Alice stopped, and grabbed the handle of the pushchair.
‘What? Vinny? Having us watched? Why would he do that? Why would anyone do that? Jesus, Pete, what the fuck is going on here?’
‘I think that Cam was murdered, love. I’m sorry to just hit you with all this shit, all at once like this, but there’s no other way of saying it. I think Vinny twigged on about Cam being a bobby, and had him killed. So when I spotted that we were being watched I just assumed that Vinny had worked out that I was undercover law too.’
Alice looked as if she couldn’t take much more now, and Spedding knew that he’d struggle to dish it out.
‘Cam was murdered?’ she said. ‘Vinny killed him? And you did sod all about it?’
‘I tried, love, but the bosses didn’t believe me. They just covered it all up at the time, and they’re doing the same again now. Andy’s been great, trying to get to the bottom of it, but they’ve been leaning on him, and Jane too. They want it all buried, love.’
‘They can’t do that. This isn’t Russia. And you could have said something about it. The papers would have listened. And they’ll bloody listen now, I’ll bet. There’s been no end of stories in the paper about undercover cops lately.’
‘No, love, they wouldn’t listen then, and they wouldn’t now, either. And the bosses made it clear to me that if I told anyone we’d all suffer, all of us. That’s me, you, and the kids. No-one would have believed me anyway, love. The force would have falsified records, everything, because Cam died like that. They can still do shit like that you know, cover stuff up and everything, even though they pretend they can’t.’
‘So that’s why you’ve got so bloody pally with Andy Hall, is it? Because his wife’s still a copper? You thought they could help, did you?’
‘I had to tell someone, love.’
‘Aye, you did, you bastard. And it should have been me. It should have been me, fifteen fucking years since.’
Alice started crying again, but this time, when Spedding put an arm around her, she didn’t shake it away. Later, they both pushed the buggy, one hand each. Neither spoke for fully five minutes.
‘Andy doesn’t agree with me though, love. Not about all of it.’
‘Doesn’t agree about what? Are we not being watched, then?’
‘No, we are, and Andy has established that it was Battersby who was behind that.’
‘And this is a recent thing, is it?’
‘It is. And we don’t know why, not really. But Andy isn’t certain that it’s because me and Cam were cops. In fact, he doesn’t even think that it’s me who’s being watched.’
‘You mean….’
‘I do. It’s you. That’s what Andy Hall reckons, anyway, and he is a clever bloke, love. Now you understand why I had to tell you all this shit, don’t you?’
‘But why, Pete? I knew fuck all about any of this until tonight, not a thing. I never suspected, never guessed. Doesn’t Vinny realise that?’
Spedding shrugged. ‘Who knows? But Andy really does believe that it’s you he’s interested in. I’ll let him explain though, love. That would be better.’
‘So Andy wants to talk to me now, does he?’
‘Yes, he does.’
‘What does he want to know? Can’t you just find out, and I’ll tell you?’
‘That’s not how it works, love.’
Twenty minutes later they were almost back at the house. Alice seemed almost too calm now. It was the shock, thought Spedding. When she spoke it was quietly.
‘I’ll need to think about this, love. Before I decide, like.’
‘I know you will’, he said, smiling and squeezing her hand. ‘I’m so sorry, it must all be such a shock. I honestly can’t imagine how you must be feeling. So you take your time. Take all the time you need.’
But he didn’t mean that, and immediately wished he’d said that there was no time to waste. But former DC John Niven didn’t say another word, and waited for his wife to start asking all the questions about him, and about Mike Spence, that he knew were coming. For tonight Alice would be asking all the questions, hesitantly and in no identifiable order, and he would be answering them as best he could. And then he’d just wait.
Monday, 29th September
Kendal Police Station, Station Commander’s Office, 2.25pm
The woman from HR who’d phoned Mann at 9.01am had told him to report to the station at 2.30pm, and he was pretty sure that he’d be reinstated to duty immediately. Without a word of apology, no doubt, and by some civilian clerical assistant who’d only come to work for the constabulary because there were no openings at the council any more. But he wouldn't mind, so long as the result was right. He’d had a drink with Jane Francis the previous evening, and she’d told him that Ian and Maggie Macrae had been involved in yet another domestic on the previous Friday night, which had put him back in hospital with severe concussion, after she’d hit him on the nut with an empty bottle of cider.
‘Trouble in paradise, eh, Jane? So what was the dispute about this time, then?’
‘You’re a detective, you work it out.’
She smiled, and Mann took a thoughtful sip from his pint. Then he got it.
‘You said that this bottle was empty, didn’t you?’
‘Well done, mate. Aye, it seems that our hero necked the last of the nectar of the gods, which Maggie took umbrage at, so she did the decent thing and belted him on the bonce with the empty. As you do, like.’
Mann laughed. ‘We shouldn’t laugh.’
‘Really? Why the hell not? Anyway, it’s a pound to a penny that Maggie will give back-word on that pile of horse shit that she told professional standards, and then they’ll both get nicked. It’ll be prison for the both of them, this time. You mark my words, mate. And you’re totally off the hook, I’ll bet.’
But it wasn’t some clueless kid in a man-made suit who waited for him in the Super’s office that morning, but the ACC himself. And Winter didn’t appear to have anyone with him, unless they were sitting at the back of the room, near the door. Mann doubted that, but he couldn’t be absolutely certain, because he kept eyes forward as he marched into the room, banging his right foot down hard when he stopped.
‘Sit’, said the ACC, barely glancing up from the file in front of him.
Mann did as he was told, and glanced at the portrait of the queen on the wall behind Winter. He could see in the reflection that the room was indeed empty. So that was how it was going to be, was it? All off the record, just between us. Fine, he thought. That’s fine.
‘Let me ask you something, DS Mann. Do you enjoy being a police officer?’
‘I do, sir.’
‘And what would you do, if you weren’t in the force?’
‘Some sort of contracting work, I think. You know, farm labouring. I like being outdoors, especially round here. There’s nothing like it, sir.’
‘So I hear. And are you prepared for dismissal from the service, would you say?’
‘I’m not sure what you’re asking, sir. Could I cope with it? Aye, of course I could. The pension doesn’t matter to me. As long as I’m strong I could earn my keep, and when I’m not strong any more, well, then I’m not sure I’d want to live. And I’m not just a brilliant, instinctive thief-taker, sir. I can do all sorts, me.’
Mann’s delivery was dead-pan, and the ACC looked at him steadily, trying to decide if Mann was taking the piss. For some reason he couldn’t quite make up his mind.
‘I see’, he said, which Mann doubted very much, then looked back at the file.
‘You mentioned your pension. I’ve got the projections here, Mann, and it’s a very considerable sum. It’s all completely at risk now, you do know that?’
‘I do, sir.’
‘And that really doesn’t concern you?’
‘Not really, no. In my experience, people who worry too much about things like that don’t live long enough to really enjoy them, sir.’
The ACC looked as if he
was struggling to think of a reply.
‘Yes, well, anyway, Mann. What have you been doing, during your suspension?’
‘This and that, sir.’
‘And would this or that include working with Andy Hall?’
‘I’ve seen Andy, certainly. But it depends on your definition of work, sir. Mine is that it’s something that you wouldn’t do if you didn’t have to. In which case no, sir, I’ve not been working with Andy.’
‘Don’t play games with me, DS Mann. You’ve been helping Hall make enquiries into Vinny Battersby.’
‘Oh, that? I’ve been helping Andy to establish who has been watching a man who used to be an undercover police officer, and why it’s been happening.’
‘And what have you established?’
‘You’d have to ask Mr. Hall about that, sir, although of course he’d be under no obligation to answer.’
‘But you are, DS Mann.’
‘Am I, sir? I think you’ll find that I have the same rights and obligations as any member of the public. I’m not under arrest, am I? So I’d suggest, with respect, that you either put up, or shut up.’ Mann paused. ‘Sir.’
‘And you really don’t mind what the impact on your career is of these, er, freelance investigations?’
‘No, sir. Not one bit, sir.’
‘Why not?’
‘Lots of reasons. First, because the force should not regard the pursuit of truth as anything but an officer’s duty, whether suspended or not. And then there’s loyalty to my friend, honouring the memory of a former officer, helping out a living former officer, and possibly even helping to bring a murderer to justice.’
‘Come on, you don’t really believe all that, do you?’
‘Which part, sir?’
‘The part about a murder.’
‘I don’t know, sir. Do you?’
ACC Winter shook his head. ‘Of course I don’t believe it. That man, Cam Donald, his death was an accident. Just an accident, that’s all. And it’s all ancient history too, in fact.’
‘And yet you’ve taken quite a personal interest in the matter, wouldn’t you say, sir?’
‘I have, and I’m not afraid to admit it. Vinny Battersby is a fine man, whose work really makes a difference to the lives of our fellow citizens, and he doesn’t deserve to have his reputation besmirched and traduced in the way that Hall has been doing, with his constant stream of innuendo and veiled accusations.’
‘Then why has Mr. Battersby employed a PI to watch Pete Spedding?’
‘He hasn’t. Of course he hasn’t. I deny it.’
Mann didn’t answer. There was no need, because it was obvious that they both knew the truth. Eventually ACC seemed to bow to the inevitable.
‘Very well, DS Mann. I see that I have no alternative but to take you into my confidence. You’re a former military man, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Special forces, I believe.’
‘The details of my service were released by the MoD when I joined, sir.’
‘A heavily redacted version was passed to us, yes. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. The point is this. You’re violent man, DS Mann, and you’re an old fashioned one. Some might say an obsolete one. You cling to your rigid set of beliefs like a drowning man to driftwood. And so you’d always look after a comrade, a colleague, wouldn’t you?’
‘Yes, sir, I would. Even you, sir.’
Winter didn’t smile. ‘Don’t be insolent. Get up. Stand to attention.’
Mann did as he was told. He looked straight ahead, his expression stern. He’d never been less intimidated in his life.
‘Now, I’m going to tell you something that I hope will help you to see the very substantial error in your current course of action, DS Mann. And it’s this. What if I was to tell you that the man known as Pete Spedding and the late Cam Donald were both, indeed, undercover police officers, working for the Constabulary at the behest of, shall we say, a Whitehall department?’
‘I’d say yes, sir, I already know that, sir.’
Winter looked up at Mann, and regretted making him stand. The bastard could probably just stay there all day, without a care in the world, and they both knew it. Eventually Mann would dehydrate and pass out, in ten or twelve hours time, but he’d still be the bloody winner in that little power game, even if he was carried out on a stretcher with a drip in his arm.
‘All right, Mann. But what you don’t know is that we still have undercover operatives, let’s just call them that, out in the field. Right now, today in fact. And you wouldn’t want to put them at risk, would you now?’
Mann took his time before he replied. He kept staring at a spot on the wall two feet above Winter’s head as he spoke.
‘Are you telling me that Vinny Battersby is actually an undercover police officer, sir?’
‘I can’t tell you any more than I already have, DS Mann. Now, what’s your conclusion, based on what I’ve said?’
‘My conclusion is that Vinny Battersby isn’t, and never has been, a police officer. You would have confirmed that to me, if it were true, sir.’
Winter got out of his chair faster than Mann thought possible, and almost lunged across the desk, pointing at Mann.
‘You insubordinate bastard. How dare you? Show a little respect for my rank.’
‘Then show some for my intelligence, sir.’
‘Intelligence? Don’t make me laugh. You’re a fool, Mann, an utter fool. You’ve made an enemy in me, an implacable, watchful enemy, and I will have you, Mann. Your career is as good as over, and for what? For what? So you can help a retired cop chase after some totally ridiculous fairy tale? That’s just incredibly stupid. Now get out, get back to your duties, and if I hear that you’ve been helping Hall in this misbegotten wild bloody goose chase I’ll…. Well, I’ll have you Mann. You just watch me.’
‘I will, sir. Thank you, sir.’ Mann stood, and waited.
‘Well, what are you waiting for, man?’
‘I’m at attention, sir. You’re required to dismiss me, sir.’
‘Oh, you’re dismissed, Mann.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Andy Hall was waiting in the car when Mann came out of the station. Hall was in the ‘no waiting’ area, and it made him nervous, not because he thought he’d get a ticket, but because he didn’t like breaking rules. The little ones, the ones that didn’t much matter, anyway. He pulled away as soon as Mann got in, and Grace added her greeting to Hall’s.
‘Sorry, Ian, but Jane’s at work, so…’
‘No problem. Just as you don’t expect me to change her nappy, or owt like that.’
‘I won’t. And it’s not actually that bad, honest. After a while you don’t even notice the smell.’
‘Really? Maybe that only works when it’s your own kid, like.’
Hall smiled. ‘Has she?’
‘I think so. It would explain the fact that she’s greeting so hard. She doesn’t normally cry much, does she?’
‘She has her moments, believe me. But a dirty nappy would explain it, that’s true. Tell you what, I’ll change her before we make a move.’
Mann sat in the car while Hall did the necessary, changing Grace on the bootlid of his old car, and through the open window Mann summarised what the ACC had said. Hall laughed when Mann told him that he’d called Winter out on his insinuation that Battersby was actually an undercover cop.
‘Nice one, Ian. You get today’s Andy Hall prize for most tactless interaction with a senior officer.’
‘Fuck him. No offence, Grace.’
‘She’s heard far worse from her mum, and me, I expect. But it shows what these pen-pushers are like, doesn’t it? We’ve both spent years listening to hundreds of low-lifes and chancers bullshitting for Britain, so how he expects to get away with something like that I have no idea.’
Hall came back round to the driver’s door when he’d finished, and looked across at Mann.
‘Ready?’
‘Al
ways, marra. So how are we going to handle this?’
‘Gently, very gently. Pete called me earlier and said that Alice is feeling extremely sore about all this, and I can’t say I blame her.’
‘And she blames you for it all, I’ll bet?’
And Mann was still grinning, as Hall closed his door.
‘Thank you for that, Ian. So do you want to do the talking today, I take it?’
‘No, mate, you’re all right. You just crack on, like.’
Hall drove away from the station, waving to a couple of cops he knew, then glanced at Mann as they entered the one way system in the town centre.
‘Are we being followed, Ian?’
‘What makes you think that we might be?’
‘Nothing in particular. It just seems possible, that’s all.’
Mann nodded, but didn’t look behind him.
‘Pull in at that bus stop, Andy. Then drive round the one way system a couple of times and pick me up again before the bridge, OK? Give me five minutes to get there.’
Hall did as he was told, and picked Mann up after his second circuit of the town.
‘Well? Has anyone got eyes on us?’
‘I’d say not. They’d need at least half a dozen people, three cars, and they’d need to be bloody good.’
‘How good?’
‘Well, better than me, like.’
Alice Spedding turned out to much easier to talk to than Hall had anticipated. For a start she didn’t cry, and after she’d asked a few questions about the death of Cam Donald, who she now called Mike, she seemed calm and businesslike as she responded to Andy Hall’s quietly delivered and careful enquiries.
To begin with he asked her general and rather inconsequential questions about the time of the protest, and Mann knew why: Hall was warming up her memory, helping her to re-familiarise herself with those rarely trodden neural pathways to the past.
A Half Remembered Life (The Lakeland Murders Book 9) Page 12
