by Adam Croft
If Jack had thought he was finally starting to pull together the pieces of the puzzle that was his life, he was wrong. Emily hadn’t been in touch since his visit to Ethan’s flat last night. He knew he had to give her time and space to make that decision for herself, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.
He’d been informed of Damian King’s death the moment he’d arrived in the office, with the news only having reached the major incident team a minute or so earlier. All they’d been told at this stage was that he’d been found in undergrowth on Mildenheath Common with two gunshot wounds to the skull. It wasn’t often people managed to shoot themselves in the head twice, so this could only be considered murder. Early signs were that the murder hadn’t occurred on the common, which meant there’d likely be some form of trail leading back to wherever it had occurred. His ankle tag, however, showed him as still being at home.
There’d been nothing from Professional Standards, either, on the investigation into Theo Curwood. Jack had no idea whether he was in a position to look into things himself or not now that Theo was dead, and the whole investigation was starting to look murkier and murkier. Due procedure was all well and good, but there were times like this which hadn’t been anticipated when those rulebooks were drawn up.
All Jack knew was that every time he got close, he was obstructed. They’d discovered Theo was corrupt, went to visit him and found him dead. They’d started leaning more heavily on Damian King and he, too, had met the same fate. Every time they got anywhere near cracking the case, they had the carpet pulled from beneath them.
The thing that worried him most was that he was starting to realise there was only one reason why that could be happening. Whatever they did, someone was one step ahead of them. That could only mean someone knew what they had planned, what their movements would be. Someone was feeding operational information to the gang.
Jack’s heart pounded in his chest as he called Wendy into his office.
‘We need to have a very serious conversation,’ he said, careful to make sure his voice couldn’t be heard from outside the room. ‘You’re not going to like this. I’ve got a horrible sinking feeling we’ve got a mole on board.’
Wendy’s face dropped. ‘A mole?’
Jack nodded. ‘I think information is getting back to McCann’s lot. Stuff that could only have come from this team.’
‘Jesus Christ.’
‘Yeah. Tell me about it,’ Jack said. He’d worked with his team for years, and trusted each of them implicitly. Even Ryan MacKenzie, the newest member of the team, had proven herself to be a team player who never bent the rules. He’d known Steve and Frank for decades, Wendy had been his right-hand woman for as long as he could remember and Debbie plodded on admirably in the background. ‘The more I think about it, the more I know I’m right. That’s why we’ve never caught McCann. This goes back years, Knight.’
‘Fucking hell. Are you sure about this? I mean, it’s a massive thing to come out with.’
‘Oh I’m sure. Even as I say it now, I’m getting more and more sure. It’s got McCann’s stench all over it. The inside man. Making him untouchable. Knowing everything. He’s always a step ahead. Always has been. Someone’s been feeding him information for years.’
‘Who?’
‘That’s just it. I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.’
Wendy took a deep breath. ‘Well let’s just take a step back, shall we? We don’t want to go throwing accusations around. That sort of thing could ruin someone’s life. We need to stay calm about this.’
‘Calm? Knight, we’ve seen three people killed because of this case alone. Elsie Fogg had her head caved in, Theo Curwood was left hanging from his light fitting and now Damian King’s munching moss on Mildenheath Common. And that’s just this case. What about all the people who’ve been killed over the years because they got tied up with McCann’s criminal empire? All because someone — someone in this office — has been feeding him sensitive operational information, making sure he always gets away with it.’
‘I just think we need to stay calm. Cool heads and all that. We need to speak to Professional Standards, without a doubt.’
Jack shook his head. ‘Forget it. They’ve been as much use as an ashtray on a motorbike. Curwood and King would still be alive if they’d pulled their fingers out. And Chrissie…’ Jack tailed off, not wanting to say any more.
‘Chrissie? What about her?’ Wendy said, sounding concerned.
Jack sighed. ‘She was attacked.’
‘What? When?’
‘Last night when she left work. She’s fine. Battered and bruised, but she’ll be fine. Definitely targeted, though. They didn’t nick her handbag or her car keys, which were in her hand. It was a message to me to back off.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ Wendy said, for the second time that morning.
‘Yeah. So you can see why I’m a bit fucked up about all this.’
Wendy sat in silence for a few moments. ‘Alright,’ she said, eventually. ‘I’ve got an idea. And I think you’re going to like it.’
47
Wendy told Jack that her plan meant they’d have to be a bit more Jack Culverhouse than Wendy Knight. Doing things by the book wouldn’t work anymore, and she knew they had to do things a little differently. After all, they were up against a very different force — a police officer, a detective, a friend and colleague — who knew exactly what they were doing.
When Wendy told Jack her plan, he wanted to hug her. It was brilliant. Just the sort of thing that would ruffle a few feathers, stir the pot and still allow them to get away with it.
Jack and Wendy had gone to Gary McCann’s house themselves. That was unusual, as it would normally be uniformed police officers who’d go to do the pickup, but Jack wanted to see the look on McCann’s face, not to mention the fact that the next part of their plan needed to be kept between them. It wasn’t something either of them fancied having to explain to a uniformed PC.
They’d visited McCann’s house on Meadow Hill Lane a number of times in the past. They’d even arrested McCann before, but it had never been fruitful. McCann enjoyed the cat and mouse game far too much, and was always willing to welcome the police into his house, almost as if taunting them and killing them with kindness.
The security gates were already open when they arrived, so they drove straight through, parked up at the end of the long gravel driveway and knocked on the front door.
McCann had a predictable smirk on his face when he opened the front door. ‘You know, I was just thinking to myself I hadn’t seen you in a while, Jack. You still at it, then?’
The pair ignored his remarks, and Jack stood aside to let Wendy do the honours.
Taking a pair of metal handcuffs from her belt and clipping them onto McCann’s hands, she read him his rights and informed him he was under arrest on suspicion of conspiracy to armed robbery and murder.
‘Tell me,’ McCann said as they helped him into the back of Jack’s car. ‘Has the coffee improved since the last time I visited?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ Jack replied. ‘If anything, it’s got worse.’
‘Shame. Still, I’m sure I won’t be there long, so I might even give it a miss if it’s all the same to you.’
‘Do as you please. You know how it works as well as I do.’
‘If not better,’ McCann replied, smirking.
Jack pulled the car back out onto Meadow Hill Lane and headed back towards the roundabout. The quickest way into the police station was to head straight over, turn right into the town car park and cut through into the back of Mildenheath Police Station’s own car park. Jack, though, turned right at the roundabout and headed towards the high street.
‘Taking a shortcut, Detective Inspector?’ McCann asked.
Jack ignored his deliberate attempt at getting his rank wrong, and chose not to correct him. ‘Something like that. Having issues with parking at the moment. I’m afraid we’re going to need to park up and walk the rest
of the way.’ He could feel the glare of McCann’s eyes in the back of his head, and tried his best not to look in his rear view mirror. It would give the game away immediately, and in any case he knew exactly which look McCann had on his face right now.
Culverhouse parked the car and he and Wendy got out, before opening the back door and helping McCann out onto the pavement.
‘What’s this all about?’ McCann asked.
‘Parking issues,’ Jack replied, shrugging. ‘Sorry.’
‘Parking issues my arse. What’s your game?’
‘Don’t know what you mean, Gary. I don’t do games. Come on. This way.’
The quickest and easiest way to walk from where they’d parked would have been to cut down the side of the church, back into the other side of the car park and into the police station, but Jack and Wendy had other ideas. Instead, they continued to walk down the high street and along the main shopping precinct, parading Gary McCann in his handcuffs as they headed for the main crossroads, at which point they turned left, finally in the direction of the police station.
‘You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?’ McCann said, almost spitting with rage.
‘Doing what, Gary?’ Jack replied.
‘Walking me through the fucking town centre in handcuffs. What’s it all about? Come on.’
‘Sorry, still don’t know what you mean. We’re heading to the station, aren’t we?’
‘Don’t treat me like a cunt, Culverhouse.’
‘Stop acting like one and I’ll think about it,’ Jack replied, beaming a smile at a passing elderly lady, who seemed utterly bemused at the sight of a man being paraded through the streets in handcuffs. ‘Sex game gone wrong,’ he called to her. ‘We’re off to find some bolt cutters.’
Wendy tried to stifle a laugh, but failed.
A couple of minutes later they were at Mildenheath Police Station. Rather than go in through the rear car park to the custody suite, they marched McCann into the main entrance and up to the front desk.
‘Sorry, love,’ Jack said loudly to the woman manning it. ‘Problem with the back door. Can we bring Mr Gary McCann through this way into the custody suite, please? He’s been arrested.’
The woman seemed confused, but played along and let them through.
When they finally reached the custody suite, Jack told the custody sergeant what McCann had been arrested for, and mentioned they’d be looking to conduct an interview at the earliest possible opportunity.
McCann requested the presence of his lawyer, who Jack knew lived nearby. They didn’t need any of the usual formalities when it came to organising an interview. They had all of the material they needed, and in any case there were things they wanted to hold back. The main objective of the exercise was complete. Shake the tree and the apples will fall.
48
Gary McCann had, as expected, been a smug fuck in his interview. His lawyer had done all of the talking, and McCann had no-commented his way through. This was pretty much what they’d thought he’d do, and it really didn’t matter. He’d done his walk of shame through the town and word would have got around by now. The people involved will have heard that Gary McCann had been arrested and brought into custody, and they will have started to shit themselves. Heads would be poked above parapets, arses will have started to squeak on chairs and it would suddenly get a lot easier to spot anyone involved.
Jack had addressed the team with great pride, telling them McCann had been arrested for conspiracy to armed robbery and murder, and had watched the faces of each of his team as he passed on the information, looking for any tell-tale clues as to who might have been involved. He got nothing. But that wasn’t entirely surprising, because one person was missing. Detective Constable Debbie Weston.
Jack and Wendy retired to his office after the briefing.
‘You’re thinking what I’m thinking, aren’t you?’ Wendy said as Jack sat down and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.
‘If you’re thinking there’s someone who’s conspicuous by their absence, you’d be about right,’ Jack replied.
‘It’s a big jump to make. We need to be sure before we do anything. And in any case, what possible motive could she have?’
‘Money. Simple as that. She’s had to come back to work because she was haemorrhaging cash looking after her mum down on the south coast. Don’t forget she was apparently on her last legs months ago. More than that. And look at her reaction the other day when I called her out. She doesn’t normally react like that. She’s placid. She’s never blown up like that before. It’s the stress, Knight. She’s not used to having to watch her back and panic about being caught. And what about all those times she’s come in late or knocked off early? Fuck, I don’t know why I didn’t see it earlier.’
‘It’s hardly the sort of conclusion you’d be expected to jump to, is it? You can’t blame yourself.’
‘I know, but I feel so bloody stupid. She’s been on the team for years, Knight. There’s a reason I keep my team close to me. It’s because I trust them. It’s not the sort of place where you dip in and out, like Milton bloody House. If you’re on my team, you’re on my team. Trust. Loyalty. We’re a fucking team.’
Wendy let out a sigh. ‘We’ve got to be really sure, Jack. We don’t get to mess this up. Like you said, there’s a massive bond. Trust and loyalty. The second we even suspect Debbie of being involved with this, that gets destroyed forever. I think we need to wait until we pick up one of McCann’s associates. They’ll lead us to the bent copper. We can come up with some sort of deal. They give us the name, we make sure they get treated leniently. The bent copper’s a far bigger catch for us than any of McCann’s henchmen. We catch the mole, we sever the link that’s let him get away with god-knows how many serious crimes over the years. And we finally get to send McCann down. For a long, long time.’
Jack was clearly pained and anguished. ‘I dunno. I think I need to see it for myself. I need to know what she’s doing. I don’t want to hear it from some jumped-up bouncer. I need to see it with my own eyes, Knight. I’ve known her for years. Trusted her.’
‘I get that,’ Wendy said. ‘But I still think it would be best to wait. The damage is done now, anyway. We need to sit back, take a bit of space. We should probably pass her name on to Professional Standards, too. They’re the people who need to investigate this.’
‘No chance,’ Jack replied, almost before Wendy had finished speaking. ‘They’re not bollocksing this up again. And like I said, this is personal. She’s been on my team for years. If anyone’s going to catch her red-handed, it won’t be Professional bloody Standards. It’ll be me.’
49
Jack had been sitting outside Debbie’s house for almost two hours. He was thankful for his warm coat and scarf, as he’d have drained the car’s battery by now if he’d had the heater on.
He couldn’t sit around too much longer. For all he knew, she might be about to bed in for the night. He didn’t even know what he was looking for or expecting to find, but he knew he had to do something. The way she’d reacted to the news of Theo’s death had been quite telling, in retrospect. So had the way she’d tried to warn Jack off linking McCann with the robberies. It was all so out of character, and he felt like an idiot for not spotting it earlier.
He felt convinced the motive must have been money. Her mum was still refusing to die and eating up cash in care home fees. He’d overheard her mentioning to Ryan that it was costing seven hundred pounds a week. At that level, she’d be virtually bankrupting herself. Even her DC’s salary wouldn’t keep her afloat. There was every chance McCann had got wind of this and pounced. He was an expert at spotting desperation. Jack hoped that was the case, anyway. He prayed she’d just had her head turned by money. That would be foolish of her. Still completely unforgivable, but marginally better than finding out she was outright corrupt.
He just wished she could have said something to him. He couldn’t have helped much. Not really. Not
to the tune of seven hundred quid a week. But he could have at least listened. There must have been something they could have done.
But the tree had been shaken now. McCann had been arrested and paraded through the streets. There was one more thing he could do, though. It’d be kill or cure, but it would be well worth it either way.
He typed out a text message on his phone and sent it to Debbie, his heart skipping a beat as he pressed the Send button.
* * *
Just thought you might like to know we arrested McCann today. New evidence came to light earlier. Got him bang to rights. Might finally be the one that brings him down!
* * *
He locked his phone and put it back on the passenger seat next to him. He didn’t want the screen lighting up his face, lest a passer-by spotted him sitting out here in his car.
He gave it a minute or so, then looked back at the screen. It was showing that Debbie had read the message, but she hadn’t replied and wasn’t currently composing a reply.
Jack stared at the screen, willing her to say something. The silence was deafening, and a lack of instinctive response really wasn’t helping her case at all.
A couple of minutes later, still clutching the phone in the hope of Debbie saying something — anything — he noticed movement. Her living room light went out, and a few seconds later her front door opened and she stepped out, closing and locking it behind her before heading for her car.
She seemed to be in a hurry, but Jack told himself that was probably just the cold. No-one would have wanted to be outside for long in this. He watched as she started the car, pulled out onto the road and headed away from him.
He started his own car, glad she’d not driven past him, and drove in the same direction, keeping enough distance but at the same time careful not to lose her. He was pleased it was dark, as that’d make it difficult for her to see the make or model of car behind her in the dazzle of his headlights. He’d have to be careful not to get stuck behind her at a set of lights, though.
