The Coercion Key (15 page)

Chapter Thirteen

The hospital coffee shop was cosy and warm, with twists and turns that revealed more tables each time Craig expected to see a wall. It was almost nine o’clock by the time they reached it, just emptied of people heading to work but too early for elevenses, leaving no-one there but them. It was a double-edged sword; on one hand they had no-one else to look at but each other, on the other, at least they could hear what the other person had to say.

Craig carried a tray of coffees and Danish pastries to the small alcove that Katy had chosen, wondering if she was aware what signals her choice was sending out. It was probably where she sat all the time, chatting to workmates and sipping at a cappuccino. In that context it would feel fun and exclusive, its banquette seats forcing each person to huddle close, making them all feel like part of some special gang. To Craig its dim intimacy felt romantic, even in the early morning, although he was certain that wasn’t her intent.

They sat down across the sturdy wooden table from each other, hiding behind their drinks’ ritual milking and sugaring until there was nothing left to add. They reached for the tray simultaneously to place it on one side and laughed as it locked mid-air between their grips. Craig broke the silence first.

“Natalie’s very strong, isn’t she?”

Katy smiled at the incongruity of his comment, wondering for a second whether he meant that Natalie could have wrestled the tray from his grasp, before she realised that he was referring to Natalie’s emotional strength. She went to nod then paused and shook her head.

“Yes and no. She puts up a good front, but inside she’s terrified. John is her world.”

Craig nodded and glanced around the café, trying not to meet Katy’s gaze for too long. It had a curious effect on him, making him feel like a man and a boy all at once. Katy smiled shyly, as if she’d read his thoughts.

“How is the case going?”

He shook his head thoughtfully, feeling on surer ground. “It’s moving slowly. But John’s just remembered something very useful about his shooting.”

She leaned forward as if she was fascinated by what he was going to say and Craig shook his head in apology. “I can’t, I’m afraid.”

She laughed unexpectedly. “Don’t tell me. Confidentiality? The story of my life. OK, let’s change the subject. Any holiday’s planned?”

Craig laughed loudly at her attempt at a hairdresser’s opening gambit in the middle of a hospital café and picked up the casual chat, following her lead. It was surreal talking about trivia when John was in I.C.U., but then, so was everything that had happened in the past two days.

***

The C.C.U.

Liam was at his desk at eight o’clock and Davy and Jake were there at five past. Craig had plenty on his plate so the least they could do was help by getting a head start. After twenty minutes Jake’s smooth tenor cut through the sound of everyone tapping on their PCs.

“Anyone interested in what I’ve found?”

Liam set down the file that was annoying him and gave a loud yawn. “Go on then, I need a laugh.”

“Five people currently play the game in Northern Ireland, out of over one hundred gamers.”

Davy interrupted. “Five that you know of.”

“That I know of. That doesn’t count the ones who might be routing their play through servers elsewhere. Although…”

Davy leaned forward eagerly. “Yes?”

“I went back twenty years for each of the players, all of them, not just the local ones, and none of them suddenly changed their location.”

Liam frowned in concentration. “So that means twenty years ago they were all playing from the same place they are now? Where was that exactly?”

Jake lifted a folder and walked towards him. They met halfway at Davy’s desk, each grabbing a seat. Jake withdrew three sheets from the folder.

“On the first page are the screen names of the players nowadays and their locations. OK?”

“OK.”

“On the second and third are the same things twenty and then ten years ago. If you check you’ll see that a new player was added ten years ago in New York and there are three more now, in China, Spain and London.”

Liam shrugged. “So?”

“Wait.”

Liam pulled a face that Jake ignored. He pointed to the list from twenty years before.

“Anyone in their late twenties or early thirties who started playing the game when it was really popular back in the day is unlikely to be on this list unless they started playing pre-teen.” He tapped the ten-year page. “But they should definitely be on this one if they’d kept playing. Everyone with me so far?”

The others nodded him on.

“All right. The odds are that when they first started playing the game, twenty or even ten years back, they wouldn’t have had the wit to re-route their location through other servers.”

He glanced at Davy for confirmation. Davy nodded.

“The w…web was pretty basic back in the nineties and early two thousands. A kid in their teens back then wouldn’t have had a clue how to re-route.” He grinned. “I only found out how to do it in 2000, w…when I was thirteen, and I was a boy genius.”

Liam snorted. “And modest with it.”

“The truth hurts.”

Liam waved Jake on.

“OK. So if they started playing the game twenty years ago when they were pre-teen, which is unlikely unless their parents were very liberal, or between then and ten years ago when they were somewhere in their teens, then they’re very unlikely to have re-routed to an overseas server. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“And even ten years ago, that was unlikely.”

“Unless you w…were me.”

Liam raised his eyes to heaven. “Unless you were Davy.”

Jake nodded. “Good. So that means that the places listed here on the ten and twenty year pages, are likely to be their true locations.” He gathered the sheets together then withdrew a fourth page from the folder. “OK. This page has all the names that were playing either twenty or ten years ago and are still playing now. The ones marked in yellow are the ones in Northern Ireland. Like I said there are five of them now. There were seven in 1994, then six in 2004 and now five.”

They stared at the list intently. The screen names made Liam smile: ’Central Perk’, ‘Beavis’ and ‘Blur’. They all referred to things that had been popular in the ’90s.

“Those take me back a bit.”

Davy cut in. “Back to when you were young.”

Liam shook his head and grinned. “No. Back to when I was your age.”

Jake stifled a laugh. “He got you there, Davy.” He tapped the paper. “Focus, you two. I want us on top of this when the Super arrives.”

Liam arched an eyebrow but said nothing. Ambition wasn’t a bad thing in moderation, although he’d never suffered from the complaint himself. But they had two ambitious squad members now, Jake and Annette. It could make for sparks soon.

“OK. W…We’re focusing. What you’re saying is that our killer is definitely on this list of five. That makes s…sense. But we’ll need a warrant to get past their screen names.”

Liam stood up. “Aye, Davy’s right, lad. There’s no way the internet providers will cough up real names and addresses without legal encouragement; we’ve locked horns with them too many times before. They’ll want warrants, although feel free to have a go if you’ve nothing better to do.”

Liam turned to leave the floor and Jake called after him.

“Are you off to apply for the warrants?”

“Aye well, I’m off to start the ball rolling. Give the providers a call and if they’re willing to help out without them, then call me and let me know before I do any unnecessary toil. Otherwise I’ll be back at ten for the briefing.”

He stopped at the double glass-doors and gave Jake a small salute. “Well done, lad. Good work.”

***

9.50 a.m.

Craig walked onto the floor and straight past Nicky’s desk, wearing a small smile. Her yell told him that he wasn’t getting away that easily.

“Sir!”

Craig turned to face her, the picture of wide-eyed innocence. “Yes, Nicky.”

“Don’t you ‘yes Nicky’ me. How’s Dr Winter?” She squinted at him suspiciously. “And what’s making you so cheerful this morning?”

“John’s coming on leaps and bounds and that’s cheered me up no end.”

Nicky’s squint grew deeper and she looked like a mother inspecting her teenage son for contraband. She knew Craig wasn’t telling her everything. There was something else going on and it was making him smile. She would get to the bottom of it, but there was more than one way to skin the proverbial so she relaxed her squint and tried a different tack.

“Coffee, sir?”

“Yes, please.”

Craig scanned the squad-room curiously. They were briefing in ten minutes and neither Liam nor Annette was there. He was just about to ask the question when Annette bustled in, out of breath.

“Am I late?”

“Not yet. Any sign of Liam?”

“He’s coming. He was talking to someone in reception when I walked past.” She glanced hopefully in Nicky’s direction. “Is that coffee fresh? I’m dying for a cup.”

Nicky shooed them away from her desk. “You’re cluttering the place up. Start your briefing and I’ll bring over a tray.”

She glanced at Craig again, narrowing the cause of his cheerfulness down to one thing – a woman. No, surely not. He couldn’t possibly have met someone new between leaving the office last night and this morning. Unless…

“By the way, sir. That nice Dr Stevens phoned just before you arrived.”

Craig swung round and his smile told Nicky everything that she needed to know.

“What did she say?”

“Nothing. She got cut off.”

Craig knew immediately that he’d been had. He was stuck for words for a second then the moment was lost in Liam’s loud entrance.

“Morning, boss. Good sleep? How’s the Doc?”

Craig gave Nicky a warning smile and pulled a chair into the centre of the floor, beckoning them all to sit.

“He’s much better this morning, thanks. Very weak, but that’s to be expected with a big hole in your back. He’s on blood and pain relief and they’re keeping a close eye on him.”

Annette interrupted. “Was Natalie there all night?”

“Most of it. I saw her briefly this morning. John’s lost part of one lung, which will affect his breathing for a while, but he should be fine with time. He’s sore from the operation but you know John, he’s finding being shot a fascinating experience.”

“Fascinating’s one word for it. Bloody and sore are two more.”

Liam winced, remembering when he’d been shot back in’89 and rushed in an ambulance to St Mary’s with a young doctor pummelling at his chest. There was bugger all fascinating about it but he had managed to get a date with a pretty nurse from intensive care. Craig’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“John’s remembered some information about his shooter, but I’ll come onto that later. For now, let’s go round everyone and see what you’ve got. Davy?”

Davy crossed his long legs and stared down at the sheets in his hand, frowning. He didn’t know which to start with – the gun or the other stuff. He decided on the gun. As John Winter hadn’t died it seemed safe enough.

“Dr Winter was s…shot with a Parabellum full metal jacket cartridge, most likely fired from a s…semi-automatic weapon. There are too many to speculate which one.”

“Any markings that match?”

Davy shook his head. “Not on any of the known databases. The gun w…was probably an unlicensed import.”

Liam shrugged. “It’ll be a dead end. There are so many guns coming in on the lorries that we’d be chasing our tails for weeks.”

Craig nodded. “Liam’s right. We’ll match it when we catch our perp. Carry on, Davy.”

“That sounds like a film title.”

Nicky arrived with the coffee just at that moment. She sniffed. “Yes, a rude one. Typical of Liam to think of it.”

Davy ignored them both and turned to his next page. “OK. Connections between our victims. There might be s…some light there. Diana Rogan had a significant previous relationship.”

Annette was surprised. “But she was only thirty-three and she had an eight-year-old son with Conor Rogan.”

Davy shook his head. “The boy isn’t Rogan’s child. He’s his s…step-father.”

Craig interrupted, knowing there was something relevant there. “Who’s the boy’s father, Davy?”

Davy smiled and its smugness suddenly irritated the hell out of Jake. Jake realised immediately that he was jealous and that he needed to nip it in the bud fast. He’d always been competitive but Davy wasn’t a cop; there was no mileage in competing with him.

“Nelson W…Warner.”

“Nelson Warner! But he was old enough to be her father. Dirty old man.”

Craig burst out laughing at Annette’s outraged tone. She had a real thing about age-gap relationships.

“When did they marry and divorce, Davy?”

Davy smiled at Craig kindly and Craig knew at once that he’d just betrayed his age and traditional approach to life.

“Never. S…She interned at a firm of brokers Warner w…worked in, back in 2005. They must have met then.”

Annette interjected. “Oh, let me guess. He was her boss and it was ‘take a letter Ms Jones and let’s see what comes up’.”

Liam guffawed and Annette realised what she’d said, blushing furiously.

“Good one, Annette. It’s normally me that says things like that.”

Davy glanced at Craig and saw his signal to hurry on and cover Annette’s embarrassment.

“OK. Rogan only w…worked there for a year then she left, had the baby and w…went back to college to complete her post-grad training. She married Conor Rogan when the boy was three years old.”

“Nice work, Davy. That gives us a connection between at least two of our victims. Take a look at anything they worked on together. Anything else?”

“Yes. Victoria Linton. When s…she worked in commercial law she had clients in the retail s…sector, consulting firms and insurance brokers; I’ll get the full list to you by close of play.”

“Excellent. Keep ploughing through our victims’ pasts. If there’s a connection between two of them, there’s something that connects all four.”

Craig turned to Annette and nodded her on. She took her notebook from her handbag then set the bag on the floor and started to report. There were some constants in the universe: the sun, the stars and Annette’s handbag. It never left her side. It was like a black leather comfort blanket. Liam often wondered what she kept in there but it was more than his life was worth to ask. He’d made the mistake of looking in his granny’s bag once when he’d been ten year’s old and he hadn’t been able to sit down for days. His reminiscence was interrupted by Annette’s report.