Hard Landing

by Stephen Leather

  The Rover slowed and turned again, then braked and came to a halt. 'I'd be grateful if you'd keep the hood on for a little longer,' said Mackie. 'I'm sure you understand.'

  Hargrove understood exactly. The procedure wasn't so much to keep him from seeing the safe-house, it was more to reassure Roper that all precautions were being taken to ensure his safety. Hargrove smiled, despite his discomfort. If there was ever a case of rushing to shut stable doors after horses had bolted, this was it.

  The car moved as the driver climbed out, then the rear passenger door opened and Hargrove felt a light touch on his arm. 'Mind your head,' said the driver, and helped the superintendent out of the car.

  Mackie walked with Hargrove to the front door, knocked, then guided him over the threshold. As soon as the door was closed, he removed the superintendent's hood.

  Hargrove blinked in the hall light, then ran his hand over his hair. A man in his fifties was standing in a doorway, a woman with a tear-stained face behind him.

  Mackie smiled amiably. 'Sandy, Alice, can I introduce Superintendent Sam Hargrove? I hope he will able to allay some of your fears.'

  'Are you with the Drugs Squad?' asked Roper.

  Hargrove shook his head. 'No, Sandy, I'm not.' He smiled at Alice. 'I don't suppose I could have a cup of tea, could I, Mrs Roper? I've been wearing that hood for the best part of an hour and I'm parched.'

  Alice hurried off to the kitchen. Roper went back into the sitting room. A small colour television was on in the corner, the sound muted. Mackie and Hargrove followed him and sat down on the cheap red plastic sofa. Roper stood with his back to the television, his arms folded across his chest. 'With all due respect, I'm not happy about police involvement, not after what happened to Jonathon Elliott,' Roper said to Mackie.

  'Superintendent Hargrove is not involved in your protection, nor will he be,' said Mackie. 'He's here only to offer you some reassurances. Just hear what he has to say.'

  Roper looked as if he was about to argue, but then the fight went out of him and he sat down on an armchair, made of the same red vinyl as the sofa. It produced a soft farting noise as he settled into it and he looked pained. 'My wife hates this suite,' he said. 'Hates the whole house.'

  'I can understand why,' said Hargrove. 'But it won't be for much longer. I gather you had a phone call?'

  Roper nodded, then related what Carpenter's man had said. Hargrove listened in silence until he had finished. 'I'm not in the business of teaching anyone to suck eggs, but you realise that all he did was call your mobile? They've no idea where you are.'

  'It was my personal mobile,' said Roper.

  'Which means the number would be in general circulation,' said Hargrove. 'I agree that it is a worry how they got it, but it's not the end of the world.'

  'They photographed my wife and children.'

  'Gerald Carpenter doesn't hurt families,' said Mackie. 'He's a nasty piece of work but he's old school and, to the best of my knowledge, he's never hurt a woman or a child.'

  'Other than by selling them drugs, you mean,' said Alice from the kitchen.

  Hargrove nodded, conceding the point. 'What I mean is that the photographs and the threats to your family are just a way of intimidating you. I don't believe for one minute that he would actually carry them out.'

  'My husband tells me that Carpenter has already killed a police officer. I have to say, if he'd told me that sooner I'd never have let him get into this.'

  'The undercover agent he killed was in his way. And the shooter made sure that the agent's wife wasn't in the line of fire. Mrs Roper, I want to reassure you that your family are not in danger.'

  'As far as you know.' She looked around the door.

  Hargrove nodded again. 'Agreed, but I doubt that anyone knows Gerald Carpenter as well as I do.'

  'You've only met him since he was arrested,' said Roper. 'I was close to the man on the outside. I drank with him, broke bread with him. I know very well how dangerous he is.'

  'There was always a risk that he'd identify you. It's a risk you take every time you go undercover.'

  Roper shook his head. 'This is different. Carpenter's getting help from someone, either within the Church or within the Drugs Squad. I don't mind going in to bat against a demon bowler, but I'm damned if I'm going to put my life on the line if members of my own team are helping to threaten my family.'

  'We don't know for sure that there's a bad apple,' said Mackie.

  'They know my date of birth,' said Roper. 'They know I'm due to retire. They have my mobile number. They know my home address. Someone's leaking, sir.'

  'And because of that you're threatening to walk off the case?' said Mackie.

  'I don't see I've any choice, sir. You can see the state my wife's in. The boys are like caged animals. I asked to be put in a safe-house and, fine, that's happened, but then I get a call on my mobile and it's all up in the air again. I don't know who I can trust any more.'

  'Let's not get ahead of ourselves here, Sandy,' said Mackie. 'I know this is tough for you, but refusing to give evidence will just get you into even more trouble.'

  'Is the job threatening me now, too?'

  Mackie put up his hands as if trying to soothe a nervous horse. 'We've invested a lot of time, money and manpower on this case,' he said. 'We can't afford to have it go down the toilet. It's bigger than you, Sandy. It's bigger than all of us.'

  'So you'd let a judge send me down for contempt, is that what you're saying? I don't believe I'm hearing this.'

  Alice reappeared at the doorway with a tray of tea-things and some biscuits. She looked tired. Hargrove stood up and took the tray from her. 'Let me help you with that,' he said.

  Alice pulled a small coffee-table in front of the sofa and Hargrove put the tray down on it. 'The biscuits are shop-bought,' she said. 'The oven is a mess.'

  'They're fine,' said Mackie. He picked one up and took a bite. 'Delicious.'

  Alice looked around the room. Mackie's ample frame took up most of the sofa and her husband was in the only armchair. Hargrove waved at his place on the sofa. 'Sit there, please, Mrs Roper.'

  Alice sat down and poured milk into the cups. They were all chipped.

  'I was just telling your husband what a terrific job he's doing, and how we do understand the stress you're all under,' said Mackie. 'I know that this house isn't the most comfortable of places, but it is secure, and at the moment that's what counts. How are the children bearing up?'

  'They're upset. They're missing their friends and their school.'

  'Where are they now?'

  'In their room.' Alice's hand shook and milk dribbled on to one of the saucers. 'I don't want Sandy testifying,' she said.

  She'd been watching too much American television, thought Hargrove, but he didn't say anything. Witnesses in UK courts gave evidence, they didn't testify.

  'I understand your fears,' said Mackie, looking around for somewhere to put the uneaten half of his biscuit. Hargrove handed him a plate. It was scarred from years of washing. 'What you've been through so far is more than we could ever have asked from you. It's above and beyond the call of duty.'

  'It's not me I'm worried about,' said Alice. Her hand shook even more and she put down the milk jug and sat with her fingers entwined in her lap. 'It's the children.'

  'I know, but as I have explained they are absolutely not at risk,' said Hargrove. 'The man we're dealing with doesn't hurt women or children, certainly not civilians.'

  'He sent us photographs,' said Alice.

  'To intimidate your husband,' said Mackie.

  'He's not testifying,' said Alice. She was staring at her fingers.

  'Can I just ask you both to hear what Superintendent Hargrove has to say?' said Mackie. 'He's come a long way and I made him wear a ghastly hood most of the time he was in the car.'

  Alice smiled and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Hargrove pulled a crisp white handkerchief from his top pocket and gave it to her.

  Mackie looked u
p at Hargrove and nodded. Hargrove moved over to the door so that he could see Roper and his wife. He waited until they were both looking at him before he spoke. 'First let me reinforce what Mr Mackie has said. You've both been through far more than we could reasonably have asked of you. And do sympathise with your desire to put the matter behind you. But please do believe me when I say that you and your family are under the best possible protection. I know you're upset about the death of the Drugs Squad undercover officer, but he was out in the open, going about his daily business. He wasn't being protected, he wasn't taking anything more than normal precautions.'

  'Why weren't you protecting him?' asked Alice.

  'He wasn't one of my officers,' said Hargrove. 'I don't work for the Drugs Squad. Nor do I report to the Metropolitan Police. I'm not passing the buck by saying that. Even if he had been working for me, I doubt that we'd have handled things any differently. Jonathon Elliott didn't realise he was in jeopardy. No one did. He assumed his cover was intact and that no one knew his true identity. The attack came out of the blue.'

  'They didn't threaten him first?' asked Roper.

  'Not as far as we know,' said Hargrove. 'But I'm not here to talk about the measures taken to ensure your safety. That's in the hands of the Church. I'm here to let you know that we haven't finished with the Gerald Carpenter investigation. Far from it. We have a man undercover as we speak, trying to get close to him.'

  'But he's in prison . . .' said Roper. His voice tailed off as he grasped the implications of what the superintendent had said.

  'As a rule I wouldn't be discussing operational matters with you,' said Hargrove, 'and certainly not with a civilian,' he nodded at Alice. 'But under the present circumstances, coupled with the fact that you are now effectively isolated from the outside world, we've decided to bend the rules.'

  Roper leaned forward in his armchair, his head tilted to one side as he stared at Hargrove.

  'I head up an undercover unit that reports directly to the Home Office,' said Hargrove. 'We are a police unit, but separate from all police forces. If and when a chief constable requires our assistance, a request is made to the Home Secretary. If it is approved, our unit is seconded to a particular case. More often than not it involves the positive targeting of a named individual, someone who has been able to evade conventional police operations. A request was made last week for my unit to move against Gerald Carpenter, and an operation to that effect is now in place.'

  'You've got a guy undercover in a Category A prison?' said Roper, astonishment on his face. 'He must have balls of steel.'

  Hargrove smiled. That pretty much described Spider Shepherd. 'His mission is two-fold,' the superintendent continued. 'We are trying to find out how Carpenter is continuing to run his organisation from behind bars, and we hope our man will be able to gather evidence that Carpenter was responsible for ordering the killing of Jonathon Elliott. Our man is risking a lot - everything, in fact - and I wanted you to be awareof that. He's undercover twenty-four hours a day in horrendous conditions that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. And if you do pull out and the case against him collapses, Carpenter walks and our man will have risked his life for nothing.'

  'This man, he's a policeman?' asked Alice.

  'He's a former soldier but he's a policeman now. He's been undercover for most of his police career, but this is the most dangerous mission he's ever undertaken.'

  'And does he have a family?' Alice looked anxiously at Roper.

  'Yes, he does,' said Hargrove. 'And his wife is as fearful for his safety as you are for your husband's.'

  Roper was smiling now. 'You're going to get him, aren't you? Carpenter's going down?'

  'We're going to get him,' said Hargrove. 'You and my team. Together we'll put him where he belongs. Hopefully for most of the rest of his life.'

  'Sandy . . .' said Alice.

  'You heard the man, Alice,' said Roper. 'This isn't just about us now. It's not as if the whole case rests on my evidence.' He looked up at Hargrove earnestly. 'Conspiracy to murder, right?'

  'At the very least,' said the superintendent.

  'That's life,' Roper said to his wife. 'He'd be awayfor life. And this time it wouldn't all be hanging on my evidence.' Alice's shoulders slumped. Roper got up and stood next to her. Then he knelt beside her and took her hands. 'What if it was the other way round?' he said. 'What if it was me in prison, putting my life on the line, and he was at home with his family? Wouldn't you want him to do what was right?'

  Alice looked at him. A tear ran slowly down her cheek, but as he was holding her hands she couldn't wipe it away. 'It's not about what's right and what's wrong,' she said. 'I know that what you're doing is right, but I'm not a child. I know that sometimes bad people get away with doing evil things, and good people get hurt. I don't want our family hurt, Sandy.'

  'You won't be hurt, I promise.'

  'That's not a promise you can make,' she said. She took a deep breath, then looked across at Mackie. 'My husband can do what he wants,' she said, her voice suddenly stronger, 'but the children and I are not staying here.'

  'Mrs Roper--' began Mackie, but Alice continued to speak.

  'We're leaving now. I have a sister in Bournemouth. We'll go and stay with her.'

  'Mrs Roper, that's really not wise,' said Mackie.

  'You can have men watching the house there, but if what you say is true we'll be in no more danger there than we are here. It's Sandy who's in the firing line, so it makes sense for us to be as far away from him as possible.'

  Mackie and Hargrove exchanged a look. Roper stood up. 'It's probably for the best,' he said to Mackie. 'It's a guest-house near the seafront. The Church could put people in there without attracting suspicion.'

  'And you're still with us on this?'

  'One hundred per cent,' Roper said. He smiled reassuringly at his wife, but she looked away, stony-faced.

  Shepherd dropped to the ground in the corner of the exercise yard and started doing slow press-ups. He did twenty on the flat of his hands, then another twenty on his fingertips. He rolled on to his back and did a hundred crunches, then leg-raises.

  As he stood up he saw Needles in the far corner, deep in conversation with Dreadlocks. Both West Indians turned to look at him and he knew they were talking about him. He had the feeling that whatever truce there had been with Dreadlocks following the fight on the landing was about to be rewritten. He'd already assumed that Needles wouldn't come for him one-on-one.

  Shepherd knew that as long as he was in the yard he was safe. When the attack came it would be out of sight of the officers and CCTV cameras, in a cell or the showers. And this time Needles wouldn't be fighting empty-handed. It would start with a mug of boiling water thrown into his face or a plastic toilet-brush handle carved into a spike and thrust between his ribs. Needles wouldn't be fighting fair because nothing in prison was fair: all that mattered was winning.

  Shepherd started touching his toes, swinging his arms and building up a rhythm. It was four o'clock in the afternoon so the inmates were allowed another forty-five minutes out of their cells before the evening meal was served and they were locked up for the night. If anything was going to happen that day, it could only happen within the next forty-five minutes.

  Shepherd straightened up and started to walk round the perimeter of the exercise yard. He went clock-wise - everyone did, even though there was no rule that prevented them going the other way.

  Lee and his football cronies were leaning against the wire fence, deep in conversation. Lee nodded at Shepherd as he walked by. He nodded back. He had to walk past Needles and Dreadlocks to get out of the yard. He didn't look at them, although he could feel them staring at him. He had gone past the stage of sour looks and menacing stares: he'd made his decision. All he needed now was the opportunity.

  He walked out of the exercise yard, back on to the spur, and slowly towards the stairs. Half a dozen of the older inmates were sitting at a table playing dominoes, and four Jamaicans were
playing pool. One of them was Stickman, the tall, thin guy that had attacked Shepherd with Dreadlocks on his first morning. Shepherd sensed no hostility from him as he walked past the pool table. No sullen look, no hard stare.

  He reached the bottom of the stairs. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Needles and Dreadlocks emerge from the exercise yard. They'd been searched when they went into the yard so Shepherd knew they wouldn't be carrying weapons. He went up to the twos. Needles and Dreadlocks walked along the ones and into Needles's cell, which he shared with another West Indian who was still in the exercise yard. Shepherd leaned over the rail. Rathbone was at the entrance to the exercise yard, patting down prisoners who wanted to go outside. There were no other officers on the ones.

  There were two in the bubble, drinking coffee and talking.

  Shepherd turned and hurried down the stairs. The Jamaicans were intent on the pool game. The old lags were bent over their dominoes. He walked towards Needles's cell. Charlie Weston was at the water-boiler, filling his metal Thermos flask. A middle-aged prisoner in a prison-issue tracksuit was filling out a visitor application.

  Shepherd reached Needles's cell. The door was ajar. He took a final look round and pushed it open.

  Ray Mackie waited until the Rover was within a mile of the City, then told Hargrove he could remove the hood. He took it off and ran a hand across his hair and down the back of his neck. 'I look forward to taking you on a clandestine meet one day, Ray,' he said.

  Mackie chuckled. 'You're lucky we didn't get the rubber gloves out.'

  Hargrove settled back in the plush leather seat and looked out of the window at the passing traffic. The Rover's rear windows were tinted so other motorists wouldn't have been able to see that he was hooded. 'I didn't like having to lie to them like that,' he said quietly.

  'We didn't have a choice,' said Mackie.

  'Even so.'

  'Are you saying your people don't bend the truth?' asked Mackie, rhetorically. 'How far would an undercover agent get if he never lied?'