‘I need coffee,’ Magda announced as they emerged from the building.
Sean looked over to the quirky beer garden. He quite fancied going there, maybe talking to the bloke with the snake. What sort of a person went drinking with a snake? It would have been interesting to find out, but he knew people like them wouldn’t want to share a table with a pair of coppers.
They continued to the main road. Opposite was the top of Tib Street; the Frog and Bucket Comedy Club on its corner. ‘There’ll be somewhere further down there.’
‘If this man’s death is linked,’ Magda said, as they waited for a gap in the traffic, ‘you realize what this means? The coincidence of him drowning is way too much for me.’
‘What I don’t get is this: McGhee died on the night of the eighth. Jordan Hughes was released from prison on Monday the sixth. So Hughes, within days of getting back out, has a passport, the means to buy a plane ticket and the knowledge of where McGhee is. You’ve seen the state of him in the CCTV footage; does that seem likely?’
‘No. Which means the organization behind this is … well, it’s scary.’
They darted over the two lanes and, seconds later, were ordering coffee in a place that looked like the inside of a Swiss chalet. Wood everywhere.
‘Just now,’ Sean said, ‘you used the word organization. Ransford thought Lee Goodwin and Phil Nordern’s deaths would be linked to organized crime.’
‘So are we now looking at a hit carried out in a foreign country?’ Magda’s fingers were resting lightly against the sides of her cup. ‘And if it wasn’t Hughes, did someone from here travel over? If not, did they hire a person based in Europe? That’s beyond any Manchester gang, surely?’
Sean placed a cube of brown sugar in the froth of his cappuccino. Watched it slowly list to the side before it sank from sight. Yet another person who’d drowned. The pattern was clear. That must mean a message was being sent. What had they all done? What had Anthony Brown done? To kill one of the city’s crime lords suggested a larger, more powerful, force. Was that why Parker was so scared? He thought about the female in McGhee’s photographs. Was she part of it? A lure of some sort? That would fit if a professional outfit was behind everything.
Magda tapped a fingernail against her saucer. ‘We need to speak to the police in Spain. If they’re not treating McGhee’s death as suspicious, they bloody need to be.’
The first thing they heard on leaving the coffee shop was the wail of sirens. Sean looked left along Tib Street to where the top of Piccadilly Gardens was visible. The sirens were coming from that direction: centre of town. And there were so many of them, they’d merged into a single ululation. ‘That’s serious.’
Magda produced her phone. ‘I’ll see if anything’s up on the system.’
Sean kept his eyes on the far end of the road. A tram that had been pulling away from the stop on Market Street jerked to a sudden halt. He saw two uniformed officers in fluorescent bibs run past. Uniformed policemen running. The one thing you tried to avoid at all costs. Guaranteed to make the public jumpy. Christ, he thought. Something big’s happening.
‘It’s a shooting,’ Magda said. ‘Oh …’ She sent a shocked look in the direction of the sirens.
‘What?’ asked Sean.
‘It’s Cindy’s Casino. We should get back to the office.’
Going up the stairs to the main Operations Room, they passed DI Levine hurriedly making his way down.
‘Two fatalities,’ he replied to Magda’s question. ‘Both were standing in the main entrance, hit by bullets from a passing car.’
Drive-by shooting, Sean thought. In Manchester. At half five on a Saturday afternoon. Bloody hell.
Detective Troughton was backing out of Ransford’s office with a grim expression on his face.
‘Where’s the boss?’ Magda called over.
He pointed to the ceiling. ‘Up with the Chief Super. They’ve called in XCalibre.’
The anti-gang unit, thought Sean. Formed in response to the surge in gun crime around south Manchester in the early 2000s it was an outfit with a reputation for getting results.
‘Two victims, right?’ she asked.
‘Correct. But at least they weren’t members of the public. Gary Dace – one of Brown’s right-hand men, if not his main one. And John Potter, who was also a key member of the set up.’
‘And they were shot from a car?’
‘Which will turn up somewhere soon,’ Troughton replied. ‘Totally burned out and of no use whatsoever to forensics.’
‘If this is a turf war, who’s likely to be involved?’ Sean asked as he and Magda followed the office manager to his desk.
‘You know what they say about nature and vacuums,’ Troughton replied. ‘Word must have got out that Brown is in a freezer. We could be looking at another Manchester outfit – or elements from further afield. If anyone can find out who’s behind this, it’ll be XCalibre. Anyway, where are you two at? I heard McGhee is yet another one for the drowned list.’
‘We’re about to make contact with the police in Majorca; we need precise details of his death.’
‘That we most certainly do.’
‘What’s the score with Carl Parker now?’ Magda asked. ‘He’s the last member of that school-boy group still alive. I really think we should—’
‘There’s a car with two officers already outside his house. He’s been told not to go anywhere.’
‘We’re not putting him somewhere safe?’ Sean asked. ‘Even after this shooting?’
‘This shooting isn’t necessarily part of it.’ Troughton plonked himself down heavily in his seat then swivelled to face them. ‘At this stage, it all points to a rival gang. Striking while Brown’s outfit is in disarray. Nothing to do with Jordan Hughes.’
‘Chaos,’ Magda muttered. ‘And still no sighting of him?’
‘Nope. And that’s with every uniform aware of his face and all Covert Intelligence Sources being pumped for information, too.’
Even the snitches don’t have a clue, Sean thought. It had to mean Hughes was working as a lone wolf.
‘What about all the financial stuff Fuller came out with in the interview with Parker?’ Magda asked. ‘Any more on that?’
Troughton cupped a palm over each knee. ‘Parker, it appears, was owned by Brown. Gambling debts, maybe. That car business of his: most of the proceeds were being siphoned off by Brown.’
‘So Brown being murdered suited Parker very nicely?’ Magda asked, arching her eyebrows.
‘Maybe,’ Troughton replied. ‘And now you need to work out how the hell McGhee fits in. What was the state of his photography business? Did it appear to be doing well?’
‘Hard to say,’ Magda replied. ‘He was working out of a crappy old building on the, what did you say, Sean?’
‘Fringes of the Northern Quarter. Just the one employee. A college leaver being trialled as an assistant. But McGhee had Carsons as his main client, hence being on the photo shoot.’
‘I wonder if Brown had his hooks in him, too,’ Troughton mused.
Magda was on her way to their desks. ‘We’ll start digging.’
‘Good. DCI Ransford wants a meeting at eight tomorrow morning.’
Back at their desks, Magda looked at Sean. ‘¿Habla español?’
‘Español? Couldn’t even order a beer.’
‘¿Y francés?’
‘French? No.’
She tutted. ‘Típicos ingleses. Always assuming people will speak English. OK, llamaré la policía de Mallorca.’
‘You’ll ring them?’
‘Yes.’
Sean grinned at her. ‘They’ll probably speak English, anyway. I’d better see how our Super Recognizer’s doing.’
‘Nothing so far,’ Alan answered. He reached for a flask and half filled a bone china tea cup.
‘What’s that?’
‘Green tea,’ he replied. ‘Caffeine does me no favours.’
And in a cup you’ve brought from home, Sean thought. The man was certainly a bit … different. ‘Have you heard about the shooting?’
‘I was aware of a bit more movement beyond this door. Is that what’s happened?’
‘Two fatalities. Both high up in Brown’s empire.’
‘Who will have done it? This Hughes character?’
‘To be honest, we’re not sure. It might be him; it might be members of a rival organization.’
‘Wow. So a gang war’s now going off?’
‘Maybe.’
‘If they’re from Liverpool, it could be worth me seeing all CCTV from the vicinity. I spent a good amount of time looking over Merseyside police’s most wanted lists while I was over there. Gang members and all sorts.’
‘Something to do in your lunch break?’ Sean joked.
‘Yes,’ Eales replied matter-of-factly.
Sean quickly removed his smile. ‘OK.’
‘If any are currently here, I’ll probably spot them.’
‘I’ll have a word with the officer in charge when he gets back.’ Another thought occurred and Sean gave himself a mental pat on the back. ‘I have a couple of other images for you to compare, if that’s OK. These ones are of a female. I think she might also have been in the vicinity of a couple of the murders.’
‘Fire them over.’
‘Will do. Let me sort some other stuff out first. You OK for everything?’
‘Absolutely.’
Magda was studying something on her screen when he got back to their desks. ‘How goes it?’ he asked, sitting down.
‘Just spoke to a Spanish officer involved in the McGhee case,’ she replied, without looking up. ‘He was a bit concerned when I gave the bigger picture.’
‘I bet. Were you speaking in Spanish?’
She shook her head. ‘Al final, no.’
‘So they spoke English?’
She sighed. ‘Yes. Until now, McGhee’s death wasn’t being treated as suspicious: they’d tested his blood for alcohol and it came back as four times the legal limit. Drunken swim gone wrong was their view. Like that assistant said, it didn’t appear to be a robbery since a load of valuable equipment along with his phone were on the beach, just along from where the body was found.’
‘His phone? That will be worth—’
‘It was ruined. The tide had come in and out during the night. Everything had been submerged.’
‘Damn.’
‘What about the female in that photograph?’
‘They’ve agreed to make enquiries at the hotels near to that beach bar. But when I asked that they re-run the blood samples taken from McGhee and check the body for ketamine …’ She sighed. ‘That’s when they said requests will need to come via the correct channel.’
‘Which is?’
‘I’m looking at the relevant document now. Says I need to work in conjunction with the Consular Division of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. Enquiries have to go through them.’
‘How long will that take?’
‘I’m about to find out.’ She picked up her phone. ‘Oh, McGhee’s body was about to be released to the family. The police have agreed to delay that, at least.’
‘His parents are there at the moment?’ Sean couldn’t think of a worse reason for taking a foreign trip.
‘Due to fly out in a couple of days.’
He pointed to his phone. ‘I was wondering about Frankie and Manny.’
Magda frowned at him. ‘Go on.’
‘Well, the fact they saw Lee Goodwin walking off with a female on the night he died. She was blonde. Do you think it could be worth the two of them having a look at the photos on McGhee’s iMac?’
She met his eyes. ‘Because that woman also had blonde hair?’
He nodded.
‘It’s a long shot, Sean. First things first. And that’s following up on Brown and McGhee. We need to chase Sentinel for any more CCTV footage.’ She lifted a finger. ‘And start a trawl of McGhee’s finances.’
Sean floated a look in the direction of the CSW section. Katie was back, but her head was bowed over a stack of print-outs. ‘I could see what help we could get from …’
‘Good luck with that,’ Magda replied. ‘I think Fuller is making his point about shared resources.’
‘Well.’ Sean rose to his feet. He was worried how Katie was holding up and this was a chance to check without it being obvious. ‘I’ll wander over.’
Katie lifted her chin at the mention of her name. Sean’s first thought was that she appeared ill. It was that sickly, strained look that came about through a prolonged period of stress. He nodded to her desk. ‘How’s it going?’
She bit at her lower lip. ‘So-so. There’s just so much coming through. And now with this casino thing …’ She ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Non-stop, isn’t it?’
‘At the moment it is. Did you manage to get any food earlier?’
Her attention had returned to the sheets before her. ‘Yes. Thanks.’
‘OK.’ He wondered whether to mention the camera footage from Brown’s residence that Sentinel were due to send. It didn’t seem fair – and, besides, they now had Alan Eales. In fact, Sean realized, the bloke could act as a conduit for all CCTV recordings that came in. DCI Ransford had signed off on the expense, after all. ‘Have you had a chance to meet the Super Recognizer yet? I think we can use him to reduce your workload.’
Katie’s head shook.
‘Would you like to? He’s over there.’ He gestured to the far side of the Operations Room. ‘What the bloke does is something—’
‘Maybe some other time, Sean.’ Her smile was brief and cold. ‘Now, can I get on with this?’
The sharpness of her tone shocked him and he took a step back. He found himself staring at the top of her head. The CSW on the next desk was reaching for a file, her eyes firmly on its spine. As if she hadn’t heard a thing. Sean could feel the heat in his face. ‘No problem.’
He turned round and made his way back to his own desk.
‘You two.’ Troughton had his coat on and was pressing a finger against the face of his watch as he passed their desk. ‘You might want to consider going home and sleeping at some point. Ransford’s called that briefing with XCalibre for tomorrow at eight, remember?’
Sean’s glance swept the room. Three-quarters empty. Alan Eales had called it a day just before seven. Fuller’s desk was deserted. Same as Katie May’s.
‘He’s right,’ Magda said, stretching her arms above her head. ‘This late, we can’t achieve much more.’
‘What did the person at the FCO say?’
‘He would try and get the Spanish police to prioritize the blood tests. He’ll know first thing tomorrow.’
Sean checked the time. 10.18 p.m. Sentinel Watch had supplied the footage from Brown’s security cameras two hours earlier. Sean had gone through most of it at times-four speed, but had only seen a badger passing before the main gates. Fairfield Sailing Club had also sent what the camera at the front of their building had captured on the night of Brown’s death. Sean considered the attachment: sod it, he’d put it in the folder for Alan Eales. Let him go through it in the morning.