by Conrad Jones
“Got to go, that’s my lift.” A motorbike roared up to the pavement and Griff Collins ran to it. The rider handed him a full-face helmet and he pulled it on as he climbed onto the pillion seat. He took one last look into Jinx’s eyes as the bike sped away into the distance.
Chapter Fourty-Eight
Tank
Tank sat in his Shogun, watching the crowds from a distance. There were fifty or so onlookers at the cordon nearest to him. The armed units were packing up their gear and the forensic teams and detectives were moving into the building. He dialled the major and waited for the call to connect.
“John,” the major answered. “How is the holiday?”
“Interesting so far,” he replied. “I’ve uploaded a familiar face to our system. I need to know who he is.”
“Let me pull it up.” The major looked at his e-mail and opened the attachment. “I’ve saved the photograph and sent it to the Biometrics Identifications Unit. Who do you think it is?”
“I know his face, Major,” Tank explained. “I can’t place where I know him from, but I’m sure he was one of us.”
“Counter Terrorists Unit?”
“Not an agent, Major, but one of us.” Tank just couldn’t place him. He banged the steering wheel with his fist.
“Where did you see him?”
“In the crowd at the address Howarth was using. It’s a shithole near the edge of town. Most of the houses are empty and waiting to be demolished.”
“Have you got any idea who he is?”
“I know he was on our side once, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Did the police have any joy at the address?”
“Nothing so far.” Tank scanned the crowd again but the familiar face was gone. The man had disappeared. “The armed units have done their foray into the property and come out empty handed. Howarth is a ghost.”
“I’ve got a name,” the major said as the results came back to his computer. “Nate Bradley, he was intelligence core, codenamed Gecko.”
“I know him.” Tank looked up and down the road but he was nowhere to be seen. “He was an interrogator, right?”
“Right,” the major confirmed. “His codename was Gecko. He has quite an illustrious career file here.”
“I remember him from some of the rendition flights from the Gulf.”
“That’s him. It fits with his record.”
“What is he doing on a derelict housing estate in Anfield? Why would he be interested in a raid on Jack Howarth’s home?” Tank rubbed his shaven head with his palm. “Is he still working for the government?”
“No, definitely not,” the major replied. “He was debriefed and pensioned off with a medium security risk marker against his name.”
“That makes sense,” Tank said. “If he had started writing his memoirs, he would have had to be silenced.”
“His file has stayed clear since he left. There has been no cause for concern. Do you think he’s connected to Howarth?” The major sounded uncertain.
“I don’t know,” Tank said thoughtfully. “It just seemed strange that he was there. Maybe he wasn’t connected to Howarth. Maybe he was connected to Patrick Lloyd.”
“Do you want me to do some digging?” the major asked.
“I’m on it, Major,” Tank answered. “I have his civilian file up here on my laptop. It looks like the police have had an issue with him. Leave it with me and I’ll keep you posted.”
“What does his civilian file read like?”
When the information loaded onto the screen, Tank read over the headlines. “It makes for interesting reading, Major.”
“Really?”
Tank wondered how to handle the situation. The news clippings and police reports painted a dark picture of Nate Bradley’s civilian life. “There seems to be one family tragedy followed by another. His wife died from a heroin overdose and then his teenage son took an ecstasy tablet on the day of her funeral. He ended up dying in intensive care.”
“That’s enough to tip a man over the edge.”
“Maybe, but what is the connection?”
“Didn’t you say that Patrick Lloyd was linked to the murder of a drug dealer?” The Major thought back to their earlier conversation.
“Yes, a man called Benjamin, but there wasn’t enough evidence to charge him.” Tank dragged up the files. “The dealer was tortured to death.”
“That sounds like something Howarth would enjoy.”
“It does.” Tank was thinking at warp speed. “Bradley would definitely have an axe to grind against a drug dealer.”
“There is our connection,” the major agreed. “Do the police have Bradley linked to the investigation?” He wondered if the detectives in charge of the Howarth investigation were aware of Nate Bradley.
“There’s nothing in the files.” Tank considered if the Gecko could be connected to Jack Howarth. “If you ask me, then I think so.”
“I think we should throw him their way, John,” the major said after a moment of thought. “I’m more interested in taking Howarth out of circulation. If Nate Bradley has lost the plot and turned vigilante, then we should throw him to the wolves.”
“I have no problem with him knocking over a few drug dealers, but there seems to be more to it than that.” Tank seemed to be mulling over something.
“What do you mean?”
“Looking at the uniformed police reports, when Bradley’s son died two of his college friends disappeared. One of them was the same age and allegedly supplied the tablets at the funeral, and the other kid was a year older and had a caution for possession.”
“Surely, two missing teenagers flagged up Bradley’s name to the police?”
“According to the files CID spoke to him, but he had a cast iron alibi. Both teenagers were active on Facebook after their disappearance.”
“So they’re missing?”
“Yes, but it stinks, Major.” Tank could see through it. “An ex-intelligence operative could make a teenager vanish and make it look like he was alive, no problem.”
“Do you think Gecko turned his talents on the dealers?”
“Yes, I do. I don’t know how he became involved with Howarth, but the fact that he was linked to the death of a dealer tells me they’re connected.”
“I agree, but it’s not our problem. Give your thoughts to the police and let them tackle Bradley.”
“I can do that, Major, but they won’t be happy about us sniffing around their investigation.”
“I think giving them the link to Bradley might act as a sweetener. If they get hold of Jack Howarth in the mean time, then it’s all good. If they don’t, we’ll deal with it.”
“I understand,” Tank smiled. “I’ll speak to one of the detectives in charge when they leave here. I’ll be in touch.”
Chapter Fourty-Nine
Shankly Way
Alec Ramsay was tired. It had been a long few days and the lack of proper sleep was catching up with him. He had looked at every room in the house, but it appeared that Patrick Lloyd or Jack Howarth had gone. There were blood spots in the hallway. “This is fresh,” Alec commented to Will.
“It looks fresh to me.”
“Do you think it’s Kisha’s?”
Will didn’t answer the question directly, but the expression on his face confirmed his fears. “There are a few more droplets on the cellar stairs. Looks more like a nose bleed than anything life-threatening, Guv.”
“Have they found anything downstairs yet?”
“No, Guv.”
“I want to take another look around.”
The cellar door was beneath the staircase. As Alec walked down the steps, he could hear the forensic officers chattering as they worked. Large paving stones covered the cellar floor. Two centuries of wear had left the limestone slabs worn smooth and shiny. They had already lifted some of them to expose the clay beneath.
“They look heavy,” Alec said as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “Have you found anythi
ng so far?”
“No, Guv, but it’s early days yet. There’s no sign of any recent activity down here apart from a few blood spots on the stairs, which is good news as far as finding Kisha is concerned.”
“I’m not sure finding any blood is good news,” Alec mumbled.
“I meant we haven’t found any bodies, Guv, no offence.”
“I suppose so.” Alec looked around the cellar. There was a damp smell to it and something else lingered in the air. He walked toward the front of the house, avoiding the areas where the scientists were working. Thick render, cracked and eroded by time, covered the far wall. Time had left the bare bricks exposed, and he studied them, looking for any sign of interference from a human hand. Above him was a skylight, barred with a metal grid. It would have allowed deliveries to drop directly into the cellar in years gone by. Moss and dirt clung to the thick glass, making it impossible for light to penetrate. There were lumps of coal and black dust beneath the skylight, and the dampness made it glisten like new. Alec looked around for a bunker. “Have you found a coal bunker?”
“On the far wall, Guv.” One of the officers pointed to the back of the cellar. Alec stepped over a raised flagstone and hugged the wall as he moved through the cellar. Beneath the staircase was a tumble dryer, and next to that was a deep chest freezer. He noticed a double electric plug socket on the wall. Both plugs powered liquid air fresheners. He didn’t want to insult the forensic team by asking if they had checked them, but you could not be careful enough in Alec’s opinion. He opened the tumble dryer and peered inside. It was empty and smelled damp. Rust crusted the metal drum and mould spotted the rubber seal. No one had used it in years. He closed the door and moved his hair from his face. He rubbed his tired eyes and smiled at Will.
“What are you looking for?” Will smiled back weakly. Their detectives had been through the house in detail. Alec was clutching at straws.
“He has made mistakes all the way along, Will,” Alec nodded. “I guess I’m looking for a mistake. Look, you go back to the station and see what the team have come up with, and while I remember, did you get in touch with Salim Oguzhan’s grandfather?”
“Yes, Guv.” Will pulled out his Blackberry. “I have his number here and when I spoke to him, he was driving north on the M1. He is on the way here.”
“Good, as soon as he gets here, I want him in the cells.”
“What, arrested?” Will frowned.
“Yes, bring him in.” Alec didn’t hesitate. “Tell him we need to speak to him about the disappearance of Rose James, and if he gives you any shit, arrest him for possession of drugs with intent to supply. Jessie gave us enough to implicate him.”
“Are we jumping the gun, Guv?” Will wasn’t sure about the arrest. “All we have is Jessie’s statement.”
“That’s all we need for now. I have no doubt in my mind that the Oguzhan’s have her, do you?”
“No, not really,” Will shrugged. “I guess I’m seeing it as a distraction. It’s easy to prioritise finding Kisha.”
“It is, but we can’t. They don’t mess about, Will.” Alec creased his forehead in thought. “If they find out that Jessie has turned informer, she’s as good as dead.”
“I agree, best to get him in and grill him. If nothing else, we can rattle his cage a bit and see what falls out.”
“Yes, arrest him for possession and we can quiz him about the kidnap of Rose James.” Alec had decided to meet the gangsters head on. He was tired of their antics surrounding the nightclub. “It will give us twenty-four hours to speak to him.”
“He will lawyer up straight away, Guv.”
“Good.” Alec smiled. “I’m in the mood for a good row.”
“Okay. I’ll get on it.”
“Keep me updated, Will.” Alec patted his arm as he headed up the stairs. “I am going to have another scan around and then I’ll follow you.”
“No problem,” Will said as he left. “Catch you later.”
“Yes, later,” Alec muttered.
Will Naylor took a last look around. He was convinced that there was nothing more to be done until the forensic teams had finished. He took the wooden steps two at a time on his way out of the basement.
“Is he still trying to shag the world?” One of the forensic officers asked sarcastically as Will disappeared up the stairs.
“I will ignore that remark.” Alec turned and glared at him. “Have you got nothing more important to do than ask stupid questions about my Detective Inspector?”
“Sorry, Guv,” the red-faced officer said sheepishly. “It was just a joke.”
“Ha fucking ha,” Alec snapped. “If that’s the best you can do, then I suggest you keep your mouth shut.”
“Yes, Guv.”
“We have a job to do here, let’s get it done, please.” Alec took a deep breath. “Are we clear?”
“Yes, Guv.”
“Good, get on with it!” Alec turned his attention back to the appliances in the cellar. “Have you checked all this stuff?”
“Yes.” One of the scientists walked over to him. “The chest freezer interested us at first. It could easily contain a human body.”
He lifted the lid and a musty smell hit him. “There’s no ice, no frozen food and no body.” Alec reached for the cable and tugged it. It came away easily. There was no plug fitted to it. He closed the lid and moved on. “Why would you keep air fresheners down here?”
“Beats me, it does whiff a bit of damp though, Guv.”
“I can smell something else too, like sewage,” Alec wrinkled his nose.
“Maybe there are drains down here somewhere, hence the air fresheners?”
“Maybe, carry on,” Alec said. “What else have we got down here?”
“The ceiling slopes down at the rear of the cellar to accommodate a large airspace beneath the kitchen floorboards, Guv,” the officer continued to explain their findings to Alec. “The space was utilised to cool perishable foods in Victorian times, a bit like a larder or cold space. Our officers are ripping up the floorboards in the kitchen to ensure there’s no one hiding there and no victims stashed in it.”
“There is a twin-tub washing machine crammed next to the freezer, and a quick inspection showed us that it too is an unused relic, Guv. It’s all scrap metal. The bunker is at the back here.”
The back wall was featureless apart from the metal coalbunker, bolted to the bricks by the builders. The bolts were rusted solid and the hinges squealed loudly as Alec lifted the lid. “This could hold enough coal to keep the fires burning in every room for at least a week,” Alec thought aloud. “There is coal in the bunker.” It bothered him. “Have you checked this bunker?” Alec shouted to the forensic officers who had pointed it out to him. The two men looked at each other and raised their eyes skywards at the question.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean have you checked this bunker?” Alec raised his eyebrows too. “It’s a simple question.”
“It’s empty, Guv, and fixed to the wall.”
“It is not empty. There is at least nine inches of coal in that bunker, and unless I’m mistaken, the house is heated by gas central heating.”
“Do you think someone is hiding under the coal?”
“Are you taking the piss?” Alec was furious at the flippant remark. He had confronted the same officer earlier. “I am looking for one of my officers who is missing. The suspect is connected to at least six murders that we know of so far, and you are taking the piss.”
“Sorry, Guv, but I’m not sure what you want us to do.”
“I want you to stop being an arsehole and look for evidence. Asking me if I think the suspect is hiding under the coal is close to being insubordinate, Sunshine. Now I don’t want to fall out with you, but I suggest you dismantle this bunker and look under the coal before you lift any more slabs. Whatever is under there can wait.”
“Okay, Guv. You’re in charge,” the officer coughed into his hand nervously. He picked up his toolbox
and headed to where the superintendent was standing. “Are you bothered if we keep it intact?” the officer asked as he looked inside the bunker. “It would be easier to take the sledgehammer to it, if you don’t mind.”
“Do whatever it takes.” Alec calmed down a little. “I don’t think that coal should be there.”
“Sorry, Guv.” The officer sounded genuine. “It really didn’t stand out to me if I’m honest. Stand back.”
“Is there a shovel down here?” Alec turned to the second officer. “I want this coal moved when he takes the front of it.”
“I have one here, Guv.” The officer reached down and picked up a shovel. They had been using it to move soil from beneath the paving stones. There was a resounding clang as the sledgehammer hit the bunker. The sides were spot-welded and a long rent appeared down one of the seams.
“It’s rotten.” The officer swung the hammer again and the metal burst apart beneath the force of the blow. He flattened the front of the bunker against the limestone slabs. “There we go, Guv!” he said cheerfully. “Let’s have a look under this bloody coal!” The officer seemed oblivious to how irritating his attitude was. “Pass me the shovel. May I, Guv?”
“Be my guest,” Alec nodded. The officer was keen enough. He was just clumsy with his words. The shovel cut through the coal and then scraped loudly across the stone floor. The clang of metal on metal reverberated through the cellar.
“There’s something under here, Guv.”
“Scrape the coal away and let’s have a look, then.”
“Here, look.” The shovel screeched across the floor. “It’s some kind of drain cover.”
“Can we get hold of a manhole key from somewhere,” Alec asked. “The fire brigade should have some. Is there still a tender outside?”
“I’ll take a look, Guv,” one of them said and bounded up the stairs.
“No one could have got out through there, Guv.”
“I know that nobody escaped through the coal bunker,” Alec smiled. “I want to know why it’s covered in coal, don’t you?”
