Stone Cold

by J. D. Weston

  “It’s all lies. There’s no truth to any of it is there?”

  “Start from the beginning, sit down.” John pushed the button on his phone and called for coffee and water, and asked not to be disturbed.

  “The beginning, John, is when you got your hands on me and Hannah. It’s been twenty odd years, and I still don't know the truth about my parents. Then there’s Hannah’s death.”

  “Easy, Son,” John warned, “she took her own life, you know that, as much as it pains me-”

  “As much as it pains you? You know more than you’re telling me, and it eats me, John; it eats me inside. You watch me day after day trying to work it all out, and you know I found one of them, and you know what I did to him. But I know there was someone else there, and that someone else still works for you, and you protect them.”

  “I don't pro-”

  “Julios was killed last night.”

  John stopped in his tracks and sat motionless. He was stunned.

  “I chased the car but lost it. When I got back, his body was gone.”

  John leaned forward and hung his head.

  “Now you tell me why someone would choose that moment to shoot him.”

  “The guns?”

  “The guns, John?” Harvey’s face twisted in despair. “The guns? They’re gone. What the hell does it matter about the guns? Julios was killed!”

  “Julios’ real name was Edgar Parrish,” said John, sitting back in his chair, “You want the truth? Sit down.” He spoke sternly, taking control of the argument. Harvey pulled a chair toward him and sat opposite John, who took a deep breath.

  “Edgar Parrish was my personal bodyguard. You saw how good he was. When he was younger, he was wild, Harvey. He was frightening in fact. Back then the firm wasn’t as big as it is now, I only had one or two bars and a handful of loyal men, but we were making a name for ourselves, mostly due to Edgar’s ferocious appetite for violence and his undying loyalty to me.”

  The door opened, and the drinks were brought in. The door closed silently behind Harvey.

  “He did a job for me; it didn't go as planned. Julios had to go into hiding for a long while. I eventually brought him back out; I took care of him and got him a new identity, that’s when he became Julios Saville. You was just a baby then.” John sipped the coffee and winced at the hot drink. He placed it back on the desk and looked at Harvey, “Do not ever insinuate that my men mean anything less than everything to me, Harvey. It’s men like Edgar that helped me build the firm up. I owe them more than they owe me, and I’ll never be able to repay that debt.”

  John stopped briefly. The two men stared at each other across the desk.

  “The truth is, Son, that Edgar or Julios if you prefer, walked a thin line for many years; he knew as much as I did that one day something would happen, something terrible. What you’re feeling is natural, you’re mourning.”

  “Of course I’m mourning, he was the only one that’s been honest with me, at least, I thought he was.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean, I thought he told me everything he knew, until yesterday anyway; seems like even he was holding stuff back from me. It’s over, John. I feel like everybody knows something I don't, and everybody else looks on while I spend my life trying to understand who the hell I am, running around in circles and hitting dead ends time after time.”

  “Julios trained you well, but you need to reign in the emotion, Harvey.”

  “Julios trained me to be in control, to stay in control. This isn’t emotion, this is me having enough of all the lies and deceit.”

  “The way I see it, we have a few problems to sort out, and you’re perfectly placed to sort them.” John licked his lips, “You’re on your own now, you always wanted Julios’ job, well now it’s yours, Harvey. I’ll double the payments.”

  “Julios is still warm, don't insult me.”

  "You know me, Harvey, I'm a practical man. One of the reasons I did so well is because I see the bigger picture, it's like a gift, Harvey. It’s also a curse. It means I can't relax because my mind is always planning."

  “Well the latest plan didn't go so well did it?”

  “No, Harvey it didn’t,” replied John.

  “I’m done, I can’t chase shadows anymore, I’m cutting loose.”

  “Harvey, hear me out. Julios’ body is missing. Either the police have him or Thomson’s lot. We are missing twelve MP-5s, which is a significant investment and a huge problem if it comes back our way. It means that someone who doesn't like us has them and can use them on us.” John took another sip of the hot coffee.

  “None of this is my problem anymore, I told you.”

  “Before you say anything Harvey, I’ll make you an offer. If you find me my guns and bring them back to me, and if you clean out the Thomsons, I’ll not only set you up so you can go on your jolly over to France and sit on the beach for the rest of your life but also…” He paused again to let the initial offer sink in, “I’ll tell you who it was that…hurt Hannah.”

  “So if you know, why can’t you just tell me, why couldn't you have just told me years ago so I could put it behind me. She was your daughter, you swore to protect her.”

  “I’m loyal to those who are loyal to me, Harvey. Besides, I couldn’t prove anything after you killed Jack.”

  “Loyal? How is molesting your foster daughter loyal? You should have ripped his head off.”

  “At the time, Harvey, there was no proof, he was extremely useful to me and to the success of the business. He had things on me that would have sunk this ship ten times over. I didn't want to believe it myself. It sickened me.”

  There was a short silence while the offer hung in the air. Harvey could reach across the desk and get the name in less than a minute. But the offer was good, being given a name wouldn’t bring closure. Harvey needed to earn it.

  “Tell me where the guns are and who has them, and kill Terry Thomson. A life of freedom, Harvey. Imagine it. You can get your revenge, and you can walk.”

  “Why would you give up his name now? What’s changed?”

  “Let’s just say he’s no longer as useful as he used to be, Harvey. He’s become a bit of a liability.”

  18

  Carver’s Reward

  Frank was at his desk staring up at the pinboard once more. The photo of Edgar Parrish was added to the top left alongside Adam Stimson and his band of merry men. The photo was pinned carefully and symmetrically; Frank had drawn a neat cross through Julios’ face from corner to corner to match Bradley Thomson’s and Donny Cartwright’s.

  When the email came through with the results from the coroner’s office. Frank’s face broke into a broad smile. A weight lifted that had been dragging him down since the death of his wife, and the tension on the skin of his brow seemed to ease somehow.

  It was the second piece of good news that he'd had that day. The MP5s that they found were recorded as untraceable, but Frank had received a call from the chief to tell him well done. The missing batch of guns were in fact originally twenty-four in number, which meant that there were still another twelve out there somewhere. The chief had said that should keep him busy. The undertones in the final sentence relayed the simple message, 'Find them.'

  Calls from the chief were rare, and since Frank’s recent mistakes and reprimands, interactions with the chief had stopped altogether, leaving Frank full of ambiguity.

  Frank’s desk phone rang, it was an internal number. He reached across to it and pushed the loudspeaker button.

  “Carver.”

  “Sir, you’ve been requested to join the chief in conference room two,” said the secretary.

  “I’ll be right there, thank you.”

  He sat back in his chair and took a deep breath. He gave a thought to his wife whose photo stared lovingly at him from the desk, she would have been proud. She had always supported him, even though she didn't understand the ins and outs of the work he did, she had always been there for h
im to vent; she had always been there to cheer him up when a case was tough, and the pressure was on.

  He stood and pulled on his jacket. He checked his shoes were clean enough and left the room. Frank was nervous as he walked the corridor to the lifts and nearly pushed the wrong button when it pinged its arrival.

  The elevator stopped on the third floor, and he stepped out, new faces smiled at him, old faces nodded their heads and carried on working. Phones rang continuously, it seemed like when one was answered another rang; constant noise. Printers spat out endless reams of paper, despite the so-called paperless environment the support staff were trying to achieve, and the hum of ambient noise was loud in his head.

  He knocked on the door of conference room two and walked in. The chief was stood at the head of the room in his expensive suit. Melody, Reg and Denver sat at the table looking professional and not acknowledging Frank’s arrival. Instead, they listened intently on the anecdote the chief was telling.

  At the back of the room were three others; one female and two males, all in sharp suits. Expensive looking bags sat by their feet, and shiny smartphones lay on the desks in front of them along with iPads and laptops. Frank recognised the asset sticker on the laptops as being department owned, and presumed they were senior of some description; he'd never seem them before, they were top floor maybe.

  "Frank, come in," said the chief, stepping towards him and offering his hand. Frank shook it and sat opposite his team at the front of the long table. He looked across to them and nodded; Melody smiled at him and nodded back.

  "Thank you all for coming," began the chief. "This won't take long, I know you are all as busy as I am. It is our duty to break the rings that form the illegal environment that pollutes this city, and every now and then we stumble upon a link in the chain. We follow that link to the next, and before long we reach the end of the chain. It is this very analogy that serves as this department’s raison d’etre." The chief had aimed the first of his speech to Frank and his team, but lifted his head to the three at the back for the next part, "We pride ourselves on the loyalty of the individuals that choose to work in this department. Their dedication plays a huge part in the success of the team. Recently, the four individuals sat between us found and killed an extremely dangerous man; a man who had been on the run for more than twenty years and who is believed to have been responsible for many crimes and countless murders. The actions performed by these individuals will allow us to close a whole range of unsolved crimes in the east London arena. For that," the chief looked back at the team, "I am very grateful. But," he continued, looking back at the three unknowns at the rear end of the room, "During the takedown, they managed to overcome a shipment of small arms, Heckler and Koch MP5s to be precise. These weapons were known to have been in the UK but were unaccounted for. Several teams were looking for them. They were believed to be smuggled in for the sole purpose of overcoming the transportation of several rare and priceless diamonds, purchased by an extremely influential family. The gems were valuable enough on their own, but the buyer’s social status would have made these diamonds invaluable. Once stolen, they could be purchased only within the confines of deepest of black market rings, at an unknown financial cost and we would have suffered heavy collateral damage; the reputation of the department would have never recovered. And for that," he looked back at Frank and his team, "I am deeply honoured to have you all on my team."

  “Who was the suspect?” asked one the men at the rear of the room.

  "Edgar Parrish, sir. He was a migrant of Portuguese descent and a trained killer. He was tied to the Cartwright family in the eighties, though the ties could never be proven, until he made a mistake, a severe mistake. The Cartwrights disowned him, and he disappeared, believed to have returned to his home country of Portugal. Recently Frank Carver and his team here discovered his association with the Cartwrights once more, and the rest as they say is history.”

  The three people at the back of the room clapped briefly, in recognition of the success, but it was short and by no means an ovation.

  "My proposal, ladies and gentlemen, is for Frank Carver and his team, Mills, Tenant and Cox," the chief nodded at each one as he spoke their names, "to run independently of the department. A small specialised unit, segregated from the internal affairs and politics of a shared office space, to concentrate their efforts entirely on organised crime. I can discuss the budget with you later, but I do believe the team should be rewarded well, housed in a specialised unit and report directly to me. The operation would be dark. Only those people in this room would have knowledge of it, and the team would not be in a position to accept the success of any operation for the purposes of remaining dark. The success of any operation would fall to this department."

  "And of course, any failures? We'd have to put it to the board," chimed the lady in the suit.

  “Of course, but given the success of the team so far and potential success for the department, I see no reason for objection.”

  “Why these individuals? If we were to form a dark operations team, we could select from anyone in the Met or SO10.”

  "Because, ma'am, these individuals together have all the skills and traits a small team would need. They may expand at some point, but the focus would be to remain small and discreet. Carver here has the transformational leadership skills and understands the mindset of the criminal better than any detective I've ever met." The chief held his hand out as if presenting Frank to the panel, he lowered it and raised his other to present the rest of the team. "Mills, martial arts expert and reconnaissance expert, and Bisley one-hundred championship marksman. She has photography, topography and satellite skills that have proved to be invaluable to the department." Melody blushed slightly at the recognition. The chief moved his hand along to Reg.

  "Tenant. Tech genius, solely responsible for hacking into the MoD firewall and bringing an entire training facility to a standstill in power, data and security. The attack was the reason for the ninety million pound network security overhaul in two thousand and eight, which resulted in all of us attending the security awareness program, if you remember?"

  “So, we hired him?” asked one of the men incredulously.

  "Tenant subsequently attacked the MoD again and armed the tier two defence system, which elicited several heated telephone calls between Downing Street and The White House."

  “Again, so we hired him?”

  The chief looked at Reg, who was red-faced and looking at his knees, ”How old were you when you managed all of this Tenant?”

  Reg looked up at the chief, failing to conceal the childish smirk that ran across his face from ear to ear, “Fifteen, sir.”

  "Fifteen years old," said Frank, "Tenant was also responsible for a well-known oil company's six percent share price drop in two thousand and ten. He was once again arrested and entered into a government-funded rehabilitation program for minors, where we trained him to use his skills in a more ethical manner beneficial to the country." The chief nodded at Reg, who returned to his attention back to his phone.

  “And this one?” asked the lady, nodding at Denver.

  “Cox is one of the best mechanics, electrical engineers, pilots and drivers you will ever meet. Cox, why don't you tell your story?”

  Cox looked up, wide-eyed like a rabbit in headlights.

  “Go on,” the chief prompted.

  "Well, my father put me in a go-cart when I was a kid, and I ended up winning the race; I loved it so much, he eventually bought me my own cart. I went on to win the national championship four years running and went into early formula cars. I preferred streetcars, so finished on the formula scene and got into rallycross. I won the European rallycross two years running. Since then, I earned my pilot's license, helicopter license and I'm sponsored by Red Bull in the international rallycross and the Red Bull Air Race."

  “How did you come to work for the department?”

  "I led the motorway police on a chase and got away, ma'am."

 
The three looked confused, “So how did you come to work here?"

  The chief stepped in, “Ma’am, I’m afraid the team’s modesty is not doing them justice. The particular car chase involved two police helicopters and around fifteen ground units. We found his photo on a speed camera that flashed during the chase and that was the only reason we found him.” The chief paused, “Cox was entered into a rehabilitation program, which led to enhanced driving techniques, and eventually he found his way to us.”

  The lady shook her head and pursed her lips disapprovingly, “Who else would you need?” she asked. She was making notes on the iPad which was propped up on its attached keyboard.

  The chief looked at Frank, “Carver?”

  "First and foremost, thank you, sir, for such a most humbling description of my team." He turned his attention to the rear of the room, "Ma'am. Sirs. Apologies if my analysis is not as thorough as you would expect from such a significant proposal. As you are aware, I have only just learned of this development as you have, but," he cleared his throat, "I can see, by looking at the range of skill sets here in this room, that I would need one more pair of hands to get the unit operational. I'll prepare an in-depth report and submit it to the chief here for your perusal. The report will be comprehensive; there will be an outline of the facility requirements, plans for growth and associated targets. I wouldn't imagine the funding would be offered for everything the unit would require without prior demonstrations of the capabilities, so I'll incorporate a growth and cost analysis. I believe with such a team working closely together without the interruptions of department duties and restrictions, the success rate would be extremely high. I know of several operations that could be expedited if they were given to a dark ops team. Currently, as you are aware, existing dark ops are over-resourced working on anti-terrorism efforts, and rightly so. However, this does leave a large void for native and domestic organised crime to fall under the radar."