The Last Big Job hc-4

by Nick Oldham

  ‘ What?’ Henry demanded. ‘Couldn’t you have chosen some other poor sod?’ he complained. ‘Anyway, who is this Nikolai bloke?’

  ‘ Just a new business partner.’

  ‘ Sounds like a Russian name to me.’

  ‘ He is Russian… the way of the world now that Communism’s collapsed. They have a lot to offer people like me, people who want to expand.’

  ‘ I take it you’re talking about the Russian Mafia as opposed to legitimate Russian businessmen?’

  ‘ Is there such an animal?’

  Henry decided to have a stab at the jugular, just to test the water. ‘Did he kill Jacky for you? And if he did, what does he want in exchange? Ten, twenty per cent of your business?’ He knew he had hit a nerve when Thompson shifted uncomfortably for a milli-second and then regained self-control.

  ‘ Fuck all to do with you, mate.’

  ‘ It does have something to do with me. I was there when Jacky got slotted, remember, and then I’ve been beaten up as a showcase of your serious intent. I’m a businessman, Gary, not a gangster or a violent sod. I make brass for myself and others, just like Jacky did. Live and let live, that’s my motto.’

  ‘ You make Jacky sound like an angel — which he is now, of course.’ Gary leaned forwards. ‘He was an out-and-out violent bastard — he’d put a lump of lead into anybody’s skull if he thought they’d stitched him up.’

  Henry — Frank — tried to look shocked.

  ‘ Yeah, it’s true, Frank. All you saw was him being Mr Nice,’

  Gary whispered, half-closing his eyes, giving the indication he had imparted a tremendous, earth-shattering secret… and right on cue, Henry’s mobile phone rang.

  ‘ Just give me a second,’ he said to Thompson, knowing it was Terry Briggs at the other end. ‘Frank Jagger. Hi… yeah… sure..’ He looked quickly up at Thompson and said, ‘Yes, I can talk.’

  He listened for a few moments, then: ‘Where do you want it?’ he asked. He listened to the response, then said, ‘How much?… Twenty? I’m not sure about that…’ He gave the impression of cutting himself off in mid-sentence, again looking at Thompson, who was seriously trying to earwig the conversation. Henry took the phone away from his ear and pressed the ‘secret’ button. ‘Look, sorry, Gary.’ He began to get to his feet. ‘Can you spare me a minute? Delicate business.’

  Thompson nodded understandingly.

  Henry moved stiffly away from the table and walked out of the coffee-house into the reception foyer. ‘Yeah, he’s all ears, Terry. I’ll feed him a few lines… Catch you later.’

  He re-entered the coffee shop and slipped in opposite Thompson who was fumbling through his Filofax.

  ‘ Wankers,’ hissed Henry angrily. He glared at his mobile phone.

  ‘ Problem?’

  ‘ No — well, nothing really.’ He sighed heavily. ‘Just a load of gear I need to get shifted PDQ. It’s sticking in a warehouse down South.’ He curled his lips bitterly. ‘Deal just fell through.’

  ‘ Anything I might be able to help with?’

  Oh, come to me, my melancholy baby, Henry wanted to sing. Come to Daddy. He had started to put together a little scam so that even if murder charges could not be pinned on Gary and Gunk, they would have a few handling or conspiracy charges on them at the very least. If Drozdov could be roped in too, what a bonus that would be.

  ‘ Don’t know if it’s in your field, Gary. Some electronic gear — faxes, phones, about fifty Toshiba laptops… that kind of stuff.’

  Thompson considered it. ‘You never know, could be of interest.’ He scratched his nose.

  ‘ I’d be happy to exchange if you felt you had anything worthwhile,’ Henry suggested.

  ‘ Let me think about it… but for now, let’s get down to our original business, shall we? Whisky, I think.’

  Henry glanced out of the window across Piccadilly. He was not sure whether he covered the shock he felt inside as his throat constricted and his heart fluttered. Detective Superintendent Rupert Davison was crossing the road and heading towards the hotel.

  Henry turned quickly back to Thompson, who said, ‘Christ, that coffee’s gone straight through me. I need to piss. Be back shortly.’

  ‘ Don’t call me shortly,’ Henry laughed — slightly hysterically. He watched Thompson walk across the cafe and down the toilet corridor. Then he spun round to see Davison trotting up the hotel steps, about to blow Henry’s cover as wide open as the legs of a Manchester tart.

  The three men were sitting at a table in the garden, under some trees. It was getting hotter by the minute on La Gomera, but the shade from the foliage kept the men cool, as did their long, iced juice drinks.

  Hodge had calmed down considerably since his earlier outburst, having been coaxed and soothed by Smith in particular.

  ‘ What we need to do now, Colin,’ Smith explained, ‘is start to ask you questions so that we can put a plan together. There’s lots of things we need to know about this money run. Routes, personnel — such as, who are the guys you usually do it with? What are their capabilities, their strengths, their weaknesses? Then there’s the technical side of things. What sort of vehicle do you use? What kind of boxes is the money carried in? Will they present any problems to us? How do we get them open? Do they spray dye? All those sorts of things. What do you wear? We’ll probably need to know the exact details of your uniform, headgear. What protection do you carry? How is your journey monitored? What is usual and what is unusual? Can you get away with stopping en route? How lax, or tight, are your procedures? Are the cops informed of your journey? What is your emergency drill?’ Smith shook his head. ‘Lots and lots of things… literally anything we can think of which will help pull this job off with the minimum of fuss and force. And, of course, anything you can tell us that we’ve missed. That’s what today is about — chatting to you. Getting to know you and you getting to know us. When we’ve done all that, found out everything we need, we’ll get back to Los Cristianos and you can have some more fun at our expense while we plan the job.’

  ‘ I think I should be involved in that.’

  ‘ You’re right, Colin, we will consult you, but in the end it has to be a plan we are happy with because we are the ones who need to get away — and the getaway is obviously part of it. So, yeah, you’re dead right… but let me and Matt get our heads together first and then we’ll run it past you for your approval. How does that sound?’

  Hodge nodded, believing his control was reappearing.

  ‘ Just remember, Colin,’ Smith said, ‘you’ll be walking away with twenty-five million in your hands.’

  A smile crept over Hodge’s greedy little face.

  Smith and Crane stood up. Smith said, ‘We’ll be back in five minutes with a tape-recorder. We don’t want to miss anything.’

  They left Hodge at the table.

  Once out of earshot, Crane growled, ‘He gets nothing ‘cept for a bullet in the head.’

  Henry slithered down in his chair, squirming with acute indecision, wishing that hell would open up beneath him and drag him down into a fiery dungeon. Should he try to hide himself by turning his back on Davison and hope he did not get spotted, or should he go and meet the guy and drag him across the foyer and into the restaurant opposite and risk drawing unwelcome attention to the situation?

  All it needed was for Thompson to have someone sitting in the cafe who Henry did not know, surveilling him, and he was knackered.

  He groaned inwardly. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the gung-ho Superintendent walking boldly towards him. Henry half-expected the idiot to call out his name.

  Then his eyes flickered to the toilet corridor. Gary Thompson emerged from the men’s cloakroom, hitching up the last inch of his flies and adjusting his tackle.

  The two men were on a collision course, Henry at the apex of it.

  Thompson stopped unexpectedly in the corridor and extracted his mobile phone from his jacket pocket, put it to his ear and turned round, sti
cking a finger in the other ear.

  Henry saw his chance. He shot out of his seat and walked swiftly towards Davison, almost colliding with him. Out of the corner of his mouth Henry whispered urgently, ‘Follow me, don’t speak.’

  Davison’s face dropped the beaming smile it had been displaying. He slotted in behind Henry just as Thompson turned and ended his phone call.

  Henry moved quickly across the wide foyer and hit the stairs by the reception desk. He bounded up on to the first-floor landing, decided not to stop there and went up the next flight on to the second floor. Davison appeared a second or two later.

  ‘ You have almost compromised me,’ Henry spat venomously into Davison’s surprised face. He forced his room key into the man’s clammy hand. ‘Go to my room and stay put until I get there.’ He sneered with disbelief at the Superintendent, heaved his way past him and headed back down the steps.

  Thompson was sitting at the table, looking slightly agitated and annoyed.

  Henry sat. ‘Sorry — forgot my diary.’ He smiled at Gary and breathed out as he thought, Just what the hell am I doing this for?

  Henry spent a very productive hour with Thompson doing business. They parted amicably, Henry a little bit more impressed with Gary than he had been previously. He seemed to have a fairly cool, logical head on his shoulders and bargained hard without a trace of embarrassment. Henry played the game with him even though he knew he could have given the whisky away for free. What was important was that Thompson believed he was buying stolen goods and that he was starting to trust Frank Jagger. The ability to build trust was an integral part of an undercover officer’s skills. It is always the first step in a relationship and once the trust is built, then it’s very easy to set someone up for a fall.

  They settled on?3.50 a bottle because Henry gave the impression he wanted rid of the stuff as soon as possible. A deposit was to be paid in a couple of days’ time — in cash — prior to the delivery of the first part of the goods. Henry negotiated this short time delay because he wanted to ensure that from this moment on, each stage of the process of luring Thompson into a trap was properly documented and recorded for future evidential purposes. That also meant proper back-up for Henry and the technology to go with it.

  ‘ Speak to you soon,’ Thompson smiled, shaking Henry’s hand. The big BMW pulled up outside the hotel on the double yellows, having responded to a phone call from Thompson a few minutes earlier. Henry wondered what Gunk and Drozdov had been doing to pass the time; if they had been cruising around they could easily have spotted Davison’s arrival. Henry prayed they hadn’t.

  He accompanied Thompson to the hotel steps, but did not wave him off — that would have seemed too normal for a crim; however, he did make sure Gary got in the car and it moved away into the traffic. Henry twirled round, forgetting the pain in his body, and headed purposefully back into the hotel, building himself up for the coming encounter with Davison.

  Halfway across the foyer, his mobile chirped its idiotic, irritating ring in his pocket. He kept striding and answered it. ‘Jagger.’

  ‘ Connor.’ It was the DCI from Greater Manchester.

  Henry halted mid-stride. ‘Go on.’

  ‘ Just to say I went looking for the sealed master tapes. Neither one is in the tape library — or at least if they are, they’re not where they’re supposed to be. Can’t find them, in other words.’

  ‘ You’re saying he’s got the masters, as well as the working copies?’

  ‘ I’m saying the masters are not where they should be. You make your own assumptions.’

  Henry thumbed the call-end button. A feeling of savage anger gushed through him. Two minutes later he was outside his hotel room door, rapping with his knuckles. ‘Come on, open up, it’s me.’

  ‘ You’ve taken your time,’ Davison bitched on opening the door.

  Henry burst in, taking the man completely by surprise. In a flash he overpowered Davison and spread him across the double bed, one forearm crushing his windpipe, his free hand bunched into a fist which hovered only inches away from Davison’s face.

  ‘ Not only have you nearly just blown my cover sky high, but you nearly got me killed last night, you prick! You lied to me by saying you hadn’t mentioned my statement to Thompson and Elphick, didn’t you?’

  ‘ No, Henry,’ his victim spluttered with difficulty. ‘I don’t know what the hell you’re on about, but if you don’t let go of me now you can wave goodbye to your job and your pension.’

  ‘ Bollocks!’ Henry rasped, spittle coming out with the word. He applied more pressure to Davison’s windpipe and re-bunched his fist for effect. Davison’s eyes squinted in anticipation of the punch. He struggled, attempting to break free, but Henry’s heavier bulk kept him pinned there. Henry moved his face even closer to Davison’s. They were nose to nose. Davison picked up every nuance of Henry’s sheer anger.

  ‘ I know what you’re about, you bastard,’ Henry uttered through clenched teeth. ‘You’re trying to save your career at the expense of every other fucker around you. You’re a dangerous bastard and someone should have put you out of this job years ago; but I’ll tell you something…’ Henry’s voice lowered into a growl… ‘you’re mixing it with someone who’ll take you on, because when I’ve finished with Gunk and Gary, I’m coming for you and I’m going to take you down — and out. Got that? You are dead meat as far as the police service goes.’

  Henry eased off with a glare of disdain, leaving the higher ranking officer sprawled across the bed, massaging his throat, looking angrily at Henry’s back as he left the room.

  Chapter Twelve

  Take-off was never a problem for Danny; it was the slow glide back towards ground as the plane lined up for the runway which gave her the, sharp pain in the middle of her head. She swallowed in an attempt to put some balance back and squirmed uncomfortably in the narrow seat. She adjusted her long legs once more, trying to keep her knees out of the seat-back in front of her which, as the flight had progressed, seemed to creep closer and closer to her.

  But how could she possibly complain, as three days after discovering the identity of the third corpse, and for the second time in her career as a Detective Sergeant, she was travelling abroad at the firm’s expense? The first time had been a ‘jolly’ to Florida to pick up a reluctant witness, a journey which had turned out to be a nightmare of the first degree. Now she was very close to landing at Reina Sofia Airport on Tenerife for a job which she hoped would be less fraught with danger than the American trip had been. That trip had been done on Business Class, this one was economy-sardine. The difference was incredible and not just the price variation. Danny did not really mind though, because when she landed she was going to be put in a decent hotel, would probably have the opportunity to do some sunbathing, be able to pick up some duty-free cigarettes and perfume on the way home — and in between all that have a chat with former Detective Inspector Barney Gillrow about one Malcolm Fitch, deceased, who, it had transpired, used to be one of Gillrow’s informants.

  When Danny had suggested the idea of a trip to Tenerife, she had expected out-and-out resistance. However, as the investigation was getting nowhere fast, the SIO in charge was more than happy to authorise the journey even though two other detectives had just returned from the island having drawn a blank with the drug-connection theory to the triple murder.

  After Danny finally got her hands on the RCS file on Fitch, it was obvious that Gillrow was his handler. The file was extremely sparse, with few entries of any real note. Danny sniggered when she read it because these days, informant handling at any level was strictly controlled and very bureaucratic. Logs were kept of every meeting, all monetary transactions were scrupulously recorded and verified and nothing was left to chance.

  Gillrow had been operating in the days of laxity when procedures were loose and open to all kinds of corruption. Exactly the reasons why things had needed to be tightened up. Too many cops were splitting money with their snouts, too many were getti
ng involved in sexual relationships with them, and too many jobs were going bandit, either before or at court.

  After getting the file, Danny had then reached Gillrow by phone. It had been a stilted conversation. He seemed reluctant to talk, stated his memory was not what it once was and he could hardly even recall the name Fitch. Danny had started the phone call believing it would be enough, but the strange vibes she picked up alerted her instinct and made her decide that a face-to-face interview would be more appropriate.

  Which is how she found herself crammed on to a holiday charter flight, suffering severe earache, swallowing like mad, sucking a boiled sweet, and descending gradually towards Tenerife.

  The seat-belt sign came on — and the No Smoking one. This latter one made her snort. Some joke. The whole flight had been a non-smoker, which was not good. Four hours without a drag was purgatory for her. She was longing for the inside of the terminal building where she would put four cigarettes in her mouth, light them all and inhale a quadruple lungful of smoke.

  To fight the feeling, Danny tried to relax and think some more about ex-DI Gillrow. Before flying out she had made a quick visit to the HR department at Headquarters and requested to see Gillrow’s personal file. It had been retrieved from a dusty storeroom, where old personal files are laid to rest.

  She did not learn a great deal about the man. He had been a career detective, moving from local CID work to the RCS as it was then, and bouncing between the two as he rose through the ranks. He had retired at the age of fifty-two with thirty-three years’ service behind him and not a blemish on his record. Mr Perfect. A decent, hard-working individual, now enjoying a long, and happy retirement on an island in the sun, as many police officers often did. He was not quite sixty and had a lot more living to do. According to the file he lived in Tenerife with his second wife. He had been married to her for nineteen years. Yes, a good all-round egg… and yet Danny shuddered ever so slightly. The guardedness of the phone call — something was just not quite right, but she didn’t know what. Only by talking to him face to face, watching his reactions, his body language, his eyes, would she be satisfied.