Liam sighed, that evening’s Sunday roast becoming a lost hope.
“So when are we leaving?”
“Not for a few days.”
The roast was back again.
“I want to know more about our mystery man, and see what we can get from the others, if anything. Plus, Davy’s still working on that code.”
He stood up, a sudden light-headedness making realise how tired he was.
“Get some rest for a few hours and we’ll regroup at two. If we’re lucky we might learn something useful over the next couple of days.”
****
Annadale Embankment, Belfast. 1.30 p.m.
John Winter was just settling into his Sunday post-lunch snooze when he thought that he heard a knock on the front door. It was faint and only once so he wondered whether he might have imagined it, and after a moment of dozy listening that included no repetition of the sound he turned his face into the sofa and began to fall back to sleep, only to be woken again seconds later much more abruptly, by a hammering on the living room windows and a shout of, “JOHN, GET UP.”
The pathologist sat bolt upright and rubbed his eyes, convinced that the sight of Craig’s girlfriend pressing her face against his French Doors was some sort of anxiety-generated hallucination. He was so worried about Natalie that he was imagining seeing her best friend now! It took several thumps of Katy’s small fist against the glass to make him concede that she was really there, and he opened the doors hurriedly, adding “I thought you were a dream.”
“At least you didn’t say nightmare.”
Which is what he was likely to be thinking in around five minutes time.
Katy glanced glumly towards an armchair and the pathologist nodded her to sit, suddenly remembering his manners and rushing into the kitchen to make tea, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
She knew Natalie was going to kill her for coming; that was if she ever spoke to her again. She’d spent the two days since the fiasco at the geneticist’s office trying to persuade her friend to return there, only to be told in varying shades of language to ‘bugger off and stay out of my affairs’.
But the problem was, it wasn’t just Natalie’s affair, anything that she did would affect John as well, just as her moodiness had been doing already. She really liked the pathologist and he was Craig’s friend, so she couldn’t just stand by and do nothing, especially as a simple test could tell Natalie whether she had anything to worry about or not.
While Katy was busy torturing herself, John was spending the time while the kettle boiled wondering why she was there, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw when he returned with the tea tray.
Katy’s glumness had been replaced by a tearful nervousness, and instead of sitting sedately like a guest she was now pacing a hole in his rug, gesticulating wildly and muttering to herself.
When the pathologist eventually persuaded her to sit down and explain why she’d come, the previous few weeks of his life finally started to make sense.
****
It didn’t take that long for Craig to learn something, although useful wasn’t the word that he would have used. Vala Raske had got as far as she could through research so it was time to tell him what she knew.
She disturbed the detective as he was lying with one arm dangling over the edge of his sofa and a cushion on top of his face, mid-doze.
“Sorry, did I disturb you, Marc?”
“Don’t worry, I was just napping. It was a long night.” Craig sat up quickly, ignoring the loud buzzing in his head. “I take it you got the photo we sent?”
“I did, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. He’s an ex-Stasi officer called Oberst, Colonel, Maximilian Weber who was sentenced to ten years when the Stasi collapsed in nineteen-ninety, until he was freed by the courts. He disappeared after that.”
They’d found Veronica Lewis’ Colonel, and he was German, just like Beatrix Hass. But the Stasi… Things were either about to get more confusing or just starting to make sense. Craig decided not to dig into the man’s background, preferring to see him in custody first.
“You spotted him at Frankfurt?”
The chief inspector made a face. She’d really wanted to give Craig some good news before she told him about Beatrix Hass, but it wasn’t to be.
“Sorry, no sign of him. Weber didn’t get off that plane or any other plane from the UK or Ireland this morning.”
Craig sprang to his feet. “That’s impossible! Facial software puts him boarding the Frankfurt plane at five-fifteen, under the name of George Harrison.”
She would have laughed if it hadn’t been so serious.
“Sorry, Marc. He gave you the slip somehow. I would get your analysts to go back over the tapes. I’ve no doubt that Weber travelled somewhere this morning but it wasn’t to Germany.”
They’d lost him. Craig palmed his face, his mind racing when suddenly the NSA’s taped call from Whitehall started to make sense. Maximilian Weber had gone to London, not Germany! The cabal and its plot wasn’t dead yet.
Vala was still speaking.
“My guess is Weber will come home eventually. Where else can he go? Russia maybe, but East Germany is the natural habitat for these old communists. I’ll keep an eye on all our access points and let you know.”
Davy and Ash would be doing it as well.
“Thanks, Vala. I know you were told to back off, but have you heard anything more on Beatrix Hass?”
The pause before she answered told Craig it was more bad news, so he wasn’t surprised when she outlined Hass’ escape.
“Sorry again, Marc.”
“It’s not your fault, Vala. You’ve gone above and beyond, especially after being told to back off. We were always unlikely to get Hass with her connection to Solokov, and risking your men against the mafia makes no sense at all.”
She swallowed hard, wondering whether there was any point passing on the next piece of information. She decided to do it anyway.
“You know I was warned off Hass.”
“By your boss.”
“It came down through her, but the way she said it made me think it was official.”
Craig guessed what was coming next. The crime-fighting partnership across Europe was fine in theory, but on the ground it was money that dictated what got done in each country, or not. He aired his thoughts, expecting a grudging acceptance of the budgetary realities, but Vala Raske had other ideas.
“No way. Normally once it’s confirmed a German citizen has committed a serious crime in another country, partnership approaches alone say we should rush to give them up, but instead I was told to back off even watching Hass. So, if someone in our government realised you were onto her, or onto the whole plot you’ve uncovered…”
Craig saw where she was going.
“Either they didn’t want Hass lifted because they’re in bed with the mafia, or-”
“Someone in the German government is involved in your plot. Given Weber’s part in this I’m starting to wonder if some old Stasi warhorse hasn’t worked their way into a position of power here.”
It wasn’t as far-fetched as it sounded but they’d need time and resources to find out.
“Don’t take any risks, Vala. This bunch are killers and if they find out you’re onto them…”
The words tailed away as Craig realised he needed to be in Germany sooner than he’d thought.
“How do you feel about having visitors in a couple of days?”
“Excellent. But, visitors plural?”
He chuckled, wondering how she would cope with the culture shock that was Liam. “You’ve never met my deputy, but he never lets me go anywhere alone.”
****
The C.C.U. 2 p.m.
“Thank you all for coming in on a Sunday, especially after such a long night.” He gestured to Liam. “Liam will take you through the events since yesterday’s briefing and I’ll cover the next steps.”
After I’ve had enough caffeine to keep an army awake.
As
Craig did that and took a call from Ken Smith, Liam brought everyone up to date. He handed the briefing back with a one liner.
“Seeing as our Armed Response colleagues obviously couldn’t find their asses with their elbows, you have my permission to tell them so when you next meet.”
Aidan nodded in agreement. “Just make sure their guns are holstered first.”
Craig shook his head hastily, restarting his headache. “Ignore those two! I’ll speak to Commander McEwan.”
“No matter how one-sided that conversation might be.”
“Thanks for that, Liam. OK, next steps everyone. I’ve taken some interesting calls this morning, the most recent of which was five minutes ago from ex-Army Captain Ken Smith, who as of yesterday was out of the military and about to become one of us.”
He waved down the short cheer that followed.
“However, he does still have contacts in Whitehall, at the Ministry of Defence, so I asked him to ask around about one of our guests at High Street, the Home Secretary, Basil Hartnell.”
Kyle had been staring lethargically out the window, now he suddenly became animated.
“The Home Secretary? I didn’t know we’d managed to hold him!”
Liam’s answer was droll. “That’ll be because you were out of that estate so fast your ass was in flames last night, leaving the rest of us to do the donkey work.”
The ex-spy shrugged. “I had a date.”
“In the middle of the night?!”
“What can I say? The ladies want what the ladies want.”
The words were accompanied by a combined shrug and leer that emerged as a jerk, just like their owner.
Craig interrupted the exchange.
“That’s enough. Kyle, you did good work last night but you should have stayed behind to help, and you’ll be doing most of the paperwork on the party to compensate.”
He ignored the immediate groan.
“Right, Ken Smith. He contacted someone at the MoD who’s friends with Hartnell’s son. He’s in the navy. Anyway, rumour has it that Hartnell is one of a group of right-wing MPs who have been vocal about their desire to leave the EU for well over a decade and becoming increasingly frustrated, both about the lack of movement to leave and the general Pro-EU feeling across both sides of the house.”
Liam nodded knowingly. “So Hartnell decided to help things along.”
“Looks like it. I’ve got people asking about the other politicians who were lifted last night and I’m expecting to hear the same about them.” He took a sip of coffee and made a face. “Someone put fresh coffee on, please. Kyle, that means you.”
As the D.I. slumped off Craig continued.
“OK, I also spoke to Chief Inspector Raske in Berlin this morning and unfortunately our assassin Beatrix Hass is now out of reach. She crossed to Kaliningrad by boat early this morning with her partner, Gleb Solokov, a senior player in the Eugenov Mafia family, based in Berlin. I doubt if Hass will return to the west in the foreseeable future, and even if she does BPOL have been warned off.”
Aidan Hughes gawped at him. “You’re saying the German government is involved in this plot as well!”
“Possibly, or they’re in bed with the mafia. If they are involved with the cabal I imagine it will be in much the same way as the other governments are. That is, some of their individual members, but not the governments as a whole.”
“But why? What’s in it for them?”
“I’ll come back to that in a moment, Aidan, because it is something that I want to discuss. But before then…” He glanced across at the now bubbling percolator. “Help yourselves to coffee and biscuits, and take five.”
While Aidan and Kyle raced to the roof for a cigarette and Liam raided Nicky’s stash, Craig used the time to phone High Street.
“What’s happening with Hartnell, Jack?”
Jack Harris had been savouring the Sunday newspapers when the phone rang and he was determined that Craig wasn’t going to ruin his newly calm mood.
“Good afternoon to you too, sir.”
It made Craig smile, acknowledging that his people skills fell by the wayside when he got caught up in a case, but it didn’t change his question.
“Yes, great. So? Hartnell?”
The sergeant answered the question but not before he’d sighed pointedly down the line. “His solicitor is due in thirty minutes.”
“Excellent. Call me with what he says.”
Craig made some more calls, ending them just as a coffee was set down beside him by an unusually caring Liam.
“OK, let’s get back to it, everyone. The other thing Vala told me was that our suspect, the man we’ve been calling George Harrison, the man that we know pressured Veronica Lewis into allowing her parties to be used for subterfuge, kink and drugs, is actually a Stasi Officer called Colonel Maximilian Weber, who disappeared in nineteen-ninety.”
Davy’s eyes lit up. “The Stasi? Those boys had disinformation down to a fine art.”
Liam raised an eyebrow. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”
“Good or bad, they w…were the best at it.”
Craig broke up the debate.
“OK. Weber’s background labels him as a state communist, Hass’ is a right-wing terrorist, and most of our other plotters are pillars of the British, Irish and possibly German establishment. The ones we know of so far mostly belong to the right wing, but not all of them.”
Liam nodded. “The Earl’s a liberal and more interested in a United Ireland.”
“Correct. We’ll discuss why this coalition of the willing all seem to want the UK out of the EU in a moment. But first.” He turned to Davy. “Sorry, Davy, but Weber gave us the slip. He wasn’t on any plane entering Germany this morning.”
“But we s…saw him at the departure gate!”
“He must have guessed he was being watched and changed destination at the last moment, so I’d like you to find out where he really did go after the briefing. My money’s on London. We’ve no doubt he will go home eventually so Vala’s going to monitor all entrance points into Germany and let me know when he appears.”
He took a sip of coffee and turned back to the group. “OK, theories please. Why would all these different groups want the UK out of Europe?”
He lifted a marker ready to write on the board, and within five minutes it was covered with a range of suggested motives, covering: a weakened EU leading to increased commercial opportunities and profit for Russia, and decreased security obstacles for their criminal mafia; Germany wanting to lead the EU without opposition from the UK; the desire to break away from EU control for the UK, plus limiting immigration; the potential benefits of weakening the EU market for the rest of the world; and the instability of Northern Ireland and its border increasing the chances of a United Ireland for the TDs.
“And the German right-wing and Stasi? What’s in it for them? Anyone?”
It was Jake who answered. “Surely the German right-wingers want the UK out because they really want Germany out as well. One, so there’ll be controlled immigration and because they want a more sovereign, Reichsbürger Germany. And two, so that East Germany can realign with Russia against the rest of the world.”
Davy concurred. “The Stasi worked closely with the KGB back in the day. And there’s another thing, chief.”
“Which is?”
“When the Stasi folded, thousands of its officers got jobs within the reunified Germany.”
And how many of them had worked their way into senior government positions was anyone’s guess. Vala’s blocked pursuit of Beatrix Hass was starting the make sense.
Aidan nodded. “There’s another reason to throw in as well. With the UK leaving, perhaps someone believes other countries may not want to remain in the EU and it could completely collapse.”
Liam snorted just as the telephone rang. “I doubt that. We’re not that important. But I suppose some nutcases could believe it.”
Craig answered the phone call to the soun
d of a team argument about to kick off.
“Murder Squad. Craig speaking.”
It was Jack Harris calling back sooner than he expected, but the sergeant’s tone said that it wasn’t with good news. The tone of the words he managed to squeeze out that was.
“He’s…it’s…”
“Calm down, Jack. What’s wrong?”
The question made the argument stop mid-flow as everyone turned to listen.
“It’s the Home Secretary, sir. He’s dead!”
****
High Street Station. 3.30 p.m.
“How the hell did this happen, Jack?”
Liam’s undisguised accusation made the sergeant rear up in his face.
“Say that again, Cullen!”
The implied threat didn’t scare Liam but it did take him by surprise; he and Jack Harris had known each other since training college and they’d been personal friends for the three decades since.
He realised the offence his question had caused and raised his hands in apology.
“Sorry, Jack. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Harris didn’t budge. “The hell you didn’t! This wasn’t down to me!”
Craig glanced up from his hunkered position beside the Home Secretary’s abnormally pale, even for a corpse, body, and barked at them both to shut up, following the words with a nod for everyone to quit the cell. Once past the police tape and in the staff room, he made Jack go over the previous few hours again.
“I’ve told you. I checked on Hartnell at two o’clock and told him his brief was coming about three.”
That would be the solicitor who was currently pacing the small carpark behind the station, yelling at some subordinate on the phone. Craig jerked a thumb in the direction of the shouting.
“What time did he get here?”
“About five minutes after I called you.”
“So, before the ambulance?”
Jack shook his greying head. “They arrived at the same time.” He kept shaking it. “I’m not sure why I even bothered calling them. I knew Hartnell was dead as soon as I opened the cell door.”
The Cabal (#16 - The Craig Crime Series) Page 36
