by Ted Tayler
As they set to work on what lay behind the recent murders, little did they realise the extent of the threat their instigator posed to the rule of law across the nation? Unchecked, the controlling hand behind them threatened the existence of the Olympus Project itself.
“Let’s analyse what Orion told Hayden,” Giles began. “We have a series of unexplained deaths in towns and cities over a short space of time. Every victim was involved in criminal activity. Not every death was identified in news reports as being a murder.”
“Murders aren’t committed over here as often as in the States,” said Artemis. “So, because the deaths occurred in different regions, no one police authority joined up the dots. A death here and there from a wide range of causes is accepted as the norm, I’m afraid. No massacres took place in one location; just individual killings scattered across half a dozen regions.”
“A few might be ruled as suicide in error, or merely accidental at a coroner’s court,” added Giles. “It’s only when you stand back to look at the big picture, that you see there might be a sinister pattern.”
“Well, that’s Orion for you,” smiled Artemis. “He’s an old-school detective, brought up the right way. He didn’t have the politically correct, modern policing mantra drilled into him when his career started back in Birmingham. His nose told him something lay behind these deaths. You can’t teach that.”
“I think you accept he was on the right track, don’t you?” Giles asked.
“We’d be foolish not to,” said Artemis.
She brought a map of Great Britain up onto the screen in front of them. Another keystroke added the sites of the reported deaths. Once they connected them in the manner Orion had suggested, the letter ‘H’ was emblazoned across the screen in red. It was clear for all to see.
“Well, there’s the link,” said Giles, “we’ve seen that ‘H’ before haven’t we?”
“Hayden didn’t appreciate the potential significance when Orion reported it,” said Artemis. “He and Kelly didn’t attend the morning meetings when we discussed Hannon and the Irish connections.”
“I propose we divide the background analysis of the victims to the rest of the team,” said Giles. “Somewhere in their past lies the reason for them being eliminated. If a criminal organisation is vying for overall control in the country, then whoever is at its head is likely to want to remove potential opposition.”
“I agree,” said Artemis, “we can then concentrate on the letter ‘H’. Let’s not dismiss other alternatives in favour of what we know out of hand. That might be a mistake. What else might it represent? Could it be a coded message to the criminal underworld? Are there other letters yet to appear? Have we missed letters from a series of earlier deaths?”
Giles thought for a while.
“I’ll put one agent to work on those strands, Artemis. They can search for previous deaths of known criminals, to see if the locations throw up a connection, and set up search routines to alert us to any fresh news reports. You’re right, we mustn’t assume we have the answer within our existing data.”
The likelihood of two instances not being connected where the same individual letter was used on matters under scrutiny in the ice-house had to be remote. When they cropped up only three weeks apart, that was even less likely. For the rest of the time left to them before the morning meeting, they continued to hunt for Ardal James Hannon.
The financial genius had dropped out of sight by the end of 2009. This happened only months after he left the merchant bank where he had been working. Rumour had it he planned on setting up his own business, but no company existed under his name. Nor did he appear in the 2011 census. Whatever he called himself these days, it wasn’t Ardal James Hannon.
“He lived in Cricklewood, didn’t he?” asked Giles.
“Yes, in a four-bedroomed first-floor flat. It sold for two and a quarter million in February 2010. The buyers were a Saudi Arabian family. They still live there.”
“Do we know which estate agents handled the sale?” asked Giles.
“I’ll check,” said Artemis. “I can always contact the present owners to see if they know.”
“If you’re ringing them, ask if Hannon left a forwarding address,” said Giles.
“If only it was that easy,” Artemis sighed. “Hannon slipped out of circulation for a reason. No way did he send his friends personalised cards with ‘My new pad’ on the front.”
“Henry said after hearing of the note left in Shanklin, that Hannon had the credentials to be the mastermind behind the more structured tactics being adopted by a network of criminal gangs today.”
“If he did set up on his own,” said Artemis “the most logical business would be another private bank would it not? That’s where his expertise lies. He worked for four years in merchant banks in the City. His own private bank offers the perfect cover for the money-laundering required to facilitate the operations of his underworld friends’ finances. We need to trace banks set up in either late 2009 or early the following year.”
“By their nature private banks stay beneath the radar. They seek neither accolades nor notoriety,” said Giles. “They are owned by a family, a partnership, or an individual. The one thing they guarantee you as a client is privacy. Apart from Coutts, or Hoare and Company, I doubt if the man on the street could name one. Hannon’s bank operates in a mere handful of markets, and with his business acumen it could well be wildly profitable.”
“I hope so,” said Artemis, “because that might attract attention from his rivals. A new kid on the block, out-performing the competition, inviting questions on where the money is coming from, rumours of sharp practice; that might expose him. We might find a helping hand from the City of London.”
“We had better put a report together for the morning meeting,” said Giles, checking his watch. “There’s still time to chase up the estate agent and locate new businesses that fit the profile.”
“I’ll work on the report on our progress, while you follow up on the new banks formed within our time-frame. We might be at work at silly o’clock, but London estate agency staff won’t have left home yet.”
“Fair enough,” smiled Giles, “but next time I get the easy job. I started here in the ice-house before you arrived, remember.”
“Ah, but now it’s a much more pleasant place to work, isn’t it?” Artemis replied.
They worked in silence on their respective tasks, and before they left the ice-house they checked on the progress of the other agents. They were satisfied things were on track.
When the two colleagues reached the surface, they began the walk towards the main house. Henry strode out with a renewed purpose in the distance, Giles pointed him out to Artemis.
“Do you think he’ll be back to his old self today?”
“He’s missing Sarah Gough,” said Artemis. “Who imagined they might get on so well?”
Maria Elena had crept out of the stable-block ahead of them. She soon realised her chances of making it back to the main house without being spotted had disappeared. She waited for Giles and Artemis, then fell in step with them.
“Good morning, Artemis,” she said, grabbing Giles’s hand and hoping nobody noticed.
“It’s okay Maria Elena, there’s no need to pretend. Everyone at Larcombe knows you and Giles are crazy in love.”
“Oh,” said the Spanish nanny, “and we’ve been so careful. I don’t want the mistress to think bad of me. Athena might inform my parents and dismiss me.”
“Very unlikely,” said Artemis, “she and Phoenix have known for ages. They’re cool with it. Just relax and enjoy being together.”
Maria Elena gave Giles a quick kiss on the cheek and left them to walk across to the far end of the building. It was the quickest route to the apartments, and Hope’s nursery. She glanced at her watch. If she ran, she had time to drop into her own room for a quick change of clothes.
“You’re right, of course,” said Giles, as he watched his lover running towards th
e side door. “Maria Elena changed everything for me here at Larcombe. I never thought for a moment of leaving Olympus, because the cause is righteous, and our methods are appropriate to the scale of the crime. As I lay relaxing in the sun, after my emergency appendix operation, I did question whether I gave too much of myself to the Project. I had wanted to throw myself into my job, regardless of how lousy I felt. If you hadn’t insisted I get myself checked out; it could well have been fatal. I lived alone, with no one to care for or have concerns for me. Athena and Phoenix, you and Rusty, were in solid, loving relationships. I realised that if I wanted to give of my best when I returned, I had to open my mind to the idea a relationship was at least possible. Despite the job we do, and how all-embracing it can be, I had no idea Hope’s birth at New Year would deliver the perfect woman for me in the shape of Maria Elena. These past months have been wonderful.”
“I think that’s the longest speech you’ve made since I arrived here,” said Artemis. “We’re happy for you both. Now, let’s get upstairs to that meeting room, or we’ll be late.”
The two colleagues climbed the stairs, two at a time, and arrived at the doorway just as Phoenix approached.
“Good morning,” he said. “Athena will be along in a minute. Maria Elena must have been running behind schedule, I guess.”
Phoenix spotted the look that passed between the two as they darted into the room in front of him. They behaved like school kids, trying to suppress a giggle. If they had given him a chance, he could have told them that the nanny arrived with seconds to spare.
Athena’s delay was because Hope had been sick during the night and was running a temperature. She had called for one of the medical staff. As he was due within the hour to check on her. Athena wanted Maria Elena to be aware of Hope’s condition and prepare for another episode.
When they had first woken up to Hope’s cries, Athena had seen to her. On the second occasion, it had been Phoenix who got up to clean her up, change her bedding, and settle her back to sleep. The last thing he had suggested to Athena before trying to get back to sleep had been to call Maria Elena. To warn her to wear old clothes.
Athena soon bustled along the corridor to join them. The morning meeting was underway.
“Can we have a report on the query posed by Orion, please?”
“We were wary of assuming ‘H’ was the same person, who left the message for Phoenix,” said Giles. “So, we’ve got people double-checking for earlier letter clues. We’ve set up search routines to capture any potential cryptic clues relating to sudden deaths that may occur in the future.”
“We’re digging deeper into the deaths reported before Easter,” Artemis continued. “To uncover the reason for their being targeted by ‘H’, whatever he might call himself these days. We are now ninety-nine per cent convinced we’re dealing with the same person. We’re convinced Orion has spotted a genuine connection between the killings. It relates to the increasing network of organised crime in the country. Someone is guiding that expansion and encouraging a more professional and business-like approach.”
“Those who oppose him, are being eliminated,” said Giles. “When we have completed our analysis of the backgrounds of the victims we will expect to have learned what they did, or said, that put them on his hit list.”
“Do we have any leads on the present identity of ‘H’?” asked Phoenix.
Artemis leant forward with her elbows on the table.
“In most cases I worked on as a detective, working alongside Orion, he always told us to start with the bleeding obvious. If we had even a scrap of knowledge relating to the case, we should squeeze that until the pips popped out, rather than go hunting for fresh leads. When we investigated why Gavin McTierney’s death caused someone to seek retribution, several names surfaced. Every one of them was born in Ireland. They ran together in street gangs in their youth. McTierney came to London to become a gangster. Ardal James Hannon, the financial whiz-kid followed him. He’s the only ‘H’ we have that fits the bill. So we’re pursuing that lead before we search elsewhere.”
“As you will recall,” said Giles, “he disappeared from Cricklewood in 2009. We’re chasing the estate agent who sold Hannon’s flat a few months later. He will have bought something near the centre, as we know he intended to set up his own private bank. He’s a man who wishes to be at the heart of things. To keep his finger on the financial pulse of the City of London. I’m waiting for details of the banks set up between late ’09 and the summer of the following year. There will only be a handful. The bank Hannon has been operating will perform far better than its competition.”
“It sounds as if we’re nearly there,” said Athena. “Well done, you two.”
“So, Hannon has adopted a new identity,” said Henry Case. “Because of the cryptic clues spotted by Orion, we believe he’s changed the name, but not the letter?”
“That makes sense,” said Phoenix.
“I know you’re busy, Giles,” said Rusty, “but can we dig even deeper on Hannon? At first, it appeared his role was the money man for several gangs across the London boroughs. He worked for a series of merchant banks and it’s clear he excelled at his job. If he’s behind a callous campaign of killings to further his grand design for a connected network throughout Britain, then he’s now got a much darker side. That must have been evident back in Dublin when he was a teenage tearaway. No profiler ever suggests someone becomes a serial killer overnight. These tendencies have existed for years. They must have surfaced in the past. We need to find them; to better understand who we’re facing. My gut tells me he’s dangerous, a maniac who will stop at nothing to further his own ends.”
“That makes sense too,” said Phoenix.
Athena had been listening intently, without yet adding her own thoughts.
“I’m happy we’re making progress. If this ‘H’ is as dangerous as we fear, the search routines from the ice-house to find new victims may prove to be the most beneficial over the coming weeks. His actions to date were controlled and targeted. I believe he intended them to send a message to criminal gangs wherever they operate, but they were a message to the authorities too. For the gangs, it served as a warning; to toe the line and follow his lead, or pay the price. For the authorities, it was a notice of intent. This network or grid of interlinked gangs is a genuine threat. If he gets the different ethnic groups to work together, it will be more than a match for a police service shrinking in numbers, and ill-equipped to fight organised crime. Too many officers are being assigned to cold cases, chasing idiots driving while using mobile phones. Policing sporting events, and festivals. Those are luxuries, not necessities at dangerous times such as these.”
Nobody around the table disagreed with what Athena said.
“Heaven help us if we have another spate of terrorist attacks,” added Phoenix, “the authorities would be swamped. To support the police, they might need to draft in what’s left of our armed forces.”
Rusty groaned.
“We were stretched to the limit when I still served in the SAS,” he said. “They’ve suffered budget cuts, year on year, since then. I’m afraid they wouldn’t be much help.”
“It sounds as if it’s left to us to sort out, again,” said Henry.
“When will our first new intake be arriving for training,” asked Alastor.
“In just over a month from now, on the first Monday in June,” replied Athena.
“They’ll be ready to go into the field on the first of September,” said Rusty, “no sooner. They will undergo an intensive twelve-week course, regardless of how fit, skilled, or talented their military records might indicate. The training I have designed for Kelly and Hayden to carry out will deliver us a fresh set of agents capable of tackling any scenario.”
“How many new agents will that give?” asked Minos.
“Twelve,” said Rusty. “I know; that’s a small number. Ever since Olympus began, we have only taken the best of the best. The pool from which we are sourcing o
ur agents is getting smaller by the year. I can’t influence that. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologise, mate,” said Phoenix, “the government remains blind to the threats it faces. We know it’s quality, not quantity, that counts. An Olympus agent is worth half a dozen street criminals any day of the week.”
Minos raised an eyebrow. This was quite a reaction from one The Stooges.
“Would you care to explain why you take issue with that, Minos?” asked Rusty.
“There are between fifty and sixty thousand criminals in gangs around Britain at any one time. We have up to two thousand Olympus agents in theatres across the globe. We have less than five hundred available to us on these shores. Training fifty new agents per year, no matter how good they might be, will be of little help.”
“Olympus can only do what it can afford, Minos,” said Athena. “The next item on the agenda today is the review you and Alastor have been undertaking on the four new potential Olympians. We need a fresh injection of funds. We understand that the twelve people who sit around the top table, controlling the Project’s missions around the world, are not our only financiers. Erebus always reminded us we have friends who prefer to remain in the shadows. It’s fair to say over the past six years, many of our sleeping partners have seen their investments suffer. Either because of the banking crisis in 2008 or due to the slow bleed of low-interest rates on their savings with each successive year.”
“Maybe we need to discuss this at the next Olympus meeting, Athena?” Phoenix suggested. “For now, let’s ask Giles and Artemis to return to the ice-house to follow up on the leads they identified.”
“Good idea,” said Athena. “OK, you two find this bank and Hannon’s new identity. Assign one of your team to find out what this stress point was in his history. Something flicked a switch in his brain turning him from a mild-mannered accountant into a power-crazed maniac. That could be the key to revealing his ultimate aims.”
