The Detective Jake Tanner Organised Crime Thriller Series Books 1-3 (DC Jake Tanner Crime Thriller Series Boxsets)

by Jack Probyn

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s under the table. I was going to record it myself this time from a distance. You won’t even know I’m here. After all, it is your special day.’

  ‘Perhaps we should get you involved as well? Add to the tally?’ He was enjoying what he was hearing, and he couldn’t wait to begin.

  ‘We’ll see. If the timing’s right, then maybe I’ll join you. But you’ve been good to us – you’ve really helped us improve – so it’s only fair we repay you like this.’

  ‘You know, S has recently added a new level of points. I think—’

  Lester was silenced by Steven’s finger. ‘Hold that thought. I’ll go and get her ready, and then you can test them out on her. Sound good?’

  Lester nodded emphatically.

  ‘Wait right here.’

  With that, Steven turned and disappeared up the stairs. Lester appreciated that. It added to the excitement and tension of the situation. But then a thought occurred to him. If Jessica was preparing upstairs, then should he prepare downstairs? No. He would wait. He would make her undress him. Yes. That was the best way. He was looking forward to that. Her touch. Her skin. Her lips around his cock. Jessica. He shivered thinking about her. He wanted her – wanted her more than anything. More than his next breath. He wanted to lay next to her. Wake next to her. Be next to her. Every minute of every waking day. It wasn’t fair that Steven had her. It wasn’t fair that he could do all those things whenever he wanted, and Lester couldn’t. He bet they didn’t even fuck. Not like he and Jessica did when they were together in his mind. He bet they had lost the chemistry and the romance and the spark in their sordid relationship. The curse of sadists and masochists, he thought, chuckling.

  Lester checked his watch. Only a minute had passed, but it was beginning to feel like ten. As the seconds moved by, he grew impatient.

  He stormed up the steps, climbing them two at a time, and as he was about to open the door onto Steven’s art gallery, he heard their voices, hushed, panicked. His hand caressed the handle, and he kept it there, pressing his ear against the door.

  ‘I don’t feel comfortable.’ It was Jessica’s voice. She sounded different. More concerned, like it was missing that hint of sexiness and aggression Lester had grown accustomed to.

  ‘I don’t care. You’ll do as I say.’

  ‘Pineapple,’ Jessica said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Pineapple. That’s our safe word. I’m using our safe word. I want out.’

  ‘Listen here,’ Steven said. ‘You’re going to go through with this right up until the moment I tell you to stop. The longer you go for, the more points we get.’ Steven quietened his voice. ‘Think about it. With this, we’ll be able to overtake him on the leader boards, and then we can finally dispose of him. For good. All we’ll need to do then is get rid of Christopher, and then we’ll be at the top of the table. Untouchable. I’ve had a look online and Christopher’s already overtaken us – it’s a Friday night. He’s getting busy. We can’t let him beat us. We do this, we go to the top.’

  ‘How do you want me to do it?’ Jessica asked, her voice trembling.

  ‘The blades. The one on the far right is sharp enough to slice his throat.’

  ‘You told me it was blunt! What if he uses that one on me!’

  ‘Relax,’ Steven said. ‘I won’t let it get that far. There’s cleaning chemicals and a bag underneath the table to tidy it up afterwards. It’ll be fine. I promise. Now take your knickers off and hurry up. He’s waiting.’

  Lester’s body turned cold. He couldn’t believe what he’d heard. His hand tightened around the handle until his knuckles turned white and the metal dug into his palm. They were going to betray him. They were going to use his rank and status to heighten their own so they could pass him on the leader board. Worse still, they were going to fucking kill him!

  Aware that they were on the other side, about to open the door, Lester rushed down the steps quietly, grabbed the blade from the far right on the wall and slid it in the waistband of his jeans, feeling the cold metal of the weapon press against his skin.

  The door opened overhead, and he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. He shook with excitement.

  ‘Lester?’ Jessica asked softly. ‘You ready?’

  ‘Oh, you bet,’ Lester said with a grin on his face. His hand gripped the blade’s handle tightly.

  As he did so, Jessica appeared. She was naked, but her hair had been let loose and dangled either side of her square shoulders, falling over her supple breasts and covering her nipples. The red light in the room cast an almost demonic aura around her slender frame, illuminating her brown eyes and turning her lipstick an even darker shade of crimson. She looked like a goddess with a naughty side, an ephemeral figure that would haunt his every waking moment for the rest of his life – for all the right reasons. She reminded him of a model, someone who made it their life’s mission to entertain and tease and flaunt. And then he saw it: the dimples in her cheeks that only ever came out during Communion. They were like light bulbs that she could just flicker on and off at ease.

  Lester moved around the table so that it separated them both from him. He pulled the back of his shirt over the knife’s handle to shield it from view. Jessica advanced towards the centre of the room.

  ‘Where do you want me?’ she asked, placing her hands by her curvaceous hips.

  Lester stuttered before he answered. He was panicked at the unearthly sight of her, but if he was going to do this, he needed to maintain a clear head.

  ‘On the table. I want to tie you up.’

  Jessica did as she was told and climbed atop the table’s surface. Her body lay flat and her breasts spread softly either side. Her ribcage and flat stomach inflated gently in tandem with one another as she breathed. Lester moved around the bottom of the table and chained Jessica’s ankles. Her skin felt warm under his. He imagined the blood coursing through it – and how, soon, it would be spilling all over the floor.

  ‘Wait!’ Steven called, his voice echoing around the room. He stood at the midpoint of the stairs. ‘Don’t start until I get the camera. I don’t want to miss any of it.’

  Lester looked up at him and smiled. ‘Trust me – you won’t want to miss a thing.’

  Steven pulled up at the table, bent underneath and produced a video recorder. Heavy. Professional. If all else failed with the knife, then Lester mused that he could use the camera as a battering ram to open the man’s skull.

  Steven pressed a button on the device and held it close to his face.

  ‘Ready whenever you are,’ he said.

  ‘Are you recording?’ Lester asked.

  Steven gave the thumbs up.

  It was time.

  Lester moved to the top of the table and clasped the remaining chains over Jessica’s wrists. They shut with a satisfying clink. Now she was locked in, unable to move. Next, Lester moved over to the wall of instruments and pretended to deliberate. He went straight for the blade furthest on the right, which he knew was blunt. He pulled it from the wall and returned to Jessica, standing beside Steven. He slapped the flat side of the blade against her stomach. As soon as the metal hit her body, she groaned like she always did. Nothing unusual about that. But then, as she realised what was in his hands, her eyes widened, and he saw fear stretch across her face; her glance darted towards Steven and the camera.

  Lester moved the blade over her body, tickling her with it, and left it resting on her nipples. The closer it got to her throat, the more she shook and writhed; the more her breathing increased. Smiling, he flipped the blade, so the blunt edge was against her skin, then he hovered over her chest and held it against her neck. Beside him, Steven moved around and held the camera close to them both at Lester’s waist height. Perfect!

  With his free hand, Lester reached for the small of his back, closed his hand around the sharpened blade and buried it deep in Steven’s neck. A fountain of crimson burst from his carotid art
ery and showered Jessica’s body. Piercing screams filled the air as Steven slumped to the floor and dropped the camera. Lester’s gaze followed the man as he lay there hopeless, defenceless, holding his throat and gasping his last breath, squirming on the concrete as he drowned in his own blood.

  Within seconds, he was dead. But the screaming still persisted. Lester stared down at Jessica on the table. Her movements were frantic, but it was all futile. She spat Steven’s blood out of her mouth and tried to blink away the splatter that had got into her eyes.

  ‘No! Please! No!’ she said in between chokes.

  Lester silenced her by holding the blade against her throat. ‘Quiet!’ he shouted at her. ‘You think you can try to kill me and get away with it?’

  ‘What are you going to do to me?’

  Lester pressed the knife’s point into her skin, drawing a droplet of blood. ‘Everything I’ve always wanted to. And then some. And then some more after that. It’s going to be a long night.’

  Lester bent down and picked up the camera from the concrete. He wiped some of Steven’s blood from it and placed it on the table, then he undressed, mounted Jessica and picked it up again.

  He grinned as he looked at her, then slid inside her.

  ‘You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this.’

  CHAPTER 3

  SNITCHING

  Jake Tanner was working for the name of the badge, not the name on it.

  He was already in the office by 7 a.m. He was an early bird, keen to make his mark known, his face seen, and his presence felt by his new team. He was a member of the Metropolitan Police’s Major Investigation Team based in Stratford’s police station, Bow Green. The team was a small unit of between five and ten officers of varying ranks. In the short time that he’d been there, Jake had seen dozens of new faces recycled through the team like they were in a revolving door. There were, however, a select few who seemed to be permanent, like fixtures in the walls.

  As Jake sat there at his desk, looking at the Metropolitan Police Service emblem emblazoned on his screen, he smiled. It had taken a while for him to move across to the new team – months of transfer requests and interviews – but now he was finally here, he felt like he was a part of something different. Something bigger and better than anything else out there. He was making a change to London, and he was changing lives. He loved his job, regardless of the tedious and monotonous work he’d been doing for the past few months. Paperwork. Filing. Forms. He’d read the first few lines of the MG11 witness statement form so much that he was beginning to recite it in his sleep. He supposed that was a good thing if he was going to develop as a detective.

  Jake loaded up a form he’d been working on the night before and continued filling it in. It was almost another hour until he saw someone else appear in the office. Lindsay Gray. She was the civilian facilities manager for Bow Green, and she was usually the first one to show her face in the office. She was in her mid-fifties and, after retiring a few years ago, she’d soon realised that her love for the job was too much – that she had to rejoin the force in some capacity. She had been a member of the Major Investigation Team throughout her career, and so she made sure that she could be around the atmosphere as much as possible while also serving the rest of the teams in the building. Her desk was in the corner of the MIT room, kept out of the way but not out of earshot. More often than not, she’d join in with some of the banter and heated discussions the team had while they were settling in for the mornings and getting ready to go home for the evening. Jake liked her. She was a friendly face, and she always carried a smile as though it wasn’t a burden. For that, he respected and admired her. In many ways, she reminded Jake of his own mother, which he believed was the best compliment he could pay her.

  ‘Morning, mate,’ she said with a thick cockney accent, as she slung her bag over the back of her chair. ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Kill for one, if you wouldn’t mind,’ Jake said, leaning across the desk for his mug. Dried coffee stained the rim and bottom of the ceramic, and a dribble ran down the side. ‘One s—’

  ‘Don’t worry. I know how you like it.’

  Jake thanked her and continued working while she disappeared behind him. When she returned, she placed it on his desk then hurried to hers. He took a sip, grimaced at the bitter taste and placed the mug back on the desk. It definitely wasn’t the way he liked it, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her.

  ‘Did you have a good evening?’ Jake called across the office. ‘How was the—?’

  Before he was able to finish, he was interrupted by the sound of the office door opening. The remaining dozen officers from the team filtered in with one addition joining them. They were laughing and cajoling one another, holding coffees from the local shop round the corner in their hand. Jake observed them as they came in. They were all present, not one of them missing. It was 8:45 a.m., and they’d all been due to start over an hour ago. At the head of the group was Jake’s senior officer, and the head of the Major Investigation Team, DCI Liam Greene. He was a small man – a few inches south of six foot – who wore his ego on his sleeve and never took kindly to being ridiculed. Yet whenever Jake had tried to get to know him, he was standoffish and rude. Liam wasn’t afraid to do what it took to get the job done and he regularly made sure everyone in the team knew where they stood. There was an air of intimidation about him too. Though Jake supposed it was perhaps because he’d only been afforded the opportunity to speak with his boss a handful of times since joining MIT, that he felt nervous around him. Beside Liam was DCI Hamilton, the commanding officer responsible for the efficiency of the Missing Persons Team on the floor beneath them, who’d decided to accompany them on the morning’s coffee run. Both men were in their early forties and were beginning to grey at the top and sides.

  ‘Where have you lot been?’ Lindsay asked, rising to her feet. She sounded like an unimpressed mother whose children had come home late from playing outside.

  Liam stood in the doorway of his office with his hand planted on the handle. ‘We went out for a group breakfast, all of us. To celebrate. Our heads are feeling a little worse for wear.’

  She placed her hands on her hips. ‘Where were our invites?’

  ‘Well…’ Liam paused to look at Jake and then back at Lindsay. ‘Neither of you were here when we found out the good news.’

  ‘Which was?’ Jake asked, taking another sip of his coffee and then immediately wishing he hadn’t.

  ‘You haven’t heard? Benjamin Pryce has been found. Alive and well. A little shaken up but he’ll live.’ Liam pointed across the room to Hamilton. ‘Our resident child molester over there found him and returned him home safely.’

  Hamilton replied with a middle finger. Without saying anything else, he ducked into the debrief room in the far-right corner of the office, grabbed something from his desk and stormed out, charging towards Liam.

  ‘That reminds me,’ Hamilton said, brandishing a pair of scissors in his hands. ‘A bet’s a bet.’ Then he grabbed Liam’s tie and snipped it from the top.

  Laughter erupted around the office.

  ‘I win,’ Hamilton said as he raised the loose tie in the air triumphantly to the sound of cheers and applause.

  ‘I deserve that one,’ Liam ceded. ‘Same bet on the next one? First to crack the case gets bragging rights for a week?’

  ‘Or they get a go on the other’s missus!’ DS Drew Richmond shouted. He was Jake’s immediate supervisor and had been part of Major Investigation long before anyone else. He was one of the oldest fixtures in the office.

  ‘Or we could all get a go on yours!’ Hamilton shouted to another barrage of laughter.

  ‘At least that’ll make one of us,’ Drew replied.

  ‘You’ll have to join the queue on that one, fella.’

  ‘Right you lot, back to work,’ Liam said, clapping his hands together. ‘The AC’s coming down later today, so anyone not doing anything will get their balls pinched.’

  At
that, DCI Hamilton left the office to return to his team, and the rest of MIT stuck their heads down. Before long, the sound of typing and clicking replaced the laughter. It was back to work, business as usual.

  Before Jake was able to join them, Liam arrived at his desk. In the distance, a phone rang.

  ‘Busy morning, Jake?’ Liam asked, perching himself on the edge of Jake’s desk.

  Jake shook his head. ‘Not particularly, sir. Just the usual.’

  ‘Good. Anyone asks, we were here on time, all right? Kind of reflects badly on all of us – including yourself – if anyone learns otherwise.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Of course.’

  Liam patted Jake on the back hard, reinforcing the need for secrecy.

  ‘There’s a good lad.’

  ‘Guv!’ a call came from DC Pete Garrison, another member of Major Investigation. He was Jake’s equivalent and was more than happy to spend the rest of his career behind a desk. He was the workhorse of the unit, constantly filling out applications and forms and all the other monotonous stuff in the background without anyone else in the team realising he’d done it. It didn’t take long for Jake to realise that he didn’t want to live a career like that. Instead, he wanted to be out on the front line, policing the streets and putting people who were capable of insidious things behind bars where they deserved to be.

  Garrison rose to his feet with the phone still in his hand. ‘We’ve got one. Double whammy. Art gallery. Uniform are already there.’

  Excitement welled in the office at the words, and Jake felt his own adrenaline surge a little. This could be the opportunity he needed to prove himself, rather than remain sidelined in the office like he had done for too long.

  ‘Excellent. Nice work. Send me the address. DS Richmond…’