Dirty Old Town

by L M Krier

  Ted really didn’t want to have to put him down with not only the full team there, but also the officers from elsewhere. But he clearly needed to say something.

  ‘If the forensic results come in today and if they indicate anything, I’ll see what I can do, Steve. As regards dogs, I don’t think that’s even possible. As far as I know, from my limited experience of working with them, they’re individually trained to a specific scent. I don’t think there are any yet which are trained to detect things like GHB, for instance. So unless and until we know if any drugs were used at all, and specifically which they were, if so, I think we’re out of luck on that score.’

  Ted was on a video call with the CPS when his mobile phone rang. The screen showed him it was Gina Shaw calling him. He excused himself for long enough to take it and to promise to call her back as soon as he could, then returned to discussing his cases.

  The files for the Sandstone Streets flats case had already gone through to the prosecutor he was speaking to. She’d only had time for a brief glance before they spoke, but her verdict was encouraging.

  ‘I think you have enough there to charge him with manslaughter and bail him for now, Ted. Based on what we have so far, especially if the boy is a witness, I doubt there’s a jury that wouldn’t convict him, to be honest. I know you and your team will keep digging right up to trial, but I’m happy enough for him to be charged on what we have so far. Will you want to oppose bail?’

  ‘I think that might be pushing it, Laura. We’ve no reason to suppose he might reoffend. I’d want reporting conditions, and we could ask for a residency requirement somewhere other than at the flat because of the risk to witnesses. He doesn’t know where the boy is, so there should be no danger of him trying to approach and influence him.

  ‘As far as the presumed murder-suicide at Damson Drive goes, that’s still what it is, for now. A presumed case of a mother killing her child then taking her own life. One of my officers suspects there might be more to it than that, but at the moment we have no evidence at all to back up his theory. I’ll keep you posted on any progress, though, although I appreciate it might not be you handling that case.’

  He ended the call then phoned Gina back as promised. He couldn’t begin to imagine how she was feeling after the total disaster of the day before. She sounded subdued as she answered his call.

  ‘Thanks for calling back, Ted, I really appreciate it. I know you have your own cases to deal with but I was really in need of a friendly voice and yours always sounds nice.’

  ‘Tough day?’

  ‘The worst. I’m toast here. I clearly can’t work undercover in Manchester again for the foreseeable future. Probably never again. Which means picking myself up and starting out afresh somewhere new. Goodness knows where. And we still have to find out what went wrong with it all. We were so careful. With the benefit of hindsight, we should have taken more notice of your warnings, though.

  ‘My problem is my immediate boss is a real Neanderthal. He’s a walking stereotype from crime fiction. Straight out of Life on Mars. The sort who should have disappeared years ago but he’s managed to hang on, and I dread to think how.

  ‘The training courses on “All police officers are equal, even the women”? He must have been at home with a sick note. Two failed marriages, kids who hate him, drinks like a fish, chain-smokes, bends every rule in the book, but somehow gets the results. He’s been dying for me to come unstuck. To make it worse, he’s pretending to be supportive, which makes me want to throw up. Luckily the next level up are more modern and more reasonable, so I might get the offer of a transfer somewhere else to start again.

  ‘Anyway, I was phoning to ask a massive favour, and it’s really presumptuous, as I barely know you.’

  ‘If I can help you with anything, I will.’

  ‘Have you got time after work to meet up for a drink? I could get the train down because I should warn you, I’m not planning to stop at one drink. Only I need to talk to another officer, one not directly involved in our case, but with specialist knowledge around it. I’m not allowed to talk to any of my team pending the various inquiries.’

  ‘You’re suspended?’

  ‘No, not officially, but I have been told to claim some of my outstanding leave, for the time being. I know it’s a big ask, but I’d be really grateful, if you’re free.’

  ‘You’re in luck, as it happens. My partner’s going to London this weekend so I’m on my own. I don’t drink anyway so I’m happy to drive up there, if it makes it easier for you?’

  ‘No, really, that’s very kind of you, but Manchester doesn’t feel like a good place for me to be at the moment, so I’d welcome the chance to get away.’

  ‘There’s a pub near the nick. The Grapes. I’ll give the landlord a call. I can usually use the back room, if there’s nothing on, for a quiet chat. And they do food, if you fancy something.’

  ‘Thanks, Ted, it’s really kind of you. I appreciate it. I’ll see you later.’

  Ted found Gina Shaw waiting for him in the bar of The Grapes, nursing a large gin and tonic. He was shocked by the change in her appearance. Not only the designer suit and high heels replaced by jeans and a baggy cardigan, the minimal make-up, and the hair pulled back into a casual pony tail. Her posture had lost all its former self-assurance. She looked younger, vulnerable. Defeated, even.

  He could understand why she chose to talk to someone more on the outside of her team, and why it needed to be another copper. He’d no idea if she had a partner of any kind. If she did, no matter how supportive they might be, they couldn’t begin to imagine how she was feeling right now.

  ‘This is really kind of you, Ted, I appreciate it. I’m in the chair, so what are you having?’

  Dave, the landlord, had come over when the door had opened. When he saw who it was, he asked, ‘Usual, Ted?’

  ‘Thanks, Dave. Are we still okay to use the back room?’

  ‘Shop talk? Help yourselves, we’re not exactly crowded out, as you can see. Will you be eating?’

  Ted looked towards Gina.

  ‘I suppose I should, if I’m planning on drinking. Are you sure I’m not keeping you from something more interesting than listening to me whinge about work?’

  ‘Really, it’s fine. I’ll come and get the menu when we’re ready, Dave.’

  Ted waited for her to take a long swallow from her drink, once they were settled in the back room, before starting up the conversation she’d come to have.

  ‘Do you have a theory, about what happened?’

  ‘The only theory that makes any kind of sense is a mole on the team somewhere. But I don’t even want to think about that. I’ve worked with all of them for ages. I would have said I knew them all well and they were sound. But like you pointed out, this wasn’t a spur of the moment thing. It took some planning, so they knew in advance.’

  Ted took a drink of his Gunner before he posed his next question. It was a tricky one to ask, especially to someone he hardly knew at all.

  ‘And Ian Bradley? You said he was off the radar, out of contact. In deep. Is it possible it was him? The mole?’

  ‘It’s the logical thing to think, isn’t it? Is he so deep in his cover he’s gone over to the other side? But I’ve known Ian longer than anyone. I would have said I knew him better than anyone else. But someone clearly tipped them off that we were on to them and it was a set-up to bring Data in.

  ‘If it was Ian, his info would still have had to come from within the team. I’ve not had contact with him for ages and I didn’t think anyone else had. I’d really struggle to believe it was Ian, though I know we can’t rule out any possibility.’

  ‘It can happen, of course. We had something with a sergeant here. None of us would have believed what came out about him, but it turned out he had a really serious gambling addiction none of us knew about. It led to him doing all sorts of stuff none of us would every have believed him capable of.’

  Gina Shaw was on the point of replying when Ted�
�s phone rang. Trev calling.

  ‘Sorry, it’s my partner, I’d better take it.’

  ‘Of course, I need to go to the ladies anyway. Shall I bring the menu? And are you ready for another drink?’

  He nodded to the first but put his hand over his glass. He’d scarcely made a dent in it.

  ‘Did you make the train all right?’ he asked when he answered the call.

  ‘Yes, and don’t worry, officer, I’m in a quiet zone, I’m not breaching any regulations. But you’ll never guess what. You might not have heard yet. There’s been another shooting! Manchester is getting worse than Detroit, it seems. It was very close to the station. We were late leaving because of it and everywhere being in chaos. I think we were lucky to get away at all. There were police appearing everywhere.’

  ‘But you’re all right? Were there any injuries, any fatalities?’

  ‘I haven’t been able to find out any details yet. They’re just talking about an exchange of gunfire near to the station but not much more than that so far. Are you at home yet? Can you put the telly on? They might have more info by now.’

  ‘I’m in The Grapes. With a woman.’

  ‘Ted Darling, you swine, I’ve not even got as far as Crewe and you’re two-timing me!’ Trev said teasingly. ‘I’d better leave you to it, then. Let me know if you hear anything, though, I’m all agog. And don’t be late home. The pussy cats will be starving. Love you.’

  ‘They really won’t, you know. And me too,’ Ted said awkwardly, as Gina had come back into the room, carrying two menus and another drink for herself.

  ‘There’s been another shooting, up near Piccadilly,’ he told her as she sat back down. ‘Have you heard anything?’

  She pulled her mobile out of the large shoulder bag she had with her, checked the screen and told him, ‘Nothing from anybody. I suppose everyone’s been told not to contact me.’

  She was flicking deftly through the phone as she spoke until she found the site she was looking for.

  ‘They’re saying an exchange of gunfire near to the station, with not many further details. No signs of any bodies or of anyone injured and no arrests made to date. Unless they’re not saying, for some reason.’

  She looked up at Ted, frowning. ‘You don’t think it could in any way be connected with what happened yesterday, do you? It’s not as if shootings are a daily occurrence in Manchester.’

  ‘Too early to jump to any conclusions, until we have any more details. Now, if you tell me what you want to eat, I’ll go and order. And do you want me to get you another drink while I’m going to the bar? Some wine with the meal, perhaps?’

  It was a very much merrier Gina whom Ted drove back to the hotel she’d booked herself for the night, on the station approach. She’d insisted she was fit to walk there, but Ted didn’t fancy her chances of getting there in one piece, left to her own devices. He even escorted her the short distance from the nearest parking into the hotel reception to make sure she got there safely. Once she was checked in, he put her into the lift and pressed the correct floor button, but he wasn’t going to take the risk of going with her in case she got the wrong idea and he found himself in a compromising position.

  It always felt strange walking into a dark and empty house, whenever Trev was away. Ted was met with accusing glances from the cats as soon as he put the lights on. He knew Trev would have left them with plenty of food to keep them going, but he still went to freshen their bowls and clean up after them. He knew he’d get no peace from them until he did so.

  Then he took his jacket, tie and shoes off and went to sit on the sofa to put the TV on. He flicked through various news channels until he found one running a piece on the Manchester shooting. Details were still sketchy but it featured a senior police officer Ted knew doing a piece to camera, appealing for witnesses.

  ‘In particular we’re keen to hear from two people on a motorbike who were seen leaving the scene at speed shortly after the shooting.’

  Chapter Twenty-four

  It was shortly before five in the morning when Ted was jerked from a fitful sleep by the sound of his mobile phone on the bedside table. His mind had been churning most of the night, going over and over the failed Drugs operation, trying to identify anything he’d missed at the time.

  The incoming call was masked so he answered it with a guarded, ‘Hello?’

  ‘I need you, Gayboy. Now.’

  The familiar voice of Ted’s special skills instructor, Mr Green. He rattled off a grid reference, said, ‘And bring a first aid kit,’ before he rang off abruptly.

  Ted knew it was futile to ask questions, even if Green hadn’t ended the call. The man’s response to any such attempt was always the same: ‘Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.’

  He dressed hurriedly, dumped some emergency rations into bowls for the cats, grabbed his car keys and was just about to open the front door when he spotted young Adam sitting halfway down the stairs, looking at him reproachfully. None of the other cats had stirred at his departure.

  ‘I’m sorry. I won’t be long, hopefully, but I have to go. Don’t look at me like that.’

  He checked where he was going with an app on his phone. His Renault didn’t boast anything as sophisticated as a sat nav. He wasn’t surprised to discover that his destination was on a remote road, one which wound over the moors above Glossop heading out towards Woodhead.

  There wasn’t much traffic at that time in the morning. Ted found the appointed spot easily enough; a stopping place set back from the road with plenty of tree cover close to. He parked as far from the road as he could, so his car wouldn’t be immediately visible to anyone driving past.

  There was no sign of a living soul about, nor of any other vehicle. He didn’t expect there to be. Wherever Green was, he would be watching to make sure there was no one else in sight before he appeared.

  Ted tried to stay as alert as possible, watching for Green, and for anyone else who might be about. He still jumped when a dark form slid soundlessly out of the shadows, opened the front passenger door and sat down with a wince of evident pain.

  ‘Did you bring the first aid kit?’ was Green’s opening remark.

  He was holding his right arm across his chest, the hand up on his left shoulder.

  Ted could see fresh blood on his hand. He reached behind the seats for the green box with the white cross on it. As he pulled it forward it touched the back of Green’s arm. Green spat a word in a language Ted didn’t recognise, although he got the gist of it and hastily apologised.

  ‘You’re supposed to be here to render first aid, Gayboy, not finish me off.’

  ‘What kind of an injury are we looking at? Apart from a bleed. Can you get your jacket off?’

  ‘Gunshot. And you’ll have to cut everything. Whenever I move, it bleeds like a bastard again. Have you got a knife?’ he asked as if it were a thing anyone would carry in their car.

  The best Ted could offer was a pair of scissors for dressings which he knew would struggle to cut sticking plaster.

  Green did no more than give a tut of annoyance before reaching awkwardly behind himself with his left hand and producing a formidable bladed weapon, which must have been in a sheath on the back of his belt.

  Ted managed cautiously to slide the top of Green’s jacket down out of the way without cutting it. The knife was every bit as sharp as he’d feared it would be and he was worried about inflicting further injury with the wicked metal edge. It bit through the top layer of a sweatshirt and made short work of the wicking T-shirt underneath to reveal the site of the wound.

  Now Ted was starting to get concerned. If a professional with Green’s skills had got himself badly injured then, whatever he was up to back in the area, things were serious.

  There was a field dressing of sorts in place but it was soaked through with blood. Ted didn’t dare to try to lift it to assess the damage in case he made the bleeding worse. He knew he should simply apply another one over the top and try to contain th
e bleed as best he could. Not an easy task in the confines of a small Renault.

  ‘How long ago did it happen?’ Ted risked a question to help him with his assessment of the injury and the action needed.

  ‘Ask me no questions ...’ Green began to trot out the familiar phrase but Ted cut across him.

  ‘This is me doing triage, not asking random questions. I need to know timings so I can do the right thing to sort it. To assess how much blood you’ve lost, for one thing.’

  Green made a movement like half a shrug with his one good shoulder.

  ‘A good few hours ago now. Look, Gayboy, stop yapping and slap a good tight dressing on it. I can’t get it tight enough with one hand. Then I need you to find me a safe place to stay for a day or two until it starts to heal.’

  ‘I can’t take you to my place ...’ Ted began.

  ‘Don’t be soft, Gayboy. They know where you live.’

  His words sent an instant chill through Ted’s blood.

  His mind went into overdrive. He was thinking back to some time ago.

  To Trev in tears. To a little cat laid to rest in the garden.

  He wanted to ask who ‘They’ were. Part of him thought he might be better off not knowing. The analytical side of his brain was racing, examining the possibilities. Mr Green, the supposedly retired mercenary, suddenly back in the area. An exchange of gunfire the evening before, near to a main station in Manchester. The station from where Trev had set off in connection with a trial against a highly placed establishment figure.

  Coincidence, he told himself firmly. Coincidences happened all the time in real life.

  ‘Not like you to come off worse in anything,’ he told Green, as he unwrapped several dressings and got bandages ready.

  ‘You should see the other bloke,’ Green responded in a rare moment of humour.

  ‘This needs medical attention. It’s soaking through the dressings as fast as I put them on.’

  ‘No hospitals, no doctors. You should know the drill by now, Gayboy.’

  ‘It might need blood vessels tying off or something. It’s still bleeding like a good ’un. I know someone who might be able to help us. And she’s likely to be awake this early, too.’