The Badge & the Pen Thrillers

by Roger A Price

  ‘I wish I hadn’t been. This will balls-up our plans a bit now. Reedly will be tucked away somewhere all nice and safe. We’ll have to leave him for a while. It puts us back, and I hate disruptions.’

  ‘So what do we do now, Boss?’

  ‘Just get us out of here. Reedly will wait; in fact I rather enjoy the thought of him shitting himself. I’m more concerned at how they knew of our plans? And what else they might know?

  ‘Does that mean you want us to postpone things?’

  ‘We can’t, even if we wanted to, Jason. No, we press on; we’ve just got to be extra careful from here on in.’

  Jason accelerated onto the main carriageway, and they were soon approaching Junction 32 of the M6, where the M55 – Blackpool – motorway commenced.

  ‘Head to Blackpool, Jason, we can book into a hotel and stay anonymous there.’

  ‘Yes, Boss.’

  As Jason got busy with the driving, Quintel thought back to how they had come across Charlie Parker. He had been recommended by a supposedly solid bloke. ‘The guy who put us onto Charlie?’

  ‘Dempster. Yeah, don’t worry, Boss. When I get a chance he’s gonna get a visit.’

  ‘No doubt, Jason, but the problem I’m wrestling with is this: Was Charlie just a chancer who went to the filth, or…,”

  ‘The filth themselves? I know, Boss, I’ve been wondering the same, but after Dempster gave us Charlie’s details I did some digging around.’

  Quintel was impressed, he hadn’t asked Jason to do that, as he hadn’t seen the need. Initially he never intended to let Charlie walk away from the gig; that was until he witnessed the job being “apparently” done. He’d been so impressed, the thought of letting him live and using him again had taken root. Until he’d seen the pigs heart.

  ‘What did you find out?’

  ‘That Charlie Parker existed. He was a mean bastard who was muscle for hire with no scruples.’

  ‘So what went wrong?’

  ‘Either Dempster went straight to the cops and they provided an undercover cop posing as Charlie before we’d first met him, or…,’

  ‘Or Charlie himself saw a way to get two pay days, and blew us out.’

  ‘We won’t know which until I get hold of Dempster.’

  ‘Either-way we are partly compromised, though the cops’ knowledge of us will be very limited and they’ll have no idea of our agenda. I don’t see why they shouldn’t just think it all begins and ends with Reedly.’

  ‘Makes sense, Boss.’

  ‘In fact, how do you fancy earning some extra cash?’

  ‘Sure, what is it?’

  ‘Can you still shoot straight?’

  ‘I keep it up, and if I’m thinking right; I told you I could have done Reedly.’

  ‘I know, Jay I just wanted some distance between the target and us. But we carry on.’

  ‘Ok, Boss, but I thought you said Reedly would have to wait?

  ‘I did, but that could change; there’s a reason sometimes that I only tell you stuff when you need to know it; it’s not that I distrust you, it’s to protect you, now I need to make some calls, so just drive, will you.’

  Quintel wouldn’t make the same mistake again. He’d done it for the right reasons, rather than not valuing Jason’s abilities. He knew he’d spent six years in the army, and he trusted him as much as he’d ever trusted anyone. It was more about distance, keeping them away from the smelly end of business, but needs must now, and it would be the lesser of the risks. He hoped the real Charlie had been the one to do the dirty on them off his own back. That way they could use Dempster again, he had his uses as a local dirt bag – come – dogsbody. The two cars they’d used today being a prime example. But if it was Dempster who’d betrayed them, then he’d pay a heavy price, and not just with his life; a message would need to be sent into the criminal community.

  Overall though, no real harm had been done. Reedly would be harder to get at in the short term, but his end would still come, and he could spend the time in-between adding to his grey hairs. There was a still lot to do.

  Chapter Five

  Vinnie met Harry Delany at Preston Central Police Station at 7 am the following day; it was a newish built nick in the city centre with a purpose-made incident room, which made a pleasant change from having to set one up in a gym or in whatever space one could, which was the norm.

  Vinnie’s injuries were limited to superficial cuts to the back of his hands and arms, and by the time he’d left the local hospital, he couldn’t be bothered driving back to his home in Manchester so he’d booked into a city centre hotel. It wasn’t as if he’d had anyone waiting for him since he and Lesley had split up.

  It was his first time working in Preston. Since he joined Greater Manchester Police’s Major Incident Team, the police forces of the north west of England had formed a jointly staffed Regional Homicide Unit, a further collaboration between forces made necessary by all the budget cuts. Harry reckoned it was just another step on the way to amalgamating all forces into larger regional outfits. Like they had in Scotland.

  He hadn’t slept well, especially after he’d received Harry’s call while he was at the hospital. It hadn’t taken the Fire Brigade long to find poor Charlie’s body. According to preliminary findings, he’d died from severe neck wounds, but the fuller details wouldn’t be known until after the post mortem examination. And as of now the body was still in situ in what was now a huge crime scene. At least he’d died quickly, before the smoke and flames got to him, Vinnie thought, and then immediately felt guilty for thinking such a thing.

  He’d spent most of the time since wondering what had gone wrong. And what, if anything, he could have done differently.

  Having found the incident room on the ground floor, Vinnie soon found the SIO’s – Senior Investigating Officer’s – office. He pulled up a chair and waited for Harry. He knew he was already here as his jacket was on the back of the chair behind the desk; he’d probably been here most of the night.

  Vinnie stared through the glass walls at all the activity going on in the main spacious office as terminals and office furniture were being arranged. He usually loved the feel of the frenetic activity that always happened on day-one of a murder investigation, but not this time.

  He saw Harry’s portly figure and ruddy face as he walked across the floor toward the office. He kept getting stopped but eventually he made it there, entered and closed the door behind him. Vinnie felt a feeling of relief as the ambient noise dropped to a background level.

  ‘How are you, this morning?’ Harry asked.

  ‘I’m fine, I told you on the phone last night.’

  ‘I know you did but I just thought I’d ask.’

  ‘Thanks, but more importantly, what about Charlie’s family?’

  ‘He was single and unattached as you know, so his parents are next-of-kin. I had the task of going to see them last night with the chief from Lancs.’

  ‘How did that go?’ Vinnie asked, immediately regretting the stupidity of the question.

  ‘They’re in bits, and they want answers.’

  ‘Sure. How did we not see this coming?’

  ‘A question I keep getting asked by all the senior-ranked soothsayers.’

  ‘Most of those dozy bastards have spent all their lives behind ever increasing desks, having never met an angry man,’ Vinnie said, feeling the emotion in his voice.

  ‘Now, now Vinnie, we have to tread carefully.’

  Vinnie knew this, but hated those who had never been anywhere near a difficult or dangerous operation and then suddenly thought they were experts simply because they’d achieved a certain rank. He knew the operational strategy had been to go through with the mock execution and then on “proof of death” get the payment and leave. That way, Quintel and his goon friend couldn’t try and claim “agent provocateur” later at court by alleging that they only went along with the killer/undercover officer. Or that he had been the leading figure or the driving force behind it all
, as was often the case in contract killing undercover sting court cases.

  ‘What about the strategy, not to have an arrest team ready to go straight in at the meeting and arrest them all?’ Vinnie said.

  ‘You questioning our strategy?’

  Vinnie instantly realised how his question had sounded, and held his hands up in the air, before adding, ‘Of course not, Harry, I was just paraphrasing what we might be asked.’

  Harry’s hackles seemed to descend before he carried on. ‘Yes, I’ve already had that one from the Lancs chief. I had to explain the rationale to follow rather than arrest.’

  Vinnie knew that the evidence against Quintel and his goon was in the bank, but as they didn’t know who was behind the threat to Reedly’s life, they had decided to postpone their arrests in the hope that a surveillance team would be able to follow them away from the meeting with Charlie, and lead them to the top man. If they jumped too soon, there would still be an ongoing threat to Reedly.

  Of course, Vinnie knew that the strategy hinged on the assumption that Quintel and his goon were just middle men. ‘But what if Quintel is the man behind it?’

  ‘He might be, but until we know for sure we can’t risk it. If we pull them in and they say jack shit, it’ll leave the main player out there to start over.’

  Vinnie knew all this of course, but sometimes asking the questions out loud helped the thought process. That was one of the difficulties with undercover jobs; no black or white, but lots of grey. He moved on. ‘How did the surveillance team get on? he asked, more in hope.

  ‘That was the chief’s next question. And unfortunately they hadn’t planned on the bad guys leaving the estate from the rear; they must have had a car waiting on the hard shoulder of the M6.’

  Vinnie had guessed as much. He’d have heard by now had it been any different. ‘We should have thought of that.’

  ‘That’s what the chief said.’

  ‘What about the car that they didn’t leave in? The one they’d left parked in the estate being watched by our surveillance team.’

  ‘PNC – Police National Computer – says it’s a local rental. As soon as they open I want you down there.’

  ‘Not a problem, Harry, but how do you plan to run this whole job?’

  Vinnie knew that with a murder investigation, once all the detectives had been drafted in from divisions, the job would be run as one team with no secrets. But this job was very different. Not least because of the sensitivities surrounding the intended target, but also because an undercover officer had been deployed and now had sadly lost his life.

  ‘We’ll keep the undercover side of it to ourselves for now, and get the detectives to follow the initial clues to try and capture all the evidence at the scene, and to trace Quintel and his sidekick.’

  ‘Obviously they all know that Charlie was a cop on duty, but not exactly why he was there, I guess.’

  ‘It won’t last long, Vinnie, but the longer we can hold back on the undercover side of things, the longer we can keep the details of the operation, and therefore the identity of the intended victim, a secret. We don’t know why Charlie was rumbled; so we don’t know what other dark forces are in play.’

  Vinnie knew it wouldn’t take too long before it became known in the incident room that Charlie was operating undercover, and then all the obvious questions would follow. He just nodded.

  ‘Which is why we are against the clock, and you can’t use any of the normal detectives to help you. We need to find these bastards quickly, of course, but you need to find out who is behind it. I’ll give you all the help I can, but am restricted in that I’ve got to deal with the reactive side of the investigation, act as head of the enquiry and keep the bosses happy.’

  ‘Are you saying what I think—’ Vinnie started to ask?

  ‘I’m saying, use whatever resources you have to, Vinnie, but start on that hire car first.’

  ‘What about the intended victim?’

  The deputy chief constable of Manchester, Mr Jim Reedly, has been whisked away to a safe location, but leave him to me, for now. We need to have a lengthy chat as soon as I can arrange it, and see if he can help us anymore in identifying exactly who this Quintel and his mate Jason are, and what the motive is? We still have no idea why.’

  ‘Ok, Harry.’

  ‘You go and grab some food; I’ll join you in the canteen shortly, after I’ve briefed the troops and got them all out on their inquiries.’

  Chapter Six

  It was nearly 8 am by the time Harry returned to the canteen. Vinnie had just finished a chest-clutcher – or Full English Breakfast, as the menu called it. He’d forgotten just how hungry he was; he hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours. Harry joined him at his table as he finished using a paper napkin. ‘I got you a brew, but it’ll be cold now, sorry.’

  ‘No worries, I’ve no time.’

  ‘How’d the briefing go?

  ‘Ok, I’ve sent most of the team up to assist at the crime scene, the quicker we can get Charlie’s body moved, the better. Then the HOLMES2 system can start spitting out some actions.’

  Vinnie knew that HOLMES was an anagram for “Home Office Large Major Enquiry System” set up after the advent of computers to ensure effective cross-referencing of information gathered during an investigation. It had been first brought in in the late seventies after the ‘Yorkshire Ripper’ murder enquiry. The mass murderer had been in the system several times before he became a suspect. Back then it had all been done using index cards. Hard to imagine that today, he thought.

  ‘Ok, Harry, I’m off to see the hire company now,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘That’s what I came to tell you, don’t bother. They’ve just rung in to report one of their motors missing. They thought it was an overdue return, but it looks as if it had been nicked from the company’s overflow car park two days ago. They only realised when they found the key-drop box screwed. Uniform are there now, as is a local detective, and CSI are going to have a look at the box, but don’t expect too much.’

  ‘Any other keys gone?’

  ‘Nope, just one set and one motor.’

  ‘CCTV?’

  ‘Yes, but a well-aimed brick nullified it.’

  ‘Damn.’

  ‘Damn indeed.’

  ‘Look, I’ve to go and front a press conference soon, why don’t you have a sniff around up at the murder scene instead?’

  ‘Will do, Harry.’

  Twenty minutes later Vinnie pulled up back at the industrial estate. The place displayed an uncomfortable calm in the daylight. There were numerous white-suited CSIs busying about, and one fire brigade tender was still on site, presumably damping down any smouldering ashes. As for the building itself, Vinnie didn’t hold out much hope of anything forensically significant coming out of it. More than half of what was combustible was gone. The main frame of the place was evident in an array of twisted metal girders. A uniform cop with a clipboard got out of a marked police car as Vinnie approached on foot; the cop was obviously maintaining a Scene Log.

  Vinnie showed the officer his warrant card and then said, ‘No need to show me on the log, I’m not going to get in the way by going in, I just want to have a mooch around the back.’

  The cop nodded, but Vinnie noticed his pen-hand move across his board nonetheless. Before he headed to the rear of the premises Vinnie reacquainted himself with the main site. It was mid-size with around thirty or forty units on it, all newly built, and most appeared to be used as office spaces and admin blocks. At the north end of the estate was a porta-cabin which was used by the security staff. He was tempted to speak to whoever was there, but didn’t want to take any chances. It would just be his luck that whoever had been on duty the night before was on a quick change to a day shift and may have seen Vinnie in his yellow jacket and suddenly recognise him. But to be honest, he knew there was virtually no chance of that. He’d kept a constant lookout for the guard last night and never saw anyone. Just better to be cautious; and in any event
as soon as HOLMES2 was running and spitting out actions, one of them would be for someone to interview the security guard. It would seem strange if a DI had already done so.

  Fifteen minutes later, he walked around the inner service road of the site and had not seen anything of interest. Not that he would know anything was of interest until he saw it. Detective work was often about hunches, seeing things which were apparently innocent until other information changed that. One of Vinnie’s strengths had always been the ability to review things once discarded as of no interest, but through new eyes in the light of new information. It was probably why as a DC he’d often been picked to do the Exhibits Officer’s job on major incidents; continually going over old ground. Boring, repetitive but essential.

  Back where he started, he was about to head to the rear of the burnt out building when his phone rang. He was pleased to see the screen light up with the words “Christine Jones”. It lightened his mood. Christine was a local TV investigative reporter working mainly for independent regional TV stations and had been instrumental in helping him on his last job – catching the escaped killer Daniel Moxley – he couldn’t have done it without her. Especially after he’d managed to get himself suspended; she’d been the public face of his inquiries and got a pretty good scoop at the end of it. They’d been out for a drink a few weeks afterwards, and he intended to ask her out again, he enjoyed her company and she was switched on. He pressed the green icon to accept the call. ‘Hi Christine, I’ve been meaning to give you a bell, how’s it going?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, cut the crap. But seeing as you ask I’m fine. Look, you’re not in Preston, are you?’

  Vinnie knew that Christine sometimes had a difficult relationship with the detectives. They thought she got in the way of investigations sometimes, and he used to subscribe to that; but knew better now. She was just good at her job and often got to the story before the cops did. He wasn’t surprised by her question. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘No crystal ball this time. My editor asked me to leg it up to Preston from Salford to cover a new murder investigation press conference. It was given by Harry Delany, so I wondered if you were on the case.’