The Careless Word (#8 - The Craig Crime Series) (23 page)

Liam shook his head slowly, his mind still on Nicky’s words. He had a hunch about something but he was keeping quiet about it until he’d checked it out.

“Nope. He didn’t know anything about his Mum’s death, I’m sure of that, and he definitely didn’t order her hit. He was gutted when he found out she was dead. There’s an uncle in Glasgow, Sharpy’s brother, but until social services make contact the lad’s been taken into care.” He turned to Annette and his voice took on a slightly grudging tone. “You were right, cutty. He couldn’t stay on his own at fifteen. He just seemed older because of the life he’d led.”

Annette nodded. “It’s a hard call because he’s spent his life around UKUF; they’re his family. But he can go back to them in a few months when he reaches sixteen.”

“If he wants to. Who knows, a few months in a normal family might show him a better life.”

Annette gave a sceptical sniff. “That’s always supposing Sharon Greer’s brother isn’t just as bad as she was.”

Craig nodded. What were the odds of that?

Liam continued. “With the whole Greer clan out of the way that means there’ll be a battle for the crown, so watch this space.”

Craig nodded. “I spoke to Geoff Hamill in Gang Crime, so they’ve been warned that it’s coming.”

Liam had finished so Craig turned back to Davy. He was scribbling a line of programme on the back of a page. Eventually he noticed the silence and looked up.

“S…Sorry, chief, I was writing a programme for shoe identification, but it can w…wait. OK...” Davy loped over to his desk and took a seat, beckoning them all to follow. A moment later his horseshoe of screens filled with images of Gresham Street.

“Right. This is last Thursday, the afternoon of the bomb.” He pointed to his left-hand screen. “This one s…shows the street outside Papyrus and the right-hand one is the shop’s interior. W…Watch the street film from one-forty-five.”

They watched as a dark Mercedes pulled up on Gresham Street. It held three figures. The rear passenger door opened and a woman stepped out. She leaned back in and said something to a figure on the back seat, then crossed the street to Papyrus and entered the shop.

“That was S…Sharon Greer. The next five minutes are boring, so I’ll fast-forward.”

At one-fifty Davy slowed the tape again, just as a man walked down the pavement opposite the Mercedes and entered the shop. “You can’t see his face from this angle, but take my word for it, that’s Barry McGovern. I’ve had a good look at the enlarged s...stills. Now, w…watch the car driver.”

Sure enough, as soon as McGovern entered the shop the driver stepped out and scanned the street, then he relaxed slightly and lit a cigarette. He looked just like a chauffeur waiting for his passenger, except that his steroid-bulked shape and the bulge in his jacket said he hadn’t attended a nice training school.

“No-one entered the shop after that.”

Liam cut in. “So that means Delaney, Robinson and Kouri were already inside before one-forty-five.”

“Yes, w…which made me think; how could anyone have known that S…Sharon Greer was coming to the shop that day, or Barry McGovern? I haven’t found connections to either of them on Delaney’s laptop or phone.”

Craig shook his head. “Delaney didn’t know, because Greer and McGovern weren’t the targets.”

Annette nodded. “I checked with McGovern’s wife. He just dropped into Papyrus the odd time. He didn’t go regularly on a Thursday afternoon.”

Craig sighed. A completely innocent victim. Liam interrupted his thoughts.

“Which just leaves the shop itself, Jules Robinson or unlucky Mr Kouri as possible targets, boss. That’s if Kouri wasn’t the second bomber.”

“Or something inside the shop was the target, Liam. We’ve stayed away from that possibility until now, but I’m not so sure.” Craig ignored Liam’s questioning look and waved Davy on.

“OK, now w…watch the right-hand screen. It shows the CCTV views from inside the s…shop.”

The screen was split into two CCTV views, covering the front and back of the shop. The tall book shelves hid the centre entirely.

“Where were the interior cameras positioned, Davy?”

“There w…were only two, above the doors.”

“So these are our only views?”

Davy nodded and Craig motioned him to carry on. The film fast-forwarded from one-forty and at one-forty-six Sharpy Greer entered the shop. She browsed for a moment and then headed towards the back, where they could just make-out Jules Robinson stacking shelves. They spoke for a while until at one-fifty-four; Robinson stormed angrily towards the front of the shop. Had they been discussing his protection payments or had Sharpy been telling Robinson he had to vacate the shop so that SNI could have the land?

They watched as Barry McGovern entered the shop just after one-fifty and browsed the shelves towards the front, his face lighting up as he flicked through the books. Just a book-lover, there for a relaxing afternoon. McGovern asked Jules Robinson something about a book and they started to chat pleasantly. Fintan Delaney was standing near the front door, ostensibly reading a book and then playing with his phone. Davy pressed pause and re-started the street screen. As the time reached one-fifty-eight they saw what he’d wanted to show them. The shop’s ‘open’ sign was suddenly turned to ‘closed’ and the front door blind came down.

Craig exclaimed loudly. “Damn. Damn. Damn.”

All eyes turned to him and Liam nodded slowly, understanding what Craig was swearing about.

“That’s why Delaney stood by the door! To make sure no-one else came in. He knew the bomb was about to explode and he was trying to limit the number of deaths.”

Annette shook her head. “But why not close the door earlier and save more lives, if we’re sure that it wasn’t Sharpy or McGovern the bomb was aimed at?”

Craig shook his head. “Any earlier and someone inside might have got suspicious and called the police. Delaney had to wait until the last minute.”

Davy stared at Craig, waiting for permission to continue. Craig nodded him on.

“OK. W…Watch what the Mercedes driver does at two o’clock.”

From one-fifty-eight, when Papyrus’ front door closed, Davy played the street screen in slow time. The Mercedes’ chauffeur lit a fresh cigarette and scanned Gresham Street, bored. At two p.m. precisely he jerked his head towards the shop and reached inside his jacket, withdrawing a gun. He ran towards the shop then stopped halfway as if he’d thought better of it or been called back, then he jumped into the car and screeched off in the direction of town.

“He heard the explosion and you saw his reaction. He went towards the shop to check on S…Sharon Greer, but w…whoever was in the Mercedes wanted out of there fast.”

Davy tapped the screen again and the team saw the greys of the shop’s exterior façade disappear in a ball of white at two p.m. It enveloped the street, depositing shards of glass and wood on the road and opposite pavement. They grew more visible as the white glow gradually disappeared.

Annette was the first to speak. “Who was in the car?”

“What?”

“Who was in the car Sharon Greer arrived in? Her men dropped her off at Castle Court nearly an hour earlier, so who owned the Mercedes?”

Craig paused; surprised by the question and by the fact that he hadn’t considered it. Liam chanced an answer.

“SNI? If Sharpy was meeting them at Castle Court they might have driven her round to the shop. They could afford a decent car and chauffeur.”

Annette nodded. “Maybe. That means it must have been someone from SNI in the back seat.”

Craig nodded. “Good pick-up, Annette. Run the plates and confirm it, please.” He motioned Davy to continue playing the film from inside the shop.

Davy cast a nervous look around the group, as if warning them what was to come. Craig took the hint.

“We’re about to see the interior of the shop at the moment of explosion. Anyone who doesn’t wish to see this, it’s fine to go back to work.”

Nicky took Craig up on his offer but everyone else stayed put. Liam’s face set in a grim mask and Craig knew he was thinking of the friends he’d lost in bomb blasts, and that Ken must be thinking the same about Iraq. Davy tapped on the screen and ran the shop tape again from one-fifty-five. They watched as Jules Robinson chatted happily to Barry McGovern, about a book from the shop’s wall shelves.

“That w…was the ancient history section.” Davy paused the tape again and tapped up the shop’s floor plan on his centre screen. “History was along the side w…wall, politics on the high bookshelf nearest the front, literature and religion towards the back.”

Liam interjected. “The place sounds like a barrel of laughs; I’m surprised they sold anything.”

At one-fifty-five Fintan Delaney set down the book he was perusing and made a show of playing with his phone. Liam waved Davy to stop the tape and turned to Smith.

“Could the bomb have been detonated by a phone?”

Smith shook his head. “Could have been but wasn’t. The watch was the timer. I think Delaney was just playing with his phone to look busy.”

Craig nodded. “Were there any outgoing calls or texts from Delaney’s phone during the time of this tape?”

Davy shook his head. “None. I think Captain Smith is right. The phone was just a displacement activity.”

He pressed start again and they watched as at one-fifty-eight, Fintan Delaney locked the shop’s front door, set the sign to ‘closed’ and then slowly drew down the blind. The tape ran forward slowly as McGovern and Robinson chatted happily, oblivious to what was about to occur. Delaney moved nervously from foot to foot and then at two o’clock precisely the screen whited-out. Craig signalled to freeze the tape. He was frowning, but not for the same reason the rest of them were. He signalled Davy to reverse the tape.

“Oh, sir, do we really have to see it again?”

“I’m sorry Annette, but yes. I saw something. Davy, take it back to one-fifty-eight please.” Craig leaned in, peering at the screen intently as it ran from Delaney shutting the front door to the moment of the blast. He nodded emphatically.

“Yes! Davy, print me out an enlarged still of Delaney at one-fifty-nine.”

One minute later Craig was pointing at the page and the others were wondering what they were supposed to see. Smith saw it first. “My God! He’s bowing. Delaney bowed to his right-hand-side just before the blast!”

“Yes. And my money says he was bowing towards the South-East. Davy, check which direction that side of the shop faces.”

Liam rubbed his chin, half-seeing but not convinced. “Maybe he was just bowing to the people he knew he was about to kill.”

Craig raised his eyebrow sceptically. “Except that they were at the back or left side of the shop from where he stood. No-one was on his right-hand-side.”

Davy stared at his screen and gasped. “It’s South-East! You were right.”

Craig nodded. “He was bowing towards Mecca.” He wasn’t finished. “Delaney said something, Davy, just before he bowed, he definitely said something. I want a lip-reading expert to tell us what it was.”

Smith whispered the words that he’d heard every day in Iraq. “Allah Hu Akbar.” He shook his head sadly and then repeated them aloud. “It was Allah Hu Akbar. God is great.”

If they were right then Fintan Delaney had left the God of his youth and his parents far behind and died for a completely different way of life.

***

1.30 p.m.

Determination was one of Nicky’s virtues, or faults if you were her son Jonny and the topic was his homework. Nicky’s determination to see her son graduate from university someday, preferably as a doctor or nuclear physicist, was a driving force in his life, manifesting itself in evenings spent doing homework and extra tutoring some weekends. Jonny’s determination to kick a ball around the garden with his mates was just as strong. It resulted in frequent stand-offs which Nicky inevitably won, because she was his mother and he loved her. But also because Nicky could be Machiavellian when she had to be and she considered no tactic too low when she wanted something, including tears.

Nicky’s current problem was that being in an office instead of at home, and her target being a stubborn thirty-something woman instead of a twelve-year-old boy who loved her, things weren’t likely to go so smoothly. Her cajoling, orders and tears were unlikely to have an effect on Carmen McGregor.

As Nicky sat plotting how to get Carmen together with the obviously adoring Ken, Liam caught her eye. He raised an eyebrow slowly to say that he knew exactly what she was up to, then lifted a file as if it contained something of portent and loped noisily across to her desk. He perched on its edge and gave her a sceptical look. After a full minute of ignoring him Nicky made a fatal mistake; she glanced up. It was only a microsecond’s glance, barely visible to the naked eye, but it was enough to tell Liam two things; A, he’d won the stalemate and B, she looked as sneaky as hell. He leaned in and spoke in his quietest voice, which meant that only Davy and Annette could overhear.

“What are you up to?”

Nicky sniffed indignantly. “I don’t know what you mean!”

“Don’t kid a kidder. You’re trying to match-make McGregor and Smith, poor sod. What did he ever do to you?”

“Carmen’s nice. She’s just lonely.”

Liam snorted. “Nice? And I suppose you think Hitler was just misunderstood!”

Davy strolled over to join them. “I’m running a book on them getting together. Do you fancy a bet, Liam?”

Liam gave a look of faux-shock, like a parent pretending to surprised when his child suggested that he might ever have got drunk.

“Tut, tut, gambling in the work-place. What would the boss say?”

“He put down twenty quid.”

Nicky glanced over at the contenders. They seemed absorbed in their work. Or rather Carmen seemed absorbed in her work; Ken just seemed absorbed in her.

“Look at that; he really likes her.”

Liam gawped at the pair. Nicky was right. “I need to get that lad drunk and find him a woman.”

“Liam!”

Liam ducked backwards, expecting a frontal assault from Nicky. As a smack hit him on the back of the head he realised too late that his name had been called by Annette. She’d joined the group without him noticing.