Bonded by Blood

by Bernard O'Mahoney

  As Nicholls stared back at the detective, who had just accused him of being a drug dealer, he was trying to think of something to say. Before he had a chance, DC Bird said, ‘I suppose you’re going to deny it? Everyone always denies it.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ replied Nicholls. ‘All of that was a long time ago. You’re out of date.’ He turned and walked away.

  Two days later, Nicholls received a call on his mobile from DC Bird. Paul, the boss of an electrical company Nicholls worked for, was a friend of the detective’s and he had given him Nicholls’s number. ‘What do you want?’ Nicholls asked.

  ‘I’m only telling you this because you’re a friend of Paul’s,’ DC Bird replied. ‘You’re about to get spun. The drug squad is planning a raid on your place because they reckon you’ve got a load of gear stashed there.’

  Nicholls laughed. ‘I didn’t think the drugs squad was that slow. I’ve told you, mate, that was all in the past.’

  DC Bird was persistent. He told Nicholls that he was looking at a note on the CID office wall that had details of a raid that was going to be carried out at Nicholls’s home address. ‘Tell you what,’ DC Bird said, ‘if you’re telling me the truth and you’re not at it any more, I will stop it from happening.’

  A few days later, DC Bird telephoned Nicholls again. ‘I told you, Darren. I stopped it happening. Your home didn’t get searched, did it?’ Nicholls was far from naive: he knew the officer had probably made up the whole story just so Nicholls felt in his debt. He also knew what would come next – a meeting to talk to the officer about how he could repay that debt. DC Bird did not disappoint. A few days later, at his request, the pair met. The detective made it clear from the outset that he wanted Nicholls to be his informant. He knew Nicholls was a major supplier of drugs on his patch.

  At first, Nicholls was reluctant to comply, but he soon realised that he could use DC Bird instead of being used himself. If anybody threatened or upset him, he could simply get them removed by setting them up and informing on them to his police handler. In order to test the water, Nicholls told DC Bird about the dud cannabis that he had dumped in the gravel pits lake. Nicholls said that he used to smuggle cannabis, but those days were long gone. He then told the officer that he had imported a load that had turned out to be dud, so he dumped it in the lake. As soon as Nicholls mentioned the drugs, DC Bird grew visibly excited. He told Nicholls to get in his car and the pair drove to the lake, where Nicholls pointed to the spot where he had dumped the drugs.

  ‘This will look blinding on your record,’ Nicholls told DC Bird. ‘You’ll have this find because of your initiative.’

  DC Bird told Nicholls that he would get a reward if the cannabis was still in the lake, but first he would have to come up with a story of how it got there. If Nicholls was the one who smuggled it and then dumped it, he could hardly expect the police to do anything other than arrest him. They certainly wouldn’t reward him. Nicholls concocted a story about the origin of the drugs. He blamed two innocent men whom Nicholls claimed he had overheard talking in a Braintree pub. When it came to collecting the reward, Nicholls was told that he would have to become a registered police informant and meet a senior officer. At the meeting, he was handed £400 for his ‘public spiritedness’ and was told that from now on if he had any contact with his police handlers, he would have to use the name Ken Rugby. This was to protect him from people eavesdropping on police conversations or dubious officers seeing his real name on informant sheets at the police station.

  Two years before Nicholls had become involved with DC Bird, the sister of his wife Sandra had been going out with a local man named Alan Richards. Sandra, Nicholls and Richards all got on well until one drunken night when Richards gave Sandra a lift home. Instead of taking her to her own home, he took her to his, where she stayed the night. When Nicholls found out, he went berserk. A few days later, he confronted Richards, who told him he had been too drunk to drive Sandra home, so she had slept on his settee. Nicholls refused to believe him. From that day onwards, the atmosphere between the two men was dire. It was obvious that eventually they would come to blows.

  That night came in the Sailing Oak pub, where DC Bird was also drinking. Nicholls, who was drunk at the time, began calling Richards names. Eventually, Richards lost his temper, stood up and suggested they both go outside to resolve the matter once and for all. Before Nicholls could reply, Richards sat back down awkwardly and fell off his chair. Everybody in the bar burst out laughing. The landlord quickly appeared on the scene and accused Nicholls of causing the trouble. Nicholls flew into a rage, badmouthed the landlord and walked out of the pub.

  Seconds later, DC Bird was at Nicholls’s side. He said he had spoken to the landlord and he had apologised. If Nicholls returned to the pub, he could have free drinks all night. At that moment, Nicholls realised DC Bird could be more than his handler, he could be his friend and protector. Instead of returning to the pub, the pair stood in the car park talking about Nicholls importing drugs, selling them, telling DC Bird who had purchased them and DC Bird then arresting them.

  ‘That’s a bit strong,’ Nicholls replied when DC Bird had first suggested it. ‘You are kidding, aren’t you?’

  DC Bird paused momentarily. ‘Of course, I’m serious,’ he said, ‘of course, I am.’

  Unbeknown to Nicholls and DC Bird, Alan Richards, still smarting from being humiliated, was watching them from the pub window. It all made sense to him now. When Nicholls started being abusive to him, DC Bird had remained in his seat and said nothing. When Nicholls had a go at the landlord, DC Bird had gone out of his way to smooth things over on Nicholls’s behalf. Watching them talk in the car park, Richards felt uneasy. A voice in his head told him that they were talking about him. That same voice warned him that Nicholls might be thinking about setting him up.

  Early the next morning, Alan Richards presented himself at Essex Police headquarters in Chelmsford and asked to speak to a senior officer. He told them he had information about one of their officers who he believed might be involved in criminal activity. ‘I think I can prove it,’ he said.

  When the police realised who DC Bird was involved with, they had little doubt that the allegations needed investigating. A massive surveillance operation codenamed Operation Apache was mounted, which involved tailing Nicholls and DC Bird and taping all of the phone calls DC Bird made and received. In all, 35 officers were assigned to Operation Apache. It remains the biggest internal investigation ever undertaken by Essex Police.

  All Customs officers have some sort of system to relieve the boredom of watching hundreds of cars, then pulling one over at random. George Stephens had several, but his favourite was to add together all of the figures in that day’s date and then count off the passing vehicles until he reached that number. On 14 April 1996, vehicle number 43 happened to be a white Mondeo that was passing through Dover at 9.45 a.m. Stephens flagged the car down and asked the driver his name, where he had been and why. The driver, Craig Androliakos, appeared nervous. ‘I’ve been to Paris,’ he said. ‘I was visiting a girl I met a couple of weeks ago.’

  ‘Is this your car then, sir?’ Stephens enquired.

  ‘No, it’s hired, a friend of mine hired it,’ Androliakos replied.

  ‘Who was that, then?’ Stephens asked. ‘I need to know the name of your friend.’

  Androliakos was visibly sweating. He paused for a long time before answering, ‘Nick Reynolds, Nick Reynolds hired it.’

  Stephens had been in his job long enough to know that Androliakos was hiding something, so he asked him to get out of the car so that it could be searched. The first place Stephens looked was the glove box, where he found the rental agreement from Budget car hire. ‘This car’s been hired by somebody called Darren Nicholls,’ Stephens said. When he searched the boot, he found a pair of fisherman’s waders. They were still wet and were covered in sand. In Androliakos’s luggage, Stephens found maps of Holland and Belgium, and scraps of pape
r with mobile phone numbers on them. Although suspicious, the items were not illegal and so Stephens had to let him go.

  As soon as Androliakos had departed, the Customs officer dashed back to the office and ran a few names through the computer. Darren Nicholls’s name flashed up on the screen and below was a memo that asked anybody who came into contact with him to get in touch with Essex Police.

  On 30 April, DS Ivan Dibley retired and handed over the Rettendon murder investigation to DS Brian Storey. The latter soon realised that he would not be conducting a lengthy investigation because, shortly after taking charge, the taps on the phone of DC Bird began to reveal some startling conversations.

  On 10 May 1996, DC Bird and Nicholls talked about a Jaguar that Nicholls wanted to sell for £3,000. Nicholls told DC Bird that drug dealers were going to use the vehicle to transport £150,000 out of the country so that they could purchase drugs on the Continent.

  ‘Righto, oh that’s goodo,’ DC Bird said. ‘Oh, right, so really all I’ve got to do is steal that car when it goes abroad next time and keep the loot.’

  ‘That wouldn’t be a fucking bad idea, would it?’ Nicholls replied.

  ‘No.’

  ‘That would be a bloody good idea. Wouldn’t that be nice between us?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It would be like a hundred and something-odd thousand pounds. No, it would be more than that, actually . . . no, it wouldn’t, it would be about a hundred and fifty grand, I reckon.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘It buys a lot of gear down there where they are going.’

  ‘Yeah, exactly.’

  ‘No, it would be more than that. I reckon they’re paying seven and a half this time, they said.’

  ‘How many people go driving abroad with the cash then?’

  ‘Only two.’

  ‘What, they leave it in the car, or do they go—’

  ‘Leave it in the car.’

  ‘Good grief, that’s very remiss of them, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, they used to carry it on, you know, used to get it out of the boot, and then they decided that it’s probably worse walking round with a couple of hundred grand like a dickhead in suitcases on a boat than just leaving it in the motor.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Which is a shame, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘Exactly. It’s a shame you haven’t kept a spare key.’

  ‘Oh, fuck me, I’d get into it.’

  ‘It would be better with a key because all you would do is drive on with them, make sure you follow somewhere near them, you hang around when they go up on deck.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Swap from one boot into the other and just drive off with them at the same time.’

  Ultimately the gang didn’t think the car Nicholls had for sale was reliable, so they hired a vehicle instead.

  As well as discussing what drug dealers were up to, DC Bird and Nicholls talked about making amphetamines. Nicholls had told DC Bird two pints of a chemical known as BMK (benzyl methyl ketone, an essential ingredient in the production of amphetamine sulphate) were available. DC Bird told him more would be needed. ‘Say a gallon, Darren,’ he said. The pair were recorded laughing about dishing out the drugs they planned to make to people ‘like sweets’. Thankfully, this scheme never went ahead.

  As proof of the corruption and drug dealing mounted, DS Storey organised a briefing involving not only Essex Police officers but also Customs officers, so that they could trade information and discuss tactics. When the evidence had been processed and compared with other intelligence, DS Storey was amazed to discover that Craig Androliakos, who had been stopped in the Mondeo hired by Nicholls, was working for a gang headed by none other than Pat Tate’s younger brother Russell.

  Customs spotter planes were put on standby and dozens of undercover officers were earmarked for duty. Intelligence reports showed that Russell Tate and other members of his gang had just left for Spain. When Nicholls had said to DC Bird, ‘It buys a lot of gear down there where they are going,’ police officers hadn’t initially understood what he had meant. It now dawned on them that ‘down there’ meant Spain, and the money Nicholls and DC Bird had talked about stealing from a car had belonged to Tate’s gang. DS Storey decided to have the gang’s mobile phones monitored, and when transmissions from those phones showed that they were heading north, back towards England, police and Customs would swoop into action.

  On Monday, 13 May, Nicholls was driving along the A120 near Colchester in the blue Jaguar that he had failed to sell to Tate’s gang. One of his friends, Colin Bridge, was following behind in Nicholls’s Transit van. Always cautious when ‘working’, Nicholls was convinced that he was being followed. He picked up his mobile and rang DC Bird. ‘Oi, am I under surveillance? Are you lot following me?’ he asked.

  ‘Nah, don’t be stupid, Darren,’ DC Bird replied. ‘You’re just being paranoid.’

  ‘I don’t think so, mate, I’m sure I’m being surveyed. I’ve been paranoid before and it doesn’t feel anything like this.’

  ‘I’m telling you, Darren, you’re not being followed. If you were, I’d tell you, wouldn’t I? I mean I’m not going to fuck you up, am I? You’re on our side, just relax.’

  ‘All right. Listen, though. The shipment came in last night. I’m just going over to pick up my share.’

  ‘I know. Don’t worry, everything’s under control. Relax.’

  A short while later, Nicholls and Bridge arrived at Steele’s house, and Nicholls asked Steele if he could pick up some tools he had left there. Steele, who was sitting on a deckchair sunning himself, said, ‘Sure, help yourself.’

  Nicholls took a toolbox from the Jaguar’s boot and walked off. A short while later, he returned carrying the toolbox and put it in the back of the van. The Transit, driven by Bridge, then left Steele’s home with Nicholls in the Jaguar behind.

  At just after 2 p.m., uniformed police officers stopped the two vehicles on the B1053 at Broad Street, Bocking, near Braintree. When the vehicles came to a halt, Bridge got out and began talking to the officers; however, Nicholls refused to open the door of his car and began talking on a mobile phone.

  First, Nicholls telephoned his wife Sandra. ‘I won’t be home, after all,’ he shouted. ‘I’m being stopped by the police. I’ll try and call you later. Bye.’

  By now, officers were hammering on the window, telling him to put the phone down and open the door. Nicholls chose to ignore them because he had one last important call to make.

  ‘DC Bird’s message pager,’ said a woman’s voice. ‘Can I take your message, please?’

  ‘Yeah, the message is, “I’m being fucking nicked.”’

  There was a long silence and then the woman said, ‘I’m sorry, sir, I don’t think I can send that particular message.’

  The officers outside the car had pulled out their truncheons and were threatening to smash the window. Nicholls looked at them, sighed and said to the woman, ‘All right. Just tell him that Darren has been arrested.’

  As soon as Nicholls stepped out of the car, the officers snatched his mobile phone from him and handcuffed his hands behind his back. As he looked up the road, he could see Bridge, also handcuffed, being put in a police van.

  ‘Do you know why you have been stopped?’ asked one of the officers.

  Nicholls said nothing. He just shook his head.

  ‘Where have you come from?’ asked the officer.

  ‘Colchester,’ Nicholls replied.

  ‘Well, there have been a number of burglaries in Colchester and you’ve been stopped today because we would like to search your van in connection with those burglaries.’ Nicholls nodded, ‘OK, fair enough, but everything in that van is mine. Colin is just driving it for me. He has nothing to do with anything. It’s all down to me.’

  Because the back of the van was empty except for the toolbox, it didn’t take the officers long to find the ten kilos of cannabis inside. ‘What are these, then?’ asked the officer.<
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  ‘They look like chocolate bars to me,’ Nicholls replied. ‘What do you think they are?’

  A huge grin broke out on the officer’s face. ‘I think they’re drugs and you’re under arrest.’

  Bridge was taken to Chelmsford police station and Nicholls was taken to Braintree, where he remained for three hours. Nobody is quite sure why he was taken there or what he may have been questioned about because his custody record was never found. It is assumed he was questioned about his relationship with DC Bird, who had also been arrested, but nobody other than the police and Nicholls know if that’s the case.

  Earlier that day, Jack and John Whomes and their brother William were driving lorries used to shunt trailers on the docks at Felixstowe. The night before, Jack had telephoned his brothers and asked them to stand in for a couple of drivers who had telephoned in sick. As the brothers were working, Mick Steele entered the dock in a rigid inflatable boat. John asked Steele if he had enjoyed a good day out and Steele replied that he had. Moments later, a large crane lifted the boat out of the water and onto a trailer attached to Jack’s van. Steele drove the van and boat back to Jack’s yard, where he unhitched the trailer and pushed it and the boat into Jack’s workshop. Steele then headed home to Clacton to pick up his partner, Jackie Street, and get changed. When they were ready, Steele and Street drove them back to Jack’s yard. A friend, Peter Corry, followed in Jack’s van.

  At approximately 3 p.m. as Steele drove along Ranelagh Road in Ipswich, an unmarked police vehicle pulled in front of him and the two vehicles collided. One of the police officers approached the driver’s door of Steele’s vehicle and opened it. ‘I am DC Chapple from Essex Police,’ the officer said. ‘I am arresting you both on suspicion of being involved in the importation of controlled drugs.’