‘There’s no point in discussing what we think a woman like this was doing running around the waste ground in such skimpy attire,’ Jonathan said. ‘We can only guess at how or why she died. She might have tripped and fallen headlong.’
‘She was probably drunk,’ someone added.
‘Possibly,’ Jonathan replied. ‘We can all draw our own conclusions about what she was doing here, but what we really need to do is keep back and alert the authorities to our discovery.’
William was already on his phone, summoning the police. There was a long pause while he listened to a voice on the other end of the line. One of the women in the group began to cry loudly. Several others tried to comfort her as William explained where they were as accurately as he could, while Jonathan fed him information.
‘They’ve asked us to wait here and to move around as little as possible,’ William said when he finished talking on the phone.
‘Does that mean they think she was murdered?’ one of the women asked, wide-eyed.
They all stared at the body in uneasy silence. Her exposed buttocks drew their gaze like a magnet. A fly buzzed around the dead woman’s bare legs and Yvonne turned away, unable to watch any longer. They seemed to be waiting for a very long time, but at last they heard voices and two uniformed police officers appeared on the path. One of them shepherded the group away from the body and back to the road, where they huddled together, shivering. Such a chilly winter day was perfect for a brisk walk, but too cold for standing around, and the wind had picked up while they had been waiting. Meanwhile, the other policeman was on his phone. Following another hiatus, a lot of people seemed to materialise at the same time, and the ramblers were herded towards the police vehicles where they were questioned by uniformed constables.
Yvonne was asked for her contact details, and a description of how the body had been discovered. Around her, she could hear the buzz of conversation as other members of the walking group recounted their experience. She caught snatches of their accounts as they described their discovery: ‘horrible’, and ‘shocking’ and ‘unbelievable’. All at once, Yvonne felt herself trembling and she burst into tears.
‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered. ‘I’m not usually like this. But that poor dead woman… lying in the mud like that…’
‘Yvonne’s a bit fragile. Her husband passed away a few months ago,’ she heard Jonathan say.
But that wasn’t what had upset her. She struggled to explain that death should not be devoid of dignity. When a person died, their body ought to be treated with respect. It was heartbreaking to think of the woman’s remains lying there all alone in the woods, a prey to scavengers and insects.
‘I wish we’d found her sooner,’ Yvonne said. ‘It doesn’t seem fair. God knows how long she’d been lying here, all on her own, and no one even knew.’
‘Someone might have known,’ Jonathon pointed out grimly.
2
Detective Chief Inspector Eileen Duncan called a briefing early that morning. Looking around the room, Geraldine was surprised she couldn’t see Ian Peterson, her fellow detective inspector and, until recently, her boyfriend. Although their recent split had been her decision, Ian remained constantly in her thoughts. She knew she had made a serious mistake in ending their relationship, but had not yet had a chance to discuss the situation with him. Eileen introduced a new addition to the team, Detective Sergeant Matthew Bailey. Geraldine turned to observe a tall, slim, dark-haired officer who was standing next to her. His relaxed smile slightly at odds with his penetrating eyes, his alert gaze lingered on Geraldine for a few seconds. Preoccupied with wondering where Ian was, she returned her new colleague’s stare without returning his smile. As his gaze continued to travel around the room, Geraldine watched him. Clean shaven with pointed nose and chin, he had thin black brows and dark eyes, and bore himself with the confidence of a good-looking man in his early thirties.
Eileen’s next words shocked Geraldine. ‘Matthew is stepping in to help out while Ian is away.’
‘Where’s Ian?’ a young constable called Naomi asked.
‘Another force needed an experienced officer from out of the area to help on a specific case,’ Eileen explained. ‘Ian may be gone for some time.’
‘Where has he gone?’ Naomi asked.
A couple of officers smiled knowingly. Not for the first time, Geraldine wondered whether Ian and Naomi had enjoyed a brief fling, perhaps before Geraldine herself had arrived in York. It was not generally known that Geraldine and Ian had been living together for a few months, although that relationship was now over. They had been very discreet, but she was sure some of their colleagues suspected they had become an item, albeit briefly. Several officers cast sympathetic glances at her and she felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
Wishing she had not heard about Ian’s departure in full view of all her colleagues, Geraldine looked ahead steadily and hoped no one would notice her discomfort. Aware that her friend Detective Sergeant Ariadne Croft was looking at her, Geraldine focused on keeping her expression impassive. She wondered how people in other jobs coped in such situations when they had not been trained to conceal their feelings. But few other jobs would see a colleague whisked away without notice to an untraceable destination.
‘I’m not at liberty to pass on any further information, other than to tell you that Ian asked me if he could go. He said he would welcome the change.’
‘A nice sabbatical,’ someone joked.
‘How long will he be gone?’ Naomi asked, with a hint of urgency in her voice.
‘He agreed to come back here once his current job is finished, but I can’t tell you how long he’s likely to be away. Possibly until the spring.’
Geraldine hid her dismay. It was only January and spring was at least a couple of months away.
‘He’s been called away to serve on a special project, and I’m afraid that’s as much as I’m authorised to say,’ Eileen added with a tight smile. ‘Now, let’s get back to work. Matthew has been brought up to speed on the case. So come on, we have work to do.’
A few of her colleagues muttered that Ian must be working undercover, and Geraldine nodded uneasily. It could hardly be a coincidence that Ian had left York so soon after she had thrown him out of her flat. If he had requested a transfer, he might never return. Distracted by not knowing when she might see Ian again, she found it difficult to focus on what the Detective Chief Inspector was saying.
‘We have an identity for the dead woman,’ Eileen continued, pursing her lips and glaring around the room.
‘She looks tense,’ Matthew muttered to Geraldine.
‘Don’t worry, she’s always like that,’ she replied under her breath. ‘She treats us like schoolchildren.’
Matthew grinned, and Eileen’s glare came to rest on Geraldine who lowered her eyes.
‘Her DNA has been on the database for years,’ Eileen went on. ‘Her real name is Pansy Banks, although she works under the name of Luscious.’
Someone in the room sniggered. ‘Nothing very luscious about her now.’
Eileen grunted.
‘Show some respect, please,’ Geraldine blurted out. ‘The woman’s dead.’
‘She was a sex worker,’ Eileen went on in an even tone. ‘It looks as though one of her clients lost patience with her, but until we have the results of the post mortem and the tox report, we are not going to rush to any conclusions as to whether this was an unlawful killing or an accidental death. In the meantime, we’re looking for any relatives who are not estranged from her.’
‘Poor woman,’ Matthew murmured, and Geraldine instantly warmed to him.
‘Did she have any children?’ Ariadne asked.
‘A daughter living with grandparents since she was born ten years ago, and a son, taken into care seven years ago,’ Eileen replied. ‘Probably just as well,’ she added with a scowl. ‘There
may have been others,’ she added, shaking her head.
Although she would have preferred to work with her friend Ariadne, Geraldine was not unhappy to find herself partnered with the new sergeant, Matthew, who impressed her as an intelligent and sympathetic colleague and a good addition to the team. It wasn’t his fault he was there in place of Ian.
‘Have you been in York long?’ he asked her as they left the police station together.
‘Quite a while,’ she replied vaguely, adding that she had been working in London before she moved north.
He gave her an easy smile. ‘Ah, London,’ he said. ‘It’s tough down there, and from what I hear it’s getting worse all the time.’
He gave a mock shudder.
‘Where were you working before?’ she asked.
They chatted guardedly about their circumstances as they walked to the car and she learned that he was separated from his wife who lived with their two children in Leeds.
‘I decided it was time for a change, so when this opportunity came up, I applied at once and turns out I was first in line.’ He smiled. ‘It works perfectly for me, because I can get back to see my kids whenever I want.’ He paused. ‘Their mother and I didn’t part on bad terms, so visiting is fairly relaxed. To be honest, she’s only too pleased when I take them off her hands for an afternoon. That was part of the problem. That I wasn’t around enough, you know how it is. I didn’t spend enough time with the kids. Now she’s found herself another partner and I still get to see my kids more or less whenever I can get away. It’s not exactly ideal, not what I wanted, but we all rub along okay now we’ve adjusted to the new situation. How about you?’
‘I’ve never been married,’ she replied.
‘Wedded to the job?’
‘Like a nun,’ she said tartly.
3
‘You’ll find we’re a friendly bunch here,’ Jack said with a grin.
He was a short broad-shouldered man with greying hair; the lower half of his lined face was concealed behind a droopy moustache and straggly beard, above which his eyes gazed intently at Ian. Dressed in a worn leather jacket and threadbare jeans, even sitting down he exuded energy.
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘It’s Christian names or nicknames with us here, Ian, and senior officers are Guv or Boss. No need for formality.’
‘Right you are, Guv,’ Ian replied.
‘We were all pleased when we heard you’d agreed to join us in London. At least one of our teams is crying out for extra manpower and we’re desperately reaching out to find experienced officers to help. We’ve got a massive op going on and are running it on a skeleton staff, which is nothing unusual. It’s a joke compared to what we need if we’re to do our work properly. You’ve come at just the right time, and you’ve been highly recommended. I’ve seen your record and I’m sure you’ll be a great asset to us.’
‘Thank you very much, Guv.’ Ian returned Jack’s smile. ‘I’ve got a feeling this is going to be interesting.’
His colleague grunted. ‘Don’t get too excited about it. Mostly it involves surveillance work. Some officers volunteer because they’re looking for thrills but they soon realise it’s mainly just sitting around, watching and waiting. Others have a personal reason for joining, usually on account of a friend or relative who started using. Not everyone is completely honest about their motivation for signing up.’
He glanced quizzically at Ian.
‘I’m not in any way personally affected by any of this,’ Ian responded quickly.
It seemed wise to keep his personal issues to himself, and he saw no need to explain why he was particularly keen to work with the drug squad covering North London.
‘I want to do my bit to help protect vulnerable people,’ he said. ‘As far as I’m concerned, it’s just another pernicious crime that needs to be stamped out, or at least kept under control to some extent. And it’s not just the drugs. Addicts commit other crimes too, of course. Any officer worth his salt would be keen to clean up the streets and see the dealers and pushers behind bars.’
‘Good,’ Jack said. ‘Officers who aren’t personally affected by the fallout from drugs tend to be more reliable. But don’t forget, the work isn’t as dramatic as you might think, and it can be dangerous. You’ve been warned about what you’re getting yourself into.’
Ian nodded. He had undergone seemingly endless psychological testing, as well as focused training, before being given a place on the squad. Now he hoped he wasn’t making a terrible mistake.
‘It’s not too late to withdraw if you’re not comfortable with the risks,’ Jack continued. ‘Believe me, they haven’t been overstated. And never forget, an undercover officer who cracks is a danger to his colleagues as well as to himself.’
‘When do I start?’ Ian replied promptly. ‘All I’ve been told is that I’ll be working with an undercover team conducting surveillance on members of a drugs ring.’
‘You’ll find out the details soon enough. There’s a briefing in ten minutes so get all your paperwork sorted and we can make a start.’
Ian was relieved that his superior officer had not quizzed him in any serious way about why he had joined the drug squad, because his reasons were in no way disinterested, as he had claimed. The truth was he was hoping to track down former associates of Geraldine’s twin sister Helena so he could find Helena’s former dealer. Only when the dealer had agreed to leave her alone could Helena come out of hiding and see Geraldine again. Ian had given up trying to glean any information from the police team responsible for spiriting her away to a new identity, where her former dealer would never find her. He hoped a network of drug dealers might leak information more readily than the police did. Until Geraldine was free to resume seeing her sister, Ian understood she would never forgive him for having saved Helena at the expense of her relationship with Geraldine. He had acted from the best of intentions, but Geraldine had been furious that she could not see Helena, who was not only her twin, but her only surviving blood relation.
‘You could do with a haircut and a shave,’ Jack said, gazing at Ian with narrowed eyes. ‘We don’t want you looking in any way memorable. And you’ll have to drop your air of respectability. Have you got a leather jacket? If not, we can probably find you something here. Now follow me. Come and meet the best drug-busting outfit in the country, in fact probably the best in the whole world. We’re not interested in small fry,’ he continued as he escorted Ian down a long, dark corridor. ‘We’re the best at what we do, but we know we’re fighting a losing battle. We tread a fine line here. We’re not involved in seizing drugs when they enter the country. Every time the boys at Customs and Excise seize a haul, that’s a win for us all. But our job is to stop the distribution of drugs once they’re here to prevent the gear reaching the streets.’
‘Surely it’s more important to stop drugs from entering the country?’ Ian replied. ‘Isn’t that where whatever manpower we’ve got should be focused?’
‘Fuck off and work for Customs and Excise then. Our job is to follow the mules along the chain right to the top. We’re after Mr Big, the bigger the better. So we let the couriers run and put them under surveillance, taking them out along the way, hoping they’ll lead us as far up the chain as it’s possible to go. But we never get to the real big boys, the international drug barons, the top players, more’s the pity. We just don’t have the manpower or resources to combat wealth and power at that level. They have protection,’ he added cryptically. ‘I’m talking more money and more corruption than you can possibly imagine. But we can and do have an impact on the charlie and smack that flood into our cities, and that’s not going to happen if we only go after the little guys. There’s no point in taking them out. They’re easily replaced. They’re like ants. No, it’s the men directing the operation we’re after, and they’re elusive bastards. The higher up the chain we go, the more difficult it is to find the
m. But we have our modest successes.’
As they were talking, Jack led Ian into a large room where a group of detectives were seated at their desks or standing around chatting. They were a miscellaneous crew: men of different ages, some with ponytails and earrings, others wearing faded black leather jackets, a few skinheads, a Hell’s Angel, and an assortment of bare arms, some brawny others skinny, adorned with leather bracelets and generic tattoos. The women were equally diverse: long-haired hippy chicks in flowing caftans, girls in short skirts, and girls in ripped jeans, most of them pale and thin and sickly-looking. But beneath the shoddy outward show, the carefully curated crew were all pursuing the same goal.
A very faint whiff of body odour mingled with the musty smell of old leather and air freshener, and there was a muffled drone of many voices talking quietly. Occasionally the hum of conversation was disrupted by a burst of laughter or a voice raised in protest.
‘No, you didn’t,’ a shrill voice cried out suddenly, laughing. ‘You never did! I don’t believe it. You’re having me on.’
Against one wall there was a long row of cabinets. Behind glass doors various paraphernalia were visible: opium pipes, slabs of dark brown cannabis, along with syringes and spoons, leaves and plants, sheets of LSD tabs, jars of cannabis oil, packets and pots labelled Ketamine, MDMA, H and many more, all seized in drugs busts and collectively worth millions of pounds on the street.
‘Here they are, the gang,’ Jack said, waving at his assortment of colleagues. ‘You can use the desk over by the window at the end.’
An officious-looking man scurried across the room to intercept Ian as he walked to his desk.
‘Welcome to the drug squad. I deal with the team equipment.’ He flourished a form and held out a black biro. ‘Sign here. And here.’
‘What’s this for?’
‘Any equipment you take off the premises. It’s just a formality,’ he added, seeing Ian hesitate. ‘Only take what you absolutely need, and never remove anything without authorisation.’
Deep Cover Page 2
