Hanging Hill - Mo Hayder [110]
‘What sort of company is it? Purveyors of the finest-quality filth? By Appointment to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II?’
‘Nope. Containers. Food containers to the catering industry. And in 2008 Dominic Mooney bought twenty thousand units of Kilner jam jars from DGE.’
Zoë raised an eyebrow. ‘Now, that’s a lot of jam. He must run a fruit farm.’
‘From his city house in Finchley?’
The three of them looked at each other.
‘So,’ Zhang smiled, ‘who’s going to be the first to say it?’
‘Bagsy me.’ Zoë put her hand up. ‘Blackmail. Years ago Goldrab was making porn in Kosovo and Mooney was supplying the girls – using the ones his unit was supposed to be protecting. The relationship breaks down and years later, long after they’ve been in Kosovo, it occurs to Goldrab that blackmailing an old friend is a legit way to turn a dime.’
‘That’s what Mooney’s payments are – to his dodgy “catering” company.’
Zoë nodded. If Goldrab had been blackmailing Mooney he’d be a very happy person indeed for Goldrab to be dead. He could only win from a situation like that. She looked from Watling to Zhang and back again. ‘What’s Mooney like? I mean apart from what he did in Kosovo. Is he meaty in other arenas? What’s he capable of? Is he capable of murder?’
Watling gave a dry laugh. ‘Very capable. It wouldn’t be the first time. Not from what our investigations are showing – we’re seeing links to at least two missing persons, here and in Kosovo.’
‘And the name Lorne Wood hasn’t cropped up, has it?’
Watling raised her eyebrows. ‘No – I mean, I know the name. It’s the murder you’re dealing with in Bath, isn’t it? Surprisingly, at SIB we do take an interest in what the provincial police are doing, even if that interest isn’t reciprocated. But Lorne hasn’t featured with Mooney. Not at all. Why do you ask?’
‘Where was he a week last Saturday? The seventh of May? The day Lorne died?’
‘London.’
‘You sure?’
‘One hundred per cent. I can assure you he’s got nothing to do with Lorne Wood’s death.’
‘But he is a killer.’
Watling sucked a breath in through her teeth. ‘Let’s get this straight – yes, he’s a killer, but not that sort. If Mooney wants to off someone it’ll be a cold, calculating business contract, not a sex killing. Lorne Wood? Never. Goldrab? Maybe. But he certainly wouldn’t be getting his own hands dirty. He’d contract it out.’
‘Contract it? Then there’d be a record of payment.’ Zoë stood and leaned over Zhang to look at the file. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve got Mooney’s bank statements there?’
He closed the folder, turned away slightly in his chair, crossing his leg and raising his shoulder protectively so she couldn’t see it.
‘There’s nothing in there,’ said Watling. Trust me. We’d know. If there had been a payment recently it wouldn’t be paper-based – he’d use hard currency so there’s no trace. My guess? He’d use Krugerrands – he had links to that RAF currency scam years ago, remember? The humble Kruger was a very hot ticket in those days.’
‘What sort of person would he hire?’
‘Usually ex-military. At the moment the market’s flooded with ex-IRA boys – they’ll drop someone for ten K. But it’s not Mooney’s style. They’re loose cannons, too unreliable, too flappy with the old gums in the pub afterwards. He’d pay more and get someone he could trust.’
Zoë put her elbows on the table, her chin in her hands, and stared at the files, thinking about this. A hired gun. If Goldrab really had been offed by Mooney, and she could find out whom he had paid to do it, the whole thing might start to unravel. If there was a connection between Goldrab, Mooney and Lorne that SIB hadn’t uncovered it would pop out in no time. If not, at the very worst she’d be sure Goldrab was really gone.
‘And where is Mooney at the moment?’
‘He’s on holiday with his wife – soon to be his ex-wife when this thing breaks.’