by Jack Probyn
Danny groaned, lowered the weapon, grabbed her arm and yanked her towards Luke and Michael. Michael hooked her other arm, and the four of them got out of there. Candice wriggled and writhed against their grip, but she was no match for them all, so she kicked and screamed, letting her body fall to the ground as if she were a deadweight. Michael stopped, handed Luke his weapon and shoved him away from her. Then he bent down, picked her up and hefted her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
Luke raced to the back of the van, his pulse racing, swung open the doors and held the nearest one open with Danny. Michael bounded over, ignoring the punches that Candice threw into his face as she struggled to break free. As he arrived, he bent his legs and launched her into the back of the van, throwing her into the chasm of uncertainty and despair.
As they were about to close the doors, in the street, to Danny’s right, a middle-aged man with thinning brown hair advanced towards them.
‘Hey! What are you doing!’ he yelled, holding a phone to his ear. ‘I’m calling the police!’
Everyone wants to be a fucking hero, Luke thought, and as the man approached them, Danny smacked him in the stomach with the butt of his gun. The man doubled over, dropped the phone and staggered forward; Danny grabbed him by the shirt and launched him into the back of the van to accompany Candice. In the background, a high-pitched scream pierced the air.
‘Roger!’ somebody called.
Panting, breathless, Danny threw the door shut.
Luke stared at him, his eyes wild behind the mask.
‘What are you—?’ Luke began.
‘Shut up and get in!’
Luke did as instructed. He climbed into the back of the van with Candice and the Good Samaritan, and pressed his back against the van’s doors, pointing his gun at them both. Less than two seconds later, Danny hopped into the front, started the engine and pulled away just as the sound of sirens filled the high street. The tyres screeched on the cobbles and the van shot off.
Luke’s chest heaved. His heart raced.
They had just robbed hundreds of thousands of pounds’ worth of jewels and diamonds.
They had just kidnapped the woman they needed for the next part of their job.
But there was a problem: they had another hostage with them.
And they were going to have to deal with him one way or another.
| EPISODE 1 |
CHAPTER TWO
EAGER BEAVER
Jake Tanner had never been to Guildford before. And, upon first impressions, it didn’t seem like a place he’d want to spend much time in. At least, any more than was necessary. There wasn’t much to see, nor was there a lot to do. Everything was surrounded by green and trees and fields and bushes; the closest he’d ever been to a jungle like that was when he’d been in a safari park as a teenager. He was a city boy through and through, and enormous expanses of space was unfamiliar to him.
The drive down from his home in Croydon had been long and monotonous, a far cry from the short and snappy distances he was accustomed to in the city of London. His Austin Mini Cooper had worsened the journey. It was more than double his age, and it showed. The suspension was non-existent, and it would cost him more than he paid for it to get it fixed. Still, it was his dream car, and he couldn’t afford to replace it.
Jake pulled off Sandy Lane, leaving the row of overhanging trees behind, and entered the Surrey Police Headquarters car park. Mount Browne looked as though it had been a stately mansion in a former life, a host for aristocracy and the wealthy with its eaves, vaulted walls and several chimneys dotted on the roof. Now, however, it had been transformed into the hub of a vibrant and buzzing police force, the home of one of Surrey Police’s satellite Major Crime Team divisions.
Jake climbed a small flight of steps, entered the foyer and wandered to the front desk. A pen chained to the surface dangled over the edge, and a few police leaflets were fanned across the surface.
‘Morning,’ he said to the unenthused member of staff on the other side of the desk.
‘Name?’
‘Temporary Detective Constable Jake Tanner,’ he said. He knew it wasn’t necessary to mention his rank, but he was proud of himself for achieving it and sought every opportunity to remind people of it. ‘Here to meet with DCI Nicki Pemberton.’
Jake removed his warrant card from his pocket and flashed it in the man’s face. The man dismissed it and, instead, reached for a clipboard and slid it across the desk’s surface.
‘Sign in.’
Jake did as he was told and scribbled his name, rank and sign-in time on the sheet. Passing it back to the reception officer, he asked, ‘Is there a coffee machine anywhere?’
The man grunted and pointed to Jake’s right. Then he leant over the arm of his chair, disappearing beneath the desk and returned a moment later with a polystyrene cup. ‘Put it in the bin when you’re finished with it. Nicki will be down in a few minutes. You can wait over by the cushioned seats.’
Jake acknowledged what the man had said, thanked him and moved over to the coffee machine. He prodded the button for a latte and waited. As the steaming water filled the cup, Jake read the literature on the corkboard in front of him. Dozens of leaflets dangled from the wall. ‘An Introduction to Your Rights’. ‘So, You’ve Been Arrested’. ‘How to Report a Crime’. ‘How to Report a Police Officer’. Jake had read them all. Back to back. Cover to cover. Police training 101.
Once the coffee machine finished, Jake found himself a seat on a small armchair so old and dirty that when he sat down, a plume of dust billowed in the air. Fighting to keep his cough down, he drank the coffee. It was bitter, too hot and made him gag. But it was enough to perk him up in the morning. For too long he had suffered restless nights and found himself becoming increasingly dependent on caffeine. Sure, having an eighteen-month old at home, and working a job that was unforgiving in his schedule and time, didn’t help. But it was his life, his choice, and he was loving every minute of it.
Jake leant forward to place the cup on the table in front of him.
Someone called his name.
‘DC Tanner.’
He flinched, almost knocking the cup to the floor, then composed himself before rising from the chair.
DCI Pemberton, a slim, experienced woman with a lob haircut, stood behind him, her hand extended. Jake, in a frantic rush as if he had just locked eyes with a celebrity, wiped his hand on his trousers and took hers. With his other hand, he brushed his black-and-grey-striped tie – the one that his wife had bought him the birthday before he joined The Met – centred it and pushed it deeper into his collar.
‘Thank you for joining us,’ Pemberton said. Her grip was powerful and firm, and she spoke with a certain authority he hadn’t heard in a while. In a way, she reminded him of his mum, and at once he knew he wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of her.
‘Thanks for having me. I hope I can be of some assistance.’
‘So do I. I’ve heard some good things about you. You travelled far this morning?’
He shrugged. ‘Only Croydon.’
‘Enjoy the coffee?’ Pemberton’s left eyebrow rose.
Jake glanced over his shoulder at the bead of brown liquid running down the length of the cup. ‘Yeah, it was nice, thanks.’ He rubbed his cheek, massaging his fingers over the small scar that had prohibited any facial hair from growing around it.
Pemberton smirked, drawing Jake’s eyes to her mouth. As he observed her, he noticed the residue of make-up on her collar. ‘You’re a superb liar,’ she said. ‘You should fit in fine here.’
Pemberton started off towards a set of double doors at the back of the lobby. Jake gave one last look at the cup of coffee, checked he hadn’t left anything else behind and followed. Pemberton scanned her card, and they both waited until a green light flashed above the card reader and the doors opened.
She led Jake through a myriad of corridors and offices until they eventually stopped by a lift. Pemberton pressed the button, and
, as they entered, chose the fourth floor of the building.
‘This your first time working with us?’ she asked as the doors closed.
‘Yeah. First time I’ve ever been this far south of London.’
‘First time for everything,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘You nervous?’
‘The opposite. Hardly slept last night.’
‘I think you’ll find Surrey’s a little more docile than London. Not a lot going on.’
‘There’s always something going on,’ Jake replied exuberantly. He didn’t care if he sounded like an excitable child. This was a big day for him. One that he’d been looking forward to for a long time. He was taking the next step in his career. And this was just the beginning.
The lift doors opened and revealed a vast expanse of office space. With a thin smile on his face, Jake crossed the threshold into the Major Crime Team, the beating heart of the building. The room stretched twenty feet wide and nearly eighty deep. Along the first half of the right-hand side was a series of offices. Closed-off. Private. Beyond that, in the far-right corner, was an even larger office space – almost the size of the entire floor. A long, wooden table sat in the centre of the room pressed against the nearest side of the wall. It was in the shape of a horseshoe. Inside, Jake noticed dozens of corkboards hanging from the wall, a television at the head of the room, and portable whiteboards on wheels in the free space. The other side of the office housed the rest of the Major Crime Team. Jake counted another twenty bodies in the department, busy tapping their keyboards and mice behind their computer screens. He soaked in the atmosphere. There was a liveliness to it, a raw energy that enthused him. It signified to him that each day was new, and each day would bring about something exciting. In the time he’d been training as a detective constable, that was what he admired most about the job: the camaraderie, the friendships. Everyone within the team was a family. If one went down, they all went down.
‘Welcome to Major Crime.’ Pemberton nudged him on the shoulder then pointed to a desk in the far-left corner of the room, beside the office printer, which was larger than the desk itself. ‘You’re sat over there. Next to Danika.’
‘She’s here already?’ Jake craned his neck in search of his colleague. ‘I didn’t see her name on the sign-in sheet downstairs.’
‘She was here an hour before anyone in reception on the night shift had woken up. She’s putting you to shame.’
Jake chuckled. ‘I’m sure I can change that.’
Pemberton led Jake deeper into the room, past the other detectives who were busy working through their emails and filing paperwork. Some glanced up at him, curious, while some ignored him, as though he were just an intern that had no authority over anyone, or anything, in the building.
As they approached Jake’s desk, Danika, Jake’s colleague from Croydon Station, rose and waved. Her hair was pulled from her face by two kirby grips either side of her face.
Just as Jake was about to open his mouth, Pemberton said that she would leave the two of them to it, and that she would return in a minute – there was something else she needed to sort out quickly.
‘About time you got here, no?’ Danika said, her Slovenian accent lacing her words. ‘I was beginning to think that you might have got nervous.’
‘Traffic was a nightmare,’ he lied.
‘You didn’t fancy staying overnight, no?’
‘I didn’t want to leave Elizabeth alone with Maisie for too long. She’s been throwing up all night, and ever since I left this morning.’
Danika sat, and Jake found his desk opposite her, their backs to one another. He pulled out the chair and reclined deep into the soft cushion.
‘Is Elizabeth going to be all right without you?’ Danika asked. She moved a few strands of hair behind her ear, revealing a studded earring and a mole on the helix of her ear.
Jake shrugged. ‘She’s got her mum to help. And mine’s on standby as well if they need anything else. They only live a few miles down the road.’
‘I’m sure she won’t need that much help.’
‘Well, you know what they say…’
‘What’s that?’ Danika asked.
‘That behind every good man is an even stronger woman – and a mum.’ The sides of Jake’s lips flickered skyward.
‘And, equally so, behind every evil man is an even worse woman that is pulling all the strings.’ Danika’s eyes fell to the ground, and she swayed in her chair.
‘Tony still threatening legal action?’ Jake asked.
Before Danika could respond, Pemberton returned. ‘You settled in yet?’ she asked him.
Jake swivelled in his chair and glanced at the blank computer screen. ‘I, er… I haven’t had a chance to log in yet.’
‘OK, never mind…’ Pemberton turned as somebody in the distance entered the room. It was a tall, well-dressed man. He wore a suit, had a thin moustache and his Adam’s apple was the size of a golf ball. Jake estimated he was in his mid- to late-thirties. And Jake had experienced enough men at that age around Scotland Yard to know what sort of person he was going to be: autocratic, arrogant and intent on setting the hierarchy in motion – especially because Jake and Danika were outsiders.
The man wandered over to them.
‘Guys,’ Pemberton began, ‘this is DS Bridger… DS Bridger, this is DC Jake Tanner and DC Danika Oblak. Temporary DCs who have been seconded from the Met. From what I hear they’ve got plenty of experience with serious and organised crime so should be a lot of help to us.’
The man came to a stop beside Pemberton and wiped his top lip. He was flustered – his cheeks rouged – and he was out of breath. Light bounced off his shiny forehead.
‘Still only temps and already you’re moving up in the world?’ Bridger asked. ‘You must be good. Welcome to the best team in the country – and don’t you let anyone tell you otherwise. Most people just call me Bridger.’
Jake shook Bridger’s hand; it felt wet.
‘Where have you been?’ Pemberton asked, her voice neutral and plain, as if she were forcing herself to sound as though she cared.
‘I just had to run a quick errand. Nothing major.’ Bridger turned his attention to Danika, and he eyed her up and down. ‘How long you two been training for, then?’
‘Couple of years,’ Jake said. ‘Currently revising for the NIE – the National Investigators—’
Bridger held his hand up. ‘Yeah, I know what it is, mate. I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t taken it myself. You’re leaving it late though, aren’t you? Isn’t the exam in a few days’ time?’
Jake shook his head. ‘Ours is September.’
‘Eager beavers, eh? Revising for something three months away. I think I crammed in all my revision a couple of nights before.’
‘And how did that turn out for you?’ Danika asked, eyebrow raised. She carried about her the usual no-nonsense Eastern European attitude that Jake had grown to love and appreciate. The way she was able to shoot anyone down without even meaning to. The way she saw through any semblance of bullshit in the way people spoke. It was magical, and Jake wondered whether it had fully landed on Bridger, or whether there was still more to come.
Bridger smirked. ‘I’m still here, aren’t I?’
The conversation fell flat. Beside him, Danika excused herself. Jake watched her wander down the corridor over his left shoulder and turn into the toilets. As he spun his neck back to face Bridger, the telephones in the office started ringing. It was a deafening cacophony of sound, unlike anything he had heard at Croydon Station. Someone in the room’s background answered the call while everyone else seemed to watch, waiting in high anticipation.
They waited. And waited.
Jake looked up at Bridger and opened his mouth in an attempt to engage his new colleague in more conversation. But it was useless; Bridger was too focused on the officer speaking into the handset.
The woman lowered the phone and rose. All eyes were on her.
‘We’ve got ourselves arme
d robbery in progress on Guildford High Street. Bridgewater Jewellers. Reports of gunfire and a potential murder. First responders are already on the scene with paramedics. Scene of crime officers are pulling in as we speak.’
The atmosphere in the department instantly changed. Everyone stood and rushed to the other side of the room, concentrating their efforts on the Horseshoe. One of them grabbed a marker and began writing on the whiteboard. Jake looked around him and noticed Bridger had shot off; he hadn’t even seen him go.
Jake rose out of his chair, trying to make sense of the flurry of activity that was taking place around him. At the head of the room, DCI Pemberton returned from behind a closed door and advanced towards the clutch of officers huddled together in the corner.
‘All right, team. You know what to do. Set up the Incident Room. I want a key decisions log started and in my hands before I leave the building. DI Murphy – I want you as my deputy. I’m leaving you in charge of HOLMES and administering lines of enquiry while I attend the scene. Send in a couple more of the team once you’ve assigned their roles. DS Bridger – I want you to come with me. You’re driving.’ She stopped and searched the crowd. After her eyes fell on Jake, she said, ‘And DC Tanner will be accompanying us. Grab your coat, Jake, it’s time to go.’
| EPISODE 1 |
CHAPTER THREE
INTUITION
Jake stepped out of the car and closed the door behind him. They were halfway down Guildford High Street, and had been sat there for a few minutes, stuck in traffic, trying to turn onto the cobbled road just before the outer cordon that had been set up at the bottom of the road. Rows of shops and other businesses ran up the length of the street on either side. Overhead was a string of bunting advertising a farmers’ market due to take place in a few days’ time. And, just beneath it on the left-hand side, was the Guildford Clock, one of the few landmarks that Jake had researched after a quick online search in preparation for his visit.
