Annette summoned her last ounce of politeness. “Doesn’t that belong to the Irish government?”
O’Shea wriggled his bottom back into his seat and thought for a moment before answering. “Do you know, I think you’re right.”
Jake stared at the page. “But there’s nothing in the field’s ownership column.”
“That’ll be to save some poor bugger writing Rialtas on every page.” He saw Jake’s quizzical look. “That means government.” He gave a deep laugh. “Imagine that for a job, would you. All you do all day is write government against every piece of common land.”
Annette had had enough of O’Shea’s apparent amusement with everything in life. She nodded Jake to get ready to leave and muttered a farewell. By the time they’d reached the carpark her opinions were hitting the air with force.
“That bloody man would drive me to drink. His wife must be an angel.”
Jake smiled, hoping that it would calm her down. “Well, I suppose-”
She yanked at the driver’s door and climbed in. “If you’re about to say it’s not his fault that they don’t know the girl, or that the field isn’t owned by anyone, then don’t. It’s not what he says it’s the way he says it, like he’s so damned happy all the time.”
“Maybe he is. He is retiring this year after all.”
Annette’s only response was a grunt and a very heavy right foot.
****
Garvan’s Bookies. East Belfast.
Rory McCrae felt the commotion before he saw it, a thud of doors and vibration of footsteps that prompted him to break his rule of not fraternising with his employees and enter the shop. He was greeted by the sight of his men huddling and whispering, and as his gaze shifted beyond them he saw that the place was devoid of punters and someone had locked the front door.
“Who the fuck closed up?”
The group scattered like pigeons, leaving only one unfortunate who hadn’t moved. The hapless man stood frozen and speechless, leaving McCrae to get his answer from a shadow by the door.
“We awl thought-”
McCrae’s move was swift. He headed for the speaker and seized his shirt with a GPS like accuracy, hauling him out into the light.
“Ye thought? Ye thought? I dun’t pay any of yeez to think.” He pulled tighter for emphasis until the man’s face was only an inch from his own, then he released the grip as quickly as he’d formed it and turned back to the man seated on the chair.
“I want to know why my shop’s shut, McIlveen.” He pointed at the man in a way that left no doubt that a blow would follow if he was displeased.
The man swallowed hard and found his voice. “Becos of Zac.”
McCrae’s eyes widened. He hadn’t heard from the youth since he’d sent him hunting.
“Wat about him?”
“Heez in the hospital. Sumwan beat him real bad.”
McCrae frowned, several emotions coursing through him at once. The first was pleasure; the wee scrote had deserved a thumping years ago. The second was curiosity; if someone had taken the trouble to beat Greer then the boy must have found out what he’d asked. He turned back towards his office, grabbing the man on the way.
“Ye’re driving me tee St Mary’s.”
No-one believed that the visit was out of concern.
****
The C.C.U. 2 p.m.
Craig was thinking thoughts that never reached the air in briefings when his desk phone began to ring. He ignored it for a moment thinking that Nicky would pick it up, but on the fourth ring she stuck her head around the door and he realised she’d transferred the call.
He lifted the handset hastily. “Marc Craig.”
“I need an answer, Marc. By tomorrow afternoon.”
The Chief Constable needed no introduction. Sean Flanagan continued in an unamused tone.
“And I’ll need your draft budget for the fifteen percent reduction by next Friday at the latest. I’ve to go in front of the policing board the following Monday and it’ll give me time to tidy things up.”
Craig puffed out his cheeks, not at what he’d been asked to do, but at whether or not to mention what the Intelligence Director had done. He decided against it. He should give Susan Richie the chance to explain herself before he shopped her to the boss. His thoughts were interrupted by an atypical note of irritation in Flanagan’s next words.
“You know, Marc, anyone would think I was offering you something unpleasant. I can tell you this much; if I offered D.C.S. Harrison the same opportunity he would bite off my hand.”
Craig smiled at the image. He’d never pictured Harrison as a dog but the analogy seemed strangely appropriate. He kept his amusement firmly out of his voice.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’m grateful for the offer, honestly. I’m just preoccupied with this case, or rather cases.”
Flanagan’s tone softened slightly. “I don’t suppose what’s happening with D.C.I. Angel is helping either. Is there any word on that?”
Craig didn’t hide his sigh. “We have him on tape leaving the bar with the dead girl and we have enough Ketamine in his blood to stop a truck-”
Flanagan cut in. “Well, that’ll be it then. He was set up.”
“Unfortunately it’s not that simple, sir. The weapon used was his Glock and he has GSR on his hands. Doctor Winter says that can be explained forensically, but unless we can find CCTV of someone entering his apartment there’ll still be room for doubt-”
Flanagan’s response was definitive. “NO. We can’t have that. It will taint the force’s reputation, not to mention ruin his career.”
Don’t forget the rest of his life.
“Keep going, Craig. You’ll find something. But I still need that other answer by tomorrow.”
As the phone went down Craig felt even more pressured than before, so when his mobile began to vibrate he immediately knocked it off without a glance. He needed to think not talk and in order to think clearly he needed more information to work with. He walked out to Davy’s desk just as Annette and Jake were walking in.
“Any joy in Monaghan?”
Jake answered quickly before Annette began to moan again; he’d already had hours of it in the car.
“Unfortunately the land is owned by the Irish government, so we’ve no name. And the Gardaí still have nothing on the girl.”
Craig noticed Davy grinning.
“You look happy.”
“I am. Interpol just came through on the girl’s s…sketch. Her name is Kalyna Melnyk. She’s also on our escort list, working from an address in Dundalk. Just over the border.”
Annette slumped in her chair. “And O’Shea said she wasn’t in their records!” She frowned. “Melnyk’s not an Irish name.”
“It’s not. S…She was Ukrainian. In the south illegally.”
Jake perched on his desk. “Trafficked?”
“Possibly. It’s hard to know.” Davy shot Craig a look that said he had something else, so the detective dismissed the others and pulled up a chair. The analyst dropped his voice.
“I’ve got the car reg from Des, chief. It was a nineteen-fifty-four Peugeot 203C Saloon. Classic car. Imported from France but never registered.”
Craig sighed. “So we’ve no name.”
“Yes, we have. W…We’ve had a stroke of luck. It was stopped for speeding a week ago. Guess where.”
Craig crossed his fingers. “Armagh?”
“Better than that. On the main road that runs down the back of the McAllisters’ farm.”
Craig didn’t dare get his hopes up. “Tell me they got the driver’s details.”
Davy allowed himself a small smile. “It was Colin McAllister.”
McAllister! His frown was instant. The car was the link they needed between McAllister’s death and Matias Rey’s, and the girl had already linked Rey’s and Fox’s, so why wasn’t he more pleased?
Davy was still speaking.
“The only reason they didn’t fine him was because they knew McAllister as a
local bigwig and he was only a hundred metres off his own land. They ticked him off and told him to keep the car off-road.”
And didn’t even check if it was registered or insured. Craig nodded his congratulations.
“Well done, Davy. OK, so that means the car involved in Matias’ killing was being driven by Colin McAllister in the week before. Any chance McAllister was the man on the river CCTV?”
Davy shook his head immediately. “Nope. W…Wrong height by a head.”
“So what do you think? Someone stole McAllister’s car to dispose of Rey?”
The analyst thought for a moment before answering. “What if w…when they were rigging McAllister’s air tank they saw the Peugeot, s…stole it and then used it when they killed Rey to confuse us? In case we caught them on CCTV.”
It made sense.
“OK, but Matias was killed in the early hours of Wednesday morning and McAllister not until the following day. How-”
The analyst cut in. “They rigged the air tank late Tuesday night and took the car then, banking that McAllister wouldn’t check on it on the Wednesday.”
“And even if he had done he would just have thought that it had been stolen. There’d have been no reason to check his air tank.” He nodded as he continued. “So the same man killed McAllister and Rey, and we know the girl was a decoy in Rey’s killing and killed number three, Calum Fox, personally, before she was then killed herself. She and the man were working together.”
“And then he killed her.”
Craig made a face. The girl felt more like a victim than a predator now. He stood up to go but Davy shook his head and tapped his computer screen.
“I don’t want to get any hopes up, but...”
A video appeared and they watched as a shadowy figure walked down a city street.
“What am I looking at?”
“This is the CCTV from the traffic lights just up from Andy’s building. It was taken at four a.m. on Saturday night. Look.”
Craig watched as the man crossed the road on red, gambling on the lack of traffic. His head was down, as if he knew he might be photographed, and his clothes were ubiquitous. They watched as he approached Andy’s building then the camera went out of range.
“Damn.”
Davy ignored him and tapped on another screen. The man reappeared inside a building five minutes later and stood waiting for the lift.
“Tell me that’s Andy’s apartment building.”
Davy nodded. Craig sat forward eagerly.
“Can you get the floor number he pressed from the lift camera?”
“Fourth. Andy’s floor.”
They watched as the man disembarked and walked down a dimly lit corridor, before turning sharp right at the end. Davy switched off the stream.
“Andy’s apartment is in that direction, but there’s no footage for that bit.”
Craig chewed his pen, thinking before he spoke. “But it’s reasonable doubt, especially if we interview the building’s occupants and rule out if anyone of that description was due to visit an apartment that night. Well done, Davy.” His expression said that he was about to ask for more. “Any chance you can find out how he got into the building? Did he have a code or key, or did he just keep buzzing until someone let him in? It took five minutes for him to appear inside. Also, before he reached the traffic lights. Which direction did he come from and is there any CCTV of the local roads? We might see his car. I doubt that he walked there.”
Davy rolled his eyes. An analyst’s work was never done. “Just one last thing, chief, and it might be coincidence, but his height matches the man’s who killed Matias Rey exactly.”
Craig jumped up, reenergised.
“Brilliant work, Davy. You might just save our bacon.”
He turned to scan the room. Everyone was there but Kyle. Just at that moment he came running in, a lit cigarette in his hand. Nicky sniffed ostentatiously and he raced out again, leaving everyone wondering where he was going to dump it in a building whose windows didn’t open and with paper in every bin. When the intelligence officer reappeared he had damp hands.
“Sorry about that, Nicky. I forgot. I flushed it down the bog.”
Liam gave a disapproving tut. “That comes under the heading of too much info, mate.”
Craig shot him a sceptical look. “And you’re always such a gentleman, aren’t you.” He didn’t wait for a response. “OK, as everyone’s here we’ll brief now. Gather round. I don’t want this taking forever.”
As the chairs scraped and crowded he got a coffee top-up.
“Right. Davy’s just done some brilliant work that links the McAllister and Rey deaths. Davy.”
As Davy brought everyone up to date, Nicky passed around some muffins, making Rhonda open her mouth to object. Craig got there first.
“OK, cakes only on Sunday, and Monday if there are leftovers.” He closed off any debate. “Right, Davy’s outlined the situation with the EU car. I want it found. Liam, get the men at the farm looking for it. If it’s back in an outhouse or barn we need to find it. Annette, check with Purvis and Mara McAllister if they’d ever seen it around. It’s important. Whoever killed Matias Rey was driving Colin McAllister’s car, which means that the murders are linked.”
Jake cut in. “Couldn’t McAllister have been behind Rey’s killing rather than them both being victims of the same man?”
Craig thought about it. “He couldn’t have done it himself. As Davy’s just said, Colin McAllister was the wrong height to be the man by the river. I grant you he could have organised Rey’s death, in theory, but it’s highly unlikely. What would have been his motive for a start?” He shook his head, dismissing the idea. “No. We’ll stick to the theory of Colin McAllister as victim rather than perpetrator for now, so, Jake, I want you to alert traffic all across the province that we’re looking for that car. Davy can give you the reg and make. OK, Davy’s also managed to I.D. the escort Calum Fox phoned that day, and she’s the girl in the sketch. Her name was Kalyna Melnyk and she’s a Ukrainian national. She was based in Dundalk in the Republic, so her address needs investigating. Unfortunately we’ve discovered she’s dead, but that doesn’t negate her linking Fox’s and Rey’s deaths.”
He could see Kyle preparing to ask how the girl had died so he turned quickly to Ash as distraction.
“Ash, Get onto intelligence in the south and find out what you can about her address and any possible trafficking operations. D.C.I. Hughes in Vice might know something as well.”
Annette snorted. “I’m glad you’re not putting O’Shea on the job. He’s worse than useless. He couldn’t find anything on her at all.”
Craig frowned but didn’t comment, turning back to Liam.
“What’s happening with Xavier Rey’s men?”
Liam shrugged. “Still in Stranmillis. Maguire’s holding them until I give him the nod. I wanted to have a word with Rey first. Warn him off.”
“OK, do that and then let them go. But keep a man on him. What about Tommy Hill?”
Liam sniffed loudly. “He had a visitor. Rory McCrae. But his tag says he hasn’t left the house since we saw him.”
Craig snorted sceptically. “And you really believe he didn’t slip it again?” He shook his head. McCrae’s visit wasn’t good news. “I don’t trust that tag so ask Templepatrick police to keep an eye out. I want to know if Hill even goes out to buy milk.”
He turned back to the analysts.
“What can you tell us about Calum Fox’s business interests?”
Ash replied. “He owned seven bookie’s shops across the north, and kept stands at all the main race venues. There’s no hard information on him being dodgy. Just the usual suspicions about people who make money off gambling.”
“And the cab office?”
Davy nodded. “You were right. The office line w…was diverted to a mobile number, but they didn’t pass any calls on, so none of the drivers got any work on Tuesday night. The number’s dead now but it belonged to Gerry Del
aney, the same cabbie who dropped off the boys that night.”
“The pickup wasn’t prearranged or he wouldn’t have needed the divert-”
Davy cut in. “Meaning he was the murderer.”
Craig shook his head. “Possible, but I doubt it. He would have been driving a cab not a private car. It’s more likely that he was paid to ferry Matias to his killer who then put the boy in the Peugeot’s boot. Annette, I want you and Jake to get down to that cab office and question everyone; if the calls were diverted for a whole evening someone inside that office must have played along. Take Geoff Hamill’s man with you, please.”
He stared at each of them in turn as he ran through a list in his head. He’d just decided to wrap up when Kyle gave a cough.
“Is that from the cigs or did you want to say something, Kyle?”
“Both. I’ve been asking around a bit on the Albanian question and I have a lead on a possible Belfast cell.”
“Go on.”
“There’s a club called The Pit in the city centre that’s got Intelligence’s radar twitching. Mostly for drugs, but there’s some word of trafficking as well. Girls are being brought into one of the smaller ports in the south and then distributed across the brothels there and up here. European girls mostly, and some Thai, but the word is the traffickers are Albanian, so I thought-”
Craig nodded. “OK. See what Karl Rimmins has heard about the club on the drugs side, and check the trafficking angle with Aidan Hughes in Vice. There might be something here, but let me know before you try to take it any further.”
Spence nodded but Liam didn’t trust spooks.
“Right, you all know what you’re doing.” Craig stood up. “Liam, with me.” He turned to Ash. “I’ll need an update on Miskimmon in five, please.”
They entered Craig’s office and he signalled Liam to close the door, bringing him up to date on what Davy had found. Liam gave a slow whistle.
“So there was another bloke at Andy’s.”
Craig couldn’t believe his ears. “Now you’re saying you thought Andy had killed her? You gave me an earful when you thought I did.”
Liam shrugged. “I didn’t really believe he did, but it’s nice to see it disproved.”
The Tribes Page 30