by Jack Probyn
Jake swallowed before responding.
‘Hi… yes… this is Detective Constable Jake Tanner. I’d, er, I’d like to make a complaint.’
CHAPTER 19
COME DOWN
Richard Maddison wandered the streets aimlessly, his mind devoid of any thought. He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d been escorted out of the police station; time just seemed to stand still while his legs continued moving. Although he knew that it must have been the entire day. It was now dark outside, and the workers and students who had prowled the streets a few hours ago had clocked out and swapped shifts with teenagers and drinkers and partygoers. He was still in shock. Understandable, really, all things considered. He thought about that arsehole detective. How he’d behaved. How he’d pulled him up on the drugs and the drink. Did he already know? Or was he just playing with him? It didn’t matter. It wouldn’t be long until they found out everything. And then where would he be? Town Fucked, that was where.
One check. That was it. That was all it would take. One check and his whole life would be over. He didn’t want that. Worse, he didn’t want to think about it right now. He wanted a distraction – needed a distraction.
Richard rubbed his forearm and came to a stop. In the distance, above the row of shops in front of him, distorted by the traffic lights and street lamps, was a high-rise tower block. He recognised it instantly.
He came to a slow halt, pulled out his phone and scrolled through his address book until he found the only number that didn’t have a name registered to it. He dialled.
‘Hello?’ the voice finally answered.
Richard relaxed. The voice was familiar, friendly, oddly comforting.
‘Jermaine?’ Richard asked.
‘Who wants to know?’
‘It’s good to hear your voice, bro,’ Richard began. ‘It’s me, Richard, from Whitemoor. Prisoner alpha-sierra-seven-nine-three-two. We were on the ones together.’
There was a slight moment of hesitation, followed by deep laughter. ‘Richard, my guy. I ain’t forgotten about you that easily. What you saying, bro? You good?’
Richard was standing beside the telephone box outside a Sainsbury’s Local supermarket. ‘You remember that offer you made me when we were inside? I might have to take you up on it.’
‘Course, bro. Whatever you need. No matter the time. You know I got you,’ Jermaine said, his voice deep.
‘What about now?’
‘Yeah, bro. Come over.’
Richard smiled. ‘Perfect. I’ll be there in about ten minutes. Just got to get some provisions on the way down.’
‘Safe,’ Jermaine said, closing the conversation.
Richard hung up, made a right turn into the Sainsbury’s Local and purchased a bottle of Russian Standard vodka. He was set for a heavy night. It had been a long time since he’d last drunk. And he couldn’t wait to feel the burning sensation consume his throat and body again. He couldn’t wait to relive the mind-altering feeling that helped block out all the shit in the world. He was in desperate need of it. The antidepressants weren’t doing anything, so maybe this would help.
Richard left the shop, hailed a cab and then ordered the driver to stop a hundred yards from Jermaine’s estate – the Huntingdon Estate. Then he made the rest of the journey on foot, with the neck of the bottle clutched tightly in his grip. When he arrived at the estate, he climbed a set of concrete stairs and headed towards the thirteenth floor. Jermaine Gordon’s domain.
While they were in prison together, Jermaine had boasted to him about having the top half of the estate as his bachelor pad and then owning everyone else inside the building. In one way or another. They were all either working for him – running copious amounts of drugs and weapons to junkies in the surrounding area – or had worked for him, and were now settled in some sort of early retirement – that was, until a rival gang member stabbed them or mowed them down in a drive-by shooting. Nonetheless, all their hard work had helped him become the second-largest drug dealer in the East End of London. Second to Henry Matheson.
Richard stopped outside Jermaine’s flat and knocked on the door. The heavy din of music inside stopped, and a few seconds later, Jermaine appeared. Even inside, he was wearing a thick black jumper with a hood pulled over his face and the drawstrings knotted across his collarbone. Jermaine was an intimidating guy – a hard bastard – and Richard had seen first-hand that he wasn’t to be messed with; he doubted the other prisoner’s face had ever healed from the beating he’d received after pissing off Jermaine over something minor. So insignificant, in fact, that Richard couldn’t even remember what it was.
‘Safe, bro,’ Jermaine said, flashing a set of white teeth. ‘It’s good to see you, fam.’
They shook hands with a familiar greeting they’d practised and perfected in prison and then they both stepped inside. There was a handful of people Richard didn’t recognise seated on the sofa playing video games, each slouched, their eyes glazed over.
‘Drink?’ Jermaine asked, calling Richard back.
Richard raised the vodka. ‘I came prepared.’
‘Knew I could rely on you, bro.’ Jermaine gave Richard a slap on the back, took the bottle from him and headed to the kitchen. A few moments later he returned with two glasses in his hand, filled nearly to the brim.
‘You expecting it to be a heavy night?’ Richard asked.
‘I know you are. Who brings a bottle of vodka with no mixer? It’s calm, bro. We can get fucked together.’
Richard took the glass from Jermaine and scratched the back of his head with his free hand. ‘I was kind of hoping you had some stronger stuff.’
Jermaine froze. ‘Things that bad already?’
‘You could say that.’
‘I got you, bro. I got you. All in good time though, my friend. All in good time. What you after?’
‘All of it.’
‘Well, shit. Things must be tough. Come – let’s go.’
As they entered the living room, Jermaine introduced him to the others. They mentioned their names, but he paid them no heed; he wasn’t expecting to remember any of them in the morning. In the next thirty seconds, Richard went around the room and shook everybody’s hand and eventually found himself a seat on the sofa beside Jermaine.
‘Nice place you got. I heard you chat so much about it inside, for a long time I thought you were just chatting shit,’ Richard said.
‘I’m a man of my word. Like I told you. I got your back if you ever need it.’
Richard took a large gulp of the vodka. The alcohol rushed down his throat and burnt his insides. He grimaced, swallowing the taste, feeling his body warm and tingle.
‘Easy, fam,’ Jermaine said. ‘Still a long night ahead of us. So, you gonna tell me what’s up or am I gonna have to force it out of you?’
Richard exhaled deeply. Then he took another sip of the vodka.
‘You hear about that body they found by the Olympic Stadium?’ Richard asked.
‘Yeah, I got my contacts down that way. I heard of it.’ Jermaine paused, as if the cogs in his brain had begun to rotate.
‘I found the body. It was buried in concrete. I found it and called the brass. I’ve been in an interview room all day.’
‘Fucking pigs. They got anything on you?’
‘Nah.’
‘What you stressing about then, bro?’
‘It was Danny Cipriano.’
‘You shitting me?’ Jermaine said. ‘How you know that?’
‘I recognised his hand, fam. The tattoos. The scar. The wart on his thumb.’
‘You messing?’
Richard shook his head. ‘Wish I was. And as soon as the feds start looking into me, they gonna find out everything there is to know.’
‘You need me to sort it for you?’ Jermaine pointed at one of the guys on the sofa. ‘You know we’re strapped.’
‘No,’ Richard said hastily.
‘You want protection for yourself? You know I can give you anythi
ng you need.’
‘Fuck that, J. I can’t do that. I’m not getting involved with that. I’m not going back to prison again, man. I can’t do time again. Do you know how hard it was for me to find work after getting out? It took me eighteen months, and I’ve only been in this job for a couple. Nah, I can’t fuck it up like that.’
‘You could work for me?’
Richard glanced at Jermaine, dumbfounded. The sincerity in Jermaine’s voice was apparent.
‘All due respect, I’ll pass.’
‘So what d’you want?’
‘Right now, I just wanna forget. Forget any of this shit happened today.’
‘You sure?’ Jermaine said, placing his hand in the air. ‘You ready for prison coke? Thought that shit was too much for you to handle?’
‘The way I’m feeling, ain’t nothing too heavy.’
Jermaine kissed his teeth, set the glass down on the table and lifted himself out of the chair. Richard hadn’t realised, but in the short space of time they’d been talking, he’d already finished off three-quarters of his drink and the contents were beginning to take effect. In the corner of the room was a small chest of drawers. Jermaine pulled open the top one and removed a syringe and a few bags of white powder.
‘You sure you wanna do this?’
‘For the next few hours, I don’t give a fuck what I do. So long as it gets me out of here.’ Richard prodded his temple.
Jermaine shrugged. ‘Your call, bro. But be careful with that one.’ Jermaine pointed to the heroin in one of the plastic bags. ‘That shit will give you the best high, but the nastiest comedown.’
Richard smirked and leant forward. ‘What if I don’t want to come down?’
CHAPTER 20
AN IRRESISTIBLE OFFER
The skin on Jake’s arms and chest prickled as a gentle breeze rolled in through the window. Sleep evaded him like a star in the sky. In fact, his eyes hadn’t closed since he’d climbed into bed, his mind warped with thought. The woman from the DPS had been helpful, but the investigator who would be looking after the case was even more so. His name was Craig, and he’d listened attentively as Jake had explained everything. About Drew’s rape. About Garrison covering it up. And about how the three of them had tricked him into agreeing to fabricate evidence against an innocent man. He’d left no detail unexplained, no piece of evidence unaccounted for, no matter how small and insignificant he thought it was. He’d got it all out, like word vomit. But he felt better for it.
‘I appreciate everything you’ve told me, Jake,’ Craig had said. ‘I’ll be making this a priority for one of our investigation teams. We should have someone working with you on this case very soon.’
Jake hoped so. He didn’t know how long he could maintain the façade of being a bent cop. It was important he didn’t get in too deep. He had a family to protect, even though he knew he’d already endangered their lives by making the call.
As he stared up at the ceiling, images of Danny Cipriano buried alive in cement flashed in his mind, and in one of the stills, Danny’s face was replaced with Elizabeth and the girls. Visceral, vivid. A layer of sweat formed on his body at the thought of what might happen to them if Liam, Drew or Garrison found out that he’d betrayed them.
He wondered whether he’d made the right decision. His colleagues were his closest friends – he didn’t really have anyone outside of work that he considered close. He spent every day with Liam, Drew, and Garrison. He knew them better than he knew anyone else. At least he thought he did. What he’d done to them all was a betrayal of their trust and the friendship that he’d spent so long trying to make work.
But they also betrayed me when they involved me in this.
He’d had enough of thinking about it. Time to take his mind off it.
Jake rolled himself out of bed and checked the time – 3:46 a.m. Rubbing his eyes, he shuffled his way towards the kitchen. There, resting on the countertop, was the letter Elizabeth had shown him the other day. The one that was covered in the same red as his credit score. That was still very much a pertinent problem, one that was still outstanding.
One down, one to go. An idea sparked within him. He moved around to the other side of the kitchen and opened his laptop, logged in and began searching for quick, legitimate ways to make money. A few spam websites popped up, inviting him to take part in medical trials and sell products that would make him several hundred thousand pounds in the space of a few days. Pyramid schemes and all that. Jake knew it was bullshit – complete bullshit – and he ignored the first few hits on the top of Google. The search page was littered with exclamation marks and capital letters, offering him the next best-kept secret that was going to make him a millionaire. But there was one that stood out from the rest.
An article listing several ways to make money.
Investing. Loans. Gambling. They were all there. And they were screaming out to him.
He did some brief research around investing in stocks and shares and dismissed it as soon as he realised it was a long-term investment rather than a short-term gain. They couldn’t afford to waste what little money they had and not see an immediate return. In twenty years maybe, but not now.
Loans, he learnt, were also a complete waste of time. The interest rates were astronomical and he knew the risks weren’t worth it.
But gambling? That was something he was interested in. He didn’t know a lot about sports – ever since his father died, he’d stayed as far away from football as possible. But he knew enough about Formula 1 and motor racing to be able to make educated guesses. Start off small, reinvest the winnings. Easy.
Interest piqued, Jake read through the article again and scanned the text for the best gambling website he could use. He found one and signed up. The company was promoting an offer. Bet £10, get an extra £10 to gamble on a free bet. Perfect.
Jake started entering his debit card details into the submission page. As soon as he hit enter and his dashboard loaded, the kitchen door opened. It was Maisie, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Her hair was a mess and she held a blanket in her hand.
Jake leapt out of his chair. ‘Maisie! What are you doing out of bed?’ He bent down by her side and held her in his arms.
‘Why you up, Daddy?’ she asked.
Jake chuckled. ‘Daddy can’t sleep. He’s got lots of things to do that are keeping him awake.’
‘What things?’
‘Adult things. Why aren’t you in bed?’
‘You woke me up,’ she said. Her eyes were bloodshot.
‘I’m sorry, sweetie. Let’s get you to bed.’ Jake started towards the door.
‘You come too?’
‘Daddy’s going to stay awake for a little bit longer. He’s got to finish off those important things.’
‘Please.’ Her eyes widened and the sleep behind them seemed to disappear in an instant.
‘OK.’
He looked at the computer, closed the lid and then headed upstairs. When he finally awoke in Maisie’s bed two hours later, it was time to go to work.
CHAPTER 21
APLENTY
The streets were dead. It was just after six when Jake left the house, and Liam, Drew and Garrison were already there when he arrived at Bow Green minutes before seven. The three of them were in the kitchen, making a round of coffee.
‘Morning,’ Jake said groggily. He yawned. His eyes were heavy. It felt like a pair of weights had been strapped to them, keeping them permanently closed.
‘What time do you call this?’ Liam said to Jake as he entered, sounding more excitable than was normal for 7 a.m.
‘Too fucking early,’ Drew said, without realising that Liam was talking to Jake.
‘Not even the birds are awake yet,’ Garrison added as he dipped a chocolate digestive in his tea.
‘I know you’d rather be asleep, but we’ve got important work to get on with. Just send me a list of your overtime hours at the end of the week and I’ll get them all approved.’
Liam sna
tched a biscuit from Garrison and then left the kitchen with the detective constable following behind him.
As Jake moved about the kitchen, preparing his toast and coffee, he felt Drew’s stare boring into him. If he could help it, he’d avoid the man as much as possible. But he knew it was impossible.
‘Hey, pal,’ Drew said as he moved closer to Jake. ‘How you feeling?’
‘Fine.’
‘I’ve, erm… I’ve got something for you.’ Resting on the floor between Drew’s legs was his backpack. He bent down, reached inside it and pulled out a brown paper bag, and placed it next to Jake’s mug. ‘Ten grand. As promised.’
Jake stared at the bag in disbelief.
‘Put it away!’ he said, sliding it across the counter.
‘It’s yours.’ Drew slid it back.
Tentatively, Jake took the bag and looked at its contents. There, buried deep inside, was a thick wad of notes. The most money Jake had ever held in his life, and he was in awe of it. The unmistakable smell of cash wafted through the air, defeated the smell of burning toast and claimed victory in his nostrils. He didn’t know for certain, but he was sure his mouth had fallen open.
‘Plenty more where that came from as well.’
Yeah, Jake thought, course there is. For a while he hesitated, contemplating whether to take the money or not. And then he remembered he needed to. If he was going to maintain the façade that he was on their side – in every aspect of their operation – then he was going to have to take it, regardless of whether or not he truly wanted to keep it.
Jake wrapped the money in the bag, held it underneath his plate and moved into the office with his coffee in his other hand.
As they returned to their desks, Drew whispered in his ear. ‘Like I said, plenty more where that came from. Plenty.’
Jake nodded in acknowledgement and feigned an impressed smile.
Drew whispered again. ‘Remember what can happen if you don’t keep up your end of the bargain.’
