He listened and nodded and made Craig a promise that was the best he could give. He’d do nothing until they’d ensured the safety of the living, and had the evidence to name the dead. But only until then.
***
Craig drove back towards the C.C.U., grabbing a sandwich at Doorsteps in Garmoyle Street. He started eating it as he walked onto the squad and Nicky tutted at his unaccustomed bad manners, and guaranteed indigestion. She followed him into his office with a coffee and a plate.
“You’re going to get an ulcer before you’re much older. You live on coffee, and when you do remember to eat it’s always on the run.”
She stood in front of him with her arms folded and Craig stifled a laugh at today’s fashion combination. She’d been reading about something called colour-blocking in a magazine, and her bright orange t-shirt and pink leggings were testament to the fact that it definitely didn’t work. Her next words forced his laughter out loud.
“Give me twenty pounds, sir.”
She extended her hand in such a ‘no arguments’ way that he automatically reached for his wallet, handing her the cash without a query.
She waved the note at him like a wagging finger. “Now, I’m going to buy in healthy food for you for a week, and show you how much better you feel when we’ve finished.”
He smiled, thinking that as he spent more time in the office than at home it wasn’t a bad idea. But he wasn’t going to admit it, instead giving her a wry ‘Yes Mum’ look before waving her out the door. Her head popped back round the jamb almost immediately.
“I forgot to tell you that Davy wants a word.”
“Send him in, Nicky. With another coffee?”
Davy entered a minute later with a sheaf of paper in one hand and Craig’s coffee in the other. He said nothing until Craig screwed up his napkin and threw it in the bin, guaranteeing his full attention.
“OK. What have you got for me?”
Davy placed two sheets of paper on the desk and started to speak confidently. Craig noticed his stutter almost disappeared when he spoke on a subject he knew, only returning when new people entered the room. Maggie Clarke, his journalist girlfriend, was even curing him of that now, dragging him to every social event she was invited to. His picture ended up in the Ulster Bazaar so often that Liam teased him he’d go to the ‘opening of an envelope’.
“The first s…sheet is from Karen. She’s matched some of the girls’ photographs.” He shook his head sadly. “They’re girls who disappeared between 2007 and 2013. All s…still missing.”
Craig’s mouth flew open as he thought of the implications. They were all traded or dead.
Davy pointed at two names on the list. “These are the two girls w…whose bodies were found in 2010. No-one w…was convicted.”
His face saddened and Craig realised this must feel close to home for him. The victims were late teens and early twenties. They would remind him of girls he’d gone to University with.
“Their parents pushed and pushed, but eventually they were told the trails had gone cold. Their names were Amanda W…Wilson and Grainne McCrory. They were nineteen and at University.”
Craig wondered if the trails had cooled naturally, or if influence by the police or judiciary had had a hand to play.
“I need to see the files for both of them please, Davy. And tell Karen good work, but can she please keep going. There were nearly a hundred photographs in that office.”
“W…Will do.”
Davy paused, swallowing nervously, and Craig knew that what was on the other sheet was important as well. He scanned it urgently as Davy talked.
“I managed to find out the exact time the Barron file was accessed on the intranet. It was on Thursday the 6th at 4.05pm.”
Perfect timing for someone to access Hill’s and McCrae’s information, so that Morgan could steal their D.N.A. on the Friday. It gave him time to plant it on Britt’s body before they dumped her in the church.
“W…Whoever did it used D.C.S. Harrison’s log in name and password. But they could only have known them if they’d been told.”
“Or if Harrison was careless enough to leave them lying around.”
Davy stared at him, surprised. It hadn’t occurred to him that anyone would be stupid enough to write them down. But given that Harrison was older than God and an idiot, it shouldn’t surprise him if he did something that no savvy sixteen-year-old would do. People got careless with their passwords and PIN numbers and then wondered why they got ripped off.
“It couldn’t have been D.C.S. Harrison logging on anyway. I checked and he was in Limavady that day.”
“Couldn’t he have logged on from there, Davy?”
“Yes, but the log-on definitely happened on his computer on the twelfth floor. Every computer has a different number.”
Craig rubbed his temple. “OK, so who did log on then?” Something occurred to him. “Mrs Butler?”
Susan Butler was Terry Harrison’s sedate P.A. She’d taken over from Nicky when Harrison had gone half-time in Limavady, Nicky’s eleven-year-old son Jonny the perfect excuse for staying close to home. Craig shook his head, dismissing the idea immediately. Why would Susan Butler have wanted the information? Unless…
“It definitely happened from his computer, Davy?”
“Yes sir. And I checked the floor CCTV tape. It was on because the decorators were w…working there last week. D.C.S. Harrison’s confidential files were being moved to the thirteenth, to clear space on the twelfth for the new A.C.C.’s team. So they used the CCTV to keep a close eye on things.”
Of course! The A.C.C.’s team was taking over the twelfth floor. That was why Harrison had met him for coffee up on the thirteenth.
“And? What was on the tape?”
“The only people that went anywhere near D.C.S. Harrison’s office were him the day before, and Mrs Butler helping sort out the files.”
Craig shook his head. He really couldn’t see Susan Butler stealing information. “Was anyone else on the floor that week?”
“Some of the new Assistant Chief Constable’s team. The A.C.C. was there himself a few times.”
“Tell me that you’ve checked the tapes for the time the file was accessed, Davy?”
Davy smiled, nodding. He lifted another sheet from his pile and started to read. “The file was accessed at 4.05pm on Thursday. Ten minutes before that, Assistant Chief Constable McGurk paid a visit and looked around the floor.”
“Did he go into Harrison’s office?”
“No. But he spoke to Mrs Butler and she disappeared off somewhere. S…She came back a few minutes later with some files. Then she went into D.C.S Harrison’s office, came out with some papers and handed them to him.”
“She could have accessed the Barron file at his request and printed off the details for him.”
Davy nodded. “The time fits exactly.”
This was it. Susan Butler would never question an order from a senior officer, and McGurk had deliberately chosen a time when he knew Harrison wouldn’t be there.
Harrison must have given her his log-on for emergencies, like a lot of bosses did. Craig smiled, conceding his own bad habits. Nicky had all his codes, including his bank PINs. McGurk had been smart enough to try on the off-chance.
Craig grabbed for the phone and then put it down again, deciding against the call. Some things were better done face-to-face.
“Stay here, Davy. I’ll be back in a minute.” He left the office quickly and took the lift to the thirteenth floor. When he reached it he walked quickly across to Susan Butler, mustering all the charm he possessed. People said it was effective, when he really tried.
“Hello Mrs Butler. You’re looking very well today.”
Susan Butler’s hand flew instinctively to her hair and she patted it, preening. “Oh, do you think so? I had my hair done a different way.”
Craig smiled broadly at her and its softening effect was gratifying. Not for his ego but to get the information that he needed to
save her boss’ ass. She smiled back at him. Partly out of reflex and partly because Craig was about to become a superintendent, so he warranted some warmth.
“D.C.S. Harrison isn’t here I’m afraid.”
Craig smiled again and perched on the edge of her desk, looking down at her. “Actually, it was you that I came to see.” He saw her blush slightly and felt guilty at his ploy, then reminded himself it was for her boss and Britt Ackerman.
“Really, Mr Craig? What can I do for you?”
He composed his face to convey gravitas, hoping that it would cover the bluff he was about to perpetrate.
“The Chief Constable asked me to check what date you gave A.C.C. McGurk the details of the Stephen Barron case? We have a meeting at five o’clock and I need the information for then.”
He hoped that by the time she discovered his lie he’d have briefed the Chief Constable and he’d back-up his story. It was a gamble worth taking.
At the mention of the Chief Constable, Susan Butler melted even further and reached straight into the top drawer of her desk, lifting out a neat ledger. She flicked to a page headed with 6th June. It held a list of names, files and dates and she ran a perfectly manicured nail down it quickly.
She stopped at an entry and ran her finger across the page to confirm her findings, then she smiled up at him. He thought how attractive she was when she smiled. She was widowed and Craig felt suddenly sorry for her, making up his mind to be more charming in future.
“Yes, here it is. A.C.C. McGurk asked for the Barron file on the 6th of June at four o’clock. I accessed it at 4.05 and gave him a printout. It was for a presentation he was doing, and he wasn’t directly privy to the files because he wasn’t working in murder at the time of the case.”
Just then something dawned on him. If anyone knew the details of senior officer’s lives, Susan Butler would. She would consider it her job to know the names of their wives, children and pets, as well as useful details of their career. For a political boss like Harrison it would be essential. Craig took a wild stab and scored.
“A.C.C. McGurk was up in Ballymena before this, wasn’t he?”
He was still sitting on the desk and his tone was warm and conversational. She took the bait eagerly.
“Yes, from 1999 until 2010, then he was at High Street for a while. He was at Staff College after that, until he was made A.C.C. in April this year.”
Bull’s-eye! McGurk had been in Ballymena the whole time that Sylvia Bryce had been working up there. And his move to Belfast in 2010 fitted with Bryce’s new office and Marrion Park home.
Craig stood up slowly, not wanting to appear abrupt and break the rapport. He smiled again. “Mrs Butler, you’ve been very helpful. The Chief Constable will be very pleased.”
Craig turned to go, leaving her puffed-up with pride, and was halfway across the floor when he turned back kindly. “D.C.S. Harrison is very lucky to have you. I hope he realises that.”
He turned away again quickly, but not before he saw a wistful expression on her face answer ‘no’. Harrison was an unappreciative sod and Craig wondered again why he was saving his bacon.
Davy was still waiting in the office when he returned confirming his findings. Harrison hadn’t accessed the Butler file, it had been Ken McGurk.
“Can you put all of this on one page, Davy? I’ll need two copies at about four. And pull McGurk’s service record and the files for the girls’ cases now please. I want them with me when I see the Chief.”
He paused and considered the younger man, smiling inwardly at today’s dark blue nail varnish and matching navy t-shirt. At least Maggie was getting him out of black, although not far enough out.
“You’re doing outstanding work Davy, and I should tell you that more often.” He smiled. “You have full permission to remind me when I forget.”
Davy blushed and stood for a moment, eye-to-eye with him. Then he smiled his thanks and left. Craig followed him out of the small office and leaned over Nicky’s desk, whispering a request to her, before returning quickly to his office. He picked up his mobile quickly, pressing John’s lab number. Marcie, his secretary, answered.
“Hi Marcie, is John around?”
“He’s in court Mr Craig. Can I help you?”
“I need him to pull two post-mortem reports for me and get them over to Davy today please. Amanda Wilson was found in May 2010 near the Cavehill. Grainne McCrory was found in September that year, out in Bellevue, near the zoo.”
“Will do.”
“Marcie, tell him it’s urgent please. Now, would you mind putting me through to Des?”
***
“We need to talk. Face-to-face.”
“When and where?”
“Half an hour, in my chambers. Bring a file so it looks as if we’ve something to discuss.”
Ken McGurk clicked the phone down and reached under his desk for his briefcase, checking that his personal protection weapon was inside. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Dawson exactly, but it never did any harm to be careful.
If it came to it he’d been tasked by number one to cover their tracks. And if that meant they all had to die then they would, including Northern Ireland’s youngest Judge.
Chapter Twenty
Thursday 3pm
“What was so important that it couldn’t have waited until tomorrow?”
McGurk started talking as soon as the clerk left, scanning Dawson’s luxurious office as he spoke. It had a low ceiling and heavily panelled walls. A deep-pile damson carpet lay underfoot. The whole impression was of power and solemnity, and Dawson wore an expression to match. It probably worked well on criminals, but he’d been immune to Jimmy’s bullshit since university.
He was sitting sideways on, not looking at him, like some bad imitation of Perry Mason. McGurk nearly laughed out loud. He’d known him since he was a grubby student, and he’d seen him in plenty of positions that would outrage the court.
“Morgan.”
Dawson spat the word out venomously and McGurk knew that the doctor’s days were numbered.
“What’s he done now?”
“He’s left a bloody great trail, that’s what. He didn’t finish Bryce off, and the stupid bastard left his cyber fingerprints all over the D.N.A. samples.”
Dawson swung round to face him, fury in his look. “You gave him a case where one of the men is still in prison, you fucking idiot. Rory McCrae. I sent him to Maghaberry myself in May. Ripley and Morgan might as well have posted a sign saying ‘fit-up’ in the church.”
McGurk shrugged, constantly amazed at the things that people got worked up about. He dealt with the reality of death every day at work, not the safe aftermath like the man opposite.
Dawson was still talking. “Morgan could have got away with it if he’d just killed Ripley and Bryce, instead of all that rubbish with the D.N.A.”
“He did kill Ripley.”
The matter-of-factness in McGurk’s tone irritated the Judge even further and he stood up in his chair, leaning across the desk. His next words were almost a shout. “But he didn’t kill the bloody woman!”
McGurk stared at him and shrugged again provocatively, deliberately prodding him to explode. He’d seen it work many times over the years and he wasn’t disappointed now, relaxing back to watch the fireworks. Dawson’s tirade on their incompetence went on for nearly five minutes, before a single knock at the door stopped him mid-yell.
The clerk’s nervous voice filtered into the room. “Is everything all right, M’Lord?”
Dawson saw McGurk’s wry smile and his own standing position and realised he’d been wound up. They must have heard him halfway down the court. He forced out a “Yes, thank you. Perfectly fine,” and sat down again abruptly, slumping back in his chair.
“You need to watch that temper, James.” McGurk’s voice cooed patronisingly. “It will be the death of you.”
After a minute’s deep breathing Dawson spoke again, more calmly. “There’s a warrant out for Morgan’s
arrest.”
“I know. My old team are watching him at right now, up at Headquarters.”
“Your team from Ballymena?”
McGurk nodded and they both smiled.
“Will they do what we want them to?”
“They’ll do what I want them to.”
Dawson shrugged, conceding that even his power had boundaries that McGurk’s could cross. “What’s your plan?”
“I’ll call them and get them to focus on the front of the house this evening. You call Morgan and tell him to take the tunnel out of the back. Say we’ll pick him up on the A42 as soon as it’s dark.” He glanced at his watch. “About ten-thirty.”
“OK, and?”
“We kill him and get rid of his body. I’ve a weapon from evidence that we can easily lose. But we need him to be seen leaving by someone. Can you organise a witness to phone it in?”
“Yes. But why?”
“Because unless someone sees him leave and tells the police, they’ll be watching the house for days. And it still needs to be an option on the 14th.”
“Surely they’ve got to search it anyway?”
McGurk smirked coldly. “It’s just as well one of us thinks ahead. I cleared it out two days ago. The girls are elsewhere.”
Relief crossed Dawson’s face, followed by confusion. “They’re not in the tower. I was there last night, having a bit of R&R. So where are they?”
“How do you know its location? Even I don’t have that!”
Dawson smiled knowingly and McGurk glared at him. Then he shrugged and moved on. He was still the number two.
“Don’t worry about the girls being moved. They’ll be at the auction tomorrow night, that’s all you need to know.”
“But why did you move them? We could have held the sale at Headquarters. It’s nearly as close to the hotel where the buyers will be staying.”
McGurk shrugged. “Maybe. But number one wanted the choice of locations. I figured if Morgan was busted he would head straight to Headquarters and Craig’s lot would follow. We don’t know what else they’ll find out before tomorrow night, so we need to keep the girls moving until then. By Saturday they’ll be gone and Craig will find nothing, no matter where he searches.
The Waiting Room (#4 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series) Page 22
