The Jackdaw (44 page)

‘Boss,’ Sally warned him. ‘That would take hundreds of man hours. We’re trying to run a murder investigation while also handling a murder trial. We don’t have the people to do that.’

‘Then I’ll do it myself,’ Sean told them, the disappointment thick in his voice as he started pulling his coat on.

‘Where do you think you’re going, boss?’ Sally asked him, her concern matching his anger.

‘To speak to Jeremy Goldsboro,’ he insisted. ‘Maybe he can give me the answers I need, since it seems nobody here can.’

Donnelly sprang to his feet. ‘Want some company?’

‘No,’ Sean answered too quickly.

‘Why don’t you just call him?’ Sally tried to stop him.

‘No,’ Sean explained. ‘I need to see him. I need to pump him for information. I can’t do that down a phone.’

‘You don’t even know where he is,’ Sally argued.

‘I’ll find him,’ Sean snapped, fixing Sally with a look she couldn’t remember him ever using on her before. The sound of the phone ringing broke the atmosphere. Sean hesitated, not sure if he would even answer it until curiosity got the better of him and he snatched it up. ‘DI Corrigan.’

‘Sean,’ DS Aden O’Brien answered. ‘How you been keeping? Haven’t seen you since that little job we pulled in Liverpool.’

‘Long time ago now, Aden.’ Sean avoided reminiscing. ‘You got something for me?’

‘That shotgun DS Donnelly wanted me to take a look at,’ O’Brien began. ‘Very interesting.’

‘I’m listening,’ Sean assured him.

‘Not your usual sawn-off,’ O’Brien told him. ‘Hope they haven’t been robbing banks with it – gun’s probably worth more than any haul would be.’

‘What are you saying?’ Sean asked.

‘I’m telling you that shotgun’s a rare and valuable item. More specifically, it’s a David McKay Brown, over/under double-barrelled round-action shotgun with a twenty-nine-inch barrel and some very beautiful Celtic engravings. Any decent villain who got his hands on this would sell it, not saw the bloody barrels off it, so either whoever has it doesn’t know what he has, or he doesn’t care.’

‘Or it’s his own,’ Sean said quietly.

‘What’s that?’ O’Brien asked.

‘Nothing ,’ Sean lied. ‘Thanks, Aden.’

‘One more thing,’ O’Brien said before Sean could hang up. ‘I checked the register of stolen firearms. A gun like this should show up pretty quickly.’

‘But?’ Sean encouraged him.

‘I got a big fat no trace.’

‘Meaning no one’s reported one as being stolen,’ Sean surmised.

‘Correct,’ O’Brien confirmed. ‘Listen. There’s probably only a couple of hundred of these guns in the UK. Shouldn’t take you too long to find out who’s missing one.’

‘Long enough,’ Sean replied. ‘Thanks, Aden.’

‘No problem. Sorry I couldn’t pin it down a bit more for you.’

‘Trust me, Sean told him. ‘You’ve given me plenty.’ He hung up slowly as another brick in the wall The Jackdaw had built seemingly crumbled.

‘Everything all right?’ Donnelly asked.

‘The shotgun our boy’s been using,’ Sean explained, ‘it’s valuable and reasonably rare, but not reported as stolen.’

‘Then the owner doesn’t know it’s missing yet,’ Donnelly offered the logical explanation.

‘I don’t see how,’ Sean argued.

‘Overseas maybe.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Sean told him. ‘I think it’s not reported stolen because it’s not stolen. I think it’s
his
gun, whoever
he
is. He’s not a criminal, or at least he wasn’t, and neither does he associate with them, so he can’t use his criminal contacts to get a gun and he can’t just walk into his local boozer and quietly ask around. So he uses his own shotgun. But this isn’t the sort of gun a farmer or gamekeeper would own, this is a rich man’s plaything.’

‘Maybe the rich man owner’s dead,’ Donnelly suggested. ‘Our boy’s first victim, hiding somewhere in a shallow grave. Can’t report the shooter missing if you’re dead and no one knows.’

‘It’s his gun,’ Sean insisted. ‘I’m telling you, it’s his own gun, and he’s no working-class hero. He’s right under all our noses, only we can’t see him.’

‘But the Celtic markings on the gun,’ Donnelly argued. ‘Surely he’d know we’d identify it?’

‘Then he has a plan for that too,’ Sean insisted. ‘He has a plan for everything, remember.’

‘I’m not sure,’ Donnelly shook his head. ‘We should concentrate on looking for someone who’s lost everything – someone with a vendetta against these City types.’

‘No,’ Sean told him. ‘It’s personal. It always was.’ He quickly finished filling his coat pockets with everything he thought he might need and headed for the door.

‘You sure you don’t want me to come?’ Donnelly asked.

‘No,’ Sean told him. ‘I’ll call you if I need you.’ He swept past Donnelly into the main office and was gone, leaving Donnelly sitting open-mouthed in his office.

‘Once in a while,’ Donnelly complained to Sally, ‘I wish he’d tell me what the fuck’s going on in that mind of his.’

‘Would you really want to know?’ Sally asked.

‘No,’ Donnelly shook his head. ‘D’you want me to go with him – even if he doesn’t want me to?’

‘No,’ Sally replied. ‘He’s best left on his own – sometimes.’

‘You sure?’ Donnelly checked. ‘This thing about Goldsboro and the hood – I wonder if this is one high-profile investigation too far.’

‘If he thinks he’s on to something we should trust him,’ Sally rounded on him. ‘Don’t you?’ Donnelly just shrugged. ‘Let him work it through,’ Sally ordered. ‘Just give him time to work it through.’

As Sean reached the exit to the main office he almost bumped into Anna coming the other way. Instinctively he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around to avoid a painful collision – moving as if they were dancing.

‘Sean,’ she panted, flustered. ‘I was hoping to see you.’

‘Not now, Anna,’ he apologized. ‘I need to be somewhere else.’

‘It’s important. I’ve already waited too long to tell you.’ Her eyes told him she was serious.

‘OK,’ he relented. ‘What is it?’

‘Not here,’ she told him. ‘We need to speak in private.’

‘Walk me to my car,’ he instructed her. ‘We can speak on the way. If we’re moving we won’t be overheard.’ She nodded her agreement and followed him out of the door and along the corridor heading to the lifts. ‘So what’s so important it can’t wait?’

‘Christ,’ Anna tried to begin, drawing in a deep breath. ‘This is not going to be easy for me to say.’

Sean smiled nervously as they strode along the thin corridor. ‘This already doesn’t sound good.’

‘It’s about Assistant Commissioner Addis,’ she explained.

‘Addis,’ Sean said dismissively as he pushed open the doors that led to the small foyer and the lifts. ‘What’s Addis got to do with anything?’

Anna checked all around them to make sure they were alone as Sean impatiently stabbed at the lift button. Still he didn’t sense her anxiety as his mind wandered ahead to Jeremy Goldsboro and what he was going to ask him. No doubt Goldsboro would think he was as mad as everyone else did once he started questioning him about why his captor hadn’t removed the hood.

‘It was Addis who made sure I was attached to the Thomas Keller investigation,’ she reminded him.

‘So?’ Sean shrugged as the empty lift arrived, the doors parted and they stepped inside alone.

‘And it was Addis again who arranged for me to be attached to this investigation,’ Anna continued.

‘I know,’ Sean told her, sounding increasingly irritated. ‘Listen, if you’ve got something to tell me then just say it.’ The doors of the lift slid shut as they began their juddering descent.

‘My job was and is to profile the offenders for you – to help you find them.’

‘I know what you’re here for,’ Sean sighed.

‘Only, that’s not entirely true,’ she explained. ‘I’m not here to profile the offenders for you, Sean, I’m here to profile
you
for Addis.’ Sean’s eyes grew large and wild, before narrowing to thin slits – his pupils turning to little more than black pinpricks. Anna reached out to touch his arm, but he pulled it away. ‘I’m so sorry. It was before I met you. Before I got to know you. If I’d known then what I know now I would never have agreed to it.’

‘What was in it for you?’ he managed to ask through thin white lips.

‘It sounded an interesting case study,’ she answered, knowing only honesty could save her now. ‘A detective who could seemingly see things that others could not – see evidence that others had missed. One who could profile the people he hunted better than any psychiatrist or psychologist I’ve ever known.’

‘Is that all?’ he snarled as the lift bounced to a halt and the doors creaked open, revealing the underground car park sprawling out ahead of them. Sean stepped into the gloominess and walked fast, Anna trailing behind him.

‘That and unparalleled access to investigations and any suspects arrested,’ she said, trying to justify accepting Addis’s offer. ‘If you’d been in my position you’d have done the same. I didn’t know things were going to become so … complicated.’

‘You should have told me,’ he said over his shoulder as she struggled to keep up. ‘Once things got, as you say –
complicated
– you should have told me. Not carried on being Addis’s
spy
.’

‘Wait, Sean,’ she pleaded. ‘Just wait a minute.’ She reached out and managed to get a hold of his jacket and pull him to a stop, although he still wouldn’t look at her. ‘I wanted to tell you—’

‘Then why didn’t you?’ he interrupted her.

‘Because I was afraid,’ she admitted, finally getting him to look at her. ‘I was afraid of what Addis would do. I was afraid of what he might do to you.’

‘I can look after myself,’ he assured her. ‘I’m not afraid of Addis.’

‘You should be,’ she warned him. ‘He’s more dangerous than you think.’

‘Maybe it’s me who’s more dangerous than people think,’ he couldn’t help himself from saying.

‘No you’re not,’ she argued. ‘You and I both know there’s something in your past you’re hiding – something …
dark
, but it doesn’t mean you’re a danger to anyone.’

‘Doesn’t it?’

‘No,’ she insisted, ‘and now we won’t be working with each other any more perhaps you can talk to me about it. Maybe I can help you.’

‘What d’you mean, not working with each other any more?’ he asked.

‘Now I’ve told you, I can tell Addis I won’t be staying,’ she explained.

‘No.’ Sean stopped her. ‘No. I have a better idea.’

‘Such as?’

‘You stay and you tell Addis nothing about this conversation.’

‘I don’t understand,’ she admitted.

‘You let him think you’re still working for him,’ he explained. ‘Still watching me and reporting to him – but you tell him only what
we
want you to tell him. And anything he says about me, or anyone else on my team for that matter, you tell me.’

‘You basically want me to be a double-agent?’

‘If you like. You want to make things up to me then this is how you do it. Addis will never know and sooner or later he’ll move on to bigger and better things and forget we ever existed. Believe me – I know his type.’

‘I’m not sure I can do that,’ Anna shook her head. ‘I’m not sure I want to be used any more.’

‘No one will be using you,’ Sean tried to reassure her. ‘You’ll just be levelling the playing pitch – keeping Addis off my back. You owe me that much at least.’

‘Wait a minute,’ Anna suddenly accused him, taking a step backwards. ‘You thought all this up pretty quickly. You already knew, didn’t you? Someone told you? Was it Donnelly?’

‘No one told me anything,’ he answered, ‘but yes – I suspected as much.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Anna shook her head and closed her eyes. ‘How long?’

‘Since we first met,’ he admitted.

‘How?’

‘You asked a few too many questions – that’s all.’

‘I can’t remember asking any questions.’

‘Must have been something else then. I can’t remember now.’

‘And everything else?’ she pressed. ‘Our
friendship
?’

‘It was real,’ he assured her. ‘Is real. Sometimes too real.’

‘Then why didn’t you say something?’

‘I could have been wrong,’ he answered unconvincingly, ‘and besides it was better to wait until you told me yourself.’

‘And your little charade back there in the lift – your Mr Angry impersonation – all just for my benefit?’

‘Sorry,’ he confessed. ‘I figured it would be best if you didn’t know that I already knew.’

‘So if I hadn’t said anything you would never have told me?’ Sean shrugged silently. ‘Christ,’ she continued. ‘All this time I’ve been feeling like a betraying bitch and all the time
you
were using
me.
’

‘I wasn’t using you,’ he argued. ‘I never
fed
you anything that I wanted to get back to Addis. I just didn’t tell you everything I was thinking.’ Anna sighed, unable to think of anything else to say. ‘Well?’ Sean asked. ‘Will you do it?’

‘Cops,’ she complained loudly. ‘You’re unbelievable. You’re all as bad as each other.’

‘I told you,’ he reassured her, ‘I’m not out to hurt Addis – I’m just looking for a little insurance. Plus you still get to help on the case and pick the suspect’s mind when I catch him. Should be an interesting experience.’

‘What choice do I have?’ she asked.

‘Every choice,’ he insisted. ‘You don’t want to do it, don’t do it. Walk away. I won’t think any less of you. I won’t blame you. At least think about it. Just think about it. I have to go now.’ He rested his hand on her shoulder for a second before heading towards his car, leaving Anna standing alone feeling dazed and confused and wondering if she really knew anything about Sean at all.

Jackson entered the Three Greyhounds pub in Greek Street and searched the tables for the man he was looking for, finding him sitting towards the rear of the pub with his back to the wall facing the entrance reading a newspaper. Jackson noted it wasn’t a copy of
The World
. He crossed the pub, slid into a chair opposite the man and patiently waited for him to lower his paper and acknowledge his presence. After a long thirty seconds he got his wish as the man, tall and slim and in his early fifties, neatly folded his paper and laid it on the table in front of him before looking up directly into Jackson’s eyes.