The Tribes

by Catriona King

  ****

  Lift conversations, even between acquaintances, are awkward, characterised by a sudden desire to inspect the walls or ceiling, or an excited renewed acquaintance with one’s shoes. But Andy relished such times as five extra minutes in which he didn’t have to waste physical energy, propping himself against the wall and allowing his mind to go blank. Sadly Sid Freeman was no respecter of such etiquette and continued talking as if they were still on office ground.

  “How are we going to handle this, sir? If the Reys know about Matias’ death before we get there, we would be driving into a street war.”

  It made Andy jerk upright and he resigned himself to at least two hours of looking alert, if not because of Freeman’s expectations of rank then because it might prevent him getting his head blown off.

  As they disembarked the lift in reception another man in a suit was walking onto the tenth floor. Everything about him said cop, cop who wasn’t happy to be there, and Nicky knew who he was right away. She gave Kyle Spence a half smile; full smiles were reserved for people who knew how lucky they were to be working with Craig and were suitably grateful for the chance. Behind the smile she sharpened her tongue, although not too sharp; Craig and the reluctant recruit had personal history.

  She remained seated and considered Spence, so Ash immediately stopped what he was doing and sat back to watch the show. Nicky not rising wasn’t a good sign. She always rose to greet guests, even if it was only a half ascent. Even he would have warranted the change in posture, if she hadn’t first met him in the kitchen with Davy that was. He was just wondering why she’d taken against the visitor when his attention was diverted by beep from his screen, the signal for his FaceTime meeting with the FBI. He slipped on his earphones and tried to look intelligent, but the agent on the other end couldn’t disguise her shock at his green hair.

  Nicky was still staring at Kyle Spence, trying to work out why, despite his reluctance to be there and his mouth downturned in a scowl, she didn’t instantly dislike him one hundred percent. It was a puzzle to her, but only for a moment, because if Nicky was one thing she was honest to a fault, to herself if not always to others. The reason she couldn’t throw the full weight of her hostility at him was because Spence was an attractive man. A bit too pale and a bit too thin perhaps, but tall with good bone structure; definitely easy on the eye.

  There, she’d admitted it; she was sufficiently shallow to be swayed by a handsome face. She decided a renewed effort to be hostile was called for and barked out her next words.

  “You’re late, Inspector. I had to chase you this morning…” Adding ominously. “…at the superintendent’s request.”

  If she’d hoped to scare him she’d failed. Spence merely yawned and stared in distaste around the open plan floor.

  “Where do I sit?”

  His voice was soft and rounded and that annoyed the P.A. as well. A rude person should have an ugly voice; it was the natural order of things. She pointed towards a cubicle without looking.

  “D.I. Eakin is the officer you’ll be taking over from, so I’ve put you beside her. She’s not here at the moment.”

  The intelligence officer shrugged and ambled over to the allocated space, sitting down in the cubicle and immediately trying to hide. His height and the low walls defeated the attempt. Five minutes later Nicky marched across and dropped two files on his desk from a three foot height.

  “Two new cases we’re working on.” She walked away again, muttering. “You can get tea, coffee and biscuits from the machine.”

  It was a step too far for Ash so he decided to fraternise with the enemy. Ignoring Nicky’s scowls he ambled over to the cubicle, reaching out his hand with a grin.

  “Ash Rahman, analyst. Welcome to the team.” He beckoned Spence to follow him to the kitchen. “This is where you can make a decent cuppa.” Then, dropping his voice. “Ignore Nicky; she’s just in a mood today. She’s normally really nice.” Although he knew that his perceived treachery would earn him the sharp end of her tongue for weeks.

  As he updated their new member on the cases and staff in the squad, Nicky’s evil eye was deflected as yet another man entered the floor, looking tanned and healthy despite the time of year.

  “Davy! You’re back.”

  She leapt up and hugged him hard, much to the ex-Emo’s surprise.

  “You saw me a few w…weeks ago.”

  “So I’m not allowed to be happy that you’re here?” She stopped chiding and stared at him curiously. “Why are you tanned? It’s winter in France as well, isn’t it? And when did you grow a beard?”

  It had only been stubble the last time she’d seen him and now he had a full hipster growth. He was changing, although she was strangely comforted by his occasional stutter on ‘s’ and ‘w’ still being there.

  He dropped his things on the floor beside his desk, acknowledging the fresh flowers she’d placed there with a smile. “Maggie came over last w…week and we w…went ski-ing.” Maggie Clarke, the news editor of the Belfast Chronicle, was his fiancée of one month. “I’m only tanned on my face and hands.” As his scarf came off and exposed a pale neck she saw that he was right. “Anyway, that’s enough about me. W…What’s been happening here?” He scanned the room as he spoke. “Where is everyone?”

  “Annette, Liam and the chief are at High Street, with Rhonda and Jake-”

  “I forgot Jake was back at work. That’s great.”

  She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Andy’s off with one of D.C.I. Hamill’s team, doing a victim I.D., and there’s gossip there, I can tell you.” She paused for a moment, wondering who she’d forgotten. “Oh, yes, and Reggie’s on holiday-”

  “Don’t forget us, Nicky.”

  Davy turned at the sound of Ash’s voice, grinning when he saw his friend. His grin fixed when he saw someone he didn’t recognise following behind. Nicky’s froze as well when she saw the decidedly non-machine coffee in Kyle Spence’s hand, especially as it was sloshing on the carpet as he walked.

  “Hey, Ash. I like the green hair. W…What’s up?”

  Ash nodded regally at the compliment. “Cheers, mate.” He indicated his companion. “This is Inspector Kyle Spence. He’ll be covering for Annette when she goes on maternity leave.”

  Davy’s grin changed to eagerness. “You’re from Intelligence, aren’t you?”

  Nicky knew instantly that she was defeated. When you put computer geeks together with a spook, there was only one place for the conversation to go. She went back to her desk and started typing furiously, venting her annoyance on her keyboard and trying to shut out the computer acronyms as best she could.

  ****

  Poleglass. West Belfast.

  Andy Angel was nervous, so nervous that the hairs were standing up on his arms. On the back of his neck was one thing, but when it reached his arms he really knew his adrenaline was on the rush. He gazed at the passing streets curiously, as their names changed from English only to English and Irish, and they entered an area where the kerbstones were painted green, white and gold. He wasn’t bigoted; he felt exactly the same way when he entered an area bedecked with Union Flags and Loyalist symbols. People in both places hated the cops, mainly because they stopped them doing what they wanted to do, but today there was an added edge because the man they were visiting was the boss of a criminal gang.

  But whatever Andy’s hairs were doing and no matter how scared he felt, no-one in the car but him would ever have known what was running through his mind. He wouldn’t show his nervousness to other men and he definitely wouldn’t show it to the youngster by his side; so he pushed his chest out and asked the driver a question, in a voice that was as macho as he ever got.

  “How far?”

  Two words were all he could manage without a quiver.

  “Just round this corner, sir. Two of us will come in with you and two wait outside, if that suits?”

  “Fine.”

  As the car pulled up, Andy scanned the street at length
before jumping out, followed by his acolyte. They’d barely turned towards the designated house when its front door opened and a broad chested man of around sixty appeared, with folded arms and biceps like two tubs of lard.

  He scrutinised them for a moment before deciding on Andy as the boss; his macho façade obviously doing the trick. The man turned on his heels, barking “C’mon then if yer comin’” then the front door slammed behind them and the four police officers found themselves in a small, warm room.

  The man turned to face Andy, and the detective suddenly noticed redness and swelling around his eyes.

  “Ye’ve come to tell me my boy’s dead.”

  There was no point in denying it.

  “We’ve come to speak to Mr Xavier Rey-”

  The pensioner nodded tiredly and slumped into a chair.

  “That’s me.”

  Andy felt genuinely sorry for the father who obviously already knew his son was dead and dropped his voice respectfully. There was little point asking how Rey had acquired the information. They were unlikely to get the truth.

  “I’m sorry to say that we’ve found the body of a young man, Mr Rey.” The gang boss flinched. “And I’d like you to come to the mortuary with us. Is that possible?”

  It was a stupid question as well as ungrammatical. Of course it was possible; all it would take was a trip in a car. What he’d really meant to say was, is that OK? But even Andy was sensitive enough to know that OK wasn’t a term to be used at a time like this.

  Rey’s answer was to stand up again and walk into an adjoining room. They heard him murmur something and a woman cry out, then he reappeared wearing a Crombie and walked straight past them to the car. A silent crowd had gathered around it: boys on bikes, women with folded arms and infants in tow, older teens and twenty something men, with close-cut hair and menacing looks that said on any other day and if they’d been here for anything else the policemen would have been fair game.

  The only thing that stopped them being heckled as they left was a glance from the man in their back seat. Xavier Rey might have retired from The Rock but his power and control in his fiefdom was still very real.

  As Andy wedged himself between the kingpin and Sid Freeman and they watched the street names change from Irish to English again, the hairs on his arms lay down again and a sense of foreboding replaced his fear.

  ****

  Café Vaudeville. Arthur Street, Belfast. 11.45 a.m.

  Craig stared openly at his deputy’s bloodied nose. Liam’s nose was hardly a thing of beauty at the best of times, given that it had been broken repeatedly since his youth, courtesy of playing rugby and Gaelic football for years and from being swung at by half of the perps in Belfast. But at least it was normally just prominent and misshapen, now he looked like Rudolph the Reindeer as well.

  “Who did you say did it?”

  Liam sniffed hard and then flinched at the pain. “Roller Brant. Short, round, big ears. You won’t know him.”

  Craig winced in sympathy. “Get it checked out by a doctor. Anyway, this Brant. I take it he’s a snout?” He gestured at Liam’s face. “With a bad temper by the looks of it.”

  “He is, yeh. I had to restrain him at a riot in eighty-nine and he’s been informing for me ever since.”

  For ‘restrain him’ read ‘punched him and nicked him’. Liam’s thirty years of policing in Belfast were useful in terms of experience and contacts, but Craig didn’t want to delve too far into their darker parts. The D.C.I. was still talking.

  “His temper’s normally fine. I just asked the wrong question.”

  “Which was?”

  “Who was behind today’s attacks. He took it amiss for some reason. Silence must be contagious this week; the kneecapped pair wouldn’t say a word either.”

  Craig thought for a moment. Brant’s reaction said that he was scared of the attacks’ mastermind; more than he was of a six-feet-six cop.

  “You’ll find out why, of course.”

  It wasn’t a question. Liam nodded.

  “First order of play, after we deal with Purvis and Kennedy. By the way, Annette and Jake batted zero with Purvis. Name, rank and serial number.”

  Craig rose to pay the bill. “Let’s go with Kennedy first then. Purvis can stew until they’ve finished searching the farm.”

  As he walked past Annette he noticed she was picking out chips from her late breakfast and dipping them in sugar, before biting into them with excessive glee. Craving foods of dubious nutritional benefit, or to give its medical name, Pica. The next joy of pregnancy. Like a gentleman he decided not to draw attention to it but Liam had no such qualms.

  “Danni used to put ketchup on her ice-cream. She ate bowls of the disgusting stuff.” He shuddered.

  As Annette set down her chip, blushing, Craig shot his deputy an irritated look.

  Liam looked bewildered.

  “What? What did I do?”

  He was answered by silence. The others were already halfway out the door.

  ****

  The C.C.U. 12.30 p.m.

  “Have you had lunch yet, Davy?”

  Davy smiled at Nicky’s maternal concern. “I ate on the plane, thanks. S…Some rice thing.”

  She tutted and reached into her desk drawer, withdrawing a plastic box of brownies. “The light brown ones have hazelnuts in them. Eat as many as you like.”

  He didn’t need to be told twice and after lifting a handful he wandered over to Ash’s desk. “What are you w…working on?”

  Ash puffed out his cheeks and shook his head. “The Miskimmon case. The chief’s been given ten days by the P.P.S to find more evidence; otherwise they’re only going to charge them on the visa fraud.” He shrugged. “He can’t stop it. The Venezuelans are breathing down our necks.”

  Davy pulled up a chair. “So you’re trying s…something new?”

  Ash nodded excitedly. “Two somethings, actually. I’m linking up with the hackers in other countries where there were incidents, courtesy of their homeland securities, and I’m searching for anything that might trace Miskimmon’s hacks in the systems he breached here.”

  As Davy gave an admiring whistle Ash realised just how glad he was to have him back. The others smiled politely when he spoke computer, but it was the polite smile of a foreigner in a country where he only had enough of the lingo to order a cup of tea. Davy instantly understood what he was getting at and how hard it would be to achieve.

  “Cool.” The analyst hesitated. “If you’d like any-”

  Ash cut in before he could finish. “Help? Yes. Anything you can think of.” Suddenly he slumped back in his chair, his eagerness changing to a scowl as he waved at the two files in his in-tray. “Meanwhile we’ve got two new murders to solve.”

  Nicky had been watching the interaction maternally; it reminded her of when her fourteen-year-old son Jonny was at nursery, building his bricks with another boy, frowns of concentration on both their little faces. The analysts looked just the same to her; one green-haired and skinny, the other filling out into a handsome man, but both still just kids in many ways, even if the chronological difference wouldn’t actually allow her to be their mum.

  Davy was blissfully unaware of her scrutiny, so while Ash shot the P.A. an amused glance he lifted one of the files. After reading for a moment he set it down, shaking his head.

  “No way are you leaving next week! There’s no chance I can do both of these and the Miskimmon s…stuff on my own.” He added a caveat. “Not in the chief’s usual timescale anyway.” He gave his friend a sly glance. “I don’t suppose…”

  Ash sucked air in through his teeth like he was preparing to give a builder’s estimate. Davy nodded.

  “I take it the boss already knows he needs you to s…stay.”

  The green head bobbed up and down.

  “And he’s already asked.”

  Another bob. Which meant that Craig saw the need for two analysts and had the cash to support it.

  “But you don’t w…w
ant to report to me.”

  This time Ash raised a forefinger, in the universal signal for ‘you’ve got it in one’. To soften the blow he added. “It’s not you, mate, it’s just…”

  It was Davy’s turn to nod. “We went to Uni together and you know just as much as I do.”

  It wasn’t strictly true. Ash knew just as much about computers, but in terms of police work Davy had years of experience and it showed.

  The senior analyst thought for a moment, choosing his next words carefully in the knowledge that if he didn’t he could wave his friend goodbye. Nicky waited to hear what he said; hoping that some way could be found to keep them both on board. She really liked Ash, but she loved Davy for his shyness and gentle ways, and for pure skill he still had the edge. Plus, Ash was the more worldly-wise of the two so if anyone was going to get cast out into the big bad world, he had to be the one to go.

  Thankfully Davy wasn’t as innocent as the boy that had first joined the team and the solution he produced was sharper than Nicky could have imagined.

  “OK. How’s this? Yes, if you stay I’ll nominally be your boss, w…which means if the pressure is on and I have to allocate something urgently to you then I will-”

  Ash pushed back his chair in a show of displeasure, but Davy ignored it and forged on.

  “But, the majority of the time you’ll have your w…work and I’ll have mine. We’ll s…split things evenly, but as much as possible what each of us works on will play to his s…special interests.”

  Ash leaned forward slightly and Nicky smiled, knowing that Davy had hooked him. All he had to do now was reel him in.

  “For instance. I want to keep up my links with the European crime agencies: Europol, Interpol, MI5, MI6 and CEOP, and now and again the FBI and CIA if it fits with my PhD. You could develop your links with GCHQ, the NCA, and other American agencies: Homeland S…Security, the NSA, FBI and CIA, and focus more on terrorism and cybercrime if you liked. Both of us can look for s…secondments to them, to increase our skills, and maybe to other branches of the force as well.”