Blood Substitute

by Margaret Duffy

  ‘He said he probably would. But where does that leave us?’ I said. ‘Going home?’

  ‘And what does he mean to do now?’ James said. ‘Organize a big heist and catch them on the job?’

  ‘I don’t see how anyone could possibly grab all these villains in one go,’ Patrick said. ‘Heists apart it’s hardly the kind of outfit to have an AGM.’

  ‘You just want to catch the big boys initially,’ Carrick said. ‘To arrange a job where only the most professional bods are required. The rest are nearly always local suspects who can be mopped up later and only too happy to lay the blame on those with the big plans. That’s one way of doing it, anyway.’

  ‘I suppose your email came through official channels?’ I said to James, mulling over an idea.

  ‘That’s right. It’s what one would expect.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be wise to try to contact him,’ Patrick told me.

  ‘I know that. So as we can’t confer how about us being helpful by taking out this Bristol mobster before he does any more damage?’

  Both men’s eyes glowed for a moment before they came to their responsible policemen senses.

  ‘But we can’t just—’ Carrick started to say before being interrupted by Patrick.

  ‘It depends what you mean by “take out”,’ he demurred.

  ‘Prove beyond doubt that the tall man in Slaterfords is the big criminal boss man in that area and do something about him, arrest him, I mean. He must have put a tail on Robert and that was how they found his Dartmoor hideaway. If Robert went back there it might provide the bait to make Ballinger want to take care of him himself. We could be waiting. That’s if everyone’s guesses are correct.’

  ‘All we need then is to persuade Kennedy to drop what he’s doing and play ball,’ Patrick said wearily.

  I hung on to my patience, just. ‘No, all we need is a lookalike and a dark blue Land Rover Defender with the correct registration. We have the lookalike right here so perhaps Greenway could find out the reg?’

  Before this suggestion could be discussed it was rendered unnecessary. Paul Reece rang Patrick to tell him that Steven Ballinger had just been picked up for questioning in connection with the finds in the warehouse. Did we wish to be present?

  ‘OK, to hell with F9,’ Greenway said when immediately contacted. ‘Good idea of Ingrid’s: nail Ballinger and see what he has to say. Only the Bristol boys have done it for us. Get there. If he won’t play ball we might have to utilize Plan B.’

  ‘What did he mean by that?’ I asked Patrick, who had made the call and relayed Greenway’s decision.

  ‘I’m sincerely hoping he isn’t thinking of asking the one-time MI5 honcho to lay on a little mild torture. My torturing days are definitely over.’

  ‘What about me?’ Carrick said.

  ‘Yes, sorry, he said that as you’ve been released for a short time to represent the Avon and Somerset Force you may as well stick with us. He’s still hoping to get your father on board.’

  The DCI shook his head ruefully. ‘I’ve been on some bloody strange cases since I came into the orbits of you two. Back to the West Country then – and I’d only just got here.’

  Steven Ballinger – who had that morning been working seemingly normally at the store – had refused to answer any questions about the warehouse, other than insisting that it had been sold years previously by the then owners of the store to he knew not who and was no longer anything to do with Slaterfords. This refusal, and it was understandable that Reece’s team did not believe his story, led to his being taken to a city centre police station. Suspects were not normally dealt with at HQ in Portishead.

  ‘It wasn’t normal circumstances though, was it?’ Patrick raged to Paul Reece. ‘You had in your hands a man who it is now obvious is the kingpin to most of the serious crime this side of Axminster!’

  In short, Ballinger had been busted out.

  Late that morning three armed and hooded men, one carrying a sawn-off shotgun, the other two handguns, had smashed a stolen 4×4 through the entrance doors of the building, which was a modern one, into the reception area. They had then fired shots into the ceiling and while one man had held everyone at bay the other two had run into the detention block – they knew the way. There, the duty officer had been clubbed to the floor by a gun butt and his keys taken. Little more than seconds later all four had escaped and witnesses had reported they had got away in a vehicle waiting in a nearby side street. This had later been found abandoned and burned out in a narrow lane off the Bath road.

  ‘Was the custody officer badly injured?’ Patrick went on to ask, coming off the boil a little.

  ‘No, thank God,’ a predictably very worried Reece replied. ‘He was taken to hospital and will be kept in for twenty-four hours for observation, but I gather he is basically all right. By a miracle no members of the public were hurt.’

  James Carrick was keeping a tactful distance from where we were standing in the wreckage of the reception area, making himself useful to an investigation team. Scenes of crime personnel were examining the car that had been used as a battering ram, a Toyota, the immediate vicinity around which was taped off.

  I said, ‘I assume Ballinger wasn’t actually under arrest.’

  Reece shook his head. ‘No. There were no grounds to arrest him. He was very agitated and difficult, refusing to answer questions and that was why he was brought here. If he hadn’t insisted on having his solicitor present – on the grounds that he fully intended to sue us for harassment – which took about an hour to organize, he wouldn’t have found himself in a cell for a while. We were just about to bring him to an interview room when the mob, obviously his mob, arrived.’

  ‘It was obviously a delaying tactic then,’ I said. ‘What did his brief have to say about that?’

  ‘Made himself scarce, pronto.’

  One could not really blame him.

  Reece was then called away, wanted on the phone.

  ‘At least we know where we are with this character now,’ Carrick called, coming across.

  ‘I can’t get over the man’s colossal cool in working at the store as though nothing had happened,’ Patrick said. ‘Was he calmly assuming that the police would unquestioningly accept his story that the store no longer owned the warehouse? I actually spoke to a man in the delivery area, if you remember, and he told me where it was so it must still be used.’

  ‘Arrogance,’ Carrick said succinctly. ‘Or stupidity.’

  ‘Sergeant Hall thought he had several screws loose, sir,’ said a woman wearing protective clothing who was standing nearby. ‘Ballinger’s a creepy sort of bloke, according to him – he reckons he’s mentally unbalanced.’

  ‘Another reason for his odd behaviour,’ Carrick said. ‘Thank you.’

  We did not see Reece again then, although Carrick did. Reece had been told that orders had come directly from the Chief Constable that the force would no longer be involved in the case as SOCA and a covert unit of the Met, which for some time had been monitoring a gang in London thought to be in close partnership with the West Country organization, would be taking over. All evidence and findings in Bristol would go to them via Detective Chief Inspector James Carrick who would liaise.

  ‘Go to them?’ Patrick queried. ‘Has Greenway got F9 on board?’

  ‘Don’t you mean has F9 got SOCA on board?’ I said.

  The question was answered when we met Michael Greenway in what I would call conventional surroundings, a large top-floor room in a house in south-west London that I was given to understand was SOCA’s headquarters. For security reasons it was not advertised as such and could have been any one of numberless elegant Georgian mansions in this particular road that had been converted into offices and flats.

  ‘I’ve never known a job with more cackle and less action,’ Greenway complained, placing the inevitable laptop and his briefcase down on what must have once been a boardroom table and around one end of which we had drawn up our chairs. ‘And the mobst
ers are calling the tune – I don’t like that either.’ He glanced about. ‘Where’s Carrick?’

  ‘He’s stayed behind to gather all available forensic evidence on the vehicle they used on their ram-raid and also to interview the people who brought Ballinger in. He’s coming up to London tomorrow,’ Patrick told him, omitting to remind him that the DCI had travelled to London and back once that day already. We of course had breakfasted in the capital, which for me had been tea and toast as I had been feeling slightly unwell, flown the return trip to Bristol and it was now getting on for midnight. Having had a stale sandwich for lunch with plastic-flavoured coffee I found myself looking around the room wondering if there was anything within its four walls that was edible.

  Greenway cleared his throat and said to Patrick, ‘As you obviously know SOCA is a fairly large organization. You must also be aware that along with your presence with a mandate to be an adviser and trouble-shooter other people have been beavering away since we were asked to look into Cliff Morley’s murder. I must admit that they haven’t come up with a lot although they have managed to recreate Morley’s movements just before he played rugby for the Ferrets and just after. He went home to his flat. He could well have been grabbed there if someone was tailing him. The flat has been examined by forensics who treated it as though it had been a crime scene – it probably was – twice, once by Paul Reece’s boys and then by us. They removed several items including used crockery and a half-eaten Mars bar. It’s too early for definite results yet or matches with anyone on record but we do know some of the samples of DNA detected aren’t Morley’s. Who knows? Something that matches that might turn up in the vehicle.’

  ‘Are F9 saying anything about Kennedy?’ Patrick wanted to know.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘What, not even to confirm that he’s still in the land of the living?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So we still don’t know whether you actually spoke to the man over the phone or not.’

  ‘Life’s a bummer, isn’t it?’ Greenway said wearily. ‘But, on the positive side, when I spoke to David’s Rolt’s successor – and I didn’t even know if he was aware of our suggestion of cooperation—’

  ‘Was he?’ Patrick interrupted.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That means you did speak to Kennedy on the phone and he then relayed the offer to his boss.’

  ‘God, yes, you’re right. I must be tired. Anyway, he told me that his lot would get in contact as soon as they needed assistance. It’s not much but all we’ll get from them at present. My next question is to you – do you want to drop this and work on something else?’

  ‘No, I rather think I owe it to Carrick to persevere.’ Patrick turned to me. ‘How about you?’

  ‘Ditto,’ I said.

  ‘We can’t wait long, for cost reasons if nothing else,’ Greenway went on. ‘It might mean that you have to get stuck into something else and then come back to this when they shout.’

  Patrick said, ‘I’d rather get stuck into this in my own way, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘And do what?’

  ‘As I said to someone in Portishead recently, out-Herod Herod.’

  ‘I don’t think I want you treading on F9’s toes.’

  Patrick’s mobile rang and he apologized and answered it. It was Carrick. Greenway and I watched Patrick’s face as he listened to what he had to say. It became grave but other than a ‘Bloody hell! What, the whole place?’ and ‘Thank you – see you tomorrow,’ he made no responses so it was impossible to guess what had happened.

  ‘There’s a serious fire at Slaterfords,’ he reported when the call ended. ‘It started while the shop was still open. The place was crowded because it was the first day of the closing-down sale and they think people are still trapped inside.’

  I opened my mouth to say something but Greenway spoke first. ‘Is the fire out now?’

  ‘Not yet, and they’re already talking about arson as it’s such a fireball. Several other adjacent properties and some of the shops down-wind in Broadmead have been evacuated and the surrounding roads sealed off.’

  I suddenly remembered that Elspeth had told me a friend had expressed an interest in going to the sale for a rummage and had asked if Elspeth wanted to accompany her. Had she?

  Greenway said, ‘You somehow know it was arson. To get rid of any evidence or to make it more likely they – or whatever company they’ll set up when they’ve re-established themselves somewhere else – get planning permission for the redevelopment? Murdering bastards.’ After a reflective pause he said, ‘Do you think you could infiltrate this outfit?’

  ‘It would have to be done properly,’ Patrick said.

  ‘Define “properly”.’

  ‘I would have to be able to provide things they really, really want. On the one hand this might be money, security, weapons, things that could be within the scope of an international crook who wanted a foot on the ladder of London’s criminal scene or, a more hands-on approach, expertise as might be provided by an off-the-wall terrorist type with a massive grudge against law and order.’

  ‘The latter’s more your kind of thing, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, but in order for me to earn the right sort of form you’d have to let me kill someone important first.’

  To Greenway’s credit he did not head for the ceiling. ‘To be staged in an elaborate but phoney way, you mean. In other words, whoever it was would not really be hurt.’

  ‘At the very, very worst a few cuts and bruises,’ Patrick replied soothingly. Was he aware that any security engendered by his words had been somewhat negated by being uttered through a wolfish smile?

  ‘Who though? Got anyone in mind?’

  ‘You.’

  ‘Me!’

  ‘You’re quite perfect,’ he was assured.

  ‘I don’t think we ought to bring SOCA’s name into this.’

  ‘It needen’t be. You’d just be described to the media as a top policeman involved with the capital’s serious crime.’

  Greenway pondered for a few moments and then said, ‘I’ll have to sleep on that. I suggest we meet here tomorrow morning when Carrick’s arrived to allow us to collate everything we’ve got and then decide what to do next. We might have initial findings from the arson investigators in Bristol by then too.’ He collected his possessions and we all moved to leave. ‘I tell you what though,’ he added as he held the door open for us. ‘I’d be willing to incur a few cuts and bruises to bring this bastard to justice.’

  Twelve

  ‘I take it you’ve heard nothing from your father since the one email,’ Greenway said to Carrick after the introductions had been made.

  ‘No, sir, nothing.’

  ‘Well, I hope to God the man’s all right. What do you have for us?’

  ‘It amounts to a short presentation, I’m afraid, sir.’

  ‘Good, I’m sure we could all do with something like that to get it all straight in our minds. And you needn’t bother with so many of the “sirs” – we’re all in this together.’

  It was obvious when the DCI produced a new file from his document case and what followed that he had worked on it for most of the night.

  ‘It’s fairly obvious but we must remind ourselves that this investigation started not with Sergeant Cliff Morley’s murder but before that when this off-shoot of a London gang went on a crime spree in Bristol and the surrounding area,’ he began. ‘There are other off-shoots in various towns and cities in the west of England and Superintendent Reece has a theory that all are masterminded by the head of the London mob and that the comparitively recent Bristol set-up came about as a result of a disagreement within the command structure. He has no real evidence to back this up, only the words of grassers and informers, one of the former, now in prison, being credible. I have to say at this point that it is regrettable that F9 is not in a position to share their intelligence with us.

  ‘Robberies, thefts of top-of-the-range cars, often at knife-point �
� I’m sure you’re familiar with the tally – all commited with an arrogance and callousness that can only be described as breathtaking. We have a description of a very tall man who would appear to be the brains behind all this but has subsequently been discovered to be, ostensibly, the managing director of Slaterford and Sons, calling himself Steven Ballinger. Prior to this discovery Sergeant Morley was making enquiries about this man when he was murdered. I need not dwell on the details of his death. Two other men were then murdered, all had been mutilated and the initials RK carved on their torsos. Robert Kennedy, a senior operative of F9, maintains that this is in an effort to get him blamed for the killings as he has infiltrated the Bristol gang. It would now appear that Kennedy has left the area to try to prevent any more killings but we know nothing of his whereabouts or even his personal safety.

  ‘F9 raided the waterfront warehouse of Slaterfords but because of what I shall describe as a collision of police departments it was the Avon and Somerset Force who subsequently searched the place and found stolen property, weapons and a small amount of explosives. Ballinger was questioned at the store, refused to answer questions and was then taken to a city centre police station. Before he could be interviewed an armed gang broke him out of custody. The Avon and Somerset Force has now been relieved of all duties in this case.’

  ‘But for you,’ Patrick said almost inaudibly.

  ‘They weren’t removed from the scene because of any perceived lapses,’ Greenway added. ‘It was just getting a little too crowded. Sorry, James, do go on.’

  Carrick smiled his thanks. ‘And now of course we have the fire at the store, the investigation into which obviously the local police are involved. I understand the blaze is now out but the building is pretty much gutted, especially at the northern end and until the exterior walls and the remaining part of the roof are deemed not to be in danger of collapse no examination of the interior is being permitted. Due to the nature of the business it is impossible yet to know if anyone was trapped inside but it seems inconceivable to me that bodies won’t be found in the rubble. Three were recovered from the entrance area while the blaze was being fought – it would appear that part of the ceiling came down on them as they tried to escape. Two people were killed when they threw themselves from upstairs windows in the staff room area at the rear and several more, staff and customers, were rescued when a turntable ladder arrived. In all, one hundred and seventy-five people escaped comparitively unharmed from the building.’