by T J Walter
Aitcheson turned to Mann and said, ‘And do you go along with this?
Mann nodded. ‘Yes, sir. Without those deeds, we’ve no way of proving the link to Silver. With them, we have him at least for tax evasion and money laundering. There’s no way he could show that he’d come by the sixty million he needed to buy these properties legally.’
Aitcheson nodded and turned back to Brookes, who said,
‘Now for the bad news, sir. We’ve uncovered a bent copper who’s in Silver’s pocket.’
Aitcheson frowned. ‘That’s a very serious accusation, John. I hope you’ve got evidence to back it up.’
‘Sadly, sir, I have. We learned that the two have been swapping telephone calls over the past few months. After my confrontation with Silver, I paid a courtesy visit to City Road to let Chief Superintendent Leighton know what we’d been doing on his patch. After talking to him, we went to see his DCI, Brian Collins. During our conversation, he said he hadn’t visited Silver’s club for months and had no contact with him at all. I didn’t show out but left.’ He pointed at Rose. ‘My DS was with me and she can confirm all this.’
He looked at her and she nodded.
He continued, ‘When we left, two of my detectives followed Collins, who went directly to Silver’s club. He was there ten minutes, then he went home.’
Aitcheson shook his head. ‘What first put you on to him, John; where did you learn about the phone calls?’
‘When Silver was arrested for assaulting me and searched, his mobile phone was found in his pocket. We did checks on the recent calls. There were several to Collins’ mobile.’
Aitcheson shook his head. ‘You’re a sneaky bugger, John, aren’t you? You obviously know this couldn’t be used in evidence, don’t you?’
‘Of course, sir. But a formal investigation will soon find that record, won’t it? The evidence is there.’
Aitcheson nodded. ‘OK. What have you done about this? Have you informed Internal Affairs?’
Brookes shook his head. ‘No, sir. That’s what I want to talk to you about. I have a plan that I want to put to you first.’
Aitcheson laughed. ‘I thought you might have. Alright, tell me what it is.’
Brookes scratched his ear. ‘Our problem is that we don’t know where Silver keeps the property deeds. Now he’s got another five days to do in prison so is out of our way for the time being. If word got to him that we know where the deeds are and were in the process of getting a search warrant to go and fetch them, I think he might panic and tell his minions to go there first and move them. Provided we have them under observation, we should be able to follow them and get hold of the deeds.’
Aitcheson nodded. ‘I see. But where does Collins come into this?’
‘Ah, well we obviously can’t broadcast our proposed search; Silver won’t believe it. So we have to get the news to him by devious means. One of my sergeants has a mate who drinks in the same pub as one of Collins’ sergeants. My sergeant was thinking of buying his mate a pint. Maybe getting a bit tipsy and, if his mate were to ask how the case was going, let it slip that we were about to pounce.’
Aitcheson had a smile on his face. ‘I see, and how do we know that this other sergeant will pass the info on to Collins?’
‘Ah, well my sergeant has his doubts about the other sergeant being totally trustworthy, which is borne out by the fact that he is very pally with Collins.’
Aitcheson blew his cheeks out in the same way that Mann had on getting the news.
After a long moment he said, ‘So you are asking me to stick my neck out and sanction this plan?’
Brookes said lightly, ‘Not really much risk, sir. With Silver in the clink there’s not much harm Collins can do, is there? And there’s enough justification for us to do what I’m proposing.’
Aitcheson gave a deep sigh. ‘OK, what exactly do you need?’
*
Chapter 26 – The Deeds
‘The best laid plans o’ mice an’ men, gang aft agley.’
Rabbie Burns, Scottish poet
Back at Leman Street, Brookes briefed Middlemiss and DI Short on what had occurred at the meeting with Aitcheson.
He finished by saying, ‘OK, Fred, it’s up to you now. You will have to fill your pal in on what’s happening and what we’re trying to achieve. And find out when this other guy will be in the pub. It’s got to happen in the next few days, before Silver is released, as he’s shrewd enough to find out that it’s a fix. Whatever you do, don’t make it too obvious.’
Middlemiss nodded. ‘No problem there, boss. I’ve had a quiet word with my mate. Haven’t told him what’s going on but pumped him a bit about Hollins. Apparently his wife kicked him out a few weeks ago and he’s staying in the section house next to the pub until he finds somewhere else to live, which is why he’s a regular. He’s got nothing else to do with his evenings.’
Brookes nodded. ‘Good.’ Then to Short he said, ‘Now, once Fred had done his bit, we’re going to have to watch Porter, who seems to be running things in his absence, and the accountant, until one of them makes a move to wherever the deeds are kept. Richard Mann thinks it will be in a bank’s safe deposit box somewhere, which makes sense. If that’s the case I rather think it will be the accountant who makes the move to fetch them. But we have to watch Porter as well just to be on the safe side.
‘Now, we’ve got permission to fit some listening devices in The Venus Club so we’ll need a plan to get them fitted. There’s one trick I’ve used before that usually works. Get a punter to set off the fire alarm in the club. When the brigade respond I’ll have a word with the guy in charge and arrange for them to keep everyone out until we’ve hidden the devices. Porter won’t have a choice about calling the brigade because the fire alarm does it automatically.’
Rose smiled.
Seeing it, Brookes said, ‘What is it?’
She said, ‘Nothing, sir,’ but thought, The commander is right, you really are a sneaky so-and-so.
Brookes continued, ‘Derek, get Stumpy Gerrard to put tracking devices on Porter’s car, he’s good at that sort of thing. It seems that it’s him who visits Silver at Pentonville each day, that’s how Silver will get the news. If our plan works, that is.’ He looked at the faces of his team; he could see their enthusiasm for the plan.
He smiled. ‘There’s something I have to do. I’ve got to persuade a magistrate to issue an arrest warrant on spec, so to speak. As we don’t know exactly who will try to collect the deeds we need a bit of leeway as to who we’re looking to arrest. The magistrates are notorious for not issuing warrants for what they call police fishing expeditions. But we’ve had the D of PP chatting up George Blakeney, the stipendiary at Thames. I’m told that if I come up with a plausible explanation, he’ll co-operate.’ Brookes’ smile widened. ‘Apparently he took a dislike to Silver when the villain appeared before him last week, so he’s happy to help.’ He let this sink in.
Rose frowned. ‘Is that legal, sir?’
Brookes nodded. ‘Yes. At least I think so. I think the important phrase is “reasonable cause to suspect” which covers a whole load of dubious circumstances.’
Rose persisted, ‘Doesn’t it say, “Evidence that affords reasonable cause to suspect?”’
Brookes gave her a smile. ‘Listen here, clever-clogs. If the legal bods say it’s OK, then it’s OK with me. Now then, is there anything else we need to cover?’
No-one spoke.
‘OK,’ said Brookes, ‘let’s get on with it.’
*
The next evening, Middlemiss went to The Red Lion in Haggerston High Street for a quiet pint with his friend, PS Harry McCabe. The pub was one used regularly by police as it was next to a police section house and convenient to City Road Police Station.
Each police division had a section house. This was where single police officers who had no other accommodation lived. It was also used in emergencies to temporarily house other officers in need of somewhere to sleep.
The licensee of the Red Lion, Sheila Hutton, was a woman in her fifties who, over the years, had acted as surrogate mother to many young constables learning the job. For a large number of them, the section house was their first home away from home, so to speak, if they felt lonely. She made them welcome and lent them a sympathetic ear. So much so that even when they had moved on, many returned on a regular basis to see her. Among these was Middlemiss’s friend, Harry McCabe.
The pub stood on a street corner and the large L-shaped bar followed the contours of the roads. A pool table was tucked away at one end and a TV set at the other. Tables and chairs occupied the remainder of the floor-space.
It was 8pm when Middlemiss and McCabe arrived. They found two empty stools at the bar and sat chatting to Sheila, the licensee. There was no sign of Hollins, and Middlemiss was worried that the man might have chosen this evening to have an early night. But he needn’t have worried; half an hour later, the door to the street opened and Hollins sauntered in.
Seeing Middlemiss at the bar, he said,
‘Blimey, look what the cat dragged in. What are you doing here, Fred, slumming it?’
Fred looked meaningfully at Sheila behind the bar and replied, ‘That’s a bit unkind, Ed; do you want to rephrase that?’
Hollins looked at the barmaid and said, ‘Didn’t mean any harm, Sheila, you know that. Give me a pint of the usual, will you?’
No comment came from the barmaid, who simply poured him his drink.
Hollins looked at Middlemiss again and said, ‘Seriously, what are you doing here?’
‘Having a drink with an old friend. Harry and I were woollies together; he taught me beats.’
“Woollies” was the not very flattering term some CID officers used to describe uniformed constables; it was either that or “plods”.
As the evening progressed, Middlemiss sank several pints; it was noticeable that his words became more and more slurred as the evening progressed, and his and McCabe’s laughter got louder and louder. Hollins sat a few yards away along the bar, apparently absorbed in the TV sitcom that was on. Sheila stood at the other end of the bar, chatting to two young men who were obviously newly appointed probationer constables.
Much later, McCabe said, ‘Well, come on, Fred, tell me about this case you’re on at the moment.’
‘Bit of a comedown really, after chasing a villain around The Caribbean.’
‘I’ll bet. Is it another murder?’
‘No, we’re after one of your local villains in fact. In a roundabout way, he was responsible for the murder we’ve just solved. It was all about money laundering. It was this bloke’s money that was being laundered. I can’t say too much about it, as we’re still trying to pin him down.’
‘How close are you?’
‘Pretty close actually. We’ve just found out where he’s got some important evidence stashed away.’ In a softer voice that was more like a stage whisper he added, ‘Some property deeds.’ Then he continued in a normal, if somewhat slurred voice, ‘We’ve applied for a search warrant but the beak says we haven’t got enough grounds. But we’ve got the Fraud Squad on it and I expect they’ll come up with something soon. This is where the job gets a bit frustrating; when you know someone’s at it and run up against the red tape. But my boss is brilliant; I guarantee he’ll come up with something that’ll get the warrant granted even if the squad don’t.’
The conversation moved on to other things until an hour later a cab driver poked his head round the street door and said,
‘Cab for Mr Middlemiss,’ which was Fred’s cue to say his goodbyes and leave. This he did carefully, putting one foot in front of the other, giving a very good impression of a drunk. Neither he nor McCabe had looked directly at Hollins while they’d been talking. But both had occasionally glanced at his face in the mirror behind the bar and noticed that his ears had pricked up when their conversation turned to the business of chasing down Silver.
*
At 2pm the next day, Sid Porter made his visit to Pentonville Prison to see Silver. Once they were seated at a table in the visitor’s room, Porter leaned forward and, in a whisper, said,
‘That prick Collins phoned. Said I’ve got to give you a message. Something about deeds to property. He’s got info that says the copper that’s after you knows where they are and is trying to get a search warrant to go and grab them.’
Silver’s ears pricked up. ‘Say that lot again.’
Porter duly repeated the message.
Silver swore and thumped the table, which drew the attention a guard, who gave him a warning look. With great difficulty, he regained his self-control.
Taking a deep breath, he hissed between his teeth, ‘Now listen very carefully. If you get this wrong I’ll slay the fucking hide off you when I get out of here. Tell McBride to go to the bank today and take the stuff in the deposit box to another bank. He must do it today; not tomorrow or the next day. Today. Do you hear?’
Porter nodded, ‘Yes, boss.’
‘Then repeat it back to me, what I’ve just told you.’
‘I’ve got to tell McBride he’s got to move the stuff in the box somewhere else.’
‘Where is the box, you big pillock?’
‘Oh yeah, in the bank.’
‘And when must this be done?’
‘Oh yeah, today. It’s got to be today.’
‘Right, now repeat it all to me again.’
Porter did, and this time he got it right.
The bug beneath the table picked up the whole conversation.
*
Later that afternoon, Ian McBride just made it to the bank before its doors were closed. Liz Foreman and Stumpy Gerrard followed him in. They approached one of the tellers and Foreman spoke quietly to her, whilst Gerrard watched and McBride disappeared down a flight of steps, accompanied by a bank official.
Another woman appeared behind the glass partition. She said, ‘I’m the manageress, you wanted to speak to me?’
Foreman held up a piece of paper in one hand and her warrant card in the other. ‘I’m Detective Constable Foreman, my colleague here is Detective Constable Gerrard. This is an arrest warrant we need to execute here in the bank. I need for you to come with me now down to your safety deposit vault. I’ll explain on the way. This is urgent.’
The manageress took the paper and read it. Satisfied, she joined them on the public side of the counter and led them down the stairs; Foreman explained the circumstances of the proposed arrest and why it was necessary to make it there. They arrived in time to see McBride transferring some papers from a metal box to his briefcase. The timing was important, as they would need the chain of evidence tying both Silver and his accountant to the deeds in the safe deposit box.
Foreman walked up to the man and said, ‘Mr McBride, I am Detective Constable Foreman and I have a warrant for your arrest for handling the proceeds of crime.’ She then read him the caution.
The accountant was lost for words for a moment, then he stammered, ‘This is preposterous, I am simply collecting these documents on behalf of a client.’
Gerrard smiled as he wrote this in his notebook. Foreman handcuffed the prisoner and produced from a pocket a large clear plastic evidence bag. As she unfolded it, she said to the manageress,
‘Please watch what I’m doing.’
She then put the papers from the briefcase into the evidence bag and asked the woman to sign the label. She would later be asked to write a brief statement confirming that the contents of the evidence bag had been in a safe deposit box rented by Silver. The two detectives then marched McBride away.
*
When they arrived at the charge room at City Road Police Station, they found Brookes and DI Mann waiting for them. Foreman gave Brookes a smile and nodded towards the documents Gerrard carried. She then turned to the custody officer and handed him the arrest warrant.
She said, ‘I’ve arrested Mr McBride on suspicion of handling goods that are the proceeds of crime. We need for
him to be detained while we investigate further. This briefcase and the contents of the evidence bag were taken from him and need to be shown on the custody sheet as having been in his possession when arrested.’
The four detectives waited impatiently whilst the custody sheet was completed, including a list of the contents of McBride’s pockets and, significantly, the briefcase and property deeds. This list was signed by the prisoner.
Once it was done, Brookes said to the custody officer, ‘I want to examine the documents in the prisoner’s presence and note the contents, OK, Sergeant?
The custody officer nodded. ‘He’s your prisoner, sir.’
In a stern voice, Brookes said, ‘He is indeed. But we will follow the correct procedure here, if you please, Sergeant.’
Suitably chastened, the custody officer blushed and nodded.
McBride stood watching as Brookes and Mann examined the papers. Reading through the first sheath of papers, Mann pointed to a signature on the last page. It was clearly that of Raymond Silver.
Brookes said quietly to himself, ‘Got you, you toerag.’
*
Chapter 27 – Temper, Temper
‘When storm clouds brood on the towering heights
Of the hills of the Chankly Bore.’
Edward Lear
To say that Silver was furious when he got the news of Brookes’ seizure of the property deeds would be an understatement. He vowed to kidnap Brookes, first torture him, then kill him slowly. But whilst he languished in prison, Brookes knew he was not in any danger and the listening devices planted at the club and the flat above should give warning of Silver’s intentions when he was released.
In the meantime, the detectives were busy. Brookes and Middlemiss were making their preparations to interview the accountant, Ian McBride. A CRO check had been done on the man and it was found that he had no criminal record. Indeed, apart from his association with Silver, his reputation as an accountant as well as a citizen was untarnished.
