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

by Jack Probyn

  ‘Would you like to hold her?’ the nurse asked as she appeared.

  ‘More than anything,’ Jake said, already holding his arms out.

  Ellie was heavier than he was expecting, and he had to adjust his position as he took her. She awoke in his arms, her eyes blinking open to reveal a stunning hazel brown. Jake gave her a kiss on the forehead and then buried his nose in her cheek. He held out his finger for Ellie to grab, and she took it, swallowing it whole in her fist.

  ‘Hello, Ellie,’ he said, overcome with emotion. ‘I’m your dad. And I’m going to make sure nobody ever hurts you. Promise.’

  CHAPTER 80

  THE CABAL

  Later that evening, the doctors had given both Ellie and Elizabeth the all-clear to leave the hospital and get themselves fully set up at home. Jake was in the middle of carrying Ellie to the car when his phone rang. He glanced at the Caller ID while juggling the car keys.

  He opened the door, placed Ellie in the back seat and instructed Elizabeth to plug Ellie’s seat belt in.

  ‘Sorry, I have to take this,’ he said, stepping away from the vehicle and answering the call. He kept his voice quiet, out of earshot of Elizabeth. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Did he tell you my name?’ came a machine-automated voice.

  ‘Excuse me?’ Jake asked, glancing back at Elizabeth and the girls, making sure they were OK.

  ‘Did he tell you my name?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Your friend, Elliot Bridger. Did he tell you my name?’

  Jake hesitated a moment before responding. ‘No…’ he said quietly, afraid of what might happen as soon as he said it.

  ‘Then let me tell you,’ the automated voice said. ‘That way you won’t forget it. My name is The Cabal. And consider this your first warning.’

  ‘First warning for what?’

  ‘You won’t be hearing from Elliot for a while.’

  ‘What? No. I haven’t said anything to anyone. I promise.’

  ‘He’s been taken care of for the foreseeable future.’

  ‘I haven’t said anything to anyone. You have to believe me.’

  ‘It was long overdue. Elliot was a problem, and we’ve eradicated that problem. Just like we can do with you. So let Elliot Bridger be a shining example to you of what will happen if you choose to ignore his advice. It’s very important that you don’t interfere with things you don’t understand, Jake Tanner. We are bigger than you can even comprehend. You can trust no one. Not even your wife and two little girls. How is the little one, by the way? If you want to keep her – and the rest of your family – safe and secure at night, then you’ll do well to remember what I’ve told you. We’ve given you fair warning. This is your first and last. You will not be told again.’

  EPILOGUE

  Lester Bain pleaded to being insane at his court hearing. His claim was rejected and he was sentenced to fifty years in prison. He will never set foot out of prison again.

  Michael and Danny Cipriano were released from remand and entered into the Witness Protection Scheme on 21 May 2010. Their exact whereabouts are only known by a handful of individuals.

  Lester’s last victim, Jennifer Warren, sadly lost her life after months battling her brain injuries in intensive care. Her parents initiated a charity aimed at stopping young girls entering the world of prostitution. Jake Tanner is one of the faces of the campaign.

  DS Elliot Bridger subsequently retired from Surrey Police at the age of 40, and is living off his pension in his home in the Surrey Hills.

  After several attempt to shut it down, The Community continues to exist, although its users are painfully reminded of the effect it had on some of their members every time they sign in. A dedicated police team are monitoring any significant deaths relating to The Community’s members — in particular, the top of the leaderboard: Handsome Mike.

  All potential charges against Archie Arnold were dropped, while he was subsequently questioned in relation to human trafficking and prostitution rings in the Stratford area. No lines of enquiry were taken any further.

  —————————————————————————————————

  “Power corrupts—that has been said and written so often that it has become a cliché. But what is never said, but is just as true, is that power reveals.” - [Master of the Senate: The Years of Lyndon Johnson [2002]

  CHAPTER 1

  POCKETS

  ONE YEAR AGO

  Elliot Bridger didn’t think of himself as a bad man, but he was sure that others did. Almost certain of it, in fact. And what he was about to do – no, what he was being forced to do – would do nothing to change that perception.

  Through a dense mist that had settled on the cul-de-sac, a single street lamp illuminated the one place he wanted it to: the home of the person whom he would begin to rely upon for so much.

  Danika Oblak.

  She’d left her house less than half an hour earlier, wearing that large, green River Island jacket she frequently chose when the weather was neither too hot nor too cold – like Goldilocks – clutching her bag close to her body as if she was afraid someone was about to leap from behind the bushes and steal it. On the balance of things, she had a greater chance of being struck by lightning than being robbed.

  Bridger knew exactly where she was going and what she would do when she got there. The past few days of surveillance had taught him everything he needed to know about her movements and habits. Now all he needed to do was wait for her return. Impatiently. He had some news he wanted to share.

  The wait wasn’t long.

  Still clutching her bag, Danika emerged from the fog and scurried across the street, twisting her neck left and right. At the sight of her, Bridger clambered out of the car, closed the door and glided across the road. Pounced on her, using the darkness to his advantage, cutting her off just as she was about to turn into her driveway.

  ‘E-Elliot,’ she said, letting out a little gasp, her eyes wide. Her pale face was tinged a slight shade of orange, making her look more ill than she probably was. ‘What are – what are you doing here?’

  ‘I’ve come to see you.’ He smiled insidiously. Something inside him had switched. Without realising it, he’d turned into the bad man everyone perceived him to be. If he was going to go through with this, he needed to tap into the darker side of his psyche.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘A chat.’ With his hand wrapped around her arm, he ushered her closer to the door. She offered no resistance.

  As they reached the house, Danika plunged her hand into her bag and found her keys. The house was a mess, unlike anything he’d had the pleasure of seeing – and he’d stepped into crack dens and some other ropey establishments.

  The first thing Bridger noticed was the rancid stench. As though a dog had lived there, died there, and was now a permanent member of the furniture, left to rot and decay into the floorboards. The smell clung to Bridger’s throat and made him gag. Shoes were strewn across the floor carelessly. Coffee and soft drink stains soiled the wallpaper, which was beginning to peel by the ceiling and skirting. A skyscraper of post, magazines, flyers and leaflets was pushed against the wall, remnants scattered across the floor. As for the carpet, dirty. And as Bridger glanced down at it, he saw a woodlouse crawling amongst the fibres, probably running towards a cleaner hiding place. The sight of it made the skin on the back of his neck crawl.

  ‘Bet this place is cheap,’ he said, staring at the insect.

  ‘It’s a former student let,’ Danika said with defiance in her voice. ‘I live here because it’s cheap, guv.’

  Bridger came to the sudden realisation that he was still holding her and let go.

  ‘We’re outside office hours,’ he said. ‘You know the rule: off duty, it’s Elliot. My mother gave me the name so we might as well use it. Just like she gave my brothers theirs, and your mother gave you yours.’

  Danika set her bag on the floor and then kicked it behind her l
egs, shielding it from view. ‘What do you want, Elliot? Last time was a mistake. It can never happen again.’

  Bridger moved forward. It was only minuscule – a slight shift in his stance – but it was enough to intimidate Danika. She retreated closer to the front door.

  ‘Relax. Please. I don’t want to hurt you.’

  ‘Then what do you want?’

  ‘I told you. A chat.’

  Bridger’s eyes flickered to the bag on the floor, then he swooped down and reached for it. Danika attempted to defend it with her arms, but it was no use. Too deft, too strong, she was no match for him.

  Once it was firmly in his grip, he hurried into the living room, ignoring Danika’s protestations.

  ‘Give it back! Elliot! Give it—’

  He held his hand inches from her face. ‘Quiet. Please.’

  If she didn’t stop shouting, the migraine would come back with a vengeance. Keeping his eyes locked on Danika’s, he lowered his hand into the bag. Time for some fishing. At the top, he found two small bottles of vodka. Russian Standard. Thirty-eight per cent solution. Enough to put her to sleep for the rest of the night, despite her Eastern European heritage. Then he sifted through the rest of Danika’s belongings. A purse. Lipstick. Pack of tissues. Pen. A bag of make-up. Until—

  There you are.

  He removed what he was looking for and held it aloft.

  ‘How did you…?’ Danika said, her voice clipped.

  ‘Interesting,’ Bridger said as he inspected the small bag of marijuana in his hand. ‘Elijah’s a good kid, but he shouldn’t be giving out quantities like this. From what I hear, he’s spicing this shit up with loads of other stuff as well. Probably helps the value of it go down, am I right?’

  Danika rubbed her forearms. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Is it just the weed you bought today or is there a bit of MDMA in there too? Or is that only for Wednesdays?’

  Danika’s face turned pale and she looked faint.

  ‘Bit of a risky thing to be doing, what with these random drug checks in place,’ he jabbed.

  ‘Elliot, please. You can’t tell any—’

  ‘I won’t. You know why?’

  Danika shook her head.

  ‘Because I’ve got you in my pocket. And when I’ve got you in my pocket, it’s very difficult for you to get out again. Understand?’

  Danika dipped her head. Tormenting her, teasing her, making her regret the last two months of drug abuse gave him some sort of bizarre kick. He could only imagine how much sweeter it would have felt if he were a straight copper, getting rid of the dirty brass from the force and burning it down to the ground.

  ‘I need you to do something for me. Reckon you can handle it?’

  ‘It depends… It… It depends what it is.’

  Bridger held a finger in the air, silencing Danika immediately. ‘Maybe you didn’t understand properly. When you’re in my pocket, you will do anything I tell you to. It was a rhetorical question. And now that I know how much you rely on these little goodies, I know it’s going to be very easy for you to follow orders. Think of your children, your husband.’

  ‘Please,’ Danika said, ‘I said that night was a mistake.’

  Shaking his head, Bridger replied, ‘I’m not talking about that night. I’m talking about something else.’

  ‘What?’

  Bridger dropped the handbag to the floor and pocketed the weed. ‘I need you to help me. I need you to get Michael and Danny Cipriano out of remand and into the witness protection scheme.’

  CHAPTER 2

  PLANS

  PRESENT DAY

  ‘Coffee?’

  Jake looked up from his desk to find DCI Liam Greene, the man in charge of the Major Investigation Team here in Bow Green, Stratford, standing over his shoulder. Behind him were DS Drew Richmond and DC Pete Garrison, trying to find support for the black bags dangling under their eyes.

  ‘No, ta,’ Jake replied. ‘Not today.’

  ‘Sure?’

  Jake nodded and returned his attention to work. As soon as Liam, Drew and Garrison exited the office, the room fell silent, save for the therapeutic and soothing sounds of the other members of the team tapping away on their keyboards. Jake enjoyed indulging himself in ambient noise. It helped him relax, focus. And it soothed him, like the world was in constant motion, and any pause or blockage was cataclysmic. Throughout his life, people had judged him wrongly for it, but he didn’t care. He wanted the world to continue moving.

  He leant back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the table. In the past few days their workload had been sparse – they’d just cracked a minor case involving an attempted rape – and now they were filling in the mandatory paperwork. The part of the job that Jake despised the most. The number of forms he needed to fill out were unnecessarily long, laborious and repetitive. It often made him want to return to his life as a bobby on the beat, back when he’d been actively doing things on the streets rather than behind a desk. But then he thought how there had been more aspects of it that he’d hated than he’d enjoyed, and how he wanted to move into the big leagues with the MIT and Liam. This was a career – his career – and he was willing to do anything to further it.

  After less than five minutes of brief peace, Liam, Drew and Garrison returned. In each of Liam’s hands, he held a cup of coffee.

  ‘Here,’ he called across to Jake. ‘This one’s for you. Americano’s your poison, right?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Americano. I got you one.’

  ‘Why?’ Jake said, getting his back up. ‘But I didn’t… You didn’t have to.’

  Liam set the cup on Jake’s desk. ‘But today’s a special day. Y’know why? We’ve got some celebrating to do!’

  ‘Celebrating for what?’

  Before Liam was able to respond, a chorus of cheers and a round of applause erupted in the office. Everyone in the team – the civilian staff, the detective constables, the detective sergeants – was standing on their feet with party poppers in their hands. To Jake’s left, coming from the kitchen, was Lindsay Gray, the civilian facilities manager for Bow Green station, who spent the majority of her waking hours in the building making sure that everything was working as it should. In her hands, she held a chocolate cake iced with the word congratulations.

  Jake’s mind raced. What was happening? Practical joke or something a lot nicer?

  ‘Well done, buddy.’ Liam slapped Jake on the back jovially, breaking him from his reverie. ‘Still haven’t worked it out?’

  Jake shook his head as he stared at the cake nearing him, the candles and sparkler atop it burning furiously.

  Liam bent down by his side and shouted in his ear amidst the noise of the room: ‘I pulled in a couple of favours and put in a few good words about you. You’re officially a detective!’

  Another chorus of cheers echoed around the room. And then, as soon as Lindsay set the cake on the table, Jake was assaulted by playful slaps and digs in his ribs and back. Mostly coming from Drew and Garrison, but with a few rogue hits from the remaining members of the team.

  After a few long, hard, challenging – yet equally rewarding and exciting – years, Jake had done it. He’d become a detective, clearing the first hurdle in his career. From his early days with the team in Croydon to his brief stint with Surrey Police – where he’d apprehended one of the country’s most organised crime groups and sent them to prison – to his new home in Bow Green, it had been an exciting time. And, for a while, Jake was speechless. His body was surging with pride, an emotion he’d last experienced when Ellie had been born six months before – though it was beginning to feel like six years.

  ‘Wow,’ he said after the commotion had died down and everyone had returned to their seats. ‘I… I… I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘So long as you don’t use the fucking J word, you’ll be all right,’ Garrison yelled, cupping his hands over his mouth.

  Jake flashed a smile.

  �
��It helps when you have friends in high places,’ Liam said, giving Jake a wink.

  ‘I’m grateful, guv.’

  ‘Now we can actually call you a detective!’ Drew said from his desk, which was situated beside Jake’s on the other side of a narrow aisle.

  ‘But you did anyway.’

  Sniggering, sniffing hard, then wiping his nose with the back of his hand, Drew replied, ‘We also called you a lot of other things when you weren’t around.’

  The room burst into laughter. Drew was regularly responsible for the majority of the laughs in the office. He saw himself as a bit of an office clown, though many people found that to be true about him in a more general sense too, Jake included. Whereas Garrison was the complete opposite. Silent, reserved, methodical. Though when it came to ripping into Drew, he was always the first on the scene.

  ‘Ignore him,’ Liam said, silencing Drew – and the laughter – with a wave of his hand. ‘He’s just being a dick.’

  He placed a hand on Jake’s shoulder and squeezed. ‘We’re proud of you, kid. All of us. When I took you under my wing, I knew you were going to be a good egg. And what did you turn out to be?’

  ‘A good egg?’

  ‘Precisely. What’re you doing this evening?’ Liam asked, but he gave Jake no time to respond. ‘Cancel your plans – the rest of us have – because we’re going to the pub to celebrate. All of us.’ He pointed at Garrison. ‘Even old soppy bollocks McVitie’s over there. Assuming his pacemaker holds out.’

  CHAPTER 3