Ash moved his cursor to the dots in Wales, opening newspaper reports of sex attacks by ‘Arabic looking men’ and men with ‘European accents’, with similar reactions to Scotland and even a few revenge attacks.
By the end of the demonstration Craig was gawping at the analyst.
“You’re saying that someone’s been deliberately whipping up anti-immigrant feeling?”
Ash nodded. “It’s been effective too. In areas where there have been attacks there’s been a steady swing in the opinion polls against remaining in the EU, particularly against its Schengen free movement across countries policy. And this is the ordinary people in the street. Combine that shift in attitudes with their elected politicians influencing and you’ve got real momentum.”
Craig shook his head. “Very clever, but what’s the cabal’s reason for wanting out of the EU? I understand that some people in the UK might want it, but why are Germans and the Russia Mafia getting involved?”
When no answers came back he shook his head. “OK, let’s park that for now. Understanding the motive for everything isn’t our job. We’re here to solve Peter McManus’ and Billy Regent’s murders, and if that exposes a political plot, which right now we can still only speculate exists, then we’ll deal with that when it comes. OK, thanks for that, Ash. It’s good background.”
He went to move on but Ash shook his head.
“One last thing, chief. That voice speaking to Beatrix Hass.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll need to update you after this.”
His position as International computing expert well and truly reinforced, Ash threw his line-manager a self-satisfied glance and sat back. He was less than amused when Davy showed zero sign of being put out. Craig knew exactly what Ash had been hoping for and smiled to himself; even if Davy had been jealous the Emo was so cool that no-one would ever know.
“Davy, what do you have for us?”
The senior analyst answered by tapping his keyboard and wiping Ash’s map off the screen, to replace it with a symbol that only Craig and Liam had seen before. The group stared at the ornate figure four, each member wondering if the other would ask what it was. In the end Aidan Hughes did.
“What’s with the squiggle? It looks like medieval stuff.”
Davy smiled. “Much older than that. This is an astrological four, also the s…symbol for the Roman god Jupiter, God of Thunder, and his Greek equivalent Zeus. The reason I’m showing it to you is because it was on the bottom of some emails sent to Veronica Lewis’ office, which led to an Ottendorf cipher. A book code, which unless you know which book you’re using as reference would make no sense.”
Craig smirked, knowing that such things drove Liam mad.
“You’ve cracked it, Davy?”
The analyst smiled.
“Yep. The clue was when I discovered everyone we knew from the clique so far had studied Classics, and I thought that maybe there was some sort of British Isles Classics club. I couldn’t find one so I consulted a prof at Queen’s who said there was none that he knew of, s…so it’s pretty certain our little clique formed by itself. Not to study Classics but for another reason, probably political. The prof also said that the standard textbook for Classics undergraduates is called The Zeus Circle. It seemed like a great name for a clique to me and, with the symbol on the emails referencing Zeus, I wondered if the group had chosen that text for their Ottendorf cipher. Anyway… they had, and here’s what I found when I broke the cipher.”
With a quick tap, a page of text appeared on the screen, and as Craig scanned it his jaw dropped. The document had been drafted in the nineteen-seventies and marked embargoed until twenty-twenty-three. Its contents referred to years spent planning a strategy for leaving the EU, since long before Margaret Thatcher had been in power. Several groups were referenced, some of whose names he recognised as right-wing British establishment; none of them considered hard-line organisations but with links with others that were. There were supplementary groups that he recognised as well, from what Vala had told him.
When the detective found his voice again his first words were “This is a manifesto.” He shook his head in astonishment before elaborating. “A manifesto for getting the UK out of the EU.”
Davy nodded. “It looks like they’ve been planning this for decades. All in preparation for when the referendum they longed for might be called.”
Liam was stunned. “But Britain only went into Europe in seventy-three! Are you saying people have been plotting how to get back out for nearly all that time?”
The analyst shrugged. “I’ve a lot more to decode, but it seems that way. But it also looks like they knew it would be w…wishful thinking unless they gathered allies, which takes us back to where Russia, Germany and who knows where else comes in.”
Liam asked a question. “Formal or informal?”
“What?”
“Are there formal links with Russia and Germany, like with their governments, or just informal, e.g. with the mafia and other thugs? Boss?”
It was an excellent question but Craig didn’t answer. His head was hurting trying to work everything out. A group of powerbrokers calling themselves The Zeus Circle, who may or may not have had links with Russia and Germany, had been blackmailing and pressuring local politicians, although... some politicians were also undoubtedly part of the Circle too. Whoever the members were, they were also attacking the military, inciting racial hatred and exploiting the subsequent bounce-back patriotism all for one end; to get the UK out of the EU? It seemed ludicrously farfetched and yet apparently it was all too true.
But he didn’t have time for a sore head, they still had two murders to solve, so he motioned Davy to shut down his screen and used a fifteen-minute break to allow the debate that was raging burn itself out.
As soon as they reconvened Craig acknowledged the work of the analysts, and sketched out the added information Ash had imparted to him during the break; that the man heard conversing with Beatrix Hass from Belfast had also been voice-matched by NSA’s linguists to a conversation recorded inside a private club in Whitehall five days before. They had no IDs on the speakers but the location made everyone pay attention. If members of the current British Government were involved, it gave the cabal’s plot a completely new slant.
Craig perched on the nearest desk, fatigued by the thought of the night that lay ahead.
“OK. It looks as if we’re dealing with a clique or cabal that is essentially a coalition of the willing, and it may well cross borders within and outside Europe, if Russia is involved. Tonight’s party is our chance to see some but probably not all of this Zeus Circle in action, and it’s imperative that everyone is on the ball.” He turned to their resident spy. “Kyle, you’ll be playing the main role so I want you with Veronica Lewis right after this briefing. Bring everything that you need and Aidan will drive you to her place.”
He turned to look for Andy, who was sitting with his feet up on his desk.
“Good to see you’re not stressed, Andy.”
It earned him an over-enthusiastic laugh that betrayed everyone was still in shock at what they’d heard.
“OK, you and Jake, when he arrives back later, will be posted outside Joshua Loughrey’s place, ready to tail him and Kyle’s informant Trevor Rudkin wherever they go, which we really hope will be to Emmett Darrian’s estate, where Liam and I will already be waiting. We’ll have Armed Response backup in place as well, just in case we need them. We’ll also have cameras set up along the estate’s perimeter, and Liam and I will have cameras and directional mikes. Unfortunately, we can’t actually enter the grounds because of the security Darrian has in place. The aerial photographs show that it’s substantial.”
He turned to Kyle. “That means you’ll be on your own in there.” His voice grew serious. “The closer you can get to the Circle the better, and you’ll have Rudkin and Leonard Montgomery to help point the way, but don’t take excessive risks. Dead is no use to me. You understand?”
“There are no bloody points for bravado, Inspector! These people are killers and you’re no good to me with a bullet between your eyes. Do you understand? Say yes or you’re not going.”
Kyle grunted a begrudging “OK” that earned him a shove from Liam.
“He asks you to say yes and you can’t even give that, you stupid glipe!”
Before someone did something that drew blood, Craig shook his head at his deputy. Unfortunately, he needed Kyle or he would have sent him home then and there, but he knew he could rely on the D.I.’s insubordination continuing long into the future so he’d soon get another chance to kick him into touch.
Craig glanced at the clock. Almost four. “OK, let’s call it. Everyone take a couple of hours break and be at your posts for six o’clock on the dot. Glocks and Kevlar, everyone, and no unnecessary risks.”
It made Annette sigh. Kevlar was uncomfortable at the best of times, but she was still carrying baby weight. She thought she’d chance a request.
“Rhonda and I won’t be at the scene, sir, so couldn’t we do without our vests?”
Craig raised an eyebrow. “I admire your optimism, Annette, but you don’t know where tonight’s surveillance will take you, so the answer is definitely no.”
He was still torn on whether he wanted Terry Harrison to head for the party or not, but it was good to be prepared.
Chapter Sixteen
Eglantine Avenue, South Belfast.
Ken Smith was dragging the last of the items he’d bought from Ikea up to his third-floor walk-up when his mobile began to ring, so he shouldered open his front door hastily, dropped his new duvet in the hall and rummaged for the phone, managing to answer before the call cut out.
“Yes?”
“Hi, Ken.”
He was surprised to hear Craig’s voice, although why he should be given that the man was almost his brother-in-law, he didn’t know. When he checked the phone’s screen his surprise gained more conviction; it was the weekend yet Craig was calling from an unknown number which meant that he was phoning from work, and the edginess in his voice said there was something up.
“Hello, Marc. Are you OK?”
Craig turned to gaze out of his office window at the river, smiling at how perceptive the soldier was.
“I’m fine…”
For now, went unsaid.
Ken entered his newly carpeted sitting room and perched on the arm of a chair.
“But you’re not certain that you will be fine soon, and you wanted me to know, just in case.”
When there was no reply he went on.
“And if anything happens to you while you do whatever you’re doing later, then I’m to take care of everyone.”
It was a short-hand conversation he’d held many times before with members of his regiment, usually before they patrolled some war zone.
A quiet sigh was his only confirmation before Craig changed the subject.
“How does it feel to be a civilian, then?”
It sparked five minutes of chat that to the casual listener would have been about mere pleasantries but to the two men having it was about anything but.
****
6 p.m.
While Annette was sitting in south Belfast, scratching uncomfortably and trying to get comfortable in her car outside Terry Harrison’s divorcee’s pad, Andy and Jake were twenty miles away in Ballyholme in Bangor, in a state of high alert.
Thirty minutes earlier, a man that they’d IDed as Trevor Rudkin had knocked on the door of Joshua Loughrey’s townhouse and disappeared inside. Now a limousine with darkened windows had pulled up, driven by a man whose bulk and ill-concealed handgun said that his passengers wouldn’t be heading to the local pub.
Andy slid further down in his seat and motioned Jake to do the same.
“This is it. Any minute now Loughrey and Rudkin will appear and oft we jolly well go.”
The last five words were said in an upper-crust English accent that made Jake want to laugh; it sounded nothing like the real ones he’d heard on trips to London and made him wonder why every Irish impersonator chose the aristocracy or cockneys to copy when they mimicked an Englishman.
His speculation was cut short by the predicted appearance of Loughrey and his advisor, and as the driver opened the car doors for them and scanned his surroundings in a very unfriendly way, the detectives held their crouched poses until the man was back in the car and its engine had started up.
Jake reached for his ignition key immediately but Andy shook his head to wait.
“This is a quiet street. If we pull out right after them they’ll spot that we’re a tail.”
The D.S. watched anxiously as the limousine reached the end of the street and turned right.
“We’re losing them!”
Andy rolled his eyes. “We’re losing nothing. I’ve a spotter van on the main road and they’ll tell us where the car is in two minutes time. Then we’ll go.”
Jake’s eyes widened in panic. “But they could have turned left instead of right!”
“Calm down, would you. I’ve vans set up both ways.”
While the sergeant champed at the bit Andy remained slouched in his seat, until two minutes to the second after the limo had left the radio began to buzz. Andy grabbed it before Jake could.
“Where is he?”
“Donaghadee Road Roundabout just heading onto the B21.”
“Thanks.” He dropped the handset. “OK, what’s keeping you, Jake? Off you go. But stay two cars behind when you spot them, mind, and don’t change lane even if they do or they’ll make us.”
That burst of activity over, the D.C.I. slid down in his seat again and took out his mobile to call Craig.
“Rudkin and Loughrey are in a blacked-out limo, chief. Registration DEZ 17B. One armed guard that we could see, driving, but there might have been others inside the car.”
Craig drummed his fingers absentmindedly on his steering wheel as Andy reported, and when the D.C.I. had finished he nodded to himself.
“Where are they now?”
“Just pulling on to the A2. We’ll be on them in a minute, especially since Jake’s driving my car like a bat out of hell. It looks like the party’s definitely at Darrian’s place, so we should be with you in around fifteen.”
“Good. If anything changes give me a call.”
He cut the line and turned to see Liam leaning against the passenger door with his eyes tightly shut.
“I’d better not hear you snoring.”
The deputy responded without opening his eyes. “I beg your pardon. I’m meditating.”
“On what? Your dinner?”
Liam turned to him in surprise. “How’d you know that? Danni’s got me a lovely steak for later.”
Craig chuckled, his eyes still fixed on the wrought iron entrance gates of Emmett Darrian’s impressive estate.
“I knew because that’s all you ever think about. Food.”
The D.C.I. shook his head and grinned. “Not true. I think about women as well.”
“I can’t argue with that one.”
Suddenly Craig grabbed for the binoculars, peering through them at the gates.
“Someone’s arriving. Make sure the tape’s rolling.”
They watched as a van that looked as if it should have contained supplies pulled up to the entrance, and then as a suspiciously elegantly clothed arm emerged from the driver’s window to press for access.
“Unless the grocers around here wear tuxedoes I think we’ve just met our first guest.”
Liam shrugged. “Could be a waiter.”
Craig shook his head. “Listen to that voice.”
As the crystal-clear diction of wealth rang through the air requesting entry, Liam was forced to agree. When the gates opened Craig pointed to the video-cam in the D.C.I.’s hands.
“Did you get him?”
“Yep.”
Liam tur
ned the screen towards his boss, smirking as he did.
“Recognise that mug?”
Craig’s eyes widened. “That’s the British Home Secretary, Basil Hartnell!”
“The little weasel himself.” Liam’s guffaw was so loud that it almost shook the car. “Dirty wee devil. Exactly how high does this stuff go?”
Craig response was to glance at his watch. “Kyle should be inside by now, so hopefully we’ll soon find out. The party’s definitely here, so stand the Gardaí down. At least someone will have a relaxing Saturday night.”
While his two bosses were stuck in a cramped car Kyle Spence’s experience of the evening was proving far more luxurious, the only drawback being that as Veronica Lewis’ designated bodyguard he couldn’t help himself to a drink. And there was a lot of it, from the champagne that had greeted them on the removal of their blindfolds through to the assortment of aperitifs and spirits being carried on trays by passing girls. Alcohol wasn’t the only thing that the girls were carrying; their assortment of tablets, powders and spliffs saying that Emmett Darrian had planned a high old night.
The ex-Intelligence Officer watched as the madam fluttered protectively around her girls, wondering why Lewis did what she did. He could understand when she was younger and had needed to survive, but she had a legitimate fashion business now and could easily leave all this behind. He was running absentmindedly through possible reasons ranging from greed to feeling trapped, when the man that Liam and Craig had spotted entering just seconds earlier walked past him into an oak-doored room. Kyle recognised the Home Secretary in a heartbeat and it brought him sharply to alert. Men like that didn’t arrive at parties until they absolutely had to, so something was about to kick off.
The Cabal Page 33
