by Joe Carter
I asked myself why I was sat in this pub at this time waiting for Ray to arrive, after spending eight hours in a police cell? Why was I not hundreds of miles away, feeling the warmth and softness of my own daughter’s hand in mine? Making sure she was safe and happy, and listening to stories of her day. Telling her how much I loved her and that I’d always be there for her, no matter what. What was wrong with me – why did I choose to be here instead? After all, it was my choice.
As I was mulling over these dark thoughts, Ray startled me back to reality. I had to do a double take before it registered who it was. He was wearing the blue padded Barbour jacket that he always wore, with the collar up and his hands thrust deep into the side pockets. He told me that he’d been calling over to me from the bar, but I was staring into the darkness outside the window.
He asked if I was OK as he sat down opposite me. I didn’t say a word as I slid the second drink across the width of the table to him. I watched him closely as he picked up the tumbler and put it to his mouth. I was annoyed by the fact that his lips looked really dry and needed some Vaseline or Carmex.
I lifted my own glass up and looked through the crystal of the tumbler at Ray. ‘There is no point fannying around this, Ray. Two people knew what I was doing today and where I would be. One of them I’m looking at now. I end up being jumped on by the plod, and when they nicked me they knew my surname. The copper called me by my fucking surname as he knocked on my window.’ I said this last sentence slowly and clearly. I finished off by saying, ‘That means they were expecting me, so it was either you or the fella from London who served me up to them … which one was it?’
I could see that Ray was taking in the magnitude of this situation. I wasn’t calling him a grass, but under the circumstances it was either him or the other fella. I told him not to answer yet. I explained that they had seized my £25,000 and I wasn’t a bit happy, but I told him my biggest issue was that I was now on the radar of the local filth.
Ray took a huge gulp of his drink and didn’t hesitate before he took another. He looked at me and said, ‘He’s got to go – that fella has to go.’ He told me he hadn’t uttered a word to anyone, and he’d been waiting for me at 11.30 as I’d told him to. He took a long look at me and said, ‘On my baby’s life, I had nothing to do with it. You have my word.’
I emptied my drink and said, ‘I believe you, but you’re right – that no good piece of shit has to go.’ I left Ray sat at the table, walked to the bar and asked the young emo-looking barmaid for a reload of the same drinks. She didn’t even need to ask what they were, and poured them into fresh tumblers.
I thanked her, paid for the drinks and returned to sit opposite Ray. He poured the contents of the new glass into what remained of his first drink. He thanked me for the drink and said he was really sorry about the Old Bill nicking my dough. I clinked his glass and said, ‘You’re right, the fella has to go, but I need one of them’ – I held my right hand in a gun shape – ‘I could go to the Smoke, but I don’t want anyone that end knowing I’m after one.’
Ray said, ‘Don’t worry about that. It’s best you have a shusher for that type of work, and I’ll sort that.’
I took another sip, clinked his glass again, and thanked him. ‘That’s one less thing for me to worry about.’ I could see in Ray’s face he felt gutted for me, but knowing that he was helping me to get rid of a grass was a consolation. He said he’d sort it for me as soon as he could.
I told him that I was going to finish this drink and then call Emma to come and pick me up. I explained that I had played everything down and told her they’d pinched five grand off me as I didn’t have receipts for the money. I asked if he could text her to pick me up, which he did. He then said, ‘Joe, before you go – what was the name of the copper that nicked you?’ I told him his name was DC Gables. Ray then explained that he had a mate who would be able to do some digging on him, and he’d let me know what he found out.
I downed the rest of my drink, and as I got up to go, Ray said, ‘I feel bad saying this, but don’t forget tomorrow night I’m with you.’ He did one of his over-exaggerated winks. He told me it would be really handy if I could have a few early drinks with him, and then he’d slip away and do what he needed to do. I told him that wasn’t a problem and we’d have a meet-up tomorrow. I reminded him that if he wanted to get hold of me, he’d have to ring Emma’s phone. I said I’d get a new phone tomorrow and I’d get my number to him.
He stood up and gave me a big hug. ‘You’re doing the right thing, mate. The fella has to go.’ I said goodbye to the barmaid, and the cold air hit me as I stepped out from the warmth and cosiness of the bar. I thought a walk would do me good, but as I looked up Emma pulled alongside me. I jumped in the car, and leant over and kissed her on the cheek and thanked her. I rested my head on the plush leather of the interior and closed my eyes, just for a moment.
Thirty-three
I wasn’t quite ready to sleep when Emma and I got home, so we chatted on the sofa whilst she sipped on a tall iced Bacardi and Diet Coke she had made for herself. I didn’t fancy another drink but was quite happy to sit and listen to Emma telling me about her day. The shop was getting busier and she was doing well to deal with the number of customers through the door. She described the type of characters wandering into her little world within the four walls of the shop. She liked the diversity of people and their greed for money, and she noted the amount of people who tried their very best – but failed miserably – to ‘have her over’.
I was getting tired now, and I was looking forward to sleeping in a proper bed, with Egyptian cotton sheets rather than a rough, dirty blue woollen blanket on a blue plastic mattress. I brushed my teeth and slid into bed, and as my head touched the pillow I was asleep, happy that I’d wake to a new day.
I was up and at ’em the following morning. Downstairs in the kitchen, I looked out onto the back garden through the patio doors as the rain bounced off the decking. There was an old-fashioned clothes line with a pole, made to hold the drying clothing aloft in the wind. Today was not a day for hanging clothing out to dry. I put the espresso pot on and found myself staring at two starlings bathing themselves in a small pool of rainfall that had formed on the path that meandered through the garden. I knew I needed a decent cup of coffee to concentrate my thoughts. I phoned Dave and we agreed to meet for breakfast in half an hour – just enough time for me to finish my coffee and drive to the Stables café. I left a note for Emma saying that I was meeting Dave and that I’d call her after. I grabbed my Henri Lloyd jacket and locked the patio doors behind me.
I drove through the rain listening to my favourite sports presenter Alan Brazil; the man had a melodic voice and I loved his sense of humour and fun. The fella could certainly tell a story and I loved the fact that he liked a drink. I often thought that he and I would have a really good night out together. The banter between Brazil and Mike Parry on talkSPORT kept me entertained all the way to my breakfast meeting.
The rain was still lashing down as I held my jacket over my head and ran for the comfort of the café. Dave was already sat in the corner, his hair was wet and there was condensation on his glasses. This didn’t bother him, as he was devouring the second triangle of a lovely toasted sausage and bacon sandwich. There was a slow trickle of brown sauce oozing out of one end of the sandwich and onto the stubble of his chin. It took him three wipes with a paper napkin to ensure his chin was sauce-free. He looked up and said that he’d paid for my usual coffee for me.
I walked over to the counter and ordered two eggs on brown toast, which I paid for, and the lady poured me the coffee that Dave had already bought. I took my coffee over and sat opposite Dave. I was happy to see that his sandwich was gone and his face was devoid of sauce. He was wiping the condensation from his glasses.
Dave said that he was really pleased with the way the past few days had gone. He said that, unbeknown to me, Ray had already made contact with his pal the ex-policeman, who in turn had made a couple of discreet call
s to old pals of his in the force trying to find out about my arrest. He said the calls were casual and not in any way corrupt, but the ex-policeman had confirmed someone had been nicked with a lot of cash. Dave also commented that he was happy that Ray had now offered me a gun to deal with the person who Ray believed was a grass. He was honest enough to say that he hadn’t been convinced the plan would work, but he was now very confident we would secure the weapon.
I looked at Dave and told him that there had been plenty of talk about guns, and I wasn’t going to get too excited until I actually had it in my lap. I also told him that I wasn’t having the circus that had surrounded the aborted purchase. The panic of the senior officers in using a surveillance team had put myself, Emma and the whole operation at serious risk. I said I wasn’t going to let it happen again, and if Ray came up with the gun, I was going to keep things very low-key.
I could see that Dave saw my point of view, but I wasn’t convinced that he believed anything would change in ‘their’ approach to the next potential purchase. I knew Dave was caught in the middle and his position was a little awkward, having to keep me keen and also keep the bosses well informed in order to make decisions.
My breakfast arrived, and Dave and I spoke more about the ex-policeman, who was named Frank. He explained that the fella had split the opinion of the people he used to work with. Half thought he’d been excellent Old Bill, and the other half thought he was the complete opposite and shouldn’t have been in the police. Dave said that Frank was well versed in many techniques, and had knowledge of surveillance. The research they’d done had revealed that Ray and him had been very close and clearly still were. Frank had left the police after some discipline issues, and Dave told me that I really needed to be on my guard if I came across him.
I told Dave that Ray had mentioned him yesterday evening – not by name, but he’d said he had a pal that might be able to do some digging. He’d asked me for the name of the arresting officer, and I had given him the name of Gables. Dave said we all had to tread carefully with Frank, as he could really cause us some problems. I’d left a triangle of toast on my plate, and Dave looked at it and said, ‘Do you mind?’ He had it en route to his mouth before I’d acknowledged it was his for the eating.
The rain had just ceased, and we walked out to our cars together. I told Dave that Ray and I were having a few early drinks this evening and that he’d asked me to cover for him as he was seeing another bird for the night. Dave laughed and commented that he wouldn’t like to be in Ray’s shoes if Chloe found out. I explained that he’d had a good look around the spare room in case Chloe sat him down and questioned him about his sleepover. As we were discussing this, my phone rang. I looked at the screen and said, ‘Talk of the devil.’ I answered, and Ray said he wanted to see me. We agreed to meet at a garden centre on the outskirts of town.
Dave and I agreed we would speak after my meeting with Ray. As I pulled away, I rang Emma to check that everything was OK. She seemed in a really bubbly mood, and said that the shop had been busy this morning. She said she’d like to go out for dinner tonight, and I agreed that she should choose somewhere to eat and to book a table for after eight.
I pulled into the garden centre, which was in an elevated position overlooking a picturesque river. The parking spaces in the car park were neatly marked out, and the whole place had a feeling of money and a touch of class. Ray only ever drove at one speed, and he pulled into the car park as I was stood next to my open driver’s door moisturising my hands. Parking was like a pit stop in a Grand Prix to him, and he was oblivious to the presence of normal people going about their daily business. He pulled his car alongside mine and jumped out. ‘What’s that shit you’re putting on your hands?’ I looked at him and said, ‘Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.’
He shook my hand and we walked together across the car park. I looked at the quality of the cars parked close to mine. This was a pretty upmarket place to buy a few bedding plants. Huge glass windows were set in the timber-clad exterior of what looked like a huge barn. We strolled through the home and garden section, and past the food hall, looking at the fresh produce at the fishmonger’s and the array of olives and cheeses in the delicatessen. I could smell the freshly baked cakes in the bakery. It was like a mini version of Harrods Food Hall, and the aromas that drifted through the air were enough to tempt the most earnest of dieters.
We found our way to the café at the side of a formal restaurant, which had pictures of recent weddings that had taken place there displayed on an easel. I ordered coffee for myself and Ray, and he grabbed a slice of rocky road that the enthusiastic young assistant said had just been baked. As usual, we positioned ourselves at the most remote table, out of earshot of the good and decent people that were enjoying a lovely shopping trip. We sat opposite each other next to a huge window. Ray dipped the tip of his rocky road into the froth of his cappuccino, and he momentarily closed his eyes as he savoured the flavours before saying, ‘Fucking lovely.’ I shook my head and said, ‘Greg Wallace’s job on MasterChef is under threat with comments like that. You missed your vocation in life.’ He ignored my comments, and continued munching on the rocky road.
After he swallowed the last mouthful, he leant across the table and explained to me that his mate, the ex-policeman, had done some digging on the copper who had nicked me. DC Gables was on a special squad at the moment, and Ray’s mate thought that maybe the squad could be looking at me and for me to be careful. He said his mate had his finger on the pulse with the local Old Bill, and that I should keep my eyes on my rear-view mirror. I took in what Ray was telling me, and said to him that it didn’t sit right with me that his friend was an ex-copper; it didn’t feel comfortable to me. Ray said that he had known him a long time, and that they had done things together and that he was like one of ‘us’.
I explained to him that my dad had told me many years before, ‘Once a copper, always a copper.’ I believed that to be true. He said that this fella was different and that I would change my mind when I met him. Ray seemed to think it was just a matter of time before the two of us met. I looked at Ray and said I would keep my head down for a bit, but I was always careful anyway. We finished our coffees, and I grabbed 250 grams of salami on the way out.
As we got to our cars, Ray said that he wanted to meet here again if we needed a quiet chat. He reminded me that he wanted to see me at the office tonight at seven. He showed me some of the text messages that the girl he was seeing later had sent him. He screwed up his face and said, ‘She’s going to get it tonight.’ I told him to spare me the details and to clear the messages off his phone. He had a huge grin on his face as he climbed into his car. I followed him to the main road and we both went our separate ways.
Thirty-four
I drove straight home and thought I’d spend a little bit of time with Emma before I met Ray for a few drinks. She had told me on the phone that she was going to shut the shop early, as it was Friday and she’d already had quite a few customers that day. She told me that she had to meet with Dave and sort a few things, and then she’d be home.
I was quite happy in my own company, I was used to spending a lot of time on my own and it didn’t faze me. I sat down in the front room in the huge, battered leather armchair and let the peacefulness of the house calm me. I put my head back onto the soft leather, and I couldn’t help thinking how I had changed since the first day I was deployed as an undercover officer. My mind drifted back to my first job as a UC.
As I walked out of the briefing room at Snow Hill Police Station, I thought to myself that I was in the land of the giants. All the detectives were huge, and all bar one were male. The City of London Police was a busy, vibrant and demanding place to work as a detective, and they had a very successful and well-run undercover department. I was working for the Central Detective Unit (CDU), a team full of experienced detectives headed by a detective inspector who had been in charge of many similar operations over the years.
The brie
fing was very matter of fact, and there was a huge assumption on their part that I had an in-depth knowledge of ‘bearer bonds’. I had never heard of them, let alone seen one. But as I looked around the briefing room, I made the decision that now was not the time to declare that I did not have a clue what they were talking about.
I was told there had been a theft of a significant amount of bearer bonds at one of the major financial institutions in the City. These bonds were worth millions of pounds to the holder. I would be meeting a man they believed was now in control of the bonds. I was shown a picture of the target and given his criminal history. He was recently released from prison, and had previously been a very successful amateur boxer who had turned professional. His career had been cut short by his keenness to rob security vans and a long spell in prison.
I was told to get £5,000 from the exhibits officer, which I did. My role was to negotiate with the man and buy up to £5,000 of bonds as samples, and to confirm that he had control of all the bonds. The DI told me that there would be a surveillance team following me and he wanted them all to meet me. We walked a short distance down a flight of stairs into another briefing room, and I was shown to the team. I also gave them the registration of the Mercedes I would be driving.
The meeting with the ex-boxer was at 8 p.m. at Watney Market, which I was told was only a ten-minute drive away. The briefing room quickly emptied, and the DI looked at me and said, ‘I’ll see you back here when you’re done. Don’t lose my money.’ I had £5,000 in my hand, my warrant card in my pocket, and my head was spinning with my ignorance about bearer bonds. This had disaster written all over it.
I managed to find my way out of the police station to where I had parked my car, which was at least a start. I hid my warrant card in the boot and put the cash under the driver’s seat. I had come too far now to turn back, and this was now very, very real. I was nervous – but nervous that I would mess it up, rather than of the fact I was about to meet an ex–pro boxer who used to rob security vans.
