there. O’Rourke continued, ‘And he had means, method and motive to dispose of Daniella O’Connor’s body. It’s some coincidence.’
It was more than a coincidence – what the feck had Aleksy been doing in Enniskerry the very same night Daniella O’Connor wound up a bit higher up the same mountain in a reduced state? And how could he have spent the evening with her if he knew something about Sarah Jane’s disappearance? She’d been careful with the details when she’d explained it to him, saying it was an ongoing investigation; she hadn’t mentioned The Rookery or the location of the newsagent’s, but she’d told him Sarah Jane’s name and it had been all over the news. A shiver went up Cathy’s spine. Maybe she was a bad judge of character. Maybe she was a total idiot. Had she been totally taken in, her heart interfering with her head? Had he only been friendly because he wanted to know what she knew?
O’Rourke stared hard at the table and made a clicking sound with his tongue. She could see he was thinking. Fast. Cathy rubbed her hand over her forehead.
‘How do you get yourself into these situations, Cat – I mean, how?’
Cathy couldn’t meet his eye. She felt bad enough as it was. At least he wasn’t shouting.
O’Rourke pushed his chair back.
‘So we need to talk to your friend Aleksy rather urgently, find out what he knows about Daniella O’Connor and if he knows anything about Sarah Jane, and what his movements were when he left you at Johnny Fox’s. I’ll talk to Saunders, see if we can get a clearer time frame on when Daniella’s body was dumped. He’s sure she’d been dead for a few days before she was taken to the mountains, so she must have been somewhere – somewhere where there is a ton of forensic evidence.’ He paused, ‘But Cat, good work on piecing the bits together, on spotting Irina as a decoy. Let’s hope between them, Billy Roberts and this Aleksy, it can get us to Sarah Jane.’
40
The car park behind Pearse Street Garda Station was quiet as Cathy headed back to her car. She had to leave it to O’Rourke now. She’d potentially compromised both herself and the investigation, and she had to give him space to fix it. Walking across the floodlit tarmac her head was a maelstrom of emotion, regret and anger combining into a dangerous cocktail.
She knew O’Rourke would head straight back to The Paradise Club to see if the team had tracked down Nacek or Aleksy while he’d been gone. Billy Roberts was in custody, but Farrell was a flight risk, and she was quite sure he knew that The Paradise Club had been raided and was being ripped apart by now.
Cathy hadn’t wanted to leave, but she knew O’Rourke well enough to know that he was going to be pretty busy finding the pair of them, questioning them about Sarah Jane, and then about Daniella O’Connor, while at the same time trying to sort out the mess she was in without jeopardising her entire career. Which would be a challenge, she knew.
She’d gone directly against O’Rourke’s orders pursuing the MoneyGram payments, and she’d managed to involve someone who was directly linked to the case.
In this job, you worked solo, even if you were working with a partner you didn’t get time to confer when the shit hit the fan. You regularly had seconds to make decisions that could be the difference between life and death. Monumental errors of judgement, like disobeying direct orders and then ending up a a murder suspect’s alibi, didn’t do anything for your chances of promotion. Unless you were planning a career back in uniform in the arse end of Ballygobackwards.
She hadn’t said anything to Aleksy about questioning Jacob, about The Rookery, about why she was in Enniskerry, but she’d mentioned that her friend was missing and he’d seemed so concerned. Was she that bad a judge of character that she’d ended up snogging someone who had hurt Sarah Jane, who might be implicated in Daniella’s murder? The very thought made her want to heave.
Fighting to focus on the here and now, before she left the station Cathy headed downstairs to check on Irina. Her Nikes squeaking on the grey-flecked lino, she paused outside the interview room she’d left Irina in, her hand on the steel door handle. Irina had been amazing, but Cathy wondered how much she really knew; had she really not seen Sarah Jane again after meeting her in the shop?
Cathy knocked gently and pushed down the handle, sticking her head around the door. The conversation stopped. Wrapped in a dull, navy-blue blanket, Irina looked up. She flashed Cathy a smile, relief written all over her face. The Ruhama caseworker turned and gave her a reassuring nod.
‘All good?’
‘All good, Cathy, thank you.’ Irina smiled at the case worker, ‘I’m giving a statement and then I’m going home. They said they can organise an emergency passport if they can’t find mine at the club.’
‘But not tonight? I get to say goodbye to you in the morning.’ Cathy knew she was smiling on the outside, but inside part of her she was thinking that the hours of darkness gave them time to verify Irina’s story, to track down Nacek and . . . Aleksy. They might need to question Irina more closely before this was all finished.
Irina nodded, ‘Yes, will you be here tomorrow?’
‘I should be. I have to head now but just in case I don’t get back, good luck.’ Cathy meant it, ‘You’ve been amazing through all of this, your bravery has saved those girls.’ She paused, ‘I’m sure it will all work out for you at home. I hope so.’
*
As Cathy reached her car, a part of her wished she could go to the gym. With everything in her head she knew she had no chance of sleep. Normally after a job like this the team all went out for a drink – even if it was six o’clock in the morning. Winding down, having a laugh, was what made them strong when they needed to be. They all knew each other like family.
But tonight she couldn’t hang around waiting for them to wrap everything up: she needed to keep a low profile. She needed to get her thoughts in order. Cathy sighed. She did her best thinking while pumelling the punch bag, but if she went to the gym she’d have to go back to Dún Laoghaire first to leave her gun back at the station or go home and secure it in the wall safe Decko had had installed in the living room – there was no way she could leave it in her car. She had enough on her plate without being charged with neglecting her firearm. It was looking like home was her best option.
Christ, she hoped O’Rourke could find Aleksy fast, and find out what he knew. Cathy pulled her keys from her hoodie pocket and unlocked the car. After the explosion she had felt a wave of anxiety whenever she approached a car, not just her own. She was being irrational, she knew – who got blown up twice in a lifetime? She got herself into some shit, but really? She pushed the thoughts from her mind. Her kitbag was in the boot, and she had a key to the gym – would she be mad to go all the way back to Dún Laoghaire and then out to Ballymun now? After everything that had happened today, she knew a workout would be the only hope she had of winding down.
Before she could decide, her phone began to ring. She pulled it out, answering it as she swung t
he car door open.
‘I’m really sorry to call so late. This is Rebecca Ryan, Jacob’s mum.’
Cathy leaned in and checked the clock on the dash. Just after 12.45. Something must have happened for Rebecca to be calling in the middle of the night.
‘How can I help?’
The words tumbled out, ‘Jacob’s gone. I don’t know what to do. I think my ex-husband has taken him. He can be really violent. If Jacob has a meltdown, I don’t know what he might do . . . I also think he might have something to do with your friend going missing too.’ It took Cathy a second to process what she was saying. What the feck?
Frantic didn’t even begin to describe the tone of Rebecca’s voice, Cathy could feel her pain and panic like it was heat coming through her phone. And from what she knew of Rebecca Ryan, she was the type who only panicked when there was a very real reason to.
What else could happen tonight?
Cathy thought of the scar running down Rebecca Ryan’s face; when she’d noticed it she’d thought fleetingly that it might have been from a car accident, but if her ex could be violent . . . Had he done that? And what on earth could he know about Sarah Jane?
Cathy swung into her car and fired the engine, sticking the phone into its holder and switching to hands free. She fought to keep her voice calm, but her heart was thumping.
‘Start at the beginning. Tell me exactly what’s happened. Jacob first, then Sarah Jane.’
‘Jacob just called me. He said he was waiting in the car for his dad, that he’s taking him on a plane for a surprise. He can’t do that without my permission. He’s taking him out of the country, I know it.’
Cathy cut in, ‘We’ll stop him, don’t worry.’ Reversing out of the space, Cathy swung the car into a three-point turn and headed across the floodlit car park for the exit. ‘Have you rung 999?’
‘No, I didn’t know . . .’
‘Have you got another phone?’
‘Yes, the landline, I’ve got the landline.’
Cathy swung around a Garda van and headed for the security barrier.
‘I want you to dial 999, give them all Jacob’s details and your husband’s registration number – do you know it?’
‘Yes, it’s a private plate. It’s a sports car.’
‘Ring now, and when you’ve given them all the info, tell them I want a word, put the phones together.’
‘OK, OK.’
As Cathy punched her number into the barrier at the car park entrance she could hear Rebecca asking the operator for the Gardaí, then, ‘Jacob’s eight. He’s got Asperger’s. My ex is Richard Farrell. He lives in Foxrock, Eyrie House. Jacob is with him tonight. He owns a restaurant in town, The Rookery. They could be going there, but from what Jacob said it sounded like they were heading straight for the airport. I think he’s taking him to Spain.’
Cathy felt every hair on her body stand up. Jacob’s dad was Richard Farrell? Oh holy God. Cathy wondered if Rebecca Ryan knew her ex-husband’s business interests extended to running a brothel full of trafficked women. It wasn’t exactly the type of thing you discussed over breakfast, and now wasn’t the time to break the news to her. Richard Farrell was Jacob’s dad? She could hardly believe it.
But that would explain why Rebecca was so familiar with The Rookery that she could get someone a job there, why she’d been dropping that girl’s CV in when Jacob had seen Sarah Jane. And why Aleksy had been in her shop, of all the out of the way places he could have been collecting suits for his boss. She’d said she’d worked with Billy Roberts in Spain – perhaps she’d helped get him the job at The Rookery.
A moment later Rebecca had given her personal details and Farrell’s registration plate to the controller. ‘There’s a Guard on the other line who needs to talk to you. Just a minute.’ Cathy heard a click as Rebecca put the phones together.
Cathy tried to still her heart, to concentrate on the road. She needed to call O’Rourke, to get the troops out. Her mind worked fast.
‘Thanks, Rebecca. Who’s that?’
The voice was clipped, efficient, ‘Sergeant John Fitzpatrick.’
‘Fitzer? It’s Cat Connolly. I don’t have a radio. Richard Farrell is implicated in a double missing persons investigation and the trafficking gang O’Rourke raided tonight at The Paradise Club. He’s there now. Can you update him?’
Fitzgerald didn’t hesitate, ‘I’m on it.’
‘Thanks, Fitzer. We need to stop Farrell.’
‘We will. Leave it with me.’ Cathy knew from his voice he’d have every unit in the city looking for the car in seconds. The fastest way to get everyone on this was to go through Command and Control. A 999 call took priority over everything. And Fitzer was sound. They’d trained together, had got drunk together more than once.
‘Keep me posted Fitzer?’
‘Will do. You in the shit again?’
‘I hope not, Fitzer, I hope not.’
The lights changed and Cathy focused on avoiding a pair of teenagers in hoodies who were intent on falling off the pavement into the road, as she switched back to Rebecca.‘You still there, Rebecca?’
‘Yes, I’m here.’
‘A call will go out to all mobile units in the city. We’ll alert the airport and the airport police and all the ferry terminals. We’ll stop him leaving the country. How long ago did Jacob phone?’
‘I don’t know, I’ve lost track of time – ten minutes, maybe?’
Cathy did some rapid calculations in her head. If they’d left Foxrock soon after Jacob called, they were probably on the M50 by now. If she headed west she could pick up the M50 at the Red Cow interchange, and if she really put her foot down, maybe arrive at the airport shortly after them. She knew Farrell drove an Aston Martin, but he’d be keeping to the speed limit to avoid getting noticed.
‘Can they put out one of those missing child messages?’ Rebecca’s voice was starting to crack, the tears she was obviously holding back now on their way.
‘A CRI Alert? Those are only used when the child’s life is in imminent danger. Do you think your ex-husband would harm him?’
‘Not intentionally, he’s just totally unreliable – he drives too fast, and if he realises that I know and I’ve called you, anything could happen. Jacob can’t do sudden changes of plan, he’ll be having a meltdown.’
‘We’ll stop him, don’t worry. I’m going to head towards the airport. You sure he’ll take him to Spain?’
‘He spends a lot of time in Marbella.’
The Costa del Crime – that would be right.
Cathy switched down a gear and skirted around a cyclist. She could hear Rebecca breathing heavily at the other end, knew she needed to keep her talking so she could hold it together. ‘Tell me about Sarah Jane. Why do you think your husband could be involved?’
Cathy could hear Rebecca’s voice fracture as she spoke, ‘Jacob found some keys with her photo on them – he’d dropped something and they were under the sofa. When he rang he said everything was OK because the girl who’d got lost wasn’t lost, she’d been to Richard’s, and she’d left her keys there by accident and she probably just couldn’t get into her house.’ Cathy opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.
Sarah Jane had her Facebook picture – the one taken at the Dún Laoghaire festival – on her car keys, a picture of all of them on a hot sunny day. So many questions fought their way into Cathy’s head she didn’t know which to ask first.
Sarah Jane had been to Farrell’s house? Jesus. Before she could process the information properly, Cathy’s phone pipped to indicate an incoming call. O’Rourke’s name flashed up on the screen. Thank God for Bluetooth.
‘Give me a sec – I need to put you on hold, Rebecca.’
She hit the button on the steering wheel, but jumped straight in before he could speak, ‘Sarah Jane was in Farrell’s house in Foxrock.’ Cathy focused on keeping her voice calm, delivering all the information clearly, ‘Rebecca Ryan, Jacob’s mum, is on the other line. Ric
hard Farrell is her ex-husband – he’s abducted Jacob, they’re heading for the airport. He must have heard about the raid and he’s running. Jacob found Sarah Jane’s keys at his dad’s house. He told his mum. Sarah Jane’s got a picture of a gang of us on her key fob. He recognised her.’
‘OK.’ There was a pause while O’Rourke pulled the strands together. ‘Cabinteely have just called over to Farrell’s house and there was no sign of him. Only some crazy guard dog.’
‘Seems he has a lot of reasons to want to get out of Ireland.’
‘What’s your status?’
‘Rebecca has called 999, Fitzer is getting Farrell’s licence plate out to all units. He’s driving an Aston Martin – black, private plate. Fitzer will keep you in the loop. I’m heading for the airport.’
‘You’d be better off with Jacob’s mum. You won’t find him on your own and you don’t have a radio.’ O’Rourke was using the voice he seemed to save for Cathy: sort of annoyed but controlled.
‘I know, but can you get on to Enniskerry to get someone out to Rebecca? I can’t sit and wait. And I’ve met Jacob, I’ll recognise him if I can get to the terminal.’ And when she got her hands on Richard Farrell . . . She didn’t say it. Sarah Jane had been in his house? Like Daniella had been to his house? She sure as hell hoped not.
Cathy could almost hear O’Rourke nodding. He knew she didn’t do waiting.
‘Be careful. We’re still looking for this Aleksy character. Keep an eye out for him too. No heroics.’
‘Cross my heart.’
There was a pause and he disconnected. She could picture him rolling his eyes.
Glancing in her rear-view mirror, Cathy switched back to the call with Rebecca. ‘Rebecca, you still there?’
‘Cathy? Yes.’ Rebecca sounded excited, ‘Listen, they’re heading over the mountains. They’ve gone up past Glencree, looks like they’re heading for Ballinascorney. Richard’s taking the back roads, he knows you’ll find him if he goes through the tolls on the motorway.’