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

by Jack Probyn

  ‘Yeah, but… we didn’t even get any information.’

  ‘You saw smile on his face. He never going to give to us.’

  ‘You don’t know th—’

  Georgiy turned his back on her, cutting her off. She knew better than to speak to him like that, and he was going to have to make sure she understood what her position was.

  He let the body fall naturally to the bottom of the pit. It landed with a dull thud that seemed to echo around the stadium’s entrance.

  The London Olympic games were set to be the biggest and best ones yet. Or so the news kept reminding them. With thousands of athletes and their respective camps coming into the country, and with the whole world watching them, it was set to be a spectacle. One that they’d never forget. Soon, in just over two years, hundreds of thousands of people would be walking across this very stretch of tarmac, trampling over something they had no idea existed. It was the perfect hiding spot.

  ‘Fill it in,’ he instructed.

  At once, Nigel climbed in and moved the body until he lay flat on his back, before pouring the rest of the churning cement into the pit.

  ‘What about his clothes and his ID?’ Tatiana asked.

  ‘We took them from pocket when we picked him. They’re in van.’ Georgiy wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

  ‘Do you need me anymore?’

  ‘No. Go home. Prepare for tomorrow.’

  Georgiy watched the woman wander away, the lights casting a stretched shadow across the pavements that moved in harmony with her body. He stood still until she entered a black van, similar to their own, and drove away in the opposite direction.

  The sound of cement pouring into the hole distracted him.

  ‘How long until done?’

  ‘Five minutes,’ Nigel replied.

  ‘How long to set?’ Georgiy gazed at the moisture in the air. The rain had slowed but showed no signs of stopping. ‘Is cooling agent in?’

  ‘Yes. Should set in ’bout four hours.’

  Perfect timing.

  ‘You sure?’

  Nigel paused as he replied, ‘I’m an accountant, not a scientist.’

  CHAPTER 5

  PLAYING CATCH-UP

  Jake struggled to find the keyhole. He poked and prodded at the door, hoping the weak light from the street would illuminate the hole just enough so that he knew where to guide it.

  He was drunk. And it was the first time he had been in a long time. He’d only intended to stay for a few. One of those old adages, a lie that unhappy people told their partners as soon as the relationship had started to sour and stagnate. One turned into two, two into three, and then things had escalated. Everyone else in the team had bought a round. At first, he’d tried to protest – which they didn’t listen to – and then, by the fourth round, he’d given up trying. Or was he too drunk? After all, they were celebrating, and if they wanted to treat him then that was exactly what they were going to do.

  Somehow, without him even touching it, the door swung open, and light from the hallway fell out of the house and blinded him.

  ‘What the fuck’re you doing?’ Elizabeth asked, her arms folded across her chest. A welcoming response from a loving wife. ‘You’ll wake the kids up.’

  She stepped aside, grabbed Jake by the sleeve and hefted him over the finish line.

  ‘How much’ve you had?’ she whispered sternly as Jake tried to shake his shoes off… unsuccessfully.

  ‘Only a few,’ he lied. ‘Ev’ry’ne kept boying r-rounds in… I din’t know whatta do.’

  ‘Say no.’

  ‘We were cele’rating. I’m officiawwy a dete’tive.’ Jake hoped the smile on his face would placate Elizabeth slightly. It didn’t.

  ‘You missed dinner. The kids were looking for you, and I even had a nice little treat prepared for you later.’ Elizabeth wrapped the sides of her dressing gown tighter across her body. ‘There’s something you need to see as well.’

  Before he could respond, Elizabeth stormed down to the other end of the hallway and into the kitchen. He wondered how she managed to walk in a straight line – and so quickly too. He’d tried it from the cab to the front door and found it a struggle, almost hugging the wet pavement outside. The walls around him spun and he felt a headache coming on; the onset of a nasty hangover rolling in, knocking on the door.

  Jake slid his shoes off and shuffled down the hallway, holding onto the wall for support.

  In the kitchen, Elizabeth was standing beside the centre island holding a piece of paper.

  ‘Whassat?’ Jake asked. The harsh kitchen light prompted a flare of nausea in him.

  Elizabeth slammed the paper down on the worktop. ‘Read it for yourself.’

  As she folded her arms again, Jake caught a glimpse of the black lace bra she was wearing underneath her dressing gown. He didn’t recognise it, which meant it was new. Which meant she really had had a surprise for him. Jake tried to approach her and wrap his arm around her small waist, but she held him at arm’s length and pointed at the letter instead.

  Jake glanced down at the white paper and attempted to read. The words swam on the page and merged into one block of text. Two, however, stuck out to him. important and notice. Stained in red.

  ‘I thought you said you’d sorted it!’ Elizabeth said.

  Jake held a finger in the air as he tried to read, swaying as he did so.

  ‘I… I… It shoulda bin sorted. Issa work in progress. I spoke to ’em th’other day, but—’

  Elizabeth snatched the document and waved it in the air.

  ‘We can’t afford this. On top of everything else that we have going on here. Rent. Food. Tax. Internet. Water. Electricity. Nursery. The kids. It’s insane, and it’s stressing me out. I can’t believe they ever let you do it.’ Tears swelled in her eyes, puffing her cheeks.

  Jake rushed over and embraced her tightly. Stroked her arms.

  ‘Iss going t’be all right, Liz, OK? We’ll sort it. I’ll sort it. When have I ever let youuu d-down?’

  Sniffling, she said, ‘I’m worried, Jake. About the kids. About what might happen to us if we can’t fix this.’

  ‘You’ve got nothing to worry about, Liz, trusss me. Get yourself to bed. I’m g-going to stay up for a bit.’

  Elizabeth pulled herself away from him, nodded, then air-kissed his cheek before leaving the kitchen. He waited until he heard the soft sounds of her feet on the floorboards overhead, then he poured himself a glass of water, downed it and moved over to the chair nearest the sink.

  The previous year, in Jake’s attempt to catch Lester Bain, a serial killer who had brutally murdered and dismembered six women he’d met through an online community, Jake had entered his debit card details onto the Dark Web. It hadn’t taken long for them to be cloned and a significant amount of money to disappear from his and Elizabeth’s joint account – the home of their entire savings. After some convincing, and a lot of back and forth between the banks and the Met, he’d rescued some of the money, closed the account and set up a new one. But in the time it had taken to do all that, he’d defaulted on several payments for his car insurance, rent, gas and water.

  Now they were playing catch-up.

  And the interest rate was rising, while the money in the Tanner bank account was constantly dwindling.

  CHAPTER 6

  BAD FEELINGS

  A few hours later, Jake was awoken by a call from Liam, summoning him to the Olympic Stadium construction site. It was still dark outside. Feeling hungover, and without a car to drive in, he’d called Drew, who’d ventured across the city to pick him up. Much to Jake’s surprise, they were the first to arrive.

  They pulled up to the stadium’s entrance, flashed their warrant cards to the uniformed officer stationed on the outer cordon, dressed in forensic suits and then strolled towards the stadium. Jake admired the structure in front of him. It reminded him of visiting Stamford Bridge with his brother and sister when they were younger, watching the games, searching for t
heir father in the dugout with his medic pack by his side, ready and waiting to run on to the pitch to attend injured players. Those were the days.

  It wasn’t often that Jake thought about his dad, because even the tiniest image or reflection always depressed him; his father had been taken from them too soon, and there was nothing that was going to bring him back.

  Jake wandered up to the inner cordon of the crime scene. There, he signed in on the attendance log, dipped beneath the tape and started towards the knot of uniformed officers standing outside a white forensic tent.

  A few seconds later, they were greeted by Poojah, the forensic pathologist. She was dressed from head to toe in a white and blue oversuit. Staring at them from behind a face mask was a set of piercing jet-black eyes. Jake had always admired them; he felt like you could get lost in them forever.

  ‘Drew…’ she began. ‘Jake… Congratulations, by the way. I bet you’re pleased.’

  ‘Thrilled,’ Jake said, trying as hard as possible not to sound sarcastic and rude. It was the alcohol talking, making him take longer to think cohesively.

  ‘I remember when I graduated from training. All those years ago. I was a lot slimmer—’

  ‘So what are we dealing with, Poojah?’ Drew interrupted as he started towards the tent in a concerted attempt to hurry her along.

  Inside was a large perimeter about ten feet square. Within that was the beginning of a hole. The top layer of concrete had been excavated and was loaded into a pile in the corner of the tent. On the outskirts of the pit, Jake saw the remains of an outstretched left hand. The skin had been lightened by the chemicals in the cement and it looked like a giant piece of chalk.

  ‘Site worker found it early this morning,’ Poojah said, coming to a stop beside Jake.

  ‘When?’ he asked.

  ‘About seven o’clock, I think.’

  ‘Any idea how long it’s been here?’

  ‘Recent. It wasn’t there last night apparently.’

  Drew hovered around the perimeter of the hole, leant forward and peered inside.

  ‘Cause of death?’

  Out the corner of his eye, Jake saw Poojah’s eyes crease as she smirked. ‘Wasp sting. Allergies. Shark bite. Maybe someone hit him round the head with a kettle…’

  Drew stared at her, deadpan. Clearly not in the mood for jokes. Jake had noticed that recently his morale and energy had been deteriorating. He was snapping a lot more at the smallest of things. Jake supposed he’d fallen out of love with the job. He’d heard of it happening, but he’d never imagined it would happen to another member of his team. Correction: he didn’t want it to happen to anyone in his team. They were like a family, all of them – a dysfunctional one, to be fair – and Jake felt partly responsible for the well-being of his friends and colleagues as though they were his brothers and sisters. It was the paternal instinct in him.

  ‘Asphyxiation would be my first guess,’ Poojah continued. ‘But I won’t know for certain until I do the post-mortem. I’ll have to examine the trachea and lungs for signs of inhalation.’

  ‘Buried alive.’ Drew shook his head in disgust. ‘What a way to go. Where’s the witness?’

  ‘Witnesses. Two of them. They’re talking to uniform now.’

  Jake turned his head towards the tent’s entrance. Over a hundred yards away in the distance was a small group of construction workers clad in their high-visibility jackets and helmets. They were laughing and cajoling one another, waiting to be spoken to by the law enforcement officers who were currently occupied with two other individuals.

  As he and Drew bounded towards them, Jake removed his pocketbook and flipped to a new page. He scribbled the date and location on the top of the page and underlined it several times.

  When they reached the two individuals, Drew was the first to introduce himself.

  ‘And this is DC Tanner,’ he finished. ‘I understand you two were the ones who found the body. Is that right?’

  Standing before them were a man and a woman. They both nodded, though at the mention of Drew’s name and title, the woman’s eyes had bulged, the colour rushing from her cheeks.

  ‘Do you mind if we take you down to the station?’ Drew asked, his head dancing between them rapidly. ‘Somewhere more comfortable. There’s a lot we’ll have to get through.’

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ the man said. ‘No problem.’

  As the man spoke, Drew observed him, as if sizing him up for a fight.

  ‘And you?’ he asked the woman, who retreated. ‘Do you have any problems with going down to the station? You’re just being treated as a witness.’

  ‘No, no, I don’t have a problem. But I’d like to be questioned by this gentleman if that’s all right with you?’ She pointed at Jake.

  For a moment, Jake felt himself blush. He didn’t know why the woman had chosen him specifically, but he wasn’t going to argue.

  Just as the four of them headed out of the crime scene and back to the car, they crossed paths with Liam.

  ‘All right, guv,’ Drew called. ‘Where’s DC Garrison?’

  ‘Delayed,’ Liam replied. ‘He’s on his way. I’ll meet you back at the station. I’ve got a bad feeling about this one.’

  CHAPTER 7

  TOMMY

  This was one of the very few parts of the job that Drew truly enjoyed. The interrogation round, the interview, going toe to toe with a potential suspect with the full force of the law behind him. It made him feel powerful, and he knew that in his position of authority he had autonomy over anyone who set foot in the room with him. It didn’t matter whether they were a stranger, witness, relative, friend – Drew had the ability to turn anybody. Garrison had taught him that a long time ago.

  Opposite him, with his wrists resting on the arm of the chair, was Richard Maddison. Early-thirties but somehow looked ten years older. He’d removed his high-visibility jacket and was sitting in a grey T-shirt with slight dark moons hanging beneath his armpits. His hair was sun-kissed red and was showing signs of receding at the top and sides. A sandy beard had started to grow on the bottom of his face but looked as though it’d given up and he’d been too lazy to do anything about it. His skin was dirty and messy and there were scars in the crook of his arm – tiny puncture marks.

  There were two plastic cups on the table. Drew grabbed one. Beads of condensation abseiled down the side of the plastic as he took a sip and exhaled deeply, letting the cool water descend his throat.

  Setting the cup back on the table, he began.

  ‘How’re you doing today, Richard?’

  ‘A little shaken up. But… other than that… good.’

  ‘Most people would be having nightmares if they’d just seen what you saw. Must’ve been terrifying, seeing the hand in the ground. Run me through what happened.’

  Richard took a moment to respond, licking his lips. His eyes danced between Drew and the MG11 witness statement form on the desk.

  ‘I got to work at… it must have been about seven. I was the only one. I had some stuff I needed to do before everyone else arrived.’

  Like hide a dead body, Drew thought.

  Richard licked his lips again. ‘I should have done it last night but I had a dinner appointment.’

  ‘An appointment?’

  ‘Well, no. Not an appointment. It was… like a date.’

  ‘Like a date?’

  ‘Yeah… you know.’

  ‘How’d it go?’

  Richard’s brows creased. ‘Fine… I don’t think I’ll be seeing her again though.’

  Drew tutted. ‘Sorry to hear that. Where was the date – what time?’

  ‘Alinka’s coffee house on Roman Road. About sevenish.’

  Ah, yes. Drew knew it well. Very well. One of his favourites. His and Liam’s regular haunt whenever they needed to discuss their next operation for The Cabal, or whenever they needed to discuss anything they didn’t want anyone else at Bow Green hearing about. It was also the place where serial killer Lester Bain – dubbed t
he Stratford Ripper by the media – had found and haunted his second victim, Jessica Mann.

  ‘What time did your date finish?’ he continued.

  Richard scratched the back of his head. ‘About nineish, I think. Then I went home and watched TV all night.’

  ‘All night? From nine-oh-one to six-fifty-nine the following morning?’

  ‘Well, no, right. I was asleep for most of the night.’

  ‘When?’

  Richard shrugged. ‘Same time as I usually do. ’Bout eleven, half eleven.’

  Drew nodded like he had a vested interest in everything Richard Maddison was saying, but the reality of it was he couldn’t give a shit. There were more important things on his mind – bigger, grander things – although he was able to derive some enjoyment and satisfaction from making the man sweat and squirm because that was an answer in itself. If Richard Maddison was innocent, he wouldn’t behave that way. And it was only a matter of time until he dug himself a little deeper.

  ‘What happened after you got to work?’ Drew asked to move the conversation along.

  Richard let out a long breath of air. ‘The usual. Did the rounds. Same as we’re told when we’re first to arrive – make sure everything’s in its place, machinery wise – and make sure nothing’s been stolen by some yobbos down the street.’

  ‘Does that happen often?’

  ‘More than you’d think.’

  ‘How did you find the hole?’

  ‘I trod on it.’

  ‘Did you fall in at all?’

  Richard shook his head.

  ‘So we won’t find any forensic evidence on your clothes?’

  Richard shook his head again, this time a little less confidently.

  ‘What was going through your mind when you found it?’

  ‘At first, I thought it was a hand. You know, one of those prosthetic ones—’

  ‘The Paralympics doesn’t start for a long time.’