The Tribes

by Catriona King

  “Natalie. Katy will be so pleased to see you. Do you have the day off?”

  Natalie Winter née Ingrams grinned up at her hostess, but not far. Maureen Stevens was one of the few people she’d met who was almost as short as her. Katy had an extra few inches on her mother but she wasn’t exactly a giantess. All in all it made Natalie feel as if she was back with her own pint-sized family and she showed her ease by linking arms with her hostess and marching her firmly into the kitchen in search of a brew.

  “I do, Mrs Stevens, and John’s working this weekend.”

  As the kettle boiled, Maureen Stevens commiserated. “Poor John. They all work so hard, don’t they?”

  It was answered by a snort and a rustling through the biscuit tin. “They wouldn’t know hard work if it jumped up and bit them. Not compared to the hours Katy and I did when we trained.” She glanced towards the hall. “Is she upstairs getting ready?”

  “She’s upstairs.” She paused, realising she didn’t know if Katy was getting ready or not, or what for. Still, it would be nice for her to get out of the house. Since her accident her only outings had been to the physiotherapist and the Trust. “Are you going somewhere nice?”

  Natalie nodded, her mouth full of chocolate and crumbs. “Farachut.”

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  The surgeon gulped down her biscuit and reached for another one, repeating the word before she took a bite. “Parachute.”

  Maureen Stevens’ eyes widened but her next question was cut short by her daughter appearing at the kitchen door.

  “Hi, Natalie.” Katy shot her a warning look as she walked past to give her mother a hug. “Natalie and I are going shopping, Mum. At The Outlet at Banbridge, so we might be away a few hours.” With that she grabbed her chomping friend’s elbow and moved her swiftly towards the front door. Her mother’s voice carried after them.

  “But Natalie said parachute.”

  Katy opened the door. “It’s a new fashion range. See you.”

  As they raced to the car, Katy’s mother was certain that she’d just missed something, but she couldn’t for the life of her think what it was.

  ****

  The C.C.U.

  Davy stretched his long arms above his head and gave a noisy wide-mouthed yawn. It earned him a look of disapproval from Nicky and a hand pointedly covering her own mouth. His response was a shrug; he was too tired for good manners. Partly from moving all his stuff back from France and the travelling, and partly because his reunion with Maggie hadn’t just been athletic, it had been ear numbing, courtesy of her mother putting pressure on her to set a date for the wedding and Maggie passing that pressure on to him.

  He cracked his knuckles hard, earning an appreciative grin from Ash and a groan of revulsion from everyone else. He was unrepentant; if he had to suffer then so could everyone else.

  He didn’t understand all this wedding stuff. They’d only got engaged in December, so surely to goodness they could spend a few years enjoying that! He’d always thought of engagement as an experience rather than a finite event, an experience that should last as long as all six seasons of The Walking Dead, played in its annual slots, not five seconds congratulations and then onto the next thing, the way Maggie’s mother seemed to think it was. It wasn’t as if he was going to do a runner. He wanted to marry Maggie, so why was her mother acting like he was a wild horse that she’d finally got a bridle on, and if she didn’t rope him down tight he was going to sprint out the gate?

  His ruminations on the business of matrimony were ended abruptly by a yelp from the neighbouring desk. It was followed by the sight of Ash jumping up and circling his arms like he was stirring a pot, in a manically uncoordinated victory dance.

  “I’ve found one!”

  “One w…what?”

  Nicky appeared suddenly beside his desk. “Yes, one what? Because it had better be one diamond for me, to make up for the way you two have just disturbed my afternoon.”

  Ash was unrepentant, jerking his way around the open plan floor, until even Nicky had to laugh. She beckoned him back and took a seat.

  “OK.” She moved her glitter-tipped forefinger until it stopped at Davy. “You first. What’s biting you?”

  “Who s…said-”

  “Save the excuses. Something’s up. You never crack your knuckles like that. You know how much it annoys me.”

  Davy rolled his eyes. “I’m tired.”

  “And?”

  He gave a heavy sigh. “Maggie’s mum’s on her case about setting a date.”

  “Ah, I see. So now Maggie’s on your case.”

  He shook his head. “No, Maggie wants a long engagement as well, but she doesn’t know how to s…stop her mum.”

  To everyone’s surprise she laughed, annoying Davy with her lack of sympathy.

  “That’s an easy one. Just buy a place together. It will show you’re committed and keep her mum so busy helping you choose the décor that she won’t have time to wedding plan.” She moved her finger along to Ash. “Next.”

  Ash was about to start dancing again when Davy dragged him back into his chair.

  “Oh, OK then. You two are no fun.” He jerked a thumb at his smart-pad. “The NSA’s just found someone in Canada who spotted Miskimmon’s hacks before I did. He’s in Toronto so I’ll have to wait a few hours before I contact him, but fingers crossed.”

  Nicky shrugged and stood up. “Can’t help you with that one, I’m afraid. I don’t have a clue about computers.” As she walked to her desk she turned back. “But could you warn me if you’re about to dance again. I want to film it for YouTube.”

  ****

  Niall Henderson’s expression swerved between shocked sadness when Andy told him about his friend’s death and leering victory when the D.C.I.’s questions turned to the girl that he’d left with on Tuesday night. It was clear that the only thing stopping Henderson from punching the air and shouting ‘he shoots, he scores’ was a sense that Matias’ death might render the gesture tasteless, although even in his restraint Andy could read the boy’s belief that Matias would have been congratulating him on his romantic exploits had he still been there.

  When Henderson’s emotional vacillation had subsided and a sober expression had finally claimed his slim cheeked good looks, Andy began his questions again, this time focusing entirely on the girl.

  “So you met her…” He shook his head in a mime of forgetfulness. “Sorry, remind me again of the name of the club, could you?”

  Henderson gazed at his feet in a way that said he’d seen despondent people do it on television and he’d thought that it had looked good.

  “The Pit. It’s on May Street. We usually go there, or to the Limelight. Then we head on to a shibeen.”

  Andy nodded, smiling. “Of course. You said before. And the time you arrived?”

  “Nine-ish. We had a burger at the Pyramid and then one of Matias’ dad’s cabbies dropped us off.”

  “Good. And…” Andy stopped abruptly, tossing up between walking the youth through his steps or cutting straight to when he’d met the girl. He plumped for a compromise. “Tell me what time you arrived and what you did before you met the young woman.”

  Henderson puffed out his cheeks, thinking; they expanded much further than Andy would have imagined and he wondered idly if the boy had played the trumpet at any stage of his life. He’d played the French Horn, courtesy of his mother’s desire to have a musician in the family. He’d never got beyond Grade Two so eventually she’d given up, but not before he’d noted the cheek expanding qualities of frequently blowing out air. The youth’s voice cut through his thoughts.

  “Landed there around nine-twenty and got a few pints down us. I needed the head so I went to the one at the back of the bar and bumped into her on my way out.”

  The D.C.I. shook his head at the girl’s perfect technique. She could have spotted the group when they’d entered, waited until one had cut loose from the pack and then positioned herself strate
gically to bump into him. Although it didn’t explain how she’d known exactly which club to wait at; Xavier Rey’s cab office would be next for a tug.

  He adopted a blokey tone. “Was she good looking then?”

  The young man’s eyes widened. “Hotter than hell. I couldn’t believe my luck. Girls like that never even look at me.”

  But had he questioned it? Nope. Like most men he’d just thanked the gods and credited himself with far more charisma than he actually possessed. The detective leaned forward encouragingly.

  “Tell me what she looked like, then.”

  Henderson grinned. “You know that one on the local News? Only younger.”

  Andy did indeed. Watching her back on replay had been one of his guilty treats for months.

  “Blonde then.”

  “And the rest. Tan, short skirt. And what a smile. The perfect ten.”

  Andy nodded. If you were going to use bait it needed to be fool proof. Whoever had set Matias Rey up had left nothing to chance.

  He relaxed back in his chair. “Go on.”

  The boys’ grin could only mean one thing. In a competition between the girl and his mates, the mates hadn’t stood a chance. It was the way of the world.

  “I told the lads I was splitting and she took me back to her hotel.”

  Andy’s ears pricked up. “Hotel? She wasn’t a local?”

  “Nah. Something foreign I think.” The grin deepened. “To tell you the truth we didn’t talk much.” If he’d winked his implication couldn’t have said ‘I’m some man’ louder.

  “How did you get to the hotel?”

  “Walked. It was The Majestic just down the road.”

  Chosen for convenience.

  “How long were you with the young lady?”

  It was a term the police used frequently in such situations although it very rarely applied.

  “Dunno. When I woke up around eight on Wednesday morning she’d gone.”

  He had all he needed. With one move Andy was upright and authoritative. One hundred percent back in policeman mode.

  “I’ll need you to come to the station, Mr Henderson.”

  The youth looked confused, trying to keep up with Andy’s swift change from all boys together to I’m in charge.

  “We believe the young lady may have had something to do with Mr Rey’s death, so we’ll need you to work with a sketch artist. And I’ll need the number of the hotel room.”

  As realisation dawned and guilt replaced his bravado, Niall Henderson raced for the bathroom to throw up. Meanwhile Andy phoned through the details to Davy, and the searches of The Majestic’s registrations and local CCTV began.

  ****

  High Street Station. 1 p.m.

  If Xavier Rey had decided to write his memoirs he couldn’t have told them more about his tribe. By one o’clock they had details of The Rock’s structure, business areas and overall approach. Rey took a gulp of his cooling coffee and made a face, so Craig halted the interview and headed to the staff room to make more, less from domesticity than from a desire to stretch his legs. He was joined almost immediately by two D.C.I.s. Liam was first to speak as usual.

  “Well, I’m buggered. Rey must have a death wish telling us all that.”

  Geoff Hamill shook his head. “He knows he’ll be OK.”

  Liam raised an eyebrow. “How do you reckon that?”

  The question could have been worse. He could have added ‘Shorty’ at the end.

  “Because in all the years The Rock has been operating there’s never been a killing until Matias’. I told you before, they use intimidation not violence.”

  “Aye, but he’s just given up his boss’ whole organisation. If I was the top man I’d be rightly pissed off.”

  Craig shook his head. “He’s given up nothing, Liam. He hasn’t named any of his men and he doesn’t have his boss’ name to give up. All we’ve got are the gang’s current business areas, which Geoff already knew, and hopefully when we go back in we’ll get some of their trading and supply outlets across the north. Only some, mind you, and probably the least profitable ones. Plus, they can open new ones within a few weeks.” As he finished, his mouth twisted into a smile. Geoff Hamill joined in, making Liam tut.

  “Ach, now you’re getting on my wick. What are you grinning about?”

  A smile wasn’t a grin but Craig couldn’t be bothered to argue. Instead he nodded Hamill on.

  “We’re smiling, you big eejit, because Xavier Rey’s about to commit sabotage.”

  “Aye, to himself!”

  Hamill snorted. He was enjoying having the upper hand with Liam, even if it only lasted a minute more.

  “No, not to himself. To whoever’s been trying to take over The Rock’s business.”

  Liam looked blank, prompting Craig to elaborate as he made the coffee and searched for five mugs.

  “What is the rival gang after, Liam?”

  Liam frowned. “That’s obvious. To take over The Rock’s patch and business.”

  Craig started to pour. “Correct. So, if Rey tells us where The Rock trades and gets its supplies, he’ll effectively remove those options for the next bunch. Leaving them with…?”

  “They’ll still be top dog.”

  “Yes, maybe in that area but only for a while, and being top dog won’t feed them. Without the ability to trade they’ll go under in a few weeks.”

  Liam’s frown deepened. “No, but see, that’s not right. The new crowd will be dealing in drugs and girls, not cigs and DVDs. That’s more money.”

  Craig took a sip of his drink and searched around for a tray, waving Hamill to explain the rest. The diminutive D.C.I. was having fun. He began speaking in a deliberately slow voice, making Liam narrow his eyes.

  “You see, Liam. By Rey giving us nice police officers some trade routes, he’s ensuring that the whole of his patch will be flooded with cops from morning to night. It’s a bit hard to trade in girls and drugs when the area’s under the cosh.”

  Liam’s but was immediate. “We won’t be there forever.”

  Hamill nodded. “True, not in those numbers, but we will be looking at the area far more often than we did before. Up till now we’ve let bygones be bygones with The Rock because they haven’t been violent. They also keep order in their community, so although we’ve rousted west Belfast occasionally we haven’t been breathing down their necks. But we’ll definitely be doing it if there are drugs and girls in play, and for a long time. Rey’s about to ensure that.”

  Liam clutched at the nearest straw. “Ah but…” He thought for a moment. “Ah but, then the new boys will just move somewhere else. See.”

  “And meanwhile we’ll be gathering intelligence on them and getting ready to bring them down.”

  As Craig handed round the drinks and got ready to take the other two out to Jack and his guest, he added. “There’s just one caveat, Geoff. My guess is that Rey’s men won’t take Matias’ death lying down. There could be trouble after the funeral.”

  Liam opened his mouth to say something but Craig shut it again with a glance.

  “I know exactly what you’re going to say. They’re all criminals so why do we care if they kill each other.”

  Liam shrugged.

  “I’ll tell you why we care. Because there’s a hell of a difference between criminals who defraud and those who kidnap and kill.” He entered the corridor, leaving the others to follow his voice. “Come on. I want this new gang found before Rey and his men take the law into their own hands.”

  He handed Rey’s coffee to Liam, waving him into the interview room, then he entered the viewing room to give the last mug to Jack. Five minutes later the desk sergeant was updated on a plan to flood south and west Belfast with uniforms as soon as Craig gave the word. When he re-entered the interview room, Liam was already scribbling down a list of The Rock’s supply and trade routes that they knew would be out of date in a few weeks.

  Chapter Nine

  The C.C.U. 2 p.m.

&nb
sp; Ash tapped hard on his static filled PC screen, earning him a laugh from the next desk.

  “It’s not a s…snowglobe, mate. It won’t get clearer just because you give it a bash.”

  He ignored Davy’s scepticism and tapped again, surreptitiously changing a cable connection beneath the desk as he did. The screen cleared instantly and the image of a dark-eyed young woman in her twenties wearing three nose studs appeared. As Davy gawped at the seemingly beaten into submission computer, Ash was gawping at the girl. Even from halfway across the world she was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

  He smoothed his green quiff down self-consciously, his smooth baritone cracking slightly as he said “Hi. I’m Ash Rahman. Are you the hacker in Toronto?”

  The girl waved in reply, before answering in an accent that sounded strangely like she came from Belfast.

  “Hi there. Yep, I’m Ashley.”

  Ashley and Ash; it sounded like a kid’s cartoon. Davy sniggered and leaned in to watch his friend make small talk.

  “So, you’re from Canada.”

  The girl shook her spiked-up hair. “Nope. I’m from Antrim but my folks moved over here when I was two.”

  He’d almost been right about her accent but it hadn’t been as random a guess as it had first seemed. A lot of Northern Irish people had emigrated to Canada during The Troubles and few had returned home again.

  To deter Ash from turning the session into a cyber date, Davy moved his chair behind his friend’s and gave a cheerful wave.

  “Hi, Ashley. I’m Davy, the other analyst. Thanks for s…speaking to us today.”

  He could feel Ash glaring at him through the back of his head.

  “Ash has a lot of questions to ask you, about some hacking you did last year.”

  “Yep. Weather drones starting dropping randomly over here, so I thought I would see what was what.”

  Davy nodded his goodbye. “Great. I’ll leave you with Ash then.”

  The intervention was the virtual equivalent of a cold shower and just as effective; Ash stopped drooling and started talking about the drones. Davy turned back to his smart-pad; he had plenty to do with the hotel registration list that had just come in. He was just setting up some searches when Andy strolled languidly over to his desk.