Dead Rat

by Derek Fee

  ‘No offence taken.’ Wilson handed McDevitt a glass of whiskey and cradled one himself.

  Reid had disappeared to the bathroom as soon as McDevitt had arrived. She knew that the conversation would be centred on the Payne murder and she didn’t want to be part of it. McDevitt had a bad habit of forgetting a promise not to quote people.

  ‘For a man in so much trouble you seem to be remarkably calm.’ McDevitt lifted his glass in a toast.

  Wilson touched his glass to McDevitt’s and drank. ‘I didn’t leak information and I’m quite sure that the investigation is going to come to that conclusion.’ He sat down facing McDevitt.

  ‘You wouldn’t be the first innocent person to be found guilty.’

  ‘Let’s just say that I’m confident. There’s no proof that anyone leaked anything to the IRA. Anyway, my current difficulties are not the reason I invited you here. I’m going to give you that scoop I promised you.’

  McDevitt sat up attentively and put his phone on the table between them.

  Wilson picked up the phone and checked that it was off before putting it in his pocket. ‘No recording. Don’t you have one of those spiral reporter’s notebooks that Clark Kent uses.’

  McDevitt bent and removed a spiral notebook from the messenger bag at his feet.

  ‘Now you look like a real reporter. Three years ago, a young detective constable from the Drugs Squad died in an agricultural accident. He was drowned in a slurry tank on a farm in Ballyward just outside Castlewellan. The man’s name was Colin Payne. At the time, it was assumed that he had fallen into the tank, been overcome by fumes and drowned. The coroner gave a verdict of death by misadventure at the inquest.’

  ‘It’s happened lots of times.’ McDevitt wasn’t smelling a story just yet.

  ‘This is the part of the story where I have to depend on your discretion.’ Wilson took a sip of his whiskey. ‘You can sometimes be discreet?’

  McDevitt smiled and nodded.

  ‘Payne had reported one of his colleagues for corruption, and the accused had been induced to resign. I thought that the two events might be connected. So I asked the pathologist, who has absented herself because of her lack of belief in your ability to be discreet, to have a look at the post-mortem results. It’s her opinion that Payne was held down and drowned. She has imposed on the coroner to reopen the inquest.’

  ‘With a view to a revised verdict of murder, don’t you have enough on your plate?’

  ‘There’s someone out there who thinks they’ve gotten away with murder. I want them to know that they haven’t.’

  ‘Won’t they cut and run?’

  ‘I don’t think they can.’

  ‘You canny bastard, you already have a suspect, but you’re not going to tell Jock who it is.’

  ‘No, I’m not.’

  ‘I won’t run it tomorrow to give me a chance to make some checks on the story. Whose farm was it?’

  ‘Payne’s aunt, her name is Agnes Bagnell.’

  McDevitt was writing furiously in his notebook. ‘Kindly old lady, scones and tea, life destroyed by the death of her nephew. I see a very nice human-interest piece on the side.’

  ‘But apply discretion.’

  ‘I’ll look the word up in the dictionary when I get home. You’re a devious one, Ian. Using your partner and old Jock to flush out your suspect.’

  ‘Is that what I’m doing?’ Wilson sipped his drink.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Jack Duane was within an ace of punching his boss. They were in Chief Superintendent Nolan’s office in Harcourt Street in Dublin. Nolan was refusing point-blank to retract the statement on a possible information leak from the PSNI in the report to Belfast.

  ‘Don’t be getting ahead of yourself, Jack,’ Nolan said. ‘The report that goes to Belfast is the one that I decide to send, not the one you want to sanitise. And I’m not about to lose face by retracting it. Even the dogs in the street know that the buggers have been leaking to terrorists since their organisation was founded.’

  ‘We have no proof that anyone leaked information from the PSNI.’

  ‘What about the fella we have on the Command Council? Didn’t he more or less swear to it.’

  ‘No, he didn’t. I was dealing with the Armstrong investigation. It’s in everyone’s interest that it dies a death. The man had been working for the Brits for years. They’d just done a messy job of clearing up the murder of a prostitute that he’d committed. Armstrong was a liability and he was becoming a bigger liability as time went on. There’s a bloody good chance that it was MI5 that leaked the information. Are you going to put that in your damn report?’

  ‘You’re trying to make me think that I was a bit hasty with the report. Why don’t we blame Uncle Tom Cobley and all?’

  ‘You were too fucking hasty. That arsehole Jennings has started a witch-hunt on the basis of a report from us. How do you think that’s going to play with the people upstairs?’

  ‘Is there any other way out that doesn’t involve retracting the report? We’ll look like a crowd of bunnies if we tell them the report isn’t accurate.’

  Duane was pleased to see that the penny had finally dropped. ‘Maybe you should give Jennings a call and tell him that the report was only a draft and a leak from the PSNI was only one of the scenarios that we were considering. Another scenario is that the leak came from MI5 because they were fed up covering up for a murderer. That should raise a few hackles in Belfast and London.’

  ‘Whichever way you spin it, we’re going to lose face. I’ll have to clear it with the commissioner.’

  Duane could see a door closing right in front of him. The commissioner was already in hot water with his minister on a local matter, so there was no way Nolan was going to be given the green light to embarrass the gardaí further. He’d given it his best shot and he’d failed. At least he could embarrass Nolan with the commissioner. ‘Go ahead and see what he says’. Duane left Nolan’s office before he said something he knew he’d regret later. They had dropped Wilson in it and try as he might he wasn’t going to be able to pull him out. The other option was to let O’Neill stand up and take the blame, but that would ruin the young woman’s life. It was a doomsday scenario that would only be employed if Wilson couldn’t extricate himself. He went back to his office and took out his phone. He’d promised Wilson that he was going to put things right and he had failed. Failure didn’t sit well with Jack Duane.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Wilson woke at seven and looked out at the weather. The cold snap was over and it had rained overnight. Conditions were not perfect, but he had to clear his head and the best medicine for that was a run to the Titanic Centre and back. He put on his running gear and headed out while it was still dark. There were black clouds approaching the city from the Black Mountain and he’d be lucky to make it back before the rain started in earnest. He pounded his way along the still wet streets. The phone call from Duane had been disappointing but not unexpected. In his experience, once the genie is out of the bottle it’s damn hard to get it back inside without creating further damage. To add insult to injury, he had thought that someone on the team had been responsible for leaking the information that Armstrong was a tout to the IRA. The sad fact was that the Intelligence Service knew that Armstrong murdered women and they still protected him. Maybe someone should be investigating that, but he doubted it was going to happen. Bridget Kelly and Rasa Spalvis were only prostitutes who didn’t merit having their killer brought to justice. Marie O’Neill had been right after all: prostitutes don’t count. In the meantime, McDevitt was onside with his little ploy to stir the pot of shit that was the PSNI Drugs Squad. Wilson might not be there to see the results, but he would ensure that Browne had enough evidence to push the case forward. He looked up at the sky. The man who would decide his future would be taking off from Glasgow soon. Wilson’s first meeting with the investigator was scheduled for ten o’clock at Musgrave Street station. He turned for home just as the rain started. H
e was soaking wet within five minutes, but somehow it felt good. There was an important day ahead and he wanted to be on top form.

  His breakfast was on the table as soon as he exited the shower. ‘This is service.’ He sat at the breakfast bar.

  ‘It’s a big day. You’ll need to be properly fortified.’

  ‘I love you Stephanie Reid.’

  ‘And I love you.’

  ‘Then when are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?’

  ‘Something’s bothering me?’

  ‘They don’t call me a detective for nothing.’

  ‘Doesn’t this bullshit with Jennings not bother you? Do you really need to be harassed like this?’

  ‘Of course it bothers me and I certainly don’t need it. But I’m not in control. I can only change the things that I control.’

  ‘But aren’t you fed up fighting them?’

  ‘Where’s all this coming from?’

  ‘I’ve been offered a job at the UCLA Medical Center.’

  ‘How long have you been keeping this news to yourself?’

  ‘Since we got back. I met the director socially and he was impressed with my CV. I can start whenever I like, but the offer isn’t indefinite.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I know that your heart and soul are in Belfast, but I was waiting until they shat on you again. And it didn’t take too long.’

  ‘What have you decided?’

  ‘That we should both decide. I’m not going to drag you with me only for you to be unhappy. If we make this move, we make it together.’

  Wilson saw that neither of them had eaten. ‘Would the move be good for your career?’

  ‘Who knows? The job’s the same, the weather is better and my partner won’t be put at risk of jail by his employers. I’m beginning to think that Belfast sucks.’

  He stood up and picked her up from her seat and held her. ‘You’re one hell of a woman, and I will never stand in your way. I’m not going to run away. Jennings would use that as an admission of guilt and he would pursue me. Let’s put UCLA on the back burner.’ He saw the look of disappointment on her face. ‘But I’ll be thinking about it.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Wilson arrived at Musgrave Street station at ten minutes to the appointed time.

  The duty sergeant nodded to him. ‘Morning, sir.’ He held up a visitor’s lanyard. ‘Sorry, I’ve been told that you have to wear one of these.’

  Wilson took the lanyard and put it on. It was one more humiliation ordered, no doubt, by Jennings.

  ‘We’re all with you, sir,’ the duty sergeant continued. ‘The Protestant police officer who would give information to the IRA hasn’t been born. They’re waiting for you in Interview Room 1.’ He pointed to a door on the right.

  Wilson didn’t bother to remind the sergeant that he’d spent four years in the station.

  He pushed open the door of the interview room and saw two women sitting at the table. One of them was DS Lucy Kane. The second was a slight woman with short blonde hair who looked to be in her late forties. They stood when he entered.

  ‘Please join us, Detective Superintendent Wilson,’ the blonde woman said. ‘I’m Detective Superintendent Fiona Russell.’ She held out her hand. ‘And this is DS Lucy Kane of your own Professional Services.’

  Wilson shook her hand. ‘Ian Wilson, pleased to meet you. DS Kane and I have already met.’

  ‘Please take a seat,’ Russell said.

  Wilson sat opposite the women. Russell had a bird-like appearance with a pale angular face and the body of a committed runner. There was not a pick of excess flesh on her frame. She was attractive rather than pretty.

  ‘I work for Professional Standards in Edinburgh,’ Russell said. ‘You probably know they call us the ‘Complaints’ because we’re constantly asking people to complain about police officers. We’re about as popular with our colleagues as your Professional Services are with you.’

  Wilson looked at the tape recorder on the table and saw that it hadn’t been turned on. Before the real business began there was going to be a ‘meet and greet’ session. He sat quietly. This wasn’t his gig and he knew the rules, he would speak only when spoken to.

  ‘I remember seeing you play at Murrayfield against Scotland,’ she continued, ‘must have been nearly eighteen years ago. You haven’t changed much.’

  ‘Only twenty kilos heavier and my hair isn’t fair anymore.’

  ‘I don’t believe the twenty kilos and my husband was all a-twitter when he heard I was coming to interview you. He’s a big fan. It must have hurt to give up playing.’

  ‘It was my own fault. I didn’t heed them when they said stay away from the bomb. I left myself no choice.’

  ‘Before we start I want to tell you that I take no pleasure in investigating my fellow officers. We do a very difficult job under extreme pressure. If we’re honest with each other, we may be able to get this unpleasant business over with quickly. Already this morning we’ve picked up your computer and ordered a log of all your phone calls and text messages. I know that is intrusive, but I can assure you that no details that are not relevant to this enquiry will go beyond Lucy and me. We have also obtained a copy of the murder book relevant to the Rasa Spalvis murder investigation.’ She picked up the file in front of her and nodded at Kane, who switched on the tape recorder.

  Wilson watched as Kane did the preliminaries. He had been advised to take along a representative from the Police Federation of Northern Ireland, but he had declined. He identified himself for the tape and then sat back.

  ‘You are the head of the PSNI Murder Squad and you were the SIO on the Rasa Spalvis murder investigation?’ Russell said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Would you please take us through the investigation from the moment the body was found.’

  Wilson began with the dog-walker and Redburn Country Park and spoke for over an hour as he walked Russell and Kane through the investigation. He segued into the Kelly investigation to the extent that it was relevant to the search for Rasa Spalvis’s murderer.

  ‘At what point did Noel Armstrong become a person of interest?’

  Wilson thought for a few minutes. ‘There isn’t really a ‘Eureka’ moment in a murder investigation. Suspicions develop slowly. I always look on an investigation as a process. You keep teasing out the evidence until it points in a certain direction. I could say that I was convinced that he was involved when his alibi for the Kelly murder was shown to be manufactured by ... ’ he stopped short. There was no way he was putting on record the allegation made by Margaret Whiticker.

  ‘You came to the conclusion that Noel Armstrong was being assisted in the commission of murder?’ Russell asked.

  ‘There was evidence that his crimes were being covered up and I concluded that those covering up the crimes had an interest in maintaining him in his position in the government.’

  ‘And it was common knowledge that he had been a member of the IRA?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So it could have been the IRA covering up his crimes. Apparently, they have done so in other cases.’

  ‘It could have been. The IRA don’t cover up crimes, they just give the criminals an escape route. Whoever covered up for Armstrong interfered with police evidence, faked alibis and suborned perjury. There was credible, but uncorroborated, evidence that a senior police officer was involved.’

  ‘Why didn’t you bring that evidence forward?’

  ‘Because of the mental condition of the witness, her evidence would never have held up. And the powers that be would never have permitted a story that a Sinn Féin minister in the Northern Ireland Assembly was an agent of the Security Services.’

  ‘And yet you considered the evidence of this mentally unstable witness credible.’

  ‘In the light of the depth of the cover-up, yes.’

  ‘So, you came to the conclusion that Noel Armstrong should be arrested and interviewed as the prime suspect in the R
asa Spalvis case?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And why didn’t that happen?’

  ‘My chief superintendent insisted, probably quite rightly, that we should have HQ approval before bringing a government minister in for interview. We took our suspicions to the deputy chief constable, who refused point-blank to allow us to interview Armstrong. He would only allow an interview when the evidence against Armstrong was irrefutable.’

  ‘Did that frustrate you?’

  ‘Of course it frustrated me.’

  ‘You and your team had worked day and night to find a murderer. You were sure that you had your man and he was about to escape for the second time. That must have offended your sense of justice, which I have concluded is part of what makes you such a good detective.’

  Wilson could see where she was going so he remained silent.

  ‘You wanted Armstrong to pay for his crimes,’ Russell said.

  ‘In front of a judge and jury.’

  ‘So, you never thought of giving the IRA the information that formed the basis for your theory that he was reporting to the Security Services.’

  ‘I thought of many ways that Noel Armstrong might be brought to justice.’

  ‘And leaking information to the IRA was one of them?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Yes or no.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you think that the information that Noel Armstrong was working for the Security Services came from the PSNI?’

  ‘That question I cannot answer.’

  ‘Okay, do you think that the information that Noel Armstrong was working for the Security Services came from your squad?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘Do you have an alternative scenario as to how the information on Noel Armstrong reached the IRA?

  ‘Armstrong had murdered two women during sexual encounters. We had identified him as a prime suspect and his mentors knew that we were getting close. He was an asset that was quickly becoming an embarrassment. I can imagine that his handlers were becoming worried, not only that he would be exposed, but also that their role in covering up his crimes would be exposed. They could have dealt with him themselves, but how much safer and smarter to have the IRA do it for them.’