‘What?’
‘We found a fourth set of prints on the money but they’re not his.’
‘Whose are they?’
‘Another of his old school friends. He’s got a few things on his record, so we matched it to him straight away. We’ve got a warrant out and are currently looking for him.’
‘But there were only four robbers – so does that mean it’s the four we’ve got? Or that Teague was masterminding things? Or that they took it in turns?’
Topper shrugged. ‘We don’t know. Until someone starts talking, we’re only going to be guessing. Teague has to be in there somewhere, though – he’s the link from Pavel to the others.’
‘What’s going on with Pavel?’
‘He was in court yesterday and remanded without entering a plea. Apparently the court solicitor couldn’t get a word out of him. He knows what we’ve got on him and if he starts talking, he might talk his way into more trouble. He’ll get sent down, serve six to twelve months in one of our jails and then the Home Office will send him back to Serbia to serve the rest because our jails are too full. Of course, what happens when he’s under another country’s jurisdiction is anyone’s guess. If he knows the right people, he could have quite the cushy existence when he gets away from here.’
‘What about the jewellery?’
Topper spun a quarter-turn in his seat. ‘Aah, well, that’s where it’s not all wrapped up too tidily. We don’t have a trace of any of that.’
That was what had been playing on Jessica’s mind for the day she was off.
‘When I was in London, that Richard Froggatt guy told me his gang had given away money to disguise the reality of what had gone on. I know we’ve recovered pretty much all of the cash – but that’s nowhere near everything that was stolen. The money was in the jewels.’
‘That’s what we’re trying to get out of the men we have in custody.’
‘But you said it for yourself about Pavel – he doesn’t want to get himself in any more trouble. They could say nothing the whole way through and then claim they were simply renovating the Teagues’ original house and that’s how their prints ended up on those notes. Or that it’s profits from the security company but they don’t trust banks so their friend, Martin Teague, told them to hide it at the house.’
‘That’s nonsense.’
‘Of course it is but you only need to convince two or three jurors and the whole thing falls apart. Even if they get sent down, they’d be out before they were really old men. So they sit tight, say nothing, and get a share when they get out.’
‘In real terms, it’s thousands not millions. That’s not a lot to go to prison for.’
Jessica sighed, focusing on Topper’s whiteboard and then letting her eyes relax again. She’d spent the whole of the previous day thinking about things like this. ‘True – but we caught them early. This could have been ten robberies before we got them, or more. The principle of shutting up and letting a jury decide would be a sound one regardless. You know how stupid people can be when they hear the words “beyond all reasonable doubt”. Suddenly a string of half-a-dozen coincidences that wouldn’t convince anyone with half a brain is doubt enough.’
‘So where’s the jewellery? Could they have pawned off small amounts at different places all around the country?’
Jessica shook her head. ‘I made a few phone calls yesterday—’
‘I thought you were off all day?’
She held his smile. ‘I was. Anyway, my point is that pawnbrokers only pay perhaps twenty-five to thirty-five per cent of what something’s worth. Our robbers need to be selling direct to people, not via a middle man.’
‘Car boots?’
‘Too obvious and too easy to be caught.’
‘So what are you thinking?’
Jessica blew out hard, making a braying sound with her lips. ‘It’s too clean, isn’t it? Lottery winner wants money back, takes idea from Serbian gangster.’
‘It was your theory!’ Topper was smiling but there was a seriousness to him as well.
‘I know . . . I think I’ve talked myself out of it.’
‘But there’s evidence.’
Jessica clucked her tongue. ‘Can we get Archie up here?’
‘Constable Davey? If you think it’ll do some good.’
Topper reached for his phone but Jessica stood. ‘I’ll get him.’
She headed down the stairs through to the main floor where Archie was sitting on the corner of Rowlands’s desk, chatting. As Dave spotted her, he nodded and Archie stood and spun around, looking guilty.
‘Were you just talking about me?’ Jessica asked.
Dave replied with a half-smile: ‘The whole world doesn’t revolve around you, Jess.’
She eyed the pair of them suspiciously, not entirely pleased at the fact they could be friends again. When Archie had first joined, Dave had followed him around and they’d been as thick as thieves. Things had changed now Rowlands was working with DI Franks.
‘Topper wants you upstairs, Arch.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he does.’
‘You’re a bit grumpy,’ Dave said, laughing.
She gave him her best glare and then headed away with Archie at her side.
‘What does he actually want?’ Archie asked.
‘It’s me really. I’ve got a question to ask you.’
‘In front of him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why me?’
Jessica stopped and pulled him towards a closed doorway, lowering her voice. ‘If I tell you, do you promise not to be offended?’
He chewed his bottom lip. ‘Depends what it is.’
‘It’s sort of bad but not really bad if that makes sense.’
‘Er . . .’
‘I mean it affectionately.’
‘Go on then.’
‘You won’t be offended?’
He shrugged. ‘Whatever it is, I’ve probably heard worse.’
She lowered her voice even further, looking both ways along the corridor to ensure there was no one there. ‘It’s just you’re a bit of a . . . I’m not sure of the best word . . . you’re a . . . scally, a chav, a lad. Whichever one you prefer.’
He stood up on his tip-toes until he was somewhere close to the five foot eight he told everyone he was and puffed his chest out. ‘Aye, fair enough.’
‘You don’t mind?’
‘Nah, “lad” is a good shout. Dunno about “scally”, like. That’s what we call Scousers.’
‘Right . . .’
‘What do you need to ask me in front of Topper?’
‘I’d rather not say anything else until we’re upstairs. I need your response to be real.’
He shrugged again, sinking back to his actual height. ‘A’ight, let’s go then.’
Moments later, the pair of them were sitting across the desk from DCI Topper in his office, the two men looking expectantly at Jessica.
‘Go on then,’ Archie said.
She whispered him a silent ‘sorry’, and then asked: ‘What was the worst thing you ever did as a kid?’ Archie glanced sideways at the DCI, who had his attention on Jessica. ‘Trust me,’ Jessica said.
Topper turned to Archie. ‘You don’t have to answer.’
He shook his head. ‘Nah, it’s fine. I was a bit of a, well . . . lad . . . when I was a young’un. A right little terror according to my mum, God rest her soul. All right, I’m not proud of this, mind.’ He turned to face Topper himself. ‘I’m not going to get in trouble or anything, am I?’
‘Did you murder anyone?’
‘Oh, God no – it’s nothing like that.’
‘Probably not then.’
‘Right, well, there was this little paper shop at the end of my road. This old fella ran it – lovely guy: he’d been doing it for donkey’s years. I used to do a paper round but then I started nicking odd things: chocolate bars, sweets, pens. I’ve always felt really bad about it because it was this tiny place and
he was really good to me. He can’t have been making much money from it, he just liked seeing people. He had this little black and white TV above the door that he’d watch when it was quiet. Either that or he’d listen to the cricket on the radio. Even when I stopped delivering papers, he’d always say hello and he knew my name. I kept wanting to say sorry but he died one Christmas and it never happened. The shop’s gone now – they converted it into flats.’
He turned away, genuinely moved. Even Jessica felt a small prickling behind her eyes as well as guilt that she’d made him share it in front of the DCI. It wasn’t really fair but he’d done it because he trusted her.
‘Sorry . . .’ Jessica said.
‘It’s all right. I was a little shite then.’
‘Okay, say some of your mates knew what you’d been up to and the police were involved. Would they have given you up?’
‘Never.’
‘What if it meant them taking the fall for it?’
‘Oh, they’d have done that. They’d have taken all the stick off their parents, all the trouble – whatever it took.’
‘Why?’
He shrugged. ‘That’s what it’s like when you’re mates. I’d have done the same for them.’
‘What about now?’
Archie glanced at Topper and back to her. ‘Well, within reason. They know what my job is. It’s not like any of us are going around getting into rucks or kicking off or anything. Half of them have kids nowadays.’
Jessica turned to Topper, wondering if he knew what she was getting at. He peered from her to Archie and back again, then shrugged. ‘What?’
‘Martin Teague and his mates come from a couple of streets over from Arch. They’ll be exactly the same. They’d rather go down than drop one of their mates in it – except that Teague’s not doing that at all. They’re all saying “no comment” but from the time I went to his house to arrest him, all he’s said is that he doesn’t know Pavel, that he doesn’t know anything about robberies, money or jewellery.’
‘So you think that because he’s denying it, he’s telling the truth?’
‘If he knew what was going on, he’d be no-commenting too. It’d be the code he grew up with, they all grew up with – don’t grass. If he knew the robberies were something to do with his pals, he’d be shutting his mouth.’
‘That’s a bizarre reverse kind of thinking.’
Jessica’s eye was drawn back to the pair of shorts on top of Topper’s bag underneath the whiteboard. ‘I’m sorry, Sir, I’ve got to ask, why do you bring your training kit to work?’
He turned around, glancing at the bag and then back to Jessica, not annoyed, just confused.
‘Why?’
‘Indulge me.’
‘It’s easier to come straight here after the gym. I leave my things out to, ahem, dry off. Is that all right with you?’
Jessica checked her watch. It took her a while to reply as she battled the sinking feeling of horror. ‘I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.’
43
Jessica pressed her foot onto the accelerator and shot across the junction, sirens blazing. Archie was in the passenger’s seat, hanging onto his seatbelt with both hands.
‘I still don’t get iiiiiiiiiiitttttttt—’ he said as Jessica took a corner.
‘What’s not to get?’
‘Who robbed the houses?’
‘Teague’s mates – we’ve got their prints on the money.’
‘But not Teague?’
‘No.’
‘Or Pavel?’
‘No.’
Jessica rocketed onto the M60, keeping one eye on the outside lane as cars moved to one side. She only had one junction before she turned onto the M56.
Archie let go of the seatbelt and leant on the door. ‘Whoooooooooa.’
‘You’re putting me off.’
‘Why are you going so fast?’
‘Because I want to deal with this. It’ll be better if it’s me, honestly.’
‘You would say that.’
‘That’s because I’m right.’
Jessica swerved between two cars and took the exit onto the M56.
Archie regained his breath and continued. ‘And you got all of this from Topper’s dirty laundry?’
‘Sort of. It’s more than that. I’ll tell you later.’
Jessica screamed along the motorway, bumped her way up the exit ramp, rammed the car into the left lane, fizzed across two roundabouts, and then accelerated until she was outside the Terminal One departures area at Manchester Airport. She came to a halt with a screech, then told Archie to wait by the car. He didn’t look particularly happy at Jessica’s explanation that it had to be her by herself but didn’t argue.
A security officer was already waiting for her, escorting Jessica through five sets of heavy doors before leading her into the departures lounge. She assured him she’d take it from there, knowing there would be other officers nearby if she needed them.
Jessica peered up at the board: the flight to Kiev was leaving in an hour and a quarter, with a gate number already assigned.
She slowed to a walk and caught her breath. It was such a stupid hunch that she knew it was right. She moved slowly along the line of departure gates, past the prize-draw car that was apparently a feature of every airport in the Western world, despite the fact Jessica had never heard of anyone who’d ever won one, past the screaming kids, the stag party wearing shorts, the hen party who were already pissed, the couple all but making a baby in a pair of seats behind a pillar, the shuffling, creepy-looking cleaner, the businessman wheeling his suitcase behind him even though it couldn’t have weighed too much for him to carry, and everyone else ready to jet away to wherever they were going.
Even from a distance, Jessica spotted the two blonde women sitting next to each other, one of them reading, the other wearing dark sunglasses and gazing aimlessly towards the window.
Jessica manoeuvred her way through the crowd until she was sitting in the seat opposite them, barely a metre away.
Ana noticed her first. ‘Oh, hi, it’s you – why are you here?’
Jessica smiled at her. ‘You’re nearly home, Ana.’
‘I know . . .’
Katerina peered up from her book, studying Jessica, her face hard to read. ‘Are you here to wish us goodbye?’ she asked.
‘Something like that.’
Jessica glanced towards the end of the row of seats where two officers were standing with guns across their fronts, doing a terrible job of looking casual.
Ana looked between the two women. ‘What’s going on?’
Katerina said something in a language Jessica didn’t understand. Jessica kept her eyes on Katerina but spoke to Ana. ‘What did she say?’
‘To keep calm.’
Jessica continued to stare at Katerina. ‘Ana, I want you to pick up your bag and go and stand close to the gate.’
‘Why?’
‘Because if you want to go home today, that’s the only way it’s going to happen.’
The two women exchanged words that weren’t in English and then Ana picked up her bag and walked past Jessica. There were half-a-dozen seats free on either side of Jessica and Katerina: no one to overhear.
‘Just so you know,’ Jessica said, ‘it was the towel that did it. When it flew off your back seat and hit me in the back of the head, I noticed the logo from your gym. I’d seen it before but it didn’t mean anything to me at the time. Then you talked about going for a run when you were at the safe house.’
Katerina’s eyes flickered to the right where another pair of armed guards had emerged. She laughed slightly, humourlessly. ‘Perhaps I should drive more carefully next time.’
Jessica leant forward and pushed the woman’s long sleeve up to reveal a row of glittering, expensive-looking bracelets. ‘I could probably say the same.’
44
Katerina squirmed uncomfortably on her seat in the interview room, muttering things in a foreign language to her solicit
or. Jessica watched through the observation window, saying nothing, even though DCI Topper could barely contain himself: ‘You figured this out because of my gym kit?’
‘Sort of . . . not really. Sometimes my mind works in weird ways. It just needs a shunt here and there.’
‘That’s some shunt. Do you want to come around and do my laundry in case it gives you any other ideas?’
‘Very funny.’
‘Do you mind if I sit in?’
Jessica shrugged and laughed. ‘You’re the chief inspector. You don’t need to ask.’
‘I am asking. I know we didn’t get off to the best of starts.’
‘That was my fault too. I have a habit of . . . rubbing people up the wrong way.’ Jessica turned to face him. ‘Shall we do this?’
‘Lead the way.’
Jessica exited into the corridor and then entered the interview room properly. She poured herself and DCI Topper some water and then sat, making the introductions for the purposes of the recordings before downing her drink in one.
‘That was close, wasn’t it?’ Jessica said.
Katerina had a strange sort of half-smile on her face: forbidding, resigned. ‘Not close enough.’
‘For the purposes of the tape, we’ve been looking for somewhere in the region of three hundred thousand pounds in stolen jewellery. When you were arrested at the airport, Katerina, you had around half of that amount on your person ready to be taken to the Ukraine, or wherever you were heading after leaving Ana. That’s the thing with jewellery – no one really knows what it’s worth at a glance, so the security staff were happy to wave you through. Because it’s quality over quantity, you didn’t even need to be carrying that much.’
The solicitor cut in: ‘Is that a question?’
‘No, I’m simply clarifying things so that if you ever listen to your copy of the tape, there’s no doubt what I’m referring to. I suppose the first question is where the rest of the jewellery is.’
Katerina shrugged. ‘You tell me.’
‘Who has it?’
‘You tell me.’
Jessica was pretty sure she knew anyway. She slid the photograph across the table. ‘Do you know who this person is?’
Katerina didn’t look at it: ‘No.’
For Richer, For Poorer Page 26
