A Long Way Down

by Ken McCoy

  ‘Sir.’

  The meeting in Leeds

  The conference room was soundproofed and devoid of any distracting ephemera hanging on the walls. It was a room intended for the occupants to concentrate only on the matter in hand. The table seated five police officers, including Sep, Detective Superintendent Hawkins, DCI Wood and Superintendent Ibbotson of the uniformed branch. There was also a Deputy Chief Constable Gibbs who was seated at the head of the table with the less senior officers ranged two at each side of him. It began with Sep relating the events of the previous evening.

  ‘And you interviewed the two surviving men in Scarborough Hospital,’ said Hawkins.

  ‘I did, ma’am, yes. With Carl Redman, their gang boss, being dead, I thought they might be more forthcoming than they actually were.’

  Hawkins addressed herself to Gibbs. ‘The two men killed were both involved in a firefight with our armed-response unit.’

  ‘So I understand, but I’m curious to know how this gang got to know the exact whereabouts of Detective Inspector Black after so much trouble had been taken to conceal his destination.’

  Sep looked at Wood who was shifting, uncomfortably in his seat. ‘I was wondering the same thing myself, sir, so I gave Detective Superintendent Hawkins as much information as I could about who knew I owned that property, in particular the estate agent who handled the sale four years ago.’

  Gibbs looked at Hawkins for an explanation.

  ‘That’s correct, sir. I rang Mr Dunhill of Dunhill and Broome, estate agents in York and asked him if anyone had been enquiring about the sale of the cottage to DI Black. It transpired that one of our officers had made a similar enquiry just before the incident.’

  Sep’s eyes were fixed intently on Wood who was now going pale. Wood met Sep’s gaze and he knew that Sep knew it was he who had made the call. His devious brain fizzed into action as he awaited what Hawkins had to say.

  ‘I sorry to say,’ she said, ‘that it was one of our own officers who made the call. In fact, it was Detective Chief Inspector Wood here. I asked him to be at this meeting so that he could explain his actions.’

  ‘And you gave him no forewarning of this?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  All eyes were now on Wood who put on a frown of umbrage at the very thought that he might be implicated in all this. Sep broke the silence with a statement of his own.

  ‘DCI Wood did know about the cottage. He once asked me about it after he’d met Dunhill the estate agent at a Masonic dinner. I can assure you all that no one else knew about me owning the cottage, apart from Elijah McMurphy who was killed in the attack.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Wood, ‘I did know about the cottage and I did make that call, but it was merely to establish the whereabouts of DI Black who tends to be a law unto himself and fails consistently to inform his senior officers of his whereabouts. I must say I object most strongly to the insinuation that I’m in some way connected with this gang.’

  Sep gave a slight nod and raised his eyebrows in appreciation of Wood’s quick thinking but he knew it would never be enough. Wood wasn’t up against gullible idiots.

  ‘I understand from Mr Dunhill that you asked him for an exact location, including a postcode,’ said Hawkins. ‘Why did you need his whereabouts in such detail? Wouldn’t a “cottage near Scarborough” have been enough? You didn’t intend driving out there to pay him a visit, surely?’

  ‘It was the gang who needed the exact location,’ put in Sep. ‘You can’t kill a man by shooting at a postcode.’

  Gibbs looked at Hawkins. ‘I assume you are DI Black’s immediate superior. Were you aware of DI Black’s exact whereabouts?’

  ‘No, sir. I knew he’d taken himself out of danger, but I didn’t need to know his exact whereabouts. I simply knew he was heading out of the clutches of the gang and he would inform me of his whereabouts when he got there.’

  ‘And did he inform you?’

  ‘He informed me later in the day.’

  ‘That was only after he’d had a run in with the gang,’ blustered Wood, who had acquainted himself with the sequence of events. ‘Black only rang her because he needed help.’

  ‘OK, so I rang because we needed help. Standard procedure. What’s wrong with that?’ asked Sep.

  ‘But you will have had an exact idea of where he was,’ said Gibbs to Wood. ‘Certainly as exact as the gang who went after him.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean to say I’d given them this information.’

  ‘No, but it would certainly solve the mystery of who did,’ said Sep. ‘I’d like to know myself who gave me away, so that they could come and kill me. When this thing unravels this gang’s been mixed up in all sorts of villainy. Murder, attempted murder, fraud and whatever crime this Snowball company’s committed. If there is a mole in this force, he’s due a life stretch at least. They’ve tried to kill me; they’ve killed an old friend of mine and wounded another …’

  ‘The other being Winnie O’Toole, a known criminal with whom you have a close relationship,’ sneered Wood.

  ‘She’s been a reformed character for many years, who’s been of great help to the police, as Superintendent Ibbotson will no doubt confirm,’ countered Sep, looking at the superintendent for his confirmation.

  ‘She has indeed,’ said Ibbotson.

  ‘In fact,’ Sep went on, ‘she was of great help in this insofar as she advised me to do a second interview with one of the two men in hospital – the lesser injured of the two. A man called Roscoe Briggs.’

  ‘Who couldn’t possibly be of any help!’ snapped Wood.

  ‘Know him, do you?’ said Hawkins, drily.

  All eyes were on Wood once more. ‘Yes, ma’am. He’s known to the police as a petty criminal who works on the doors of disreputable clubs and hires himself out as a strong-arm man.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s him,’ said Sep, ‘I interviewed him because I thought his boss, Redman, might have slipped up and given him an important piece of information.’ He took out his pocket voice recorder. ‘In fact, I recorded my interview on this. Would anyone mind if I played it?’

  He looked at Wood as he asked this question. Wood shrugged as if it were of no importance to him, but his face was pale and twitching and, to Sep, he looked as if he was about to explode. Sep switched on the recorder and placed it on the table. His own voice was the first to be heard:

  ‘OK, Roscoe. I need you to answer one question and one question only. You help us and we’ll help you. I’m recording this and I have Constable Scaife here, as witness to your answers.’

  ‘What question’s that?’

  ‘I want to know how Redman found out where I was.’

  ‘He rang someone.’

  ‘What sort of someone?’

  ‘A copper. Who d’yer fuckin’ think?’

  ‘What copper was that? Do you have a name?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘That’s the information I want, Roscoe. What’s the name?’

  ‘He’s a detective called Wood. High-ranking bastard. He’s in Redman’s pocket. That’s all I fuckin’ know.’

  Sep switched the tape off and looked around at his assembled colleagues for their reaction. Wood was now on his feet, screaming in protest.

  ‘This is ridiculous! Black obviously set him up to say that.’

  ‘I did no such thing,’ said Sep, calmly. ‘I can bring in the constable who witnessed this interview. You can talk to him yourself and make your own judgement, ma’am. We already know Wood checked with the estate agent as to exactly where I was and now this. I would point out that there’s always been an officer by their beds listening to everything I said to both of them. In Roscoe’s case it was a Constable Scaife who took notes of the conversation I recorded on this tape. If I’d set DCI Wood up, Constable Scaife would know.’

  ‘What’s the name of the other man who ended up in hospital?’ asked Hawkins.

  ‘Believe it or not his name is Stanley Butterbowl, ma’am. He likes to be known as Mr Wolf
.’

  ‘Not sure I blame him. Is there any reason why we can’t ask him the same question concerning DCI Wood’s involvement in all this?’

  ‘None at all, ma’am,’ said Sep. ‘I’m sure he’ll be most helpful.’

  Hawkins folded her arms and looked at Wood, saying. ‘Well, none of this is looking too good for you, DCI Wood. I’m very much inclined to have you suspended pending further investigation of all this.’

  To Sep she said, ‘What exactly did you promise Roscoe Briggs before you turned on the tape?’

  ‘A reduced sentence, ma’am.’

  ‘How reduced?’

  ‘I said I could get it reduced to six years before he got a parole board.’

  ‘And he believed you?’

  ‘He did, ma’am. I can be a very believable person when I try. But we’re not bound by my promises which were made very much off the record.’

  Gibbs was nodding his head in agreement as were the other officers, all in full agreement, including Sep. Still on his feet, beads of sweat had now appeared on Wood’s forehead. He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a handgun which he pointed at Hawkins, who looked him in the eye and said calmly, ‘I don’t know where you got that from but you should put it away before you get in so deep you’ll never get out.’

  ‘Of course I’ll never get out. Black’s right. I’ll be banged up for life. Well, you can forget that. I’m out of here now and don’t try any heroics, Black.’

  Sep held up his palms in a placating gesture. ‘Hey, I don’t need to do anything. You really are a stupid sod doing this with all us here. Do you honestly think you’ll get away with it?’

  ‘Try and stop me.’

  ‘No one’s going to try and stop you. You’ve got a gun, we haven’t. If you get out of here, and it’s a big “if”, you’ll be wanted by every force in the country. Your picture will be on the telly and in all the papers. Police will be watching out for you at all train stations, bus stations, ports and airports. What’s your plan? You must have a plan or you wouldn’t have brought a gun in here.’

  ‘DI Black,’ said Hawkins, calmly. ‘DCI Wood is obviously suffering from stress-borne anxiety.’

  ‘Right now, so am I,’ said Sep, looking down the barrel of Wood’s gun.

  ‘It’s a recognized illness, not to be laughed at,’ said Hawkins, who rarely appreciated Sep’s attempts at humour. As she spoke, her calm gaze had never left Wood as she tried to deflect his attention away from the gravity of the situation he’d placed himself in.

  ‘Have you erm … have you been to see a doctor about this, DCI Wood?’

  ‘About what? There’s nothing wrong with me except I don’t fancy spending the rest of my life banged up in a Category A prison. What’s sort of life’s that for a copper, eh?’

  ‘You get what you deserve in this life,’ said Sep.

  ‘Oh, shut it, Black, you bloody idiot!’ snapped Hawkins.

  ‘I’ll get away, you’ll see,’ said Wood, now waving his gun about, much to Sep’s relief.

  ‘Well, good luck with that,’ said Sep, cheerfully.

  His manner annoyed Wood to an extent that he aimed the gun at Sep once again. Sep’s cheerful smile vanished immediately. Having a mentally disturbed man pointing a loaded gun at your head tends to wipe the smile off any face. Wood’s finger tightened on the trigger. Sep’s eyes were glued to that finger as he prepared to throw himself sideways. His damaged leg would hinder that action so he had both hands on the chair-arms, muscles flexed and ready for action and his good leg braced against the floor, ready for the precise instant he needed to move.

  Jane Hawkins had her hand on the handle of a heavy water jug and her eyes on the same trigger finger; as it twitched she hurled the water, with some force, at Wood, causing him to shoot but lose his aim as Sep, who had also spotted the twitching finger, threw himself to one side and avoided the bullet by an inch. He was on the floor, struggling to get back on his feet, when Wood stood over him, dripping with water, with the gun still in his hand and aimed at Sep’s head.

  ‘You’ve done all this to me, Black! Now you’re gonna die, you bastard!’

  The now empty water jug came down heavily on Wood’s head. This time in the hands of Superintendent Ibbotson. The large, heavy, cut-glass jug didn’t break as it knocked Wood to the floor, senseless. Sep rolled away to avoid him. Hawkins came round the table to help him to his feet. He sat down in his chair, breathing heavily from his near-death experience.

  ‘Bloody hell! I thought I was a goner there. What the hell got into him?’

  ‘You got into him, you damned idiot!’ snapped Hawkins. ‘In future, when I tell you to shut it, you do as you’re damn well told! You have an unhealthy knack of getting up people’s noses. Especially unbalanced people like DCI Wood, who obviously needs psychiatric help.’

  ‘I believe they do that in Broadmoor,’ said Sep.

  ‘He might well end up in there, if he’s lucky. As for you, you need a lesson in how to deal with a hysterical man who’s pointing a loaded gun at you. Rule number one: “Don’t take the piss out of him!”’

  ‘That’s definitely a good rule, ma’am. I’m only glad I didn’t call him Cock Robin.’

  ‘Oh, Jesus, Sep! Tell me you didn’t even think about that.’

  ‘Well, I was tempted for a minute.’

  ‘Thank God you didn’t.’

  ‘Cock Robin? What’s this about?’ asked Gibb.

  ‘Oh, DCI Wood’s first name is Robin,’ said Hawkins.

  ‘And his computer password is Cock,’ said Sep, ‘with him thinking he’s some sort of sex machine.’

  ‘Oh dear. That man really is self-delusional,’ said Gibb.

  There was an embarrassed silence, broken by Sep. ‘Erm, thanks for saving my life, ma’am … and I apologize for my stupid behaviour … and thank you, sir,’ he added, looking at Ibbotson.

  ‘It was my pleasure,’ said Ibbotson. ‘Never took to the man – Cock Robin indeed!’

  ‘Quite,’ said Gibb.

  Wood was still unconscious on the floor, his hair soaked in blood. A uniformed sergeant and two constables had piled into the room, having heard the gunshot.

  ‘Pick DCI Wood up, take him into custody and keep a constant eye on him until he comes round,’ said Hawkins to them. ‘As soon as he does come round, read him his rights and put him under arrest for attempted murder … and put that gun in an evidence bag. Better get the duty doctor to look at his head – both outside and in.’

  ‘Good Lord! What’s happened, ma’am?’ the sergeant asked Hawkins.

  ‘We found a rotten apple in our barrel, sergeant. Best get the FME to look him over as well. It could be that his mind’s not in the right place.’

  ‘He was never very popular, ma’am—even when he was a sergeant, like me.’

  ‘He never was a sergeant like you,’ said Sep.

  The sergeant looked at Sep, who was still looking a bit dazed. ‘Are you OK, sir?’

  ‘When was he ever OK?’ said Hawkins.

  ‘I’m still alive,’ said Sep, ‘thanks to our two superintendents.’

  As Wood was being carried unceremoniously from the room, Gibbs said, ‘Well, the media will make a meal of this when they hear about it, which they will when Wood is charged with the attempted murder of a fellow police officer. This is a matter which will be dealt with as much in-house as possible. I want word put about the station that no one is to talk to the media about this without the express permission of an officer above the rank of chief inspector and all such officers will be instructed to refuse that permission. Have I made myself clear?’

  He was talking mainly to the sergeant and the two constables who were carrying Wood. They all confirmed that they understood. Gibbs looked at Sep and said, ‘DI Black, I understand you were up for promotion to DCI last year, but the promotion procedure was withheld to pacify the CPS after the kidnapping case.’

  ‘That’s correct, sir,’ interjected Superintendent Ibbotson. ‘D
I Black has, erm, unusual methods of working, which were not to the approval of the CPS.’

  ‘I believe he got a remarkable result due to his unusual methods. Quite the hero according to the newspapers.’

  ‘Er … yes, that’s true, but his actions didn’t do us any favours,’

  ‘We’re not here to seek favours,’ said Gibbs. ‘In fact I recommend that he applies to the Selection Board for a promotion to DCI and I’ll give his application my full backing.’

  ‘Are you, erm … are you absolutely sure about that, sir?’ asked Hawkins.

  ‘Quite sure. It seems to me that it’s all down to his unusual methods that Wood has been exposed for the corrupt officer that he is. I’m aware that DI Black is something of a maverick but I feel there’s room for a maverick among the upper ranks … Keeps us old fogies on our toes, so to speak.’

  ‘Old fogies?’ said Hawkins. ‘Excuse me, sir, but I’ll have you know that I’m younger than DI Black!’

  ‘I can see that,’ said Gibbs. ‘You made your way very quickly up the promotion ladder. I was referring to us old fogies.’

  ‘I was a late starter,’ said Sep. ‘I didn’t join the force until I was in my mid-thirties.’ Then he snapped his fingers in exasperation with himself at how childish this must have sounded.

  ‘It’s not a bloody race, Black!’ snapped Hawkins, ‘It’s a career.’ She gave Sep a narrow-eyed glance that told him not to be too complacent about this potential promotion.

  ‘Yeah, I know and it’s a race I’d have no doubt lost to you,’ conceded Sep, graciously. ‘Anyway, I’d like to say thanks for the recommendation, sir and for my life, ma’am. I value both equally, but I wish to remain on the Cold Case team as number two to my saviour, Detective Superintendent Hawkins, who was remarkably cool under pressure back then. Good shot with the water jug as well.’

  ‘She was indeed,’ said Gibbs. ‘Should he get the promotion would you want to keep him with you as your number two?’ he asked Hawkins.

  ‘Oh God! Do I have a choice? Sir, I think he’ll take advantage of his maverick methods which you appear to condone.’