“Thirteen and fourteen. I met them both. Sweet little boys.”
“What were the drugs?”
“Counterfeit Xanax. Alprazolam. It’s a tranquilliser that the kids take to escape from the world. They seized thirty thousand of them during Pangea. Imported from Syria mostly, but we know they’re coming in from China, Eastern Europe and Africa as well, often spiked with heavy metals.”
“How did the boys get them? From local dealers?”
Kehoe shook her head. “The Dark Web. But there’s a problem around here with dealers as well.”
As Andy went to ask another question she held up a hand. “I want you to meet the Lithuanian leader first, then I’ll answer anything that you want.”
A two-mile drive took them to a nearby but very different part of town, the religiousness of the community immediately evident from the lit red lamps beneath pictures of The Sacred Heart that they glimpsed through the windows of every other house they drove past, and the flowers around the gates of the small Catholic church that the community seemed to have centred itself around.
Kehoe answered their unspoken questions. “This is a mixed local and Lithuanian community, but strict Catholics mostly. The leader we’re going to meet is a reader at Mass.”
Andy was immediately curious. “Is that his job?”
Aidan gave him a shove. “It’s not a job! He doesn’t get paid to read in church, it’s an honour!”
The younger D.C.I. rubbed his arm. “Well, how the heck would I know? I’ve never been to a mass! I’m Jewish.”
“Well OK then, but for future reference, to be a reader at mass you have to be a regular attendee and well regarded.” He turned to the local D.C.I.. “Is he well regarded?”
“Very. He’s the headmaster of the local school as well as all the rest. Nice man too.” She noticed a look of surprise on Ryan’s face. “No, that isn’t a foregone conclusion. In my experience people can be religious and/or respected without being very nice at all, but Darius Bernotas is both. His English is great, and he’s worldlier than our last interviewee so you can ask him whatever you want.”
Ten minutes later they were sitting in a warm living room being plied with tea and biscuits, and an unexpectedly young, from the description they’d heard, and jeans clad headmaster was responding to their questions at length and with more than a few swear words.
“Drugs? Let me tell you about the drugs around here. They’re being pushed at the kids everywhere. Every bloody where. On the bus, at the school gates, even in the yard. I caught a guy in there last week offering tablets to the first years. He could have killed them!”
Andy was curious. “What’s the point of killing kids if they want repeat sales?”
Bernotas knew that he’d been caught exaggerating and laughed. “Well, OK, maybe they weren’t actually strong enough to kill them, but they’d have been as a high as a kite and hooked. That’s the point. The dealers give out freebies to try to hook them, at the schools, youth clubs, dance clubs...”
The words conjured up images of the Irish show bands that his mum and dad had danced to and made Aidan smile.
“I’m not sure they’re called that nowadays.”
Bernotas shrugged. “They’re clubs where people dance, aren’t they? Anyway. The dealers even hang around the church gates sometimes. I kicked one up the ass the other day.”
Kehoe rolled her eyes. “You promised me you wouldn’t do that again, Darius. It’s assault. More to the point it could get you killed.”
The headmaster dismissed both points with a wave. “They know where I live if they want to try.”
Ryan interjected. “So who are these dealers? Are they individuals or groups?”
“A gang with members from all three Baltic States. They call themselves The Baltic Militia, The BMs, the pathetic twats. They’re a bunch of scumbags we thought we’d left behind at home when we came here, but like rats they must have come over on the same ship, because as soon as the communities established themselves here they began appearing again.” He frowned. “Didn’t Andris tell you all this?”
Kehoe shook her head. “He was being cagey.”
Bernotas nodded. “Poor Andris. It’s hard for a man that age to deal with this type of thing sometimes.”
Aidan pushed for more details. “The BMs are a street gang?”
“I’m sure they have a headquarters somewhere, but essentially yes.”
The D.C.I. turned to the other detectives. “Do you remember that TV programme a few weeks back about how some Romanians were controlling their community here? Sending them out begging and then taking all the money they made?”
It was Bernotas who answered him. “Yes, I saw that, but The BMs are different. They’re all thugs, single men, so there aren’t the women and children with them that you’d see in Romanian communities. They mostly left them behind at home. And there are a lot of strong personalities in our community so they find it pretty hard to control us, so instead they feed off us, like parasites. First they tried to charge our shopkeepers protection money, but the community supported them in saying no and the church intervened. So now they run drug-dealers and try to prey on the young. I think they’re running protection in some clubs and gambling dens across the country as well, and I heard tell of some high-end places in Belfast and Derry where they’ve really set up shop.”
Andy decided it was time to drill into the detail.
“What type of drugs?”
“All the usual crap. Cannabis, cocaine, ecstasy.”
“Have you ever heard of any two-drug combos?”
Kehoe raised her eyebrows quizzically as she waited for Bernotas to respond.
“No. What the hell are those?”
“If they aren’t here then I wouldn’t worry about them. Do you have any idea how the drugs are getting into the country? Or what about names? Do you know the names of any players in the BM?”
The headmaster answered the second part first, with a decisive nod.
“Like I said, the Baltic community in Northern Ireland is still small, given the back and forth to home, so it’s hard for bad lots to hide themselves completely. I’ve heard a few names mentioned, but the main one is a man called Hugh Bellner. He’s based up in Belfast.”
Andy’s eyes widened. He was sure that he’d heard the name Bellner before but he couldn’t remember where. A quick glance from Aidan said that he could and they would discuss it later on.
The headmaster was still speaking.
“Bellner’s from my country’s capital, Vilnius, and he styles himself as a businessman but he’s scum. He made a lot of money when soviet rule ended in the Baltics, but if you check him out I think you’ll find that he made it through crime. He must have a record back home. There were a lot of men like him who took advantage of the post-soviet chaos to organise themselves and now they’re looking for new markets in the west. Bellner’s chosen Ireland.”
He took a sip of tea and went on. “As far as how the drugs are getting in here, I’m not sure. You would know more about that than me.”
Andy set down his cup, wondering whether to ask what was on his mind and then going for it. “Do you know anyone called Pojello?”
The headmaster’s face lit up. “Lukas and Ema, yes. Good, good people.”
“And Filip Pojello?”
Bernotas’ face fell. “The same family, but the screw-up son. He’s a bright man but he took a wrong turn a long time ago. It’s such a pity. It broke his parents’ hearts.”
“A wrong turn into The BMs?”
A nod confirmed that he was right.
The others asked some tidy-up questions but when they were sure they’d got all they were going to the group got back on the road, declining the offer of more coffee back at the station in favour of a fast drive back to the C.C.U. On the way Andy rang through a request for a background check on Hugh Bellner, while Aidan explained how he’d heard of the man before.
“So, you know the Drake case.”
&nb
sp; Andy rolled his eyes. “How could any of us not know it? The man’s been dragging us into court for the best part of a year.”
“Aye, well, during the investigation Liam and I visited a gambling club.”
“Kicked its door in, I heard.”
Aidan chuckled. “You have to have some fun at work. Anyway, the point is we lifted Hugh Bellner on suspicion of the murders and the chief questioned him, but he had an alibi. He’d been in Lithuania at his daughter’s wedding. We knew he was up to his eyes in all sorts of other stuff but because he wasn’t involved in the killings the Guv had to let him go and he wasn’t happy about it.”
There was a low whistle from the back seat. “He’ll not be pleased at this turn-up then.”
“You can tell him, if you like.”
Ryan shook his head vigorously. “No way. You’re the D.C.I..”
Andy laughed as he changed gear. “Funny how rank stops being an ambition when the crap starts flying isn’t it.”
Aidan sighed heavily. “But he’s right. I’ve met Bellner so I should be the one to break it. At least Bernotas might have given us a steer on the case. Bellner’s a known drug-dealer.”
Ryan spoke again. “You think he’s definitely in The Baltic Militia then.”
“Or running it. He’s that sort. Anyway, it’s all speculation until we get some facts, and hopefully Davy will produce the goods there.”
****
Mahon Prison. The Recreation Yard.
It had been a simple thing to do and Jimmy Morris felt no guilt about it. Filip Pojello had been a traitor; not to him or his, after all the man hadn’t been a Loyalist, he didn’t even come from Northern Ireland for God’s sake; but he had betrayed his own so when he’d got the order to finish him off he’d been happy to oblige.
He pictured the Lithuanian as he was certain he looked now: mouth wide open, head of curly hair thrown back, hands tearing at his throat for air and his fair-skinned face turned a nice purply-blue. Or at least that’s how he assumed Pojello would look based on what he’d heard about Decker Smyth’s death mask. Although, he speculated, maybe poison didn’t work the same on everyone. Maybe it was like one of those mood-stone rings that his ex had had when they’d first dated and changed colour according to who wore it? Maybe, he sniggered to himself, picturing Pojello’s final moments; he’d even gone green like the Incredible Hulk. Now wouldn’t that be something to tell the lads.
The Loyalist indulged the thoughts for a moment before gathering a globule of saliva in his mouth and hacking it out on the concrete yard at his feet, the action serving a dual purpose: to clear his smoke-damaged sinuses and to show his disdain for the man that he’d just killed.
Morris stopped himself mid-thought. No, not killed, executed. What he’d done had been righteous; he had executed Filip Pojello for being a traitor in a time of war. What war I hear you ask? After all you didn’t hear any declaration. But gang wars are like the sea, never-ending and always stormy somewhere, and Northern Ireland had been that somewhere for years.
The Loyalist pulled a roll-up from his pocket and lit it, adding ‘put down’ to his description of the act that he’d just performed. Filip Pojello the traitor he had executed, but Filip Pojello the junkie he had put down like a dog. He couldn’t stand addicts; desperate, impulse-driven scum who would do anything for a fix without a thought for the consequences or any sort of plan.
OK, so Pojello had been bright enough to work with Decker on bringing the drugs into Mahon to deal them, but the pair of them had had no bloody wit. Had they really believed that they wouldn’t get caught not paying their dues and betraying their gang allegiances, and avoid punishment? He shrugged at the rhetorical question; obviously they had believed it and that was why they were both dead.
The only downside was Pojello’s timing; trust today to be the bloody day he’d decided to come back for an afternoon nap. When he’d seen him walking up the stairs to his landing, he couldn’t believe it! He’d considered diverting him, maybe even suggesting a game of poker in the hope Pojello would have forgotten his nap and stayed out till the evening like he usually did, but he’d been too late shouting out; the dickhead had already gone into his cell and locked the door, and with his drug habit that meant he was bound to have snuffed it by now.
A resigned shrug and a few puffs more and the moment that Morris had been waiting for came. He heard the yard’s gate creak open and the shout of, “JOYBOY. YOU’RE WANTED BY THE COPS” summon him, the words amusing the warder more than he had any right.
It was time for the executioner to make his lack of guilt external as well as internal, time to act and look like the innocent he truly believed himself to be. Because pretty soon the screws would find Pojello’s body and the cops would start looking for his killer, and when that happened Jimmy Morris needed their impression of him to be of a righteous man.
****
The C.C.U. Murder Squad. 4.15 p.m.
“That was Doctor Marsham.”
Annette set down Alice’s phone, the PA having taken a ten minute break to do some last minute sewing on her costume.
“The chief’s asked him to send a team with fibre-optics to Mahon. Apparently there’s one in Newry.”
Davy punched the air triumphantly. “They must have found the access drain!”
Mary coughed pointedly. “I don’t know what you’re sounding so excited about. I suggested the drains first.”
Before an argument broke out, Andy White, who’d decided he would learn far more about the operation out on the floor than locked away in an office, came off a phone call of his own, this time from Craig himself.
He jumped to his feet in a way that promised action.
“Who fancies coming to the harbour with me, hey?”
Four hands shot up, forcing him to reassess his words. He looked apologetically at the two analysts, who were doing their absolute best to look like puppies who deserved to be taken out for a walk.
“Sorry guys, but you two are needed here, hey.”
As they slumped dolefully in their seats the D.C.S. then considered the two female detectives, who were vying for whose hand could stretch the highest, Mary seeking advantage by standing on her toes. Evidently the cold wasn’t enough to deter her from venturing outdoors this time.
Deciding that before he started a rank war he needed to assess its necessity, he walked over to Davy, leant in and dropped his voice.
“Marc said he’s just sent you through something.”
Clicking open an email from Craig that had just arrived, the analyst read aloud. “Jerome Tomelty was a guard at Mahon and is now in the harbour police; background please. Jim Morris, prisoner, find out more about his position in UKUF. What are the diameters of Mahon’s drains, especially the one leading into the Trade Hall, and do drones tiny enough to pass through them exist? Filip Pojello has an engineering degree, check him out, and also, find out about a gang called The BMs. The Baltic Militia.” He sighed heavily. “He doesn’t w...want much, does he.”
Andy pulled over a chair to sit down, realising as he did so that there were still two hands in the air and waving them down.
“This place is worse than school, hey.”
Davy nodded. “It has been s...said before.” He gestured to Craig’s list. “Tomelty’s the reason you’re going to the harbour?”
“Yes. Marc thinks that him joining the harbour cops so recently, in light of what that Max Harding said about possible drug shipments, might be a bit more than a coincidence.”
“You mean what he told the others about the drug-painted containers?”
Andy nodded. “Yes. It’s all a bit woolly at the moment so I’m going back to see Harding as well and probably Karl too, to try to tidy things up, hey. I might be out for a while, so what time’s the briefing again?”
Davy answered, “Six” absentmindedly, still staring at Craig’s list. “That middle one’s a no brainer. Modern w...water pipes in NI have a diameter of between twelve and sixteen centimetr
es and Victorian pipes were far larger and Mahon’s got a load of those, and there are drones with w...wing spans of one centimetre, and quite powerful ones of twelve, so they could easily get through as long the drains as there are no obstacles inside them and the operator’s skilled.” He turned to his junior.”Ash, did you hear all that?”
“Yep. I’ll make a list of the drones that could fit.”
“Get onto Tomelty’s background as well, can you, as per the chief’s new email.”
He shook his head at another of Craig’s points. “I’m not sure what we’ll find on Morris except what’s in his record, but this Pojello guy looks interesting, especially if he w...went to Uni. It means I’ll have more records to search.” He gestured at the computer. “Who are The BMs? Have you ever heard of them?”
“No, but D.C.I. Hamill might know.” Andy dropped his voice conspiratorially. “Now, look, I need to decide whether to take Mary or Annette or both with me.” He glanced pointedly at the analyst’s screen. “So tell me you’re overloaded with work and that only Mary has the skills to help you.”
Davy smiled knowingly. “We are overloaded with work, but even if we weren’t I’d invent s...some. Annette deserves a break.”
The decision was made, now all it took was for it to be communicated in a way that reduced any possible backlash from the team’s constable. Davy decided to help with that as well by beckoning her across.
“Mary, s...since you raised the drains issue, could you look at drones with Ash for a minute?”
A squint of protest from the junior analyst was ignored and she brought a chair over beside him, just as Andy moved the other way towards the exit, motioning Annette to follow him fast. By the time Mary realised that they’d gone the pair were too far away to hear her moaning, and in the lift heading for the garage Annette allowed herself a little smirk.
“Nicely done, sir.”
Andy grinned as if he’d done his good deed for the week. “It was Davy, hey. He said you deserved a break from missy.”
The smirk became a smile and then Annette asked a question.
Crossing The Line Page 27
