by Jack Probyn
‘We’d better hope I am.’
The pounding in Jake’s head was malicious – it had a devilish intent behind it, and it was beginning to make him nauseous. It wasn’t the onset of a panic attack – he’d had enough to know the symptoms by now – but that didn’t stop it feeling like one. As he closed the door behind him, the reality began to settle in like a snowflake melting into the ground. Someone within the team was corrupt, working against him and everyone else to help The Crimsons.
He was finally understanding why, sometimes, reality was a bitter pill to swallow. Throughout his career – and the early stages of his life – he’d grown up with this ideal that all police officers were good, that they were there to help people, that the harsh depictions of them he saw in the movies were just that – fabrications, fiction. Now it was making him question everything he knew about the job, and everyone he’d ever worked with. The team back at Croydon CID; the constables and sergeants and inspectors and the rest of the uniform team. And, worse, he was now questioning his new team, the new faces, the new names. He hardly knew any of them, so it was impossible for him to guess, which only made it harder. The pool of detectives was too big.
But then he took a mental step back and considered. It would have to be someone high up. Someone senior within the team, someone in control of what was happening, so they were able to manipulate the investigation to suit their needs. Only two names came to mind.
Jake rested his head against the wall and exhaled. Bridger was coming to meet him from the other end of the hallway.
Bridger.
‘Everything all right, kid?’ Bridger had removed his tie and undone his top button. Both of them were gradually undressing as the day wore on.
‘Perfect,’ Jake lied. He pushed himself off the wall, threw his hands in his pockets and started down the corridor.
Chasing after him, Bridger asked, ‘What did he say? What’s the latest?’
‘I’ll tell you in the car. But first I need to make a call.’
CHAPTER 35
HARRINGTON
Danika had been sitting at her desk for hours and her lower back was beginning to flare up. It was an annoying sensation, deeply rooted in her spine – as if someone was constantly prodding and poking it – and no matter what angle she positioned herself in, the tiniest movement set it off and sent a shockwave of agony up and down her body. She winced, clenched her fist and allowed her palm to absorb the brunt of the pain. On a few occasions, she had drawn blood, but it was nothing a quick wipe on her trouser leg wouldn’t sort out.
Less than ten minutes had passed since the surprise call from one of The Crimsons. Since then, the office had been sent into a furore of activity. A trace had been placed on the number and emergency responders were being sent to the location rapidly from the local Hampshire police force. Information was being dug out on Danny’s, Michael’s and Luke’s lives, but Danika had paid little attention to the goings-on in the office. She had instead doubled down on her own investigation, focusing her efforts on the life and times of Candice Strachan.
As she reached across the desk for a highlighter, an email popped into her inbox. It was one of the information requests she’d submitted less than an hour ago. She opened the email and read through the report, her eyes widening as her mind absorbed the text.
She had something! Finally. Something of further use to the investigation. But where was Murphy? She craned her head over the desk, searching for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. In fact, she hadn’t seen him since the phone call had ended.
Before she could do anything, her phone vibrated. She answered it without checking the caller ID.
‘Can you talk?’ the voice asked. It was Jake. His voice sounded hoarse and dry, as if he’d been talking for hours without a break.
‘This is a bad—’
‘The Crimsons are heading south,’ he interrupted. ‘I’ve just got out of a discussion with Freddy Miller, and he confirmed they were trying to get out of the country.’
‘We’ve just had a call from one of the brothers. Danny—’
‘Cipriano,’ Jake said, finishing her sentence for her. ‘What did he want? What did he say?’
‘He spoke with DCI Pemberton. He told her that there are several ways to detonate the collar, and that he’s got the final key. After the call we traced the number to the outskirts of Portsmouth. But that’s not everything,’ Danika said. She was getting excited now. All thought of Murphy had flown out of her mind. She was getting a kick out of sharing her findings – her ego needed massaging just as much as anyone’s. More so when Tony couldn’t care less about it. ‘I’ve got some of the information you requested on Candice. Turns out her recent movements have been incredibly suspicious. In fact, everything about her has…’
‘I’m listening.’
‘SOCO found a ton of bank statements and financial records of hers in her house – both personal and business. According to them, she loved shopping. A lot. But I’m not just talking about any old shopping sprees; I’m talking thousands of pounds’ worth of transactions, luscious trips abroad, expensive restaurants—’
‘None of this sounds incredibly surprising, Danika.’
‘Wait. Let me get to the point and stop interrupting. All of that normal behaviour was used to mask something else.’ She ran her finger down the page. ‘On the twentieth and twenty-fifth of last month, she made a trip to the local bank and B&Q store.’
‘Right?’
‘This woman has never been to a B&Q in her life as far back as her bank records go. And, to make it worse, her debit card registered the payments in Oxford.’
‘Do you know what she purchased?’
‘I’ve spoken with the company, and they confirmed that, in accordance with their records, she purchased a set of four separate locks.’
‘You’re shitting me.’
‘I wish I was. But that’s not everything.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve looked into her records a little further, and I’ve noticed that, for the past year Candice has been renting a storage unit in Southampton. It’s all in her name.’
There was a long pause.
‘Freddy Miller just told me that the brothers are going to be smuggling their money out of the country. They’re using Candice’s storage units to do it,’ Jake said.
‘You’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, are you?’
‘Did you ever follow up with that CCTV request from the golf club?’
The change in conversation stunted her. ‘Yes… I, er, I passed it to DI Murphy.’
‘And you’ve not heard anything back?’
‘No. I—’
‘Danika,’ Jake began, ‘who else knows about the storage units?’
At that moment, her thoughts turned to Murphy, and then she remembered that he’d instructed her to run all information by him first before sharing it with Jake.
‘You’re the only one who knows about this.’
‘Keep it that way. When I spoke with Freddy, he told me that they always used to have inside help. I think you need to be very careful about who you can trust.’
Danika lowered herself into her seat, wincing as bolts of pain shot across her lower back. She surveyed the room, observing those around her, scrutinising their every move.
‘I need you to find out something else for me too,’ Jake said. ‘I need to know Candice Strachan’s maiden name.’
Danika leafed frantically through her notes. She knew she’d scribbled it down somewhere – it was just a case of finding it. Even though he didn’t say anything to her, she sensed his patience dwindling.
‘Yes!’ she screamed, brandishing the small Post-It note she’d scribbled on. ‘I found it earlier.’
‘What is it?’
‘Harrington.’
CHAPTER 36
SHOULDER
Danny fidgeted in his seat and scratched the back of his neck. Mercifully, the traffic had eased, and they were finally abl
e to open up the full power of the Audi engine as they reached the end of the A3 and merged onto the A3(M). The call with the woman named Pemberton had been a success, but he’d found it difficult to relax in the back seat. Time was running out, and they were still over twenty miles out from Portsmouth. And that was twenty miles of potential error and mistake. Nothing could go wrong. And that allowed the paranoia in his mind to wander and fester like an infection in an open wound.
They were driving in the fast lane, Luke cradling the speedometer a few miles per hour over seventy. Discretion and remaining as under the radar as possible was paramount. So far, Luke had impressed Danny. The youngest brother had shown his ability in keeping to the stringent restrictions of the Highway Code. But it was bittersweet, because it meant that Freddy had taught him something worthwhile.
In a world where they didn’t have a dad, Freddy was the closest thing to a figure that Luke could look up to. There were times when Luke and Freddy would venture to the shops together, chill together in the living room, play video games and smoke cigarettes while Danny worked tirelessly in a supermarket to put food on the table. It was unfair, and a piece of Danny had died every time he’d realised how close they were – every time he’d come home and found Freddy poorly helping Luke with some of his homework or teaching him how to roll his own joints. It was more than just a slap in the face; it was a punch in the stomach, a kick in the balls and a knife in the back. But without Freddy, The Crimsons wouldn’t have existed, which was something he was painfully aware of.
‘Uh-oh,’ Luke said, his eyes jumping up and down in the rearview mirror.
‘What is it?’ Danny didn’t like the sound of that. Not good. Not good. He tilted forward and clung to Luke’s headrest. At first he thought it was an engine issue, a puncture, or maybe they’d bizarrely run out of petrol. But then, when the sirens sounded behind him, everything seemed to slow down. Feeling like he was moving in slow motion, Danny twisted in his seat and peered out of the back window.
Over a hundred yards behind them, gaining rapidly on the right-hand line, blue and white lights flashing vehemently, was a police car.
‘Shit!’ Danny spun round and shifted himself into the middle of the back seat. Luke’s eyes were moving left and right furiously, his chest heaving and his knuckles as pale as the rest of him. ‘Just keep it steady, all right. Don’t do anything stupid. Pull into the middle lane and let them pass. We don’t know whether they’re looking for us or whether it’s—’
Luke swerved the Audi into the middle lane of traffic with a movement so drastic Danny was propelled into the door and smashed his head against the window. The sound of cars blasting their horns told him that they’d cut up a handful of drivers. Lying on the leather upholstery, beneath the window, he felt his body begin to move and rotate, like he was experiencing weightlessness for the first time.
Screams of profanity erupted from the front and Luke’s limbs flailed ferociously as he fought for control of the vehicle. The car skidded to the left and then the right, snaking dangerously across the tarmac. Before Danny was able to regain control, the door frame by his head imploded and a shower of splintered glass rained down on him. He protected his face with his arms, but it didn’t stop small pieces sprinkling his skin.
After a very long second, the car came to a stop and the engine stalled. Danny was dazed. Covered in glass popcorn, he lifted himself to his elbow, keeping his hands away from the jagged edges. As the broken window came into view, he realised what had happened.
Somehow, in Luke’s efforts to merge into the other lane of traffic, he’d lost control of the back end. Now Danny was staring directly at the logo of a Peugeot 2008, while the driver massaged his neck and checked on his wife beside him. What a shitshow. It was difficult not to feel slightly smug that Freddy had failed Luke in teaching him how to remain calm in situations like that, but it dawned on Danny that he was going to fail Luke even harder if he didn’t get them out of there soon.
Danny snapped his head back and forth, left and right, his eyes searching for signs of the police vehicle. The mile upon mile of tarmac in front of them was empty, the cars ahead of them disappearing over the wavy horizon. All except one. The police car, angled across two lanes of traffic.
‘Grab everything!’ Danny bellowed.
‘What?’ Luke was immobile, frozen into the seat, paralysed by fear.
Danny reached for Luke’s belt buckle, unclipped it and punched him in the arm. The movement was enough to stir some action in his youngest brother, but there was still a long way to go. By now, the police officer was out of the car and hurrying towards them. Surrounding them from the left was a row of traffic. Drivers and passengers were beginning to disembark their vehicles and help in any way they could. It was an ambush, and Danny was grateful they hadn’t rolled over or flipped; otherwise they would have been heading towards Destination Jail Cell for certain.
Grabbing his gym bag and Mini-Uzi from the footwell, Danny kicked open the other door and slid out, brandishing the weapon in the air, swinging the gym bag over his shoulder simultaneously.
‘Everyone get back and stay where you are!’ he screamed, small bits of spittle and phlegm expelling from his mouth and landing on his arm.
He trained the weapon on the police officer, who slipped on the ground in panic then corrected himself, hands held high in the air.
‘Nobody do anything stupid otherwise I will shoot.’
Danny stole a glance at Michael. The heavy man was in the middle of shimmying himself out of the car, bag and gun in hand. Meanwhile, Luke was doing the same, just slower. Good lad. Come on.
‘Get a car,’ Danny hissed to Michael. ‘Anything. The nearest thing.’
The sign for Portsmouth, indicating that the small city was only ten miles away, dangled in the middle of the motorway a hundred yards ahead. Nearly there. They were so close. Danny was determined to see it through to the end. They’d come this far.
A series of screams and shouts – male, female, juvenile – erupted from behind him. Michael and Luke were raiding the car at the front of the traffic, a 2004 five-door Saab, missing an alloy and with a dent in the bonnet that looked as though it had been caused by a body being impaled on the front as the driver attempted to run someone down. Hardly the most inconspicuous vehicle, but right now they didn’t have the luxury of choice.
Michael grabbed the driver by the neck and threw him onto the ground, while Luke took care of the passenger. In the back seat, strapped into a car seat, was a toddler, screaming, bawling its eyes out. Letting the gun drop to his hip, Luke yanked the child and seat out of the car and handed it to the woman. They were in. Two down. One to go.
As Danny turned his attention back to the police officer, he noticed the constable was charging towards him, a few steps away from signing his own death wish. Danny refocused his aim and fired a few warning shots, burying a series of bullets in the tarmac. The officer paid it little heed, his momentum too strong. Danny didn’t want to kill him – not a police officer. If he did, he knew everyone the police had at their disposal would come after them. Killing one of their own was an ill-fated decision, the biggest sin of them all.
He turned away from the officer and hurried to the back of the Saab, bumping into the woman as he went. It was Michael’s turn to drive, and Luke was sitting shotgun in the passenger seat. Throwing the door open, Danny chucked the gym bag into the back and hopped in. As he leapt into the vehicle, his finger caught on the trigger and sent a projectile barrelling through the air.
Michael floored the accelerator and propelled Danny into the back of his seat, the door dragging closed by itself from the momentum of the vehicle. After regaining himself and dropping the weapon by his feet, Danny turned to see the devastation he’d caused.
The bullet had collided with the police officer. The man in uniform was down, clutching his shoulder while strangers jumped out of their cars to tend to him. The last thing Danny saw before they drove out of sight was the officer reach
ing for the radio strapped to his shoulder.
CHAPTER 37
CRY FOR HELP
‘I don’t believe you,’ Pemberton said to Jake on the phone, running her fingers through the back of her hair and massaging her scalp. Third phone call in the space of three minutes, and it was the worst one yet. She didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t. Like the time her sister-in-law had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. It wasn’t fair, and neither was this.
‘I wish it wasn’t true, ma’am,’ Jake said loudly in her ear.
‘I need hard facts though, Jake. I can’t just go in there and accuse her of being involved with all of this without anything to back it up. I don’t want to be standing there with my pants down by my ankles in an uncompromising position.’
‘I’ve asked Danika to check them over multiple times,’ Jake replied. ‘They’re solid.’
Pemberton was standing on the driveway, outside the front door of Candice’s mansion. She’d left Candice alone with Armitage and the rest of the explosives experts. She needed breathing space. Meanwhile, the SOCOs continued to remove dozens of bags of evidence they’d found in the house and surrounding area to be sent back to the station.
‘This is not the sort of situation I want to be in, Jake.’
‘Is there a way we could get her to confess?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘If she’s in on this, then she’ll know the spikes in the collar are fake. She’ll know the charge inside it isn’t live. The whole point of chaining that thing to her neck has been to distract us this whole time while they escape. All you need to do is try and take it off. Gauge her reaction. Even if for a second she believes that there’s an issue with the keys or the device itself – we’ve already seen the little twist he’s thrown in there with requiring both keys at the same time – then she’ll panic. She’ll know that she’s been betrayed.’
