A Frequent Peal of Bells

by Ted Tayler

  “Keep searching for those identities, Giles,” said Athena. “Can we work back from the images of the three unidentified men to discover where they live? I know that’s like finding a needle in a haystack, but it could help confirm who they are.”

  “If I may, Athena,” said Alastor, “that’s unnecessary. I’ve seen those photos often enough since the first ones arrived in early June. When I studied the latest batch from Gresham Street, I spotted something. That’s what raised my suspicions with last month’s performance. One of the three men hasn’t visited since before the Bank Holiday weekend. Four weeks is a long time, after being a frequent visitor for four months.”

  “You believe the sudden improvement is due to a change of management at the bank?” asked Phoenix, “could that mean Hanigan has been replaced? Or has he appointed a new person and is giving his total concentration to Grid business?”

  “I checked the discarded photos in the latest batch,” said Alastor, “the ice-house is focussed on the three that are still unidentified. A much younger man was snapped by our agent two weeks ago. He visited the Glencairn at the same time as one of its regulars. The image was sharp and in focus. No attempt to hide his face. I checked for him online and in hours I had found him on social media. His name is Tyrone O’Riordan.”

  The room fell silent. The implication was not lost on anyone sat around the table.

  “Tommy O’Riordan’s son?” asked Rusty. “What is he doing at the Glencairn?”

  “Tyrone and his sister Rosie lived in Marbella,” said Artemis. “Tommy had a place out there. That was where the police arrested him for the murder of Michael Devlin.”

  “The two kids came home for the funeral,” said Rusty. “Have they moved back in with their mother?”

  “Not in the family home in Kilburn, because that’s been sold,” said Alastor, “the Marbella apartment has gone too. With Tommy dead, I imagine money was tight, and Tommy’s widow made cutbacks. She doesn’t appear to have worked ever since she and Tommy married. I doubt she wants to start now.”

  “They will have done better than scrape by on his ill-gotten gains,” said Phoenix. “I doubt she’s living in poverty. I hope they don’t blame me for getting rid of the family breadwinner?”

  “We both had a hand in that,” said Rusty, with a grin.

  “Giles, we need to find out more on young Tyrone,” said Athena. “What’s his history? Where does he live?”

  “Will do, Athena,” replied Giles, “should we add Colleen and Rosie to the list?”

  “It can’t do any harm,” said Athena.

  “I think what you have uncovered is gold dust, Alastor,” said Phoenix, “well done. If we add other things into the mix, we could have answers to questions that have concerned me for a while. Who took over as leader of the Kilburn gang after we disposed of Tommy?”

  “Tommy’s deputy at the time of his murder trial was his brother-in-law, Sean Walsh,” said Artemis, “he would have been Hanigan’s first-choice. We must assume Walsh was the go-between for the gang while Tommy was in Belmarsh. With Tommy dead, Hanigan had to have let Walsh continue in the role. Unless he under-performed. Giles and I will check the current status.”

  “It may already be too late,” said Phoenix. “We received intelligence that a member of the old guard, Michael Quinn, was murdered last month. It wasn’t obvious whether it was an internal struggle for power in the borough, or the gang from Kilburn, next door, spreading its wings.”

  “So, the question I need to answer is, who succeeded Sean Walsh in Kilburn?” said Giles, “and are they looking to expand?”

  “You two have got plenty to be getting on with,” said Athena, “I suggest you get below to the ice-house and make a start. If you bump into Henry Case on your way, could you ask him to call into my office this afternoon?”

  Artemis nodded, and she and Giles left the room. Athena looked at the others.

  “I think we’ve found a chink in the Grid’s armour, don’t you?”

  “Whatever role Tyrone O’Riordan plays, he’s a different breed to Hanigan,” said Minos. “His digital footprint is easy to track. It might be because he was thrust into a new role and hasn’t learned to be more guarded in his actions.”

  “Or he’s an arrogant sod, who thinks he’s untouchable,” muttered Phoenix.

  “Either way, we can investigate his link to the Glencairn, discover what happened to Hugo Hanigan, and see whether the Kilburn gang’s ambition has any limits.”

  Athena couldn’t think of anything to add to Minos’s comment, so she called the meeting to a close.

  When they were back in the apartment Athena was restless. Maria Elena had prepared them their lunch. She was helping Hope grapple with hers. Phoenix was soon polishing off his second sandwich and stopped to take a sip from his cup of coffee.

  “A penny for them, darling?” he asked.

  “I wanted to catch up with Henry, to hear about his weekend. It’s not vital, given what we learned from Alastor this morning, but all the same…”

  “That’s the first time since I’ve been here that he surprised me,” said Phoenix, “he and Minos are such dry sticks. They churn out report after report. Their attention to detail is amazing.”

  “Yet your in-tray is always full,” chided Athena, “I have to pester you to take time to catch up with your reading.”

  “This was different,” said Phoenix, “Alastor showed initiative. Something bothered him in the numbers he was seeing from the Glencairn. Because those two delve into the minutiae every day, it registered with him. Normal people would have missed it altogether or dismissed it as a seasonal blip, or an adjustment from earlier in the financial year.”

  “I’ve always told you not to underestimate them,” said Athena.

  “Fair point. As for what he spotted on that photograph I’m itching to hear what Giles and Artemis uncover regarding the O’Riordan family.”

  “I hope they can work fast, you’ll be away after Wednesday.”

  Maria Elena had disappeared to the nursery with their daughter. Athena was still only picking at her salad. Phoenix rested his eyes and went through the actions planned for later in the week. It never hurt to check those plans.

  When he opened his eyes, Athena was in the kitchen.

  Phoenix walked to the door and watched as his wife stacked the dishwasher. Athena’s heart wasn’t in it, he could tell.

  “Why don’t you see if Henry is waiting for you?”

  Athena looked at her watch.

  “Where did that hour go?” she cried and flew along the corridor and took the stairs to the administration area. Minos and Alastor were hard at work on their next batch of reports. Henry Case stood outside her door like a naughty schoolboy.

  “Henry, you’re alive and well. What a relief.”

  “Apologies for the late arrival, Athena,” said Henry. “Sarah, and I didn’t want the weekend to finish.”

  “I’m only teasing you, Henry. Sarah called me yesterday when she was on her way to church for evensong. She told me she left you snoring on the sofa in front of the television. I take it the food at the Royal Oak is as good as ever? Congratulations on your engagement. I didn’t share your good news with the others this morning. You can do that yourself.”

  “Did Sarah mention the wedding?” asked Henry.

  “No, she was too excited about the ring you gave her. I imagine you’ve started to make plans though?”

  “I won’t put off matters,” said Henry, “Sarah’s calling the Bishop to ask for a transfer closer to Bath. Sarah doesn’t want me to feel obliged to leave Larcombe and move nearer to her. If you agree, we want to marry in the tiny church. One of her colleagues has agreed to do the honours.”

  “That sounds lovely,” said Athena.

  “What are the chances of us living here afterwards? Not in the stable block, but in this building, the same as Rusty and Artemis.”

  “I’d be disappointed if you went somewhere else, Henry,” said Athena. �
�This old Georgian manor house has eleven bedrooms and seven bathrooms. Daddy will move out in a few weeks, based on what he told me at lunchtime. Even if he stayed with us permanently, we can still find a spot for you both.”

  “Oh, jolly good,” said Henry.

  “I imagine the date of the wedding will depend on how soon the Church find a new living for the soon to be Reverend Sarah Case?”

  “Sarah has her heart set on Easter Saturday,” said Henry.

  “Well then, her matron of honour and the flower girl are happy to accept,” said Athena. “That was another thing she mentioned during her frantic phone call last evening.”

  “I shall ask Giles to be my best man,” said Henry, “he asked me if I would do the job when he gets married. I said I’d give it some thought, not realising I would be engaged myself only weeks later.”

  Henry trotted back to the stable block to call Sarah with the good news. He hoped she received positive news soon on her next parish. October was upon them. April seemed a long way off. If the last year had taught him anything, it was that things can change before you know it.

  CHAPTER 2

  Tuesday, 30th September 2014

  “This makes a change, Mum. You are visiting me.”

  Tyrone O’Riordan welcomed his mother into his penthouse apartment with a peck on her cheek.

  Colleen didn’t hold with this foreign malarkey. She had been more used to getting a slap from Tommy. A kiss meant he wanted something else. She couldn’t see anything wrong with shaking hands if it was business. People were too friendly by half these days. They didn’t know how to keep their distance.

  “I suppose you mean when you’re here?” Colleen replied.

  She sensed Tyrone’s annoyance at finding she paid a visit to the apartment while he was in East Anglia. The wall safe contained plenty of information the apartment’s previous owner had gathered on his enemies, and on those who might have thought were his friends.

  Hugo Hanigan’s body was now somewhere on Hackney Marshes among tonnes of the capital’s waste. It was only natural the head of the network of organised crime gangs in the UK wanted access to that information. It could prove invaluable. Tyrone would have to get over it.

  Tyrone shrugged. He knew better than to argue with his mother.

  “Can I get you a drink?” he asked.

  “It’s not even eleven o’clock. OK, I’ll have a gin and tonic with a twist of lime,” she replied, “easy on the gin, we’ve got matters to discuss.”

  “What did you wanted to discuss?” Tyrone asked.

  “I don’t want you to take me through your ideas on uncovering this so-called secret organisation you and Frank Rooney have dreamed up, that’s for sure. Where you got that notion from beats me. I’m more interested in the major robberies the Grid plan in the lead-up to Christmas.”

  “When we pull those off, it will bring a whole new rival to Black Friday, believe me,” said Tyrone.

  “We’ll see,” said Colleen. “Who’s running the show, and how much do we stand to make?”

  “The team will be three Albanians who came to the UK six years ago. They claimed to be Kosovans fleeing the troubles, but they were seasoned criminals. In the past, they’ve majored in importing cocaine, but there’s big competition in that market over here, so they added to their skill set.”

  “Where do you go to do that? Night school, I suppose, or the Open University? Can you trust them?” asked Colleen.

  “They understand what the punishment will be if they try to cheat us,” replied Tyrone. “As for the amounts involved, we have high hopes of collecting over one hundred million.”

  Colleen took a large sip of her drink and swallowed. A hundred million pounds? That would make the headlines. It could be just the push the Grid needed to prove its vice-like grip on the nation.

  It would further emphasise the lunacy of cutting police numbers. If the Albanians got full credit for the planning and execution of the robberies, it added fuel to the argument against open borders. The public would be outraged. The brazen disregard for law and order could topple governments. Serve them right.

  “Did you want to go into the details?” Tyrone asked.

  “Sorry,” said Colleen, “no, not today, I’m having my hair done in an hour. Do you have a file on your computer you can send me?”

  “I won’t risk sending anything that important in an email attachment,” said Tyrone. “I’ll drop a memory stick over to your place in a day or two. Don’t worry, I’ll show you how to use it.”

  “You’re a good boy, Tyrone. We’re going places, aren’t we?”

  “Onwards and upwards, Mum.”

  *****

  At Larcombe Manor, the ice-house team had worked their magic. Giles passed files around the table for the others to read.

  “Tyrone O’Riordan, thirty-one-year-old son of Tommy and Colleen. His father insisted he stayed in education until he had enough qualifications to make an honest living. Tommy had been keen for his children to stay on the straight and narrow. He’s a qualified accountant and an MBA. He lived in his father’s place in Marbella rent-free. For the past decade, Tyrone has lived the high life. Fast cars, women, and late-night cocktail parties four or five nights a week. He has dabbled in drugs, but it’s never become an issue. He picked up a handful of parking and speeding fines, but the Spanish police never linked him with anything more sinister. Members of crime families who knew, or worked for his father, have retired to Marbella over the years. Tommy O’Riordan kept his kids away from those people when on holiday, but Tyrone chose to spend time in their company. He never got involved in criminal activity, but it’s likely he gained the knowledge.”

  “So, his financial expertise marks him out as the new head of the Glencairn Bank,” said Athena.

  “That’s a fair assumption,” said Giles, “as for Rosie O’Riordan, she’s twenty-nine. Tommy used to call her his princess. She was a Daddy’s girl. Rosie moved to Marbella, lived there on the cheap and got herself a sports car as soon as she passed her driving test at eighteen. At college in London, she had completed a hair and beauty course. Rosie partied with the same crowd as Tyrone and spent every euro she earned in Marbella’s salons having a good time. She moved from salon to salon but was never out of work. There have been plenty of men prepared to spend their money on her, because little Rosie is a ‘looker’, as you can tell from her photos. There’s no sign she’s ever been involved with something criminal.”

  “Apart from the length of that skirt,” said Minos.

  “You’re showing your age,” said Rusty.

  “If you’ve got tanned legs, you want to show them off,” said Artemis.

  “We red-headed Scotsmen keep our delicate skin covered,” said Rusty. “The only tan I’ve worn was from my father on my backside.”

  “We can discount Rosie O’Riordan,” said Athena, eager to make progress. “What do we have on Colleen O’Riordan, Giles?”

  “Colleen will be fifty in a few weeks’ time. She married Tommy at eighteen. Tyrone arrived ten months later. The gap between Tyrone and Rosie was eighteen months. Most accounts of her life with Tommy are anecdotal. He was a villain, and he treated her the same as most villains have treated their women over the decades. She stayed home, looked after the kids, kept the house tidy, cooked his meals, and kept her mouth shut. She’s as hard as nails but has never had even a fine for dropping litter. Since Tommy got jailed for Devlin’s murder she has been active. As we discussed yesterday, this was a natural reaction to the money supply being cut.”

  “Did she begin that process before Tommy escaped from Belmarsh?” asked Phoenix.

  “Yes,” replied Giles, “the Marbella apartment was already on the market, and the cars the kids leased were returned. The sale of the house in Kilburn brought in a million pounds, give or take. Oh, and she sent a Mercedes and an SUV to auction at the end of May.”

  “I told you Colleen O’Riordan wasn’t skint,” muttered Phoenix, “but if she needed cash
to pay for Tommy’s escape bid, it makes sense. He didn’t enjoy his freedom for long. There would still be enough left for her to survive, especially as she forced her kids to stand on their own two feet.”

  “Rosie continues to live in Marbella?” asked Minos.

  “Afraid so, Minos,” said Rusty, “you’re not likely to bump into her on one of your nights on the town.”

  The former High Court judge gave a thin smile.

  “I wonder where the mother and son live?” he said.

  “Colleen lives in an apartment in a property overlooking the City and the financial district. I expect she can see the Glencairn Bank. Tyrone doesn’t live with her. Colleen made sure the kids couldn’t run home by buying a one-bedroomed place. We haven’t found where the exact spot where Tyrone is living, but the way he approached the bank on foot suggests he’s close.”

  “Hang on,” said Alastor, “that makes no sense. He may be a financial genius, but there was no evidence of him saving money in the past decade. Properties in that part of London are fetching extortionate prices. You can’t find evidence linking him to the purchase of a flat. Is he renting a place paid for by the Glencairn?”

  “We never traced Hanigan after he left Cricklewood,” said Artemis, “but he must have owned property near the City. If we found details of high-priced apartments sold around the time of the sale of that house in the suburbs we might find where Tyrone now lives,”

  “You’re not suggesting they’re living together?” asked Athena.

  “No, Hanigan hasn’t been seen for weeks. I’m suggesting he’s dead.”

  “Killed by Tyrone? That’s a leap from speeding fines,” said Phoenix.