Blood Whispers Read online

  ‘Where would he go? Back home?’ Moran got to his feet and headed into the kitchen. ‘You mind if I fix myself another. You were a bit light on the “vacation”.’

  ‘Sure, help yourself . . . I don’t think he’d head home. He still has all the connections there, but things have moved on: different people in charge of the Clan. He’d be treading on rivals’ toes, it’d be too much of a headache.’

  ‘I thought all his money was tied up in property here?’

  ‘They’re all mortgaged to the max and sub-let or rented. His money is out already. The only people who would feel the pain would be the banks. He’s free to go.’

  ‘D’you want a refresher?’ asked Moran from behind the counter.

  Kade held up his glass, ‘Yeah, sure,’ then continued, ‘I think he’ll head over to France . . . Paris, most likely. He’s been sending a lot of his money over there, possibly with a view to his retirement.’

  Moran filled Kade’s glass with vodka and orange and brought it over to him. ‘Yeah, we want him to retire him too . . . to the big condo in the sky.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Kade took a sip and placed the glass on the coffee table. ‘So, where we at? No one knows you’re here?’

  ‘Not yet,’ answered Aquino. ‘We thought we’d take a look around first without the cops or intelligence services following our every move. If we can find Abazi and take care of him, we’ll slip off and no one will be any the wiser.’

  ‘Our biggest problem at the moment is the lawyer,’ said Moran.

  Kade looked confused. ‘The lawyer? Whose lawyer?’

  ‘The girl’s.’

  ‘How does she figure?’

  ‘She’s still alive.’

  Kade’s eyebrows were touching his hairline.

  ‘We’re still not sure how much she knows.’

  ‘There was a survivor – holy shit! The girl’s lawyer survived?’

  ‘It was as much a shock to us too, believe me!’ said Moran.

  ‘This is a lot messier than I thought. You must have accessed her computer, read her notes. Is there nothing in there?’

  ‘She writes everything longhand.’

  Kade was staring back at Aquino. ‘Are you shitting me? Longhand . . . I don’t even know what that means. What about her assistant? There must be stuff on his hard drive.’

  ‘The cops have that. They also have all her notes and notebooks containing anything to do with the girl.’

  ‘Put in a request to take a look. The cops must have some idea about what was said between the lawyer and the girl. Check out the lead investigator. Hell, if I’d known I could have done that from here on my Mac, instead of sitting scratching my ass for the last couple of weeks.’

  ‘We start poking around too much, we’ll alert them to our involvement. They’ll wonder why we’re so interested. And – right now, until we’ve fixed Abazi, we don’t want that. The Brits have already sent an information request to Langley regarding your activities here.’

  Edwin Kade looked uncomfortable. ‘Yeah, well, like I already said, that was a screw-up, but so far I’ve been playing dumb. Told them I was on a stopover, which is – as near as damn it – the truth. What did you tell them?’

  ‘Pretty much the same,’ replied Aquino. ‘We said that, as far as we’re aware, we have no active operations on British soil.’

  ‘But, it’s piqued their interest,’ followed Moran, ‘and that’s not good. The British security services have eyes on Abazi already.’

  ‘Where are they hiding the lawyer?’ asked Kade.

  ‘She was in one of the local hospitals under armed guard . . . Now, we don’t know. We’ll hopefully find that out when we make an official appearance.’

  Edwin Kade’s brain was in overdrive: all the stuff he’d been watching on the news over the last few days suddenly clicking into place. ‘The two nurses and the SWAT guy popped at the hospital, that’s all connected?’

  ‘Collateral damage.’ Aquino shrugged. ‘When Abazi found out the lawyer was still alive he tried to add her to the score sheet . . . again.’

  ‘Unsuccessfully,’ interrupted Moran, ‘. . . again.’

  ‘Okay, so now I’m up to speed with what prompted your sudden appearance.’ Kade took a large mouthful of his drink. ‘Huddle up, what’s the exit strategy?’

  ‘How soon can you be ready to go?’ asked Aquino.

  ‘I’ve got an overnight bag. How does ten minutes sound?’

  Moran nodded. ‘Good. We’ve got a car waiting out back to take you up to Machrihanish. You can catch a military transport from there that will drop you in Mena.’

  ‘Arkansas, you’re shitting me! Jesus, it’s a two day journey back to Fairfax from there.’

  ‘If you’d rather stick it out here and take the twenty-year route via the pokey it’s up to you. That’s assuming you get time off for good behaviour.’

  Moran was right. If the Abazi situation exploded in his face he could end up in a British jail for a long time.

  ‘Don’t, for Chrissake, call your wife to tell her you’re coming in case someone’s listening,’ continued Moran.

  ‘I screwed up one time, asshole.’

  ‘We’ll clean up in here, you go get sorted.’ Aquino headed over to the kitchen area with his beer bottle and the half-empty bowl of potato chips.

  Moran poured the rest of his drink down the sink and placed his glass in the clear plastic bag he’d just pulled from his jacket pocket while Aquino tipped the remainder of the potato chips into the sink and placed the bowl in the bag as well. ‘Where’s Kade’s drink?’

  ‘He took it with him.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Give the handle of the fridge door a wipe, and the vodka bottle,’ replied Moran.

  Aquino took a surface-cleansing tissue from a small packet he was carrying and used it to wipe down the handle of the fridge door and clean the vodka bottle, careful not to leave behind any other prints.

  His phone made a short buzzing sound in his pocket.

  He didn’t have to look at it to know what it meant. ‘That’s the driver. We don’t go now we’re gonna miss the flight.’

  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.

  Thirty-one

  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 cal
l 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.’

  Thirty-two

  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!’