related.”
“We’ve considered that possibility,” Hewitt said. “But you’re getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you? Once the link between the killings has been formally acknowledged, an MIT will be assigned. Right now, Tomas Strazdas is the only case you’re involved with.”
“You do keep tabs on things, don’t you, Dan?”
“It’s my job to be well-informed,” Hewitt said. “For instance, I know that the man found with Sam Mawhinney will be identified as Darius Banys, an associate of young Tomas. His babysitter, really.”
“Babysitter?”
“Tomas couldn’t keep himself out of trouble,” Hewitt said. “Darius’s job was mostly to keep an eye on him, stop him from doing too much damage to himself or anyone else.”
“What was the relationship between the brothers and Tomas?”
Hewitt sighed. “Why don’t you do your own detective work, Jack?”
“Because you and your mates in C3 are always one step ahead of the rest of us,” Lennon said. “And you owe me.”
“I owe you nothing,” Hewitt said.
“You want to test that in front of the Police Ombudsman?”
“Fuck you.”
“Then call it a favor to an old friend. It’s a secure line. Nobody’s listening.”
Lennon heard the change in Hewitt’s breathing and reached for a pen.
“All right,” Hewitt said. “The Mawhinney brothers branched into prostitution over the last year or so, buying girls from a Lithuanian woman called Rasa Kairyte., girls she helped traffic from the Republic into the North. She worked mostly with Tomas Strazdas.”
“Spell that name,” Lennon said.
Hewitt recited the letters as Lennon scribbled on his notepad.
“What’s European People Management?” Lennon asked.
Hewitt paused. “How do you know about that?”
“I saw an employment contract,” Lennon said. “It was in a drawer at the flat, along with a passport.”
“What passport?”
“It belongs to a Lithuanian girl,” Lennon said. “I’m guessing she’s the prostitute the Mawhinneys were keeping there.”
“Maybe,” Hewitt said.
“You haven’t answered my question,” Lennon said. “The employment contract was between the girl and this company called European People Management. You know something about it. I could tell by your voice.”
“Maybe you should put in a request through the proper channels,” Hewitt said. “I’m sure you’ll get all the info you need for your case.”
“That’ll take weeks,” Lennon said. “Why bother with that when I can go straight to the source?”
“All right,” Hewitt said. “European People Management is the Strazdas family business.”
“Family business?”
“Tomas was the younger brother of a man called Arturas Strazdas, owner of a number of labor agencies, ostensibly supplying migrant workers to factories, mushroom farms, cleaning companies, that sort of thing. But we’ve had an eye on him for a long time now, at the behest of our European counterparts. We believe he’s been using the agencies as a way of supplying paperwork for women trafficked into prostitution all around Britain and Ireland.”
“How does that work?” Lennon asked.
“One passport will be used to travel back and forth between Dublin and places like Vilnius, or sometimes Brussels, where he’s based. The same passport might be used for a return journey once every couple of weeks, but often the immigration people don’t look that closely at the photograph. One dark-haired girl with an Eastern European accent is hard to tell from another dark-haired girl with an Eastern European accent if you’re not paying strict attention.”
Lennon reached for the passport and opened it to the data page. Maybe this blonde girl in the photograph wasn’t the prostitute who’d worked at the flat, but rather someone very like her. Had she been there of her own free will? He thought of some of the women he’d visited in the night in the not-so-distant past. He swallowed.
“Tell you what,” Lennon said. “I’ll run a theory past you. You tell me if it fits with what you know about the situation.” A pause, then Hewitt said, “All right.”
Lennon began, sorting his thoughts as he spoke. “I think Tomas, this Darius bloke, and Sam Mawhinney were having some friendly Christmas drinks in that flat out in Bangor, possibly along with a prostitute they were running out of there, but they had a little bit of a tiff. That wound up with Tomas getting his throat cut. The other two stuck Tomas in their car and drove him down to the docks, meaning to dump him in the water, but they were disturbed by the harbor cop.
“But Tomas’s people weren’t best pleased about this, and they took Sam and his Lithuanian friend out to Newtownabbey, blew their brains out, and burnt the car. Sound okay so far?”
“It seems a reasonable train of thought,” Hewitt said. “But that doesn’t explain Mark Mawhinney.”
“No,” Lennon said. “Any witnesses to that?”
“Too early to tell,” Hewitt said. “DCI Quinn’s MIT have only been down there an hour.”
“Okay,” Lennon said. “So if I wanted to talk to someone who grieved the passing of Tomas Strazdas, where would I start?”
“You could start with the Kairyte. woman. She has a flat in the Holylands. Or there’s the driver, Herkus Katilius. Big lad, hard bastard, ex-military. But there’s a better option.”
“What’s that?” Lennon asked.
“Arturas Strazdas, Tomas’s brother.”
“You said he was based in Brussels.”
“He is,” Hewitt said. “But he flew into the International Airport last night. We, and several other organizations, keep tabs on Mr. Strazdas. He always stays in the same hotel.”
Lennon scribbled down the name on his pad. An expensive place, good clientele, near the Waterfront theater.
“That’s unusually forthcoming of you, Dan. What’s your angle?”
“No angle,” Hewitt said. “You would’ve tracked him down anyway. It’s your job to chase next of kin in a case like this, inform them of their loved one’s death.”
“A good reason to call with him,” Lennon said.
“True. But Jack?”
“What?”
“Tread lightly,” Hewitt said. “Strazdas is dangerous. I won’t shed a tear if you come to harm because you got yourself in over your head, but you could balls up several live investigations in the process. I’ve told you more than I should, so I don’t want it coming back to bite me in the arse.”
“I’ll be a model of discretion,” Lennon said, not caring in the least what might bite Dan Hewitt’s arse.
“I’m counting on it,” Hewitt said.
25
ARTURAS STRAZDAS LAY staring at the ceiling when his mobile phone rang. The cracked display said “number withheld.” He hit the answer button and asked in English, “Who is this?”
“You know.”
“Yes,” Strazdas said. He sat upright on the bed.
“My condolences on the passing of your brother.”
“Thank you. What do you want?”
“To give you a warning. A police officer will call on you before long. Detective Inspector Jack Lennon. Be careful with him.”
“How does he know I’m here?” Strazdas asked.
“He’s a smart cop, that’s how. He has many sources. He might cause you some problems.”
