“OK, the boss said he needed to ask Jamison something urgently. Matter of life or death.”
Annette snorted. “Yeh, his.”
He turned to Jack. “You called Lewiston when he took the keys, didn’t you?”
Jack nodded. It had been his natural response.
“OK, good. He’ll turn up soon. So, as Lewiston wasn’t there we agreed to act as witnesses, while the boss got some background on a separate case-”
Annette interrupted in a sceptical tone. “With a Dictaphone?” She wanted to get the story straight.
“He wanted a record. To cover himself.”
She shrugged and nodded.
“OK, so he asked for the detail he needed. Nothing that would incriminate Jamison, you understand. And then he left, nice as pie.”
Jack found his voice. “Politely requested the prisoner help clarify some details. It sounds better.”
Liam took a gulp of tea and nodded. “Good. Politely requested. I like that.” He stared into space for a moment. “Of course…”
Annette shook her head, knowing exactly what was coming next. “No way. We can’t say that Jamison asked to speak to us. That would really be pushing it.”
Liam conceded the point. “Ach, well. It was just a thought.” He straightened up and set his mug down on the sink. “Jack, just run through those cameras and make sure they’re all clean will you, then wipe the keys for prints and tell Lewiston what we’ve agreed.” He turned for the door but Jack immediately blocked his way.
“Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not skipping off. I want back-up when Lewiston loses it.”
Liam gave him the pleading look that always worked on his wife. “Ach Jack, you know I need to go after him. God knows what he’ll get up to next.”
The sergeant raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You mean he might kick someone else in the nuts then?”
Liam winced, reminded of his still throbbing pain. Annette poured herself another cuppa before commenting in an ‘I told you so’ voice.
“You should’ve known better than to try to restrain him, Liam. Don’t worry, Jack, I’ll stay. I’m waiting for Davy to get back to me with something and I might as well wait here.” She waved Liam out dismissively. “Off you go now. Go and find your sparring partner before he fights with someone else.”
****
Craig wasn’t fighting with anyone. After phoning the hospital he’d gone straight back to the ranch. When he entered the squad-room he headed straight for Ash’s desk.
“OK, Jamison’s admitted they sold the algorithm to an American weapons company in ninety-three, but we don’t know which one. Can you find it?”
Ash nodded eagerly. “That really narrows things down. Give me ten.”
As he typed feverishly Craig turned to Davy. “Hamnet’s family. Where are they now?”
“The wife, S…Susan, died last year. The son Warner isn’t anywhere that I can find, and the last photo we have of him was a school photo from ninety-eight.”
Craig nodded briskly, knowing they were close and regretting his earlier emotional lapse. But now it was time to get back to business.
“OK, get Des onto it with the aging programme. I want to see what Warner Hamnet would look like today.” He noticed a row of photographs on Davy’s left hand screen.
“Explain.”
“It’s something Annette asked me to w…work on. We pulled a list of names of everyone to do with the investigation.”
“Which one?”
“Well, both actually. Guthrie’s murder and all the local incidents the algorithm’s been linked to. Anyway, I got the list and Annette did a first cut, eliminating anyone she thought irrelevant, then s…she asked me to pull the photographs of the rest. She’s seen the first lot and dismissed them so now I’m down to the final s…six.”
Craig peered at the images, recognising a mixture of Terry Mallon, Ronan Miskimmon, Jonny Hall, the car driver from the RTC, Tom Fitzhenry and two others. He raised an eyebrow questioningly.
“I’ve emailed the info down to High Street but to be honest I think it’s a dead end.”
“What prompted it in the first place?”
“S…Someone mentioned that perps can inject themselves into investigations-”
A mellow voice came from behind Craig.
“That was me.”
He turned to see Reggie holding a cuppa. It reminded him that he hadn’t eaten all day.
“You’re thinking of someone hanging around the crime-scenes to see what we find out?”
“Aye. This case is just weird enough that some creep might, don’t you think?”
“I do. The problem is that we know who all of these people are; there are no new faces. Even if we suspect someone we won’t be able to rule them in or out until we’ve got our man.”
He was interrupted by the sight of two tall team members loping across the floor. Andy immediately sat upright, causing Craig to roll his eyes.
“Get back to work, Andy. You can moon over Rhonda on your own time. What are you doing anyway?”
Andy resumed his earlier slouch and reached for his Toblerone. “Viewing the last of the CCTV. I’m on the algorithm incidents now.”
Craig was distracted by Liam appearing by his side, so he answered Andy with a vague “good” and then turned to face his deputy. “We need to talk.”
Liam snorted. “You’re telling me.”
Craig didn’t want an audience for what he had to say.
“Have you eaten lately?”
“Not enough. My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.”
Without another word they made for the lift and walked in silence until they’d reached the James. Even then the only words uttered were “steak and chips twice and two coffees, please.”
The D.C.I. sat back in his chair and waited for his boss to start. It took until Craig was on his second coffee and required several throat clearing coughs.
“I was out of order at High Street.”
Liam nodded sagely. “You were.”
Craig caveated his confession, in case Liam misunderstood. “Not about questioning Jamison. He had answers that we needed.”
Another nod. “Agreed.”
“But maybe I shouldn’t have kicked you in the-”
Liam sat forward at high speed. “Maybe? MAYBE? You could’ve ruined my chances of fatherhood!”
Craig stifled a smile. “You’ve already got two.”
“That’s as maybe, but the world’s not finished with the Cullen genes just yet.”
Craig couldn’t stifle his laugh, then his face became serious again. “You were out of order restraining me against that door.”
Liam shook his head firmly. “No way. If I’d let you go straight in you’d have decked Jamison.”
Craig’s eyes widened at the assertion. “And two minutes made a difference?”
“Definitely. You’d calmed down enough to talk to him at least.” He smiled. “You’re stronger than I thought, you know. We could do with you on the force’s rugby team.”
Craig shook his head. “My days in the scrum are long gone.”
They fell back into amiable silence and sipped their coffees. They were just finishing up when both their mobiles rang at once. Craig walked to the door to answer his. It was Davy, speaking so fast that he could hardly make him out.
“Andy…the tape…he knows w…who…”
Liam's conversation was much the same, except with Ash and about the armaments firm. Craig dropped twenty pounds on the table and in two minutes they were back in the squad-room with the analysts and Andy all talking at once.
Craig raised a hand to silence them and then pointed at Ash to speak.
“They sold the algorithm in ninety-three to Merker’s, a huge American weapons firm, for five million.”
“What’s that in today’s money?”
“Nearer ten and its buying power in the nineties was twice that. But that’s not-”
Davy couldn’t wait any longer. “An
dy’s found our man!”
You could have heard a pin drop. Craig glanced from Andy to Davy and then back again, finally pointing at the D.C.I.
“Shoot.”
Andy gulped down the chocolate in his mouth and began speaking with a sticky tongue. “Well, on the CCTV of the algorithm stuff-”
“I don’t want War and Peace. Just cut to the chase.”
He cut fast. “Oh…OK, then. It was the RTC you attended last Wednesday. One of the faces from the pedestrian crossing camera made me look twice. It was the same man in the blurry image at Guthrie’s scene and the man who talked to Terry Mallon.”
“Show me.”
As Andy pointed to an image of Ronan Miskimmon Craig’s heart sank to his boots. Had they missed something really obvious? Could Miskimmon actually be their killer? He pulled himself up short. It had been anything but obvious; two cases overlapping, one of which they would never have picked up if Ash hadn’t been a computer guru. Fate had smiled on them by putting a super-recogniser in their midst as well, no matter how dozy he was.
“You’re sure, Andy?”
“Positive.”
Craig nodded Liam to take a look and while the D.C.I. whooped at his niggle finally being resolved he turned back to Davy.
“I want everything you’ve got on Miskimmon.”
Davy shook his head. “You’ve already got it. We’ve been over him twice.”
Craig frowned. “So there was nothing to say that he might have wanted to frame Richard Jamison? And what has he got to do with the ALG?”
Davy shrugged. “Miskimmon’s an engineering student. Maybe he’s a computer nerd as well.”
“Who just happens to know about the specific algorithm that Richard Jamison discovered in his youth?” Craig shook his head. “No. Miskimmon can’t be his real name. Dig harder. We need something solid before we bring him in.”
Andy looked offended.
“No offence, Andy, but no-one’s going to convict just on you recognising some blurred and disguised images, even if you are right. We need something solid that puts Miskimmon in the frame for Dominic Guthrie’s murder. Reggie, go to the address he gave us at the RTC and check his alibi for Friday night.” He turned to Liam. “We need a warrant for his computer.”
“On what grounds, boss? Ash hasn’t been able to locate where the hack came fro…” His voice tailed off as he had another thought and he rushed to the nearest computer and started to tap.
Davy seized on the gap in conversation. “I sent W…Warner Hamnet’s image over to Des. I’ll send Miskimmon’s image across for comparison.”
Craig’s eyes widened. “You think Miskimmon could be the Hamnet boy?”
“It’s w…worth a try. He’s the right age. I’ll check death records for Ronan Miskimmons as well. Sometimes people fake new identities using the death certificate of a child.”
As he joined Liam in tapping, Ash gave a noisy sigh. “Does anyone want to hear what I’ve discovered, or am I purely ornamental here?”
Liam answered without looking up. “You’re definitely not that-”
Craig cut in. “What have you found, Ash?”
The analyst read off his screen. “Paul Hamnet, Richard Jamison and Neil Dunn.”
“OK. The three men who discovered the algorithm. So what?”
Ash sighed as if everyone but him was stupid. “Neil Dunn? Doesn’t that name ring a bell with anyone?”
Annette answered. She’d entered a minute before without any of them noticing, having left High Street after an exhausting Punch and Judy Q&A with Ronald Lewiston, for which she reckoned Craig owed her a month in a spa.
“Dunn’s the Minister for Investment and one of the richest men in the six counties.”
Ash wanted to hug her. “YES! Finally someone who can keep up.”
Craig’s raised eyebrow made him reign it in, but in a way Ash was right. How could they all have missed Dunn’s identity? They were too close to solving the case to blow it now so he decided to calm things down. He nodded anyone standing to sit and spoke deliberately slowly.
“Are we sure it’s the same Neil Dunn?”
Ash was taken aback. It hadn’t occurred to him that there could be more than one.
“OK, check that, please. Liam, what are you up to?”
Liam uttered a quiet “damn” under his breath; he knew he should have used a computer further away. Too late. Craig was by his side and gazing at the screen which was unfortunately playing the video of Katy’s accident. Liam babbled as the room turned eerily quiet.
“I was checking if the bloke in the car might be Miskimmon, boss, but I’m not sure. We can only see part of his face.” He signalled wildly at Andy with his eyes, but Andy was too busy staring at his erstwhile love. “Maybe if Andy… Andy… ANDY.” He repeated it louder and with emphasis until the D.C.I. finally turned. “Would take a look then he could check.”
Craig wasn’t listening. He was mesmerised by what was on the screen. The woman he loved smiling at the car next to her, before her face filled with fear and she ploughed into a wall.
Annette mouthed “you idiot” at Liam and beckoned Andy over with a rapid wave. Even Andy realised that he needed to shift so he quickly stood in front of the PC, breaking Craig’s line of sight.
After a second he nodded. “That’s him.” Despite the new disguise he’d identified Ronan Miskimmon yet again. Liam clicked on the image taken from the tunnel and Andy nodded for a second time.
Liam clicked off the screen and nodded briskly. “That’s five confirmed images of Miskimmon now, boss. I say we bring him in. We’ve lifted people for far less.”
Craig said nothing, merely nodded and stared into space. They all knew what he was seeing. Katy’s bruised and lacerated face.
Chapter Thirteen
While Andy and Annette went on a journey of persuasion to Judge Standish, because only he would even consider a warrant for Miskimmon’s computers on such convoluted evidence, Craig and Liam joined Reggie at Ronan Miskimmon’s address. It was without much surprise that they saw it was a boarded-up shop whose only occupants were likely to be rats and stray dogs. Liam shook his head with the boredom of a man who’d seen far too much in life.
“Ach, he’s gonna make us hunt for him, and me only after my lunch.”
Craig turned to scan the narrow street they were in, off the semi-fashionable Lisburn Road. Fashionable because of its proximity to the Malone and the chi chi shops at its upper end, semi because of the untidy terraces of students and the somewhat less chi chi bars and cafés that kept changing greasy hands. Miskimmon’s mailing address, because that’s all that it could possibly have been, a presumption that became fact once uniform arrived to knock down the shop’s wooden slab front door, was flanked by two small terraced houses whose respective stained-glass and white planed doors hinted at a population mix of pensioners and young professionals. While the boys in green were wading their way through a shop full of detritus, Craig knocked on its stained-glass neighbour, hoping that someone of mature years was concealed behind.
He liked older people, preferred their company if truth be told. Perhaps it came from his good relationship with his parents and their siblings, but he found the elderly calmer, more reasoned and infinitely more intelligent. No, now, that wasn’t quite fair. The young had an intelligence of their own: lively, curious, surprising at times in the things they came out with, but they could be sulky and given to bouts of high emotion, not to mention drink and drug fuelled erraticism. With the old you got less of that, although of course you couldn’t say that you got none. But by and large they were polite and experienced and when you arrested them they were far less likely to spit at you and run.
He didn’t plan on arresting anyone right at that moment; just ask a neighbour who might have noticed the comings and goings next door exactly what it was they had seen. So when the door crept open and an elderly man was standing there, Craig allowed himself a little smile and extended his hand.
“G
ood afternoon. I’m Superintendent Craig. I wonder if I could ask you a couple of questions?”
The man stared up at him with dark eyes topped by even darker brows. There was no smile or hand in return, just the suspicious glance of someone who’d been a bit of a boy in his youth. His words confirmed Craig’s suspicions.
“Whatever it is I didn’t do it.”
Craig’s smile widened. He’d got it in one. He decided to check out the man’s name when he had a moment, not for any current misdemeanour, his stoop and the stick in his hand suggested he was unlikely to find that, but he was interested in his story generally, much in the same way he would be interested in an artefact’s or a listed building’s tale. He was a historian in his own way.
He carried on, still smiling. “I’m quite sure you didn’t, sir.” He nodded at the derelict building next door. “It’s your neighbour I would like to ask you about. Have you seen anyone go in or out next door recently?”
The snort in answer told Craig that he had, and that he didn’t think much of them.
“Would you mind answering a few questions?”
In response the man walked off down the hall so Craig beckoned Reggie to join him and they followed him into a small front room. When Reggie went to sit he was halted by a sharp rebuke.
“Don’t you go making yourself comfortable! I’ve the community worker coming to take me down the pub.”
Reggie jerked upright, yet another thing that earned their host’s ire.
“Look at the height of you.” Reggie did, every morning. “Don’t they have no normal sized cops anymore?”
Craig wasn’t quite sure how to answer so instead he started his interview, nodding Reggie to take a few notes.
“Could I ask your name, sir?”
Another snort. “I thought you had that stuff on your computer.”
Craig sighed inwardly but kept his tone of voice light. “I could look it up when we go back, but it would help Sergeant Boyd here with his notes.”
Their host took a seat in a well-worn armchair and set his stick to one side, tutting. “Ach, all right then. Jackie Richmond.” He gave a menacing smile. “Back in the day you’d have known me well.”
The Talion Code Page 31
