The Conspiracy 4

by Jack Probyn

  ‘Where were they going?’

  ‘Spain.’

  ‘Spain?’

  ‘Spain.’

  ‘Bloody hell. When’s the ferry leave?’

  ‘It’s scheduled to leave at 14:00.’

  Jake checked his watch – 13:11 p.m.

  ‘I need another favour,’ he said. ‘CCTV from the Harbour Car Park and the surrounding area. The brothers are most likely on foot. They’ll be much easier to track, so long as they stay like that. Find out which way they’re heading, and where they are. Also – are their faces on the news yet?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Danika replied.

  ‘Social media? The internet?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Who’s the media liaison officer? They should have taken care of that by now. Their faces should be all over the television, internet, social media – they should even be on the sides of buses!’

  ‘I’ll speak with DS Murphy. I will see what he can do.’

  ‘Hero,’ Jake said before hanging up.

  As he lowered the phone, he tried to focus on what was happening in front of him. At the forensics team burying themselves in the seams of the Audi’s seats as they searched for evidence. At the flurry of pedestrian activity to Jake’s left. At the police officers that were struggling to keep the general public at bay. But there was something niggling at the back of his mind. Like why would The Crimsons leave the car in plain sight and with no obvious effort made to conceal the damages sustained to it? Why would they book tickets under their own name and not the alias like Freddy had advised? Had Freddy been pulling him along or was he telling Jake the truth?

  Bridger joined his side.

  ‘You know when something’s not quite sitting right with you?’ Jake asked him.

  ‘You mean like after you’ve had a curry?’

  Jake smirked. ‘Not exactly. But when your intuition starts flagging a few things.’

  ‘It’s been known to happen. What are you thinking?’

  ‘That it doesn’t add up,’ Jake said. ‘DC Oblak called and said they had tickets booked to Spain under their original names…’

  ‘What’s DC Oblak telling you that for? That information should be coming from someone else.’

  Jake shrugged, not meaning to drop Danika in it. ‘I guess she’s got her orders just the same as us.’

  Bridger pursed his lips and changed the weight onto his other foot. ‘What were you saying about… about the booking…?’

  ‘When I spoke with Freddy, he told me to look out for their other name. He said it was likely they would have booked tickets under a name nobody knew they had,’ Jake explained.

  ‘What’s that?’ Bridger asked, putting his hands in his pockets.

  ‘Harrington.’

  ‘Candice’s maiden name?’

  Jake nodded.

  ‘You think they’ve booked tickets for the same cruise but just under different names?’

  Jake shook his head. ‘That would just be stupid.’ He paused a beat. ‘They’re either on a later boat today, or an entirely different one altogether… Maybe even at a different port.’

  And then it clicked.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ he said, ‘they’re going to Southampton Port instead.’

  | EPISODE 4 |

  CHAPTER NINE

  X4

  ‘We think it’s a decoy, ma’am,’ Bridger said as he tore out of the car park, heading up Queen Street and turning onto the A3. He was on the phone with Pemberton through loudspeaker, who was only a few miles away from Portsmouth.

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

  ‘Tanner believes they’ve booked the ferry tickets from Portsmouth as a decoy. He believes they’re really going to Southampton.’

  ‘What evidence do we have?’ Pemberton asked.

  Jake had taken control in the front seat and relegated Smithers to the back. Both Jake and Bridger looked at one another awkwardly.

  ‘It’s a working theory at the moment, ma’am,’ Bridger explained.

  ‘Speculation isn’t going to catch these guys, Elliot. You can’t just go gallivanting across the country in the hope that they might be there. What if you were right and Tanner is leading us further away from the Cipriano brothers?’

  That was it. Jake was done. He’d had enough of being belittled and undermined. He was trying his hardest to find the brothers, and their lack of faith in his abilities and integrity infuriated him.

  Bridger opened his mouth but was cut off by Jake.

  ‘With all due respect, ma’am, from the very beginning you’ve asked for my advice. I have reasonable grounds to believe that’s where they’re heading. Hampshire Police have sent several officers to search the Portsmouth ferry we originally believed they were taking, so if they do show up there – and I turn out to be wrong – then they will be caught. I’ve asked DC Oblak to find any ticket references that have been booked under the name Harrington.’

  A long moment of silence played out in the car as they awaited a response.

  ‘Candice never mentioned anything about Southampton…’ Pemberton said.

  ‘Either she’s still protecting them and not telling you about it, or she doesn’t know that it could be a part of their plan.’

  ‘She’s got a collar bomb strapped to her neck – she’s not going to try and cover for them now, Jake.’

  ‘Then Danny might not have told her the full story. If he’s capable of hiding the key from her, then he won’t be stupid enough to hop on a ferry at Portsmouth where he knows we’ll be waiting for him. Danny hates Candice. This is just his way of getting revenge.’

  ‘What makes you so sure?’ Pemberton asked.

  ‘Freddy told me. Candice walked out on the three of them when they were young, and he never forgave her for it.’

  Eventually, after another long pause, Pemberton sighed heavily. ‘You’d better be right, Jake.’

  ‘I hope I am,’ Jake replied. ‘There’s also something else you should know. She has a storage unit there too. She’s been paying for it for about a year. I think that’s where they’ve been keeping their takings from the previous robberies, and now they’re going to pick it up.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Pemberton asked.

  ‘Danika, ma’am. She’s been working behind the scenes.’

  ‘Why did no one tell me this?’

  ‘I completely forgot about it until now. But I’d have thought DI Murphy would have mentioned it to you, ma’am. Danika told me that she was reporting to him while you’re out of the office.’

  ‘Leave that with me. We’ll meet you in Southampton. Keep me updated.’

  She hung up and, again, the car was filled with silence. This time Jake enjoyed it. It allowed him to be in his own headspace. Pemberton was finally siding with him again, trusting him enough to follow his advice. He hoped it would stay like that for the rest of the day.

  Bridger slowed as he pulled up to a set of red traffic lights when the radio bleated.

  ‘Echo Bravo four-five, Echo Bravo four-five, this is Lima Golf, over,’ it said.

  ‘This is Liam Golf, reading you, over.’

  ‘Echo Bravo four-five, we’re receiving reports of an altercation on board a bus in the Fareham area from the driver. Reports indicate three IC1 males matching the descriptions of Luke, Danny and Michael Cipriano. All three individuals were seen carrying large black gym bags at Fareham bus depot. Armed officers are en route. Could you check it out and support?’

  ‘Which bus was it?’ Jake asked, feeling the palms of his hands turn sweaty.

  ‘The X4, headed to Southampton from Portsmouth.’

  ‘I don’t fucking believe it,’ Bridger said, turning to Jake. ‘You were right.’

  | EPISODE 4 |

  CHAPTER TEN

  DEPOT 7

  After receiving the news from HQ, Bridger raced onto the M27 and blitzed through to Fareham with the armed units driving in his wake. Not before long, three lanes blended into two as
they pulled off onto the A27, heading south at the beginning of Portsmouth Harbour. Running alongside them, on the left-hand side, was a railway line, and beyond that was Cams Hall Estate Golf Club on the other side of the water. Fluorescent green bounced into the sky, and Jake struggled to keep his eyes from it. He had already been to one golf course today, and he hoped that, should he visit another, it would be under entirely different circumstances. The game was being eternally ruined for him.

  As they drove deeper into town, Bridger pulled off the A road and headed towards Fareham bus depot, a few hundred yards from the shopping centre. They parked up on the other side of the road.

  Jake, Bridger and Smithers disembarked the vehicle simultaneously, and met the armed officer in charge of the unit that had been following him.

  ‘Where were they last seen?’ PS Cavanagh asked.

  Bridger pointed to the bus depot over a hundred yards away. ‘About ten minutes ago.’

  ‘OK,’ PS Cavanagh said. ‘Wait here. My team and I will scout it out. Wait for our orders.’

  Bridger nodded in acceptance and the four of them departed in different directions. Jake, Bridger and Smithers headed back to the car while PS Cavanagh and the rest of his team skulked across the pavement towards the depot in formation, bodies poised, weapons raised.

  Jake rolled down the window to get a better view.

  ‘You reckon they’re still here?’ Bridger asked beside him.

  ‘Could be anywhere,’ Jake replied, keeping his gazed fixed on the officers as they approached the depot.

  The bus depot was long and stretched far back. A row of First buses were waiting in a line. As the firearms team arrived, a coach reversed and drove past them. Jake’s heart leapt and his eyes scanned the passengers as the vehicle passed by the car. Nothing. On the right-hand side of the depot was the bus shelter, where the passengers were waiting for their next departure. As the armed officers strode towards them, the passengers jumped out of their way.

  But, a few seconds later, the firearms team disappeared out of sight, hidden behind the row of busses. Jake drummed his feet on the footwell and tapped his finger on his leg as he waited impatiently. It was one of the tensest moments of the day, and he was afraid of what would happen next. A myriad of thoughts raced through his mind. Where were they? What were they doing? What had the brothers been arguing about that forced them to step off the bus?

  Before Jake was able to focus anymore on it, screams and shouts erupted from within the bus depot. Jake opened the car door and started towards the commotion.

  ‘Jake!’ Bridger called him back. ‘Jake!

  And then he saw them.

  In the distance, Michael Cipriano forced one of the armed officers to the ground, kicking his weapon away across the concrete. Behind him, Luke Cipriano – smaller, skinnier – sprinted from beneath the bus, heading towards the depot’s exit.

  Jake raced towards them, the muscles in his legs pumping the adrenaline through his body. Not before long, the soles of his feet began to ache, and sent bolts of pain up and down his legs with every step. Behind him, he heard the sounds of more footsteps. Jake chanced a glance backwards; Smithers was bounding after him, joining the chase.

  Both Michael and Luke were lumbered with their gym bags, swinging uncontrollably as they ran, bashing into their legs, hips and back. It was only a small advantage, but it gave Jake and Smithers one, nonetheless.

  Ten yards separated them as Luke reached the end of the depot and made a sharp right, heading onto the main road.

  Eight.

  Five.

  And then Jake felt a kick against his legs, buckling him. The world span upside down and inside out in a carousel of grey as Jake soared through the air and clattered onto the concrete. He landed heavily on his shoulder and yelled out in pain.

  Just as Jake was about to pick himself up, Michael Cipriano leapt over him. His trailing leg caught Jake in the ribs and knocked him down again.

  ‘Stop!’ Smithers called beside him.

  Jake craned his neck and saw the police officer charging after Michael, reaching for his radio and shouting into it. To Jake’s left, trailing behind, was Bridger, followed by the armed officers. Their shouts and cries were no use. Michael and Luke had no intention of stopping. They were too far ahead.

  But then Jake heard another shout. He snapped his neck towards Smithers and saw the man tackle Michael Cipriano to the ground, their bodies rolling together in one. Jake staggered to his feet and hobbled after them, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and palms. As he arrived, both men were panting heavily. Michael was pinned to his front and Smithers was atop him, wrapping his arms behind his back, pressing into him with his knee.

  ‘Run, Luke! Run!’ Michael bellowed with the side of his face pressed against the concrete.

  Jake stuttered to a halt beside Michael, and as he helped lift the man to his feet, the armed officers tore past them, their legs and arms pumping hard. They disappeared down a residential road to their right, but it was pointless. Luke was out of sight. He’d evaded them and there was no way they were going to find him on foot.

  A second later, Bridger arrived, breathless. He placed his hands on his knees and bent double, gasping.

  ‘Good work, boys,’ he said in between breaths.

  Jake appreciated the sentiment. It was the nicest thing Bridger had said to him all day, even if he hadn’t been the one responsible for capturing Michael in the first place.

  ‘Michael Cipriano,’ Jake said, as Smithers tightened the handcuffs around his wrists, ‘I am arresting you for murder, armed robbery, assault and kidnap. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

  After Jake finished telling him his rights, the armed officers returned, flustered, yet their breathing remained the same as when Jake had first met them.

  ‘Gone,’ PS Cavanagh said, ‘but he’s got to be around here somewhere. He must have vaulted the walls.’

  ‘OK,’ Bridger replied after finally catching his breath. He moved over towards Jake and Michael. ‘Right now, I want to speak with this one. Let’s get him booked in.’

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  ———————————————

  | EPISODE 5 |

  CHAPTER ONE

  CLEAN SLATE

  ‘Rupert Haversham. He’s my solicitor. I want my solicitor,’ Michael Cipriano said with a wry smile.

  ‘Tough. You’re not getting one.’ Bridger rested his arms against the edge of the table.

  ‘On what grounds?’ Michael protested. ‘I know my rights.’

  ‘You want the specifics? All right then. Code C 6.6 and Annex B. The police may proceed with an interview in the absence of a solicitor if an officer has reasonable grounds that failure to do so will lead to interference with, or harm to, evidence connected with an indictable offence, lead to alerting other people suspected of having committed an indictable offence but which they have not yet been arrested for, or if they have reasonable grounds to believe it will hinder the recovery of property obtained in consequence of the commission of such an offence. So I’d say that covers you straight off the bat, doesn’t it? We’ve got all three’ – Bridger held his hand in the air and displayed his thumb, forefinger and middle finger in front of Michael’s face – ‘haven’t we? We’ve got the evidence connecting you to the crime… We’ve got your brothers being alerted to what’s happened to you… and we’ve got the jewels and money that your brothers have run away with that are still at large.’

  The smirk on Michael’s face grew even bigger.
‘How many nights did you lose memorising that word for word?’

  ‘More than you’ve spent in a nice warm bed.’

  ‘There’s just one thing you’ve forgotten to mention, Detective Sergeant Bridger, which is that the law also states that the officer making such a decision must be of the rank of superintendent or above. I don’t see those credentials in your title anywhere. Nor your colleague here.’ Michael flicked his head towards Jake.

  ‘How many nights did you spend memorising that particular part of the code?’ Bridger retorted.

  ‘One actually.’

  ‘I’ve got it cleared with the powers that be,’ Bridger replied.

  Had he? It was the first Jake had heard of it.

  ‘You don’t have to worry about me doing my job properly,’ Bridger continued. ‘So why don’t you just tell us everything you know?’

  Michael, with an air of defiance, leant back in his chair and folded his arms. The three of them were locked inside the interview room in Fareham Police Station a few hundred yards from the bus station where Michael had been arrested. Bridger had managed to pull a few strings and called in a favour to get them into the interview room as soon as the procedure allowed.

  A few seconds of silence passed. Jake’s steady breathing pounded in his ears. This was his first interview where he was unprepared. Usually, he was allowed time to prepare and present the evidence and line of questioning against the defendant. But now he didn’t have that luxury and didn’t want his inexperience to hinder the proceedings in any way. It was down to Bridger now, and after that small exchange between Michael and Bridger, Jake admired him much more than he had done half an hour ago. He was in control of the interview, and Jake was happy to keep it that way… unless, of course, he saw an opportunity for him to strike. And then he’d let his intuition take over.