The Rule Book (35 page)

‘I want to give you a list of characteristics – see if it reminds you of anybody. That okay?’

‘Sure.’

‘I want you to try and think of someone you know who’s ambitious, who wants to make it to the top, and will do anything to get there. He always lets you know how well he is doing, sings his own praises, talks about nobody but himself or things he’s interested in. He rarely asks questions of others, he’s simply indifferent to their lives. He can be short with people, snappy, will pick an argument, and always has to be right. Maybe has a bit of a temper. Ring any bells?’

‘Sounds like an egotistical idiot.’

‘Yes, but does that description bring anyone to mind?’

‘About half the people walking round Dublin. Most people only seem interested in themselves these days.’

‘I’m being serious, Dermot. When you think of that description, does anyone in particular come to mind?’

‘And so am I! Look, several people spring to mind, but I can’t see any of them being The Raven. Just because you’re an arrogant prick, doesn’t mean you go around killing people. And what makes you think he’s like that in any case? You don’t know what he’s like except he kills people! I’m not giving you names so you can harass innocent people.’

‘He’s going to kill again, Dermot,’ McEvoy stated harshly. ‘Tomorrow. If we have to piss a few people off in order to catch him, so be it. We’re already working through your categories, interviewing everyone. All we’re asking is that you put some order on the names as we’ve got no other leads worth a
damn.’

Brady shook his head and looked down at the table.

‘It’s important, Dermot,’ Jacobs added. ‘He needs to be stop-ped.’

‘Give me some paper and a pen. You better run through that description again.’

There were five names on Brady’s list, two of which he’d crossed out. Two from his church who both worked in financial services, one from a government department that the
DHC
had had a run-in with, a warden from Mountjoy prison, and a friend’s brother who had unsuccessfully run for TD in the last election. Amusingly, he had thought Charlie Deegan should have been on it. ‘A Class A wanker, a bully with aspirations above himself,’ was how Brady had described him.

He remained adamant that while the five people on the list had most of the qualities described by Kathy Jacobs, he didn’t believe any of them to be The Raven, and two of them probably didn’t know that much about him. They were people he’d met a couple of times at most but who’d left a memorable impression because of their self-centredness and conceit. There were others, but he couldn’t remember their names.

‘I’ll get someone on these right away,’ McEvoy said to Jacobs, the door to the interview room closing behind them. ‘Arrange for them to be interviewed. See if we can eliminate them from the enquiry.’

Dr John pushed himself up off the corridor wall as they turned towards him. It was strange to see McEvoy in a uniform. And something that fitted properly. He was barely recognisable except for the sunken and worn out face.

‘I’ve cracked the code,’ he said enthusiastically, holding out a bit of paper. ‘Should have cracked it ages ago, but I was playing around with letters not numbers. I thought it would spell out a name or something. Anyway, it’s a location reference. Latitude and longitude like in the
Phoenix
Park
.’

McEvoy took the bit of paper, glanced down at it and back up to Dr John. ‘Are you sure you’ve got this right?’

‘Yeah, yeah, look.’ He took the sheet of paper back and held it up against a wall so they could all see. ‘With each chapter he gave us two letters. For example, Chapter One M: Choosing a victim R. In total there are six chapters, giving us 12 letters. All he’s done is used a simple substitution code.’ He tapped the sheet.

a b c d e f g h i j k l m

3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 1 2 3 4 5

n o p q r s t u v w x y z

6 7 8 9 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

‘If all the letters associated with the chapter bit are grouped together you get MAIXLH. If all the letters with the chapter titles are grouped you get RDKUWC. If you put them into the substitution code, you get a latitude and longitude.’ He tapped the sheet again, smiling.

MA IX LH          RD KU WC

53,16,40          06,33,55

‘53,16,40 North, 06,33,55 West. It’s a cemetery in Oughterard out in Kildare. Between Celbridge and Naas. Not far from Straffan.’

‘If it’s just a simple substitution code, why haven’t the papers or their readers already worked it out?’ McEvoy asked.

‘Because the chapters sent to the media didn’t contain the extra letters. They were only in the chapters left at the murder scenes. They were a puzzle for us to solve. He was testing us.’

‘Jesus! For God’s sake. Come on, let’s get moving.’ McEvoy hurried towards the exit, his skin tingling, stomach churning, with a sickening realisation that he should have had more people working on the code. ‘I’ve got a map in the car, we can make some phone calls on the way.’

They sped along the narrow road riding the line of a low ridge, to the left the foothills of the Wicklow Mountains rolled green and brown fields, dotted with trees, one-off housing and farms. Low cloud obscured the hills beyond. Two garda cars were parked ahead beside a couple of houses, just before the road dipped away to the left, down toward the busy N7 carrying traffic between Dublin, Cork and Limerick.

Two guards watched from the entrance of a laneway, their caps down low, collars up, hands hidden by their coat sleeves, as McEvoy parked in behind the cars. He levered himself out and hurried towards them, the stiff, cold breeze blowing at his back, shoving him forward. As he neared he could see the large iron gates painted black, ‘OUGHTERARD CEMETARY’ welded into the iron work, painted white. To the side was a narrow swing gate.

‘Detective Superintendent McEvoy,’ he introduced himself. ‘I don’t want anyone else up this laneway unless they’re a guard, that clear?’

‘Sir,’ muttered the elder of the two, sharing a quizzical look with his colleague.

‘Good.’

Kathy Jacobs and Dr John joined him. ‘You’re going to need this,’ she held out his coat.

‘Thanks.’ He looked down at his pristine uniform and shrugged the windproof jacket on. He hoped to God he wasn’t going to have to trample across fields. Bishop would have a fit.

They slipped through the narrow side gate and headed up the gravel laneway. A hundred metres or so up ahead, through the trees to the left and beyond a stone wall, he could see a stunted round tower and what looked like a ruined church. As they neared, it was apparent that half the church was missing a roof and a small tower adjoining the main structure had peeled away, it being held upright by two concrete supports. The cemetery was surrounded by a high stone wall, the entrance blocked by a padlocked gate. A set of stone steps led up and over the structure, two guards standing at its base looking cold and bored.

‘You had a look round?’ he asked.

‘We were told to wait outside,’ one of them answered.

McEvoy climbed the steps and looked into the cemetery. It wasn’t large, perhaps 60 metres long by 30 metres wide. The stone wall extended all the way round, beyond it to the right the land sloped away onto the Kildare plain, hedgerow plots stretching to the horizon. The ruined church was immediately inside the gate to the left, the stunted round tower in the far corner behind it. The ground in front of him undulated in soft rounded mounds, the thick grass relatively free of gravestones, which grew in number towards the far wall.

McEvoy turned round and looked down at the others, the cold wind whipping into his face. ‘I guess we’d better get started. We need to search this cemetery. The problem is we’ve no idea what we’re looking for. It might be obvious or it might be more subtle. He could be pointing us to a family name, perhaps his own, perhaps a victim’s, or maybe he’s left something here for us, I don’t know. If you see something that you think might be of interest call out and we’ll take a look. And be careful where you tread, okay – I don’t want to mess up any evidence. John, you take here to the left and the church. You two take this side,’ he instructed the two guards, pointing to the right. ‘Dr Jacobs and myself will take the far end. Clear?’

The four heads nodded their assent.

He swung his leg over the top of the wall and descended into the cemetery, the wind immediately dying down with the protection of the high barrier. He waited for the others and set off with Kathy Jacobs.

‘There’s a lot of history here,’ Jacobs said. ‘This place must go back centuries. These mounds are all family vaults and the stones ahead look ancient.’

‘Hardly packed though, is it?’ McEvoy replied. ‘There are only a few plots.’ He looked at the names on the stones – Garnett, Higgins, Christian, Carroll, Farrell, Hanlon, Comerford, Cahill – Anglo-Irish sounding names; most dying in the late 19
^th
and early 20
^th
centuries.

‘Sir!’ Dr John called from the entrance into the unroofed part of the church.

‘What?’

‘There’s an envelope here. Underneath a rock.’

McEvoy hurried to the archway. Dr John pointed down to the gravelled ground three steps below. Next to a gravestone embedded in the side of the ruined wall a cream envelope, wrapped in a clear plastic bag, peeked out from beneath a flat rock. McEvoy searched his pockets trying to find a pair of rubber gloves, knowing they were in the jacket of his suit.

‘For God’s sake! Can you run down to the …’

He trailed off as Dr John held up a thin box. ‘For emergencies.’

They descended to the church’s floor, McEvoy tugging on the gloves. He lifted the rock and retrieved the envelope. He teased open the bag and plucked up the unsealed flap. It contained a single sheet of paper. He pulled the sheet free inside the bag and unfolded it, a crumpled five-euro note dropping free. He read the note out loud.

This is my one concession. If you are in time, this is your chance to cut the book short and make my fame. If you are too late, then I am already safe in my anonymity. Of course, you could be on time and I could still manage to kill the final victims and get clean away. Enjoy a pint of the black stuff on me.

‘There’s a picture of a raven at the top. At the bottom he lists a series of latitudes, longitudes and dates.’ He showed the others.

53,11,56 N, 06,17,32 W, 13th April

53,22,68 N, 06,36,01 W, 14th April

53,21,30 N, 06,19,33 W, 15th April

53,27,59 N, 06,43,42 W, 16th April

53,20,50 N, 06,15,21 W, 17th April

53,28,58 N, 06,06,36 W, 18th April

53,20,59 N, 06,15,37 W, 19th April

‘No doubt they’re the locations of all of the murders,’ McEvoy said frustrated. ‘If this has been here all week anyone could have found it! It’s like he wants to be caught.’

‘It’s hardly on the beaten track though, is it?’ Jacobs said. ‘I doubt anyone’s been here recently, and even if they had it’s unlikely they would have picked up what looks like a bit of litter and ripped it open.’