‘We’ve got Brigitte checking through the flights to Ireland and the ferries crossing the Irish Sea. Any chance for you to check with the car rental companies in Dublin?’
‘We checked before, went nowhere.’
‘That was before. We’ve got one man for attempted murder, another at Challis Street who’s claiming to be innocent. He was thought to be dead, but here he is, and he’s altered his appearance. A thug, as bad as they get, and not too bright. If he were in Ireland, he could have made a mistake. Check the clubs, pubs, anywhere a degenerate could get to, and the man’s accent is strong, so he would probably stand out.’
‘Briganti’s?’
‘It’s possible he’s involved. We don’t know how long he’s been on Ivanov’s team, but they’ve dumped him now. Probably trying to distance Ivanov from Cojocaru’s death, but why they left Antonescu on the street, we’re not sure. It seems to be an error on their part, and Ivanov doesn’t make many errors, but if it wraps up the murder investigations, then we’ll pursue it at all costs. Annie, bring in whoever you can and let’s get this man.’
‘Send me an updated photo.’
‘Five minutes and you’ll have it. We can’t hold the man for long. He’s here voluntarily.’
Isaac phoned Gordon Windsor. ‘Any updates on Cojocaru?’
‘The man’s with Pathology, but they’ll not be able to tell you much more. We’ve not found any clear evidence at the murder scene, other than a blond hair.’
‘Is it with Forensics?’
‘It is. Significant?’
‘Test it against Crin Antonescu. You should have a sample of his DNA.’
‘Should we? I don’t think so, not unless he’s on our database.’
‘Very well. Send one of your people down to Homicide, and we’ll get you a sample.’
***
Crin Antonescu, who in an act of desperation had willingly walked into Challis Street Police Station, now found himself charged with the murder of Nicolae Cojocaru. Not that the proof was certain, Isaac knew that, but they needed Antonescu’s DNA to move forward. With an arrest, the man would be forced to comply.
The sample was with Forensics within the hour, a swab from inside the man’s mouth, a strand of hair. Antonescu had complained, but legally he had no option.
Back in his cell, the Romanian sat quietly, taking his meals when they came, and asking for coffee every twenty minutes. Isaac and Larry looked at the man on the camera in the cell, unable to make any sense of a villain who came into a police station uninvited. It was behaviour they had not experienced before; the assumption was that he was more frightened of Ivanov than of the police. That was understandable, but why had he returned to England, why not go somewhere else? Ivanov frightened Isaac and Larry. The man was distinguished, and some would say charismatic, and the general view of the populace was that he was a man who had made good in the new Russia.
Oscar Braxton was over from Serious and Organised Crime Command. He was sensing a victory of sorts, but not total. ‘We’ll never get Ivanov,’ he said.
‘Any worth in talking to him again?’ Isaac said. The three, including Larry, were sitting in Isaac’s office.
‘He’ll not admit to anything, and Becali outside his house is circumstantial. Damning to Becali and to us, but Ivanov will have the best legal minds with him. He’ll come out clean, and if he was behind Briganti’s and Cojocaru’s death, where is the connection?’
‘Leave him for now, focus on wrapping up the murders. Any word from Inspector O’Carroll?’ Isaac said, directing his glance over to Larry.
‘Not yet. She’s trying, but there’s no forensics to back it up. We may get Antonescu for Cojocaru, but not for Buckley, even if he’s guilty.’
A phone call from Gordon Windsor, a look of relief on Isaac’s face. ‘Bring Antonescu back up. We’ve made the connection to Cojocaru. He’s already been charged, but this time it’s up to him to see if he’s willing to admit to the crime and whether he’s willing to implicate others.’
Chapter 28
Annie O’Carroll phoned from Ireland. The indications were that Antonescu had been in Ireland, although the photo, enhanced as best as it could be, was not good enough to be proof positive. It appeared that the murder of Buckley would remain without a convicted murderer, although there was no doubt about who was responsible.
Antonescu sat in the interview room once more. Klaus Ponta, who had represented Becali, sat to his side, the charged man having relented about the need for a lawyer.
‘Mr Antonescu, you’ve been charged with the murder of Nicolae Cojocaru. Is there anything you want to say in your defence?’ Isaac said.
‘Your evidence is circumstantial,’ Ponta said. ‘My client has not admitted to the crime.’
Isaac respected Ponta; the man was just doing his job.
‘It’s not, and with added focus, we’ll find more evidence. We’re also certain that Antonescu shot Inspector Ryan Buckley in Ireland. Your client, if he is not able to offer an alternative explanation of why he was at Cojocaru’s penthouse, and why he was in Ireland, will stand trial.’
‘I didn’t do it,’ Antonescu said. He slammed the table with his fist, almost causing a glass of water that Larry had brought into the room to topple off and onto the floor.
‘There are unresolved questions,’ Isaac said. ‘The first is what did Inspector Buckley find out from Seamus Gaffney that condemned him? And who did he tell it to? The fact that he wasn’t killed by Mr Antonescu indicates that Gaffney either hadn’t revealed what he knew or that Buckley killed him first. Antonescu, what do you have to say?’
‘Ion Becali killed Buckley. Seamus Gaffney had dirt on Cojocaru, not Ivanov. I wasn’t involved,’ Antonescu said.
‘But you know the story?’
‘I’m not saying anything. All I
