Dangerous Lady

by Martina Cole

  Both began to make plans. And although Maura did not know it, both her plans and his would one day merge with explosive consequences.

  Terry was in a quandary. A week had passed since Sarah had given him the papers. He had no doubt that what Geoffrey had recorded was true. The names and dates coincided perfectly. What was worrying him was that not only were most of his colleagues on Maura’s payroll, but a few of the higher ups too. His Chief Inspector for one. Armed with all this information, he was not sure who to confide in. This wasn’t a case of a few bent coppers. This was more a case of a few honest men against a veritable army of policemen on the take! Whatever happened, it would burst wide open not only his friends but the whole of London’s police force.

  He now had documented evidence that Maura and Michael Ryan were behind the bullion robbery of ’85. Geoffrey Ryan had even procured the route map that had been used. Terry was in no doubt that it was probably full of prints. He even knew who was warehousing the gold. All well and good, except how in all honesty could he break this news without letting on that the police were also involved right up to their shitty little necks?

  He could have cried. In the last seven days he had looked at his friends with new eyes. Had listened to their accounts of arrests made and known deep in his heart that they were deliberately looking the other way where the Ryans were concerned. No wonder Mickey and Maura had got away with so much. They owned not only Vine Street but West End Central as well. He couldn’t believe it. They had ‘tags’ in Brixton, Kilburn, Barking. In fact, there was not one station where they didn’t have an ‘ear’ on the payroll.

  Now he, Terry Petherick, had all the information he needed to put them away. Even the full co-operation of their mother. And his hands were tied because when the Ryan ship finally went down it would take the police force with it. It was bloody laughable! As for this Templeton . . . he was up to his neck in skulduggery of one sort or another and his family connections had kept him out of jail for years! Terry wasn’t up against a few big villains, he was up against the whole bloody establishment.

  He picked up the phone on his desk and dialled the number of the Special Investigations team. He would give the lot over to them. Let them have the honour of sorting it all out. He was sick to the stomach with the lot of it.

  While the phone rang he doodled on his pad. It wasn’t till later in the day he saw that he had drawn a heart with a dagger in it.

  Superintendent Marsh was sitting staring out at the city skyline. It was dark and the lights were shining like beacons across the Thames. He had been sitting like that for nearly three hours. The information that the young DI had brought in had completely destroyed his equilibrium. He had been waiting for something like this for ten years. Now it was dropped, literally, into his lap he wasn’t sure exactly what to do with it. He was waiting for his superior, who thankfully was not on the bent list, to come and talk with him. If all this information was true, and he had a sneaking suspicion that it was, all hell would be let loose and the West End police would be running on a skeleton crew. He shook his head at the enormity of what he was about to unleash, the sad part being that DI Petherick had unwittingly dug his own grave. If this hit the tabloids, no one would work with him ever again. Policemen were like doctors. They never shit on their own, no matter who the patients might be.

  Terry was called at home at midnight. He was told to get dressed and meet Marsh at twelve-forty-five. As he got in his car he realised that he had started something that would have repercussions for years to come. Maura Ryan would finally be put away, but he wasn’t sure it was a fair price to pay for all the trouble it was going to cause. He was even less sure an hour later when he found out exactly what was to happen.

  He was sitting in a small back room in a terraced house in Wimbledon. Superintendent Marsh had been talking steadily for nearly an hour. While Marsh paused to light his cigar, Terry jumped in.

  ‘What you’re trying to say is that the people in authority will be getting off scot free?’

  Marsh inhaled smoke into his lungs and coughed. Holding his hand across his mouth, he tried to explain.

  ‘Look, son, I know how it must seem. The thing is, some of these men have been with the force for twenty years. They will retire quietly . . .’

  ‘And get their pensions and their early retirement bonuses!’ Terry’s voice was disgusted. ‘I can’t believe my ears, Marsh. I bring you evidence of corruption on a bigger scale than anyone could ever dream of and you have the gall to sit there and tell me that the majority will be walking away completely exonerated.’

  Marsh nodded.

  ‘I know how you feel, son.’

  ‘No, you don’t! You have no idea what I am feeling at this moment. I am bitter and disgusted. These people have been collecting money from known criminals for years and they are not going to be brought to account. Whereas the little fish like Dobin will be crucified for them.’

  ‘Listen, son . . .’

  ‘Stop calling me fucking SON!’ Terry smashed his fist on to the table in front of him. ‘We’re creeping around in the middle of the night like burglars. I can’t believe this is happening. You tell me that bent coppers are going to walk out of their jobs without even a slap on the wrist. We are carrying on like guilty criminals, meeting in dingy little houses in the middle of the night, and the actual scumbags that we’re here on account of are walking away from it all. It’s not bloody on, mate.’

  ‘Listen, Petherick. If this hits the streets we’re fucked. If you want it plain then I’ll give it to you plain. Can you imagine the outrage this would cause if it ever hit the tabloids? Have you thought? Our street credibility would be lower than a fucking gas meter bandit’s! Think about it. We’d never live this thing down. The only way we can even begin to sort this out is internally.

  ‘They know that they’ve been collared. They’re leaving the force. That’s all that we can do! When you get older you’ll realise the sense in what I’m saying. Else all the toe rags they’ve put away, the rapists, muggers, murderers, would be screaming for retrials as soon as their arresting officers were nicked. We’re talking too many people to let this ever get out. I know that what they’re getting seems a small price to pay for their misdeeds, but believe me the other way would cost us more.’

  Terry was stunned.

  ‘What about Maura Ryan? Or is she to walk away too?’

  ‘Don’t you worry about her, we have her bang to rights.’

  ‘Of course, let’s get our priorities right, shall we? Get the real villains. Well, let me tell you something, Marsh, I think that Maura Ryan, as bad as she and her family are, is as nothing compared to the filth you’re letting off so lightly. In my book a bent copper is worse than any villain.’

  Marsh walked around the table and put his hand on Terry’s shoulder.

  ‘I know . . . I feel the same. I’m following orders the same as you. But the sheer magnitude of what you found out is what’s stopping us making this public. Can’t you see that? The force would be crucified in hours. Top men in key jobs on the take? Come on, son. It’s too much.’

  Terry listened to Marsh and had to agree with what he was saying. It just seemed unfair to him that so many people would walk away without so much as a stain on their character when, by rights, they should have been made to take the consequences of their actions.

  ‘I’m still not happy. Even if this does cause trouble, surely it would be worth it? Joe Public isn’t as stupid as you seem to think. I for one would much rather see justice being done than take part in something that I know is wrong.’

  Marsh puffed on his cigar. His shiny bald head had a fine layer of perspiration over it. This young man was beginning to get on his nerves. The last thing the force needed at this time was a cop as honest as this one. Terry Petherick wanted to stir up a hornets’ nest, and there was no way he would ever be allowed to get away with it.

  ‘Look, go home. Sleep on it. Once you’ve had a chance to think about this logical
ly you’ll see it from our perspective.’

  Terry got up slowly from his chair and looked into Marsh’s eyes.

  ‘Now I know why we’re nicknamed the “filth”.’

  When Terry had left, Marsh sat back down at the table. If only everything was as easy as Petherick seemed to think it was. The nice policeman gets the naughty villains. Only in this world, most of the police were villains! Marsh let out a long drawn-out sigh. It was his job to keep Petherick’s mouth shut. And that was just what he intended to do.

  Terry drove home in a temper. The streets were deserted and he had an urge to drive to Fleet Street and shout his mouth off about the lot of it. He knew he wouldn’t, though. He hadn’t come this far in his career to blow it now. He realised that for the second time in his life he’d had to make an important decision between the force and Maura Ryan. And that for the second time the force had won.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Janine put Roy’s breakfast in front of him. He began to eat. She poured herself a cup of coffee, walked out of the kitchen into the lounge and laced it with vodka. As she turned from the drinks cabinet she jumped. Standing in the doorway watching her was Roy.

  ‘I thought you were eating your breakfast.’

  He finished chewing his mouthful of food and pointed to the cup Janine had in her hand.

  ‘Bit early even for you, ain’t it?’

  Janine dropped her eyes. She felt herself blushing. ‘It’s my life, Roy . . .’

  ‘Well, in future, if I ain’t here, you get Benny a cab to school. I don’t want you wrapping your car round a lamp post with my son in it. Pissed out of your nut!’

  Janine’s voice rose. ‘I’m not pissed!’

  Roy sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. ‘Not yet. You just do what I tell you. Get it?’

  Janine stared at him, her face twisted with anger.

  Roy bellowed at her: ‘I SAID . . . GET IT?’

  ‘Yes. I get it. I’m not deaf, you know.’

  ‘No, darlin’, not deaf. Just half pissed as usual.’

  Roy walked back to the kitchen to finish his breakfast. Standing on the bottom stair in the hall watching him was Benny.

  ‘You dropping me off at school, Dad?’

  Roy nodded.

  ‘Great. Mum’s driving is getting worse.’

  ‘In future, son, you do not get in any car with your mother, right?’

  Benny shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘Suits me, Dad.’

  Janine, listening to all they said, swallowed her coffee and vodka down in two gulps and refilled her cup. Sitting on the settee she sipped the neat spirit. Slowly the tears came. Roy had taken everything away from her over the years, her self-respect and now her child. The tears came, tears of self-pity. A little while later she heard them leave the house. Benny had not even bothered to say goodbye to her.

  Roy and Maura were driving out to Essex. She had an appointment with a goldsmith, Lenny Isaacs. Roy pulled up at some traffic lights and looked across at her.

  ‘You’re in a good mood today, Maws.’

  She smiled at him. ‘Yeah, I am actually.’

  ‘What’s brought all this fun and laughter on?’

  ‘Nothing, you cheeky bugger. You better go, the lights have changed!’

  ‘Oh, shit!’

  A van behind started blowing its horn.

  ‘All right. All right, I’m going. So what’s the secret then, Maws. A bloke?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Maura thought of William Templeton.

  ‘It is a bloke!’ Roy’s voice showed his surprise.

  ‘Listen, dickhead, I’m in a good mood because I just am. That’s all.’

  ‘Women’s bloody logic amazes me!’

  Maura laughed at him.

  ‘Talking of women, what’s the score with Janine?’

  Roy scowled.

  ‘I thought we were talking about women. Not the monster from the black lagoon.’

  ‘Nasty, nasty.’ Maura grinned.

  ‘Listen, Maws, Janine is getting on my nerves. She drinks like a fish.’

  ‘Janine? She was always a teetotaller.’ Maura sounded sceptical.

  ‘Not any more. The marriage is going down the pan. Correction, is down the pan. We haven’t slept together for over four years. If it wasn’t for Benny I’d have had it on me toes ages ago.’

  ‘How long has she been drinking?’

  ‘The last year or so, I think. But the last few months she’s been drinking quite heavily.’

  ‘She always was a funny bird. I never liked her, I admit that. But all the same, she is your wife.’

  ‘I tell you now, Maws, if it wasn’t for Mother I’d dump the bitch. But Mother thinks the sun shines out of her arse.’

  ‘That’s a fact. Well, Roy, you know your own mind. Myself, though, I’d get shot of her, whatever the old woman thinks. Let’s face it, you’re the one who’s got to live with her, not Mother.’

  Roy nodded.

  ‘What’s the score with this Isaacs bloke?’

  ‘Apparently he knows the big boys in Jersey. Reckons he can get rid of the gold over there, and gradually it will be put on the market again. That means that the market will be flooded and the price of gold will drop, but by then we’ll have made a mint, if you’ll excuse the pun, and some prat will be running all over Europe counting the gold reserves. Eventually some bright spark will suss out that the missing bullion is being sold legally and it will all be hushed up. As usual. So if you want to buy any gold in the next few years, stick to South African Krugerrands!’

  Roy burst out laughing.

  ‘You’re bloody mad!’

  ‘I know . . . I know. I’m happy mad, though, that makes a difference!’

  ‘I hope this Isaacs bloke ain’t going to waffle all day. Front wheels never seem to know when to shut up. Sammy Goldbaum used to chew my ears off!’

  At the mention of Sammy’s name Maura felt herself go cold. She hadn’t thought about him for a long time.

  ‘Here! You all right, girl? You’ve gone pale.’

  Maura lit a cigarette.

  ‘Yes, I’m OK. Just felt a bit funny for a second.’

  Roy realised that he shouldn’t have mentioned Sammy Goldbaum. He could have kicked himself.

  ‘I tell you what, Maws, before we go on this meet, what do you say we find a nice little pub and have a bite to eat and a drink?’

  Maura knew Roy was trying to make amends and smiled at him. ‘That would be great.’

  Terry Petherick was called in to see Marsh. He took the seat offered to him and waited silently for his boss to tell him what was going down.

  Marsh lit himself a cigar, his only extravagance. Blowing smoke across his desk, he began: ‘Have you thought over what we were talking about?’

  Terry nodded.

  ‘I take it you are more amenable today?’

  Terry nodded again.

  ‘Good . . . good. We’ve decided that the collaring of the Ryans will be given to you. I’m sure you already know that whoever gets them has his career made. Unless, of course, you get knobbled by them first.’

  Terry stared at him. He could see nothing to laugh about.

  ‘We know that you’re as straight as a die, and in view of all the information you’ve gathered we feel it is only fair . . .’

  Terry interrupted him.

  ‘All right. Cut the crap. What exactly’s going down?’

  Marsh had an overwhelming urge to put his cigar out in Petherick’s face. Who the hell did this little shit think he was? Instead he took a deep breath and tried to control his temper.

  ‘Yesterday Maura and Roy Ryan had a meet with a goldsmith . . . Lenny Isaacs. I had her tailed. Obviously they’re going to be shifting the bullion soon. That’s when we’re going to pounce. Once she’s nicked for that we can pile on the other charges as and when we feel like it. As I told you the other night, we have her bang to rights. We swoop when they make the exchange. It’s as simple as that.


  ‘About the other business . . . the Complaints Investigation Bureau are dealing with it internally. We’re not going to approach anyone until the Ryans have been collared. That way they won’t get any warnings. You and I will be working together closely on this one. You mustn’t mention it to anyone. I’ll see you in a few days when I have more to tell you.’

  ‘Sarah Ryan asked me if it was possible to get the boys lighter sentences?’

  Marsh smiled nastily. ‘Well, there’s no harm in asking, I suppose.’

  When Terry had left the office Marsh sat for a while smoking his cigar. It would not do to tell Petherick that none of the Ryans could be allowed to go to prison. The Ryans were going to be wiped out. They had bought themselves too many friends in the force to be allowed to live. They had to be shut up, and shut up permanently. As Petherick would be finding out all too soon . . .

  Sarah was making Benjamin’s dinner. He had come in from the pub and gone straight up to bed. Said he felt tired today. Sarah was annoyed. Felt drunk more like. As she was peeling the potatoes she heard a crash from above her head and looked up at the ceiling. Nothing. She listened again. Then putting down the potato peeler, made her way up the stairs to their bedroom.

  Benjamin Ryan was lying on the floor clutching his chest. One look at his face, grey and drawn, told Sarah he was very ill. She went to him and tried to lift his head from the floor.

  ‘Benjamin!’

  He opened his eyes. Sarah noticed the blue tinge around his lips.

  ‘It’s me chest, Sar. Get me a doctor. I’ve gotta pain in me chest . . .’

  Sarah ran down the stairs and phoned an ambulance. Then she rang Janine and told her to tell the boys what had happened. Slamming down the phone, she went back upstairs and sat on the floor with her husband until the ambulance arrived.

  Sarah sat in the Cardiac Care Unit with her husband until he lost consciousness. She was praying over him all day. At seven in the evening Maura and Roy turned up, both pale and worried. Janine had not thought to try to contact the other boys. Roy took his tiny mother into his arms.

  ‘What happened, Mum?’ His voice was gentle.

  ‘It was terrible. He collapsed in the bedroom. I found him on the floor.’