The Grass Tattoo (#2 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series) (33 page)

“Usually shot from a SAKO TR-42 or an A.I.” Liam immediately realised that he’d just finished Derek Cantor’s sentence, and that everyone was looking at him.

“Liam, can you help us on this?”

“Sir, our case used the same bullet. Irene Leighton, the M.P’s wife.”

Harrison nodded. Craig had briefed him but the name of the bullet had slipped his mind.

“Wasn’t that a dissident murder, Liam?”

Liam went to answer Cantor’s question, then hesitated politely. Harrison nodded him on.

“It wasn’t the dissidents, sir. I’ll keep it short, but we now have reasons to think that Irene Leighton, and probably her husband Bob, were killed by professional contractors from overseas.”

“But I thought Bob Leighton died of natural causes. Didn’t he have a family history of heart disease? S.A.D.S or something?”

“He did, but Dr Winter did a second P.M for us and he was definitely murdered.”

“Yes, I authorised that P.M. Good help?”

“Very much, thank you, sir.” Craig would’ve been proud of his diplomacy.

“Irene Leighton was killed using the same type of bullet that D.C.I. Cantor has just described, so what are the odds of them not being related somehow?” Liam had forgotten the ‘sir’ and considered going back for it, but Harrison didn’t seem to have noticed.

“I agree. They were both professional killings, although thankfully he missed Greer. Still, damn close. To judge the distance and velocity of a bullet like that so accurately, this man is very talented.”

Cantor spoke up. “We did a sweep of the likely shooter-site and found a lump of metal lying on the hilly ground, to the back of the hospitality pavilion. Forensics thinks that it could be the gun, and the shooter destroyed it deliberately.”

Liam interrupted eagerly, forgetting where he was. “Who’s your forensic guy? I’ll get Des Marsham onto him.”

Harrison nodded them on, interested in the exchange. “Tim Norris, I’ll send you his number, Liam. Anyway, I think that we have to look at the wife, Joanne Greer, as a possible killer, sir. She was
dumped very publically about thirty minutes earlier. A woman in the tent, Phoebe Murtagh, admits that she got straight on the phone to Mrs Greer, as soon as her husband made the announcement that he was divorcing her.”

What a friend.

Harrison shook his head. “There may be a connection in there somewhere, Derek, but a professional hit couldn’t have been arranged that quickly. You said that everyone was shocked by the announcement about divorce, so Mrs Greer may not even have believed that he meant it.” It was said hopefully, and everyone in the room knew that Harrison was thinking of his own rocky marriage. “By all means work up the ‘woman scorned’ angle, but look for other reasons why someone wanted Declan Greer dead too. And see if there are any links with Liam’s case.

Liam, continue with your investigation of the Leighton killings, with this new information and a possible link between the two in mind. Just bring D.C.I. Craig up to speed in London.”

Harrison noticed the quizzical looks from others. “Marc’s in London on something else related to his case. The Met’s had two deaths using the Lapua, and there was a third one in Paris two years ago. The feeling is that we have an international hit man at work, and unfortunately he decided to pay us a visit.”

***

Annette sat open-mouthed looking at the two sketches in front of her, kicking herself again for not making the connection earlier. The charcoal likenesses had all the detail of photographs. One was of the dark-blonde woman that Joe Watson had described, and the second had the white-blonde hair that Ian Sinclair was convinced of, the colouring just confirmed by the takeaway boy’s sketch of Bob Leighton’s companion. There was no question, they were the same woman. It was Kaisa Moldeau.

***

Liam left Harrison’s office already pulling-out his phone to make the call. It rang five times and he was just about to give up when Craig finally answered. Liam could hear from the echo that he was in a stairwell too.

“Hi. Is everything all right? Annette’s just been on.”

“What for? No, don’t worry, I’ll ask her. I’ve just been to Harrison’s briefing, boss.”

“Thanks for picking that up, sorry to lumber you.”

“Actually it was good. Long story short, there was another Lapua shooting. Yesterday.”

“Damn. Give me the details.”

Liam filled him in, outlining what they’d agreed.

“That’s great. E-mail the details to D.C.S. Chandak’s office.”

“How do you spell that?” Craig laughed. Liam had trouble enough with Northern Irish names.

“Nicky has the address. Send it over as soon as you can please, Liam. I’ll give John a call; you just get on with working Joe Watson. Is it Derek Cantor’s case?”

“Yes.”

“Right, I’ll give him a call as well then. That’s great. Thanks, Liam.”

“Aye well, it’s not that great. We’re playing catch-up.”

“Only by a few hours, don’t worry. They’ve just been doing the basics. We’ve picked it up at just the right time. I’ll call you later.”

He clicked the call off and redialled immediately, getting John Winter’s secretary, Marcie. “He’s down with Dr Marsham, Mr Craig. I’ll just put you through.”

Des answered the phone quickly, handing it over to John.

“Hi, John. Do you know Tim Norris?”

“Yes, I taught him on a training course last year. He’s from Glasgow. What about him?”

Craig filled him in quickly. “Can you pick up that side of it with Derek Cantor’s team, and the ballistics on the bullet? We need to get all five shootings lined up for comparison. And could you send everything over to D.C.S. Chandak. Nicky can give you the details.”

“I can, but the bullets might not give us anything, Marc. The ballistics won’t match if they’re from different rifles. But if we’re lucky, they might have a lot number that will show if they came from the same batch. Hang on for a second.” There was silence for a moment then John spoke again.

“Des was just telling me that Norris has already been on. It seems that there was a metallic remnant at the possible shooter-site and they’re pretty sure that it’s the gun. But we’ll confirm that with the residue. I’ll put it all in my report.”

“Thanks, John.”

Craig rang off quickly and swiped into the bright open-plan office, where Yemi was sifting through The Met’s two cold cases. He sat down on the edge of the desk.

“We’ve had another attempted killing. Using a 338 Lapua Magnum.”

“When? Was it in Belfast as well?”

“Today, twenty miles away at Antrim race course. At a charity fixture. Thankfully, they missed, but it would have been a single head shot to the left temple. This guy can really shoot. They managed to distance it so accurately that it had just enough momentum to lodge in the tent pole.”

“Definitely the same calibre?”

“Yes. The intended victim was a businessman. The team that picked it up are playing it as a wife’s revenge killing. But it can’t
be totally unrelated to the others, there has to be a link. The odds of such an unusual round being used in two shootings in a small place like Northern Ireland are miniscule.

We think that they might have destroyed the gun and left it at the scene. It just looks like a lump of metal now but it might still give us something. Our Director of Pathology will send over his findings later this afternoon. ”

Yemi looked at him shocked. “Man, that’s quick. We would be waiting a whole week here.” Craig laughed.

“It would be four days for us normally, but he’s a friend. One of the benefits of a small place. Is the D.C.S. free? I need to bring him up to date, and then we can sit down with all five reports and see what they have in common.”

As he approached the glass office Craig could see that Rajiv Chandak was alone. He knocked the glass door gently and was waved in.

“Anything new?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve just had a call from my D.I. There’s been another shooting outside Belfast using the Lapua. It happened earlier today and another area’s team picked it up, so we’ve just caught it. They’re following it through as a wronged wife murdering her husband, but it has the hallmark of our man. The reports are being compared and they’ll be with us later. So I thought Yemi and I could spend an hour or so then, comparing all five murders to see what we can connect. If that’s ok?”

The D.C.S. nodded thoughtfully and Craig leapt into the silence. “The sniper missed this time.”

Chandak sat forward urgently. “A miss. Explain please.”

Craig filled him in on Declan Greer’s narrow escape and Chandak looked pensive.

“We’ve no evidence of them ever failing before, Marc. Are you sure that it was a Lapua?”

Craig nodded. “Definitely, sir.” He paused for a second. “It’s just a thought, but I think that he might have missed deliberately.” Chandak nodded him on.

“The conditions and line of sight should have been perfect, so we’re stuck for another explanation.”

“Why deliberate?”

“I don’t know yet, it’s just a hunch, sir.” Then Craig told him about Annette’s call on Kaisa Moldeau.

“I believe that she masqueraded as the Leighton’s nanny, walked Irene Leighton into position to be shot, and then took Bob Leighton as a lover and killed him. She also set Joe Watson up and framed him for murder to get him out of the way. And now Declan Greer has a near miss. We need to find out what connects these people to each other, and hopefully what connects the shooter to all five hits.

They’re sending the sketches of the girl through later and we should get them to the witnesses to your two shootings, and to Paris. She was definitely working with the shooter. There must be a connection, sir, and we’ll find it. But I wanted to ask you more about Alik Ershov.”

“What do you need to know?”

“I’ve been looking at his file and I know that I’m probably missing something, but it doesn’t look as if he’s ever been questioned on your two killings. Was he?”

“You mean, why wasn’t he brought into a dark room with a bright light?”

“Something like that.”

“We didn’t have enough grounds. And...” He hesitated, and Craig could feel a deal coming. “The drugs squad warned us off at the time. They were planning some big bust on imported heroin.”

“Did it ever happen?” Chandak smiled ruefully, knowing what Craig was hinting at.

“They got some stuff, but too far away from Ershov to tie anything to him. By that stage, our trail had gone cold on the murders. What we do have is a lot of observation footage, mostly up at his house in Essex. And we keep a very close eye on his right hand men; who they mix with, where they go, any trips they take to the docks and airports particularly. But so far we have nothing, they’re bloody careful.”

“Could I have a look at the footage, sir? The recent stuff for the past fortnight maybe? Our killers might have been lying low in Northern Ireland this whole time, but we think they left, after they framed Watson, perhaps on Tuesday or Wednesday. If it’s the same pair of killers, they must have gone back almost immediately to shoot Declan Greer.

At that speed, it would probably have had to be by plane. At a pinch, the boat to Liverpool or Scotland. We’re pretty stuck for photos if it’s the ferry routes, but if they flew, then your airport footage could be very useful. It’s a long shot, but I’ve a couple of hours to kill. Would you mind?”

“Be my guest.”

Chandak reached over and hit the intercom. It brought his comfortable looking P.A. Rita rushing into the room, so shocked at being buzzed that she expected to find him dead. Her florid face crinkled into a smile, visibly relieved to see him upright.

“Yes, sir. What’s wrong?”

“Rita’s shocked at me using the intercom, Marc, because I mostly just yell through the glass for her.” He turned to the small, round woman, who was still puffing for breath.

“Rita, would you mind taking D.C.I. Craig into the bowels of the earth? Sit him down with a nice cup of tea and the last two weeks footage and reports for Alik Ershov’s little gang. And then contact the London airports for me.”

He shot her a dazzling white smile and she flushed even more. Then she bustled out, leading Craig five floors down to the rabbit warren of surveillance and storage, and left him drinking coffee in peace.

***

“Liam, do you have that list of Joe Watson’s board memberships?”

“Nah. I gave it to Davy earlier on. He’s doing that one.”

“So which one are you doing?”

“Stormont committees, and they’re driving me mad. Never did a man sit around in as many boring meetings as this one.” Paperwork was Liam’s private hell.

“I told you. He didn’t, his team did. He was probably off at Lilith’s most of the time.”

Annette laughed at her own joke. Her wit had definitely improved working here. She stretched her arms above her head tiredly and then looked at her wristwatch, going into prefect mode.

“Look it’s five o’ clock now. How do you fancy another hour with all three of us blitzing this stuff, then over to The James for an early drink and dinner? Davy? Nicky? We can come back to it fresh afterwards. Can everyone keep going until then?”