Blood Whispers (17 page)

Aquino stood for a second listening to the muffled sounds of Kade gathering his possessions together in the room next door, then whispered to Moran, ‘What you thinking?’

‘I’m thinking Kade’s got a green neon above his head that reads, “Exit”. We don’t follow the sign, we gonna get caught in the blast.’

Reluctantly, Aquino nodded his head in agreement. ‘Is he primed?’

Moran answered in a low voice, ‘Yeah . . . it was in his drink.’

‘How long?’

‘Should be more or less instant. You go wait in the car. I’ll go see where he’s at.’

When Moran entered the room he found Kade sitting‚ slumped at the end of the bed. Kade slowly raised his head and stared up at him‚ drooling saliva from the side of his gaping mouth.

‘What’d you do to me?’

His speech was slurred, his words almost incoherent.

‘Just a little something to help you on your way‚’ replied Moran.

‘Where am I going?’

‘Vacation.’

Kade looked on helplessly as Moran pulled a handgun from the holster concealed under his jacket and started to screw on a suppressor.

DSI Hammond was standing with a uniformed officer at the arrivals gate at Glasgow airport drinking a take-away coffee and eating a hot panini. He was only a few bites in when he spotted the two men passing through customs and heading toward him. Muttering ‘Shit’ under his breath, he folded the sandwich back into its wrapper and held out his hand as they approached. ‘Welcome to Glasgow, gentlemen. Sorry it’s not under better circumstances.’

‘Don’t wrap up your lunch on account of us,’ said Tommy Aquino, extending his hand.

‘It’s breakfast.’

‘Even more reason to eat up. DSI Hammond?’

‘Yes, but call me Gary. I’m in charge of the investigation. This is Sergeant Iain Baird, he’ll be our driver for the day. Take you wherever you want to go.’

‘I’m Officer O’Donnell – but call me Joe – and this is my partner, Mitch Taylor.’ Aquino indicated Gregg Moran with a flick of his finger. ‘Call him whatever you like.’

The two agents flashed their fake ID cards, with their assumed names printed just above the barcode strip on the bottom left, then pocketed them, knowing that would probably be the only time they’d be used.

The four men set off in the direction of the car park.

‘How was the flight?’

‘Short,’ replied Aquino. ‘It was like, we’d only just taken off and they asked us to fasten our seatbelts for landing.’

‘Are you guys based in Berlin?’

‘Just passing through,’ said Moran. ‘We were just about to head back to the States when we got the call.’

‘D’you want to check into your hotel first, drop off your things and freshen up?’

‘Only carrying this hand luggage and I’m afraid this is as fresh as we get. If you don’t mind, we’d rather get straight to it. We got a lot of ground to cover, and little or no time.’

‘Sure.’

‘Can we go direct to the crime scene: take a look around?’ asked Moran.

‘No problem,’ replied Gary. ‘Then we’ll go to the morgue: get the formal ID out of the way.’

‘Sure. When’d it happen?’

‘The body was discovered yesterday evening, but we reckon he’d been lying there for a couple of days.’

‘Any idea what went down?’

‘A bit early to say. One thing we’re fairly certain about, it was a professional hit. Two bullets fired – one to the head, one to the chest – either of which would have been lethal.’

‘D’you think it’s linked to Abazi and the hooker?’

‘I don’t know, possibly . . . I mean, at the moment that’s the most likely scenario. I’m not sure how much you guys know.’

‘A lot – but until we’ve spoken to your intelligence people, we can’t say too much. I’m not trying to be an ass, I promise. We’ll help you as much as we can, but we need to follow the rules.’ Moran smiled at just how easily he was able to turn on the bullshit.

‘I understand.’

‘I will say this: Edwin Kade wasn’t just a fellow agent, he was a friend. We have our own theories as to what has happened, but until we’ve got all the info, we don’t want to disrespect the guy by blowing off too early.’

They had reached the car park.

Sergeant Baird stood next to a dark silver BMW 6 Series and pressed the immobilizer fob. He held open the back door to let Aquino in, then moved round the other side to do the same for Moran while Gary Hammond climbed into the front passenger seat.

Once inside the car, Baird made himself comfortable and started the engine. ‘It’s close to rush hour. We in a hurry, boss?’ he asked.

‘I don’t want to be sitting in traffic.’

‘Boo-Hoo and blue?’

Gary Hammond nodded.

‘Fair enough.’ Baird turned to look over his shoulder to the two CIA agents sitting in the back. ‘Buckle up, gents!’

Two minutes later Gregg Moran indicated with a small lift of his eyebrows for Aquino to check the speedometer. The BMW was cutting through the late afternoon traffic on the M8 motorway at over one hundred miles an hour, Baird’s attention focused solely on the road ahead as he weaved his way expertly between the cars.

Aquino had to raise his voice to be heard over the hi-lo wail and intermittent tri-tone of the siren.

‘How’s the lawyer doing, Keira Lynch?’

‘Okay. It was touch and go at the start: lucky to make it. But she’s making good progress now. Ninety-five per cent there.’

‘Where’s she at?’

‘We moved her and her mother to a safe house just outside Glasgow. Still not sure why she’s a target, but there still appears to be a legitimate threat.’

‘She accepting visitors?’

‘I’m sure we could sort something out.’

‘I think we could throw some light on the subject: put her mind at rest.’

‘Probably won’t happen today.’

‘Can we fix it up for first thing tomorrow morning?’

‘Sure.’

Apart from the slight chill that comes with a house that’s been left empty for a while and two guys in forensic whites moving around in the living area next door, Edwin Kade’s apartment looked exactly the same as it had a few days earlier. Gregg Moran and Tommy Aquino were standing in the doorway of the bedroom surveying the blood-soaked sheets and stained carpet, Aquino shaking his head. ‘Man this sucks! So, was he asleep or something? Doesn’t look like there’s much else out of place. No signs of a struggle.’

‘That’s the way it reads. Toxicology report says he’d been drinking. More likely he was passed out, then whoever was in the apartment with him did the business. The time of death is a guess, but they put it late morning/early afternoon rather than night time.’

‘So there was someone in the apartment with him?’

‘That’s the assumption.’

‘Have you lifted any other prints?’

‘Not so far.’

‘Was he on anything else . . . anything stronger than alcohol?’

‘No.’

‘So you think Kade knew his killer?’

‘I think whoever shot him was in the apartment, or Kade let him in. No signs of forced entry, no break-in, nothing stolen. A straightforward hit – and yes, he probably knew the killer.’

‘You mind if we have a look in his bags?’ Moran moved over to Edwin Kade’s holdall that was sitting on the far side of the bed. ‘Looks like he was planning a trip.’

Before Gary Hammond could stop him he’d pulled it open and was delving inside.

‘If you don’t mind, Mitch, you really need to snap on some gloves before you start rummaging around.’

Moran looked up from the bag and made a convincing play of acting guilty. ‘Holy shit, I’m sorry, I assumed this had all been tech’d, Jesus!’

‘So far we’ve only removed the body, nothing else has been done.’

Moran made his way back to the doorway. ‘I’m so sorry! Listen, I’ll leave it up to you guys, but can you copy us in on all the forensic shit, let us know if anything comes up, even if it doesn’t seem that interesting? We’re working on a theory that Edwin Kade was involved in something he shouldn’t have been. So far everything we’ve got supports that story, and to be honest the manner of his death has come as no big surprise. It just confirms our belief. We just need to back it up with concrete evidence. You know what it’s like in this game: if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, you can guarantee it’s a fucking pig in disguise.’

‘Sure,’ replied Hammond.

‘We kinda need everything,’ added Aquino, ‘no matter how trivial.’

‘No problem.’

Hammond, Moran and Aquino moved back through to the lounge.

‘Neighbours see or hear anything?’ asked Moran.

‘The block is mostly empty during the day. No one saw or heard anything out of the ordinary.’

‘I thought you guys had him under surveillance?’

‘We were keeping an eye on him, that’s all. After he got smacked on the back of the head by the prostitute, we’d asked him to stick around in case he was going to be called to give evidence.’

‘In her case or in the case against Abazi?’

‘In her case, primarily. We were looking for any links there might have been to Abazi as well, although, as it stands, there is no case against him; not yet, anyway.’

‘Okay, I think we’ve seen enough,’ said Aquino nodding at Moran. ‘Let’s get Kade’s ID out of the way.’

‘What time d’you think we can go see Keira Lynch tomorrow?’ asked Moran as they headed for the front door.

‘If I pick you up at your hotel just after nine a.m. we could be there around ten-ish?’

‘Sounds good.’

‘We’ll take care of MI5 tonight,’ added Aquino. ‘Let them in on what’s been happening, then hopefully, in the morning, we can fill you in on what we think is going on here.’

Officer Aquino was standing in the living room of the cottage staring out of the small rear window. ‘Has she got a target in mind, or does she throw those things for a hobby?’

‘She’s trying to rehabilitate her shoulder: improve the co-ordination down the right side,’ answered Keira’s mother. ‘Take a seat, and I’ll let her know you’re here.’

‘Has she seen this morning’s headlines?’

Orlaith stared back at him. ‘Yes.’

‘What’s she make of them?’

‘Why don’t you ask her?’ Orlaith left the cramped sitting room and headed through the kitchen to the back door.

‘Are those things legal?’ Moran asked Gary Hammond, his attention drawn to Keira’s knife throwing again.

‘Not if you’re carrying them down the street, but if you’re throwing them around your own home there’s not much we can do.’

‘Who’s the other girl?’

‘Rebecca Rey: close protection officer.’

‘She armed?’

‘Yes.’

‘Any other cover?’

‘We did have for the first few days, but not now: don’t have the manpower. We were lucky to even get her. Local cops check in regularly and the whole house is fitted with panic alarms and cameras we can monitor remotely.’

Aquino watched the last two knives spin through the air and stick point first into an old railway sleeper propped against the drystone wall that bordered the small cottage garden. Keira Lynch turned when she saw her mother appear at the back door, then nodded to her and went to retrieve the knives, which were clustered together in a tight bunch near the top of the sleeper. Aquino exchanged a look with Moran and said quietly, ‘Not bad!’

Moran nodded and replied, ‘And the knife throwing is pretty hot too!’

Seconds later Keira was standing in the doorway of the living room holding the presentation box containing the knives.

‘Surprising talent,’ said Aquino as his opener.

‘Why surprising?’

‘I mean it’s not something you see every day . . . you know . . . a woman throwing knives.’

‘Unless you’re in the circus, I suppose,’ chipped in Moran.

‘A woman?’

‘A person! It’s an unusual skill to have, is what I mean. You been doing it long?’

‘It’s sort of a family tradition.’

Gary Hammond made the introductions. ‘Keira, these are Officers Joe O’Donnell and Mitch Taylor. Flew in from Berlin yesterday. They wanted to have a chat. Gentlemen: Keira Lynch.’

Moran made like he was about to shake her hand, but Keira didn’t move. ‘D’you guys have ID?’

Aquino raised his eyebrows. ‘You’re the first person to ask that.’

‘You wanna see them?’ said Moran.

‘If you don’t mind.’

Moran and Aquino fished out their identity cards and offered them over to her. After a cursory glance she handed them back. ‘I’ve never seen one before so I don’t know what they’re supposed to look like.’

‘So why ask?’ replied Moran, already getting the sense that this was not going to be an easy ride.

‘Why not?’ Keira placed the box of knives on a drop-leaf table sitting in front of the lounge window. ‘Let’s sit outside. We don’t usually have weather like this in Scotland, and I’ve been feeling a little claustrophobic of late.’

Rebecca Rey stood vigil at the far end of the neat little garden while Moran, Aquino, Hammond and Keira pulled up chairs and sat at a wooden table on the small patio area just outside the kitchen door. Orlaith followed them out with a tray of tea and coffee then disappeared back inside. The sun was still low in the morning sky, but it was already starting to get warm.

Aquino was still pursuing the knife-throwing line. ‘I thought you might have a picture of Mister E Zeze pinned to your block of wood there,’ he said, removing his jacket and hanging it on the back of his chair.

‘I would if I could remember what he looked like,’ Keira said matter-of-factly. ‘My mind has blanked out everything, but his scent.’

‘His scent?’ Moran screwed up his face.

‘He wears a weird cologne . . .’

‘. . . that doesn’t suit his skin type,’ said Hammond, finishing off her sentence and earning himself a look from the two agents, like that was a new one to them.

‘What type of cologne?’

Keira caught the exchange of looks between the three men. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Have you seen the stuff on the news and in the papers this morning?’ Moran asked her.

‘I’ve watched the news, but I haven’t read anything yet.’

‘It didn’t come from us, Keira,’ added Gary quickly. ‘When I find out who’s responsible I’ll bloody crucify them.’

Breakfast News on the BBC had led with the story that traces of heroin had been found in Keira’s flat, leading to speculation that the shootings had been drug related: it went on to say that police were investigating links between Keira and high-profile Glasgow crime lords.

‘What d’you think is going on?’ Moran probed.

‘Should I have a lawyer present?’

‘It’s not a formal interview,’ interjected Gary, ‘just a chat.’

‘I don’t know what’s going on,’ she said after a brief pause. ‘It looks like someone may be trying to discredit me.’

‘Why?’

‘I’ve no idea. “Blur the picture”, perhaps, who knows? I feel like I’m part of a game, but no one has told me the rules yet . . . if there are any.’

‘D’you know how the heroin got there?’

‘No.’

‘Okay, why don’t you kick things off: tell us what you know and where you think it’s at and we’ll try our best to answer as many questions as you might possibly have?’

‘Because I didn’t ask to see you, you asked to see me, that’s why. The onus isn’t on me to tell you anything, the onus is on you to explain to me what the hell this is all about.’

Gary Hammond shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

‘I appreciate that,’ Aquino said gently. ‘Unfortunately the glue we’re using to stick all the bits together is strong enough to give us a headache, but not to hold anything in place. We were hoping you might know something that would help.’

Keira sat staring back at the two agents in silence.

‘Anything you can think of to make it any easier for us to find out what happened to our colleague Ed—’ started Aquino, but Keira interrupted him.

‘It’s not my job to make your life easier. I’m sitting here with a head full of memories I’d rather not have, and I suspect it’s because of some shit that you or those like you are involved in. So don’t come in here acting like Mister and Mister Nice Guy and expect me to start reliving it all so that you can have an easy life.
You
asked to see
me
, remember?’ Keira’s tone was controlled and measured as she continued. ‘Either tell me what you feel I need to know or go away and leave me the hell alone.’

Aquino could see Moran preparing to take her on and jumped in. ‘Woah, woah, let’s just take a step back and come at this from a different angle. You’re right, we should be giving you information, not the other way around. Our problem is we have a few gaps in our story that we were hoping you might be able to fill, make these events hang together a little better. But let’s set that aside for the moment; that, as you have correctly stated, is our problem, not yours. We just wanted to come here and tell you what we think is going on, hopefully put your mind at rest as much as possible given the circumstances, then leave you in peace to get your life back on track.’

The expression on Keira’s face was still difficult to read.

Aquino kept going. ‘We’ve been keeping a close eye on Fisnik Abazi’s activities for some time now in an effort to gain enough intelligence on him, not only to cut off his supply chain, but to close the son-of-a-bitch down entirely. The operation he has been running has a global reach, far beyond his capabilities, and we wanted to know why and how. We found out that he was using US military aircraft to smuggle his merchandise, not only into Scotland, but on from here, into the States. The only way that was possible was if someone from within the military was colluding. But every time it looked like we were closing in something would happen that would mess our game. That’s when we started to have concerns that someone closer to home was also helping him.’

‘Someone from within the CIA,’ cut in Moran.

‘We had no clues, no intel, nothing to point the finger at anyone from inside any of the operations we were running. Then bam! Edwin Kade gets brained by one of Abazi’s hookers and suddenly the whole thing falls into place. We were on the edge of closing this whole game down when, not only does the girl get whacked, but Kade too. Leaving us floating on a sea of crap in a leaky life-raft.’

‘Once again,’ added Moran.

‘What was in it for Kade?’

‘What’s in it for any of these guys? Money! Turns out he’s got bank accounts all over the place full of cash. Deposits bags of cash every time, like he’s a shopkeeper or something: in fact that was his cover story.’

‘There was a small bag of heroin found at his flat too,’ chipped in Gary Hammond. ‘We just had it confirmed this morning that it was from the same batch that Abazi’s putting out on the street. And matches the traces found in your apartment also. All from the same supply.’

‘Why not close Abazi down sooner?’

‘If we’d taken Abazi out, two minutes later someone else would have stepped in. We wanted to get a handle on the entire smuggling operation, then terminate the whole goddamn thing.’

‘Was there any political pressure put on Patrick Sellar to release Kaltrina Dervishi?’

The question came from left field. Aquino wasn’t expecting it. ‘Who’s Patrick Sellar?’ He already knew the answer, but was buying himself time to think.

‘The Advocate Depute. He released Kaltrina Dervishi on to the street. He was also in line to be the lead prosecutor in the Abazi case – were Abazi ever arrested.’

Aquino shrugged. ‘Oh yeah, him. Well, he was under no pressure from our side. We wanted her alive. She was to be a key witness. We certainly let British Intelligence know we had an interest in her, but I wouldn’t say that ran as far as influencing a member of your judiciary to make a decision that was – or wasn’t – in the best interest of everyone concerned.’

‘He mentioned to me that she would have no right to appeal if a deportation order was taken out against her, because she was considered a threat to this or some other country’s national security. Would that other country have been yours?’

Aquino looked to Moran.

‘Possibly,’ conceded Moran.

Keira was slipping into lawyer mode. These guys came across as convincing, but all the best liars did.

‘So in that sense, wouldn’t you agree there was undue pressure placed, not only on my client, but on a representative of the law who is duty bound to remain impartial?’

‘No, I wouldn’t agree. The intention was to close down a major drug-smuggling ring – not to mention the side-effect that would have on the trafficking and prostitution that hangs off its back. The girl was the first breakthrough we’d had in bringing that about. In retrospect, using the whole deportation thing wasn’t a smart way forward, but we were desperate. We were simply trying to find excuses to hold on to her as best we could without breaking any rules. But we’re getting off the point. If this Patrick Sellar hadn’t released her we’d all be in a much better position. We’re still not sure why he did that.’

Keira let the conversation hang for a moment, then said, ‘How does any of this help me get my life back on track?’

‘The word from Langley is that Abazi has called in the removal van.’

‘Who’s Langley?’

She already knew the answer, but she’d learned from years of dealing with guys like this that it usually paid dividends to let them think they were smarter than her. The feeling of superiority they enjoyed meant they tended to underestimate her, which in most cases always proved to be an advantage.

‘Sorry, Langley is the CIA headquarters in Virginia.’

‘Okay.’

‘Anyway, we think Abazi may have fled to Europe already, leaving behind a handful of his men to tidy up. If there are any positives to take, it’s the fact that he’s no longer in business. He knows we’re coming after him. And without Edwin Kade guarding his ass, he knows we’ll be successful this time.’

‘And Engjell E Zeze?’

‘He’s nicknamed the Watcher. That’s what they first called fallen angels: Watchers. It’s like he’s supernatural or something. The literal translation of his name is Angel Black. We have no idea where he is. But, this is what I was going to say: we don’t think you were ever intended to be a target. The problem, as we see it, is that you were the last contact the girl had. Abazi’s probably figuring she’s told you everything that’s going on, so he might as well take you out as well. I would urge you still to be cautious, but Engjell E Zeze works for Abazi, and with Abazi gone I can’t see why E Zeze would still want you dead. I think the risk to you has been considerably lessened.’

Moran’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

‘Sorry,’ he said, pulling it out and checking the message. ‘D’you mind if I quickly reply to this? I had an important meeting scheduled for tomorrow in the States, I just need to cancel it. Excuse me, it won’t take a second.’

Moran stayed where he was and punched in a number.

‘Hi, it’s Officer Mitch Taylor here, just a quick message to say I won’t make the meeting tomorrow, something has come up. I’ll be back in the States at the start of next week, so I’ll call you then to rearrange. Apologies for any inconvenience.’ Moran hung up and slipped his phone back into his pocket. ‘Sorry, but if I didn’t do it now I’d have forgotten and caused all sorts of problems.’

Aquino hadn’t taken his eyes off Keira the whole time. She still wasn’t giving much away, but looked a lot more subdued. ‘You figure you’re in possession of any information that might keep Abazi coming after you, Miss Lynch?’

Keira returned his stare. ‘No.’

The only information Keira was withholding now was about Kaltrina’s son, Ermir, which as far as she was concerned was none of their business.

‘You figure there’s anything you want to tell us, might help seal Abazi’s fate?’

She shook her head. ‘No.’