The Coercion Key (20 page)

Craig kicked himself for playing straight into her hands. He turned to the group wearing a grim expression.

“We have a very clever killer. She knew that we would trace her call to Rome and that would set me running to protect Lucia and my folks. The church is en-route to their house so she could easily have killed me as I drove past, or got to them before me.”

Jake went to ask a question. He stopped himself, uncertain what his position was in the team. Craig saw his hesitation and waved him on.

“What happened is history, Jake. Ask your question.”

“Well, it’s… it’s just, if she wants you specifically then she could easily have killed you on your way to your parents or on your way back today. She showed us that she was one step ahead when she made the call and set you running.” He realised what he’d said and tried to back-track. “No offence, sir. I mean, perhaps she didn’t expect us to make the connection with Rome so quickly. And she probably won’t expect us to work out where she called from.”

His voice tailed off and a deep-red blush took its place. Craig smiled and shook his head.

“No, you’re right, Jake. She knew we would trace the call to Rome and she knew I would go running to Holywood. Whether she expected us to work out her position from the church bells I’m not sure. But she’s definitely clever. She could have killed me today if she’d wanted to, but somehow I don’t think that would have been enough of a game for her. She’s playing with me.”

Liam’s voice boomed across the room. “Us, she’s playing with us, boss.”

Craig shook his head. “It’s me or my family she’s hunting now, Liam. With John she was trying to stop the forensic investigation progressing so fast. But she knows we’re getting close to her now and this has got personal. She wants me or someone close to me dead.”

Liam shook his head and repeated himself firmly. “Us. She may not be after us, but if she hunts you then she has to hunt all of us, because you’re not going to be alone until we catch her.”

Annette nodded and Craig waved them both down, smiling. “That’s kind, but you can’t follow me around.”

Annette nodded again, with a determined look on her face. “Yes we can. And we will until we get this bitch under lock and key.”

Craig raised his eyebrows at her choice of words then laughed at the image of him being flanked by body guards for the rest of his life.

“OK. We still have people to interview. Did anyone interview Nelson Warner’s family in Antrim? And what about Victoria Linton’s boyfriend?” He scanned their blank faces. “OK, then get on it please. Davy’s on top of the number codes and Jake’s working up the chat-room names. I’m heading over to the lab to see if Mike has got anything for us on Adrian Bell.”

Liam shook his head firmly. “No you’re not, boss. Sorry. If you leave here then at least one of us has to be with you and Annette and I have interviews to do. I’ll get close protection to bring Mike here when he’s finished Bell’s post-mortem.” He stood up and loomed over Craig, folding his arms. “You’re under house arrest until further notice. One half-dead mate is quite enough.”

Craig sprang to his feet. “I’m in charge here, Liam and I say that I’m going.” The slow movement to their feet of the others said that Liam wasn’t the only opposition Craig had. After a moment’s tense stand-off Craig shrugged, admitting defeat, but only for a couple of hours.

“OK. I’ll humour you for a few hours and stay here. Go and do the interviews then bring Mike back with you. We’ll brief again at five o’clock. But I warn you Liam, you’re not taking over my life. We’re going to catch this woman before she kills anyone else, and if me acting as bait is how we have to do it then you’re not going to get in my way.”

Chapter Sixteen

St Mary’s Hospital.

John yawned and went to stretch his arms then the hole in his back reminded him that it wasn’t such a good idea. He gazed around his small side-room, finally starting to take notice of his surroundings. The last few days in I.C.U. had been a series of beeps and lights, with people tiptoeing around his bed trying not to disturb him, except that their muttered words and accidental clumsiness had disturbed him more than if they’d shouted in his ear. Whoever said hospitals were restful places had obviously never tried to sleep in one.

He was glad to be out of intensive care. There were only so many muted tones and sad expressions that a man could take, without wanting to yell out, “I’m not dead yet!” The colourful curtains and flat screen TV in his side-room were much more to his taste. He’d just reached over for the remote control to see what the ‘Loose Women’ had to say, purely in the name of anthropological research of course, when Natalie burst into the room.

“God, I’m going to kill that I.C.U. sister. I thought you were dead!”

John winced and closed his eyes, in a way that he hoped signified a need for peace. Natalie ignored him and continued with her rant.

“I walked into I.C.U. and there was a road traffic victim in your bed, with his legs up in pulleys! I thought you’d died and they’d taken you to the mortuary.”

John pictured the traffic victim being subjected to the full weight of Natalie’s ire. Poor sod.

“Then that sister, you know, the bolshie one who thinks she runs the place.”

John interjected. “She does run the place.”

“The doctors run the place. She’s only the Maître D. Anyway, then she charges over and tells me off for making noise! Me? Noisy? Am I ever noisy?”

She didn’t wait for his answer, which was just as well. She also ignored the armed policeman who opened the door checking out the noise. He closed it quickly again when he saw Natalie mid-rant.

“And then she tells me that you weren’t actually dead, but transferred down here. I was furious.”

Anyone hearing Natalie’s words would have concluded that she was furious he wasn’t dead. John wondered whether she realised what she’d just said then decided to save it to tease her with another day. He smiled, pleased by her concern, but he stopped smiling when she started to eat the chocolates Craig had bought for him.

John gawped as Natalie chomped her way through all his favourites while she read his hospital notes, just as he would have done. When she lifted the top layer of the chocolates to search for more of her favourites underneath John decided enough was enough. He closed his eyes in mock pain and moaned. It did the trick. Natalie rushed to his side.

“John, are you OK?”

He gave what he hoped looked like a brave smile and raised a weak hand, waving her to a seat. He needed to be brought up to date with what was happening in the outside world and if pity was the only way to get information then pity it would have to be.

“How’s Marc getting on with the case?”

Natalie popped a Turkish delight into her mouth and started to speak and for a moment John pictured her six-feet–six tall and in drag; she could be Liam’s younger sister! He shook the image away and listened as she talked.

“Mike Augustus phoned me. There’s been another suicide that really wasn’t. The man shot—” She stopped abruptly mid-sentence realising what she’d just said and changed tack. “Anyway, I think they’re making progress. You know Marc, if anyone can solve it he can.” Her face brightened. “Guess what? He and Katy had coffee.”

John was still focused on the suicide. He made a note to ask Mike to pay him a visit but thought better of telling Natalie. Instead he feigned interest in Craig’s love life.

“When?”

“The other morning. She came up to the I.C.U. and they bumped into each other and went for coffee.”

“And?”

“And what? She likes him and he likes her but whether they’ll do anything about it God only knows. Those two are worse than teenagers.”

She put the chocolates to one side and folded her hands decisively in her lap, signalling maturity. The smear of orange fondant on her chin didn’t look quite so mature. John decided not to tell her about it. Craig wasn’t the only teenager around.

***

It had been a long time since Liam had spent a whole day interviewing with Annette. Their newly elevated ranks and Jake joining the team had meant they were more often paired with him, as part of his training. But they fell back into their rhythm without missing a step. Liam blunt and sceptical, Annette being the interviewee’s best friend, often gleaning far more information than his forceful approach. They were sarky cop and sweet cop without needing to be coached and Annette said as much as they were driving away from the Antrim home of Nelson Warner’s second family.

“That felt like old times, didn’t it? You offending her and me picking up the pieces.”

Liam guffawed. “Aye. Now all we need is the boss to charm them and we’d have the plot of a Mills and Boon.”

Annette smiled at the truth of his words. “Do you think he knows he’s doing it?”

Liam spotted a gap in the traffic and slipped in easily, ignoring the glare of the driver behind.

“What? Old smoothie Craig? Nah. He hasn’t a clue. He just talks to them like he usually does and they fall at his feet.” He laughed again. “Imagine him when he was young. Strolling off the rugby pitch, thinking about the game and completely missing the girls hurling themselves on the ground.”

“I bet Dr Winter caught them instead.”

They descended into a moment’s banter about Craig and John when they were young, then the words faded away and they drove on in amiable silence. Liam broke it first.

“What did you make of Pamela Anderson back there?”

Annette laughed so hard that she couldn’t speak, picturing the buxom blonde that they’d just left. Warner’s second wife had been the spitting image of Isabella McDonald, his official mistress. In a strange way it was reassuring that Warner had had a type; at least he’d been faithful to something.

When Annette finally caught her breath she volunteered. “I think he picked identical models so that he’d feel at home. A simple man.”

“Aye. I don’t think she had anything to do with his death either. She seemed pretty cut-up.”

“So would I if I’d just lost my meal ticket.”

Liam tutted. “That’s harsh, girl. Maybe she really loved him.”

Annette snorted. “She loved something but I doubt it was Warner’s sparkling personality.”

Liam accelerated onto the M2 motorway as he answered. “Aye, stockbrokers aren’t renowned for that, are they? OK. Strike her off the list then. Who’s next?”

“We need to go to Diana Rogan’s office one last time and I want to drop into Victoria Linton’s office as well. Her secretary might know something more.”

“Fair enough; they’re both in the centre of town. You know what that means of course?”

Annette glanced up quickly from her notes, sensing that Liam was up to mischief. “What?”

“We can drop into The Apartment for coffee. I haven’t had a decent latte for years.”

***

Craig was pacing his office like a caged wolf and the pounding of his footsteps on the thin office carpet was driving Nicky mad. Finally she’d had enough and she banged hard on his door, yanking it open before he could say ‘come in’. Craig stopped mid pace, startled by Nicky’s appearance, in more than one way; he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it earlier. Nicky’s dramatic entrance was magnified by the silver streak she’d dyed overnight into her newly blackened hair. With her knee-length leather boots she looked like Morticia Adams, or something from the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Nicky stood in the doorway in silence, so Craig shrugged and resumed his pacing. Her quiet “Sir” made him halt again. The warning tone in her voice would have stopped him even if her expression hadn’t.

“Yes, Nicky?”

“Are you going to pace until Liam and Annette get back?”

Craig stared down at his feet, realising that she was right. He was pacing and he hadn’t even noticed. He’d always thought of what he did when he was working out a case as more of a thoughtful stroll, a la Sherlock Holmes. The problem was that he normally did it when John was there to make suggestions. It didn’t work half as well when he was on his own.

“I was thinking of it.”

“Fine.”

Nicky turned on her heel and left the office. Craig followed, wondering what her “fine” had meant. He soon found out. She packed her things into her handbag and headed for the floor’s double-doors.

“I’m taking some owed time; I’ll be back in an hour. If you need me desperately you can get me on the phone.”

With a flash of black hair she was out the door. Craig stared after her, wondering what he’d done to annoy her so much. Davy shouted out the answer.

“You w…were pacing, chief. It makes her s…scream.”

Craig turned to face him. “She never told me… Can you hear it through the door?”

Davy nodded. “Every thud. No-one else minds, but it drives Nicky mad.”

Craig went to pace the open-plan floor then realised what he was doing and laughed. He wandered over to Davy’s desk.

“It’s Liam’s fault for putting me under house arrest.” He leaned over Davy’s shoulder. “How are you getting on with the numbers?”

“Nothing yet, but I think Jake’s had s…some joy on the chat-rooms.”

Jake heard his name and joined them with a sheet of paper in his hand. Craig grabbed two chairs and beckoned him to sit.

“Davy says you’ve had a result on the chat-rooms?”

Jake frowned and then nodded hesitantly. “Yes and no. Remember I took the list of players from twenty and ten years ago and made a short-list of anyone who was on both, anywhere in the world? Then I removed any outside Northern Ireland and that left us with five?”

Craig nodded. “Using the logic that a teenager back then wouldn’t have had the know-how to re-route themselves through another country.”

“Correct. OK, so that left me with five players here. That’s where it’s got tricky. Once I’d got the real name and addresses behind the screen names I was going to remove all the men’s names, now that we know our perp is female. But they’re all male. There are no women.”

Craig swore loudly. They’d hit a dead end. “Where does that leave us?”

Jake hesitated and his expression said that what he was going to say next was a leap. Craig nodded him on.

“Well… then I thought. What if our perp hadn’t always been female?”

Craig’s mouth dropped open, seeing immediately where Jake was heading. Clever lad. What if their player had been a teenage boy who’d since had a sex-change to become a woman? Their female shooter had once been a man.

“Transgender?”

Jake nodded. “It’s possible. I’ve seen some very good sex-changes and Dr Winter only caught a glimpse of his assailant. He could have missed it.”

Craig hesitated to agree. John was very sharp. Sharp enough to have registered the woman’s eye and hair colour. Unless the sex-change was flawless he wouldn’t have confused their sex. But they needed more proof than his faith in John. He turned to Davy.

“Davy, the voice trace. Can you play it back, please?”

Davy hit a switch and they listened as the female voice filled the space around them. The voice was low for a woman and slightly husky, but beyond that it was impossible to tell. It could have been altered by hormones or their perp could still have been born female.

Craig shook his head. “Davy, get linguistics onto it urgently, will you? Tell them what we’re looking for.” He turned back to Jake. “OK, leaving the transgender option aside for a moment, let’s suppose that this is someone who was born female, in which case any female players from Northern Ireland twenty and ten years ago would have been on our present day shortlist of five, which they aren’t because there weren’t any. Or we’re wrong and this is a woman from Northern Ireland who wasn’t playing all those years ago and who has only started playing in the past few years, and is clever enough to re-route to anywhere around the world. In which case any woman playing anywhere nowadays gets added to our list.”

Jake pulled a face. “Sorry, sir. Again it’s yes and no. We know we have no women on our Northern Ireland shortlist nowadays, as you’ve said, and yes, a woman playing here could divert play as you’ve said to make it look like she’d playing from outside Northern Ireland. If they were bright enough, and we know our killer is. But our theory has always been based on this trauma starting when our killer was a teenager and that fits with the key, so who is this woman who has suddenly started playing an out-of-date computer game as an adult, and why this game? There are thousands of new games out there to choose from, so why choose ‘Justification’, a game from twenty years ago, if you’re just starting to play nowadays?”

Craig nodded. Jake was right, any woman who’d started computer gaming in the past few years would have made a more modern choice. Jake continued.

“If they’re transgender male to female now then twenty years ago they would have been too young to have had gender reassignment surgery. But if they had it ten years ago or more they’d have started to identify as female in everyday life then.”

Craig nodded slowly. “And the fact that they chose not to change their identity as female online could mean that they’ve been thinking about this killing spree for years. So the suspect list in the real population becomes males living in Northern Ireland twenty years ago, males and females ten years ago and females nowadays. That should catch every possibility. But in the online population, it still comes down to our list of five male names.”

Davy smiled at the way Craig’s brain worked, searching for the flaw in his argument. There wasn’t one. Craig crossed to Nicky’s desk and poured himself a coffee, still thinking. He was dragged back to reality by a triumphant yell and the sight of Davy punching the air.

“Yes! Jake was right! She’s transgender. Linguistics has given the chances of this being the voice of a male to female sex-change as ninety percent.”

Craig’s mouth fell open. It had been a long shot but it had paid off. “Why did Linguistics miss it before?”