by Jack Probyn
Eventually, after another long pause, Pemberton sighed heavily. ‘You’d better be right, Jake.’
‘Just another one of my bright ideas,’ Jake replied. ‘There’s also something else you should know. She’s got a storage unit down there. She’s been paying for it for about a year. I think that’s where they’ve been keeping their takings from the previous robberies, and now they’re going to pick it up.’
‘Why did no one tell me this?’
‘I completely forgot about it until now. But I’d have thought DI Murphy would have mentioned it to you, ma’am. Danika told me that she was reporting to him while you’re out of the office.’
‘Leave that with me. We’ll meet you in Southampton. Keep me updated.’
She hung up and, once again, silence descended on the car. Jake used it to dive into his own headspace while Bridger manipulated his way across the traffic. He was finally beginning to feel confident in his actions, in his beliefs, like the wall of white that had plagued his mind so furiously earlier was receding and the colours of truth and courage was coming to the fore. Two years ago, his decisions had been responsible for capturing The Crimsons, and today, his decisions would have the same result. The rope around the brothers’ neck was tightening, and he was going to be the one to hold their heads on display.
Bridger slowed as he pulled up to a set of red traffic lights when the radio bleated.
‘Echo Bravo Four-Five, Echo Bravo Four-Five, this is Lima Golf, over,’ it said.
‘This is Echo Bravo Four-Five, reading you, over.’
‘Echo Bravo Four-Five, we’re receiving reports of an altercation on board a bus in the Fareham area from the driver. Reports indicate three IC1 males matching the descriptions of Luke, Danny and Michael Cipriano. All three individuals were seen carrying large black gym bags at Fareham bus depot. Armed officers are en route. Could you check it out and support?’
‘Which bus was it?’ Jake asked, feeling the palms of his hands turn sweaty.
‘The X4, headed to Southampton from Portsmouth.’
‘I don’t fucking believe it,’ Bridger said, turning to Jake. ‘You were right.’
There were people in Pemberton’s career that she’d been more than happy to see the back of, and there were others who she’d wished could stay in her life forever, in a professional capacity.
DI Mark Murphy was one of those people. When they’d first met, after he’d been seconded from Brighton, she’d thought he was an arsehole, a selfish, egotistical Lothario who spent more time worrying about his own appearance and himself than finding the criminals that were worsening the county’s crime rates. But then, as she’d started to get to know him, she’d realised her prejudices had been wrong, misunderstood and far from the truth.
He was a sensible, honest, kind, considerate human being who’d defended her and supported her when she needed it the most. Not only was he fantastic at his job – when he put his mind to it – but he was also a fantastic friend and potential partner. She trusted him, but now she was questioning her judgement again.
His behaviour in the last few hours had been nothing shy of bullshit and insubordinate. The secrecy, it wasn’t on, and as his senior, it was her job to do something about it.
She removed her phone and dialled Murphy’s number.
‘Everything all right, ma’am?’ his deep voice asked.
‘Why do I feel like I’m being kept in the dark about everything, Mark?’ she asked. ‘It seems like I’m last to know absolutely everything that’s going on about this investigation, and I should be the first.’
‘Sorry, ma’am. I’ve been managing the information that’s been coming in as best I could. I know you’re busy, so I’ve only been sharing the vital bits.’
‘I need to know absolutely everything, Mark, regardless of whether it’s important or not. You should know that.’
‘I do. Sorry, ma’am. It won’t happen going forward.’
Pemberton scoffed. ‘Yeah, you got that right, and the thing you can do to make amends is give the brothers’ photos to the media. I want their faces everywhere.’
CHAPTER 48
RUN
After receiving the news from control, Bridger raced onto the M27 and blitzed through to Fareham with the armed units driving in his wake. Not before long, three lanes melted into two as they pulled off onto the A27, heading south at the mouth of Portsmouth Harbour. Running alongside them, on the left-hand side, was a railway line, and beyond that was Cams Hall Estate Golf Club on the other side of the water. Fluorescent green bounced into the sky, and Jake struggled to keep his eyes from it. He had already been to one golf course today, and he hoped that, should he visit another, it would be under entirely different circumstances. The game, despite never having played, was being eternally ruined for him.
As they drove deeper into town, Bridger departed the A road and headed towards Fareham bus depot, a few hundred yards from the shopping centre. Parking up on the other side of the road, Jake and Bridger disembarked the vehicle simultaneously and met the armed officer in charge of the unit that had been following them. A few seconds behind them was a uniformed officer driving a saloon.
‘Where were they last seen?’ PS Cavanagh, the officer in charge on the armed unit, asked.
Bridger pointed to the bus depot over a hundred yards away. ‘About ten minutes ago.’
‘OK,’ Cavanagh said. ‘My team and I will scout it out. Wait for our orders.’
Bridger nodded in acceptance and Jake watched the four men depart, spreading out in different directions, skulking across the pavement towards the depot in perfect formation, bodies poised, weapons raised.
‘You reckon they’re still here?’ Bridger asked beside him.
‘Could be anywhere,’ Jake replied, keeping his gaze fixed on the officers as they approached the depot.
At that point, the police constable emerged from his vehicle and sauntered towards them, hands locked in the chest pockets of his vest. He gave them a curt nod and introduced himself as PC Wyatt. Jake offered him the minimal amount of courtesy and then turned his attention back to the depot. A row of First buses were waiting in a line, engines ticking over, spouting filthy fumes and gas into the atmosphere.
As the firearms team arrived, a coach reversed and pulled out of the depot. Jake’s heart missed a few beats while he scanned the passengers’ faces as the vehicle passed by. Nothing.
A few seconds later the firearms team disappeared out of sight, hidden behind the row of buses. Jake drummed his feet on the floor and scratched the scar on his face as he waited impatiently. It was one of the tensest moments of the day, and he was afraid of what would happen next. A myriad of thoughts raced through his mind. But before Jake was able to focus on any of them, screams and shouts erupted from within the depot. Jake removed his blazer, chucked it inside the car, and started towards the commotion.
‘Jake!’ Bridger called after him. ‘Jake!
And then he saw them.
In the distance, Michael Cipriano forced one of the armed officers to the ground, kicking his weapon away across the concrete. Behind him, Luke Cipriano – smaller, skinnier – sprinted from beneath the bus, heading towards the depot’s exit.
Jake raced towards them, the muscles in his legs pumping raw adrenaline through his body. Soon, the soles of his feet began to ache and sent bolts of pain up and down his legs with every step. Wrong activity to be wearing smart shoes. Behind him, he heard the sounds of more footsteps. Jake chanced a glance backward; Wyatt was bounding after him, joining the chase, his vest bouncing up and down as it tried to catch up with the rest of his body.
Both Michael and Luke were lumbered with their gym bags, swinging uncontrollably as they ran, bashing into their legs, hips and back. It was only a small advantage, but it gave Jake and Wyatt one nonetheless.
Ten yards separated them as Luke reached the end of the depot and made a sharp right, heading onto the main road.
Eight.
Five.
>
And then Jake felt a kick against his legs, buckling him. The world spun upside down and inside out as Jake soared through the air and clattered onto the concrete. He landed heavily on his shoulder and yelled out in pain.
Just as he was about to pick himself up, Michael Cipriano leapt over him. His trailing leg caught Jake in the ribs and knocked him down again.
‘Stop!’ Wyatt called.
Jake craned his neck and saw the police officer charging after Michael, reaching for his radio and shouting into it. To Jake’s left, trailing behind, was Bridger, closely followed by the armed officers. Their shouts and cries were no use. Michael and Luke had no intention of stopping. They were too far ahead.
But then Jake heard another shout. He snapped his neck towards Wyatt and saw the man tackle Michael to the ground, their bodies rolling together as one. Jake staggered to his feet and hobbled after them, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and palms. Both men were panting heavily. Michael was pinned to his front and Wyatt was atop him, wrapping his arms behind his back, pressing into him with his knee.
‘Run, Luke! Run!’ Michael bellowed, his face eating concrete.
Jake stuttered to a halt beside Wyatt, and as he helped lift Michael to his feet, the armed officers tore past them, their legs and arms pumping hard. They disappeared down a residential road to their right, but Luke was already out of sight. He’d evaded them and there was no way they were going to find him on foot.
A second later, Bridger arrived, breathless. He placed his hands on his knees and bent double, gasping.
‘Good work, boys,’ he said in between breaths.
‘Michael Cipriano,’ Jake said, as Wyatt tightened the handcuffs around his wrists, ‘I am arresting you for murder, armed robbery, assault and kidnap. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
After Jake finished telling him his rights, the armed officers returned, flustered, yet their breathing remained the same as when Jake had first met them.
‘Gone,’ Cavanagh said, ‘but he’s got to be around here somewhere. He must have vaulted the walls.’
‘OK,’ Bridger replied after finally catching his breath. ‘Right now, I want to speak with this one. Let’s get him booked in.’
CHAPTER 49
MICHAEL CIPRIANO
‘Rupert Haversham,’ Michael Cipriano said with a wry smile. ‘He’s my solicitor. I want my solicitor.’ His thick, round shoulders appeared to block out most of the light coming from the cheap light bulb overhead, casting a deep shadow across the breadth of the table.
‘Tough.’ Bridger rested his arms against the edge of the table. ‘You’re not getting one.’
‘On what grounds?’ Michael protested. ‘I know my rights.’
‘You want the specifics? All right then. Code C 6.6 and Annex B. The police may proceed with an interview in the absence of a solicitor if an officer has reasonable grounds that failure to do so will lead to interference with, or harm to, evidence connected with an indictable offence; lead to alerting other people suspected of having committed an indictable offence but which they have not yet been arrested for; or if they have reasonable grounds to believe it will hinder the recovery of property obtained in consequence of the commission of such an offence. So I’d say that covers you straight off the bat, doesn’t it? We’ve got all three, haven’t we?’ Bridger held his hand in the air and displayed his thumb, forefinger and middle finger in front of Michael’s face. ‘We’ve got the evidence connecting you to the crime… We’ve got your brothers being alerted to what’s happened to you… and we’ve got the jewels and money that your brothers have run away with that are still at large.’
The smirk on Michael’s face grew even bigger. ‘How many nights did you lose memorising that verbatim?’
‘More than you’ve spent in a nice warm bed.’
‘There’s just one thing you’ve forgotten to mention, Detective Sergeant Bridger, which is that the law also states that the officer making such a decision must be of the rank of superintendent or above. I don’t see those credentials in your title anywhere. Nor your colleague here.’ Michael flicked his head towards Jake.
‘How many nights did you spend memorising that particular part of the code?’ Bridger retorted.
‘One actually.’
‘I’ve got it cleared with the powers that be,’ Bridger replied. ‘You don’t have to worry about me doing my job properly.’
Jake suppressed a smug smile. The process of getting Michael into the interview room had been expedited, all taken care of by Bridger, while Jake prepared the room for interview, bringing in fresh cups of water and maintaining the room at a comfortable temperature. The tape had been replaced in the recorder, and the video recording was switched on, currently being monitored by someone sitting in the corner of a room somewhere in the recesses of the building.
This was his first interview where he was unprepared. Usually, procedure allowed for time to present the evidence and line of questioning against the defendant. But right now he didn’t have that luxury, and he didn’t want his inexperience to hinder the proceedings in any way. It was down to Bridger now, and after that small exchange between Michael and Bridger, Jake admired him much more than he had half an hour ago. He was in control of the interview, and Jake was happy to keep it that way… unless, of course, he saw an opportunity for him to strike. And then he’d let his intuition take over.
‘It’s simple,’ Bridger continued after Michael’s silence. ‘If you want it to be.’
‘Leave my brothers out of this.’
‘Where are they?’ Bridger asked, snapping to the point.
‘Gone.’
‘Where?’
‘Neverland.’
‘With Captain Hook?’
‘Tinkerbell,’ Michael corrected. ‘You can always rely on Danny to sprinkle some magic dust on everything and make it better.’
‘And you believe that, do you?’ The words came out of Jake’s mouth before he had a chance to process them. It looked like he’d taken his opportunity to strike without realising it. ‘You think he’s got the special powder to fix this situation you’re in?’
Michael shrugged. ‘He knows people—’
‘So do I. We meet a lot of people in our line of work,’ Jake said sarcastically.
‘I’m willing to bet Danny knows the same people you do. If not more. And if not better.’ The same wry smile grew on Michael’s face again, this time filling Jake with incipient rage. ‘Shocking, isn’t it? That there’s still bent coppers looking for the next pay cheque.’
‘I imagine every copper looks for the next pay cheque.’
‘You’ll never find him,’ Michael said, wiping his nose.
‘Just the one brother? You have two.’
‘I don’t need reminding.’
Jake straightened his tie and flattened it against his shirt. ‘So what happened with you guys?’ he asked. ‘How come you separated?’
Michael remained silent.
‘Tell us about Luke,’ Bridger said, budging his way back into the conversation. ‘Where is he?’
‘Alone and scared, no doubt,’ Jake added.
Michael’s breathing increased. The steady rise and fall of his chest turned into a heaving balloon nearing its limit.
‘Luke’s fine,’ Michael said eventually, avoiding their gaze for the first time. ‘He’ll be fine.’
‘You were the one looking after him when you were kids, weren’t you?’ Jake asked, tilting his head to the side. ‘You were the middle child. No mum. No dad. You were the one getting him ready for school. Feeding him. Making his breakfasts, lunches, dinners. Making sure he didn’t miss the bus or turn up late. But Danny’s role was different – Danny protected Luke when there was any sign of danger, and he left you lurking in the background. Luke never appreciated your help. At least, he never told you he did. So, Danny
became the big brother that would always protect Luke, the one he looked up to, and you were cast to the side. And then there was Freddy, wasn’t there? Where to begin with Freddy… I bet Luke saw him as the dad he never had, a role model, a father figure. My guess is that it went like this’ – Jake held his hand flat in the air, parallel to the ground. He started high, and then gradually lowered it in increments – ‘Freddy at the top, then Danny, then you. Sound about right?’
‘Do you have brothers or sisters, Detective?’ Michael asked, keeping his arms folded. A fire of aggression smouldered behind the curtain of his eyes, ready and waiting to burn the stage down and unleash hell.
Jake nodded. ‘Younger brother. Older sister.’
‘Do you love them?’
‘For the most part,’ Jake said, his thoughts turning to his siblings and how they had grown distant in recent years.
Michael wrapped his fingers round the edge of the desk. ‘Have you ever taught your brother how to steal so he doesn’t starve at night? Have you ever taught him how to look out for number one? Have you ever told him never to let anyone else tread all over him? Have you ever told him that, if anything happens to him, he must fight, and he must fight, and he must fight until the other person gets knocked down and never gets back up again?’
Jake hesitated. ‘I can’t say we ever needed to have that conversation.’
‘Well, we did, Luke and me. I taught him to punch back twice as hard. So don’t underestimate him. He’s smart. Always was. The brightest out of all of us—’
‘Then why didn’t you keep him at school?’
‘Danny decided to get involved. He always told Luke he needed to stay with us and continue what we were doing, so Luke was always by our sides. He would always wait to be told exactly what to do. He lost his independence. That’s Danny’s fault. Danny made him that way.’
Jake nodded, absorbing everything Michael was telling him.
‘Your actions now will determine what happens next,’ Bridger said in an authoritative yet calm voice. ‘The past is where it needs to be: left behind. We’ve all got things we’d like to bury, but right now you should be concerned about your future. Tell us where your brothers are, and things can be made easier for you.’
