Mickey Take: When a debt goes bad...

by Steven Hayward

  ‘I told him to keep you out of it,’ he says. ‘When he went down and took young John with him, I figured you needed a chance to decide which way you’d go. The boy’s death was burden enough. I was glad you turned away from the life he had planned for you. If I’m honest, lad, I was slightly envious that you made a success up there in the real world.’

  ‘Some success,’ I say. ‘In the end it was just a house of cards.’

  ‘Don’t knock it, Mickey. I would have had your life if things had been different. Jas would have had me running the Post Office by now. And she would have been a successful designer.’ He looks across at Grace, but she’s lost all interest in her family history. ‘After she died, I had to clear out her things, and that’s when I found how easy it was to integrate good quality fakes with the real thing. She had things she didn’t even know were counterfeit. When I started trying to sell them on, I found a willing market. It’s grown from there. I’ve always told myself it all came from her… Though I doubt she would have approved.’

  ‘So where does that leave us?’ I say to no one in particular. Grace’s doesn’t react. She’s a million miles away.

  ‘Back then I wanted to give you the chance to decide,’ Herb says. ‘And here we are now, full circle. I’m giving you that chance again.’

  ‘Yeah right,’ Grace says, bringing us both down to earth. ‘That assumes we all get out of here alive.’

  Rough Justice

  Number Two’s preoccupation with something outside shifts to the door, as raised voices can be heard in the hall. They get louder and louder until the door crashes inwards and, before any of us can move, the uncompromising energy of Detective Chief Inspector Terence Pinner shatters the peace with the discriminating subtlety of a drone strike. He’s hurling abuse at Herb before he even sees where he’s sitting and, after reaching the middle of the room where he acknowledges Grace with a momentary pause, he turns and starts raining blows down on the old man’s head.

  ‘Where’s my son, you sick fucking pervert?’ is the gist of his enquiry.

  Grace jumps out of her chair and grabs her adoptive father by the arm and starts pulling him. He’s in such a rage that he throws his arm outwards and catches her full in the face with the back of his hand, sending her flying across the room. I jump to her side and Riggs is not far behind me, seemingly as concerned for her well-being as I am.

  Pinner finally stops his assault on Herb and turns to see Grace on the floor.

  ‘Grace! Grace!’ he says, ‘I’m sorry.’

  In response, Herb starts competing with me in who can yell at Pinner the loudest and the melee is only brought to a head by the loud discharge of Riggs’ gun. A large, decorative chunk of cornice drops in a snowstorm of powder onto the head of Number One, whose only mistake was to follow too closely in the unpredictable wake of his boss.

  ‘Steady on, Ray,’ Pinner says, lowering his hands from his ears. ‘If you’re going to shoot anyone, make sure it’s him.’

  ‘Let’s stay focused, Tel,’ says Riggs. ‘He’s already said he doesn’t know.’

  ‘And you believe him. I’ve always had him down as a nonce. This just about confirms it.’

  ‘He’s not a pervert!’ Grace screams, pushing through to stand between Pinner and Herb. ‘He’s my father.’

  ‘Yeah, whatever. Whether he is or he isn’t, I’ll bring him down one way or another. That’s why I wanted to raid the place. I’m sure we’ll find more than enough here to put him away.’

  Herb’s too busy nursing several more bruises on his face to contest his innocent on either charge. I’ve seen no evidence of dodgy designer goods stashed around the place, although I’m sure there’s plenty of scope here for the odd store room or two. But it’s pretty clear now all the insinuations about Herb’s predilections for minors is no more than an elaborate smear campaign put about by Pinner to hasten his incarceration.

  ‘Talking of which,’ Grace says, ‘where’s the rest of the hit-squad you said you had lined up for this morning?’

  ‘It’s been pulled,’ he says despondently. ‘God knows why. Someone up the line got cold feet. Anyway, it’s just a matter of time.’

  ‘Ah,’ she says, turning to Riggs, ‘that’ll be why your old mucker’s still here with his boys. No doubt got the nod earlier.’ Pinner lowers his eyes and Riggs laughs out loud.

  ‘The reason I’m here,’ Riggs says, smiling back at her, ‘is to look out for you.’

  ‘What, by pointing a gun at her head?’ I say, causing them all to turn to face me as if they’d forgotten I was still here. Pinner bristles and looks at Riggs.

  ‘No harm intended,’ Riggs says, disarming him with an assured grin. ‘Just testing the strength of this new family tie we’re all hearing so much about.’

  ‘Did you know about this?’ Pinner says, still looking at Riggs. ‘This… family connection.’ A strange grimace breaks across Riggs’ face as he looks around the room from Pinner to me, to Herb and finally stopping at Grace.

  ‘I’ve known all along…’ he says. ‘That is… that she’s Jasmine’s child.’

  ‘You what?’ Pinner’s the first to react.

  ‘Oh, I’ve always taken a keen interest in her. Since that… fateful night.’

  ‘That’ll be what a guilty conscience does to you.’ Herb says.

  ‘It was a terrible accident,’ Riggs says, his fingers tracing the scar on his forehead.

  ‘Just like your brother,’ I say. He bats that away with the shake of his head.

  ‘No, this was a tragedy,’ he says looking down at his leg. ‘And one I’ve been reminded of every day since.’

  ‘Don’t try to dress it up any other way Riggs,’ Herb says. ‘You killed her and it’s pure luck you didn’t kill the baby too.’

  ‘I didn’t kill her, Long. And the child lived,’ he says. ‘And you… didn’t want her. So in time I found someone who did.’

  ‘After twelve years?’ I say, and look across at Grace who seems stunned into silence.

  ‘As long as it took,’ Riggs says, before turning to Pinner. ‘And when you told me about your difficulties trying for another child, I decided you’d make the perfect surrogates.’

  ‘But how?’

  ‘Oh, come on Terry. You know how these things work; a discreet word here, a small donation there. And the authorities back then, being so keen to find those poor little orphans new homes after all that trouble. What better than into the family bosom of an upstanding officer of the law?’

  ‘And all because you killed her mother,’ I say. Riggs glares at me and I decide a more conciliatory approach is my best option. ‘Even if it was… like your brother… an accident.’

  ‘I didn’t kill her. I wasn’t even driving… Terry, tell them. Tell them I was the passenger.’ He looks at Pinner, who still seems to be getting his head around the revelation about Grace.

  ‘Of course,’ Grace says looking at the DCI. ‘You were there. First on the scene. You saw her still alive.’

  ‘And you helped him cover it up,’ Herb says, struggling to get out of the chair before being manhandled by Number Two.

  ‘He… wa… wa…’ Pinner’s words seem to stick in his throat. ‘He was… the pass…’

  ‘There you go,’ Riggs says. ‘I wasn’t driving. He’s the only living witness and he vouched for me then… and he’ll vouch for me now. Thank you Terry.’

  ‘Someone else was there,’ Herb says, and Riggs spins around and aims the gun at him. ‘Go ahead and shoot me, Riggs. It doesn’t matter anymore.’

  ‘You’re bluffing Long,’ he says.

  ‘There was a witness!’ It’s Grace who breaks the tension and they all look at her like she’s mad.

  ‘In utero doesn’t count, my dear.’ Riggs dismisses her.

  ‘In the newspaper!’ she counters, scornfully.

  ‘What newspaper?’ Pinner says.

  ‘It was an old cutting. Someone reported a man driving from the pub with a woman as the passenger.’ She poin
ts at Riggs. ‘That was you.’

  ‘That was never corroborated,’ Pinner says. ‘That so-called witness never came forward.’

  ‘Because he didn’t trust any of your lot,’ Herb says.

  ‘Ah, now it’s all coming out,’ Riggs says. ‘What do you know? You weren’t even there.’

  ‘No. But I know someone who was.’

  ‘Bullshit,’ says Riggs.

  ‘It’s true. There was a witness. Someone did see you that night…’ Herb glares at Riggs and then points to Pinner. ‘And you, conspiring to cover it up.’

  ‘Who?’ Grace says. ‘Who was there?’

  ‘It was Mac. He saw it all.’

  Riggs lets out a deep laugh. ‘So after all these years… your witness is that Jock sociopath you keep in a cage in that shit-hole in South Woodford. The animal that you now say took Simon and, you’d probably have me believe, killed my wife too. Good luck getting him in the witness box.’

  ‘Oh, don’t you worry.’ Herb smirks. ‘I think he’s got his own idea of justice.’

  ‘Ray,’ Pinner says, visibly agitated by the reference to Simon. ‘I’ve heard enough. I’m calling this in. We need to find that freak. You and your boys should probably get out of here.’

  ‘What about him?’ Riggs aims his gun at Herb.

  ‘He’s not going anywhere,’ Pinner says, getting out his phone. ‘Just go.’

  ‘That’s right Riggs,’ Herb says. ‘Run along now, so your man on the inside can cover for you once again.’

  ‘You’re pathetic, Long!’ Riggs yells. ‘You were always jealous of me. Accept it, you’ve always been a loser. And I’ve always come out on top.’

  ‘And to think we were once partners,’ Herb shouts back.

  ‘We were more than that, Long. At least I thought so.’

  ‘What, best friends… you and me? That’s not what best friends do, Riggs.’

  ‘She was with me first. You wouldn’t have even known her if it wasn’t for me.’

  ‘It was me she chose… me she married,’ Herb says, wrestling with Number Two.

  ‘You may have had the piece of paper, Long, but that’s all it really was.’ Riggs sneers.

  Herb becomes so animated that Number Two has to lunge forward over the back of the chair to pin him down by the shoulders, restricting him to threatening Riggs with just his eyes.

  ‘Ray!’ Pinner yells. ‘Enough…’ Riggs nods to Number Two, who dutifully releases his grip on Herb and heads towards the door. Riggs turns to follow him before Grace stops him dead in his tracks.

  ‘So, are you saying… you were having an affair… with my mother?’ she says.

  ‘Like I said...’ Riggs returns her stare with equal intensity. ‘It was a tragedy.’ With that he limps out of the room.

  Softly Softly

  When the cops arrive, only minutes later, it’s pretty obvious DCI Pinner can’t quite believe their speed of response. He isn’t alone in that. And like the rest of us, I bet that’s not the first thing that crosses his mind. His explosive entrance earlier is reduced to a damp sparkler in comparison to the storming of Herb’s country house.

  ‘Armed police… Nobody move!’ The shrill command is the first thing we hear. The second is the door bouncing off the wall. By the time six armed response cops in full SWAT gear have swarmed into the room and lit up our chests with little red dots, all four of us have frozen.

  ‘Arms… behind your heads! Drop… to your knees!’ We all comply, except Pinner, who starts reaching into his jacket.

  ‘Do it… Now!’ The deafening scream is accompanied instantly by the synchronised migration of two red dots from Pinner’s chest to his forehead.

  ‘I’m DC…’

  ‘Shut it!’ Screaming Balaclava inches forward as two others enter the room, and through the door I can see several more helmeted, bullet-proofed shadows streaming through the hallway. Once we’ve all surrendered, four men circle around behind us and lower our hands one at a time and zip-lock them behind our backs. The other four keep their weapons trained on our hearts.

  ‘Names!’ Screaming Balaclava looks at us one by one.

  ‘Herbert Long.’

  ‘DCI…’ he says, loud and indignant. ‘Pinner.’

  ‘Grace… Long.’ Screaming Balaclava locks onto her eyes like the sun through a lens until she spits out: ‘Pinner. Grace Pinner.’

  ‘Michael Field.’

  ‘Anyone else… in the house?’ To my surprise the question is aimed at me.

  ‘Raymond Riggs… and two men…’ My voice comes out unintentionally loud and staccato. ‘Left a few minutes ago…. And Big Ma—… his Scottish driver… got away earlier… took someone with him… may have been dead.’

  ‘Anyone else?’ He’s turns now to Herb, who shakes his head, at which point another balaclava with the same monotone voice appears at the doorway.

  ‘All clear!’ he yells.

  ‘All clear!’ Screaming Balaclava shouts back for no apparent reason.

  ‘Need SOCOs in the cellar!’

  ‘Why? What’s down there?’

  ‘Lot of blood!’ With that the man in the doorway steps away and Screaming Balaclava lowers his voice into the radio clipped to his flak jacket.

  ‘OIC!’ he says, no less assertively.

  ‘OIC receiving.’ The scratchy response is barely audible.

  ‘You’re authorised to enter!’

  ‘Roger that.’

  ‘Need SOCOs in the cellar!’

  ‘On their way.’

  ‘Need you in here... for IDs!’

  ‘Understood.’

  ‘Theatre’s all yours!’

  ‘Coming in.’

  Screaming Balaclava reels in his chest. His job is done and four of his men follow him from the room. The ones who’ve searched the house are also filing out past the door. They move out silently and the hallway seems to sigh, but none of the tension has left this room. We’re left in the capable hands of the four ninjas with semi-automatic guns pointed at us. And they’re still very much on the job. That is until the Officer in Charge breezes in.

  ‘Morning Grace,’ says Detective Sergeant James Melville.

  ‘What the fuck!’ Pinner shouts.

  ‘Sir.’ Melville’s reply is respectful but cool as he dismisses his boss with a raised index finger and turns to the Men in Black. ‘This… is Grace Pinner… and Michael Field. They can be released.’ The red dots drop like broken buttons from our clothes as the guns are lowered. One balaclava leaves the room and the other rushes to cut the cable ties from Grace’s wrists and then mine before also heading out the door. I watch them leave and catch sight of men in white paper suits and hoods entering through the hall.

  ‘Sergeant?’ Pinner yells ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘This man,’ Melville says, turning to his left, ‘is Herbert Long. He is a person of interest in the case but not a suspect at this time. He can also be released.’

  ‘But sir…’ the marksman shouts, keeping his gun trained on Herb’s chest. ‘The blood… in the cellar?’

  ‘We’re already onto that. And I know it wasn’t him. Let him go.’ The red dot falls from Herb’s shirt and his hands are freed before the penultimate sharpshooter leaves the room.

  Herb rubs his wrists and sits back in his chair. Grace and I are still standing and I move closer to her. I brush her hand with mine in a way that could be construed as accidental but I’m glad when she doesn’t pull it away. She sits down and I test her further by perching on the arm of her chair.

  Now there’s only one red dot left and it’s on DCI Pinner’s forehead.

  ‘Mel-ville!’ Pinner raises his voice again. ‘My boy’s out there. Get me out of these fucking PlastiCuffs.’

  Melville waits until Pinner stops cursing him.

  ‘Have you finished, sir?’ he says, and Pinner just glares back at him. ‘Okay, I’ll take it from here,’ he says turning to the one remaining shadow, who now seems strangely out of place. ‘You can let AC know t
hey can come in.’

  ‘Sir!’ the man shouts and leaves the room.

  ‘What the fuck…?’ Pinner spits, but runs out of venom before ending the sentence, ‘Are AC doing here, Sergeant?’ Melville holds up a hand like he’s halting traffic, but his boss, who’s still kneeling on the floor, has visibly given up the fight.

  A grey-haired officer in pristine uniform enters the room, carrying a braided cap, followed by a woman and a man both younger and in plain clothes, all of whom we later discover work in Anti-Corruption. Melville steps back deferentially as if waiting for the senior rank to take over.

  ‘It was all your good work, Sergeant,’ the brass says. ‘Please… go ahead.’

  ‘Sir.’ Melville nods respectfully before turning back to Pinner. ‘Terence Pinner… I’m arresting you on suspicion of corruption and conspiracy to pervert the course of justice. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence…’

  By the time Melville gets to the end, Pinner is slumped back on his haunches and the two younger investigators, who have crossed the room, take an arm each and lift him to his feet. He looks plaintively back at Grace as he’s led away. When I turn around she’s looking down and shaking her head.

  ‘Sir?’ Melville says. ‘Do you mind if I take a moment…’

  ‘Have as long as you need, Sergeant. Excellent work. Carry on.’ After a very civic nod in our general direction, AC/DC replaces his cap and turns with a flourish, slicing the air as he leaves, with the creases in his trousers.

  20.

  Untold Suffering

  ‘What about Riggs?’ I say as Melville sits down in the chair I vacated.

  ‘We’re onto him,’ he says. ‘Do we need a paramedic out here?’ He looks from me to Grace and then to Herb, and I realise we’ve all got various lumps and bruises, but we all shake our heads.

  ‘And Simon…’ Grace says. ‘What about Simon?’

  ‘Since your call earlier,’ he says, nodding at me, ‘we’ve been looking for the car.’