BLOOD MONEY a gripping crime thriller full of twists

by Charlie Gallagher

  The adrenalin ebbed away, to be replaced by doubt. Lee realised that he hadn’t got the information his boss required, and to make matters worse, he’d lost a man. Not that Lee cared about that, but it was a lot to clear up. He was splattered in blood and brain matter, and holding a murder weapon in his hand. He’d sort himself out and get rid of the bat, then come back and clean the mess up properly. They had an agreement with the landowner, who knew better than to stick his nose in where it wasn’t wanted. Lee had time to do a proper job with the clean-up.

  Lee shrugged. ‘Fuck it,’ he said, and made for the door.

  CHAPTER 16

  Helen Webb snatched at the cup before the young waitress could put it down. The Grand Hotel was quiet. It was 11 a.m. and the only other customers were a small table of elderly women. She looked out of the window at the Leas, a grassy expanse that stretched for several miles along the front of Langthorne, just above the cliff. Helen had always found comfort and peace here. There was something about the smooth green lawn against the restless sea and the blue sky. It was simple, like a child’s picture.

  Helen sipped at her double latte. It was good, and she emitted a sigh. Coffee was one of her few pleasures, one of her luxuries, and the Grand did the best coffee in town. She had hoped that good coffee and a peaceful view might help her reflect on her conversation with the chief. Helen was getting used to having her back to the wall. She’d kicked her husband out of their home just a few weeks ago and had already started proceedings to make the split official. She had sat on it for a while, in order to let all the emotion drain away, and then she’d sorted everything out in a couple of days. Turfed him out, told her solicitor what she wanted, and signed an agreement that would see her two girls officially in the custody of her mother. Her husband had called her sudden efficiency ‘cold,’ but in truth it was more like numbness, the absence of any emotion at all. Now, in this new situation, she would wait for the same feelings of anger and betrayal to subside and then she would sort out the mess that her career had become.

  ‘Fuck!’ Helen’s phone rang in her handbag. The elderly ladies glared at her disapprovingly. Helen was sure she had turned her phones off when she had walked out of the office. It seemed she had forgotten to turn off the one that connected to Ed Kavski.

  Helen pulled the phone out of her bag. ‘This is a bad time, Mr Kavski.’

  ‘Are you still with the chief?’ He sounded desperate.

  ‘Nope. The chief and I have said all we needed to say to one another.’

  Kavski didn’t catch the irony. ‘He’s out and about today, right? Some sort of public engagement?’

  ‘You know he is, I told you that. What do you care what the chief’s doing anyway?’

  ‘I don’t, Helen, but there’s someone out there who does and he’s planning on ruining his day. And yours.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Helen picked up her coffee cup.

  ‘One of my contacts has been in touch with me. I just put the phone down. He got a visit from a man who was looking to buy a firearm. He was boasting about how he had plans for the chief.’

  Helen’s back stiffened. The tension, which had begun to dissipate ever so slightly, was back in full force. She put down her cup, spilling coffee across the table top.

  ‘You believe this threat is credible?’ Suddenly her voice was hushed and she was checking round to make sure no one was in earshot.

  ‘No doubt.’

  ‘Did he say anything more about how or when?’

  ‘No. I’m sure you know better than me, but he says the chief is in Langthorne today and he reckons he has an opportunity to take him out. That’s all I know.’

  Helen’s scowl returned. ‘And what do you care if the chief gets hit?’

  ‘The same reason you do. If he gets to the chief and takes him out, there will be a lot of resources thrown at him and let me tell you, this is a man we would both rather just disappeared.’

  ‘What does he have to do with me?’

  ‘It’s what he has to do with Langthorne. He could provide clues to issues you’ve already dealt with, issues that don’t need revisiting. If this man rears his ugly head there are going to be questions — big questions — about Lennokshire Police. About you, Helen.’

  Helen looked out at the Leas. Ed Kavski was genuinely rattled, even scared, and he was a man who didn’t scare easily.

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘It’s best you don’t know.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Ed. Jesus! I’m not a fucking child! Enlighten me on what this has to do with me.’

  ‘It has everything to do with you. That’s all you need to know. This man is unpredictable, and that makes him very dangerous to both of us. He is the last man you want sitting in front of an interview team.’

  ‘You mean he’s the last person you want in front of an interview team.’

  ‘Same thing.’

  Helen suddenly felt a flash of anger as she decoded the message Ed was trying to convey. ‘He knows something about George Elms, doesn’t he?’

  Ed hesitated. The pause was just too long. ‘George Elms is behind bars. You did that, Helen, and it was right that—’

  ‘Except it wasn’t right, was it? George Elms is innocent, and this is the man who should be in his place?’ All at once, Helen knew this was the truth.

  ‘It’s not as simple as that, Helen.’

  ‘Jesus. Fuck!’ Helen pushed her chair backwards and it fell over with a crash.

  ‘Calm yourself, Helen. You have a job to do. You need to keep the chief safe over there. You let me deal with our mutual problem and we all get on with our lives. Simple as that.’

  ‘Simple as that?’ Helen shouted at the phone. She slung her bag over her shoulder and set off at a fast pace. She hit the wooden exit door hard with her palm and it flew back against the wall. The waitress watched her leave, shrugged and shook her head at the elderly women.

  Helen Webb clattered down the steps, back towards the police station, still talking into her phone. ‘How is anything simple? I pursued that man, hunted him like a fucking dog because you convinced me to, because I knew what he had done to my people, to my force. To me!’

  ‘This ain’t the time to be talking about fucking George Elms. The man’s out of the way and you and your precious force are all the better for it. Now you need to protect your force again and make sure your chief don’t leave the nick, apart from getting in his chauffeur-driven car to be driven home. This shooter isn’t in a good frame of mind. He’s lost it and that means he’ll be sloppy, he’ll make mistakes, and he’ll end up caught or dead. And I can’t guarantee dead.’

  ‘Fuck you, Ed Kavski. We’re done, this is all over. Take my advice and disappear.’ Helen ended the call. She could see Langthorne House in the distance, looming at the end of a row of terraced houses that ran towards it in an unbroken line. She checked her watch. It was two and a half hours until she was due to head back to the Leas with the chief constable of Lennokshire Police. They would be at the opposite end to the Grand Hotel, at the site where a local artist had installed a polished metal arch in honour of the fallen soldiers of the Second World War.

  The soldiers had believed they would return victorious, bathed in glory. Many had never come home. Today, this poignant gesture of remembrance was to be hijacked by the unveiling of a thin blue line running through the middle of the arch, representing the officers who had fallen while protecting Langthorne, seven decades later. Until just a few minutes ago, Helen Webb had convinced herself that the person responsible for their deaths was in prison. But now she was confused, and she knew it was too late to even begin to put things right. All she could do now was clear out her desk and try and cover all traces leading back to Ed Kavski and, also, the piece of shit that had really murdered those officers. She had to begin by keeping the chief out of harm’s way.

  Helen started walking again, as fast as she could manage in heels. She was almost running by the time she reached the car park of Langth
orne House where she passed her ex-husband’s blue BMW M3, which sat in her parking space. She’d got the car as part of the separation. She’d wanted it for no other reason than she knew how much he loved it.

  Looking at her transport home, an idea began to form in her mind. The chief was going to end her career, but true to form he didn’t want to get his hands dirty by sacking her. No one else would know of his plans, just like no one else knew of the threat against him. Almost without consciously deciding it, she suddenly found that she had climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled the door shut. As the car started, Helen turned her own phone back on.

  ‘Divisional Commander’s Office, how can I help you?’ Jean’s harassed voice sounded from the car’s speakers.

  ‘Jean, I’m sorry but I’ve come over a little unwell. I’m going to spend the rest of the day at home. I’m sure I’ll feel a lot better tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh. You have this ceremony this afternoon, ma’am. With the chief?’

  ‘I’ll keep you updated, Jean. Sorry again.’

  Helen ended the call and accelerated away. All her anger, any pangs of guilt she had felt at abandoning her post with critical information, had started to slip away. Just a few minutes ago, she had been hurrying towards her place of work where she was needed to keep the chief of police safe. Now, as she drove away, she was left with just that familiar numb feeling.

  CHAPTER 17

  ‘Sir? Are you feeling okay?’ Emily Ryker leant forward. She was wearing a snug fitting polo shirt, skinny jeans and Converse pumps and the plastic of her security pass clanked against the desk whenever she moved.

  Martin liked Emily. He had worked with her a few times since she had come to work in Langthorne, and he knew she was very smart. “She knows her onions,” he had said to anyone willing to listen, and he meant it. Martin had been handed the unenviable job of being the officer responsible for missing persons in the area. He had quickly learned that the majority of people described as missing were in fact deliberately hiding, or at least avoiding their loved ones. Most of them were nothing but kids, and they all seemed to be drawn to the adult drug dealers and takers that operated in Langthorne’s underbelly. Emily Ryker had a talent for flushing them out. Despite the short time she had been working in Langthorne, she had already become the go-to intelligence officer for anyone involved in the drug scene. This was the reason why Martin was sitting next to her now.

  ‘I feel fine, thank you, Emily.’ Everyone else called her Ryker. He was lying. He didn’t suffer from hangovers, he was far too good at drinking for that. He just felt wiped out, massively fatigued and listless, and aching to have another drink.

  ‘You look a little, er, stressed out, maybe?’

  ‘Aren’t we all?’

  Emily smiled. She had big brown eyes which Martin considered quite spectacular.

  ‘A cup of tea maybe? Or coffee? I was just going to have one.’ Emily gestured over to the tea-making area.

  Martin smiled. ‘That would be nice.’

  Emily stood and made her way over to the kettle. The intel office was a large one, housing seven officers along with their sergeant, all specialising in different areas. They were all out. Emily returned to her seat.

  ‘What can I do for you then, boss? You still chasing missing kids?’

  Martin flushed. He suddenly realised he hadn’t really thought this through. He had been planning the conversation for a while and several times discarded it as a bad idea. It was still a bad idea, but he couldn’t think of any alternatives.

  ‘How could you tell I needed a favour?’ Martin was trying too hard to appear relaxed. His snort came out wrong.

  ‘Well, you’re always welcome for a cup of tea, sir, but I assume you need my assistance for something?’

  ‘No flies on you, are there, Emily?’

  ‘Never sit still long enough. That’s my way of dealing with them.’

  Martin snorted again. ‘Good advice.’ He looked away, towards a whiteboard where mugshots were pinned in neat rows.

  ‘You know a girl called Sally Morgan?’

  ‘I know a shit called Sally Morgan.’

  Martin recoiled ever so slightly. He hoped it hadn’t shown. ‘Druggie,’ he managed.

  ‘Yeah, she’s in Peto Court with one of our big players.’

  ‘Big players?’

  ‘Yeah, fellow called Lee Chivers. We reckon he’s pretty much running the show on the ground for the Russian.’

  ‘The Russian?’

  ‘Street name for the fellow who’s been flooding Langthorne with Class A. No one knows his real name for sure. Chivers is like his enforcer. He doesn’t get too involved with the dealing but he enforces debts and keeps a lid on the competition. Nasty bastard by all accounts.’

  ‘You have a source on him?’ Martin ran his tongue over his top lip. The intel team often had criminals who would reveal the movements of other criminals to them. It was common practice to use such sources and it was very much Emily’s bag. She had a history of always having someone close, no matter who the criminal was, or how far up the food chain. She’d secured a lot of prosecutions that way, and without ever having to reveal her source’s identity or use their evidence directly in court.

  ‘We get a steady flow of intel on him, but haven’t put him away just yet.’

  ‘Is Sally the source?’ Martin watched Emily closely. The kettle clicked off in the background and she went to make the drinks.

  ‘What’s your interest in Sally Morgan? She’s a bit of a nobody really, a bit of a hanger-on. She sticks around to score off him. He beats the shit out of his women by all accounts. I know she’s been knocked about by Chivers. He’s a sick man, sir, the sort that enjoys hurting people, you know. Not the sort of bloke you would want to be anywhere near unless you really had to.’

  ‘Had to?’

  ‘Heroin,’ Emily said. ‘The things these girls will do for heroin.’

  ‘It’s a terrible thing.’

  ‘So come on then, sir, what is your interest in the girl?’

  ‘I know her father,’ Martin replied, too fast.

  ‘I see.’ Emily had her back to him, looking down at the cups. ‘What are you having?’

  ‘Er, coffee please. Black.’

  Emily made the drinks and set a cup down in front of him. She looked at him over the top of her own steaming drink. ‘You know her dad well, then?’

  ‘Yeah. I mean I used to, not so much anymore. He’s at his wits end, though. He asks every now and then whether I know anything.’

  ‘And do you tell him?’

  ‘I’m not passing on anything I shouldn’t.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that! I just mean, how honest are you? Because the truth would be pretty hard for the poor man to take, I would imagine. It would be difficult for any dad.’

  ‘True,’ he managed, and swallowed. ‘Is she living with this Chivers fellow?’

  ‘Last I heard. There are a couple of girls that are regulars. They both use and probably get passed around a bit. I’ve sent the tactical team out taking people’s doors off with drugs warrants and she’s popped up a couple of times. She was at an address in Dover Road recently when they went in. Basically anyone who’s got something to do with drugs has something to do with her.’

  ‘A user though, nothing else?’

  ‘She got nicked for supply last year. Dealt to an undercover cop in an operation round Langthorne, but it was small-time. I think she was given five bags to sell so she could have one for nothing — the sort of arrangement they always get the bottom feeders on.’

  ‘Bottom feeders.’ Martin’s voice was hollow.

  ‘No better description, unfortunately. Shame really. I’ve spoken to her a couple of times and she seems like a nice enough girl. She told me to fuck off, but she’s actually pretty well spoken.’

  ‘You’ve spoken to her?’

  ‘Yeah. We had information that she’d been sexually assaulted. I knew she wouldn’t report it, but I tried to
use it as a way of getting her on the books. Sometimes if you get them when they’re still angry, when there’s nowhere else to turn, they will speak to you.’

  ‘Sexual assault?’ Martin swallowed.

  ‘We never bottomed it out. I had a good source, said she was in the unwelcome company of two men. It got rough too.’

  ‘Lee Chivers?’ Martin felt hot, so hot he thought he might combust.

  ‘He set it up and took money for it. He was there but he wasn’t involved, apparently.’

  ‘How good was the source?’

  ‘She was the other girl.’

  ‘Jesus.’ Martin lifted his mug, but dare not part his lips to drink. He used the mug to cover their trembling as he fought to control his emotions. He couldn’t hide the tremor in his hands though.

  ‘You sure you’re okay? Did you know this girl too? Through your mate, I mean.’

  ‘Only when she was much younger. Lovely kid, you know. I mean no one deserves that, do they? But she wasn’t that type.’ Martin raised his head, his eyes moist and deep. ‘How does it happen?’

  ‘I’m sorry it’s not better news. Perhaps you should give a bit of a watered-down version to your friend, sir.’

  Martin nodded. ‘I will.’ He left his full cup of coffee on the table. ‘I’d better be getting back to work.’

  Emily nodded. He was aware of her eyes following him as he stood and walked away. His steps were slow and deliberate.

  ‘Sir!’ Emily’s voice stopped him as he got to the door. He leant on the frame, and gripped it hard to hold himself steady.

  ‘I wish there was some way I could help her out, you know. Look after her.’

  Martin smiled. It was an exhausted smile. ‘If nothing else, Emily, this job has taught me one valuable lesson. You can’t keep safe what wants to break.’

  CHAPTER 18

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Sir, it’s the control room. Sorry to bother you.’

  ‘It’s no problem,’ Martin lied.

  ‘We’ve been trying to raise you over the radio, sir. I guess you’re busy down there and not monitoring. Can you speak?’