Bream looked across at DS Carmichael and nodded.
“Adam...” She paused. “...as you know, I’ve already spoken to you about each of the incidents that you’ve just mentioned. I’ve given you our perspective. You called this meeting, not us. What’s changed? What new information have you got?”
He began telling of the fight at Jenny’s school and how the culprit had been told to hurt her.
“I’m sorry to hear about your daughter, but how, exactly, does that relate to the Turner case?”
“The boy was told to attack her. When the teacher asked why, he said to ask me. Clearly, it’s another attempt to pressurise me into dropping my evidence.”
“Maybe, but have you considered that it might be totally unrelated? What if the boy was a relative of somebody that you arrested when you were a serving officer? What if he found out that your daughter was in the same school and took it out on her? Are you positive that you’re not just making these connections even though they are unrelated incidents?”
Adam was silent as he thought about Bev’s comment. To be honest, it had not even crossed his mind that Jenny’s attack could be unrelated. Maybe Bev was right.
“OK, assuming you’re correct, what about all of the other incidents? They still prove that we’re being targeted over this Turner business.”
Bev started to explain, yet again, about the lack of proof and the lack of corroborating witness evidence to what had been said to him and Sarah, but she was rudely and abruptly interrupted by Chief Inspector Bream.
“Look, Adam, we can’t proceed without evidence. You know that. You were a copper yourself. The damage to your van wasn’t witnessed. SOCO reports came back negative. As to the anti-social behaviour; what offences have they actually committed? We put a trace on your phone; there haven’t been many calls, but every one of them was from an unregistered and untraceable number. We’ve given you additional police presence outside your house – resources permitting – what more do you think we can do to help you?” Bream sounded frustrated, as if he was controlling his anger at being challenged. He was justifying his officers’ actions.
“How about taking my claims of witness intimidation seriously? I doubt you’ve even spoken to any of those involved, have you?”
DS Carmichael jumped in, “Actually, we have. I spoke to some of them myself, warned them to leave you alone, and told them we’d be watching.”
“What about arresting them? If you’ve got enough suspicion to give them a stern warning, then surely you’ve got enough to nick them too.”
“You know full well that there is a world of difference between suspicion and evidence. We need that proof of intimidation, proof of threats made, before the CPS will even consider it.”
Adam shook his head. He knew that he was fighting a losing battle.
“I don’t know how you dealt with things in your day,” added Bream, “but we’re doing everything by-the-book.”
“What are you insinuating?” Adam was losing his cool.
Bream seemed bitter, as if he had a hidden agenda, a chip on his shoulder. He was trying to turn things against Adam. Was he still harbouring a grudge against him over the manner in which he had resigned?
“Look, I’m really not happy with your actions. I did the right thing by helping PC Johnston. Now, I expect some cooperation. I want this intimidation stopped.”
“Really?” said Bream. “Don’t you mean alleged intimidation?”
“Are you calling me a liar now?” Adam stood up to face the Chief Inspector.
“No! But there’s no proof, just your word, and that of your wife.”
DS Carmichael could sense things building towards a final explosive confrontation and intervened to try and calm the situation.
“Look, Adam, I know that they’ve warned you to drop the case - that’s not what the Chief Inspector is saying – but we need independent witnesses to what they said, that’s all.”
Adam stared at her. His argument was with Bream, not with her. He turned back towards him.
“Right, if you’re not going to help me, then I’m not helping you either. I’ll withdraw my statement against Josh Turner. They win. It’s not worth the trouble and risk to my family.”
Bream leapt to his feet and roared, “No, I won’t let you do that! I’ll summon you to court anyway.”
“Is that a threat?”
Bream did not reply immediately. Continuing as if Adam had not even spoken, he said, “Besides, this is a test case for the new Assaults on Emergency Workers law – it MUST go ahead.”
“Ah, now we get to the nitty-gritty of it all. Just getting a conviction for the aggravated burglary and assault police isn’t good enough for you. You want the prestige of a first conviction under this new law to add to your CV, but for that to happen, you need me to give evidence. Now I see where your priorities lie.”
Adam was disappointed with his former boss – but not surprised. Bev Carmichael appeared shocked at what she was hearing from her current superior officer.
Adam continued, “What’s gonna happen if it escalates? What’s gonna happen if my family gets hurt? How’s it gonna look to the press then?”
“If it happens, then report it.”
“Seriously? We just sit and wait for something to happen and then tell you afterwards? I’m one of your own. You ought to be pulling out all the stops to help us, to protect us.”
Bream looked embarrassed and countered, “Once we get verifiable evidence of intimidation, I’ll pass it over to Witness Protection. Until then, my hands are tied.”
“Yeah, right,” said Adam, dismissively.
“Look, we’re doing everything that we can. We’re understaffed, overworked and underfunded. You should know; when you left the force, you were very vocal about your criticisms of how we were coping. Nothing’s changed. If anything, things are worse now than then.”
“Is that what this is all about?” Adam was fuming. “You won’t put yourself out to help my family because I upset you all those years ago. I dented your ego. Really?”
The Chief Inspector made no reply.
“God help you if anything does happen to us! Your SIO is a witness to this.”
Beverly Carmichael looked down at her notes trying to avoid taking sides, trying to blend into the background. Adam stood and headed for the door.
“You gonna withdraw from the Turner case or not?” called Bream.
Adam made no reply as he threw the door open.
“Go after him, Carmichael. Calm him down. Get him back on side again.”
“Sir!” After a short pause, “I think I’d better deal with him on my own in the future. Your history together doesn’t exactly help matters run smoothly.”
“Watch what you’re saying, Sergeant. Remember who I am.”
Chapter 18
19:50 – Saturday 1st December.
The previous few days had been relatively uneventful.
Since Adam’s showdown with the Chief Inspector, things had calmed somewhat. He was still angry at his perceived lack of police action, but the nightly disturbances had stopped, nuisance phone calls were few and far between, and there had been no reoccurrences of threats or intimidation. Maybe Carmichael’s warning to Turner’s gang had been heeded? Things had slowly returned to normal. Jenny seemed much happier at school now that the teachers were keeping a close eye on her. Sarah had resumed her jogging, although she stuck to busier, well lit areas. And Adam had returned to his normal working routines as a locksmith.
The phone call had arrived about two hours earlier, just as Adam had finished his day’s work and was packing away his tools in the back of the van. It had come through on his business’s mobile number.
“Hello, Greenwood Locks, how can I help you?”
“Ah, Mr Greenwood, the police referred me to you. They gave me your number.” It was a man’s voice, an elderly man judging by the trembling of his barely audible words. “I’ve had somebody trying to break into my flat. When t
he police visited, they suggested that I contact you to fix the damaged lock.”
“I see. Are you able to shut the door or is it totally unlockable?” Part of Adam was thinking that at that time of night, it might be better to defer the job to the following morning if the door was still useable, but part of him was also reluctant to turn down work, especially with his cash flow problems at the moment. “If I come out this evening, I’d have to charge you a call-out fee. If it can wait until the morning, it’ll be cheaper for you.”
“I’d prefer to get it sorted out tonight, if that’s OK?”
Adam reluctantly agreed and took the customer’s details and address. It had not occurred to him that nearly all police referrals were allocated to him via the control room, not directly from the customer.
Having driven to the location, he sat in his van staring up at the towering block of flats before him. It was lit like a Christmas tree, a beacon in the night sky, illuminating everything around it. He leaned forward and rummaged around in the mess of paperwork and discarded food wrappers that littered the van’s dashboard. Ah, there it is. He pulled out a scrap of paper with a hastily scribbled note written on it.
-
Mr C. Walker,
Flat 1209, Nicholson House, Glebe Estate.
-
His immediate thought was, I hope it’s not flat #9 on the twelfth floor, but deep inside, he knew that it meant exactly that. He gave a deep sigh.
Opening the van’s rear doors, he removed his heavy-duty tool bag and then locked them again. He gave the doors an extra firm tug to ensure that they were secure. The Glebe was notorious for vehicle break-ins. He hoped that the local miscreants were educated enough to read (and understand) the decal that he had applied to the van’s rear – “No tools left in vehicle overnight” – not that it would make any difference to them. With his tool bag in hand, he wandered towards the foyer of Nicholson House.
At some point in the past, the main entrance had been secured. An electronic intercom and locking system was fitted, but judging by the wires dangling from the rusty control box, and the crushed Coke can that was wedging open the shattered front door, that had been a long time ago. The inside of the reception area was daubed in graffiti. Adam noticed that the doors to the lift were open so he stepped inside and pressed the button for the twelfth floor. Nothing happened! He pressed it again, hoping to hear the swoosh of the doors closing, but still nothing. Under his breath, he murmured, “Ah, come on, you’re taking the piss now.” It was perhaps, not the best phrase to use considering the stench of urine emanating from the far corner of the elevator. “It’s Shanks’s Pony then.” And so Adam began the long, slow climb up the many flights of stairs to the twelfth floor.
When he arrived, he was wheezing slightly. He paused, catching his breath, until his heart rate returned to something approaching normal, and then followed the signs until he located flat #9. Adam’s first instinct was to inspect the lock for damage, however it appeared intact. He knocked loudly, but there was no reply. Opening the letter box flap, he looked through the gap and called, “Mr Walker. It’s Greenwood Locks. Are you there?” He heard a rustling from within, followed by some banging, and then the door few open to reveal a grumpy looking thirty-something man wearing shorts and a grubby vest that had once been white, but which was now permanently stained by something dark and disgusting.
“What do you want?” he demanded.
“Mr Walker? I’m here to fix your lock.”
“Who’s Mr Walker? I’m Jones, not Walker.” He looked as if he had just woken up.
“Sorry! This is flat 1209, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“And it’s Nicholson House?”
“Yep. But I didn’t call anybody to fix my lock. It’s fine, look at it.”
Adam was confused. “Err, sorry about that, there must be some sort of mistake.” But the man was not listening; he had already shut the door in Adam’s face.
“Bloody great! A fucking hoax call, that’s all I need.”
He turned and began the long trek back to ground level, annoyed, confused, and frustrated. He wondered what was going on. As he trudged down the stairwell, he pulled out his phone and searched the call history for the number that had been used to book the job. It was only then that it occurred to him that it had not originated from the police control room. He called the number and heard it ringing – not through the phone’s earpiece, but somewhere nearby – he could physically hear its ringtone.
As Adam turned from the landing onto the last flight of stairs, he stopped in his tracks. Four young men were blocking his way. The one nearest the lift doors had a mobile phone to his ear and a grin on his face, and the one closest to the bottom of the steps held his phone at arm’s length, pointing it at Adam, filming him. He immediately recognised this individual as the same lad that had filmed him detaining Turner and from the anti-social behaviour outside his house. The other two were loitering near the exit doors. All four turned to stare at him as he came into view.
As he put away his mobile phone, the person nearest to the lift stepped forward and said, “Nobody home, Mr Locksmith?” He laughed, whilst the others grinned inanely.
It did not take long for Adam to realise what had happened. He was instantly on alert. Was this a trap, a set-up? He expected the worst. Without saying a word, he sidestepped the video boy and made for the exit, but the other three blocked his way, squaring up to him, forcing him back towards the stairs. He was surrounded, his only means of escape blocked.
Adam firmly believed that the best form of defence was attack. He was outnumbered, but if he psyched himself up, he might use bluster and bluff to talk himself out of trouble. He had nothing to lose. He puffed out his chest and looked at the video boy.
“What did I tell you about filming me? Put it away or I really will shove it up your arse!” he said, aggressively.
Vid Boy grinned, but it was a nervous grin, he could not decide whether Adam was being serious or not. He had not expected him to be so confident, especially when he was clearly cornered. Erring on the side of caution, he lowered the phone, just in case.
“There’s a good boy,” Adam said, sarcastically. “See, you can follow instructions after all.”
“Which is more than you can, Greenwood,” said the man who had been by the lift. “You were told to withdraw from the case against Josh – you haven’t done it – why not?”
“It ain’t gonna happen, mate. Even if I wanted to - which I don’t - the police wouldn’t allow it, I’d still have to give evidence.”
This seemed to confuse them. They had no response. What do you do when confronted with facts?
Adam continued, “I’m not gonna do what you want, so what’s it to be? What you going to do about it? Beat me up? Come on then, get on with it.” Anger was building inside him, the adrenaline was flowing. He dropped his tool bag to the ground, balled his fists, and took up a defensive stance, just as he had been taught as a police officer. “COME ON!” he yelled, trying to provoke them, to force their hand. Before they could react, he added, “You hurt me and it’ll be just what the police need to nick you lot. They’re just waiting on a piece of evidence. A substantial injury will do nicely, so come on, what are you waiting for? Don’t you want to get nicked and spend some quality time with your best mate, Josh, behind bars?” Adam was bluffing. He did not know if it was the gang’s intention to attack him, but by forcing them into a corner, they had to act, one way or another.
“Much as I’d like to, we’re not here to hurt you,” the leader of the gang said, remaining calm and not being goaded into action.
“In that case, I’ll be on my way.” Adam picked up his bag and barged his way through the group. One of them stepped in front of him, shoving him with a two-handed push. He stumbled, caught his foot on the bottom step, and fell backwards onto the stairs, banging his head in the process. Dazed, he could feel warm liquid trickling from his throbbing skull. He raised a hand to check, only to not
ice a layer of crimson on his fingertips. It felt as if an egg was erupting from the back of his skull.
The group closed in and stared down at him.
“Oops! Careful you don’t hurt yourself. Don’t want you telling the police we did it to you.”
They giggled, but there was concern on their faces, concern that they might inadvertently have given the police the evidence that they needed to arrest them all.
“We want you to pull out of the Turner case, that’s all.”
“Yeah, so your thugs said in Asda. It’s not gonna happen – I told you already.”
“You’re clearly not bothered about your own safety, but think about your family. How’s li’l Jenny? I hear she’s been having a rough time of it at school.” Adam’s face darkened with anger. “And how about Mrs G? Going for runs along the seafront at night...” He tutted. “...that’s just asking for trouble. Doesn’t she know it’s dangerous? Anything might happen.”
Adam suddenly realised the enormity of what was happening, the consequences for his family if he did not do as commanded. It was a wake-up call, a reality check. Finally, the intimidation was starting to get to him. But instead of rolling over and doing as instructed, it had the opposite effect, it made Adam realise that there was only one way to finish this. The police were ineffectual; they were more concerned with internal politics and personal grudges than actually helping him. This left only one option – he would have to deal with it himself. But for that, he needed a clear head, time to think, time to focus. At that particular moment, his head was throbbing with pain and the only emotion that he could feel was an overpowering surge of rage.
“You fucking bastards,” he roared, as he climbed to his feet.
He was immediately pushed back to the ground.
The Rubicon Page 10
