The Tribes

by Catriona King

  Craig arched an eyebrow. That had been his intention but seeing Liam’s enthusiasm changed his mind. “No. I’m letting Annette see what she can get from Purvis before you and I take over. Then she can have a crack at Mara Kennedy while we do him. Meanwhile, are the uniforms at the farm?”

  “Yep. Been there for an hour. I used the local lads; it made more sense.”

  “As long as none of them are friendly with the McAllisters and try to cover things up.”

  Liam’s startled expression said that the thought hadn’t occurred to him. He made a grab for the phone but Craig waved him down. “It’s pretty unlikely, but just in case I asked Joe to send one of his down to supervise.”

  He glanced at the clock behind Liam’s head. “OK, I need to speak to Andy and Ash now and then nip down to see Geoff. You calm everyone outside down and then get off to High Street. See how Annette’s getting on, and while you’re there make some calls to your snouts, will you. I want to know more about these shootings and you’ve got your ear pretty close to the ground.”

  Liam gave a smug smile. “Any closer and it would get ripped off.”

  ****

  Garvan’s Bookmakers. East Belfast. 9.10 a.m.

  Tommy Hill slung his feet onto the penknife scarred desk, the product of many bored hours, lost bets and bad moods. He glared at the younger man opposite; it was early in the day for both of them and the aging Loyalist was in a foul mood.

  “Ye stupid prick, McCrae! Ye said yer men cud make them talk. Ye said they wus spineless bastards who wud sell their mothers to miss the pain.”

  Rory McCrae gabbled frantically at his old boss. He might be head of the UKUF now, with all its scams and rackets, but for sheer homicidal capability he knew that Tommy was the man to fear. Sod the fact he was a pensioner and mightn’t be as quick on the trigger as he once was, and screw the idea that decamping to Templepatrick meant that he’d laid down his arms. Maybe inside his head he had, for the hour a day that he pushed Ella on the swings, but the urge to kill didn’t weaken like a man’s body did and Tommy’s legend had still rallied men eager to put a bullet in someone.

  “Honest ta Gawd, Tommy, I thought they wud. ’Specially when my boys shot them. We’d heard they wus running fer the man-”

  Hill cut across him venomously. “An’ who’s this fuckin’ man they’re all running fer? Eh? Does anywan huv his name? Dus he even fuckin’ exist?” He dropped his feet to the floor with a thud. “Is it fuckin’ Houdini tryin’ to take over the west and south?”

  McCrae leaned forward eagerly, forgetting he was taking his life in his hands as he did.

  “There is a man, Tommy. Everywan knows it. A month, that’s all it tuk him to start takin’ over everythin’ up west. Gamblin’, counterfeits, smugglin’, petrol stretchin’, numbers; he’s givin’ the long-term gang up there hell. Nye he’s movin’ in girls and drugs. That’s breakin’ new ground. That’s how we knowed he’d really arrived; that saft bunch up there wun’t touch girls and blow. Bunch af pricks.”

  Tommy wondered how Hanratty would feel about being called a prick. He brushed past it and concentrated on the matter in hand, slamming his fist hard against the desk and barely missing his erstwhile disciple’s head.

  “He’s nat the bloody invisible man! Sumwun knows who’s takin’ over an’ I need to find out who.”

  As spittle gathered in the corners of Hill’s mouth McCrae leaned well back. He’d seen the signs before; Tommy was about to blow. He wasn’t wrong. Suddenly Hill jumped to his feet with the energy of a man twenty years younger, pounding his fist harder on the scarred desk with each word.

  “I. Want. His. Fuckin’. Name.” He moved towards the door, opening it with a kick, then he turned back for the final word. “I dun’t care how ye get it, McCrae, but I want that bastard’s name by tomara, or ye’ll be the next wan with a bullet in yer fuckin’ leg.”

  ****

  The C.C.U.

  Craig poured two fresh coffees and topped up his own, then he retook his seat and stared at the men opposite. He stared for so long that they began to worry that they’d done something wrong, or rather Andy did. Ash had realised pretty quickly that Craig wasn’t staring at them but through them, at something far more interesting inside his own head.

  The detective suddenly remembered that they were there and realised that they were waiting for him to speak.

  “OK. Miskimmon and Corneau.”

  He stopped again and wrinkled his forehead, considering whether to give them the P.P.S.’ view of the world or start from the point that they just needed to do more to make their case. He plumped for the former and after a couple of minutes talking he ended with. “Ten days. That’s all we have before we have to hand them to the Venezuelans for trial.” He fixed his gaze on Andy.

  “I need something that puts Miskimmon near that plane.”

  And then on Ash. “And proof that he planted the code. If you can find it in even one of the incidences that should be enough, then we can make a case for the rest.”

  Both men answered at once. Craig let them compete for a moment and then pointed a finger at Ash.

  “Shoot.”

  The analyst blew a puff of air up at his green quiff, making it bounce up and down on his forehead as he thought. When he eventually spoke it was slow and considered.

  “Miskimmon has firewalls on all his laptops and phones, so tight that the Computer Fraud Unit, Des and me, none of us can break them from the outside.”

  Craig wasn’t persuaded. “What about GCHQ? They must have encountered this sort of thing before.”

  GCHQ is the Government Communications Headquarters, a British intelligence and security organisation operating under the direction of the Joint Intelligence Committee alongside MI5, MI6 and Defence Intelligence.

  Ash nodded. “They have. Definitely. But I don’t know if even they’ve successfully extracted information in a case like this.”

  Craig frowned. As he did so Andy frowned as well, so hard that his pale forehead funnelled outwards and his head looked like it was going to explode. Ash stared at him in alarm and shook his arm to break the spell, making the D.C.I. put his frown into words.

  “What if…” He paused and then restarted with renewed vigour. “What if we look at it from the other end?”

  Ash urged him on. “As in?”

  The normally laidback detective warmed to his theme. “As in, we look at all the systems Miskimmon hacked. Check how he got in. See if he left something we can use.”

  Ash shook his head. “I found the hacks first and I would have-” He stopped abruptly and Craig lurched forward, spotting a doubt.

  “You weren’t looking for anything else then, were you? You were too busy looking for what the hack did.”

  Ash gave a hesitant “No…but-”

  Craig cut him off, careful to avoid implying that he’d missed something. Ash’s work in spotting first the pattern and then the detail of Ronan Miskimmon’s killing spree had proved his genius, not just to him but to people much higher up the chain. He wasn’t going to detract from that but he did need the analyst to take things one step beyond.

  “OK. Let’s think for a minute. Ash, you said Miskimmon had trialled the hack elsewhere in the world before he narrowed his focus to Northern Ireland. Yes?”

  “Yes, but-”

  Craig raised a hand, halting him. “Hear me out and then you can shoot me down. OK, so you said the first incidences affected things like media and weather drones. Sporadic incidents in random locations, where no-one seemed to have spotted the hack but you. Yes?”

  He was answered by a sharp nod.

  “But there’re two things there. Point one, how do you know that no-one else noticed anything? Have you checked? Have you engaged with hackers or analysts in other countries to ask them?”

  Ash’s head was shaking furiously but his expression said that he was excited. “No. No, and they might not even have realised the significance because the incidents there stopped and concentrate
d here. I could put a call out and then…”

  Craig tuned out for a moment as Ash descended into geek speak. When he tuned back in he nodded supportively and then cut the analyst off.

  “OK, good. So that’s a whole new avenue opening up. But putting a call out won’t do it. Get GCHQ to get onto the FBI, CIA, Homeland Security etcetera, and their equivalents in any country the early incidents occurred in. They’ll have been monitoring the hackers in their own backyards for years and should be able to help speed things up.”

  Ash’s eyes widened as he realised that GCHQ had probably been monitoring him since he’d been a teenager.

  Craig rose and opened the door. “Nicky.”

  She’d been reading a magazine but she set it down immediately, his tone saying something important was up.

  “When is Davy back?”

  “He’s back in Belfast today and back at work Monday.” She screwed up her face, thinking. “Well, technically tomorrow if we’re on call, I suppose.”

  A muttered “good, good” and Craig went back into his room.

  “OK. Ash, you and Davy need to work on this together, as well as the two murders we’ve got. Sorry.”

  Ash stared up at him apologetically. “Sorry, chief. No can do. I’m leaving on Monday. I was only Davy’s locum cover. Remember?”

  “You can’t leave!”

  Ash gawped. “It’s not my fault! I don’t have a job here anymore.”

  “Says who?”

  A look of confusion flashed across the analyst’s face, and as it did so Craig did some rapid accounting in his head. With Annette going off on maternity leave in a few months, Kyle would just be her cost neutral replacement and he could fudge their few months overlap as a training course. Reggie would be leaving them as soon as Jake was back on his feet, although if he could find some spare cash he’d be fighting that. But at maximum staffing that meant he’d have two sergeants, one inspector, one constable, Rhonda, and two D.C.I.s: Liam and Andy. It wasn’t a lot with the number of murders they caught. With a bit of jiggery-pokery he could afford another analyst, and if Ash wasn’t kept busy full time he could help support the other murder teams. They all worked for him anyway, so he knew exactly where he could shave their budgets to suit.

  When he spoke again he was on surer ground.

  “Have you got a new job to go to, Ash?”

  Ash hemmed and hawed before admitting all that he’d got lined up was a bit of tutoring at Queen’s and one week’s work at a tech company in town.

  Craig retook his seat. “Do you want to leave?”

  The analyst considered playing hard to get but his smile gave him away.

  Craig nodded decisively. “Well, OK then. You can stay with us full time. If you’re not busy on my cases I’ll allocate you some work from the other teams.” He thought of the clincher. “And if you still have free time, I’ll see if we can arrange for you and Davy to spend some time at GCHQ. I know they would jump at seconding both of you for a couple of weeks.”

  He sat back with a satisfied smile, expecting a ‘thanks, chief’ at the very least. Instead he got an uncertain look and then Ash slowly shook his head.

  Craig lurched forward in his chair. “You don’t want to stay!”

  Ash tried for a mollifying look. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You shook your head.” He turned to a bemused looking Andy for support. “Didn’t he shake his head?”

  Andy nodded and then added a caveat. “Maybe he didn’t shake his head to say no. Maybe it was just disbelief.”

  The look he gave Ash said that he’d better hurry up and agree. The computer whiz did. Partly.

  “Thanks for your generous offer, chief, and I’d like to stay, of course. It’s just-”

  Craig finally understood. “Ah…you want to know if Davy will be your boss.”

  Ash nodded. “Yes. Will he? It’s just that we graduated at the same time, and-”

  “You’re equally skilled, no-one’s arguing about that. But yes, Davy will be your boss. He’s worked here for quite a while and he’s higher up the pay scale, plus he’s far more familiar with our work.”

  The analyst went to say something else but he stopped him.

  “Of course, I’m your boss overall, so in terms of assessments etcetera you’ll report to me, and I have the final say on everything. But yes, day to day, Davy will be able to allocate you work.” He watched Ash’s face carefully as he continued. “But let’s face it, you’ve seen us work and it’s a team effort. And Davy’s about as bossy as -” He’d been about to say “my mum” but the image of the formidable Mirella ordering them about as kids made it a bad analogy, so he substituted “Annette” instead. “And neither of them is hard to work with. Actually, I think Davy will be pleased that you’re staying. It can’t have been easy for him having no-one to speak computereeze to all these years.”

  Even he could hear that he was gabbling now. “Also, remember that he’s studying part-time for his PhD and won’t be here some days, and I’m sure we can find time for you both to pursue your specialist interests.”

  Which, given Davy’s excitement about working with outside agencies was likely to include Interpol and the FBI, and he knew Ash would want to work with GCHQ. He decided to shut up; it was unseemly for the boss to beg. He filled the gap until Ash answered by making his next point on the case.

  “OK, point two. As well as other hackers possibly noticing something, Andy is quite right. What about traces at the other end? I can’t believe that when Miskimmon planted that code on the machines’ computers that he didn’t leave any trail from his side. Ash?”

  He was still thinking about his new job so Andy gave his arm a shove, adding. “The other end of Miskimmon’s hacks, Kermit.”

  The analyst considered the question for a moment. “I couldn’t find anything that led back to him. He’d bounced off the internet all over the world and that just led me to Ukraine. But his earlier efforts…I guess he might still have been perfecting his procedure back then.” He glanced at Craig. “If he got careless or made a mistake then we might be lucky with a reverse trace, but I can’t promise anything.”

  Craig would take what he could get. “Good. Let’s pursue those avenues then, please.” He moved to the window, staring out at the Lagan, and carried on speaking without looking at the men.

  “OK, Ash. I know you have a lot to think about. Just give me your decision about the job by close of business today, please.” They rose to leave and Craig shook his head. “Not you, Andy. We still need to talk about the CCTV.”

  As Ash was about to leave he turned back. “I forgot to mention, chief. That paper Des found in the drowned man’s pocket.”

  “Yes.”

  “The writing was gambling odds and riders. Cheltenham tomorrow.”

  Craig nodded him out and gestured Andy to top up their coffees as he thought.

  “Where are you with the CCTV?”

  Andy sat down with a thud. It didn’t bode well for his answer. “I’m down to the last few days’ footage at City Airport.”

  Something about his tone made Craig hopeful. “Consecutive days?”

  A shake of Andy’s head said that he’d been right. “Two days in the week before the explosion and the immediate twenty-four hours before the bomb. Miskimmon’s nowhere else on the footage, but, as you know, he was an engineering student at Queen’s so I had a hunch. I got onto the engineering department and checked when he was definitely signed in for practicals and lectures.”

  Craig’s eyes widened. “They make them sign in for lectures?”

  Andy grinned so widely his pale lips completely disappeared. “Yes, God bless them. I remembered ’cos one of my friends at Uni did engineering-”

  Craig interrupted. “What did you study?”

  “French and Greek literature.”

  He suddenly viewed the D.C.I. in a new light, with his laziness looking more like a renaissance poet’s malaise.

  “Anyway, I knew the engineers were s
trict about attendance, so I persuaded them to give me their lecture rosters and then I noted the days that Miskimmon wasn’t there.”

  “Wouldn’t it have been easier to check the dates he was allocated to do work experience at the airport?”

  “If he had been. He was a first year and they don’t do work experience. So I guessed that he’d taken the slot at City Airport belonging to a final year student and signed in using their name. Long story short, I found the culprit. Danny Myers. He said that Miskimmon had been eager to get some practical experience and he’d been even more eager to stay in bed with his girlfriend, so it had suited them both.”

  Craig smiled. Andy had made D.C.I. at thirty-seven and he hadn’t gone the fast track route, so he’d always known that despite the detective’s sugar addiction and lackadaisical attitude, there had to be something going on beneath his spiked up hair.

  “So?”

  “So, I checked the name Danny Myers, and it had been signed in at the airport quite a lot. I pulled the CCTV for the days he’d signed in but so far Miskimmon’s not on any of it. Keep your fingers crossed that he got careless on one of the last three days.”

  He would. Craig thought about their final chances of pinning the crime on Ronan Miskimmon: three days CCTV in the hands of a super- recogniser, a reverse trace on the systems he’d hacked, and the possibility of a hacker in some other country having spotted Miskimmon’s actions before Ash. It felt thin and theoretical, all of it. They needed something to get their teeth into closer to home.

  He changed the subject.

  “The drowning case. What have you got so far?”

  Andy opened his mouth to say ‘give me a break. I haven’t had time’ then he changed his mind, shutting it again. When he did speak it was Grade A obfuscation.

  “Well, there’s the forensics –algae, nail scrapings, to see what happened when he went in. Then Ash will look at currents to give us an idea of time-”

  “And John can give you some idea of time of death and exact cause: drugs, drowning or trauma in the water. The usual. OK, what else?”