THE JAGGED LINE

by Carolyn Mahony

  ‘Look, I’m shit-scared telling you this. It’s big – bigger than I ever realised. I would never have got involved if I’d known – and once I’d got sucked in, there was no backing out. If I tell you what I know, I want your word you’ll give me some sort of protection, because if not, when they find out I dumped them in it, it’ll be curtains for me just like it was for Dom and Copeland.’

  Harry eyes narrowed, but he nodded. ‘If we feel your life’s in danger because of information you give us, then we’ll give you protection.’

  ‘Have I got your word on that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay.’ Simon visibly relaxed. ‘Where do you want me to start?’

  ‘At the beginning would be good.’

  ‘Okay. So I’ll start with Tim Burman.’

  ‘The tenant in your flat?’

  ‘Yes. The antique dealings are just a cover-up. It’s not antiques he’s importing. It’s people.’

  Harry let out a breath. ‘People smuggling?’

  Simon nodded. ‘He picks them up in France mostly and brings them back to the flat for a day or two before dispersing them. I … assist with some of the paperwork. But I have nothing to do with smuggling them in.’

  ‘Is your father involved as well?’

  ‘God, no. This’ll gut him.’

  ‘So where did Paul Copeland fit in?’

  ‘He became suspicious – tried to blackmail Tim. I didn’t know at the time, I swear it, but Tim’s guys did him over as a warning, and then apparently picked him up outside your police station where he was on his way to dob them in it.’

  ‘Then they killed him?’

  Simon nodded.

  ‘For the sake of the tape, could you say that out loud please?’

  ‘Yes, they told me they’d killed him.’

  ‘What about Dominic Cartwright’s death? Was Tim Burman responsible for that, too?’

  He watched what looked like a genuine expression of remorse cross Simon Jordan’s face.

  ‘Yes. I never meant for that to happen, but Dom carried out an inspection of the flat just after Tim had picked up a new load of illegals and dropped them off there while he sorted a few things out. Dom was suspicious. He phoned me and asked me what the hell was going on – demanded that we met. I was out on an appointment and arranged to meet him at a pub near his next viewing to talk about it. I panicked. I phoned Tim … asked him what I should say. He told me I’d done the right thing and he’d meet us at the pub. I could have talked Dom down, I know I could, but I hadn’t realised up to then how dangerous Tim was. How big this whole thing is. Dom never made that meeting. Tim saw to that.’

  Harry’s expression was grim as he looked at Simon across the table. ‘Just so we’re clear here. Are you saying it was Tim Burman who killed Dominic Cartwright?’

  ‘Yes. Him or one of his henchmen. He told me it was a necessary safeguard.’

  ‘Right. We need to know where Kirsty is right now. The longer we leave it, the more danger she’s in. Do you want her to become a necessary safeguard, too?’

  Simon shook his head.

  ‘Then think. Where could Tim have taken them?’

  ‘I have been thinking. The only place I know of is his lock-up in Hatfield – well, it’s more like a small warehouse, really. He keeps his vans and odd bits of furniture there to back up his antiques alibi. He also uses it as a safe house for his ‘customers’, as he calls them, when they first arrive.’

  Harry turned to Beth.

  ‘He mentioned that when I spoke to him. Do we have an address? Did anyone check it out?’

  ‘I took a quick look. It was locked up but I got a restricted view through the window. It was like Simon says … There was a small lorry in there and a few bits and pieces.’

  Harry jumped up from his chair. ‘Get Geoff in to finish off this interview, will you? We need to get over there.’

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Kirsty and Luke sat on the floor in a corner of the warehouse listening to Tim Burman telling his plan to Bulldog.

  ‘As soon as Monty arrives with the car, load everyone back into the van. I’ll make my way to the safe haven. Your first priority is to get rid of those two.’ A quick toss of the head in their direction. ‘After that you can head to Leicester and disperse this lot earlier than planned. They won’t have proper papers, but as long as we dump them far enough from here, they won’t be able to give anyone any information that could lead back to us. I’ll call Terry and tell him to open up the shop to receive you. That’ll give you an alibi for making the journey if you need one – you can say you were dropping off some furniture. Then meet me back at the safe haven tomorrow.’

  Bulldog cast a cursory glance in Kirsty’s direction. ‘Where shall we dump them?’

  ‘Wherever you want as long as it’s not too close to here. Somewhere like the Great Woods at Cuffley would probably do. Won’t be anyone around this time of night.’

  Kirsty looked at Luke. She couldn’t hide her fear. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered brokenly. ‘I should never have involved you–’

  ‘Do you think I’d rather you were going through this alone?’

  ‘I’m sure you would. I should have listened to Robbie and kept out of it.’

  Luke gave a small shake of his head. ‘It’s not in your make-up, Kirsty. Once you get your teeth into something…’

  ‘Well, I was right to be suspicious, wasn’t I?’ she retorted with a flash of spirit. ‘Not that I get any satisfaction from that now. They’re going to kill us, aren’t they?’

  ‘Not if I can help it.’

  ‘Have you got a plan?’ She could hear the desperation in her voice and felt ashamed of it.

  ‘No, but I’m working on it.’ He turned to look at where the men were still talking, then said in a low voice, ‘Turn around so we’re back to back again. Lean your head on my shoulder so that it looks like you’re just using me as a pillow to get some rest. I’m almost there with your ropes now.’

  Bulldog turned away from the window where he’d been standing on watch, and looked at Tim.

  ‘Monty’s here.’

  ‘Right. Get everyone back in the van. You know what to do.’

  Kirsty tugged at the ropes still binding her wrists. She still wasn’t free.

  She felt herself being hauled to her feet by Bulldog. His hands were on her waist, not on her arms, as he shoved her towards the van. She felt his fingers splay over her hips, his touch intrusive. ‘Come on, my lovely,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘It’s not all over for you quite yet.’

  She shrank from him, hoping he didn’t mean what she thought he might.

  In the van, she and Luke were once again thrown onto the floor, the other occupants picking their way gingerly over them as they made their own ways to the bench seats provided. Then a slam of the doors and they were once again surrounded by darkness.

  ‘Does anyone in here speak English?’

  It was Luke’s voice, sounding reassuringly normal as he asked the question.

  Silence. Only the sound of the engine being started.

  ‘Come on. Someone must speak English, surely?’

  ‘I do.’

  The voice was low and guttural, the accent heavy.

  Both their heads turned in the direction of it and Luke spoke up again. ‘Do you have a phone with a torch on it?’

  A moment later, a small shaft of light filtered through the van.

  ‘Thank you.’ Luke looked up at the man. ‘So you know what’s happening here? With us, I mean?’

  ‘They are going to kill you.’ The man’s voice was matter-of-fact, squashing any hope Kirsty might have had that they could get these people onside.

  ‘They’re going to try,’ Luke said, ‘but maybe if you helped us – if you called the police on your mobile, for example?’

  ‘I am sorry, but we cannot help you,’ the man said flatly. ‘We have come through much to get to your country and cannot risk becoming caught by the police now. My wi
fe and children are here already – all I want is to be with them now. You understand we are not war refugees? Everyone in this van is the same. If we get caught they will deport us.’

  Kirsty couldn’t see his expression in the dark, but the tone of his voice said it all, his words delivered with a weighty weariness that indicated he had no energy left – certainly not to fight the battles of people they didn’t even know.

  ‘But you can’t just stand by and let them kill us!’ she burst out.

  The man shrugged. ‘I have seen many people die. Two more – who are strangers to me? My duty is to my family. And I am no good to them in prison or dead.’

  ‘Where have you come from?’ Luke asked.

  The man hesitated, but then perhaps realising they wouldn’t be around to cause trouble anyway, replied, ‘Afghanistan. It has taken us nearly a year to get here. Through Iran, then to Turkey on foot through the mountains – then from there to Greece on a boat, then Italy and finally France. We have been waiting in Calais for over three months. When they decided to close the Jungle, we were desperate. But we were lucky that we found someone with a boat.

  ‘Ssh …’

  Luke held his finger to his mouth and the van fell silent. From the front came raised voices and Kirsty strained her ears to hear what was going on.

  ‘It’s the fucking police, I tell you. You don’t get three cars pulling into the yard like that with their lights turned off. We should go back, help them out.’

  ‘Don’t be bloody stupid.’ It was Monty’s voice, raised in argument as he slammed his foot hard on the accelerator. ‘It’s lucky we got out when we did. Keep your wits about you and think. If we get caught with this lot in the back we’re all done for. Call Tim. Warn him. It’s the best we can do.’

  In the lead car, Harry pulled to a halt outside the lock-up. There were lights on inside. Good sign. He flicked the speaker control.

  ‘Tom, where are you?’

  ‘I’m heading round the back.’ There was silence before his voice came again. ‘There’s one small exit door they could use but the area’s fenced off. The only way out is along the side passage to the front where you are.’

  ‘So if they’re in there, we’ve got them.’

  ‘Looks like it.’

  ‘How long before armed response get here?’

  ‘Five minutes.’

  ‘Right. We’ll wait for backup unless it looks like they’re making plans to move, in which case–’

  Even as he spoke, the small door to the side of the up-and-over was flung open and a man belted hell for leather in the direction of the main road.

  ‘Shit! Everybody on him.’

  Harry flung open his car door and was out in a trice, heading after the man.

  ‘Stop. Police.’

  It rarely worked and this time was no different, as the man showed no sign of slowing his pace.

  Two steps behind Harry, Beth seemed to be having no difficulty keeping up with him, and he found himself pushing himself to his limit, aware that, whilst this was no competition, he certainly didn’t relish the image of his female DC outrunning him. They were gaining on the man. There was perhaps fifty yards between them when he suddenly halted, swung around and pointed a gun directly at them. It was Tim Burman.

  ‘Stop!’ he shouted. ‘Or I’ll fire.’

  ‘Do that and you’ll be in even bigger trouble than you’re in at the moment,’ Harry shouted back, nonetheless coming to an abrupt halt and stopping Beth with his hand. ‘Killing a policeman, Mr Burman. Think about it before you do anything stupid.’

  ‘I’m done for anyway if you lot get me. Now back off – I mean it.’

  He was facing them full on, the gun steady in his hand. He didn’t see Geoff Peterson and the other man creeping up on him from behind.

  ‘Okay, okay, look … We’ll raise our hands slowly. We’re not armed.’

  After that, it all seemed to happen in slow motion as the two policemen jumped Tim Burman and his gun went off simultaneously. He crashed to the ground, but not before Harry felt the lurch to his stomach as the bullet found its target. He drew in a shocked breath, doubling over, aware of Beth rushing to support him.

  ‘Harry.’

  ‘I hope I’ve killed the bastard!’ Tim Burman yelled, as he struggled with his captors on the ground. ‘Get me a solicitor.’

  Harry looked up at Beth, then shook his head, his expression stunned as he drew a deep breath and then exhaled slowly.

  ‘Shit, I’ve worn that vest on countless occasions, but that’s the first time I’ve ever had to test it out. I feel like I’ve been hit in the stomach with a cricket bat.’ A relieved grin formed on his face as he straightened slowly up. ‘Good to know it works, though.’

  He took another couple of breaths, before straightening up and looking over to where Tim Burman was struggling uselessly to prevent the handcuffs being snapped onto his wrists.

  ‘Where are Kirsty Cartwright and Luke Talbot?’

  ‘Never heard of them.’

  ‘Don’t give me that. We know Kirsty went to Simon’s flat tonight and that you took her upstairs while you waited for him to return. He’s been quite chatty, has our Mr Jordan. It would look a lot better for you in court if you volunteered information at this point, rather than be seen as obstructing the course of justice.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about and I’m not saying another word until I see my solicitor.’

  ‘If anything happens to them and we find out you’re involved, you realise it’ll make things a hundred times worse for you?’

  ‘I’m quaking in my boots.’

  ‘Take him back to the station,’ Harry ordered, striding back the way they’d come. ‘I’ll meet you back there after I’ve checked the warehouse out.’

  ‘I want my solicitor!’ Tim Burman shouted after him.

  ‘Yeah, yeah. You’ll get him, don’t worry. Just put in the request when they bang you up.’

  ‘Found anything?’ he asked one of the uniform, walking into the lock-up and looking round.’

  ‘Nothing much. Looks like it’s used as some sort of dormitory – look at all the beds dotted around the walls.’

  ‘That’s exactly what it is used for. This is where they bring the illegals when they come up from Dover before dispersing them. It’s going to be a mammoth job getting to the bottom of all this.’

  ‘Will Interpol get involved?’

  There was a light in the young policeman’s eye that reminded Harry of himself as a rookie.

  ‘Probably … the works, I reckon.’

  He turned to Beth. ‘We need this whole warehouse sealed off and Forensics down here asap. I want it gone through with a toothcomb for any evidence that Kirsty or Luke were here. Can you see to that?’

  She nodded, already pulling her notebook out to make a list of all the people she’d need to speak to.

  ‘Also track down what other vehicles Tim Burman owns apart from the Merc. Simon Jordan mentioned a van but it wasn’t at the flat and it’s not here. We need to find it, fast. Meanwhile, I’m going back to the station to see what I can squeeze out of Tim Burman. Things don’t look good for Kirsty and Luke Talbot if we can’t break him.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  ‘There … I’ve done it,’ Luke’s whispered exclamation was triumphant as Kirsty’s ropes fell apart, freeing her hands. She rubbed them hard together, grimacing as the sudden increase in circulation resulted in painful pins and needles in her fingers.

  ‘Do mine,’ Luke said. ‘Quickly.’

  She started working on his knots. ‘They’re so tight.’

  ‘Just keep at it. We’ve been going a while and if they are heading for the Great Woods, it won’t be long before we get there.’

  Even as he said it, they felt the van swing sharply to the left and the terrain beneath the wheels changed, becoming crunchy as if they were travelling on the stones of a car park.

  ‘Hurry,’ Luke said.

  Her fingers were
fumbling, not helped by the fact that they were stiff and unwieldy from being restrained themselves. She hadn’t quite finished the job when half a minute later the van stopped and they heard the driver and passenger doors opening and closing.

  ‘I can’t do it,’ Kirsty said desperately, pulling her hands quickly away as the back of the van was flung open. Monty stood there, gun in hand pointing menacingly at them, Bulldog at his side.

  ‘Out,’ Bulldog growled.

  Luke stared him out. ‘So what are you going to do if we refuse?’

  ‘Shoot you where you are, and pull you out myself. The choice is yours, mate.’

  He grabbed hold of Kirsty and dragged her to the edge of the van. She felt his rough hand on her breast, deliberately manhandling her as he hauled her out.

  ‘Get your hands off me.’

  ‘What? … You telling me you don’t like it a bit rough every now and then, sweetheart?’ He gave a little snigger. ‘All the ladies like a bit of rough once in a while – even the lah-di-dah ones like you.’

  He fondled her some more, pulling her hard against him as he did so. It took every ounce of strength she possessed not to whip her freed hands round to lash out at him. But that was a secret she needed to keep to herself if she had any chance at all of surviving this night. And hope of that was fading fast.

  ‘You deal with him,’ Bulldog said to the other man, tightening his grip on Kirsty’s arm as he dragged her towards some trees. ‘I won’t be long. I’m going to have myself a bit of fun before I do this one – teach her a lesson, stuck-up bitch.’

  ‘No! Luke!’

  Kirsty’s scream was muffled by the hard clamp of a hand over her mouth as she was dragged across the car park through an opening in some bushes, and thrown heavily down onto the ground. The full weight of Bulldog’s body followed instantly, pinning her to the cold, wet undergrowth as his hands captured her head, holding it still.

  So intent was he on his purpose that he didn’t seem to realise that her hands were free. Her fingers scrabbled desperately through the twigs and leaves, searching for something – anything – that could act as a weapon as she struggled beneath him.