The Tribes

by Catriona King

  “Anything on that hotel room yet?”

  Davy’s expression said ‘give me a break’. He reinforced the message with a pointed “Have you finished viewing those airport tapes yet?” which sent Andy scuttling back to his desk in search of chocolate.

  The sight that greeted Craig and Liam when they entered the squad-room ten minutes later was of two analysts and a D.C.I. locked to their PC screens and Nicky smiling benevolently at the quietness of the room. She reminded Craig of his primary school teacher when the class was taking an afternoon nap.

  Liam put paid to the peace by thumping down onto Nicky’s desk and sending a pile of yellow stickies scattering to the wind. Before the P.A. could explode Craig asked her a question.

  “Where are Annette, Jake, Rhonda, Kyle and Geoff Hamill’s D.C.?”

  The answer came from under the desk, where she was picking up yellow pads.

  “Annette and Jake are on their way back from Armagh, Kyle went to meet someone in intelligence. Rhonda nipped out for a sandwich and whatshisname said he had to go home and walk his dog but he’d be back.” She reappeared, adding. “It seems he wasn’t expecting on call to mean working all weekend.”

  Craig helped her to her feet. “Liam, you should have picked those up, not Nicky.”

  The D.C.I.’s response was to raise an eyebrow and point to the tiny space beneath her desk. “You’d have needed a tub of grease and a shoe horn to get me out again.” He added “Sorry, Nicky” and his best smile, earning him a loud “Huh”.

  Craig glanced at his watch. “OK, it’s two o’clock. What time did Annette say they’d be back?”

  “Around two-thirty.”

  “I don’t suppose Kyle specified.”

  Nicky’s reply surprised him. “He did actually. Three. He said his contact had to leave before then.”

  He considered for a moment and then headed back out the door. “Tell everyone we’re briefing at three-thirty. Liam and I are going to Templepatrick but we’ll be back.”

  Liam’s groan accompanied him into the lift. “We haven’t had lunch yet.”

  Craig’s deliberately loud answer was to press for the seventh floor. “We’ll buy sandwiches from the canteen and you can eat yours on the way.”

  Nicky heard the words and smiled. It was suitable revenge for her yellow notes.

  ****

  Templepatrick. County Antrim.

  Tommy Hill’s home surprised both detectives. They’d always met him at Ella’s other grandparents’ before; a comfortable vicar’s manse on the opposite side of town.

  Before they’d arrived at the hard man’s new abode Craig had pictured a duplicate of the sprawling Demesne in east Belfast, where Hill had been just one of the rats who’d turned its serviceable, if not particularly ornate buildings into a human sewer where no decent person was safe.

  So they’d turned off the Antrim Road expecting graffiti to assault their eyes, and to see the baby rodents, the next generation of Tommys, scatter as they stepped from the car, their height, suits and three-sixty scans labelling them unmistakeably as police. But instead they gawped as Craig pulled past a sign heralding that they were ‘Welcome to Rosetree Close’, the greeting echoed in the well-trimmed bushes and hedges that had retained most of their foliage despite the time of year.

  As the detective pulled up to a well brushed kerb, devoid of any flag’s colours or acronyms naming the local gangs, he shook his head in surprise and voiced his thoughts.

  “Do you think if Tommy had come from a place like this, he might not have turned out to be what he is?”

  Liam’s quick reply said that he was indulging in fantasy. “Get away with you. He’d still be the same murdering thug he’s always been. There was sectarianism round here as well back then, and Tommy would always have found a Catholic to kill.”

  Craig conceded the point and locked up the car, following Liam up a short path to their target address. The door of the ground floor flat opened before they’d even reached it and a sarcastically grinning Tommy waved them in with an arm sweep and a bow.

  “Wat tuk ye so long tee pay me a visit?” He jerked a thumb at Liam. “I’d have thought he’d hav been desperate to turn the place over before nye.”

  “Well, hello to you too, Tommy.” Liam scanned the small home’s modern décor as he talked. “Nice place you’ve got here.” He threw himself down on a small sofa, making Craig wince as he waited for its springs to pop. “This is a step up from the ripped settee you had on the Demesne. Who did you rob to get it?”

  Tommy bared his teeth in the closest they were ever going to see to a smile. “Nye, nye, Ghost.” The old lag had given Liam the nickname years before because of his pallor. “If I wus a sensitive creater I’d be hurt by that remark. But, nat that it’s ony af yer business, the council bought it fer me with a grant.” He fell into a nearby chair with a mock sad expression. “Unferchinitly I’ve no tea ar caffee, ar I’d offer ye both a cup.”

  Craig answered before Liam could retort. “Thanks for the offer, Tommy, but we’re not here on a social visit. We need to ask you about your movements this week.”

  The Loyalist’s reply was to lift his leg to reveal an ankle tag. “Ask my electronic friend here.” He smoothed down his tracksuit again. “’Cept that my guess is ye’ve already checked and it’s tawl ye I wus here or in the village the whole time.” It was a good thing a mate had nicked him a load of spare straps for his tag.

  The teeth-baring smile returned. “Why de ye want tee know, officers? Is sumwun blaming me on sumthin’ I huvn’t dun?”

  This time Craig’s answer wasn’t quick enough and Liam made himself heard. He leaned forward angrily in his seat.

  “You’re a lying git, Hill. You were spotted in Belfast this week and the only thing we need to work out is how you managed to fool your tag.” He clenched his fists. “What were you doing there?”

  Tommy did his best impersonation of an innocent man, which still looked guiltier than most. “I dun’t know wat yer talkin’ about. I’ve bin here awl the time.”

  Craig moved to stand over the aging killer. “You were in Belfast, Tommy, and we all know it. And when we’ve worked out how you fooled the tag I’ll rescind your parole and put you back inside faster than you can blink. You’re still on license for dealing in stolen goods, remember.” He turned towards the door. “Although as whatever you’ve been up to this week will no doubt be linked to crime in some way, I expect you’ll be back inside soon anyway for a few more years.”

  He signalled Liam to follow him out. He did, but only after leaning close to Tommy and giving a low growl.

  “You’re on notice, Hill. If you’re seen anywhere near Belfast you’ll be arrested and the next time you see your granddaughter it’ll be to walk her up the aisle.”

  If Tommy was worried he didn’t show it, but he was going to relocate the meeting he had planned for that afternoon.

  ****

  Dundalk. The Republic of Ireland.

  Dermot Faloon pushed the girl out of his bed to find alcohol while he made a call. It was answered quickly by an older man and his tone of voice said that anger had been the source of his speed.

  “Where the hell were you?”

  Faloon stared at his handset in mild surprise, then swopped its screen to ‘missed calls’ and made a face when he saw that there’d been five in the previous two hours. Sex had a habit of making him go deaf, not blind like his parish priest had warned.

  “Sorry, boss.” His contrition wasn’t reflected in his tone. “I was otherwise occupied.”

  The undertone of lechery told his listener all he needed to know.

  “Keep your dick in your pants until this is over, Faloon, or I’ll have it chopped off. Understand?”

  Faloon gulped out a hasty “yes.”

  The man moved onto other things. “Where’s the girl?”

  The youth glanced towards the door. “Making the tea.” Gin flavoured tea of course. “Do you need her?”

  “One la
st job should be enough.”

  “Like Fox?”

  “Like I’ll tell you when you need to know. Just get her ready and she’ll be picked up at six. Tell her to look extra hot this time.”

  As the door reopened and the girl reappeared with a bottle and two glasses, Faloon signed off and glanced at the clock. They just had time for one more session then it was time for her to earn her keep.

  ****

  The C.C.U. 4 p.m.

  Craig was half-an-hour into the briefing when Nicky handed him a note that made his eyebrows rise. He slipped it into his pocket and then turned back to listen to what Annette had to say.

  “So basically, we need to rule out that the girl isn’t from here before the Gardaí will do anything.”

  Liam rubbed his chin. “Tricky when we have no matching prints and she was wearing a wig. O’Shea really said there was no sighting of her on CCTV in the south?”

  She nodded. “The road behind the field was a dirt track leading to others that went on for miles. She could have disappeared off any one of them. But…” She turned to see Craig wearing a puzzled expression that she was pretty sure wasn’t about the case. “There’s just a chance we could find someone who saw her with Fox, sir, or we might get lucky and find the number he called her on. I suggest we pursue that end of things first before we get back to O’Shea.”

  The way she said the name made Liam laugh.

  “I take it you weren’t bowled over by our liaison officer?”

  “Nope. A bit too much of the patronising charm going on for me. Jake can tell you.”

  Jake was frowning as well. Craig roused himself to ask why, praying the answer wasn’t anything to do with Aaron Foster. It wasn’t.

  “I don’t think O’Shea took the two deaths’ proximity seriously enough. He seemed more interested in pointing out that McAllister died at the north side of his farm than acknowledging that Fox’s murder and the tank were only a mile apart.”

  Annette was nodding. “I don’t think O’Shea’s taking anything seriously, sir.”

  Craig made a face. “There could be a reason for that. Liaison jobs are often given to people nearing retirement.” He turned to Davy. “Is he, Davy?”

  Davy lifted his smart-pad. “It’ll be easy enough to find out.”

  Andy had been lounging in his chair as usual, now he sat bolt upright, spotting an opportunity to interject.

  “I went to see the two youngsters who were out with Matias Rey that night, Niall Henderson and Ryan Phelan. Henderson left the others to go to a hotel with a girl. He said she was foreign, but he was vague about which country, and when he woke up in the morning she was gone.”

  “Decoy?”

  “That was my thought. He’s coming in to work up a sketch. It couldn’t just be a coincidence, could it? Two girls involved in two of our deaths?”

  Craig’s reply was to pull the whiteboard across.

  “OK, we have three murders with no connections between the victims.” He glanced at Ash for confirmation.

  “None that we can find so far, chief. Different ages, social circles, jobs, religions, modes of death…”

  “OK, but keep searching.” He scribbled up the three men’s names, drawing a column under each. “So, Calum Fox dies in south Armagh, as does Colin McAllister, but Matias Rey dies in Belfast. Fox was killed by a woman, Rey by man or men but a girl distracted one of his companions, and anyone could have sabotaged McAllister’s air tank. We’re pretty sure Rey was killed because of his gang links, but McAllister was a farmer, albeit it looks like he was a crooked one, and Fox was a bookie.”

  Liam was nodding. “To me that’s suspicious, boss. All three men were involved in or on the fringes of risky behaviour: gangs, gambling and maybe fuel smuggling.”

  Craig nodded slowly. “Maybe, but that still doesn’t mean that their deaths were linked. Ash found no other connections.”

  Jake sat forward eagerly. “What about if they weren’t linked to each other but all three were linked to someone else?”

  Rhonda cut in quietly. “What about… to whoever is trying to take over Rey’s gang?”

  Kyle had been playing with a dummy cigarette, twirling it irritatingly in Craig’s peripheral vision like a cheerleader’s baton. Now he stuck it in his pocket and shook his head. “Doesn’t make sense. If they were working for whoever’s staging the takeover then they wouldn’t have been killed, and Matias Rey definitely wouldn’t have been trying to take over The Rock. He was already its boss.” He lifted a sheaf of paper that had been lying on his desk. “I was going to come on to this.”

  Liam craned his neck to see. “What is it?”

  “It’s from one of my mates in Intelligence. He says there are definitely Albanians on the scene in Belfast and they’re not the friendly sort.” He held up a photograph. “This is Abaz Goga. He landed here in December and since then he’s been flooding the province with dodgy gear. They know he’s brought in girls as well, but so far they haven’t been able to find where they’re being held.”

  Craig took the photograph. “What makes you think this is linked to our case?”

  “I don’t yet. I just wanted to give you the heads up. But we’ve no proof that whoever’s running the coup against The Rock was running our three dead men. However…” He paused, retrieving the photo and tucking it back into his papers. “What might make sense is if the dead men were killed because they were in the coup-master’s way.”

  The room erupted with noise while Craig sat in the middle furrowing his brow. After he’d let everyone talk for a minute he raised a hand for quiet.

  “OK. What Kyle said could make sense if, if, we could link Fox and McAllister to Rey’s gang in some way. If they were all part of The Rock, that’s providing the gang has branches outside Belfast which we haven’t confirmed, then that could have made all three men obstacles in the way of a takeover, making sense of why they were killed.”

  He saw Liam about to interrupt and hurried on. “However, so far we have absolutely nothing to link them. Xavier Rey has just given us some of his trade and supply routes and, Liam can correct me if I’m wrong, but none of them had anything to do with bookies, petrol or Armagh. Liam?”

  The D.C.I. shook his head. “Nope. As far as we know The Rock’s trade is based in west and south Belfast and they don’t deal in fuel, although the gambling’s a weak link, maybe, with their numbers games. Rey didn’t mention Fox or McAllister, but then he didn’t give anyone’s name.”

  “No, you’re right, he didn’t. So go back and run McAllister’s and Fox’s names past him and see if he blinks. But the operative words here could be as far as we know. It’s very possible that Xavier Rey deliberately withheld information on the gang’s operations outside Belfast.”

  Suddenly Davy gave a noisy “Yes!”

  “Does that mean O’Shea is up for retirement?”

  “End of the year.”

  Annette gave a defeated nod. “That explains why he was so unhelpful. He’s probably just biding his time until he leaves.”

  Liam blustered indignantly. “That’s no bloody excuse! He’s getting paid until his last day so he should do the bloody work.” He ended the sentence by glaring at Andy, who pointedly ignored him.

  Craig sighed. “OK, so we have no direct connections between our victims, and a lethargic liaison officer.” He wrote up the word ‘girl’ and tapped the board. “Two of our deaths have featured a young woman on the periphery. In Rey’s case she was described as blonde, in Fox’s they found a blonde hair, but we all know about disguises-”

  Andy cut in. “Niall Henderson said she was blonde and foreign.”

  “Which country?”

  “He didn’t know.”

  “OK. The girl might be something or nothing, but as soon as you get that sketch send it over to Davy and Ash.” He turned to the analysts. “I want it run through every security database here and overseas. Annette, get a copy of it to O’Shea to run through the Republic’s database.” He glance
d at Kyle and Jake in turn. “I want you two to work with Ash on checking any connections between the three cases. Kyle, include the Albanians in that. Meanwhile, Annette, speak to Mara McAllister and Mitchell Purvis again, see if they knew any of the other victims.”

  He raked his hair. He was wrecked and if he was then the others must be too. It was time to wind up for the day.

  “OK, Liam and I will follow up with Rey. Andy, I want you to check out the cab driver that dropped off the boys that night; he could have tipped off the girl where they’d be. Also, I want the cabbie Matias called after his friend went to the ED.” He shot the D.C.I. a warning glance. “But absolutely do not let Xavier Rey know that you suspect any of his drivers or we could have another death on our hands.”

  He stopped for a moment, running through things in his head. Matias Rey: trade routes, cab drivers, sketch of the girl, Albanian links, hotel.

  “Davy, anything on the hotel?”

  Davy shook his head. “I’ve checked all registrations that day and the girl gave a false name.”

  Craig nodded and returned to his run through. Colin McAllister: follow up on Kennedy and Purvis, the forensics on the tank and farm, and the links with the south. Calum Fox… They still knew very little about Calum Fox.

  “Liam and I will dig into Calum Fox tomorrow. One last thing, we visited Tommy Hill today and I’m convinced he’s found a way to slip his tag. Put the word out that he’s to be lifted if anyone sees him.”

  He stood up, pointing at Andy and Ash. “You two, join me in my office, please. I need an update on Miskimmon. And don’t look so worried, it’ll be quick.”

  Andy nodded, adopting his best man of the world expression. “Aye, ’cos some of us are heading out on the town tonight.”