The Keeper

by Catriona King

  Nicky wanted to say. “That’s because you were sacked.” But instead she just watched the pair, agog.

  Harrison began walking towards the exit and the petite Scot fell in alongside him, seemingly hanging on his every word.

  “I’ve relocated here from Limavady and I’m currently recruiting staff, Constable. I’m sure I could find a position for an enthusiastic young officer.”

  As they entered the lift Nicky didn’t know whether to laugh or cry; Carmen and Harrison together spelt trouble for everyone. Then the phone rang and Craig’s voice came on the line and she parked the problem for another day.

  Chapter Twelve

  East Belfast. 5.30 a.m.

  Liam muttered into his mobile as quietly as he could. “No sign yet and it’s past his usual killing time. Are you sure you’ve got it right, boss?”

  Craig snapped down the line. “No, I’m bloody well not sure but do you have any other ideas?”

  Just then his phone beeped with another call. “Hang on.” He pressed a button and Davy’s voice came through. It held a note of panic.

  “He’s on the move, chief. Ash just spotted the Mazda driving over the Albert Bridge. I can’t tell w…which of you he’s heading for yet.”

  “OK, stay on the line until you can.”

  Two tense minutes later Davy blurted out “It’s you!”

  “Tell Liam to get here, now.”

  Craig cut the call and slid down in his seat, watching in his rear view mirror for the lights. As he did so Stephen James was in the Mazda’s boot, twisting his hands frantically in their binding and holding out little hope that he would free himself in time. No-one had come to find him and despite all his stretching the ropes had had little give. Unless there was a miracle pretty damn quick he was a dead man.

  He’d never believed in miracles, rarely even went to church. Just on military occasions where it was unavoidable and expected by the troops. He wasn’t even sure that he believed in God. He was a logical thinker, more inclined to believe in clouds of gas igniting spontaneously in some big bang, than carry the thought through and ponder where those clouds might have originated from. But right now he thought that praying was probably the most logical thing he could do, given that if it worked he’d live long enough to question why, and if it didn’t then he was no worse off.

  No-one was more surprised than James when halfway through The Lord’s Prayer he felt something give behind his back. He renewed his twisting and praying with increased vigour and felt his hands slip free of their trap. Just as it did so he felt the car jerk to a sudden halt, then he heard the driver yank on the handbrake and open up his door. Damn. He hadn’t had time to untie his ankles. The Major thought quickly. His captor would have to untie his feet to walk him anywhere, so he would let him do it for him and then fight him as hard as he could.

  As Craig watched the driver emerge from the navy Mazda he prayed that Liam would approach with his lights off in the dark. Their killer was armed and he didn’t want him to have a target to shoot. He watched as the car boot opened and the man leaned in and fumbled with something, then as he reappeared accompanied by Stephen James. The old soldier looked like hell but he was still alive. Just as the men moved towards the wasteland Liam’s car approached. The pitch dark and sheet rain gave him cover, but the squelch of his tyres on the tarmac made their kidnapper swing round.

  Looking back, Craig couldn’t recall the events in sequence but he knew what the result had been. Stephen James throwing a punch at his captor then the sound of a single shot and he fell, as their shooter jumped back to his dark saloon and belted down the Cregagh Road.

  Craig barked instructions through his open window. “See to the Major. I’m going after him.”

  He threw his car into gear and screeched down the suburban highway after their man. Liam hunkered down beside the Major, watching as he gripped his thigh in pain.

  “Evening, Major. Painful is it?”

  James’ reply was unrepeatable. Liam called an ambulance and then Annette, telling her where he was.

  “Get here, ASAP. James is stable and there’s an ambulance on the way. I’m off after the boss.”

  “You can’t leave!”

  Annette and James had said the words together.

  “’Course I can. He’ll be grand. It’s only a through and through and the boss needs me more.” Subtext; I’m not missing out on all the action.

  He hung up before Annette could guilt freeze him and loped back to his car, unable to resist a “don’t go running away now, Major” as he turned towards the main road. Stephen James had been obstructive to them in the past and cold revenge was always sweet.

  ****

  Craig belted down the Cregagh and Woodstock Roads, thankful that the city was still asleep. They would have killed someone driving this fast at any other time. He watched as the Mazda wove its way across the Albert Bridge and then down Oxford Street the wrong way, before screeching up Corporation Street in a straight run.

  Craig’s jaw dropped. It was heading for the C.C.U.! When the car passed Pilot Street and swung a right down Corry Road he knew that he’d been being ridiculous. The detective realised where they were heading just as his carphone rang.

  “Liam?”

  “I’m right behind you.”

  Craig would have laughed if it hadn’t been so inappropriate. “You left James waiting for the ambulance, didn’t you?”

  Liam tried to sound offended. “I called Annette first.” He gave up the pretence. “Ach, he only had a flesh wound and he’s a tough old bugger. It’ll do him no harm.” He changed the subject. “Where’s he heading?”

  “Albert Quay or Clarendon Dock. My bet’s on the last one.”

  Just then the Mazda turned right again and their choices narrowed to one.

  “He’s making for Clarendon Dock.”

  “The river.”

  “Damn! He’s going to kill himself.”

  Liam was unperturbed. It would save them an expensive trial. But Craig wasn’t giving up. Suicide was too damn easy; he wanted this man to answer for his crimes.

  It wasn’t his choice. Half a mile in front of them The Keeper knew exactly what he was going to do. The Mazda accelerated through the barrier into the modern business development, splintering the wood, then it screamed through the narrow roads and mounted the pedestrian precinct, heading for the Lagan, until a row of concrete bollards brought the car to a juddering halt.

  The Keeper jumped from the smoking saloon and sprinted for the water, just as Craig and Liam raked up. Craig leapt out his car first and set off in pursuit, ripping off his jacket and shoes in preparation for a dive. Their quarry had climbed the low fence above the Lagan and was gazing down into its high, wide waves, whipped into a fast moving froth by the freezing, driving wind.

  Craig played a hunch. He stopped in his tracks and shouted. “Austin. Jack Austin.”

  The man half turned towards him, the river’s turbulent current only a hand grip away. He smiled and Craig knew that they’d called it right. Detective Inspector Jack Austin of the RUC had been responsible for all of their executed paramilitaries.

  But they’d guessed and speculated for long enough and now Craig had to know everything.

  “Why?”

  The word was dragged away in the gale, but before it faded Austin smiled, the lonely smile of a man tormented by his past. They locked eyes as Craig waited for his answer and Liam moved towards their fugitive unnoticed in the dark.

  Austin’s shaking head said that he wasn’t going to reply; but, as Craig readied to ask again, he suddenly changed his mind.

  “They made us the keepers. We had to watch what that filth did to their victims and do nothing-”

  Craig had to interrupt, even though he knew that it was a risk. He needed answers. “Like lodging bullets a fixed distance in?”

  Austin’s face twisted in disgust. “That was Murnaghan’s trademark. It felt like poetic justice to do the same to all of them.” He laughed i
ncongruously. “And using Billy Hart’s favourite gun too.” He shook his head again, this time in disbelief. “Murnaghan and Hart were so thick they thought I was still a police handler. Both of them climbed right into my car.”

  He stopped, casting a look behind him into the dark. It was almost longing. Craig yelled another question to hold his attention.

  “The Keepers? What does that mean?”

  This time Austin’s answer was a shout.

  “THEY MADE US KEEP SECRETS THAT NO-ONE SHOULD HAVE TO KEEP!” He stared past the detective into the distance, his voice quietening again, as if he was speaking only to himself. “We allowed those scum back on the streets to kill and maim. We knew what they would do but we freed them anyway; all for information. Billy Hart murdered two Catholics in six months; Murnaghan planted a bomb near a primary school-”

  Craig could see Liam less than thirty metres away. He played for time.

  “But it helped end The Troubles. You saved lives.”

  Austin stiffened and Craig saw his grip readying to release. “And we let them end others. James and that MI5 bastard sanctioned it all.” He shook his head violently. “The government turned us into God, choosing who should live and who should die.”

  Craig felt rather than saw Austin’s thumb lift off the railing. Liam was still ten metres away. Austin spoke again, his voice wracked with pain.

  “No man can live with that guilt forever. Not unless he’s a psychopath.”

  Liam leapt forward just as Jack Austin’s hand opened completely and he plummeted into the Lagan’s swift black waves. Craig raced to the edge, readying to jump in after him, but just as he was about to his path was blocked by Liam’s thick right arm. The D.C.I. shouted at Craig, struggling to be heard in the driving rain.

  “YOU CAN’T REACH HIM. YOU’LL DIE TRYING.” He pointed his free hand to where Austin’s head could just be seen above the water. He gave them a final nod and then dived very deliberately beneath the waves. “He’s made up his mind, boss. You have to let him go.”

  Craig yanked himself free and stepped forward, peering into the darkness for some sign of life, but Jack Austin was nowhere to be seen.

  “If he doesn’t drown he’ll die of hypothermia. I’ll call the divers to fish him out.”

  Craig nodded, but not sadly. Jack Austin had killed five people and if he’d had his way then it would have been six. He’d just wanted answers to all his questions; now he would have to settle for what he could get from Stephen James. He turned back towards the cars, shooting his deputy a baleful glance.

  “You shouldn’t have stopped me, Liam.”

  The acting Super’s response was to scoop up a handful of river water and pour it over Craig’s head. He shivered violently. Liam had been right; he would have frozen within a minute if he’d leapt in.

  Craig gave a grudging nod and got a smiled ‘you’re welcome’ in response, then they climbed into their respective vehicles and headed back to check on Stephen James.

  ****

  6.30 a.m.

  Craig got some of his answers from a doped-up Stephen James in St Mary’s Emergency Department, probably the only ones that he would ever get. Once the Major was feeling better he would cloak himself in the official secrets act and they would be told that everything was strictly ‘need to know’. But what he managed to extract from the exhausted soldier confirmed what they’d already thought. James had been the army liaison at Castlereagh Station’s Holding Centre in nineteen-eighty, when their five dead victims had been picked up.

  Each of the five had been assessed for their intelligence gathering potential and turned into spies with the offer of no more arrests. Carte blanche to continue doing whatever they’d done before, to maintain their covers, just so long as they passed intelligence to the forces of law and order often enough. Jack Austin had been the police liaison officer; too junior for Stephen James to have known his name or even recognise him three decades on. If they’d known the name of the MI5 corner of the triangle then they would have had a full hand, but even if they found out his name Craig doubted that it would be the one that he’d been baptised with. That was probably why Austin hadn’t gone after him. Too hard to find.

  As Craig emerged from behind the patterned ED curtain a loud hiss beckoned him urgently to the unit’s rear door. He recognised the sibilant ‘s’s as belonging to Liam and followed the hissing out into the cool night air. The rain had stopped and faint red streaks in the grey black sky said that it would soon be morning. If he’d been left in peace he would have stopped to admire its beauty, but the large, white faced man hissing at him was unlikely to go away.

  “What do you want, Liam?”

  The newly responsible officer tapped hard on his watch. “You’ve ten minutes to get out of here before Flanagan arrives. If he sees you working while suspended then you’ll be out on your ass.”

  Craig nodded, acknowledging that he was right. “OK, I’m gone. Just remember, when you’re drafting your report, I wasn’t anywhere near the case this evening. Tell the others the same. James is so doped up he won’t remember.”

  Liam made a face. “Ach, no. I don’t like taking the credit. It was your hunch that got us to Castlereagh.”

  “And it will get me kicked off the force if anyone finds out, so just do me a favour and take it.” He turned to leave and then turned back. “I’ll be at Katy’s until my hearing, so keep me up to date with everything, please.”

  They parted with a wave, Craig walking into the hospital’s underground car-park just as Sean Flanagan pulled up at the ED entrance in a liveried car.

  ****

  Katy’s apartment. Thursday 15th October, 2 p.m.

  “Signed, sealed and delivered.”

  Liam dropped a file onto the coffee table and lifted the teapot to fill his cup. He took a slurp before continuing.

  “You were right about James. The old bugger no-commented to practically every question he was asked, even by Flanagan.”

  Craig slung his legs onto the table, nodding. It had been two days since Jack Austin had killed himself and all they had to explain the murders of five people were his final words. Liam was still speaking.

  “Oh aye, the lad says he’s sussed what triggered Austin off.”

  “You mean it wasn’t just our latest political fiasco, then.”

  Craig’s tone was just the sarcastic side of dull and it didn’t pass Liam by.

  “Ach, cheer up, boss. The bad guy’s dead and all’s right with the world.” He realised his mistake too late. Craig was on his feet getting ready for a rant.

  “It might be all right in your world, but I’m stuck here bored out of my skull!”

  Liam waved him down. “And if you’d give me a minute to finish, you’d see that I was the bearer of good news.”

  Craig remained standing.

  “I’m not telling you till you’re back in your chair, so sit down for God’s sake, you’re giving me a headache.” He carried on reporting, watching Craig retake his seat grudgingly as he did. “Anyhow, as I was saying. The lad found out what triggered Austin. The woman he’d been seeing in Oz, actually he’d been living with her for ten years; anyway, she upped and left him. I called her and she said it was because she couldn’t live with him anymore; all he did was talk about the past and how guilty he felt about what they did.”

  Craig shook his head grimly. “You mean five people died because of a broken romance. Six if you count Austin.”

  Liam shook his head more cheerfully. “Nah. She said Austin had been under a psychiatrist for years and he’d tried to top himself a couple of times from guilt. I reckon he’d just decided to take the people he blamed with him before he went.”

  Craig gave him a wry look. “Don’t mention psychiatrists to me. One of them is the reason I’m stuck here.”

  “It’s not all bad. You get to wear your jeans every day.” A glance told Liam that he’d better change the subject quickly. “Anyway, speaking of the shrink who put you here; that’s
the other thing I wanted to tell you.” He helped himself to an individually wrapped biscuit, Katy’s snacks were higher class than the ones he normally got, and spoke through a mouthful of Belgian chocolate. “The Doc says he’s got what you need and he’ll be here soon.” Craig reached for his phone but Liam waved him down and took out his own. “He’s downstairs in the car-park. He wanted to give me time to update you before he broke the good news.”

  One text later and John was at the front door. Craig opened it with a question.

  “What have you found out?”

  “If you let me in I’ll tell you.” The pathologist walked past him and took a seat. Liam poured him a cuppa as Craig bombarded him with questions.

  “Is it enough? Will it stand up in a hearing? Does Sophia know that you’ve got something on her?”

  “Yes, yes and no. I wanted to tell you and the Chief Constable first.”

  The pathologist opened his briefcase and pulled out a file, considering whether to keep hold of it and then giving in to Craig’s urgent grab. It was the same difference whether he read it out or Craig read it for himself and the former left his hands free to eat. After a minute of uninterrupted chomping Craig looked up, his eyes wide.

  “You’re sure?”

  “As sure as ten phone calls and three written reports can be. Doctor Emiliani has De Clérambault's syndrome-”

  Liam’s interjected. “She’s French? But I thought she came from Italy.”

  John rolled his eyes and then saw the D.C.I. wink, confirming what he’d long suspected. That sometimes Liam pretended not to know something just to get a laugh.

  “De Clérambault's syndrome is also known as erotomania. The core symptom is that the sufferer holds an unshakable belief that another person is secretly in love with them, no matter how often they say they aren’t. It’s a serious psychiatric illness. Sophia was first diagnosed with it in two thousand when she was still a student. She became obsessed with the Dean of Medicine and hounded the poor man until he got a restraining order from the courts and they ordered her to have psychiatric assessment.” He gestured at the file Craig was holding. “Since then there have been three men. I managed to speak to two of them and one of them drafted the report that you see in the file. He was a clinical psychologist who’d run a clinic with Sophia and had only ever been polite to her, but she stalked him so badly it almost cost him his marriage. He complained about her to the GMC in twenty-thirteen and she was suspended from practice-”