by Lloyd Otis
‘Is there anything else?’
‘Beatrice is running a trace on a UK phone number found on Alper’s body. We’re hoping to get an address.’
‘Is this a solid lead?’
‘I believe it to be so.’
‘I’ve cancelled our one-to-one today to enable you to concentrate on this. At least we can refer to the prime suspect as the Alexander Troy. Make sure you update the team on the identity issue now.’
Breck nodded then left the office, while Bashir watched him gather a small number of SCU officers in a circle to inform them. He realised he couldn’t pull Breck back from this, even though it was all snowballing to the wrong conclusion.
Bashir made a mental note to organise a separate briefing for those involved in the impending right-wing march. He planned to discuss strategic positions around Lewisham, Cransham, and New Cross. And how best to keep the two factions – The Front and the anti-fascists at the heart of it, apart. That filled his mind as he stepped outside his office, but as soon as he did, Kearns grabbed him, unable to contain her bewilderment at the news she had just heard.
‘What’s going on, sir? Did you know about Alper?’
‘Keep your voice down. I didn’t know anything beforehand. Just stick close to Breck and intervene if you have to.’
Bashir waited for Kearns to give him the impression that she understood.
‘Yes, I will.’
‘He also got his contact Morten, to speak to international agencies without your knowledge so he may be starting to suspect something. We can’t afford that at this stage.’
Kearns agreed but said nothing else, aware that Breck had been watching them both.
FIFTY TWO
Troy dumped the car he stole from Cardiff on the back streets of Greenwich and unpeeled his eyes from the pull of the skyline. London’s air carried its own unique taste; the type which could either hardened the soul or break the spirit and he knew that he had returned a different animal to the one which left. Nothing offered any surprises.
He found his way to Clarke’s home and Clarke ushered him inside. Troy filled him in with an edited version of his trip to Cardiff, leaving out Kyler’s death, along with a few other things, such as the SIG he received from Dexter.
‘Sounds eventful.’ Clarke had a smile on his face. ‘I’ve got Breck and Kearns waiting for you in the other room.’
Before Clarke even took another breath, Troy pulled the SIG and Clarke felt his legs weaken. He held up his hands.
‘Hey Alexander slow down. I’m joking. It’s a joke! They’re not here.’
‘You don’t know me or what I’m capable of!’
‘What do you mean by that?’
Troy got a hold of himself. He was losing it and putting everything at risk by doing so too. He lowered the SIG and reached for the bottle of gin left out on the table. He poured out a decent amount into a glass and swallowed it whole. Clarke had never seen him like this before. It concerned him. Troy felt no embarrassment, just the burn of the alcohol travelling down his throat. No buzz, or relaxation of the muscles.
During this time, Clarke couldn’t take his eyes off Troy’s SIG. He became tense and Troy realised.
‘Sorry, it’s the stress,’ he said with a little remorse. ‘It’s making me do crazy things.’
‘I shouldn’t ask you where you got the gun from then?’
‘No don’t.’ Troy hid the SIG inside his jacket. ‘I want to stay here until tomorrow at least. I’m tired and need a rest.’
‘Fine. I could do with the company but no more John Wayne moments.’
‘You’ve been a good friend Pete. I won’t forget it.’ Something sprung to Troy’s mind. ‘Did you speak to Ceinwen?’
‘Yes, all done. She’s gone to her father’s home.’
‘Good. One less thing for me to worry about.’
Clarke wished he could do more for his friend. Troy looked close to breaking point. They first met when Troy stepped in to save Clarke from a beating and he had been there ever since, watching his back and taking an interest in what he did as a solicitor.
Troy threw his head up towards the ceiling and stretched out his legs, knowing that their friendship hadn’t occurred by accident. He hoped that Clarke wouldn’t hate him if the truth ever surfaced. And as for Ceinwen, what would she say? He didn’t have an answer for that but at least in his current crisis, he knew she was safe.
*
Ceinwen Phelps stared blankly at the half-completed page in her typewriter. She didn’t want to stay at home with her father anymore, regardless of Troy’s warning. Instead, she chose to go to work to take her mind off things, and hoped the message he gave to Peter Clarke was just an exaggeration. She didn’t know where to find Troy, and Richard still pressured her for a reconciliation.
Ceinwen opened the blinds to let the sun glide through and seconds later she heard a tap at the door. Richard barged straight in.
‘Hello,’ he said then tried to kiss her full on the lips but she turned away. He pulled himself away.
‘You’re back already?’
‘Yes, flew in this morning and I thought I’d go over the preparations for the November event with you. Have you picked any suitable venues?’
‘Yes, I have the information in my file.’
Richard sat down and folded his coat over the side of the chair. He glanced over towards the windows.
‘It’s not a bad day today, what are you having for lunch?’
‘No idea.’
He placed his briefcase on the floor while Ceinwen popped behind the desk to grab the file. She handed it to him and he examined the information. He seemed pleased.
‘Don’t look so worried. I promise not to talk about us and give you the space you’ve asked for, but I’ll be honest. I want you back.’ Ceinwen felt uneasy which Richard noticed. ‘Anyway, this is great. We’ve got a board meeting tomorrow so I’ll discuss it with them. How did you find the New Jersey experience?’
‘It was OK.’
‘It surprised me that you chose to fly back straight after it finished. Because of that, I didn’t stick around too long either but it doesn’t matter. I have great news,’ Richard sensed her unease. ‘You’ve been selected as the best person for the Head of Acquisition role. It comes with a global remit, so you’ll be managing a team of specialists to identify the best businesses for us to acquire.’ Richard returned the file and picked up his coat.
‘This is a bit sudden isn’t it?’
‘You’re not complaining are you?’
‘No but it’s quite sudden that’s all.’
‘We’ll discuss the fine details of your good news another time. I’ll see you around I’m sure.’
After Richard left, Ceinwen became desperate to leave the office. She wanted to clear her head so grabbed her bag and took the stairs down to the ground level.
Outside the building, a car pulled up with a familiar face behind the wheel. A face that she didn’t see. She had taken a short cut through a side street, and when a hand covered her mouth to stifle her scream, Ceinwen fought and kicked with everything she had. To no avail.
After she passed out she was bundled into a car and her abductor would’ve liked nothing more than to snap her pretty little neck. He would have too, if he didn’t have orders to deliver her in one piece.
FIFTY THREE
Tension bubbled ahead of the Front’s controversial march, with the local community preparing for lockdown. Most observers feared it would set race relations back years and Breck agreed. Currently, he had the phone glued to his ear on other business. Molly’s train had pulled into London and she had called to let him know. When their conversation switched to her well-being, the past cropped up and it now seemed to be part of her therapy. Breck wanted to reassure her.
‘Molly, I’ll never give up searching for him. I want you to know that.’
‘If you ever do find him, what then?’
‘I’ll bring him to justice.’
‘
Thank you for not giving up. I’m going get a bite to eat before I come home. How’s your case going?’
‘Things are progressing so I won’t complain. Look, I’ll speak to you later.’
Breck ended the call and pushed the full list of witness statements for both Janet and Geraldine to one side. They contained nothing of significance which just served to annoy him and he mulled things over, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t shake the picture of Kearns and Bashir colluding together. They had a shared secret and he wanted to find out what it was.
Breck shifted his focus back to the case. Troy surfaced in August 1974 when he got the job at Van Bruen. His CV – which Breck obtained from their HR department – listed the companies they received his references from, but those companies had now gone into administration. Coincidence or something else?
Breck didn’t have the answers and needed to be elsewhere anyhow. He collected his jacket and left the station without telling Kearns, and along the way he bumped into Beatrice. She had news for him.
‘I’ve got an address for that number retrieved from the dead POI in Norway. It’s in Rotherhithe.’
‘Rotherhithe?’ Beatrice nodded. ‘Find out who lives there because I want as much information as possible before we make a move.’ She didn’t say anything, although she wanted to. ‘Bea?’
‘OK, I’m on it,’ she said then she fizzled away.
Breck went in another direction. He left the building, started up the Allegro and drove out of the yard, enthused because he had something important to collect. Information that could blow the case wide open.
When Breck neared Shooter’s Hill he recognised the police squad car parked half on and half off the pavement. He also recognised the person slammed down across its bonnet. The Allegro screeched to a halt and he jogged over.
‘Riley what’s going on?’
Ray Riley swung his head around with a vicious scowl. His partner Gaz Bennett kept himself hidden in the background when he realised Breck had arrived. The two of them already had an infamous run in, resulting in hospital treatment for Gaz, but the SCU had a straightforward approach go that sort of thing. Three strikes and you were out. Breck had two more strikes left.
‘Keep out of it, Arlo, this is routine police business.’ Breck observed Riley as he kept a hand pressed down on the windpipe of a handcuffed Benjamin Genta. Breck ignored Riley’s warning.
‘What has he done?’
‘Mind your own business.’
‘You can’t handcuff him if he hasn’t done anything.’
‘It’s my right to stop him under the sus law.’ The sus law allowed officers, on suspicion alone, to stop and search individuals they believed were intent on wrongdoing. But Riley wasn’t the type of person to use it fairly.
‘I aint…done…anything!’ Benjamin just managed to squeeze the words out.
‘Shut it boy. No one’s talking to you.’ Riley pressed down harder. Benjamin became increasingly agitated and breathing became a struggle.
‘Let him go, Riley. I’m not asking, I’m telling.’
‘Arlo, please fuck off. There has been a spate of robberies in the area and this coon fits the profile of the man that we want to question.’
Breck went toe-to-toe with Riley who saw the intent within his eyes, which confused him. ‘Come on tell me. Why is this one so special? Do you and him have a love-in eh?’
Breck exploded and gripped Riley. He forced him to release the hand which he held Benjamin down with, but Riley then used it to fend off Breck. Meanwhile Benjamin staggered over to the side of the kerb and collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.
‘Gaz, give me a hand,’ Riley shouted across.
‘Stay put,’ Breck warned.
Gaz weighed up his options and decided to remain in the car. Safer that way.
‘You’ll be out of a job soon if you don’t keep your anger in check, Arlo.’
Breck and Riley began to roll across the bonnet as they wrestled each other, while Gaz lifted the police radio. He didn’t know whether or not to use it, even when Breck bent back one of Riley’s fingers then rifled a punch into his stomach. Then another one, and another. Riley dropped to the floor.
‘I’ll have you for that. You’re finished,’ Riley threatened as he winced.
‘It’s my word against yours Ray.’
‘Gaz is a witness, two against one. Isn’t that right, Gaz?’
‘No, it’s two against two.’ Benjamin had now risen to his feet, a little unsteady, but on his feet all the same. ‘I didn’t see anything. Detective Inspector Breck didn’t touch you at all.’
Breck signalled for Gaz to throw over the keys to the handcuffs which he did, and while Breck freed Benjamin, Gaz crept out of the car. He helped Riley to his feet and the two men watched in silence as Breck ushered Benjamin into the Allegro.
FIFTY FOUR
Benjamin’s temperament bordered on volcanic after the treatment dished out by Riley, and he was still fuming although they had been driving for a while.
‘Do you want to go to hospital to get checked out?’
‘For them to ask me a bunch of questions. No thanks.’
‘You looked in pretty bad shape back there.’
‘I said no.’
Breck gave in. ‘OK. Have it your way.’
‘What happened back there is the reason why there’s big problems. I was minding my own business when Riley pulled the car up in front of me and pinned me down. All the brothers know him. He likes to harass us. I bet he’s even looking forward to the march.’
Breck spotted a side road up ahead. The perfect drop point. ‘Why do you say that, about him looking forward to the march?’
‘Saw him speaking to the Front’s security chief the other day.’
Although Breck understood what Benjamin implied, he had no grounds to pursue it. Breck pulled up the car at the side road recognising that he was in danger of being late for his meeting.
‘If you jump out here and walk to the end of the road, it’ll take you to a bus stop. From there you can catch a bus to Cransham.’
‘I know.’ Benjamin opened the door and put one foot on the pavement then paused. ‘Thanks for what you did back there. It took guts.’
‘Just doing my job.’
‘We need more people like you doing their job and less people like Riley.’
Benjamin stepped out and zipped up his tracksuit top. He fixed both hands inside its pockets and strolled away, while Breck waited until he was out of sight and hoped for a better tomorrow.
Breck refocused and picked up his route again. He had ten minutes left.
*
Somewhere west of Plumstead, Breck waited in a car park. To bide his time, he opened the glove compartment and planned to read the unopened letter from the security firm. Yet, while he held it in his hands he found it difficult to. The thought of rejection overwhelmed him, he couldn’t deal with just yet. Breck returned the letter. He’d open it another time.
A brown Talbot entered the car park and a floppy beige fedora hid the driver’s face. When the door swung open, a small package flew out. Then the car then flashed its lights twice as if to say deal done and pulled away. Breck exited the Allegro and collected the package, hoping his gamble had paid off.
He unwrapped the brown paper and butterflies lined his stomach. When he opened the file inside, the shock of what he read made him gasp. It gutted him and made his head spin too. The new information turned everything on its head and a stunned Breck mapped a plan of action. Things would never be the same again.
*
Kearns, took a call from Mo Mace.
‘What have you got for me?’
‘Troy’s coming to meet me.’
‘When?’
‘You can’t let him know I told you anything - it’ll ruin me and could put me in danger. Maybe rough me up a bit, not the face though.’
‘Relax, he won’t have a clue, love. Now when is he coming to collect?’
Kearns
saw Breck return to his desk and wondered where he had been.
‘Are you still there?’ Mo asked.
‘Yes, got distracted.’
Mo told her the time and she thanked him because she would make sure that they turned up late. Too late.
Kearns rolled over to Breck. ‘You look like you’ve got something to say.’
He came close to accusing her of all sorts but then held back.
‘Who were you speaking to? It looks like something is going on.’
‘No nothing is going on. It was just a sales call.’
If Kearns told him her daughter had called Breck might have believed her, but to palm it off as a sales call was a lie as far as he was concerned. The last time Kearns took a sales call, she sent a barrage of expletives straight to the salesman not a hushed voice.
‘Anything else happening?’
‘No, nothing.’
Breck wanted to see how far Kearns would keep up the pretence. When she least expected it, he’d reveal what he knew and it would bring the whole lie crashing down.
FIFTY FIVE
Troy waltzed into a pub in Marylebone determined to finish what he had started. He headed straight to the men’s toilets and slipped on a pair of gloves. Once inside, he tipped over the dustbin which left rubbish strewn across the floor and began to dismantle the bottom of the bin. Then someone walked in. Troy placed the bin back and grabbed a broom that had been left in the corner and began to sweep. The intoxicated man used the urinal without uttering a word then left, neglecting to wash his hands in the process, and as soon as he was out, Troy used the broom to wedge the door tight. He didn’t want any more unwanted interruptions. He returned to the bin and cast his mind back to the most recent message he left for Proctor. He made it when he last stayed at Clarke’s home, he had risen early while Clarke slept and begged for help. Now he’d find out if he had been disowned.
