The bespoke hitman, p.11
The Bespoke Hitman, page 11
‘You’re being uncharacteristically quiet,’ Harry said, turning his attention to Boyd. ‘You here today, or what?’
‘What? Oh! Yes … I’m here, sir. Sorry, didn’t mean to drift.’
‘Keep your drifting for when you’re all-at-sea. What’s your take on this?’
‘Well … it does look like they’ve been fighting over the money. I’d say it was his mates who did this.’
‘Thank you for that. It was very informative,’ Harry said sarcastically, eyeing Boyd suspiciously.
‘Sorry … sorry, sir. Have a few things on my mind …’
‘Door-to-door questioning done, Kerr?’
‘Being carried out right now, sir, by four uniforms.’
‘Is this McCabe’s car, Bill? Do we have a record of him owning one?’
‘We’re running the plates. Also, Forensic will be going over it – though it’ll be a mess with what the young louts did to it, pissing and shitting on the seats, taking a dump in the dump.’
‘Dirty wee thugs. CCTV?’
‘In this area? Ha! They’d steal them. I checked a couple of local shops, but they only have dummy ones. Say no more.’
Harry shook his head with disgust, walking back towards his car.
‘Bill? Bring Mister Nolan in for questioning.’
‘A pleasure. Want me to rearrange his features, in the back room?’
‘No. Rough stuff’s out – for the moment. Kid gloves now; knuckledusters later, if needed. Bring him in discreetly. No press alerts.’
‘Okay.’
‘I’m heading off to the High Court as a witness for the prosecution. Probably be there most of the day. A waste of time. A dirty deal is always done near the end, wasting everyone’s time. Also, make sure you track down the owner of the car, if it turns out this wasn’t McCabe’s or – Jesus, I don’t believe it. Is that who I think it is?’ Harry indicated with his chin at a man across the street carrying a doctor’s medical bag.
McCauseland looked across the street, nodded. ‘Frankie Flanagan, of all people.’
Flanagan was in his late fifties, immaculately dressed and sporting gold-rimmed spectacles. He resembled a doctor making house calls.
‘Flanagan!’ Harry voice trumpeted.
Flanagan appeared deaf to Harry’s booming voice, but his walk sped up dramatically, until his feet were practically doing a jig along the street.
‘Don’t have me going after you! Get your arse over here – now!’
Flanagan slowed down to a reluctant crawl. Came to a complete stop. Turned, then made his way across the street to where Harry waited. He looked uncomfortable under Harry’s interrogatory gaze.
‘Oh, hello, Mr Thompson … didn’t notice you … I … was deep in thought.’
‘Deep in thought!’ Harry harrumphed loudly. ‘The only thing deep about you are your pockets – or the shit you get into, burgling the homes of the rich.’
‘I haven’t done that in three years, Mister Thompson.’ Frankie sounded hurt.
‘Because you’ve been in bloody prison down south for the last three years, that’s bloody why! When did you get out? I thought you had at least another year to do?’
‘Good behaviour.’
‘Good behaviour, my arse. Good behaviour so you can return to bad behaviour.’
‘Honestly, Mister Thompson, those days are behind me.’
‘Why are you shaking so much? Nervous?’
‘I’m ball-freezing. Can’t afford a good heavy coat like yours, Mister Thompson. You know what they say: you know it’s cold outside when you go outside and it’s cold.’
‘So, if I asked you to open up your bag of tricks, there would be no tricks in it?’
‘I’ll prove it to you.’ Frankie started opening the bag.
‘Forget it. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt – this time. not the next.’
‘Thank you, Mister Thompson. I really appreciate that, it helps me believe that society is not out to persecute a person who has seen the errors of his past ways, and –’
‘Save the bullshit for the next time I see you in a cell.’
‘Can I go, now, Mister Thompson? I’ve an appointment with my parole officer, and I don’t want to be late.’
‘I suppose you know nothing of the body found at the church?’
‘Body? What body?’
‘What did you think was under the cover, right behind you?’
Frankie’s body didn’t move an inch, but his eyeballs did a peripheral three-sixty-degree movement.
‘As God is my witness, Mister Thompson, that’s the first time I’ve laid eyes on it.’
‘Lucky for you, I believe you. But take heed: I’ll be keeping my eyes firmly on your future behaviour. Now beat it.’
Harry waited until Frankie had moved on before getting into his car. He adjusted the rear-view mirror, pinning its reflection on Boyd standing off to the side, a worried look on his face.
You’re up to something, Boyd, and I intend to find out what the hell it is.
Chapter Seventeen
Did you ever want to forget anything? Did you ever want to cut away a piece of your memory or blot it out? You can’t, you know.
Al Roberts, Detour
Having spent most of the day forensically cleaning the converted garage, Rasharkin returned to his apartment, two streets away, just as night lights were coming on.
Once inside, he hit the button on the TV remote, closed all curtains, stripped, then entered the shower.
He turned the shower up full blast, allowing the propulsion of hot water to attack his skin. Pushed the hot water button a fraction. The water intensified its heat, forcing him to grit his teeth. Pushed the button again. Longer this time. The scorching water was turning his skin wound-raw. Unbearable to most human beings, he stood there in defiance.
Despite living in a world void of excuses, focusing only on what was clear and incontrovertible, guilt was seeping into him. It didn’t matter how hard he fought to hold it at bay. He tried to empty his mind, to clear the emotional debate, knowing it invited weakness and vulnerability, but a newscaster’s accusing voice was steadily filtering through the walls:
Police still have not released the name of the murder victim whose body was discovered this morning beside a derelict church in the north of the city. Unconfirmed reports suggest the man had been tortured, as well as –
‘Damn you, McCabe!’ He slapped the wall violently.
Something in McCabe’s face and demeanour had unnerved him. Yes, he had eventually gathered all that he needed, info-wise, but at what cost? Torture? Was that his net worth now? Dust from a dead man’s pocket? In the past, he had always managed to break a man – any man – with psychological terror alone. He had never had to resort to actual physical torture, using fear as a weapon to glean information. Ultimately, brain had always triumphed over brawn, but not this time. No, not this fucking time.
‘Damn you …’
He had never met a man like McCabe before. Even when he threatened to remove his balls, he still resisted. Until resistance became futile, and the bluff of bringing McCabe’s wife and son into the equation finally sealed the deal and McCabe’s fate.
Turning the shower off, he stepped from its enclosure. Dried. Made his way to the bedroom. On the bed, he considered the two names, and the details he had on each of them: Brian Ross and Charlie Madden.
Quickly dressing, he headed out into the night.
Chapter Eighteen
‘This town stinks like a whorehouse at low tide.’
Jim Malone, The Untouchables
It was late by the time Harry returned to the station from court. As predicted, it had all been a waste of time, with dirty deals being agreed to, all to save time and money. Justice, as usual, ran a poor second.
Boyd greeted him as he was about to enter his office.
‘The Tele has McCabe’s murder on the front page, sir. They’re saying it was drug-related, and his accomplices are chief suspects in his murder.’
‘Almost as imaginative as your response when I asked you this morning.’
Boyd’s face flushed. ‘I’m sorry about –’
‘Any news on the car?’
‘Nothing … nothing yet. On a plus side, we have Nolan downstairs. Arrested an hour ago at home. Came without a struggle. He’s saying nothing, as usual.
‘We’ll see if he still feels like doing Harpo Marx impersonations after a few days down there, sleep deprivation and lights burning the eyes off him.’
‘He wants his solicitor.’
‘I know what he wants, and it’s not a bloody solicitor. Anyway, if he’s not talking, we can’t hear him.’
‘Scarface Logan and a couple of his associates have been arrested, also.’
‘That low-watt lightbulb? Why? What’s the charge?’
‘They’re being questioned about the murder.’
‘What? Who the hell gave the orders for that bullshit?’
Boyd pointed upwards. ‘McCafferty.’
‘McCafferty’s as useful as a concrete pop-up book. Logan’s only interested in drugs, not blood. Bad for business. And he certainly does not do bank robberies. Wouldn’t have the balls.’
‘McCafferty’s left word he wants to see you, as soon as you come in.’
Harry sighed. The last thing he wanted was another meeting with McCafferty, and his litany of official bullshit. He had gone through enough bullshit in court to last a month.
‘I need to talk to you first. In my office.’
‘Can it wait? I’m finishing the report on McCabe and –’
‘That can wait. What I’ve to say can’t.’
Boyd followed Harry into the office.
‘Close the door.’
‘Anything wrong?’
Harry folded his arms, looked directly into Boyd’s face. ‘You tell me.’
‘I … I don’t know what you mean.’
‘No? Two years ago, I stuck my neck and reputation on the line for you, when they tried to kick you out of the Force for gambling. No other squad wanted anything to do with you. Remember?’
‘Of course, and … and I’m eternally grateful for that.’
‘Not grateful enough, it would seem.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You’re the detective. You tell me.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Want to really piss me off? Keep playing dumb.’
‘I’m not trying to piss you off or –’
‘You haven’t been gambling? Part of the deal was that you’d never be involved in any sort of gambling again.’
Boyd’s left cheek did a little nervous tick.
‘I swear to God, I wouldn’t –’
‘Don’t finish. I’d hate to think you’d look me in the eyes, and lie like a mongrel dog.’
‘I … I … wouldn’t. I owe you too much.’
‘That’s right, and never bloody forget that. Something’s going on with you. Your work’s getting sloppy again, just like when you were pissing your wages into every loan shark’s bank account. I need intelligence, not indulgence. How long’s it been since you were at GA?’
‘How long?’
‘Is there a bloody echo in here?’
‘A … few weeks … a month, maybe.’
‘Actually, it’s been two months. I checked. That was part of the deal, also, you to attend Gamblers Anonymous. Every week. Every meeting. No excuses. What part of that agreement did you not understand?’
‘You’re right. What can I say? I’ve let you down by not attending. I’m sorry.’
‘Never mind the drama and bullshit. I get enough of that from McCafferty. From here on in, you attend every Thursday night. I’ll be checking, so don’t try being a crafty bastard by getting someone else to sign in for you. One more slip-up, and you’re gone. Out on your arse, and you can bet on that. Do I make myself clear?’
Boyd couldn’t hold Harry’s glare.
‘Yes, sir … perfectly.’
‘I’m putting you on evening duty for the next two weeks. Any problems with that? Because if you have, you can always ask to get transferred.’
‘No … no problems, sir.’
‘Good. Now get the hell out of my sight and start producing results.’
Harry waited a few moments after Boyd had left, then made his way upstairs.
Outside McCafferty’s office door, a man, tall of build, stood stoically, like a silent sentinel of cement and steel. He ignored Harry’s friendly nod.
Harry knocked once on McCafferty’s door, then entered.
‘You wanted to see me, sir?’
McCafferty looked tense. A copy of the Belfast Telegraph rested on his desk.
‘Close the door, please, Harry. Have a seat.’
Harry closed the door. Remained standing.
‘Got a bodyguard looking after you now?’ Harry forced a smile.
‘Pardon?’
‘The Brother Grimm, outside the door.’
McCafferty ignored the quip. Held the newspaper up, showing a photo of Jim McCabe’s covered body. ‘Grisly stuff. What’s your take on it?
‘Too early to draw conclusions. In-fighting, perhaps; maybe a smokescreen for someone else’s bloody hand. I see you gave the order to arrest Scarface Logan? You don’t seriously believe he’s involved?’
‘A bone for the press to gnaw on, keep them happy for a few days, before we release him on bail with some sort of drug offence.’
‘I already have the main suspect: Seamus Nolan. He’s waiting patiently for me, down in the dungeons. I suspect his involvement in this, somewhere. I was just about to interrogate him.’
‘You need to release him.’
Harry looked as if he’d just been kicked in the balls. Twice. Hard.
‘Release him?’
The side door opened, and the man with shark eyes walked into the room. Harry felt a tightness in his stomach; suspected the smirking face was a precursor of something ominous about to be announced.
‘You don’t look too pleased to see me, Thompson, I’m pleased to say.’
‘What the hell’s this got to do with you, Purvis, or MRF?’
‘I don’t have to explain anything to you, but I will, out of professional courtesy. First of all, Brother Grimm, as you referred to him, is Carson McComb, one of my team of investigators.’
‘Investigators? Good to hear you got yourself a wee gang. You deserve it, after being sidelined so many times for recurring failures.’
‘Still Mister Smart Mouth, eh, Thompson? One day your smart mouth is going to walk you into trouble; trouble you’ll not be able to talk your way out of.’
Harry was about to snap a reply, but McCafferty moved to deflate the tension.
‘Gordon and his team have been observing Nolan for quite some time, Harry, and the people he’s associated with.’
‘That was until you messed things up.’ Purvis pointed his finger inches from Harry’s face. ‘Now you’ve turned the whole thing into an unmitigated disaster, jumping in and arresting Nolan.’
‘He’s a suspect in a brutal murder. Normally, that’s what we do with suspects in murder cases. Arrest them. I know that might be difficult for you to understand, having screwed most things up throughout your career.’
‘Okay, Harry, enough,’ McCafferty said. ‘Let Gordon finish what he has to say.’
‘We suspect Nolan has sympathies with others opposed to the Good Friday Agreement,’ Purvis said. ‘And in fact, that he is channelling money and weapons to them.’
‘Now, I thought all the weapons were destroyed? You boys were supposed to be overseeing that, right?’
‘Realistically, it was never going to be possible to account for every weapon, or every ounce of explosive. Of the tons that were destined to be destroyed, some inevitably managed to slip through the net, and into the hands of people like Nolan. That’s why we need him released ASAP, to continue our investigation and monitoring.’
‘Monitoring? Is that what you call it? Like monitoring him depositing his pocket money at the Bank of New Republic, before it was liberated by Larry, Curly and Moe? Are you saying that it was all done right under your nose?’
Purvis bristled. ‘You can hardly talk. By the looks of things, you’ve already lost one suspect who won’t be getting interrogated. I’m here to see it doesn’t happen again.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I’m taking over the Bank of New Republic case. I need you to turn over all files and evidence you’ve gathered on the robbery.’
‘Adding brass to your balls asking me to –’
‘Actually, the asking’s over; I’m telling you.’
‘You get to tell me nothing. I’m still in charge of this case.’
‘I’m stationed on the fifth floor, Thompson. In Jackson’s old office. I expect everything filed about the robbery to be on my desk by tomorrow morning.’ Purvis turned and left by the front door.
‘What the hell’s he on, talking shit like that?’ Harry looked at McCafferty. ‘What? What’s the look for? I am still in charge, right?’
‘This has come from the very top, Harry. MI5 are involved now. It’s out of my hands. I don’t have a say in it, whatsoever.’
‘But Purvis, of all people. That bastard’s always been a force-within-a-force, operating unrestrictedly.’
‘Look, Harry, I know you two have history, but Purvis is good at what he does.’
‘Murdering an old cop because of his religion?’
McCafferty’s face tightened. ‘Those allegations were never proven, and you shouldn’t be repeating them – especially in my presence.’
‘Oh, I know he did it. We all do. One day, I’ll prove it. Justice will be served, one way or another.’
‘I could repeat the same question you just asked me. What the hell are you on, talking shit like that, making veiled threats?’
‘Will that be all, sir?’ Harry walked to the door, and opened it.
‘Look, at the end of the day, Harry, there’s nothing you or I can do about the present situation. He’s in charge, until new instructions come through. Let him have all the pressure. You’ve only a handful of weeks before retirement. Sit it out.’
