by Adam Croft
As he followed Debbie down Hill Road, he stopped and flashed his lights to let another motorist out of a side street. That would put another car between him and Debbie, which would reduce the chances of her spotting him. He just hoped the doddery old bugger would keep up a decent speed so he didn’t end up losing her.
A few minutes later, Debbie’s car pulled over to the side of the road in a smart residential estate. The houses were all detached — probably four bedrooms each, Jack estimated. He stopped his car a little further up the road and tried to think if there was anyone they were aware of who lived round here, but no-one came to mind.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he glanced at the screen. It was a reply from Debbie.
* * *
Great news! See u tomorrow.
* * *
He looked up again and watched as she got out of her car, pulled her coat closed against the icy wind and half walked, half jogged over the road and up a driveway.
There was no way he’d be able to see who owned the house if he didn’t get closer, so he pulled back out onto the road and drove slowly towards the house, stopping right outside, but on the other side of the road. If Debbie looked behind her, she’d see him, but there was no going back now. He had to see this for himself.
His heart thumped in his chest as he watched her ring the doorbell and wait for someone to come to the door.
Eventually, he saw the door begin to open, revealing a man a few inches taller than Debbie, who looked familiar. It took Jack a second to place him, but then Jack realised why. He was far more used to seeing him in the Prince Albert, the pub next door to the police station where the team occasionally enjoyed after-work drinks. The man was Roy, the landlord.
‘You cheeky bugger,’ Jack murmured to himself, as he watched them embrace and kiss, before going inside and closing the door behind them.
Roy was married to Linda, and the pair mostly lived in the flat above the pub, although they’d kept their family home too. They had grown-up children who’d long flown the nest, and the pub was supposed to be a fun experiment for their early retirement.
Jack shook his head and chuckled to himself. That was why Debbie had been so on edge and acting out of sorts recently. She was seeing a married man. He supposed she needed to get her kicks somewhere after spending all her time looking after her dying mum, but he certainly hadn’t expected this. She’d been single and unattached for as long as he’d known her, and presumed she’d never had a partner in her life. She’d certainly never spoken about one. Now he knew why.
It still didn’t mean Debbie wasn’t the one in league with McCann, but things were starting to make sense to Jack now. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t Debbie. Couldn’t be Debbie. He felt like an idiot for even thinking it.
He picked up his phone and called Wendy.
‘I’ve got an apology to make. Two, actually,’ he said when she answered. ‘I didn’t listen to your advice. I followed Debbie tonight, to see where she went. I won’t go into details, but let’s just say I don’t think she’s our mole.’
Wendy went silent for a moment before speaking. ‘Yeah. I was just about to call you, actually. I didn’t listen to my own advice, either. I stayed at the office and went back and did a bit more digging. I’ve found something. And I don’t think you’re going to like it.’
50
Jack swung his car into the parking space and let himself into the staff entrance of Mildenheath Police Station. He jogged up the stairs to the major incident room and walked into the office.
‘Go on. Hit me with it,’ he said, sitting down next to Wendy. She hadn’t told him any details on the phone, and had instead insisted he might want to come in and see it for himself. Besides which, it would mean she might be able to stop him flying off the handle again.
‘I’ve been going back through the files and trying to work out where we might have been derailed,’ Wendy said. ‘Things started to go wrong pretty near the start. I’ve not gone through much of the rest of things, but I don’t think I need to. Don’t think I want to, either.’
‘Get to the point,’ Jack said, gritting his teeth. He didn’t want to hear it either, didn’t want to be told someone on his team was a mole, but he needed to know who it was, and needed to see the evidence that proved it.
‘I started by looking at the local CCTV we had access to. The request went in for all the usual data protection stuff to the council and a few local businesses. All came back fine, nothing missed there. So I went back and looked through it to see if anything had been missed on the footage itself. The BMW that was associated with the petrol station robberies appears on three different cameras. Pretty clear views, too. The plates are fake — I’ve already checked that.’
‘This wasn’t on any of the notes, was it?’ Jack said.
‘No. When the CCTV was inspected as part of the investigation, the notes say there was nothing of interest and that the BMW couldn’t be seen or identified.’
His heart began to sink. He already knew the answer to the question, but he had to ask it. ‘Who inspected the CCTV? Who left that note?’ he said.
Wendy looked him in the eyes, her own starting to well up. ‘Frank.’
51
Jack sat with his head in his hands. Frank Vine had been one of his closest colleagues for as long as he could remember. The man had been flirting with the idea of retirement for a couple of years now, and had given Jack the best part of two decades’ service. Although he was lazy and largely just seeing out the days until he could pick up his pension, there was no way in a million years he would have ever suspected him of being a mole.
He was gutted. Torn apart. When he thought about it, he realised the betrayal must have gone back years. How long had Frank been feeding McCann information, making sure he always stayed at arm’s length from their investigations. Was that why he’d always managed to get off? Was that why the evidence was always just slightly too weak? Jack had clearly underestimated Frank for years.
‘I need to speak to him,’ he said, standing up, but finding Wendy’s hand grabbing his wrist.
‘No. You can’t. We’ve got what we need. There’ll be more. We need to take this to Professional Standards. This goes way above our pay grade, Jack.’
He shook her off. ‘It’s not about pay grades. It’s about loyalty. It’s about betrayal. He’s betrayed me, Knight. He’s betrayed us all.’
Wendy could hear his voice starting to break. ‘I know. But take a minute. Please. We can’t rush into things.’
Jack looked at her, the tears welling in his eyes. ‘Do me a favour, Knight. Just one thing.’
‘What?’
‘Let me speak to him.’
‘Why? What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know. Maybe I can get him to spill the beans on McCann. I’ll make a deal with him. He tells me everything, gives me enough to send McCann down for the rest of his life, and I’ll make sure Frank gets an easy ride. We can pension him off. He’ll be gone.’
‘No, Jack. That’s not right. If we give this to Professional Standards, they’ll see Frank gets what he deserves and it’ll be more than enough to send McCann down too.’
Jack shook his head. ‘I can’t risk that. I know Frank. I know him better than anybody. I can push the right buttons. I need this rub on McCann, Knight. You have no idea. No bloody idea. That man has made it his mission to terrorise me and frustrate everything I do for the last thirty-five years. Do you know, I still see his spotty, arrogant little teenage face, sneering at me. It was my first week in CID. I nabbed him for burglary. It was the first time I ever came across him, and I knew right away it wasn’t going to be the last. I could see the look in his eyes. He had his prey. He was locked on. I know you lot think it’s always been me going after him, but you’re wrong. All I’ve been doing is trying, desperately fucking trying, to get my one shot at outdoing him. I’ve hung in here all these years, just waiting for him to slip up. Waiting for that fucker to g
et a charge from the CPS. Waiting to see him disappear out of that courtroom and back down into the cells. And there is no way — no way — I am giving up that chance now. We’re so close.’
Wendy could see how much this was eating Jack up from the inside. ‘I know. I know what this means to you. And I know how much Frank has betrayed you, betrayed all of us. But you can use this to get into Professional Standards’ good books. If you make a deal with Frank or get involved yourself, it’ll look worse for you. There’s a chance they’ll throw the case out entirely. It’s got to be kept clean, or there’s no way you’ll get that day in court. We can’t muck it up now. Like you said, we’re so close.’
‘I dunno..’
‘Think about it. This is your chance to do things the right way. It’ll shut Penny Andrews up, too. There’s no way she can carry on with her restructuring if you’re the one who’s rooted out corruption in the force before her own senior officers even got wind of it. Now imagine what she’ll do if she finds out you interfered in that. It’ll be curtains for all of us, Jack. Frank might have betrayed you, but we haven’t. We’ve all stayed loyal. We’ve stuck together. And we’re not about to change that now.’
Jack looked at Wendy. He was desperate to have just five minutes in a room with Frank, but deep down he knew Wendy was right.
He looked down at the floor, swallowed hard, then looked back up at her. ‘We need more people like you at the top, Knight. Seriously.’
52
Over the years, Frank and his wife had got used to eating their evening meal just before going to bed. When he ended up working late, she’d originally left his portion in the microwave for him, but had gradually decided to wait up for him so they could eat together. Since she’d been disabled, Frank had usually been the one to rustle up the meals in any case.
Still, there wasn’t long left now. Frank had finally made the decision to retire, and would tell Jack at some point this week. They’d done the sums and realised they’d be pretty comfortable, especially if they managed to relocate.
‘I’m coming round to the idea of Cornwall myself,’ he said.
‘Too expensive,’ his wife replied. ‘Too many people buying second homes. We wouldn’t be left with much after selling this place and buying down there.’
‘I think we’ll be alright,’ Frank replied, smiling. ‘We’ve got some tucked away in some savings accounts. We’ll go through it all tomorrow.’
Frank had always been the one to handle their finances. That was something he’d been grateful for recently. They’d been talking about relocating in retirement for years — almost as long as Frank had been talking about retirement — and they’d been split between Cornwall and the Lake District. Both had their pros and cons, but Frank’s reasoning had been that Cornwall would have better weather and a slower pace of life. Besides which, there were only certain areas of the county that took the tourist influx throughout the summer, whereas the Lake District was mobbed all over, all year round.
‘A guy I went to school with moved down there a year or so ago,’ Frank said. ‘Saw it pop up on Facebook. Right out in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by fields, they are. No traffic, no crime, no nothing. Totally different pace of life. Beautiful place to retire.’
His wife raised her eyebrows in a way which told him she completely agreed that Cornwall would be a lovely place to move to, but she hadn’t given up on the dream of the Lake District just yet.
Frank’s mobile phone buzzed in his pocket. Just twice, which told him it was a text message. He took the phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen. It was a text message from Jack Culverhouse. He didn’t unlock his phone to read the full message. He didn’t need to. The first few words of the message preview told him all he needed to know. All of a sudden, he wasn’t very hungry any more.
‘Frank? What is it?’ his wife asked, noticing he’d turned pale.
Frank swallowed, his throat dry. ‘Nothing. Nothing.’ The sounds of the sirens in the distance gradually grew louder, until the only thing drowning them out was the pounding of the blood in his own eardrums. ‘I’m sorry,’ he croaked. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘What for? Frank? What’s wrong?’
Frank swallowed again, then slowly pushed his chair back and stood up, his face reflecting the familiar glow of the flashing police lights as they heard the knock at the door.
53
One week later.
* * *
Jack tried to steady his breathing as the officer led him down the corridor towards Frank’s cell. He had to keep calm.
He’d rehearsed what he wanted to say a thousand times or more in his own head, but he knew he’d likely scrap the lot when he got in there. After all, what could possibly be said?
He hadn’t come face to face with Frank since he was arrested. It had probably been for the best. Professional Standards had been involved, even though Jack had retained some control by authorising Frank’s arrest. He was confident the rot went no further, and that the most pressing matter was to ensure that Frank was taken in before McCann panicked and got to him first. McCann had been re-arrested at the same time by other officers, and had been subsequently charged and released on bail awaiting a court date. This had been necessary to ensure McCann couldn’t skip the country or go into hiding. This way, they’d have far more power to pursue him if he attempted it. With Frank having been taken in, word will have got back to McCann very quickly. Frank, on the other hand, had been kept in a cell at a different police station outside of the county, mainly to ensure his own safety before his trial.
The officer opened the door to the cell and let Jack in. Frank didn’t seem entirely surprised to see him. Perhaps it had only been a matter of time.
‘Jack. I don’t know what to say,’ Frank said, standing up.
Jack nodded. ‘I don’t know what I want you to say.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Frank said, eventually. The words didn’t even begin to scratch the surface, though.
‘I need to know why, Frank.’
Frank sat back down on the hard plastic monstrosity he called a bed, and sighed. ‘Where do I start?’
‘At the beginning,’ Jack said, his voice devoid of emotion.
‘I don’t really know where it started. When my missus got ill, I suppose. I got talking to a bloke in the pub one night. He’d clocked what I did and who I was. Thinking back now I reckon he knew anyway. It was a setup job. It was meant to be a one-off. An easy payday that’d pay for her treatment and give me a nice retirement. Nothing heavy. Not a case we were on, so I wasn’t the only one who got approached, I can tell you that,’ Frank said, as if that was any excuse.
‘Don’t look at me for sympathy,’ Jack said. ‘You might not be the only one they approached, but you were the one thick enough to fall for it.’
Frank stayed silent.
‘Tell me something. I need to know. Were you anything to do with what happened to Chrissie?’ Jack desperately hoped the answer was “no”, because he couldn’t possibly account for his reaction otherwise.
Frank shook his head. ‘It was all McCann. Honestly. It wasn’t meant to escalate. I didn’t want it to. I was in over my head. But after the old woman died it all went tits up and McCann wanted to send a warning to you to make you back off. He was in over his head and so was I. We all were.’
‘So you were involved,’ Jack said, his voice gravelly as he tried to hold himself back from kicking Frank’s head in.
‘No. Honestly. I wasn’t. McCann wanted to go for your girl, Jack. He wanted it to be Emily, but I managed to convince him not to do it. I couldn’t have him doing that to her.’
Jack wanted to deck him, but managed to find enough restraint to stop himself. ‘You’ll testify against him, won’t you?’ he finally said. He could tell from Frank’s body language the answer wasn’t as straightforward as he’d hoped.
‘I dunno. I don’t think I can. I can’t. If I do, I’ll lose everything. He’ll go for the missus. He’ll burn the ho
use down. Fuck knows what he’ll do, Jack. He’s a right nasty piece of work.’
‘Oh, I know, Frank. I know. Why do you think I’ve been trying to send the fucker down for the past thirty-five years? Only something, someone kept getting in the way of that, didn’t they?’
Frank shook his head in despair. ‘Jack, you really don’t get it. That’s not what happened. You need to believe me.’
‘Believe you?’ Jack spat. ‘Don’t make me laugh. Do you have any idea how much I’d love — love — to dive over there right now and smash your head off that wall? Because I’ll tell you. It’s a lot. But I’m not. I’m standing here, keeping myself calm, telling you we can protect you. We can protect your wife. We can shield you from McCann. You can relocate. A new life. A new identity.’
‘Oh Jack. I wish I could take you up on that. I really do. You seriously have no idea what you’re dealing with here, do you? McCann has people everywhere. He can get to anyone he likes, anywhere he likes. He’s got more than the odd copper in his pocket, you know.’
Jack ignored his comments. ‘I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself here, Frank. One final chance. After this, there’s no more. McCann isn’t on your side. You can’t protect him. He won’t be protecting you any more. He’ll only look after you and your missus for as long as you’re useful to him. That ship’s sailed. You’ll both be finished. I’m not looking at the past few weeks. I’m looking at the past few years. You might have betrayed me, Frank. Might have betrayed the entire team. Betrayed your family. Betrayed yourself. But I’m a bigger man than that. The only person who can make sure you’re looked after — properly looked after — is me.’ Jack stepped forward. ‘Now I’m going to ask you one last time to testify against McCann and at least do the dignified thing. For yourself. For your family.’
