by Graham Smith
Chapter 14
Tuesday
‘Right then. What we have on the robberies is as follows. Firstly, they have all been done without damage to property or environs. Secondly, there are no obvious suspects yet. We’ve had word back on the dabs and they are all accounted for. None of the staff have a record except for Fat Larry who was done for assault when he foiled a break-in fifteen years ago. Thirdly, whoever is behind these crimes is fucking with us: all of the safes were left in the closed position. This does not take much time but does point the finger at people who either had the keys or codes to the safes. My hunch is that the thief is trying to deflect the blame elsewhere. Fourthly, some of these buildings weren’t alarmed; the thief may have known this. There were many others they could have hit for a larger payday, but these were chosen. There must be a connection between them that we’ve yet to find. The bosses from Bandits Express and Cumbria Food Service we met yesterday are going to fax us their delivery logs for the last year. We can find out from them if there are any common denominators among their delivery men.’
Lauren updated the whiteboard as Evans spoke.
Evans took the marker from her. ‘OK, now we’ll hear what Totty Tits has to say about the thefts from the farms.’
Throwing Evans an indulgent smile, Lauren gave her debrief. ‘Me and DS Chisholm spent yesterday afternoon compiling a complete list of everything that has been reported stolen from farms on our patch. Let me tell you, the list is a long one. There have been twenty-eight quad bikes, seven normal motor bikes, five ride-on lawn-mowers, three tractors which strangely had no cabs, over seventy hand-held power tools like chainsaws and hedge cutters. They were all stolen in the last five weeks with only odd thefts before then. Incidentally almost half of the power tools were stolen from one farm at Stonethwaite where the farmer had a sideline in repairs.
‘Was it James Johnson’s place?’
‘Yes, guv. How did you know that?’
‘He’s well known for repairing small tools in that area. His workshop is always full of them as he cannot keep on top of the repairs, what wi’ running the farm as well. Besides he’s got a drink problem and is unconscious most nights.’ Seeing Campbell failing to conceal a wide smile, he turned to face him. ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’
Campbell scowled the smile from his face. ‘Nothing.’ He was amazed when he heard Evans say someone else had a drink problem. The man was a walking, talking hypocrite.
He’d sat quietly through the briefing, making notes on changes he wanted to implement to the way the team was run. Top of his list was to change the way they spoke to each other. A DI calling a DC ‘Totty Tits’ was unacceptable. Although he possessed enough self-awareness to admit to himself that if he wasn’t married he’d love to get to grips with Lauren’s tits.
‘Sorry. Lauren, did you say the three tractors had no cabs on?’
‘Yes, sir. We had a run of similar thefts last year which lasted a couple of months and then stopped dead. The general thinking is it’s gangs coming from elsewhere and robbing a few places a night. We even suspected they were following delivery wagons to find out where new bikes and so on were being sold. One farmer surprised them last year and was put in hospital after confronting them. He’d said he couldn’t count them all, but there seemed to be about a dozen of them.’
Evans parked his heels on a desk. ‘What did Eddie at Crime Prevention have to say about the SmartWater aspect then?’
‘He said, and I quote, “Tell that CID clown that I’m one man covering one of the most rural counties in the country. And if he thinks he can do any better then he’s welcome to try.”’
‘So the budgetary cuts have reached Crime Prevention as well. There used to be five of the buggers and now it’s just Eddie. No wonder there are still farms without SmartWater when he’s got to do it all himsel’. Farmers can be stubborn bastards at times; most of them live in the past. They never lock their doors or take keys out of tractors and seck like.’
Campbell stood up to address the team. His management training told him it was best to be in a dominant position and also one where he could establish eye contact with whomever he was speaking to. ‘What height and width were the tractors, Lauren?’
‘I don’t know, sir, but I have the make and model numbers if that helps.’
The disparity in respect levels from Lauren might be blatant, but it was to be expected. Evans would always get ‘guv’, whereas he would be just another ‘sir’ until he earned the team’s approval and respect. He’d been the same himself with new bosses.
When the team honoured him with the term ‘guv’, he’d know he’d been accepted into their ranks. Until then he was just another boss.
‘Can you get me that info from the web, please, Chisholm?’ Using good manners was yet another edict he’d learned from the DI course. ‘I think that what they are doing is bringing a cattle wagon from wherever they belong and filling it with any vehicles or tools that can fit into it. They will have a separate car or two filled with bodies to help them load up. They’ll get maybe eight or ten quads a night into the wagon along with any small tools they can lay their hands on. What looks more at home in the country than a cattle wagon?’
‘Makes sense to me, Jock. Lauren, get onto traffic and have them pull every cattle wagon they see on the motorway south of Penrith and on any country road after ten at night. Bhaki, did you get owt back from Swansea about the cars?’
‘Not yet. They are supposed to be getting back to me before lunchtime, but you know what they are like.’
‘Idle buggers are slower than treacle running uphill on a frosty morning. If you’ve heard nothing by dinner-time call again, say you are me and hurry the lazy sods along. Chisholm, find out from the licensing boards across the county the name and address of every licensed premises and send them a letter warning them about the break-ins and to increase their security. Also do the same for all of the garages that buy and sell cars. Eddie at Crime Prevention cannot possibly do that as well as trying to educate every farmer in the county, but at least let him know what I’ve asked you to do and liaise with him about the content of the letters.’
‘OK, sir. By the way I’ve just googled the tractors that have been stolen and the largest is six foot high by seven foot wide. They would easily fit into a cattle wagon.’
‘Good, now find out how many dealers in Cumbria sell quad bikes and the average cost of a new one.’
Chapter 15
‘Sir, have you got a minute?’ Evans walked into Grantham’s office without knocking and took a seat opposite his boss.
‘What do you want, Quasi?’
‘We have a few leads on each of our cases and I want to set up a sting on the farm robberies as they are the largest crime so far.’
‘What do you have in mind, Harry?’
‘I want to place orders for three or four quad bikes from each of the main dealers and have GPS bugs planted on them. They will have to be sold to a farm that does not have SmartWater technology. Then we wait for them to be stolen and track them down and nick the buggers in the act. Signed, sealed and delivered.’
‘And just how much will this cost?’
‘With a bit of luck and some careful finessing, nothing; but without, three and a half grand for each bike, plus VAT, plus whatever the homing device costs. After that it’s just manpower and the costs associated with that.’
‘What exactly do you mean by careful finessing, Harry? Because there is no way I can condone spending anything like three and a half grand, plus VAT, times however many bikes you want to put out there with GPS systems hidden in them.’
‘I think a call from a high-ranking officer such as the assistant or deputy chief constable to one of the leading manufacturers such as Honda, Suzuki, or Polaris asking for some quads to be loaned to us would drastically reduce the cost. If they refused, then we’d inform them of how their competitors had happily complied with our request. And that when the story broke after the operation w
e would praise the efforts of the companies who had aided us, and imply through the farming press that the companies who had refused to help us were delighted with the thefts as it meant sales figures were up.’
‘Bloody hell, Quasi! That’s blackmail. We can’t be seen to blackmail people; we’re the police for God’s sake.’
‘With all due respect, sir, you are missing the point entirely. It is merely a question of whether they choose to help the police, and receive praise for their assistance in helping their customers fight crime. I reckon magazines such as the Farmers Guardian would jump at the story of how companies teamed up with the police. The refusing companies’ omission would be damning.’
‘That’s still blackmail you’re talking about.’
Evans shook his head with a wry smile on his lips. ‘It’s honesty. Taking into consideration farmer’s typically cynical and mistrustful nature, all we would have to do is thank the companies who took part and let it be known that other major manufacturers did not answer our call. I know I could talk them into it, if I had the seniority of rank.’
‘Don’t even think about it, Harry. I know for a fact you have passed yourself off as every rank imaginable to get what you want, but enough is enough.’
‘Not an issue. There’ll be photo ops with this one. Even I can’t get away with that. On the other hand, we could always buy the quad bikes ourselves and sell them on after the op.’
‘I’ll speak to the ACC and see what he says, but believe me, if we get the green light, we better get a conviction from this, Harry, or I’ll have your balls on a plate.’
‘You’ll need a platter.’
Recognising his luck was pushed to the edge of a precipice, Evans made his way out of Grantham’s office and back to the cubbyhole he and his team inhabited.
Chisholm greeted him with a sheet of paper. ‘There’s been another break-in, guv.’
‘Where at?’
‘The Vaults.’
‘How much did they get this time?’
‘Just over four and a half grand.’
‘From a Monday night. We’re in the wrong game.’
‘Apparently they had a birthday party last night.’
‘From a Monday. Does nobody care about being sober at work anymore?’
Coffee flew from Campbell’s mouth and covered the PC monitor in front of him.
‘Problem, Jock?’
Seeing Campbell shake his head, he turned back to Chisholm.
‘It was for a traveller, guv.’
‘Hah! All those dodgy notes they’ll have taken last night have been stolen from them. Save them the hassle of trying to bank them or pass them on.’
Evans checked his watch and dropped his feet back to the floor. ‘Right, Jock, you and I are going there to see what we can find out before the CSI boys get their arses parked. We’ve got enough time for a preliminary visit before we have to be in Penrith.’
Evans was impatient to get going. ‘Come on, hurry up, we have to get to the Dogs before the CSI team. They never let me near enough to learn owt useful.’
Confused by the name change, Campbell queried Evans. ‘I thought it was called the Vaults?’
‘It is, but it’s known as the Dogs ’cause it’s bollocks in there.’
Parking in the loading bay of a shop, Evans hustled Campbell into the Vaults. The street-level entrance was open despite the club being closed. Evans hadn’t been inside for years, but he remembered the layout. The Vaults was built astride one of the city’s former walls. It was ground level at one side but descended down four levels as it trailed the outer skin of the city wall.
His nose crinkled at the overpowering odour of stale beer and sweaty bodies. The cigarette ban had done a lot of good things, but the one area where it failed was the way that you could now smell what pubs were really like.
Never a fan of the club scene, he was grateful that the place was closed. Packed with bodies this place would be sauna hot, the stench unbearable. In his mind, he could picture the customers. Girls with their muffin tops wedged into boob tubes and short shorts two sizes too small. Their hair scraped back into a ponytail with such venom it gave their faces no room for expression. Apart from the ever sullen pout. The lads were no better. Kitted out in Matalan’s finest, they would be drunk, stoned or both. Eye contact would be an invitation to fight. Speaking to a girl they knew would precipitate a broken glass attack. The aim of the evening a union neither party would want or be able to remember.
Finding the staircase, he went up a level and found the manager’s office. The manager was dressed in casual clothes and sat at a desk, a telephone pressed against his ear.
The half of the conversation Evans could hear sounded cloying and apologetic. Surmising the manager was advising the proprietor of the robbery, Evans allowed him to finish his call.
As soon as the call was ended the manager fired questions at Evans and Campbell. ‘Who are you? Why are you here?’
‘We’re the police.’ Evans flashed his warrant card. ‘And, we’re the police.’
Listening to the manager’s account, Evans took in the position of the old Milner safe from which the money had been taken.
Evans examined the door where the manager suspected the thief had entered. Beside the door was an alarm keypad with the cover hanging down over it. Lifting the cover with a pencil he had purloined from the manager’s desk, Evans shook his head in disbelief. ‘Is your code number for this alarm six seven nine five.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because some imbecile has written it on the back of the cover, that’s how.’
Evans shook his head and walked away from the alarm panel. ‘You might as well hang a sign on the door saying “Please rob us”, you are so stupid about security. Get me a list of everyone who has been in this room in the last two months, their purpose for being in this room and who they work for. I also want names, addresses and National Insurance numbers for all employees and ex-employees for the last six months to be on the list and that includes the Polish polisher mopping the floor out there.’ He tossed the dumbstruck manager a card. ‘We expect this information to be with us by three o’clock today.’
‘I’ll do it straightaway.’
Evans left the office and went to speak to the crime scene manager who had just arrived.
As the man wrestled his way into a Tyvek suit, Evans listed the areas where there may be some trace evidence worth collecting.
‘You’ve got to be joking. These places have hundreds if not thousands of folk through them, I don’t fancy our chances of picking the doer up from all the samples we get.’
‘Me neither.’ Evans scratched the back of his hand and pointed at the CSM’s Tyvek suit. ‘Wish I’d had one of them to wear before I went in.’
Picking up on Evans’s theme, Campbell added his thoughts, ‘No wonder that place is called the Dogs. I wanted to wipe my feet when we got out of there’
The CSM chuckled. ‘It is also an apt description of the women who frequent the place. You should see it of a Thursday. It’s grab-a-granny night and no mistake. Mate of mine pulled a bird in there one Thursday. Friday morning he was at the doctor with a terrible dose of arthritis.’
As the two men reached the M3 there was a loud crump as a Golf GTI rear-ended a stationary van. Campbell started towards the collision to see if anyone needed help, but stopped when the GTI driver climbed out of his car with blood pouring from a gash to his cheek .
Evans knew the driver, so he decided to deal with the matter himself. Grabbing him by the jacket collar, he spun the luckless man around and banged his head off the already dented bonnet.
‘Ian Dawson, you have hereby been tried, convicted and punished for driving like a muppet. Give the van driver your insurance details and go home to your wife and kids.’
‘Yes, DI Evans, sir.’
Dawson was fighting the concussive effects of the crash which had been amplified by Evans’s antiquated brand of justice.
Campbell rounded on Evans with amazement all over his face. ‘I bet you are on first name terms with the IPCC and all of the rubber-heelers from Professional Standards.’
Evans wasn’t concerned by Campbell’s ire. ‘They can’t handle me.’
* * *
They arrived at Carleton Hall Police Headquarters in Penrith a scant twenty minutes later thanks to Evans driving as if the hounds of hell were after him. When Campbell suggested he call ahead and get somebody to let the area manager of Euston Vintners know they were running late, Evans told him not to bother as the longer people waited for an interview with the police the more they divulged.
‘That’s bull and you know it. This guy is innocent and he’s helping us with our enquires. If you believe that making people wait is better, why are you driving so fast?’
‘This isn’t fast. I’m only doing a ton five.’
‘That’s fine then. For a moment I was worried we might be speeding’
Evans couldn’t resist crowing to the younger man. ‘I’ve got immunity from speeding because of my role as DI for Major Crimes. I made sure it was written into the contract I signed when I agreed to head up this task force. My number plates have an anti-flash coating which works like a mirror when speed cameras take a photo of my car.’
‘How the hell did you talk them into that?’
‘I explained that in my new position as the head of coordinated police response to interlinked crimes, I would need to travel around the county very fast or most of my time would be wasted driving. I told them the car had to be unmarked as I didn’t want the few people in Cumbria who don’t already know me, to know when I was in their area.’
‘And they swallowed that bullshit?’
‘Hook, line and laxative-coated sinker. I did suggest a helicopter, but they told me to bugger off and sent me on an advanced driving course instead. I had one chance to get a hundred per cent pass rate to get my own way.’
‘You jammy sod. I’d love a go at that.’
‘The driver training was one of the best weeks of my life. One hour of theory per day with the rest of the time spent putting the car through its paces until I had a perfect understanding of its limits.’
