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

by Stephen Edger

  ‘I have some unfinished business.’

  ‘With him?’

  ‘Judgement Day is coming for Jock McManus, Maggie. I swore I’d stop him and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.’

  ‘Well you better watch your back, Tony. A lot of McManus’ lackeys drink at the Queen’s Head. He probably knew you were here before I did.’

  ‘Then I’ve got him where I want him, Maggie.’

  ‘Are you really that stupid? Taking McManus on single-handed; you’re signing your own death warrant.’

  ‘I need to go, Maggie. I’ll see you again soon, okay?’ he leant in and kissed her cheek.

  Back on the street, the wind cut through him. It felt like it might snow any minute, not the heavy kind, just a light dusting. He pulled his overcoat tighter around himself, lowered his head and pounded the street. The flight from Southampton had arrived just before eight and, with no bags, and little cash he had headed to The Northern Star, then The Stag, and finally to The Queen’s Head. He’d made a concerted effort to let all and sundry know that Detective Inspector Tony White was in the city. He wanted McManus to know he was here; he needed McManus to know he was back, albeit for the night.

  He didn’t expect McManus to throw him a party, nor change his plans in any way; it was all about planting a seed. White was certain that McManus had had a hand in the decision to get him transferred to another division. He wanted McManus to know that he hadn’t given up the fight.

  White maintained a steady pace for fifteen minutes. He knew these streets so well, having walked most of the beats in the county. He’d visited this particular destination once before, and that was when he had first learned of McManus’ dealings. He hoped his source would be just as forthcoming today.

  The text message Hoxley had sent him yesterday had been unexpected. He needed to know what had triggered the contact, and the only way to do that was to confront Hoxley directly. The lifts in the tower block had a large white ‘Out of Order’ sign plastered to them. The thought of climbing twenty flights of stairs up to Hoxley’s flat filled him with dread, but he was on the clock, so he had no other choice. He opened the door to the staircase and was greeted by a pungent mixture of urine and grime. He placed a handkerchief over his mouth and nose and proceeded to climb. A slew of used condoms, cigarette butts and gang tags greeted him. He ignored the overwhelming urge to vomit and continued.

  He was out of breath by the time he stepped onto the twentieth floor. There was no activity along the balcony that led to Hoxley’s flat; it seemed that even the local gangs didn’t work this early in the morning. White took a moment to regain his composure before pushing a raised boot through Hoxley’s door. It swung back, splintering slightly at the hinge, and colliding with the wall behind it. He stepped in through what was left of the door frame, trying to remember whether Hoxley’s bedroom was off to the left or the right. He didn’t have to wait long to find out, as Hoxley appeared from the left in boxers and a thin sleeveless vest, waving a baseball bat over his head. He was wide-eyed, like he’d just woken from a coma.

  ‘What the…’ he began, before realising who it was that had kicked his door in. ‘White, what the fuck?’

  ‘Hoxley!’ White bellowed.

  Hoxley threw the bat towards him, before spinning and heading for the living room door directly behind him. The bat struck White’s arm, but not enough to do any damage. He chased after Hoxley, coming to a stop when both realised he had no way of escaping.

  ‘What do you want, man? I work for D.S. Danny Strong now; I’m his C.I., not yours. You can’t be here; you have no right!’

  ‘I don’t give a shit whose informant you are, Hoxley. You’re still a scumbag, and that means I have every right to question you.’

  ‘You’re out of order, White!’

  ‘We’ll see about that. Tell me what I want to know, and maybe I won’t kick the shite out of you for lying to me last time.’

  ‘I never lied to you, White. I’ve always told you the truth.’

  White swung a hand out quickly, grabbing Hoxley’s wrist and twisting it behind his back and shoving him against the wall. ‘Start talking, scumbag; why’d you send me that text message yesterday?’

  ‘I don’t know!’

  ‘Wrong answer,’ White shouted as he twisted the wrist further. Hoxley fell to his knees, screaming wildly. ‘There are eight bones in the wrist, Hoxley. How many of them do you want me to fracture before you stop giving me this horseshit?’

  White twisted the wrist further still, certain that any further pressure would definitely result in serious injury. ‘Come on, Hoxley! What’s McManus up to in Southampton? Why did he fly down yesterday? Tell me what you know!’

  Hoxley continued to sob, without speaking, and that’s when they both heard a small popping sound, which was followed by an anguished scream. White released the hand, annoyed that he’d been forced to cross the line. He headed for the kitchen and, finding a bag of frozen peas in the freezer, he returned, throwing them, and a towel, towards the prone man. Hoxley snatched the bag up from the floor and wrapped it around his wrist using the towel. White slumped into a nearby sofa and waited for Hoxley to calm down.

  ‘I need a cigarette,’ Hoxley said bitterly.

  ‘That’s tough; I don’t have any.’

  ‘In the drawer behind you,’ Hoxley said, nodding towards a chest of drawers to the right of the sofa. White leaned over and opened the drawer. Sure enough a fresh packet of cigarettes and a lighter were on show. He removed and opened the packet, before withdrawing two cigarettes and lighting them. He passed the second one to Hoxley who began puffing vigorously.

  ‘You broke my fucking arm!’ Hoxley said between gritted teeth.

  ‘You’ll just have to learn to use your left hand instead.’

  ‘McManus knows you are back, by the way.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘If you cause any trouble, he’s going to order a contract on you. Cop or not, he won’t allow you to mess up his plans.’

  ‘And what are his plans, Hoxley? Why did you send me that message? You said yourself you’re working with Danny Strong now; why message me?’

  ‘Strong isn’t interested in going after McManus. He looks at small shit; drug busts, burglaries, stuff that gets him noticed. He knows better than to go for the big fish.’

  ‘But why message anyone at all? If McManus found out he wouldn’t think twice about disposing of you.’

  ‘Someone needs to stop him,’ Hoxley said bitterly.

  ‘You weren’t always this forthcoming. What’s changed?’

  Hoxley shrugged, unsure how far he should go.

  ‘Come on, Hoxley, you used to throw me morsels when I threatened you, but you never volunteered information. Why come to me now?’

  ‘I’ve seen things…someone needs to do something.’

  ‘You’ve seen things? What things?’

  ‘You don’t want to know, believe me. He’s an evil bastard. If anyone can stop him, you can.’

  ‘I need more than that, Hoxley. If I’m to bring him down, I need evidence, I need information. I can’t go to my D.C.I. just because you’ve taken a disliking to your boss. Give me something. What’s he up to in Southampton?’

  ‘I don’t know! Well, not exactly.’

  ‘Do I have to break your other wrist and rid you of any kind of sex life?’

  Hoxley glared at him. ‘He’s importing coke from abroad. It’s brought into the docks and distributed to London and the south east. He’s set up a network down there.’

  ‘A network? With whom? I need names.’

  ‘I don’t have names. He has a warehouse in Southampton somewhere, near the docks; that’s where the shipments go for processing. It’s cut and repackaged and then distributed across a number of trusted suppliers.’

  ‘Where is this warehouse? Why haven’t the local drugs squad shut it down?’

  ‘He’s got people everywhere, man. He knows where, when and which containers will be searched.
I’ve even heard he has someone senior on the inside.’

  ‘Someone senior? Who?’

  ‘I don’t know names…all I heard was that his contact has the ability to steer the investigation away from McManus’ operation. You thought he was big when you were up here? He’s even bigger now.’

  ‘I need names, Hoxley!’

  ‘I told you: I can’t give you names. Do you realise how big a risk I’m taking in even talking to you? God knows how many people witnessed you kicking my fucking door in.’

  ‘Where does the coke go after it’s been cut? How does he distribute it?’

  ‘Lorries. He’s bought into a legitimate haulage business. He’s got a dozen or so HGVs that take it where it needs to go.’

  ‘Where’s the coke coming in from?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think it originates in Columbia and is then transported to Africa where McManus takes control. It’s a slick operation from what I hear.’

  ‘You’re not really giving me anything I can work on. Some warehouse somewhere, some haulage firm somewhere. I need something specific. I really don’t want to have to hurt you again.’

  ‘That’s all I know!’

  White flicked the remains of his cigarette, striking Hoxley on the forehead, before launching himself at the prone man, dragging him to his feet by his neck.

  ‘Give me a fucking name, Hoxley! I know there’s more you’re not telling me. Give me a name or I’m going to use this lighter to toast your balls. I’ll count to three.’

  ‘What the…’

  ‘One.’

  ‘I don’t fucking know, White!’

  ‘Two.’

  ‘Please. This isn’t funny!’

  ‘Three.’

  ‘Okay, okay, okay. Stop! Stratovsky…Victor Stratovsky…he’s some big fuck in London…that’s who McManus is working with.’

  White released his grip and Hoxley crashed to the floor, clutching his wrist once more. ‘That wasn’t so hard was it?’

  ‘You fuck!’

  ‘Here’s what’s going to happen next, Hoxley. You’re going to get your wrist checked out at the hospital, and then you’re going to tell Danny Strong everything we just discussed. Is that clear?’

  Hoxley nodded and White left the flat. ‘Get this fucking door fixed while you’re at it,’ he called over his shoulder.

  21

  SOUTHAMPTON, UK

  09:30 (G.M.T.)

  Kyle pressed the buzzer marked ‘Ahmed’ and waited for a response. The block of flats was in a quiet part of the city, a stone’s throw from the Magistrate’s court. In fact it had been this proximity that had first attracted Nazir to the location.

  ‘Hello,’ her voice said through the intercom.

  ‘Miss Ahmed, it’s Detective Sergeant Davies. I spoke to you on the phone last night.’

  ‘Of course,’ she replied, and a buzzing sound indicated that she had released the lock on the communal entrance. Kyle opened the door and proceeded up the two flights of stairs. Nazir was standing in the doorway as he approached. It felt strange to be back here. He had been the first detective on scene when the call had come in that The Serpent had been found dead on the very stairs he had just ascended. The hallway looked different yet familiar, owing to the fact that he had only ever seen it under the cover of darkness.

  ‘I don’t know if you remember me,’ Kyle began. ‘I was the one who interviewed you on the night of…well, you know.’

  ‘Your face does look familiar, but my memories of that day are a bit…cloudy.’

  ‘It’s understandable,’ Kyle nodded. ‘May I come in?’

  Nazir stepped out of the way and allowed him to enter. He returned his warrant card to his pocket and followed her into the small living room. He was surprised to see a small decorated Christmas tree in the corner of the room.

  ‘I’ve decided to embrace fresh thinking,’ she said when she noticed his puzzlement. ‘I was banished from my mosque when I fell pregnant…I figured if they don’t want me…well, how can I help you? Please take a seat.’

  Kyle sat down at a small dining table by the window and pulled out his notebook. ‘I was hoping to go over what happened on that day once more.’

  ‘Really? It’s been seven months nearly, I’m not sure what else I can add.’

  ‘I appreciate the request might seem a little out of the ordinary, please just humour me, Miss Ahmed.’

  ‘Okay,’ she sighed. ‘What is it you want to know?’

  ‘Start from the beginning; from the moment you woke up on that morning in May. Talk me through what you did, how you ended up on that bus…tell me everything.’

  ‘Surely all of that is in the statement I gave and signed?’

  ‘Yes, but sometimes a bit of distance can bring greater objectivity. I’m hoping that in the time that’s passed, you might recall something which you had previously forgotten about.’

  ‘I woke up to a phone call from Simon Denby, one of the senior partners at the firm. He sounded panicked or anxious and was adamant that I needed to bring a specific file to his apartment. I didn’t really think anything of it at the time, but I told him I would once I’d been to the hospital. He didn’t know I was pregnant, nobody did, so I told him I was just having a routine check-up. Anyway, I went to my appointment and he phoned me again whilst I was there and again told me he needed that file. He sounded more desperate this time, I think. I made my way to the office to locate the file and then headed to his apartment.’

  ‘Why was he phoning you for the file? Couldn’t he have asked someone else to bring it to him?’

  Nazir nodded. ‘I’d been working on the file the night before and had locked it in my drawer. Simon had phoned the office asking someone to try and find it, but then I guess he assumed I had put it somewhere safe.’

  ‘What happened when you got to his apartment?’

  ‘I was allowed into the building by a resident who was leaving. I caught the lift to his floor but as I approached his door, I saw it was open. I walked in and…found him…hanging.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Kyle said. ‘I know this isn’t easy. Please go on: what happened next?’

  ‘A moment later two uniformed officers arrived at the flat and asked me to wait in the kitchen. Then all hell broke loose. Suddenly the apartment was filled with people in white jumpsuits, taking photographs, dusting for prints, that kind of thing. A senior officer, a woman, interviewed me informally and told me that Simon had phoned through a bomb threat. She wanted to know what I knew about it. I told her Simon wasn’t like that; that he was a good man. I was asked to make a formal statement, which I did, and then I was allowed to leave.’

  ‘Did Simon ever tell you why he was so desperate to get hold of that file?’

  ‘No, he didn’t.’

  ‘Why do you think he wanted it?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Okay, what happened next?’ Kyle pressed.

  ‘I left the apartment and received a phone call from a man claiming to be an ex-boyfriend. He told me to get on the bus and meet him at the train station.’

  ‘The man on the phone was the man who planted the bomb, right?’

  ‘I believe so…at least, that’s what he confirmed when he attacked me in my flat that night.’

  ‘We’ll come to that. Why do you think he wanted you on that bus?’

  Nazir paused. ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Did he make contact with you again whilst you were on the bus?’

  She shook her head. ‘You know, I still have nightmares about that device exploding. If Aaron hadn’t diffused the other one…’

  ‘Tell me what happened after you escaped the bus.’

  ‘I went to the hospital to be checked over, and when they released me I caught a taxi home. I knew something was odd as soon as I walked in.’

  ‘That’s right, you claimed that the bomber had been in your flat earlier.’

  ‘Yes. When I walked into this room I saw that someone had left machinery on this
very table.’

  ‘What type of machinery?’

  ‘He had dismantled my microwave, toaster and kettle…there were also empty packets with biohazard symbols. I think he wanted it to look like I had built the bombs that were on the bus. Your people also found evidence that he had spent some time at my computer.’

  ‘There were some questionable websites in your internet history.’

  ‘I was questioned as if I was part of the conspiracy. It was only when you brought in a specialist that it was proved the websites had been viewed when I was giving my statement at Simon’s flat.’

  ‘It was important to rule you out of our enquiries. I’m sorry if it felt like you were under suspicion…why do you think he targeted you?’

  ‘I worked for Simon, maybe he thought I knew something I didn’t.’

  ‘Like what though? We believe that the bomber was blackmailing Denby into handing over the file, and that’s why he was requesting it from you. What can you tell me about the case?’

  Nazir paused again. ‘It was a civil litigation case.’

  ‘Is the case still open?’

  ‘No…at least I don’t think so.’

  ‘You seem nervous, Miss Ahmed…what is it you’re not telling me?’

  Nazir paused and then sighed. ‘Oh well, I suppose it can’t hurt now…the case was brought by a small Scottish investment firm. They claimed that another investment company, Parvon Trading, had poached staff and, in the process, a large value client base. The case was still very much in its infancy; we hadn’t even set a preliminary court date.’

  ‘Aaron Cross told us about this Parvon Trading Company. He suggested it was a front for money laundering somewhere in Europe. Do you know how he became aware of this information?’

  Nazir nodded. ‘He received a call on the bus from his cousin Harry…it’s a long story.’ Before she could continue, the noise of a baby crying in another room caught her attention. ‘Will you excuse me for a moment?’ she said leaving the room.

  Kyle remained seated and reviewed the notes he’d been eagerly scribbling down. Nazir returned two minutes later, a baby in her arms and a small bottle of milk in one of her hands. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s her feeding time.’