Double Cross: A gripping political thriller (The Cadre Book 3)

by Stephen Edger

  Despite wanting to study music in college, his parents had steered him towards English, French and Drama. He had passed all three, barely, and had then announced that he needed to take a year to find himself. His parents had reluctantly agreed. Kyle spent the year desperately trying to get his band noticed. He had recorded demo tapes, which he’d sent to record producers without success. He had even managed to secure a couple of gigs at local venues in the city. After months of gigging, submissions to record companies, and plugging away, the dream began to fade. The truth was that he was trying to become a rock star in an era when the genre was diminishing; it was the mid-nineties and the charts were full of pop and trance anthems.

  Ten months into his efforts, Kyle’s father had suffered a heart attack and passed away. It had hit him hard. It had been a pivotal moment in his life; suddenly he began to see why his parents had warned him about pursuing a music career. He began to see the year for the waste of time it had been. Unfortunately, any plans for him to attend university also died that day, as his mother couldn’t afford to send him singlehandedly.

  He had started looking for jobs straight away, and tried his hand at several things before winning a role as a Commis Chef at a restaurant in the city. It had been hard graft, but he had enjoyed channelling his creativity into preparing food. He had been on his afternoon break one day when he had spotted a thief snatch a woman’s handbag and run off. Instinctively he had pursued the man, eventually cornering him near where the Isle of Wight ferry sailed. The thief had pulled a blade, but Kyle had managed to disarm him before the police arrived. A moustached detective had praised and criticised him in equal measure for his bravery. The detective casually remarked that they needed more men like Kyle in The Force. It had got Kyle thinking.

  After a gruelling recruitment process, Police Constable Kyle Davies had begun to walk the beat. The detective who had made the comment was a D.I. called Jack Vincent, a man who had later promoted Kyle, first into C.I.D. and then up to Sergeant grade. Vincent had become a mentor to Kyle: the father-like figure that he had been craving. Vincent’s approach to police work had not been by the book either, but the two had worked well together, until the D.I. had retired on poor health.

  Prior to White’s arrival, Kyle had been acting-D.I., and it was still a role he felt confident he could fulfil in the future. For now he was content to learn from his new mentor, whilst waiting to pass the Inspector’s exam.

  Kyle opened up and read the typed statement they had taken from Nazir Ahmed, the legal secretary who had been on the bus when it exploded. She had advised them that the man responsible for setting the bombs on the bus, the man who referred to himself as ‘Ophion’, had attacked her in her home hours after the explosion. She had told them that she had returned home to find him waiting in her flat, and that he had confessed to murdering her boss, a solicitor called Simon Denby. He had then attempted to stab her with a kitchen knife, but during the struggle he slipped and fell down the stairs of her building, breaking his neck in the process. The story had been corroborated by one of the other passengers who had arrived at her flat shortly after.

  Nazir had told them that Denby had been pressuring her to bring a specific case file to his home. Upon her arrival, she had found his body hanging from a ceiling rose courtesy of a homemade noose. The first officers on the scene had discovered incriminating photographs of Denby with an underage girl, and they had come to believe that the solicitor had been the victim of blackmail. Security camera footage showed a man matching Ophion’s height and build leaving the building shortly before Nazir’s arrival. As investigating officer, following Mercure’s suspension, White had concluded that Denby’s blackmailer and killer had been one and the same person. An old contact at Interpol had confirmed that Ophion was a known alias of an international assassin referred to as ‘The Serpent’.

  This was a key question in Kyle’s mind: who would hire a professional assassin to carry out a terrorist attack on a city? He couldn’t understand why a militia group wouldn’t have been used instead, particularly given the nature of how the attacks were carried out. Although White’s contact confirmed that Ophion was an explosives expert, his usual modus operandi was knife work. He also could not understand how someone like Paul Burns would have been able to hire someone like The Serpent.

  Kyle had used the city’s vast array of security camera footage to track Ophion’s movements that day. Starting with his appearance at Denby’s flat in Ocean Village, Kyle had worked backwards through the day, utilising similar footage from other parts of the county and had positively identified Ophion at the bus depot in Fareham, where it was believed the bombs had been planted. Still moving backwards they had identified him leaving the same hotel where the body of a young man had been discovered a couple of days later. An anonymous source in the gay community had confirmed that the young man had been soliciting for business the night before his death.

  Kyle reviewed his notes for the umpteenth time. Interpol confirmed that one of The Serpent’s aliases had been used to enter the country on the Wednesday evening. He knew that Ophion had then checked into the hotel with the young man, before leaving shortly the next morning. His whereabouts for the next two hours were unknown, but Kyle believed he had been placing a device outside of a school in the Shirley area of the city. At 10:55, the man matching Ophion’s height and build arrived at Denby’s flat, dressed as a courier. Five minutes later a call was placed from Denby’s mobile to the phone of D.C.I. Jan Mercure, warning her about the bomb at the school. They had concluded that Denby had been forced to make that call by the man dressed as the courier. The footage at the flat showed the courier leaving at 11:30. A camera at a nearby car park caught the courier having an argument with a traffic warden, before climbing into a Ford Focus and driving off. The Focus was tracked as far as Nursling, but then disappeared. The vehicle was discovered burnt out the following morning. At 12:45, footage showed Ophion at the bus depot in Fareham, though he couldn’t be seen interfering with any specific vehicles. Fifteen minutes later, Kyle had been called by Ophion and warned about a package that had been left at the football stadium. At 14:30, Ophion could be seen entering Nazir Ahmed’s flat, where he remained for fifteen minutes before leaving. The trail went cold again, but Ophion had phoned Kyle again, this time at the train station. He had warned Kyle that a package had been left at one of the university campuses. Kyle had managed to deactivate the bomb at 16:45, and had then been advised by Ophion that the final bomb was on the bus and would be detonated by one of the passengers at 7 p.m. The security cameras at the Highfield campus had showed Ophion dressed as an engineer leaving at 10 a.m.

  There were no further sightings of Ophion until he arrived at Nazir Ahmed’s flat at 20:48. There were plenty of gaps in the day when Ophion could have met or spoken to whoever he was working for. They had no evidence of him ever knowing Paul Burns. In fact, the only thing really linking Burns with the case were White’s suspicions, the fact that he fled when they tried to apprehend him, and his name on a list of directors of an investment company called Parvon Trading. Kyle had tried and failed to find out any salient information about the company, although it had been alleged that it was merely a money laundering front.

  What troubled Kyle most about the case against Burns was everybody else’s willingness to accept it on such a lack of evidence. The new D.C.I., who had been personally appointed by Partridge, wanted him to close the case. He had tried arguing with her on the point, but she was adamant that he should just put it to bed and move on with his other open cases.

  Maybe I am just being paranoid, he told himself.

  Kyle glanced at his watch and realised he was running late for his catch up with White. Minimising the files on his desktop, he locked his workstation and headed for the door. He arrived at the pub just as White was ordering drinks.

  ‘What ya havin, like?’ White asked.

  ‘After this morning’s avoidance of the detox diet, I better stick with an orange juice.’


  ‘Righto,’ White replied cheerfully, as Kyle found a vacant table and sat down.

  White carried the two drinks over a moment later and sat down across from him. ‘How was your morning?’ he asked, taking a sip from his bottle of ale.

  ‘Frustrating, Guv. I know there’s something I’m missing, but I still can’t figure out what it is. I’ve read and re-read every statement we took; I’ve tracked The Serpent’s known movements, but there’s nothing new I can find. I’m beginning to think that you and the D.C.I. are right. Maybe I should just close it and move on. How did you get on with your lead?’

  ‘McManus? I’m not sure to be honest…that’s why I wanted to meet, man. I want your opinion on something, or rather someone.’

  ‘Go on,’ Kyle said, taking a sip of orange juice, before pulling a face. ‘Jesus, Guv! What the hell did you get me?’

  White grinned. ‘I asked him to drop a shot of vodka in for good measure. It’ll put hairs on yer chest, man!’

  ‘Guv, I told you about Megan’s detox diet. She’ll kill me as it is when she finds out what I had for breakfast.’

  ‘What you need, lad, is a spark of creativity. You’re too focused on what you know about your case; you need to think outside the box, like. They call vodka ‘brain juice’ where I come from.’

  Kyle knew better than to argue and took another sip of the juice. ‘What did you want to ask me, Guv?’

  ‘Oh right, yeah, what do you know about Eve Partridge?’

  ‘The M.P.? I know what you know.’

  ‘’No, I mean what did you know about her before the day we met her? What was she like? Who did she work for? That kind of thing.’

  Kyle shrugged, as he tried to remember life before that day. ‘I don’t know, Guv. She was just a politician. I suppose she was something of a local celebrity, not as much as she is now…things have certainly changed a lot for her.’

  ‘So had you ever met her, before we went looking for Burns at her house?’

  ‘No, never. There really wasn’t any reason for our paths to cross. As an M.P., I guess she spent most of her time at Westminster. I know she had an office in the city, but that’s about it.’

  ‘Was she a popular choice for M.P.?’

  ‘Is any politician? I don’t know really, Guv. I’m not up on my politics if I’m totally honest; I prefer to live in the real world. Why? How come you want to know about her?’

  ‘I saw her this morning; meeting with McManus. I just wondered what she would be doing with a scumbag like him.’

  ‘Really? Wow, that’s a turn up for the books. Did you hear what they were talking about?’

  ‘No, man. I wish I had, but they were off in some meeting room. I only saw her by chance as they left.’

  ‘Wait, you’re not suggesting that you think they’re up to no good, are you?’

  White shook his head as he took another sip of his drink. ‘I don’t know, man. It might be nothing; it might be a perfectly legitimate encounter, it’s just…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I don’t know…he flies down this morning, is driven to an expensive hotel in the middle of nowhere where he meets and speaks with her for two hours before turning round and flying home. It just seems so…so clandestine I guess.’

  ‘But you said earlier that he does stuff for charity, right? Maybe he is sponsoring an event for her or something.’

  ‘Maybe, but why? Why here? He knows plenty of politicians up north, why sponsor something so far away? It’s just odd, like.’

  ‘We could ask her about it.’

  White frowned. ‘And say what? Excuse me Mrs Partridge, could you tell us why you were meeting with that Scotch scumbag this morning? She’d throw us out.’

  ‘What are you saying, Guv? Do you think she’s up to something or not?’

  ‘That’s precisely what we need to find out, Kyle, my lad.’

  10

  White finished his ale and ordered a second. Kyle declined the offer of a second orange juice.

  ‘I don’t buy it, Guv. We met her; did she seem bent to you?’

  ‘She seemed like a canny lass, but no, there was nothing to make me think she was up to no good. Most of the criminals I’ve met, have had a tell-tale tick: something about them that raised my suspicions. She was one cool customer.’

  ‘So we’re agreed: her meeting with McManus was legitimate?’

  ‘Yes…no…I don’t know.’

  ‘How did they seem together?’

  ‘What d’you mean, man?’

  ‘As in: did they look like they knew each other, or was this a first meeting?’

  White thought back to the few seconds he’d seen them together. ‘She gave him a peck on the cheek. Would you do that to someone you’ve only just met?’

  ‘Okay, well let’s say she is bent, hypothetically speaking. What do you think they could be up to? What was McManus doing up north when he came to your attention?’

  ‘Narcotics was his primary trade, but he had his grubby fingers in a lot of pies. My snitch once told me that no criminal activity was undertaken without McManus’ prior consent.’

  ‘Right, so narcotics. Southampton has access to international waters…if he was planning to expand his empire, the city’s ports could be of real use.’

  ‘Yeah, but how could Partridge help him with that, like?’ White asked.

  ‘I don’t know, Guv, I’m just trying to think outside the box.’

  ‘Christ! You’ll be suggesting that she was the one who framed Burns next. Be serious, man!’

  Kyle was about to argue his point, when he paused. ‘What if she was, Guv? Think about it…she had access to Burns’ computer…she was the last person to see him alive.’

  ‘What are you saying, man? She was the target for Christ’s sake!’

  ‘Great alibi, you’d have to admit. Why would we suspect the alleged target of that day? If anything, she’s the last person we’d look at, right? Oh my God, the more I think about it, the more I think we might be onto something.’

  ‘I think that vodka’s gone to your head, man.’

  ‘Come on, Guv, give me a minute here. Please? Let’s look at this objectively. Who’s gained the most from what happened that day? Her career was on a downward spiral before the bus. Then suddenly she became a media darling overnight. Every news organisation wanted to interview her. Her career has rocketed since that day, and now she’s been appointed Home Secretary. Not bad for someone whose life was allegedly in danger.’

  ‘Let’s say for a minute that your theory is true, and at best it’s thin Kyle; but let’s say you were right, how did she do it? You said yourself that the whole day would have taken extraordinary planning and financing. Where did she get the cash?’

  ‘I don’t know, Guv. Maybe that naval lieutenant was correct; maybe there really is some powerful organisation behind it all. I find it far easier to believe that Eve Partridge could be part of that kind of conspiracy than Paul Burns. What’s more, not only has her political career rocketed, she now has oversight of everything the police are doing in the city. How handy would that kind of a contact be to someone like McManus? If he is importing drugs through Southampton waters, Partridge would be able to tip him off when the heat is on. How much would he pay for that kind of protection?’

  ‘Whoa, Kyle. There are a lot of ifs, buts and maybes in that argument. I think we’re getting a bit ahead of ourselves here.’

  ‘I disagree, Guv. You keep telling me that I need to trust my gut. Well, it’s screaming at me right now. I’m sure she is more involved in framing Burns than we ever considered.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go spouting this theory to D.C.I. Payne. Partridge appointed her for Christ’s sake. You really think she’ll sanction an investigation into the Home Secretary?’

  ‘No I don’t, Guv, but that underlines my theory even more. Not only does Partridge have oversight of all our major operations, she’s also chosen who steers those operations.’

  ‘Wait a minute,
Kyle, it’s one thing to hypothesise about the possible actions of a politician, but it’s quite another to allege that one of your senior officers is bent too. I’m all for disobeying the rules to suit my needs, but you’re going down a dangerous road right now.’

  ‘Okay, Guv, if you wanted to find evidence that McManus was somehow involved in drug trafficking down here, how would you do it?’

  White thought for a moment. ‘All major narcotics investigations are being dealt with under the Operation Fortress umbrella, right? I suppose I would go and speak with the senior investigating officer responsible for the operation, and ask him what he knows.’

  ‘Let’s go then,’ Kyle said, standing and putting his coat on.

  ‘I haven’t finished me pint yet, man,’ White moaned, but decided it was better to support his understudy. He downed the rest of his pint and followed Kyle out of the door.

  *

  Forty minutes later, they were pulling into the car park of the Fratton police station, where Detective Inspector John Stead was working that day. Although Operation Fortress had several layers of bureaucratic oversight, the groundwork was being supervised by Stead, an experienced detective with thirty years’ service under his belt already. Stead was busy at his computer when White and Kyle approached him. They introduced themselves, and asked if he could spare them ten minutes to discuss the operation’s progress. He reluctantly agreed.

  ‘What we really want to know,’ White began, ‘is whether you’ve seen an increase in drug trafficking in the last six months or so?’

  ‘It’s an interesting question,’ Stead replied, lowering his glasses. ‘We were making real progress in seizing large quantities of product, but the last couple of raids we’ve made have left us empty-handed, as if the targets knew we were coming.’

  Kyle and White exchanged glances.

  ‘We’ve also been hearing rumours of a new major player importing product from abroad through both Portsmouth and Southampton,’ Stead added.