by Paul Finch
The next two images were custody mugshots, the one on the left showing an older man, probably in his mid-forties, the other a much younger guy, thirty tops. Despite the age discrepancy, lives of unremitting violence were engrained into those hard-bitten visages.
‘Our informant warned us about these two,’ Gwen said, ‘but didn’t know their names. We do, because they have long records. The first one, the older fella, is Alfie Adamson. A good, old-fashioned East End boy and former bare-knuckle boxing champion, he’s been on the fringes of organised crime all his adult life, mainly working in enforcement. The younger one is Wade McDougall. He hasn’t got the same illustrious reputation as his mate, but he’s an up-and-comer.’ She turned to Heck. ‘I think you know him, don’t you, Sergeant Heckenburg?’
‘From my uniform days at Rotherhithe, ma’am,’ Heck confirmed. ‘He first came to our attention as a teenager who liked to batter visiting fans at Millwall. But he went on to bigger things later. Basically another thug-for-hire, but he knows how to do a job. He recently finished a ten-year stretch for beating up an undercover Drug Squad officer so severely that he almost died.’
She nodded and turned back to the others. ‘If, during the course of the raid, you find yourself nose-to-nose with either of these two … trust me, and I don’t say this often, you’ll need to get your shots in first. OK, questions?’
‘We locking up everyone in there, ma’am?’ a female PC wondered.
‘If we can,’ Gwen said. ‘There ought to be enough of us … but if one or two slip the net, that won’t be the end of the world for me so long as we collar the Friths and their two minders. We also need to grab their equipment, of course, especially the laptop relaying the films and the pen drives on which they’re uploaded.’
‘Do we make a show of arresting Cleghorn?’ someone else asked.
‘It won’t make any difference whether we do or don’t. Cleghorn will be marked for ever after as the guy who brought in the police. Even if the Friths believe it was an accident, they won’t forgive him for that.’
‘But if he’s going to do time for these other offences …?’ Bunting said.
‘If he does time for them,’ she replied, ‘he’ll do it in isolation. And he’ll be thankful for it. Anything else?’
A wall of expectant faces greeted this. There were no further questions.
‘OK, good. Well … check your notes again, pay particular attention to the visuals.’ Gwen glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘It’s six-thirty bang on. This thing goes live at seven. You all know your particular jobs, you all know your jump-off points. Let’s roll.’
Chapter 24
‘I don’t believe you, Gail,’ Heck said into his phone.
She’d finally answered one of his calls, but he was having to shout to be heard over the hammering of boots and shouting of orders, as the team hurried across the huge personnel car park at Putney Road Bridge, scrambling into their various vehicles.
‘We’ve worked our backsides off over the last couple of days, putting this thing together,’ he said. ‘And now you haven’t even made it to the bloody briefing!’
‘You need to talk to Gemma,’ she replied, sounding tired and miserable.
‘I’m talking to you …’
‘Just talk to her. Don’t give me any more earache.’
‘Listen, DC Honeyford …’ Before Heck could say more, he was distracted by the on-off flashing headlights of a vehicle parked directly in his eyeline. It was Gemma’s aquamarine Merc. Gemma herself, wearing a hi-vis coat over her plain clothes, was standing alongside it, leaning in to manipulate the lights. When she saw that she’d caught his attention, she pointed at the front passenger seat and climbed in on the driver’s side. ‘Erm, yeah …’ Heck said into the phone, thrown by this, only to find that Gail had already cut the call.
He pocketed his mobile, signalled to Gary Quinnell that he wouldn’t be too long and walked across to the Merc. Gemma watched him through the windshield.
He climbed in and closed the door. She said nothing for a second or two, gazing out as the two unmarked troop-carriers ferrying the uniforms departed the car park.
‘Ma’am … if it’s about that suit business last week, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I was a bit impertinent.’
‘I don’t give a toss about your suit, Heck. It was a cheap and nasty thing, anyway.’
‘I paid three hundred quid for that.’
‘You got ripped off. Not for the first time, I might add, when it comes to your sartorial sense.’
She still didn’t look at him but watched as Gwen Straker left the car park in her black Audi Q7, Cyril Takuma riding alongside her. When they’d gone, she took something from her anorak pocket and unfolded it; it looked like three sheets of printout.
‘I received this rather lengthy email last night,’ she said. ‘From Detective Superintendent Bellman, head of the anti-drugs team up on Humberside.’
‘I see.’ Heck had to batten down his frustration. Quinnell and Reed were still waiting for him by his Megane.
‘I take it you know what it’s about?’ She sounded amazingly calm by her normal standards; in fact, now that he thought about it, she sounded weary.
Heck considered again Gail’s view that Gemma was not only feeling the pressure of having to fight to keep her outfit together but was struggling to cope with the relatively new experience of being ordered around by an operational senior.
‘Having read this, I’d say it was quite a serious abrogation of duty on your part,’ she said. ‘You’re very lucky that Humberside are content to leave me to deal with it.’
‘All respect, ma’am, but I don’t think luck had much to do with it. That DI Warnock, whose operation I allegedly bolloxed, struck me as a bit of a pillock, if you don’t mind me saying that about one of your fellow ladies. Not that she’s much of one of those.’
‘Are you serious?’ she wondered. ‘An issue like this, and your response is to be disrespectful?’
‘There’s no disrespect intended towards you …’
‘Towards the senior ranks.’
‘I wasn’t disrespectful to her at the time. Gail Honeyford will back me up on that …’
‘Gail Honeyford has been complained about in equally strong terms to you. And I’m not having that where a junior is concerned. So, from today, she is officially removed from Operation Sledgehammer.’
Heck looked round, startled. ‘Removed …?’
‘I’ve transferred her back to Staples Corner, where she’s currently on non-operational duties. That way, she can learn the ropes without being exposed to any unduly malign influences.’
‘Non-operational. You mean she’s the office dogsbody?’
‘It’s no less than she deserves. And keeping you on Sledgehammer is a lot less than you deserve.’ She finally raised her voice, banging the printout on the dashboard. ‘For Christ’s sake, Heck … at a time when we need all the friends we can get, this is an absolute fuck-up!’
Heck could always tell when Gemma was genuinely upset, because she used profanities, something she rarely did in normal conversation.
‘Did it not even occur to you to enquire if this Cyrus Jackson was under observation?’ she asked.
‘Of course it did.’
‘Of course?’ She blinked in disbelief.
‘I had to make a judgement call. Which case was more important … theirs or ours?’
‘So, you took a deliberate chance that you might be ruining weeks, months even, of another unit’s work?’
‘That’s about the sum of it, yeah.’
Gemma rocked back in her seat. She let out a sigh so heartfelt that it might have implied bewilderment at the meaning of existence rather than annoyance with an underling.
‘What did I do that was so wrong?’ he asked.
‘Heck … there are ways of doing things.’
‘Ma’am, the only reason this DI Warnock cut up nasty is because she wasn’t on top of her brief. Not sufficiently to keep full
tabs on Cyrus Jackson.’
‘Do you actually believe that?’
‘I’m sure it’s part of it. Anyway, I ask again … which is more important, whoever’s supplying Cyrus Jackson with souped-up grass, or this new thing we’ve got wind of, where unwilling participants are being forced to fight to the death? It’s no surprise that Humberside Drug Squad don’t see it that way. But I had no choice, did I?’
Gemma shook her head, tired again, almost glassy-eyed.
‘I especially had no choice,’ he added, ‘given that, from what I’ve been hearing, no one else on Sledgehammer is making any ground at all.’
‘That actually isn’t true …’
‘I don’t mean Golden Boy, of course. I hear he’s finally made something happen. The only question there is did he fill you in in private before it hit the airwaves?’
‘What … what did you just say?’
Her expression was genuinely one of someone who thought they must have misheard. But Heck was suddenly too frustrated to hold back on it.
‘Do you think I don’t know what’s going on here?’ he said. ‘You’re infatuated with this guy, Reed. Just because he looks like a bloody action hero.’
Again, Gemma looked too stunned to respond.
So, he kept on going, all his pent-up disappointment finally pouring out.
‘He’s your new star player, isn’t he? Your international centre-forward. But the fact is, Gemma … his looks and that ridiculous urbane charm of his are seriously getting the better of you. I don’t know how last night went down, but he nabbed the Black Chapel on the basis of intel I provided. He might be better behaved than me, he might be more of a team player … but his overall results are way inferior …’
‘What is this?’ she interrupted. ‘An argument in the school disco?’
‘You want to know why I did what I did up on Humberside? Let me come one hundred per cent clean …’
‘That’ll be a first.’
‘Like you, I want SCU to survive. But unlike you, that’s not because I believe in its purpose with a righteous zealotry. In fact, you press me on it and I’d probably say the whole National Crime Group could probably be broken up and its operational duties repatriated to other forces and other squads. Wouldn’t make any real difference in the long run. No, I believe in it because …’ he faltered, working his lips together, ‘because I need it.’
She arched a quizzical eyebrow.
‘Personally,’ he said. ‘I need it … for me.’
He let those words dangle.
‘Is that supposed to mean something?’ she finally said. ‘Have we just had a cinematic moment, Heck?’
‘I don’t want to work away from you.’ He rubbed at the back of his neck, which was rigid with tension. ‘There, I’ve said it. Look, Gemma … I know you and me will never be an item again. I’ve accepted that. Especially now that Golden Boy’s turned up. But … as long as we’re together … you know, working in the same office …’ His words petered out, his cheeks flushed. Immediately, he regretted saying all that. But sometimes the truth had to come out, no matter how weak it made you feel.
Gemma sighed again, still in something like a state of bewilderment. She glanced from the window. Thirty yards away, Reed and Quinnell were still loitering. A third party had joined them, having been escorted from the police station by a divisional uniform; it was a nervous-looking Tim Cleghorn. Gemma ran a hand through her famously unruly blonde hair. When she spoke again, it was quiet, remarkably lacking in energy.
‘Maybe we should save this conversation for another time, eh?’
‘So, I get no opportunity to explain myself?’ Heck said. ‘You know as well as I do that these mythical other times never actually arrive.’
‘You really pick your moments, Mark.’
‘Did I do a job for you, or not? Did I not use nous and know-how to bring you info that may lead us to a massive kill … a kill which, if we pull it off, might secure the future of SCU for years to come?’
She looked around at him again but didn’t even try to refute this.
‘Exactly, Gemma … I’m fighting as hard as I can to save this unit. My reasons may be different from yours, but you will benefit … you’re benefiting already. So, at the very least, I should be given a hearing.’
Helpless to do otherwise, she shrugged, inviting him to say more.
‘I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life,’ he admitted. ‘I’ll not lie. But the biggest one by a country mile was driving you away when we were kids.’
In actual fact, they hadn’t been kids when they’d set up home together back in the early 2000s. They’d been young detectives in their twenties, but it seemed so long ago that it was difficult to envisage those younger versions of themselves any other way.
‘You don’t think that would have happened anyway?’ she wondered. ‘Us separating?’
Heck couldn’t deny it, much as he’d have loved to.
‘Mark … we just weren’t right for each other. After that first flush of excitement was over, we soon learned that we were completely different creatures.’
‘Are you saying you never felt anything for me at all?’
‘No, I’m not.’ She glanced surreptitiously at the dashboard clock. It was a touch indelicate, though he could hardly blame her. They were very short on time here. ‘When I first met you, you bowled me over. You jeer at Jack, but you were a good-looking lad yourself. You had physicality too … good Lord, you still do. But I didn’t realise then that you chased the game with a fury because you were on the run from a past that you couldn’t bear thinking about. Instead, I just got vexed with you all the time. I mean, it didn’t take long for me to start being cruel to you, did it? And despite what you may think, I’m not a cruel person.’
‘You weren’t cruel.’
‘I actually was. Your childlike energy for the job started getting on my nerves, because I preferred the slower, more analytical approach. The chances you took and the corners you cut … they worried and upset me because I thought that if you were brought down, I’d be brought down too. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t persuade you to be a normal copper. I couldn’t convince you that this job isn’t an adventure … that it’s a serious business.’
‘If I was such a bad bet, why have you tolerated me working with you for so long?’
She waved that away. ‘Work’s different. There’s no emotional attachment. If I have to drop you in the shit, trust me, I will.’
‘Even though you never have done … and I’ve given you plenty cause?’
‘OK … I like the results you bring in.’ She paused to think. ‘And for what it’s worth, Jack Reed is not our star striker. Not yet. That position’s still occupied. But don’t take that as a compliment, please. It’s merely a statement of fact.’
He tried to feign indifference to that. ‘Gemma … I’m not content to just be near you all day. But it’s better than being somewhere else. Which is what would happen if SCU folds and we all go our separate ways. I didn’t realise that was my thinking when all this started, but I do now. That’s why I busted a gut, and a drugs operation on Humberside, to make today’s raid possible. That’s why I’ll keep on doing it.’
She watched him steadily, again dumbfounded that Mark Heckenburg, the loosest cannon she’d ever known in the job, was still the only police officer who could leave her speechless – usually with indignation and amazement at the sheer gall of him, though so often this was tempered by her underlying awareness that his high-risk strategies were nearly always designed to bring home the bacon for her and her team.
‘So …’ he said, ‘getting back to the business at hand, if you want to bollock me, you’d better get on with it. Because we haven’t got all day. There’s a case to solve.’
Still, she made no reply.
He shrugged and opened the passenger door.
‘For your information, Gail Honeyford will not be the office dogsbody,’ Gemma said. ‘She’s working with Eric
. He’s training her up on HOLMES 2 and sitting with her on any additional case notes that come in while the rest of us are otherwise engaged.’
Heck considered this. Inside, he still felt that Gail would learn more about real policework from him, but he understood that the top brass would never get this. Plus, while Gail was still new to SCU, it would probably be safer for her to find her feet indoors.
‘So, I’ll have your apology for that before you get out of this car.’
‘I apologise,’ he said in as genuine a voice as he could muster.
‘And where my relationship with Jack Reed is concerned, I have two things to say. Firstly, it’s got nothing to do with you. Secondly, it’s got nothing to do with you. Whoever we once were, Mark, whoever we are now, whatever our relationship is, however much you need to work in close proximity to me, however affected by that I am, or not, as the case may be … my situation with Jack Reed has nothing to do with you. Do you understand?’
He nodded glumly.
‘Get het up about it, if you wish … but the only person you’re hurting with that is yourself. Like I say, you may be our star performer, but at times you let yourself down with very, very, very unprofessional behaviour.’
Heck said nothing.
‘Now grow up,’ she said, ‘and get out of my car. Let’s make today another win.’
Heck crossed the car park, aware that his three passengers were watching him with interest, only briefly distracted by the sight and sound of Gemma blistering away at reckless speed. He climbed into the driver’s seat. Quinnell got in alongside him, Reed and Cleghorn into the rear.
‘Everyone got everything they need?’ Heck asked.
‘Everything except a machine gun?’ Cleghorn said worriedly.
Heck put the car in gear and drove them out.
He was still vaguely numb, and couldn’t decide whether he’d unmanned himself or not, baring his soul to Gemma like that. But it was better that the cat was out of the bag; it was true what Gwen Straker had said – this strained, repressed relationship between them had gone on too long and really needing fixing, one way or the other. Professionally, of course, he doubted that such raw, painful honesty – a definite rarity for him – would lead the aptly named Lioness to appreciate his efforts any more than she already did (even if she wasn’t her normal unforgiving self at present), but if she didn’t, it was hard bleeding luck.
