The Careless Word (#8 - The Craig Crime Series) (31 page)

They’d confirmed that the two books had had one owner and Davy had just called through with a name; Gareth Holmes. Now they had the owner, Gareth Holmes, the thief, Larry Benner, two buyers, Neeson and Keaton, and three middle men that they knew of; Tommy, Jules Robinson and Alain Berger in Paris.

Craig cut in. “How much?”

Tommy answered in an incongruously prim voice. “I don’t think that’s any of yer business.”

“Dealing in stolen goods is. How much did Robinson pay you, Tommy?”

Tommy shrugged. He’d already spent most of it; good luck to the cops trying to get it back.

“Five grand. I paid Benner one.”

Craig almost laughed at the pettiness of the amount. Jules Robinson had had Jack Neeson lined up to pay millions. Robinson had crossed the line between law and disorder; probably fed up with years of watching crooks making a fortune while he’d struggled by on an average wage. But there was a reason why people instinctively chose one side or another; they usually didn’t have what it took to cross the floor. Trying to be a criminal had killed Jules Robinson.

Craig thought for a moment and then decided that Tommy deserved to know how much at risk he was. In a few minutes Craig outlined the trail of book theft and trafficking across Europe, then he came to the piéce de resistance.

“Did you hear about the bomb in Smithfield last week, Tommy?”

Hill nodded and waved a hand at Liam. “Aye, sure Ghost here was asking me about protection rackets.” His face lit up suddenly. “Here, guess who’s the new boss of UKUF? Only McCrae.” His voice took on a note of pride. “I alays knew that boy wud do well.”

Craig shook his head at Tommy’s definition of ‘well’ and got back to the point. “The bomb was planted at Jules Robinson’s bookshop and we believe that it was set specifically to destroy the book that you obtained for him.”

“What? What the hell for? It was only an aul book. Mouldy looking thing too.”

“The book was considered blasphemous by some people, Tommy and they want anyone who had anything to do with its sale dead.”

Craig paused to let the words sink in then watched as surprise morphed into incredulity and then horror on Hill’s thin face. The aging criminal jumped to his feet in shock.

“Ye mean they… I only got the book for Robinson, I didn’t steal it!”

Craig shook his head. “They don’t care, Tommy. As far as they’re concerned anyone who was involved is fair game, so we need to keep you safe till this blows over.” Craig waited a moment before continuing. “The American authorities will want to speak to you as well. The group who planted the bomb is wanted by them and others.”

Tommy shook his head furiously. “I’m not goin’ to the States. They lock people up fer life fer jaywalking.” He added “Ella…” pathetically and Craig nodded.

“We won’t allow that to happen. You’re an idiot, Tommy, but you’re our idiot. We’ll charge you with dealing in stolen goods and you can explain it all to a judge.”

Craig stood up and gazed at the subdued man. “For God’s sake go straight, Tommy. Or if not for God’s sake for Ella’s, please.”

***

Docklands. 5 p.m.

As Craig and Liam re-entered the squad-room they were treated to the sight of Nicky flirting with Agents Ross and Mulhearn, in a way that had them leaning back in their chairs, more afraid than if they’d been faced with any terrorist. Craig nodded at her in gratitude and slipped into his office with Liam loping behind.

Once there he phoned Carmen at her desk. “Anything on Neeson?”

“Yes, sir. Chief Inspector Duncan had him lifted and he’s in custody now.”

“Good work. When he comes down to High Street you can interview him with Annette. Is Ken there?”

A moment later Smith came on the phone.

“Ken, Nicky’s keeping the CIA busy. Tell me about our friend in Geneva.”

Smith grinned, more pleased at the arms dealer’s arrest than by anything in a long time.

“They’re holding Keaton at their headquarters. It’s brilliant, sir, we’ve been after this guy for years for arms dealing and now we get him because of a book!”

“Ted Bundy was caught during a routine traffic stop. OK, good. Alert MI6 and Major James now please.”

“Already done.”

Craig smiled.

“Just one thing, sir. Keaton’s an American citizen. That means the CIA will want to be involved.”

“Interpol and MI6 will get a crack at him first then the CIA can have their turn. OK, we’ve got the name of the perp who stole the books and the name of their original owner in England. Get onto the English forces to lift them and get them both down to the Met; a Chief Inspector Idowu will be expecting them. Then join us at the briefing. I’ll delay it for five minutes.”

By ten-past-five everyone pretty much knew everything, including the name of the books’ original owner Gareth Holmes, who lived in Cookham Rise in London’s wealthy commuter belt. The Met could find out who he’d got the books from.

Craig kept Tommy Hill’s name until last, giving the two agents a challenging look as he spoke.

“He’s under arrest and going nowhere, so if you want to question him then you’ll have to do it here.”

Ross was about to object when a sudden buzz in his pocket made him take out his phone and exchange a look with Mulhearn. They stood up abruptly. “We need to take a call. Is there…”

“Use my office.”

The two men strode into Craig’s office and a few murmured words were quickly followed by whoops of delight.

Liam gestured towards the noise. “Inhibited pair, aren’t they?”

An even less inhibited series of air-punches followed and when the men re-emerged they looked unfeasibly pleased.

“Anything you can share with us?”

Ross grinned. “We sure can.” He gestured to Davy’s screens. “If your boy could turn on his screen, they’re just sending the images through.”

The boy did as he was bid and they crowded round Davy’s tech horseshoe, watching as grainy black and white images appeared on his central screen. Ross explained in his southern drawl.

“They’re streaming it through from the Pentagon. It’s on a five minute delay.”

Craig squinted at the image. “What are we looking at?”

“The Kharan Desert at night.” Mulhearn glanced at his watch. “It’s after nine p.m. there.”

As they watched the screen, several white shapes moved in the darkness. One or two in the open and the rest inside makeshift tents. There were approximately twenty in all, spread out in a circle four hundred metres across. It was a camp! As soon as the word entered Craig’s mind he knew what was coming. At the periphery of the camp were more white shapes, moving swiftly and on foot. They entered the tents one by one, shooting anyone who resisted in a shower of white gun-fire. In less than a minute there were only three from the twenty shapes still moving and they were being herded forward at the point of a gun. The screen flickered off in a hail of static and they all knew what the agents had been whooping about.

No-one said anything until Craig broke the silence. “How many?”

Mulhearn answered cheerfully. “We got three. They’re on their way back home now.”

Craig’s face was solemn. “I meant how many did you kill?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Disgusted as he was at the terrorists’ behaviour he couldn’t feel much better about what he’d just seen. He pitied the men in custody in Geneva and London and hoped that MI6 got to them first. In that moment he made a decision.

Craig beckoned Carmen and Ken to follow him to his office, leaving the others still gawping at the blacked-out screen. As they entered he spoke quickly.

“I want you two on a plane to Geneva via London tonight. Check on Benner and Holmes in London first. Question them thoroughly and make sure they’re not likely to be extradited to the States, then get to Geneva and do the same for Troy Keaton. Ken, liaise with the military over Keaton’s arms dealing please, and Davy will give you his contacts at MI6 and Interpol. The CIA will want to interrogate everyone who had anything to do with this case, even though it happened on European soil; that’s fine but it’s your job to make sure that only happens under supervision. OK? I want these people to be tried where their crimes were committed. What the European courts decide to do with them is another thing.”

Smith nodded. No-one liked terrorists and thieves, but everything had happened in Europe so they should be tried in its courts. Keaton would be their hardest sell; he was a US citizen.

“Carmen, are you OK to go?”

Carmen nodded excitedly, flattered to be trusted with the police side of the task. Craig smiled, wondering what the odds on their romance would stand at once Davy knew about this. They would have to wait till they got back from John’s wedding to see whether Switzerland’s beauty had had a romantic effect.

“Get ready to leave and call me with regular updates. We’re all on leave from Monday but I’m contactable by phone.”

They slipped out and Craig re-joined the group just as Annette arrived. She was brought up to speed quickly by an awe-struck Davy.

“You s…should have seen it, Annette. They went in and shot…”

Craig beckoned her quickly to one side.

“Nicky said you were following up a hunch?”

Annette dragged her eyes away from the agents and tried to look less shocked than she felt.

“Yes, sir. It may be nothing but something that Hilary Stenson said rang a bell.”

“What bell?”

“Well, I thought that if SNI had worked with a gang like UKUF to get the land they wanted over here, then how many other times had they done it? So I checked the land registry throughout the British Isles.”

“And?”

Annette nodded. “There was always a delay between SNI exploring planning permission on a site and actually buying the land, but they put a huge amount of money into preliminary searches, not only about the land but about its current occupants.”

“They’d been banking on getting the land, whatever it took.”

“Yes. So I contacted the serious crime lads in each city and asked if the areas in question had gangs or protection rackets running in them. And if there’d been any suspicion of pressure being exerted to obtain the land. It’s early days but the facts seem to point to yes, so I thought we should build a case against SNI UK wide, before showing our hand?”

Craig smiled. If Annette was right the case could crack SNI’s racket wide open.

“Do you want to be seconded to Serious Crime until it’s done?”

Annette shook her head. “I can do it in my down time, if that’s OK. SNI have no idea that we’re onto them and they’re going nowhere.”

Craig smiled again, relieved. He didn’t want to lose Annette from the team, but he hadn’t wanted to stand in her way. He had a second thought; how would she fit in all the extra work around her marriage? He decided that she’d probably already made her choice.

He ushered Annette back to the group, marvelling at how what had started as an explosion in a small bookshop had turned into an international case. He was reluctant to allow the agents any more access to his squad-room than they already had so he made an executive decision.

“Anyone for dinner at The James?”

As Carmen and Ken packed up their desks, he nodded them to join the group for dinner, with a subtext to keep quiet about their task. As everyone filtered off the floor Craig put a call through to the lab, inviting John and Des to join the group. Tonight they would celebrate cracking the case and cement the special relationship over a beer. Tomorrow they would get to the serious business of sealing things off.

Chapter Twenty

Barbados. Friday, 1st August. 11 p.m. local time

“You’re certain you’ve got the ring?”

Craig nodded and took another sip of wine. “Why only one?”

John shrugged. “I offered to wear one but Natalie doesn’t like jewellery on men, thank goodness. My hands are in and out of gloves so often I’d have lost it within a week.” He glanced at Craig anxiously. “You’re not going to say anything too embarrassing in your speech, are you?”

Craig raised an eyebrow and held his glass up to the light in the hotel bar, smiling as John panicked at his silence.

“Promise me you won’t mention that time in the student’s union?”

“Which particular time are you referring to? The time when you brought a book into a disco to read and then wondered why everyone stared at you? Or the time when you got so drunk you attempted the routine from Flashdance, including all the leaps?”

John’s eyes widened; he’d forgotten about both occasions. “No, I meant the time we laid a bet on how many women we could snog in one hour.”

Craig grinned, remembering. John added. “But you’re not to mention the others either.”

Craig shook his head. “I can’t make any promises. Best man’s speeches have free licence. Think of it as a rite of passage.”

“It’ll be right to the loony bin if Natalie’s parents hear any of those.”

Craig tutted exaggeratedly at John’s non-P.C. words and then smiled again. “All I can promise you is that your in-laws will still be speaking to you when I’ve finished, even if they do look at you in a slightly different way.”

John groaned and put his head in his hands. “Am I doing the right thing, Marc? Being married to one woman for the rest of my life? What if I meet someone else?”

Craig rolled his eyes. John’s track record with women was a mixture of two-week catastrophes and celibacy. Natalie was the only woman he’d ever been seriously interested in.

“I’ll make you a deal. If you ever get the urge to release your inner Casanova, give me a call and I’ll talk you out of it. OK?”

John nodded solemnly and Craig realised he thought he’d been serious. He laughed loudly.

“I was joking. Natalie’s all you’ve talked about for two years. She’s perfect for you and you’re going to be very happy together. Now, finish your wine and get some sleep. You’re the star turn tomorrow.”

As John loped off to his bedroom, Craig poured himself another glass of wine and thought about the case. Ken and Carmen had been successful in blocking the CIA’s attempts at extradition so far, but he knew he’d have an argument on his hands when he returned. Just then Katy entered the bar, providing a welcome diversion from his thoughts. Craig smiled as she approached, marvelling how brown she’d turned in only two days.

“How’s the blushing bride?”

She plonked herself down at the small table. “Raring to go. How’s John?”

“Wondering if he’s being fair on womankind, taking himself off the market.”

They laughed simultaneously.

“Since when was John a lothario?”

“Forever, in his dreams. He’s fine, just worried about my speech. He thinks I’m going to embarrass him.”

“Are you?”

Craig nodded. “I sincerely hope so. But not half as much as Liam intends to later on.”

Katy smiled then turned to gaze across the veranda at the white sand beach. Craig watched her, thinking again how much he liked her. He caught himself, pushing the thoughts away. Weddings had a romantic effect on people and it wasn’t helped by everyone saying that they would be next. Kind wishes or misery loves company? He was split on marriage as an institution but he didn’t know why; his parents had been happy for decades. As an abstract concept marriage seemed fine, someday and for some people, he just wasn’t sure that he was one of them. He’d been with Camille for nine years and engaged. That had failed, so who was to say that actually tying the knot was any guarantee.

Katy turned to him and smiled again and Craig felt his heart flip, throwing all his logical arguments into disarray. Falling in love was one thing, but falling in love with a woman you liked so much was something else entirely and it was his first time. He made himself a promise not to get carried away by the romance of the Caribbean, no matter what the pressure from everyone else, and just thanked God that his mother wasn’t there. She’d have spent the whole two weeks pursuing Katy with a questionnaire!

John had invited his parents to the wedding; they’d basically adopted him when his own parents had died leaving him with only one living relative, a ninety-year-old aunt. They’d declined reluctantly but the flight was too long for his father. John’s aunt hadn’t been fit to travel either, so John had promised a wedding dinner for all of them when he and Natalie returned home. It meant if you looked at the wedding in the traditional ‘his side/her side’ way then the only people on John’s side of the church were Lucia, Craig and the pathology and murder teams. It didn’t matter; they were his family now.

Craig turned his thoughts back to Katy. Whatever was going to happen between them would happen in Ireland or it wouldn’t happen at all. He would think about things when he got home. He startled, remembering that he’d promised himself the opposite the week before. He knew he kept shifting the romantic goal-posts but he wasn’t quite sure why. Did it mean that Katy wasn’t right for him? Or, more likely, that she was. Really was, in a marriage and not just a girlfriend way. The thought frightened him so he pushed it away with a smile and another glass of wine. This was John and Natalie’s wedding and his, if it ever came, was going to be a long, long time away.

***

Saturday, 2nd August. 10 a.m.

“Ready, Natalie?”

Katy gazed at her petite friend and caught her breath. Natalie looked stunning. She’d paired her white-silk dress with island flowers threaded through her dark hair and she carried a matching posy in her hand. Katy caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and smiled. Her lemon bridesmaid’s dress looked lovely. No taffeta blancmanges today.

Natalie lifted her small bouquet demurely to her waist and then nodded, not trusting herself to speak. If she did she would cry with happiness and water-proof mascara only worked so far. Katy led the way from the beach-front room where Natalie had slept the night before, observing the age-old tradition of not seeing the groom until the big day. She’d slept with Craig to make sure Natalie had had the room to herself, well, that was her excuse and she was sticking to it.

As they crossed the sand, accompanied by Liam’s four-year-old daughter Erin and Des’ toddler Rafferty, Katy watched as Natalie’s worries seemed to fall away. It was as if all life’s tribulations were unimportant now that she was going to be with John.

They reached the small chapel on the sand, set with rows of chairs facing the sea and the altar where John and Craig stood, wearing pale grey tails. As the string quartet began Bach’s ‘Sheep may safely graze’ Katy fell in behind Natalie with the children. Then Bernard Ingrams took his daughter’s arm and led her slowly to the man who would love her for the rest of her days.

***

3 p.m.

Craig tapped his glass until everyone in the marquee fell silent then he rose and turned towards Natalie and John, grinning so hard that he thought his face would crack. He normally hated weddings because they were full of strangers, but everyone knew each other today and everyone was smiling. Best of all they knew the craic was going to continue for two weeks.

“It’s my honour to be John’s best man today and, as such, I’d like to propose a toast to the bride and groom. Please be upstanding for Natalie and John.”

Everyone stood and toasted and after the cheers and comments had died down and Craig had formally thanked the bridesmaids and parents, he tapped the glass again.

“It’s also my job, as best man and as someone who has known the groom since he was twelve, to embarrass him as much as possible.”

John groaned and put his head in his hands and Natalie began to laugh.

“Now, there are plenty of stories I could tell you about John, many of them amusing and most of them embarrassing, but I thought the best way to make you feel as if you were actually there watching him put his foot in it, would be to play you a little tape.”

At that Craig nodded towards the back of the marquee and the lights dimmed as much as they could in the sunshine. Liam appeared carrying a projector pressed a button to play a fanfare, the signal for the show to begin. Twenty minutes of photographs and video clips of John from the age of three played, with Craig providing a commentary to them all, including a video of John performing Flashdance in the student’s union bar. He wrapped up with “John will be performing his dance routine later this evening and all donations will go to charity” and then led a round of applause for the groom’s misspent youth.

As the show ended John turned to Craig, laughing.

“Where did you get all those photos?”

Craig smiled. “As soon as you asked me to be best man I wrote to everyone I could remember from school and Queen’s, and your aunt. They were more than happy to dig up clips for me, particularly embarrassing ones.”

Natalie laughed. “I’m just glad you haven’t known me that long.”

Four hours later the formal photographs were all taken, the main players had changed into something more relaxed and the marquee was laid out for the evening dance. Craig wandered across to the circle his team and their other halves had formed, smiling at the sight of them all dressed up.

Nicky had kept to her fifties theme, in a blue ballerina-length dress. Her husband Gary had been forced into a colour-coordinated suit, with Jonny, their twelve-year-old dressed like his mini-me and pulling his collar loose as soon as his mother’s back was turned. Liam was wearing a cream linen suit, with a matching fedora to protect his fair skin from the sun. It made him look like a mobster from a Humphrey Bogart classic but Craig had to admit that he carried it well. Davy and Maggie were the picture of Hilfiger cool and looked like they belonged on the cover of Harper’s Bazaar, but the biggest shock of all was Annette.

In the week since the end of the case she’d managed to lose half-a-stone and it suited her. Her hair had been professionally done in a style that Katy later told Craig was called ‘messy cool’ and in her low-backed turquoise dress and matching high heels, she looked ten years younger than her age. Craig cast a look around for Pete but Annette shook her head.

“He couldn’t get the time off. The school signed him up for some summer camp. I only found last weekend.”

She looked sad but not as sad as Craig had expected and he saw another nail go into the coffin of her marriage then and there. He smiled kindly.

“Well you look lovely, Annette. Save me a dance later on.”

Annette smiled and then glanced over his shoulder. Craig turned to see where her gaze led and saw Mike Augustus, John’s deputy pathologist, pouring himself a drink. Craig read the signs and he couldn’t say that he was altogether surprised. Pete McElroy had wrecked their marriage with his affair twelve months before, and after a year of trying to make things work it looked as if Annette had finally had enough.

Liam’s deep voice broke through his reverie. “Nice party. Mind you, that vicar went on a bit.”

Craig agreed but decided to wind Liam up. “That vicar, as you call him, is Natalie’s uncle. So I’d be careful who you said that to.”

Liam back-pedalled furiously. “Aye, well. I suppose he wasn’t that bad… I was only saying…”

Craig laughed. “He’s not her uncle at all and you’re right, he did go on. But I suppose it’s only once in a lifetime.”

Liam glanced pointedly at Annette and raised an eyebrow, saying nothing.

A ripple of applause behind them made Craig turn to see Natalie and Katy entering the marquee. Natalie was wearing a shorter version of her wedding dress and her dark curly hair was in a high pony-tail; if Craig hadn’t known she was in her thirties he would have thought she was about eighteen. But it was Katy who really caught his eye. Her bridesmaid’s dress had been replaced by a short red halter-neck with five-inch heels to match. She looked stunning, and sexier than Craig had ever seen her look.

A sudden shove from Liam almost landed Craig flat on the floor. “I’d run away now, boss, otherwise you’ll never want to run again.”

His words were drowned out as the music started and the crowd clapped for John to perform his Flashdance routine, but they were already lost on Craig. He walked across to Katy and kissed her gently, knowing they were about to have the best two weeks they’d ever had.

THE END