Deep Cover

by Leigh Russell

  But as he reached the club, his self-assurance faded and, for the first time, he seemed to see clearly what he was doing. A police officer entering the control centre of a major criminal outfit risked more than his life if his cover was blown. It was easy to tell himself that he was mentally strong enough to withstand physical torture. The truth was, he had never been tested in that way and had no idea how he might hold out. Hesitating as he drew near, he was tempted to turn on his heel and walk back the way he had come. But Jack knew where he was and what he was doing and a sense of shame prevented him from leaving without finishing the job.

  Frank was lounging around in the street outside, as though he was a punter waiting for the club to open for the evening. Ian recognised him immediately, leaning against the wall, his eyes almost closed against a thread of smoke rising from a cigarette butt lodged in the corner of his mouth. He straightened up at Ian’s approach, and shifted so that he was blocking the entrance.

  Nodding at Frank, Ian spoke as boldly as he could. ‘I’m here to report back to Tod.’ He paused before adding in a low voice, ‘Nick’s been dealt with.’

  With a grunt of exasperation, Frank flicked his cigarette to the ground, and the end glowed orange for an instant. Unsure whether the bouncer was about to let him pass or attack him, Ian tensed, ready to defend himself, although he suspected the other man was armed and would not hesitate to shoot him, perhaps to avenge his former colleague’s death. Just at that moment, Jenny appeared on the pavement right behind Frank. For a second, Ian didn’t recognise her behind her lurid make-up: kohl circles around her eyes and lips the colour of blood. Her jeans had been replaced by a denim skirt that barely covered her knickers, and her upper body was swathed in a fake fur jacket. Stepping forward, she flung her arms around Ian and he stifled a cough at the overpowering scent of her cheap perfume, cloying in its sweetness.

  ‘Don’t show him you’re scared of him,’ she warned Ian in a barely audible whisper, as she nibbled at his ear. ‘I could smell your fear from halfway up the street.’

  ‘Later, Tallulah,’ Ian replied loudly.

  He wanted to thank her for intervening, but Frank had edged closer and Ian was afraid of being overheard. A man who needed the protection of a woman was easy pickings. Pushing Jenny away roughly, he turned to Frank and clenched his fists, scowling as ferociously as he could.

  ‘This way,’ Frank said.

  He led Ian through the public area of the club, now eerily quiet: roulette tables stilled, deafening music silenced. Chairs stood neatly arranged at tables, and a uniformed waiter stood behind the bar, polishing glasses and humming softly to himself. He barely glanced up as Frank and Ian passed, unlike Tod who fixed his eyes on them as they walked through the baize-covered door. The scar that ran down Tod’s cheek looked more livid than Ian remembered it, perhaps because the light from the window fell directly across that side of Tod’s face, but his dark eyes stared with the same cool authority. Dressed as smartly as before in a dark suit and tie, apart from his scar he looked like a respectable businessman. It was hard to believe that the last time Ian had seen him Tod had casually ordered Nick’s execution. Now he looked at Ian, his eyebrows raised in tacit enquiry.

  ‘It’s done, Boss,’ Ian said quietly.

  Tod nodded. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Fuck knows,’ Ian replied airily. ‘You’ll have to send a team of divers into the Thames if you want to find him. All I know is they’ll find him at the bottom somewhere. I filled his pockets with rocks before I tossed him in. He sank like a stone.’ He grinned.

  ‘How do I know you’re not bullshitting me?’ Tod snapped, leaning forward in his chair and staring at Ian. ‘What’s to say you didn’t bottle it?’

  Frank grunted appreciatively and took a menacing step towards Ian as though itching to finish him off. It occurred to Ian that Frank might have a soft spot for Tallulah. That could complicate matters. On the other hand, if it was the case, they might be able to exploit it to their advantage. Making a mental note to ask Jenny about her relationship with Frank, he took out his phone. It had been carefully prepared to deal with such a response from Tod, and was pre-set with appropriate links and images, mostly pornographic, together with a few contacts, such as a violent thug like Archie might keep on his mobile. Scrolling through, he found an image of Nick playing dead, and held it up. At a nod from Tod, Frank snatched the handset and handed it over to his boss. Ian held his breath, knowing that he would be in trouble if Tod examined the phone too closely, or refused to return it. Ian gave a nonchalant yawn, while Tod studied the screen. He seemed to look at it for a very long time. At last he nodded and held the phone out to Ian.

  ‘Why did you put the body in the river?’ he demanded.

  ‘What did you want me to do with him?’ Ian replied breezily. ‘Send him to you in the post, gift wrapped? Somehow I didn’t think you’d want him back. Was I wrong?’

  To Ian’s relief, Tod burst into noisy laughter. ‘Way to go, Archie,’ he said. ‘Way to go.’

  Ian shrugged, more relieved than he dared to show. He swallowed hard, tasting sour vomit in his throat, and had to fight to control his shaking.

  17

  Ian dared not make a move until he was on his own with Tod, but Frank continued to hover nearby. At the periphery of his vision, Ian was aware of Frank scowling suspiciously at him. Ian pretended not to notice the thug fingering his gun and licking his lips.

  Tod nodded at Frank. ‘Stay cool,’ he said. ‘Archie’s my man.’ He stood up and came around to their side of the desk to slap Ian on the back. ‘Isn’t that right, Archie?’

  Ian smiled. Without a word, he lowered his head deferentially. Afraid his voice would betray his fear, he couldn’t trust himself to speak.

  ‘I ain’t got no faith in this fucker,’ Frank growled, taking a step towards them so that he was almost touching Ian. ‘And I don’t think you should either, Boss. You know nothing about him. He just tips up from nowhere, and all at once you’re acting like he’s family. He’s a stranger. What the fuck is he doing here anyways?’

  ‘Well, he’s not going to do me any harm while you’re around, is he?’ Tod replied, laughing. ‘And he didn’t blow in from nowhere. Tallulah introduced him.’

  That was true. But Ian was growing increasingly anxious. If his cover was blown, not only would he end up in the river with a bullet in his brain, but Jenny would too, for having introduced him to the boss. Somehow Ian had to get Tod on his own. He was tempted to try and orchestrate a distraction, but it was difficult to see how he could arrange a disturbance that would result in Frank being ordered to sort it out. Tod was far more likely to send Ian to help the bouncers deal with a fracas in the club. Frank needed to meet with an accident, not fatal, but enough to render him useless as a bodyguard. While Ian was speculating about the best way to achieve that without drawing attention to himself, events overtook him.

  A skinny bouncer rushed into the office, his face sweaty. ‘We got a situation, Boss,’ he announced.

  ‘What the fuck?’ Frank growled, eyeing the man suspiciously.

  Ian was faintly reassured to discover that Frank distrusted everyone.

  ‘Pipe down and let the man speak,’ Tod snapped and Frank subsided, scowling.

  ‘Word is there’s a snitch, Boss.’

  Frank turned to glare at Ian who ignored him, and kept his gaze severely on the speaker.

  ‘What do you mean? Who’s squealing?’ Tod demanded.

  His face looked flushed, and he punched the palm of his left hand with his right fist, clearly agitated.

  ‘Who’s the snitch? Who the fuck is it?’ Tod repeated with growing fury.

  The bouncer shrugged. ‘Fuck knows who it is. I told you what I heard, that’s all. There’s a snitch on the staff here.’

  ‘Who told you?’ Ian asked, taking a step forward. ‘Find out what they know. They must know something.
’

  He had an uneasy feeling that Jenny might be in trouble.

  ‘If you ask me, it was Fat Neddy,’ the bouncer replied. ‘He helped the filth bust that fucker who was trying to move in on us.’

  Tod nodded. ‘Stupid fucker,’ he muttered. ‘Thought he could take over my turf.’

  ‘Anyway, Fat Neddy said he was given a heads up there’s a snitch right here at the club,’ the bouncer said. ‘He seems a bit too friendly with the filth if you ask me.’

  ‘No one’s asking you,’ Tod replied.

  ‘You leave Fat Neddy out of it,’ Frank said. ‘Am I the only one to see what a coincidence it is, hearing about a snitch just when Archie pitches up?’ he added, not unreasonably.

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ Ian retorted, deeming a counter attack to be the best course of action. ‘You think they’d want to advertise a grass as soon as he arrived? It’s more likely to be someone who’s been here a while, someone who’s been attracting attention because he acts like a dick.’

  ‘No one’s advertising it,’ Frank replied. ‘It was a narc who passed on the info.’ He turned to Tod. ‘Can’t you see, we’ve had nothing but trouble ever since Archie pitched up? Nick never screwed up before he joined us.’

  Frank took a step towards Ian, his face dark with anger, his fists clenched.

  Ian stood his ground and snorted in disgust. ‘Funny sort of filth who murders a bodyguard on the orders of a…’ He hesitated, reluctant to call Tod a criminal to his face. ‘Of his boss,’ he corrected himself. ‘The filth aren’t going to kill people because someone like Tod tells them to.’

  ‘Says who?’ Frank asked. ‘How come you know so much about the filth?’ But he didn’t sound so certain. He turned to Tod. ‘Fat Neddy’s been with us for years. If you ask me, Boss, Archie’s the fucking grass.’

  ‘Well, he didn’t ask you, so shut the fuck up,’ Ian retorted, raising his fist.

  Tod frowned. ‘You can both shut it. I need to think. Now, about this heads-up about a snitch at the club – we need to find out more.’

  ‘Send Frank,’ Ian said promptly. ‘He knows Neddy, and I’m sure Frank is ace at getting people to talk.’

  He gave Frank a respectful nod and the bodyguard grunted his assent. The threat seemed to have fizzled out for the moment, but Ian knew that time was running out, and it wouldn’t be long before Frank rumbled him.

  ‘Well, go on then,’ Tod snapped. ‘Sort it out, Frank. Archie, you stay here with me.’

  ‘Watch your step, fucker,’ Frank warned Ian as he went out, followed by the skinny bouncer.

  Ian looked over at Tod, sitting behind his desk, and smiled. He had to act quickly, and his lies had to be convincing. This might be the only chance he got to speak to Tod alone.

  ‘Here’s the deal, Tod,’ he said, approaching the desk. ‘Don’t move until you’ve heard me out. I said don’t move, if you want to walk out of this office alive.’

  Tod glanced at the door. They both knew Frank wouldn’t be gone for long.

  Ian continued, speaking rapidly. ‘I’m working for the drug squad. Everything you’ve said to me has been recorded and transmitted to a remote site. If I fail to report to my chief remotely every hour, and see him alone and in person, at a predetermined time every day, the recording will be retrieved. It implicates you in drug dealing and murder.’

  ‘But you popped Nick–’ Tod stammered.

  ‘Of course I didn’t.’ Ian laughed. ‘That was a sham. All you saw was some pretty pictures of Nick holding his breath. It was all a set-up. Now listen, if Frank comes back, send him away. If you make any attempt to interfere with my carrying out my duty, I’ll have the DS here in force and it’ll all be over for you. Remember, one missing contact and the alert goes out to my boss. My real boss.’

  Tod’s eyes flickered all over Ian, searching for the device that would alert the drug squad.

  ‘You can’t afford to let anything happen to me. If I don’t contact my chief on the hour, he’ll be all over this place like a rash. Do you understand me?’

  ‘All right, all right. I hear you. I hear you and I’m not a fucking moron.’

  ‘Well, you are if you believe my story about a secret recording device,’ Ian thought.

  But Tod was looking pensive. ‘Why haven’t you sent in the black suits then?’ he asked, glaring shrewdly at Ian. ‘If it’s true you’ve got enough to bang me up, what are you waiting for?’

  It was a fair question. Ian knew his next step was a gamble, but he had no choice if he wanted to retrieve Geraldine’s sister from her enforced change of identity.

  ‘No one’s listening to us right now, because there’s a deal of my own I want to make,’ Ian replied quickly. ‘A deal that’s just between the two of us. It could save your skin if you give me what I want.’

  Tod visibly relaxed. This was the kind of language he understood. ‘Go on,’ he said softly. ‘I’m listening.’

  Just then the door burst open and Frank entered, red-faced and agitated.

  ‘I can’t find out a bloody thing, Boss,’ he blurted out.

  ‘Sod off,’ Tod replied quietly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Go. I need to kick something around with Archie.’

  ‘But, Boss–’

  ‘Did you hear me?’ Tod asked, his voice rising in anger. ‘I told you to sod off!’

  ‘Straight up, Boss, Archie’s a grass. Stands to reason. We had no grief before he pitched up and now Nick’s gone and word is there’s a snitch in our crew. It’s all happened since Archie arrived. We need to ditch him.’

  Frank’s hand slid inside his jacket, fingering his gun. Ian stared at Tod, willing him to send Frank away, afraid that he was going to order the bodyguard to shoot him. Within the hour, Ian himself might be at the bottom of a river, where Tod believed Nick was now.

  18

  The toxicology report was finally in. Geraldine let out a low whistle as she scanned through the details on her way to a briefing. Ariadne, who was walking beside her, glanced at the document.

  ‘No wonder it took them so long to complete,’ Ariadne said. ‘It’s the longest tox report I’ve ever seen by a mile. It’s going to take me the best part of a day just to read it.’

  ‘It must have taken days to write it, let alone the time it would have taken to analyse all the substances floating around in her bloodstream,’ Matthew agreed, as he caught up with them in the corridor. ‘It’s a miracle she managed to walk around with that cocktail of drugs floating around inside her.’

  ‘Maybe that’s what really killed her,’ Geraldine said thoughtfully.

  ‘And which of the drugs do you suppose moved her body to the woods?’ Matthew asked. ‘Did the LSD enable her to fly there? Or perhaps it was Red Bull that gave her wings.’

  Geraldine laughed.

  ‘Well,’ Eileen announced grimly, when the team were assembled. ‘We have a real smorgasbord here.’ She turned and reeled off the list from the toxicology report displayed on the screen behind her. ‘She must have been high as a kite.’

  ‘I’ve never even heard of some of them,’ a young constable said.

  ‘She would have been completely out of it, and hallucinating, if she was even conscious,’ Eileen said. ‘It’s a miracle she was able to function at all with that lot inside her. The tox report certainly makes interesting reading. You’ve all had a chance to study it.’

  ‘Hardly,’ Ariadne muttered.

  ‘Apart from that, I called you in to share some further information.’

  Everyone listened intently as the detective chief inspector announced that the analysis was back on unidentified skin cells discovered under the dead woman’s fingernails. Examination of DNA revealed the source of the cells to be a male Caucasian adult, with brown hair and brown eyes. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was a strong indication that before Pansy
died she had been involved in some kind of physical encounter with a man. It was not a great leap from that to surmise that he might have been her killer.

  ‘It’s amazing she could even stand upright, looking at the number of drugs that were in her system when she died,’ Eileen said.

  Geraldine nodded. ‘Given the tox report, her head injury could have been accidental.’

  ‘Her injuries confirm that she hit her head when she fell over sideways,’ Matthew said.

  ‘But someone was with her when it happened, someone whose skin cells were under her fingernails when she died,’ Ariadne said.

  ‘And that someone didn’t report her death, but moved her body and hid it in Acomb Wood,’ Geraldine added.

  Eileen grunted. ‘It’s quite likely she was deposited in Acomb Wood by the man she scratched. We need to find him.’

  ‘He didn’t want her body to be found in the place where he’d killed her,’ Geraldine said slowly, thinking aloud. ‘That means it’s unlikely she died on the street, or he wouldn’t have risked being seen moving her. He would have just left her there and done a runner. Given the nature of her injuries, it looks as though she must have fallen from a standing position, because she badly bruised her shoulder, elbow and hip when she hit her head. So she couldn’t have been in a car when she fell, and she wasn’t out in the woods, because she hit herself on smooth surfaces, not on a tree. So even if she wasn’t actually killed by the man she scratched, he was probably there when she died and was probably the one who moved her body. She was a sex worker, so he might have picked her up and taken her home with him. That would explain why he had to move her body without reporting it. He didn’t want it to get out that he had taken a prostitute home with him.’