Six Dead Men (22 page)

And as his eyes lit on the scrawl struggling to stay within the parameters of the document’s column; with the unshakeable certainty he always had in his police investigations, he knew. There it was in black and white — the existence of a woman loved by his father other than his mother. He noted the baby’s second name.
Did she name the baby after dad? He must have loved her. Why else would he have that picture in his wallet? He carried that wallet for as long as I can remember. Mom’s picture was in it, and mine for that matter, till I guess he thought I got too old to have my picture in his wallet.

“It’s him isn’t it?” Jeannette was munching at her bottom lip.

Deed nodded. “It’s got to be.”

The two of them sipped coffee and munched on their doughnuts while surveying the array of documents spread out on the registry office counter top.

Deed spoke as he brushed at the sugar that clung to his lips. "Well, where do we go from here Jeanette?"

Jeannette licked sugar from her fingers delicately and then used the paper napkin to eradicate the last of the residue which clung to her fingers. She looked at Deed with determination. "We have to find out more about the baby."

It's all just bits of paper. Officialdom. They don't really tell the tale but if you read between the lines you can guess. She never had any other children. Wonder why that was? Did she vow never to have any more or was John unable to? Maybe his soldiers fired blanks. If they did, bet he blamed her for that. People were not so open about things like that then. He must have known the boy wasn't his. Whose idea was it to leave the birth father's name from the birth certificate? Wonder if he made the boy's life hell because of it? More than likely. Oh, dad, how could you leave them to this fate? I wouldn't have thought you could do that. You always displayed such dignity in all the things you did in life. How could you be such a hypocrite?

Deed wished he had a cohort of policemen to help him find Terence Arthur Ire. He wanted to be able to put his brother's name into the system and find out if he was in it. He wanted to know his brother had not fallen along the way.

“Oh, oh, you're not going to believe this. I think I've found him and he's one of you lot.” Jeannette's excitement was showing in her flushed complexion.

Deed pulled his attention back to Jeanette. “One of my lot?”

“A policeman like yourself. Detective Inspector Terrence Ire." Jeannette rushed on with her explanation. "I found her death certificate. And he's listed as the notifier."

Deed and Jeannette spoke simultaneously. "All we have to do is find out which station he's based at."

Jeannette laughed merrily.

A policeman. Two sons, miles apart and they both choose the same profession. You must have had a strong constabulary streak in your genes Dart.
Suddenly Deed felt wildly happy. Just yesterday he was sat in a room with his arms firmly around Madie and today he'd found a longed for sibling. A brother no less.
I can't wait to tell Madie.

"Jeannette I could kiss you." Deed beat an ecstatic drum rhythm on the counter top.

*****

Back at his hotel Deed decided to forgo the lunch he had missed while working with Jeannette and return Johnson's call. There was another missed call on his Blackberry from Joe, but that could wait.

It was unusual for Johnson to call him. They hadn’t spoken for many months. The younger officer had valiantly tried to keep in touch with Deed, but Johnson was a reminder of a time Deed would sooner forget.

“So Johnson, CIB eh.”
Northern Division - going back to his roots.
“It was a brave move. You won't be liked for it.”

“You taught me to stick by my convictions if I believed in something.”

“I did that!?” Deed felt a sense of awe as he realised Martin Johnson viewed him as a mentor.

“Yes, you did sir.”

“You don’t have to call me that any more you know. I’m not your superior officer any longer.”

“I know. Old habits. I’ve got something really important to tell you. Are you somewhere private?”

“Yes. What is it?”

“A detective called Terence Ire from Manchester has been making enquiries about you. At first it came in as a request for copies of the Burry case, but then there was a further request for case files which just happen to have your name attached. That seemed a bit strange. And then the requests were more about you than your cases. Since moving over to CIB I work with the IT guys a bit. They update me on unauthorised log ins and such. Turns out your personnel file's been accessed without appropriate authorisation. Then to top it all off I get a list of names we're considering surveilling and Detective Inspector Terence Arthur Ire's name is right there at the top of the list.”

“Ah.”
How many Terence Ire's can there be in one Manchester police department? This doesn't sound good.
There was a topsy turvy sensation in the pit of his stomach.

“Every time the department thinks it's got something on Ire it doesn't quite materialise because our evidence disappears or the witnesses leave the country. And now for some reason he's taking what I consider to be an unhealthy interest in you and your cases.” Johnson paused and Deed could sense the hesitation across the phone line. “I have to ask sir. Do you know this man?”

Deed felt his pulse race for a moment before he forced it to a more steady rhythm. “Yes and no. I came across his name recently. I haven't met him though.”
But I really want to.

“What do you mean you came across his name?”

Deed felt the past ripping at the present, tearing through like so many jagged spikes of shrapnel.
So it seems my brother may not be the man I want him to be.
He drew a deep breath before he answered. “It appears my father knew his mother when they were younger.”

There was a pause and Deed could almost see the wheels in the younger man's mind working, trying to decide if his old boss had turned. Then decision made, Johnson spoke. “There's more sir. He requisitioned the interview tapes.”

“Does he have cause to do that?”

“There is a viable link between our cases and his. But, the thing is, the video tape of Madison Bricot's first interview - it's not in the evidence locker any more”

“Oh hell. I forgot to put it back.”

Johnson coughed lightly on the other end of the phone. “The thing is sir... the evidence docket’s just not there any more”

“What happened to the docket I signed when I took it out of the evidence locker?”

“Well the evidence unit has been computerising their system and the docket sort of fell out and slid under a filing cabinet.”

“Johnson, you didn’t do anything foolish on my account."

"No I didn’t sir. I wouldn't have been able to move to CIB if it wasn't for my grounding with you. This is just my way of saying thanks."

Deed felt humbled. “Thank you Martin. Has he asked to speak to you yet?”

“No, but I’m not in the office. I’m in Spain on holiday, left from Gatwick this morning." There was a slight pause then Johnson continued. "Sir, seems to me with CIB investigating this Ire guy, he can't exactly be one of the good guys. These investigations are not taken lightly. And he's interested in you. What's he up to? Seems to me he's after you for one reason or another. His interest in you can't be good. Just a gut feeling I have.”

"Don't distrust those gut feelings Martin. They're more important than you realise. Listen, I really appreciate... well... everything.”

Deed heard a woman calling to Martin. “I’ll let you go so you can start enjoying that holiday you’re on.”

“Goodbye Sir.”

Deed replaced the receiver in his hotel bedroom with a clatter.
I really should have spent more time getting to know him. Probably would have made a good friend.
His thoughts shifted to Terence Ire.
He knows I'm his brother. He's trying to find out about me. He's doing it through my work. But he's going about it in a dubious manner.

Deed wanted to doubt Martin's words, but knew there was no prevarication in the younger man. Disappointment washed over him. His earlier buoyancy had deflated.
So much for my visions of a happy family reunion.
The chaos of life was once more making itself felt in Deed’s world, shoving away his earlier feelings of happiness at the discovery of not only a lover but also a brother.

Deed began to listen to Joe's message.
His thoughts wanted to linger on Terence Ire but the gist of Joe's message was getting through to Deed and he felt a coldness seep over him. Every bone in his body screamed at him of the urgency of the matter. The complex puzzle of hither to fore unrelated events in his life began to slot themselves into place and he found himself remembering details of an unsettling dream he had pushed to the furthest recesses of his mind. The image of that sinister black and white terrier loomed large. And he now understood with uncommon clarity exactly what that dream meant.
You were right Martin he is after me. And he’s found the one thing that he can truly hurt me with. He’s found Madie.
Deed grabbed his jacket and headed out to keep a promise he had made to a girl.

Chapter 25

The raid had gone like clockwork. There was no need for the battering ram. The old bird was up early and was coming out to pick up her milk order. Her Garfield slippers stumbled backwards into the house at the sight of the armed men in fatigues, the milk and orange juice clutched in her arthritic claws. Ire used his gun to indicate he wanted her to move to the back of the house and he asked in a whisper for the whereabouts of the girl. The old bird pursed her lips in sullen defiance, but her gaze drifted upward.

She was still in bed when he arrested her. Her dazed eyes, paisley pyjamas and the way she pulled the bedclothes up to her chin made her look like a harmless child, but he knew her for what she was. His skin shivered as he looked at her. Her vulnerability excited him and he felt his penis bulge inside his Calvin Kleins. He leaned over the bed and lifted her chin up between his thumb and forefinger in a hard grip and snarled, “Gotcha...” His enunciation sent a fine spray of spittle over her nose and cheeks. As though the damp from his sputum had released it he smelt a sweet scent rise from her skin. Ire narrowed his eyes and swallowed as he felt his desire deepen. He let his hand drop to her shoulder as though to stop her jumping from the bed and running but in truth it was to feel the pliability of her collarbone beneath the weight of his jabbing thumb. Though her eyes looked at him with a degree of panic she made no sound whatsoever and gave no indication his pressure was causing her any pain.

He beckoned to the female officer waiting at the door. “Get her up and dressed. Don’t forget to read her her rights.”

He took immense pleasure in putting the handcuffs on her himself once she was escorted out of her bedroom by the WPC.

*****

As soon as she saw this man Madie knew why she had spent all these months enduring the knowledge of her curse. As his hard fingers gripped her shoulder, causing it to radiate with pain, she had a sense of knowing, the like of which she supposed Joe and Sylvie must have. She was instantly so certain about the way of things. There was a rightness to it all. All the deaths were leading to this moment when she would meet him. Detective Ire. His touch was tainted. It burned her, not the scorching burn of fire, rather a burn of frozen Gulag wastes. And she felt as though a shard of ice had pierced her heart. He glared at her with such malignant ferocity that she quailed inside. But another part of her remained still, as though she was the centre of a cyclone. She had a role to play and now that she knew what that part was she could endure all the things which had come before and would come in the future. She felt a throb of regret for the fact she and Robert had only just found each other and now they would not be able to be together.
There might still be small moments of joy for us to experience. We will make them larger than the pain. Robert won't desert me like he did before.
She knew this in the same way she knew her destiny and that of Terence Ire were linked.

Unlike that first time in London, this time Madie knew why the police had her in the interrogation room and she also knew she was guilty. She chewed on her bottom lip as she waited for the ordeal to begin again. She had not spoken at all since the arrest.

This room was very different to the first room she had been in with Robert. There were no windows in this breeze-block cell, only the mirror along the far wall which she knew was one-way glass. In a dark corner of the room, like a spider waiting for its prey, the little red light of the camera watching her blinked periodically. The room felt like a walk-in refrigerator. As she sat in the green plastic chair that reminded her of the ones they had had at school, she imagined she could see her breath frosting as she exhaled. She looked down at her limp hands in her lap. She had already begun to bruise from the brutal way in which Ire had cuffed her. To divert herself while she waited she named the hues of the bruising — raw sienna, indigo, ivory black — like an artist putting colours on a palette before a painting session.
My art lessons weren't a waste; I can still remember the names of the colours.
She idly wondered how long it would take for the colours to turn and the bruising to intensify. She always had bruised quickly and dramatically. She shrugged to try and eradicate some of the throbbing in her left shoulder.