Dark Circles (28 page)

CHAPTER 68

It was one of those spring days when the early morning sun banished the last vestiges of winter. Wilson had slept well, at least a damn sight better than he had in Kate’s apartment of late. He’d spent an hour in the gym at the Europa working up a sweat. As was usual during his workout, he ruminated over the problems that would face him during the day. He decided to put the break-up with Kate to the back of his mind. He had long ago recognised that in life you can only act on the things that you control. If it were up to him, he would have woken up beside Kate. But that issue was no longer within his control. So there was no point worrying about it. The solution to the relationship problem was in Kate’s hands. His priority right now was the meeting with Jennings. He and Jennings had been in Police College together, and their careers had parted as soon as they passed out. Wilson went on to become a copper’s copper, passing through the ranks reasonably quickly but not at breakneck speed. Jennings was spotted by the powers that be at the College and went the administrative route. He had sped past Wilson and ended up at the exalted rank of Deputy Chief Constable. At College, Wilson had been not only the star pupil, but also an Irish international rugby player with the acclaim that such a position accorded. Jennings joined the Orange and Masonic Lodges and garnered his influence there. He detested Wilson at College because of his sporting and intellectual prowess. His hatred of his former colleague had stood the test of time, and nothing would have suited him better than to be the man who cashiered Wilson out of the PSNI. Unfortunately, the boot was now on the other foot. Wilson had in his possession the written instruction from Jennings that could end the DCC’s career. He was in no doubt that the summons to Jennings’ office had something to do with the content of his conversation with Laurence Gold. The meeting was going to be difficult. He was back in his room before he turned his mind to the hunt for Big George Carroll. He was continually amazed at how quickly time passed when he became engrossed in his thoughts. He showered and slipped a crisp white cotton shirt over his head. He felt there was a big day ahead.

The journey from Great Victoria Street to PSNI HQ took ten minutes so Wilson left at eight forty so as to be certain to arrive on time. On the way, he contacted Moira and told her he was running late. Wilson felt the atmosphere was distinctly frosty in Jennings’ outer office but what was new. He was kept waiting beyond the appointed time. He smiled as ten past nine passed. If this was an attempt by Jennings to unnerve him, it was failing miserably. At twenty past nine, he was ushered towards the door of Jennings’ office and shown inside.

Jennings didn’t look up from his paperwork as Wilson entered his office.

Wilson had always considered Jennings to be a puny runt and often wondered why he had chosen the police as a career. An even greater mystery was how Jennings had passed the physical exam. The DCC seemed to have shrunk even more in the past few days. There was obviously a lot of stress in the air. He stood in a relaxed posture in front of Jennings’ desk. After all, this was the police not the army.

Jennings finally looked up into Wilson’s face. His eyes were red-rimmed, and dark bags hung beneath them. ‘Sit,’ he said simply.

Wilson sat in the visitor’s chair before Jennings’ desk. If it had been someone else, he might have felt a measure of compassion at the appearance of the man.

‘I suppose you know why you’re here,’ Jennings said.

‘Not really.’ Wilson was being purposely obtuse, and he didn’t care. Jennings didn’t deserve empathy.

‘That Jewboy Gold is going to crucify me.’ There were red angry streaks in Jennings’ pale face.

Wilson suppressed a smile. Perhaps Jennings was having a Jesus complex.

‘He’s going to open up the whole issue of Cummerford being admitted to the murder squad briefings at the trial.’

Wilson remained silent.

‘I’m going to need that instruction back that you wheedled out of me.’

‘I don’t think that’s going to be possible.’

‘It’s an order from a superior officer.’

‘It’s an order I cannot comply with.’

‘Then I’m going to launch a disciplinary procedure against you. Your previous connections with Professional Services will be like nothing. I will get them to go through every minute detail of your career. Everything will be leaked to the newspapers. I wonder how your barrister girlfriend will react to that.’

‘Personally I don’t think she gives a hoot. She’s headed for the top of the judicial tree whether my career hits the skids or not. Cummerford’s trial starts soon. Two weeks after it starts you may not be in the PSNI. I think you should forget about making empty threats, and try to come up with something positive to explain why Cummerford was given access that other journalists weren’t. Of course, you won’t be able to tell the truth because that would expose your vendetta against me, and Fatboy Harrison’s role in leaking the results of an internal Professional Services’ investigation to a journalist, possibly on your orders. It’s all come back to bite.’

Jennings brought his hands together as though in prayer. ‘If Gold has his way, he’ll finish my career.’

Wilson thought that Jennings was on the verge of tears. Jennings had nothing aside from his job. His friends in the Lodge would undoubtedly take care of him but the reason he woke up every morning and got out of bed would be gone. ‘Gold, wants to win his case. Maybe he’ll go easy on the Cummerford issue.’

Jennings pressed his joined hands to his lips. ‘I met with him last evening, and he left me in no doubt. The competence of the PSNI was at stake. That woman conned me into letting her attend the briefings.’

‘You opened the door.’

‘I need your help.’ The words came out one by one as though Jennings had to drag them through his throat.

Wilson almost tumbled from his chair. ‘I can’t give you the instruction because that would be the equivalent of throwing myself under a bus, and that’s not going to happen. If you come up with something plausible, I’ll hold the written instruction back. I’ll only produce it if it looks like I’m going down.’

‘My mind’s gone blank. I can’t see a way out.’

‘You’re a student of Machiavelli. Maybe you should think about throwing Fatboy under a bus. After all he was the cause of it all.’ Jennings’ face brightened, and Wilson could see that Chief Inspector Ronald ‘Fatboy’ Harrison was sitting directly under the sword of Damocles. Wilson’s mobile phone started to ring. It was Moira and it could wait so he cut the connection. His phone started to ring immediately. ‘I think it’s important. Do you mind if I take it?’

Jennings nodded. He appeared lost in thought.

‘Boss, you need to get back here pronto.’ Moira’s voice was hoarse with excitement. ‘Big George Carroll just walked in here with his solicitor. They’ll only talk to you.’

‘Put them in an interview room and get set up. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes latest.’ He broke the connection. ‘I need to leave,’ he told Jennings already standing.

The DCC nodded. His mind was far away, and the wheels were spinning at maximum speed.

CHAPTER 69

Wilson had never moved so fast. He crashed through the front doors of the station and made directly for the interview room. Moira was standing outside with a buff-coloured file in her hand.

She handed him the file. ‘Photos of the cab, Baxter, Weir, Malone, Grant and O’Reilly.’

Wilson looked in the small window. Two men sat on one side of the table that dominated the room. A uniformed officer stood just inside the door. Big George Carroll took up most of the space on his side of the table. He wore a bandage around his head with a large patch over his left ear. The man sitting beside him was dressed in a dark suit, light blue shirt and tie. He looked the very picture of a solicitor, and although he was of average height and build, he looked like a dwarf seated beside his client. ‘Let’s get on with this,’ Wilson said pushing the door open. He nodded at the uniform who left the room after Moira had entered.

Wilson sat down heavily into a chair on the opposite side of the table, and Moira sat beside him. ‘Moira, the preliminaries please.’

Moira looked at the two men across the table. ‘I’m going to switch on the tape. We will be making a voice record and a videotape of this interview. A copy of the audio tape will be available to your solicitor at the end of the interview. Please state your full name when requested.’ She pressed the start button on the tape recorder and gave the time and date. ‘Present are Detective Superintendent Ian Wilson, Detective Sergeant Moira McElvaney.’ She pointed at Big George.

‘George Michael Carroll,’ the big man said. The words were slow and deliberate.

‘Alex Joseph Brady,’ the solicitor said.

‘First of all,’ Wilson started, ‘I’d like to thank you both for coming here this morning.’

‘My client was made aware last night that you were searching for him,’ Brady said, ‘and is anxious to assist in any way he can.’

Wilson opened the file and removed the photo of the cab, which had been taken by the CCTV camera, and put it on the table. ‘Is this you, Mr Carroll?’

‘Yes,’ Big George replied.

Wilson took out photos of Baxter and Weir and laid them side-by-side. ‘And these men were your passengers?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where did you take them?’

George looked at Brady, who nodded. He gave the addresses of Malone and Grant.

Wilson placed photographs of Malone and Grant in front of George. ‘Are you aware that both men were murdered?’

Big George nodded.

‘Please respond for the tape,’ Moira said.

‘Yes,’ Big George said.

‘Did you take part in either of the murders?’

Big George looked at his solicitor, who again nodded.

‘Yes, I helped move Grant. But I didn’t kill him.’

‘Were these men a random fare?’ Wilson asked.

‘No. I was told to pick them up at the airport, bring them to two addresses and drive them back to the airport.’

‘By whom?’ Wilson asked.

Big George remained silent.

‘My client will be happy to tell you,’ Brady said. ‘But we will need to make some arrangements regarding the charges that my client will face.’

Wilson ignored the remark. He removed a picture of Mark O’Reilly from the file and placed it on the table. ‘Do you recognise this man?’ Wilson asked.

Big George was about to nod but then said, ‘Yes.’

‘Were you in his apartment when he went through the window?’

‘Yes.’

‘Were you alone?’

‘No.’

‘Did you throw Mark O’Reilly to his death?’

George looked at his solicitor who nodded. ‘Yes.’

Wilson nodded at Moira.

She stood. ‘Mr Carroll, would you and your solicitor please stand.’ They stood. ‘George Michael Carroll, I am arresting you for the murder of Mark O’Reilly and as an accessory in the murders of David Grant and Brian Malone, you do not have to say anything when questioned but anything you do say will be taken down and may be used in evidence against you.’

Big George and his solicitor retook their places.

‘Now that the charges have been established,’ Wilson said. ‘Is your client prepared to answer the two questions I put to him earlier?’

Brady turned and spoke into Big George’s ear. ‘Yes,’ he said.

‘Who instructed you to pick up Baxter and Weir?’ Wilson asked.

‘Sammy Rice,’ Big George said reluctantly.

‘And who was with you in Mark O’Reilly’s apartment?’

‘Sammy Rice.’ Big George seemed to be choking on the name.

‘Do you know why these three men were murdered?’

‘No,’ Big George said.

Wilson looked at Moira.

‘Interview suspended at ten thirty.’ She switched off the tape.

‘We’ll be back.’ Wilson stood, and he and Moira left the room. They went straight to the squad room.

‘Peter,’ Wilson called as soon as he entered. ‘We’ve got Rice for Malone, Grant and O’Reilly. Get a warrant for him. Then collect some uniforms and find him, arrest him and bring him here immediately.’

Davidson was astonished. ‘We have him how?’

‘Big George just rolled over on him,’ Wilson said. ‘Get a move on. I want the airport and the ports alerted. Find the bugger before he runs.’

‘No way,’ Davidson said. ‘Big George and Rice are joined at the hip. There’s something very wrong here, Boss.’

‘Someone must have separated them,’ Moira said. ‘Big George is going to put him away.’

Wilson started for his office. ‘I want to inform the Chief Super. Then we’re back in the interview room. This could be a long day.’

During the recess, Wilson had informed Spence of the development, but he also consulted the file they had established on George Carroll. Social Services had been involved with Carroll since his early days at school. At the age of fourteen, they had assessed a reading age of five and his IQ was only marginally above the level of someone considered to be mentally challenged. They might be able to put George away, but he certainly wouldn’t prove a stellar witness against Rice.

Fifteen minutes later Wilson re-entered the interview room. Tea and biscuits had been provided for Big George and Brady.

Wilson and Moira sat. Moira switched on the tape and went through the preamble again.

‘You had no role in the Malone murder other than driving the car?’ Wilson asked.

‘Yes.’ Big George was getting tired of all the conversation. His uncle Ray had told him what to say, and he was concentrating hard to remember everything. He didn’t like answering questions.

‘And Grant?’

Big George cast his eyes down. ‘He was heavy. They made me help hang him. I didn’t like what they did to him, it wasn’t nice.’

‘What happened with O’Reilly?’ he asked.

‘Sammy told me to throw him out the window,’ Big George said calmly. ‘I was just doing what Sammy said. I always do what Sammy tells me.’

‘Why did Rice want you to throw O’Reilly out of the window?’

‘I don’t know. Sammy got angry with him.’

‘What happened to your head?’

Big George looked at his solicitor, who nodded. ‘Owen Boyle shot me in the ear.’

‘When?’

‘Yesterday.’

Wilson looked at Moira then turned back to Big George. ‘Why?’

‘I don’t know. I think he was trying to kill me.’

‘Why was he trying to kill you?’

Big George shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t know.’ He wished the questions would stop and he could go home to his mother.

‘Where is Owen Boyle now?’

‘In a hole in Tullymore Forest.’

Moira gasped.

‘Did you kill him?’ Wilson was beginning to feel sorry for Big George. It was evident that Rice wanted him out of the way.

‘It was an accident. I just didn’t want him to shoot me again.’

‘Moira.’ There was resignation in Wilson’s voice.

Moira stood and arrested Big George for the murder of Owen Boyle. ‘Mr Carroll, would you and your solicitor please stand.’

‘Can you show us where the body is?’ Wilson asked when Big George and Brady had retaken their seats.

‘Yes.’

Wilson nodded at Moira.

‘Interview suspended at eleven fourteen,’ she said.

Wilson stood up. ‘Let’s organise some transport and see if Reid’s available. I’ll advise the Chief.’

‘I presume you don’t need me along.’ Brady closed the pad on which he had been taking notes and put it into his briefcase. ‘I will, however, attend any future interview sessions.’ He handed Moira a card. ‘You can contact me on my mobile anytime.’

Moira took the card and left the room. She returned with a uniformed officer who placed handcuffs on George Carroll’s big hands.