Crossing The Line

by Catriona King

  “Is that good?”

  The snorts that answered him said not, but Liam chose to ignore them; he had employed selective deafness all his life, shutting out anything that he didn’t want to hear, and it had served him very well, especially when criticism had come his way.

  Craig opened his office door. “OK, we’d better get to it then. You’re driving, Liam.”

  He was stopped in his tracks at the sight of Alice once again sporting her natural brown hair and displaying a large silver cup on her desk. “You won then?”

  She smiled modestly. “First prize in Ballroom.” And then not so modestly added, “And first in Latin as well”, rubbing her feet to show that they were sore.

  “Congratulations. You should think about running classes here in the building. I’m sure you’d get some takers.”

  Liam gestured to the team members dotted around the office. “You can start with this lot. Half of them hardly even know how to walk.”

  As with healthy eating, it was a debate for another time.

  ****

  The C.C.U. Gang Crime. Fifth Floor.

  Annette and Mary’s trip back to Gang Crime was brief but illuminating, with Geoff Hamill confirming that The Baltic Militia was active inside a number of the country’s prisons, Mahon included, and his undercover officers filed regular reports on them along with other gangs.

  Craig’s conversation with Brian Archibold must have been reported back favourably because the D.C.I. was eager to help, and whipped a file out of his drawer as soon as Annette said, “The BMs.” By, “What can you tell us about them?” it was lying open and Hamill had started to read aloud.

  “There are ten members of The Baltic Militia currently inside Mahon, of whom Filip Pojello was one. He was ostracised by the others because of his drug habit so he formed ties with other prisoners based on that, which crossed gang boundaries and isolated him even more from his own. Probably the only time all The BM members gathered together was at Sunday Mass.”

  Annette pictured Pojello sitting alone in the back pew.

  “OK, so I have two questions, sir. One, what’s been the reaction to Pojello’s death inside?”

  Hamill rested back in his seat with a sigh. “The other BM inmates are furious. They didn’t like Pojello but he was one of them, so there’s a witch hunt on to find out who did him in.”

  Mary sat forward. “Who’s their money on?”

  “Jimmy Morris. Mainly because someone saw him being interviewed by your men. The governor’s had to stick Morris in solitary for his own safety, but I’d be surprised if he survives long enough to get to court.”

  The D.C. frowned; not because she gave a damn what happened to a killer, but at the idea that an anticipated killing inside prison couldn’t be stopped.

  “Surely Morris could be moved?”

  Hamill shrugged. “To where? Show me a prison in Northern Ireland without a BM member. Unless we lock him up for the rest of his sentence someone’s going to get him. It’s only a matter of when.”

  The law of the jungle was alive and well.

  “Personally, I won’t cry about it. Morris was an evil little scrote long before this. And whoever ordered him to make the hits will take care of his family outside.”

  Annette nodded. “That brings me to my second question. What do you know about the hierarchy within The Militia? In particular where a man called Hugh Bellner sits in it?”

  The name provoked a twisted smile. “Hughie Bellner... now there is an evil bastard. If you ever fancy meeting the devil in person have a conversation with the man.”

  The words made Annette shudder, knowing as she did that Geoff Hamill had been round the block many many times, so if he said that about someone it had to be real.

  The D.C.I. kept talking. “Bellner made his money the old-fashioned way when the soviets left Lithuania.”

  Mary wrinkled her forehead quizzically. “What’s the old-fashioned way?”

  Annette sighed at her innocence, or rather she sighed for the loss of the innocence that she had once possessed.

  “Killing, maiming and taking what wasn’t his. It’s the ‘toughest deserve to rise to the top’ mantra that you hear all over the world, but for toughest read most ruthless.”

  Hamill came back in. “Exactly that. Anyway, Hughie made millions and then decided to explore new markets, here and the south being two of them. I heard he’s showing interest in the Scottish Islands now as well. Anyway, he switched specialty from violence to drugs and gambling, bought some handmade suits and posh diction and started to spread his poison everywhere.”

  “So he heads up The BMs?”

  Hamill smiled thoughtfully. “Well, now that’s an interesting point. Bellner could lead The BMs here if he wanted to except that they wouldn’t let him run drugs, and he also can’t be bothered with the daily stuff of leading a gang so he leaves that to lesser men. There were plenty keen to do the job for the status; the current Baltic Militia might have re-booted after the collapse of the USSR but it originated two hundred years before-”

  “Like the Vors?”

  “Just so. Bellner brought the basic BM structure here with him and then worked with the home organisation back in the Baltics to appoint a day-to-day leader here so he’d be freed up to do what he does best. Make millions from drugs and gambling. Think of The BM’s day-to-day leader as the CEO, with Bellner as the Chairman who gets regular updates on how the organisation’s being run. The Militia gets to maintain its anti-drug image publically-”

  Mary jumped in again, excited by learning about a world she’d known nothing of until that week. “And meanwhile Bellner’s dealing drugs and giving them a cut.”

  Hamill nodded. “Yep. The current CEO is a yes man who’s in awe of Bellner and does what he’s told. Anyway, so Hugh Bellner’s a busy boy with his gambling and drugs. He has betting shops, slot machines, casinos-”

  Mary yelped, “Zenith!” making the D.C.I. jump.

  “Yes... Zenith belongs to Bellner. Why? Is that relevant to your murder cases?”

  Annette jumped in like lightning. “How do you know Zenith belongs to Bellner? Companies House has it listed as owned by some company called Rosco Enterprises.”

  The question took Hamill aback. “Well...OK, maybe that was a leap. I should have said I’d heard that Bellner owns the place. He spends all his time there, I know that, so if he doesn’t own it he’d be broke from gambling in it.”

  Annette brought the D.C.I. up to date on a few things making him give a slow nod.

  “That would make sense. If Bellner was developing a new drug offering then he’d want to make it available to his high rollers as well as spreading it elsewhere.” He frowned, puzzled. “But he only has a core team of five men and he would need a damn sight more than that to distribute the stuff to clubs and the street. That could be a challenge when a lot of gangs in the six counties have a policy of not touching drugs.” He gave a loud snort. “Some warped ethics, eh? They’ll kill and maim people but they won’t stuff coke up their nose.”

  Suddenly the penny dropped. “Bellner needs men who are happy to deal drugs to distribute his new product and UKUF has dozens of grunts who are perfect for that!”

  “So you’re saying McCrae’s men will deal it on the street for Bellner?”

  “In the clubs first. UKUF supplies bouncers and security men to half the nightclubs in Belfast.”

  Annette took out her notebook hurriedly. “Where’s Bellner’s headquarters?”

  The D.C.I. shook his head quickly. “No way. If you go after him alone you’ll get yourself killed.”

  She scoffed at him. “Do I look that stupid, sir?” Hastily adding, “Don’t answer that. Anyway, I’m not going anywhere. I’m information gathering for the chief, that’s all.”

  Hamill looked at her suspiciously. “You’re sure? Because we had a man try to arrest a BM member last year and he ended up with two broken legs, and the only reason he didn’t die was that killing a cop’s bad for busine
ss.”

  Mary had had enough of waiting for the oldies to get to the point. “His headquarters is Zenith, isn’t it?”

  Before Hamill could deny it Annette made a grab for his desk phone, calling down to Vice.

  “Is D.C.I. Angel there?”

  To her relief Andy’s soft tenor came on the line. “What’s happening, Annette? We were just on our way out.”

  “To Zenith?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Then don’t. I’m in Gang Crime with D.C.I. Hamill, and you and your Vice officer need to come here and listen to what he’s got to say.”

  Ten minutes later there were three more cops, including Emrys Lomax in the small office, being briefed that Zenith Casino was Hugh Bellner’s Headquarters, and whether they snuck in pretending to be punters or stormed the place, the chances of them all getting out of there unmarked were zero unless they brought along full armed response.

  As Andy was reconsidering their trip Rebecca gasped.

  “My informant! I need to check on her.”

  “Phone her.”

  She shook her head. “We only use email to set up our meets. She gets called-in to cover at odd hours so it’s too dangerous to phone her in case I catch her at work.”

  He glanced at the wall clock. “We’re due to meet her in the café around the corner from Zenith in thirty minutes anyway, before she starts her early shift, so let’s just go now and see if she’s there.” He made for the door. “I’ll call you ASAP with an update, Annette.”

  Almost forty tense minutes passed before the D.I.’s mobile buzzed and she put it on speaker so that everyone could hear.

  Andy’s words made everyone shudder.

  “She didn’t turn up at the café so we’ve driven to her house. We’re outside it now, so hang on.”

  A series of increasingly robust, unanswered knocks was followed by a curious elderly voice in the background saying, “Hello?” More, inaudible words and then there was the sound of a door being kicked in and Rebecca saying urgently, “We need an ambulance to...”

  After a tense minute Andy came on the line again. “Annette? Are you still there?”

  “I’m here.”

  “The girl’s been stabbed. Someone used a kitchen knife on her. It’s bad, I don’t know if she’s going to make it. Rebecca’ll heading to the hospital with her now. The landlady didn’t have a key so I had to kick the door in, so I’ll need to stay here till we’ve sealed the scene. Update the chief, please.”

  Then the call cut off, leaving everyone staring at the phone in the D.I.’s hand. Geoff Hamill was the first to make a sound and it was a sigh of resignation.

  “Bellner must have found out the girl had spoken to someone. I warned you that he was ruthless.”

  Annette sprang to her feet, furious. “We need to arrest him! We need to make the bastard talk!”

  He beckoned her to sit down again and after a moment’s more venting she did.

  “Think about it, Annette. What are the grounds for his arrest? You’ve no proof that Bellner’s linked to anything, just rumour and speculation. Unless the girl can ID whoever assaulted her you’re at a dead end. And even then it won’t have been Bellner who knifed her. He’s far too clever to get his hands dirty like that.”

  Mary’s high voice cut through the tension. “But this Rory McCrae isn’t, is he? He sounds as if he’s as thick as a plank.”

  Annette turned to look at her junior, giving her a small smile.

  “Mary, you’re a genius. Let’s go.”

  As she jumped to her feet the D.C. squeaked in horror. “Not to see McCrae!”

  “Don’t be silly, I wouldn’t go near him or Bellner without armed support. But I know two men who will. We need to get back upstairs.”

  ****

  Templepatrick.

  Coincidentally those two men were already in Templepatrick planning to do that very thing, but with the aid of a third man who they needed to prime perfectly before they wound him up and let him go.

  It didn’t take long. This time Tommy answered his front door dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, and although his flowing locks were still in evidence they were tied back in a ponytail and the Loyalist was wearing a less than Zen ‘don’t fuck with me’ scowl on his face.

  Liam couldn’t let it pass.

  “Who rattled your cage?”

  The response was a cold stare and a sneer that would have curdled milk.

  “That shite McCrae. He’s runnin’ my business intee the dirt. Cudn’t organise a piss-up in a brewery.”

  Liam arched an eyebrow. “And you’re only realising that now?”

  Craig walked past them both and into the living room, where he took a seat in the hope that it would encourage the others to follow suit. After a minute it became obvious that they were more interested in facing off against one another so he barked out a less than polite prompt.

  “Get your asses in here.”

  It brought Tommy hurtling into the room. “Ye can’t say that! It’s my house!”

  “I just did, and sit down. We need to talk to you about McCrae.”

  After leaning against the wall for a moment with his arms folded, to prove he was the boss, the Loyalist sidled across to his, obvious by its wear, favourite chair, attempting to deflect from his acquiescence by growling, “Wat’s the wee shite been up tee now?”

  Craig began his planned wind-up. “You don’t like drugs, Tommy, do you?”

  “Hate the stuff. But if yer goin’ tee tell me McCrae’s been dealin’, save yer breath. I had it out wi’ him yesterday and he said it’s only a bit of weed and ‘E’. He’s says he’s gonna stap it now, and UKUF’s main money’s still coming in the usual way.”

  Craig gave a knowing smirk, deliberately intended to put him even further on edge. A sharp squint from the paramilitary said that it had done its job, so the detective moved the conversation along.

  “Let’s leave that for a moment. Tell me what you think of the Northern Europeans.”

  Tommy looked confused. “Where’s that?”

  Liam volunteered. “Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia.”

  “Aye OK, I knew that, I jest forgot, like. Wat about them?”

  Craig rolled his eyes, exasperated. “What do you think of them?”

  The Loyalist looked confused. “Wat do you mean, think? They’re all right I suppose, as long as they stay away from me. Altho, some of them are Taigs, aren’t they, and that’s niver good.”

  Out of the side of his eye Craig could see his deputy smiling as he guessed what was coming next.

  “And their gangs? Like maybe The Baltic Militia?”

  It brought the explosion that Craig had been hoping for.

  “Those fuckers! Bringing all their tattooed shite across tee ar country!”

  The words came with a complete lack of irony from a man who was covered in more ink than the complete works of Shakespeare, but they knew that his point was that his tattoos carried only British acronyms.

  “So it’s only their ink that bothers you?”

  “It is nat! They’re murderin’ fuckers an’ the worst of them deals hard drugs.”

  “So...would you ever work with them?”

  Tommy’s face turned a dark red, making his blue eyes brighten and bulge. “NIVER! I’d niver work wi’ scum like that!”

  Craig shifted forward slightly in his seat, as if he was about to confide in a friend. “Who’s the worst of The Baltic Militia?”

  There was no hesitation in the spitting reply.

  “A murderin’ git called Hughie Bellner. Smarmy bastard. Dressing like he’s posh when he’s the scum of the earth. He’d sell arsenic tee kids if it’d make him money, an’ he kills anyone who gets in his way.”

  Disapproval from a murderer like Tommy was still disapproval, but Craig did wonder whether it was based on the fact that Bellner had more kills under his belt than him, or because he was an immigrant who’d had the temerity to commit those murders on Tommy’s shores.
If anyone was going to get killed in Northern Ireland it was going to be by a home-grown hand; so there.

  Whatever the cause it was bringing the King of UKUF nicely to the boil. Craig lowered his voice so their host had to lean in to hear.

  “What if I was to tell you that we believe McCrae is working with Bellner?”

  He’d deliberately said “is” and not “might be” for the avoidance of ambiguity; they were running out of time and doubt would only slow them down. Besides, Tommy would bring doubts of his own to the party, and he did.

  The Loyalist shook his head vigorously. “No way. He’d niver.”

  “Tell us why not.”

  The answer was clear. “’Cos McCrae knows I’d kill him dead if he did. Stone dead.”

  Was there any other kind?

  Craig sat back in his chair and adopted the sceptical expression that Liam had been wearing since the discussion about ink.

  “But you’re retired, Tommy. You’re out of the loop now. McCrae has to keep the business profitable in a changing world and sometimes that means taking partners.”

  The paramilitary lurched forward, his face darkening again. Liam moved in to grab his fists if he raised them, but the only thing raised was Tommy’s voice.

  “NAT FOREIGNERS AN’ NIVER TAIGS! Maybe wi’ one of ar own, maybe, but niver The BMs. Yer wrong. McCrae wudn’t do it.”

  Craig seized his chance. “Prove it then. Come with us and face McCrae when we ask him. He’s your man, so you’ll know if he’s lying, won’t you?”

  “He can’t hide anythin’ from me.”

  “Will you come then?”

  Tommy leapt to his feet and headed down the hall. “Come on then if yer comin’”

  In the end Craig would miss the anticipated face-off between the two Loyalists because they had just driven back into the city centre when he got a call that he really wasn’t happy to get.

  When he hung up he said, “Liam, drop me at St Mary’s, please.”

  The question in the D.C.I.’s eyes was answered by a shake of the head.

  “You take Tommy to see McCrae and call me afterwards.”

  He knew that Liam could pick up every nuance of the exchange just as well as him, and they would have their definitive answer on the McCrae-Bellner partnership within the hour. While his deputy was doing that Craig was making his way to the hospital’s intensive care unit, and what he saw there made him want to punch someone hard.