Liam frowned, trying to place things on a timeline. “And you opened it because…?”
Jack answered with a loud tut. “To collect the man’s bloody lunch tray of course!”
Liam understood his irascibility. If someone had died on his watch in the six months he’d managed to stick being a custody sergeant then he’d have been irritable as well.
Craig perched on the small room’s windowsill, thinking.
“OK, so you saw Hartnell at two o’clock and informed him his brief was coming after lunch. How long after that did you take in his tray?”
“Ten minutes at most. The delivery came just after two so I stuck it in the microwave to reheat it and then took it straight in.”
The timing made Craig frown. “Two o’clock’s a bit late for lunch, isn’t it?”
Jack shrugged. “Not really. It can come anytime between one and two-thirty. Depends which van’s making the rounds. Sunday’s always a bit slower as well.”
Liam risked asking another question, expecting to get his head bitten off again.
“Had Hartnell ordered something special?”
To his surprise the sergeant answered him calmly this time, his anger obviously spent. “They only get a choice of three meals, so it would have been one of those. Chicken curry I seem to remember.”
Something occurred to Craig. “How long before did Hartnell make his selection?”
“At breakfast, so around six hours ago now. The meal arrived here five hours after I phoned the order through to the firm.”
“And these are the same caterers you always use?”
Harris nodded. “Not just me. They have the contract for the whole force. We can’t go making individual meals for the prisoners with everything else we have to do-”
Liam cut in, trying to lighten the mood. “Not to mention the fact you can’t cook. I’ve tasted it, remember.”
It produced Jack’s first smile of the hour. “There’s that too. Anyway, I reheated it, put it on a tray and took it in.”
“At ten-past-two.”
“Yes.”
Craig nodded. He’d known Hartnell had been poisoned as soon as he’d seen his body, but he also knew that the death of a British Home Secretary was going to rain all sorts of crap down on Jack so they needed everything sewn up tight.
“What did the doctor say?”
“It was that new wee M.E. The GP from the Woodstock Road. She said she reckoned Hartnell had been poisoned but she would have to wait for the P.M. to say what with.”
Craig turned to his deputy. “You’ve called John?”
Liam nodded. “Aye, and Des to identify the poison.”
It was Craig’s cue to stand up straight. “Right, Jack, unless you’d been psychic there was nothing you could have done to foresee this. Someone wanted Hartnell dead and they’d messed with his food before it had even reached here. Just pass the body to John, write up your report, and get ready to fend off officials and reporters for the rest of the day. I’ll send Jake down to help you. Andy and Annette will get onto the caterers, although I doubt they’ll know anything either. Someone wanted Hartnell dead, and while he was locked up his food was always going to be the easiest way. They could have tampered with it any time in that five-hour window and my guess is the culprit is already long gone.”
He turned for the door but Jack immediately blocked his way.
“Why?”
Craig nodded, understanding immediately.
“Because Hartnell might have talked and someone very powerful didn’t want that. And probably also to put the fear of God into the rest.” The detective shook his head as he realised what that meant. “No-one will talk to us now.”
Jack stepped back. “Find the bastard who did this. I’ve never had a death in custody in twenty-five years.”
It was a matter of professional pride.
****
Craig pulled up outside the C.C.U. and nodded Liam to get out of the car, but the D.C.I. remained stubbornly in place.
“Not until you tell me where you’re going.”
It made Craig laugh. “No-one’s allowed to ask me that unless we’re married.”
Liam simpered. “I thought you’d never ask. But seriously, boss, you’re not gonna go all Rambo on me, are you?”
Craig raised an eyebrow. “On who, exactly? The people I want to beat up are unfortunately out of my reach. I’ve a loose end to tidy up and then I’ll be back. Meanwhile, you’re going to task Jake, Andy and Annette as we discussed.” He leant across and opened the passenger door. “Now, get out before I push you out.”
It was enough to pacify Liam for now, but as he watched Craig’s Audi race away down Pilot Street, the D.C.I. was already running through a list of possible destinations in his head.
He needn’t have bothered, because Craig would tell him everything once he was done. Twenty minutes later he was waiting patiently in Sean Flanagan’s outer office, waiting for the big chief to rouse himself from his Sunday afternoon television and appear in response to his call.
When Flanagan did arrive, Craig gave him a ten-minute update that saw the C.C.’s eyes grow further with each new revelation, but it was at the end of the report that the detective uttered his most important words.
“That’s where we are right now, and there’s a lot more that will come out, I have no doubt. But before it does, sir, I need to ask you something.”
Flanagan nodded, his face returning to its normal serious but affable mould. “Ask away, and if I can answer you I will.”
It wasn’t a promise but it would have to do. Craig swallowed, not from nerves but because he was furious and struggling not to let it show. Flanagan had got them involved in this sodding case yet done nothing to help steer their way. He’d embroiled them in a political plot that stretched across two continents and risked lives in the process and now he really needed to know why.
“Why did you ask us to investigate Veronica Lewis’ disappearance, sir?”
Half of him was hoping that Flanagan would fess up to some sexual peccadillo and his fear of it leaking to the press, even though it didn’t fit with his image of the man. Or even if he’d said that he’d known about the cabal and sent them in hoping that they would blow it wide open, he could have lived with that, although a warning to wear Kevlar would have been nice.
In fact, either answer would have been OK, not wonderful but acceptable, but Flanagan’s answer was stranger than either of those possibilities.
“Because First Minister McManus asked me to. Discreetly.” He saw Craig’s mouth open and raised a hand. “But before you ask me why, I’ve no idea, and as the poor man’s dead now we can’t ask him, so perhaps we will never know.”
Peter McManus? Peter McManus had asked Flanagan to investigate Lewis’ kidnapping, knowing it would lead them to the sex parties and blow the whole referendum plot apart?
As the pieces dropped into place, Craig fell back in his chair, torn between laughter and astonishment.
“My God!”
Flanagan sat forward, knowing the detective had just worked out the answer that eluded him.
“Why did McManus ask me to investigate, Marc?”
When he received no answer the C.C. asked again, his tone more intense.
“Answer me, Craig. Why did McManus-”
Craig cut him off. “Because he really was Pro-EU but he knew the rest of the IBP was just paying lip service to it.”
He shifted to the edge of his seat, raking a hand through his dark hair.
“McManus knew what was happening within his own party, and within The Zeus Circle. He’d been to those parties, so he probably knew all about the German and Russian connections as well and just how far they would go to swing the referendum. For whatever reason, maybe he thought they would kill him or harm his family, McManus didn’t want to take the risk of calling them on it publicly. But by getting you to investigate Lewis’ kidnapping, and thereby involving the police…he hoped that we would bring everything ou
t.”
Confusion and realisation combined on Flanagan’s face. “But they killed him anyway. Why?”
“Arrogance. He was an obstacle they needed rid of and they thought his killing would be blamed on Billy Regent, a disillusioned squaddie, and that no-one would ever find them out. But it was a very stupid move on their part because it just made us dig deeper. Now we know what they were planning and we can make it more widely known.”
Flanagan’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re suggesting we tell the press?”
“And the media.”
“But until we have proof-”
Craig shook his head. “That’ll take months and by then it’ll be too late, sir. There’re only four days until the vote. It has to be now.” His thoughts flew to Ray Mercer, sitting in a cell. “I know a man who can get it out there tomorrow, and he discovered most of it on his own, so we’ll just have to fill in a few gaps.”
“Anonymous source says?”
“Of course.”
Thirty minutes later Craig was sitting opposite Ray Mercer feeding the journalist details he could never have dreamed of, and hoping it would be enough for people to still make an informed choice.
****
St Mary’s Hospital.
“It was none of Katy’s bloody business! She had no right to tell you anything!”
The words were punctuated by Natalie thumping each hard surface that she passed, in a way John was certain wasn’t good for a surgeon’s hands. He stood up to join his wife, who’d been storming around her on-call room for most of the thirty minutes since he’d arrived. He said most, because the first five minutes she’d spent asking him why he was there, only to cut him off halfway through his explanation with threats of grievous bodily harm against her best friend.
John stood directly in his wife’s path, hoping to make her stop. All it achieved was a body swerve that would have done a footballer proud, so he had to follow her around the room instead.
“She was worried about you, Nat. She was worried about both of us.”
That stopped her. Natalie turned towards her partner, hands on hips, and said the words that he would never forget.
“Us? What has this got to do with us?”
John was all for a woman’s right to choose, but that was taking it too far in his view. The man of few words, and all of them softly spoken, yelled back at the top of his voice.
“I’M YOUR BLOODY HUSBAND! IT’S MY BABY TOO!”
The effort almost exhausted him so he fell back into his chair, adding sombrely.
“You can’t cut me out, Natalie. Please don’t cut me out. I need to be there for you, you’re all that I have.”
No-one watching the exchange would have blamed John if he’d started sobbing at that moment, but the only sobbing in the room came from his feisty wife, as Natalie Winter suddenly realised two things: One, she was John’s only family in the world, and two, while she had to make life and death decisions at work all alone, marriage meant that didn’t need to be true in the rest of her life.
“I’m sorry, John. I didn’t think of your feelings.”
The pathologist gave a weak smile. “At least you’re honest. You were confused. It’s understandable.”
Except that it wasn’t really. It wasn’t the first time that Natalie had done exactly what she’d wanted without any thought for him, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. John pushed his own feelings aside for a moment and took his wife’s small hand.
“You’re not alone in this, Natalie. We’ll do everything together, starting with returning to see the geneticist.”
She went to object but then reconsidered, shrugging instead.
“OK. I’ll remake the appointment.”
Then her expression darkened.
“But Katy betrayed my confidence and I’m never speaking to her again.”
There was repair work to be done all around.
****
The C.C.U. Tuesday 21st June.
The thirty-six hours after the party were spent finishing interviews and statements and dealing with the fallout from Basil Hartnell’s death in custody, from what John and Des had identified as poisoning with cyanide. The oldies were always the best.
Liam had grudgingly given Ray Mercer his interview as an unnamed D.C.I., and the reporter’s exposé in the Journal, revealing details of the cabal’s plan to swing the referendum outcome their way and headed ‘Your Free Will Bought and Sold’, had been picked up by every other newspaper in the UK.
Meanwhile, the logo on Hass’ bag had turned out to belong to a fringe group in Moscow and Davy had plumbed the depths of his book code, but it had yielded little more than what they already knew, except that the Russian involvement in the plot clearly extended much further than the narrow financial interests of its criminal mafia, to its military’s desire for supremacy and their hope that a weakened EU might one day lead to a weakened NATO too.
The trail on Maximilian Weber had led the analysts to Heathrow instead of Frankfurt, but he’d been lost on the London Underground, reappearing as predicted in East Germany a day later where Vala and a small team had been tailing him, still unofficially, since he’d arrived.
By Tuesday there was only one thing left to do, and Craig was in his office finishing some notes when Liam burst through the door carrying a book and a travel bag.
“You ready, boss?”
Craig kept typing, answering without looking up. “We’ve still got a couple of hours before our flight.”
Liam thudded into a chair. “Aye, but I fancied having a mosey around duty-free. I need a new watch.”
“And there I was thinking you were going to buy Danni some perfume.”
The D.C.I. didn’t rise to the jibe. “Pointless on the way out.”
Craig finished his sentence and glanced up. “What’s the book?”
Liam’s response was to open it and read aloud. “German phrase book. Wie viel für ein Bier? That means how much for a beer?”
It was the best idea he’d had in days and Craig’s cue to get a move on. Four hours later they were landing at Dresden Airport, Liam’s new watch and all. Craig smiled at the tall, slim brunette waiting for them at the gate, stepping forward to greet her.
“Vala! How are you? Chief Inspector Vala Raske, this is Chief Inspector Liam Cullen.”
The niceties were cut short by the anxious look on the German officer’s face and the pace at which she ushered them to her car.
“We have Weber under surveillance but he’s on the move. He checked out of his hotel four hours ago and rented a car.”
Liam was puzzled. “Why don’t you just lift him?”
The BPOL officer shook her head just as they reached her BMW. “I’ve been warned off.”
Craig frowned. “Again?”
“Yesterday. This time it came with the threat of demotion.”
They threw their bags into the boot and climbed in. As she started the engine Raske added.
“You need to remember that a lot of the top echelon of government here still have sympathy with the old guard.”
Liam leaned forward between the seats, trying not to notice that they were driving on the wrong side of the road.
“You’re saying there are Stasi thugs high up in parliament here?”
It made Craig laugh. “As opposed to the choirboys we have in ours?”
Raske shrugged, glancing at Craig. “I’ve been digging since we last talked, Marc, and it seems we have remnants in parliament, justice and the police here. They might not all have been named as Stasi members when it was disbanded, but everyone knew their beliefs. And there are plenty of ordinary Germans who have sympathy with the UK’s referendum to leave as well. They feel the EU’s power has grown too much and that immigration is uncontrolled. Plus, lots of these people are Reichsbürgers.”
“As opposed to other types of burgers?”
Craig ignored the joke and nodded her on.
“Reichsbürgers or Reich citizens aren’t an organised
group. It’s more a belief system, and although most of them are right-wing not all are. They just honestly believe that the Federal Republic of Germany was never a legitimate state, because Germany didn’t sign a peace agreement with the Allies. So anything that threatens the post World War Two order in Europe is OK with them.”
“Including the breakup of the EU.”
“Yes.”
The small group descended into silence for they reached the outskirts of Görlitz, a small town on the Polish border. Raske pulled up at the side of a narrow country road and pointed towards a quaint, white shuttered house.
“Weber was seen entering it three hours ago.”
Liam was puzzled. “Why here?”
“Because he can pass through Poland and the Ukraine into Russian annexed Crimea in less than a day.”
Craig nodded, scanning the quiet area. “Are your men still here watching?”
She shook her head. “I had to let them go. If they get caught they could lose their jobs.”
“So could you, Vala. Thank you for everything you’ve done, but Liam and I can take it from here.”
She shook her head emphatically. “You’ve no jurisdiction.”
Craig reached into his jacket and produced a document. “We have a European Arrest Warrant for Weber, for his part in dealing drugs and organising prostitution in the UK.”
She seized the paper, scanning it quickly. It was legal.
“OK, but you’re still supposed to cooperate with local forces, and I’m all you’ve got. We’re sticking together.”
Just then a silver van pulled up at the front of the house. Its side panel slid open to reveal two short but seriously steroid enhanced men. As they entered the small house Liam broke the tension with a quip.
“At least we’re bigger than them.”
Vala wasn’t so confident. “But we’re not bigger than their guns. The second man had a MP7.” A Heckler and Koch machine gun.
Craig thought for a moment and then took charge. “OK, if we try to enter the house they’ll have the advantage. It’s far easier to defend territory than break in. I say we wait until they’re mobile and then run them off the road. With a bit of luck, the crash will weaken them and help us.”
The Cabal (#16 - The Craig Crime Series) Page 37
