The George Elms Trilogy Box Set

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘I was always sober, sir. Now I’m just a little more sober.’

  ‘On top form then, old boy.’ Whittaker led the way back to his office. He tasked DS Richards with getting the update about this latest incident. She nodded and left them to it.

  ‘Push the door shut, George.’

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to be in there getting that update yourself, sir? I can stick around.’

  ‘No. God, no. I mean . . . yes, I should, but I just wanted to push the door shut for a few minutes and organise my thoughts. I reckoned that telling you what I know might be a good way of doing that.’

  ‘Okay. Sounds like you’ve had a lot going on. What’s the deal?’

  ‘Where to start? So we get a call — well, a number of calls — from members of the public reporting gunshots and car crashes on London Road, Dover shortly after 10 a.m. yesterday. Sunday of all days, the day of rest.’

  ‘We both know criminals don’t play by those rules, sir.’

  ‘We do indeed. In fact, it seems to have become a popular day for major incidents. So, anyway, patrols are sent. There’s a patrol already parked up at the Morrison’s store not far from the reported incident and they hear the commotion for themselves. And then I’ll be damned if they don’t find a baby left on the bonnet of their car! There are more gunshots and much confusion. So we’re all chasing our arses and one another’s arses, then a crashed car is found on London Road with some poor bastard shot up and lying on the pavement, dead as nails in a door. Then, bugger me if we don’t get more calls, more shots fired but this time in a built-up area nearby. I mean, it’s walking distance, so naturally the calls are linked. Police attend where neighbours have reported the bangs and, sure enough, we find another fella with a hole where one shouldn’t be.’ Whittaker flicked open a blue-backed book he had been carrying. He ran his finger over the page. ‘Stephen Maddocks. He’s well known locally apparently.’

  ‘Stephen Maddocks! Yeah, I know him. Everyone knows Stephen Maddocks, bless him. He’s a bit simple. Got a real obsession with the police.’

  ‘He did.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Well and truly did.’

  ‘Jesus! How the hell did Maddocks get mixed up in this?’

  ‘Well, you can imagine the amount of witness statements and the rest that are outstanding, we’re still piecing it together. Basically it would appear our missing woman initially ran from the car on London Road.’

  ‘Leaving a dead guy?’

  ‘Yes, that’s what we think we know. She’s cut through to the car park and ditched the baby on the police car. Then she kept on running. We can only imagine she was the target for this gunman and she didn’t want to be holding her baby if he caught up with her.’

  ‘Baby?’

  ‘Keep up, George! So she’s carrying a baby girl when she runs. Six months old, tops.’

  ‘Okay. This is getting worse.’

  ‘I know, tell me about it. Poor girl. The baby seems fine. Now . . . the mother . . . we think she ran down the river path where she met with this Stephen Maddocks, who might have offered her his help. He’s probably come out of his house to see what the fuss was about.’

  ‘Probably heard the sirens. He’s one of these people that always seem to turn up at incidents.’

  ‘Every town has one. But, yes, he lives nearby. He was likely walking up the path and she’s run right into him. He’s happy to help and somehow the gunman follows her into his house.’

  ‘He was shot at home?’

  ‘Yes. It looks like he was shot through his own front door. There’s also blood in the rear courtyard. The running theory being that this is how the woman escaped. We assume she has picked up an injury of sorts.’

  ‘She really was having a bad day.’

  ‘She was. And it has gotten considerably worse. We lost her from that point, but witnesses told us that the dead man, before he died, was shouting out to her and he was calling her Jenny. That’s all we know about her at this point. So I did an appeal on the telly box and I called her Jenny — as if we knew a lot more than we do.’

  ‘Makes sense.’

  ‘You wouldn’t think so. I’ve come in for a little flack for that from our more senior colleagues. I wanted it to be a personal appeal. I wanted her to think we know what the hell we are doing, you know?’

  ‘And she got in touch?’

  ‘Someone did on her behalf. We’ve had a few hoaxes, but a call came in to say that the girl was in Dover and the caller was bringing her to the station. On the way, the car was rammed repeatedly by a vehicle that now appears to have been stolen. Our girl’s driver is killed in the impact. We have more gunshots and a female was seen running from the car towards the town. She roughly matches the description of our missing girl — and it has to be her.’

  ‘It does, I agree. Someone’s really got it in for her. What do we know about the man she left behind at the first incident?’

  ‘White male, late thirties. Dead. That’s about all we know for certain right now. The car is a hire car, no IDs found. The hire car company have provided a driving licence number — it exists on the DVLA system but for someone entirely different and the photo sure as hell doesn’t match.’

  ‘I see. So, a fake licence with a doctored image. That’s not a good sign.’

  ‘It isn’t. It appears it was a good fake too. The sort professional criminals might source.’

  ‘Did you use the lantern?’ The lantern was a fingerprint scanner attached to a mobile phone, a way of identifying people on the spot. It was expensive and in most cases rendered unlawful by legislation but in circumstances like these it could be invaluable.

  ‘We did. No match on the system. We’ve gone with a fast track on the DNA and dental records. But we both know they’re not particularly fast. I think maybe when this is all over I might petition to have the name fast track changed.’

  Neither man had sat down since they had entered the office. Whittaker leant on the back of his chair and George stood opposite, running over the timeline in his mind. Suddenly, it didn’t quite fit.

  ‘The last incident — where the car was rammed — how was it called in?’

  ‘On 1-0-1.’

  ‘Did we get details of the caller?’

  ‘No, they refused.’

  ‘The phone number?’

  ‘We have a mobile phone number, yes. I’m not sure it furthers our cause though. If it’s not a contract phone, there won’t be anyone attached to it.’

  ‘The vehicle was rammed on the way to the police station, right? What I don’t understand is how our offenders knew she was in that car and on her way?’

  ‘Maybe they followed her from Stephen Maddocks’ place?’

  ‘What, the day before? And then they waited for her to get into a car before they rammed her? That doesn’t make sense. These people had been shooting in the street. If they saw her go into a house they’d hardly have any qualms about shooting their way in. Wouldn’t have been the first time, would it?’

  ‘So what are you saying?’

  ‘Have you listened to the 1-0-1 call?’

  ‘No, I don’t know if anyone has. It’s not been mentioned.’

  George stepped to the phone on Whittaker’s desk. He pressed three numbers, an internal extension.

  ‘Jane, hey! It’s George Elms down in Langthorne. I need your help.’

  ‘Don’t you always. You and everyone else today, George. If it isn’t quick and it isn’t urgent then I might have to turn you down for once.’ Jane Adams was a team leader at the Force Control Room. She led the team who could review and provide calls to the police if they formed part of the evidence — which they often did. She was on speakerphone. Whittaker cut in.

  ‘Jane, this is Chief Inspector John Whittaker. Can I just assure you that this phone call falls into both of those categories. I’m stood here with George. The world is falling down around our ears here, I’m sure you’re busy for the same reason.’

 
‘Yes, sir! What can I do for you, sir?’

  George spoke again, ‘Jane, we got a 1-0-1 call today — someone claiming to be with the woman who fled yesterday’s incident. Do you know about it?’

  ‘In Dover? I know the incident. I know there was a call today. We haven’t reviewed it yet.’

  ‘So you haven’t downloaded the WAV file yet?’

  ‘No. We’ve had requests for the others, but not that one. I did ask if it was needed but I was told that one can be done slow-time.’

  ‘Okay. I’m now telling you that this one might be the most important of them all. Can you process this one and send it to Mr Whittaker direct?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I can do it straight away. I just need a minute or two to find the call reference again — it’ll be on a job form.’

  ‘Thanks, Jane. I owe you one.’

  ‘You owe me a lot more than one, George Elms.’

  George grinned at the phone. ‘Noted.’

  The call ended. ‘What do you think this might give us, George?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir. Maybe nothing.’

  Whittaker finally flopped in his seat. George took the invitation to do the same.

  ‘I would offer you a coffee, George, but I’ve run out of people to ask to make it.’

  ‘A man of your stature, sir, and there’s no one left to make you a coffee?’

  ‘I know. Damned travesty is what it is. That will be the subject of another petition, I feel. How are you now anyway? I know this awful business with the wife was on your mind earlier. I need you up for this right now, George.’

  ‘I’m fine. Luckily I can’t deal with two things at once — so I’m more than happy for work to be the thing that consumes me for a bit.’

  ‘Did you get to see your little girl?’

  ‘No. I didn’t, but there was positive news around that. It shouldn’t be so difficult from now on. It’s her birthday tomorrow, this will be the first one in three years that I’ll be able to spend with her.’

  ‘You have the day off?’

  ‘I do, sir. Very much.’

  ‘Well, then, you’ve not got long to sort all this out now, have you?’

  Whittaker’s machine pinged a notification that he had mail. He clicked his mouse. ‘It’s here already.’

  George moved round. ‘There are two files?’ George frowned. One was labelled Inbound 1m20s, the other Outbound 36s.

  Both were attachments to the email in a WAV form. Whittaker clicked on the first and a player popped up. A few seconds of buffering and a female voice could be heard through the computer’s compact speakers. Both men leant in. The woman asked for the police, she told them she had the girl who had run away from the shooting. A female call-taker responded, her tone a little bored. She asked the questions George would expect. The caller wasn’t very forthcoming. She sounded older, sixty plus he guessed, and with a slight accent, maybe south London. They made the arrangements for the girl to be brought to the police station. The call ended.

  Whittaker was sitting back in his chair shaking his head. He looked disappointed.

  ‘That doesn’t really tell us much, George, does it?’

  ‘Not really. What’s the outbound call?’

  Whittaker clicked on the second attachment. This time the FCR representative was a male voice. The informant answered the call and she sounded annoyed. The FCR agent said he was concerned, that he wanted to be sure they got there safely. He said the police officer had asked what car she would be arriving in and from what direction so they could come out and meet them. The informant gave details. She still sounded irritated. The call ended.

  Whittaker huffed. ‘Still nothing of great importance, George.’

  ‘With respect, sir, that’s the most important thing I’ve heard so far.’

  Whittaker straightened in his chair. ‘How so?’

  ‘Why would he need to know the type of car? And the direction they were coming from? And why did someone different call her back? That agent is a leak. He has contact with whoever rammed that vehicle off the road.’

  ‘Well, fuck my old boots! We need to get up there. He needs nicking.’

  ‘That would be my next move.’

  ‘What do you have planned for the next couple of hours, George?’

  George suddenly realised where this was heading. ‘Investigating a murder at a farmhouse, Major. Keeping a promise to a devastated old man.’

  ‘Anything you can put back? I need someone with your ability in front of this lad. I need answers from him, George — and immediately.’

  George sighed. ‘Fine. For you, Major. But remember this! I’ll call Paul Bearn on the way up. He’s going to FLO for my job. He’s not technically trained, sir, but I figured he could handle—’

  Whittaker waved him away. ‘Extraordinary times, George. You do what you have to do. Call me the instant you have something from him. Nobody else. The idea of a leak suddenly makes me feel very nervous.’

  ‘Will do. Can you hit redial and speak to Jane up there? We need to get this boy isolated. Get his personal phone off him and get him into a room.’

  ‘I’ll get him nicked, lord knows there should be enough coppers about up there.’

  ‘I’d rather you held off on that for now, Major. I’d rather speak to him before he realises how much trouble he’s in.’

  ‘Okay, George, I’ll make the call.’

  George lingered deliberately until Whittaker picked up on it.

  ‘Is there something the matter?’

  ‘I need to speak to Emily Ryker. I could do with her shaking some trees for my job.’

  ‘You can call her on the way, George. Or I can speak to her if you want?’

  ‘I’d rather speak to her myself. No disrespect — I’m not sure what I need myself yet and I wanted to talk it out.’

  ‘She’s the intel lead for this shooting, George. Be careful you don’t tuck her up with too much.’

  ‘I tell you what, sir. Let me take her with me to speak with our friend at the control centre. She will still be on the phone. That gives me a car journey to talk to her. And she needs to know the outcome of this conversation anyway.’

  ‘I don’t know, George. I need her on the pulse down here.’

  ‘You know Ryker, sir. She’s on the pulse no matter where she is. Call it a payoff. I’ll assist with talking to our leak and I can use your intel officer for the time it takes to get it done.’

  ‘Fine, George. But she’s there to assist you with this task and then you bring her back. I don’t mind her making a few calls for you, or whatever, but that’s all she can do. I need her full attention on this job.’

  ‘That’s all I need.’

  George stepped out of the office. He was careful to close the door behind him. He could see a few people hovering, Whittaker had been ignoring his phone but he was still in demand. George could hear the door knocking before he had made it to the other side of the room.

  Emily Ryker was in the intel office. She was leaning in close to her screen, her hand resting on her mouse. She had a desk lamp hooked over the top of her screen. George angled it so it shone in her face.

  ‘Jesus, George! You trying to blind me?’

  ‘Only with my beauty.’

  ‘I see. Well, I suggest turning lights off if you want to make yourself look better. Are you sober now at least?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Brilliant. It’s not like there’s anything much going on. You should just be able to find a dark corner somewhere and see this shift out.’

  ‘That would be lovely. Instead I’ve already been to one murder and now I have a task for another. And you are coming with me.’

  Emily backed away from her computer. She lifted her hand from her mouse and pulled her glasses off her face. ‘No can do, George, I’m trying to stay available. I’m hoping there are going to be some significant calls coming in. We’ve got public appeals and source handlers out and about and that’s just for starters. I have each of my fi
ngers in a different pie. The answer’s out there somewhere.’

  ‘It always is, Ryker, and you’ve been warned about the pie thing. We’ve just had a look at two calls from today — the call telling us the missing girl was on her way and then an outbound one from someone at the FCR asking her what type of car she was driving and where she was coming from so he could leak the information to whoever led the ambush.’

  Emily stared at him a little more intently. He could tell she was testing him. ‘This is true?’

  ‘Of course it’s true. I’m on my way to speak to our leak. I want to take you with me.’

  ‘Who is he? I’ll need to get an intel package done for him.’

  ‘Not sure yet. Come find out with me. We’ll talk in the car!’

  ‘I can’t do anything in the car.’

  ‘Exactly. You can’t run away. You can assign the intel package to a minion. Do you want to be trying to find someone relevant on this loser’s Facebook profile, or would you rather be sat opposite him in a room? Your choice.’

  Emily stood up. ‘Fine. But Whittaker might get the hump. He’s been very protective of me. Anyone asking for an update has been sent in my direction. I don’t think he wants to lose me. I’m like his comfort blanket.’

  ‘I’ve just spoken to him. He’s on board. Maybe you’re not as important as you thought.’ George smiled. He was relieved when Emily broke into a smile too.

  Chapter 11

  Jenny ran until she felt like she had left the chaos behind her: the sirens, the tooting horns, the gunshots — everything. Through a break between buildings, she had seen trees and rolling hills in the distance, stretching away from the town with Dover’s famous castle dominating the backdrop. She made for it, passing the police station on her right as she did so. She kept her head down, her mind churning with so much confusion that rather than seeking sanctuary, she hurried past, convinced that someone might even spill out to continue the chase.

  How had they known? The people who rammed her car had known that she was on her way to the police station; she didn’t know how she could be so sure, but she had never felt more certain about anything.