The Dogs in the Street (Dark Yorkshire Book 3)

by J M Dalgliesh

  “And she’s dead?”

  Hanlon nodded, “Oh aye, yeah. Murdered. Must be coming on for nearly two decades ago, now.”

  “Nelson?”

  Hanlon shook his head, “Not as far as I’m aware, no. I don’t think they got anyone for it but not my patch. You should know more about it than I do.”

  “How do you figure? Twenty years ago, I was out getting hammered most nights, at university.”

  “She was killed north of the border, in Belfast.” Caslin thought on it for a moment. Nelson may well have known her but that didn’t mean that he’d killed her. He could’ve merely been thrown by the mention of a name, from his past.

  “There has to be a link. Coughlan was looking into Nelson and used Marshall’s name to check into a hotel.”

  “I’ll make a call. Try and find out whether there was any suspicion of his involvement in Marshall’s death, at the time,” Hanlon said, before adding dryly, “It’s a pity you can’t do the same, really.”

  Caslin smiled, “How come you’re so knowledgeable about the internal workings of the paramilitaries and their political affiliations, anyway?”

  “I didn’t like the nasty bastards popping south any more than your colleagues did. It won’t help you regarding Paraic’s business interests, though. I very much doubt you’ll find Sylvia Marshall’s name will be mentioned anywhere.”

  “What do you think he’s up to, then?”

  “Old fashioned smuggling operation and throw in some money-laundering, would be my guess. He’s using Forsythe’s as a front.”

  “What’s he shipping?”

  “That is where I’m struggling. Without more detail, I can’t get the resources I need and without the resources-”

  “You can’t get the detail. I get it,” Caslin said, falling silent, while he thought. Turning to him, he said excitedly, “I need to get in there.”

  “Uh-uh, no way. Forget it-”

  “Look,” Caslin protested, “I’ll know it when I see it. Your man has got to get me in.”

  “You must be out of your mind! You reckon I’m going to risk the best informant I have, let alone the months it’s taken to cultivate-”

  “Yes,” Caslin said emphatically, “I believe you will.”

  “And why would I do that?” Hanlon asked.

  Caslin fixed him with a stare, his eyes gleaming with positivity, “Because you don’t like the nasty bastards, any more than I do.”

  Hanlon sighed, “You reckon that’s enough?”

  “Plus, the fact you’ve had a guy in there for eight months and, correct me if I’m wrong here, you’ve got nothing.”

  “What time did you say he would meet us?” Caslin asked, feeling the familiar sense of building frustration. The rain was drumming on the roof of the car, squally showers carried in off of the Irish Sea.

  “Relax. He’ll be here,” Hanlon said softly. He’d reclined his seat some time ago and now lay back, eyes closed, arms folded. A figure appeared from around the corner of the alleyway, making directly for them. Caslin couldn’t make much out through the rain-soaked windscreen and in any event, he wore a hooded coat, leaning into the wind as he approached. Coming alongside, the man opened the rear passenger door and clambered in, shaking off the loose water as he did so. “Brendan,” Hanlon said in greeting. The newcomer nodded his hello and glanced at Caslin, in the front passenger seat.

  “Nate Caslin,” he said, offering his hand. Brendan took it.

  “What is it you want from me, Seamus? My shift starts in half an hour.”

  “Exactly why we need to speak with you,” Hanlon began. “I need you to get my friend, here,” he indicated to Caslin, “up onto the fourth floor.” Brendan took on a puzzled expression.

  “Why?”

  “Does it matter?” Caslin asked.

  Brendan shook his head, “I guess not. Risky, though.”

  “Can you do it?” Caslin asked. Brendan thought about it for a moment, looking him up and down, before nodding.

  “The contract cleaners are all part-time. Most of them barely know their line manager, let alone each other. I give them access to their respective offices. I can slip you in around the same time as I do them.”

  “You’d best get going,” Hanlon said. “I’ll catch up with you later, back at your hotel. You can let me know what you found then.” Caslin agreed and, along with Brendan, got out of the car, turning the collars of his jacket up against the rain. The engine started and Caslin tapped the roof as Hanlon put the car into gear and drove away. The two set off on their short walk across the industrial estate to the offices of Forsythe Holdings.

  Most of the building had long since emptied of staff by the time Brendan opened a door at the rear, used as a service access. Ushering Caslin inside, he glanced around nervously before closing the door behind him. Leading them back into the building, through an apparent labyrinth of corridors, circumventing the plant rooms that controlled ventilation, air conditioning and the elevator housing, Caslin tried to keep up with the pace.

  “I only have a twenty-minute window to get the cleaners to their respective floors. After that, any access to a floor will be duly noted.”

  “That’s tight.”

  “You’re telling me but this building is managed by a security company that specialise in industrial sabotage prevention.”

  “Your company?” Caslin asked.

  “No, I’m subcontracted. Basically, a caretaker with a uniform,” Brendan replied, taking a left and entering the stairwell. From there they ascended to the fourth floor. By which point Caslin was breathing heavily. Pulling his access card, Brendan swiped it and a green light illuminated along with an audible click, as the lock mechanism disengaged.

  Entering the reception area, Caslin noted how different it looked under secondary lighting. Only every fourth ceiling-light was powered up, giving rise to shadows everywhere.

  “Is there anyone else on this floor?” Caslin asked as he was passed an access card.

  “Not yet. The cleaning company are a few hands short, today. It’s not unusual. Their staff are unreliable. They’re sending over some cover from another site. I reckon you have twenty-five, maybe thirty, minutes before they get here. Take this,” he said, offering Caslin a walkie-talkie. “I’ll buzz you when they get here. At that point, you’ll have less than five minutes to get behind that reception desk,” he indicated over his shoulder. “I’ll start them off at the rear, giving us enough time to get you out, unseen. Understood?”

  Calin nodded, “Understood. You done this before?”

  Brendan grinned, “The card I’ve given you is the one the cleaners” share. It’s generic and programmed to give access to the offices but not the elevators or stairwells.”

  “What do they do if there’s a fire, or emergency?”

  “The system overrides everything, unlocking all the emergency exits,” he said over his shoulder, walking back to the elevators. Caslin checked the time. Thirty minutes, at best. There wasn’t a great deal of time. He set off, tentatively swiping his access card to enter the open plan office suite. The light changed to green and he walked through. Despite knowing he was alone, he progressed as if he wasn’t, peering into the gloom as he went. It was an eerie feeling being somewhere that he knew he shouldn’t be. Of all things, excitement wasn’t what he was supposed to be getting out of this but he could feel the adrenalin starting to surge as his heart beat increased.

  Picking up the pace, he made for Nelson’s office. Once again, he nervously swiped the access point, half expecting it to turn red but it didn’t and he was in. Not wishing to turn on the main lights, Caslin took out his pocket torch and went to Nelson’s desk. Trying each drawer in turn, as expected, he found them all locked. Turning his attention to a line of filing cabinets, he crossed the room. The first was also securely locked but the next was open. Pulling out the top drawer, he shined the beam of light onto the contents. Scanning over the tabs, he looked for anything that stood out, a name that perh
aps he had already come across. There was nothing.

  One by one he opened the drawers below. He found bills of lading, tracking consignments in and out of the country, contacts for various offices in multiple destination ports around the globe but nothing that struck him as unusual. By the time he reached the end of the second cabinet, Caslin had used up most of his patience and almost all of his time. It dawned on him that a company operating as a front would, if run correctly, have everything above board, at least at a glance. It would take far greater knowledge of their operations than he currently had, in order to expose them.

  Unwilling to give up, just yet, he moved to the next cabinet. Caslin hovered, considering where his time was best spent. Brendan’s insight into how this office building was managed had piqued his interest. Could such a level of security be achieved without knowing what else was going on in this company? His radio unit burst into life. Picking it up from atop the cabinet, he answered with a single click of the receiver.

  “You’re going to have company,” Brendan’s disembodied voice crackled through.

  “How soon?” he whispered, unsure as to why he did so. There was silence. Caslin waited. Figuring he still had a minute or two, he put the radio down and returned to the folders before him. Holding the torch between his teeth, he flicked through the folders at a greater speed until coming across one, entitled Security Services. It wasn’t anything incredibly illustrative, merely a collection of time-codes registered alongside professional services, from the previous quarter, but the name of the provider jumped off the paper. It was none other than Renton Sands. Finding no further reference to the company in that file, he moved on to the last cabinet but, much to his frustration, found it locked. Redoubling his efforts, he started back through the unlocked cabinets specifically looking for references to that company. His progress was interrupted once again, by the crackle of the radio.

  “You’d better be out,” an anxious voice hissed at him, grabbing Caslin’s attention. He scooped up the unit.

  “Not yet, why?” he asked, dreading the forthcoming response.

  “They’re in the elevator, on their way up.”

  “The cleaners?”

  “No. Paraic bloody Nelson!” Caslin’s heart ran cold. He had only minutes. Shoving the filing cabinets shut, he lingered on the one file denoting Renton’s name. Putting it down on the top of the cabinet, he took a picture of the header with his mobile phone, via torchlight before replacing it where he found it. Closing that drawer also, he glanced around, checking to see that he’d not left an impression of his presence. Confident he was alright, he made to leave the office. Opening the door, the unmistakable sound of approaching people caused him to close it again. A flash of panic struck him but he looked around for another way out. There were double doors beyond the casual seating area and he ran to them, testing the handle gently, in case someone was the other side. The room was shrouded in darkness and he slipped through, pulling the doors to, behind him.

  Before turning off his torch, he realised he was in an adjoining conference room. There was a huge oval table in the centre with multiple chairs set around it. Eyeing another door on the far side, he judged that to be his best exit route but resisted the urge to take flight. Curious as to what Nelson was doing in the office at this time of the night, he resolved to take the gamble and wait. Something niggled him but he couldn’t put his finger on what but as soon as he heard the party entering the office, on the other side of the door, it hit him. The radio. It was where he’d left it, on top of the filing cabinet. Cursing himself for being such an idiot, he rolled scenarios over in his mind, in quick succession. None of them ended well.

  Dismissing it as something he could no longer control he tried to listen as best he could. Nelson’s voice was easily distinguishable. As far as he could make out, there were two others, perhaps three but only one appeared to be in conversation with Nelson. The accent was heavy but Caslin judged it was most likely Eastern-European but any more than that, he couldn’t tell. What he rapidly concluded was they were certainly talking about him. Clearly their visit that afternoon had caused some consternation.

  “…but what was he doing here?” the voice said, stress evident in the tone.

  “How should I know?” Nelson replied calmly. “He doesn’t know anything.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because I would know,” Nelson replied confidently. “I will accept, interest from across the water is…unexpected…at this point and how the hell he’s onto us is beyond me, truly. But I assure you, our timetable remains unchanged.”

  “We must assume they are-” conversation stopped at that moment, prematurely in Caslin’s mind. Looking around, he wondered if he should run for the door or hide. He picked the former and ran, as quickly as he dared, around the conference table, slowing as he reached the exit. Cracking the door ajar, he checked that the corridor beyond was clear and slipped out, back into the sanctity of the secondary lighting. Managing to close the door behind him, momentarily before the double doors flew open from Nelson’s office, he paused, waiting for the alarm to be raised but the shout didn’t come. Aware that, potentially, he barely had moments, he sprinted down the corridor. Reaching a junction, he took the path left, colliding with a man operating a floor polisher who was sent sprawling to the ground. Using headphones, he’d been completely blindsided.

  Considering that he was now, most likely, either being pursued or was about to be, Caslin ran through his options as he picked himself up and took off down the corridor. If Brendan had contacted him on the radio, they’d know he was still around. Had they only found the unit by itself, they may assume his presence but might not initiate a full lockdown. On the other hand, to use his access card now to escape, would tip them off as to how he had gotten in in the first place.

  Stopping at the next bend, in order to catch his breath, he listened out but heard no signs of pursuit. Conscious that they could be searching for him, he realised the first he might know about it, could be when they were upon him.

  Turning the access card over and over, between his fingers a thought struck him. It was quite obvious to him, as he stood there but why he hadn’t picked up on it before, irritated him. Pushing the thoughts aside, he knew he would return to the idea when he got home. For now, he had more pressing problems.

  In the corner of his eye, he noticed a sign, suspended from the ceiling. The familiar symbol of a stick-man, running on a green background, indicated the nearest fire exit. Looking to his left, he found what he was looking for. Running over, he used his elbow to strike the fire-alarm box, breaking the glass and initiating the system. Emergency floor-lighting kicked in and he took off, towards the stairs. Muttering a silent prayer of thanks towards Brendan, he was out and into the stairwell moments later. Charging downwards, he took them as fast as he could, nearly losing his balance on several occasions.

  Upon reaching the ground floor, he didn’t stop but took the nearest path to the outside. Once there, he hugged the building, running towards the rear, safe in the knowledge that his departure from that side wouldn’t be visible from anyone in Nelson’s office. Assuming of course, that they were still there. Turning the corner, he glanced back to observe figures leaving via the main entrance. Various perplexed looking individuals were gathering in the car park, Brendan being among them, corralling them into a roll call. It was a short sprint up an embankment to get clear of the building, dropping down the other side into the adjacent building’s car park. From here, Caslin sought cover and put as much distance between himself and his would-be pursuers as he could.

  The moment he felt safe enough to do so, he took up a position out of sight from the main thoroughfares and sank down onto his haunches to catch his breath. Far from the evidence of a smoking gun, at least he’d uncovered another connection, albeit one about as tenuous as it comes. The triangle of Coughlan, Fairchild and Nelson, although further reinforced, still remained shrouded in darkness.

  Chapter 1
7

  Walking through the lobby of his hotel, Caslin was still buzzing with the surge of adrenalin generated by the evening’s events. The reference to Renton Sands wouldn’t be strong enough to progress the investigation in itself, notably because he had no legal recourse to have come by the information the way he had. Taking out his mobile, he opened his contacts list, scanning down the list for Reece’s number. A voice called out to him. It was the night porter, behind reception.

  “Mr Caslin,” he said, beckoning him over. “Your colleague was here, asking after you.”

  “What did he say?” Caslin asked, walking towards him and glancing up from his phone.

  “I’m sorry, he didn’t leave a message.”

  “That’s okay, thanks,” Caslin assured him. “I’ll catch up with him later.”

  Turning away, he dialled Reece’s mobile and headed across the lobby. The call struggled to connect. Reaching the elevator, Caslin summoned it before glancing at his screen to check the call progress. Hanging up, he redialled. This time he was redirected straight to an automated message, the number you have dialled has not been recognised, please check and… Caslin hung up. The doors parted and he stepped in. Gently tapping his phone against his lips, he considered whether it was a network issue or…

  “Please hold the lift,” a man called, trotting across from the lounge bar, at pace. Caslin pressed the hold button, allowing the newcomer to ease off. Stepping in, he nodded his appreciation as the doors came together.

  “What floor?” Caslin asked, pressing the third for himself.

  “Three is good, thanks,” he replied. Caslin put his phone back into his pocket, resolving to try Reece again later. The elevator lurched to a halt, accompanied by the notification they had reached the third floor. Caslin allowed the other passenger out first, who turned to the left. Caslin went right, towards his room. Upon reaching his door, he wondered why Hanlon had come looking for him at the hotel when they’d agreed he would contact him, once clear of Nelson’s office. Perhaps they’d misunderstood each other’s intentions. Dipping his key-card into the lock, he opened the door and stepped through.