TORN (27 page)

And despite herself, Reilly was deathly curious to find out exactly what.

Reilly was astonished the following day when she heard about Lucy’s little adventure.

First thing that morning, Jack Gorman stormed into her office, angrier than she’d ever seen him. ‘What the hell were you thinking?’ he demanded. ‘Sending my daughter off to remote places like that all by herself?’

‘I don’t know what you’re—’

‘Lucy was cautioned for trespassing on some godforsaken farm in Kildare yesterday.  We’re lucky she wasn’t arrested!’

Reilly frowned. What the hell ...? Jack, I have no idea what you’re—’

‘Collecting soil samples, she told me. Seems you wanted her to get them so you could narrow down a location for this
Inferno
madman! My daughter is not your personal slave, Steel, nor should she be a sacrificial lamb!’

Reilly’s head spun. When had she asked Lucy, or indeed any of the techs, to go off and do something like that?

‘Jack, honestly I would never ask any one of my staff to—’

‘She may be only “staff” to you, but she’s my daughter,’ Gorman fumed, but the tremor in his voice betrayed to Reilly just how worried he’d been about Lucy, and rightly so. They might have a difficult relationship, but there was no doubting how much the older Gorman cared for his daughter.

‘I know that, and believe me when I say—’

‘She was wandering around an abandoned farm in the middle of nowhere,’ he blustered. ‘A local who knew the place was unoccupied passed by and saw the car in the driveway, reporting it as suspicious. Thank God he did.  Who knew what dangers she might have walked into?’

‘Jack, honestly, I had absolutely no idea that she’d taken it upon herself to go and investigate. I knew she’d isolated the samples to a particular area, and we were discussing looking into it further, but only in a general sense. I would never, ever ask something like that, let alone agree to it.’

He shook his head. ‘You and your fancy FBI career, making it all sound like some sort of snazzy Hollywood movie. It’s a tough fucking world out there, Steel, full of sick bastards who are only looking for an opportunity to—’

‘Where is she now?’

‘At home. Where I want her to stay until I get to the bottom of this. Can you imagine my horror when I got a call from the sergeant in Kildare yesterday evening? Can you just imagine?’

Reilly could imagine only too well the kind of terror Jack had felt, and the scenarios he’d been envisioning. Such nightmarish thoughts would be even more vivid for someone in this business, who knew only too well the dangers that lurked.

‘Let me just say again that I’m as surprised and upset about this as you are,’ she persisted. ‘Lucy is one of the most valuable members of my team, not to mention how much I admire her personally. I would never, ever, knowingly put her in harm’s way, Jack. If you feel I’m responsible for this, then I will happily take responsibility for it, but also for ensuring that it never happens again. Let me talk to her.’

The color on his face receded somewhat.  He looked at Reilly. ‘It’s all very well to show them the fun side of things, Steel, but we also need to remind them that fighting crime is nothing like it is on TV. All this virtual reality stuff too; they’re so focused on that that they’re completely ignoring the reality. You’ve been around the block long enough to know that they need to be aware of the dangers.’

Reilly nodded. Gorman had a point. She guessed she did have a tendency, particulary in training sessions, to lead the team towards the more interesting, sometimes more glamorous side of forensics. iSPI was a case in point.

But perhaps it was her way of shielding them in some small way from the harsh realities of the job. Hell knew she found these tough enough herself to deal with at times.

‘You’re right and I’m sorry,’ she conceded again. ‘I’ll talk to Lucy, and I promise that nothing like this will ever happen again.’

‘Good enough.’ Gorman seemed satisfied. He looked away into the distance. ‘Because believe me, Steel, dealing with an angry parent has nothing on dealing with a grieving one.’

Chris sat up, bleary-eyed and shivering. He was on the couch, a thin blanket half draped over him. The insistent ringing of his mobile phone had finally woken him. 

‘Chris, where the hell are you?’ Kennedy growled.

‘I’m …’ He glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was ten a.m. ‘I’m running a bit late this morning.’

His partner sounded surprised. ‘Well, you picked a great day for it. A package arrived last night. I think we have a present from our man.’

Chris eyes widened. ‘The Punisher?’

‘Don’t you start …’

Chris snapped his phone shut, and rubbed his hand across his face.

He felt like he’d taken a pounding from a group of hammer-wielding dwarfs the night before. Last night, he’d enjoyed the glass of wine in the restaurant so much that he’d picked up a bottle on his way home, hoping it would relax him, help him sleep a little. The wine bottle sat on the table; it was about empty.

There was no doubt that the alchohol was exacerbating the joint pain too. He looked at his hands, which were trembling as usual, and felt his bones ache as he sat up. He stared at the wine bottle.

Maybe he should have a quick one before he went to work, just to take the edge off?

Kennedy looked up as Chris hurried in. He’d shaved and put on a clean shirt but by his partner’s expression Chris figured his face still showed the ravages of the pain he’d been suffering the night before.

‘I thought
I
looked bad this morning.’

Chris forced a smile, hoping he wouldn’t push it. ‘Cheers …’

‘Hey, I was just kidding.  Seriously, are you all right?’

‘I’m fine.  What have we got?’

Any lethargy he felt was quickly dispelled by the note Kennedy handed him from Inspector O’Brien’s office: ‘PRIORITY. Package received. Possibly relevant to current Punisher investigation.’

‘So when do we get it?’ he asked.

His partner shrugged. ‘You know the protocol – it will be hours before we see anything.’ 

Since 9/11, all incoming packages to law enforcement had to be checked carefully – first of all for explosives – then by the GFU for fingerprints or trace.  It would be a considerable while before either of the detectives found out what was in the package.

The explosives check took time.  First the main package was checked for chemical traces, then the small padded envelope inside was X-rayed, confirming that there was a DVD inside.  Only once those checks were completed could the GFU lab team access the package to examine for fingerprints, trac
e
anything that might help them find the sender.

It was early afternoon before the package finally sat on the gleaming countertop in the GFU lab, the bright lights shining down on it.

Reilly stood in the lab with Julius, Gary and Rory. The run-of-the-mill-looking envelope, fresh from its explosive check, lay innocently on the workbench.

‘OK, first of all – thoughts?’

They team studied the workbench. ‘We could check out the envelope itself?’ Gary suggested.  ‘See who makes these, sells them.’

Reilly nodded. ‘Great, that’ll be your job then. Thanks for offering.’

Ignoring his look of disappointment at being handed such a mundane task, she looked again at the envelope.

Julius was peering at it. ‘The handwriting looks interesting.’

Reilly followed the older tech’s gaze. It was interesting – very elegant, a flowing script, almost like a distinctive font.  ‘
Those in charge of Punisher investigation, Harcourt Street Station,’
it
read. 

‘What does it tell you?’

‘Knight said that we were looking for an artist – this is the handwriting of someone who is artistic, creative.’ 

‘Agreed, Julius. Anything else?’

‘The fact that he refers to himself as the Punisher means he must read the newspapers, so he knows exactly what they’re saying about him,’ Gary said.

‘And that he’s comfortable, almost proud of the nickname,’ Julius continued.

Reilly nodded. It had been her first thought upon seeing the envelope.

‘Self-adhesive stamps,’ as always Rory seemed less interested in the psychology than in the evidence, ‘so no saliva for DNA.’

‘Unfortunately,’ Julius agreed in a rueful tone. ‘And it’s simply postmarked Dublin, so no clues there that might help us narrow our search. He’s thorough, isn’t he?’

‘Yep.’ Reilly reached out and flipped the package over with her pen.

‘No return address either,’ Gary joked. ‘There’s a surprise.’

She turned to Julius. ‘Dust it for prints, then we’ll open it and see what it is he
has
decided to share with us.’

As expected, there were lots of prints on the envelope – it would have been handled by several people on its passage through the postal system – but as the sender hadn’t left a single, or even partial fingerprint at any of the crime scenes, the prints they obtained were of little use. That didn’t stop them checking any they did find against the database, but as Reilly expected, nothing came up a match.

So far, so little …

Finally the team carefully pried open the envelope, which had been sealed with its self-adhesive flap, and no additional tape. They carefully examined the adhesive, but again, the sender had been meticulous – there was absolutely zero trace on the adhesive surfaces.

Eventually, they were ready to see what was inside. 

With Rory’s assistance, Reilly carefully slid the contents out: a single DVD in a clear, plastic jewel case. The lab tech recorded the particulars of the products – a standard Sony DVD, a no-name jewel case – and again they went through the likely fruitless ritual of dusting the case and the disk itself for prints. There was no paper, no accompanying note, or anything written on either the DVD or the case to identify what might be on the disk.

‘Nothing but minuscule traces of latex,’ Rory muttered as his efforts once again came unstuck.

Reilly nodded. ‘Gloves, of course.’

At last – hours after the package had first been delivered – all the checks were complete, and they could finally see what had been sent to them. The sense of anticipation around the lab was rife.

‘You know, we could all be making a big assumption here,’ Gary said, as Reilly picked up her tweezers and prepared to release the disk from its case.

She looked at him, puzzled. ‘About what?’

‘Well, we don’t even know if this is from the killer, do we?’ He laughed. ‘It could just as easily be Rory’s holiday snaps.’

Rory looked embarrassed.  Stories of the holiday he and a couple of his rugby mates had taken in Majorca a few weeks back were legendary and had spread all throughout the GFU. ‘I really don’t think—’

‘Don’t mind him,’ Julius said. ‘When do you think we’ll be able to watch it, Reilly?’

‘As soon as the detectives are done with it, I promise.’

Chris and Kennedy were already en route to the GFU building to see exactly what was on the disk. Reilly had tried to contact Reuben too, but his mobile went straight to voicemail and he wasn’t in his hotel room.

She had plenty of work to distract her while she waited.

Soon the detectives arrived, and they all settled into the chairs in the conference room.

Reilly slipped the disk into the DVD player. The drawer slid shut, she hit ‘Play’ and the room fell silent as the DVD player hummed softly into life. They would soon know if this was the breakthrough they had been waiting for.

‘I really hope this is what we think it is,’ Kennedy grumbled.  ‘If it’s just some guy’s home movies I’m not going to be a happy bunny.’

‘That would make a change,’ Chris muttered.

As Reilly took a seat, an image filled the screen.  It was a printed sheet of white paper, bearing the following typed words:

Law and order exist for the purpose of establishing justice,

and when they fail in this purpose they become the dangerously structured dams that block the flow of social progress.

Martin Luther King, Jr.

It was quickly followed by another sentence, that read:

Reilly pressed the pause button on the remote control.  She nodded towards the screen. ‘Once again, he’s careful – those are simply A4 sheets printed off a computer – nothing distinctive or characteristic about them.’

‘No doubting his motives either,’ Chris commented.