The Storm Protocol (33 page)

‘Yes mate?’ he asked.

‘Hospital please,’ I said.

I told myself on the way up the stairs
that it was a fool's errand. She wouldn't be there. But all the same, when I strolled in to find the bed empty and cordoned off with police tape, I couldn't help feeling a tiny bit diminished. A large, stern looking woman in an ill-fitting uniform approached me.

‘Can I help you?’ she asked suspiciously.

I had to act quickly; I needed to maximise my information advantage.

‘I'm hoping you can,’ I said, keeping my voice low like a conspirator. ‘I’m Charles Foster from the Cork Examiner.’

I was thinking on my feet, combining the two names of my new colleagues.

‘We got an anonymous tip-off from a staff member, telling us that something
unusual
had happened recently in one of the female wards.’

She relaxed slightly
, and I could tell she was dying to disclose what she knew.

‘All our sources are strictly confidential,’ I said softly.

‘Meet me in the break room in about five minutes,’ she said, pointing down the corridor.

A few minutes later, when she walked into the room, I was sitting down sipping a coffee. A mug of the black liquid sat opposite me
, with a jug of milk and the sugar bowl.

‘I didn’t know how you liked it,’ I said, as if in explanation.

She nodded distractedly. I had a sheet of paper and a pen in front of me; both stolen from the nurse’s station on the way down.

‘So, very unusual to find a police cordon around a bed,’ I
prompted. ‘Did someone die? Was someone killed here?’

‘A
lady of the night
had been brought in,’ she said.

I smiled at the old fashioned verbiage.

‘She was bruised and slightly battered; cuts and scrapes. Her
friend
....’

She sa
id the word friend with a sneer.

‘
....He told us that someone had tried to rape her.’

I sighed inwardly with relief; I’d suspected they had from our last interaction, but at least the apes who handled her had bought that much of the story.

‘The timeline is all very blurry after that,’ said the matron. ‘We have been exceptionally busy over the last week, and I’ve been working double shifts, but I think it happened the following night.’

‘What happened?’ I asked
, hoping to prompt her again.

‘It appears
that the same man, the one who had originally attacked her, came back to try and finish the job. Anyway this poor girl’s
friend,
who’s coming back in after a cigarette, sees this man at her bedside, and the next thing, there are bullets flying everywhere.’

I had seen the pl
ywood roughly nailed into place where the windows had been; in the double doors at the end of the ward.

‘Was the girl hurt?’ I asked.

‘More shocked than hurt, I think,’ she said.

‘What happened to the two men?’ I asked.

‘I don't really know,’ she answered. ‘They were out through the doors like a hound after a hare. The police took our statements, but they never told us if there had been any further developments, and we have more than enough to be doing, without checking on that kind of information.’

She delivered the last line a little defensively.

‘What about the girl?’ I asked. ‘What happened to her after that?’

‘The police took her into protective custody,’ said the matron flatly.

There was nothing else I could think of that a newspaperman would ask.

‘Thank you, you’ve been very cooperative,’ I said.

She hesitated; I knew why. I slid over the copy of the Cork Examiner that I had also liberated from the nurse’s station. It was folded in four. As she opened the first fold, I saw her eyes widen slightly, as she saw the neatly arranged fan of fifty euro notes. She let the folded page drop back, then rolled it and tucked it under her arm.

‘And none of this will come back on me?’ she asked.

‘No one will ever know, you have my word,’ I said.

I nodded pleasantly as she left the room. I sipped the remainder of my coffee
, as two giggling nurses crashed through the door. One of them picked up the TV remote and switched it on. I couldn't figure out why, because as the national news blasted into the room, they seemed oblivious to it; caught up in their own conversation. Young people these days seemed to need multiple sensory stimulations.

I drained the last of my coffee and turned to leave
, when I heard something that caught my attention. I walked over to the TV. They had one of those
breaking news
tickers across the bottom, so I could read it too, even though the volume was maxed.

‘And in local news,’ the honey voiced pres
enter was shouting, ‘ADXR, the international drug giant, have announced a joint-venture with G&E Chemicals, a New Jersey-based pharma company. The joint-venture is being established at the IDA campus in Clonakilty. According to IDA sources, the dual investment will bring fifty jobs to the area initially, with more planned in the next eighteen months. A spokesperson for ADXR told us they were delighted to be investing in both Ireland and the local community of Clonakilty. G&E Chemicals have yet to release a statement, but are understood to be similarly delighted to have secured such a large and well known partner.’

What was it that Foster had said? That we needed a concrete link between Storm and Cork? Well, it appeared we now had one.

19
th
May 2011 – Nine days after the Storm.

Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil. – Aristotle.

Roussel watched with quiet amusement as Dale came to the end of the file. His lips were moving silently as his eyes scanned the pages. He was a faster reader than Roussel by a factor of two at least. He probably needed to be. The DEA would process an awful lot of paperwork.

‘Coffee?’ asked Roussel.

Dale nodded absently.

Roussel busied himself in the kitchen. He couldn't get over how small things were in Ireland
. His own apartment back home was not even an apartment by American standards, but his kitchenette alone was half the size of the flat they had recently rented.

A sharp crack made him jump. He realised that Dale had closed the folder with a bang, making a sound like a thunderclap. He walked back into the living room with two cups of tea. Neither of them were strangers to the iced variety, but both had developed a rea
l liking for proper English tea; the hot stuff, with plenty of milk.

‘It’s like being in a movie,’ said Dale
, with his eyes closed. ‘I keep thinking I’m going to wake up.’

‘I know what you mean,’ said Roussel
. ‘It’s all a bit surreal, isn’t it?’

‘So
, what do you make of our boy?’ asked Dale, opening his eyes.

‘It’s a strange one and no mistake
,’ said Roussel. ‘After what I read about him; after what I know he is and what he does, I really wanted to dislike him. But do you know what, try as I might, I just can't.’

‘No, me neither,’ said Dale. ‘But
, do you think he’s telling the truth?’

‘I do,’ answered Roussel.

There was a long and companionable pause.

‘
So, where do
you
fit in to all of this mess?’ asked Dale. ‘What’s your story?’

‘Me?
’ replied Roussel. ‘I’m just a local parish CID detective, who just happened to accidentally pick up a brutal double murder.’

‘There’s mor
e to it than that though, isn’t there?’ stated Dale quizzically.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I can't read people,’ offered Dale. ‘It’s something I’ve never been able to do well. But I can tell when things are not what they seem.’

‘I’m not with you,’ said Roussel, with a bemused expression.

‘Let’s put it this way,’ said Dale. ‘You’re not the typical rural detective. I’m not saying they are stupid, far from it. But there is an extra dimension to you, and I just can't put my finger on it.’

Roussel blinked in shock. Dale was full of surprises. He was certainly more intuitive than Roussel had given him credit for.

‘I’m a qualified lawyer,’ stated Roussel suddenly.

This time it was Dale’s turn to blink in surprise.

‘Really?’ he asked. ‘And you gave that up to become a policeman, why?’

‘I missed home,’ said Roussel truthfully. ‘I was in a big corporate firm, full of Yankee WASP’s; no offence.’

He directed this at Dale quickly.

‘None taken,’ said Dale.

‘It took me a while to realise none of those guys actually cared about the law. For them, it was purely a game for winning and losing; high-stakes poker, with other people's lives and money.’

He paused reflectively, before continuing.

‘I was asked to review a case. It was one of those David vs. Goliath jobs. Guess who we were representing?’ he asked sourly.

Foster could guess; he knew the type of law firm.

‘Some multi-national company leeching God knows what chemicals and toxins into the ground water; potentially causing all sorts of birth defects and cancers. On top of that, I was the only southerner in the firm. I just reached a tipping point. My parents raised me with morals. I wanted to be able to sleep at night.’

He laughed a short
, barking laugh.

‘Of course now
, I lie awake for other reasons,’ he said.

He shrugged
, before becoming inquisitor himself, firing the initial question back at Dale.

‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘What's your own path to this point in time?’

‘Pretty straightforward,’ said Dale. ‘This is my first and only job. I didn’t have any set direction in mind. I just wanted to pick a career where I could make a difference. Turns out, I'm actually pretty damn good at what I do.’

‘Do you have any regrets?’ asked Roussel.

‘Oh, I’ve got plenty of those,’ said Dale. ‘But strangely enough, coming on this trip is not one of them.’

‘M
arried, partner, fiancé?’ asked Roussel.

Dale snorted.

‘What do you think?’ he answered in return. ‘The only thing I’m married to is my job, I’m afraid. What a sad stupid cliché that is. The only girls I meet are suspects. What about you?’

Dale returned the question.

‘I had a long-term girlfriend,’ said Roussel. ‘Turns out she was more in love with my prospects than she was with me, and as you say, the only girls I meet now have criminal records.’

Before either of them could ask another question
, they heard the front door bang. A large plastic bag full of delicious smells was deposited on the table in front of them.

‘Chinese take-away,’ said Street, placing a six-pack of Heineken next to it.

‘Gentlemen,’ he said. ‘I think we have a lead.’

#

For a good ten minutes or so, all you could hear was the contented sound of jaws working. I had forgotten how hungry I was, and thought the guys might benefit from a takeaway; seemed I was right. I waited until the rice was depleted and the main dishes started congealing; a sure sign that everybody had eaten their fill. I flicked the caps off the second round of drinks with the bottle opener, and indicated the folder.

‘So
, what do you make of it?’ I asked.

‘Well, it certainly clears up the CIA involvement, anyway,’ said Roussel.

We all laughed.

‘What do
you
think?’ I asked Dale specifically.

I was interested in his DEA perspective.

‘Overall, a very interesting story,’ he said. ‘And to be honest, like all the best discoveries, it seems its primary purpose was not what it was originally developed for.’

‘So
, a bit like Viagra,’ said Roussel, interceding. ‘That was never expected to have those unfortunate side-effects.’

‘Or fortunate, depending on your point of view,’ said Dale.

There was a brief chuckle all round.

‘Does it give you any more insight into Storm?’ I asked.

‘I can see why it would be important to someone like the Mancini’s. If we use a modern example, we only have to look at the rise of ecstasy. The trend for its usage came about from a user base of almost zero. It was a real fluke; party people looking for love, but look how many billions are now spent worldwide on that one drug.’

He corrected himself.

‘Or should I say that one range of drugs. But imagine controlling the supply? Imagine being the sole manufacturer? From reading this, the process of synthesis does not seem straightforward. You would need a lot of equipment and hence a lot of money. Now I know that drugs are big business, and there is a lot of investment on the illegal side, but if you look at what we would call the
problem drugs
currently, the initial outlay is still pretty low, all things considered, and you can't control the supply.’

‘I don’t follow you,’ I said, shaking my head.

I could see that Roussel felt the same way.

‘Heroi
n is derived from opium, which in turn is derived from poppies. You can’t stop me growing poppies, especially somewhere like Afghanistan. And then you have South America; the coca plant. Especially in the rainforest, there is no way you can control it, you would have to find it first. Marijuana; literally every college dorm room is growing that stuff. But this; this is different, this is big pharma.’

‘So
, if you need that much investment, how did that guy Nigel manage to get it working, all those years ago?’

‘Reading between the lines,’ said Dale. ‘We are talking about wartime. We are talking about
the development of something that could change the course of history. I'm guessing money was no object. He would have had the best that money could buy at the time.’

‘Interesting you should say that,’ I said. ‘I saw an article on the local news about an hour ago. ADXR are setting up a new plant about a hundred miles from here, in a place called Clonakilty.’

‘Can’t get much bigger pharma than that,’ agreed Dale.

‘Well, here’s the thing,’ I said. ‘Apparently, it’s a joint-venture betw
een ADXR and a company called G&E Chemicals.’

‘Never heard of them,’ said Dale.

‘Me neither,’ responded Roussel.

‘I only heard about them recently,’ I said
. ‘It was about a month and a half ago; I overheard a conversation.’

‘Go on,’ said Dale.

‘Like to hazard a guess what G&E stands for?’ I asked instead.

They thought about it for a couple of minutes.

‘General and every day,’ said Roussel.

I shook my head and cocked an eyebrow at Dale.

‘Global and effective,’ he ventured.

We all laughed, and then it eventually faltered and tailed off.

‘Guido and Ernesto,’ I said, into the silence.

‘I knew it,’ said Dale
, thumping the table in triumph. ‘Didn’t I tell you?’

‘You certainly did,’ I replied
, ‘but it doesn’t really change anything.’

‘I know,’ said Dale, ‘but it makes me feel better, and it gives us something to target. No, in fact, more than that, it gives us
somewhere
to target.’

‘Let’s not move ahead of ourselves,’ I said. ‘There’s still a few loose ends around here I’d like to clear up.
There’s a girl, the one who gave me the inside information on Scott Mitchell. I put her in harm’s way and I sort of feel responsible. I think I’ve deflected suspicion away from her, but I’d like to be sure.’

I looked at Roussel.

‘Now, apparently she was taken into custody last night.’

‘Why are you looking at me?’ he asked.

I could see the thought wheels turning in his head.

‘Well I ca
n hardly walk in, can I?’ I retorted.

‘Well I can
barely
walk in,’ protested Roussel. ‘I’m only a guest.’

‘There’s always a way,’ I said
. ‘All you have to do is show a little bit of balls.’

‘Are you calling me chicken?’ asked Roussel.

‘I don't know,’ I said. ‘Are you?’

Roussel looked at me, and then his shoulders slumped in resignation and a smile spread slowly over his face.

‘I’m only doing this because there is a girl involved,’ he said. ‘I suppose you have a plan.’

‘As a matter of fact I do,’ I said.

#

‘Thanks for picking me up,’ said Roussel.

‘No problem,’ said James. ‘I thought you’d be well into the land of nod by now.’

‘Couldn't sleep,’ said Roussel. ‘You know the way, when you’ve gone past that point of tiredness.’

‘Oh, I know it well,’ stated James. ‘Anyway, what are you doing over here, did you get lost?’

‘You could say that,
’ Roussel lied seamlessly.

If only James knew the truth.

They journeyed the rest of the way in silence.

‘So, anything in particular you need to do?’ asked James.

‘Yeah, I need to check something on the web a bit later. And I’d like to talk to my captain in a few minutes. But I was wondering before that, is there any way you could give me a tour of the station?’

‘Sure,’ said James.

He stopped to consider something.

‘Any particular reason?’ he asked curiously.

‘Just to see what the differences are, really,’ said Roussel nonchalantly. ‘You know; between the US and Ireland. Oh, and I’d like to meet a few more of the guys if I could,’ he added, as an afterthought.

‘Okay
, sure,’ said James. ‘Let me just dump this stuff on my desk, and I’ll be back down to you in a minute.’

Roussel waited in r
eception, his own anxiety growing by the second. He hadn't been particularly convinced by Street’s plan, and the more he thought about it, the more flimsy it became. And James had been a little odd too. Roussel didn’t blame him.