The Dirty Dozen

by Lynda La Plante

  Murphy and Kingston ignored him.

  “Is she a good fuck?” George smirked.

  Kingston punched him hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

  “George Ripley, I am arresting you on suspicion of armed robbery. You are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so, but what you say may be put into writing and given in evidence.”

  “You ain’t got fuck all on me,” he gasped, then spat on the ground at Kingston’s feet and got another hard punch to the stomach for his disrespect.

  As they led him towards the front door, the normally truculent Maureen stood quietly in the hallway. She’d known the day would come when George would be arrested again. This time she hoped they had enough evidence to lock him up and throw away the key.

  “Maureen, phone Tony Nichols and tell him I’ve been nicked,” George told her.

  She nodded.

  “Save yourself the bother, luv—Tony Nichols will be in the cell next to him,” Murphy said with a satisfied smile.

  Tony Nichols was returning to his house with his wife after a pub lunch. She was driving her BMW and he was in the passenger seat. As they approached their house, he suddenly pulled the lever to drop the seat back so he couldn’t be seen.

  “Keep going, don’t park at the house,” he snapped, having spotted the unmarked police cars nearby.

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Just do as I say—keep going.”

  When they were well away from the house, he told her to stop.

  “Go back on foot. If the CID come calling, tell them you’ve been out for a walk and you don’t know where I am.”

  She looked scared. “What have you done now, Tony?”

  “Just give me the bloody keys and do as I say. I’ll call you later.”

  The Colonel and his team walked casually into the busy snooker hall, their guns held by their sides. Dabs pointed to Tommy’s office at the end of the room while Cam arrested Maria Fernandez. Two armed officers followed the Colonel. When they were just a few feet from Tommy’s office door it was opened by Aidan O’Reilly. He quickly tried to shut the door, but the Colonel put his shoulder to it and they barged in.

  “Armed police! Stay where you are!”

  The Colonel pointed his revolver at Tommy Ripley, who was sitting at his desk with his hands in the air. The Colonel looked around for Aidan. A door behind Ripley was open, leading to a fire escape stairwell. He ran across the room and could see him halfway down the escape. He shouted for him to stop and sprinted after him, but by the time the Colonel was halfway down O’Reilly was nearly at the bottom.

  “Bollocks!” the Colonel said to himself, climbing over the railing. “Why didn’t we know there was a bloody fire escape?”

  Holding his gun in one hand, and with the other gripping the railing, he launched himself off just as O’Reilly stepped onto the tarmac and managed to knock him to the ground. As the Colonel tried to stand up, his ankle gave way and he collapsed in a heap. O’Reilly was back on his feet and reaching into his jacket pocket.

  “Don’t do it!” the Colonel shouted.

  “Fuck you!”

  O’Reilly pulled out a Luger handgun.

  The Colonel lifted himself into a half sit-up position, then fired three rounds into O’Reilly’s chest before the Irishman could get off a shot of his own. O’Reilly was dead before he hit the ground.

  Jane trudged up the threadbare stairs behind Teflon and knocked on the door of Carl Winter’s flat, but there was no answer. Teflon called Murphy, who told them to wait in the car for Winter to return.

  Half an hour passed before they saw a forlorn-looking Carl shuffling up the road towards his flat, carrying a suitcase. As he got closer Jane could see his nose was swollen and he had a cut beside his left eye. Teflon said what Jane was thinking.

  “Looks like George took his anger out on Carl.”

  “And it’s my fault,” she added.

  “Give him a minute to go up to his flat.”

  Jane knocked on the door and Carl opened it. She held up her warrant card.

  “We need to speak to you, Carl.”

  He looked at her in amazement. He seemed close to tears.

  “I’m sorry, Carl, I never meant to hurt you. Did George hit you because he found out I was a police officer?”

  Carl didn’t say anything. He just kept looking at Jane.

  “We’ve arrested him,” Teflon said.

  “Good. I hope he goes to prison forever.”

  Teflon went to search the bedroom and let Jane be alone with Carl.

  “I had a job to do, Carl. But it turned out I enjoyed your company. You’re a nice guy.”

  In the bedroom Teflon saw an empty suitcase on the bed and next to it Carl’s clothes, neatly folded and laid out ready to be packed. He noticed a brown A4 envelope by the pillow and looked inside.

  “Jane, have you got a second?” he called out.

  He held up two large wads of cash and whispered, “There’s two grand here, and he was about to pack his case.”

  Jane felt her head spin, wondering if Carl was not the straightforward man he appeared to be.

  “I think he’s had you fooled. We need to arrest him,” Teflon said.

  “No, there has to be an explanation. Let me talk to him first.”

  She took the money from him.

  “Have it your way, but when I’ve finished searching this room, I’m nicking him.”

  As Jane left the room, Teflon opened the door in the corner of the bedroom and saw that it led to a small bathroom, with a shower, basin and toilet. He closed the door and unzipped his pants.

  “Where did you get this money, Carl?” she asked, showing it to him.

  “George gave it to me. He told me to get out of his flat and never come back.”

  “Is that the truth?”

  She put the money on the table.

  “Look what he did to me,” he said, taking off his shirt.

  She gasped when she saw the red and blue welts all over his torso. He had been lashed so hard the belt and buckle had cut into his skin, leaving imprints of their shape.

  Jane was so transfixed she wasn’t aware Tony Nichols had crept into the flat and was listening to the conversation from the kitchen. She put her hand to her mouth.

  “Oh my God, Carl. What have I done?”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Of course it was. Tony Nichols told him who I am and he took it out on you.”

  Carl sniffed. “I know where George and Smudge hide things.”

  “What things?”

  “Stuff they steal.”

  Nichols quietly picked up a large carving knife from the kitchen counter, then crept up behind Carl and plunged it hard into his back before Jane even knew what was happening. Carl fell to the floor, groaning and gasping for air as blood pooled around him. Jane instinctively moved forward to help him but Nichols pointed the knife at her, making her back off. She stopped herself from glancing towards the bedroom, hoping Nichols didn’t know Teflon was with her. Nichols picked the money up and put it in his coat pocket.

  “I couldn’t let him tell you where the money is—and I’m afraid I can’t let you tell anyone what I’ve done,” he said menacingly, as he moved slowly towards her.

  “Don’t hurt her,” Carl moaned, making a feeble attempt to get up, but he’d already lost too much blood.

  Jane wondered why Teflon hadn’t come to her aid and then she heard the toilet flush. Nichols realized she wasn’t alone and raised the knife. She screamed for help as she kicked the small coffee table towards him, making him stumble. She lunged forward and grabbed his right hand with both of hers. She tried to pull him forward and down to the ground, but he was stronger than her and managed to regain his balance.

  Teflon was just washing his hands when he heard Jane scream. He grabbed a large bottle of Brut aftershave off the bathroom shelf and ran into the lounge. Nichols had broken free of Jane’s grasp, and was about to stab
her with the knife when Teflon smashed the bottle over his head, knocking him to the ground. He punched Nichols repeatedly in the face until he was totally subdued. Jane rushed to Carl’s aid as Teflon turned Nichols over and cuffed his hands behind his back.

  “Get an ambulance!” she shouted.

  Teflon ran to the car to use the radio. Jane knelt over Carl, who was still lying on his back, his face pale.

  “I’m going to try and stop the bleeding, so I’ll need to turn you over.”

  There was a look of fear in his eyes.

  “Jane,” he whispered, and she leaned closer to him. “It’s in the pit.”

  His breathing was shallow and erratic, and he started to cough up blood.

  “All that doesn’t matter now. You need to stop talking and concentrate on your breathing.”

  She rolled him over, grabbed a towel from the kitchen and applied pressure to the stab wound on his back. Teflon came back into the room.

  “An ambulance and uniform officers are on their way. How is he?”

  “Not good,” Jane said. “His breathing’s getting shallower and he’s cold to the touch. Take over doing this, please.”

  Jane moved around so she could see Carl’s face and try and keep him awake by talking to him. She got on her knees and leaned forward.

  “You’re going to be OK, Carl. You can use the money to buy a van and start your own business now.”

  But there was no movement to suggest he could hear her. Teflon felt for a pulse, but it was weak. Jane could hardly hear him breathing and his eyes were fluttering. She held his hand.

  “We could go for another meal, Carl . . . maybe Italian this time. Do you like Italian?”

  His eyes closed and his body went limp. Teflon felt for a pulse.

  “I’m sorry, Jane . . . he’s dead.”

  Jane started to rock back and forth on her knees as the tears ran down her face.

  “No, no, no . . . What have I done?”

  Teflon helped her up and held her as she wept on his shoulder.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Teflon used the radio to request CID from Stoke Newington and a lab liaison sergeant attend Carl’s flat as it was now a murder scene. He then called Murphy and told him what had happened. When he heard Jane was suffering from shock he told Teflon to take her home—or even better, to her parents’ or sister’s so they could look after her.

  “O’Reilly’s dead as well,” he added.

  A uniformed van took Nichols to Leytonstone Police Station, and when the local DI arrived Teflon filled him in.

  “Is she all right?” the DI asked, looking at Jane.

  She was sitting in the car with Carl’s blood on her hands and clothes, looking numb and staring into space.

  “Nichols was going to kill her. It scared the shit out of her, but she’s a tough cookie. She’ll come through it.”

  Teflon didn’t want anyone to know the real reason behind her troubled state of mind.

  “Lucky you were there, then,” the DI remarked.

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  Teflon got in the car and said her name, but she didn’t respond. He gently shook her arm.

  “Jane?”

  She slowly turned her head and looked at him.

  “He said it was in the pit.”

  “You have to stop thinking about Carl, Jane. You’re in shock and need someone to look after you. Murphy wants me to take you to your family. Where do your parents live?”

  “I don’t want to go there,” she said, sounding more coherent.

  “Murphy said—”

  “I don’t care what Murphy said. Carl’s last words were: ‘It’s in the pit.’ If he knew where George and Smudge hid it, then it makes sense it was at their house or the garage.”

  “It could be anywhere, Jane. Murphy is having every suspect’s house and work premises ripped apart by search teams. If the money’s there they’ll find it.”

  “What do you think he meant by ‘the pit’?”

  Teflon shrugged. “If he’s a mechanic then it could be the vehicle examination pit in the garage.”

  Jane nodded as it suddenly all fell into place.

  “Nichols came here for the garage keys because he knew Carl had a set. He was going to take the money for himself. We need to go to George’s garage right away.”

  “Murphy’s in charge of the searches and has the garage under control.”

  “Carl wanted me to find the money.”

  “I’ll go and get the keys from Carl’s flat.”

  He shook his head in disbelief at what he was doing.

  When the Colonel saw the Luger next to O’Reilly’s body, he realized why he’d run. He didn’t want to be caught with a gun that ballistics would match to the bullets recovered at Woodville Road after he’d shot one of the police officers in the patrol car.

  Tommy Ripley said nothing and didn’t resist arrest. When he was being booked in at the station he demanded to see his solicitor. His jaw nearly hit the ground when he saw a bloodied and beaten Tony Nichols brought into the custody suite in handcuffs. The PC who’d brought Nichols in told the custody sergeant he’d been arrested for the murder of Carl Winter. Tommy exploded with rage and before anyone could stop him, he lunged at Nichols, punching him so hard it broke his nose and knocked him unconscious.

  The other man in Tommy’s office at the time of his arrest had an Irish accent. He told the Colonel his name was Danny Grogan and he was just having a friendly chat with Tommy and Aidan. There was something about Danny the Colonel didn’t like, so he arrested him. As soon as they arrived at the station, Dabs took a set of fingerprints from Danny and checked them against Patrick O’Dwyer’s—they were a match.

  Graham Smith was out for a drive in the countryside with his wife when Stanley and his team forced entry to his house. Smith returned home just after 3 p.m., casually parked his car in the driveway, got out, and with a look of disdain said, “How can I help you, officers?” When they arrested him, just like Tommy, he said nothing.

  Teflon unlocked the servicing garage, opened the large metal sliding door and switched the lights on. There was a green Ford Transit van over the inspection pit with keys in it. As Teflon got in and reversed it out, Jane saw some mechanic’s disposable gloves in a box on a worktop and pulled four out. She handed Teflon a pair.

  “We’d better put these on, so we don’t leave our prints on anything.”

  They stood side by side and looked down into the long, eight-foot deep inspection pit. It had a concrete base and small drainage hole, with sheet metal sides. Teflon grabbed a crowbar, a hammer and some screwdrivers from the toolbox.

  “If it’s hidden down there it’ll be behind the metal. Ladies first,” he said with a grin.

  Jane climbed down the steps and started knocking on the metal on one side of the pit while Teflon did the same on the other side. At the far end Jane noticed a change. It suddenly sounded hollow.

  “I think it’s hidden behind this section.”

  The piece of sheet metal was three feet square and held in position by Phillips screws. Teflon handed Jane one of the screwdrivers and they undid the screws together. When they removed the sheet there was a square hole. Teflon picked up the inspection pit lamp, turned it on and handed it to Jane.

  “Carl wanted you to find the money.”

  She held the light by the entrance and could see a large open area to the right that stretched back a good six or seven feet. She felt nervous; it was as if she was about to enter a tomb looking for hidden treasure. She crouched down, moved forward a few inches, then stopped and looked back at Teflon.

  “Do you think it might be booby-trapped?”

  He shrugged and Jane moved forward, then held the lamp up and her eyes opened wide at what she saw. She was overjoyed, yet filled with sadness, knowing how Carl had led her here. She unzipped one of the duffle bags, which was filled with banknotes. After a quick look in a smaller duffle bag she shuffled backwards out of the hole.


  “It’s an Aladdin’s cave in there. There’s duffle bags filled with cash, balaclavas, guns, a priest’s outfit, a fake beard and coveralls.”

  She handed the lamp to Teflon to have a look.

  His voice echoed from inside.

  “There’s a sawn-off shotgun in a plastic bag and some screwed-up Security Express van logos as well—they must have put them on the van they used at the Shoreditch job.”

  Jane was grinning from ear to ear.

  “We got them, Teflon. George, Tommy and the rest of the gang will be going to prison for a long time.”

  Jane and Teflon went to see Murphy at Leytonstone. He was over the moon when he heard what they’d found at the garage.

  “Well done, you two. We’ve got those bastards bang to rights now.”

  “Would you like us to help with the interviews?” Jane asked.

  “It’s all right, me and DI Kingston will do them. You two can go back to Rigg Approach and write up your statements, then have the bank holiday Monday off.”

  Jane realized that Kingston, having arrested George Ripley, couldn’t have been involved with him or Tommy, as any connection to them would have been exposed by the brothers. It was also clear he was not involved in the death of Fiona Simpson. She was glad she’d been wrong about him, and realized that subjective suspicion is worthless without objective evidence to back it up. She didn’t think the Colonel was corrupt, but he was a tad dishonest when it came to paying an informant a small amount of money and she decided to tell him not to do it again.

  As Jane and Teflon walked out of the front of the station, they saw Maureen Ripley getting out of her car. As soon as she saw Jane, she exploded with rage.

  “You fuckin’ bitch! My son is dead because of you! I ’ope you rot in ’ell!”

  She ran forward and spat in Jane’s face. Jane wiped the spit off with her jacket sleeve and walked on.

  “Don’t walk away from me, you cow!” Maureen screeched, grabbing Jane by the wrist.

  Jane pulled free of her grip, spun around and pushed Maureen up against the wall with the palm of her hand.

  “I’m not proud of what I’ve done, but your son is dead because of George, not me. Tony Nichols stabbed Carl to stop him telling us where the money from the robberies was hidden. I watched a decent, kind man die because your husband is a filthy criminal. Carl told me you did nothing to stop the beatings he suffered from George—all because you liked the high life. Well, now you’ve got nothing but misery and shame ahead of you.”