Call & Response

by J. J. Salkeld

  ‘Can we have a word in the kitchen?’ said Pepper, before turning back towards Adam. ‘It’s work, sorry’ she added, wondering why she had.

  In the kitchen Justin poured himself a glass of wine. ‘This is nice.’

  ‘Adam brought it.’

  ‘I expect it was recommended in his wine magazine.’

  ‘Shut up, Justin. You didn’t have to come round. Email would have been fine.’

  ‘Maybe I wanted to see you.’

  ‘Listen, it’s a favour I’m after.’

  ‘What time does he need collecting?’

  ‘No, it’s not Ben. How much are you working at the moment, on the photography job?’

  ‘It keeps me busy’ said Justin defensively. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘I’m after a favour, like I said. Have you got a way of taking pictures from a distance, so the target couldn’t see you?’

  ‘Aye. A telephoto lens. I’ve got a 300mm and a doubler that I use when the local paper sends me to cover the footie. It’ll pick out a pimple at five hundred yards, like. So, who’s the target?’

  ‘Gary Flynn. He’s the bastard who assaulted my colleague, or at least he’s the one who had it done. Either way, he’s responsible.’

  ‘But aren’t you all over him like a rash already? I thought you lot usually close ranks pretty quick when one of your own gets battered.’

  ‘We used to, but not any more, it seems. The bosses don’t give a shit about us these days.’

  ‘Maybe you should take a leaf out of their book then, love. Keep your head down a bit. Go with the flow, just for once in your life.’

  ‘Bollocks to that. Can you help?’

  ‘How long do you need me to stay with him?’

  ‘As long as you can. You keep criminal hours, don’t you? Gary doesn’t start work much before dinner time.’

  ‘So you’re talking about tomorrow?’

  ‘Aye, absolutely. Are you available?’

  Justin pulled his smartphone out from his jeans, and Pepper smiled at the cover. It had skulls on it. She waited while he checked his calendar, and resisted the urge to look.

  ‘Aye, I could do tomorrow.’

  ‘How about the day after?’

  Justin looked back to his phone briefly, then up at Pepper. He was smiling.

  ‘Very funny. Like I always say, it’s feast and famine, is my job.’

  ‘When did you last have a feast?’

  ‘At least I’m not terminally boring, like lover-boy in there.’

  ‘Look, will you help?’

  ‘Aye. Just email me the guy’s details, and I’ll do my best to stay with him tomorrow. I’ve got a band rehearsal at seven, though.’

  ‘When The Working Poor finish work?’

  ‘Aye, exactly. Or when they’ve had their tea, anyway.’

  ‘Thanks, Justin, that would be great. But one thing to remember. Make sure he doesn’t see you, OK?’

  ‘Worried that I might get duffed up? Don’t worry, love, I can look after myself.’

  Pepper tried not to smile, and just about managed it.

  ‘Of course you can. But Flynn could make a complaint against us, if he spotted you. The bastard knows we can’t touch him, so he’ll be back to his usual ways tomorrow. I’m bloody sure of it.’

  ‘And what are they, then? Drug deals? Prostitution? Stuff like that?’

  ‘I doubt it. Flynn’s a facilitator, a fixer. That’s why he was so pissed off that Henry nabbed him for nicking those boilers. He just couldn’t help himself, I reckon. But these days he sees himself as more of a serious criminal, mixing with the big boys. He may just be getting them clean phones, cars, cloned credit cards and the like, but he reckons that he’s arrived. So I want to find out who he’s doing business with, because with a bit of luck we can fuck up his whole operation.’

  ‘All right, got you.’

  ‘Good. But like I say, you be careful, Justin. Gary Flynn is a nobody all right, but he might just meet up with someone who’s anything but. And the only way that proper villains stay out of jail is by being a good bit cleverer than the average con. Which means that they’ll be on the lookout all the time. So make sure that you don’t show out, under any circumstances. If you can’t get the shot, or you think you might be spotted, get away.’

  ‘That’s not my way, Pepper. I always get the picture.’

  ‘This isn’t a children’s sports day we’re talking about. These are properly dangerous people, the kind that will hurt you first, and not bother to ask questions later. So you be really careful.’

  ‘I will. Now, shall we get back to lover boy?’

  ‘You’ll be getting straight off home. I expect you’ve got a lens to polish, haven’t you?’

  ‘Are you taking the piss, Pepper?’

  ‘She laughed. ‘Now would I do that to you, love?’

  Friday, 4th September, 8.07 am

  CID office area, Carlisle Divisional HQ

  DC Henry Armstrong was still sore, especially round the ribs, but the first sight of his desk made him feel better than all the tablets that the hospital had given him. There were cards, a cake, and a small crowd of cops waiting for him. Pepper called out for three cheers, and they filled the room. Someone slapped him on the back, and apologised when Henry swore mildly. For the first time he really felt like one of the team, and all he’d done was lie on the ground while being force-fed a portion of shoe pie. He almost thought that it was worth it. Even the Superintendent turned up, and everyone quietened down while she welcomed him back. People applauded afterwards too, and not only the arse-lickers.

  When the small crowd had dispersed Rex Copeland shook Henry’s hand, and asked how he was feeling.

  ‘All right, aye.’

  ‘I bet you can’t wait to lay your hands on the bloke who did this, right, mate?’

  ‘Oh yes, right. I can’t bloody wait.’

  But Armstrong didn’t have to elaborate on what he intended to do to his assailant, because Pepper gestured towards her office. And that was a good thing, because Henry hadn’t planned any acts of vengeance at all. He decided that he’d better work on some, when he had a minute.

  ‘Right’ said Pepper, when her door was closed. ‘You two are acquainted, I take it?’ Both men nodded. ‘Christ, it’s like Little and Large’ she said, adding ‘sorry, mate’ to Copeland, who didn’t look remotely concerned. ‘Sit down, anyway.’

  ‘You want us to get after whoever attacked Henry, boss?’ asked Copeland. ‘I’m well up for it.’

  ‘No, you leave that one with me. I know who it was, don’t you worry, and when the time comes you will both get your chance. Although it’ll be Henry’s collar, obviously.’

  ‘Too right’ said Copeland, and Pepper smiled at him.

  ‘What I wanted to talk to you both about was this. By rights Henry should be off for a week or two, and there are plenty who would take every last second, but he’s back, and I appreciate it. With our case-load, well, we need every officer we can get. But in view of the fact that he’s not a hundred percent fit, and that Rex is new to the area, I’m going to team you up for a few days, OK?’

  Both men nodded again, and neither looked especially happy at the prospect. Both had been hoping, and as senior DC Rex had been expecting, to be working with the acting DI.

  ‘So you’re still on with this revenge porn thing, Rex?’ she said. ‘Any news on that laptop yet?’

  ‘Not really. Tech support say it looks like lots of the pictures were originally on another machine, so there’s no meta-data attached to most of them.’

  ‘Meta-what?’

  ‘The stuff that tells you when a picture was taken, and sometimes where as well, apparently. But they’re still digging away. And the mum’s in now, downstairs, as it happens.’

  ‘You asked her to come in?’

  ‘No, she’s come in of her own accord. Ashley didn’t want her mum involved, so I’ve kept her out of it so far.’

  ‘Do you know what she wa
nts?’

  ‘No idea, sorry.’

  ‘All right. You’d better get down there and find out what she wants. But don’t give her too long, Rex. If there’s nothing to prove that Ashley was under age, then we need to move on. I’m sorry, but you know how it is. So don’t get her hopes up.’

  ‘What if we’re talking about a conspiracy though, boss? If other young girls have been abused, I mean.’

  ‘Do we have any evidence of that? Anything on that computer?’

  ‘There are pictures of other girls on there, that’s for sure. But we can’t be sure that Afridi took them, nor that they were under age. Not yet, anyway.’

  ‘OK. Well, don’t jump to conclusions. Look, I didn’t like the bloke any more than you did, but we can’t stop kids from making fools of themselves, can we? Most parents can’t do that, so what chance do we have? All right lads, on your way. But come straight back here after. I’ve got a couple of burglaries, an online fraud and a knicker nicker for you both.’

  Both men groaned, and Pepper grinned.

  ‘It’s what you joined CID for, boys.’

  ‘I think you’ll find it’s not’ said Henry, getting up slowly.

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ said Pepper, jumping up from her chair to help.

  ‘I’m fine, boss. Just don’t expect me to go chasing across garden fences after your knicker thief, that’s all.’

  Mrs. Weekes was a small, pinched woman with a surprisingly penetrating voice.

  ‘I want to know what you’re doing about my Ashley. I’ve heard on the news all about what’s been going on in Rotherham, and this is just the bloody same. They’re all bloody at it, I’ll bet. And you lot aren’t doing a bloody thing about it.’

  They were in the family room, and Rex always found them depressing. It looked like the kind of place that you’d use to tell parents that their eight year old had died in a hit-and run, and it almost certainly was. He could almost feel the pain in the walls.

  ‘We’re making progress, Mrs. Weekes. Take a seat and we’ll bring you up to speed. Now, can we offer you a coffee?’

  ‘Can you do a flat white?’

  Copeland looked at Henry, who shrugged. ‘I’ll see what I can do’ he said. ‘Anyone else for a brew?’

  There was a machine in the corner of the room, and Armstrong half-listened as he pressed the buttons. Copeland was doing his best to get Mrs. Weekes to chat before they started. It wasn’t working. When he returned with the coffees she took a suspicious sip, and pronounced that it was shit. And, he decided after he’d tried his own, that she was right.

  ‘Still, you didn’t come for the coffee, did you?’ said Copeland, cheerfully. ‘And a good thing too, by the looks of it.’ Mrs Weekes didn’t so much as crack smile, though he noticed that she did take another sip of the coffee. ‘You came to talk about Ashley, didn’t you?’

  ‘Aye, I did. She’s cutting herself again, you know. Self-harming, like.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that’ said Copeland. ‘Have you been to your GP?’

  ‘Aye, and she’s no better than the rest of you. All bloody talk, and no action. I want to know what you’re doing about this Afridi, or whatever he’s called. He should never have put those disgusting pictures up, and I want him nicked for it. And the rest, and all.’

  ‘We’re examining his computer now. But there are a couple of things you might be able to help us with.’

  ‘Will they get him and the rest of them put away?’

  ‘The rest of who?’

  ‘His gang, or whatever they call themselves.’

  ‘You think he’s acting with others? Ashley has told you this, has she?’

  ‘No, but it’s the way they operate, isn’t it? It’s bloody disgusting.’

  ‘Let’s just concentrate on Mo Afridi for now, shall we? Forget any other cases that you might have heard about, because they’re not relevant at all. How old was your daughter when they started going out together?’

  ‘Fourteen, maybe fifteen.’

  ‘And you weren’t worried about him being so much older than her?’

  ‘Oh, that’s right, blame it on me. You’re all the bloody same, you are. I was sixteen when I had Ashley, and it ruined my bloody life. I’m always telling her that, like. Kids just do what they bloody want, don’t they?’

  ‘And do you have any idea when they started having sex?’

  ‘Fuck off, mate. Of course I don’t. It’s none of my business, is it?’

  Copeland didn’t reply. He knew from extensive experience that it wasn’t worth it. So he decided to try again.

  ‘You talked about other people being involved. Do you know who they are? For a fact, I mean.’

  ‘His brothers, I think. I saw her with a couple of others blokes, once or twice. It’s hard to tell though, ain’t it? You know, they all look…’

  She tailed off, and Copeland held her gaze. ‘Would you recognise any of them again?’

  ‘Don’t drag me into this, mate. It’s your job, is this. You don’t need me to prove it. They’re a grooming gang, aren’t they? You’re all just too scared to say it, like.’

  ‘So you know of other girls who were involved with them as well, do you?’

  ‘Aye. Well, no. Ashley knows some of them, but I’ve told her to say nowt more to you lot.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because they’d be straight after her, wouldn’t they? And me too, I wouldn’t wonder. Like I said, mate, this is your job. So you get on with it.’

  ‘But you’re quite certain that Ashley was younger than sixteen when she and Mo started going out together?’

  ‘Aye, and that’s a crime, isn’t it? Having sex, like. Come to think of it, you could still nick my old man for it, couldn’t you? I was only just sixteen when my Ashley was born, see. And I’d love to see that bastard in prison, I can tell you.’

  When Copeland had escorted Mrs. Weekes back to the front desk, and after Henry had emptied his coffee down the sink, the two men set off back towards the CID office. But as they were climbing the stairs Copeland stopped and asked where the tech team was based.

  ‘Ground floor. Where we’ve just come from.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll go on my own.’

  ‘No, I’m coming. Just don’t rush me. I find it harder going down than up.’

  ‘We could take the lift.’

  ‘We’re not supposed to use it. The Super’s trying to get everyone to lose weight.’

  ‘It’s not working then, is it? I thought we had a lot of fat cops down in the Met, but some of your lads are bloody massive.’

  ‘You wait ’til you see Pete, then.’

  ‘Big lad, is he?’

  ‘Bloody hell, aye. Who knew, but it seems that wielding a great big sword in a computer game every night of the week isn’t actually exercise.’

  Pete Nevin had to stretch his arms to reach the laptop’s keyboard. It didn’t look comfortable to Copeland, but it was obviously as close as the lad could get. Copeland introduced himself, Nevin asked Armstrong how he was feeling, and then he looked back to the computer.

  ‘So if I read your email right you want to know if I can tell you when the pictures of Ashley Weekes were taken?’

  ‘That’s right. Can you?’

  ‘Yes and no, I suppose. No, I can’t tell you exactly when they were taken, because like I said before the pictures were imported onto this machine with no metadata. It’s not that your suspect has deleted the information, he just never imported it, so it can’t be reconstructed, I’m afraid.’

  ‘So what’s the yes part then, mate?’ asked Copeland.

  ‘Well, I can tell you when the pictures were first imported onto this computer, and it was two weeks and one day after your victim’s sixteenth birthday. It’s pretty definite, is that.’

  ‘Two weeks?’ said Henry. ‘Was that deliberate, do you think?’

  ‘Doesn’t look like it, no. Your suspect moved hundreds of files, most of them photos, on the same d
ate, and since there’s nothing earlier on here it’s reasonable to assume that he imported all of the material from another device. He’d probably just bought the laptop that you uplifted. I’m working on an exact copy of his hard drive, see.’

  ‘So you’re saying that the files are all older than the earliest date that we can prove?’ said Copeland.

  ‘Exactly, but they could have been taken the day before or a year before, there’s no way of knowing.’

  ‘Shit. Our victim’s mum has just been in, and says the poor kid is self-harming over it. And you said that there are pictures of other girls and all?’

  ‘Yes. Another ten or twelve, I’d say. I’ve referred the material to the specialist unit at HQ, and that’s their initial view. All very young too. But you’d be better off talking to one of the officers who specialises in child sex abuse. All I do is sort out what’s happened to the files. When stuff was imported or deleted, stuff like that. I don’t see the pictures, and I don’t want to, neither.’

  ‘Very wise, mate. OK, you forward your emails and I’ll make contact with the officer who’s handling it. Maybe they’ll recognise one of these victims, if that’s what they actually are.’

  ‘I do know that they’ve already run the facial recognition software against every image, and they didn’t get any matches with children who they know have been victims of abuse.’

  ‘Bugger. So that’s it? There’s nothing else?’

  ‘There is one thing. There is one bit of metadata that’s been left, and that’s the frame number. It’s not unique, and in most cases cameras restart when they reach ten thousand or something, but it’s possible that you might be able to find the frames immediately on either side of the ones of your victim, and see something to give you a timeline.’

  ‘What? Someone reading a newspaper, or something? That’s a bit of a long shot, isn’t it?’

  ‘I only mention it because you say that the victim’s self-harming. I want to help, if I can.’