The Anglesey Murders Box Set

by Conrad Jones

  Cash was the biggest problem all dealers encountered. Every business in the country, sole trader or massive conglomerate had to prove where every penny came from. Any movement over £8800 had to be flagged by the banks and verified. Money laundering was the key to every organisation. Get it wrong and your house of cards will crumble. The only other option was to hoard cash but it could only be spent in small amounts. Hoarding large amounts of cash was problematic and vulnerable to theft. He couldn’t trust anyone. Not with cash. He was constantly looking for opportunities to wash cash through a business and deposit it cleanly into a bank, where it could be moved abroad into the obscurity of offshore cyberspace. He had a two-year plan before he closed up shop and moved abroad with more money than he could spend in ten lifetimes. Keeping one step ahead of the law until then was his focus. Activity across the harbour caught his attention.

  The Albanians were on the move as soon as the transporter cleared the customs shed. He didn’t want them there but they insisted on watching every time a shipment landed. They were very suspicious. For them, messing up a deal carried a death sentence. There was no room for failure in their organisation. Jamie watched a second car transporter exit the ferry. This was the real mule, the first just a decoy for the benefit of the Albanians. They didn’t need to know everything. He kept his cards close to his chest for obvious reasons. He checked the transporter through the glasses. There were eight vehicles on the transporter all carrying five kilos of coke. Forty kilos in one shipment and it would all be off the island within forty-eight hours, which equated to a quarter of a million pounds in notes, which had to be washed clean. It was a headache—a headache that could cost him twenty-five years if he wasn’t very careful. When the second transporter cleared, he made a call on his mobile.

  ‘It’s cleared, Mike.’

  ‘Where are they being unloaded?’ Mike asked. Jamie didn’t tell anyone where a shipment would be taken until it was cleared through customs.

  ‘Take the decoy to Pentraeth Motors and the mule to the dealership in Llangefni.’

  ‘How much are our foreign friends taking this time?’

  ‘Half.’ Suddenly, Jamie felt uneasy. ‘Where’s the handover?’

  ‘Under the old bridge. They’re taking it across the Straits to the mainland in a rib.’

  ‘Okay. Double your security,’ Jamie said. ‘I’ve got a feeling in my bones.’

  ‘Don’t worry. It’ll go like clockwork,’ Mike said, hanging up.

  CHAPTER 37

  Zak walked along the Newry promenade with a bottle of cider in his hand. Streetlights bathed the grassed areas with a yellow tinge. A road ran along the promenade, broken by speed-bumps and mini-roundabouts. The pinging noise of yacht rigging echoed across the marina and he could hear the waves crashing over the breakwater. Behind him, an Irish ferry was docked at Salt Island, its lights reflecting from the sea. Any other time, it would be romantic to walk there, even alone. He didn’t need a partner to appreciate the romance of a situation. But he didn’t feel romantic. He felt numb. Heartbroken. But most of all, he felt betrayed. Lloyd was an idiot sometimes but he loved him. It was that simple.

  There was a problem; the problem was Lloyd. He checked his phone again but his screen was blank. Lloyd wasn’t going to message and Zak was too stubborn to make the first approach. He thought about phoning and telling him everything would be okay and they could go back to a secret relationship but deep inside, he knew it wouldn’t be okay. Not now, not never. Enough was enough; he had to walk away. It would hurt for a while but in the long term, it had to be done. If he wanted to be happy then he had to cut him loose and start again. It wasn’t even fun anymore. Lloyd had become brooding and morose. Life before Lloyd had been fun. Less intense but fun. Stumbling into a relationship had changed everything. Lloyd refused to recognise their relationship yet became intensely jealous if he so much as spoke to another man. Zak was an outgoing fun-loving character and Lloyd stifled him. He needed a partner to appreciate him for who he was not hide him away.

  A car went by, the headlights blinded him for a second. The driver stared at him. He looked vaguely familiar. They nodded hello to each other. Zak didn’t think much of it. His head was elsewhere tonight. He reached the end of the promenade and decided to walk down the quarry road towards the boatyard, where Lloyd ran a small business buying and selling boats. Lloyd went there late at night sometimes, doing his dodgy deals. Why else would anyone go there at night? He never spoke to him about his business and Zak never asked, despite the fact he knew what he was involved in. It wasn’t his place to quiz him. Zak’s mother and sister had warned him about getting involved with Lloyd. They said he was trouble, a drug dealer and not a very good one. His sister said his gear was crap. Everyone in town knew what he did but Zak didn’t listen. He’d been smitten.

  The top road to the quarry was the old railway line which had carried stone. It was straight but unlit. Holy Mountain loomed above, a black mass against the backdrop of stars. The sky was clear of clouds and a million stars twinkled above him. The full moon cast silvery light over everything. The moon cast enough light for him to walk safely. He saw headlights coming the other way and stepped off the road onto the grass verge. A van roared past at a reckless speed followed by a minibus. He could make out the outlines of men inside. Zak thought it odd at that time of night although lots of fishermen fished off the breakwater at night. Night time brought the big conger eels closer to shore. The noise of the waves crashing over the breakwater told him fishing wouldn’t be much fun tonight—in fact, it would be very dangerous.

  Zak didn’t care. He finished his cider and tossed the bottle into a bush, wishing he’d bought another one. As he neared the fork in the road, which led to the boatyard, he stopped and looked towards it. The lights were on. Lloyd might be there alone. They could talk things over and maybe sort things out. The prospect made him question all his doubts about the relationship. There were too many doubts to ignore. It was doomed until Lloyd acknowledged it existed, which would be never. He made up his mind not to walk there. It defeated the object of trying to make a clean break. He took three steps in the opposite direction and then stopped. It couldn’t hurt to talk, even if it was to agree it was over. He turned around and set off towards the boatyard. The gates were open and Lloyd’s car was there. He headed for the workshop and was surprised to find the door was wide open. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside. There was no one there.

  ‘Lloyd,’ he called. ‘Are you in here?’

  He took a quick look around but the workshop was empty. Whoever had been there, had left in a hurry. It had an abandoned feel. Zak sighed and left, closing the door behind him. Lloyd must have gone somewhere in another vehicle, probably with Ron. They were always together, not that it bothered Zak. He took the quarry road and kept walking until the glint of headlights behind him made him turn around. The lights cast a long shadow in front of him and he waved his hands to make his shadow dance. It made him laugh. The vehicle was travelling slowly and Zak stood still until it drew level. The driver’s window went down. He looked inside and smiled.

  ‘Fancy meeting you here,’ Zak said. He remembered a series of encounters. It was before Lloyd, when things were simple.

  ‘What are you doing here at this time of night?’

  ‘Just walking. I’m going to the quarry and then I’ll go back along the Rocky Coast.’

  ‘Do you want a lift?’

  ‘Why not. I’ve got nothing better to do.’ Zak walked around the car and climbed in. The driver pulled off and headed towards the darkness of the quarry.

  CHAPTER 38

  Tony had overseen the vehicles being stripped of their cargo. It took less than five minutes for their teams to remove the alloys, replace them with normal wheels, and load them back onto the transporter. They’d distributed what needed to be moved and taken the rest to Porthaethwy, a small community under the Menai Bridge, on the Straits. He positioned men on both sides of the water in case the handov
er went wrong. They were hidden from view and ready for their Albanian customers to arrive. He watched the inky waters running right to left. It was almost silent. Only the sound of the odd vehicle crossing the Britannia bridge, further down the Straits, broke the calm. The sound of an engine drifted to him. He watched as a van approached. It slowed down and stopped and the headlights flashed twice. Tony returned the signal. Almost immediately, an inflatable rib approached the slipway beneath the bridge, which towered above them. The Albanians climbed out of the van and bundled two men towards the rib. They were bound, gagged, and blindfolded. One of them fell and was dragged up roughly. Tony recognised the bulking figure of Ron Took. He was taken aback to see them there, especially tied up.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Tony asked himself. ‘That’s Lloyd Jones and his sidekick, Ron Took.’

  ‘What are they doing here?’ Mike asked.

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘Where do you think they’re taking them?’

  ‘Who knows? They’ve obviously pissed off the Albanians. They don’t look like they’re here by choice.’

  ‘Shall we take the gear to them?’ Mike asked.

  ‘No. Let’s wait and see what they’re up to.’

  Ron and Lloyd were forced into the rib and made to sit on the edge. Two of the Albanian men climbed in, shouting orders to the pilot, leaving just two of them on the slipway. One of them gestured to Tony to bring the goods to them. Tony thought about it for a second and then gave the order.

  ‘Drive over.’

  ‘We’re supposed to carry it over,’ Mike said.

  ‘I said drive over.’

  Mike put the vehicle in gear and edged towards the slipway. He stopped ten yards from the Albanians on the dock. Tony slipped a Glock 17 into his waistband and opened the door. Mike followed suit. He grabbed two canvas bags; Mike grabbed another. They walked to the slipway and put them down. The Albanians approached. One of them opened a sports bag and showed them their money. Tony took two bundles out and checked the notes in the centre of the stack to make sure they weren’t fakes. He nodded they were fine and Mike took the bag back to the car.

  ‘What’s going on with them?’ Tony asked.

  ‘Do you know them?’ the Albanian asked.

  ‘This is a small island.’

  ‘They owe us money. We want it.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Tony walked away. ‘Nice doing business with you.’

  Tony took a last look at the two men and shook his head. He felt sorry for their families. Lloyd’s dad had been friendly with his father when they were younger. Part of him wanted to help them but he knew he couldn’t. He had men hidden, so would they. They couldn’t risk a shootout, there was too much money at stake and besides that, the Albanians were nutters. Upset them and they’ll go for your family and they won’t stop until they’re all dead. Whatever Lloyd Jones had done, he would have to pay for it himself. Tony had tried to give him some advice years before but he’d ignored it. Lloyd always thought he knew better. He’d tried to step up to the big league and the big league had a different approach to rules. There were no rules.

  CHAPTER 39

  Alan walked into the operations room at Holyhead Station. It looked like it had years before when the station was fully operational. He felt like he’d come home. Most of his team were gathered and already distributing the list of names, compiled by Pamela Stone. There were over seventy buys from fifteen dealers across the island. They had targeted names that appeared on the list more than three times. Four of the people on the list were inside and one of them was dead.

  ‘We’ve whittled it down to ten names, eight males, two females. They’ve all got form,’ a detective said. Alan couldn’t remember his name but he knew he was from St Asaph.

  ‘The rest are unknown, even to officers from the island,’ another added.

  ‘Let me have a look over them again,’ Alan said, leaning over the screen. He shook his head. ‘I don’t recognise them. The names on here are the next generation of dealers. Concentrate on the ten names for now. We can always expand the search later.’ He took off his coat and hung it on the back of a chair. ‘Has anyone ordered breakfast?’

  ‘Breakfast?’ Kim said. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You know. The stuff you eat in a morning.’

  ‘I know what it is. I didn’t know you wanted me to organise breakfast for the team.’

  ‘My mistake,’ Alan said. ‘You didn’t know because I haven’t asked you yet. How many officers have we got here right now?’

  ‘Forty-five, including you.’

  ‘Let’s order bacon or sausage sandwiches for everyone. Call the Empire Café, Dave,’ Alan said. ‘We want everyone to know we’re here. Ordering forty-five butties to be delivered to the police station, should get the tongues wagging. Everyone in town will know we’re here by lunchtime.’

  ‘Will do. Shall I order half and half.’

  ‘Yep. That’s fine.’

  ‘Brown or red sauce?’

  ‘Pervert,’ Alan said. ‘Brown sauce is for breakfast. Red is for chips only. And don’t let me hear you talking like that again.’

  ‘Yes guv. Sorry guv.’

  ‘Okay, everyone,’ Alan said, calling the team to heel. ‘Developments overnight please, Kim.’

  ‘The search for Brian Hindley has restarted, two teams of divers and a coast guard launch but there’s nothing new to report as yet.’

  ‘How many people have come forward from the radio appeal?’

  ‘Dozens but most of them aren’t in the time frame we’re looking for. We’ve narrowed it down to eight credible witnesses.’

  ‘How many have mentioned the woman with the chocolate Labrador?’

  ‘Four.’

  ‘But no one knows who she is?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Put an appeal on Facebook and Twitter for owners of chocolate labs. Someone knows a neighbour or family member with that type of dog.’

  ‘Shall we focus on the island?’

  ‘She may have been a tourist. Widen it. We need to speak to that lady.’

  ‘Will do.’

  ‘Is anything back from forensics?’

  ‘The rope used to tie the UCs has been identified as a brand imported from China. It’s sold in chandlers and widely used in the fishing industry across Europe,’ Andy said. He was in charge of the evidence log. ‘The wellington boots are from a batch ordered by Wylfa Power Station from an online company called Welly-king. Apparently, they over estimated what they needed and a few dozen pairs ended up on the island’s car boot sales. Pamela said she would have some more results back this morning.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘What time are Simon and Kerry interviewing Glen Price?’

  ‘Ten o’clock. They got his phone records late on last night. Kerry said she was going to stay up and go through them.’

  ‘Good timing. Chase up the interview notes from Halewood. They’ll make interesting reading. We might find a motive.’

  Forty-minutes later, a phone rang. Kim picked it up.

  ‘It’s the reception desk. Breakfast has arrived.’

  ‘Grab a sandwich everyone and then let’s track down those dealers. We’ll debrief at seven tonight.’ Alan’s mobile rang. He looked at the screen. ‘Morning, Bob,’ he said. ‘Give me some good news please.’

  ‘I’m afraid I haven’t got any good news,’ Bob said. The tone of his voice reinforced that it wasn’t. ‘We’ve got another body.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Alan muttered. ‘Where?’

  ‘In the quarry. A dog walker spotted it floating in the pit this morning. We’ve pulled him out. He’s a local lad, Zak Edwards. He’s been stabbed multiple times.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Alan muttered. A cardboard box full of sandwiches was being distributed. Kim put a bacon in front of him. He shook his head and she swapped it for sausage. ‘Are CSI there?’

  ‘Yes. Pamela Stone is processing the body now. She’s saying it was a frenzied attack.’

/>   ‘Bob, don’t let his name leak out until we’re ready. I don’t want his family turning up at the scene.’

  ‘Only me, you, and the officers at the scene know who he is.’

  ‘Okay. We’ll be there in the time it takes me to eat a sausage brechdan,’ Alan said. ‘Although I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.’

  ‘Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,’ Bob said. ‘Enjoy your breakfast.’

  CHAPTER 40

  Simon and Kerry opened the door to the interview room at Caernarfon station. Glen Price was sitting next to his solicitor, Tudor Owen, a handsome man with a taste for Hugo Boss suits and Gucci shoes. His aftershave was choking. Simon had had dealings with him on a few cases. He was a decent criminal lawyer with a menagerie of crooked clients. His practice made most of its money from the drudgery of insurance claims, conveyancing, and probate. He wondered why an engineer from Jaguar had ever engaged the services of a lawyer like Tudor. Glen Price looked nervous. Tudor looked serious; he took off his glasses and shook Simon’s hand.

  ‘Detective Brady, always a pleasure,’ Tudor said, revealing new veneers.

  ‘Likewise, Tudor. This is Sergeant Leach,’ Simon said.

  ‘Call me Kerry.’ She shook his hand and noticed the lack of a wedding ring.