'Exactly.'
Daines sat back on one corner of his desk, automatically tugging at his suit trousers as he did so. 'We managed to intercept a number of small batches over the last year or so, but not all. Some will have got through.' He shrugged. 'Without the resources we really need, it's inevitable, I'm afraid.'
'And this operation now, that's the same weapons, the same source?'
Daines didn't answer immediately. 'The initial source is the same, yes. According to the Office of Organised Crime and Corruption in Lithuania, it's a factory in Kedainiai, north of Vilnius, the capital. That accounts for the majority of them, at least. They're transported through a variety of routes to this country, via Italy and up through France, or Frankfurt and then Amsterdam. Those seem to be the most popular.'
'And it's the Albanians, if I've got this right, who are making the deal here and selling them.'
'Pillow talk,' Daines said with a sly smile.
'Lynn was at liberty to say what she wanted. You didn't exactly get her to sign the Official Secrets Act.'
'I assumed she'd use her discretion.'
'She did.'
Sceptical, Daines angled his head a little to one side.
'One thing I don't understand,' Resnick said. 'Why go to the trouble of bringing the guns here? Surely they could sell them in Europe without running the extra risk of getting them into the UK?'
'Simple,' Daines said. 'Supply and demand. As the demand for guns here grows, so does the price.'
Resnick snorted dismissively. 'The free-market economy at work.'
'Precisely. And the Albanians, for a relatively small outlay, can expand their business into a new and highly profitable area, using networks that've already been established.'
'By Viktor Zoukas and his ilk.'
'Viktor and his brother Valdemar, exactly.'
'Which is why you were so keen, when the opportunity came along, to keep Viktor Zoukas out of jail.'
Daines smiled. 'Let's say we didn't want Valdemar to be distracted by the prospect of his brother being sent down for murder. Nor did we want to wait while a whole new network was set up, which we'd then have to track down. Especially not with the deal, as we believe, being so close to going ahead.'
'Convenient, then, that Crown's witness disappeared when he did.'
'Wasn't it?' Daines said flatly, choosing to ignore the implication in Resnick's tone.
'Pearce. He hasn't surfaced anywhere, as far as you know?'
'I'm afraid I've no idea.' Daines looked again at his watch. 'You know, I really do have to go.'
Resnick walked down past the Playhouse and turned left on to Derby Road, then up past the Roman Catholic cathedral towards Canning Circus, his old stamping ground. The Warsaw Diner was near the top, on the left-hand side.
After exchanging pleasantries, he settled into a corner table with a bottle of Polish beer and browsed through the Evening Post while he waited for his meal. When it arrived-a plateful of pierogi with sauerkraut and two large pickled dill cucumbers-he set aside the newspaper to eat, and as he ate, he tried to organise his thoughts.
Lynn had been murdered after returning from London, where she'd been asking about the disappearance of one of the two principal witnesses in the case against Viktor Zoukas, who was currently out on bail following the adjournment of the trial.
Coincidence?
The gun she was shot with was the same make as Viktor and his brother, Valdemar, were allegedly trafficking.
Another coincidence?
And this…
One of the SOCA personnel heading the operation against this arms trade, Stuart Daines, was known to have applied pressure on the CPS to have Viktor Zoukas's trial adjourned and Zoukas himself released on bail. He was also-if hearsay evidence were to be believed-on friendly terms with Viktor's brother, Valdemar, and had visited the brothel Valdemar ran under the guise of it being a massage parlour and sauna.
Resnick ordered a second bottle of beer.
He could see the Zoukas entourage threatening both witnesses and putting pressure on them to the point where they were too frightened to give evidence and went into hiding. He could even imagine Daines being involved in that process in one way or other, either out of some friendship with or indebtedness to members of the Zoukas family, or because, as he had explained to Resnick earlier, it suited his plans to bring the gun traffickers to justice.
He thought he might just have room for a couple of jam-filled pancakes. After which a brisk walk home in the chilling air and-hopefully-a good night's sleep would encourage things to fall into place more clearly in his mind.
It was raining when he left the diner, raining hard.
Thirty-four
The market was no more than five or so minutes' walk from the Central Police Station, and Resnick guessed that at that time, not long past opening, there would be fewer customers at the Italian coffee stall than usual. There might initially be just two: Karen Shields and himself.
Karen was wearing a black jacket with deep, pouched pockets, black jeans, and a kingfisher blue satin shirt. As she strode between stalls piled high with fruit and vegetables and on past the various flower stalls and the stall selling everything-vacuum-cleaner bags and electrical odds and ends to Jim Reeves's Greatest Hits — the sight of her had been enough to turn most heads, female and male, and to draw forth a couple of old-fashioned wolf whistles, to which she gave a prompt single-digit response.
Resnick had watched her approach, far from blind, despite everything, to the striking nature of her appearance.
'Cappuccino?' he said, once she'd settled onto the stool beside him.
'Espresso.'
'Single?'
'Double.'
She waited until it was in front of her before turning towards him and asking, 'Exactly which part of 'unfit for duty' don't you understand?'
'Daines?'
'What do you think?'
'I never said it was anything official.'
'Nor that it wasn't.'
'Just asking a few questions. No law against that, last I heard.'
'What I heard, you did more than ask questions.'
'Not really.'
'Practically accused him of conspiring to suborn witnesses.'
''Suborn'? That was his word?'
'Intimidate, is that better? Threaten?'
'The word doesn't matter.'
'You really think that's what he did? You think he'd go that far?'
'Don't you?'
Karen didn't answer.
'Daines,' Resnick said, 'how many times have you met him?'
'Just the once.'
'And what did you think?'
Karen gave it due consideration. 'He was sure of himself-not cocky, but sure of himself nonetheless. Polite. Maybe a little offhand.' She set down her cup. 'He certainly wasn't going to give anything away.'
