The Careless Word (#8 - The Craig Crime Series)

by Catriona King

  Craig stared at him sceptically. “On what grounds? A drunk and disorderly won’t warrant that.”

  “On the grounds that someone seized the throne overnight and if Jack lets them out right now there’ll be a blood bath.”

  Davy leaned forward, interested. “The King is dead, long live the King. S…So who is it?”

  “Take a guess”

  “Tommy Hill?”

  Liam guffawed so loudly that Annette clamped her hands over her ears.

  “Nope, Tommy’s moving to Antrim to be near Ella.”

  It was Annette’s turn to gawp. “How did that happen?”

  Craig answered her. “We put in a word with the housing exec and got him a transfer. That was what Liam gave him when they met a few days ago.”

  Davy was undeterred. “So Tommy’s living out his days in small town bliss. W…Who’s the new UKUF boss then?”

  Liam rubbed his chin. “You weren’t far off, lad. It’s one of Tommy’s old gang; Rory McCrae.”

  Annette looked surprised. “I thought he was in Maghaberry until later this year?”

  “Time off for good behaviour. Seems McCrae excelled at everything from crocheting to helping old cons across the recreation ground. He played the game inside. Now he’s out and planning to play a different one.”

  Craig gave a low whistle. “I though Derek Copeland was the front runner?”

  Liam shook his head. “He’s one of the ones locked up in High Street. Seems he thought he had it in the bag but he was too radical even for UKUF. Maybe it’s no bad thing; McCrae’s a bad boy but he’s not a killer as far as we know. He’ll knock some shape into the rabble, even if they only do it because he scares the crap out of them. They know he ran with Tommy for years and Tommy’s reputation should be enough to keep them in line.” Liam laughed. “McCrae can always call him in for advice.”

  Annette laughed. “Tommy Hill the management consultant.”

  Liam tried to look wise. “Reggie and the lads in East Belfast say they’re happy enough as long as UKUF calm down and it’s business as usual. At least they’ve avoided a gang war.”

  Davy cut in. “W…Was one likely?”

  Liam nodded. “It was guaranteed. Geoff Hamill had already heard rumblings from the URF and LDL about taking over the Greer’s turf. With McCrae in charge they’ll get back in their boxes.”

  “So all’s well in the w…world of acronyms again.”

  Craig had been watching Ken Smith’s face during the exchange. He looked fascinated. Even Carmen had noticed his boyish glee and Nicky watched as she stared just a little too long at his profile then glanced away when she caught her gaze.

  Craig motioned Smith to speak. “Something you’d like to say, Ken?”

  Smith stumbled over his words. “It’s… it’s just that there’s so much going on. As soon as you get one plate spinning there’s another one about to fall.”

  Craig smiled. “And it isn’t like that in the army?”

  “No, absolutely not. Things are pretty straight forward except when we’re on an operation. About the most excitement we get at the base is the odd problem recruit, but they’d be put on a charge as soon as they stepped out of line.”

  Liam interjected. “Discipline; good stuff. Unfortunately democracy has ruined the real world. People get up to all sorts and even when we manage to catch them some bleeding heart lawyer bangs on about their Human Rights.” He gazed wistfully into the distance. “Bring back national service; that would tighten them.”

  Craig cut in. “Great as it sounds to be able to lock them all up and throw away the key, we’re stuck with the system we have. Liam, ask Reggie to give me a call, would you? And go and have a word in McCrae’s ear. Tell him that we’re watching, Vice is watching and Fraud will be checking his books at regular intervals. Hopefully he’ll get the message.”

  Just then Nicky let out a squeal and all eyes turned towards her. She was staring at her screen as if a giant spider had just appeared. Craig raced over to her desk and when he saw what she’d squealed at he swore under his breath.

  “Bugger.”

  A second later they were all looking at the same thing. A report on the news about an explosion in central Paris. The Banque de Paris had been blown up. Annette was the first to speak.

  “It might be nothing to do with the case, sir.”

  Liam snorted. “Aye and pigs might fly. It’s too much of a coincidence.”

  Craig wheeled round to find Carmen. “Carmen, you and Davy get onto the web immediately and see what you can find out. The rest of us will continue the briefing.”

  Five minutes later Carmen and Davy re-joined the group. Davy shook his head and Craig’s heart sank.

  “The w…word’s already out there, chief. Someone’s even uploaded the bank’s internal CCTV from five minutes before the blast.” Davy tapped on the tablet he was holding and turned it so that everyone could see. “It must have been backed-up on the Cloud, like the bookshop’s was.”

  As they watched a small man and a blond woman entered the bank’s foyer. The woman’s I.D. was clear. It was Jennifer Weston. A well-dressed bank manager greeted them then led the way to a lift that descended to what must have been the vaults. Two more minutes of the foyer tape ran, with customers entering and leaving the bank, and then the manager reappeared alone.

  “He took them to the vaults.”

  They watched for another minute until the screen was suddenly filled with white and the image abruptly cut out. The blast had blown the foyer camera or electrics out, hopefully just the latter or everyone in the bank’s foyer was dead.

  “It was Jenny Weston. She must have found the location of the second book.”

  “And the mug with her must have thought she was going to buy it. There’s no way he’d have gone to the vault with her otherwise.”

  Craig nodded. Liam was right. The small man was Berger the book dealer and he’d been keeping the book protected in a safe. The way the manager spoke to him said that he’d been at the bank before. There must have been security tests to pass and Weston had needed the man there to complete them, so that she could get close enough to the book to fulfil her aim.

  After a long pause Craig shrugged. There was nothing they could have done. As soon as Carmen had given them Berger’s name they’d told the Gendarmes and passed Weston’s photo along, but without the name of the bank it was too late.

  “The time difference.”

  Craig turned Ken and he elaborated. “France is one hour ahead of us. It’s after ten there now. The bank was open for business over an hour ago.”

  Craig nodded. “Even if it hadn’t been it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. All we had from the chatter was a bank in Paris. The Gendarmes would have needed an enormous operation to have prevented this.”

  Annette had been quiet since they’d viewed the blast but now she spoke. “Our murder cases are solved, sir. We know who blew up Papyrus and now we know why. Jennifer Weston killed her fellow terrorist, Delaney and now she’s killed herself. Surely that’s it, apart from the court reports?”

  Craig almost nodded. Almost but not quite. Then he realised why he hadn’t.

  “She wasn’t acting alone. Weston and Delaney took their orders from someone and my money says they’re on that strip of land in Pakistan.”

  “But surely that’s CIA business now? If there’s a training camp then won’t they deal with it?”

  “Yes and probably today. But the radicalisation of Weston and Delaney tells us that there’s been recruitment going on in Northern Ireland for some time so they won’t be the only pair.” Craig turned to Liam. “Get onto the terrorism team and pass on everything we have about the recruitment aspect of this case. They can start chasing. Carmen, help Liam with that please; you have a lot from the Dark Web. Annette, I want SNI charged with anything that fits, you lead on that and Ken can help you. Davy, liaise with the CIA and find out what their plans are for that training camp.”

  “Delta For
ce or Predator drones. That’s the usual.”

  He was right. Either the CIA would send in Delta Force, their equivalent of the British S.A.S., or they’d bomb the camp to buggery with an unmanned drone, except…

  Craig shook his head. “Maybe so, but not yet. They’ll want every last piece of information they can get from this and they won’t be able to do that if they destroy the camp and everyone in it.” Something occurred to him. “MI6 will want it all as well, Davy, so make sure they get copies of everything we gave the CIA. These bombings happened in Europe. That means that even if the CIA thinks they have dibs on everything, MI6 and Interpol should be taking the lead. Are you OK doing that?”

  Davy nodded gleefully. He was going to get to work with the spies.

  “If they insist on speaking to me I’ll be around.” From the glint in Craig’s eyes it was clear that he planned to follow up another lead.

  “What are you up to, boss?”

  Craig smiled, wondering whether to be enigmatic. He decided he couldn’t be bothered.

  “The CIA is only interested in the terrorists and…” He glanced at Ken. “With all due respect, the army are just interested in the bomb. Everyone seems to have forgotten why this all started.”

  Annette interjected. “Because some fat cat wanted a pair of rare books.”

  “Exactly. Those books were stolen to order and we need to know more about them. Who owned them originally and did they steal them in the first place? Carmen, what was the thief’s name being mentioned on the web?”

  “Larry Benner.”

  “OK, I’ll find out what I can about him. Was there any mention of where the books were to be stolen from and who the middle-man was who brokered one of them to Jules Robinson? And what about the man in Paris? Berger.”

  “Not so far, but if I had a bit more time…”

  “You’ve got it. Focus on that after you’ve given Liam everything he needs.”

  “You mean ten pints of beer and a lads’ mag?”

  It was the first joke Carmen had cracked since she’d joined them and everyone laughed, even Liam who tried for an offended frown then gave up and joined in.

  “After that. You know where all the internet chat-rooms and back doors are. I want names; the original owner or owners of the books, the thief or thieves who stole them and details of all the middle-men in Belfast and Paris. Also, chase up the new buyer here.”

  Annette gave a puzzled frown. “But why do we care, sir? Isn’t this work for cyber-crime?”

  “Yes and no, Annette. We’ll hand over everything at close of play today, but my instinct says that the M.I.A won’t be content with just killing the people they’ve already killed and destroying the books. They’ll want everyone linked to the books they can find. They’ve only managed to kill two middle-men as far as we know; Jules Robinson and the man in Paris with Jennifer Weston. He was probably Berger but we need that confirmed. A café in the Marais was also mentioned, so was there another man there? If we know that these other people exist then so do the radicals and they’ll want them all dead. Davy, you know about rare books. A serious buyer would have put the word out that he wanted the books, yes?”

  “Yes. That w…would have set people running to find them. Auctioneers, booksellers like Jules Robinson and all-out thieves.”

  Craig nodded excitedly. “We have two locations; Belfast and Paris. That means the books were most likely owned by people in Europe somewhere, possibly two different owners, and stolen by European thieves. If the books were in Europe it’s probable that the buyers are as well. All of those people are sitting ducks just waiting to be killed.”

  Annette nodded slowly, not entirely convinced. “We’re trying to prevent all these murders?”

  “Yes.”

  “Apart from the fact that it’s a nice thing to do, sir, surely it’s not our job? Unless…”

  “We have a week left before we go on leave and I don’t like loose ends.”

  Annette burst out laughing. “At least you’re honest about it. OK, let’s see what we can get. I just hope that in the process we don’t become targets as well.”

  ***

  3 p.m.

  Between Carmen and Davy working on the Ethernet, Liam squeezing every contact he had in Belfast, Craig doing the same in London and the Fraud Squad reluctantly opening their books to Annette, by three p.m. the trail had led them to two names and one of them was more familiar than Liam would have liked.

  “What the hell is Tommy doing getting involved in this crap?”

  Craig shook his head tiredly and swung his chair round to gaze out his window, trying to make sense of this latest twist. Liam hadn’t finished his rant.

  “The stupid wee get. I thought he was going clean for the baby’s sake. And to think we got him a new house.”

  Craig held up a hand to still his rant. It had been going on for five minutes and looked as if the steam Liam was generating was going to propel it for five more.

  “Once a thief… anyway, we can debate Tommy’s ingratitude once we have him safely in an interview room. Get Reggie to lift him, Liam. Just say I want a chat. We need to find out what part he had in all this.”

  “We know what part! He stole at least one of the books to order for Jules Robinson. An ex-cop in bed with Tommy Hill!”

  The note of indignation in Liam’s voice almost made Craig laugh. He wasn’t offended by Tommy still walking a crooked path; he was offended that a cop had been working with him.

  “Robinson may not have known that the book was stolen.”

  Liam pointed out the window. “There goes that flying pig again…”

  “Point taken. But either way, we’re not going to prosecute Jules Robinson’s corpse and all we have on Tommy is rumour, virtual rumour at that. I want who Tommy got the book from; they’d already stolen it from someone else. This isn’t about theft; it’s about preventing these fanatics from killing more people.”

  He waved Liam out. “Tommy in High Street by four o’clock and we’re interviewing him together. I’ll meet you there.”

  “What are you doing till then?”

  “Trying to work out how to prevent the CIA putting him on a plane to Guantanamo.”

  ***

  The name of the second book’s buyer was unfamiliar to Craig but it wasn’t to Ken Smith.

  “I was right. It is the same Troy Keaton. Keaton’s one of the biggest illegal arms dealers in Europe; the bane of the legitimate military’s life. Every time we thought we had the guns off the streets in Kabul more would appear. He had a sales technique. He’d give the freedom fighters the first dozen guns free; so that everyone would see them and want one, then he’d make his profit off the next thousand they ordered. After that he’d introduce more sophisticated weapons so they would buy those and discard the old ones.”

  “Smart marketing. Newer flashier versions to make people discard the old; just like mobile phone companies.”

  Smith nodded at the analogy. Craig was making a list in his head, now he grabbed a flip chart and put it down.

  “These are the names we have so far. Troy Keaton, the man lined up to buy the book in Paris.” He swung to check where Davy was. He was tapping furiously at one of his screens. “Davy. Do we know where Keaton is now?”

  Davy thought for a moment then gave a half-nod.

  “Why the hesitation?”

  “W…We know where he was this morning. At home in Geneva. But he left for the International Airport thirty minutes ago.”

  “On the run.”

  “Probably. He must have heard about the explosion and put two and two together.”

  “OK. It’s time to get him off the street, if only for his own safety.”

  Craig turned to find Annette. She was nowhere to be seen.

  “Nicky, where’s Annette?”

  “She said she was following up a hunch.”

  Craig smiled. He liked people to follow their hunches, even if they didn’t pan out.

  “OK. Nicky, get
onto the Cantonal police in Geneva and ask them to hold Troy Keaton at the airport until I get in touch. Tell them it’s on the basis of suspected theft and for his own protection.”

  He turned back to Ken. “Liam’s gone to lift someone else for me, which leaves us with the local buyer Jules Robinson had lined-up for the first book; someone called Neeson according to what Carmen found on the web. That’s right Carmen, isn’t it?”

  Carmen glanced up from the sandwich she was examining suspiciously. She was vegetarian and the pink substance inside had a distinctly carnivorous tinge. “His name is Jack Neeson. I have more on him if you’d like.”

  “Please.” Craig waved her to take the floor.

  “Jack Neeson, sixty-three years old. Retired banker who made his money in the City of London and started acquiring antiques when he was in his thirties. It’s rumoured that he has quite a collection of paintings and books.”

  Craig raised a hand to stop her. “That reminds me; get onto the Antiquities’ Squad please. It’s time they got involved. Carry on.”

  “The word is Neeson’s turned more to rare books in the past few years and he was definitely the name mentioned in association with Jules Robinson’s book.”

  “Where is he living now?”

  “Hillsborough. Near the castle.”

  It was one of the wealthiest areas of Northern Ireland.

  “How sure are we that he’s the Neeson mentioned on the web?”

  Carmen smiled, not at the fact she knew the answer but at the trust in Craig’s voice. He’d trusted her opinion quickly; it made a refreshing change from the second guessing in Vice.

  “One hundred percent. He’s the only one that ticks all the boxes.”

  Craig nodded to himself, imagining Jack Neeson in some rural idyll playing golf, totally unaware that his steal-to-order request was about to disrupt his life.

  “OK, Carmen contact C District and explain what’s happening. Neeson needs to be brought to High Street for questioning.”