Killing for Keeps (19 page)

D
awn . . . somewhere on the outskirts of Glasgow. A mist hung over the valley. All was still. Surrounded by woodland and farms on three sides, Finn O’Kane’s main
residence was a mansion by English standards. Kate was standing on high ground, viewing it through binoculars, trying to work out a strategy. The only sound was birdsong and there was no sign of
anything untoward.

The approach wasn’t good: a six-foot high fence,
Keep Out
gates, a long drive leading to the front door and CCTV. All the shutters were closed, so no chance of seeing anyone
walking around inside. Trewitt was right: mounting an operation without anyone getting hurt was a logistical nightmare.

This could go horribly wrong.

On the way to their location, Hank and Trewitt had travelled in one car, Kate and Randolph in her Q5. He was nearing retirement, a man with the physical characteristics of a front-row forward.
That might come in handy, bearing in mind the fear that their suspect wouldn’t come quietly. Throughout the journey, he talked constantly about their target. It was clear he’d taken a
special interest in Finn O’Kane and his older brother Craig, tracking their every move in the past ten years.

Shame they’d managed to evade his scrutiny last week, Kate was thinking, but didn’t say.

Randolph’s voice brought her focus back to the house. ‘Can’t believe he’ll be there when he knows we’re after him. He’s got more off than that. He’s a
cunning bastard, make no mistake.’

‘That’s precisely why I want it searched,’ Kate said, without taking her eyes off the property.

‘Ma’am?’

The DCI lowered her binoculars. Before she could answer, a truck loaded with logs coasted by on the dirt-track road, the female driver giving her the once-over. Kate shifted her gaze to
Randolph. ‘Best place to hide is right under our noses. Happened to me once: a guy I was hunting bought the police house right next door to the station. Paid cash too – probably from
his ill-gotten gains. Took us months to find him.’

‘Class!’ Randolph pointed at the house. ‘What d’you reckon then?’

‘Can’t see any dogs,’ Hank said, to no one in particular.

‘Doesn’t mean they’re not there,’ Trewitt offered.

‘I agree.’ Kate glanced at her Scottish colleagues. ‘If they’re as ferocious as you say, we’re going to have to incapacitate them. Doesn’t sound like a noose
will do it. I want two dog men, a vet, a couple of DCs, someone from SOCO and a TSG Group – one sergeant and seven. Can you fix that up?’

‘Is that all?’ Trewitt was being sarcastic.

‘We’re paying for it, Matthew. Why should you care?’

‘Fair comment,’ he said. ‘Consider it done.’

‘Any other escape routes?’ Hank asked.

Randolph was shaking his head. ‘On foot, maybe, but they’re hardly going to make a run for it, are they?’

Kate scanned the house again, then told Trewitt she’d seen and heard all she needed. He got in his car and drove off alone, promising to rally the troops she required.

‘Ready to go?’ Hank asked.

She stood her ground.

‘You really think he’s in there?’ Randolph asked.

Kate didn’t offer an answer. She could tell from his expression that he reckoned she was off her trolley even considering it as a possibility. Maybe he was right. She’d had better
weeks. But even so, she had the distinct feeling that her luck was about to change.

She was close. She could feel it. And that was good enough for her.

L
eaving DC Randolph in position until arrangements could be made for someone to relieve him, Kate drove Hank to the hotel, promising him the meal he’d missed when they
left at five-thirty. They had a long day ahead of them. It might be hours before they had another chance to fill up. The dining room was full and they had to wait for a table. Kate wondered if it
was always this busy or if there was some kind of convention on, or maybe a major gig in the city. Her idle musing triggered a thought: if O’Kane was into music, it might draw him out from
wherever he was hiding.

Making a mental note to check it out, she glanced at her watch, desperate to get going.

Hank grimaced, thoughts of a disappearing breakfast too hard to bear. The waitress arrived in the nick of time, showing them to a table and taking their order straight away. After they had
eaten, Kate signed for the food. Scooping her bag off the floor, she stood up, telling Hank she wanted the operation on O’Kane’s house ready to go in four hours maximum.

‘The warrant included.’ She gave him her car keys. ‘You can drop me at the train station first.’

‘You sure you don’t want to take the car?’ he said, as they walked to the Q5 and got in. ‘I could put the bite on Trewitt for one of theirs.’

‘No, you keep it.’ Drawing her seat belt across her, she reminded him that on a Saturday morning it would be as quick by train. ‘Besides, I want you mobile in case O’Kane
makes an appearance.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘But it’s my car, so no parking it anywhere dodgy. And remember, you’re not Starsky or Hutch.’

‘Aww,’ Hank grinned. ‘You’re no fun.’

‘I mean it,’ she said. ‘Any damage comes out of your pay.’

They drove to Glasgow Central station in silence, rain hammering on the windscreen. People sheltered under umbrellas as they headed into work, passing the old and the new of what the city had to
offer: dilapidated red sandstone buildings in the foreground, contemporary pieces of architecture in the distance, a poster for the Glasgow Royal Concert Hall, an advertisement for the Bank of
Scotland
Great Scottish Run
.

Kate checked the date on her mobile phone. Race day was tomorrow, Sunday, 2 September.

‘Pull up here,’ she said, as they neared the station.

Hank brought the car to a halt on double-yellows. She asked him to fetch a newspaper and a return ticket for her journey while she made a call to let Edinburgh officers know she was on her way.
The paper was to check out what was on in the city, she explained. She could do that on the train. ‘According to Randolph, Finn O’Kane likes the high life. If he’s such a flash
bastard, maybe he’ll crawl out from under his rock if there’s something good on tonight.’

‘Safety in numbers?’ Hank offered, getting out.

‘Something like that.’ Kate checked the street. ‘I’ll wait here. We don’t want to get done for parking illegally.’

As he walked away, she pulled out her phone and called Lothian and Borders HQ, asking for directions and letting the duty DCI know she’d be there in a little over an hour. As she rang off,
Hank yanked open the door and got in the car empty-handed.

‘You can cash a cheque in there and put a bet on,’ he said. ‘You can’t buy a newspaper.’

‘It’s a train station!’

‘You can’t get a train there either, I checked.’

She looked at him oddly.

‘There’s only one an hour. You missed it. You’ll have to go to Queen Street where they run every fifteen minutes.’

K
ate ran up the steps, passing a bilingual English/Gaelic sign:
Welcome to Queen Street – Fàilte gu Sràid na Banrighinn
. Securing a return ticket
to Edinburgh Waverley, she grabbed a coffee to go and called Jo as she waited for the 08:45 train due into the capital at 09:37. Jo didn’t pick up, so Kate climbed on board.

Her first journey by rail between the two cities took her through places she’d never heard of, Croy being one. It reminded her of the Tyne Valley line, the train she used to get from
Newcastle to her father’s home in Corbridge – in the days when she used to visit, before they fell out. The landscape was very similar and it even had a golf course alongside the track.
Although it was double the distance, the journey time was much the same with fewer stops along the way.

Edinburgh was as grey as Glasgow had been – only prettier. If she hadn’t been such a fan of her home city, this was the one place Kate would choose to live. It wasn’t looking
its best on account of the construction of the city’s new tramway. There were steel barriers everywhere, blocking off roads, preventing shoppers from crossing Princes Street. Fortunately, it
didn’t affect her as she was hailing a cab.

G
ormley took the warrant from the court clerk and made his way to Pitt Street police station, arriving a little after eleven forty-five. Despite their spat the day before,
Trewitt had been busy. He’d made an operations room available for the Northumbria detectives: a desk, two chairs and a phone they could use either internally or to get an outside line. It
wasn’t a palace, but it was a lot better than some places they had been asked to work in.

DC Randolph had also done his bit, supplying aerial photographs of Finn O’Kane’s home from his extensive dossier. He’d stuck them on the wall, telling Hank they had been taken
by the land agent responsible for the property before it changed hands. There were detailed maps of the interior to go with it.

‘My boss will be impressed,’ Hank said.

‘Don’t get too excited. There’s no news on Finn’s whereabouts.’

‘What about Craig?’

Randolph shook his head.

It was depressing news and, because they had turned over O’Kane’s so-called business premises, they had lost the element of surprise. Hank had nothing to do but wait and hope that
Kate was on the right track.

Come late morning, Randolph led him to the canteen. In the course of a coppers’ chat over a bacon sandwich, it turned out they knew some of the same detectives, including Detective Chief
Superintendent Bright. Randolph and Bright had joined the police around the same time and worked a few national crime squad jobs together.

‘Small world,’ Hank said.

‘He was a flash git when he was young.’

Hank laughed. ‘Hasn’t changed much.’

‘His wife Sheila was nice.’

‘Stella. She died: car crash.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.’

Hank changed the subject: some friendly banter about Bright’s meteoric rise to the top. Eventually the topic of conversation worked its way round to the current case, Randolph confessing
that Scottish crime rates would drop considerably if Kate could take out O’Kane.

‘What’s she like?’ he asked. ‘Seems a bit uptight to me.’

Hank ignored the swipe. ‘She’s a one-off, a great boss, even better detective.’ He wanted to add,
And very upset right now and as mad as a box of frogs half the time
,
but kept his thoughts to himself.

‘She’ll be
my
favourite detective, if she pulls this off,’ Randolph said. ‘Then I can die a happy man.’ He stood up, suggesting they return to work, and
they continued their conversation as they walked out of the canteen and along the corridor. ‘I’ve tried putting Finn away for years. We’ve all tried. Problem is, he, his brother
and the lowlife scum they hang around with know our faces. Every time we get wind of their wrongdoing, they see us coming a mile off and pull out.’

‘You’ve not heard of undercover surveillance then?’ Hank said.

Randolph grinned, appreciating the humour. He opened the door to Hank’s little office. ‘Your boss is an unknown quantity to them. Maybe she’ll have more luck. Only, she’s
not going to be in a position to walk up and introduce herself, is she?’

‘’Fraid not,’ Hank was forced to agree.

‘Maybe this time we’ll get lucky. Question is, can she out-think them?’

Hank sat down. ‘If anyone can,
she
can.’

‘You really rate her, don’t you?’ Randolph pulled up a chair.

‘Bright does too. He’s supported her throughout her career.’

‘She must be good. From my recollection, he doesn’t impress easily.’

‘His faith in her is well deserved. If there’s any justice in the world, she’ll follow him to the very top, fill his shoes when the time comes. But that assumes a meritocracy,
or at least a level playing field. You and I both know that’s bollocks. I’m biased, but she does more work in her bait time than the brass do in a week, and gets very little thanks for
it. It’ll be the same here, no doubt.’

‘If your face fits . . .’ Randolph allowed his comment to trail off to nothing. He pointed at the photographs of O’Kane’s imposing property. ‘Your boss obviously
thinks there’s someone in there.’

‘And you don’t?’ Hank asked.

‘Nope, and I know them a damn sight better than she does.’

‘Fiver says she’s right.’ Hank stuck out his hand, a confident look on his face. ‘I don’t want any of your funny money, mind. Back in Geordistan my newsagent is
loath to accept Scottish dosh.’

Chuckling under his breath, Randolph shook on it, a camaraderie developing between the two detectives. ‘Think I’ll step outside for a smoke. You coming?’

The landline rang.

Hank picked up, answering with his name, waving away the offer to join Randolph outside. As the Scotsman left the room, an excitable voice hit Hank’s ear. The officer keeping covert
observations on the target property spoke so quickly it was all he could do to make out a word he said. ‘Hang on mate,’ Hank said. ‘You’re going to have to slow down and
give me that again.’

‘Dogs!’ the officer said. ‘Going crackers.’

‘Inside?’

‘It’s hard to tell, with the house sitting in a valley the way it does. Could’ve been an animal on one of the adjoining farms. Look, I know this area like the back of my hand.
It’s a hunting, shooting, fishing community. Could be someone rabbiting in the woods. I just thought your DCI would want to know.’

Thanking him, Hank put down the phone. Presumably Finn O’Kane had chosen the property for that very reason; what better place to possess firearms than in a farming community? Hank knew
farms in ‘the shire’ – Hexhamshire in Northumberland – where you could take a gun into a pub after a day’s shooting but couldn’t smoke a tab because of health
and safety.

Crazy world.

That worrying thought lingered in his head as he left the building. O’Kane could do target practice and no one would bat an eyelid. For all Hank knew, there might be an arsenal inside that
house that no one was aware of. As soon as he was en route, he called Kate to update her, suggesting she might consider a firearms team.

She was already on the train, minutes away from Queen Street station. She’d spent an hour with Lothian and Borders, who were now on board. She’d mustered forces, she said. Edinburgh
officers were waiting at the nearest nick for her signal. They hadn’t been told where they were going or what was going down. They were on standby, with a trusted team leader on hand to give
the go-ahead when the time was right.

‘The idea is to hit both homes at the same time,’ she said.

Hank concurred. ‘Sounds like a plan.’

‘As soon as we’re on the move, I’ll brief them,’ she added. ‘Look, I’ve gotta go, train’s pulling in. I want everyone in position and standing by. Sit
tight and wait for me. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Let me know if there are any further developments.’

K
ate ran for the nearest taxi. She got in, telling the driver she’d pay double if he put his foot down – no easy task on a Saturday lunchtime in the centre of
Glasgow. As he pulled away, she called the Lothian and Borders team leader, asking him to mobilize his squad and wait for her signal. Coordinating a double hit was vital for a successful outcome.
She was relying on him to play his part.

She hung up, checked her watch. It was quarter to one
.

The driver was watching her through his rear-view mirror, no doubt wondering who she was and what on earth was going on. He’d probably never had a senior police officer in his cab,
directing operations on something so serious. Kate was grateful he had the good sense not to ask questions, but she wished he’d get a shift on.

As they left the city behind, the sun came out and the sky turned blue, but it wasn’t the improvement in the weather lifting her spirits. It was the adrenalin rush she always felt when she
was closing in on a target. The hideous image of John Allen’s body chained to the underside of a van had remained with her all week, acting as her motivation to keep pushing on. She ached to
apprehend those responsible and put them away.

Short of her destination, her phone rang. Robson asked how things were going. She talked in code, letting him know she was setting up ‘a two-pronged approach to her problem’, knowing
he was astute enough to work the rest out for himself.

‘Any more sightings?’ he asked.

The driver’s eyes again.

‘Sadly, no. Listen, I can’t speak now. Hoping to have news later.’

‘There’s been a development this end,’ Robson said.

Kate glanced out of the window. Although she’d visited Finn’s home that very morning, the landscape wasn’t familiar. Putting Robbo on hold, she leaned forward, tapped the
driver on his shoulder, asking him how much further. He told her two minutes and she went back to her call. ‘Can you be quick, Robbo? I need to pay my driver and keep this line free in case
Hank calls. There’s a lot of stuff going on.’

‘Think I have a handle on Terry Allen’s ring. A silversmith called the incident room. He’d seen the press release and thinks he may be able to help. I’ve sent someone out
to take a statement. If it checks out, I should have more for you by close of play.’

‘Great. Everyone else OK?’

‘They’re fine.’

‘And the rural babysitter?’ She couldn’t mention Blanchland or DC Andy Brown by name with the cab driver listening to her every word.

‘Far as I know.’ Robson paused. ‘It’s been a while since he checked in. McKenzie was getting agitated, slinging his weight around, giving Andy earache. Nothing he
can’t handle.’

‘Try and raise him. Let me know what gives.’

She had another call waiting and rang off.

Gormley also had important news. ‘On scene,’ he said. ‘Minutes before I arrived, the obs guys heard what they thought was a car starting up. A moment ago, a vehicle went along
the ridge. I saw it myself—’

‘Description?’

‘Dark, possibly a four-by-four, only the roof was visible beyond the hedgerow. At first, I wasn’t too concerned because it’s not actually on O’Kane’s
land—’

‘And now you are?’

‘TSG got a call from Control: reported trespass on the farm next door in which a vehicle was used – a dark green Range Rover. One male driver, no passengers.’

‘Hold on, Hank.’ She spoke to the driver. ‘Pull up here.’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘You sure you have the right place? There’s nothing here!’

‘What were you expecting? A brass band?’ Then, to Hank: ‘Have we got a call out for the Range Rover?’

‘Yep, no sign yet.’

The cab swerved to one side and came to an abrupt halt.

Shoving money into the driver’s hand, Kate told him to disappear. Then she was out the door and running along a dirt-track road, arms going like pistons. There was no way she could allow
the cab to jeopardize her operation.

As she neared the brow of the hill, she could see two dog men getting out of their van wearing protective clothing. The TSG were in full riot gear, their team leader giving last-minute
instructions to his men – if they were all men; it was difficult to tell under their combat suits and helmets. A firearms marksman was also standing by.

Everyone was ready.

Attaching a radio to her jacket, Kate took binoculars from Hank and surveyed the scene. Not a sound from the house. Not a chink in the shutters. No sign of anything untoward. She didn’t
want a hair on her head or anyone else’s harmed. It was now or never.

At one o’clock she called Edinburgh.

‘It’s a GO, GO, GO – best of luck.’