by Jack Probyn
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Meet Jake Tanner
Acknowledgements
The Conspiracy
Quote
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Epilogue
The Community
Quote
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Epilogue
The Confession
Quote
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Epilogue
Join The Mailing List
Enjoy This?
Glossary of Terms
About the Author
—————————————————————————————————
BY JACK PROBYN
Copyright © 2021 Jack Probyn. All rights reserved.
The right of Jack Probyn to be identified as the authors of the Work had
been asserted him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. Published by: Cliff Edge Press, Essex.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying form without written permission of the author, Jack Probyn, or the publisher, Cliff Edge Press.
eBook ISBN: 978-1-912628-20-9
First Edition
Visit Jack Probyn’s website at www.jackprobynbooks.com.
MEET JAKE TANNER
Born: 28.03.1985
Height: 6’1”
Weight: 190lbs/86kg/13.5 stone
Physical Description: Brown hair, close shaven beard, brown eyes, slim athletic build, scar on his cheek
Education: Upper Second Class Honours in Psychology from the University College London (UCL)
Interests: When Jake isn’t protecting lives and finding those responsible for taking them, Jake enjoys motorsports — particularly F1
Family: Mother, older sister, younger brother. His father died in a car accident when Jake was fifteen
Relationship Status: Currently in a relationship with Elizabeth Tanner, and he doesn’t see that changing, ever
Career History: (2008-2009) Temporary Detective Constable at Croydon CID; (2009-2015) Detective Constable at Stratford CID; (2015-Present) Detective Constable with SO15
Acknowledgements
The writing of this novel was aided hugely by my several editors, for without whom the book would have been in a much worse position.
The world of police procedure is a complex and tricky maze of hurdles, and without the help of former DCS Graham Bartlett I wouldn’t have been able to navigate my way through. Of course, there are some instances where the hurdles were knocked down and a few corners cut, but those deviations from the correct procedure are mine for the strict purpose of creative and dramatic license. Sometimes you have to know the rules to be able to break them.
I hope you enjoy.
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“He who permits himself to tell a lie once, finds it much easier to do it a second and third time, till at length it becomes habitual; he tells lies without attending to it, and truths without the world’s believing him.” - [Thomas Jefferson, 1785]
CHAPTER 1
PLAY DIRTY
SIX MONTHS AGO
Two years had passed since the world’s media had last uttered their name. In that time, they’d been forgotten, disregarded and pushed to the bottom of the history books – more importantly, pushed to the bottom of the nation’s police forces’ unsolved case files. Where they should be.
There was a reason they were the best in the business and had already taken home more than two million pounds’ worth of jewellery and money from their previous four heists. Their methods methodical, their planning meticulous. And with a certain amount of help from friends in high places, they were almost untouchable.
With each heist the pressure and risk grew exponentially, and every possible outcome had to be accounted for. And in the past it had – except in their last heist. Cock-up from start to finish. Oxford, 2006, HSBC bank on the high street, 9 a.m. Charge in, siege the place, force everyone into the centre of the room and destroy any and all means of communication, then pilfer the contents of the safes and ATM machines until their gym bags were brimming with sweet, sweet paper. Easy. At least it should have been.
The one thing they hadn’t planned for was what they liked to call in the business a Good Samaritan: someone dumb enough and brave enough to stand in the way of sub-machine guns and shotguns and defend the bank until the police arrived. The name of that individual would forever be etched in their memories, including the minute details of his face. Not because he was instantly recognisable or because they all had photographic memories – far from it – but because the man had instantly earned himself some notoriety. Following the event, and the subsequent arrest of their former leader, the media had a hard-on for the Good Samaritan and gave him more airtime than they should have – far more than he deserved.
What the Good Samaritan was doing now, nobody knew, but they’d each resolved to make sure nothing like that happened again.
Next time would be different. Next time they would set the world alight and make sure their names were burnt into the retinas of anyone who saw them or dared cross them. They wanted to go rogue. Off the books. Off the radar. To commit the worst robbery ever seen and be immortalised by the media coverage that had followed them throughout their nine-year career. And they were going to make it exceptional.
It was time to forget the rules and play dirty.
CHAPTER 2
MEAN STREETS
SIX MONTHS LATER: JUNE, 2009
Jake Tanner had never been fond of first days. As far back as he could remember, they were always filled with awkwardness, facetious grins, overbearing smiles and greetings, and a solid case of nervy runs. But the one thing that stung him badly was shyness. The first day of school where you didn’t know anyone in the playground and all the rest of the kids seemed to have made lifelong friends already. The first day of university where you were a day late to freshers’ week because you were respecting the anniversary of your father’s death, and everyone was beginning to get on like a student kitchen fire and build lasting relationships.
And today was no different: the first day of a new job, a new start to his professional career as a detective constable. New names, new faces, new personalities.
The sun beat down on the windshield of Jake’s Mini Austin Cooper; he was barely able to fit into it, but it was his pride and joy nonetheless. The air conditioning was beat – the latest in the long list of repairs the car required – and the windows were having little effect against the monstrous and offensive heat that opened his pores and covered his body in a thin veil of sweat. The world outside the car was still – the trees, bushes on the side of the road, even the air. So far so good.
Jake glanced down at the satnav, wiping a layer of liquid from his top lip. In a hundred yards, please turn right. Easy enough. But if he needed a reminder, the sign bearing the words MOUNT BROWNE, SURREY POLICE he saw a few seconds later did its job. He slowed, turned and idled the car past a row of detached properties, his eyes searching for the correct entrance. There was no mistaking it. At the end of the road was an even bigger sign than the first. Between the two lanes sat a booth that reminded him of the ones at Dartford Crossing that he and his family used to drive past on their summer holidays to the Norfolk coast – the only time of year when his dad was allowed time off from work.
He rolled the car to the booth, held his warrant card beneath the digital scanner and waited for the bar to lift, granting him access.
While the internal systems of the scanner worked quietly in the background, cross-referencing his face and his data with the police force’s databases, he tilted forward and stared into the camera lens aimed directly at him. He thought about smiling childishly but suppressed the thought, remembering his place and where he was. Nerves did funny things to people.
Shortly after, the bar lifted and Jake drove up the steep incline towards the headquarters of Surrey Police, ignoring the agony of the engine running at five thousand revs in second gear. As he climbed over the lip of the hill, the knot in his stomach tightened, forcing pressure on his abdomen. He manoeuvred his way into the nearest parking space he could find: at the opposite end of the car park. It was only 7:50 a.m. and already the entire force was making him look bad.
He wasn’t sure he could even plead innocence of it being his first day.
Mount Browne was a vast building and looked as though it had once been a stately mansion in a former life, a host for aristocracy and
the wealthy, with its eaves, vaulted walls and several chimneys dotted along the roof. Now, however, it had been transformed into the hub of a vibrant and buzzing police force, the home of one of Surrey Police’s satellite Major Crime Team divisions. The brick was a combination of black, brown and red, and stood front and centre, proud, against the backdrop of paradise green and sky blue.
With nothing but his backpack – which contained a packed lunch his wife Elizabeth had made for him and a reusable plastic bottle filled with water in anticipation of the heat – along with his phone, wallet and keys, Jake climbed a small flight of steps and entered the foyer. Inside he looked for signs of someone waiting for him, like he was stepping out of the arrivals lounge at Heathrow. There was nothing of the sort. Instead he was welcomed by an unenthused member of staff sitting behind the front desk at the far end of the entrance. A pen chained to the surface dangled over the edge, and a few police leaflets were fanned across the surface.
‘Morning,’ Jake said, feigning an excitable, I’m-so-happy-to-be-here smile. In reality that would only be genuine when the stomach cramps left him.
‘Name?’
‘Temporary Detective Constable Jake Tanner,’ he said. ‘Here to meet with DCI Nicki Pemberton.’
Jake removed his warrant card from his pocket and flashed it in the man’s face, who immediately dismissed it and reached for a clipboard and slid it across the desk’s surface.
‘Sign in.’
Jake did as he was told and scribbled his name, rank and sign-in time on the sheet. Passing it back to the reception officer, he asked, ‘Is there a coffee machine anywhere?’
The man grunted and pointed to Jake’s right. Then he leant over the arm of his chair, disappearing beneath the desk and returned a moment later with a polystyrene cup. ‘Put it in the bin when you’re finished. Nicki will be down in a few minutes. You can wait over by the seats.’
Jake thanked him and moved over to the coffee machine. Smart one, Jake. Have a natural laxative – that’ll make you feel better. He prodded the button for a latte and waited. As the steaming milk filled the cup, Jake read from the dozens of leaflets dangling from the corkboard on the wall. ‘An Introduction to Your Rights’. ‘So, You’ve Been Arrested’. ‘How to Report a Crime’. ‘How to Report a Police Officer’. Jake had read them all. Back to back. Cover to cover. Police training 101. But there was only so much you could learn from a manual, and there was no substitution for experience.
