by Alfie Robins
‘S.I.J.P, Specialist Intelligence Joint Projects, Lieutenant Neil Powers,’ he said as he held out a hand. He was enjoying the moment. ‘I’d definitely keep Elvis; Bernie Philips, he’s as bent as nine bob note.’
Warren was dubious as to whether he should shake Powers hand or not, then he did, not before taking a hold of Powers ID and scrutinising it. ‘This real?’ he asked, as he let the plastic fall back in place.
‘No, I bought it off eBay, of course it’s bloody real.’
‘Lieutenant - S.I.J.P, what the hell is going on here, Powers? You have a lot of bloody explaining to do.’
‘You’re not the only one who got a bloody shock, when my handler told all the shit about Ray Cole, I wanted to shoot you myself - just kidding. Someone along the way needs a bloody good bollocking for not keeping us in the loop with the correct intel. I think we need a word in private.’ He inclined his head towards Trish, who was still trying to comprehend what was happening.
Warren was starting to get himself together, hell, either of them could have topped the other with the blink of an eye and thought no more about it. ‘Whatever you’ve got to say, you can say it in front of DC James.’
So far, Trish had been sat mesmerized with the events unfolding in front of her. ‘Can I ask a question?’
‘Ask away.’
‘When you came in you mentioned Bernie?’
‘Like I said, Philips is bent.’
‘How do you know this?’ asked Warren.
‘Because he’s my informant, has been for the past three years since I became involved in this operation.’ He turned to face Trish. ‘Who do you think gave me the information about your boss?’
‘Trish, would you mind getting us some coffees, please? And tell whoever is on the desk under no circumstances is Philips allowed upstairs without letting us know first.’
‘Does that mean I can sit?’
Warren shrugged, Powers stepped further into the squad room and sat at Jimbo’s desk. This will be fun, he thought, Jimbo was due back anytime.
‘So, tell me about SIJP or whatever it is, and where you fit into things?’ Warren said as he headed to collect his chair from where he’d sent it scooting across the room.
‘We’re a covert operation, but then again I’ve no need to tell you how these things work do I? Anyway, we’re made up from serving Police and Military personnel, hence my rank of Lieutenant, not that it means much. The firearms market has been on the group’s radar for some time now. I’ve been in deep cover for the past three years, gradually infiltrating various organisations across the country, pretty much like you and Patrick Conway, only on a grander scale.’
That was when the office door burst open. ‘You’ll never guess whose car I’ve seen in the car park …what’s he fucking doing in here?’ Jimbo stood gobsmacked. ‘And sitting in my chair.’
‘Bloody hell, it’s like ‘Goldilocks and the three Bears,’ said Powers. ‘Lieutenant Neil Powers,’ he said standing up and offering an outstretched arm. Warren smiled at the comment, he liked Powers sense of humour. ‘Good to meet you, Jimbo.’
‘What the fuck’s going on here, Greg?’ Jimbo was totally confused.
‘Seems we’ve all had our wires crossed, mate …’
‘Yeah, but this is the bloke that had Mouse work me over.’
‘As your sergeant said, it was all a mix up, please accept my apologies, Jimbo.’
‘Like fuck I will.’
‘Jimbo, Neil works for an outfit called Special Intelligence Joint Projects, it’s bit like Gemmell Strategies.’
‘And what a bleedin outfit that was,’ Jimbo said, ‘Lieutenant, but you’re a cop?’
‘Sort of, I’m an Army officer but I could still arrest you,’ he told Jimbo with a serious look on his face. Warren was warming to Powers’ sense of humour. ‘I’m only kidding, Jimbo, I’ve heard good things about you.’
‘What sort of things?’
‘If I told you I’d have to kill you.’
‘Very bleedin funny – I don’t think.’
‘Oh, wind your neck in.’ Warren told him as Trish returned with the drinks.
‘Noticed you drive in so I got you a tea, Jimbo,’ she put the tray down and passed Powers a mug. ‘Didn’t know what you’d want so I got you a coffee, milk and no sugar.’
‘Great,’ he said as he took the mug from her. ‘So, to move things on a little we’re all on the same side. Cheers,’ he said sipping the hot liquid. ‘The question I ask is, can we all work together, at least share information?’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ Warren picked up his drink, too hot and put it down again. ‘Jimbo, remember when you said you wouldn’t trust Bernie as far as you could throw him?’
‘Too right, the bloke’s a wanker.’
‘Well that’s not all he is, he’s bent, Neil has been running him as an informant for three years.’
‘I knew the bloke was dodgy, what with all the questions he asks. Lieutenant …’ said Jimbo.
‘No need for that, call me Neil.’
‘Na, I’ll stick with Lieutenant.’ Typical Jimbo, thought Warren. ‘Did you have somebody try and top Dooley?’
‘Ah, I wondered when one of you would mention him. Yes, I did for the greater good, but before you start going all moral on me let me explain a few things.’
‘We’re listening.’
‘First off, Bill Gardener, I believe your paths have crossed already.’
‘You could say that, he cracked a couple of Jimbo’s ribs,’ Warren told him.
‘And they still bloody hurt,’ Jimbo piped up.
‘Will you please stop interrupting,’ Trish scolded.
‘Gardener and me, we were buddies in the army, top man when it comes to armaments. But in my new role, I had to come on a bit heavy, I had some dirt on him from way back, so it was relatively easy to get him onside. Every weapon he converted for me, went straight into secure storage, not one ever reached the streets.’
‘Is he in on this?’ Warren wanted to know.
‘No, he thinks I’m a bad ass, and he solely works for me. On top of that he’s well paid for his services.’
‘What’s this got to do with trying to take out Dooley? Jimbo, asked as he sipped his herbal tea.
‘Nothing really, I thought you should have some background info. Dooley, he was a bad guy, right? The conversions he was carrying out were about as poor as you could get, and, I don’t believe he was the only amateur. My logic was, take him out and the others might think twice about what they were doing.’
‘Unethical,’ Warren said, ‘but I can see where you’re coming from.’
‘Sounds as if you and Greg went to the same training school.’ Jimbo sat forward in his seat. ‘Who pulled the trigger?’
‘It was Sebastian London’s hit, he took along some tow rag, Albie – something or other.’
‘I only know one Albie,’ heads turned to Jimbo. ‘I reckon its Albert Drury. You know, Lieutenant, you are a piece of work. What was you thinking employing racist scum? That’s as low as it can get.’
‘Jimbo, he was expendable. Who would give a toss if anything happened to him? Not me or you that’s for sure. And while you’re passing the buck, can I ask who blew his kneecaps off?’
‘That wasn’t me, it was Greg,’ he protested.
‘Same difference, Jimbo, same difference.’
‘What do you know about the shooter they used?’ Warren asked.
‘One of Dooley’s Baikal conversions, I thought it as poetic justice.’
‘Man, you really are something else.’ Jimbo was making it clear he didn’t much care for Powers.
Warren sat back in his chair, a worried look on his face. ‘Is the Baikal still out there?’
‘London made sure it couldn’t be traced back to him, if it should ever be traced back to anyone it will be to this Albie.’
‘So, as far as you know he still has it?’ asked Trish.
Powers shrugged. ‘Seems likely.’
/>
Warren’s brain was already one step ahead. ‘Don’t know if you’ve heard or not but there was an attempted armed robbery on a Post-Office yesterday morning, we have one of them in custody and it wouldn’t surprise me if the other guy was Drury.’
Trish picked up her desk phone. ‘I’ll check if the CSIs have processed the palm print off the counter top.’
‘So, now we’ve done the introductions and preliminaries, I take it we are working together on this?’ Powers faced Jimbo. ‘What do you think, you prepared to work with me?’
‘Not my choice, Lieutenant, I go along with what my sergeant tells me to do, after all I’m just the Civilian Advisor.’
‘And will you stop calling me bloody Lieutenant.’
‘Jimbo, you can be a right pain in the backside sometimes,’ Trish told him.
For the first time since Powers had entered the squad room the atmosphere lightened-up.
Warren had almost forgotten about the scrap of paper Dooley had given him. ‘I might have something that can help,’ he shifted position and took his wallet from his back trouser pocket and removed the paper with the mobile number written on it. ‘Let’s see what they have to say,’ he picked up the desk phone, dialled and put the phone loud-speaker mode.
It was answered after the third ring. ‘Who is this?’ the voice boomed out. All eyes turned to Warren. Again, the voice asked the question. ‘Who is this?’ no response, he hung up.
The room was silent, the three men in the room had recognised the voice immediately. ‘Somebody say something,’ Trish told them.
Warren was first to speak. ‘It was Conway, Pat Conway.’
‘This is getting unreal, there’s no way Pat can be involved.’
Powers stood up from Jimbo’s desk. ‘Look, I’ve got somewhere to be, let’s keep this under our hats until we get a chance to talk it through.’
‘I agree, we don’t go rushing into anything, Jimbo, you okay with that?’ He looked towards Warren and nodded. ‘Okay, other business.’
‘I’m off.’ Powers shook hands with each in turn. ‘I’ll give you a bell, you know where I am if you need me.’
‘Fine, but let Trish go ahead, we don’t want you bumping into Philips.’
Lee Etherington, didn’t feel well at all as he coughed and spat into a dirty handkerchief. His brief gave him a look of disdain.
Elvis pressed the red button on the recorder. ‘Lee, I’d like to remind you that you’re still under caution, you understand?’
‘Course, been arrested before haven’t I.’
Yeah, too many bloody times to mention, thought Trish. ‘The time is 4.15pm, present are Detective Constable James, Detective Constable Dixon, Mr Lee Etherington and his legal representative Mr Richard McCartney.
Trish lay her open file on the table, Elvis opened his A4 note book ready to record the proceedings. ‘Lee, you have been arrested for taking part in an attempted armed robbery on the Post-Office on Gower Road. Is there anything you want to say?’
‘Wasn’t me,’ he said as his right leg tapped nervously.
‘Can you tell us where you were on Friday morning?’
‘At home.’
‘Can anyone verify this?
‘Next door’s dog?’
This answer even made Elvis give a sly smile.
‘For the benefit of the tape, I am now showing the CCTV footage from the morning in question. Have a look at this, Lee, can you tell me, is this you?’
The clip showed a man bending slightly from the waist and having a coughing fit, spraying his germs across the counter top.
‘No, already told you I was at home.’
Trish stopped the video and fast forwarded. ‘This next screen shows two men leaving the Post-Office, as you can see they are holding the masks they wore in their hands. The man on the left is you, is it not? Trish asked.
Etherington moved in for a closer look. ‘Bloody hell,’ he knew he was up shit creek., there didn’t seem any point it being too evasive. ‘Can you prove that I took part in a robbery?’
‘Yes, I believe we can. The CCTV footage, the DNA off the counter from your coughing fit and your finger prints on the glass door, oh, and the ski mask we found at your home.’
‘Wow, that is some evidence.’ He knew there was the point on denying it. ‘So, what happens now?’
‘I’m going to charge you, but before I do, tell me, who was your accomplice?’
Etherington looked to his brief for some support – he didn’t get any, he was about as useful as an ash tray on a motorbike. He gave the matter some thought for a minute or two, okay he accepted that he was going down, but he’d never threatened anyone let alone touched the gun. ‘Can we make a deal?’
‘No, I don’t think that would be appropriate, considering the way the evidence is stacked against you, But, what we could do is tell the CPS how helpful you’ve been.’
‘Tell me, does the name Albert Drury mean anything to you?’ Elvis asked.
He gave a sigh. ‘You already know, don’t you?’
‘A team of armed officers are bringing him as we speak.’
‘Yeah, well, it was all Druy’s idea, he came to the flat bragging and waving the gun about, if he hadn’t brought that bleedin shooter to show me, none of this would have happened.’
‘You didn’t have to take part, you could have just reported him to the police.’
‘Yeah, as if that was ever an option.’
‘You might be able to assist us on another enquiry; do you know anything regarding the shooting of Robert Dooley?’
‘The bloke up North Hull? Yeah, that was Drury and Sebastian London, everyone calls him Mouse.’
The interview was concluded, everyone was happy, even Lee Etherington. At least now he would get proper medical treatment for the cough.
Warren thought it was time to check-in with his fat friend.
‘Hey, Pat, how are you doing? Have you made contact with that daughter of yours?’
‘Only a text to tell me to stop bothering her. Cheeky cow. I’m glad you rang, I was wondering, while you’re down here doing bugger all, if you fancied helping me out, I need someone to oversee some gear that I’m having brought in through Immingham Dock?’
‘Meet you at the flat?’
Conway sounded surprised. ‘That’s it, no arguing?’
‘You know me, Pat, anything for a mate.’
Chapter 31
‘Must be a darts match on or summat, not usually this packed,’ Jimbo said as he elbowed his way towards the Eagle’s bar. ‘You want a pint?’ He asked as he waved a five-pound note in the air, trying and failing to catch Kirsty’s attention.
‘Move over, Jimbo,’ Warren said giving him a nudge, ‘you haven’t got the knack. Two pints of lager when you’re ready, Kirsty,’ he called out.
The young barmaid recognised the voice, how could she not? She had been infatuated with the enigmatic, tall black guy named Ray Cole, since he’d first appeared on the scene some months ago.
She turned and smiled. ‘Give us a minute,’ she silently mouthed.
‘That’s how you do it,’ he told Jimbo, as he elbowed more room. ‘How come it’s so busy?’ he asked the old bloke standing next to him at the bar.
‘The Wheelhouse - the pub down the road, its gone bust. Gary, the landlord is pulling in all their trade.’
‘Alright for some, looks like Kirsty’s run off her feet.’
‘At least she’s got a job,’ the old bloke replied, un-sympathetically. Warren was going to buy the fella a pint, but changed his mind.
‘Thanks, love, take one yourself,’ Warren told her when she eventually placed two pints on the bar. ‘Take for a pint of Bitter will you doll,’ a voice called out over Warrens shoulder.
‘Got your timing right there, Lieutenant.’ Jimbo joked.
‘See you in a bit,’ Warren told Kirsty.
‘Doesn’t look like we’re going to get a table anytime soon,’ Warren said, leading the way to the quieter e
nd of the bar once Powers had his pint.
‘So, have you been with Conway?’ Powers asked, when they were out of earshot.
‘Would you believe that he wants me on a job?’
‘That before, or after, you give Kirsty one?’ Jimbo asked. ‘What do you reckon to that, Lieutenant? Our Greg here reckons there’s nothing going on between him and the delectable Kirsty, but I know different,’ he touched the side of his nose knowingly and winked.
Warren gave him a jab in the ribs with his elbow. ‘Take no notice of the silly sod, Neil, he’s jealous.’
Powers smiled, if all told he was a little envious of the connection the two had. ‘So, what’s this job?’
‘Conway has a shipment coming in from the continent and needs someone to make sure it arrives in Hull safely.’
‘What kind of shipment?’
‘He wouldn’t say, but he wants me tooled up, so, you draw your own conclusions.’
‘Jimbo?’
‘All the time I worked for him, he never once got involved with firearms, to my knowledge anyway. He knows the score with baccy, booze and of course diamonds, no probs. If you want something brought in through customs he’s the bloke, but guns, I don’t know.’
‘But you wouldn’t rule it out?’ asked Powers.
‘Things change, Lieutenant, people change, look at me? Christ, I’m virtually a copper.’
‘Table coming free,’ Warren said, inclining his head towards the back corner. A swift move and the table was theirs.
‘He never mentioned getting a ‘funny phone call’?’
‘Not a whisper, wasn’t expecting him to.’
‘So, Greg, what did you say about the job?’
He sipped the top off his lager. ‘Needs an answer by the morning, it’s going down in two days.’
‘Out of interest, has he heard any more from his daughter?’ Powers asked.
‘A text, to let him know she’s okay and to stop bothering her. Why?’
‘I might have an idea, just need to work on it.’
‘Not sure I like the sound of that, Lieutenant.’
‘Jimbo, for Christ’s sake will you stop calling me bloody Lieutenant?’
‘Well, that’s what you are, right?’
