The Sect (The Craig Crime Series) (35 page)

He inhaled long enough for Craig to jump in. “Where is it?”

“Wasteland off the Killyleagh Road.”

The direction McDonagh’s assassin was heading.

“It’s an abandoned toy factory that was condemned years ago but never demolished.”

“Owners?”

“No-one new since the toy business left in twenty-ten. The planners say that as far as they know it hasn’t been converted for other use.”

Except that it had; it was a religious torture camp with God only knew how many kids still inside. They had to tread carefully. Craig thought for a moment. They had no idea how many weapons were in there and if they barged in all the prisoners could be killed. His gut said the sect would never surrender and the last thing they needed was Waco, Ulster style.

He noticed Liam frowning and nodded him to speak.

“Who’s in there, boss? McDonagh’s dead, Carlton’s in his office; that leaves Rustin and the ones we don’t know––”

“The leaders won’t be there, they’ll think they’re too valuable. It’ll be the hired guns and they could kill everyone.”

Liam’s face said that he wasn’t so sure. “Do you really think that foot soldiers would start a shootout off their own bat?”

He was right. Unless the killers’ hired guns were as fanatical as them they’d need someone from the leadership to give the order. If the leaders weren’t in the factory that meant they might be able to play for time.

Craig made up his mind.

“Liam, radio Andy to tail the shooter but make no attempt to intercept him. Just observe.” He turned back to the phone still in his hand. “Ken, once Andy’s perp enters the factory I want armed response to surround the place. They’re to block all exit roads and stay out of sight until they hear from me.”

Liam frowned. A delay presupposed that none of the main players were inside and in his book that was still a big supposition, given they didn’t know who else but Rustin was still on the loose.

Craig cut his call and began to pace, staring at the ground. When Liam had finished his he leant against the hedge and watched his boss’ mind at work. He was thinking out loud.

“OK, Rustin is still on the loose but we’ve no idea where and Carlton obviously drove south east down the Ardglass Road last night to buy the paper.” He stopped suddenly, glancing up. “Where does Carlton live?”

Liam quickly withdrew his notebook. “Cushendall. Nowhere near Ardglass.”

Craig tutted and restarted his pacing. “OK. So let’s say Carlton was with the main group last night and he was ordered to go and buy the paper. He’ll have been told to drive a distance away for caution but I doubt that we’re talking halfway across the country, so let’s say the shop’s within twenty miles of the group’s lair.”

Liam shrugged irritatingly. “It gets us no further. From Ardglass to the dumpsites is about ten miles but we’ve already got them all staked out. The only other relevant place nearby is the factory.”

Craig swung round angrily. “THE LEADERS AREN’T IN THE BLOODY FACTORY!”

Liam made a face. “Keep your hair on.”

Craig shook his head, frustrated. He knew that he was onto something, but it kept evading his grasp. “OK, forget the dumpsites and the factory; is there
anything
else in the investigation linked to the area, no matter how tenuously? Anyone we’ve interviewed?”

Liam frowned as he worked mentally through the list, but nothing fitted. All the academics were based at Queen’s and Rustin’s apartment was in central Belfast. The McDonaghs lived in Belfast as well, on the Crumlin Road. The McKibbens were up near Stormont, Sadie Beech lived on the Demesne and the Bishop’s official residence was in Carrickfergus, forty miles away on the coast. It was on the tip of his tongue to say no when Craig’s mobile rang. He could hear Davy scratching as he shouted excitedly down the line.

“Guess who McDonagh went to seminary with?”

“Tell me.”

Davy made an annoyed face at his handset. He didn’t ask for much but a moment of tension now and then would have been nice.

“Your friendly Bishop. Francis Murray.”

Murray hadn’t mentioned he’d known McDonagh when Liam had gone to see him, despite the fact Bobby’s death had just been reported in the press.

Craig played a hunch. “Where does Murray live, Davy? Anywhere other than his official residence?”

Some clergy kept second homes away from the ranch. Craig held his breath while Davy searched, then he dashed his hopes.

“Nope. The Bish has lived at his residence for ten years. And before you ask, his only living family is a s…sister in Donegal.”

Damn. Carrickfergus to Ardglass was too far for Carlton to have driven to buy a newspaper. Suddenly Liam yelled over Craig’s shoulder into the phone.

“Where was Murray’s first parish, Davy?”

“No idea. I’ll find out and get back to you.”

Craig cut the call and turned to his deputy with a quizzical look.

“The first place he worked as a parish priest – you really think that’s important to him?”

Liam was about to lecture him on the insight being an altar boy provided into the mind of parish priests when he decided that he was too tired. Instead he led the way to a café he’d spotted across the street. Over a large cheeseburger and fries he turned back to the topic in hand.

“When I saw Murray he said he wished he was still a parish priest. Just God and man, without all the bureaucracy. His words. And as far as a priest’s first parish being important to him, put it this way; don’t you remember your first job?”

Craig was just thinking of his time as a constable in Fulham when his mobile rang again. As he answered, Liam yelled at the phone.

“What does your tattoo mean?”

Davy’s voice came down the line. “Ask the chief. OK, Murray’s first parish was in Ballynahinch. He w…was there for ten years.”

Ballynahinch to Ardglass was only sixteen miles.

“Check if Carlton was near there last night and phone me back.”

He cut the call and nodded solemnly.

Liam’s eyes widened. “Murray? Really?”

“You met him. Do you think it’s possible?”

Liam thought of the cheerful grey-haired cleric and hoped that Craig was wrong. But he was long past being shocked at the things men did, even religious men.

“It would make sense if he was the brains behind it but I can’t see him getting his hands dirty.”

Craig stared straight ahead for a moment before agreeing. “Murray might be the boss in Northern Ireland, but if this is an international operation we’re looking for much bigger fish.” He thought for a moment then decided to put Liam out of his misery. “By the way, Davy’s tattoo-.”

“Aye. Na-Nu. What the heck does that mean?”

“Mork and Mindy?”

The D.C.I. looked blank.

“Robin Williams played an alien. It was on TV in the eighties. Ring any bells?”

“But the lad wasn’t even born then.”

“Williams will always be a genius.” He wiped his hands with a napkin and turned his thoughts back to the case. “The more I think of it the more I’m sure Murray’s just a small cog.”

“So who’s the big boss?”

“No idea yet. Let’s crack this cell first.”

“But why would Murray return to his old parish now?”

Craig sipped his coffee and stared into space. “Memories of a simpler time, perhaps? Like you said; just God and man, without all the bureaucracy.”

“OK. So what’s the plan?”

“Watch and wait. Someone will slip-up soon.”

****

Three hours later Ronnie Carlton still hadn’t made a move and the therapy offices were closing for the day. As the doors were locked and the shutters drawn down Jake climbed out of his Golf and flashed his I.D. at the woman with the keys.

“Who’s left inside?”

She looked surprised. “No-one. We’re only a small office.”

“No security? None of the counsellors.”

She shook her head emphatically. “We only have two and one is on holiday.”

“Let me guess. Mr Carlton.”

She wrinkled up her face, puzzled. “Yes, how did you know? He went on holiday last night.”

Ronnie Carlton had given them the slip. Jake thanked the woman and lifted the phone to Craig.

“Sir, I’ve screwed up. Carlton’s given us the slip – I’ve just been told that he went on leave yesterday. Shall I ask Davy to check the airports and ports?”

Craig sighed heavily. The group was taking no chances. “Yes. For Rustin and Bishop Murray as well.”

He cut the call and brought Liam up to speed. He didn’t look half as depressed as the news warranted.

“Look, we already knew that the killings were over; their newspaper piece said as much. And we knew that Rustin might have disappeared already, so it stands to reason that anyone else who could leg it would. But…” He arched an eyebrow like Hercule Poirot. “Even if Murray is involved why would he imagine for one minute that
we
knew? He had no direct contact with any of the victims, he’s cooperated with us every step of the way and I haven’t darkened his door since he gave me the list. He can’t possibly know that we’ve connected the dots. In fact, I bet he’s making a point of showing his face everywhere that he can.”

Craig nodded. Criminals’ arrogance was astounding and often their un-doing. He called Nicky. She sounded happier which meant that the dishy doctor had gone.

“Nicky. Do a search on Bishop Francis Murray for me and see if he’s been at any public events today.”

A few taps later she came back. “He visited a primary school this afternoon. Do you want the address?”

“No, thank you. You should go home, it’s late.”

“Take it as payback for London. By the way, everyone but Andy and Jake is still here if you need them.”

He was pleased they’d stayed without being asked.

“Anything else you need?”

“No, nothing. I’ll be in touch.” He hung up. “Frank Murray’s still here; he made a public appearance today as you predicted. Carlton’s in the wind.”

“Or he’s with the Bish and Rustin.”

“Maybe, but I doubt it.” He thought for a moment. “Armed Response is at the factory waiting for my command.”

“And the hired guns inside are waiting for their boss’ command as well. Checkmate.”

“Stalemate you mean. Time to break it.”

Craig exited the café so quickly that Liam barely had time to catch up, then they were in the Audi and on the M1 heading for Bishop Francis Murray’s old stamping ground.

****

Ballynahinch.

By the time they’d reached the parish church Davy had a tap on every phone owned by the sect’s known members and he was listening in, ready to intercept anything that sounded vaguely like an order to shoot. There’d been no shots heard from the factory and no movement there at all, but from their vantage point outside the small church Craig and Liam could see three cars. Davy confirmed they belonged to Rustin, Carlton and the Bishop. It seemed that the sect’s whole hierarchy was inside, or else it was their personal car park.

Liam stared through the windscreen and then at Craig, wondering what his next move would be; rush the church and hope they managed to gain entry before someone inside fought back, or wait it out until one of the sect appeared. Craig chose neither. Instead he opened the driver’s door and ordered Liam to pop the trunk, then Liam heard rustling and Craig reappeared a moment later with a pair of pliers. He handed them over.

“Cut every phone line and cable going into that house. I’m going to get Davy to block the mobile networks here and at the factory. We can’t risk them ordering anyone killed.”

It was quickly done. A moment later Craig made another decision.

“We can wait it out here but the men at the factory can’t.”

“You’re ordering the ARU to do a reccy?”

Craig nodded. “We need to see what we’ve got.” He lifted the dashboard radio and made the call. Thank goodness old fashioned radios worked even when you blocked the phones. One minute later the ARU Commander had been briefed to reconnoitre and report back. Ten minutes more and they had their answers.

Inspector Lou Warton’s cigarette smoked voice crackled down the line.

“They’re all in one room, sir, or rather it’s a small hall. Two exits. The lads say it looks like some sort of church; there’s a big cross mounted on the wall.”

That wouldn’t stop them killing everyone in there; the Church of Jim Jones sprang immediately to Craig’s mind. Nine hundred dead with no rhyme or reason.

“How many guards?”

“Three that we can see, all heavily armed. There are none in the grounds or anywhere else where we can see in through a window.”

“Hostages?”

Warton swallowed hard, thinking of his own kids. “Around twenty, both sexes.”

Liam cut in. “Twenty! They were planning to kill more?”

Craig waved him down. “How old, Lou?”