The Unseen (18 page)

“SPI proven or not,” Sean said. “When we go in, a hundred thousand should get us serious attention. If they believe we have a lot more spare we can dangle it for a detailed inside view. The dangers are, Victoria and wealth. Sarah Finch was a wealthy woman and attracted our killer. Likewise Helen Carter. Victoria may do the same. We need to take precautions and have a team ready for immediate action.”

Her nose twitched.

“Sounds feasible,” Cobbart said.

“Let’s get professional here.” She shook her head. “First, I’m a big girl and I’ve been trained to bite back. Secondly, my time here is off the record which gives me licence you guys don’t have. The last thing I want is big policemen bounding through the window and queering my patch. On the first encounter we gather intelligence, then withdraw. On the second encounter, Sean plays from the front while I go covert behind their backs, right into the heart, if need be. Once I’ve identified a target I’ll extract. How I do that is down to me.”

“Settled then, but as a precaution I’ll put Blue Team on standby, just in case,” Cobbart said and answered his phone on the third ring. The troll smugness became concentrated. Sean glanced at Victoria who stared petulantly out the window. He thought her beautiful.

“Get back to this Liam Haggarty,” Cobbart spoke into the handset. “Tell him we have useful information, but I want to trade. I want our own man to visit, I want shared intelligence. I’m positive he’ll realise the benefit of mutual co-operation, particularly if they can blame a Brit.” Cobbart hung up and rubbed his jaw.

Victoria had turned back to look at him, her expression as if she knew what was to come.

Cobbart exhaled. “That was our man at Criminal Intelligence. They’ve had a request from the Irish Garda in Dublin regarding the brutal murder of a young nun. There are similarities to the Poor Girl murders. Looks like our boy’s been travelling.”

“How do you know it’s him?” Sean asked.

“Has all the hallmarks. The girl’s vagina and uterus were cut from her body. Whoever did this took them away.”

Sean felt his rage and condensed it into a hard knot. Victoria had her eyes closed, hands balled to fists.

“Liam Haggerty, he’s the Garda in charge?” Sean asked.

Cobbart nodded.

“Tell him I’ll be over. I need him on our side.” Sean called Heidi on his mobile. “Book a ticket for Dublin.” He checked his watch. “Quickest you can get to leave in one hour thirty minutes, sod the cost. Return by 0900 hours tomorrow. Central accommodation for one night.” He looked at the troll. “Boss, I need a fast car to the airport.”

“Include me,” Victoria said.

“No.” Sean stared into the flare of her eyes and continued before she could protest. “Someone has to take a briefing from Steve Rawlings. We need to know more about SPI, we need to know about its transmission and covert use. We need to know what you and I face at PKL headquarters. More important, what you might face when you get further involved and I might not be there.”

“I’ve investigated both London crime scenes, I know details you and Haggarty don’t.”

Sean stayed with eye contact. She was stubborn, without compromise.

Victoria hid smugness when she placed her ticket on the checkin desk at Luton Airport. Sean had outmanoeuvred her in Cobbart’s office with the retention of Blue Team, but he could not deny the logic for her going to Ireland. Zoby had killed again. This time she was determined he would be sanitised. In the departure lounge she gave Sean her best pretty-girl smile and made excuses. “Need to buy things for overnight,” she said and received a grunt for her effort. She crossed to a discount arcade and hid behind shelves selecting underwear, then a toothbrush, her mobile pressed to one ear.

Alice Sibree sounded sympathetic, Victoria doubted she was. “I can’t stay passive on this, Alice, not if it’s Zoby again.” She listened to Sibree’s hesitation.

“Let’s not do anything rash. Zoby’s demise will come. It’s a prime objective. But we need to protect our operation and secure copies of the merchandise. Then we extract before the police close in. I’ve had word, Wileman’s people are also watching. It must appear to Wileman that he is the sole beneficiary of SPI or the covert use of our own viruses will be compromised. If you find Zoby, eliminating him before time would bring media involvement and jeopardise our objectives. Your opportunity will come. Wait.”

“And what of Crystal, he’s equally guilty?”

“How does one kill by remote hypnosis? The difficulty of proof is his saving grace, and for the moment ours. Keep in contact.”

When Victoria returned, Sean stood waiting, his head and shoulders above the others like a rock in a human river. She saw him aloof, isolated, scowling. He looked so lonely. She maintained her best pretty-girl smile.

“Cobbart was on the phone,” he said to her. “The man follows Cheltenham Gold Cup. So does half of Ireland, including the Garda. As a result he has good contacts. A car has been arranged for our arrival and Haggarty will be at the crime scene. All you need is to win him over.”

You and him alike, she thought, and followed towards the departure gate.

Sean shook hands with Garda Fitzgerald who held the door while Victoria slid into the back seat.

“First name’s Cory,” Fitzgerald said. He was clad in jeans and leather jacket, his hair was cropped and two studs were fastened in one ear.

“Terrible,” Cory said, as he manoeuvred through Dublin’s outer traffic. “Would you believe a pure wee nun. Just a young girl, no older than my own sister. The whole of Ireland is shocked.” He floated the car into a roundabout and headed out the other side on the N3 to Navan. “We’ll get the bastard though. Word is he’s Brit. Is that right?” He looked into the rear mirror, to the guilty foreigners.

“Could be,” Sean said.

“We’ll get him, mind. Terrible, a nun and all. No older than my sister. No one’s safe.”

Twenty minutes later they pulled into a tree-lined car-park. Victoria extracted herself and Sean watched her tight expression as she looked towards the white overalled Forensics team who dotted the weed infested vegetable garden.

Cory indicated a neat, bespectacled man in cords and wellies who came under the tape.

“Liam Haggarty.” The Irishman extended his hand to Sean, looking at Victoria. “It’s okay. They’ve moved the remains,” he said, over her hesitation at the tape.

“I put away his last two victims,” Victoria said in a bland lifeless voice. “And I never move into another person’s crime scene unless invited.”

“I appreciate that.” Haggarty nodded and lifted the tape. Sean waved her forward. She had won the guy’s professional respect, now she needed to stay emotionally detached. “We’re of the same school, Inspector,” she told him. “If we have the same killer, we’re basically involved in the same operation.”

All three stopped at the greenhouse entrance. Sean looked inside. Streaks of blood discoloured the glass. It was flecked out in spidery tendrils and had dried to a mottled brown. Flies had settled. Victoria faltered and visibly paled.

“The spray of blood patterns shows she was alive when he started,” Haggerty said. “Staked out, her mouth heavily taped. She died from loss of blood and trauma.”

Sean watched Victoria repress a shiver and waited until she found her voice. “The killer our side tied and gagged his victims before cutting them. He started with sexual assault, then graduated.”

“This one’s the same. Cut off her clothes, leaving only her wimple. Does that suggest anything?”

“That suggests he wanted to keep her as a nun,” Victoria said. “The man understands purity, perfection. His past victims were what you might call elite, beyond the reach of many. He thinks of himself in the same way.”

“Any DNA?” Sean asked.

“It will take time. The corpse was a mess. Fingerprinting useless. He wore surgical gloves the whole time. Blood splashes show she struggled, bruises indicate he knelt on her chest. He must have been covered. He emptied the whole inner cavity of her body, including the uterus and connecting genitalia which he took away. Psychologically these continue his possession of her.”

Victoria was looking down at the earth. Congealed furrows were littered with bloodstained prayer cards. This time she stayed silent.

Sean said, “What about the car, clothes? Someone who must have seen him?”

“I have teams out searching. Initial evidence suggests he visited twice, first time to prepare, possibly leaving a change of clothes and stuff to clean up with. The second time he brought the girl. I have one witness who saw a man in a blazer helping her from a Mercedes car. They gave a poor description I’m afraid”

“Then she trusted him, same as our victims. Did she use a computer? We have strong evidence all the victims played a computer game called Princess Kay-ling.”

“Katherine was a skilled calligrapher and studied the art of illuminated manuscripts at one of our best colleges. Most pupils there go on to take Holy Orders. I can see computers, but not games.” He raised his hands. “But then my sister’s a nun. They can play the devil if they take a mind to.”

“It’s Zoby.” Victoria finally spoke. “I know it. Zoby removed genitalia from Lizzie Sinclair. Our man is your man, Inspector.” Haggarty looked up, his relief visible behind the glasses. He was no longer alone.

“I’ll share evidence,” Sean said. “But I need insight into Katherine’s mind and background. I need to talk with her friends.”

Haggarty checked his watch. “I have a woman detective sergeant at Katherine’s college now. Kilkenny is a good two hours drive, maybe more, unless young Cory takes you.”

“It’s okay.” Victoria raised her hand. “Your men are needed here. We’ll hire a car.”

“If I share evidence,” Haggarty said. “And if you catch him in Britain, I want him afterwards. One day they’ll let him out of your jail, but he’ll die in ours.”

They reached Kilkenny City and the 16
^th
century teaching convent in late afternoon. The DS from Dublin CID stepped from an unmarked car and introduced herself as Finola Kelly. Victoria edged Sean aside, this was women’s ground and he let her lead.

“The sisters are in a state of shock, I can hardly get a word out of them,” Finola said.

“Did you talk to her friends?”

“Her close pal is Teresa. I’ve tried to interview her, but she keeps crying and the Mother Superior won’t leave us alone. Getting information here will take patience.”

“We have a return flight tomorrow morning,” Sean said. “If Katherine used a computer, if she was in contact with anyone over the Internet, we need to know.”

Finola gave a grimace of apology. “To be honest, I don’t think men are welcome at the moment.” She glanced towards Victoria. “If we two try by saying you’re from England, Mother Superior may give us ten minutes.”

Sean waited in the car for thirty minutes, lost in speculation of why Zoby had killed in Ireland. Was he trying to prove his capabilities or dilute the search over two countries? If so, perhaps he didn’t realise he had opened a corridor. Passing between borders meant passing through security. It gave a reference point for the operation to search. The other avenue was Crystal, if only they knew what part Crystal played.

When Victoria finally returned through the heavy doors of the convent, she was followed by DS Kelly and three young students, all were carrying computer equipment. The three gathered round the boot of the Garda’s car and placed their burden inside. Victoria shook hands with DS Kelly then crossed to Sean’s car.

“Wow,” she said, once inside. “Never knew nuns could be so scary. Given the chance, I think Sister Deirdre, the Mother Superior, would have scourged both of us on the spot. She’s not a woman to mess with, so I hit hard. Told her if we didn’t have her and Teresa’s help this guy would kill again. We would all have blood on our hands. That broke the barrier.”

“Well done.” Sean glanced to her and wondered if that was her motivation, the thought of blood on her hands through failure.

“She let Teresa walk with me in the garden. The poor girl let it all pour out. Katherine was computer whiz kid of the convent. Her parents kept buying her the latest equipment. Katherine secretly downloaded and played Princess Kay-ling every night. She was Southern Ireland champion.”

“The convent never knew?” Sean asked.