by Jack Probyn
‘How come, guv?’ Garrison asked, twiddling a pen in his hands, the customary pack of digestive biscuits lying on his knee, half opened.
‘Lord Oliver Penrose. Snobby prick from the London Olympic Games Official Committee who thinks that, because he’s got a title and a lot of this’ – Liam rubbed his thumb over his index and middle finger; the international symbol for money – ‘he thinks he can get what he wants.’
‘What’d you tell him, boss?’ Garrison asked. ‘You tell him where to shove it?’
‘If only. I had the assistant commissioner on the phone to me a few minutes later. My hands were tied.’
‘I’m sure you did what you had to do,’ Garrison added as he reached inside the packet for another biscuit.
‘Penrose and the LOCOG want to keep the lid on this as much as possible,’ Liam added.
‘Not asking for a lot, are they?’ Garrison scoffed. ‘I can’t wait till the day I’m gone so I don’t have to deal with this bullshit anymore.’
Everyone’s head turned to Garrison.
‘You retiring soon, Pete? You should’ve said. We had no idea,’ Drew remarked.
Garrison gave him the middle finger.
Liam continued. ‘Poojah’s had the body for about an hour now. I’ve been informed the victim had all his teeth, nails, blood, hair – everything. The only concern would be the amount of concrete inside the body having a detrimental effect on the speed of the results coming back.’
‘Did you see the body, guv?’ Jake piped up.
Liam shook his head. ‘They kept that one well hidden. What about your witnesses – tell me about them.’
‘I spoke with Richard Maddison,’ Drew replied. ‘One of the workers. Bloke found the body. Didn’t really go anywhere. Worth doing a background check on him nonetheless to rule him out though.’
Liam turned to the whiteboard, grabbed a dry-wipe pen and started to scribble.
‘What about CCTV?’ he asked after a prolonged silence. ‘Jake – can I leave that one with you?’
Jake dipped his head. ‘Already on it, sir.’
‘That’s what I like to hear. I think after today we—’
The briefing room door opened, cutting him off. Standing in the doorway was DC Sheridan, one of the team members who’d been instructed to stay in the MIR and pick up the phone if any calls came in.
‘Alex,’ Liam said, a hint of worry and surprise tinging his voice. The DC entered the room and shut the door behind him. ‘Everything all right?’
In his hand, he held a Post-it note.
‘We got the results back. DNA—’
‘Already?’
Alex nodded. ‘Yes. The victim’s DNA and fingerprints were already on the database.’
‘Whose?’
‘We’ve managed to identify the victim as Danny Cipriano.’
CHAPTER 13
TWO LITTLE WORDS
Those two little words reverberated in Jake’s head like an air-raid siren. They turned his body cold, the same way they had when he’d first heard them. The same words that had been in the media for months following the last heist in Guildford. Jake repeated them in his mind over and over again.
Danny Cipriano.
Danny Cipriano.
Danny Cipriano, member of the organised crime group called The Crimsons, was dead. Buried alive. In concrete, no less. But why? Why Danny? And why now?
Jake’s mind was awash with thoughts and he was struggling to stay afloat. He needed to get out of there. He needed to take his mind off it.
He needed a drink.
Racing out of the briefing room, Jake stormed towards the kitchen and then switched on the kettle. He placed his palms on the table and leant forward, opening his lungs. He inhaled sharply through his nose and exhaled gradually from his mouth.
Six months earlier, Jake thought he’d put The Crimsons saga behind him the moment he’d stepped away from their corrupt investigation and let them enter the witness protection scheme. But he was wrong, and now the man was back to haunt him.
How? Who? Why?
The kettle started to boil, but he paid it no attention. Flashbacks of when he’d jumped into the frozen waters of the Itchen after Danny entered his mind. He’d dived two hundred feet from the top of a cruise liner in an attempt to save Danny’s life, but it had been Danny who’d saved his. Without meaning to, Jake had suffered an anxiety attack under ten feet of water and nearly drowned, but by some miracle, Danny had found him amidst the murky blackness and pulled him to safety. For that, Jake felt as though he was indebted to the man forever. And, in his death, he’d failed.
A knock came at the kitchen door. It was Liam.
‘You all right, kid?’
Jake shot into action. He grabbed himself a spoon, heaped instant coffee into his mug and then poured the water. ‘Just a bit of a shock, that’s all.’
‘It’s a shock for all of us.’ Liam moved closer towards him, rested his backside against the surface’s edge and then folded his arms across his chest. ‘Nobody expected it to be him, you know. But I’m sure there’s a reason behind it. The man had a lot of enemies.’ Liam paused. ‘There anything else going on?’
Your detective sergeant is a bent cop and a rapist.
Jake shook his head. ‘Nothing that I can think of.’
Liam patted Jake on the back and gave him a thumbs up. ‘Good man,’ he said. ‘I need you on your A game for this. The press backlash is going to be huge. Especially considering how high-profile he is. Doesn’t help that Danny was in the WPS. Someone in there’s going to be partly to blame. But that’s why I need your A game, mate. There’s a shitstorm about to come our way, and we need to trust each other for us to be able to weather it. A team of good eggs. Understand?’
Liam hesitated and stared into Jake’s eyes. Jake already knew what he needed to say; Drew had given him the answer earlier.
‘Don’t worry, guv,’ Jake replied, feigning a smile. ‘You’ll have my A game. You have my trust. And you have my loyalty.’ Jake gave a slight dip of the head as if to further highlight the point.
A small grin – just enough for Jake to notice – flashed on Liam’s face and then disappeared again.
Liam gave him another slap on the back. ‘You never fail to impress me, Tanner.’
With that, he left, leaving Jake feeling slightly more stunned than when he’d entered the kitchen. Liam had just confirmed a minor suspicion that had entered his mind: Liam was in on it all as well. They were all corrupt. One against three. And he had no one else to turn to. No one else he could discuss it with.
Lindsay, he thought. Yes, she’d be able to help. But how much could she do? She was just a facilities manager – she had no power of authority over anyone. But what if he was wrong and he was just being paranoid? What if it had all been a test like when Liam and the team had given him the Regulation 13 notice?
No. He couldn’t tell Lindsay just yet. Not until he knew for certain what he was dealing with.
He’d have to give it some more time.
But for now, there was a job to do.
Sipping from his mug, he headed back to his desk and opened his inbox. In the past few minutes, he’d received complete access to the CCTV files from the construction site. Perfect. If whoever was responsible for the murder had made any mistake, it would be the fact they forgot there was CCTV on the site. All Jake needed to do was sift through the playback and wait for a hit.
It didn’t take long.
After twenty minutes of watching the video at double speed, a small black van appeared on the screen. It pulled into the construction site and then rounded a corner before disappearing. To catch up with it, Jake tried different angles but was unsuccessful. The van – and Danny’s murder scene – was in a black spot.
As Jake watched the playback, he made a note of the vehicle registration number and checked it through the ANPR and CCTV in the surrounding area, as well as the PNC.
The vehicle was last registered to an owner se
ven years ago and 150 miles away in Birmingham. A dead end.
Within an hour, however, after trawling through the CCTV footage, he’d found the van’s last known location.
The place where Jake was headed next.
Tyred Out Mechanics.
CHAPTER 14
USUAL
Liam finished typing the message on the secret Gmail inbox. It was the only form of covert messaging between the three of them. Simple, yet effective. A random Gmail account which all of them had access to. Whenever any of them needed to say something without the prying eyes and ears of the office watching them, they created a draft email in their account, wrote the message, and then deleted it after a few minutes, hoping that everyone had had the chance to read it. That way there was no trace of it, no messages that needed to be permanently erased. It was quick. It was efficient. It was perfect.
The message read:
Brief Room. 30 seconds.
As soon as he’d typed the message, Liam lifted himself out of his chair, exited his office and made his way towards the briefing room. As he moved across the floor, he met eyes with Garrison. His colleague knew better than to follow immediately after him, but as Liam passed, Garrison leapt out of his chair and chased behind.
‘What a way to make it discreet,’ Liam said as he closed the door.
Garrison rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, come on, Liam. Nobody’s paying that much attention.’
‘Someone might have been watching.’
‘You’re getting paranoid.’
Before Liam was able to respond, Drew entered the room. He froze, his hand on the door handle, mouth agape, as if he’d just walked in on the two of them having sex.
‘Interrupting, am I?’
‘You wish,’ Garrison replied.
Drew threw him the finger and Garrison responded in kind.
Liam sighed and moved towards the window. He closed the blinds and submerged them in their submarine of secrecy.
‘Right, both of you. This is big,’ Liam began, making a point to not waste any more time than was necessary. ‘I got a call from The Cabal. They organised the hit on Danny Cipriano. I don’t know why, and I don’t know how. But now it’s our job to deal with it as quickly and as quietly as we can.’
‘Who did it?’ Drew asked as he folded his arms across his chest.
‘The Farmer.’
‘Jesus fucking Christ.’ Drew ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed his nose. ‘Do you know what that means for the rest of us? It’ll be us next, won’t it? Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, fuck.’
Liam stepped to the side and glared at Garrison. ‘Now who’s being paranoid?’
A smirk grew at the sides of Garrison’s mouth. He slapped Drew on the shoulder with the back of his hand and lambasted him. ‘What you talking about, you daft sod? Why would we be next?’
‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? Danny opened his mouth. He told someone about us, about who we are, about what we do. The Cabal found out and now look what’s happened to him.’
‘Be quiet,’ Liam snapped. He had half a mind to slap Drew across the face to calm him down but thought better of it. ‘Danny didn’t say anything about us, and—’
‘How d’you know?’ Drew interrupted.
‘I don’t for definite, but The Cabal would have said if Danny did. We’d have been given a heads-up.’
‘And you think that’s the sort of thing The Cabal’d admit to you? Give you a chance to run away before The Farmer comes after you?’
Liam sighed again. This was going nowhere. He paused a moment to observe his friend. His eyes were wild. His nose was running, and he kept rubbing it. He was jittery. A thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead. And, to top it off, he was getting paranoid.
He’d seen the signs before, but he’d never thought he’d see them again.
‘Listen,’ Liam said through gritted teeth, ‘I called The Farmer as well. He confirmed it all for me. The Farmer has no loyalties to anyone, so he has no reason to lie to protect us.’
As soon as he finished, Drew calmed down – his breathing steadied, his nose stopped, and his attitude became placid.
‘What we doing about it now then?’ Garrison asked, distracting Liam from Drew.
‘Tonight. Usual spot. Usual time. And, as usual, come alone. The three of us have got to figure something out by the end of the day. I want you to come prepared.’
‘Four of us…’ Drew said slowly. A grin grew on his face and his eyes twitched, except this time Liam didn’t think it was any effect from substance abuse.
‘You what?’ Liam replied.
‘Four of us. Jake… bring Jake along.’
‘Eh?’ Garrison retorted. ‘Nuh-uh. No way. Not happening. He’s too much of a liability.’
‘Trust me,’ Drew said, licking his lips. ‘He’s onside. Trust me. I spoke with him earlier. Showed him what the wonders of our real job can do. Especially when he’s going through a spot of financial difficulty.’
Liam relaxed a little. His earlier conversation in the kitchen with the young DC had intrigued him. Jake had mentioned loyalty – a word that, up until that point, had never come out of Jake’s mouth. But it wasn’t the word he’d said; it was the way he’d said it. The same way he and Drew and Garrison used it. Like he meant it. Like he was finally on the turn, finally beginning to realise the true possibilities of the darker side of policing – something that Liam should have been ecstatic, overjoyed, about. But wasn’t, couldn’t be. Jake was a good detective, with a family, a bright future ahead of him, and Liam didn’t know whether he wanted to corrupt and destroy that for him.
But, on the flip side, now it was Jake’s chance to finally prove himself. And if Jake didn’t like what he saw and it came down to it, then Liam would have to do what he needed to: silence Jake and remove him from the force. The methods were simple, but he hoped that was a last resort. But if Jake did like what he saw, then he could join their ranks, earn some real money, work his way up like the rest of them.
Liam cleared his throat. ‘You sure about this, Drew?’
‘Haven’t let you down to date, fella.’
‘Then you better be right. Usual place. Usual time. I’ll let Tanner know.’
CHAPTER 15
CONVEYOR BELT
Tyred Out Mechanics was a business that was exactly as the name suggested. The building was a mess, decrepit. Tyres and tools and old bags of dirt were strewn across the courtyard, while plants and overgrown weeds hugged the foot of the building, some of them climbing their way to the top. And inside, the employee behind the reception desk looked bored.
‘You a’right, love?’ the woman holding an oversized mug of tea in her hand asked. ‘You lost?’
Jake wasn’t sure whether he looked it, or whether it was just in her nature to approach prospective clients in that manner. Either way, his impression of her was the same.
‘That depends if you can help me,’ Jake said, leaning on the desk with one arm.
‘You got a motor that needs fixing?’
‘Not quite. I was wondering if you had a motor that you were currently fixing.’ Jake was being deliberately vague. By the time she opened her mouth to respond, he’d already pulled out his warrant card. ‘Do you mind if I take a look around?’
The woman held her hands in the air. ‘Hey, I don’t want no trouble. I don’t know what Benny’s been up to again, but it ain’t nothing to do with me.’ She leapt out of her chair. ‘Boy, when I find out what he’s up to, I’m gonna smack him into next week.’
She stormed off to the workshop on Jake’s right, screaming Benny’s name. As soon as she’d crossed the threshold, the noise of drills and heavy machinery stopped.
Jake chased after her.
About thirty feet away, standing next to the rear of a Ford Mondeo was Benny, dressed in coveralls, holding a blowtorch in both hands with a protective visor pulled over his face.
‘Mam, wha’s goin’ on?’ he asked as he lifted the visor from his face. ‘Ev’ryfin’ al
righ’?’
‘What have you been doing, Benny? What have you got yourself up to now? I’m done protecting you.’
While the duo argued, Jake took a moment to survey his surroundings. The workshop was empty, save for the car that Benny was currently working on. There was enough space in there for at least three cars to be worked on at any one time, and the inside was just as decrepit as the outside. Tools and machines and protective clothing and old pieces of dishcloth were left in sporadic piles about the place. Skid marks and oil stains dotted the concrete flooring like a discount version of a Jackson Pollock painting. And the smell of grease and old leather lingered in the air, clinging to the walls and furniture.
‘Mam, I ain’t done nowt this time,’ Benny replied. ‘Wha’ you sayin’?’
A sharp whistle pierced the air, making Jake flinch. It came from Mama Benny. She beckoned him over with a wave of her hand.
‘Speak to him,’ she said, prodding Benny in the chest.
Jake hurried across and whipped out his pocketbook. He opened it onto the latest page. In the top-right corner was the number plate of the black van he’d followed on the CCTV.
‘Benny,’ he began as he came to a stop a few feet away from the young man. A pungent smell of body odour rose through his nostrils and overpowered the rest of his senses. ‘I was wondering if you’d be able to tell me what you were doing last night?’
‘Workin’.’
‘And what time did you finish?’
‘I ain’t bin ’ome yet.’
Jake scribbled in his pocketbook as he spoke.
‘You’ve been working the whole night?’
Benny nodded.
‘So you were aware of the black van that came in at twelve minutes past four this morning?’
