Nothing To Lose

by Steven Suttie

  “You what?”

  “You heard.”

  Saunders explained the situation which had developed since joining the online forum a few days earlier. Miller sat and listened with a look of sheer admiration for his DI. Once Saunders had finished, Miller gave him a round of applause.

  “That is something else, mate. It really is.”

  “Yes, but its pretty pointless now, if we have to drop that inquiry and focus exclusively on the fire?”

  “Well, no. It’s dynamite. If we give these details to Dixon, he’s going to go into his meeting with golden tits. With a piece of intelligence like that, he can negotiate anything he wants.”

  “Suppose.”

  “You look a bit gutted Keith, I don’t get it. This is amazing.”

  “I know… I know. It’s just… I fancied us doing a bit of undercover stuff, you know… going out with them and smashing a few shops up, finding out who was who, getting all the best intelligence from the inside.”

  “Yes, sure, sounds great, but you couldn’t do an undercover gig anyway. It’s the price you pay when you’re the second-best known detective in Manchester.”

  “After you?”

  “Yes. Second best-looking, too.”

  “After you?”

  “No, Bill Chapman. Anyway, stop sulking, this is the dogs bollocks Keith, I can see you getting a commendation off the back of this.”

  “Shall I go and get stuck in to finding out who started the fire?”

  “Please. We need something urgently. I don’t want to lose this case and I’m sure you don’t. We were there when they were still damping down, when we could still smell the tragedy.”

  “I know. Okay, ciao ciao.”

  Miller smiled as he watched Saunders walk across the office floor. He never ceased to be amazed by the stuff that his DI was capable of pulling up out of thin air. He was reminded that his DI was destined for great things and that it wouldn’t be long until he was offered a DCI role somewhere else. The thought thrilled Miller and gutted him at the same time. His department would really miss this talented detective.

  “Jammy bastard,” said Miller under his breath as he lifted his phone to update Dixon to this incredible opportunity.

  Saunders headed straight over to Rudovsky. “Got that bank stuff, Jo?” he asked.

  “The DCI is being a bit stroppy. Said she needs clearance from you or Miller before she can proceed.”

  “Fucks sake,” said Saunders as he looked for DCI Katy Green’s number in his phone. He sent a text, he couldn’t be arsed getting bogged down with a chat. “Hi DCI Green, it’s DI Saunders, SCIU. Please forward the Ozols bank details to my colleague DS Rudovsky as requested. Thanks Keith.”

  “Should have it in a second. She’s not being a pain, she just does everything by the book.”

  “Anal.”

  “Nah, doubt it. She’s a good detective though. A lot better than you.”

  “Cheers.” Rudovsky held her middle-finger up, inches away from Saunders’ face.

  “Anyway, while we wait, we need to think about that registration plate on the stolen car. If it is still attached to the one in the scrap yard, we need to work out some options that can explain that.”

  As Saunders finished his sentence, he heard Rudovsky’s e-mail notification. “You have e-mail!”

  “Okay. Forget that. Go and see what Mr Ozols bank details can tell us.”

  “Sure. By the way, there was a phone call to the incident room about the number plate of the car, I didn’t read it because I got distracted by all the stuff on the news. Someone said they’d seen the car before or something. Like I say, I didn’t really read it. Check the logs.”

  Saunders thanked Rudovsky and logged into his PC and checked the incident room call logs. Sure enough, there was a note on there about the registration plate for the car, but it didn’t make a great deal of sense. Saunders decided to phone the caller.

  “Hello, Big Baps?”

  “Er, hello.” Saunders had a weird look on his face. Who the fuck was Big Baps, he was thinking.

  “How can I help?” The lady sounded friendly.

  “Erm, yes, sorry, I’m a detective sergeant at Manchester City…”

  “Oh, hiya! Yes, it was me that called, last night, Tina Parsons. It was the weirdest thing…”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, I was cleaning the café last night while North-West tonight was on…”

  “Ah, is this, have I called a café?”

  “Yes. Big Baps in Mossley.”

  “Oh, I see.” Saunders was blushing.

  “So, yeah, like I say, it was the weirdest thing. As the telly people were talking about this car, I looked up saw a poster on my wall for Radio Cars. It’s only the same flipping car, same registration number!”

  Saunders was stunned. “Honestly?”

  “Swear on my husband’s grave. I’m looking at it now. It’s MT15 FPG.”

  Saunders looked across at the photograph of the car on the wall. The registration plate was spot on.

  “This is unbelievable.”

  “I know, I got dead giddy when I saw it. I don’t think the copper I phoned understood what I was trying to say.”

  “No, no the note was a little bit confusing. But it’s great news. You wouldn’t take a photo of the poster and e-mail it to me, would you?”

  “Yes, course. God, it’s dead exciting this!”

  Saunders gave Tina his e-mail address.

  “You’ll have to give me five minutes though, I’m rubbish at out like this. I’ll have to get one of the girls to help me.”

  “Yes, well, I’ll really appreciate it. I can’t tell you how helpful this is!”

  “Right love, leave it with me.”

  “Okay, I’ll phone you back when I’ve got it.”

  Saunders logged onto Google and searched out “Radio Cars Mossley” and within seconds he was on the cab firm’s website. Sure enough, the home-page had a photograph of the Vauxhall Zafira, complete with the number-plates.

  “Clever bastards.” Muttered Saunders under his breath as he headed across to Miller’s office. He knocked twice before walking straight in.

  “Sir, development.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. Turns out this cloned number-plate has been nicked off a cab firm’s advert. Stick Radio Cars Mossley into your search engine.”

  “Right…” Miller followed the instruction.

  “Now click on the website.”

  “Fucking hell.”

  “Yes. That’s where they’ve cloned the plates from. It’s nowt to do with the scrap-yard. It’s just bad luck that the car is off the road.”

  “Bloody hell, how have you come up with this?”

  “Oh, some woman phoned it in last night. She saw it on the cab firm’s poster in her café.”

  “So, here’s another solid local link to the area.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Doesn’t give us much chance of catching them, though?”

  “No. No, I agree with you on that. But it’s an extra layer of information that links the people who were in that car to the area.”

  “Yes, don’t get me wrong Keith, it’s great. But it’s not like we can investigate who has seen this website or the poster and cloned the plates.”

  “No. Okay, well I’m going to phone the firm anyway, see if I can find anything out about the car. It’s pretty young to be scrapped.”

  “Yeah, but they’re on the road twenty-four-hours a day. I imagine it’ll have done half a million miles!”

  “So, it’s a dead end?” Saunders looked as though his sense of momentum was fading.

  “Yes. Probably. It’s good that you’ve sussed out how they came about the number-plate. But I can’t see how it can progress much from there.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll go and see what Jo’s finding out.”

  “Cheers, I’ll tell Dixon though.”

  “Ta.”

  Saunders had a bit of a sulk on a
s he stepped back across the office floor.

  “What’s up with you? You look like Geri Halliwell has just listening to one of her albums back.” Rudovsky was smiling but Saunders ignored the observation.

  “Anything?” he asked.

  “Cheer up and I’ll tell you.”

  Saunders smiled widely. “Better?”

  “Yes. And before we go any further, I thought you said that DCI Green in Tameside was good?”

  “She is.”

  “You said she was better than me!”

  “She is.”

  “Well she’s not managed to pick up on the fact that Andris Ozols hasn’t paid any rent for the previous four months.”

  “You what?” Saunders sat down beside Rudovsky.

  “Here’s his bank statement.” Rudovsky handed the document that she had printed out to her DI, several lines were highlighted in fluorescent yellow pen. “Rent goes out every month on the first, every month without fail, all year last year, then all through the beginning of this year. Then, look. Stops dead at the start of May.”

  “Jesus! How’s that been missed?”

  “I’ll tell you how it’s been missed, Sir. Because I’m better than DCI Green. Way better.”

  “I can’t believe this…”

  “I’m waiting for a call back from Bingley’s Estate Agents in Ashton, they manage the property on the landlord’s behalf. Hoping they can shed some light.”

  “How long ago did you ring them?”

  “Ten minutes since.”

  “Come on, let’s get down there.”

  “Serious?”

  “Yes, totally serious Jo. You’d think the small matter of Andris Ozols not paying any rent for five months might have been mentioned by the fucking estate agents at some point. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “We are very pleased to welcome the newspaper columnist Greg Harris onto Sky News, good morning Greg.”

  “Good morning.”

  “Well, an incredible night. What are your thoughts on the breaking news this morning?”

  “Thank you, Andrea. Well, I must firstly point out that what we have witnessed throughout the night is the biggest and most organised riot that this country has ever seen.”

  “Riot?”

  “Absolutely, without any shadow of a doubt. This shocking event has been described as ‘attacks’ thus far. But what we are actually talking about is a very sophisticated and brilliantly organised riot, one which will cost many millions of pounds to clean up.”

  “We have of course seen the Tweet by the organisation who are keen to take responsibility for this riot, as you describe it. They appear to be very pleased with the outcome of last night’s activities and are promising much more of the same. What are your thoughts on that?”

  “I think that it is extremely worrying, not only for the bookmaking industry, but for the British authorities as well and the government will be discussing these matters in the most serious manner this morning. What we have seen here is a brilliant demonstration against government policy and the gambling industry’s modern methods of practice, which allows people to feed their gambling addictions without any form of redress.”

  “Forgive me, Greg, but that statement almost sounds as though you are congratulating the people who have carried out these appalling acts on hundreds of shops last night.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t go as far as that Andrea. But what I am saying is this. There are two ways to go about changing government policy in this country. One way, is to protest and make a great noise about an issue, which will ultimately be ignored anyway, I’ll use the Iraq war demonstrations as the case in point. On the fifteenth of February 2003, over a million British citizens marched to demonstrate their opposition to the war. More than a million people cheered, shouted, sounded horns and banged drums, waving signs with slogans 'No War On Iraq' and 'Don’t Attack Iraq'. And we all know the outcome of that demonstration. Every single voice was ignored and history has gone on to show us that the government were wrong and that every single protestor was correct. So that’s an example of trying to change government policy through the traditional, peaceful channels.”

  “Okay.”

  “But let’s compare that with the poll tax riots of 1990. I’m sure you are too young to remember the shocking events which unfolded in the Spring of that year?”

  “I can just about remember!” said Andrea with a flirtatious smile.

  “Well, for those viewers who weren’t around then, this was a dark moment in this nation’s recent history. This was a full-scale riot, when thousands of protestors fought running battles with the police. They trashed all the shops and businesses around Trafalgar Square, smashing up shops, turning cars upside down, setting fires to shops and restaurants. It was a very ugly event, the police found themselves being pelted with bottles, bricks, huge metal fence panels. It was a very disturbing incident.”

  “And this was in response to the new poll tax which was being introduced at the time, which is now better known as the council tax?”

  “That’s absolutely right. And the community tax that we all pay today is an extremely watered-down version of the poll tax which was being proposed in 1990. It is a fair assessment to say that this riot had a huge impact, the government revised their plans, and the Prime Minister of the day, Margaret Thatcher was forced to resign within months. So here we have two very different outcomes. With Iraq, a peaceful civilised protest involving a million people achieved nothing. By contrast, a full-scale riot which caused many millions of pounds worth of damage in London, involving a couple of thousand people, had a much more successful outcome. There are dozens of examples that we could use, such as the Strangeways riot in the same year as the poll tax riot. This single event, which destroyed Manchester’s famous Victorian prison in 25 days, achieved much more than the previous two decades of polite protesting at the appalling conditions in the overcrowded jail. Not only that, but that riot led to improved prison conditions throughout the land. So, although it may seem barbaric to say, it is these kinds of activities which bring about change.”

  “Interesting points Gareth. You do realise that making statements such as these could attract criticism, and even accusations of incitement?”

  “Well, I’m not inciting anybody to riot Andrea, I’m merely stating facts. Another fact is that several campaigning groups have been lobbying the government for some years regarding the behaviour of the gambling companies, asking for tighter regulations, particularly around the topic of problem gambling. I make no apologies for stating the facts, and the facts, as we understand them today, is that a group of campaigners have demonstrated that they are determined to bring about change, using the most effective method, which is, and always has been, civil disobedience.”

  “So, you think that last night’s activities…”

  “I’d call it a riot, Andrea.”

  “Okay, but to get to your point, you are suggesting that the group calling themselves Odds on Justice will succeed in changing the government’s regulations on betting?”

  “I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that they will be successful, particularly as they are threatening to do the same thing again. I cannot see how any government minister can come out and defend the policy of allowing people to spend every penny they have with online gambling within an hour, when you or I cannot withdraw more than three hundred pounds at a cash point in one day. Make no mistake how dangerous this matter is, when somebody can literally spend all of their money in an online game. Imagine being sucked into a nightmare world where you have lost so much money that your only thought is about winning it back, so you gamble more. There are hundreds, if not thousands of appalling stories out there, about people who have destroyed their entire lives and have even taken their own lives after falling victim to the vicious cycle of gambling addiction. This is a very serious problem, and if we compare gambling addiction to any other serious addiction problem, we will very quickly see that the rules are
there in support of the gambling companies, at the cost of the gambler. You could compare it to the drinks industry, which is currently seeing major regulation changes surrounding the price per unit. These are government changes which are designed to help people make better choices about what drinks they use.

  But it is not all about government intervention, there is a moral aspect to these things as well as the regulation aspect. When Heineken became aware of the enormous health and social problems that their super-strength cider White Lightning was having on its drinkers, they stopped making it. Nobody made them do it, they just realised that this was a bad product which was having very bad consequences for its consumers, so they withdrew the product. I think we can all agree that this was a very good ad responsible decision, which put the public interest above profits. By the same token, it is impossible to defend the gambling industry at a time when they have never been so profitable due to their unashamed marketing tactics and relentless pestering of customers. I cannot imagine Heineken e-mailing customers who were trying to give up drink, offering them a free case of cider. But that is precisely what the gambling companies are doing. Their automatic computer systems recognise when one of their customers hasn’t placed a bet for a few days and entices them to gamble using free voucher codes or fifty-pound credits. It is quite diabolical really, and in my opinion, morally indefensible. The NHS have released their own statistics which suggest that this relatively new problem is becoming a major crisis affecting half a million people in the UK. Something urgently needs to be done, and it looks as though Odds on Justice are determined to see that something is done, once and for all.”

  “So, what do you suggest that the gambling companies are doing wrong?”

  “Well, that’s an incredibly complex question Andrea. The simple fact, the statistic which is driving the conversation is a very sobering one. Two people a day are committing suicide because of their problem gambling.”

  “Good heavens.” The news presenter looked visibly shocked.

  “If we go back in history, say twenty years ago, thirty years ago, and further, we would not be seeing this tragedy unfolding.”