Dirty Old Town

by L M Krier

  ‘Tipstaves,’ Ted corrected him, ‘And Trev’s talking, so you need to go and join in and listen to his instructions. First important lesson for your career path. Be at the briefing.’

  Ted smiled to himself as he watched Flip scuttle off to where he was supposed to be. If ever a boy deserved to get into the force and make a decent career of it, it was Flip.

  It was a good session. The youngsters were pleased to hear they’d helped and seemed to work better than ever as a result.

  The lively judo session which followed was exactly what Ted needed to wind down.

  Trev had walked down. When he got into the car with Ted to go home, he asked, ‘This op you’re going on tomorrow. Is it a dangerous one? Will there be an armed presence, and what exactly is your role in it all?’

  ‘No firearms. And I’m strictly there to observe. No active involvement at all. In fact, I’ll be sitting in my car drinking tea and eating a sticky bun, looking like a bloke who’s just stopped for a quick sugar boost on his way somewhere.’

  Trev was looking at him searchingly. He knew Ted would never deliberately lie to him about something serious. But he also knew that if anything suddenly kicked off, his partner would find it impossible to stay sitting in his car eating cake whilst the action was going on all around him.

  ‘Promise me, Ted. Promise me that whatever happens, you won’t put yourself in danger. This isn’t your case, after all. Not your circus, not your monkeys. Repeat after me.’

  Ted had to laugh at that.

  ‘Honestly. I’m there for one reason only – to see Data get arrested at last, and to advise if I’m needed to. Plus to stake a claim on our rights to interview him about our case. That’s all. Promise.’

  Ted had chosen a jam doughnut from what was on offer, with a cup of tea. He was sitting in the front of his car, the driver’s window partially down so the steam from his drink didn’t risk misting up the windows at a crucial moment.

  He was parked in a side street off the road where the meeting between Gina Shaw and the young man known only as Data was set to take place. The road itself was relatively quiet, away from the busy city centre. The chosen venue was more small square than park, set back at the side of the road with neither fence nor entrance gates, so no bottleneck access. There were raised beds of flowers, some managing to survive the littering and vandalism they received, and benches which were popular for lunchtime customers of nearby food outlets. At this time of day, they were relatively empty.

  From his position, Ted had a good line of sight to where Gina Shaw was sitting on a bench near to the front of the square, her mobile phone in hand, into which she was chatting away. The cover was good. She looked exactly what her undercover role made her, a businesswoman making endless calls to clients while she took a brief moment out from her busy schedule to take the weight off her feet, in her stylish, though no doubt uncomfortable, high-heeled shoes.

  Ted knew that the rest of her team would be close by, and he knew they would be professional. He was still impressed that, even having seen them before, he didn’t immediately spot any of them. The couple he did spot were purely because he was looking for them, not because they were drawing attention to themselves.

  Ted was listening through his earpiece to any comments from the rest of the team. He heard a voice announce, ‘IC4 male, alone, no tail in evidence, approaching from the south. Appears to be in the right age range for our target.’

  Lifting his cup to his mouth, Ted turned his head to look towards the direction indicated. A natural enough movement. Someone who’d stopped for a refreshment break, simply looking idly around while he was enjoying his drink. He saw that Gina Shaw was also looking about her, still with the phone in her hand. To the casual observer, she looked like someone waiting for their next client, or perhaps for a boyfriend, husband or partner to pick them up. From where she was, she wouldn’t have clear sight of the young man approaching unless she got up and took a few paces forward, which might look suspicious.

  It was Ted’s first look at Data in the flesh, the presumed leader of the cuckooing gang from his team’s last major case. A good looking young man, well dressed, his stride bouncy and self-assured. He clearly had no hint of the reception committee waiting for him. Gina had met up with him several times before in different places. There should be nothing to alert him that things were in any way different this time.

  Traffic was starting to slow and build up as lights further up the road turned to red. A motorbike with two people on board was finding its passage up the inside of the queue of cars, close to the kerb. Despite the traffic noise, with his window partially down, Ted heard the unmistakeable cough of a handgun with a silencer, saw the young man fall to the pavement. Knew instinctively, because he’d seen such things happen before, that he was dead.

  In one swift movement, Ted dumped his snack, grabbed his photo ID from his jacket pocket to hang round his neck, leapt out of the car and sprinted across the road between vehicles. His eyes were still glued to the rear of the motorbike which had jumped the red light and disappeared off to the left.

  ‘Target is down. Shot. Two persons on a motorbike,’ he announced into his mouthpiece.

  Because of living with Trev, he knew a bit about bikes and was able to give a make and probable model, as well as part of the number plate, although he knew it would be a false one. It would be replaced as soon as the bike could leave the road, heading as it no doubt was for a pre-planned secure place. It had all the hallmarks of a professional hit.

  There weren’t many pedestrians about to get in the way but people were beginning to get out of their cars, milling about, some pulling out mobile phones and starting to film. The ghoulish modern instinct to try to be the first to post something gory on social media.

  Ted waved his ID then started ordering people to get back in their cars to clear a way for an ambulance, although he could see immediately that it was pointless. Gina Shaw came hurrying out of the garden area, her face pale and set in an anxious expression. Ted knew it was essential for her not to blow her cover so made sure not to show any sign of recognition.

  ‘Can you keep back, please, miss,’ he told her. ‘More police and an ambulance have been called. If you saw anything, we’ll need to get your statement. That’s my car over there, the Renault. Would you like to go and sit in that and I’ll come and talk to you very shortly.’

  ‘I didn’t see a lot, officer,’ she told him. ‘I don’t know who this person is. I’ve never seen him before. I just saw him fall to the ground.’

  She was looking at him hard, making sure he’d correctly interpreted the meaning of her words. Whoever the person was, lying in a pool of his own blood on the pavement, he was not their intended target, Data.

  None of the other team members appeared from wherever they were watching and waiting. Ted understood. They couldn’t afford for any of them to risk the identities they’d carefully created for themselves by appearing on the scene. They would make themselves scarce and there would be a pre-agreed place for all of them to meet up to debrief after the operation.

  It would be up to Ted to stay in place and make sure that the first responders were made aware of the delicacy of the situation. He hoped they wouldn’t be too long arriving. He wanted to hand over as soon as possible then go with Gina to find out what could have gone so catastrophically wrong.

  He had so much to keep an eye on that he didn’t spot the big black 4x4 which pulled out of another side street nearby and drove away from the scene before it was closed off.

  There were two rear-seat passengers. One man was a dwarf, barely above four feet tall, mirrored shades hiding his eyes, a white stick propped up next to him against the seat. The other was a young Asian man, slim, strikingly attractive, expensive clothes.

  The man in the glasses moved his arm and put one of his small hands on his companion’s thigh, giving it a squeeze.

  ‘You see, young Data? You see how precious you are to the Big Man? He would never risk
any harm coming to you. When he got wind that there was going to be a reception committee waiting for you, he wanted to check it out. The other boy was expendable. Pretty enough, but without your brains. Now you know you can trust him completely. Now you know the lengths to which he and the rest of us will go to protect you.’

  Apart from directing Ted where to drive to, Gina Shaw was quiet on the short journey to the debriefing venue. They weren’t going to her office this time. It turned out to be a back room in something like a warehouse. Anonymous and sparsely furnished. It did at least have a kettle. The rest of the team were already there and had brewed up. The mood was tense, angry.

  ‘What the fuck happened back there?’ the one who’d previously been aggressive now sounded more belligerent than ever. ‘All those weeks planning this and we lose this Data lad at the last minute? How the hell did they know we were there waiting?’

  Gina hadn’t yet told them it was the wrong person. She did so now.

  ‘That wasn’t Data, Derek. At least not the Data I’ve been speaking to and buying from. He looked a lot like him. Same hairstyle, wore the same sort of clothes he does, but it wasn’t him.’

  ‘So who or what the fuck tipped them off?’

  Derek was looking straight at Ted as he asked the question, the meaning behind his words clear.

  Ted returned his look as he replied, keeping his tone as measured as he usually did.

  ‘Think about it, Derek. Even if somehow someone had spotted me and ID’d me as a police officer – bearing in mind I didn’t have any visible ID and I was in my own car – that still wouldn’t make any sense. They clearly knew well in advance that something was going to happen, otherwise how did they have the time to sort a ringer to go to the RV in place of the real Data? They sent in someone who was expendable to them to check that the coast was clear.

  ‘Somehow, and we don’t yet know how, they got wind that it was a set-up. I’m not playing the “I told you so” card here, but I did mention that the sort of Specials we know operate with this gang will be fine-tuned to the slightest thing out of the ordinary.

  ‘You’ll need to have an inquiry into what went wrong, of course. But can I suggest you don’t overlook any possibility, no matter how extreme, from hacking phone and radio frequencies to the presence of a mole within your team.’

  It was late by the time Ted got home. Trev and the cats were still up, watching television together, sprawled on the sofa. Trev moved enough cats for Ted to sit down but from the look on his face Ted guessed there had been something on the news about the shooting.

  ‘Ted, you promised. It wasn’t supposed to be anything dangerous and it’s been all over the local news about a shooting in Manchester. Was that what you were involved with?’

  Ted leaned back against the cushions and closed his eyes. He picked up his partner’s hand, kissed it and kept hold of it as he said, ‘Can we not do this now? Please? It’s been a totally crap end to the day. It was supposed to be a straightforward op with no firearms involved. It all went completely tits up and now I’ve got some of the Drugs team looking at me like I’m the enemy within and deliberately screwed their operation. So can we just talk meaningless rubbish like so many other married couples at the end of a hard day. Please?’

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Ted had an early-morning meeting with the Ice Queen. He’d phoned her briefly the previous evening to let her know of the failed operation. He wasn’t surprised to hear she already knew. It wasn’t her division, but she always seemed to have a handle on what was going on.

  Trev had still been fast asleep when Ted was ready to leave, so he’d contented himself with planting a kiss on top of his black curls, which had provoked no reaction.

  The coffee machine was on when Ted walked into Debra Caldwell’s office, after a brief knock for form’s sake. He’d not long had his morning brew, but the coffee she put in front of him had an inviting aroma.

  He gave her a quick summary of what had happened and was anticipating her first remark. She was also firearms trained, an excellent shot with a hand gun.

  ‘A single fatal body shot from the back of a moving motorbike at a distance? That’s impressive. And professional. Do you have a theory?’

  Ted took a swallow of his coffee before he answered.

  ‘This isn’t about point scoring,’ he began.

  ‘I think I know you well enough by now to know that,’ she interrupted him.

  ‘I was concerned from the outset that not all of Gina Shaw’s team seemed to take the potential threat of the Special Forces involvement seriously. You and I have both trained with some of those types, under Mr Green. We both know that it doesn’t do to underestimate them. Ever. They must have been on to the set-up well in advance. They had to find someone who looked like Data as a decoy, for a start.’

  ‘Why shoot him, before he even got to the meeting point?’

  ‘They could have spotted something which alerted them, although the Drugs team were professional and not all that obvious. Gina Shaw, in particular, seems to have excellent cover in place. She’s not just playing the marketing role, she clearly knows her stuff and does it well.

  ‘They obviously couldn’t risk the stand-in falling into police hands, on the off chance he might be able to tell them something which could lead back to them. That’s highly unlikely, but they wouldn’t want to run any risks.’

  He paused to drink more coffee.

  ‘A possible explanation, one none of us ever likes to consider, is a tip-off from inside the team. A bent copper somewhere along the chain. I’ll give Gina a call at some point today to see what the latest is. I imagine she’ll be in bits. That’s her cover totally blown beyond redemption. I doubt she’ll be able to work in the field in Manchester again. Certainly not for a long time.’

  He drained his coffee and stood up to leave.

  ‘I’d better go and tell the team. It’s a disappointment for us too, of course. Without Data, we’ve nothing with which to wrap up our loose ends, and I can’t see how we’re going to get another chance for the foreseeable future.

  ‘Oh, and I wanted to remind you that I’ve put in for some leave, coming up shortly. There’s somewhere I need to be. For Trev.’

  ‘We’re all entitled to time away from the job, Ted. It’s essential if we are to retain our sanity.’

  She knew that Ted never liked talking much about his private life at work, so he surprised her when he smiled and said, ‘That’s good to hear. Because I have a feeling that if I let him down this time, he really might leave me.’

  All of the team members were in the briefing room when Ted went in to join them from the Super’s office. Even Alan Burgess, after a couple of late starts which he’d tried to blame on traffic, had cleaned up his act and begun making sure he arrived on time.

  ‘Before we start with our own cases, an update from yesterday’s op,’ Ted told them. ‘Not good news, I’m afraid. Once again, we didn’t get Data. It went wrong in a big way. A switch was made. Another young man turned up and was shot dead by someone unidentified.

  ‘Now, we don’t know at this stage whether he was connected or was an unfortunate passer-by. A simple case of mistaken identity. The fact that he looked and dressed like the person Gina Shaw, the Drugs officer, has been in contact with as Data, is probably too much of a coincidence. But as of now, we are back to the starting block in our efforts to get any further with the case.

  ‘So, Jo, Mike, have you got any good news of progress to share, please?’

  ‘A bit of light on the horizon with Sandstone Street, boss,’ Mike told him. ‘Jezza, why don’t you start?’

  ‘Boss, since the boy started talking to us, it seems he’s hardly stopped since. Dolly and Aileen, the ladies looking after him, say he’s even talking to them about it now. Maurice and I are going to another meeting later this morning to discuss in detail, with the experts, if it would be in his best interests to allow him to testify.’

  ‘And it’s really rat
tled our suspect to hear that,’ Mike continued. ‘I spoke to him again at length late yesterday. You know Ms Castle of old, of course, boss, and she doesn’t give much away. But it’s still clear that she’s concerned at the prospects for her client if there are two eyewitnesses, including the boy.

  ‘It clearly never entered our suspect’s head that the boy would say anything to anyone. It’s almost as if he thought he had him so brainwashed and terrified of him that he would never dare. And he was stunned to hear of the upstairs witness. With it taking him so long to come forward, he must have thought he was in the clear as far as the neighbours are concerned.’

  ‘I’m planning on some desk time today, so I’ll talk to CPS. I agree with you, Mike, Ms Castle is never going to let him admit to premeditation because she knows we can’t prove it. Let me have the up to date file, please. We’ve probably got enough for a manslaughter charge. It’s certainly an unlawful act to throw someone down a stairwell. It’s demonstrably dangerous and clearly any sober and reasonable person would recognise the danger. Don’t get your hopes up too soon though, everyone, but this is looking good.

  ‘Jo, any update from Damson Drive?’

  ‘I’m filled with envy for Mike’s success. Steve and I have been back there yet again, still with nothing to show for our efforts. We took Jan and Avril with us from Uniform and they went talking to the neighbours while Steve and I did one more sweep of the house and garden. Still nothing to be seen. We’ll have one more go at door-to-door today, to cover all bases, but I think we need to free up the house now.

  ‘The husband’s been off work all week, staying with his brother, but I’ve spoken to him and he’s anxious to get back to the job as soon as he can. I imagine it will be some comfort for him. And that’s going to mean him needing his car, which has been parked there all week.’

  ‘Can we search it first, sir? Or at least get dogs round it and in the garden?’ Steve had a stubborn set to his jaw as he asked.